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limitlessgojo · 3 years

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Blood Bound: Red Strings of Fate (Ch 2)

Warnings: Action, Coarse Language, Fighting, Descriptions of Blood

Previous Chapter: The First Meeting

Next Chapter: What's Your Ideal Type?

Tags: Soulmates AU, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Fem!Reader

Taglist: @lessie-oxj, @rizzo-nero, @whoreuc

Notes: If you want to be tagged for every update, please mention it in the comments below ty.

CHAPTER 2: The Rebirth

You had a hard time falling asleep that night. Your mind is trying to remember the vision, but the images remain blurry. There was a faint heat lingering from the man's body pressed against yours.

‘Could we possibly be…. It’s not impossible but….’, your mind was working 10,000 miles an hour trying to think of the possibilities. There was only one thought that came to mind and it made you blush. You pulled up the covers and snuggled against your stuffed plushies and pillows. You had to pass by the library and get permission tomorrow.

At least the weaponry was amazing. Noritoshi senpai even showed you inside and pointed you to the crossbows he often practices with. ‘He must be a capable sorcerer. The way he holds himself up with such dignity was already a dead giveaway. A natural born leader huh.’ you wondered.

You fell asleep that night dreaming about a lovely Phoenix, being reborn from ashes.

◇◇◇

Noritoshi was pacing around in his room. He had passed by the library on the way back from dinner, and grabbed several books. “The Secrets of Foreseeing the Future, Vol. 1”, “Alternate and Parallel Worlds”, “Past Lives: A Study”, and “The Life and Works of Abe no Seimei".

He paced around his dorm room, looking over the book that was bothering him the most. “The Tales and True Records of Soulmates”.

He scanned through the main parts of the book. It spoke about bonding. There apparently were 2 types of bonding, emotional and physical.

When 2 halves of a whole reach a certain degree of understanding of each other, they establish what's called a half-bond or a phantom bond.

This begins to link their emotions. Intense anger, fear, joy, disgust, sorrow, and love can be felt from the very first stage. As their bond strengthens, they begin to share more emotions, as well as short strong intentions.

Intentions are used to depict a state of being. If they have a goal or a state of feeling over a particular matter, their partner can pick up on it.

The near final stage of a full bond is when they start to share physical sensations. When one gets injured, it will resound with the other.

The strongest bond is known to share special abilities and thoughts via telepathy between a fated pair.

Noritoshi's mind was definitely in overdrive. There was SO MUCH information on soulmates. But the one thing that wasn't explicitly stated was how a soulmate pair found each other.

How do soulmates confirm that they are indeed soulmates? Most of the information was based on soulmates who simply claimed to be. Then what about how they came to be?

So now he knows that soulmates are supposedly able to share emotions and feelings to a certain degree. But there was a lack of information in the book. What about visions? The vision he shared with y/n was one of a kind.

It kept discussing how the known most popular existence were the parents of Sugawara no Michizane. One of the three great vengeful spirits that is the ancestor of the Gojo clan.

He made up his mind. Taking out his phone, he dialed up his father.

Beep. “Noritoshi? It’s so late, why are you calling at this time? It best be an urgent matter.” his father gruffly answered.

“I am sorry to disturb you father. It’s just, there is a new student here in school. A First year called Tsuchimikado y/n from the Tsuchimikado clan.”

“Ahhh, them huh? Powerful group even though there are only a few of them. They don’t really talk about their techniques that much. They are descendants of Abe no Seimei and yet they kept to themselves as a minor clan of jujutsushi… So what about her?”

“She might possibly be my soulmate, but I am still confirming. Do you have any books or records on soulmates at all?”

At this, his father sat up straight in his study. “Are you serious? And what can you say to prove such claims? Do you know how rare a soulmate bond is?”

"I am aware. And I know we may not be soulmates. But I have some suspicions. If you have any info about soulmates, The Abe clan, or the Tsuchimikado clans, I would appreciate it." Noritoshi replied.

"Okay. I'll have a look and get back to you. Feel free to come by the main house this weekend. Look over the main study. There are also some records on Soulmates there."

"Thank you father. Have a good evening."

Beep.

Noritoshi sighed. He undid his hair bindings and combed out his hair. And opened the book again. He read through the table of contents in case he missed out on any major pointers.

He couldn't read the book in one sitting, because he is still reviewing for the TOEIC and improving his English.

He yawned and was about to retire to bed, remembering his promise to bring you around tomorrow, when one particular word jumped at him.

The binding process of soulmates. He quickly flipped through to the page and found out with horror that some of the pages had been torn out.

It wasn't him who did it. (Obviously). But now he has to go and tell Utahime sensei about it.

He took a closer look at the remaining few pages.

"The Binding of Soulmates. It is known to vary per pair. Some pairs found themselves to be born with a matching symbol in the inside of their arms or on their necks from birth. While others form it upon passing the first stage of -" and the page ends with a violent diagonal tear from the upper right corner to the lower left.

That's pretty much all that he can take away from the book so far. Frustrated, he decided to go to sleep. Nothing about sharing visions was mentioned so far. Maybe they weren't a fated pair after all.

But deep in his gut, Noritoshi knew that you were an important person to him. That was for sure. As he fell asleep, he shared the same dream with you. A lone Phoenix, being reborn from its ashes.

◇◇◇

The following morning, you didn't know where to meet up with Noritoshi senpai so you simply went to the same place he left you last night. On your way there, you passed by a tall robot kind of thing which spooked you. You stared at it, wondering if it was a kind of automation that serves the technical school.

To your surprise, it turned towards you and bowed while greeting, "Hello. I'm a 1st year student here at Kyoto Jujutsu Technical College. You can call me Mechamaru. Kokichi Muta is my real name, but I use robots to fight."

Your eyes widened in surprise and curiosity. "My name is Tsuchimikado Y/n, also starting here as a first year student. Pleased to meet you!" You bowed back.

“So… is your body inside that robot?” you asked him.

“No, as a result of heavenly restriction, which if you haven’t heard of yet is a means of exchange/ a binding contract, my body is elsewhere. I am controlling this robot from afar.”

Your eyes bugged, “That’s incredible! To have that much cursed energy, plus it is over such a long distance.” You were jealous as long-ranged techniques are something you try to work hard and specialise on.

“It’s not that fun being physically stuck in a basement.” Mechamaru didn’t sound too amused.

“Ah, I’m sorry about that… “ you floundered as you mentally hit yourself for being so inconsiderate.

“No need to apologize. I am used to it.” He waved it off coolly.

"You're the first other 1st year I've met Mechamaru. I wonder when the others will come. I've heard of 2 others." You wondered.

"I've already met one of them. Miwa is her name. You won't miss her with her bright blue hair." He replied. His voice was so stiff and robotic, a strange feature.

"Ohhhh I see. I'll keep that in mind!" You smiled. "I'm afraid I have somewhere to be right now, but I'll catch you around for sure! Please take care of me."

"Don't let me keep you waiting. Please also take care of me and see you around." Mechamaru waved as you ran off.

More students to meet huh. Your heart pounded in nervousness and excitement. So it was Miwa and Mechamaru so far. ‘Ugh, I’m so bad with names. I’ll surely get used to it.’ you thought to yourself.

You rounded the corner and nearly plowed through Noritoshi senpai in your haste. “Whoa there, careful,” he held his hands out in case you slipped, but you were fine. You caught yourself just before you hit his personal space.

You were surprised to see him already there, in the same clothes he was in yesterday (was that his uniform? You had yet to get yours, which had custom arrangements).

"Good morning Noritoshi-senpai!" you beamed up at him. He looked down at you amusedly, liking your bright energy. “Good morning y/n.”

Your smile grew wider upon hearing your name fall from his lips for the very first time. For a moment the both of you just stood there smiling. Then Noritoshi beckoned you to his side as you walked around the campus.

"Did you sleep well last night?" He asked.

"Ah yes, though it might take some time getting used to the dorm rooms here. But everything is pretty much convenient. Especially the kitchenettes in our rooms." You were still excited about starting classes.

“Did you have your uniform tailored to your liking?” You asked him.

“Ah yes, I requested a looser fit. I am used to wearing a kimono and wooden sandals at home. I simply requested for them to be made in a similar fashion for comfort. And it gives me enough space to hide all of my weapons.” He smiled gently down at you.

“Ahhh I see. I have also put in a request for my uniform, but I don’t have it yet.” you said.

“Well, it shouldn’t be too long now, classes start in 2 days after all.”

He brought you around the main gardens. “It’s so big,” you gaped, excited to train here. There was so much open space, it would be good for flying practice. “The other buildings are offices for the staff, and warehouses for special tools and materials.” He explained.

Then Noritoshi led you to a corridor with tons of doors. “These are the 3rd year classrooms. First and second year classrooms are upstairs. We can have a look if you’d like?” He asked.

You agreed. And on your way to the staircase, you came face to face with a man going down the stairs. He was incredibly tall and ripped. With his hair tied up, a scar racing down on his left eye, he grunted at Noritoshi in greeting.

He came down and faced you both, before addressing Noritoshi. “You ready for class? Is this a new student?”

“Of course I am. And she is a first year. Tsuchimikado Y/n.” Noritoshi introduced you and you quickly bowed in greeting. “You can call me Tsuchi san or just Tsuchi as I know my last name is long. It is very nice to meet you!”

Noritoshi noted that you didn’t offer to be addressed by your first name this time and felt weirdly happy.

“Todo Aoi, 2nd year. So… what man or woman is your ideal type?” He asked as he loomed over you menacingly. You barely came up to this man's chest.

….. What in the world are you getting into?

Fun fact: The Tsuchimikado Clan are indeed a real clan descended from the Abe Clan and Abe no Seimei the Onmyouji himself. I chose Abe no Seimei as a parallel to the three great vengeful spirits from whom the big 3 Jujutsu families are descendants of. As Abe no Seimei was also a major figure during the Heian period. But of course my story is a work of fiction so other than the onmyouji himself, everyone else is not real^^.

Blood Bound: Table of Contents

#kamo noritoshi #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk fanfic #kamo noritoshi x you #noritoshi fluff #noritoshi angst #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #kamo noritoshi x reader #soulmates au #blood bound #red strings of fate

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nordleuchten · 3 years

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La Fayette in Prison - Part 2 - Magdeburg

After Wesel, off we go to Magdeburg. Here La Fayette and his fellow prisoners stayed from January 4, 1793 until January 4, 1794. Just like Wesel, Magdeburg was and still is a prominent city in modern-day Germany (back then in Prussia). And just like Wesel, Magdeburg lies near a river, the Elbe to be precise. And again, the prison laid inside the city’s fortress. Large parts of the fortress are still intact and are the sites of numerous activities throughout the years, such as re-enactments, historic festivals, historic guided tour ... visitors are also free to request an individual guided tour, unrelated to any other activity. La Fayette is once more named as a noteworthy inmate by the Homepage of the organisation charged with taking care of the fortress. But he was far from the most prominent inmate – Germans at least will recognise the names of Fritz Reuter and Werner von Siemens (the guy who founded the company “Siemens”). Whoever created the Homepage either did not do their research or disliked La Fayette. It is stated that La Fayette attempted an coup d’état that failed and that he initiated the Champ the Mars massacre ... both statements are grossly oversimplified at best and utter nonsense at worst. During La Fayette’s stay Ludwig Karl von Kalkstein (then a Lieutenant-General) was the Governor of the prison and Otto Kasimir von Meerschneidt (then a Major-General) was its Commander.

La Fayette and is fellow Frenchmen were brought to Magdeburg by means of an open cart. What was in all likelihood intended to degrade them further, was actually a blessing for the prisoners. They now had fresh air and the open, blue sky in abundance, something that had been denied to them all those months prior. Something else happened as well. People recognized these august men and apparently also cheered for them. Where the Prussian and Austrian authorities had a keen dislike for La Fayette, the population was in large parts in favour of him (more on that in a bit). Though he may have been touched by the cheering, such outpours of affection did not help La Fayette endear himself to his jailers – not at all. Nevertheless, conditions at Magdeburg were better ... far from good, but better.

La Fayette was allowed to obtain some books. Among other things he read mostly about agriculture and this knowledge would later come in handy when he ventured into the farming business after his return to France in 1799. He was furthermore allowed to write and receive letter ... but there was a twist. You see, when a letter for La Fayette arrived, the authorities in Magdeburg would open it, read it and decide if La Fayette was allowed to receive this letter. If so, they would go into his cell and read the letter aloud to him exactly once. If he was allowed to reply, his letters were checked and if there was something in them that did not please his jailors, well, the letter then moved directly into the bin. Lovely!

Nevertheless, things were looking up for La Fayette and he started writing letters to the full extent of his possibilities. Although he ached to let his wife Adrienne know that he was more or less okay, he did nor dare to write her. She was still imprisoned in France and La Fayette feared that somebody there might recognise his handwriting and subsequently destroy the letter. Instead he tried to reach his English and American friends (both in America and as envoys in Europe).

La Fayette described his cell in a letter to an unknown friend in England:

“Imagine an opening made under the rampart of the citadel, and surrounded with a strong, high palisade; through this, after opening four doors, each armed with chains, bars, and padlocks, they come, not without some difficulty and noise, to my cell, three paces wide five and a half long. The wall is mouldy on the side towards the ditch, and the front one admits light, but not sunshine, through a little grated window. Add to this two sentinels, -- whose eyes penetrate into this lower region, but who are kept outside the palisade, lest they should speak other watchers not belonging to the guard, and all the walls ramparts, ditches, guards, within and without the citadel of Magdeburg, and you will think that the foreign powers neglect nothing to keep us within their dominions. The noisy opening of the four doors is repeated every morning to admit my servant; at dinner, that I may eat in presence of the commandant of the citadel and of the guard; and at night, to take my servant to his prison. After having shut upon me all the doors, the commandant carries off the keys to the room where, since our arrival, the king has ordered him to sleep. I have books, the white leaves of which are taken out, but no news, no newspapers no communications, -- neither pen, ink, paper, nor pencil. It is a wonder that I possess this sheet, and I am writing with a toothpick. My health fails daily (…).”

(I am a bit irked by the fact, that I can neither associated an recipient nor an exact date with the letter. The letter otherwise seems authentic and the content is similar to other letters by La Fayette that we have more information on – that being said, I gave the letter a pass although its provenance is not what I would like it to be.)

I have seen some people argue that La Fayette mostly managed to keep his spirits up, because he did not complained an awful lot in his letters – but when assessing such a statement, you have to keep in mind that La Fayette really could not complain a lot in his letters, otherwise they would never be posted. It is true though, that there were small betterments. I already mentioned the letters and books, but he and the other prisoners were also allowed to take regular walks in the yard of the prison. They walked separated from each other and were heavily guarded. But La Fayette fell ill again, this time with a fever. His illness was not as serious though as it had been at Wesel.

La Fayette also received some money from his friends in America. Some of his friends, such like Washington, privately send money for La Fayette to use. Thomas Jefferson, then Secretary of State, found a way for the Government to pay La Fayette some money. He argued that La Fayette had offered to serve in the Continental Army without pay but that there was no official document of the Continental Congress accepting this offer. It follows that the Treasury owned La Fayette six years of pay and furthermore ten years worth of interests since they had “forgotten” to pay him the money since the end of the war ten years prior. Jefferson wrote a letter to Washington on December 30, 1793:

“Soon after his captivity and imprisonment, and before the ministers had received our instructions to endeavor to obtain his liberation, they were apprised that his personal restraint, and the peculiar situation of his fortune disabled him from drawing resources from that, and would leave him liable to suffer for subsistence, and the common necessaries of life. After a consultation by letter, therefore, between our ministers at Paris, London, and the Hague, they concurred in opinion that they ought not in such a case to wait for instructions from hence, but that his necessities should be provided for until they could receive such instructions. Different sums have been therefore either placed at his disposal, or answered on his draughts, amounting, as far as we hitherto know to about twelve or thirteen hundred Guineas. This has been taken from a fund not applicable by law to this purpose nor able to spare it: and the question is whether, and how it is to be made good? To do this, nothing more is requisite than that the United States should not avail themselves of the Liberalities of M. de la Fayette, yielded at a moment when neither he nor we could foresee the time when they would become his only resource for subsistence. It appears by a statement from the war office, hereto annexed, that his pay and commutation as a major General in the service of the United States to the 3rd of nov. 1783 amounted to 24,100 dollrs thirteen Cents exclusive of ten years interest elapsed since that time, to the payment of which the following obstacle has occurred. at the foot of the original engagement by Mr Deane, a copy of which is hereto annexed, that a certain roll of officers there named, and of which M. de la Fayette was one, should be taken into the american service in the grades there specified, M. de la Fayette alone has subjoined for himself a declaration that he would serve without any particular allowance or pension. It may be doubted whether the words in the original French do strictly include the general allowance of pay and commutation. and if they do, there is no evidence of any act of acceptance by Congress. Yet, under all the circumstances of the case, it is thought that the legislature alone is competent to decide it. If they decline availing the United States of the declaration of M. de la Fayette, it leaves a fund which not only covers the advances which have been made, but will enable you take measures for his future relief. It does it too, in a way which can give offence to nobody, since none have a right to complain of the payment of a debt, that being a moral duty, from which we cannot be discharged by any relation in which the creditor may be placed as to them.”

Washington forwarded the letter to the Congress and on March 27, 1794 Congress passed a bill to pay La Fayette the money he had not accepted as a General during the Revolutionary War. To nobody’s surprise, neither Congress nor President Washington had any objections and the bill was approved swiftly.

Prisons in the 18th century (as well as today) often development into some sort of parallel society. Money and especially bribery could get you far in prison and La Fayette experienced that first hand. On November 18, 1809 La Fayette enclosed an account of his financial situation in a letter to Thomas Jefferson. It seems as if this lengthy report had been written by one of La Fayette’s secretaries. Here is a short excerpt of the English translation of the report:

“The expenses caused by his captivity were enormous; the prisoners had to pay their own way as long as their money lasted, and as General Lafayette was the only one with some money, he had to take responsibility for his fellow prisoners. But this was a small matter in comparison with all that his European friends did financially to save his life, to correspond with him, and to facilitate his escape. Some of them made great personal sacrifices, and the sums generously sent by the American government were swallowed up. General Lafayette’s family provided for its own expenses while living in Olmutz. So that on arriving at Hamburg after an imprisonment of five years he found nothing of what had been intended for him and only an increased debt to Mr. Gouverneur Morris up to the time when he was paid 68000.₶; to Mr. Parish former United States consul, forty three thousand Livres; to Mr. Bollman a contract reduced to 30000.₶”

(You see, a great deal of the financial troubles and transactions came after his stay in Magdeburg but since everything started in Magdeburg, I thought it convenient to discuss the monetary issue here in full.)

We see the United States taking actions to the best of their abilities and we see also more letters discussing La Fayette’s fate. News travelled slowly in the 18th century and it took the three months that La Fayette stayed in Wesel for the world to find out that he even had been arrested. But after the knowledge was out there, we see an increase in letters and also in newspaper coverage. So much so that Adrienne could read in the French newspapers that La Fayette was presently alive and in Magdeburg. We can further observe that people all other he world started petitioning the Prussian King for La Fayette’s relief. His friends, English Members of Parliament (although it would take a couple more years before the House of Commons would discuss the topic in full), Washington and his friends in America, Americas envoys in Europe, the list goes on. Some of La Fayette’s fellow prisoners, mostly unassuming secretaries and aids, had been released almost immediately and were now also trying to secure La Fayette’s freedom – some even returned to France to do so. We also see Prussians citizen petition their King. Most of these petitions were simple letters, but some petitioners had the money to spare and printed their petitions as pamphlets – many of them can today be found online.

Although the instructions for the guard were not less strict then they had been in Wesel, the guards in Magdeburg appeared to love to gossip. During his stay La Fayette was kept more or less up to date on the newest developments in France and the war. Eight months into his stay in Magdeburg he was also given some news about his wife Adrienne. La Fayette wrote Charles Pinckney in London on July 4, 1793:

My dear Sir,

Whilst on this anniversary my American fellow citizens are having their joy, I join in a solitary bumper with the happy remembrances, the patriotic wishes which are crowding upon us (...) Owning to your kind interference, my dear Sir, the crowned gaolers have consented after eight months to let me know that my wife and children were alive – be pleased to acquaint them that my health is tolerably good (...).

(Can we please acknowledge the fact that La Fayette took the time out of his day and remembered that it was the anniversary of American Independence?)

There is another letter that I want to give the spotlight. La Fayette wrote on March 15, 1793 to his friend, the Princess d’Hénin. In this letter he wrote that:

“I know not what disposition has been made of my plantation at Cayenne; but I hope Madame de Lafayette will take care that the negroes, who cultivated it, shall preserve their liberty.”

La Fayette had bought a plantation in the French colony of Cayenne and implemented a system of gradual emancipation. The plantation was later sold by French authorities and the people there re-enslaved. Although his endeavour ultimately failed I found it interesting to see that La Fayette, even during such a dark hour, thought about others as well.

Before we move on to the next prison, this time in Neisse, on last titbit. The Baron von Steuben, the absolutely legendary legend, was born in Magdeburg and as a man of military background probably spend some time in the fortress as well.

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holicanth · 3 years

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Hanging on to Threads

@shinoweek 2021 Prompt 1 - Solitude

Words: 2.7k

Genre: Angst. Horror. Suspense. Crime(?) Implied Shinohina

Warnings: Implied murder.

Author’s Note: This is part 1 of my Shinoweek 2021 series!! The whole series would be 4-5 parts and possibly have each prompt (chapter) released in chronological order.

Summary:

" A shinobi must constantly suppress their emotions, follow a strict set of rules that they decide among themselves, and avoid extraneous conflict. "

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2

To his classmates, the grand tales of Konoha's history sounds like a distant, outdated fairytale, but Shino likes to think that there are things to learn from everything.

Tobirama Senjuu was renowned for his pragmatic approach to things, whether it be national or international. A model shinobi whose discipline has shaped the lives of generations after, and Shino revered him greatly.

Shino had thought, that if every shinobi were to follow the the Second's ninja way then surely Konoha would be much stable as a country, and considerably stronger against their rivals. If every ninja had kept their emotions on bay, then surely everyone would resolve conflict peacefully and level-headedly.

Even Shino himself takes pride in his ability to control his emotions. He was sure that nothing in the world could ever shake his roots.

That is, until his own brother was taken from him.

(Shino thinks he can picture the scene. A sunset. A lake. The dry voice of a man. And his brother. A serene yet glutted scenario.)

His father came that day, with a crooked man on his tails.

Unpleasant.

Something spiked in his heart when Shino heard the man demand for him.

His bugs had sensed that his father was just as perplexed.

"He is your son. He must be exceptionally talented."

Shino could've sworn that the man was plotting something behind his back. There was no way that he would've had any use of him. He was just a young boy, barely ten. Shino had thought of a million reasons why he in particular was selected until--

"Why don't you take me instead?"

Torune jumped off the tree and stood in front of Shino.

"I'm the son of Shikuro Aburame, after all."

And soon after, the man had sealed his brother's fate. Torune was to go with him the following morning. Forever.

And there was nothing that Shino could do to persuade him otherwise.

Torune had sacrificed himself. So that Shino could have relationships with others. So that Shino could have a significant bond with his friends. The relationship between the two could be said as distant, but Shino had considered him as a brother, while Torune had thought of himself as a burden.

The morning comes and goes too fast and Shino was unable to stop him from leaving. He spent the whole night thinking, creating a heartfelt speech that would have swayed his brother, making up excuses so that he won't leave. All of that crushed by the thought that he wouldn't be able to come up with a better solution. Shino knew that negotiating with Danzo was going to end up with himself being taken away. A cold morning and a silent goodbye was the only thing Shino had to bear with.

But even after years has passed, nothing about that day made sense for Shino. He didn’t know why, and ultimately he was banned from speaking of that day even with his own family. He had felt, with great intensity, a feeling that he can't quite describe with anything but he word "unpleasant" Was he angry? scared? anxious that he'll be next? All he knew was that his chest tightened every time he thinks about it, an unnamed sense of wary washing over his five senses.

The thought always haunts his mind—the fact that a human being can be forgotten out of existence. To be killed by proxy, as if their life had no meaning in the first place.

Therefore Shino tries to honor his brother. He set a list of rules for himself. Followed it thoroughly. He tries to emulate his brother’s strength. And in the process, make comrades on the way, just like his brother requested.

(The years pace faster than usual. Shino has yet made any meaningful connections outside of his teammates.)

Yet when he's matured his powers enough to protect lives, he found himself falling out of the map all the while. Flimsy friendships with the bare minimal civilities. No one recognized his potential (nor his face) and there was active attempts of isolation from Konoha itself.

Shino was alone yet again.

He's heard the word from his father. That something internal was stirring up inside Konoha, messing the clan hierarchy, opening doors to clan discrimination. He's seen the Uchiha fall bait to it already, what are the odds that his clan wouldn't be next?

(By proxy, Hinata should also be subject to such mistreatment, seeing how The Hyuuga themselves are a noble clan involved in the scuffle. The Konoha elders seem to think otherwise. The Hyuuga are valuable.)

Hostilities or not, Shino knows enough about the Second's manifesto to figure the Uchiha massacre, but this time, all clues fall cold.

There was no talks about the Aburames. What would Konoha do with them, and how they would dispose of them. Outsiders dig up lies from spread rumors, but clansmen know the source of those rumors are none other than those they pay subservience to.

(Shino had thought that his newly found ability should be shared, but his family were in massive disagreement.)

Shino had always been aware of the Aburame's dojutsu. A technique that allows one to link their vision to an insect, granting them the candid ability to spy with the littlest trace of chakra. One so undetectable that the Yamanakas haven't noticed that the pests that ruins their flowers aren't merely parasites.

This dojutsu—The Senrigan—is regarded as superior in range to the Byakugan, which cannot reach intercontinental levels and are visible when activated. You wouldn't notice an Aburame using the Senrigan, what with their dark shades and stoic expression. Even within the clan, the ability is rare. It requires the finest chakra control and level headedness to connect to one bug, and years more to connect to a whole swarm.

The Senrigan requires exceptionally high amounts of concentration and will. A single mistake has Shino bedridden for days with migraine, and it requires Shino to be absolutely still in the process, akin to the Yamanaka's mind transfer jutsu.

Training comes easy to Shino, who has decided that it was his second priority (the first being his brother's promise) to do all his endeavors perfectly. He is diligent, and determined to awaken the Senrigan as soon as possible. Shino is aware that the situation in Konoha is brewing bad news; there is nothing but suspense and disarray in the air

But even after obtaining such power, his problems were still far from finished.

Konoha knows Shibi Aburame as a smart individual. Tactical, cold, and precise.

And Konoha’s intention was clear as day. Leaving Shibi from many clan meetings was downright disrespectful. And having the ANBU on lookout near the Aburame compound was just the beginning of Konoha’s hostility. Shibi has seen the Uchiha massacre, and there was no way he will let the same happen to his family

Therefore just like Torune, Shino was isolated to his house immediately after his Chuunin promotion. Cultivating chakra and beetles, preparing for a battle that might not happen.

(The Aburames were being faced with open discrimination. It was always known that their relationship with Konoha was shaky even before the peace treaty)

And that is where his doubts are all confirmed.

He tested the Senrigan on his friends. Once. Then twice. Then it becomes a routine as he claims that it was all for "practice"

(Shino was foolishly hopeless, but even a fool should stay optimistic and dumb.

He had hoped that the Senrigan failed him. That he heard wrong. That he had tailed the wrong ninja.)

There was no one that noticed him gone, no one that searched for him. Not even his teammates.

Not even the pretentious Naruto

It has been two years since the Chuunin exams. Shino has been missing (protected) since then, and no one bats an eye towards it. No one questions it. Even the Hokage seems eager to wipe the Aburames out of Konoha

Shino knows by heart that the Nara and Yamanaka heads have told their heirs to not speak a word about this. The Inuzuka and the Akimichi would be left out of the discussion completely, while the Hyuuga are given the splendid task of periodical supervising, along with the ANBU.

(Of course, he knows that a civil war is on its way to hit them, but to think that Hinata had not asked about him either! His migraine hurts him just a little more.)

In the next few bedridden days, Shino's thoughts linger to an old friend. One whose face he wouldn't forget, and one who wouldn't forget Shino's name either.

Uchiha Sasuke.

Perhaps he had felt the same loneliness—to live in a village that sees your family name first before your own person

Shino's mind was spiraling, swirling, filled to the brim with outrageous whispers and his fading sense of clarity. How could he have been forgotten just like that? Like he was never an important comrade. Like he never existed in the first place. But at the same time his voice of reason yells at him to shut up. Stop thinking. There is nothing he could do but wait for a decree from the Hokage, or an official statement from the Konoha elders.

But then an equally terrifying thought caught his attention.

What if Konoha had seriously intended to wipe off the Aburames?

To eliminate, and sweep the whole incident under the rug.

Would his father--the clan representative—be able to coax their way back? To assert that the Aburames were still useful?

(He scoffs. Begging Konoha to spare mercy on the Aburames would be such a pitiful sight. He can't imagine his father bowing down to them, nor can he foresee a favorable negotiation for his clan's future. Shino knows better than anyone that Konoha doesn't keep records of the Aburame's achievements. It was going to be a methodical, efficient depletion.)

It was all so horrible. The way his friends leave him out of the picture. The way they rejoiced over Naruto's return. The fact that something wrong was happening and his teammates were either in full acknowledgement or were turning a blind eye.

(He sees the way Team 8 functions without him. Kurenai has become more hands-on and active. She doesn't come to class drunk anymore, and actually teaches the other two justsus. Kiba and Hinata both steadily improve under her lead. And somewhere in his heart, he feels a clawing, steep anger whenever Kiba acts differently around Hinata. The three of them act like a perfect happy family. Perfectly ignorant to the missing participant)

Was it sweat that rolled down his face? Fatigue and stress had burned him down, thrown him off balance and hit him with a reality he wishes he could just sleep off. Every morning comes to slap the brutal truth on his face, and the fact that his father had been more and more cornered by the Konoha elders had him irked.

He holds his breath and recalls the man he loathes. The same one who took his brother.

A daring idea comes to haunt Shino's mind. If Danzo Shimura adores the Aburame's abilities (having appointed many from his family to be his consultants), then perhaps Shino could lobby him into making the situation better for his clan.

But Shino? The boy was barely old enough to wager a significant deal with Danzo.

Unless of course. If he'd exchange his dojutsu for his clan safety.

(To jump into the lion's den.

There was a revengeful, spite-filled excitement that came with it.)

A shinobi must constantly suppress their emotions, follow a strict set of rules that they decide among themselves, and avoid extraneous conflict.

Shino decides this is for the best. He repeats the words endlessly. Sometimes muttering, sometimes coming out only as a sigh. His footsteps are accompanied with his chants, but it stops abrubtly in the middle of the desolate road.

Solemnly he looks upwards. The moon emerged from the clouds as if it were saying goodbye to him. Bathing him in soothing light that calms his nerves. A sight he'd remember.

(And along with that, the moon reflects to him the eyes of a particular girl.

One whose house was just steps away.)

Shino finds himself transfixed. He could stop any moment now, visit a friend, and ask for help from anyone who'd be willing to listen to his problems. Hell, he might even beg Naruto to help him. The brat must've had a shred of empathy left in him.

A string of hope tugged at his heart, trying to assure him that there must be something else that can be done. If he meets Danzo now what would happen to him? What about Torune?

What about his teammates? His friends?

(He leaves that thought adrift, noticing the howling winds and the clank of a familiar wooden cane.)

"Aburame. Explain what business you have prowling around late at night."

Score.

Danzo Shimura emerges with his two bodyguards. A Yamanaka and--

Torune.

Shino had known that Danzo was en route towards the Hyuuga clan. Shino had expected bodyguards to accompany him. Shino had not, however, suspected that one of his entourages would be his brother himself.

Something speaks for itself in the silence that ensues. Bitterness and resolve had taken over Shino, who had turned to look at them with a gait of arrogance. Torune shook his head in disbelief.

"I'll have to assume you're out on an assasination if you don't answer." Danzo sneers, thumping his crane to call attention.

"You lowlives have been hiding something from us, haven't you? Especially you," He points towards Shino.

"The Aburame heir, Shino Aburame."

(Shino analyzed the three in front of him. Whatever words he says, everything will determine how he'll get out of this situation.

Dead or alive)

"Answer him," Torune barks, a choking coil hanging around his throat. "Or you will have to be detained."

(The Yamanaka boy behind them had gestured to his master to use his jutsu, which was promptly denied.)

He took off his hood and grimaced. There was no headband from which the moonlight can reflect itself on. Fists clenched, he was set on negotiating his terms.

"I have no business with the Hyuuga." He says in a practiced tone, "But I have things I need to discuss with you, Danzo Shimura."

Shino made it clear that he will not address him formally.

"You brat. You think you can get away with disrespecting me? You must have a justifiable reason to speak to me like that."

"Speak, runt," He growls "Or it'll be more than your life you'll lose."

Torune flinches at the statement, eyes darting to Shino as if warning him to follow whatever he fucking says. To not fucking disobey Danzo.

Instead Shino finds a rush of tranquility—a childish confidence that doesn't hesitate when he touches the rims of his shades.

"You have an interest in utilizing the Aburames--my clan." His bugs slowly hover around. "And you've made it obvious that our village wants us gone."

(Shino thinks he ordered his bugs to stay. But apparently they respond to the thrumming of his heart instead of his mind.)

"You are afraid of us. You want us under fear and control so that you may use our members as fodder."

His bugs have started buzzing loudly.

"You want to steal the Aburame's secret technique for your own benefit," Shino throws his glasses "And you want to sacrifice our clan for the sake of this lousy, corrupted village."

Despite the moon hiding in the clouds from him, Shino can still see. Even in the darkness. Even when he has shut his eyes. He knows that Torune is panicking. He knows that Yamanaka ninja was pulling out his tantō. He knows that Danzo was unfazed, even though he has begun tapping his finger rather impatiently.

"I've come to offer you a deal, Danzo Shimura," Shino speaks defiantly, "In exchange for the Aburame's secret technique you will oath to protect our clan. This oath shall be a blood contract, and my bugs will bear witness to it shall you ever betray your words."

Shino finally opens his eye. Two green orbs pierce the darkness, suspense filling the air around the compound. His bugs have formed a sort of mist around him, buzzing quietly in his honor.

"I will become your eyes, ears, and guardian until the day you die. That is my offer to you, Danzo Shimura."

(Shino laces his words with deceit. Something he hopes can fool the man into dismissing it as a child's foolish speech.)

A growing laugh bursts from the man. His normally astute image shattered into a cocky countenance. He walks towards Shino, smirk evident in his eyes.

"You Aburames always have the best deals." He replies, zealously.

"I'm more than glad to have you cooperate with me. Come."

Danzo walks past him, a trail of bugs following his feet.

The sight unfolding before Torune could be described as his worst nightmare—the green eyes, the bug manipulation, Danzo and Shino's involvement...

But he looked down, and followed his master instead.

The Senrigan was at full bloom.

There was no way Shino could go back to his previous life.

#Shinoweek #shinoweek2021 #Shino Aburame #Shino #Aburame headcanons #Aburame meta #Naruto headcanons #Naruto meta #Naruto #It's my first time writing and posting fanfiction!! i hope yall like it :D #english isnt my native language #sorry for the weird grammar i guess #shinohina #team 8 #shinoweek 2021

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marvelousimagines · 4 years

Text

You're Everything

Mob Boss!Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,709

Summary:

Note: I wasn't sure if this was a request or not, and you just couldn't think of a prompt. Or if you were just asking a question. Either way I hope you like it.

You could hear the faint murmur of voices a few feet away from you. Their timbres like insects buzzing against your ears, and you want nothing more than to shut them out. Closing your eyes does little to alleviate the headache that was starting a warpath within your skull. You try to fight against the pain that was starting to slowly work its way down your body. A harsh reminder of your predicament and subsequent failure.

You know that this was your fault. If you had just listened you wouldn’t be here. You would be at your apartment with Natasha. Safe within her warm embrace and the fuzzy feeling you always got when she was near. You shouldn’t have defied her when all she had been wanting to do was protect you.

Your head only drops lower as you recall the conversation that had started this domino effect.

-----

“Natasha I don’t see what the big deal is,” you say, exasperation clear within your tone as you move through your shared apartment. “You have had plenty of scuffles with rival gangs before. Some that were even worse than this one. So why do I have to stay indoors now?”

Turning your head you meet Natasha’s stoic gaze when her silence continues, but you’re not put off by the unwavering look like others might have been. Crossing your arms you simply raise your eyebrow in challenge. Not at all impressed by her intimidation tactic. You watch as something shifts within emerald orbs turning them softer than they were previously. Slim shoulders slackening slightly at your continued defiance.

“Lyubimaya,” Natasha begins her voice coming out in a gentle whisper, but you can clearly see that she was just as exasperated as you were. After all you had been arguing about this for about two hours, and neither of you was going to give in anytime soon. “I understand that you’re annoyed, I do, but you know that I wouldn’t be asking this if I wasn’t being serious. I would never want to take any freedom from you, but in this case I don’t have a choice.”

Dipping your head you have to fight the urge to move towards her. Especially when you could hear the clear desperation underneath her steely exterior. Her words were comforting for only a moment before your mind processed them.

“You do have a choice, Nat, you do have a say in the matter,” you hiss, eyes flashing as you bring your head back up. “I refuse to be treated like a dog. I refuse to be kept in this apartment while everyone else acts like nothing is wrong. I refuse to be treated like I’m something that can just be locked away at a moment's notice.”

A hard look passes over Natasha’s face as she listens. Her eyes, once again, turning steely and stoic. Her mob boss persona snapping back into place. You watch as Natasha, your Nat, the love of your life and the most gentle creature in the world, becomes the Black Widow, the most deadly. Turning your head so you wouldn’t have to meet her burning gaze you move towards the window. Not even sparing Natasha a glance as you feel her move towards you. Her familiar warmth pressing slightly into your side, and you know that if you would just glance at her you would see her hands twitching by her side. A clear sign that she wanted to touch you but didn’t know if she would be allowed. A thought that brings pain lancing through your heart, but you refuse to rectify it. You didn’t want Natasha to doubt your love for her, because she would always be allowed to touch you, but right now? Right now you just needed your space and time to process everything.

At your continued silence and stony posture, Natasha lets out a small sigh. The soft exhale ghosting across your neck and you want nothing more than to bring Nat into your arms. But, your pride and stubbornness wouldn’t let you. You were not going to apologize nor were you going to bend automatically because Natasha wanted your attention. No matter how much you wanted to break when her hand ghosts down your left arm. Halting slightly at your wrist, her fingers gently digging in and stopping there. As if Natasha was listening for something that only she could hear.

After a beat her hand retracts and you immediately miss her warmth, but you do nothing from stopping her. “I know that you’re upset about this situation, and it pains me to see that you’re also upset with me too, but I know that this course of action is going to keep you safe. And I would be damned if I ever let anything happen to you. Especially when I could have stopped it in the first place, because you mean more to be than anything else in this world. I refuse to put you into harm's way. Even if it means you hate me.”

Opening your mouth, to object to her last statement, you’re interrupted by her phone ringing. Natasha’s presence vanishes from your side so she can take the call. From where you were you could hear the faint sounds of a males voice, probably Steve or Bucky, and they seemed to be speaking fairly quickly. You didn’t have to turn your head to know that through it all Natasha was staring at you. The burning gaze was enough to know that she was only half listening to the conversation. If her halfhearted hmms were anything to go by at least.

“All right, I’m on my way. Sam and Clint are still coming, correct?” Natasha asks as she moves around the loft. Her movements are precise and careful so she wouldn’t disturb you. Even so you couldn’t help but stiffen at the sound of the two men's names. You had no problem with them, in fact you considered them great friends, but the thought of them being your babysitters? It fills you with a type of indignation that you didn’t know you could possess. Rationally you know that you were being a little harsh on Natasha, and you could even understand where she was coming from. But, that didn’t stop you from feeling like an animal trapped in a cage. Forced to stay because of a perceived threat that may not actually be there.

Closing your eyes, once more, you can acutely feel the way Natasha’s eyes sweep your form. Assessing you in the way only Natasha ever could, but she doesn’t move to approach you again. Instead she simply sighs and moves towards the door.

“Please be careful, lyubimaya, at least until the boys get here.”

You don’t bother to vocalize your answer. Opting to stiffly nod your head in affirmation without shifting your stance once. You could feel rather than see Natasha’s defeated expression, and just as she’s about to close the door her soft voice fills the silence. “Ya lyublyu tebya.”

The door clicking softly behind her is the only other sound in the apartment for some time. The shifting of the lock is another, but you barely have time to process either. Not when your gaze levels on the window in front of you. The window that conveniently had a fire escape on it, and was conveniently unlocked.

Turning your head you look towards the closed apartment door. Half expecting Natasha to come barreling back in as if she could sense your plans. After a moment when nothing happens your shoulders slacken with relief. Your head turning back towards the window and your plan already in motion.

If Natasha wanted you to stay she should have stayed with you to make sure that you would.

You were not a good little prisoner that follows every order to the letter. You were your own person and you had things that you needed to do. Even if it meant angering Natasha to be able to do them.

Moving towards the window you couldn’t help but feel the elation course through you as it seamlessly opens. Your heart pounding against your chest as you step through and onto the fire escape.

No you weren’t a good little prisoner at all.

-----

Which is what brought you to where you were now. Tied up against a dingy wall in the warehouse district of New York. Your arms slightly elevated above your head and your mouth gagged so you couldn’t make any substantial noise. Four men stood before you and you wanted nothing more than to punch the self satisfied smirks off of their faces. They had caught you unaware as you were stepping out from the local grocery store that was down the street from your apartment. To add insult to injury as you were being taken the car you were in passed your building, and you could clearly see Sam and Clint on the phone. Their eyes filled with worry and trepidation. Their worry was for you and the trepidation was for the incoming wave that would be Natasha. Her fury crashing down onto all of her men when she heard the news that you were gone.

You had wanted nothing more than to jump out of the car, but the cold metal digging into the small of your back stopped you. Not that you could have gained their attention anyway. The goons that had snatched you were at least somewhat competent, unfortunately, and they gagged you the moment you were in the car. “We don’t want you to cause any unwanted attention now do we?”

The whispered words against your ear still causes a shiver to run down your spine. The words themselves not having any actual effect on you, but the way in which they were spoken. The dark promise that lay in undertones of the gruff voice, and the way the speakers hand had caressed your hip when saying it.

Closing your eyes you allow your head to lull down. Your body slowly starts to become numb in the position that it was in. The stiffness of your muscles doing little to ease the ache of the bruises that you knew were forming. Your captors having not been the gentlest of people when grabbing you. You were sure that you would have a bruise in the shape of a handprint for the foreseeable future. If I even make it out of this.

A thought that makes your breath catch, your head shaking slightly against the sudden fuzziness that it brings. No. You couldn’t start thinking like that because if you did then you would lose all hope, and you know that Natasha would come for you. That she would burn the entire city down if it meant getting to you, and that thought breaks your heart even more. How could you have doubted her? How could you have treated her demand like every other possessive girlfriends? How could have doubted her love for you? When she had shown her devotion to you time and time again. You know that being her girlfriend was dangerous, and you know that your safety was top priority to Natasha. And, you had simply cast her concerns aside like they were nothing more than pesky flies.

Your eyes slip shut on their own volition, this was your fault. You deserved everything that was coming towards you.

You could tell that the men were nearing the end of their conversation, and you know what would happen to you when it finished. They would start their interrogation and by the look of the knives on the table beside you it wouldn’t be the fun kind. Staring at a particularly brutal looking knife you couldn’t help but let your mind wander. Thinking about how it would feel to have that digging into your flesh. Ripping your body open like it was nothing. You never felt so human before, so vulnerable. Your mind swirls with the thoughts of death and pain. Blocking the rest of the world out from you.

Because of this, however, you completely miss the sounds of choked gasps from in front of you. The sound of bodies falling with a gentle thud against the decrepit floorboards of the warehouse. Only when a familiar warmth appears in front of you, and gentle hands cradle your face, do you snap out of it. Your gaze meeting shimmering emerald as Natasha smiles at you. Her beautiful face was all that you could see as she cut you down, your legs automatically giving out after being numb for so long. Though you needn’t have worried about falling for too long, because Natasha caught you in her strong hold.

Her lips press against your temple with an almost desperate urgency. Her voice coming out in a choked whisper as she clings to you, gently rocking you both back and forth. “I’m here, lyubimaya, I’m here and I’m never going anywhere. All right? I’m never leaving you again.”

Pressing yourself more fully into Natasha’s side you couldn’t help the tears that slip from your eyes. “I’m so sorry, Nat, I should have listened to you. I shouldn’t have been so hard headed and egotistical. I shouldn’t have let my pride get in the way of your worries. I’m so sorry, Natasha.” You know that your voice sounded choked, almost as choked as Nat’s, but you couldn’t help it. You had almost been taken away from the love of your life because of your own stupidity. Something that you weren’t sure you could ever forgive yourself for.

“There is no need to apologize, but please never do this again. I don’t think my heart could ever take it again. Just like I don’t what I would have done if I hadn’t been faster,” she says, her arms keeping you pressed against her as she raises you both from the floor. Snuggling further into her side you allow your head to rest against her shoulder. Your bodies slot together like puzzle pieces.

“I’m just glad that my mistake didn’t cost us everything,” you say, leaning heavily into Natasha’s side as you begin to move. Your legs still not wanting to cooperate to their full potential. You choose to ignore the bodies that litter the ground of the place. Their throats having been slit, and an almost surprised expression on their faces.

Stepping out into the night you couldn’t help but relish the wind on your face, and the warm body pressing you against her side. Feeling Natasha’s soft hand caressing your cheek prompts you to look at her. Her green eyes shining underneath the moonlight, a gentle smile pulling on her lips. “I am happy about that as well, lyubimaya, more than you could ever know. I would have let this city burn if it meant getting to you faster, and I’m so happy that it didn’t have to come to that.” She says as she brings her lips to press against yours, A gentle embrace between two souls that needed nothing more than to reconnect with one another.

Pulling away you could feel a small smile beginning to form on your lips. You always seemed to be smiling when Natasha was near. “I love you, Nat.”

A blinding smile spreads across Natasha’s face at your words. A look of pure adoration replacing the normally stoic mask. “I love you too. I always have and I always will.”

Putting your face back into the crook of her neck you begin to move once more. Natasha’s arms never waver from your waist nor do yours stray from hers. You know that the boys would be by soon to clean up the mess, but you couldn't really think of anything but Natasha. The warmth of her body and the feeling that seemed suffused itself into your chest because of her hold.

You had almost lost it because of your own stubbornness, and you promised yourself then and there that you would never do so again.

You had learned tonight that you weren’t Natasha’s prisoner, you were her home. Just like she was to you and you could never be happier about anything else. As long as you had each other you could fight through anything.

Together.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow x you #black widow x reader #black widow #mob boss au #mob boss natasha #avengers #you're everything

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zenithlux · 4 years

Text

Tendrils of Regret - Part 4

Read the story on AO3 here!

You remember the first night V slept by your side.

It was the second week after he freed you from the demon and the fifth night in a row you’d woken up from horrible nightmares. The demon’s thoughts were still in your head, digging into your psyche both while awake and certainly while you were asleep. And nothing you did helped. Not the soothing tea. Not the warm showers. Not the plants near your bedside or Shadow sleeping beside you. Nothing helped. Not until V came to your aid.

He entered your room in the middle of the night. “I’m sorry,” He said as he sat on the edge of the bed and reached for your forehead. “You’re burning up.”

You could believe it. You felt warm, especially with tears rolling down your cheeks. “I’ll never escape,” You said, pulling your knees to your chest.

“There’s nothing to escape from,” V said. “You’re already getting stronger.”

“It doesn’t mean anything if I never sleep.”

“Don’t say never,” He lightly chided. “You’ve had good nights.”

“Only a few.”

“It’s better than none.”

You groaned. “You’re far too optimistic.”

He took your hand, rubbing his thumb along the back of it. “Only for you.” You blushed. The rose on your side table bloomed. You glared at it, but V just laughed. “No use in hiding your moods.”

“Is that why you put it there?”

“I want you to be comfortable,” V said. “If it helps… then it helps.”

And it did help. You felt connected to the plants now, for better or for worse. Their energy was yours to manipulate, even if it would be months before you fully understood how to make it work. Not that you would ever understand why it worked. You just knew it did. “So what’s the plan?”

“You need to sleep.”

You frowned. “After a nightmare like that?”

V sat his cane down. Shadow appeared at his feet, hopping onto the bed and curling up behind you. “Would it be alright if I accompanied you?”

“In bed?”

V nodded. “You do well with Shadow, and I think you might do well with me,” His hand gently moved your hair behind your ear. “It’s your choice.”

Shadow purred as you nodded, holding your hand out to him. “Don’t go,” You whispered. “I don’t want to be alone.” You trusted him already. He’d saved you. He’d protected you from the demons that threatened your life and taught you everything you knew. And maybe you were too trusting, but you didn’t care. You had nothing else. Nothing but your plants, your vine, and him. And V followed as you pulled him, lying on the bed with the covers between you. One hand rested on your side as Shadow’s continued purring began to lull you to sleep.

“I’m here,” He said. “Just for you.”

--------------

You woke up slowly as if rising from underwater. You smelled a variety of strong, conflicting scents and, when you opened your eyes, you were overwhelmed by foliage. Plants were everywhere, spilling from baskets and hanging from the ceiling. Your single red rose had turned into twelve blue ones that were all a bit larger than normal. Stems were braided in the corners. Flowers covered every surface, spilling down over your drawers, up your mirror and around the legs of all the furniture. When you sat up, you were relieved to see that none of them were bursting through the floor. No, someone had put all of these in your room, but you had a feeling it hadn’t looked like this when they were done.

You turned slowly, feet touching the cold, wooden floor. You closed your eyes, feeling for all the plants on the edges of your mind. Once you found a few, you waved your hand, pulling back some of the life within them. When you opened your eyes again, many had shrunk back to an acceptable size. It was then that you realized you were in one of your nightgowns and your hair was still wet. How long had you been out? Who changed you? Why all of this?

A light knock at the door was one you instantly recognized. Lady! You tried to stand, but dizziness had you sitting right back on the bed. “Come in.”

Your jaw went slack when it was Vergil that entered, brushing aside the vines as he closed the door behind him. You suddenly felt very exposed, even though you were well covered. His expressionless gaze almost had you wilting. A few of your flowers shrank with your mood. “What do you want?” You said warily, lacking the energy needed for your usual sass. In fact, you felt drained, way more than you thought you should after absorbing such a large demon. You took one of the roses and lay it in your hand, watching as it withered away, donating its life to you. You placed it back on the table and looked up at him.

“I’ve been informed that I am, under no uncertain terms, to make a truce with you.”

“A truce?” You echoed. “What?”

“I am to stop antagonizing you and avoid giving accidental commands whenever possible.” You were almost impressed at how even his voice sounded. There was no disdain as far as you could tell, but his face didn’t give anything away. He was talking pure business, and that was something you could manage.

“That would be appreciated,” You said.

“I’ve also been informed that I am to be your partner for the foreseeable future.”

“My what now?” You said. “I don’t need…”

“Neither do I,” He interrupted. “But considering the circumstances behind your… condition… the others have tasked me with ensuring that you are…” His jaw set. “Taken care of.”

You snorted. “What did you put it to a vote?”

“I had no part in that decision,” He said flatly.

“But you’re going with it anyway.?”

“Unless you tell me otherwise.”

“Is that a sliver of hope I hear?”

His eyes narrowed. “Dante has made it very clear that he would be… disappointed in me if that were to happen.”

“Oh good,” You said. “Then feel free to leave.”

Vergil’s hand tightened on his sword. “Lady and Trish were going to speak to you first, but…”

“But you jumped at the chance?” You said. “How nice of you.”

“Will you…” He took a deep breath to steady himself and started again. “I did some research on your condition, but we need more time to fix it.”

“Will you stop calling it that?” She said. “You make it sound like I’m slowly dying of some horrible disease.”

“There is nothing else to call it,” Vergil said.

“I suppose “my mistake” would be too difficult for you to say.”

You didn’t think his eyes could narrow any further. They did. “You’re obnoxious.”

“Are you projecting?”

He took another slow breath, but you saw the way his knuckles were slowly turning white around the hilt of his katana. Why did you enjoy this so much? Normally making someone this upset (angry? furious?) would bother you. But with him you almost felt vindicated. Maybe it was the fact that your “condition” was his fault to begin with. Maybe it's because you were still in denial and expected V to walk in the door at any time. “Look,” He said. “I don’t expect us to like each other, but everyone expects us to at least get along. Either we can act like adults, or we can both go our separate ways and be done with it.”

You were silent for a long moment. We can act like adults. Nice of him to actually point some of the blame at himself, even if it was in a backhanded way. But could you trust him? A large part of you said no. It was too easy for him to control you. One slip up or wrong word choice and you’d be caught right under his demonic spell. But if he was being serious… and if the others believed in him...

“Fine,” You said slowly. “But I have some caveats.”

You swore you saw his eyebrows twitch. “Such as?”

You held up one finger. “Stop complaining about my music. You’re not going to stop me from listening to it.” You held up a second finger before he could respond. “Let me deal with the demons and stop bringing them inside.” Again, he moved to speak, but you put up a third finger. “Bring home something other than pizza for a change.”

You swore you saw the flicker of a smile. “Fine.”

“Fine,” You repeated. “Then I’ll go with you.

“Morrison has called in a few different requests. Dante and the others went for one, and they expect us to handle the others.”

“Urgent?”

“You have some time.” He said.

You paused a moment. Then, “How long was I out?”

“Two days.”

You choked. “Two days?”

“I don’t like to repeat myself,” He said as he turned back toward the door. “And I suggest you get these plants figured out.”

“I’ll be the one to worry about my plants,” You said. “You leave them alone.”

Vergil paused, glancing back into the room. “He slept here?”

It took you a moment to realize who he was talking about. Odd that he wasn’t saying “I”, but maybe he too was still struggling with it as much as you. “Most of the time. We never had quite so many plants though.”

He paused again. Then, “I was told this was the best way to even out your demonic energy.”

You blinked. “You did this?”

“I’m leaving in an hour,” He said without looking back. “With or without you.”

Then he left, leaving you irrefutably confused and, surprisingly, a little disappointed.

-----------------

An hour was rather generous of him, so you made sure to use every bit of it. You even set a hard timer on your phone, so he couldn’t possibly argue with you when you sauntered down to the front of the store exactly 59 minutes since he left, ready to go. This time, you had been a bit smarter about your clothing choice, just in case the vine wanted to come out and play again; a low hanging tank top and a jacket zipped up to your neck to hide the scar. And he did scowl at you - you had a feeling you’d never get away from that - but he didn’t complain and off you went.

Today, you had three separate jobs; two scouting requests (you didn’t find anything on those) and one suspicious potential demon in a greenhouse on the other side of the city. You ignored the irony that you of all people were sent to the greenhouses, but you realized immediately upon your arrival that it may have been for more reasons than just a demon. The plants inside were sickly. Flowers were wilting. Fruits and vegetables were dying. And, if you remembered right, this was a very important source of food for the people that had survived the tree.

“Can you fix this?” Vergil said as he knelt in front of vines filled with rotten tomatoes.

You knelt beside him, brushing your fingers against the vegetables. The rot slowly disappeared, and the tomatoes turned a bright, fresh red once again. “I don’t know about all of them,” You said. “Not without some demons for fuel.”

“There are some around,” He said.

“Hiding?”

“You can’t feel them?”

You paused, pressing your fingers against the ground. You could feel the roots wrapping around themselves and seeds that had yet to grow. But you could also feel strange holes in between them. Small, humanoid shaped holes. “Not directly,” You said. “But…” You twisted your hand, moving a few of the roots. Then, you pulled your hand up, spearing them through the holes. You heard a few screeches that went silent within seconds. “They’re what's eating the plants away.”

Vergil left your side, slicing through the ground over where you felt one of the holes. He ripped a demon body out of it, stabbing it himself before tossing it at your feet. You wrinkled your nose, grateful it wasn’t one of the stinkier demons you’d dealt with over the last few weeks. “How did you manage that?” You said.

He smirked, but it faded quickly. “The Yamato can cut through anything.”

Yamato. He spoke of it so fondly. Almost like a parent would a child. That was the first time you’d head that name. Dante had proudly named his own sword “Devil Sword Dante” apparently (and you’d teased him over that more than enough by now), but Yamato seemed… different. Just as special, you assumed, but different in a way you couldn’t understand. You wondered if that would be something he’d be willing to tell you about if you asked.

“There’s more,” He said.

“You want me to kill them?”

“That’s what you’re here for.”

You rolled your eyes. “And here I thought you didn’t need me.” You hopped around to the other side of the demon - a small, gremlin looking thing - and unzipped the top of your vest. The vine was quick this time, sucking out the rest of the demon’s blood with eagerness before vanishing again. You zipped up your jacket and felt for more gaps. You found five in total, but only three were big enough to absorb anything from. However, you made sure to pour back whatever you got into the soil, regrowing all the plants you could.

“Will they grow back normally?”

You blinked before you realized he’d even spoken. “They should if they’re taken care of,” You said. “But I take care of my own flowers so…” You shrugged as you moved back to the entrance. “There’s more nearby. A lot more. I’ll get what I can but you might have to start carrying your own weight.” You gave him a dismissive wave and wandered over to the next greenhouse before he could respond. You did, however, hear a light sigh of annoyance as you walked away.

The second greenhouse was as infested as the first, with you uprooting the few you killed and Vergil grabbing others before you could. By the third greenhouse, it had turned into something close to a competition, with him moving much faster than a human should and you stretching your mental connection as far as it could possibly go to beat him to the punch. A few times, you swore he just disappeared and wondered if his demon powers gave him the ability to teleport. Of course, that was probably cheating, but you were at the limits of your power, so it seemed only fair he should get to use his own.

By the sixth greenhouse you were exhausted, and the demons you were finding weren’t enough to sustain the number of plants you’d brought back to life. You sat down outside of it, breathing heavily as you leaned your head back and let your eyes close. It was the last one, but you weren’t sure if you’d be able to fix it today. Even your senses were muddled, as you weren’t even able to feel the roots of the grass anymore.

But you’d done a great service. That had to be good enough.

“Done already?” Vergil said.

You opened your eyes just to glare at him. “Not all of us have the stamina you do.”

Was that another flicker of a smirk? You weren’t certain. “Maybe you shouldn’t have challenged me.”

“I never challenged you,” You said. “I just told you to stop being dead weight.”

Vergil rolled his eyes. “Stay here. I’ll deal with the rest.”

“Don’t you dare think me weak,” you said, throwing your hand out. It was shaky and fell back against your side quicker than you intended. “I’m more than capable of…” Deep breath. “Keeping up.”

“Clearly,” Vergil said as he entered the greenhouse. You heard the screeches of demons behind you and just closed your eyes again. You’d siphon energy from them later. He’d been pretty good so far at leaving everything for you, but you supposed he didn’t need it. He clearly had all the power he needed while you were left to siphon from the leftovers.

A rustle from nearby caught your attention. You let your head fall to the side, staring out over the open field. You noticed subtle movement in the grass. But there was no wind to stir it up and nobody in the fields to disturb it. Frowning, you forced yourself to your feet and moved over to where you thought the rustling was coming from. You placed your hand on the ground, drawing from the grass so you could sense what was underneath it.

Your eyes widened. Big holes. Dozens of them. How had you not sensed them before?

“Verg…”

You screamed as numerous holes burst open at once. The gremlin demons landed and charged straight at you. You tried to get to your feet, but your exhaustion took over and you crumbled. You reached for the grass, begging it to rise for you. But it wilted instead. You snapped your head up as a gremlin jumped at you.

Blue lines filled the air between you and the demons. The gremlins screamed as they hit the ground, sliced to pieces. Your eyes caught a blue blur, and the others nearby died in an instant. Vergil appeared before you, sheathing Yamato with a loud, deliberate click. You stared at him, mouth agape as your heart pounded somewhere in your throat. “I didn’t sense them.”

“You were too focused on the greenhouses,” He said.

“You knew they were there?”

“I knew there were more around,” Vergil turned to the carnage of broken soil and torn roots. “We’ll get some soil sent over from Fortuna. Send Dante out to fix it.”

You pushed yourself back to your feet, wincing as you took a few steps forward. Most of the demons had already bled out, but there were a few you could still absorb. I don’t deserve these, you thought. You didn’t kill them. You weren’t stronger than them. But you needed the energy, and all you could imagine was V smiling as he took a step back, ignoring the demons he and the others had killed in front of you.

You need it too.

“Thank you,” You whispered as you zipped your coat back up.

“Is a day enough time for you to recover?”

You closed your eyes and nodded. “There’s plenty of demons here.”

“Dante promised to bring some home.”

“... That’s kind of him.”

Vergil turned away. “We’re done here.”

“Wait,” You said as you moved to the last greenhouse.

“What are you doing?”

“Fixing the last one,” You said as you pushed yourself inside.

“You don’t have the energy for that.”

“You don’t know what kind of energy I have,” You said as you continued into the middle of the greenhouse, turning your hand as you went. The plants bloomed as you passed by, smaller than the other greenhouses, but alive and ready for someone else to take care of them. When you were done, you took a deep breath, listening for the vine. It was silent now, and you wondered if you’d managed to even your energy out. “Now we can go,” You said, but jumped when you realized Vergil was in the doorway.

“You’re pushing yourself.”

“I’m doing my job,” You said. “Why else would you all have sent me here?” You moved to push past him, but he didn’t let you. His gaze locked with yours, but you still couldn’t read his expression. “What?” You said, unable to hide your frustration. “Were you expecting me to just stand around and watch you do everything?”

“No,” He said.

“Then what is it?”

“Is this how you were with him?”

You froze, confused. “Like… what with him?”

“Loud and careless.”

Your jaw clenched and your eyes narrowed. “We knew how to work together,” You said. “And respected each other, something I’m not even sure you’re capable of.”

He let you move past him then, and you flipped open your phone to call someone else for a ride.

#dmcweek2020 #dmcweek #vergilxreader #vergil dmc #fan fiction #Vxreader

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crimsonfluidessence · 4 years

Text

Prompt 14: Part

Today was the day. Esredes took longer to get out of his bed than usual. It was the last day he would sleep in it for the foreseeable future, and he wanted to take a moment to let himself sink down into the mattress, as if to silently thank it for all these years of its service. When he finally did get up, he got to work quickly. He picked up the two large messenger bags he had- to think these alone would be able to hold every material possession he owned. There really wasn’t that much to pack up- his clothes and duplicates of his sword took up the most room. Beyond that, it was mostly his little book collection and journal. Packing only took twenty minutes, including pauses. And then that was it. All these years of this tiny little room, behind him with one large decision. So often had he longed for something less depressing than this little space, but when it came down to leaving it behind…. oh, he really didn’t want to. But he forced himself out the open space, down the hall, and out onto the familiar path of the mountain. He trekked through the entirety of the camp slowly and leisurely, spending extended moments inside most of the spaces and absorbing the memories, all the good and the bad flowing through him like water in an icy river. Once this was done, he made his way back to the center of camp, gazing out at the vast view beyond the mountain. He almost couldn’t bring himself to leave… “Esredes,” came a voice from behind, causing him to turn around and come face to face with the same man who had talked to him when the war officially ended and he felt lost. “Why are you standing there with two very heavy looking bags on each shoulder?" “I’m leaving today.” He told the man. “I’ve finally made up my mind. I’m going back to Ishgard.” The man seemed a little shocked at this. “I know you’ve been spending the majority of most days in Ishgard for a couple weeks now, but I didn’t think you would make up your mind this quickly.” “Yeah, me neither. But I’ve been busy each day trying to arrange things, talk to people, test if I can really walk on the street without a problem, experiencing the place for what it is now and for what I remembered. So far, somehow, no problems. And I’ve searched nearly every part of the city. No wanted posters. They must have complied with my request to take them all down.” “Glad they’re doing the bare minimum after pardoning you.” “Right.” He responded. “But after all of that arranging and water testing… Look, I know I shouldn’t. But I thought about it, a lot. And… I don’t think a better option exists. The thing is, the new government asked me to help them out quietly for payment. Enough payment that I might be able to slowly rebuild from nothing. And while I could just become a mercenary or sellsword and wander to avoid Ishgard, I honestly don’t really want to. Last time I pretended to be a sellsword obviously didn’t go well, and that could be dredged back up. It won’t be something that really makes me feel alive. And any other kind of work is a fat chance. I don’t exactly have any credentials besides a stripped military title and being a rebellion commander for years upon end.” He let out a sigh. “The Far East is even worse. A fresh start in a land where I have nothing but my form and my sword to help me. And then there’s staying here… the most peaceful of all the options, but I would get restless. Part of me would love to stay, but I know I will feel unfulfilled doing nothing but hunting to survive and hearing the updates on Ishgard from the sidelines, forever just doomed to live in the wilderness as a nothing separated from civilization. …It’s a weird feeling.” He said. “I know Ishgard isn’t trying to get me to come back because they want me back. I know it’s just a move on their part so that I don’t do something dangerous with the information I have on them. But even just pretending that they think I deserve to be a legal person again is surreal.” “What if it is all a trap?” “If it’s a trap I am not ready for, that is that.” He said. “At this point, I don’t think it makes a difference if I die out here or in there. At least in there, there’s a chance there will be consequences for it.” He shrugged. “Like said, I know it’s not ideal. But we lost. There is no ideal option left for us. So I’ve resolved to play the game they ask of me, for now. They know they’re playing with fire, let’s see if they get burned or not, hm?” He offered the man a small smile. “Don’t worry. I won’t go into this without the ample number of shields and safeguards, and I will spend each day getting more. I can’t have them get the jump on me without making it a challenge.” “Well, if you’re saying this now… something really must have sparked you.” The man remarked. “You were so lost on that day before you got the announcement. Now you seem almost confident. Honestly, I am glad for you. I know I can’t change your mind, and I trust you to be careful and cautious. So if you’re truly prepared to go back… I expect you’re going to make the most of it.” Esredes smiled back. “Your confidence in me is appreciated.” Though it was not but a few moments later when another person emerged. And another, and another. Soon he was surrounded by people who asked first if the rumor was true, and then all took turns wishing him well in Ishgard. “If anyone tries to give you shit, tell me and I’ll move right next door to you, all right?” One person teased. “Please be well. We’re all counting on you, Esredes. You’ll make everyone proud.” “Try to enjoy what’s still there to enjoy. You deserve it after all that’s happened.” Esredes’ eyes almost welled up with tears. He had not been prepared for all this sentiment. “I… I don’t know what to say. Thank you, everyone. I promise I will visit frequently. I’m not truly disappearing on all of you.”

Once he finally took off, it was a lone wyvern in the sky carrying his bags with much more ease. The ride to near the gates of Ishgard felt like the loneliest one he ever took.

It wasn’t too late to turn back and remain in the sanctuary… but he pressed on and kept going until he arrived. Until he walked once more through the gates of Ishgard and across the bridge, an action he had repeated just enough times by now not to be afraid anymore.

Twenty minutes later, he was pushing his way into that empty house that was now legally his, as of a few days ago, thanks to a lot of borrowed money from noble allies. His own key and everything… Gods, it had been so long since he had a proper door like this. Locking the door behind him gave him a weird sense of glee.

As he set the bags down, he looked about the mostly empty room. All it had were the cabinets and kitchen appliances built into the wall. Empty, but it was an upgrade from his camp room. So much more space to work with, even though it reminded him nothing of his former manor. Now it would be up to him to figure out how to fill the rest of the space… gods, when was the last time he had to think about furniture? It was years ago when he moved the desk and wall rack into his camp room. That was it. He had never had to actually plan furnishing an entire space- even one as small as this- ever before. It was almost overwhelming him already… He unpacked as much as he could, and not soon after as he contemplated where to purchase a sleeping bag was there a knock on the door. Esredes opened the door and a smile came to his face observing the one behind it. It was an ally of his who had managed to remain within the walls all this time. “I heard someone was moving in,” they said. “Do you need help unpacking?” “I just finished what I could on my own. It wasn’t exactly a complex job. Don’t worry about helping with that.” “Wonderful, that means you’re free now. This is a cause for celebration, Esredes.” They said. “Come with me. I have plans. I’m going to give you a good welcome back to Ishgard night. We’re going out to experience the best this city has to offer, and it’s all on me.” “Isn’t being seen out with me going to incriminate you as a heretical accomplice…?” “They can’t do anything about it now. You now have an erased record, so my record of helping you is also erased. Trust me, don’t worry about that, Esredes. I never thought a day like this might happen, and I’m going to make the most of it.” And make the most of it they did. Esredes was promptly dragged out to all sorts of places; teahouses, a restaurant for both his lunch and his dinner, quiet scenic spaces to sit by the fountain at nighttime, and practically the entire length of the Crozier. By the time it was late at night and he was back at his new home- thankfully having managed to obtain the sleeping mat he needed earlier- he was exhausted from all the activity. Ah, what a change of pace from being barely able to walk over the bridge. What a change of pace from having to lock himself in a room to recompose himself after Aymeric had told him he was free to live in Ishgard again. Esredes proceeded upstairs and rolled the futon out, changing into his sleepwear and settling in without another moment’s hesitation. Yet even despite his exhaustion, it took him a while to fall asleep. The silence of the unfamiliar, empty space was incredibly loud, and his heart pounded with anticipation of something happening. It took a while of listening to for him to drown it all out, and focus on falling asleep. Welcome home, he told himself soon before the abyss finally took him.

#ffxivwrite2020 #in action #post hw #writing #screenshots #Camp Room

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loveburnsbrighter · 4 years

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Live In Your Heart

requested by @i-dont-even-effing-know-anymore. hope you enjoy! 💕

read it on ao3

"We're not setting up the wifi yet," Patrick says. He's got his Stern Face on, which usually means fun things, but sometimes, unfortunately, means that David will be required to do work. This seems to be one of those times.

"But babe," he says, wheedling, "how will I order pizza if I don't have wifi?" He brandishes his phone. "I ran out of data in New York last week." He went with Alexis to help her settle in — it's been a strain, her moving right before he and Patrick were set to, and he's frankly exhausted, physically and emotionally. "We promised Stevie pizza," he adds, as if he can convince Patrick that his motivation is purely selfless.

Patrick plucks the phone right out of his hand. "I'll call them," he says. "You remember, how we ordered pizza back in the nineties? By calling?"

"Ugh, don't remind me." David leans back against a towering stack of boxes, ignoring Patrick's pained look, and sighs heavily. "Alright, fine. We might as well get this done. Bedroom first, or kitchen?"

"We can put Stevie on kitchen duty when she gets here," Patrick says. "Bedroom now." He pauses for a moment, and then smiles slowly, like he can't help it. "Our bedroom," he says, and David wouldn't generally describe Patrick as a particularly jovial person, but he looks downright giddy.

David honestly can't blame him, feels that a little bit too, at the words. He's spent a lot of time at Patrick's place, and for the last month or so he's lived there fully, barring his four days in New York with Alexis. But it was still Patrick's place, no matter how at-home David made himself there. (Very.)

This is their place. David and Patrick's home. David and Patrick's bedroom.

"Our bedroom," he agrees, and grabs a box, following Patrick down the hall.

Their bedroom is, thus far, more or less a big empty cube. There's a weird alcove with the window in it that Patrick has been insisting he wants a window seat for, and the master bathroom door is on the wall kitty-corner to the bedroom door. David has been pleased (thrilled) to note that the whole thing comes with a lovely little walk-in closet; it's not huge, but it's easily three or four times the size of the closet back in Patrick's studio.

The movers brought in Patrick's bed yesterday and set it up against the far wall, and David and Patrick slept on the mattress on the floor at Patrick's place. "Okay, first things's first," David says, dropping his box in the middle of the floor. Patrick pointedly pushes it against a wall, and David ignores him. "Where are the sheets? Because we can not sleep on dirty sheets our first night in the new house, Patrick."

"Actually," Patrick says, "about that." He's barely trying to hide a shit-eating grin, and it makes David immediately wary.

"What," he says heavily.

"Okay, don't be mad," Patrick says, which tells David that he probably should be, "I should have talked to you probably but I wanted it to be a surprise," and he rushes through the words to keep David from interrupting. "I used all the money my grandparents gave us for our wedding and bought that flax-linen Pottery Barn set you wanted."

David gasps, because he has wanted that bed set so badly — fair trade linens in gorgeous soft sandy beige — but Patrick has insisted every time David has argued that it's frivolous to spend more than a hundred dollars on sheets. Their current sheets are from Target. "Like, the sheets —"

"The whole bed set," Patrick says, looking inordinately pleased with himself. "The sheets, the duvet and shams — I didn't get the dust ruffle because my bed frame —" But David doesn't get to hear about the dust ruffle because he's quite literally launching himself into Patrick's arms and kissing him.

Patrick makes a soft, surprised noise, not quite a laugh, and lifts his hands to hold David by the waist. He pulls back just a little, letting David kiss down his jaw, to say, "So you're not mad?"

"Linen sheets," David mumbles against his Adam's apple. He pulls back to smile down at Patrick, and Patrick is smiling back, radiant in a way that David never saw him before they got engaged, a way that he's seen more and more since they decided to buy the house. "Okay," he says, schooling himself, because if they do what he wants to do — which is tackle Patrick onto the bare mattress in their empty bedroom and thoroughly christen the house — then they'll never get to all the things they have to do. "Well, where are the new sheets, because they have to be washed before we can use them."

Patrick helps David wrestle the new bedding out of its insane packaging, and then builds a little fort in the tiny laundry room out of all the cardboard while David starts a load. He's relieved every second that the previous owners left their washer and dryer — they're both done with public laundry for the foreseeable future.

They grab another box each to haul into the bedroom on the way back down the hall; the bed and dressers are there already, and a single bookcase. David has already been in to clean the closet and repaper the shelves in there, and they've agreed that they don't want to paint the bedroom; it came a creamy off-white that feels warm and soft, somehow.

David puts on music — he's made a playlist just for this, full of high-energy, multigenerational pop, Tina and Britney and Mariah all sharing space. At some point Patrick logged into their shared Spotify — purely an economic choice; David didn't want Patrick's music fucking up his Wrapped, but that's not really worth ten bucks a month — and added Mumford and Sons and Bryan Adams and the Beach Boys, because Patrick has no sense of thematic or genre consistency. It's fine, he supposes; when you love someone, you're willing to compromise for them.

"'Framed wall art and photos - bedroom,'" Patrick says out loud, reading off the Sharpie label on a box. "Maybe we should save this one until we've got the basics together?"

"Okay," David agrees over an infuriatingly long banjo solo. "This one is your books?" Patrick gestures and David slides it over, watches him produce a knife from his pocket and slice open the top.

By the time Stevie strolls through the door, helpfully using her emergency key, they've mostly got the bedroom together. The mattress pad and sheets are on, with the duvet set in the dryer, and Patrick's books and David's books are commingled on the shelf, which David is alarmingly pleased by — they're married, but the sight of his Virginia Woolf next to Patrick's Agatha Christie makes him feel warm from the inside out.

"I picked up the pizza," Stevie shouts. "You owe me forty bucks in reimbursement!"

David skids down the hall, eager for pizza, with Patrick behind him.

"How in the name of god did you spend forty bucks on pizza?" Patrick wants to know.

Stevie shrugs, hugging him as David relieves her of the boxes. "I got garlic knots."

"And cheese bread," David says gleefully, spreading the boxes on the table. "And one of those big cookies."

Patrick sighs after him but dutifully digs three beers out of the fridge. (They set up all the appliances and TVs yesterday.) (All that's in the fridge so far is beer, a single head of lettuce, and a few bottles of green juice.) David accepts his beer with minimal distasteful nose-scrunching.

They make short work of lunch, and Patrick sets Stevie up in the kitchen with a roll of shelf paper and more boxes than he'd ever thought he could fill with kitchen stuff; the dishes from his apartment, of course, and then they'd gotten a lot of the classic appliance wedding gifts: a brand new blender, a four-slice toaster ("but what will you use?" David had asked), an upright mixer, a block of knives with marble handles that Patrick is actually thrilled with.

David finishes making the bed, and then he just stands and stares at it for a second; he can't wait for Patrick to have sex with him in these sheets in this bedroom, but he also can't wait for Patrick to cuddle with him in this bed. Watch movies with him. Hold him close and fall asleep with an arm slung low over his waist.

Patrick comes up behind him and settles warm hands on his hips, and David leans back into the touch. "Stevie and I want to get started on the living room," Patrick says, hooking his chin over David's shoulder. "You just about done in here?"

David crosses his arms across his own waist and takes Patrick's hands, swaying. One of Patrick's songs is playing from David's tiny speaker. I've been so happy loving you, Dennis Wilson croons into the space, less echoey than it was earlier before they got their pictures up. He looks around at their new room; the receipt from their first date is already on the bookshelf, and there's a framed poster for that first open mic night, and one from Alexis' singles week. These are all things from Patrick's apartment; all this time, he's been collecting little souvenirs for them. Stepping stones tracing the path of their relationship. There's a framed wedding invitation, too, and photos: from the store opening, Patrick's birthday, their bachelor party, their wedding.

Even after David landed in Schitt's Creek without a paddle, if he'd been asked to describe his future, he would have crafted a life more or less like the one he'd left: galleries and parties, a drugged-out A-list entourage, globetrotting in the wake of Alexis' endless stream of near misses. He never could have imagined this: a house in a small town, a business heavily patronized by flannel-clad locals, a single friend who loved him enough to help him move. Alexis settled in one place, his parents settled in another, weekly Facetime calls.

Five gold rings on his fingers, the most beautiful man he's ever seen in Costco jeans, holding him and swaying and singing softly in his ear: "Forever, together my love…" A sedan that clicks in the driveway, blueprints for a vegetable garden. All the Ricky-and-Lucy trappings of a good life, things he never would have expected to love.

"You won," Stevie told him a few months ago, when he brought her here to sit in the driveway and pour out his heart. And David can hear her clanking dishes together downstairs, and Patrick is warm against his back, and the song is fading out the way that slow seventies rock does, and David knows, bone-deep, unshakeably, that she was right.

#david x patrick #fanfiction #rye.txt #stevie budd #schitt's creek

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celticvampriss · 4 years

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This is a prequel fic to Established Rhythm involving my own OC, Kira Skye, and a developing romance with the Mandalorian. If anyone wants to be tagged when I update let me know. You can read this by following the link or reading the chapter below the read more.

TAG LIST: @banana-batman

A scream followed the hydraulic hiss of the central lifter and a body flew over the extending boarding ramp. It landed with a crunch on a bed of grime and dust, sending a wave of rodents scattering into the trash that had built up in the corner of the mud caked buildings. The sun was blocked by a haze of cloud and smog, the air thick with greenhouse heat that added a nice pungency to the overall smell.

The Mandalorian looked down at his feet, meeting a pair of wide brown eyes that naively saw no issues with the landscape they were about to enter.

“This is no place for a kid,” He said, almost to himself. The Kid liked the occasional sound or he’d get mischievous, and so Dyn was working on the habit of narrating. If only to save his ship from idle green hands. “Any chance I can get you to listen and stay put?”

The Kid cooed, already heading down the ramp.

Dyn sighed.

He let the Kid walk for exactly two tense minutes before scooping him up and quickly weaving his way through the city to his destination. He couldn’t say this was an ideal choice for a new base for the Enclave, but then it wasn’t his place to have a say. He was the reason they’d had to move. Dyn had already memorized the layout, easily finding the new base and proceeding inside. There, at least, surrounded by familiarity and even—despite the new scenery—as close a sense to ‘home’ as he could claim, The Kid would be safe on his own legs, but had protested being set down. With a sigh, Dyn continued to carry him.

As he neared the Armorer, the one who had summoned him, he noticed a face that didn’t belong. A woman with no helmet or armor—who wore quite the opposite in a brightly colored gown with dark hair twisted and bent into an elaborate design—his eyes lingered on her. It was jarring to see a face in the Enclave, he’d imagine it was similar to walking through the halls of your childhood home and seeing a ghost leaning on the kitchen counter chatting with your parents.

He found the Armorer and set the Kid down as he sat and waited. She was in the middle of working and didn’t care to be interrupted.

With a spray of steam, she threw down her smithing gloves and came around to greet him with a silent nod, which he returned.

The Armorer’s gaze drifted briefly to the Kid and then back. “We have a time critical situation that will require your cooperation.”

“What do you need?”

“We need protection and immediate evacuation for her,” The Armorer gestured past the open archway of the armory, to the woman he noticed earlier.

His fists clenched. He couldn’t refuse the request. `“Why? What does she need protecting from?”

“She’s proven to be a great asset to our community, with connections that might just get us some ground in our plans for the future. A little less hiding.”

“A politician?” No wonder she needed protection.

“Not exactly, but there are those who will silence her if they had the chance. We can’t risk that. So you are going to get Kira Skye off this planet and keep her alive until we contact you.”

Dyn glanced at the woman again, her chin high in the air, shoulders set, though closer observation showed the snagged and frayed edges of her dress—recent damage—and that elaborate hair design was lopsided. If he were to guess, she was a highborn lady, someone who had grown up with credits and privilege. And still ‘no’ was not an option.

“Fine,” He relented, “But my ship is small, she’ll have to travel light.”

“She has one bag,” The Armorer gestured to a small, well made rucksack near the door.

They exchanged terse parting words and Dyn scooped up the Kid to leave. He hesitated, then grabbed the rucksack and slung it over his shoulder. Out in the hall, the other Mandalorian’s had left, and she was alone and staring questioningly in his direction.

He sighed, resolving himself to this situation outside his control and silently hoping that it wouldn’t turn out the way he was predicting. Now, closer, he noted the signs of fear and unease in her posture and manners. “Guess you’re with me,” He said, “Come on.”

Kira followed him silently. If he knew that would be her only moments of silence, he might have appreciated it properly, for now he was only grateful to put that planet behind him and that she hadn’t cried.

She marched up the boarding ramp, head high, and immediately crossed her arms as her eyes bounced around the main cabin. Once inside the Razorcrest, he set her bag and the Kid down. “Sit tight until I come back.” He headed for the cockpit.

“Wait,” She marched after him, “Where are you going?”

“I’m getting you off this planet,” He said, “As ordered.”

Her mouth opened and closed, green eyes flashing with a touch of insanity. Her heart was racing, too. He wasn’t sure what had brought her to this moment, but he was starting to piece it together. One bag, nice clothes that were freshly torn, and how hard she was trying to cover her fear and panic with forced confidence. She started to wring her hands together, fingers working over and over each other as her breathing grew heavier.

“Here, sit.” He guided her without touching her to a seat—a crate that was the right height—and then the shut bay door.

“I’m fine. Really. I’ll be fine. I just,” She swallowed, “I just need some air.”

He didn’t know how to tell her that all her air would be recirculated from the air scrubbers and life-support systems for the foreseeable future. It was the kind of comment that wouldn’t help anyway. Instead he found a canteen and offered her old water that, maybe, hadn’t gone stale.

Kira chugged it, water spilling out the corners of her mouth, and when she finished she swiped at her lips with the back of her hand. “Thank you,” She said through heavy breaths, “I don’t remember the last time I drank anything.”

Sitting wasn’t wise. He needed to get them airborne and on their way if the threats to her life were that serious. Yet, every time he turned to do just that, she stopped him.

“Can I come?” She pleaded, eyes big and the barest tremor in her lips. The Kid had already crawled his way up there, though how was a mystery, and he did have the seat for another. There wasn’t any reason to say no except that there was a lot of people encroaching on his solitude and, though he wouldn’t say he hated it, he wasn’t used to it either.

“Sure,” He relented. She crawled into the seat behind his, pulling her legs up under her and getting cozy. He’d never be that flexible, especially with all the armor.

“What’s that flashing?” She asked, as the engines started up and he went through the launching sequences. He glanced down, where her finger was pointing.

“Proximity sensor.”

“What does that do?”

“Alerts when we’re close to things.”

He felt her rise, her hands gripping the back of his seat while she craned her head around him to look. “What about that?”

“It’ll take a long time to explain every switch or indicator,” He said, “And you should be seated. Or you’ll fall.”

She sat and he heard the safety harness click. “I have time, you know.”

He sighed. The Kid cooed in his lap while every other minute she fpund something new to say or ask. He counted one blessing, her constant talking was keeping the kid happy which meant he didn’t have to do it. Once they were moving, he technically didn’t have to stay in the cockpit, but he liked to. Or, rather, sitting in the cockpit had become a habit when he was alone and had nothing else to occupy him while traveling. Now, he supposed, there were things he could do, like see to Kira’s temporary living situation. The Kid had found a shelf to call home—forgoing the crib he’d tried to build for him—and didn’t take up much space. As for accommodations, the Razorcrest had exactly one sleeping cabin with one single bed. There was a cot somewhere in his gear, buried, but he’d have to make it work. He could hardly stick her on the cot in the middle of the open.

“Where are we going?” She asked, ending a solid 47 seconds of silence.

“Not sure yet,” He said, “Right now, I’ve got us heading toward the outer rim. Best place to lay low.”

There was a touch of awe in her voice, which was so naturally expressive he hardly needed to see her to know every emotion she was feeling. “I’ve never been this far from home before. I’ll admit, for as much as I’m afraid, I’m also excited.”

“That’s nice,” He added, though it wasn’t to be dismissive. She seemed to pick up on that and babbled on.

“I’ve read about a great many planets, learning and reading are my favorite activities, since I hadn’t gotten out much as a child. If I’d known I was going to be traveling, I’d have read about ships and their functions. Then I’d have a better idea what all these things do,” She gestured around the cockpit, “Like I’ve been staring at that panel up there for ages, but I can’t decide if it’s meant to show the engines or the life-support functions.”

“Neither,” he said, “That’s an optical transducer panel.”

“What does that mean?”

“Means there are sensors in places sensors aren’t normally found. Keeps the ship more secure.”

“How does it—”

“There’s a manual,” He said, rising and scooting around her legs to a cabinet above her head. He brushed off some of the dust and handed the data pad to her. “Everything about the ship is in there.”

The thing was a relic, he’d never touched it in the years since he’d owned the ship, but the look in her eyes when her fingers closed around half a century old data pad you’d think it was a gold plated set of rare jewels. She stood up, hugging the data pad to her chest, and they were very close together—nowhere else to stand—and she looked like she might try to hug him.

“Your room is down here,” He avoided quickly, heading down the ladder and away from the smothering intensity of her eyes.

She followed him down, saying something about ladders and climbing them in dresses and impractical shoes, and how she really wished she had been able to grab a proper change of clothes. “As it is,” She continued, “It’s just more of this. I hadn’t a chance to…” She swallowed. “I took what I could and, unfortunately, that means nothing of real use. I don’t even have shoes.” She gestured to the high heel of her footwear and then proceeded to rip them off and chuck them in a corner. “I’ll clean those up later.” She said, marching barefoot past him.

“There’s only one cabin with a bed. I’ll need a few minutes to get what I need out, but then it’s all yours—”

She held up her hand in a very commanding gesture, though somehow she managed it without the condescending air. “Out of the question.”

“There’s no other room.”

She looked around, “I can figure out something out here.”

“You can take the room.”

“No.” She crossed her arms, and gave him a look that said quite clearly he would not win this debate. She would outlast him.

He sighed. “Then all I have is a cot. I need to find it first.”

“I’ll help you look.”

They searched through the accumulated junk and odds and ends for a good half hour. Mostly silent, except she had to constantly ask him questions about the things she found. She even cleaned as she went, neatening each displaced object whether it was trash or not. Her path through the minimal storage space was an organized trail. He looked back at his path, and it was just a mess with a walkway in the middle. They found the cot after another half hour and he set it up and placed it against a wall. At least, without carbonite bounties taking up space, there was more room to walk, but that still didn’t leave much. There was also the issue that the cot needed to be secured. He found some tools and welded it in place. He’d hack it apart later. Or leave it, didn’t matter.

“Thank you,” she said once he finished. He nodded.

“I’m sorry I don’t have much for sheets, but there’s an extra pillow.” This was a lie, there was only one and it was his, but he was starting to learn that if he told her that, she’d refuse it.

“Ha!” She tore open her rucksack and started tossing long, flashy garments over the faded, dull green canvas of the cot. “Guess they did have a use after all.”

“Can I get you anything else?” There wasn’t much else to offer.

“No, thank you. I’ll be fine. Please don’t worry about me.”

He nodded, then hesitated to leave. It was still bothering him, her not taking the room. He didn’t want to voice it, but he thought he could guess the reason. Still, the question wouldn’t come, so he watched her awkwardly for a second, before snapping back to his senses and attempting to leave.

“You want to know why I refused your room,” She stopped him, eyes knowing. How she had guessed his question, he decided not to imagine. She gave him a knowing wink and then tapped her head. “I know a bit about the culture and I’m not about to throw you out of your space when, of the two of us, you’re the one who needs privacy.”

He had a feeling that was it, but then he hadn’t expected her—anyone, really—to be that considerate of what he needed. People often attempted. If they weren’t skirting the line of rudeness, then they would at least be civil about it. But never adjusting their own comfort for his.

He left her. He wasn’t quite tired, so he returned to the cockpit to try and settle on a place they could restock supplies. Her voice drifted up from her cot, a slow, luring song in words he didn’t understand. She was singing. He might have minded, except her voice was pleasing. Lyrical, but strong, he decided to enjoy it rather than tune her out by adjusting his audio sensors.

It wasn’t long before she fell asleep. He swiveled in his seat, glancing toward where she lay, but unable to see her. He only knew she slept because the singing had stopped. It had been nice, but the quiet was welcome. Alone, with only the sounds of the ship, it was a piece of his old normal. He settled back to enjoy the encompassing solitude, when Kira’s voice startled him into standing. He hopped down the ladder, though he couldn’t imagine that any danger had found her in the two hours since he’d left her, and he realized she was still sleeping. Her voice babbled incoherent strings of words and phrases.

Of course she talked in her sleep. He had a feeling that his moments of solitary quiet would only exist in memory.

#the mandalorian #mandalorian #the mandalorian fic #star wars #oc #my fic #myfic

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anotheronechicagobog · 5 years

Text

Matt Casey x Reader I’m Sorry Part 1

Written by @anotheronechicagobog

A/N: Okay, so this ended up being waaaaaaay more than a oneshot. Sorry. I’m going on vacation with my family for a few days, I’ll be posting again as early as Friday, starting with the Jay Halstead series I started and then the request I’ve gotten from people. And to all the people who started following me, thanks! I was really nervous about writing fanfiction initially, you guys make me feel a lot less ridiculous. I really hope that you enjoy this!

Warnings: Swearing, child neglect, cancer, death, running away, daddy issues, fights

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It was your first day at Gaffney medical centre as part of the diagnostic medical team. And you honestly didn’t know if you should be excited or not. Considering my last name might not be welcome here. It’s no secret that your father, Hank Voight, was and still is, a dirty cop. He’s made friends but he’s also made enemies. “Dr. Voight?”

“Yes?” There was a tall blonde man in a Chicago Fire Department uniform. He let out a dark chuckle. “So the rumour’s true. They actually hired you.” You felt your stomach turn to lead. This. This was one of the many reasons you ran as fucking far and fast from Chicago the second you could. You straightened your shoulders, and use your sergeant's voice. “Yes, they did. They looked at my degrees, certification, research, contributions to various charities and medical journals, along with the fact that I’m the best doctor in my field in the western hemisphere, and decided to hire me.” Whoever this guy was, clearly did not hold a high opinion of either your father, brother, or both, and you couldn’t blame him. But the Fire Department and the hospital worked closely together, so you needed to make sure you’re here because you worked your ass off. He looked taken aback by your response, his blue eyes an open book, widening in shock. “So, which one messed with you? My father or my brother?”

“Uh- both.” He nodded, still shocked. Now it was your turn to be shocked. “What? My father and brother did something together?! Have I stepped into an alternate universe or something?”

“I’m Matt Casey,” he was looking at me in bewilderment and curiosity, “would you like to get a drink with me, by any chance? I think we have a lot to talk about.”

Later, after both your shifts were over, you met up at Molly’s. “So, uh, what exactly did my father and brother do to you?” In all honesty, you were well aware that what this man was about to say would be horrifying. You knew your father and brother, knew what they were like, at home, and at work.

When you were fourteen years old, your mother said she hadn’t been feeling well, and it got serious enough to go to the doctor. Two days later, she and your dad sat you, Erin and Justin down and told you that she had been diagnosed with cancer, and her doctor said it didn’t look good. You- your mom’s little bookworm- did some probing and found out it was ovarian cancer. After that, you spent every spare moment either with your mom or researching ovarian cancer. The six months in between her diagnosis and death were difficult, to say the least. With medical bills piling up and no way to pay all of them on a detective’s salary, your dad did something that horrified you. He turned, started taking bribes, getting involved with gangs, and other organized crime groups. Even after your brother got involved, and you learned all the spots in the house where you hid both of their illegal items (guns, money, papers, and drugs), you and Erin, who was still recovering from her addictions and troublesome childhood, let it slide because they were paying your mom’s hospital bills and you both loved her so much. It was during a family trip to Disney World, at your mother’s request, that you began to suspect your mom wasn’t getting better and that if she died, they wouldn’t stop their... ‘activities’.

Erin was someone you had come to love and cherish. Your dad used to bring home troubled kids he met while working all the time. Usually, it would only be temporary. They were waiting for a loving relative to get custody, to live somewhere drug-free for a while. They were usually carbon copies of Justin. This was your dad’s not-so-subtle way of telling him he needed to “shape up”. Justin was always causing trouble, thus always being on the front burner, while you were always on the back burner. Your mom did everything she could to make time for you, while your dad didn’t, you gardened, cooked, sang, played music, painted and embroidered together. As you grew older, Justin caused more and more trouble, your dad spending less and less time with you. To the point where he barely knew anything about you, was completely unaware of what was going on in your life and forgot when your birthday was. Twice. This was all hard enough to deal with, believing that you weren’t enough, that there was something wrong with you, and feeling as though he’d abandoned you even though you saw him every day. All of that intensified when he brought Erin home. When they walked through the front door, and your dad stated who she was and that she was going to be staying for the foreseeable future, all of the air was brutally ripped from your lungs. A numbness settled over you when your dad told you that she needed to feel comfortable, so she was going to sleep in your room, on your bed, while you would be in a sleeping bag on the floor of Justin’s room. You nodded, trying to hold back tears, trying to be a good daughter and person, but you felt your heart breaking. It only got worse from there.

Two months later, your mom died. The day she died was traumatic for you, for expected and unexpected reasons. You didn’t like to think about either. Things at home got worse, as you expected, your dad and Justin didn’t stop. Erin was still sleeping in what was formerly your room, and your dad was all for helping Justin and Erin grieve, but not you. No, you were spoken to only when necessary, and when he did speak to you, he was on the verge of tears. You looked a lot like your mom so it was expected in a way. He didn’t pay much attention to you before she died, why would he start after? Four months after your mom’s death, it was your birthday. There was no cake, presents, party or “happy birthday” from anyone. Three days after that, it was Erin’s birthday. Your dad took the day off, said he wasn’t feeling well when really, he was busy setting up a birthday party for Erin. When you got home after your self-defence class, your dad, Justin, Erin and a multitude of family friends were there. There was a store-bought cake on the dining room table, a pile of presents near the empty fireplace, and birthday hats on everyone. Your stomach twisted into itself as a feeling of utter dread consumed you. No. This can’t be happening. I was fine not celebrating my birthday this year because mom’s gone, but... It wasn’t even an option to celebrate it... Why are they all doing this for Erin and not me? When your dad noticed you his smiled dropped. “Oh, hey kid... Thought you were going to be gone longer... Erin’s going to open her presents in a minute. Did you get her one?” Your dread turned to unbridled fury. You wanted to throw the cake on the wall, take a knife and stab her presents, scream at your dad, yell every swear word you weren’t supposed to know, in every language he didn’t know you knew, because they spend all their time breaking the law are cuddling up to Erin “Okay, everyone, time for the birthday girl to open her presents!” Justin yelled, pushing a laughing Erin in front of him. Your dad turned away from you and cheered along with the fifty other people who came to celebrate Erin’s birthday but not yours. Screw this. Screw them. You made your way upstairs, unseen by everyone except for Erin. Walked into Justin’s and then “Erin’s” room to pack your stuff into your mom’s old suitcase. Clothes, toiletries, a book your mom gave you, and a photo album. You found the small shoebox in the back of your closet, which you had been putting all of the money you’d earned over the years into. Dog walking, pet sitting, selling items you made at festivals, and playing the viola all around the city. I’m outta here. After boldly walking out of the place you used to call home with only Erin’s eyes on you, you were walking to the bus station when you came across two men in their twenties wearing Georgetown University hoodies loading up a car. “Hey, are you two going to D.C.?”

“Yeah... Why?”

“Can you take me with you?” They looked at each other. “Um... Are you ok?”

“I can give you two hundred bucks. Can you take me or not?” They shared another look. “Alright... I guess. I’m Will and this is Marcus. Is that all your stuff?” You rode with them the eleven hours it took to drive to D.C. and when you got there, they seemed worried, wondering if they had done something stupid. “Here’s your money, you can drop me off here, thanks for the ride.”

“Do you have someone you’re visiting? I’d much rather drop you off with them. I mean you’re just a kid, you can’t be wandering around in a different city after people who don’t know you drove you there. Man, this was a bad idea. Should not have done this.”

“My grandparents live here, they’re who I’m here to see. I’ll give you their address.” You try to smile in a reassuring way because Will looks like he’s going to puke, and Marcus looks paranoid, jumping every time something even resembling a cop car goes by. They calm down a bit on the drive to your grandparents’ house. “I’m going to walk you to the door and meet your grandparents,” Will stated, leaving no room for argument. When you knocked, your Abuelo answered the door. “Y/N? What are you doing here and who is this man?”

“My name’s Will Halstead, your granddaughter asked to be dropped off here, I just walked her to the door to make sure everything was ok.” Your Abuelo did NOT look happy. “Hank never said anything about you coming.”

“We need to talk about this inside Abuelo.” He nodded, stepped aside and motioned for you to enter. “Uh, here’s my contact information, in case you need to call me or something,” Will said, trying to hand a piece of paper to you, but your Abuelo took it from his hands before you could. “Thank you, Will.”

“No problem kid.”

Once inside your Abuelo and Babushka (grandmother in Russian) sat you down in the living room and waited for an explanation. You told them the whole truth, nothing about the illegal stuff, just that you were feeling neglected, unsupported, and betrayed the whole birthday thing. You also didn’t mention that it’d been going on for years. “Can I please stay with you?”

“Of course you can Kotik, just let me call Hank to tell him that you’re-”

“No, I’ll call Hank. I understand that he misses Camille, I do too, she was my only daughter after all, but it is not ok for him to be treating you this way, mi cielto. I need to have some words with him.”

The next two years were wonderful. You don’t know what was said on that phone call, but you didn’t have to see, speak to, or go back to your father. You got to live with your grandparents, see your uncles, aunts, and cousins regularly, and be praised for being talented and intelligent. It was a breath of fresh air, but your life’s experiences had taught you that something bad was going to happen. You can’t be happy for long periods of time. The rug was going to be pulled one way or another, and you were trying to brace yourself for it. Then it happened, two white-supremacists burst into your Abuelo and Babushka’s store and killed almost everyone. Your grandparents were included in the death toll. You were there when it happened and couldn’t help but feel like you were the reason they died. You couldn’t even help them, keep them alive until the paramedics came. Their memorial was the first time you saw your father, brother, and Erin in over two years. Your father and brother were avoiding their angry relatives, all wondering what happened that made you go and live with your grandparents. Erin approached you with a bottle of water, she handed it to you and sat down next to you, not saying anything. When it was all over, your father walked up to you. “Y/N? It’s time to go. You’re coming back with us.” He wasn’t even looking you in the eye as he said it. “Hank, are you sure we can’t stay a couple more days?”

He sighed “Erin I don’t think-” He was cut off by Erin’s glare. “Alright, two more days. After he walked away, Erin spoke up. “I saw what was happening, but I wasn’t sure what to do. I saw you leave, too. I didn’t know what to do then, either. But I know what to do now. If anyone- including Hank and Justin- aren’t treating you right, let me know, I’ll set them straight. We girls need to stick together, plus, I’ve always wanted a sister and I didn’t do a good job when we first met, so now it’s time to correct that... If you’re ok with that.”

For the first time since the shooting, you smiled.

“Y/N? Y/N?”

“Huh, what?”

“Sorry, but are you alright? You kinds spaced out on me.”

“Oh sorry, I’m fine, just took a trip down memory lane.”

“Was it a pleasant trip?”

“Not particularly. So, what did they do to you...” You gestured for him to introduce himself since you still didn’t know his name. “I’m Matt Casey, when I was reporting to a car accident, I discovered that your brother was drunk and had paralyzed a kid from the waist down”

You gasped and your eyes went wide. You were expecting bad, but not something that bad. “I reported it, but your dad-”

“Father. He’s not my dad. Dad’s care about their only biological daughter.”

“Oh, ok. Well, your father didn’t appreciate my honesty. First, he tried to bribe me into falsifying my report, then he started threatening me and my now dead fiancee. He went as far as having someone break into our house, plant drugs, and getting a search warrant.”

“Dios Mio, that’s just terrible. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, and it has been a few years. I just, we went through all this work to get him arrested, but then he got out a couple of months later as a Sergeant, in charge of the intelligence unit. I know that it’s been years, but I’m still a little angry about the whole thing.”

“I’m angry at him, too, so you’re not alone in that.”

“Yeah, about that, you seem to have some father-daiughter related anger, anything I should know?”

“No, sorry. I get that you’re probably curious, but I just met you. And I don’t even tell Erin all of that stuff, and she’s basically my sister.”

“Alright, fair enough. Well, I’m sorry for giving you trouble earlier. Maybe I could-”

“Hey guys!” Will exclaimed, overly cheery. His smile was bright, but his eyes were dark and furious. “What are you talking about?”

“Hi, Will. This is-”

“Oh, we’ve met. Lieutenant Matt Casey. Impressive.”

“Thanks... I think...” Matt was starting to get twitchy.

“Will drove me to see my grandparents many years ago, I was pretty young, and he was worried, so we kept in touch. My family basically adopted him whenever he was at university, he’s basically my older brother.”

“Oh, that’s nice to know-”

“Really? Why? Is it cause I’m stopping you from deflowering my little sister?” You choked on your drink. “Deflowering?! First of all, who says that anymore? Second, we’ve been sitting here griping about my father, and third, you know I’m not a virgin, right?”

“What?!”

Matt chuckled and stood up. He handed you a piece of paper, “Here’s my number, let me know if you want to hang out. I’m just going to leave you guys to your... discussion.” You gave an embarrassed smile while Will was gaping like a fish and make strange incoherent noises.

“Hi, Matt? It’s Y/N, I was wondering if you’d like to get some dinner? It’s been a while since I lived in Chicago, a lot of my old favourite places are gone. Give me a call back when you can, since I’m guessing you’re working right now. Bye!”

“Hey, Y/N, it’s Matt. I guess I just missed you, I’ve got a couple of restaurants in mind if you’re free sometime tomorrow maybe? Uh, yeah, call me back when you can please. Bye.”

The ED was in chaos, there’d been a bus crash and over two dozen people had been injured. “Dr. Halstead, Dr. Voight, trauma room three!” Putting on a new set of gloves, you rushed with Will to a gurney that held a teenage girl, who quite honestly looked scared out of her mind. “Hello, miss, I’m Dr. Halstead, can you tell me your name?”

“Izvinite, ya ne govoryu po-angliyski. YA ne znayu, chto proiskhodit. Pozhaluysta, pomogite mne.”(I'm sorry, I don't speak English. I don't know what's happening. Please help me.)

“Uhhhh...-”

“Ne volnuysya, my pozabotimsya o tebe. YA doktor Voyt, vy mozhete skazat' mne, chto sluchilos' ili chto-to bolit?”(Don't worry, we'll take care of you. I'm Dr. Voight, can you tell me what happened or if anything hurts?)

“So, I gues you’ll be taking the lead on this one.” Will chickled.

Hours later, with only thirty minutes left in your shift, you took the opportunity to sit down. You leaned your head back and took a breath, letting the events of the past twelve hours hit you with full force. “So you had a rough shift too, huh?” You tiredly opened your eyes and saw an exhausted Matt Casey standing before you. You’re too exhausted to speak so you just nod. “I, uh, I have to head back to the station, for the rest of my shift, but I was wondering if you’d like to get dinner with me at seven tomorrow?”

“Yes. I would love that.”

The next day you were trying on various outfits while your sister, Erin, lay on your bed teasing you and occasionally giving her opinion about your outfit. “Erin, cut it out and help me!”

“Ok, ok. Go for the skirt and sweater. It’s elegant and casual enough for a first date but doesn’t look like typical first date attire. So, it’ll be different.”

“Finally, some help from you.” You jokingly sighed out causing her to chuck a pillow at your head. You’re both standing there laughing -you in your bra and underwear, her in jeans and a t-shirt- when the doorbell rang. “Shit! He’s early! Erin, why are you smiling like that, Erin no!” Erin bolted out of your bedroom to answer the door knowing that you wouldn’t follow her in your state of... dress. You opened your door a crack to see Erin greet him. “Lieutenant Casey, please come in. Y/N will be just a few minutes.”

“Alright.” You closed the door and could only hear their muffled voices. You knew what was happening, though. Erin was threatening Matt and drilling fear into the core of his soul. You knew that this would happen when you invited her over to help you get ready, but she did this the first time she met anyone you were dating. You’d learned that it was better to do this as soon as possible, save yourself the emotional trouble of missing someone who’d run away with their tail between their legs. You knew you were right when you entered the living room to see Erin looking stern and Matt a little green. “So, Matt, are you ready to go? You know, presuming my sister didn’t scare you off?”

“Uh, yeah, yeah I am... Wow, you look great.”

“Thanks, you too. So, are you ready to go on a date with Hank Voight’s daughter?”

“No. I’m ecstatic and nervous as hell to go on a date with Y/N Voight, a fiercely intelligent, kind, strong, badass woman who worked herself to the bone to create her distinguished career on her own.” When he finished he was breathless and so were you. People either knew nothing or too much of your father and constantly having his name attached to yours always stung, and you worried that now you were back in Chicago people would assume that everything you had worked so hard for was handed to you by your dirty cop father. The fact that he understood this and acknowledged it made your heart swell. “Awwwwwwww” Erin interrupted your moment with a teasing voice and smile. “Well, now that you’ve both announced that you’re ready to go on a date, you should probably go on that date.”

“Erin’s right, Y/N, let’s head out.”

And you did, to a wonderful first date that led to many more. Eight months later and you had come to the conclusion that dating Matt was equal parts fantastic and stressful. After your twelve hour shift, in which both Matt and Hermann came to the ED to get checked out after they were punched by the drunk who caused a car accident which caused sickening purple bruises, you just wanted to go to bed. But you couldn’t. Even though Matt was finished with his shift and had tomorrow off with you, something wasn’t sitting well with you. He seemed too calm, too resigned to the fact that he’d been punched in the face. You were suspicious for some reason, which was ridiculous because he’d never given you any reason to be. Your concerned sigh was cut off by Erin’s special ringtone coming out of your phone.

“Don’t be mad at Matt!”

“What?”

“Don’t be mad at Matt, it’s not his fault! Voight riled him up first. So don’t be mad that he and Voight got into a fight over you, ok?”

“Hold up, hold up, WHAT?! My boyfriend and my father got into a FIGHT?! Where and when did this happen?!”

“At the scene today... You didn’t know? He had to go to Med, where you work because Voight managed to sock him in the jaw, and Hermann got involved...”

“Why did they fight?”

“Y/N I don’t think I should-”

“Why, Erin?”

“Voight found out that you two are dating and he made a comment to Casey about it at the scene. Something along the lines of Matt’s only dating you to get back at Voight for a few years ago. Y/N, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, Erin. I have to go, and don’t worry I’m not mad at Matt.” After hanging up you left Med, and instead of driving to your apartment building, you drove to your childhood home. Your blood continued to boil and fester throughout out the drive, when you were storming up the walkway, and when you banged on the door. You were about to see your father, who you felt neglected by, for the first time in over a decade. You were more than ready for this.

#One Chicago #Chicago Fire #Chicago PD #chicago med #matt casey #matt casey x reader #hank voight #hank voight x daughter!reader #erin lindsay #jay halstead #Christopher Herrmann

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jocelynscloset · 6 years

Text

Cold

Pairing: Kylo Ren x Reader

Word Count: 3,815

Warnings: Just a lil fluff at the end

Summary: Y/N is a prisoner of the First Order, and when Kylo catches General Hux trying to take advantage of her, he saves her and determines she will become his assistant and share his quarters, rather than send her back to her chamber. She believes he’s cold and merciless, with a short temper that frightens her, but he ends up not being what she expected.

Feel free to tell me what you thought/send a request through my ask box

General Hux was starting to bug you. It was harmless at first, just him being the boy that he is. Sly flirting, trying to get a rise out of you, trying desperately to get you to show some return of his affections, but it escalated slowly to a point where you were no longer able to be indifferent about it. That point was marked when the Supreme Leader saw it happening.

You’d always been under the impression that Kylo Ren was a monster. A cold-blooded killer, a merciless fighter, and an apathetic ruler, but your mind quickly changed. You were brought to the First Order as a prisoner, as per the orders of the Supreme Leader himself. You were previously a prisoner on another planet, and when they overtook that one, they found you. You had to admit, though you were intolerant of the First Order as a whole, it was better to be on their base than to be stuck in the hole you were previously thrown in, on that last dump they called a planet.

You were treated humanely, though you were surprised by it at first. You got 3 hot meals a day, a bed chamber, you were free to spend your time doing what you please in your quarters, and though the stormtroopers were routinely demeaning and regularly harassed you�� especially the male ones— it was much better than you had been used to in your previous planet. Back then, those sexual comments weren’t just talk, they were threats and usually promises. At least here, you felt somewhat safe and physically taken care of.

Mentally, however, was a different case. You felt out of place. You felt like a fly on the wall, and not in the exciting way. You missed having people you cared about and you missed having a passion or something, anything, to give your energy to. You desperately wanted to do something, have a purpose, have a group of people you did something with.

You began to feel this most strongly about 2 months into your living on the base, and you decided to do something about it. Sure, you were a prisoner, but would they really be upset by you offering your help?

You were in the main hall getting your first meal of the day, and luckily, there weren’t only prisoners. General Hux was also there, and it seemed he’d be walking near you soon. Eventually he did, and you spoke apprehensively to him.

“Sir, may I have a moment of your time?” He looked shocked. You guessed he wasn’t used to prisoners addressing him at all. You expected him to hurt you, but surprisingly, he agreed. Though he seemed irritated at the idea of giving a prisoner any of his attention, he listened to what you had to say, as you offered your help doing whatever the First Order needed and you explained your reasoning to him.

“Well...”

“Y/N. My name is Y/N.” You answered his thoughts.

“Well, Y/N, I’ll agree to this, though it is highly unorthodox, as long as you swear on your life to never divulge this to the Supreme Leader.” You nodded, somewhat surprised that he would so easily trust you to keep a secret, especially one that might get him fired. “And if you ever step out of line, I’ll have you executed. You may be scrumptious looking but there are a million whores in the universe that could replace you as prisoner on this ship.”

You bit back your pride and offense and nodded. “Yes sir.”

“Now, I will give you directions soon enough. Back to the main hall.” You thanked him and complied, and you quickly received orders and a uniform. You were disguised as a helper in the control room, and you were tasked with small, menial tasks, usually ones that took long amounts of time and that nobody else wanted to do, like mending uniforms or filling in when other staff were unable to fulfill duties. This went on smoothly for a few weeks, but General Hux quickly became a little too comfortable with having you there.

He didn’t feel he owed you the respect he allowed other people in the control room, and this often led to crude or disrespectful comments, often of a sexual nature. He knew he could get away with it, and he did. The other male staff seemed to catch onto this game Hux played, and they soon got comfortable doing the same. You didn’t complain though. At least it was all just talk.

Until it wasn’t.

Hux was doing his usual routine, calling you “whore” and “slut” and “toy” and such, and the other officers joined in, of course, and you had gotten used to it by now, very easily tuning them out. However, that day was different, because it was the first time he actually put his hands on you, and you had the realization that he could very well do what he wanted and suffer little to no consequence.

You were bent over slightly, wiping down a large table the officers usually sat at during meetings, and you heard him say behind you, “Look at this, all ready for me.” You, naturally, decided it was just him being an asshole, but once you felt his large, cold hands slide onto your hips and pull you backwards until your backside was against his front, you lost all sense of grasp on the situation. When one hand left your hip and pressed against your back between your shoulder blades, pushing your torso flat against the table, you felt your heart drop and you let out a slight whimper in fear and shock. You were afraid, until he was suddenly gone.

His hands were off of you, you were free to stand upright again, and when you turned around, you saw Hux standing at least 10 feet away.. facing a tall, cloaked figure in a dark metal mask.

“General Hux, I always knew you were slimy but I never thought you were desperate.” The masked figure said, his voice altered by the mask itself.

“S-Supreme L-Leader, she’s only a p-prisoner.” He struggled to get out while the masked figure— apparently the Supreme Leader — had his hand firmly wrapped around the general’s neck and, by the looks of it, was tightening it more and more each second.

“So, you disobeyed me. Went around me, for what, a fucktoy?” General Hux was silent, whether because he was afraid or because he couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t tell. “You’ll face the consequences for this, General.” Hux struggled to nod, and the Supreme Leader let go of his hold on Hux’s neck, causing him to fall to the floor, gasping for breath.

The tall, still masked man turned to you next. “You.” He seemed even more angry now. “How did you get here?” Your eyes, wide and presumedly filled with fear, scanned the length of the figure before you. He was easily over 6 feet, very muscular it seemed, and while you were intimidated by the mask he wore, you imagined he wore it for a reason. Perhaps he wasn’t as scary as he tried to seem.

You plucked up the courage to finally open your mouth and you answered his question honestly and without excuses. “I’m a prisoner, from a planet you overtook about 3 and a half months ago. I was useless and bored in my chambers and I offered my help with whatever the officers needed. Cleaning, coffee, notes, those sort of things.” You paused and he was still silent, so you continued. “I asked General Hux gave me tasks to keep me busy.” You had no more to say, and luckily he sensed it and followed up with another question.

“Why was I not informed of this?” He looked to Hux, who was still gasping for breath and massaging his neck, which was sure to have bruises on it the next day. You knew Hux had told you not to tell, but you weren’t particularly feeling indebted to him at that moment.

“I’m not sure why, Supreme Leader, but he made me promise not to divulge anything to you.” The masked figure seemed a little too quiet. He glanced at Hux again.

“We’ll finish this later. For now, I’ll take care of your mess.” You then realized what this must mean. You were going back to solitude, back to uselessness, or so you thought. “You, what is your name?” He asked.

“Y/N.” You answered apprehensively.

“Y/N, you will not be going back to your chambers,” he began. He’s going to kill me, you thought. “No, I’m not going to kill you.” He had read your mind. You’d heard of this being an ability of force-sensitives, but you thought it had just been a myth. “From now until the foreseeable future, you will be my assistant. You will do whatever I ask and without question or complaint. You will stay in my chambers, so that I may keep an eye on you, and you will surrender yourself completely to servitude of me. Understood?” You nodded slowly. You didn’t know this man. You didn’t know what he intended to force you into or what “servitude” meant to him. You may be a prisoner, but you would rather die than be a slave to anyone, especially one that fulfilled their wishes sexually.

“Supreme Leader, that’s very generous.” He said nothing in response and you felt it was as good a time as any to ask him whether or not he intended on making you into a consort, in which case you would ask respectfully to instead return to your chambers. “May I ask you a question?”

“What is it. I don’t have much time and now I must take you to our quarters before I return to my duties.” You nodded and sucked in a breath before continuing.

“Do you intend to use me.. for pleasure?” You paused and you could tell he was waiting for you to say the rest. “I would rather just be returned to my place as a prisoner, sir, if that is what you intend.” He was silent for another moment, and you thought he was going to kill you for being so forthright with him, but he surprised you yet again.

“No. I do not intend to do that. I, unlike General Hux, here, do not need to force myself on women. Nor do I want to.” There was a long silence and you breathed out finally, feeling some relief. Maybe being his assistant wouldn’t be so bad, after all. “Now, come. I will show you where you will be living from now on and we will continue on with my day. Any more questions, now that we’re in the feelings circle?” He finished his statement with a sarcastic cherry on top, and you knew he didn’t want to be pried at anymore, so you just shook your head and let him lead you away from the control room, towards the hallways where the doors to officers’ quarters were located.

At the end of the main hallway, you spotted a large, black steel door, which judging from the way you were being lead directly toward it, you presumed belonged to Kylo. Sure enough, you reached the end of the hallway and once the door had opened to him, he lead you through it.

“This is my quarters, and I suppose, now yours as well. Do not be mistaken, everything in this place belongs to me, and is strictly off-limits to you. I will arrange for you a separate bed, and you will be allowed the appropriate hygiene products as well as access to the washroom and such.” You nodded, and he decided that was enough information to start with. “Now that you’re all filled in, it’s time to resume my day. You will come with me, and observe.” You nod again, and you both leave the quarters.

A few hours later, close to midnight, you both return to your now shared quarters, both tired after a long day. You had struggled to keep up with him at first. He walked quickly and he asked a surprising amount of you for just starting off. You were exhausted, and you still felt dirty after having the General’s hands on you hours before.

“Supreme Leader, may I shower now?” He paused, as if he was reading your thoughts, and he replied with a simple ‘yes’. You nodded, thanked him, and retreated into the bathroom to shower. However, you had only gotten your jacket and boots off before realizing you didn’t have any sleep clothes to change into after, so you quietly opened the bathroom door, not wishing to startle him, and peeked out to ask if he knew where you would find some.

You didn’t expect him to have his mask off, and he didn’t expect you see him without it either. You both were in a bit of a stunned silence for a moment. You took in his features; his sharp bone structure, his deep brown eyes, his dark, fluffy hair, and the strong expressiveness of all of these things put together. He was a lot younger than you had imagined. “What are you doing out here?” Asked in discomfort, a little annoyed and a little flustered, it seemed. You assumed people didn’t see him without his mask often.

“I, um, realized I don’t have any clothing to sleep in.” You told him, now averting your eyes to the grated, metal floor, cold beneath your feet.

“I see. I’ll fetch you some. You just, continue as you were. I’ll leave them on the bed.” You really didn’t want to anger him, but the question crossed your mind and you were a little alarmed.

“Um, the bed?” You spoke shyly, very afraid that at this point, he’d finally lash out at you.

“Yes, princess.” Sarcasm and annoyance dripped from his tone. “The bed. We don’t have one for you yet, your highness, so tonight I’m doing you the favor of allowing you share mine. Or would you rather sleep on the ground?” You felt the urge to roll your eyes, but you held back.

“Yes sir, sorry sir.”

“I’m going to get you some supper. Be finished and dressed by the time I get back. You wouldn’t want me walking into anything that would embarrass you.” You did roll your eyes at that, fully expecting him to get angry about it, but he didn’t. He just ignored it and allowed you to return to the bathroom and take your shower.

15 minute later, you scurried out of the rest room wrapped in a towel with wet hair dripping down your neck and on your chest, and you hoped and prayed that he wouldn’t walk in before you were dressed. Luckily, the nightgown and undergarments he promised were on the bed and you slipped on the clothing quickly. He has yet to return, and you felt more relaxed than before, taking the extra bit of time as an opportunity to explore. You examined the many books on his shelves, the clean, black sheets on his bed, and the blankness of the metal walls. Out of the uniform you were previously wearing, you noticed how cold it was in his quarters, and you wondered if he liked it that way. Perhaps it was because you allegedly sleep better in the cold. That man probably relied heavily on his beauty-rest.

You looked toward the door again, and assumed you still had a few minutes before Kylo would return, so you pulled back his pristine sheets and climbed under them, feeling the softness against your legs and the cushion of his mattress, a stark contrast to the squeaky cot you were used to in your old chambers. You felt yourself melt into the bed, your limbs relaxing and your eyes fluttering shut as you lost yourself in the comfort. However, you didn’t notice yourself drifting, and suddenly the quiet serenity of the moment was shattered.

He was standing with his arms crossed, a plate of steaming food set on a table near the bed and an eyebrow cocked as he looked down at you sprawled beneath his sheets. Your eyes opened and you felt embarrassment creep into your bones as you scrambled to get up and pull yourself out of the Supreme Leader’s bed.

“Do you want to try to explain what’s going on here?” He asked monotonously. You stayed silent for a moment, but pushed yourself to answer him.

“It looked comfortable and I was curious. You said I was sleeping here anyway. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have taken advantage of your absence.” You looked to his eyes for any sign of anger or disbelief, but he seemed very calm. This couldn’t be the Kylo Ren you’d heard so much about. If it was, you would be dead by now.

“Alright.” He said. Your head tilted in confusion. There was no way he was going to let that slide. No way in Hell. “Your food is on the table. I’m going to shower.” You nodded, still shocked that he seemed to not care about what had just happened. He left you to eat your supper, and the only thing you could think about while you did was how wrong you were about him.

He wasn’t necessarily kind, but he wasn’t merciless. He was cold and distant, but he had yet to hurt you in any way. He was, after all, only a man, and all men have their softness, don’t they? You just couldn’t wrap your head around why you, of all people, were exempt from his anger and violence. You were just as much to blame for disobeying and deceiving him as General Hux, yet Hux almost got murdered and you got.. a promotion. You were confused, to say the least, but you didn’t have much time to dwell on it, because soon enough, Kylo exited the bathroom in only a pair of sweatpants, still drying his hair with a towel and looking toward the floor as he approached you.

You couldn’t lie and say that you weren’t astounded by the muscles on that man. His chest and shoulders were broad, his arms much larger-looking without the cloak and such, and his neck seemed wider than her waist. He was.. huge. As least, compared to her.

“You’re staring.” He said with no intonation. You blushed and looked away for a moment, only turning your attention back to ask him when you’d be going to bed. “Soon. Now would be the time to get ready.” You nodded and scurried to the restroom, quickly brushing your teeth and running a brush through your hair. You looked in the mirror and again, wondered how you got there. Your thoughts were quickly interrupted by his deep voice stating your name. “Y/N, you need your rest. Tomorrow will be more hectic than today was.” You sighed and trudged to the side of the bed, which he was already laying in, on his back, the covers only covering his lower half.

You blushed once more at the thought of crawling into his bed, though you knew nothing would be happening between you. As soon as you were comfortably situated on your designated side of the large bed, probably custom made for his towering height, you began drifting off, your thoughts only occupied by the sound of his light, steady breathing beside you, and the occasional shift from him moving the covers as his body cooled.

You slept peacefully through the night, and woke up to the sweet silence of morning. However, you also awoke to two strong, pale arms wrapped around your waist, and your breath landing against Kylo’s neck. How you got here, you didn’t know, but your legs were intertwined with his and his chin was resting atop your head. Not that you were complaining.

He was warm, his skin was smooth, and the rise and fall of his chest against yours was soothing to you. Your eyes fluttered closed as you breathed in the clean scent of his skin mixed with whatever was making his sheets smell like dark chocolate with a hint of mint. You were asleep for another 20 minutes before you felt him stir slightly, removing himself from your grasp and gently resting your limp body against the pillows rather than his shoulder.

Your eyes opened slowly to see him sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling on a shirt and running a hand through his bed-hair. You sat up weakly and he noticed you were now awake.

“Good morning, Supreme Leader.” You squeaked out with your morning voice. He rolled his eyes gently and sighed.

“You know, you should probably just call me Kylo. Not in front of the others, but when we’re alone.” You nodded, rubbing softly at your sleepy eyes and looking at him for directions. “We still have an hour before I’m to arrive at my first meeting for the day. Hux has everything under control until then. You can go back to sleep for now. I’ll wake you when it’s time to get ready.”

You nod and pull the covers back up over your shoulders, squirming to find the area of warmth you were previously snuggled in, but after about 20 seconds of watching you do so, Kylo felt the need to ask if something wrong. “Are you alright?” You huffed slightly and nodded.

“Just cold. Your sheets cool quickly.” You could have sworn you saw him smirk, but before you could process it, that tiny smile was gone. “What do you usually do in the mornings? When you have extra time?” You knew it was always a risk to ask questions, but you didn’t think he had his bearings after his slumber yet, at least not enough to get fully angry.

“I usually sleep.” He spoke plainly, and you felt guilty. You had taken his bed, and after waking up in the position you were in, he probably felt too embarrassed to climb back in.

“Then sleep. There’s no reason you shouldn’t get some extra rest.” He cocked an eyebrow at you. You knew it was a risk, but you were cold and you would be lying if you said you were disappointed, waking up in his arms.

“I suppose you’re right.” He pulled the covers back over his legs and laid back down, letting his eyes close again as to fall back asleep, but you were still cold.

“Kylo-” Your sentence was interrupted by him turning, wrapping his arms around your waist once more, and pulling you into his chest, resuming the position you two had been in all night.

“Not a word of this to anyone.” He mumbled. You giggled slightly and snuggled into him.

“Yes, sir.”

#kylo ren #general hux #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren fanfiction #ben solo #adam driver #star wars #the force awakens #the last jedi #star wars rp #rp #adam driver x reader #adam sackler #what if

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aci25 · 5 years

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As our plane descended in San Juan, I was struck by the sight of the blue FEMA roofs covering houses ravaged by Hurricane Maria. These tarps, designed to last 30 days, still cover some of these structures a year later. “Forgotten” is an apt descriptor for how many Puerto Ricans feel.

I traveled with a group of medical students to Puerto Rico for three days last month to understand the mental health experiences of Puerto Ricans after Maria and to identify an effective intervention. We interviewed 42 teachers at Escuelo Superior Lysander Borrero Terry, a school in Villalba, a small town in the central region of the island.

They described Hurricane Maria as unlike anything they had experienced before. Most hurricanes have passed Puerto Rico during the night, but Maria came during daylight. It was especially traumatic for the locals to see the destruction as it took place. They recalled feeling they might not survive the hurricane. Parents described having to reassure their terrified children, while being unsure of their fate. One teacher said she saw her husband crying in a corner after he told their kids they would be all right.

Lasting effects

Once the hurricane passed, people came out of their houses and saw their neighborhoods destroyed. Without electricity or cellphone service, people had no way to contact loved ones. Some still experience lasting effects.

The teachers observed that their once-happy students now had emotional difficulties in the classroom. The island’s suicide rate spiked. One man described feeling helpless as he offered support to someone who had lost everything. Hurricane Maria also broke up families, as people fled the island to the mainland.

Hurricane Maria also reminded the people of Puerto Rico that they lack rights other Americans enjoy. The concept of structural violence is worth understanding here. Structural violence is inequity and harm caused by social structures. Puerto Rico being a commonwealth and not a state, is unique from other regions in the United States hit by natural disasters, a disparity reflected in the slow federal recovery efforts after Maria. A large part of the recovery was aided by locals and donations.

Even before the hurricane, Puerto Rico was deep in debt. The island’s poverty rate exceeds that of our poorest state, Mississippi. Residents of Puerto Rico cannot vote in midterm or presidential elections unless they have a permanent address within the United States. This has rendered Puerto Rico invisible to the rest of the world. Hurricane Maria exposed the colonial structures that have led to these inequalities.

Suffering aggravated by minimization of their pain

The suffering of the people of Puerto Rico was aggravated when their pain was minimized. When the actual death toll from Hurricane Maria was revealed to be 2,975 and not 64 as previously reported, President Donald Trump dismissed this as a smear tactic against his presidency.

Asked how we can help, the teachers requested interventions on stress management and disaster preparedness. They also asked us to tell their stories.

An important part of our work as health care providers is bearing witness to social injustice and being allies. Allyship is more than sympathy; it means accompanying others in their struggle and helping open doors for them. More ways to help

Countering structural violence first requires recognizing it. The recent midterm election was, for many of us, an opportunity to be heard. The people of Puerto Rico did not have this opportunity. It is not foreseeable that they will have the right to vote in the near future. The rest of us, however, can and should contact our elected representatives and advocate for rebuilding Puerto Rico. Supporting nonprofits helping Puerto Ricans is another way to show solidarity. Coalición de Boricuas en Minnesota (Coalition of Puerto Ricans in Minnesota) is a nonprofit assisting families affected by Hurricane Maria resettle in Minnesota. CrearConSalud is another nonprofit that is strengthening the island’s mental health services.

Celebration is a hallmark of Puerto Rican culture. As we wrapped up our visit, we learned that Christmas festivities are starting early this year in Puerto Rico. Christmas was a grim time for Puerto Ricans last year. This year, they will celebrate not just Christmas but also their fortitude.

Adnan Ahmed, MD, MBBS, is an assistant professor in the Department of Psychiatry and Behavioral Sciences at the University of Minnesota. Among his interests are health equity, inclusion and social determinants of health.

#los puertorriqueños #puerto ricans #puerto rico #Hurricane Maria

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