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btsinwonderland · 3 years

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A Drop of Poison - Ch. 3: The Library

A Loki fanfiction!

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Chapter warnings: bit of smut at the end...

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You placed your books on the nightstand and slumped onto your bed. The pillows caught your face in a soft hug and you felt the weight of the entire day sink into you. Your roommates were gone nearly all the time, working most hours of the night in the common room study area. It used to be lonely, constantly coming back to a room with three empty beds, but now you reveled in the emptiness.

He deserves it.

Professor Heimdall’s words bounced around in your mind.

He killed someone. A close friend of his father’s.

You tried picturing a younger version of your professor, whom you barely knew, being trapped in Azkaban. Is he truly a murderer? You thought about that and could not find a simple answer. Sure, he had a cold disposition. However, it was encased in a strange, jovial warmth that both intimidated and intrigued you.

His cool blue eyes entered your mind, and you wondered what sort of menacing secrets he held behind them. As awful as you tried to make him, there was something about it all that did not feel right. The way his lips subtly twitched when he threw ingredients into the cauldron and the way his eyes lit up when the students applauded him did not scream “evil” to you. You pictured his face in your vision and the fear in his eyes as the dead surrounded him. It was the face of a man trapped in a hopeless situation.

Professor Heimdall was not usually so clinical about his judgments. It surprised you he doled out such a firm statement. And to listen to him tell you that you were having silly dreams was even worse.

Freya…

Why had he uttered your name? That alone was proof enough. He needed your help. Professor Heimdall was hiding something else from you and you needed to find out what it was. Fine Heimdall, if you won’t help me, then I’ll do it myself.

You walked out of the common room and headed to the courtyard. Dusk was approaching, but there were still some students out, so your presence was not too suspicious. You walked across a couple lounging on a picnic blanket. The boy had his head in his partner’s lap. They giggled about something and took no notice of anyone else in their vicinity. You smiled at their affections wistfully.

The grass was freshly cut, and the air had a rich smell to it. You walked over to your favourite willow tree - the one that did not whomp - and sat at the trunk. There was a breeze which picked up your curly locks and moved them about your face. You tied your thick hair back and crossed your legs.

You breathed in and out, trying to remember Heimdall’s exercises. The scent of flowers in bloom distracted you for a few minutes until you could grasp some focus. It took several seconds of listening to your breath until you found yourself in a calm state. Your thoughts slipped out of your mind like water through your fingers. Your mind was empty, waiting to be filled. In this state of bored concentration, you felt the stirring of a question: What must I do?

It was the only question that floated in your mind; like a cloud drifting across a clear sky. Then you pictured something. A blurry image that slowly came into focus. It was a book, but the letters were unintelligible. It was on the shelves of the restricted section. The book was dark red, leather bound and cracked along the spine. As the image cleared, you saw the title: “Spells for the Common House Cat”.

“What the hell?” You said aloud. The vision dissolved as soon as you lost focus. You leaned back on the trunk and repeated the ridiculous title to yourself. Perhaps Heimdall was right, and it was all just a silly dream. How could this have been an important vision?

Your first impulse was to return to the common room, go to sleep and forget about the whole damned thing. Instead, you found yourself calculating how to get to the library unseen. Your impulse control was failing you as of late.

It was half an hour before it would be inappropriate to be out and about on the grounds. The sky was darkening quickly. You dashed past Skurge as he grumpily mopped the floors and slid into the library. There was a section on Magical Tax Law near the back you hid in; the books and the floor were so dusty here that you hoped no one would find you.

A few aisles away, there were students roaming the shelves.

“Come on Victoria, I can barely read anymore my eyes are going to fall out!” A low voice said.

“You’re clearly going to fail potions. We have our O.W.L.’s this year and I have to at least get Exceeds Expectations,” said a voice, higher pitched.

Fifth year potions, you thought. It was already an immensely tough course at the time with Professor Rattowl. You felt sympathy for the students.

“Have you heard, Laufeyson’s carryin’ the Slytherin name? He’s been to Azkaban,” said the boy.

The girl, Victoria, gasped. “What! How could they let him teach here?”

The boy said, “well we know how he got the job, when mum’s Headmistress, I guess they'll let anybody do it. I don’t feel safe knowing some felon is creeping around in the school.”

“Yeah, he must have done something awful to get into Azkaban,” she said.

“You know what I think?” he said.

“What?”

As their feet shuffled away, you barely caught his words. “I don’t think it’s no coincidence Rattowl bit the dust right before Laufeyson got here.”

The rest of the conversation was unintelligible whispers as you stood there like a stone and mulled over what they said. After a long silence, you heard the last student leave. The door ominously shut, and the sound echoed through the library. The flames in every lantern went out in succession. You looked out the glass windows, as moonlight was now the only natural luminance that could guide you in the dark.

Their words did not deter you from your path, though the questionable nature of Professor Rattowl’s demise was a new addition to your list of “things to investigate”. Your thoughts dispersed when you heard Skurge coming with his bucket and mop. The wheel squeaked loudly, and you thanked the bucket gods.

You darted into the restricted section. The door had a latch on it, which you carefully opened with your wand, trying not to make a sound. The restricted section was decently large, with tall shelves lining the entire wall. At the back of the area, was a cabinet where several scrolls were placed in rows of small, square cubbies. The bottom part had a cabinet just large enough for two precocious sixth year students to hide in. The doors had a large square cutout where a lattice covering was added. Lucky for those students, they could see if anyone was coming.

You smiled to yourself as you walked over to the cabinet and opened the door. On the bottom right, just above the hinge, was a carving in the wood. “Bad bitches make good witches”. You silently laughed to yourself at Valkyrie’s idea of ‘leaving a mark’.

Long tables extended across the area surrounded by uncomfortable looking wooden chairs. You walked over to the shelves and searched across the volumes for that strangely titled book about cats. Maybe you were crazy, but it was far too late to turn back now.

“Where could you be?” You whispered as your fingers traced the chains along the spine of a book that was as thick as your head.

The sound of the squeaky wheel came from a few bookcases away, and your heart fluttered nervously. You looked at the entrance to the restricted section and wondered if you could make an escape unnoticed. But it was too dangerous, so you crawled inside the bottom of the cabinet and shut the door just as Skurge came by. He was humming to himself and scanned the premises as he mopped. After a few minutes, he continued down the aisles and you no longer heard his voice.

You sighed and were about to crawl out of the cabinet when you heard voices. You went back into position and closed the door, staying absolutely still.

First you heard a woman’s voice. She was laughing in a flirty sort of way.

Then you heard another voice, deeper. “You’re a bad influence, aren’t you?” Your stomach dropped. It was Professor Laufeyson’s voice.

“Hmmm, let’s go in here, Skurge is done with his rounds.”

Was that Professor Sif? Your suspicions were confirmed when you saw Sif and Laufeyson enter the restricted section. She led him by the hand to the table in front of the cabinet where you hid. She leaned back on it and you saw her undo the clasp in her bun as Laufeyson approached her. Her black hair cascaded down her shoulders seductively. The look in Laufeyson’s eyes caused a tremor through your body. You wondered if Sif was blushing as hard as you were.

Your heart rate shot up when her hand reached over to him as she unbuttoned his shirt. He ran his hand down her arm and you closed your eyes, unsure of what to do. Of all the places to be, of all the worst times.

“You are quite a minx, aren’t you?” He said in a low voice. It was almost a purr.

Your eyes snapped open to look at him. His gaze was curious and inviting. He cupped Sif’s face and when his pink tongue came out to lick his lips, you bit yours to keep from breathing too loudly.

“Only when I want to be,” she said.

They kissed. You could hear the smacking of lips and clashing of tongues. You nearly gasped and put a hand on your mouth to stop yourself. A part of you felt guilty watching such a lewd display, but you could not look away.

She slipped off her cloak to reveal a blue button up blouse and black skirt. She undid the blouse. You saw him move her hair aside and kiss her neck. He traced his tongue up her jawline and sucked on her earlobe. Dear lord, help me. You wished you were anywhere else, and yet your nipples hardened underneath your bra.

“Why my brother doesn’t see the beauty of what you are, I know not,” he said, running a hand up her stomach. She moaned a little and leaned back further so that she was sitting on the edge of the table.

“He doesn’t know what he’s missing out on,” she said between breaths.

“Why don’t you show me?” He said as he pushed her down on the table and opened her blouse. You saw her breasts openly now as he walked in between her legs.

She hoisted up her skirt while he undid his pants. Your mouth was gaping open. Sif lifted herself up on her elbows so you could no longer see past Laufeyson’s belly button anymore. You moved your head up for a better view, but hit your head on the roof of the cabinet. Your heart stopped as you looked through the hatching and saw him look in your direction. Surprise flashed on his face for the briefest of seconds before he arranged his features back into an aroused state.

Professor Sif turned her head, “what was tha- “

He rammed himself into her, and she cried out with a gasp. She writhed on the table, arching her back. He placed his hands on her breasts and pinched her pink nipples as he thrust into her. You watched shamelessly, with a hand on our mouth as your body reacted to the scene. You looked up at his face and froze when you saw him looking right at you. He held her down and thrust into her with an almost violent ferocity. You felt a strange heat in your entire body as his gaze transfixed you in such a grossly inappropriate state.

He came in a short groan, eyes only leaving you once Professor Sif got up. Her skin almost glowed from the sweat and you wondered if that afterglow was always so beautiful.

“That was…” she said in a dreamy voice.

She slowly buttoned up her clothes. There was a section of hair at the back of her head that was sticking up. You might have laughed had you not been thinking about the needful look on Laufeyson’s face just before he came. It was seared into your mind and you felt your lower abdomen tighten at the thought.

The professor did up his pants and walked towards the cabinet, looking at you with an unreadable expression, eyebrows drawn in. A lock of hair fell around his temples, and he pushed it back with his hand. His abdominal muscles were clearly visible as he buttoned up his shirt. You saw the slanted lines on his hips that led to a place that you dared not imagine. Heat rippled through you at the notion.

He turned around in front of you so that all you could see were the backs of his black trousers. Was he...blocking you from view so that Professor Sif would not see? Surely not.

“Now, can you tell me where Odin’s journals are?” Professor Laufeyson said.

“What?”

“Oh, you know, there were certain…works that Odin wrote and left here. What I was talking about earlier today. Do you know where they are? I would imagine they’d be here in the restricted section. Though I have looked and there’s not much, that’s useful here.”

She straightened her shirt and looked at him. “I believe Headmistress Frigga had a cleaning done and removed several books from this section. They may be somewhere in her office now.”

“Ah, I see.” He leaned back on the cabinet.

“Is this why you wanted us to come to the library?” She scoffed. “Loki, you could have just asked if all you wanted were your father’s books,” Sif said.

Professor Sif said no more, rushing out of the restricted section and slamming the door.

Professor Laufeyson called to her, “as I recall, I came to you with a question. And you took our conversation elsewhere.” He lowered his voice then. “Nonetheless, this was far more entertaining,” he said, drumming his fingers on the surface just above you. He stepped away from the cabinet, and headed out the door without another word.

Your heart pounded in your ears. What the hell had you gotten yourself into?

#loki #loki x reader #loki fics #loki (marvel)#loki fanfiction #loki imagine #loki series #mcu loki #loki of asgard #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki layfeyson x reader #hogwarts au #thor odinson #valkyrie #Professor Loki #loki moodboard #loki of hogwarts #norse mythology

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dianaburnwood · 3 years

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HITMAN 3: First Impressions

This post is full of SPOILERS. Also, it is LONG, so.... yeah. Be prepared lol

HITMAN 3. Also known as: Diana’s Game.

Dear GOD I am in love.

I’m going to do my best to make this coherent. But. I am still freaking out. And I have SO much more to explore!!!! This won’t be very in-depth because I played each map exactly once so far. There’s so much left to see, conversations to overhear, opportunities to exploit - but, I DO have some first impressions, oh hell yes.

Menu:

That menu music!!! I was not expecting that at all. It was a mix of choral and classical with previous themes intertwined, and it reminded me of Blood Money. Speaking of Blood Money, this game is Blood Money.

Dubai:

Very, very beautiful. Kinda thought Grey made it all about himself lol of course he wanted to say “in your face” to the partners, but it was like 47 was just there to pull the trigger, like he’d not been hurt by them too. But, I really liked it. Trapping them in a room and watching them freak while Grey watched me kill them?? Helloo??? Popping off HARD from the start and I love it.

So - here’s the thing. I don’t get the timing. Diana tells them then that Edwards escaped. Did he escape just before the boys got to Dubai? Or were they unavailable to reach until then? It seems that the message Grey got at the end of HAVEN was after Olivia hacked the HAVEN servers, and then the boys were out of reach so after Diana discovered Edwards was gone, she couldn’t tell them until Dubai? And it was shown to us in a different order to leave us hanging? I dunno. Maybe? It seems weird.

THE CUTSCENE here omg - once again establishing that 47 and Diana are ride or die. “Diana will make it right, she always does” - BABE. BABE. SWEET BOY. His little face when Grey doesn’t trust Diana. OMGGG.

Dartmoor:

I went the murder mystery route, of course. I figured it was Emma from her conversation with her husband, but I got all the clues after just to be sure. Can’t believe Carlisle just handed 47 the file on Edwards and then went out alone on the balcony like I wasn’t gonna kill her??? Bitch????? do you forget who i am?????? Anyway, the murder mystery was SO much fun, but I can’t wait to infiltrate this manor in other ways. Lots of Beldingford vibes here.

THE CUTSCENE bdsfgafhlsjfah WAHT????? Ok so HOW did Edwards know where they were? And - ok, so it made for an amazing scene, but Grey is a badass. He is a mercenary genius that duped the ICA and brought Providence to its knees. How did he get himself surrounded in the woods by CICADA? But he did, and it was beautiful, and he literally only shot himself to save 47, and the LOOK in 47′s eyes on his balaclava face - I just bfjKSFasad. I can’t believe he died so early tho. I was very sure he’d die somehow, but SO early. WOW.

Berlin:

fucking hell. Berlin. fuck. fucckkkk.

I wanna shout out to Mini (not gonna tag you in case you’re avoiding spoilers) but hot damn girl if you’re reading you were BANG ON about 47 wearing Grey’s coat. I really didn’t think it was his. It was. It is such a beautiful way for 47 to express his emotions about this death without actually saying anything. Omg. It was perfection. I’m crying thinking about it.

BERLIN was where this game really upped its... game. Like WOW. 5 targets, and it’s the ICA. Clearly Edwards went to the ICA board at this stage and was like uhhhh so you need to take these ppl out. HOWEVER I am amazed that the ICA is like “oh, ok”. DO you not remember what happened in SOUTH DAKOTA.

But going after the ICA is a fucking trip and I love it. I love how 47 says each agent’s name to himself. I love how he listens in and the team handler realises it. I love how she pulls the rest of her team out once you get 5. I love that the ICA agents use disguises too!!! This is truly APEX PREDATOR and I love that they named it that. Y’all think you have the balls to go up against 47??? bitch?????

But the fact that you have to find the targets and none of them are marked is so fantastic. I found 6, but I have no idea how many are actually available - but I’m gonna find out!!! The club is HUGE as well, and lots of throwbacks to Contracts, especially with the biker gang. Amazing. Amazing level. I’m so excited to replay it.

Also they really addressed the elephant in the room with the ICA agents describing 47 as a caucasian male, bald, average height and ppl being like uh that’s every man here, and then he said yeah but he’s got this big tattoo lmao

Chongqing

ok this is where I started to think this game was my fanfiction. Inside the ICA? Showing off how truly international it is, and high tech. Hidden in plain sight. Ready to dismantle in 12 hours if needed. SO perfect. This lore builds on Absolution and Blood Money ICA lore in wonderful ways.

Also, I don’t know why the IOI and DK of the logo looked different in the trailer, they must have been just hard to make out. Cos in the game, the ICA logo is the same as all previous games.

Also, analysts do client vetting? Intrigue. Always assumed that was part of the handlers’ job. I take it all back Diana, you have never done anything wrong in your life, ever

I killed Royce by firing the ppl she recommended so she’d get trapped in the data core cleaning. I killed Hush (what a name I love it) as his patient.

Working with Olivia is really fun. I missed Diana, but Olivia brought a whole fresh perspective. I also really like how neither Grey nor Olivia are as good as Diana - they both fucked up while guiding 47 at least once.

47 saying “...I will leave you to prepare” to Olivia, I yelled fdagsfa

Also I love how 47 decided to expose the ICA exactly like Diana did in Absolution. Those two. One of a kind. My heart. And his desire to protect her. I love that the files showed their start together. Olivia saying “I can see why you...” and then she stopped herself. We all KNOW what she was gonna say.

AND AND AND AND

the cutscene - I screamed

“47 has one weakness. Me.”

I swear to fucking GOD, IO has seen into my soul. I’ve said all along that Diana is 47′s weakness, and he is hers. But to hear it said, aloud, by my girl? WHAT???!!!!!

Mendoza

Ok. OK. OKKKKKK. OK. I can’t even write about this one. This was where I was pretty sure I was hallucinating the entire level. This is my Diana and 47 dreams come true. This is insane. This is EVERYTHING.

So we have OUR MOMENT IN THE SUN. She puts her HAND on HIS HAND and he looks in fucking wonderment at it. ahugarhiewEG;FEJGHEFlejlhsgfes;gjrsgt. I can’t. I can barely get through writing about this.

Diana - the dress, the Jolie thigh slit, the jewellery, the hair (they finally fixed her fucking hair), SASS. “I have tango fever” omg.

How do these ppl not have a pic of 47 by now lol

I followed Diana and Vidal around cos I was entranced by my girl. Diana was fucking amazing each time. So much sass. Little did I know I interrupted them enough times for Vidal to say “ok son let’s talk”. I saw the tango and I was like omg imagine if I could dance with Diana.

well.

WELL.

Anyway, got to kill Vidal via her own setup for me, and that was amazing. I wasn’t expecting it at all. I snuck into the house to kill Yates, and overheard him calling Edwards’ voicemail. Also, it is April 2021?? So, yeah. My previous dates were way wrong lol.

And then, ALL MY DREAMS CAME TRUE. Diana and 47 fucking dancing the tango? I was pissed that I was in a security guard outfit, next time I play he will be in his tuxedo baby.

Diana’s comments to 47 when he’s in disguise tho, I was freaking. As security “you look like a true professional. I feel so much safer with you gentlemen around” aaahhhh

UH HE FELL TO THE GROUND COS OF POISON fngjfagfljgnsdfa

I am so glad I was right about my baby girl tho. She even told him “you didn’t have a choice” about her parents. Good. I’m so glad I was right about that. But omg it broke my heart to have 47 so, SO, SOOO sure of Diana all along, defending her to Grey and Olivia, knowing, KNOWING that she was on his side, and then, he eventually started to doubt it.

I was screaming at my screen - this is BLOOD MONEY! SHe is doing what she did in BLOOD MONEY!!!!

But, for a second, 47 wasn’t sure anymore. And Diana played her part well.

Carpathian Mountains

Ok, what I love most about Contracts was how it gave us an insight into 47′s psyche, and this game upped that tenfold. Him seeing all his targets surround him? Him imagining Diana and the Constant dancing together? Him imagining her say terrible things about him, things he’s thought about himself deep down, always, omg, but he finally snapped out of it. Ironic that thinking about Grey snapped him out of it, when in life Grey had not trusted Diana. But 47 came to the realisation on his own. Diana would never betray him.

opening that door and finding out you’re on a fucking train?????? I screamed.

I am a bit disappointed that it turned out Romania wasn’t significant, they just happened to be passing through. But omg the fact that you are “subject 47″ again. I freaked. This is 47′s worst nightmare.

I love that you have a free pass to kill everyone in this level. I did it in stealth anyway, cos it felt wonderfully tense to sneak through that train. But wow. This is another BIG risk that IO took. The train was straight out of Uncharted, and crafting a silencer for your pistol??? Hello The Last of Us????? But I don’t care. They used those elements super well.

I think some people will be angry at this game because parts of it (especially the last level) were a departure from how HITMAN and HITMAN 2 worked. But I love it. I love that they took risks to tell the story they wanted to tell, and those risks paid off.

47′s undying loyalty to Diana, omg. Telling Edwards bye bitch, I’ll never forget who I am again, and Diana thinks you suck. <3<3<3<3<3

ENDING

OH MY GOD. ONE YEAR LATER????? 47 obviously took some time off cos he fucking needed a break. But he’s back, baby. Ending on “it’s good to be back” was wonderful. The game ended where the 2015 trailer for HITMAN started, and I’m crying. He’s ready to continue with Diana, and not because it’s what he was made to do, not because he doesn’t know what else to do, but finally, because he CHOOSES to do that.

But one year later? What does that mean? Has Diana rebuilt the ICA like in Blood Money, or will she and 47 work together without anyone else? They’ll need the infrastructure that an organisation like the ICA has though. Diana said she would dismantle Providence from the top down once Edwards was gone, but how? Does that mean dismantling what’s left of the ICA? They were one and the same by the end of the game. All that didn’t just disappear. I’m left with so many questions.

I was disappointed Diana wasn’t in the cabin when 47 got there. And I wonder why she wasn’t. She knew he was coming, but they are clearly still on good terms. Maybe she wasn’t sure what to expect. But does that mean they hadn’t spoken in a year since??? But she didn’t sound surprised to hear him, and he had coordinates that he was following, so I think they arranged to meet. But her phone was in there when he arrived, and she wasn’t. Maybe he was tracking her phone? Did she come back there to him after?????

BUT BUT BUT BUT BUT BUT

the game

ended

with 47

smiling

And for that I will be forever grateful.

Ok bye, I need to play it again. RIP work tomorrow lol

#hitman 3 first impressions #hitman3spoilers

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wornoutmouse · 4 years

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Not sure if this even counts as pain play

Day 7: Pain Play

I got weirdly poetic with this but I guess it works.

My first dark fic! I'll admit I love reading the fucked up stuff with a passion. Also, I'm trying to wrack my brain for the different animes I've watched so it's all not just mha or other common ones since I've been a victim of not having fanfiction of an anime I liked.

Warnings: dubious consent, yandere, blood

Your legs trembled with every drag on the blade fearing yet craving that one of these times it would break skin. "Why are...you trembling?" You close your eyes tightly not wanting to look at your boyfriend. He made no attempt at forcing you to either. "I know it...will hurt a little...but...it will...feel good too." You hear the clinking of more small surgery blades and you can't help but wonder if you were the only person down here. You could hear dripping water in the distance and the echo it created lasted for minutes before stopping. If you were to be left down here, you weren't sure if you'd make it out. "Azusa, please!" you begged. For what you did not know as you were conflicted trying to gauge any form of sympathy from the deranged vampire. "What...are you begging for? I'm trying.. to help." The boy looked at you, gaze blank and eyes as dull as the steel he was holding as he walked towards you with a small scalpel in hand.

"I won't...make it deep...since this is...your first time." you try to lean away from the weapon but Azusa takes a gentle hand to hold you still. As you look into his eyes and see only love and adoration staring back at you and you couldn't help but feel conflicted about whether he was the one to be angry at. You yourself brought up how empty you had been feeling as of late and you should have realized your mistake from talking to the least mentally stable person in this household. "Azusa I know you want to make me feel better now but, I'm fine, truly." He looks at you pondering if your words are really true. Once he assumes so he undoes your binds and lets you down. "I'm...sorry for..tying you...up. I knew.. you'd be nervous...and I didn't...want to hurt you." he says scratching behind his ear nervously. You take a steady step back careful to not seem to on edge.

"I...hope I..didn't...scare..you." you shook your head grimacing at how your curls stuck to your forehead from the amount of sweat you had worked up for such a short time. "n-No, it was fine." you stutter out before turning around, "Now let's just get out of here and forget all of this." A cold hand grabs your arm and you stiffen, "I'm sorry...but...can we stay here...for a while?" you look over your shoulder and cringe as you see the tinge of red in your boyfriends face. "Azusa..are you turned of right now?" you couldn't help but gag slightly at the thought.

The sick individual in question squeaks and covers his lower area with his hands in embarrassment. "I'm...sorry..but seeing you ...all help..less, riled...me up." Azusa steps forward making you take a step back. "The fact that...you...trusted me....to be gentle...makes..me feel good." Your hands tremble as you resist the urge to shove the boy and make a run for it. As easy as it would be to push down the frail boy, he was still stronger than you by a margin. That and the fact you didn't want to face his brothers, was the only thing keeping you standing there. "Well we can't do anything about it in here, can we?" you ask in fake playfulness trying to deflect the conversation to something lighter. Azusa shook his head in thought before teleporting you both into the familiar gloom of his bedroom.

Your head spins as you get accustomed to the abrupt change in scenery and you are helpless to the hesitant kisses being left on your skin. Only when you feel fangs puncture your shoulder is when you come back to reality. "Azusa!" you whine as he pulls you closer by your waist, "I...couldn't help..it. You..look so beautiful." the sweetness of his voice made you sick to your stomach as you thought of what a decent person he could have been if not for his childhood. You try to push him off of you in a weak attempt at gaining the upper hand but in the end, you stopped knowing that there was no point for your body had made up its mind.

The feeling of his cold undead hands trailing down your stomach and making contact with the skin just above your belt made you question what little sanity you held dear. You could feel the aphrodisiac seeping into your veins and you curse yourself for allowing things to get this far. Azusa pulls away licking his lips and smearing blood along his chin, "I tried not...to drink....long...because I know...it makes...you woozy." Azusa uses his nail to pop your pant buttons open. With precision and care, he slips his long fingers inside to play with your folds. The utter contrast between both of your bodies should have been a turn off from the start. But as you two grew closer, your body began to crave it leading you into an endless cycle of wanting to leave and wanting to be devoured.

You could blame it on vampire suave and seduction but you knew better. The front door has always been open for your departure, you just chose to ignore it.

"Azusa!" you gasp latching onto his wrists before jerking your hands away remembering his wrapped wounds. "It's...fine...see." Azusa raised his hands and unwraps the bandages surrounding them. The skin was scared and discolored going from warm peach to pale as moon water. "I'm....trying to get..better, just..like..you wanted." he says with a proud smile on his face as he stares at his hands, playing with his fingers as he awaits your approval.

Your stomach churned from the sick joy you got from the fact that you had made a positive dent on this person's life no matter how small. Any other person wouldn't be able to handle the madness that was this boy and as much as you wanted to leave this was the reason to stay. To help this boy do better with his life which was also an excuse. You would always deny it but deep down you knew that all your devotion was really just a false sense of security ensuring that you truly hadn't fallen into self-inflicted Stockholm Syndrome. "I'm so proud of you Azusa." you whimpered trying to hold back the tears of regret as you watch the boy smile, fangs on display pearly white as ever and shinning in the bright moonlight that scratched it's way inside. Azusa went back to playing with your bud of pleasure as he lamented kisses and lies into your skin, making you slip deeper into your own self hatred as you allowed the menstruations to continue.

You don't know how long you were in your own thoughts as you are awoken to a hot yet cold tongue lathering itself against your breasts, nipples pebbling from the sharp air that hit it after every ministration. Numb to the feeling yet still aware, you shake as your mind is thrown into ecstasy as you become aware of the blade trailing down the cavern of your breast leaving a thin river of blood following suit. "You...look..so pretty like..this." Like a moth to a flame, your breath hitches as Azusa trails his tongue along the river gathering all that your body had to offer.

You receive many cuts after that, along your outer and inner thighs, painting your ebony skin red in pathetic irony as you wish for a moment that Azusa would slip and cut you just right so that you could slip away without blame from the gods or yourself. You feel Azusa lick away more of your essence in a way that is more intimate but more demeaning. You arch your back holding his head close to yourself as you take what he was giving you greedily. If one were to ask if you were pleasured you would respond without words but cries of agony disguised as joy.

You flip the position to try to gain back what you felt you lost as you angle your lover's throbbing member below yourself and don't allow yourself to settle until he's pleading. "Please...I don't know...how long I will....last." he softly croons gazing up at you with a lovesick gaze that you knew you didn't deserve. You relent, telling yourself that this was on your own terms as you bounce rhythmically on his cock watching him cover his face as he babbles incoherent sentences. You sneer in disgust and hold his hands above him.

How dare he hide what was rightfully yours after taking so much from you. You feel him release inside of you and for once, you do not worry about if you fell pregnant for you knew the child would be taken care of with or without you. You do not stop your ministrations and bask at the wails your partner let out. He held your hips in a bruising grip and you knew he took joy in the pain he was receiving and for that, you could not forgive him.

You quickly finish yourself off to relive the ache you felt from the aphrodisiac. You allow yourself to be held close to the chest of your lover and you fall asleep to the emptiness of his chest comforted by the lacking a beating heart, lulling you into a sense of fabricated security as your heart too stilled and beat its final time declaring you, one of the damned

#azusa mukami #pain play #poetry #dark fic #diabolik lovers smut #azusa smut

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newcaptainofsquad9 · 4 years

Text

The Shakespeare Substitute {2} Kim Taehyung x black! fem! reader (College AU)

Parts: 1 2 3

Pairing: Taehyung x reader Taglist: @agustdpeach, @namjoonsslutakakoreanmanswhore

Summary: After coming down from the high of meeting your old crush, Kim Taehyung again, you end up over analyzing your previous encounter with him. Of course your best friend James teases you for your awkward, yet false sense of bravado. You think about contacting Taehyung, however he ends up contacting you first, sending you down memory lane and wondering where this familiar encounter can take you.

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Romance, College AU, Smut(in later parts)

Word Count: 2, 194

Warnings: None for this chapter.

Author’s Note: I’m glad people are enjoying this! I want to know actually if these black readers are working for people, like I just want black bts army to feel included with fics like this, since I’ve never had fics like this when I started to read/wrtie fanfiction. Also! If you guys read part one of my Jungkook fic, this is the same university that the reader in that fic goes to. If you want to read part one of Welcome To Shimmer Star, click here. So, let me know how it makes you guys feel. Requests are open for BTS and EXO, send me some! Thanks! One more thing, let me know if you’d like to be a part of the taglist, just message me about it!

I’m halfway out of the English building when James comes sprinting at me with that intense stare. Maybe I could have made it out of the building, but not with Shimmer Star University’s former track-star at my heels.

“Uh, Y/N, hold up!” he urges.

I turn toward James, who gives me an upturnt grin.

“What?” I ask with a little too much bite.

James stifles a chuckle, he raises his hands up in defense as I give him a hard side eye.

“I-I was just wondering what took so long with Mr. Kim,” he says.

I roll my eyes.

“It’s Taehyung, God I can’t believe he’s here,” I groan.

James crosses his arms.

“You were pretty fixated on getting out of the building,” he says, “you sure Taehyung didn’t try anything?”

I notice how serious James grows with those thick eyebrows furrowing and his jaw clenching. It’s scary. I shake my head in order to reassure him.

“No, we just talked for a moment,” I say, “nothing to worry about.”

I try to walk away from this conversation again, trying to comprehend my thoughts but James doesn’t let up. Of course he doesn’t.

“It’s nothing to worry about?” he asks, “then why are you blushing light skinned princess? And why are you so fixated on getting away from me? We usually grab tea after Shakespeare, remember?”

I blink up at him.

“Damn! I, shit, James I really forgot,” I stammer, “I-I just got to finish up on some homework.”

James keeps an amused look on his face, still trying to suppress his growing grin.

“Taehyung totally got you smitten, didn’t he?” he asks, “what happened to putting that shit in the past?”

I don’t even know that myself. Here I thought Kim Taehyung truly left my life at eighteen, fled back to Korea to do something while leaving me baffled with the potential of having a relationship with him. I’m still reeling from his return at Shimmer Star University! Out of all these universities in the country, he chooses Shimmer Star! What the actual fuck!

“Y/N,” James says, “you good in that head of yours?”

I grimace and shrug.

“I don’t know,” I admit, “that entire exchange overwhelmed me and I just don’t know what to do.”

James whines.

“Aw, c’mon sweetie, I’m sure a green tea can ease you,” he reassures, “you can get a mango shot and everything!”

“I don’t know James.”

“Please?” he begs, “it’ll be on me! my treat! you won’t even have to waste your meal plans, or get that rinky dink small cup, you’ll get a large today!”

I can’t help giggling at his goofy ass.

“Ok ok, fine,” I say, “I’m only going for tea, don’t expect me to stay at the cafe long.”

James only nods with a fist pump of victory before pulling me into a tight hug.

“Don’t worry girl,” he says, “if things don’t work out with Taehyung, can I take a shot at him?”

I stiffen against him and pinch him hard under his armpit. He yelps, flinching back as his arms fall from around me.

“Fine! I’ll quit it!” he exclaims as he puts an arm around my shoulder, leading me towards Shimmer Star Cafe.

━ ━ ━

Shimmer Star Cafe isn’t as crowded as it usually is during the day. Noon is it’s peaked hours, line trailing almost through the library where the cafe is connected with. Once James I get there around 5:15 pm it’s practically empty, the baristas are conversing among themselves prior to one of them popping back around to the cash register.

“James, hi there!” the barista greets.

James beams as I glance at him and the barista beams back.

“Hi! Could I get two large iced green teas? One with a mango shot and the other with a strawberry shot,” he says.

The barista grabs the cups from the left of the register swiftly with a nod.

“Coming right up real soon!” she says with a wink.

“Thanks boo!” James says.

We retreat to a booth near the back, it’s secluded, except for a tiny pile of books on a square table next to it. I stand beside it as James sits.

“What’s with that look?” he asks.

“Does that girl have a crush on you, or something?” I ask, doing a double take back to the counter.

James chuckles.

“Mandy? Nah, well, she knows I’m gay, but I’m not sure,” he admits, “it might be because I’m so dope, right?”

I roll my eyes and plop down across from him.

“Hardly,” I joke.

James pops his neck out in a false attempt to fight, but I’m ready this time with my own false fighting stance from an old Dragon Ball Z game.

“What the hell?” James asks through a fit of laughter, “your anime head ass, lord you win damn!”

He pats my hand, rising to his feet as his name is called from the counter.

“I’ll be back-”

I cut him off as I get up.

“No, I should just take my tea and leave,” I say, “thanks for treating me like this dude.”

James pouts.

“Aw, but I wanted to talk more,” he whines, “we don’t even have that much Shakespeare homework.”

“I’ve got other classes,” I counter.

James mutters a fine as we both walk back up to the counter together. Another barista hands us the teas from the end of the counter. While grabbing our napkins, straws, along with any other sugar condiments we’d need.

“Um, what could I get you?” the barista asks.

I turn towards her and my mouth nearly drops. There’s Taehyung standing next to another handsome guy, a bit shorter than him with medium length brown hair. I hide behind James and sip my tea slowly.

“Girl what is it-oh,” he says, noticing Taehyung as well. “Don’t panic, I know that guy with Taehyung.”

“You do?” I ask.

“Yeah, “ he says, “yo! Jungkook!”

Jungkook turns along with Taehyung, who raises an eyebrow.

“James, what’s going on dude?” Jungkook greets.

James slips into a slick handshake with Jungkook who follows it effortlessly. I can’t help but watch in awe. Of course James knows this guy, he’s so bubbly. I was joking earlier, but James is really electric, he’s got a way of putting people at ease, it’s helped me a lot since freshman year.

“Y/N?”

I look up and Taehyung is standing in front of me, his black turtleneck clear in view while his black coat is missing.

“Um, hi, uh, “ I stammer, “I gotta go!”

Taehyung takes a step forward.

“Wait, please I-”

“Uh, I’m sorry, I got homework, bye!” I let out quickly as I sip my tea for dear life and flee.

━ ━ ━

The tea is halfway gone once I get home. I kick off my shoes before plopping onto the blue sheets on my bed and roll onto my back. My eyes shut as I try to fathom what the hell just happened today. Not only does Taehyung teach as a substitute, he’s also subbing my class and one of his friends (or acquaintances) know James. This just got so much more complicated than I could handle.

My phone buzzes again, echoing it’s irritating noises from my drive back here. It’s got to be James, of course I could ignore it and actually start on homework, however, if I ignore him there could be grave consequences. His stank face is a worse punishment in itself. I rise and pick up my phone from the dresser, it reacts to me with multiple text message icons littering the screen. A swipe of my finger awakens it, I punch the numbers in and it unlocks revealing a few missed calls from James, along with a few texts.

They read:

I’m sorry I didn’t notice Taehyung

He’s Jungkook’s friend, he’s really chill for a TA!

Girl, this man is husband material, or at least enough for a pleasant dick appointment

I regret my actions. Of fucking course James is thirst texting. Why am I not surprised.

Another text interrupts my reading. This one read:

I know, you’re in the middle of homework. I caught you off guard today and I just wanted to talk.

I freeze as the person continues to type.

It’s Taehyung btw

Is he in control of my phone service now? Could I just get a moment to catch my breath? I’ve been in a whirlwind all day.

James is cool, great guy

I can’t trust James to do anything. I decide to text Taehyung right back.

Did he give you my number?

Taehyung responds right back.

Yeah, that ok?

I guess, but not for him. I’m surprised he didn’t you his number.

Taehyung’s response takes a bit longer this time.

Why- wait, he’s gay, isn’t he?

Great observation Sherlock. JK, he’s got great duality, he usually isn’t too charismatic unless he’s around me. He wasn’t flirting, was he?

No, but Jungkook was egging him on to do something, I polity had to decline. He seemed rather bisexual to me.

I smile down at the phone before responding.

I’m glad to see you weren’t eyeing my friend, can’t say I can speak for the rest of my peers.

I stare at the messages for a moment as Taehyung doesn’t even type this time. Instead of another message popping up, an incoming call does instead with the number Taehyung texted from. A groan escapes me as I press the green phone button and answer.

“Hello?”

“What do you mean the rest of them?” Taehyung asks.

I’m caught off guard at how his voice comes through, just as deep as it’s always been.

“I didn’t mean for you to call me,” I explain.

“Do you think I’ll let those girls in class get to me?”

I hum at his question.

“I don’t know, Jessica was practically throwing herself at you,” I say.

Taehyung chuckles lowly.

“Were you jealous?” he asks.

I tremble at his question. I know he did not just ask me that.

“Tae, I’m hanging up,” I declare.

“Hold on Y/N! Wait, please!”

I hold the phone against my shoulder, shuddering against how soft and familiar his voice is. It reminds me of how tender he told me of his feelings that night, four years ago at prom. God, why couldn’t he have just kept his thoughts to himself? I wouldn’t be in this mess if he wouldn’t.

“Y/N, are you still there?” he breathes.

“Yeah,” I whisper, “God, Taehyung, don’t you understand the shit you put me through the year you left? You can’t just come back and flirt with me like everything's ok!”

I cover my mouth as soon as the words come out.

“Taehyung I-”

“No, Y/N, you’re right,” he says, “I was being too informal.”

“Taehyung,” I start but he cuts me off again.

“I’m sorry, ok,” he admits, “God, let me at least make it up to you. What can I do?”

I chew on my lip and fall back against the bed. This is the first time I’ve had the control before. When we were almost a thing back in high school, he admitted his feelings and I just accepted them without much thought besides how good looking me was.

“I-I don’t know,” I say, “you apologizing was a step in the right direction, what do you have in mind?”

Taehyung shifts in wherever he is, I hear papers crinkle and shift around him.

“You have classes Tuesday?”

“Yeah,” I say, “just one in the morning though.”

“Let me take you out,” he suggests, “we can start over, I can get to know you better and actual listen.”

My heart pumps at his words.

“Really?” I ask, “where at? I need to make sure I can afford it first.”

“That doesn’t matter Y/N,” he says, “I’ll take care of it, let me treat you.”

“Are you sure?”

Taehyung chuckles and hums.

“Of course, the kids back in school didn’t call me Mr. Gucci for nothing,” he jokes.

A fit of giggles escape my mouth.

“I can’t believe you remember those idiots calling you that!” I exclaim.

Taehyung laughs again.

“Hey, it got you to laugh that’s all that matters,” he notes, “how’s homework going? Did you read Act one of Hamlet yet?”

I bite my lip and shake my head.

“No,” I admit, “I was going to, but I’m on the phone with my gorgeous substitute.”

“Ah, so you can flirt, but I can’t,” Taehyung says with a hint of amusement.

“Sorry,” I say, “that was a little informal of me.”

“No, you’re fine,” he says, “I have no problem with this, I can act very well and play your well behaved sub.”

I sigh against the sheets and bury my face between them. This man will be the death of me.

“I gotta go Tae,” I let out.

“Did I make you blush?” he asks.

By his tone I can practically hear the boxy smile on the other line.

“That’s none of your business Tae!” I say, “goodbye.”

Taehyung chuckles lowly.

“Goodbye beautiful.”

He hangs up soon after, leaving me a flustered mess.

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erintoknow · 5 years

Text

Cat

Fallen Hero: Rebirth Fanfiction ~ 4.1k words (wtf?) Sidestep-era. No animals harmed. [ao3]

–––

It started with a soft sound at the door Friday night. November, and it’s finally starting to get cold at night. Close the eyes, get a feel, try not to let your heart get away from you. This house is abandoned, boarded up –mostly– there shouldn’t be anyone else here. The traps you’ve set out ought to dissuade any like-minded lookers, too many close calls in the past year.

Can still remember the hands. Should have broken more than a nose.

But no – focus. A soft sound, something scratching at the door. Not human. Good? Bad? Animal. Probably harmless? But then what about that goat? …You don’t think it’s a goat. One day you’ll ‘forget’ to turn in your gun back to the Ranger’s armory, and you’ll instantly feel a 100% more safe.

Human or not, first priority is to make sure you’re fully dressed, shirt pulled down, tights and shorts haven’t suddenly vanished. Even without a light, nothing’s truly dark in this city. Ground light always. Grab your knife, hold it ready. You take up position to the side of the door, holding your breath as you slowly turn the knob, crack it open.

It happens before you realize what’s happening.

Something small squeezes through the door before it’s even an eighth of the way open. Rubs it’s side up against your leg, and you almost drop the knife. “Oh.” You laugh, tension draining out of you. “It’s– It’s just a cat.”

The cat purrs, that weird vibrating not-noise. Just a cat. You’re fine. You’re safe, or – no, not safe, how did a cat get in here? Then you remember, the other bedroom on the second floor; the broken window by the tree.

Huh.

Alright.

Well, you can board that up, or cut back the branch maybe. You slide down against the wall, run your hand through its fur. Thanks cat.

Saturday evening, you come back to the room and the cat is sitting on the bed. Ears alert, eyes immediately zeroing in on you as you open the door. “Uh… h–h–hi?” The cat makes a chirping noise and leaps off the bed. You’re still a little buzzed from drinking with Ortega. Voice a little sore. Can feel yourself coming off the adrenaline high hard. Can’t believe you did that. What on earth where you thinking? But.. Ortega needed… you don’t know. She needed something, hopefully tonight had been an acceptable substitute. Not knowing what she’s thinking means you have to work so much harder; really pay attention. Are you guessing right? How do you check your work on something like that?

You unsling the bass guitar, prop it up against the dresser, drop your backpack on the floor next to it. The cat keeps rubbing against your leg, making its little purring noises.

Should you… should you feed it? What do cats eat? Tuna fish or something, right? You’ll figure it out later. It’s not like you have any food on you right now, and you’re tired, and not thinking straight. Flop on to your bed, face-first into the pillow. Before you can roll over, there’s a noise and then four little paw-fulls of knives land on your back. The cat settles into place, sitting on the small of your back.

Guess this is your life now.

–––

You’ve been at this house for a coming on half a year now, and it’s past time you pack your things and find a new place to squat. You’ve spied a couple suits poking around now. The hack job you did hooking back up the water and power wasn’t going to go unnoticed forever. You knew that.

Would have been nice to have had more time.

Cat chirps insistently at you, rubbing your leg. You wince. “R–right. Sorry, Cat.” You stop rolling up clothes and dig out a can of cat food from a side pocket in your backpack. Pull the tab back, then it’s grabbing Cat’s dish bowl and tapping the contents out.

Cat stares up at you expectantly the whole time. Once the bowl is back on the ground, they chirp again and lick the food, once, twice, before wandering away. You shake your head and go back to folding clothes. Cat will come back when they’re good and ready.

You already scoped out a new place this morning. You should be all set to move in. Except–

Cat is back, they’ve decided they’re hungry after all.

–You hadn’t really planned on it but… you’ve gotten used to having Cat around. Days where they don’t show always end up leaving you a little tense. Not that Cat can’t handle themself but…

When you’re all packed and Cat is done eating, you sling your backpack and guitar over your arms. Adjust to make sure nothing’ll slip and then scoop up Cat before they wander too far away. “Alright you,” You hoist Cat up, press them close to your chest. “H–how do you feel about new digs?”

–––

A month later and you’re at her apartment. Ortega is trying to teach you how to make ‘real’ salsa when the call comes over the phone, slicing the conversation in half. Catastrofiend.

“Shit.” You hiss, putting the knife down.

Ortega gives you a grim look, as she hangs up. “So much for an evening off.”

“Where are we headed this time?”

Ortega side-eyes you as she quickly washes her hands. “Stough Canyon. That’s not far from your usual haunts. You familiar with the area?”

“Ah– Uh, a little.” You lie.

You’ve kept your skinsuit on under your clothes, so changing is just a matter of getting out your mask and jacket from your backpack while Ortega changes in her bedroom. Ortega makes more phone calls on her brick of a cellphone as the two of you rush down the stairs.

Riding on the back of Ortega’s motorcycle is never not a jarring experience. Helmet on, cling to her for dear life. Traffic laws? That’s for other people. The Marshal has places to be. It’s no surprise, then, when the two of you are first on the scene.

The scene being: the multiarmed nightmare of the Catastrofiend tearing through a group of men unloading semi-automatic rifles on it to little effect. Five men– no, four now as one of the Catastrofiend’s bladed arms bisects the nearest gunner.

“Are those guys Wolfpack?” Ortega puts a foot down on the asphalt to hold balance as the two of you assess the situation from a safe distance.

You squint, loosening your grip around Ortega’s middle. Should have gone for googles, could have included a magnification element. “I… think so? What could possibly compel them to attack like that?” You don’t dare reach your mind out to them, less the collection of poisoned razors the Catastrofiend calls a psyche sends you into a panic attack. Again.

“Hollow Ground…” Ortega growls.

“You still on that?” You sigh, take a quick glance around. This fight is taking uncomfortably close to your place. Worry for Cat enters your head and you have to shake it out of your mind. “Come on, no sense letting them die, gangsters or no.”

Ortega hunches her shoulders, you can see her grin in the sideview mirror. “Let’s show them how the Rangers get things done.” She revs the engine.

“Wait– what–” is all you manage to get out before Ortega takes off again and you have to cling on for dear life, motorcycle speeding straight at the mess.

The gunfire stops and the Catastrofiend turns to face you, raising one bladed arm. You pull Ortega hard to the left and the two of you swerve past, bloodied metal slicing the air where the motorcycle should have been. Ortega whoops at the top of her lungs, puts the kickstand down and fist pumps the air.

You clamber off the bike, “Are you f–f–freaking crazy!?”

Ortega looks back at you with a manic grin. “Got her attention didn’t we?”

The Catastrofiend stalks towards the two of you, it’s bottom two blade arms click-clacking against the asphalt in tandem with its legs.

“Yes!” You glance about, where did the those wolfpack gangsters go? “Good work! N–n–now what you asshole!?”

Ortega readies her gun, “Keep her from running before the rest of the team gets here.” She lines up a shot and fires. The Catastrofiend’s shoulder jerks back as the bullet ricochets off a metal limb.

“I– I don’t have a gun on me!”

“Plenty here, then!” Ortega fires off another shot as the Catastrofiend picks up speed.

Cursing Ortega under your breath, you zero in on the nearest body. Blood pooling in the street. Shit. No coming back from that. Dash over, try not to look as you pry the rifle from still warm fingers. “Sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Look back up, and Ortega has broken into a run, the Catastrofiend giving chase. Tension vibrates through you like a chord. Half expected her to try fist-fighting. Thank god not even Ortega is that reckless.

Line up the sights, breath in, lead the shot. Squeeze and breath out. The banging rings in your ears and the Catastrofiend stumbles, stops. Did you hit her? She turns to face you. A low guttural growl rolls out across the street and your stomach drops out from under you. Oh. “Fuck.”

It sprints back down the street at you. “Fuck!” Toss the gun to the ground and jump a fence to duck past two houses. Behind you, you can hear Ortega yell something, the report of her gun. The Catastrofiend stays focused on you, can feel rusty metal at the edge of your awareness. Behind and getting closer.

You’ve got one advantage here:

You know this neighborhood. Jump fences, swing around trees. Heart in your throat. Where the hell even is Ortega at this point? You risk a few precious seconds to reach down and grab a rock. Next turn you make, you risk a few more precious seconds to throw it. The rock bounces harmlessly off the Catastrofiend’s chest. She doesn’t slow down.

Well. Had to make sure she was still motivated to kill you. Motivation confirmed.

Take off running again, and you can feel the burn in your lungs, legs. Run another block and realize: that’s your place at the end of the street. Damn. How far have you run?

–Wait, the plasma caster. You had the plasma caster stored in your room. Fuck. Yes. That’ll fix this thing. Push yourself harder, not much farther to go. When you hear the echo of a motorcycle bouncing off the houses a prayer of thanks is in order to whomever might be listening.

You duck to the side to give Ortega a clear shot and the rapport of her gun rings out. The Catastrofiend lets out a furious hiss and turns, but not in time to avoid being slammed broadside with Ortega’s motorcycle as the Marshal dives clear. Monster and machine crumble into a mess of metal and limbs and slide across the street for a few feet.

You slow to a stop, gasping for air. Find Ortega, getting up off the ground, checking her hands for burns. “Is… is that– is that it…?”

Ortega gives you a thumbs up, “See? Easy as burning years of my salary.”

“Sorry about the bike.”

“Worth it.”

A spike of anger pokes through your song and you drop into a defensive stance. “Shit.”

Ortega tenses up upon seeing you. “What? What?”

Metal limbs curl up, slicing through the twisted remains of Ortega’s motorcycle.

“Oh, mierda. Not cool!” Ortega stamps her foot and quickly starts reloading her gun as the Catastrofiend pulls herself to her feet again. Its gurgling voice is thick and distorted and barely human.

f̵̧̛̠͚̫̫͈̓͊͊̀̀̏̈́̀̇͛́͂͜͝͠o̷̢̞̙͖̖̲͈̭͌̿̈́̋̉͐͋͑͠o̴̜̥̥͍͚̼̖̦͚̙͋͂̈́l̸̠̣̥͔̍́͜į̵̙͇̰͎̯͙̫̎š̸̢̛͇͍͎̱̠͇̳̼͚̰͌̍̇̋̊̑̏̇ͅh̶̩͎͔̖͖͈̔̀̎

Oh.

Fuck.

Back to plan Plasma Caster it was then.

“Ortega!” You yell back to her as you start running again, “Keep it busy!”

“Yeah, that’s the idea!”

At the house, run around to the back door. Turn knob pull up on the door then out and finally push back in and the door swings up. Jump over the tack paper booby trap, around the stringwire alarm can system, and up the stairs. Cat meows at you in greeting as you tear into the room. Stop a moment, have to acknowledge Cat with a pat. “H–hi Cat.”

They rub up against you as you slide down on your knees, “R–r–really not the time right now!” You gently push them away and reach for the box under your bed. Ortega’s going to be pissed with you when she realizes. Hopefully saving her life is apology enough.

Look out the window and… Ortega is fist-fighting with the Catastrofiend. Goddamnit. If you opened the window and kicked out the screen, you’d have a decent angle from here. Clear shot, no cover.

Cat chirps and rubs your leg again. You are back so it must be dinner time, right?

“N–not–not now, Cat.” You hiss. “S–sorry! I’ll make it u–up to you. Promise.” You can’t shoot from here. Can’t risk putting Cat in harm’s way. Damnit. Give Cat a scratch behind the ears and then you’re off again. Down the stairs, out of the house. Flick off the safety, dial up the power.

Ground level and the dance between woman and nightmare has only picked up in speed. You need a clear shot, you need a clear shot, you need–

It’s like everything moves in slow motion. Ortega dives right to avoid one arm, but the Catastrofiend has caught on, bringing a bladed limb in sharp and low. It buries itself into her gut. Someone screams, and it might be you.

B̷̨̤̺̗͓̘͎̭̰̀͛̚͝ę̷̼̜̖̜̹̞͉͕̥̠͖̃̅̿͆̿̐͂́͜ğ̷̼͕̱̤͚͚̹̳̼̺̫͍̑́͒̇͒̐͒̋̈́̇̌͘̚͜ ̸̢̧͇̘̩̗̳͍̫̤̲͙͛͒ͅf̷̢̤̬̺̥͎̭̰̹̩̱̼̰̔̔͂o̶̢̯̭̖̙͛̍̑͘ŗ̴͖̲̞͙͖̦̻̗̺͈̟͕̜̊̌̒̾̽͊̈̍̿̍̔̚͝͝͠ ̷̪͙́̽̀́̕̚ṁ̶̨̛̩͓͔͕̜̬͓̐̍̔̓̀̊̚͜͜ȩ̸̥͇̃r̷̨̧̲̹͕͉̯̝̐͛̒ḉ̸̢̠̘͍̜̙̥̤͙͗̑̐̑ͅy̵̨͈̩̤̝̯̗̲̬̰̙̝̬͂͑́͌̔̂͘͘͘͝.̸̡͉͍͈͒͐̒́.̶̨̨̨̥͔̝̞͇͇̜̞̜̔͘͠ͅ.̵̡̜̣͎̞̥̲̩̪̻̗̹̇̓̈́̅̃͐̐́͊̓̚̕

Ortega coughs blood, laughs as she grabs the blade in her abdomen, slowing forcing it back out. The Catastrofiend raises another arm, ready to strike.

No!

No. No. No.

You cast out with your mind, any pretension to music abandoned and grab hard on the pile of rusty nails that make up the Castrofiend’s mind. You can feel the headache already threatening but that’s not important. Forget Ortega. Ortega’s not important. Look at you. You’re the threat here. Just. Stop.

The arm jitters in place as if held there. Enough time to line up the shot. Fire. Flash of green and the bolt hits the Catastrofiend square in the chest, singed flesh curling smoke. And… now her focus is squarely on you. Fuck. Shit. Damnit. Step backward and fire off another shot. This time it blocks with an arm, metal joints glow red and melt together. It makes this ungodly screeching noise, like nails on chalkboard giving feedback into a microphone and you trip; fall backwards on your ass.

The monster races towards you and toss your gun to the side and roll in the opposite direction as three metal points penetrate the earth where you had just been. The fourth catches you with the flat of the blade, buffeting you against the wall of a house and knocking the breath from your lungs.

This is it. This is it. Couldn’t even save Ortega.

Fuck.

Fuck…?

Something yowls and there’s a hissing noise. Open your eyes. Cat is sitting in the windowsill, hackles raised and hissing at the Catastrofiend. She stops, arms still raised and turns her head to stare at Cat. When she hisses back, Cat yowls and scrambles off the windowsill, running for cover.

There’s a deep-throated noise coming from the monster as it turns back to you. Is it… is she laughing?

B̸̨̛̘͉̠̳͕̪̹̪̹̪́̈́̆̅͜͝ḛ̴̮̠̎̄̀g̷̛̥̫̜̺͍̹̤̭̐̒̉́͆

You flinch.

A sharp burst of wind and a flash of heat wash over you, open your eyes and see the monster struggle to stay upright.

Turn your head to in the direction of the source; Sentinel and Sunstream are running towards you. The Catastrofiend screeches again and Sunstream pulls a laser down from a nearby streetlight, carving a line down the face. Can’t be worse than a weak sunburn but it must be bad enough because it drives the Catastrofiend back.

Still running towards you, Sentinel summons another burst of wind and the Catastrofiend screeches. …Frustrated? She backs up further before turning tail and running.

Sentinel drops down by your side, offering a hand to get you back to your feet. “You okay, Sidestep?”

“Yeah– wait, no, Ortega!” Stumble to your feet and out of Sentinal’s hand. “Charge is hurt!” You dash across the street. “Ortega– Charge!”

Please be okay.

Sunstream is propping Ortega up. Too much blood, has to try to hold the wound shut.

No. No. No. “Ortega!?”

Sunstream gives you a fearful look, you can feel the worry shooting through her mind. “She’s hurt pretty bad.”

“Ambulance!?”

She shakes her head. “Already on it’s way, but it’s a drive to the nearest hospital.”

You spin on your heel as Sentinel gets near. “Can you fly her?”

He nods, “That’s normally the plan but…” He looks over you, at Ortega’s prone form. “We need to do something to staunch the bleeding or moving her is going to make things worse.”

You hug yourself, shaking. Ortega isn’t going to die. You refuse to let this happen.

Wait.

Your space. Medical supplies. Field surgery kits.

“Sentinel, Sunstream. Keep an eye on Ortega, I’ll be right back.” You don’t wait for a response before taking off. Back to the house, back to your room, don’t bother closing the doors. Take the steps two at a time. Grab the medkit, anything else? You can see the glint of Cat’s eyes under the bed. Hiding? “I’m s–sorry.” You manage to choke out and then it’s running again. Three steps at time down, back to the street, back to Ortega.

Sunstream and Sentinel are debating the merits of trying to use Sunstream’s power to cauterize the wound. Push Sentinel aside as you drop to the ground beside Ortega, pop open the first-aid kit. “I’ve got it, this’ll help.”

You grab the can from the top of the bag and give it a hard shake. Should still be enough.

You can feel Sentinel’s surprise from behind you. “Biofoam? Sidestep, that’s military grade, where you did get that?”

Try to hold back your frustration. “Does it really freaking matter right now!?” You really don’t have it in you to argue the ethics of theft in this moment. You stick the nozzle of the can close to Ortega’s wound. “Hey– hey, Julia? This is gonna fucking hurt.” Ortega groans something.

Good enough.

You press down on the nozzle and a pale pinkish foam pours out with a hiss, quickly expanding into and over the open wound in Ortega’s abdomen. Sunstream gives you a worried look as she holds onto Ortega’s shoulders, doesn’t let her turn over as she groans.

When you finish applying the foam you fall back on your legs. You feel dizzy. Nauesous. “S–s–she still lost a lot of blood.” You say, stating the obvious.

“Still,” Sunstream is looking straight at you. You have to look away. “You might have just saved her life with that.”

You try to keep your hands from tensing up. “I… not saving wasn’t an option.” Glance back and up at Sentinel. “Can carry her now?”

Sentinel nods, face grim as he stoops down. “Oof, our Marshal is a little heavier than I remember.” He adjusts his hold on her as he stands back up. “All that mod work adds up.”

A spike of fear shoots through you. “Can you still do it?”

“Yeah.” Sentinel nods, squares his shoulders, gives you a look. “Anything else isn’t an option.” The wind gathers around him and you and Sunstream watch him slowly lift off the ground. “Closest hospital is the Pacifica?”

You glance at Sunstream for confirmation. She nods.

“Right,” He nods back. “See you kids there.” The wind whips around you as Sentinel takes into the sky.

You let go of your breath and collapse, falling backwards against the pavement.

“Sidestep!?” Sunstream moves towards you, and you hold up a hand.

“I’m… I’m okay. I think?” You laugh. Oh god. That could have gone real bad. “Orte– Charge will be okay now, right?”

“Yeah. Of course.” Sunstream says, but you can feel the doubt in her head. Ah. Fuck. Sunstream shuffles over to look at your first aid kit. You want to tell her off for it, but– “This is pretty well stocked.”

“Yeah.”

“How’d you know this would be around here?”

“Ah– W–w–well…”

This is bad. You can already feel the logic chain assembling in her head when something rubs up against your shoulder. Turn your head, “Cat?”

Sunstream looks over to you, and her thoughts are instantly derailed. “Oh! Kitty!”

Cat hops on top of you, absolutely no thought to your comfort in mind and they walk across your chest. As usual. “Hi Cat.”

Sunstream kneels down next to you and scoops Cat up in her arms. “Hey you, what are you doing here? It’s dangerous.” Cat chirps in protest, legs outstretched.

You prop yourself up on your elbows. “You like cats?”

“Like? I’m allergic!” Sunstream fakes a laugh. “Who’s your owner cutie-pie?” She shifts Cat in her arms to get a better hold. “No collar huh?”

“There’s… uh, a lot of strays these days.” You cautiously put out there.

“Yeah, but look how healthy he is! Somebody has been taking care of this little angel, huh?” Cat chirps again. Does this lady have any food? No?

“Maybe they’re local.”

“To this half empty neighborhood? I doubt it.” Sunstream runs a hand down Cat’s back, gently pulling the skin. “Should at least have an RFID chip. I can get that scanned and we’ll see this sweetie gets home safe. Tomorrow, I guess.”

This is getting out of hand. “Um– I can– I can do it.”

“Sidestep?”

“You said you’re allergic, right? So… I can take Cat. Uh, the cat.” Your heart is pounding as heavy as it was while fighting the Catastrofiend.

Sunstream gives you a curious look. “Oh? You don’t mind watching the cat? Okay.”

“We can… –tomorrow, we can meet up at the Ranger HQ, get Cat – uh, the cat – checked and then maybe… visit Ortega?” You’ll have to make sure you have enough money to pay for a pet license and for one of those chips. Cat saved your life tonight. Ortega’s life. Both your lives.

Might as well make it official.

Sunstream gives you a tired smile. “Sounds good to me, Sidestep.”

The plan would have worked perfectly except–

Cat has a chip. When the Vet called the registered number, You could hear the ecstatic screaming on the phone from across the counter. It only got louder when the woman told them who had come in with their cat.

You thought you’d wait there at the Vet office with Sunstream, meet the lucky family. Cat curled up on your lap, purring as you stroked their fur. But– you feel a little sick. Face hurts. It wasn’t fair. You don’t want to give Cat back. Can’t stand everyone stealing glances in your direction.

“Sunstream?”

“Sidestep?”

“C–c–can you hold onto Ca– Dorothy for me? I’m.. going to t–take a walk.”

That gets a note of concern from her. “You okay there, Sidestep?”

“I’m fine.” You gently pour Cat into her lap. “I–I–I just need to c–clear my head.” You get to your feet and rock back and forth on your heels. “Maybe I’ll see you at the Hospital.”

“Alright…” Sunstream frowns, “If you’re sure?”

“Y–yeah.” You ruffle Cat’s ears. Listen to them purr in Sunstream’s lap. “Bye, Cat.” You whisper, and then make a quick exit. You’re not crying. And anyway, your mask in on, so no one could ever tell even if you were. Which you aren’t.

–––

You dim the lights in Ortega’s hospital room, close the door behind you. Still out, like the nurse warned you.

You pull a chair over to her bed, sit on it backwards so you can rest your head on the back. “Glad y–you’re okay.” You whisper. She had needed a blood transfusion last night. Was absurdly lucky not to have injured any major organs. Would she had made it if you hadn’t used the last of that biofoam? It wasn’t clear. The wound was stitched shut now in any case. Was probably going to leave a god awful scar, even with Ortega’s ‘top-rate’ healthcare.

Breath in. Breath out. “I’m really glad.” You run a hand across your upper leg, tracing patterns. “Th–that’s again I’ve saved your butt, Sparkles. Stop sca–scaring me like this.”

You chew your lip.

“Actually… You’ll n–never believe who saved both our butts…” You can feel yourself smile. “S–see, like, in November, I–I–I found this cat…”

#fallen hero #fallen hero: rebirth #fhr #fallen hero fanfic #fanfiction #wlw fanfic #fhr/Ariadne #mc #ortega #sunstream #sentinel #catastrofiend #cat

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jojuarez26 · 6 years

Text

If you only knew how truly Erudite Blue you actually are not

Divergent fanfiction: Eric/OC Mature content and strong language. I do not own any part of Divergent

Tarrin's POV

I haven't seen or spoken to Eric in almost two weeks now, although Four has and admittedly, I am jealous as hell. Eric finally submitted all his legal documents. So the proverbial cat is out of its fucking back and the psychotic bitch that rules Erudite with a damn machine gun has flipped her shit.

Jeanine went on a rampage the second she knew about Analisse and the fact Eric was able to not be made compliant with threats as we for once are actually the ones two steps ahead of the game.

First she turned Erudite upside down on it's head trying to locate my daughter and I. Then being the oh so logical thinker we needed her to be, Jeanine stormed Amity because that's where Jacob of is at. Apparently both Jacob and Johanna Reyes told Jeanine to go pleasure herself with a barbed wire stick and get the ever living fuck out of Amity. Well maybe what they said was slightly more Amity but still the same interpretation.

Next she tried, and I do stress tried, to go to Candor and strong arm Jack and my Aunt Kathy. I'm totally confident that it would be accurate to say Aunt Kathy literally told her to fuck off and get the hell out of Candor.

The funniest part of the way Jeanine thinks is that she did not, nor would she ever think to so much as email Abnegation. As far as she is concerned Eric would rather poke his eye out with a stick on fire than ever stoop so low as to ask Abnegation, the useless stiffs, to help him find a pencil.

Technically she would be right. Eric would not and did not. But, Four would and he did. Well not the Faction itself, but a specific member. A divergent sympathizer and one of the nicest people I have ever met, Natalie Prior.

Without a second thought, no questions asked and not a single ounce of hesitation because of who I am essentially married to Natalie snuck the three of us into an unused and pretty much abandoned house in the older unused section of Abnegation.

Her and her daughter Beatrice made sure to come check on us every day and bring us anything we needed that they were capable of procuring.

Natalie's husband Andrew is on the council. This allowed Natalie to be in communication with Eric without any suspicion yet not giving up any knowledge of the where abouts of Analisse and I.

Eric and Natalie where still extremely careful of the content of their contact and mostly used codes and key phrases to relay information to each other.

Although Jeanine for the most part has Dauntless in her back pocket, they would still never allow her to rand sack Dauntless or shake them down looking for Eric's missing fiance' and mystery child that ninety percent of all people question even exist. I did such a spectacular job at hiding my pregnancy, not to mention how Eric's parents snuggled us out of Erudite, most had no knowledge or proof Analisse did indeed exist.

However Max was completely ok with pretty much monitoring all of Eric's daily life in Dauntless. From planting bugs and surveillance equipment in both Eric's office and apartment to placing spy details that followed his every move.

This was the reason Analisse and I have had no kind of contact with Eric period. Needless to say we are both going threw withdrawal and driving poor Four bonkers.

"Good morning Tarrin." Four murmured pouring himself a cup of coffee just waking up.

"Good? Seriously Four what the hell is so good about it," I spat sarcastically.

"Ok. Well I'm just going to get dressed and run some parameter checks, like all day," Four replies cautiously. Now I feel bad.

"Four wait! I'm sorry. Please don't leave me alone today," I suddenly burst into tears.

My horomones and the severity of my situation have me a hot mess of fuckery. Seeing as how Four is the only adult I have interactions with and well, Analisse only cries, eats and fills her diapers, Four gets shat on. Alot. Everyday. By the grace of God he takes it with a grain of salt and rolls with the punches.

"You T, I really do like you even with your poor taste in men. However even though said man is an asshole, at least he is consistent. He is constantly an asshole. You my dear are as inconsistent as the bowel movements of the elderly. Quite frankly your mood swings give me whiplash," he says all this in a quiet yet serious tone.

"I very very loosely understand that just having a baby turns you into a lunatic because your horomones are in overdrive. I also get being stuck in seclusion with a newborn and a stranger are probably about as helpful as a full moon at a daycare or in a nursing home but, damn you and mini Eric are exhausting me," he dramatically threw his head back throwing an arm over his eyes.

This is what I love about Four. Although I know he hides alot of pain and demons behind his humourous approach to life, it is relaxing and breaks the tension.

"Oh admitted Four, you loves us. Seriously though, I am so sorry. I know you didn't choose this mission, Eric ordered you to take it. For what it's worth I'm grateful you did."I tried to hold back the tears as I spoke.

"T it's not-"

"Let me finish. Please." Four just nods for me to continue

"I'm not exactly sure to the full extent why you and Eric hate each other so much. What I do know is Eric trust you and respects you as a loyal Dauntless soldier. Considering we are born and bred Erudite regardless of our aptitudes and Eric very recently defection to Dauntless. We were raised to keep your acquaintances close and your competition closer," I pause to make sure he is still on the same page as me.

Reading his facial expressions and body language, he understands, he's just not sure where I'm going with this.

"The point I am trying to make is this. The short list of people that is logically acceptable to trust, especially with someone with Eric's nature, is already exceeding it's limits at best. So the fact that he trust you. Especially with it being with mine and Analisse's safety, actually speaks volumes." I'm once again trying to choke back tears to continue.

"Both myself AND ERIC, are and will be eternally grateful. I know Eric will probably never say or acknowledge that, but I will. Thank so much for being here when you don't have to be. You have also become someone I would consider a friend so..... Thanks," I sniffed and put my head in my hands.

I suddenly feel hands on my shoulders. Four is rubbing them soothingly. This truly suprises me especially with him being former Abnegation. Once he can tell I've calmed down, he moves to sit across the table from me.

"Complete honesty, when Eric recruited me for this," he waves his hand around the room," I was baffled. I was slightly shocked any female could tolerate him for more than a one night stand let alone long time girlfriend who just had his child." He has an amused look on his face but his tone of voice is still serious.

"Four if your just going to bash Eric, I really rather not at the moment if you-"

"Hey. I let you finish. Let me finish. Please." He asked and pauses to see if I will. I do.

"Ok. So I generally viewed Eric as a cruel person who's only emotions are bored, angry and sadism. Well except when he is intimating people into pissing their pants just by glaring at them, I think that actually gives him joy," Four smirks and I can't help but laugh.

"That is until he told me about the situation and about you and his mini-clone. I actually saw love, fear, sadness and frustration. And it wasn't fake, forced or sarcastic, it was genuine. To say I was shocked is putting mildly. No I was not thrilled or happy at all that I had to do a favor as I saw it, for Eric. But I was more curious and intrigued when I got a glimpse of an actual human with actual humanity. I had come to believe he was really a machine and possessed a switch that turned his humanity off most likely permanently." He sipped his coffee and I took the opportunity to ask a question.

"What where you actually curious about, what made you more accepting of the situation?" I was liking the distraction of my craziness by this conversation.

"I wanted to see what ridiculous, crazy, hooker looking, sluty nose had actually melted some ice off of the cold steel that was Eric the asshole heart," he grins ear to ear.

"Excuse you!! Did you truly think so disgustingly of me?" I ask half shocked half offended.

"Of YOU personally? No. Of the mystery woman Eric knocked up, absolutely. However the second I laid eyes on you I was actually shocked, possibly slightly in denial," he smiles.

"How? Why?" Now I'm curious.

"You looked nothing like a hooker. You're actually really pretty, and normal looking. You're also nice. I am actually a little envious that an asshole like Coulter managed to have a woman as smart, beautiful, caring, yet still sassy and classy as you." He blushed and looked away.

I knew that Four wasn't actually jealous Eric had me personally or that he harboured secret feelings for me or something crazy like that. He was just jealous Eric had a good person who loved him in general. Four is extremely lonely with a very low opinion of himself for reasons I can't fathom. What I do know is someone in his past damaged him, scared him deep emotionally. Who or why is what I don't know.

Just as I was about to start asking him about his self, my peanuts piercing banshee wails filled the air. I stood up letting out a deep sigh.

"Hold that thought mi amigo. I have to attended to my motherly duties. This conversation is far from over though. I am going to pick your brain some more. I want to know more about you."

His demeanor faulted ever so slightly to nervous, maybe worried. It was quick, but I still caught it.

"How very not true Erudite of you? Wanting to actually listen when someone else speaks and value their opinions," he almost sounded desperate to change the subject with his attitude change.

"Oh fuck dick. I got your number. We are most definitely going to talk about you too," I playful shot over my shoulder as I walked away.

@pathybo @tigpooh67 @lunaschild2016 @emmysrandomthoughts @jaihardy @beautifulramblingbrains @clublulu333 @iammarylastar @kenzieam @captstefanbrandt @badassbaker @badassdauntlessgirl @gotlokis @kgurew @that1girloverthere @girlslovestorys @onceinamillionlifetimes @sporadichologramblizzard-ed17414 @dani5102 @book-boys-are-my-guilty-pleasure @littlesouthernrebel @haliannej

#jai courtney #divergent eric #eric insurgent #eric coulter #eric divergent fanfiction #eric coulter fanfiction #lil girl

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indelibleme · 7 years

Text

Fanfic, CID: A Reason To Love

...

Daya was asked this quite a few times in the course of his life.

What attracted you to each other?

What sparked your relationship?

Didn't work dynamics pose a barrier? A problem?

She's a simple junior. A good officer, but not brilliant. Not a genius in any account, not a genius like him. Why did she catch his attention?

What about the age gap?

Does he truly love her?

Why does he love her?

That had been frequent in the earlier stages of their relationship – from colleagues to casual friends, from some particularly nosy reporters to equally prying neighbours, from jealous admirers to long-lost relatives who suddenly had nothing better to do than poke their large nose into his business (Ahem), from… Well, you get the drift.

It had begun like every other relationship did; friendship. A close and good-natured working relation between two officers. But then, slowly and steadily, Daya had been inexplicably drawn to her passion and compassion; passion for her work and compassion towards her friends, family and even everyday strangers.

It was not love at first sight.

It was a slow, drawn out game of cat and mouse – and he still doesn't know who won, but perhaps they both did – and gradual conversion of attraction to affection, then fondness and finally love.

It was a roller-coaster of confusion and uncertainty, a jumble of emotional conflicts, evenings full of introspection, mornings filled with her gentle presence, sleepless nights over her youthful face and kind smiles… But, Daya was sure it was love.

Abhijeet – that smug bastard – had snickered in mirth when Daya had first told him about his…er, 'crush' on her. And, damn, even now, he had to admit he had behaved like a preteen with his first experience at having a crush and oh god, just how embarrassing that was! And when that simple attraction devolved into something more…it had become inescapable.

There was certainly no going back now – he was trapped by this sinful emotion, this passionate desire, this irrevocable change of perspective. He was in love. Definitely.

Well, damn.

Abhijeet had tried to console him through his (ardent, futile, possible, but hopefully not) unrequited love. When, in his holiness – calling Abhijeet any derogatory words would not be conducive to his continued health, so perhaps he'll just stick to sarcasm, yeah? – so, in his holiness' undeniable and blessed opinion, Abhijeet had told Daya that there was a chance she liked him back…well, he had been unable to keep himself from hoping.

Abhijeet had encouraged him through the initial stages, had his back through the difficult times, stayed adamant through Daya's own hesitancies, faithful even when Daya had misunderstood the situation – and Daya was grateful for it. Oh so grateful – so yeah, Abhijeet probably wasn't that bad of a best friend. Not that bad. No need to inflate his ego anymore.

So, now. Now – ten years down the lane, where they were happily married, settled and had a little bundle of joy to keep Abhijeet's little terror some company – Daya had expected the questions to stop.

They didn't really.

They had a sixteen year age gap between them.

Couples couldn't be posted at the same headquarters – she had had to shift.

Her parents were really hesitant to marry their little girl off to another officer of the law – what would happen to the kids if both of them got hurt?

He could do so much better than her – that was mostly from jealous bints (er, pardon the language), so that didn't really count.

He constantly got into dangerous situations; he'd leave her a widower.

He was a genius in the field, no officer alike him (except Abhijeet, of course). She was not of his class – if anything, Daya was sure it was the other way round. How could he have ever gotten such a wonderful woman as his wife?

And really, Daya never cared much for those comments. ACP sir had been accepting of this relationship and had also given them their blessing – and the man was like a father to him, what more did he need? Abhijeet had always been supportive, constant and unwavering at all times. Tarika had been all smiles and cheer, a bubbling fountain of joy, and had also given him a vaguely threating promise about dissecting and pickling his body parts if he hurt her friend – And geez, couldn't Abhijeet have a better taste in girlfriends?

So, yes, with their support, nothing ever mattered. The comments behind his back, the looks, the disapproving demeanour of DCP Chitrole, her parents' distaste…

But, when faced with such questions, he did stop to think.

Why did he love her?

And that query would probably never get a full response to it.

He loved her for her gentle behaviour with her friends and her fierce protectiveness of victims of crime. He loved her for her youthful naivety and her constant hope in humanity. He loved her for her jaded soul that hadn't escaped the world's cruel truth. He loved her for her perseverance, for her unwavering loyalty, for her positivity.

He loved her profound insight into matters that he'd never given much thought. He loved her for her kind gestures, her genuine concern, her helpful demeanour. He loved her for her humour, her sensitivity, her courage.

He loved the way she would concentrate during a case, the way she would bristle with righteous indignation at a wrong-doing, her unhesitant firing of her gun when needed and her analytical mind. He admired her skill with a pocketknife and hair pins (Despite what Abhijeet said about being the one to teach her and thus demanded half credit) at picking locks.

He loved her special way of brewing tea and just the right amount of sugar she put in his coffee. He loved how she looked in green shirts and denim jeans. (And black dresses too. And black lingerie…but that's another matter…). He loved her simple aloe-scented shampoo and her naturally pink-ish, peach-ish nails. He loved how beautiful she looked without make up (Kissing was so much messy when you put on lipstick…er, right, back to the point). He also loved how adorable she looked the first thing in the morning as she sleepily smacked away the alarm clock before realising that no, she had work to go to and five more minutes was not applicable.

He hated how her omelettes would always have bit too many tomatoes (Is it egg you're feeding me or tomatoes?!). He hated how she'd always put off the ironing till the last minute, leading himself to do his own if he wanted a presentable shirt for the morning. He hated how her home slippers would always be in the way, just waiting for him to trip up on it (Are you trying to give me a concussion, darling?).

He hated how she'd insist on applying oil in his hair on every Sunday, at the very least (My hair was fine without oil for the past twenty years, woman!). He hated how she'd push an apple into his hand early in the morning when he was already late for work and did she want him to be even more so? He hated how she'd decided that two days of the week would be his turn to water the plants (Those are your stupid plants in the first place! Why am I supposed to water them?).

But he adored her. He adored how she cared enough to make sure he ate well, he dressed well, he took care of himself. He adored how she insisted they share household duties, because it was their house and therefore their duties. He adored her absent-minded ways in which it made her more human – because had she truly been that perfect, Daya was sure he'd have not deserved to be married to such a goddess.

So, why did he love her?

Well, he wasn't sure.

It was all the above, yet so much more. To put a label to love, to define it… would be truly undermining it. Love was so much more than that and words would be inadequate to express it fully.

Besides, love was illogical anyway. And he may have been a slight bit crazy to marry her – they were oh so different. And opposites in a way that they might have never really attracted, never really fit together in the messy, disjoint, seamless way they had…

And with all the struggles they'd faced to just be together, sometimes they'd wondered if they should just give it up. To let go, because that was just so much more easier!

But, they'd held on, because the end result was worth it. So, yes, he might have been a little mad to tie the knot with her – but well, we're all a bit mad in love.

…Aren't we?

"Daya! We're running out of bread! Go down the street and buy a loaf, would you?"

"Eh?" Daya blinked out of his stupor, looking away from the cricket match playing on the television screen, "Bread? Why do you need it now? It's nearly nine o' clock!"

Shreya peeked her head out of the kitchen, sighing exasperatedly, "Your best friend's son is coming over tomorrow. And your son wants to make bread rolls for snacks. So, go and get the bread, won't you, dear?"

"I'll get it tomorrow," Daya dismissed, returning to his match. Ah, that was a six, definitely!

"Oh, no, you're not!" she huffed, marching towards him and thrusting out his wallet, "You and Abhijeet are going to sequester yourselves in your study the whole day, leaving me to watch over the kids! Really, perfect waste of a good weekend! So, better go and get the bread now."

Daya gave a look at the wallet, considering it. She wiggled the money case a bit. Daya relented with a sigh – she was right, Abhijeet and he would be in the study all day, going over case files…he could probably get a head start now and get out of bread-shopping...

Shreya gave him a look, as if she knew what he was thinking. Evil woman. He so hated her.

"Okay," Daya agreed with a long suffering sigh.

Shreya beamed, pressing a swift kiss to his cheek as she disappeared into the kitchen again.

Well, now. Perhaps he loved her, after all.

"And do get a bottle of tomato ketchup while you're at it, too, okay?" Shreya gave him a last call from her kitchen.

Statement revised: he did hate her. She was going to make him miss the match.

"Yeah, alright," Daya agreed as he slipped on his shoes.

"Love you!"

Daya grinned, resigned, "Love you too."

#CID #fanfiction #love #romance #abhijeet #daya #tarika #shreya #ACP Pradyuman #DCP Chitrole #posted with permission

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limpblotter · 7 years

Text

“Bringing Home Ham”

This is going to be a three part introduction to what might turn into a full fledged Tumblr-base Hamilton (and other musical inspired) fanfiction. I wanted to keep going but I as nearing 2000 words and decided to break it up, see how I feel...idk I had this really vivid idea how the cat and Alexander, the modern day and all sorts of stuff. So this is my take on it all. I will include rating and themes as I post. As of right now, its as safe as you can get lol. No trigger, no smut, no cursing. (Enjoy, comments are greatly appreicated and desired) Cast: Martha Washington, George Washington, Marquis de Lafayette Word Count: 1,994 Part 1 of Bringing Home Ham. Setting: February 2017, New York, New York Themes: Hamilton, sitcom-ish themes, possibly other themes __________________________________________________ There is nothing like winter in the city. People running a muck while the streets are far from pretty and there is trouble in the air. “Martha.” A very firm, curt almost glass cutting voice pierce the somewhat quiet walls of the two bedrooms, brown stone apartment. A small but luxurious place nestled in Harlem’s west side. It was on the expensive side, but twenty years in the NYPD, George earned himself a pension. The added bonus he might have retired as a cop but he continued to ‘work’. Taking pride of being a history teacher at the same private school his wife worked. They made a good living, comfortable at the very least. “Martha…” His voice was still firm but somehow unable to carry far to the kitchen where the water was running. Martha standing by the sink cleaning the remains of today’s dinner with a smile on her face, washing and passing off the dish for her temporary ‘son’ to dry. Beside her was a tall, slight muscular young teenage boy with a large puff of thick, textured curls tied into a bun. He was well groom, well mannered and constantly smiling casually. In contrast, Martha was a small and stout woman. She stood no taller than four nine and had the body of a young Mother Goose. Her skin was a beautiful marbled pattern of bright ivory and deep, rich mahogany. A patchwork of two tones that was both striking and somewhat hypnotic. Her hair slicked back and pin straight as black as ink and a pair of kind, warm almond shaped eyes. Of course she wasn’t this boy’s mother but by the looks they shared no one could have told the difference. “MARTHA!!!” This time the voice was no longer firm and conversational, it was demanding, harsh. The pure robustness of the voice was enough to make the walls quake. In one slip Martha lost control of the wet dish and dropped it. It nearly hit the sink when a fast hand came from under it and grasped it in time. “Thank you, Lafayette.” She exhaled deeply, placing a small hand to her chest. “Le Bienvenu(your welcome), mama.” He beamed. “Le Pere(father) sounds…how you say…in distress.” Martha nodded in agreement. She patted Lafayette’s back while he finished up at the sink. The little woman trotted lightly down the hall to the master bedroom. “A’right Mr. Washington” she began with a Southern sweetness that her decades in the city never took from her. “There better be a good nuff’ reason why you’re hollarin’ this time at night. You’re going to wake everyone on the block.” She chuckled, though once her gazed settled she noticed something was not right with her George. His back was towards her, hunched over not revealing his true height. His hands firmly on the dresser top. “Martha…” he spoke her name again kinder but still very stern. “George…” she answered hesitantly not sure where he was getting at. She approached him slower, holding out a hand to touch his back. “I’ve told you time and time again.” He whipped around so fast her hand recoiled to her side immediately. His body no longer shielding what was upsetting him. On the dresser were five sets of ties completely ripped to shreds? “Why George, your ties, how did you manage to rip them.” She was playing with him now, her face was a dead giveaway. Martha knew George could see right through her. Nearly thirty years of being married and twenty of policing the streets there was not a thing she could get past him. Exasperated. That was his expression as he clasped his large hands together as if to pray. He held them to his face and steadied his tone. So help him, he loved his wife but this was the last straw to his steely patience. “Where is it?” He demanded, when he opened his eyes his black gaze were cutting through her soft browns. His expression was controlled but just on the cusp of losing it. George’s brows couldn’t be knitted together anymore; their bushiness nearly turned into a solid unibrow on his reddened, cue ball head. Martha didn’t speak, she merely tucked her hands behind her back and looked off knowing well she was not in good waters. “Martha-May Dandridge Washington, where is the DAMN cat!?” He stormed out of the bedroom and was on the move now, Martha behind him. “No-Now George, wait!” She struggled to keep his stride. Each step he took were at least four to five of hers. “What makes you think I’m housing that cat? You’ve already told us we can’t have it.” Her voice was light and sweet, trying to sooth his anger but her forging innocence was not working. At this point Lafayette was leaning against his closed bedroom door, his hands behind him clasping the handle. “George, you’re acting like a mad man! Calm down, remember your blood pressure.” She tried to chastise him. “Marquis.” George paused in front of the tall French boy. The home stay student they housed while he was attending their private school, the boy was well behaved, polite, but not uptight. He was a natural and so very casual. As if life was just a breeze and he was the kite gliding over it. So George knew that this sudden tense smile on his face meant something. “Lafayette open your door.” He huffed. A stare down, he looked up at George’s face. For a man who was never going to be called ‘father’ he had the look and the aura down to a T. Lafayette shot his mother figure an apologetic look before twisting the door open. George waltzed in and scanned the room. Nothing. “See, you’re over exaggerating. Truly, Georgey.” She used that nickname. The nickname back during their dating years in high school back in Virginia, she was his sweet summer love. He was her strong teddy bear of a man. Married while they were still seniors and moved out to New York for a bigger and better life. That nickname, much like his wife, still unhinged him. Made him glow like he did when first saw that southern peach and knew she was going to have him. His anger did cool; he turned his head and wondered perhaps his instincts were rusty. He opened his mouth to apologize when a meow came out. Lafayette blinked a few times, “Pere did you just meow?” George eyed the bed and with a mighty heavy his hands lifted up Lafayette’s bed with all the contents still on top. Under there was a large, long haired white and ginger cat staring up at him with its tongue out. Meerrrow. George huffed, the cat was mocking him, using one hand to keep the bed up and the other to grab the cat from the back of the neck. “Explain THIS.” He huffed holding the cat out at arm’s length towards Martha and Marquis as he dropped the bed with a thud. Martha and Lafayette exchanged guilty glances. “Now George” Martha had some serious explaining. “Its just so cold…and the poor dear keeps coming back to our window.” George glared, not having it now, he was going to be made of fool!? Not in his house, he was putting his foot down. “The cat keeps coming back because you two keep feeding the damn thing.” He barked back, before Martha could rebuttal he kept going. “It’s a street cat Martha. A dirty, disease ridden stray you have no idea where the hell its been.” “But Georgey…” “Don’t. Georgey me!” He bellowed. “And to add insult to injury I find this pesky thing has clawed up my good ties and you lie to me!? Get Marquis to follow suit?” George’s face couldn’t have been any redder; a vein was nearly popping out of the skin along his temple. “You have some nerve, woman.” Oh, and did she. Martha was a sweet summer peach most of the time but only one man could test her enough to turn her tart and that was her husband. He could tell his last sentence struck her hard and it was no longer her trying to sooth him. The body language went from house wife, to run for your life, with a cock of her hip and a bend in her knee Lafayette moved aside when Martha Washington responded to her husband. “You listen here, Mr.Washington. That poor, defenseless creature is an animal of god and as a good god loving woman I opened my home to it. It needed love and affection and I will not let you blame your careless actions of leaving your ties out in the open be a reason this lil’ thing gets kicked out in the freezing cold.” “My…’careless’...! Martha I pick out my ties a week in advanced, its productive!” “Its stupid!” Even when glaring and red in the face, Washington had to admit he loved his little wife. He was a strong man, stronger now because he had a strong woman beside him. But no amount of undying affections in his heart could sooth this disrespect. He moved her aside, much to her discontent and started walking. “George! Be reasonable!” She had tried being nice, tried using their faith, now she was working on flat out begging. “I want him!” She finally yelled from the hallway. George made it passed the living room and paused at their front door. Martha always wanted things George didn’t want… George would give her the world if he could and he has basically done it. Give or take some things he couldn’t help. “George Washington you take one more step.” Empty threat, he could smell it. And with that he jerked opened the door and tossed the cat out. The animal landed on the snow banks made by the street cleaners and ran off into the dark streets of Harlem. “And there, back where he belongs.” He smiled closing the door, the winter air hitting his overheated face did good to calm him. George closed the door behind him and turned towards Martha, water gathered at the ends of her turned up, almond eyes. “Martha.” “Well I hope your manly bravado keeps you warm tonight Mr. Washington. The couch is ALL yours.” She turned with a sound hmph. Her body scurried to the room, passing Lafayette who was still standing by. The master bedroom door slammed shut and snapped as she turned the lock. George ran his hand over his smooth head, calmer and clearer of mind he realized perhaps he had gotten a bit too upset over a few ten dollar ties…From the corner Lafayette leaned on the wall and smiled at George. “What?” He looked at the teenage boy who simply shrugged. “I’m not going out there. Its freezing.” George spoke as if reading Lafayette’s mind. “Pere…will get the chat(cat) for mama. Because Pere is a good man.” He tossed him his house keys which George instinctively caught. “Be safe.” Lafayette waved and started retreating back to his bedroom. The older man glowered a little, “Haven’t I told you to call us Mr. and Mrs. Washington!? We’re not your parents!” Though …even in French he did like the term. It was a word he would never hear from his own children. He couldn’t have any…perhaps it was why Martha was so dedicated to serving. She became an English teacher to be around kids, a part time guidance counselor for them…she would watch them grow and graduate. The closest thing to children she could have given George’s infertility. The crippling loss of an adoption falling apart…the home-stay nearly saved her aching heart. A void to be needed and to care for another thing, a need George should have known Martha was going to defend even if it was just a cat. Defeated, he tossed on his coat, equipped himself with his phone and keys, bracing himself for the chill of a February night.

#hamilton #hamiltrash #hamilton fanfic #george washington #georgewashington #martha washington #marquisdelafayette #marquis de lafayette #lafayette #hamcat #modern au #highschool au #au #part 1

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