#tw: stuck under collapsed building

[marvelous-writer]

A Hawk and a Spider

Summary: An Avengers mission goes wrong when Peter and Kate wind up getting stuck under a collapsed building. 

Whumptober Day 12: Cave In, Day 13: Dislocation, Day 14: Failed Escape, Day 15: Breathing Through the Pain, & Day 16: “No one’s coming.”

@whumptober @whumptober-archive

Rating: G

Word Count: 6,275

Genre: whump, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff

Link to read on AO3:

“Those cowards,” Clint’s voice comes over the comms. “Guys, we have to get the hell out of here. They have a timed explosion that’s going to go off in a minute.”

Peter’s eyes widen beneath his mask as he looks at Tony.

“Shit. Can you disarm it?” Tony curses as he glances around the dark warehouse space.

“Already tried. Whoever rigged it is a knows what they’re doing.”

“So this whole thing was just a trap to lure us here.” Tony says with a sigh.

“Afraid so, Stark but on the bright side, we were able to find a list of locations they’ve been transporting these weapons to. We’ll scope them out later but for now let’s get the hell out of here!”

The team was called on a mission by SHIELD to take down a new organization group that has been stealing alien weapons from Damage Control, and they’re guessing it’s an inside job. The location to the warehouse they’re in somewhere in the middle of nowhere in upstate New York popped up on SHIELD’s radar, so the team was sent out to look for any evidence and take down any of the goons that worked here. They must have tripped off some kind of alarm when they got here.

“Let’s get the hell out of here, Pete.” Tony tells him as his helmet closes over his head.

Peter nods as he follows Tony out of the room they had been searching in and shoots a web off to Tony’s back as he takes off into the now open space, heading towards one of the skylights.

When they’re outside, Peter can see the team running back towards the Quinjet, a safe distance away from the warehouse before it explodes. Tony shoots off in that direction and Peter tightens his grip on his web line before they reach the team. Tony slows down and starts to descend back the ground and Peter jumps down when they’re close enough.

“We made sure the area was evacuated on our way out. I’m guessing there was some kind of silent alarm we tripped when we went in.” Steve says, looking over at Tony as he retracts his helmet, the nanotech crawling back into his suit.

Tony nods as he walks over to Steve, the two discussing something.

“Hold up. Where’s Kate?” Clint suddenly asks.

“I thought she was with you.” Steve says with a frown.

Peter looks around them and off into the distance where the Quinjet is parked, but the ramp is still up so she couldn’t have gotten on board. Peter looks back at Clint, seeing the worry on the archer’s face.

The archer raises his hand and presses on the comm link in his ear. “Kate? Are you still in the warehouse?”

A few tense seconds pass by before a crackling sound fills the comms.

“Yeah! I found this secret room in one of the offices behind a bookshelf and it’s full of evidence that ties them to—”

“Kate, listen to me carefully. You have to get out of there right now. The building is going to explode in less than a minute!”

“Shit—what?” She exclaims on the other end, followed by rapid movement. “Oh no… this is bad. Uh, Clint… we have a problem.”

“What?” Clint asks with dread in his voice.

“The door wont open.. It must have locked when it closed on me.”

Clint’s eyes widen in horror as he wips around to face the warehouse. Peter’s eyes widen as well under his mask. Kate has become one of his closest friends since they met last year around Christmas and there’s no way he’s going to sit here and let her get hurt—or worse—killed.

Without hesitating, Peter lunges away from the group, heading back to the warehouse.

“Peter! Stop!” Tony calls to him in a panicked voice, hearing the sound of his suit firing up.

“Tony, no! He’s faster than any of us. He’ll be in and out of there.” Peter heard someone say, stopping Tony from following him.

Peter pushes himself to run faster as he looks up at all of the warehouse windows as he presses the comm in his ear. “Kate, I'm coming to get you. What floor are you on?”

“The third floor!”

Peter reaches a hand out and shoots a web off to the roof before he jumps up, yanking the web back, propelling himself up in the air. When he’s close enough to the large third floor windows, he shoots two webs at the building before he yanks himself feet first through the window, glass shattering around him.

He lands inside on the carpeted floor and rolls a few times, ignoring the sharp sting of pain from the pieces of glass stabbing him as he springs back up to his feet. His eyes dart around him as he searches the space around him. He’s surrounded by what looks to be endless rows of cubicles with quite a few glass offices on the surrounding walls. Peter starts to jog up the aisle of cubicles, looking around himself for any sign of Kate.

“Mr. Stark is calling.” Karen tells him as Tony’s contact photo pops up on his HUD.

“Don’t answer it.” Peter says.

But of course, she does the exact opposite, probably all thanks to Tony updating her coding recently without him knowing it.

“Connecting call.”

“No, Karen—“

“Peter, so help me, you get back here right now.” Tony’s voice comes from the other line of the call.

Peter resists the urge to roll his eyes. This is a matter of life and death and Tony is still babying him. He had to almost beg to join the team on this mission. He just so happened to be at the Compound with Tony at the time while he was helping Bruce in the lab with a project when the call to assemble came. It was a rushed decision on Tony’s part to let him tag along, which Peter is sure he’s regretting now.  

“I’ll be in and out, Tony. I’m not leaving Kate in here.” Peter tells him.

“Then I’m coming in—“

Frustration and anger rush through Peter all at once. After everything, Tony still doesn’t think he has what it takes—what it takes to be an Avenger.

“No! I’ve got this, Tony!”

“Peter. You listen to me right now—“

“We don’t have time for this, Tony! I’m not going to stop and let you talk down to me like I’m a kid. You’re not my dad!” He yells before he ends the call. Shoving away his anger for the time being, he presses the comm in his ear. “Kate, do you know what office you’re in?”

“The second one on the right next to the stairwell door!” Kate grunts out and Peter can tell she’s slamming herself into something, probably the locked door.

Peter’s eyes scan around him until his eyes land on a door across the large space from him with a sign on the door with the word ‘stairs’ painted on it.

“Peter you have fifty-two seconds before the explosion will detonate.” Karen warns him.

Peter grits his teeth in determination as he runs past the rows of cubicles towards the office next to the stairwell entrance. When he reaches it, he throws the door open and rushes inside, only to reveal that the office is empty, except for a desk and bookshelf.

“Did you find her yet, Pete?” Clint’s worried voice comes over the comms.

“Not yet. I’m…” He pauses, straining his ears for a second, hearing the faint sound of something slamming behind the bookshelf in the office.

Peter rushes forward to the bookshelf, his eyes scanning over the empty shelves. “How did you open the bookshelf, Kate? Was there a lever? A button?”

“I-I don’t really know. I was feeling along the left side of it and I heard something click and it just opened.”

“Peter, there appears to be a button on the left side of the shelf, right by the top shelf.” Karen tells him.

Peter skims his hand along the left side of the bookshelf until his finger brushes up against the small button. “I got it!” He exclaims, pressing it.

Something clicks somewhere within the bookshelf before it starts to slowly slide open, revealing a door behind it. Peter wastes no time in shoving it the rest of the way to the side, causing something to snap, probably the gears. He grabs the handle to the secret door, finding it locked as well.

There’s only one thing to do.

Peter raises a hand to the comm as he takes a few steps back from the door. “Get away from the door, Kate!”

“Okay but why?”

Without answering, Peter lunges at the door and smashes into it with his shoulder, causing the door to break off the hinges, wood pieces flying in the air as it falls to the floor. Peter catches himself on his hands before he faceplates on the broken door.

“Oh, shit!”

Peter turns around and finds Kate standing in the corner by the door with wide eyes and her mouth agape.

“That was awesome!” She says with a grin.

Peter smiles under his mask as he stands up, raising a hand to his comm again. “Clint, I got her we—“

“Good, now you both need to get the hell out of there and fast! We were trying to shut the detonator off but there must have been a failsafe or something because the timer just changed! There’s only fifteen seconds before that explosion goes off!” Clint yells to him over the comms.

Peter and Kate’s wide eyes meet for a fraction of a second before they both run out of the secret room and the office.

“Peter, eight seconds.” Karen tells him.

“Which way?” Kate calls to him, running at his side.

“East window!”

Peter and Kate run down the rows of cubicles before they take a sharp right, the window Peter entered in from coming into their sighs a couple hundred feet away from them. Peter can see the hole he made from here.

Almost there.

“Five seconds!”

Peter grits his teeth in determination as his spider-sense harshly vibrates at the back of his head.

“Peter, Kate—get out of there!” Clint yells on the comms.

Peter’s eyes widen as he turns his head and sees that Kate has fallen behind him, unable to keep up with him.

“Hang on, Kate!” He yells as he slows down just enough to quickly wrap an arm around her, picking her up in an awkward side-carry as he throws his free hand out and shoots a web off to the window and pulls his arm back with all his might, propelling them forward.

Almost there!

“One second!”

His spider-sense blares at the back of his head but it’s too late to warn him in time as a loud, booming sound echoes throughout the building, followed by a shockwave that radiates through the air. The force of it sends Peter flying and his eyes widen under his mask.

At that moment, everything goes into slow motion.

His gaze turns to Kate’s face, seeing her eye slowly squeeze shut before he turns to the window across from them, throwing his arm up and shooting a web off. The web flows through the dusty air, glimmering in the sunlight leaking in through the hole in the window.

He doesn’t get o see if it connects to the window as the back of his shoulder clips the corner of a wall, hearing more than feeling something snap in his shoulder.

The window tilts out of his view as he and Kate fly in the opposite direction of it and he wraps his arms around to cover her before his back slams into the carpeted ground.

The last thing he’s aware of is the floor caving in beneath them and Kate’s terrified screams filling his ears before something slams into the side of his head, knocking him out cold.

…

The first thing Peter becomes aware of is a sharp ringing in his ears and pain.

Horrible, excruciating pain, radiating throughout his entire body, almost as if his skin is on fire.

He just wants it to stop.

Peter manages to crack his eyes open, only to find himself looking through one lens of his mask and the other one is missing, a few pieces still remaining around the rim. It’s dark, wherever he is, except for a weird, white, moving light… a flashlight? Everything is so blurry it’s hard to tell.

The light sends a sharp pain through his eyes, shooting all the way up to his head. Peter closes his eyes again with a raspy, pained groan from the back of his throat.

“Peter? Oh my God!” A voice suddenly fills his ears against the ringing.

Peter feels his brows pull together as he manages to weakly roll his head to the side, opening his eyes, finding someone kneeling over him. He sluggishly blinks a few times and with each blink, his vision clears, just enough for him to be able to see that it’s Kate.

He sees that the light is coming from the small flashlight in Kate’s hand, allowing him to also see that she’s covered in white dust with what looks to be pebbles of debris in her hair, a few bloody scratches and scrapes her face, along with a bloody split lip.

“Are you with me, Pete?” She asks as she leans in closer to him, her watery eyes filled with concern and fear.

Peter manages to nod, wincing against the pain it brings. “Y-Yeah…” He hoarsely says, blinking a few more times. “W-What happened?”

Her brows pull together. “You don’t remember?”

Peter frowns, wracking his foggy and jumbled brain for any memory but he can’t remember anything.

Kate lets out a shaky sigh as she sits back on her legs. “We’re on an Avengers mission and I got stuck in a secret room behind a bookshelf. You came in and got me out… but then the building blew up and now… we’re stuck underneath all of this debris.” She says, holding her arms out in emphasis.

Peter’s eyes widen as the memories come back to him of running inside the warehouse looking for her and then the explosion that came when they failed to escape in time.

“Ugh,” Peter groans out, closing his eyes. “I remember now,” He says, opening his eyes back up after a moment. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m okay for the most part but what about you? You’ve been unconscious for awhile. I don’t even know how long I was out for.” She says with a worried frown.

“Not the first time I’ve been knocked out,” Peter says in an attempted joke as he tries to sit up, only to let out a sharp hiss in pain when his right arm and head protest against the movement. But… it’s a weird pain coming from his arm. A sharp, tingling sensation runs up and down it as pain radiates from somewhere deep in his shoulder. He tries to wiggle his fingers to stop the tingling… only to find that he can’t. “Oh crap… that’s not good…”

“What’s wrong?” Kate quickly asks, panic in her voice as she helps him stay sitting up in the position he’s in.

Peter frowns as he squints to see in the semi-darkness to look down at his arm but he can’t see anything. “Can you bring the flashlight closer to my right arm, please?”

She moves closer to him and points her flashlight at his arm and he looks down at himself, only to see a word bulge under his suit in between his shoulder and chest.

Oh shit.

Peter is a science geek. He aced biology in school and he knows the parts of the human body and how they function, especially bones. He’s also a crime-fighting vigilante who has plenty of experience getting injured on the job.

He knows a dislocated shoulder when he sees and feels one.

Kate must see it too because her breathing picks up ever so slightly. “Y-Your shoulder-“

“It’s okay,” Peter tells her in the calmest tone can muster at the moment with the amount of pain he’s in. “I think it’s dislocated. It’s okay though. I’ve been though it before.”

“Yeah, same here. I had one when I was fifteen in gymnastics when I fell off the beams. What should we do?” She asks.

Peter bites his lip under his mask. He’s gotten a few dislocated shoulders over the years and Dr. Banner or Dr. Cho have been the ones to pop his shoulder back in. But they’re both trained medical professionals and they’ve probably set thousands of shoulders before.

He has no idea how to do that on his own.

“Peter?” Kate’s concerned voice takes him out of his thoughts.

He looks up at her, blinking, meeting her wide eyes.

“Are you okay?” She asks him.

“Y-Yeah,” he says, nodding as he becomes aware of the cold sensation washing over him, feeling goosebumps raise on his skin, followed by a sudden lightheadedness.

He's going into shock.

Kate’s eyes widen even further as she gently steadies him. “Maybe you should lie down?” She suggests.

“Y-Yeah… good idea.” Peter says as he slowly nods, starting to lie back down with Kate’s help.

Lying down doesn’t help much with all the pain he’s in but he feels less dizzy at least.

He closes his eyes for a moment. “Are the comms working?”

“Not since the last time I checked, maybe fifteen minutes ago?” Kate says with a disappointed sigh. “Let me try again,” she says, bringing her hand up to her ear, pressing on the comm. “Clint can you hear me? Clint?” She asks, pausing for a few beats of silence, listening. “Can anyone hear me?” She asks, only to be met with silence before she drops her hand with a sigh.

“Karen are you there?” Peter tries.

He’s met by silence as well. His suit must have been damaged enough to the pint that Karen is offline.

So they’re trapped under a collapsed building that could cave in at any moment, without medical supplies, food, water, or anyway to communicate with the team for help.

Things aren’t looking good for them.

A heavy silence falls over them for a few long minutes as they sit there, straining their ears to listen fort any signs that help is coming for them.

Kate breaks the silence by letting out a sigh. “I’m sorry I got us into this mess, Peter. I shouldn’t have gone into that room… I should have just listened to Clint. My first Avenger’s mission and I blew it—literally.”

Peter rolls his head slightly to the side to look up at her. “No you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did. If I hadn’t gotten locked in that stupid room, none of this would have happened and you…” She pauses as she looks down at him, tears pooling in her eyes. “You got hurt because of me, Pete.”

“I didn’t. None of this is your fault, Kate. It was an accident,” He tells her. “How were you supposed to know you would get locked in there?”

Kate remains silent as she looks down at the ground, silence settling over them once again.

“I’ve been trapped under a building before.” Peter says, swallowing hard.

Kate looks at him with a surprised expression on her tear-streaked face. “Really?”

Peter nods. “Yeah… it happened a few years ago when I was kind of new to being Spider-Man. I…” He stops as the memories of Homecoming night and being trapped under that building flash in his mind. “I was trying to stop a bad guy and the warehouse we were fighting in collapsed. He got away but I didn’t. I got out after a while but…” he goes to shrug, forgetting his injured shoulder, causing him to grit his teeth against the pain he’s met with from moving it.

“How did you get out?”

“I just… lifted it off myself?”

Kate raises an eyebrow. “You lifted a warehouse off yourself?”

“Pretty much.”

“Wow,” She says, blinking as her brows pull together. “I’m sorry you had to go through that but… that’s really cool though.”

Peter weakly smiles, only for it to drop. He was able to get himself out back then but now… he’s too injured and weak to even stand up.

He can’t get them out of this.

If the team doesn’t find them soon and if the building shifts just the slightest… they’re dead.

“Hey,” Kate says as she gently places a hand on his shoulder, seeming to sense his inner turmoil. “We’re going to be okay. The team will figure something out. They know we’re in here and they’ll get us out. I just know it.” She says, offering him a small, reassuring smile.

Peter hopes she’s right.

…

Time drags by slowly, but Peter guesses it’s been close to two hours now since he regained consciousness. During these hours, the pain in his shoulder has grown, so much to the point it’s almost unbearable for him.

Peter’s eyes are squeezed shut, his fist on his uninjured hand tightly clenched at his side as he tries to take deep, steady breaths, breathing through the pain. He took his mask off a while ago, with his suit being offline and it was getting annoying looking through one lens. He had kept it on, hoping Karen would suddenly come back online… but it’s clear that she won’t be, not with how ripped and damaged his suit is.

“Clint? Can you hear me? Clint… please answer me.” Kate repeats for probably the hundredth time by now, her voice breaking at the end.

In the unknown amount of time that has passed, communications have still been out, as well as Karen. Kate has been trying to contact the team the whole time, only to still receive silence in response. She’s even tried looking around for any way out of here, unfortunately finding none.

Peter has always been one to remain hopeful when things are looking bad but now… things aren’t looking good and their odds are… slim.

If they’re not able to get out of here and soon, the debris on top of them could collapse if the team is trying to dig them out or if they move anything wrong, or the tiny space they’re trapped in will run out of oxygen since there are no airways.

So it’s a little hard for him to be hopeful right now.

Plus the pain he’s in is making it difficult to have any kind of positivity.

Peter grits his teeth and closes his eyes as he slowly starts to sit up, heavily leaning on his good arm for support. Kate turns around and sees him getting up and rushes to his side.

“Here, Pete let me help.” She says as she helps him lean against a chunk of debris on the ground that’s not leaning against anything.

“T-Thanks.” Peter grits out, offering her a shaky smile.

She sits down next to him and lets out a sigh, resting her head against the debris, mirroring him. They remain silent for a few moments and with each that pass by, Peter’s pain seems to increase, if that’s even possible. He lets out a pained groan as he shifts against the debris, his injured arm limply laying in his lap.

Kate looks over at him with worried eyes, her brows pulled together in a frown. “Does it hurt?” She asks in a sympathetic, quiet voice.

Peter bites his lip, nodding. “Y-Yeah… a lot.” He admits.

Kate’s brows pull closer together as she looks down at his arm. “Is there anything we can do?”

Peter hesitates for a second. He knows what needs to be done but he doesn’t know how to do it and there’s a great chance that it could just end with him in even more pain and internal damage.

“I… I think we have to pop my shoulder back in.”

Kate’s eyes widen. “Have you ever done that before? Do you even know how to do that?”

Peter shakes his head. “No… but I’ve seen it done before. How hard can it be?”

“Peter—“

“I know, I’m really sorry I’m asking you to help me with this but… my healing is super fast and it could heal wrong if we don’t set it. No one’s coming… at least not anytime soon, so it’s now or never.”

Kate looks at him uncertainly, before her gaze shifts to his injured arm. She lets out a sigh. “Are you sure? I don’t want to make it worse.”

Honestly… he’s not sure.

But he doesn’t have a choice.

“I’m sure.”

…

After getting into position with Peter lying back down with Kate next to him, gently pulling his injured arm towards herself, Peter’s not so sure this is a good idea anymore.

The pain is excruciating.

Peter’s eyes are squeezed shut as he lets out a sharp hiss though his clenched teeth.

“Sorry,” Kate apologizes with a wince. “I really don’t know what I’m doing, Pete.” She tells him nervously.

“Y-You’re doing great,” Peter grits out. “J-Just keep pulling my arm towards you t-to create traction. T-The head of the humerus bone should slide under the shoulder blade a-and slip back in the socket.”

Kate shakily nods as she pulls his arm more, only sending more shockwaves of white, hot pain up and down it.

“Ugghhh…” Peter groans out, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Sorry! I’m sorry!” Kate apologizes again with a sympathetic look as she continues to pull.

He can feel the bones shifting in his shoulder and he feels a little like he’s about to throw up. It’s only a few moments later of Kate pulling his arm when they both hear a weird popping sound fill the air from Peter’s shoulder. Peter’s vision goes black for a few seconds when it happens as he lays there, trying to keep his breaths even as the pain dissipates, only a little bit. It still hurts like nothing he’s ever experienced before, but at least it’s less than before.

“Oh my God, Peter? Are you okay?”

Peter comes back slowly, as does his vision as he blinks a few, sluggish times. He sees that Kate is siting above him, with a panicked expression on his face.

He manages to lift the corner of his mouth into a tired smile. “I think it worked… it feels better.”

Kate closes her eyes and lets out a relieved breath. “Thank God,” She says before looking at him again. “What do we do now? Should we put your arm in a sling of some kind?”

Peter hums at the back of his throat, too exhausted to nod. “Probably a good idea.”

Kate picks up the flashlight she had put down next to them before she stands up, shining it around as she looks for something to make a sling out of. Unfortunately, there isn’t anything.  

“What about your webs? Could you make a sling or something?” She suddenly asks.

“Good idea. I can try,” He says as he lifts his good arm up and squints, looking at his web shooter in the semi-darkness. “I’ve never done something like that before though.”

Kate walks back over and kneels down beside him, pointing the flashlight at his web shooter.

“Do you think you can help me change the setting?” He asks her, holding his arm out to her.

“Yeah,” She says with a nod, putting the flashlight on the ground for the moment. “Just tell me what to do.”

“So right at the nozzle, there’s an adjustment ring with a few different settings. I think its the third one.” Peter tells her.

“Third one, got it.” Kate says as she puts her finger on the nozzle ring and starts to change the web setting.

When it’s set, she leans back as Peter gently presses his middle and ring finger on the trigger and a thick spray of webbing comes out, almost resembling cotton candy. He specifically designed it for webbing up any cuts or anything for medical situations such as the one they’re in now and it won’t evaporate like his other webs do. He presses a little harder and more comes out and he stops when he has a good amount of it.

Kate helps him slowly sit up and helps him position his injured arm in the makeshift web sling before bringing the webbing up around his neck, tying it in place to keep it steady. He feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulder now that it’s set and in the sling. Peter lets to a relieved breath as Kate helps him sit up against the debris from before once again.

“Thanks, Kate. Really… I don’t know what I would’ve done on my own. I’m sorry you’re stuck down here.”

“Hey, better that we’re together than one of us being alone, right?”

“I guess,” Peter says sadly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get us out in time.”

Kate’s brows pull together as she sits down next to him, shoulder to shoulder. “It’s not your fault. It’s mine, remember? I’m the one who got stuck in the secret room.”

“Kate-“

“No. You’re not taking the blame for this. It is my fault.” She snaps at him in an angry tone.

Silence falls over them for a few minutes. Peter doesn’t blame her for lashing out at him. This is a very stressful and scary situation they’re in and she has every right to be upset, so he doesn’t take it personally at all.

Kate lets out a sigh. “Sorry… I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize. I get it.” He tells her, turning his head and offering her a small smile.

A small smile pulls at the corner of Kate’s mouth as she looks at him for a moment before looking in front of them again, her face dropping. She lets out another sigh.

“I hate to say this but… do you think they’re even looking for us? We’ve been down here for so long…”

“I know they are. Trust me. The team would turnover every piece of rubble here to find us. They probably called in experts to help them sort through all of this so they don’t risk it caving in on us.”

Kate nods. “Maybe.” She says, sounding a little unsure.

“I know that Clint wouldn’t rest until he found you. And Tony… he’s as stubborn as anything. The two of them wouldn’t give up on us, nor would the rest of the team.”

“But what if they don’t reach us in time? We’re going to eventually run out of oxygen down here. We probably are now. And not to mention, like you said, the risk of this place caving in on us.”

Peter’s brows pull together in a frown. He’s been thinking about that the whole time. He closes his eyes and rests his head back against the debris behind them.

Does he think that the team will reach them in time?

He hopes they do… but their chances of surviving before they find them are looking pretty slim, all things considered.

And to think, the last thing he said to Tony was that he wasn’t his dad. Peter’s stomach sinks as guilt flows through him at the sudden realization. If he dies, Tony is going to repeat that in his head forever and blame himself for this. All thanks to Peter.

Peter blinks open his eyes and stares up at the debris above them, swallowing around the growing lump in his throat as tears start to pool in his eyes. He feels a few warm tears escape and slide down his face.

He’s never going to be able to tell Tony how sorry he is.

Tony is just the one who taught him how to shave, how to drive, how to tie a tie, how to fix problems with a car, what it takes and means to be a hero, and a whole bunch of other things.

But more importantly, Tony’s always been there for him.

He’s been there for him when he wakes up from nightmares, during panic and anxiety attacks, through hard times, when Peter has wanted to give up being Spider-Man—especially after the whole situation with the multiverse villains and the Goblin trying to kill May.

Through all of it, Tony has been the number one person there for him in his life, always lending his help and a shoulder to cry on.

That sounds a lot like a dad.

Tears freely flow down Peter’s cheeks as he deeply regrets what he said to Tony. He wishes more than anything that he could call him, one last time and tell him how truly sorry he is.

A sudden shift in the rubble causes Peter’s eyes to snap open as Kate lets out a gasp.

“What was that?” She asks in a fearful voice.

Peter frowns but before he can say anything, another shift comes. Kate moves closer to Peter, bumping his good shoulder as they both look up at the debris piled above them with wide, fearful eyes. Kate wraps her arm through his good one, the two huddled up together.

This is it.

They really are going to die down here.

“K-Kate… I’m so sorry this happened. B-But I want you to know, that you’ve become one of my closest friends this past year and I s-seriously can’t thank you enough for being there for me.” Peter says, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

“S-Same here. I-I don’t have many friends but when I met you, I felt like I’ve always known you and yes I know how cheesy that sounds! Just—thank you for being there for me too.” Kate tells him.

The large chunk of rubble above them shifts and they squeeze close to each other.

But… the debris doesn’t fall and crush them.

It goes… up?

Peter opens his eyes and looks up, only for a bright beam of light to meet his eyes, causing him to close them again. Behind his closed lids, he can see more light breaking through the dark space they’ve been trapped in for all of these countless hours.

“Over here! We found them!” A voice suddenly yells from above.

Peter squints his eyes open and sees none other than Steve Rogers standing above them before the soldier drops down into the crater-like hole they’re in.

“Oh my God,” Kate says as she lifts her head from Peter’s shoulder. “Are we dead or is this actually happening?”

Peter breathes out a laugh through his nose as he drops his head back against the debris behind them, his mouth turning up into a weak smile. “It’s really happening.”

“Are you guys hurt?” Steve asks as he kneels down in front of them, his blue, concerned eyes scanning them.

“Yeah. Peter’s shoulder was dislocated. We set it—at least I hope we did.”

“Dr. Banner is waiting to check the both of you out on the Quintet. Let’s-“

“Peter!”

Peter looks up, only to see Tony standing above the hole, lout of his suit, ooking down with wide, fearful eyes, looking like absolute crap. He has dirt all over his face, like he’s been digging though all of this debris, which he most likely has been. He climbs down into the hole and rushes over before he falls to his knees at Peter’s side, his hands hovering over him as he takes in what Peter guesses to be his body appearance. He probably looks worse than Tony does right now.

All at once, Peter’s throat tightens again and tears spring back to his eyes. “Tony-“ he says, his voice cracking.

Tony immediately leans down and carefully wraps his arms around him in a hug. Peter lets out a shaky exhale as he buries his face in Tony’s neck.

“It’s alright, Pete. I’ve got you. You’re safe now. I’ve got you.” Tony tells him, holding the back of Peter’s head.

“Kate!” Peter hears Cline’s voice from somewhere, but he’s too focused on the fact that he and Kate are alive and saved, and now he’s wrapped up in Tony’s arms.

“T-Tony, I-I’m so s-sorry for what I said.” Peter wetly says.

“Don’t worry about it, Pete-“

“N-No,” Peter says as he shakes his head, pulling away from Tony’s chest. “I-I was thinking about it the whole time being down here. I-I thought…” He stops and closes his eyes for a moment, swallowing hard. “I thought I wouldn’t ever see you again. A-And what I said to you… was horrible. I-I’m so sorry. I love you so much and you’re the closest thing I’ve ever had to a dad. A-And I… I do look at you like you are. I’m just so sorry.” Peter says as tears stream down his face.

Tony’s face falls as he smiles, pulling Peter back to his chest. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for, Pete. It’s okay. I wasn’t being fair. I should have just trusted you to go in on your own without help. I’m sorry. But let me tell you, we are going to have a serious conversation about you running into buildings that are about to explode, young man." He says in a fake, stern voice.

Peter manages to wetly laugh at that. “Deal.”

That’s one lecture that he’ll be glad to hear because he’s thankfully alive to hear it.

#whumptober2022 #no12. #cave in #no.13 #dislocation #no.14 #failed escape #no.15 #breathing through the pain #no.16 #no one's coming. #tw: dislocated shoulder #tw: stuck under collapsed building #Spider-Man #fic #hurt/comfort #whump #Peter Parker #Tony Stark #Iron Man #Kate Bishop #Clint Barton #Hawkeye #Steve Rogers #Captain America #Avengers #Poor Peter Parker #Peter Parker Whump #Kate Bishop Whump #Hurt Peter Parker

[tree-obsession]

Aventurine, the Waste Land, the black hole, and luck- analysis on aventurine's possible fate

possible spoilers for 2.1 trailblaze mission

possible tws for suicide/suicidal idealization, mentions of slavery, and a massacre

ok there is. a lot to unpack for this mission but I would like to focus on the references to The Waste Land (by T.S. Elliot, fucking amazing poem btw) that were in Aventurine's parts?

First of all the achievements- the "Sibyl, what do you wish for?" and "She answers, I wish to die" or something like that. That is the very first thing in the poem we see- to put a long story short, it's a reference to how there was this oracle named Sibyl in Greek Mythology, blessed to live forever by Apollo. Apollo got angry after she refused to have sex with him and cursed her so that while she would live forever, her body would slowly waste away, eventually becoming dust kept in a jar. A couple of boys one day come up to this prison jar and ask her "Sibyl, what do you wish for?" and then she answers that she wants to die. This could be a reference to Aventurine, who is always so lucky but at that moment truly didn't wish to be lucky, and really did want to die. Yet he was stuck, unable to live- considering he is something of a "chosen" of Gaiathra Triclops, she could be the one who cursed him, in disguise of a "blessing" of good luck.

second, the maze scene. there were two references here, both from the fifth(fourth? it's been a hot minute since I read this poem, the details aren't all clear) part of the poem. it talks about a deserted waste land, where rain never falls, there is only lightning and rocks/sand. this matches up with descriptions of sigonia, as a desert planet that's referred to as "the unclaimed desolation", and also some of those lines are directly said in the white text that floated around the maze(which i'll be referring to as floating text from now on). the second reference was also in the floating text, which talks about how "there is another presence/person beside us", or something very similar. I don't have the direct quotation, but this is also a direct reference- within the poem, there are two travelers in this "waste land", and the narrator mentions feeling a presence that wasn't truly there. According to Elliot himself, his inspiration for this part of the poem was from an account of an Antarctic journey, where the person who wrote the account said he and his men were so out of it due to exhaustion they had begun to hallucinate another presence who wasn't actually there. this is probably referencing how mini-aventurine and present-aventurine both exist, and have existed, but the future-aventurine technically does not exist yet and literally is just popping up, clearly not "real" in the physical sense but definitely there. within the poem, there are a lot of speculations between scholars about why Eliiot decided to add this hallucinated dude in but one popular theory is that it's Christ, in disguise, which is really interesting considering The Family's Christian imagery. something to watch out for when Aventurine returns to the story (he def isn't dead, but as to when he's returning... :( i can't get my hopes up) or if anyone else analyzes this more deeply.

now, why the waste land? it's universally considered a pretty depressing poem, about how the world after World War I was torn apart and collapsing in on itself, and portrays a lot of characters who aren't living life to their fullest at all. it references many famous texts and literary works, pointing at literature as an amalgamation of all other literature and also acting as a metaphor for how everything builds off each other, so one thing collapsing could result in everything collapsing. there are a lot of references to different religions as well. perhaps the best way to put it is that Elliot was portraying a world under threat of total collapse, and asks the reader if there is anything humanity can do to save it, or if we must simply salvage what we can. the ending also implies peace is a far-off, perhaps unreachable thing since everything is so discordant. but you get the idea at this point- the poem is about decay and rotting over time. I don't have the greatest grasp on either this poem or aventurine's psyche, but the 2.1 quest revealed a lot- he is an incredibly lucky person who is in a lot of bad situations but gets out every time, and has never lost a bet (despite his life otherwise being absolutely terrible). the waste land itself could simply be sigonia, and then perhaps aventurine himself is a representation of the characters within the poem. practically all scholars agree that in this poem, all the female characters coalesce into one character, and the male characters do so too, and then there is one uniting character between the "male" and "female"- tiresias, who according to Elliot has "foreseen and foresuffered all". he is described as the most important figure in the poem by Elliot himself. Tiresias is an androgynous figure, but is referred to with he/his. he also is the only one to say "I" in the poem, and despite the fact he is blind he can see all, even the future- in mythology, he was a prophet like the Sibyl. "what Tiresias sees is, in fact, the substance of the poem", as Elliot says- in other words, what he sees seems to be the closest thing to the truth you will get.

now obviously that's pretty valuable, considering literally everyone is lying in penacony (in the livestream they said the entire guest list is filled with question marks in place of names, implying everyone's identities there were fake- other than Sparkle's, but she's a Masked Fool and will trick people just for the hell of it, so not exactly the best ally). however (this is where speculation starts) I think this could be possibly very subtle foreshadowing for Aven's return! and I know this may sound delusional but. it's established he's not dead. his stone is out, but that's quite possibly because he's next to a fricking black hole and also Acheron possibly had "freed" him, in some sense? that conversation he had with her obviously changed a lot of things for him as a character, and she said she could break the harmony's bonds on him... also, clearly if he wasn't dead while waking up next to a black hole, that's certainly a surefire way to tell his luck hasn't run out yet. the entire mission was spent establishing his luck is perfect, given by the goddess of his planet, and will never fail him. this is like near emanator-level shit- obviously not quite in terms of any special power, but he was specifically chosen by this goddess, was born on a special day, and due to sheer luck is the last one standing of his clan (apparently). literally everything was set up against him and he's only still alive due to a literal goddess-given power, which is absolutely nuts and almost overpowered if it weren't for the fact that he also seems to be in many scenarios where luck and gambling is the only way to get out at all. the massacre, the enslavement, killing his old master, the weird warlord thing that got brought up, penacony... his luck is purely for getting out of bad situations, it seems.

that was kind of a tangent. anyway! the whole mission was establishing how good his luck was. he got into this situation where the only solution is to walk into a black hole and see the other side of penacony- that is a classic example of "there is an extremely, extremely narrow chance of getting out alive". acheron did it, or something similar, so clearly it's possible- but luck and chance would be the only way. this is the cycle of his life- he's in an absolutely shitty situation, but he will get out due to luck. imo it's a terrible idea writing-wise to keep him explicitly alive up to the very end and going into a situation- alive- which he can survive in due to his luck, right after giving him fulfilling conversation with both acheron and his past self and seeing the uplifting note from Ratio... just to offscreen him, or kill him for some reason related to this "other side of penacony". it wouldn't line up with all that we know about him now. granted, I can't imagine it'll be pleasant and his mental state will be even worse at the end of it... but he'll be alive, and he's made it through a lot of hellish situations. he might not like his luck all the time, and it can be either a blessing or a curse given the scenario, but he's kind of stuck with it- until he withers away, just like Sibyl. Death does seem to be inevitable, but as of right now it's not knocking on his door.

tldr: for now, our boy isn't dead and his luck might be a curse to him but it's clearly going to keep him alive for quite a bit longer :)

tysm for reading and have a nice day!

#honkai star rail #hsr #aventurine #hsr spoilers #my fav poem and my fav character #whoo!!! #acheron #(mentioned) #hsr theory #honkai star rail theory #kakavasha #my beloved <<<333 #i wanted to squish mini-aventurine's cheeks SO BADLY whenever he came onscreen

[little-pondhead]

Eyes Of The Past - OLD CH. 1

Part 2

[TW: swearing, mentions of death, sickness, and general spookiness.]

...

Danny was used to seeing the dead. He was one of them, actually. People have been dying for thousands of years and will continue to die for thousands more. Hearing the whispers of people who should have passed on was nothing unusual, even if it gave him an uncomfortable sense of wrongness.

Maybe that’s why he didn’t like Gotham City.

Don’t get him wrong! Gotham was a lovely place to live; if you were psychotic. But the gothic architecture that never seemed to crumble, the visible smog that settled over the skies like a thick blanket, and the acidic aftertaste the water had were just enough to make Danny uncomfortable as he trekked through the streets. It had just rained, and the random sounds of water dripping off buildings made him flinch. Puddles kept reflecting the surroundings unusually. The smell of wet asphalt was heavy in the air, nothing like the freshness of Amity’s rain.

He felt itchy and weird in his skin, like something was trying to burn it off. It was just past three am, and Danny had just gotten off his split shift at some high-end nightclub. The Iceberg Lounge, or something like that. He’d gotten a job as a busboy since he was too young to work as a bouncer or bartender. Honestly, he was lucky they let him have a job at all. He took every shift he could, sometimes going over the legal limit of what a minor was allowed to work.

His boss allowed it, however. On a few conditions.

Listen in on the customers and report anything interesting to management. Danny was tiny, way too small for his age of sixteen. But he was great at making himself unnoticeable, which allowed him to keep his ears open for exciting deals and whatnot that were going around. He didn’t feel good about the work, but it kept food on the table. So far, the worst he’s reported was a plan to move against Red Hood and his gang. It wasn't ideal, but Danny could put up with the prying eyes and greedy hands so long as he got paid on time.

Oh, but the dead? They were so much worse.

The dead always noticed him. And they always talked to him. He could barely think straight with all the ghouls, specters, shades, and other souls that always clamored for his attention. Gotham’s dark atmosphere bred hundreds of angry souls who refused to move on until their business was finished. But without a steady source of ectoplasm or a natural portal, most of them stayed as shadows of their former selves. They stuck to the city's underbelly, brewing in anger and making the town sicker than it already was. Some of them, the stronger ones with a real bone to pick, chose to haunt the living, clinging to a person’s back and leeching off their life energy. Those were the ones Danny had to deal with the most in Gotham.

It was horrible. Everything was just so sad and angry! The city had a lot of fucked-up people living here, and the worst of them had so many shades sticking to them. They all wanted something. It made Danny feel like he was always having an allergy attack. The city just messed his senses up in the worst way possible. Danny would gladly be living anywhere else if it wasn’t for his need to hide and survive.

Kill them. Danny shivered as he turned a corner, and a shadow reached out to stick to his shoulder, whispering filthy words into his ear. Kill them for me. He brushed the spirit off, ignoring their hiss. His back ached, and his head throbbed. Danny just wanted to climb into the shit hole he called home and fall asleep on the thin futon he’d shoved into a corner.

So he did.

Danny climbed the rickety fire escape up to his apartment as quietly as possible (the main staircase was out of order) and shimmied himself through the broken window that never opened all the way. His backpack was stored under his futon, in the floorboards, and he collapsed without changing his clothes.

Maybe tomorrow’s shift will be better. He thought, closing his eyes.

…

It was not better. His next shift was as shitty as all the others.

“Take this to the east balcony on the second floor.” Danny’s supervisor for the night, Tamia, shoved a heavy tray laden with beer bottles and fancy cocktails into his hands, pointing vaguely to the staircase he’d have to use. It was only thanks to Danny’s ghost strength that he didn’t collapse under the weight.

“Isn’t that where the boss is?” He asked, squinting past the bright lights, barely making out the short outline of Oswald Cobblepot as he talked up some rough-looking characters.

Tamia nodded, distracted. She was already back to whipping up complicated drinks and barking orders at the other servers. “Yeah, so don’t fuck this up. In and out, ya hear?”

“Got it, Tam.”

She waved him off, and he began the rough journey to the second floor, skirting around the edges of the packed tables, avoiding the odd penguin, and taking careful steps up the staircase, floating just barely above the floor to make sure he didn’t slip. Guests and other workers ignored him, but their shades reached out, caressing him in a way that made him want to squirm. He couldn’t shake them off, not while he was carrying the tray.

She killed me, one whispered as a lady dressed in diamonds passed.

I was drugged, said another when a burly older man walked by.

Danny pressed close to the walls as a group meandered on by. My teddy bear! A little girl’s voice cried out, and he couldn’t tell which of the group it was coming from. He took my teddy bear! I want it back!

I can’t help you, he thought viciously, trying to charge the air around him with hostility. It was difficult. The humans would pick up on it if he harshed the vibes too much. Too little, and the shades would ignore it. A nearby penguin squawked in alarm, but the spirits backed off, so he counted it as a win.

Finally, he reached the east balcony. The thick curtains were closed, but his sharp hearing still caught a few words through the club's noise. Something about the gang war Red Hood had prevented (the one Danny had reported on.)

But it wasn’t his job to worry about that. He wasn’t a hero anymore. Instead, Danny politely knocked on a pillar holding the curtains up, waiting to be let in.

The conversation quieted. “Who is it?” asked his boss.

“Drinks, sir,” Danny replied simply. The curtain was let open, and by the Ancients, Danny wished he’d never taken this job.

The balcony was brimming with the dead. It reeked with the heavy stench of death.

He suppressed a cough, clamping his mouth shut as he passed out drinks. His hostile aura was drowned out by the sheer amount of spirits clamoring at each other, practically at each other’s ghostly throats. Some of them had real definition to their features, telling Danny that this was not a group to be messed with. One of the spirits was on the verge of gaining its own consciousness, dripping a familiar green Danny had come to associate with his rouges. The spirit's burning eyes turned to him, and Danny was overwhelmed with the scent of rot rolling off it. It made him feel sick to his stomach.

He started to pass out drinks, suppressing the urge to shiver as hands gripped at his face, his clothes, his arms, his everything. The shades had noticed him. They clamored around him, filling his head with white noise. It was horrible.

Mr. Cobblepot eyed the boy, noticing how his newest employee had tensed up and gone noticeably paler in the presence of his guests.

The kid had practically folded in on himself as another aide swept aside the curtains. His hands trembled just barely, and he refused to meet anyone’s eyes straight on, instead looking past their ear or at their foreheads. He also noticed how Red Hood, sitting directly to his right, had gone stiff when the kid entered the room. The crime lord wasn’t showing his face, but he could still see how Hood tracked Danny’s movements like a hawk, tensed like he was about to leap out of his chair and assault the kid. Danny, for his part, had clamped his mouth shut and did his duties diligently and quickly, seemingly not noticing Red Hood’s attention on him.

Everyone began murmuring again, continuing their conversations now that they had booze to loosen their tongues. Mr. Cobblepot took a tentative sip of his fancy cocktail, non-alcoholic, of course. He couldn’t have his thoughts inhibited while in the middle of a business deal.

The kid was in and out like a ghost, barely making a sound as he slipped past the curtains once more, tray clutched to his chest.

“Who was that?” Red Hood finally tore his attention away from the kid’s retreating back and turned to the host of the evening.

Mr. Cobblepot waved him off. “A new hire. Don’t worry. All the paperwork is in order; he’s not here illegally.” Lies slipped off his tongue like honey, and luckily, Red Hood was too distracted to notice. “Now, let’s get back to business, shall we?”

Danny practically ran down the stairs and back into the kitchens. He barely had time to shove his empty tray into Tamia’s hands before he slammed the back doors open and heaved the contents of his stomach out next to a dumpster.

Ancients, that was horrific. Danny knelt there for a few moments, dry heaving some more until his stomach was well and truly empty. Acid burned the back of his throat.

“Holy shit Danny! What happened?” Thin hands clamped down on his shoulders, making him flinch. The touch softened, and they started rubbing circles on his back instead. It was Tamia, no doubt having run after him when she saw his pale face.

Danny shuddered and shook his head. “Sorry.” He gasped. “I think-I think I’m allergic to something they were wearing.”

“Fuck.” Tamia cursed softly. “If I get you a drink, will that settle your stomach?”

“Probably, yeah.”

His (totally awesome, reminded him of Jazz) supervisor stood up decisively. “Then I’m getting you some water.” She told him. Two wispy shades curled around her neck, chittering at him with anxiety. “Sit out here and take some deep breaths. We’re short-staffed tonight, so I’ll send Mia to the balconies instead. We can’t afford to send you home.”

“And I can’t afford to miss a shift.” He joked. His heart wasn't in it.

Tamia turned and opened the back door. “Well, if you’re already cracking jokes, you’ll be back to waiting tables in no time~” She cackled over her shoulder.

Danny smiled at her retreating back. Tamia was a nice person, and he didn’t meet many of those these days. She was tall, with dark skin and a wit to match Nightwing’s. He’s sure she was only looking out for him because he reminded her of her two younger siblings, dead from a house fire a few years ago. (If he had to hazard a guess, the two shades that clung to her with such desperation were what was left of those very siblings.) It was fine. He’d take any pity he could get.

Coughing slightly, Danny leaned back on his heels and looked up, trying to see past Gotham’s cloud cover. Instead of stars, he saw two white eyes narrow at him from the top of the building. A dark mass writhed above the eyes, making the figure they belonged to blend in with the background. Danny yelped in surprise and fell on his butt. When he looked up again, the eyes were gone.

Well, shit.

Danny scrambled to his feet and tore open the back door, almost running into Tamia, who had a bottle of water in her hands. “Tam!” He blurted. “Get the boss! The Bat is here!”

...

[Pretty short cause I gotta skedaddle off to work. This is a planned fic that will be pretty short, and I'll link the next part below at a later date. Hope you enjoyed it!]

#danny phantom #dpxdc #pondhead writes #eyes of the past fic #not beta read #no beta we die like danny #ooooo spooky #can anyone guess what's happening? probably #currently squinting at the screen rn cause i have no glasses on #maybe bad fenton parents au? #idk may not mention them #angst #i just decided that have fun

[duckling-king]

Okay so haha @lillithhearts convinced me to write my oc x canon with Vox. I literally started writing this at 11pm last night while we were talking, I'm cringe but I'm FREE. Also shout out to Lillith, I've only had him for one day but if anything happened to him I'd kill everyone on tumblr and then myself /ref

Relationship: OC x Vox, toxic enemies to less toxic lovers except their firmly in their toxic era

Tw: talk of/manipulation of power imbalance, themes of ownership and control, horror elements (idk how well I got that across but that was the intention sjdhhs), pushing/breaking of boundaries, overall just a toxic relationship

Update like three hours after posting: Now officially beta read by me :) JEFHSHHD

Lemme know if I should tag any other tw :]!! I'm always open to constructive criticism (or compliments haha what who said that)

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Hell was as lively as ever, especially in the dingy alley Vox found himself An old theatre stood tall in front of him, dilapidated and crumbling, and barely stable enough to be inhabitable

It was dark. As usual. He couldn't remember ever walking in and finding the building lit up from the inside.

To any other sinner the place would've been unsettling, frightening even. But not to him. He was used to the creaking floorboards, the crumbling walls, the threat of a total collapse of the building. Certainly used to it. Not intimidated whatsoever by the shadowy darkness that stretched in front of him.

A cold, firm hand on his shoulder suddenly shocked him from his thoughts, and he suddenly found himself face to screen with a life size wooden puppet. The face was carved to look like a citizen of cannibal town; a vintage three piece suit made up its torso, with a similarly carved tophat permanently stuck to it's head. The eyes had been hollowed out and filled with what had to be marbles, as if to mimic the eyelessness of the cannibals from Rosie's district.

He stepped back, suppressing a flinch as the puppet tilted its hyperrealistic head, and gestured out with a flourish down the dark hall. It moved like it was held up on strings, and it's makeshift eyes met his own with a strange intensity. Almost as if the marbles were truly staring at- no into him.

That fucker was watching him.

Something about that kicked him into overdrive. He pushed past the puppet with a static charge, heeding it no mind as he used his screen as a flashlight in the dark, navigating his way through the hall, past the rows of display cases, until he found himself stood in front of a very familiar door.

Every time he turned this doorknob he was filled with a sense of sick nostalgia, and every time he saw that fucker's face it was replaced by pure rage.

"Voxxy.. what brings you here?" Virden grinned, resting his chin in the palm of his hand as he tapped his talons on the rotting wood of the desk.

Vox felt sparks run up his arms as he squeezed his hands into fists. This asshole knew just how to get under his skin, and the smug look on Virden's face said he was very aware.

"Don't call me that." Vox snapped, glaring right at him and only getting a condescending pout in return.

"Of course, I'm so sorry.." Virden mocked, as Vox felt aggravated sparks claw their way into his circuits, "Would you prefer.. puppet?" He asked, tilting his head with a grin that made Vox's blood boil.

Electricity crackled through Vox's veins, popping and snapping and biting at his muscles from the inside out, "You know I wouldn't." He growled through his teeth, unable to hide his clear aggravation. He knew better than to rush into an argument with Virden. The display case to his left made that very clear. But fuck was it hard to keep the anger, the static, at bay.

"Fine. You clearly aren't here to have any fun." Virden huffed, going back to tapping his talons along the wood out of boredom. "Why did you request a meeting Vox? Did you miss me~?" He purred, batting his eyelashes at Vox and relishing the way his eye twitched.

"No." He immediately struck down Virden's attempt to tease, feeling as though he was already at the end of his rope, "I need.. a favor from you-"

"Oh? Did you piss off Alastor again, baby?" He purred, raising an eyebrow at him.

Vox twitched. The casual way he asked... the assumption of Vox's lack of power.. the sheer disrespect-

"THIS ISN'T ABOUT ALASTOR!" Vox yelled, voice stuttering and echoing as the electricity in his veins finally escaped, flying out in all directions. "God fucking forbid I show up and ask for one simple favor! I can't be in your goddamn office without hearing bullshit out of your fucking mouth-!"

Vox continued to yell, getting louder and louder and more and more upset the more things he found to say. His entire body felt like a live wire, sparkling and cracking and popping and unable to stop the current running through him. He was on a roll, telling Virden what for, that wouldn't stop any time soon.

As this continued, Virden's smile dropped, replaced by a neutral observation. And after a couple moments of allowing Vox to yell at him, he finally stood up and walked right over to the display case, taking his time to look over each puppet before gingerly picking up one of them and returning to his seat with it. He eyed his own craftsmanship silently, letting Vox tire himself out.

"I mean honestly! I'm Vox! CEO of VoxTech and member of the fucking VEES! People would pay a shit ton of money just to be seen in public with me! I'm not gonna stand here and let you-!" Then, he stopped.

The puppet, laid in the talons of Virden's hand. His puppet. The carved TV head hanging limply off the side of his hand, strings tied tight to every appendage. It looked so limp, as though it had given in willingly to the embrace from Virden's hand, holding it up to be seen.

Then, with his other hand, Virden picked up the puppet by the strings, puppeting it properly. Vox watched silently as Virden absently played with his puppet, making it walk and move however Virden wanted. It looked trapped, distraught, subdued.

"Sorry Voxxy, were you saying something?" Virden smiled innocently, glancing down at the puppet in his hands and making it wave up at it's living counterpart. "I got a little distracted."

"I.." Damnit. Damnit. Virden and his deal and his puppets and- fuck he hated the way that he stiffened up, hated the way his heart sank into his stomach with dread, hated how he could look at that little puppet on the table and see himself so clearly, caught in the clutches of this sadistic asshole all because of a mistake he made decades ago...

"Vox? Are you okay baby?" Virden asked, tilting his head and letting a sinister grin form on his face. He knew exactly what he was doing, and Vox hated every excruciating second of it.

"I'm f-fine." Vox forced out, feeling electricity crackle in the back of his neck and into his screen. He watched as Virden took in the reaction, only getting more delighted by how clearly on edge Vox was.

"Good. Now sit." He gestured to the chair opposite him at the desk, a predatory grin on his face as he watched Vox slowly move towards it.

"Good boy." Virden only grinned wider, as Vox scowled right back. "Now, mister CEO," He taunted, leaning back in his chair and putting his feet up on the desk, wings spreading out behind him. "What favor did you want?"

He could almost feel the strings on his limbs as he took slow measured steps towards the chair. He hated this. God- why did Virden have to be so- then down he went, sitting down in the chair like he had been told. Like a-

And thus their back and forth continued. With Vox yet again being held under Virden's thumb like a bug, being used as a plaything to entertain him. It was a game, cat and mouse, and Vox was loathe to admit that he found himself playing the mouse.

"Alright, so I come to the Vees' little party next week and play bodyguard. Simple as that." Virden hummed, lounging easily in his seat and examining his talons as Vox glared at him.

"Yes. Simple and easy. You show up and take out any competition while keeping our reputation in mind." He spoke through gritted teeth, eye twitching and glitching on his screen as he watched Virden pay him almost no mind.

It was infuriating, watching him lounge about while Vox was kept on the edge of his seat, waiting for the bird to strike for the worm.

"I can handle that.. I've been meaning to collect a few more trinkets..." he smirked, the sight of it sending an electric chill down Vox's spine.

"Good. We're agreed then?"

"We are."

And with that Virden stood, holding out a hand for Vox to shake. "Wonderful, I look forward to working with you again." He spoke, making sure to sound pompous and professional, simply to annoy him even further.

Vox sighed and stood slowly, reaching out a hand that was certainly not shaking as he grasped Virden's hand. A bright light emanated from their handshake as Vox felt the puppet strings materialize on his wrist, wrapping themselves up his forearm as the shackle around his neck weighed him down.

Virden only hummed as the bright blue electricity crawled quickly up his forearm in return, acting as if he didn't feel the sharp pricks of sparks and heat. He acted like he was untouchable, comepletely indestructible. It was infuriating.

"Well, it's been fun, puppet." Vox's eye twitched yet again, the moment proving futile. "But unfortunately, I have a show to write!" Virden smiled, and if he didn't know better, Vox would almost call it sincere.

When they let go, the strings and the shackle faded, granting Vox a moment to take a deep, steadying breath.

"So be a good puppet, and get out." Immediately, the smile was gone, replaced by a glare that made Vox's nerves spark. As much as he wanted to jump over the table and strangle this fucking bird, grab his neck and force him to look into his eyes so he could control him for once. But all he could do was glare as he did what he was told.

Like a good puppet.

#oc x canon #vox x oc #my ocs #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #the vees #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel fanfic #yes im main tagging this shut up i want attention #Puppet Master #<- OC TAG CUZ IM GONNA BE TALKING ABT HIM MORE I KNOW IT #and what if i said i was nervous to post this?? what if i said ive been staring at the post button trying to hype myself up?? hm???

[auroragehenna]

AI-less Whumptober

Day 7 Flatline, Restrained, CPR

TW/CW: Attacked on the street, beating, asphyxiation (choking), Words: 1200 words

Whumpee was deadly exhausted. She felt like could collapse any second, when would this torment end? “Alore, we’re done for today!”, the ballet teacher called out.

The girls sighed out and applaud before packing their bags.

Whumpee walked to the changing room and slumped onto the thin bench. There she took off her pointe shoes and changed. Soon after she left the building and walked away. The walk wasn’t long but still felt creepy. She was a woman after all. And with how exhausted you are from training you couldn’t defend yourself. A tiny evil voice in her brain threw in. “Oh shut it.”, she hissed to herself. Passing the park at the side of the way she closed her eyes, taking in the rustling of the leaves. A smile crept onto her lips. Until a hand pressed on to it and she got dragged into the darkness of the park. Whumpee screamed into the hand over her mouth but it was no use. Too little sound came out. It was pitch black and before she could even realize what was happening the person shoved her onto the grassy ground. Whumpee tried to break her fall but at the same moment hands grabbed her arms and they both crash. She felt weight on her hips and realized the person was sitting on top of her, straddling her.

“There you go, nice and still!”, whumper gleefully said to their pinned down victim. They trapped both her wrists in one of their hands and with the other one took out a roll of tape. They feel the girl flinch under them at the sound of the tape being torn off. A wide smile breaks through the focused expression on their face. Swiftly they manage to wrap it around the girl’s wrists multiple times. Satisfied they now lazily take the metal stake out of their bag. They hit it into the earth and use the girl’s wrists to hammer it deeper in. Then drop them behind the pole. Now. Everything was ready.

“Let’s see what should I do with you now?”, the gleeful voice sounded from above Whumpee. What was going on?! She tried to free her hands but only got stuck on the pole. Panic. She was stuck. Really stuck. “Let me go, please!”

“Aww whyever would I do that, sweetie?  We haven’t even had fun yet.”

Whumpee whimpered, she pulled and pulled on the tape holding her wrists together but only managed to roughen her skin. Then she started screaming.

Whumper’s eyebrows knitted together, she shot her hand fourth, wrapping her fingers around Whumpee’s throat and squeezed. “Asphyxiation it is then!”, Whumper sweetly said.

Soon Whumpee started to claw at the grass, pinned down legs kicking into nothing. Her eyes were wide and panicky, looking into the darkness where her attacker was. Slowly her body slowed down the panicked jerks. Was it just her or was it getting even darker? Then, the miracle! Air! Oxygen was flowing into her lungs again!

“Now have we learned our lesson?”, Whumper asked with an audible smile.”

“Please let me go! Please!”

“Ah, ah, ah, sweetie.”, Whumper cooed and squeezed again.

Whumpee’s panic skyrocketed again as soon as her throat closed. But this time it felt shorter. When her attacker let go the second time she coughed and simultaneously gasped for air resulting in a row of choked sounds.

Whumper waited for her to get her functionality back. Finally the girl seemed to have recovered a bit. “Noow are we good?”, they asked brightly.

Whumpee whimpered but didn’t scream anymore.

“Aww, sweetie, you don’t have to give me the silent treatment, I just don’t want you to scream for help. I’ll get the tiny, cute noises out of you anyway.” She smiled.

“I-I won’t scream anymore. But please let me go.”, Whumpee begged.

“No can do, sweetie. You should really try to find a way to enjoy this as much as I do. But don’t stop begging, it’s adorable.” And with that she rummaged through her own bag trying to decide what to use. But then she hesitated. “Say sweetie,  where were you coming from when I got you?”

“From ballet…-ballet practice.”, Whumpee answered in a broken sob.

“Whumper tooted at her, running her fingers soothingly through the girl’s hair while thinking. Then she felt around in the grass until she had found the girl’s bag. Some more digging and then she felt what she wanted. The sturdy wood and soft satin of the girl’s pointe shoes. She took them out of the bag and made sure to gently drag them over the girl’s arm as she started to speak again. “How about we try something, hm.” A wolfish smile grew on her face.

Whumpee only whimpered in response and even though it was dark turned her head away from her torturer.

“I wanna see how fast you bruise if I use these!”, Whumper squeaked. And without giving the girl the chance to respond she battered the shoe down on the girl’s right arm. Avoiding bone but hitting full force.

Whumpee screamed out in pain but was effectively shut up by her attacker putting their fingers into her mouth and digging the nails in.

“Mkay, mkay!”, she mumbled out around the invading fingers.

What did we say about screaming? You know if we were alone, you could scream all you want. I‘d encourage it even. But out here you can‘t, no, no.“, Whumper said a tad less cheerful now.

Whumpee as panicky as they were made a split decision and bit down on their attacker‘s fingers.

Whumpee yelped and delivered a few sharp blows with the pointe shoe over Whumpee‘s torso. That made her loosen the hold on their fingers and they quickly ripped them out. Spit and blood was webbed over them. They wiped it down on Whumpee‘s face and raised their arm for another blow. „You should not have done that.“, they said, this time dead serious.

Whumpee‘s eyes went wide. Their clutched together body now started to tremble as they heard their attacker‘s voice change. Then out of the darkness came another blow and they couldn‘t breathe. They couldn‘t breathe! So much pain! They wanted to scream but there was no air! Her attacker had hit her throat! And there, another blow into her abdomen. And onto her arms. More and more and more, everything was pain. She was pain. And then it stopped. She got a backhand into her face and jerked up.

„Don‘t pass out on me, sweetie.“, Whumper said saccharine sweetly. Whumpee only groaned and whimpered in response.

„Now as fun as this is, I‘m afraid we have to end tonight’s date.“, whumper said in a sad tone while caressing Whumpee’s face with the nail of her index finger. „But you do seem promising, I‘m looking forward to seeing you again.“, they said sinisterly and sweet as ever, moving their finger to tilt her chin up. „B-Bye!“, her attacker said and then whumpee felt the weight on her disappear. With last strength she took out her phone and called an ambulance. Yet she only managed to groan out her location and a broken help before passing out.

Taglist: @yourlocalgaefae33 (I know you'll love this one!), @princessofhe11, @ailesswhumptober

#jayna's writing #ailesswhumptober #ailesswhumptober2023 #ailesswhumptoberday7 #ailesswhumptoberday7restrained #day 7 #whump #whump writing #whump blog #whumpee #creative writing #ballet #restrained whumpee #restrained #pinned down #pinned to the ground #cheerful whumper #sadistic whumper

[biaswreckingfics]

Hihi! I saw there wasn't many for txt so I'm going to jump in as a moa to request Taehyun with 118 + 92! Thank you for doing these!

Paramedic!Taehyun + Firefighter!Reader -Thank you for requesting!! ❤️❤️-

TW: reader is stuck in a building on fire

(Just please, open your eyes. + I almost lost you.)

Somehow, amid all of the smoke and debris, you lost your partner. He must've carried on ahead, not realizing that you had fallen behind and lost sight of him. You try to call out to him on the radio, but the cement of the building is messing with the frequencies. All you hear is a weird static response.

Forging ahead, you try to follow the path you assume he'd take. The two of you were one of the inside teams tasked with searching for trapped people, but it all went to hell the moment you stepped in here.

A blast on one of the upper floors caused the ceiling to collapse in certain areas, leaving your exit blocked and forcing you to find a new way out. You had kept your cool at first, but then the fire started to spread and the smoke became so black, you could barely see your hand in your face.

A tremor rocks the building and you pick up your speed. You have no idea of the structural integrity of the building anymore. It could collapse with you in it at any moment.

The sound of someone shouting a couple of rooms over reaches your ears and you feel relief. It has to be your partner, neither of you had spotted anybody else on this floor during your first sweep.

You jump into action and try to make your way to where you heard the yell come from. As you pass into the next room, another explosion rocks the building. The ceiling above you immediately gives away, knocking you down and burying you under a pile of rubble.

The only thing that follows next is darkness. You have a vague recollection of things going on around you from time to time, and then you fall back into that black abyss.

An explosion. Darkness. Rubble shifting. Darkness. Your alarm that goes off when a firefighter stops moving for too long. Darkness. Your partner standing over you, yelling "Mayday! Firefighter down!" into his radio. Darkness.

The next thing you recall are voices. Some are familiar, some aren't. You feel your body being moved and something being placed over your face. Breathing becomes a little easier, but the thing that really makes you fight for consciousness is hearing Taehyun's voice.

"Just please, open your eyes."

Your sweet, sweet Taehyun. The love of your life, who must be beyond terrified right now. You feel his familiar hands grasping at your face, attempting to wake you up. It makes you fight harder to swim back up to the surface. The thought of leaving him here alone is unacceptable. 

"Please, please, wake up," he begs you while rubbing your sternum with his knuckles.

A coughing fit rips out of you and your eyes are forced open. The first thing you see is an elated expression on Taehyun's face, and then all you can focus on is not coughing your lungs out.

Taehyun rubs hard on your back and you gasp for air, moving the oxygen mask away from your face. He immediately puts it back on and tries to calm you.

"Deep breaths. Deep breaths. You're okay."

Once you catch your breath and no longer feel the need to cough, you find Taehyun's eyes. Tears are welled up in them, but he does his best not to let them fall. Instead, he pulls you into a tight hug, clutching onto you for dear life before saying, "I almost lost you."

#taehyun au #taehyun angst #taehyun scenarios #taehyun fic #taehyun fanfic #taehyun drabbles #taehyun imagines #kang taehyun fic #kang taehyun scenarios #kang taehyun angst #kang taehyun au #kang taehyun fanfic #kang taehyun drabble #txt fanfic #txt fic #txt drabbles #txt ff #txt scenarios #txt aus #txt au #txt angst #txt imagines

[curlyangelsblog]

✿ Shigaraki Tomura x Chubby nurse reader Pt. 4 ✿

(A/N: this is going to be the las part for now… I either plan on making headcanons and little scenarios about you guy’s relationship and/ or make a another part)

TW: cursing, fire, passing out, good ending ;)

You guy’s walk was longer than both of you expected. Shigaraki has never talk to someone this long without wanting to strangle them he didn’t open up about anything particular you guys just talk about your interests. He found out that your also into Anime and video games.

“So your just a big nerd” he said with a huff and grin on his face.

“Oh and your not, you look like you have a body pillow of your waifu” you responded with a loud laugh.

He just tsk at you.

*Damn she really has some balls talking to japans Number 1. Wanted villain like that*

“Oh come on I was just joking” you bumped into him playfully and that sweet, sweet smile on your face.

Suddenly your phone buzzed, you picked it up and it was the hospital you had a concerned look on your face.

“Ok, I’ll be right there”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry I have to go there has been a huge accident apparently a fire caused it I have to go right to the scene they need people”

You said your goodbyes and you made your way to the scene.

As soon as Shigaraki heard fire he knew dabi had to do something with it. The first time in his life he was worried for someone. The feeling that is building up in his stomach is one that he has never felt before. He put his phone out and started soaking dabi calling him wanting to know where he set the fire so he could make sure your ok.

But dabi wasn’t answering. The league wasn’t far so he ran there to find out more information. He stormed trough the door and started yelling at kurogiri.

“WHERE IS THE FUCKING FIRE WHT DID DABI DO!?!?”

“Calm down w-“

“DONT TELL TO CALM DOWN AND TELL ME WHERE THE FIRE AND DABI IS”

Kurogiri has never seen Shigaraki like this he was concerned for him but gave him the information that he needed.Shigaraki grabbed his hand mask ( I don’t know what to call it but y’all know what I mean his lil hand on his face) and made his way out the door.

The scene was brutal so many injured people. A lot of volunteers started to help so you slowly started to get the situation under control. The hero’s finally showed up and got the fire under control at least that’s what you thought. Until the fire started to spread to the Forrest. The police started to get the everyone away from the fire. You were still helping someone but noticed the hero’s weren’t doing anything. You finished quickly and went up to one of the hero’s and ask them why nobody is doing anything there could be people in the forrest. And sadly your suspicion where right you could hear someone yell for help. But nobody was doing anything they just sunk their head acting like they didn’t hear it. But suddenly you black out and just started running you couldn’t control your legs you ran straight into the fire. At the same moment Shigaraki arrived at the scene and saw u run into the Forrest. His eyes went wide and fear was clouding his mind.

“What the fuck is she doing”

He made his way into the forrest from the other side so nobody could see him and where the fire wasn’t to bad.

“HELLO…IS ANYBODY HERE…HELLO…..CALL OUT IF YOU CAN *cough cough* HEAR ME”

*oh god its getting really bad at moments like this I wished I had a quirk*

You walk deeper into the Forrest until could see a child stuck under a three branch. You ran up to him and got the tree branch off of him but in the same moment a tree collapsed, you pushed him out the way and after that everything went black. The tree had collapsed on you.

The kid started run and shout for help for you on his way out he saw Shigaraki he held onto him and pleaded him to help this women that saved him. The kid explains to him that a tree has collapsed onto you. Shigaraki ran straight to where the kid was pointing at. He was calling for your name. And you started to gain consciousness. You called out to him in a weak voice but he could hear you.

“Oh shit are you ok!?!!”

“Pls..get… me..out”

Shigaraki stood up and went out of your sight. Suddenly you could feel the weight of the tree lift off of you. You looked up and saw the tree turned into Ash…

What happend did Shigaraki do that nevermind that didn’t matter now what Mattered was getting out of here. U tried to sit up and Shigaraki tried to help you get up.

Until you suddenly grabbed onto his hand.

“DONT!”

But it was already to late he closed his eyes and was ready for you to fall to the ground and turn into ash the only person he has ever cared about die because of him his biggest nightmare. But suddenly he heard you talk.

“It’s fine I think I can stand”

Shigaraki thought he was dreaming… you were ok. He could swear you said you didn’t have a quirk but then why in the fuck where you ok. He got torn out of his thoughts as you collapsed onto him.

“Shit”

He picked you up bridal style. And started walking out of the Forrest thank god you weren’t hurt to badly.

“Don’t *cough cough* I’m to heavy”

“You calling me weak Mrs let me run into a burning Forrest”

You looked up at him with a small smile.

“I mean you already knew I was naive”

#anime #anime and manga #shigaraki x y/n #bnha shigaraki #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura #bnha fanfiction #bnha x reader #bnha dabi #mha dabi #kurogiri #leauge of villians #boku no hero academia shigaraki

[whatdoyoumeanitsnotcanon]

(*screams into the void* TW for: violence against reader, implied SA, loss of family members, one slur against reader.)

"Hell is empty, and all the devils are here."

Nothing could have prepared you for the noise.

Despite all of the discipline you had gained over the years, chaos screamed, and boomed, and if it wasn't thundering in your ears louder than ever, it would have drowned out your heartbeat.

Fire rained out of the black sky, trailing behind drop pods warped almost beyond recognition by the influence of Chaos. Where they hit the ground, large plumes of flame rose, and spread, and a cacophony of screams, material and psychic, rang out from the valley below you.

The planet's defenses had collapsed like children's toys under the assault, and orbital bombardment had quickly erased most hopes of calling for aid.

The red glow of the burning settlement lit your way as you scrambled up the rocky mountainside, pulling your coat closer to your body. You might have lingered on the fact that the sum of your entire life fit in the pockets of said coat, but the terror in your mind handily drowned out all thoughts but run.

You were unarmed, in the traditional sense. Neoth, however, had seen to it that you possesed a wide array of psychic attacks, though he had instructed (ordered) you to avoid combat at any cost.

Neoth.

For the first time in years, you found yourself distrustful of your mentor. He had offered no further explanation of his plan to evacuate you, and seemingly only you, from the besieged planet, other than that you should make for this particular plateau, about a mile from your home.

Your family's home.

You'd spent your entire childhood on this planet. While you'd come to know much beyond it through Neoth's tutelage, you were deeply conflicted about abandoning Absen to the grip of Chaos. The people here didn't like you. You were often glassy eyed, you saw too much to see them as more than ants sometimes, their minds unopened like stubborn buds. You didn't like to consider yourself better than any of them, but had you attempted to warn them of the incoming invasion, they would have sold you to Inquisition without a second thought.

So you left it all behind. The graves of your father and brothers, the messy kitchen, the little garden that grew nothing but hardy, tasteless spuds but you tended anyway. Your journals, all you had learned from age 11, were tucked away in your inner pockets.

You spared one last glance backwards from the gate.

"Yield, xenos scum!"

You jabbed your power sword, actually a stick from the garden, into Olin's ribs.

"No! Defeated at last by a mere child!" He collapsed dramatically to the ground, clutching the 'wound.'

You placed your bare foot on his chest. "I'm no child! I'm a mighty Space Marine!"

"You've got it wrong, sister, girls can't be Space Marines." Rion flipped the page on his book from his seat on the porch.

"They can too!"

"Cannot."

"Can too!"

"What are the lot of you yelling about?" Your Father leaned out of the doorway, his graying hair stuck to his forehead by sweat. Working on some machine again, no doubt.

"She thinks girls can be Space Marines."

"They can! I'll be the bravest Space Marine of them all someday, and they'll build a statue of me right there on Holy Terra!"

"No, sweetheart, all the Marines are men. You're thinking of the Sisters of Battle." Your Father smiled, but it was tight. Discouraging.

"Thats not fair!"

"I could be a Marine," Olin stood and brushed the dirt from shirt. "Maybe you should be the filthy xenos next time."

"But you're much better at it! You even look like-"

He tackled you to the ground, the two of you tumbling over each other in a whirl of limbs and insults.

Your Father pried you apart as Rion continued reading.

"Quit! Both of you! Throne, it's bad enough the Millitarum is already breathing down Rion's neck, I don't need you two looking like eager recruits!"

"Yes, Da." You replied in unison, looking at your feet.

"I'm not even old enough Da, I'm not joining up."

"You're fourteen, pushing fifteen, on some planets they recruit as young as nine, boy."

"I'm not joining up." He stared down your father defiantly. You wondered if he'd look at the officers like that, if they brought a draft notice.

"They might not give you a choice." Your Father stood for a time. Looking between Rion, Olin, and you.

"I'd fight them all, if they try and take him!" Olin punched the air at some invisible opponent. "I'll show those hoity toity recruiters how a real Imperial fights!"

"Yeah!" You brandished your stick.

"Emperor help all of you, little warmongers, there's enough bloodshed in this galaxy as it is. Come now, get washed for dinner."

You laughed as you followed your brothers into the house, engrossed in a discussion about exploding slingshots and booby traps for the front door.

When Rion was drafted two years later, your father held Olin back while you cried. He was dead not six months later. The recruiters had to drag Olin himself, two years later. You never stopped thinking of how they died, alone, so far from home.

You stood at the gate, glancing back, and turned away.

But the ghosts followed you, laughing like children, yelling at you, calling you coward, screaming, you wondered if they died screaming.

The top of the plateau came into view, and you turned to look back at the valley.

The settlement was collapsing in, it's towers engulfed in flame, and the rolling thunder of bolter fire, of bombs, and the roar of melta guns sang of death.

I'm here, Neoth.

No answer.

Neoth?

A figure came crashing through the nearby bushes, rythmic clanking, and heavy footsteps. Power armour. A Marine

No. Five. No. Ten. No. Fuck.

You had seen the Marines of Chaos before, in visions, the descendants of the Horus Heresy's traitors. Awful parodies of the Emperor's Angels, a hideous mockery of His design.

And they were somehow worse in person.

"Are you lost, poppet?" The nickname was sickening, coming from that horrible, sharpened maw. The leader wore no helmet, leaving his awful, predatory smile free to shine from his scarred face. You couldn't be sure which of the dread, false 'gods' they served. Khorne? Slaanesh? You rather hoped for the former, but the way you were being sized up like meat didn't bode well.

"No." Your voice was steady, somehow. "I'm right where I need to be."

"Well, what a lucky coincidence. We are too."

"You have business here?" You sounded so casual, to be conversing with your probable butchers, who had already visited such butchery upon your home.

"We do. Business, regarding little lost girls, wandering so far away so late at night. Must be past your bedtime. There's rules, you know." He began to advance, you backed away. Step by step.

"I wasn't aware your ilk observed such an orderly concept."

He chuckled, and his fellows responded. It was an ugly sound.

"Cheeky little thing, isn't she? What fun."

You were aware of the limited space behind you, that you couldn't back away forever. The Warp stirred at your fear, and your determination.

"Why don't I show you just what happens to cheeky little rulebreakers, poppet, hmm?" His posture shifted, fingers twitched.

Your fingers flexed.

"And just because you asked for it so nicely, we'll take. Our. Time."

He lunged as you crouched. He was faster than any normal human, but the Warp was as fast as your thoughts, fast like quicksilver.

Your hand hit the ground (your point of contact, the place where the intent of the Warp became the reality of Materium.) And a fan of lighting erupted outward.

The leader was thrown backwards and rolled into a crouch. His armour short circuited and he snarled in pain. "You nasty little cunt!"

"She's a psyker!"

"Open fire!"

You were already gone, using a burst of power to launch past the leader and under the incoming spray of bolter fire, the earth beneath you bending, allowing you cover as you searched for a way out.

You were seized from behind, roughly yanked and lifted up so you were face to face with the dead eyes of a helmet. The Marine revved his chainsword and wound up for the kill. You placed a palm against his cold, metal forehead and let loose a pulse of confusion.

He howled in pain and dropped you, you barely had time to recover from the impact before you were scrambling backwards under an assault from the chainsword. He swung it blindly, his mind cracked.

In desperation, you attempted to seize his nervous system. You could puppet normal humans without much fuss, though it was taxing and difficult. A Space Marine, you found, was a much more difficult target.

All you managed was to induce a breif seizure, however, it sent your assailant careening into a comrade, and both of them went snarling to the ground.

A stray bolter round went flying, and pierced a weak point in the armour of a third, thanks to a nudge of guidance from you. His knee exploded, and you would have congratulated yourself were there not a dozen others bearing down upon you.

You focused on a point, in the midst of their charge as they readied their guns and axes and blades, and channeled the most destructive forces you could reach. Your grief, yes, was potent. But this was rage.

The fire that erupted was white hot, like the most brilliant of small stars forging diamonds at their hearts, and the creatures went flying.

You killed a few of them, you felt it. Emperor, you could kill Space Marines.

From the still burning center of the crater, the leader came stalking, a few of his battle brothers standing as well, and you could feel the exhaustion tugging at you. Your energy was depleted.

You were going to die here.

You couldn't muster the strength to run as the beast pinned you to the ground by your throat. You could only claw helplessly at his gauntleted hand as he began to squeeze.

"Oh, no tricks left now, poppet?" He spat. "All that fuss for nothing."

Your vision began to fade.

"For a nothing, nobody, barely a slip of a girl on nothing, nowhere planet. Nobody's even gonna cry when you're dead, they won't remember you. It'll be like you never existed at all."

Your eyes rolled back and closed.

"You better pray to that corpse-God of yours, girl, because this is going to hurt."

There was a warm, wet splatter on your face. And the pressure around your neck released.

Your vision returned just slightly, and you saw a look of surprise plastered on the Chaos Marine's face. You glanced down, at the glinting blade piercing his breastplate.

He was hoisted off the ground, held aloft by a massive figure sillouetted against the red sky, and tossed, with the ceremony one would afford a broken doll, to the side.

You... You knew that armour.

No. It couldn't be. The golden plate, the guardian spear. Unmistakable.

A Custodian.

A ship came into view behind him, making a landing on what was left of the plateau, also golden, emblazoned with the Aquilla.

Why were the Adeptus Custodes here? There was no distress call these demigods would possibly answer, not from Absen. Why save you?

These the bodyguards of the Emperor, they wouldn't be here unless by his command. And-

And your world imploded.

The connection you never would have made, the synapsis at the center of everything you knew, clicked into place.

Neoth. Your teacher, friend, companion through a thousand lonely nights.

And your God.

You were scooped off the ground by the Custodian, who despite his obvious strength, held you gently, tucked safely against his armour as he walked to the ship, it's boarding ramp now lowered.

All around you, the Custodes cleared what was left of the traitors. To the forces of the Ten Thousand, even a handful, they fell like children.

Your body was limp. From exhaustion, and from shock. Your throat burned, and your attempts to speak died as weak whimpers.

"Don't speak, My Lady. Save your strength." His voice was warm and gentle, even through the modulator.

You closed your eyes, only aware of the shuttle taking off through the tilt of gravity and sound of the engines.

The shop docked. You were being carried. The light changed. There was noise. There was silence. There were voices again. You were still being carried.

"Call the Apothecary. Now!"

Your conciousness flickered. You were being layed on a bed. A soft one. There were several voices around you, gentle hands pulling your clothing free, the beeping of medical equipment.

"Exterminatus, Acastus? A little extreme, at this phase, don't you think?"

"There's a handful of survivors, at best, Captain, and none the Inquisition won't silence. It's best to eliminate as many of those cockroaches as possible, while they're on the planet's surface."

"Very well. Give the order, and give the Astropath a message to send back to the Palace."

"What message, sir?"

"We've secured Her Ladyship, and set a course for Holy Terra."

You felt the sensation of fingers brushing your forehead as you slipped away.

+Rest, my love. You're coming home.+

(*sips tea.* I'm gonna have to make a blog for this shit, aren't I?)

#warhammer 40k #wh40crack. #emperor of mankind #no words. just read and simp.

[prttypctures]

*  victoria pedretti

  .  cis  woman  .  she  /  her  .   /   that’s  frances geller walking  in  to o’connell’s -  you  know  ,  the  thirty one year old  hotel manager for lakeview end motel  known for  having flown to new york for a year to be a surrogate mother  ?  having  lived  here  for  basically her whole life  ,  their  neighbors  know  them  to  be venturesome  &  faithful  ,  but  their  uncouth &  venal tendencies  shine  through  when  there  are  no  buses  in  to  the  city  . @30extra​

BASICS ;

NAME.　frances jane geller

ALSO KNOWN AS. frankie, franny ( family and close friend nickname , not used anymore. ) 

ORIENTATION.　heteromantic / heterosexual

OCCUPATION.　hotel manager at lakeview end motel  

BIRTHPLACE.　lakeview, louisiana

CURRENT LOCATION.　lakeview, louisiana

RELATIONSHIP STATUS.   single 

APPEARANCE ;

FACECLAIM.　victoria pedretti

EYES.　a very dark blue 

HAIR.　naturally a darker brown , bleached lighter with blondish highlights 

DOMINANT HAND.　right

HEIGHT.　five foot three

BUILD.　well toned 

TATTOOS.　  two dolphins on her left hip ,  wild flowers on the inside of her right arm above the elbow , sun and crescent moon on her right shoulder 

SCARS/BIRTH MARKS.　a white and pink jagged scar across the top of her right from falling into the lake when she was little and getting her foot stuck under a sharp rock

AESTHETICS ;

satin pillowcases ,worn out converse next to a pair of heels , four dollar bottles of wine , moody floral wallpaper , unfinished diy home renovations , overflowing ashtrays on the patio , vinyl records , coffee table art books ,pumpkin spice candles year round 

BACKGROUND ;

tw: mentions of suicide, drug addiction  

frances has led what most would describe as just a normal life. her family was strictly middle class, affording her everything she needed but nothing gratuitous. they lived in a nice suburban home with a white picket fence and a dog. her father and mother were high school sweethearts who married after her fathers first deployment in the army, right out of school. neither of them attended college. they were very conservative with their money -- most of her clothes were from goodwill or salvation army, and all of their furniture was usually found at christian thrift stores. she never minded the mismatched or a tad outdated decor of her family home. it was eclectic and comforting. 

she performed very well in school, honors classes, band, all that noise. but when it came to all of her friends talking about college, frances realized she had never made a plan. she didn’t necessarily not want to go to college, but she hadn’t considered what she wanted to do. it seemed like everyone set ideas on who they wanted to be or, at the very least, knew they were ready to leave home. she wasn’t. frances didn’t immediately go to college. she took up work and stayed home with her parents hoping that if she were to just jump into something, maybe her future would reveal itself. after about a years journey she went to school for business, which was more of a play it safe type decision. 

her father committed suicide when she was twenty two years old. for her all of her life she had thought everything was fine; she had never seen him cry. he had always been quiet and short with his words... she looked for all the signs following his death and couldn’t find them. she remembered waking up late at night to her parents having whispered, tense conversations in the kitchen but she’d never made herself privy to what was being talked about. at his funeral a friend of his appeared, causing a huge fiasco. frances had never seen him before. he of course had not been invited. there are very few things she remembers as vividly as the moment her mother turned around to see him in the church, her usually very polished and mannered mother lit up like a match, yelling and screaming for him to get out before collapsing into a sob. it seemed to play like slow motion. frances had learned later, from a friend of her mothers, that the man had been a close friend of her fathers; a drug dealer. her father had suffered from drug addiction all his life, which had caused most of their financial strife and warred with his mental health. 

following his death, and the revelations of who her father had been in secret, frances was heartbroken. her mother and her had to move into a much smaller home and the two struggled against mounting debt. 

when she turned twenty-six, she found herself in what would have to be the youngest mid life crisis possible. she had worked herself so hard, alongside her mother who still had to work everyday, and it felt helpless. then she heard word from a friend about someone they vaguely knew in college becoming a surrogate mother, and the reward for doing so wasn’t cheap at all --  they had made a whopping $35k. following the scent of money, frances set out to do the same. it was no easy process, however, and by the end she felt herself empathically intertwined with a couple in new york who had tried everything so far to have a baby. they were such a model of love and grace. the money wasn’t even important. helping them felt like a true purpose, something she had been searching for for over a decade now. she moved to new york to live with them during the duration of her pregnancy and treated herself to a world far removed from lakeview and the stress of not knowing. it was a very positive and life changing experience. when she came back to lakeview she and her mother moved into a bigger and more comfortable house.

it wasn’t very long after her return from new york that the mysterious man that had appeared at her fathers funeral approached her at the front desk of the motel. her father had owed him money, and he had the perfect plan for getting it back. if she helped him and his friends run drugs through the motel, he would skip all the cliches of cutting fingers and making dramatic threats. eventually, she’d get her own cut too. she had all these dreams of fixing up the motel and turning it into something quaint and memorable, but she needed money to do so. it was always about money. so she agreed. with her straight edge appearance and charismatic nature, no one would ever be the wiser.

#30.intro #whoops this turned into something too long #but i havent written anything in like two years so i got crazy

[flosalatus]

Alright well the people voted for it so here's a new Blog Canon Detail.

Triple Amputee Vash

jazz hands

cw/tw for: Discussions of amuptation and relevent injury

So, he has the arm like canon. Nothing's changed there.

He also at some point lost both legs and had them replaced with similar prosthetics. One starts around the knee the other is lower at the shin area. Probbaly right and left respectivly.

For the knee/almost full leg, a wound when he was still pretty young got badly infected. He barely managed to drag himself home before passing out. Brad and Luida had to amputate the leg themselves before the infection spread to the rest of his bloodstream.

The shin, he got stuck under a collapsing building once and his foot/ankle was pretty much soup it got shattered so badly. There was no healing from that, even for Vash, so it had to be removed.

The prosthetics are similar Lost Tech to his arm, the same green colour and slightly see-through metalic. Also similar to the arm, they mimic human bone structure in design, albeit a little thicker to support his weight better. His ankles espcially are advanced in design to allow for range of motion, even slightly better than a human, giving him basically hyper-mobility in those joints.

His legs are also unfortunately one of the biggest sources and triggers for chronic pain. He's on his feet almost 24/7, and the places he stops to rest at aren't always safe enough to take the prosthetics off, so the points where flesh meets metal there are pretty commonly inflamed and painful.

He also gets the worst of the phantom pains in the left ankle, the shorter one that got crushed, due to the nature of the damage that area recived before amputation.

#ʚ hc #𝑪𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒖𝒑 𝒊𝒏 𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒔 - 𝑰 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒔𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒆 (Muse) #thats all the lore I have for now im sure more will come up

[ao3feed-irondadspiderson]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42325206

A Hawk and a Spider by Marvelous_Writer An Avengers mission goes wrong when Peter and Kate wind up getting stuck under a collapsed building. Whumptober Day 12: Cave In, Day 13: Dislocation, Day 14: Failed Escape, Day 15: Breathing Through the Pain, & Day 16: "No one's coming." Words: 6275, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 11 of Whumptober 2022 Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, Hawkeye (TV 2021), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: Gen Characters: Peter Parker, Spider-Man, Tony Stark, Iron Man, Kate Bishop, Clint Barton, Hawkeye, Steve Rogers, Captain America - Character Relationships: Kate Bishop & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Clint Barton & Peter Parker, Avengers Team & Peter Parker, Clint Barton & Kate Bishop, Avengers Team & Kate Bishop Additional Tags: Whumptober 2022, no.12, Cave in, no.13, dislocation, no.14, Failed escape, no.15, breathing through the pain, Whump, tw: dislocated shoulder, Peter Parker Whump, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Gets a Hug, Peter Parker is a Mess, Hurt Peter Parker, dislocated shoulder, injuries, tw: collapsed buildings, Peter gets trapped under another building, Protective Peter Parker, Peter Parker is Trying His Best, Explosions, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark is Good With Kids, Parent Tony Stark, Protective Tony Stark, Irondad, Protective Kate Bishop, Awesome Kate Bishop, Peter Parker & Kate Bishop Friendship, Kate Bishop Needs a Hug, Kate Bishop Whump, BAMF Kate Bishop, BAMF Peter Parker, Clint Barton & Kate Bishop Friendship, Minor Injuries, Serious Injuries, whumpy, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, IronDad and SpiderSon, spiderson, Post-Episode: s01e06 So This Is Christmas? (Hawkeye), Post-Spider-Man: No Way Home (Movie), Not Spider-Man: No Way Home Compliant

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #iron dad and spider son #spider son #iron dad #peter parker #tony stark

[ninjastormhawkkat]

Part 2/???? of my whacky dream

Tw brief death and injury mention, unreality???, dream

Suddenly I hear a cry for help. It sounded like Robby who everyone just called him the exposition guy. Like anyone else would I ran over to where I heard him calling SOS at. It was surprisingly a long way to walk.

And when I get to him found that he was stuck under some crumbling bricks and a tree????. he was hurt really badly band looked almost crushed. I didn't want to leave him there but I forgot my phone at home. Not that it would have helped much. Still getting the hang of using one

The nearest hospital was 10 blocks away. And the man had already passed out by the time I arrived. Logically Ik I couldn't lift up a tree that was big but I didn't want to risk the man dying.

I struggled for a bit, but then it started feeling lighter like paper. I didn't have time to process it much bc then I was talking to his family in the hospital waiting room

The guy was okay he just needs a few days in the hospital before he could be let go. The doctor said it was a good thing I dragged him out of the crumbling building before it collapsed. I tried to tell them what really happened but they just chalked it up to lack of sleep. It was 3 am by then.

and you know what they are probably right. I decided. I head home ready to scroll through Tumblr for another hour 💀- but then a note was taped on my door in dribbling hand writing, the paper looked a bit shredded.

It read:

I SAW YOU

2/???

This is getting more interesting.

#wordgirl #wordgirl au #melodythebunny #answered ask #wordgirl oc #wordgirl canon characters #exposition guy #tw: brief death and mentioned injury

[kidelune]

TW: Mature themes, death, violence, blood, all that jazz. Read at your own discretion.

(Part 2/?) | Part 1.

[Gijang-gun], Busan.

The way Kijun sees it, having a rapport that's decently established within your respective community is having an eloquently gilded resume on your name reconceptualized. For the upper crust, it is similar to carrying a handheld blade up your sleeve into the lion's den, whereas, contrariwise, concerning the underworld and the law alike, you skirt with it along the beast's gaping maw not as a simple footnote or deadweight named consolation, but as an active half of your plan. Here you bring along with courage the intention to risk a bleeding wrist in favour of carving out the lion's eyes. Because it's either a gaze of white-hot embers and the incessant end of greed, or the ignescent gaze of steel and justice. Slaughter is, after all, a knife of only one vertex, and it is always sharp.

Kijun arrives in Busan with only one objective: rip the lion's jaw off its own hinges, then use his bare hands to plough out its eyes.

Cerulean ocean waves race in swollen drafts to engulf the brittle shores of Haedong Yonggeungsa temple, an entire hour too early than when their orchestra would usually begin ruffling the sanctum's coast. Frothing and siphoning among sturdy rocks and collapsing sand that welcome them in kind, much like a monk hums the word of Buddha, they tell the hour to ears that listen close enough to hear their shanty.

Kijun's own perk up to cushion both the ocean's choir and the deafening sounds of the temple bells as they join the head monk's steadfast chanting in prayer. And though his knees and bum have been stinging against the mediation pillow for what felt like an entire decade condensed within a quarter hour, he chooses rigidity instead of yielding. To ignore the protesting groan in his bones if it means Sangyeon would pass with the peace of his full respect–with the memory of a friend lost at death's cruel mercy.

In the end, he simply lets the ocean's pronounced echoes guide him from Buddha's gentle judgement to its saltine onslaught instead, lids pressed shut under its jurisdiction in proper respect for this brief moment of relinquished defense. Farewell for good, he thinks out loud, and inhales deeply the unforgiving weight of the world. Then, while entertaining a brief fantasy of Sangyeon being here to listen, exhales grief and wrenching pain from his tender, bruised heart with the might of a thousand suns, leaving only the restless current of his unending fury. Leaving only this insatiable violence.

All the way down east of the Haeundae beach coast's rear lay a sizeable aquarium store owned for many decades by a tart little Chinese man and his wife. Sticking out like a blurry sore thumb underneath the rest of an equally ramshackled, lovat-hued building, it appears as an ancient anomaly stuck in the early nineties. Even with a myriad of posters on their rorulent windows and neon light tanks rife with goldfish, it invites no one, not even curious children, in, and seems like the sort of place you'd never leave once a captive of its walls. An obscure find at best it's always been, as far as anyone knew, despite the peculiar notoriety it had gained among the Busan gangs and Wong Kar wai fans alike over the years.

Kijun walks the stretch of the beach's shore with smoking breaths and rheumy eyes, an infinitesimal slowness in his stride as he fights the sand and holds so tightly onto the knife up his sleeve that by the time he's at the doorstep, his knuckles surface for the handle with the pallidity of a ghostly quality. The doorbell sings timidly from above.

All this space for waste and dust, and so poorly lit that it immediately drenches his stern expression in soft, neon tinges of the aquariums instead, bathing him pink and orange and green from the brows to the ankles. Unlike the last time he'd been here, it seems there is no air conditioning system that functions in any sense of the word to speak of anymore, so he hears only the dull, steady humming of the tanks he passes, and the ricochet of a fan somewhere in the dark room behind the counter. Eager for blood, Kijun slams his fist whole on the bell.

"I'm here." Announced in mandarin, and it lingers the stuffy air for a moment of disquiet too long. Then comes the old limping man, Yee, on his bent legs and hunched back, a complaint already forming at the back of his dentures. The tattoos all over his arms reminds Kijun that he'd once been part of a triad gang in China himself, in his sweet prime. Now he spends his time in retirement selling fish and hosting bloodbaths for gangsters. If only he weren't so damn ambivalent in business–Kijun might've actually liked the bastard a great deal.

Yee carries in a duffel bag, one which Kijun takes over the counter for immediate inspection. There should be some cash in there, and an unloaded gun. "Listen, can you make this quick, and clean as possible?" Yee snarls, eyeing him while waiting, "We are not supposed to be opened today and I don't want to deal with the cleanup and waiting for you people to fix my store again. I'm not getting any younger, you know!"

"Ah, you're definitely not, yé," Kijun says brusquely over the sound of the zipper fastening shut. His eyes steel on Yee's inquisitive gaze as he finishes, "But there will be blood either way. Mine, too, I suspect, since you're so... Unreliable."

Old man Yee fumes, "You calling me a traitor, brat?"

"You know 'em, too, don't you? Dongwook's bitches. Otherwise this place would be crawling with pigs by now."

"I will have your tongue for that!"

"Not if I have it first!"

Growing up as an outlaw with blood often caked under your fingernails is about learning that some voices are made especially for nightmares. Though sometimes not to terrify the dreamer per se, but to scream for them, and a sliver of mercy. This was one of those voices Kijun couldn't stop dreaming of snuffing out for years after that fateful night in prison, and now, finally, another chance has resurfaced.

"Oh, truly, long time no see, lil' pooch. Seems you've barely grown since the last time we saw each other, huh."

Kijun catches the face of who such a heavy Busan dialect belongs to before opalescence can think of gracing strikingly ugly scars and make them leastwise palatable to the onlooker's gaze. The shit-eating grin he sports pleats damaged flesh and permeates the room in such a way that could only encourage a fist to the face. But for now Kijun just rolls his neck to ease any tautness he might've picked up on instinct just now, broad shoulders squaring into the direction of five men as he carefully follows their gait, sizing them up.

Five in total, that is, with two more on the other side of the front doors they block with a long machete jammed into the innermost handles. He assumes all of them are carrying more than one blade. No sweat, though, if he gets two down fast enough.

"Yeah, and to think you couldn't get any fuckin' uglier." Kijun gloats, stalling for a bit, "Gave me a scare there for a sec, then I remembered it was me who'd made you so damn hideous to begin with."

"You think that's gonna work on me, ya' fuckin' cunt? I don't give a fuck," The other man sneers from about three tank's distance away, his golden teeth glinting in the neon lights, "Though you owe me an eye, just bring me the money for now so I can get outta 'ere."

The bastard spits slantwise on Yee's floor, "Reeks like shit, plus this ain't no quid pro quo. This' business."

"If you insist." Responds Kijun, his face and knuckles again growing white-hot with rage.

He drops the duffel bag and kicks it over to open hands, and as simple as that becoming the sole witness of their folly. Deadpanned observation quickly thaws his expression into sustaining something close to a toothy grin as a delicious surge of pleasure mounts him at sight of how realization colours all their faces scarlet with ire. The bag wasn't filled with the cash prize they'd been lead to expect, but kilos of fish pellets, and an empty glock.

"What the fuck is this? You think this' a game we're playin', kid? You must wanna fuckin' die for good now, huh." This time when scar bastard spits, it somehow feels more like a declaration of war than anything else, "You stupid motherfucker. Get him!"

Luckily, Kijun wasn't unacquainted with strife.

The first two men prove easy enough to shake off, considerably so, for someone who hadn't done this in a while. His knife is an extension of himself, petite yet long enough to pry through more than flesh and spill more than blood. And he violently twists it where it lands with depth, making them both known by way of pure, heartstopping pain.

His third and fourth opponents are smarter, though; they attempt at separating them from one another, and by some sick luck, it does work in their favour for a few infinities spent hurtling Kijun back and forth between the two them. So he resorts to using what he can find in his vicinity instead, for anything can win a fight if wielded with enough intention and brute force; stray drain pipes used to choke out one of the guys in midst of using him as a human shield, nearby buckets of fish pellets swung in the direction of the fourth guy's face, who ends up with his skull bashed open against the same tank it'd been submerged in just seconds of disorientation before.

Kijun emerges momentarily after the last body goes down, as a gasping wreckage of bleeding cuts and bruises so purple they're bordering blackness. The floor beneath his feet is caked by fresh blood and fish food, and tilts and swims, fittingly, with a blur fierce enough to almost turn his stomach inside out like an inept sailor at sea. But he keeps sickness at bay by swallowing thickly, in favour of finally retrieving his knife. Blood paints the handle bright red, and he can only spare one hand as the other is occupied with staunching the wounds on his lower left abdomen, where he'd inevitably been stabbed by the last two guys.

Mister scar begins a series of slow claps from where stands, albeit humourless, "Well, colour me impressed. Your hubris wasn't for nothin' after all–" he tilts his head to emphasize ridicule, "Though you don't look so hot right now, eh?"

With his last bit of strength, Kijun holds his stance as steady as he can muster, a battlecry scratching his throat raw as the other man pulls out that glock from before and aims it at him. "I knew those guys were a bunch'a idiots," He hears not too far ahead, that terribly insufferable voice, and the gun being cocked, "Unfortunately this' it for ya'. Go to hell."

Kijun pounces before the gun could dry fire on him thrice, with this final push plunging his blade into the throat he'd longed to tear open with a conviction so raw he almost feels as though he'd caught flight. He stares hard in the face of that scar he'd made seven years ago, and hisses blood from between gritted teeth as he twists his blade with a sickening crunch, "I should've fuckin' killed you when I had the chance, bitch."

The body beneath him finishes thrashing through its last few breaths, that horrible voice now reduced to a nightmarish croak around regurgitated blood, "You fuckin'... asshole... know... no–nothing..."

Afterwards, everything falls behind a silken curtain of pitch blackness.

Something like three days pass him swimming in and out of consciousness, though he retains none of the interactions experienced during that bleary column of time of being under. Three days without much but a few sips of water and meticulous treatment from kind, gentle hands. Three days of inescapable nightmares and loud, howling patches of perpetual agony all over his body. Three days of nothing at all, but endurance.

Kijun wakes up to the ocean's acrid scent in his nose and Buddha seated on the edge of his futon. Takes a while for him to sweep the jagged fog from under dry eyelids and jog a scrambled array of thoughts back in order for him to finally realize that Buddha was no more than his patron in white. A few more heartbeats later, which he's surprised he even still has, lead him to the uncovery that he's still in Busan, back somewhere on Haedong temple grounds. A lone monk sweeps the cold earth outside in the courtyard.

"Welcome back." The boss offers a lopsided smile that never reaches his eyes. But Kijun can tell, he's relieved.

His breath is stolen entirely from him even while being careful as he sits up for the first time in three-some days, clenching his jaw tight and hissing loudly through his abdomen flaring up again. Politely accepting the glass of water offered by the elder afterwards, he downs the crisp, fresh water in a mere few seconds. It helps considerably with the scratching in his throat.

"What did I miss?" asks Kijun dejectedly—exhaustedly. "We lose anyone else?"

"No." The elder man replies, retrieving the glass to pour another. "Not yet. It's taken care of, for now."

Kijun holds his tongue and expression momentarily, to marvel at his unfortunate reality, at the ridiculousness of it all. Then, he scoffs at his next exhale, incredulous, "It's been seven fucking years," Laughter escapes him next, like a dry cough, "But I'm beginning to think I might've accidentally started something like a cold gang war for us, back then..."

The boss nods attentively, with intention, and says after a prolonged pause of his own, "Then it's your duty to fix it, before it's too late." Again, before you interfere with my business.

"Remember what you'd been taught?" He raises a tattooed finger to his temple, the ocean outside surging and stirring intranquilly in response, "You will have to go straight for the head this time. Find and kill Dongwook where he stands in prison, or pass the reigns to me and be in my debt for the rest of your life. Only then will it be over."

This time when Kijun lays back, he goes with an ultimatum in his hands and wonders if Buddha is listening, if his prayers would be answered if they involved the suffering of others for his own peace. Something tells him they won't. It's never over.

"I suppose I have no choice either way."

#kk.written #totally not a digestible length!

[seijorhi]

Choke.

another soulmate au nobody asked for :)

Akaashi Keiji x female reader x Bokuto Koutarou

TW dub-con, implied future non-con

It wasn’t a good day to begin with.

You’re late, rushing through the busy campus hallways to make it to an exam that quite frankly you’re at least 70% sure you’re going to fail, mostly because instead of cramming last night you’d been… otherwise occupied with your boyfriend.

And you really, really just want this whole thing to just be over with already.

With your nose stuck in your textbook, frantically pouring over your notes right up until the very last second, it’s hardly a surprise that you don’t see the two of them rushing down the hallway in the opposite direction until you’re quite literally colliding with the taller of the pair – the broad shouldered one.

Your notes go flying, the last of your coffee too and for one split second, you’re pretty positive that you’re gonna end up flat on your ass with a little more than some bruised pride. But just as you’re about to hit the ground, not one but two hands reach for you, catch you, and the very second they do, you feel it:

A flash of guilt and momentary alarm, embarrassment, you think, and chagrin, each emotion hitting you like a sledgehammer, overwhelming you, one after the other in a dizzying blur that’s distinctly other, and then–

Shock.

Dawning surprise. 

A rush of something warm, adoring, a happiness so bright and blinding that it makes you physically jerk backwards, almost slamming your head against the wall in the process. And two pairs of eyes – one a deep, luminous gold, the other a cool, gunmetal blue – stare at you in wide eyed wonder a split millisecond before you wrench yourself free, gasping. 

The moment their grip falters, the torrent stops. You can breathe.

Blessed silence, save for the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. Everything fades out around you – the students and lecturers alike bustling through the busy hallway, the humming drone of chatter that’s nearly deafening. Nothing exists but the three of you; caught in your little bubble.

And it’s dread, you think, that seeps through your blood as you stare at them. 

They’re both handsome, albeit in their own ways. The taller of the two – the one who’d almost barrelled you over – looks like he could probably bench press you without breaking a sweat. His shirt isn’t exactly clinging to him, but you can see the hints of well defined muscles beneath, and the size of his biceps alone are enough to make your heart skip a beat and your mouth dry up a little. With rippling muscles, spiky black and silver hair, a strong jawline and those round, golden eyes, he looks like a modern day adonis. 

His friend might’ve been shorter, his build leaner, but with his softer features, pretty eyes and dark hair, you think he’s perhaps the prettiest man you’ve ever laid eyes on. From the fineness of his nose to the gentle curve of his lips and his long, dark sweeping eyelashes, he reminds you of those white marble statues you’ve seen before in museums and art galleries– a beauty so divine, so perfect – so devastating – that it steals your breath a little.

And they’re both watching you, frozen entirely. Smiling in breathless delight, as if they can’t quite believe it either.

Soulmates. 

You’ve spent your whole life wondering what it would be like, experiencing somebody else’s emotions. Studies have been done and countless books and articles written about the bond between soulmates; the intimacy of sharing emotions through touch, but nobody really knows why or how it happens.  

And for some, it’s a subtle thing. A suggestion, a whisper against their own consciousness, easily brushed aside. Others feel it stronger. 

For you, it was like drowning. Choking under the sudden, intense barrage of feelings that weren’t yours. Maybe it’s because there’s two of them – and that much at least you’re sure of. You don’t have the words to explain it, but they’d felt separate somehow, distinctive from one another – kind of like fingerprints, you suppose.

There’s no denying the bond, no denying that they’re both your soulmates, and all you can think of is that you don’t want it. Not here, not now. Not them.

The dark haired one seems to realise quicker than his friend that you’re not reacting how you’re supposed to, you’re just standing there, rigid and tense, gaping at them. And the slight smile that graced his perfect lips starts to waver, his brows drawing together when finally his friend cottons on.

He reaches for you, the beginnings of a pout taking shape on his face, and you move without even thinking, jerking out of reach with a sharp breath. His hand hangs outstretched for a beat too long, a noise like a kicked puppy leaving his lips as he realises that you’re flinching away from him; away from your soulmate. He looks heartbroken, and he’s yet to utter a single word. 

You don’t give him a chance. You’re not some cold, unfeeling beast; there’s a twinge in your heart, a heaviness that’s far too close to guilt settling in your stomach, but you just can’t. And with shaking hands you bend over and hastily grab up your things, forcing yourself not to meet their confused, hurt stares when you right yourself. 

“I– I’m sorry,” you murmur, and before either one of them can try to stop you, you disappear into the crowd, racing for your exam. 

—

The lights are on when you make it back home, the familiar, comforting scent of home cooked food filling your apartment.

“Hey, babe,” your boyfriend calls out as you wearily drop your purse by the door and kick out of your shoes. His back’s to you, attention fixed on the simmering saucepan on the stovetop, but he glances over his shoulder as he continues, “How’d your exam go?”

And you can��t help it, you burst into tears.

Painful, heaving sobs that might’ve had you collapsing onto the floor if he hadn’t swept across the room to snatch you up into his arms. “That bad, huh?” Kuguri jokes, but the words sound hollow.

“I found them,” you mutter into his chest, and the way he stiffens, his grip tightening for just a moment has your heart breaking all over again. 

Kuguri doesn’t say much as he leads you to the couch, he just lets you talk. It’s almost worse, you think, the way he doesn’t react. 

Because you both knew this was coming at some point. For months you’ve tried to convince yourself that you could feel him when you were together.

You felt his love when he held you, right?

Happy when he was happy?

But you’d known, both of you, that as much as you wished it otherwise, he wasn’t your soulmate, and you weren’t his. And whether it was today or six months down the line, this was always going to happen.

“You don’t have to…” you trail off, searching his eyes desperately for anything other than the gentle resignation lingering there. “I love you.”

He smiles at that, cups your cheek in his hand and brushes away the stray tear that spills. “I know you do, but–” it’s not enough. “They’re your soulmates. Don’t you think they deserve a chance to make you happy?”

He’s gone when you wake the next morning.

—

In a university of thousands, a sprawling city campus, you honestly believe that in spite of everything, you probably won’t see them again. They don’t know your name, or what you study, you don’t live in the dorms like some of the other students; the chances of just randomly bumping into them again are slim, soulmates or no.

Of course, there are facebook groups and pages set up to reconnect lost soulmates, but you’d have to actually want to find them to try something like that.

(Part of you wonders whether they’ve tried)

The universe has a sense of humour, it seems, because when your paths cross next, it’s not at uni, it’s at the little corner store a few blocks down from your apartment. 

At 2am in the morning. 

And you’re staring intently at the freezer, mentally weighing up exactly what kind of ice cream you need to sate your craving when you hear the sharp intake of breath behind you.

“Holy crap, you’re here.”

It’s stupid, you think, the way your stomach flutters when you turn to find him staring in wide eyed wonder; the taller one, with the spiky hair and those impossibly wide, honey eyes.

He’s smiling, his entire face lit up like a christmas tree at the sight of you. As if you hadn’t run off without so much as an acknowledgement the last time you’d met. As if seeing you here, looking like shit – makeup free and dressed in your old favourite sweats – is the absolute best thing that could have happened.

And when your cheeks grow hot, you’re not entirely sure if it’s embarrassment over the way you look, the fact that he’s caught you buying ice cream that you fully intend to let melt just a little bit before polishing off at two in the morning, or if it’s shame over how badly you’d reacted the last time you’d seen him.

But if he notices your inner turmoil, he doesn’t show it, grinning widely as he calls back over his shoulder, “Akaashi!”

You still haven’t uttered a peep, haven’t moved. Just like last time you’re caught feeling like a kid with their hand stuck in the cookie jar as your other soulmate rounds the corner, his attention fixed on the ingredients list of the rice cracker snacks in his hands, a basket full of groceries tucked into the crook of his elbow.

“Bokuto, I was just around the corner, there’s no need to shout.”

Pretty steel blue eyes flicker up for a split second, then quickly do a double take as he realises that it’s you – his errant soulmate, standing struck dumb, here of all places. “Oh.”

Oh. 

Akaashi eyes you for a moment, and you watch as his throat bobs unsteadily, but just as with Bokuto, he can’t seem to help the smile that creeps across his face. It’s softer than his friend’s, not so blinding but warm nonetheless. Genuine. There’s no animosity there, and it should put you at ease – they don’t seem to blame you, at least. 

It should, but it doesn’t. 

Even now, there’s a little voice in your head urging you to forget your late night cravings, turn tail and run. Nevermind that they’d likely just follow you, much less that you’d look like an absolute fucking idiot, fleeing from your soulmates who so far have done nothing wrong.

It’s not supposed to be this awkward, right? It’s not supposed to be difficult, but even when they’re smiling at you, there’s a tension that digs its claws into you and refuses to relent. Your heart thumps unevenly, like a scared little bunny caught in a trap and the wolves are circling.

If it’s normal, then your parents and every other soulmated pair you’ve ever met certainly kept it to themselves. Maybe it’s the guilt, you think. Maybe you’re just being overdramatic. They’re your soulmates, right? They probably just want to talk, to get to know you, and right now you’re the one being standoffish and rude. 

It occurs to you then that you still haven’t spoken, and they’re both staring at you somewhat expectantly. You really are fucking this up, aren’t you?

“H-hi,” you manage to muster, forcing yourself to smile back. Tiny and timidly, perhaps, but it’s a smile. 

It seems to work, because Bokuto positively beams at you and Akaashi sets down his basket to slide in closer, a pleased little hum escaping his throat. 

Aside from the faint sound of the radio playing in the background and the cashier casually flicking through a magazine up at the register, the store is quiet. It’s just the three of you, except this time there really is no running off and disappearing into the crowd. Which is fine, you need to face them sooner or later, right?

Give them a chance?

Otherwise everything else, all that heartbreak and the lonely nights since will have been all for nothing. So you swallow tightly, take a soft, steadying breath, and press on.

“I, um… I’m sorry about last time. You know with… everything,” you finish lamely, mentally cringing at the sheer awkwardness of it. “I had an exam.”

But again, your soulmates don’t seem to take it personally, the darker haired one (Akaashi, your brain helpfully supplies) nodding slightly. 

“It’s okay. You’re here now.” He has a nice voice, calming and smooth, and though the words seem to carry a different weight you find yourself nodding along with him. You can do this, you can make an effort.

This is fine.

You swallow again, tongue darting out to wet your lips, “I’m Y/N,” you introduce, clutching just a little bit tighter at the handles of your own shopping basket.

You don’t extend a hand, nor try to go in for a hug, but standing there rigidly feels wrong too. They’re strangers, yes, but they’re also not, and you don’t quite know how to act around somebody like that, somebody you’re supposedly fated for but know nothing about. All you know is that the last time they touched you, it was too much. It hurt. And even as you catch sight of the slightly disheartened expression on Bokuto’s face, you’re hesitant to put yourself through it again.

“It’s pretty,” Akaashi compliments, and there’s a faint dusting of pink on his cheeks as he says it. “Suits you.”

Your own probably aren’t much better, with the blood that rushes to your face. You drop your gaze a little, nibbling on your bottom lip, “O-oh, uh… thank you.”

When you glance back up to Bokuto, you find him staring at you again, not with the same hurt expression as before, but something akin to wonder. He seems speechless, in awe of your flustered state, and you wonder how he can bounce that quickly from emotion to emotion without giving himself whiplash. But it seems like your attention is just the thing he needs to pull himself out of it, because he closes his gaping mouth and grins again.

“Y/N,” he repeats, like he’s testing it out, rolling your name over his tongue. “You probably heard, but I’m Bokuto– you can call me Koutarou, though.” 

There’s a beat of silence, and he’s quick to add, “And that’s Akaashi.”

“Keiji,” Akaashi corrects, shooting you another gentle smile. 

First names. It makes sense, you suppose, but the familiarity of it all still doesn’t sit quite right with you. But now that introductions are out of the way, you don't have a clue what you’re supposed to say now - ‘so, soulmates; crazy, huh?’ doesn’t exactly feel appropriate, given the circumstances.

You’re distinctly aware that it’s the middle of the night and you’re at a convenience store and while this might not be the worst time to run into your soulmates again, it’s not far off. 

Maybe that’s not a bad thing, though, because at least it kind of gives you an out. Shifting your weight from one foot to another, you clear your throat, “I hope you guys don’t think I’m being rude or anything, but it is kinda late…” you trail off, hoping they’ll pick up what you’re putting down.

And while Bokuto’s brow furrows, Akaashi at least has the decency to look a little abashed. “Yeah, no, of course. We’re just so… we’re glad we ran into you again.”

 Your cheeks heat again, and to save yourself from having to meet their gazes head on, you quickly spin around, open the freezer door and grab the first pint ice cream that you see. “I just came for this,” you laugh, fighting back a wince at how hollow and fake it all sounds. 

“Here,” Bokuto says, and before you can react he’s snatching it from your grip (thankfully keeping his hand from brushing against yours) and places it atop the basket in Akaashi’s arms. “Our treat.”

He beams at you, and you’re honestly too stunned to reply. You don’t really want him paying for it, but if it gets you out of this awkward encounter any quicker, you’ll swallow down your protests and let it go. 

And so you trail meekly after the two of them as they head to the cashier, and when Akaashi passes you the bag you’re so careful to avoid his touch, a fact he notes with the slightest of frowns, but he doesn’t comment on it. 

“It’s late,” he says instead as the three of you exit into the brisk night air. And then those gunmetal eyes are on you, studying you for a moment. You realise what he’s about to say the moment he opens his mouth again, “Can we walk you home? Or to the bus stop at least?”

Your stomach lurches at the thought of it, of two veritable strangers knowing where you live, but–

He’s not wrong, exactly. It is late, and in hindsight it was probably stupid for you to have come out at this time of the night alone in the first place, whether it was a safe neighbourhood or not. And they’re not strangers, they’re your soulmates.

You have to try. 

So you nod. ‘It’s just down the road,” you murmur, but as the two of them fall into step either side of you, sharing a distinctly satisfied look between themselves, you think that it wouldn’t have mattered how far it was. They would have walked with you anywhere.

Yet their expressions of mild surprise (disappointment, maybe?) when you stop them less than five minutes later in front of your apartment block almost makes you laugh. “This is me.”

Bokuto eyes the building for just a moment before his attention returns to you. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

Lie, that little voice inside your head urges, but you force yourself to ignore it. You have to try. “Uh, not much, I guess…”

Even as you say the words, your hands tighten on your bag, twisting nervously – a sign they either don’t read or wilfully ignore as Bokuto brightens up once again.

“Awesome! Wanna swing by ours to chill for a little bit?”

Like a date, you think as your gaze flickers between the two. Yet Akaashi’s watching you just as intently, those dark eyes far more inscrutable than Bokuto’s, which doesn’t help ease the uncomfortable feeling sitting in the pit of your stomach. There’s really no reason for you to say no, no polite way for you to turn them down. They’re your soulmates, you’re supposed to want this. “Um…”

“Or we can come here, if you want? Or head into the city and do something there, maybe go see a movie or something? Whatever you’d prefer.”

“No!” the words slip from your tongue before you can stop them, the idea of the two of them in your apartment, your home just feels like… too much. “No,” you repeat again, quieter, forcing your features to soften into a hesitant smile. “Your place is good.”

That way you can leave if it all gets to be too much. It’s just a casual hang out. It’ll be fine. 

Both of them seem to relax at your agreement, and you quickly take out your phone to grab Akaashi’s number – sending him a message so he has your number too.

“Perfect,” he says, his voice a purr that sends a ripple of something running down your spine. “I’ll text you the address in the morning.”

You smile at both of them, thanking them again for the ice cream and for walking back with you, even if it was only a few hundred metres. And you think you’re in the clear as you start walking up the steps, trying to balance your keys, your phone and your bags when the sound of your name being called makes you turn around.

Bokuto’s there, a step behind you, and before you can even so much as blink he’s grabbing at your hand, tugging you forward and kissing you.

Just like last time, it’s instantaneous and overwhelming. You feel it all – his giddy excitement, the stirrings of something deeper, less innocent as he cradles your body to his.

And the love. 

Oh god. It’s not mere affection, not some fleeting, superficial thing. It pours over you in unrelenting waves, crushing you under the force of it – you can’t even feel his tongue moving against yours, or the way he sucks on your bottom lip, groaning quietly.

You can’t breathe, can’t think. It’s too much, too much, too strong, too sudden, you can’t BREATHE.

Your trembling hands finds his shoulders, and as your head spins, nausea churning in your gut you don’t waste a second, shoving him away from you with enough force that he actually stumbles back a little.

Though you’ll admit it’s probably more from shock than any strength you actually possess. 

And you don’t dare look to Akaashi as tears fill your eyes, a heaving gasp leaving your lips. Bokuto’s eyes are wide, his mouth agape; he looks confused more than horrified as you stumble back, almost tripping over the last step.

“D-don’t touch me,” you gasp, “please.”

There’s pain in his eyes as your tears well up and spill over and you choke back another sob, but you don’t give him a chance to say anything else. Limbs trembling, you force yourself upright, clutching at the keys in your fist as you skitter towards the door.

You hear one of them, Akaashi you think, calling out your name, but you don’t pause, don’t look back – throwing open the lobby door and slamming it shut behind you. 

And your heart pounds as you climb the steps two at a time, and it’s only once you're in the safety of your own apartment, with the door shut and firmly locked that you allow yourself to breathe. You realise distantly that at some point – probably on the steps outside – you dropped the ice cream they’d bought for you, but you can’t find it within yourself to care. The first time you realise was an accident, they had no way of knowing you were their soulmate, much less how you’d react when they’d touched you. But that–

That wasn’t right.

It wasn’t normal.

Those feelings, that love, you’ve never experienced anything like it, and yet it’s left you feeling filthy; tainted. Scared. It was too much; boundless and abundant, the kind of love that devours and chokes, selfishly strangling everything in its environment to thrive. Overpowering and solely directed at you. How was it supposed to do anything but terrify you. And how can he possibly believe that he loves you like that already?

Soulmates or not, you don’t know him!

This– this whole thing is wrong.

You can’t stop yourself from checking the locks on your apartment another three times before you slip under the covers of your bed, trying to will sleep to find you.

On the nightstand beside you, your phone vibrates, but you refuse to check it, knowing full well that it’s them.

It doesn’t stop.

And with every new notification your blood pressure climbs, and there’s a part of you that’s telling you you have no reason to be reacting like this – whatever happened on those steps, it’s not like they’re going to hurt you.

It was an accident, a misunderstanding.

But they’re still blowing your phone up with notifications and they know where you live and no matter what you tell yourself, you can’t seem to quell the disquiet that eats away at you.

And it’s a cruel thing to do, you know it is, but you don’t know what else to do as you finally give in, swiping your phone up and searching for his contact. The phone rings once, twice, three times and there’s a sinking feeling in your chest when you realise he’s not going to pick up–

“Hello?” Kuguri’s voice is groggy, heavy with sleep and you can almost picture him, sitting up in bed, wiping the sleep from his eyes, running a hand through his messy bed hair. “Fuck, do you know what time it is, Y/N? Why’re you calling me so late?”

There’s a pause, pregnant and heavy, and the only sound that leaves you is the soft hitch in your breath.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, quieter this time, an edge of worry in his tone.

You haven’t spoken to him in weeks, since he’d left without a word and broke your heart, but he’s the only one you want to talk to right now.  

“I-I’m sorry for calling,” you begin, sniffling back your tears. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

—

When you drag yourself out of bed only a few short hours later, your body’s still crying out for a little more sleep, but you can’t afford to indulge.

Like you’d planned, you send the message first thing, ignoring the flood of unread texts above – both from Akaashi and an unknown number you can only assume is Bokuto’s.

I’m sorry about last night, just need some space. 

You have nothing to be sorry for – even if it wasn’t for the frankly unsettling emotions you’d felt, Bokuto’d still kissed you without your permission. But Kuguri said it was better that way – they were less likely to freak out and panic or whatever. You hadn’t questioned it too much, it didn’t really matter what you said so long as they knew you didn’t want them anywhere near you… at least until you figured this whole thing out. And you trusted Kuguri on this.

God knows why he’d even answered your call in the first place, but you’re impossibly glad that he did. Gladder still that he hadn’t hung up on you the moment he’d realised why you were calling.

You scoff down a quick breakfast, before hopping into the shower. The scalding water’s a welcome relief, waking you up more than your coffee had and allowing you the space to think.

Kuguri’s got errands to run this morning, but he’d said you were welcome to stop by his place anytime. He’d insisted on it actually, telling you in no uncertain terms to pack an overnight bag.

‘Look, I’m probably being an overprotective asshole, alright, but I don’t want you there by yourself, so either you come here or I’m coming over there.’

And the thought that you’d need somebody there to protect you, that either one of your soulmates would do anything–

But it’s not so much about them, you think, but you. You’d been a mess when you’d called him, and despite how everything had gone down, Kuguri still cared about you – you can’t just turn those feelings off overnight – is it any wonder that you’d worried him?

Distantly, you register your phone going off a few more times as you busy yourself in washing your hair. You assume it’s Kuguri checking up on you, making sure that you’re alright – you pay it no mind, humming quietly as you reach for your conditioner.

And by the time you slip from your bathroom, wrapped in a big, fluffy towel it’s probably closer to mid-morning than you’d like. You don’t bother blow drying your hair or putting on makeup, instead heading to your room to get dressed and grab some clothes to take to Kuguri’s.

Except there’s a knocking at the door that stops you in your tracks.

You hadn’t heard the buzzer for the building’s main door go off, which meant that it was probably just your landlord stopping by, or one of your neighbours. You know the little girl who lives in the apartment next to yours likes to bake with her dad and sometimes drops off freshly made cookies and treats, so you hastily throw on enough clothes to pass as decent. 

“Coming,” you sing out, racing across the room to reach the door. 

Except when you throw it open, it’s not one of your neighbours standing out in your hallway, nor is it your elderly landlord. 

Akaashi and Bokuto crowd the empty space; Bokuto grinning widely, Akaashi’s dark eyes fixed on yours. 

“You weren’t answering your phone,” he murmurs, a faint frown tugging at his features as studies your face. “We were worried about you.”

And there’s so many things wrong with the fact that they’re here; least of all being how the hell they got into the building to begin with, but you can’t afford to think of any of that. You simply need to get them out of here without causing a fuss. Now.

They’re still your soulmates, you remind yourself as your heart rate picks up. They won’t do anything to hurt you. 

“I-I told you I needed space, please go,” you mutter, clutching so tightly at the edge of the door that your knuckles turn white. “Please,” you beg again when neither of them make a move to leave.

“I told you, ‘Kaashi,” Bokuto says, his smile slipping in favour of a wounded pout, “She’s afraid of us. Her soulmates.”

And you don’t know what compels you to shake your head instead of just slamming the door in their faces, “N-no, I just–”

“She’s just skittish,” Akaashi interrupts, cutting you off mid-sentence. “Overwhelmed – this is all new to her. It’s okay, princess,” he says, addressing you this time with a teasing little smirk, “We’ll be gentle, okay? We’re going to take good care of you.”

It’s the final blow to your tentative politeness. As panic sinks its teeth into you, you skitter backwards, scrambling to shut the front door before they can get in–

Bokuto’s faster. They both are.

Stronger, too. 

#yandere haikyuu #yandere bokuto x reader #yandere akaashi x reader #yandere bokuto kotaro x reader #yandere akaashi keiji x reader #yandere bokuto koutarou #yandere akaashi keiji #tw dub con #tw implied noncon #soulmate au

[fairyoftbz]

it's never too late... | b. jacob

🏀 pairing: crush! basketball player! jacob x fem!reader 🏀 genre: high school!au, fluff, (sort of) strangers/acquaintances-to-lovers 🏀 word count: 5.2k 🏀 tw: very cliché 😳 and it goes kinda fast lmaoo 🏀 a/n: lisa I'm sorry I took this long to do your request, but I hope you'll like it nonetheless!! ALSO: to my fellow Americans, here football = soccer!! 🏀 requested: yes! thank you lisa!! @skrtbabe

╰☆☆☆☆╮

You had waited for this time since the beginning of your academic journey there. Graduating from high school was two months away, and it felt just as exciting as weird.

It felt like you had started your first year last week, but the amount of work and time spent in those dull buildings makes you feel like you’ve been there for at least five years.

It was exhausting to attend classes and see the same people every single day of the year, with repetitive subjects, annoying or cool teachers depending on your luck and everything that followed. The homework, the assignments, the small -or not so small- fights between classes or groups of people, you were praying that university wouldn’t sound like that.

However, at the same time, you were almost starting to feel nostalgic for this time. The last years where you could remain a bit silly before entering the adult world, being in your last teen years with people that you appreciated and met there. You chose to do this before letting them go and live your own lives, memories that will disappear if you don’t cherish them enough.

So, with Soyeon, your best friend, you decided to enjoy the time that you had left to do things together while still studying and revising for the exams, which was sometimes not easy to do. Yes, you shared classes, but personal and private activities sometimes came in the way and prevented you from hanging out.

“It’s life after all,” she said one night over the phone as you shared your opinion on this topic, “it’s good that we can be together almost 24/7, but sometimes, things don’t allow us to be together. It might be for the best, we never know,” she said, trying to be positive no matter the situation she was in, but you knew her well. As much as she wants to appear strong, you had found her many times crying on her own. But it was her personality, and no matter how hard you tried to change her, what's bred in the bone comes out in the flesh.

Soyeon wasn’t your only friend, you were getting along well with most of your girl classmates, as well as the boys that weren’t suffocating under the number of pick-me-girls that were populating your school and your class.

Sadly for you, you’ve been eyeing the most popular (and prettiest) boy in your whole school since you crossed gaze with him at the very beginning of your first year there. Jacob, your crush, was also the star basketball player of your school, and constantly surrounded and attracting cheerleaders or rich, random, good-looking girls, which had a knack for getting on your nerves. He was always spending time together with his pals and teammates, but other people as well. Everyone wanted to be his friend because you know, he had a promising career ahead of him, so it was always nice to be friends with a potential future celebrity.

As defeated as you were, there was still a small voice in your head telling you to do something before he left to go back to his home country, South Korea, where he had a career already planned and traced out.

You were confused as it was almost impossible for you to get a chance with him since you were not one of those girls and you simply couldn’t compete against them, but Soyeon and her boyfriend Sunwoo were always there to praise you and reassure you about your potential chances of dating him. Never convinced by your friends’ words, you had tried many times to get him out of your head and focus on someone else, but it never worked. Everything came back to him. He was unique and oh so nice, everything reminded you of him, and it was sickening at this point.

“He won't get out of my head, it’s getting on my nerves,” you shared your thoughts to your best friend as you braced your head in your hands, slapping your cheeks as if it were going to change anything and help you throw Jacob out of your brain.

“Why do I keep this stupid boy in my head when I know I don’t stand a single chance against those girls,” you slapped your cheeks harder and whined as Soyeon’s hand landed on your wrist.

“Y/N, stop your nonsense. You are perfect, you don’t need to change anything for him!”

“It’s easier said than done, you pulled the football star player!” you exclaimed, and she rolled her eyes, shifting closer to whisper.

“He pulled me because he knew that I am pretty, and that wouldn’t change a single thing for him. If he’s not happy with who I am, he can leave,” she shrugs, signalling you to do the same if you dated Jacob.

Sunwoo was also among the popular boys, but your friend remained the same, not even trying to fit in with the popular girls. She claimed that Sunwoo fell in love with her for her true self, so she didn’t see the point of changing to please other people. And you wished you had her confidence and her strength, admiring her for not changing anything about herself to please others.

Back to the present.

You felt stuck, desperately in love with an unapproachable boy who was too popular and way out of your league to be lucky to have his eyes sparing you any sort of attention. Even if he was a sweet young man, he was always surrounded by popular people, who were trying to hook up or use him for his school fame and sharp features.

One day, while studying with your best friend at the library, Sunwoo and one of his friends, Hyunjae, the football captain, burst into the library and come not so quietly to your table.

“For the love of God, can you both be quiet for once?” Soyeon whispered-yelled but her voice got toned down by Sunwoo vividly pressing his lips on hers, an arm wrapping around her shoulders. Hyunjae laughed but quickly gagged as they didn’t stop the kiss as quickly as the captain wished.

“Gosh, please, get a room,” he mumbled before hugging you, your knee resting against his as his arms pressed you against his chest.

Your friendship with Hyunjae felt more like siblings, he was genuinely nice and caring with you, making sure that you were okay and that you had enough of everything before allowing you to go home. Despite all the teasing and a few rumours going around school, you were not dating and didn’t have any romantic feelings for each other. He simply checked that you had an older brother figure since you were the first-born child, and it felt relieving.

The thing you did not know was that Jacob and a few of his basketball teammates, Juyeon, Eric and Younghoon, were a few tables away from yours, your back facing them, the future star looking at you and Hyunjae from the corner of his eyes. He nodded at his friend at your table, who gave him a wink as an answer, Jacob’s eyes burning holes into your back as Hyunjae was close to you. Too close to you for the basketball player not to feel something churn in his stomach.

Two long, manicured fingers snapped in front of his eyes to get him out of his reverie, lazily looking at the girl that sat across from him, who he was supposed to get help from.

“Jacob please, pay attention to meeeeee,” she whined and pouted, giving him puppy eyes that he couldn’t give a single fuck about, too busy in his mind to hear what she had to say.

She had volunteered to help him study History, but she wasn’t any better, probably worse than he was. It was already the third time Juyeon corrected her basic knowledge without being an expert himself, not even caring about the death glares she kept sending him. It only made him smirk as he knew it irked her dearly yet amused the rest of the table a lot.

They all sighed as she finally took the hint and left their table, Jacob bitterly chuckling as Hyunjae rolled his eyes when she walked past your table, his demeanour making you laugh.

╰☆╮

“Bro, do you think I should ask Y/N for help? Isn’t that a bit… lame?” Jacob sat on one of the soccer balls, hands joined and panting as Sunwoo practised his dribbling skills before shooting the ball in the cages, aiming for the up-right corner. He trotted to his friend and collapsed on the grass next to him, the last rays of sunshine offering his skin a wonderful, honey glow. He ruffled his hair after plopping down, checking his phone for any message before answering.

“If you need help, you shouldn’t be afraid to ask her. I mean, she’s super smart in every subject, but she’s just the boss in History. Her presentations are always golden, and she explains things a lot better than some of the teachers.”

“I got Smith as a teacher,” the basketball player grimaced, his left hand holding his right wrist as his gaze wandered in the grass.

“We’ve got Antal, and I can tell you that she’s always mad when Y/N does a presentation because they honestly just sound better than her lessons,” Sunwoo chuckled as Jacob pondered his friend’s words, the gears of his mind working at full speed.

How is he going to be able to approach you and get to talk to you?

╰☆╮

“Bestie, no. I swear I saw that in the other book,” you said as you found yourself back in the library the following week, bending over the table to grab the book your best friend was resting hers on. You started flipping some pages when a loud, masculine chortle followed by some whispers of annoyance drawing your attention.

“Hi, babe! Hi Hyunj- Oh hi Jacob!” your neck almost snapped as you abruptly lifted your head up at the mention of your crush’s name, a small, embarrassed smile making its way on your mouth. You were a bit sad that your brother best friend was not here with Sunwoo, but you weren’t going to complain to have your crush instead.

“Can I sit here?” the basketball player asked in a soft voice while pointing at the empty spot next to you, making you quickly nod and gather your stuff to make him some space.

You resumed searching for the precious paragraph you were searching for your project as if it were nothing, trying to ignore your stammering heart in your chest and the couple eating each other's mouths. The only thing you hoped was that Jacob couldn’t hear the loud, irregular beats in your ribcage because it would give in your attraction to him.

“Hum, Y/N?” the voice next to you made you flinch, surprised that he knew your name and that he said it aloud.

“Y-Yes?” you said, cursing in your head as you stuttered.

“I heard that you were the Ace when it came to History,” Jacob started, and you couldn’t look at him in the eyes, fire spreading in your chest up to your face.

“I can’t really say that I’m the Ace, but I really love that subject, so yeah I have some… knowledge,” words tripped over your tongue, and your best friend pulled away from Sunwoo and scoffed.

“Some knowledge? Are you kidding?” she said, Sunwoo placing a hand on her mouth as she was louder than intended. She removed his palm and furrowed her brows at him, before turning her head back at you with the same angry expression.

“She knows so fucking much that Antal hates her because she feels humiliated compared to Y/N. So let me tell you one thing, Cobbie, if you need help, you’ve come to the right person. Y/N is just a living encyclopaedia,” your best friend proudly smirked as you glowered at her, Sunwoo chuckling at his girlfriend’s behaviour before immediately stopping.

“Wait, did you call him Cobbie? How come you call him like that when I get nothing other than babe or baby?” Sunwoo argued while pouting, and your best friend sighed, ruffling his hair before pressing her lips against his one more time, making you slightly grimace as envy flooded your veins.

You sighed and dared to look at Jacob, who was reading the beginning of your essay written on your computer, leaving Sunwoo and your best friend bicker like the cute couple they were.

“Do you have this project too?” you asked, and he shook his head, eyes remaining glued on the computer screen.

“It’s so interesting what you wrote, I like your way of writing and explaining stuff,” he offered a small smile as he looked at you, clearing his throat. For someone that was super popular and constantly surrounded by friends or people at parties, he behaved and sounded quite like an introvert.

“W-Well, thank you,” you said with a smile and turned your head to the side for a second, taking a deep breath before looking back at him, opening a new tab on your computer after he gestured to you that he was done reading.

“What do you need help with?”

╰☆╮

You were astonished at how quick-minded Jacob was. Behind his fit, muscular appearance and obsession with basketball, he had the soul of a thinker and grasped the knowledge of historical concepts quite easily and rapidly. He just wasn’t good with the way Smith was teaching, the method not suiting him.

“You retain things well for someone who hates History,” you joked, and he shyly smiled, scratching his neck. His smile looked gorgeous, and you were pleasantly surprised at how much of a genuine person he was.

“Well, History is not my cup of tea, but it might be a bit more thanks to you,” he said, and you tried to stifle a smile, thankful that your best friend was no longer sitting across from you because she wouldn’t have let you two live.

“It’s nothing. You can come back to me if you need help, I really don’t mind. I actually like explaining things,” you said, and he nodded, clicking your pen close before placing it in your pouch.

“Thank you, really. Sunwoo was actually the one that told me about you, so I have to thank him as well,” you stood up and slowly started to pack your stuff, shutting down your computer with a smile.

“I’m glad he did so, I just hope it was positive,” you giggled, and he quickly joined you, twirling his pen in between his fingers as he cleared his throat.

“You know, it’s Sunwoo. It can only be nice and positive,” you genuinely smiled at him and fall in silence, throwing glances at each other from time to time as the conversation was slowly starting to die down.

“And... How’s basketball going by the way? Is everything going well?” you asked, and his heart skipped a beat at your question as it took him off guard.

“I-It’s going pretty well, I’m excited to finish high school to be able to focus on basketball. I’m gonna have to take some of my last finals in South Korea because the season and the training start pretty early in Summer so…” his voice trailed as his eyes widened, a hand slapping his mouth as you both stood up.

“What?” you quizzed, confused by his sudden change of behaviour.

“I… was meant to keep this a secret,” his voice trailed, the end of his sentence falling in a whisper as he started panicking. “Can we pretend you didn’t hear what I said?” he asked as you placed your bag strap on your shoulder, taking your sweater before pushing the chair against the table.

“Said what?” you replied with a smile, and Jacob sighed in relief, somehow feeling like his secret was safe with you, even if you’ve talked to him for the first time at the beginning of the afternoon.

╰☆╮

The rest of the month rolled off smoothly, yet the stress and the revisions became more intense as the days went by. You didn’t hear anything back from Jacob, but you’ve caught him staring at you a few times, offering him an awkward wave and a smile as not to get noticed by some of his “fan girls”, as they called themselves.

You still had a whole month left before finals, and you felt blessed as summer decided to start a bit earlier this year. It was only the beginning of May, but you were already able to wear shorts and dresses. It felt good to see the blue sky and being surrounded by the warmth of the sun hitting your exposed skin after the cold, lonely winter and spring you’ve just got out of. Everything looked prettier and warmer, and it did nothing but make you happier and brighter, despite the stress of the finals piling up on your shoulders.

So, to get rid of this pressure, you decided to leave town with Hyunjae and let him drive to one of the lakes that surrounded your town, knowing that the beach and parks would get crowded in no time. It was a place that you used to go to with your parents when you were still a child, memories that you shared with your friend coming back flooding in your mind.

Hyunjae and his family tagged along to give you some company and take care of you as your parents were busy looking after your newborn twin sisters, Hyunjae and his younger brother acting like elder siblings to you.

After driving for a few dozens of minutes, you settled your stuff in the shade, right under a weeping willow that offered you freshness throughout the entire day. Your best friend napped almost the entire time you were there, hand lingering on his abs while the other plucked out some grass until he dozed off, trying to store as many hours of rest as possible before finals. By his side was you, reading a book and enjoying the chilly water to cool down from the hot temperatures of early Summer, playfully nudging the young man next to you each time he was starting to snore.

It’s near the middle of the afternoon that you heard another car pulling up near the lake, a bunch of excited teenagers coming out of a van. You didn’t pay much attention to them, only sighing as your peace was about to get ruined, their screams when they jumped in the water woke your best friend up.

He abruptly sat up next to you and rubbed his eyes, some sleeping marks lingering on his face, making you giggle. Being the short-sighted idiot that he was, he squinted to try and recognise some people, but he didn’t have to.

A young woman screamed and started jumping up and down, waving her arms above her head in your direction, hearing her scream something towards you.

You looked at each other with Hyunjae, confusion painted on your faces, hearing your phone buzz in your small bag hidden by your folded clothes.

“Hello?” you said as Hyunjae’s phone started vibrating too, picking up the call as well.

“Y/N, it’s us! We’re on the opposite side of the lake! Come and join us!” you heard your best friend yell in your ear, hearing her as well through Hyunjae’s phone, who picked up a call from her boyfriend.

“Okay, we’re coming!” you excitingly said as you hung up, waving at your best friend from your spot as you started packing your stuff to get back in the car and meet up with your friends.

Your best friend excitingly jumped in your arms as soon as you got out of the car,

“Tt’s crazy how we’re so connected! Did you also think that the beach would be crowded?” she asked, and you nodded with a smile, happy to see her this joyful to see you.

The inseparable duo was here, as well as Younghoon, Jacob, Eric, Juyeon and Sangyeon, the striker of the football team. They all engulfed you in a tight hug, Jacob staying in the background the entire time.

“Hi Jacob!” you brightly said and wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him close. “Hi Y/N,” his answer vibrated in his chest and had repercussions in yours, sending your heart flying in your ribcage.

You looked so good being this carefree, it was thankfully a sight that he managed to imprint in his mind despite the shortness of the moment. Being surrounded by all your friends felt so good that you forgot to be awkward and worry about the stupidest things, and Jacob adored seeing you this natural and smiling in the company of your friends. He was a bit sad that he wasn’t fully the reason for your smile though, but he still managed to enjoy the rest of the day with you and your mutual friends, whether you were on the ground or in the water.

Sangyeon, Younghoon and Juyeon copied Hyunjae and joined him in a restoring nap, while Eric, Sunwoo, Jacob, Soyeon and you played different games in the water, improvising a volleyball match with an imaginary net and the ball Sunwoo took with him as the volleyball, but it did the job. It was just a bit hurtful for the liberos since it wasn’t as soft and bouncy as a volleyball, but the joy of the moment allowed any type of pain to become bearable.

The evening eventually started to settle in, and you all got out of the water, drying yourselves before deciding to spend a part of the night here. You helped Sangyeon build a bonfire in the safe area by bringing some different branches, the eldest placing them correctly before lighting them with his pocket lighter.

“Hyung! I didn’t know you were a boy-scout,” Sunwoo exclaimed and made everyone laughed as you all were sliding some marshmallows on a stick, Sangyeon smiling with modesty at everyone.

“Ya, don’t say this,” Sangyeon mumbled, and you smile, rubbing his upper back as he sat down next to you, thanking him when you handed him over his marshmallow stick.

“Oh no! Mine burnt,” Soyeon pouted when she retrieved her snack from the flames, and her boyfriend was quick to give her his sweets, Eric cooing at the gesture of affection.

“Give it to me, I like them burnt,” he mumbled as he bit in the fluffy texture, immediately regretting it as it was boiling. His girlfriend handed him water as he stood up, bouncing up and down to try and reduce what felt like flames in his mouth.

“Oh my, thanks babe,” he muttered with his mouth stuffed when he gulped down everything with a pained expression on his face. Eric’s eyes filled with boredom locked into yours and you both chuckled, your friend shaking his head.

“When is it gonna be my turn,” he huffed and Sunwoo hit him playfully in the back as you all laughed around the bonfire, relating to your friend.

“When you’ll stop being obsessed with football and mango juice,” Eric grunted and folded his arms over his chest as Sangyeon called him out, making you coo and playfully run to him, holding him against you as he fake-cried on your chest while everyone was laughing at him.

Except for Jacob, who only offered a weak smile, but you didn’t catch it, too busy having fun and being light-hearted with your friends.

After your stomachs were filled with sweets and soda, Sunwoo pulled out his guitar and strummed a soft melody until some became heavy-eyed or fell asleep against the other, his girlfriend succumbing to his musical talents first. Jacob looked exhausted as well but forced his eyes open, finding him even hotter with hooded eyelids and his hair slightly curling with the humidity of the air and the lake water.

When it was time to go home, Hyunjae, as well as Younghoon, Sunwoo, Soyeon and Eric decided to jump into Hyunjae’s car to go to the beach, feeling the urge and the thrill of going skinny-dipping. On the other hand, you and the rest of the boys were too exhausted and modest to do this, only wanting to go home and get some good rest.

Just like they had arrived, Sangyeon was behind the wheel while the rest was either next to him or in the back seat. And you didn’t know how it happened, but you got stuck between the window and Jacob, who was struggling to keep his eyes open.

“You good?” you asked, and he turned his head towards you before offering you a tired yet sweet smile, moving his head up and down.

“I'm just exhausted, tonight was simply amazing,” he mumbled, and you expressed your agreement by a happy hum and a nod, bringing your attention to your eldest friend.

“Are you sure you’re awake enough to drive?” you enquired on the current situation and Sangyeon looks at you through the inner rear-view mirror, eyes forming two crescent moons as he smiled.

“I just jumped in the water, I’m nothing but awake,” he clapped in his hands to motivate himself and started the engine, your best friend’s car already gone.

Jacob rested his head against the headrest and closed his eyes, his head rolling to the side each time Sangyeon took a turn. You settled yourself on the window and let the vibrations of the car lull you to sleep, the small talk that Sangyeon and Juyeon were having in the front seats acted like a background noise, which helped you dozing off.

However, when the car pulled up in front of your house, they didn’t expect you to have your head resting against Jacob’s shoulder, his hand on your knee. The two men smiled at each other before Sangyeon got out of the vehicle, drawing the door open. As he was about to carry you to your doorstep, Jacob’s arm was quick to wrap itself around your waist, keeping you close to him.

You woke up confused, blinking a few times as you saw the striker standing next to you with a wide smile on his face. He removed a limb around your body, and you felt someone groan under your right shoulder, noticing in dread that you snuggled up to Jacob for some warmth in your sleep.

“You gotta go before the beast wakes up,” Sangyeon joked and winked as he helped you get out of the car, closing the door behind you. It opened again a few seconds later, Jacob looking just as confused as you were.

“Come on, lovebirds, we don’t have the night.”

“Lovebirds?” Jacob and you asked in unison, the basketball player rubbing his eye with the back of his hand. He jumped out of the van and gestured to Sangyeon to get back in.

“You can go, I live just around the corner,” he drowsily said as he vaguely gestured behind him.

“You sure? Your house is on my way back home, I can drop you off,” Sangyeon suggested but he refused, offering a handshake to the striker before letting him go.

Being more awake now, you waved at your friends driving away before turning to your crush, who looked even more adorable as he was super sleepy and just woke up.

“Are you sure you’re gonna be okay? You look really tired,” you asked, voice still laced with sleep yet sounding caring, which made Jacob’s heartbeat fasten. He nodded and weakly smiled, taking a step closer to you. His attitude was a bolt from the blue as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you to him, nuzzling his face in your neck.

“You felt so warm during the ride, it’s almost like I could get used to this,” he tiredly said with a smile, gently pulling away to stare at you, his fingers leaving your back to come and slide a wild piece of hair behind your ear. Your whole body stiffened at his words as he stared at you in the eyes, noticing a small, washed-out smirk plastered on his face.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit... late to start something with someone? I mean, we have finals and then y-you’re le-leaving for South Korea and-” you started stammering as his thumb gently stroked your cheek, loving watching you lose your composure at his display of affection.

“It’s never too late when you love someone,” he whispered, feeling his warm breath tickling your lips in such a delicious manner that you have to resist the urge to move forward and press your lips against his.

His words punched the air out of your lungs, leaving you breathless as he kissed your cheek, mouth slowly moving to the side until it reached your lips. The kiss was soft yet a bit on the rougher side as if he wanted you to understand every feeling he had for you. Instinctively, your arms wrapped around his shoulders, and you kissed him harder, deeper, his hands on your lower back pulling you flush against him.

You had dreamt, wondered about what it was like kissing Jacob, but it never felt as good as you were experiencing it now. Fireworks and butterflies were erupting in your stomach, leaving you dizzy with love and passion as one of his hands came and cupped your cheek, the pad of his thumb gently caressing the skin.

Once you pulled away for oxygen, you held onto his shoulders for your dear life and he chuckled, his mouth slowly travelling down to your neck.

“I-I think my… my- oh my god, my parents will worry,” you gently pushed him away and he stared at you with a smile before diving in to capture your lips in another soft kiss.

“I'm only letting you go if you're free tomorrow. Let's put that off to tomorrow, shall we?” he asked, and your eyes widened at his suggestion.

“We can go back to the lake if you want, but only if we’re alone,” he said, his hand caressing your cheek while the other was busy stroking your upper back up and down.

“I want to enjoy this with you and you only,” he added, mumbling against your mouth and this time, you’re the one pulling him for a kiss.

“Come and pick me up at 10, then,” you said as you pulled away.

“I’ll be there, I promise,” he answered and started walking towards your house, closing the front gate behind you, waving at him with a smile.

He sent you a flying kiss with a smile and you waved at him one last time before closing the main door of your house behind you, both sighing with a huge smile and warmth painted on your faces.

You peeled the clothes off your skin and went straight to the bathroom to take a shower, shaking your head left to right while chuckling as you recalled what just happened in your last month of high school.

Nothing was making sense, you didn’t know how you got there, but you were happy.

And that’s what mattered the most.

#the boyz soft hours #the boyz fluff #the boyz imagines #the boyz #the boyz jacb #the boyz reactions #the boyz soft imagines #the boyz soft #the boyz fluff imagines #the boyz jacob imagines #the boyz jacob scenarios #jacob fluff #jacob soft hours #jacob imagines #bae jacob #jacob scenarios #jacob soft imagines #jacob reactions #jacob #bae jacob imagines #bae jacob scenarios #the boyz bae jacob #the boyz timestamps #jacob fanfic #jacob x reader #bae jacob x reader #jacob drabbles #the boyz fic #high school!au #bae jacob au

[sinoptics]

whumptober day 16: recovery/aftermath

tw implied abuse

It starts with a kid in his basement.

Well – not his basement, exactly, it was more a hole under his basement, tunnelled into the rock, with a ash stained bell and a bunch of blankets on the floor arranged in a fashion that Techno could maybe define as a bed if he really stretched the definition of the word, and –

“Are those my gold blocks?!” Techno asks, exasperated. He already knows what the answer to that question is, and, yep, he checks upstairs and his gold blocks are missing. He goes back down to salvage whatever else Tommy has stolen off of him – he knew stuff was going missing, he thought it was just Phil messing up his chest organisation – and the kid continues talking his ear off. He’s doing his Tommy thing again, where he says eight different sentences in the space of a minute and finishes exactly none of them, but Techno thinks that there’s an edge of hysteria, desperation, to it that wasn’t there before. Or maybe not. Techno’s not a Tommy expert. And he’s got his own issues to work through right now, anyway. He doesn’t have time to look after some random kid.

… Tommy really doesn’t look good.

During one of his incoherent ramblings paired with over the top gestures, he stumbles into Techno and doesn’t even seem to notice he’s leaning his full weight on him, just continues talking about Dream and exile and Logstedshire and how he’s never going back there, which, good for him, Techno guesses.

Techno surveys the room he found Tommy hiding in once more. It’s kind of pathetic. Techno is very aware of the fact that Tommy is not physically capable of building something that looks nice, but he feels like this is a new low for him. And Techno saw Pogtopia. That was definitely not the most pleasant place he’s ever slept.

“Techno?” Tommy asks, looking up at Techno expectantly, still leaning on him. Techno hasn’t pushed him off because… anyway. What were they talking about again?

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be, Tommy?” Techno asks, changing his tone to be a little more gentle than it has been throughout the rest of this conversation. A pained look flashes across Tommy’s face.

“I don’t… I can’t go back to L’Manberg, they exiled me, they don’t – and I can’t go back to Logstedshire, because Dream was – Dream was my friend, but he was just there to watch me, so I can’t go back there, and I was hungry, and really cold, and I just thought, I could maybe, you know, stay here, I’ll just stay in this little hole, and I’ll stop stealing off you. Well, no, I definitely won’t do that but I’ll steal less, and please just tell Dream to fuck off if he comes here, he can’t know I’m here, please, Techno –“

“Okay, okay, let me just sort through those problems before you continue talking to me.” Techno interrupts, and Tommy shuts right up and looks at Techno with far more hope and expectation than Techno feels like he’s earned. “First of all, I want my gold and emeralds back, you can’t have those. And my channel membership sign, not because I can’t make a new one, just as a point of pride. If you do that, then maybe I will consider lettin’ you stay.” Maybe this will end badly, Techno thinks, but Phil’s already messaged him saying he’s stuck in L’Manberg for the foreseeable future, and the idea of being alone right now makes Techno feel vaguely nauseous. And there’s worse company than Tommy. Probably. Maybe.

“Thank you, Techno, thank you so much, have a stack of gapples as a token of my gratitude,”

“Those are my gapples!”

“They are now! Anyway I will definitely not be a bother at least that much, thank you again Technoblade, you are so cool and poggers.” Tommy finally stops leaning his entire body weight on Techno, and collapses to the floor almost immediately. “I’m fine, doing great, don’t mind me, just a little leg cramp.” Techno has a hunch this might be symptomatic of a bigger problem. He crouches next to where Tommy is decidedly not attempting to stand up again and gently presses the back of his hand to Tommy’s forehead. It’s freezing to the touch. When he retracts his hand, Tommy looks almost dazed.

“You need to warm up. Come on.” Tommy just stares at him. “It’s too cold underground, I have a fireplace upstairs.”

“I’m allowed?” Tommy asks hesitantly. Techno’s never heard Tommy ask permission like that for anything before. It’s unnerving.

“Sure.” Techno replies, instead of investigating further. Feelings have never been his strong suit. “You’ll just make yourself sick if you don’t. And it’ll ruin my real estate value if someone dies here.” Tommy huffs out an amused laugh, and Techno pointedly ignores the flare of pride in his chest.

He has to half-haul Tommy up the shoddily made ladder to his actual basement, when he realises that Tommy is barely even capable of putting weight on his feet. The feeling of anxiety grows when he basically carries (a strongly protesting) Tommy up the stairs to sit on one of the armchairs in front of the crackling fire, and Tommy feels far, far too light for a sixteen year old who’s over six foot.

He leaves Tommy there, for a bit, firmly impressing on him that he has to actually stay there, and goes to the kitchen to make food. He has a strong impression that if he makes something too rich, it’ll just make Tommy sick, but he needs actual food, and not the gapples he’s been munching on every few minutes or so. Techno doesn’t mind too much, he has gapples to spare, and Tommy clearly needs some nutrition, but getting dependent on gapples has never been healthy for anyone. Expensive addiction, anyway.

He eventually makes his way back into the living room with two bowls of soup, where Tommy’s sat, arms curled tight to his body, staring intensely at the dancing fire.

“Tommy.” Tommy jolts like he’s been shocked, turning to Techno with a wild, desperate fear in his eyes and almost falling out of his seat. “Hey, it’s just me.”

“Yep, I knew that, you just surprised me, I got distracted, you know me, easily distracted.” Tommy nods, and it seems like he’s trying to convince himself more than Techno.

“Had the ingredients lyin’ around for mushroom soup, so…” Techno holds a bowl out for Tommy to take, but Tommy just stares at it, face suddenly pale. “Tommy, come on, you need to eat real food.”

Tommy shakes his head. “I can’t. Not this, I just – I can’t, something else, I’m sorry, I can’t eat that.” Techno fights back the urge to make a snarky comment. Tommy looks absolutely miserable at the thought of eating mushroom soup, which is weird, but Techno can just make something else. It’s fine. He has other food in the house.

Techno’s halfway through making another meal when he feels a presence behind him. He turns to see a shivering Tommy hovering very forlornly in the doorway. The shivering’s a good sign, at least. It’s worse when they’re not shivering – something Techno knows all too well.

“What are you doin’.” Techno says flatly. “Go back and sit down.”

“I can help.” Tommy replies, but his voice is wavering.

“You can barely stand, Tommy. If you don’t rest it’ll just get worse and then we’ll have to cut your legs off.” He says it as a joke, but realises a little too late that it might not be one. He’s seen what prolonged cold can do to a person. The fear in Tommy’s eyes tells Techno the kid knows it wasn’t really a joke either. “You can help when you’re better.” Techno adds in a gentler tone.

He only realises later how much that sounded like an invitation to stay.

#whumptober2021 #sin.writes #dsmp #dream smp #bedrock bros #technoblade #tommyinnit #c!technoblade #c!techno #c!tommy #rp #tw abuse #c!bedrock bros