#yet another day wasted to feeling like shit for unexplained reasons

[shotosprincess]

what if... — shoto todoroki

“ what if we kissed then? just to prove that we don’t have feelings for each other. “

summary: ever since you and todoroki started working together as pro heroes, your friends simply wouldn’t let up on teasing you two, suspecting that there was something between you—something that extended past the bounds of business.

notes: fluff ,, todoroki being flustered ( aaaa he’s so cute bye ) the bakusquad teasing and egging ya’ll on ( their dialogue is color coded so it’s easier to read ! ) ,, denki being a little bit of a busybody <3

“ ooooh look who it is! the power coupleeee! “ the sing-song tone of denki’s teasing rung through the hall as he spotted you and todoroki entering the building from a long day of pro hero work.

grey streaks of dust and ash littered your bodies, streaks of sweat and diluted stripes of dried crimson staining multiple sides on both your faces. his hair was tattered and slightly singed from the discord of an especially-messy battle, yours was tangled in a hopeless mess. a heavy sigh leaves you. that would be a pain to brush through later.

your numbed fingers, body exhausted and worn out, run through your hair in a wordless frustration. shoto tenses up noticeably at denki’s playful comment. “ denki. we’re not a couple. “

his lips raise into a cheeky, if not mildly-irritating smirk as he leans further into the velvet couch, draping his arms round the back. “ oh yeah? take your arm off their shoulder then, shoto. “

your partner’s face lights up with a rose so brilliant, it almost even matched with the rubied strands of his hair. his lips tightly purse together, sliding his arm, which was, in fact, casually resting on your shoulder, off with a hurried swoop.

“ shut it, kaminari. “ he huffs in a low, almost even threatening tone as he walks past the energetic blonde at an increased pace. you frown. he seemed so worked up over it, and for what? it’s not as if this was the first time someone had poked at you for being a “ couple “—which you were not, but you were never the one to readily disprove their remarks, though delivered in a joking manner. it’s not as if you felt anything of the sort for him...right?

so then why was it so hard to admit that you weren’t anything more than what you were on the field? it was the truth, after all.

“ jeez, what’s with him? i was just kidding. “ sticking a lollipop into his mouth, he turns to lay down fully on the couch, stretching his back out with such leisure.

your eyes followed him as he disappeared past a corner, shaking your head in confusion. “ no clue. “

it was just one of the countless circumstances in which people had poked at the two of you for your not-so-platonic habits with one another, habits which, admittedly, hinted at something...more than friendship. more than a partnership. this was nothing new.

but of course, you pushed it all away, allowing the rumours and silly hashtags and fanmade edits and youtube compilations to completely ricochet off of you. however, the same couldn’t exactly be said for todoroki. shame.

you didn’t quite know why, but he always got so unexplainably tense about it whenever someone brought the topic up. he’d curl up his fists so aggressively it’d leave crescent marks the next day, rearrange his face into a scowl—it was clear that he hated it, joke or not. honestly, you didn’t have the guts to attempt to make them stop, for you knew that if you had, you just knew that the public would somehow find a way to turn it into “ proof “ that you were dating, all because he got so riled up and flustered. which was silly, really, since it was a perfectly normal human reaction to something like this.

though you can’t help but wonder if, perhaps, he did feel that way about you, and maybe that was the reason he—

no, no, what were you thinking? he couldn’t possibly...right? you were just partners. nothing more, nothing less.

but if he did think of you like that, would you want something more?

“ oh come on, just admit it! if not to the public, then to us at least. aren’t we friends? “

“ yeah, icy hot. i mean, seriously, have more guts— “

“ ...how many fucking times do i have to tell you, bakugou...we’re not a couple. denki, stop playing around. you’re egging him on. “ shoto’s harsh tone cuts sharply through the banter between denki and the overly-intense ashen blonde, bringing it to an abrupt end. it didn’t exactly last very long, though.

“ yeah, yeah. that’s what i said about that dumbass deku, and look where we are now. “ he rasps, a knowing smirk playing on his face as he pulls his now-blushing boyfriend close.

“ not everything is about love, bakugou. “ he smirks.

“ yeah, who knew you’d be the one to turn out to be such a romantic? “ denki laughs, earning a solid punch to his arm.

“ owww! that actually hurt. “ his lips jut out in a pout, rubbing over the blooming patch of light purple.

“ oh, shut up, idiot! “

“ you know what? fine. y/n? “

you pause, perfectly still and unmoving as the coldness of his eyes burned his unknown intent into you.

“ y-yeah? “

he strides over to you, appearing only inches away within the briefest of seconds. one of his hands quickly finds a home against your cheek, tilting it to look up at him. your heart pulsates at a nearly impossible rate.

“ kiss me. “

“ what? “

“ just this once. to prove that we don’t have feelings for each other. “ he says, rolling his eyes at denki and bakugou, who were futilely trying to cover their smirks.

heat rises to your cheeks, cauterizing them with an unfamiliar flame. “ oh! uh! i—sure.“

what other choice did you have? after all, you did want to prove to everyone that there really was nothing between you and shoto. or maybe, just maybe, you were also trying to prove it to yourself?

no, no. that couldn’t be. it couldn’t.

he wastes no time. his skin, cold and smooth, fingers like porcelain streams, grasp your chin with a fast-paced elegance which sends a prominent shudder down your back. his lips hover just above yours, and the tension buzzing between you is ridiculously electric. he’s so close, your heartbeat rings in your ears and his breath shallowly fans upon your face as he peers into your eyes with his own. you allow them to fall closed.

as if on cue, his lips meet yours with a gentle, albeit fairly aggressive peck. but as soon as they do, your chest spurns with the fibres of your heartstrings, embroidering them tightly into the knots of his own tangled past. you know what he said. you know what you said—it was all to prove that you didn’t feel anything for one another.

but then why did it feel so oddly...right?

he pulls away, and your lips suddenly feel empty, deserted. the electric thrum still prickles at your lips, wanting, no—needing, more. you hate how much your body craved him, how desperately you wanted for his arms around you again. there’s too much emotion, an overwhelming influx. it is near impossible to even articulate it, at least not in a way which could ever hope to properly encapsulate the undeniable magic of the moment. you were being so damn melancholic, and that was saying something, even for you.

when his lips leave yours, you cannot help but be frozen in your simple state of bliss, utterly dazed with hazy remnants of how annoyingly addicting it was. your eyes gloss over with a sense of want, sparkling with the same glitters his icy eyes met yours with. his hand remains on your cheek, but his touch softens against yours.

your silent stare prolongs for more than just the fleeting moment, as if you were subconsciously grabbing at it with invisible arms, reaching desperately to bring each other back. that was when it hit you; the blinding realization that you did, in fact, want this. want him. and yet, you couldn’t help but hesitate. what about him? did he want this? no, no, he couldn’t possibly. after all, this whole kiss situation was only because he wanted to prove that explosive idiot wrong, that there was nothing between you two but teamwork and good quirk compatibility.

your heart stings at the minor epiphany, the thoughts piercing at your head in an endless swirl of emotions. second-guessing yourself, wondering why you even cared whether or not he thought of you that way. or at least, how he didn’t think of you that way. the tiniest shine of a tear begins to coat your lashes when—

his lips crash against yours for a second time, his hand now trailing towards your scalp, weaving through the fibres as his lips danced upon yours. your guard, your hesitation fully melting away in his arms.

but alas, you made the mistake of allowing yourself to forget that people were watching too.

“ ha! i knew it! i fucking knew it! “ kaminari’s playful voice rings like the most annoying song ( in this moment, i mean come on, you loved the guy, but right now? not exactly helping your stance of “ we don’t see each other like that “ ) as his head peaks out from the halls.

instantly you break away, pulling from each other as your hand flies to clamp over your mouth, eyes bulging wide at what you had just done. you had just kissed shoto. in front of, well, practically everyone! since when did mina and kirishima even get here?!

“ shit. “ shoto mutters deeply, thrashing his hands into his two-toned hair in frustration.

“ shoto, i—i’m so sorry, i didn’t know they would— “

“ no, no. don’t apologize. it’s my fault. i...i shouldn’t have gone for a second ki— “

“ honestly, i think i would’ve been more mad at you if you haven’t. “

“ WHAT?! “ your little audience shrieked. your palms clasped right over your mouth after the admission, face burning with embarrassment. the words left you before you could even think them through. had you really just said that? in front of everyone? how carefree can you be?

you stare into the ground, focusing on literally anything but him.

“ hey. look at me. “

you refused.

“ y/n. “ his hand goes up to your chin, making you look up at him. the pout on your face is so plainly obvious, it makes his heart twitch in a slight pain. you could almost swear you heard mina squeal faintly at the boldness of his action, considering the predicament you two were currently stuck in.

“ what? “

“ i...i think i would’ve regretted it more if i hadn’t kissed you again. “

“ you—what? “

“ i...i didn’t want to pull away. “

“ holy shit. “

“ shut up bakugou! “

“ i wanted...i wanted it to last a little longer. “

“ jeez, and i thought i was bad at confessing my feelings. pft. this is just embarrassing to watch. “

“ same here. i mean you did ask midoriya out by yelling ‘ i love you, dumbass! ‘ from outside his dorm window. “

“ hey, idiot! we don’t talk about that! “

“ shhhh both of you! shut up! we are witnessing an important romantic moment here! “

“ i...seriously? “

“ seriously. and i—i don’t know what the hell this feeling....is. but i....i just— “

“ it’s okay. “ you shoot him a reassuring smile, the same kind you always did in the midst of battle, that comforting smile that let him know you had his back. you communicated with your eyes, though usually they were bloodshot with adrenaline and smudged with ash, there truly was no need for words. not with him.

“ y/n...i— “

“ awwwww aren’t they the cutest? now kiss again! “

“ mina. “ he shoots her a lightly cold stare.

“oh come on! let us have our fun, yeah, icy hot? “ bakugou slings his arm over kaminari’s shoulder, whose grin matches that of his blonde-haired counterpart.

“ i thought i told you not to call me— “

“ shoto. “

he immediately turns to you, slipping into serenity at the sound of your voice.

“ ah shit, here they go again. we get it, you’re a cute couple! “

“ mina, i told you. we’re not a co- “ his eyes snap to yours, lips parting in a hesitant pause.

“ not a what, icy hot? “ the smirk exuding of utter smugness upon bakugou’s face only spreads all the wider.

he allows his hands to fall, taking yours within his. there is a brief, yet definite moment of silence before he speaks again. “ i mean... “

your gaze is focused on the way his hands fully envelope yours, and the unexplainable, tingly feeling you’re getting from it all. despite that, you could still very well see mina and kaminari excitedly waving and bouncing in all sorts of directions, as if they were...cheering you on? it was almost as if they were more fired up about all this than you were.

keyword; almost.

“ shoto, i— “

and suddenly his composure and poise breaks, and all that’s left is the rare sight of shoto todoroki, stuttered in a blushing, shaky mess. “ i mean, i wouldn’t be opposed to it. not—not like i desperately want to or anything, but at the same time i—i just—fuck, why is this so har— “

you rise onto your tip toes, hands encircling his neck as you kiss him. what unknown spirit possessed you with the guts to make the first move, it was fully unbeknownst to you. but you weren’t complaining, no. not in the slightest.

“ HOLY SHIT?? “

“ my baby’s all grown up now— “

“ dumbass, they’re not your bab— “

“ they’re mine. “

“ i— “

“ that is, if you want to b— “

“ well no shit, dumbass! “ you jump into his arms, squealing as you squeeze him tight.

“ good. because...so do i. “

“ i told you! “

“ shut up idiot! “

“ hey, so now can we start a fan account for you two on instagram? i’m sure it’d totally blow up! “ mina squealed with a wink, holding up her phone, already halfway through the sign up process.

“ mina! “ everyone groaned in a laughter-filled unison.

so that was it, you supposed.

you did have feelings for each other.

#todoroki fluff #todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #shoto x reader #bnha shoto #shoto x y/n #mha fanfiction #mha writing #mha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x gender neutral reader #bnha fluff #bnha fic #bnha x reader #todoroki shouto #bnha todoroki #shoto x you #mha x y/n #mha fluff #mha imagines #bnha imagines

[hangovercurse]

Studio Nights

You and Kells spend time in the studio together.

Part ii of Losing a Friend

Colson x Reader

Warnings: cursing

A/N: the first few parts are a lot of fluff, building relationships and such but soon we’ll get into the real angst 😊 

Word Count: 1501

i < ii < iii

September 2016

You had hoped that after 3 months of hanging around the guys, you would have gotten used to their constant energy. But sitting in the studio, you realized you might never get used to it.

Lazily you spun yourself around in the rolling chair at the monitor, Kells sitting next to you with his back to the desk. “Dawg, I’m telling you, you were wasted as fuck,” his loud voice rang through your ears, making the headache you were nurturing even worse.

The boys were having a conversation about something that had gone on in the club the other night with Rook, who was arguing that it wasn’t as big of a deal as Kells was making it out to be. To be fair, Rook was that drunk, but it really wasn’t all that funny.

You tuned them out as best as possible, turning back to the computer and looking at the track again, sighing at the thought of hearing it blare through the headphones. As Slim, Baze, and Rook continued arguing, Kells turned to you.

He seemed to look right through you, taking in the bags under your eyes and the slight frown on your face. “Hey,” he spoke quietly, “you okay?”

You gave him a small nod, placing the headphones over your ears with a fake smile. His hand reached out and tugged them gently off your head. “Seriously, you look like shit.”

Rolling your eyes, you gave a monotone answer, “thanks, Kells. You sure know how to treat a lady.” You let out a dry chuckle as he continued to stare at you, a teasing pout on his face, “I’m fine, I just have a headache, it’s nothing.”

He swiveled his chair so that his front was facing your side, reaching out and turning your chair so you could be face to face. His knees bumped up against your own lightly, “we can take a break if you want, pick back up tomorrow.”

You shook your head, “I’m fine, there’s just a lot of noise right now, but it’s nothing. I just want to finish this song; we’ve been working on it for way too long now.” You tried to play off the throbbing in your brain as Slim and Baze laughed obnoxiously a few feet away from you.

He rolled his eyes, “You are the one that keeps editing it.” His tone was teasing, but you couldn’t help but agree. There was something about the track that just wasn’t right yet. “But it can wait another day, go home. Or I’ll send these fuckers home.”

You chuckled, “aren’t you guys technically at home?” He sent you an unamused look, making you pout, “look, I can’t figure out what it is, but something needs to be fixed.”

He let out a breath through his nose, imitating laughter, “I know, you keep saying that. And I trust you, but you’re not going to figure it out if you’re in a mood.”

A glare came over your features, directed at him, “I am not in a mood.” You shoved him playfully, his chair spinning slightly, “I’m just in pain. My head feels like it’s eating itself.”

“That’d make a good lyric,” he commented with a smirk, shoving you back. “Go home.”

You smacked his hand away lightly, “don’t tell me what to do. Now let me work.” You tried to turn back to the computer while placing the headphones back over your ears, but Kells just spun you back towards him.

“How about you let me listen to it for once,” his tone was playful, but you couldn’t help but gape at the audacity.

You handed him the headphones, “I have been trying to get you to do that for the past 3 hours!” He chuckled, placing the speakers over his ears, and pressing play. “Is this what it takes to get you to work? My pain?” you teased halfheartedly.

Truthfully, Kells had a way of distracting you from whatever happened to be bothering you, including your headache. It was one of the many reasons you liked being around him so much.

He nodded his head to what you assumed was the beat, making you giggle lightly. He paused the song midway, taking off the headphones and frowning. “What if we tried carrying the initial guitar riff through at that little middle part.”

You raised an eyebrow, turning to the computer and fidgeting with the track to add the raw guitar into the space. You didn’t notice, but you and Kells were very closely huddled around the computer.

The other guys in the room, however, did take notice. Slim elbowed Rook, pointing over in your direction as you and Kells cracked lighthearted jokes and worked on the song together.

Rook let out a chuckle that was lost on your ears as Baze quietly teased, “I give it two months, max.”

The younger boy shook his head, “hell naw, you think Kells is gonna wait that long?”

Baze flicked Rook in the head, “that’s why I said max, dumbass.”

Rook shoved the older one, starting a small war between the two of them. Slim rolled his eyes, speaking over the two’s fighting, “she’s way too smart for that, it’ll take way longer for her to come around to that.”

After another 15 minutes of you and Kells working intensely on fixing the music and the guys teasing you about how cute you were behind your backs, you could listen to a rough sample of your new and improved track.

“This is fucking fire, dude,” Kells said loudly as he listened with the headphones. You laughed at the volume, feeling better than before and giddy at the thought of having fixed the track.

Once he had finished, he placed the headphones over your ears and played the song in its entirety, your voices flowing together naturally over the music. When the revised part came, you were shocked at how much better it sounded, even if it was still just a rough edit.

You took the headphones off, beaming at him, “you are a genius.”

He teased, “so I’ve been told.” You rolled your eyes, knocking his knee with yours playfully. He shoved your shoulder softly, voice lowering, “you should go home. We can polish this part tomorrow and get it ready for a release.”

You shook your head, volume matching his “I’m fine, Kells. It’s just a headache and we’re almost finished, I can manage.”

“I’m not touching another button today and you are going home, end of story.” You whined but gave no real protest, reaching for your purse and keys. He patted you on the head mockingly, “good girl.”

You glared up at him, “call me that again, and I will hurt you.” He chuckled, standing up with you, and walking you to the door.

He called to the guys, “thanks for all the work today guys, really helpful.” His words dripped with sarcasm, making you giggle.

Slim shrugged, “looked like you two had it handled, we weren’t gonna interrupt.” Rook and Baze snickered, making you roll your eyes.

“Well, I’m out. See you guys tomorrow.” You threw up a peace sign to the men.

Baze checked his phone, “are you sure you want to drive this late? It’s almost 3 am.”

You sighed, realizing he was right. A pout fell on your face as you muttered, “it’s fine, I’ll be okay.” You turned to head out the door, throwing a smile at the boys. Kells followed you out to the main area of the house, grabbing your wrist gently in the living room to stop you from leaving.

“You can stay here tonight if you want. It’d probably be better anyways if you still feel bad.”

His gentle touch on your arm seemed to send a soft feeling throughout your body, something unfamiliar to you. You shook it off, giving him a small smile. As much as you knew you probably should stay, you needed to get out of this house before any other unexplained feelings arose. “Thanks, Kells, but I’ll be fine. I live all of 10 minutes away.”

He shrugged, acting nonchalant, “fine, just text us when you get home.”

You rolled your eyes, walking to the front door, “okay, Dad.”

He chuckled, “shut up, loser.” You flicked him off playfully as you left, the door closing behind you.

Mere moments after you left he heard three laughs from behind him, “oh Y/N! Please stay the night with us.” Rook mocked an overly dramatic Kells impression.

Baze continued with a “I’ll do anything for you Y/N, I’m just so in love with you!”

Slim shook his head, walking over and clapping his best friend on the back, “ignore them.” He said, “we all know you’ll confess to her in your own time.”

Kells scoffed, an eyebrow raised, “I am not in love with Y/N. She’s just a friend. A better one than you three.”

The boys laughed and rolled their eyes, “okay,” Rook said, unconvinced.

tag list: 

@bakerkells​ @elviablo​​ @iambashfulperson​ @sunflowerbebe107​ @crystalbaby12​ @stormrider505​ @ticketstomydaydreams​ @mvrylee​ @daddyavesxx​​ @pettyvxbes​ @prettydreamboy​

#mgk #mgk imagine #mgk fluff #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #colson imagine #machine gun kelly x reader #Colson baker #colson x reader #colson baker imagine #colson baker fluff #hangovercurse

[alberivh]

wonderlust photography ; unsent-letters

summaries : kaeya’s point of view of your unending pain, made into a scenery of unsent letters to his brother, diluc.

Contains : heavy/pure angst, major character death, Fatal Familial Insomnia (FFI) , hurt slight comfort, memory loss, weight loss, mentions of blood.

characters : kaeya x gn!readers

a/n : this is an alternate continuation of wonderlust photography. Hope you all like it (despite the fact i have a bad writer block in here) <3

hey there, i’m kaeya alberich,as you know, i’m a husband to (name) alberich, The person who emerge this room into a tiny home for his lover. You probably read this while cleaning my sweetheart little room, well if you do, then please continue cleaning it first before you’d send this to Diluc Ragnvindr, the bachelor of monstadt, who’s unexpectedly need to hear this letter. Although i wouldn’t mind if you read some of my stories while slacking off, especially because i left this unsent-letter at the last day of my sweetheart sleepless figure for some unexplained reason.

let’s get back to day 1 shall we? diagnosed.

as soon as the result was in front of me, i have no other choice but to leave. I was too scared of leaving my resident behind, yet the feeling of knowing my partner is dying are more painful. They loved the stars, and the night they were diagnosed, the same stars they treasured was long gone. It’s the same way as how dying feel, they quoted.

I was packing every each of things that would make this one room into another world they could called home. but i do not have any reason to refuse the crumbling tears of my own emotions, unsurprisingly in one second, all of my tears went down to my cheeks. They cupped my face in their cold palm, wiping my own tears as a result. i think it was a called out for help. They were dying and why am i crying? They should’ve cry, but why did they smile? did they pitied me…? I asked myself. Thousand of times.

Yet the only answer i could found afterwards, are the fact they refuse to live this way for my sake. They pitied me for loving them and i couldn’t be more of a shit to know that reason. maybe i do understand their feelings, but i do not understand the reason why they must pitied me for loving someone wholeheartedly. Especially them, they were dying and i still loved them, but why must you feel like it was a curse? Because kaeya, you were loving a future-corpse.

I wanted to ran away and love them again, but for what? The reality is now in front of me. They wouldn’t die in an endless dream, they would die without any hopes or single-imagination. i couldn’t sleep kaeya, how am i supposed to image myself in this situation again? They might still remember. but in the end, they wouldn’t remember any of their dream because they are dying in an endless reality. they are hopeless and i couldn’t help them. And I wish i’m the one who’s dying my love, you are too precious to fade and i wouldn’t bare to say i love you in this poin because i’m too scared if it was the last.

this is the start of their death, and it’s week 3 of them crawling for their life’s sake.

they lost 10 kilograms, the medicine isn’t working nor making any progress for my sweetheart stability. their blood start to condensed and their arm start to fell numb. Even the once food they loved was wasted by their inability to eat. Maybe the doctors should’ve at least try to make them alive, even if it was barely.

the memory loss was awful. They didn’t remember their name. They didn’t remember me…They asked me once, what’s my name sir..? and why did you call me sweetheart…? My breathing start lost it tracks, it can’t be..it can’t be..those words replay in my head like a soundtrack. How come you didn’t acknowledge me when all i did was to take care of you, sweetheart? It was the worst second of my life. I thought to myself to let it go, but the grief..yes the grief. God those loving eyes in their visions are hazy, it looked like it refused to remembered me.

I was scared. Where are the emotions you usually fluttered me with? what’s wrong with you suddenly forget about me? I was frustrated. I understand the reason of your pity but not like this..i don’t want to know your feelings. I want to turn blind and take care of you till death. Yet why must you give me the reason to left you, sweetheart? don’t we remember the vows we said to each other, no..?

it is their birthday and i wished to celebrate it. but love, acknowledge me again with those loving eyes, once and for all would be fine. I just want you to be happy and remembered me…the captures of your pictures proves our dignity. But why must you forget the day of your well birth and me? Your husband.

what if the world wasn’t that selfish to me..? would they be gone by now, diluc? Would they stay..? Would our relationship stay the same?

Although the end of the day they remembered me, they still left me. I wish i was awake at their last moments. I wish i could hear those heartbeat of theirs until my last day to lingers on this shitty universe. They’re so warm, it make me unable to lost myself. They’re too precious.

Archons, they remembered me. Yet you ruined it for us. They told me they loved their name. They told me i’m in love with you, kaeya by giving me the last kiss to my undeserved figure. They told me to rest well, they loved me and i couldn’t change the fact i’m none to everyone again. They are gone, i regretted my frustration and anger at them, because i’m just hopelessly in love with them. Dying or not, i really am just a hook in an empty pond. They died in my embrace and i wish i could just disappeared.

i wish i could told them the same loving farewell in their last moment. In the same token of love like the kisses they give me at the inch of their last breathing. a goodnight or a kiss, everything would be a great-pleasure for them. Sleeping was a form of rest, yet now it was a form of farewell. I love them, diluc. Too much. I couldn’t bare to say i love you to them anymore, they are gone diluc. They are under my reach, father never have make me in awe but losing them was a displeasure i wish i could end.

so found me again in the afterlife, even if it meant for me to lose you again. so, a toast to the love of my life who finally wonders to the endless dream. may the stars bring you fairness to the unending suffering of your sickness. Heaven and earth, i love you so much and i wish i could say that before you closed your eyelids, my love.

sincerely, kaeya alberich.

TAGLIST : @urujiako , @childeluv , @mika-zuko , @eternism , @zierx

#kaeya alberich #kaeya #kaeya angst #kaeya x reader #kaeya alberich x reader #genshin impact kaeya #genshin impact kaeya alberich #kaeya alberich angst #kaeya x y/n #kaeya x you #kaeya alberich x you #genshin impact headcannons #kaeya fanfic #genshin impact fanfic #kaeya alberich fanfic

[babykatsu]

PAIRING: katsuki bakugou x fem!reader

WORDCOUNT: 7k

RATING: nsfw ⛈

GENRE: smut!

WARNINGS: slow burn, swearing, kissing, no intercourse, foreplay, car sex, little bit of degradation, a littleeee rough!

⤷ SYNOPSIS:

as though fate had its worst intentions, bakugous car had broken down on the way to your high school reunion with you in the car as well. GREAT! Not only was it getting dark and chilly, you were also in the middle of nowhere... That really didn’t ease the atmosphere, especially when Bakugou was already hesitant on lending you a drive to the reunion. But with the discomfort, there always comes a way to ease it ;)

AUTHORS NOTE:

a special thanks to @laylahoran for not only helping me proof read and pick out the title for this scenario BUT also for just being there to support me through out this whole thing! Literally the purest friend🥺🥺💕💕 ilysmmm!!!

Also, this is my first detailed smut imagine so sorry if it’s a bit sloppy :(

Life after high school proved to be a lot more different than expected. For starters, after having moved to find better work opportunities in the city, you found yourself deprived of nearly all social interaction with your previous friends. Yes, you still caught up over text and call, but it was safe to say it was not quite the same. Not only did the hectic schedule of working for a hero agency clash with your friends’, when you were on your days off all your friends seemed to be busy with their own goals of becoming high ranking heroes. You sort of started living a more solitary lifestyle, a drastic change from your previous one.

So when you flopped down on your couch, your body sluggish and desperate for sleep after a bustling day of work, you felt suddenly energised. Eyes wide as you could just barely believe what you were reading. An email had illuminated on your phone screen, reading the following:

“Greetings class A! It has been nearly a year since we have all graduated and I’m in complete aw as to how far you have all come :) On a more dejected note, however, we have all seemed to grow more distant due to our work. I have missed you all dearly and believe the connections we all formed are amazing experiences we should not forget about! Though we may have kept in contact here and there, it’s evident that we all have been lacking. This is why I have taken it upon myself to set up a reunion party! More information is soon to be delivered in the next email, and I’m super excited to hear from you all. Arrangements with your agencies will take place as soon as confirmations come through. You’re previous classmate, Tenya Iida”

As though your prayers had been answered, you were greeted with that email. Now, this was an offer you couldn’t pass up! Without hesitation, your fingers started typing away at your phone, the pads of your fingers darting across the glass as though they had a mind of their own. You were determined to go, excitement flooding your sense at just the thought of the whole event! As your eager fingers hit send on the email a sudden thought crossed your mind.

Shit...

You hadn’t thought about it previously, mind racing and occupied with the general idea of a reunion, how were you going to get to the location of the party?

As said previously, life was not as expected after graduating, and though heroes lived a life with above-average pay, bathing in luxuries at times, it all took years of experience. No way could you have reached such a high status having worked for less than a year in this field. With the lack of money to your name, there were no chances of you owning a car at this very moment in time. Maybe public transport was a good option? But the delays, need for time arrangements and the entire coordination of your journey was already giving you a headache. The travel aspect was less than fruitful.

But you were going to get there one way or another.

Taking in a deep breath, you gently pressed the off button on your device, sinking your body further into the couch as you allowed your body to finally relax. Your mind pondered of all the different options, from uber’s and cabs to all the different forms of public transport available. But as your unresting thoughts echoed around in your head, you finally concluded. A conclusion that churned your stomach, a fluttery feeling pricking the goosebumps along your chilled skin.

You could ask Bakugou for a lift.

Though this plan seemed faulty, a high chance he would decline the offer to attend the reunion filled with “extras”, you still had your hopes up high.

Out of all the people who could have moved to the same part of town as you, Bakugou was the one. It was pure coincidence that you both had ended up not too far from each other, a block away in fact. Though throughout all three years that you attended u.a you had barely spoken to him. You had your exchange in words here and there, the occasional insult would be thrown your way, but oddly enough out of all people in the class, you received his harsh treatment the least. You just figured, he barley knew you so acknowledging your existence was a waste of his time. Yet his subtle acts of warmth towards you didn’t go unnoticed by your subconscious, a strange feeling invading your body. You developed feelings for the boy.

Shockingly, you found yourself attracted to him, even with the lack of a solid foundation for a proper friendship. You didn’t know what exactly enticed you so much, maybe it was his toned chiselled frame or perhaps his confident exterior. Whatever it was, it had your heart thumping faster at every glance you two shared, and the thoughts that lingered with these unexplainable emotions were even more hectic. It was as though every second you spent alone, confined by the four white walls of your room, you lay wondering of all you wanted him to do to you. A peak of curiosity soon turned into a full-fledged lust for him. The moment you batted your eyelids shut, you’d picture his muscular body towering yours, his hands pinning you down as he’d shamelessly make you a mess under his touch. A thought of him could make your entire body explode. It was all far too complicated for you to process.

That’s why when you moved to a new part of the city, in hopes to start work as well rid yourself of your weird infatuation, you went pale at the sight of him only a couple streets away from where you newly lived. You tried to convince yourself this was indeed a one-time occurrence, yet you’d see him again and again... and again. He most certainly lived near you, it was undeniably true.

Every time you’d return from work, shoes hitting the concrete sidewalk with an echoing tap, you’d always pass him. At first, you shared no words, not a single exchange between you two until one day he randomly spoke up. You remember that moment like the back of your hand, as though it happened just a few minutes ago. Admittedly, the conversation was nothing spectacular, but it still caused a rapid shock to strike through you as the memory of you exchanging numbers with him lurked your brain. The whole event was so bizarre and it still seems unreal now.

Snapping from your daydream, you came to a solid answer. This was probably the best time to put his number to good use. Unlike you, he had a car and could most likely drive you to where ever this reunion will take place... That’s if he decides he is going to attend as well. That’s where your plan seems to not be so successful.

Yet, you had no other choice. He was your best shot at finally getting a break from this borderline isolation.

Nervously, you picked your phone up once more, gently scrolling through your contacts until a familiar name was visible: ‘Katsuki Bakugou’. A nervous feeling burnt at the pit of your stomach as you anxiously went to type out a message. Your shaky fingers tapped the keyboard, with every additional letter that was added to your sentence, your heartbeat sped up even faster until you felt it pound against your ears. Who knew you could feel so nervous about a generic message... It was Bakugou you were texting after all. Not only was he known for being an uncontrollable hothead, but he was also the guy you often fantasied about. You were more than flustered by this point.

Finally, after rereading your message frantically over and over again, you hit send. You felt your heart quickly sink before a chill ran through your entire body. Now you play the waiting game...

On the other end of the line sat a pouting Bakugou. Just like you, he had received the same email, his face crinkled into a frown as he read the disgusting email present on his screen. Like he’d show up to watch a bunch of extras overly excited for no reason. The entire thought of a reunion made his blood boil. At the same time, however, he wouldn’t mind seeing a few faces.

Sure he hated the class, but there was no denying he missed the ‘old days’. He rolled his eyes and let out a huff, in complete annoyance at how soft he’d become. Was he really contemplating going to that shitty reunion? Apparently so, as he decided to type up a quick response to Iida's invite.

A thought he had tried awfully hard to suppress soon made its way to the surface. It was you. Out of all the people he’d want to meet at the reunion, it had to be you. Though he didn’t necessarily have to be at the reunion to view you.

Similarly, he found himself drawn to you for some obscure reason. All throughout high school up until now. During school, he would always gawk at the way your skirt swayed side to side as you walked or even the way you leaned against the desk arching your back most perfectly. It had Bakugous eyes adhered to you. He just wanted to run his hands across your entire body, his lips bequeathing marks on every soft sweet spot on your skin. You’d be his, the deep hickeys that scattered your delicious skin marking his territory. Never had he felt so sexually frustrated, desiring a person so bad it was making him lose his mind. He had better things to worry about, like brining the number 1 hero for starters, but no matter how much he tried denying his deepest desires they just wouldn’t leave.

He tried so hard, he even moved just to get away from you. Of course, that didn’t work, when he saw you strutting down the sidewalk, your clothes hugging all your curves in a way that made his mouth water. He wanted you, and he wanted you bad!

And Bakugou gets, what Bakugou wants.

Just as that memory swirled his mind, a ping came from his phone, the gentle vibration of the device in his palm breaking him from his fantasy. His vermillion eyes went wide as he glanced down at the notification that had just gone off. The name he wanted to see most displayed.

‘Hey! It’s [name], hope I’m not being a bother :) I’m sure you also received the email about the reunion party, I hope to see you there. That’s if I can get there... Maybe you could give me a lift? Don’t worry if you don’t want to, I understand!’

Bakugou bit his bottom lip as he squinted down at the information in front of him. As much as he wanted to agree, his pride didn’t permit him an agreement to your proposal so easily. Rather than cooperating the way he wanted to, he typed out a message juxtaposing his real desire.

And there started your exchange in messages, the back and forth and your “convincing” to give you ride. Though we all know Bakugou was going to give in to it either way.

Weeks had passed since then, the texts that followed after between you two was kept to an evident minimum. The only exchange included a catch up on your plans for the reunion and that was about it. You were more anxious by the day, knowing the reunion date was coming closer to existence.

Next thing you knew, the day had arrived.

You were seated in the passenger seat of Bakugous car. Nervously, you shifted in the leather seat, hand resting on the inner door handle as your eyes followed the passing trees that came in and out of view.

The sky was faintly clouded, a ray of golden sun piercing through parted clouds, dripping a soft sunset hue over the ivy leaves of the trees. You sat inside the car, yet you remembered the faint chilly winds that caressed your skin. Overall, the weather was decent, far from perfect but not awful either.

The tranquillity that filled the car was apparent, the most noise that was present was the hushed sound of the radio playing, the music placid. It only intensified the awkward silence that was held between you both.

Playing with the hem of your dress, you spoke up in an attempt to spark up a conversation. “well, aren’t you the conversationalist” you spoke sarcastically, a hint of playfulness in your voice. Though you spoke suddenly, Bakugou didn’t seem to divert his focus from the road. His face stayed in its usual state, not even a smirk dared to spread across his lips. Clearly, your playfulness was not reciprocated. The silence engulfed you both for a while longer before he finally responded. His reply was less than adequate, a simple hum.

You shifted your attention back onto the view outside, watching as the car drives deeper and deeper into some sort of forest. The trees grew larger, the suns light being swallowed by the towering greenery above. Cars began passing more infrequently until you had not seen one in ages on the road that had become more narrow.

It felt like you had been in this car for an unbearably long amount of time. You couldn’t tell if time was just moving slower than usual at how bored you were at this very moment in time or if your destination was farther than you expected.

Pulling your phone from your bag that rested atop your lap, you checked the time.

‘6:23 pm’

It was confirmed that time was just moving awfully slower than usual. You had only been in the car for a little under 15 minutes. There was still a fair amount of time left until the party started, so there were no worries on being late though you still had quite a few kilometres to cover. Relieved, you placed your phone back into your bag. You slowly let your eyes rest shut, hoping a quick nap would pass time more sufficiently.

And as you had just calmed your nerves enough to sleep, your body suddenly jolted forward. Your seatbelt immediately binding around your chest, pressing your body flush against the seat as you braced the impact of the sudden stop of the car.

“For fuck sake” Bakugou finally spoke up as he kissed his teeth, gripping the steering wheel remarkably tight that his knuckles were becoming white.

“what just happened?”. Out of curiosity, you questioned the man, his face now looking more annoyed than ever. His hand fiddled with the car keys, the engine roaring repeatedly as he tried turning the car on. “What does it fucking look like, dumbass?” he barked at you, still frantically trying to turn the car on. It didn’t help that he had now started slamming the steering wheel between each attempt.

“Are you out of gas?” You spoke up innocently. There was no denying you were now, in fact, feeling less hopeful that you had enough time to make it to the reunion.

For the first time, he finally made eye contact with you. His rose eyes staring at you in frustration, in complete disbelief at how oblivious you were.

“Of course not! You fucking moron, the shitty car just broke down” He barked at you before flinging the car door wide open, slamming it with a harsh bang as he made his dramatic exit.

You watched him pace up and down with distinct stomps, muttering something under his breath while typing away at his phone. Taking the hint, you exit the vehicle as well. “So, what now?” you irritate him further with your persistent queries.

“How the fuck is there no service? HOW AM I MEANT TO GET THIS SHIT FIXED?” his yells echoed through the vast scenery that surrounded you.

With him stressing, you couldn’t help but taste your mouth go dry as panic began settling in as well. It was no use having the two of you in a frenzy. Rationally, you walked over to Bakugou, your phone gripped in your hand as you formed the only logical suggestion. “Try my phone”

He didn’t even question or ridicule your suggestion like he probably desired to, instead yanking the phone out of your hand and attempting to dial-up a number. It didn’t take long until his eyes rolled back in failure and his jaw flexed with gritted teeth. No luck there either clearly.

“Guess we aren’t going to the shitty reunion. You're fucking welcome!” He yells once more, slapping the phone back into your palm. The worst somehow ended up playing out, complete defeat washing over your body.

Resting against the car, you dropped your bottom lip into a slight pout, the chilly air growing cooler.

You were in the middle of nowhere, the only form of transport for miles was now down and to top it off you were getting cold. Your body rapidly began to shiver, goosebumps pricking along your exposed skin.

“Aren’t you fucking smart” Bakugou scoffed as he stared at you, arms crossed over his broad chest. “didn’t even bring a jacket while wearing some stupid dress”

Rather than yelling like he had been doing for the last couple minutes, he was calming his nerves by teasing you. It may have been the adrenaline that made him feel so open to being more playful, or maybe he attempted to distract himself from how much of a loser he currently felt with a broken car. Whatever it was, he was now smirking at the girl in front of him, tantalising her about the cold.

“I didn’t know I’d be stuck outside, did I?” You teased back, rolling your eyes at him. The fact he was being so calm on the outside was making you feel less worried, yet more nervous at his sudden change in mood than anything.

His eyes stared you up and down, analysing your shivering state as the wind began picking up. Another sigh left his parted lips before resuming to speak. "Go sit inside the car. No use shivering like a dumbass if you can't handle a bit of wind" he chuckled slightly as he spoke, as though to assure you his comment was in fact not as rude as he intended it to come out.

Though you obeyed, taking careful steps around the car to sit back in it, you decided to throw your own snarky remark his way. "Not one to talk when you're wearing a jacket". You give him a 'look', before fully submerging yourself in the cars shielded warmth. It may have broken down not too long ago, but it was still well heated. An instant chill rolled down your spine as your body quickly adjusted to the sudden change in temperature.

"Sorry, princess. Didn't realise I had royalty as company". That devious smirk sprawled itself across his tanned face as he followed your move, getting in the car himself. Something about the way he addressed you made you quiver, the innocent word was also oh so seductive. That sudden feeling of arousal pent up inside you, fogging your thinking.

"I- don't get too cocky now". Your reply came out as a jittery stutter, senses overwhelmed by his playful tone that had you heated. Senses scattered, too flustered by his seemingly unintentional words. It's not like he knew about your fantasies of him or how your sinful thoughts begged for him to call you such names. And now as you were in the midst of it all, you couldn't help but lose yourself.

He let out another husky laugh. The way you broke apart at the simplest words only stroked his ego. No denying he purposely chose those specific words to see how you'd react, and to his surprise, it went far better than expected. "Here, have my jacket then if you wanna keep yapping about it"

Speechless, your vision was once again fixated on him. Gawking at the leather jacket that slipped of his physique, revealing his toned, muscular arms. You swallowed the nervous lump in your thought down, butterflies invading your system as you watched.

You expected him to carelessly throw the jacket your way, alternatively he leaned over. His significantly larger body mounted over yours as he placed his jacket over your exposed legs, instant warmth tickling your chilled skin.  His hands felt so smooth as they lightly brushed against your thigh, the accidental touch shooting straight to your core. It was humiliating at how quickly you discomposed around him, cheeks red and breath hitched. You just couldn't help it, a presence like his was way too intense. Especially, at this moment.

"U-um, so what are we going to do now?" you try to change topics as you felt your current heated state become far too overwhelming, whole-body hot as your thoughts began drifting to all the wrong places.

He peeped his eyes, as though deep in thought."Wait until someone hopefully passes, I guess?". The uncertainty in his tone had you feeling concerned again. The worry bombarding you, diverting your inner emotions elsewhere. You've wanted to meet your classmates so vigorously for ages, all fired up for weeks as you obsessively counting down the days, only for this to happen. Not a single car had been in view for ages, god knows until the next one would come. That's also assuming that the car would even stop for you two. This was so disappointing, a hollow feeling in your chest as you sulked.

"I guess? For god sake, we aren't even going get to the reunion in time!"

Bakugou had noticed your sudden change in mood. In all honesty, he didn't quite understand why you wanted to see those annoying dickheads anyway, but he felt strangely sympathetic towards you. "Oi, I'm fucking sorry. I'll drive you to see your friends another time".

"What if there isn't another time?" you mope at him, facing your body towards him. He doesn't reply right away, mirroring your actions instead to examine your current behaviour. There was no way he could make this situation better unless the car magically fixed itself. Which to be fair, would never happen. As his eyes scanned you, he noticed the way you were still shivering, the once heated car losing its warmth. It was his best shot at diverting the conversation.

"You're still shivering, dumbass". His red orbs were fixed on you as he reached out his arms towards you. They felt considerably warmer than you as they rested on your shoulders. You followed his gaze that watched his own hands as they rubbed you up and down carefully. The slight friction between his hands and your skin bringing you some heat. It only sunk in then that his large hands were tracing your arms, his warmth transferring to you. Flusters took over your sense again. As much as you wanted to speak up right now, you knew you'd only choke up on your words, far worse than your stutters. As your stomach swirled, you felt ardour rush to your face. A rose haze coated your skin, eyeing the way Bakugou rubbed his hands against you.

"Looks like you've warmed up, that's for sure" he grinned at you, noticing the way your chest began rising and falling, heartbeat thumping rapidly. The way your face flushed scarlet as your eyes danced around your atmosphere, all at his touch. He noticed it all. And boy was it rubbing his ego.

"I-uh, yeah. I mean- no?". Your words came out jumbled, unable to form proper sentences when his ruby eyes finally gazed up at you. The mysterious glint in them made you feel overwhelmed, unaware of what move he would make next.

"So you need to be warmed up a bit more, huh?". His hands swiftly grazed your arms, just about hovering over your soft skin. Careful touches traced it, your words departing from your brain. The entirety of your focus was on the way Bakugou's fingertips tickled you delicately, the electric feeling flowing throw you. "Speak up for me. Do you still need to be warmed?". He snapped you back into reality without warning, only to put you in a trance again. The way he spoke with such dominance, demanding for you to speak, only stirred your imagination further. You had pictured moments like these so many times, him ordering you to do as he says. And as these thoughts rushed to the surface, you started to feel heat build between your thighs.

"Yeah, sorry!". Frantically, you attempt to respond, a nervous giggle followed your sentence as it came out of your mouth. "If that's what you want, princess". He emphasised the nickname, his lips curling into a sneer as his hands began to wander. The soothing touch travelled upwards, his hands gliding over your skin, one resting on your warmed rosy cheek. His sudden action had your breath hitching. You'd portray such touches numerous times yet nothing could have appointed you for this moment as your nerves fell apart.

As you tried to ration the situation out in your mind, his eyes finally locked with yours. The intimate stare had you holding your breath. Gently, he massaged his thumb against your cheek as he slowly moved his hand to the back of your neck, chills dripping down your spine. His eyes flickered between your eyes and mouth, hinting at a kiss. Was he going to kiss you? You must have been dreaming or something. But it was all happening, right now. There was no time to contemplate the event at hand. His face was edging closer to yours only inches apart, his proximity to you titillating. As you waited for his lips to finally come in contact with yours, you began losing patience. It's like he purposely was a millimetre away from your lip just to taunt you. You took in one more breath, easing your nerves before crashing your lips against his.

Your initial cold shivers were a way for Bakugou to change the subject from his broken car, and it all had worked out in his favour. Admittedly, this was not the outcome he was intending for, but he was not complaining either. He was finally able to seel a kiss with a girl that had invaded his thoughts for years. A dream come true if you will.

His tender lips felt so soft against yours, the sweet caramel taste engulfing your senses as they oozed from his lips. The once overwhelming anxiousness that had you falling apart beneath his touch was now easing as you melted into the passionate exchange between the two of you. Bakugou's lips moved in sync with yours, sucking and tugging at your bottom lip hungrily, undoubtedly smudging your lipstick. His pearly whites sunk into your bottom lip, giving them a smooth tug before sliding his warm tongue in. As he did so, his hand explored your body, slowly descending down the side of your torso, gripping you tightly. His other hand, that had itself placed at the back of your neck, suddenly wrapped around your throat. A rough squeeze was given, encouraging a gasp to erupt from your voicebox. His unforeseen move made you feel sensitive, clenching your thighs together to relieve the desperate ache between your legs. The warm wet muscle that had slipped inside your mouth earlier adventured in your mouth, swirling around your tongue and trailing every inch. It all felt so unreal.

Suddenly, Bakugou pulled away with a string of saliva connecting you both. His hands were still firm on wherever they were on your body. Through parted lips, he panted as his gaze darted. "Fuck, looks like you got me warm as well now". His signature smirk was back, his hand that held you by the neck pulling your face closer to his. Vermillion eyes analysed you, watching the way your face was flushed, lips were wet and lipstick was smudged. Realising he probably had some red on his lips as well from your makeup, he brought one hand to his face, wiping his plump lips with the back of his hand. The image before you only made you wetter, thighs already tightly clutched. And as though he could read your mind, he brought that same hand down to your thigh with a slap. The impact of his hands against you instantly shot to your soaking core, though the actions didn't hurt you much. You felt a tingling sensation to dance across your skin. Rubbing the impacted area, Bakugou continued to look at you, his eyes occasionally diverting to were he was soothing your thigh. His hands began needing your thigh higher and higher until his fingers dipped into the gap where your two thighs made contact. Teasingly, he drove one thigh from another to part them. "And you're definitely warmed up now, baby". His words insinuating how flustered you were.

He brought his lips back to yours as he worked his fingertips up your leg. His touch was so close and you felt so sensitive, you couldn't help but let out a shaky moan into the kiss. You wanted him so bad, craving to feel every inch of him against you. Your hands eager, you brought them up to his shirt. Clenching your hands around the piece of fabric, you tugged him closer to you, the distance between you two unbearable as you sat in separate seats. Your actions brought him to a sudden pause, causing him to pull away. "Are you that desperate for me?". His seductive tone made your face heat up and even more aroused. By now, you sure as hell knew your cunt was drenched. "You want me so fucking bad, don't you?". His hand was back in motion, fingertips almost touching you through your underwear. All you could do was moan in response as you craved his touch. "I can't fucking hear you". He taunted you once again, before his fingertips finally stroked your wet panties, massaging your folds through the cotton. You felt your breath tremble as he applied gentle pressure.

"Y-yes, I've wanted you so bad for a long time". Voice unsteady, you could just barely articulate. You felt the way his fingers caressed you through your underwear, index finger circling your clit so that the fabric would trigger your sensitive bud. Another moan emerged out your lips as you took in a profound breath. "I can tell. Your fucking soaking and it's all for me, babygirl". His cool breath trickled down your ear as he murmured against it.

You couldn't bear it anymore, the distance practically eating away at your patience as sexual frustration overflowed your senses. His fingers continued to shower you in affection but it was no longer enough. You needed more. "Please, Bakugou. I-I want you so bad right now". Hitched breaths and shallow moans rolled off of your tongue as you spoke, Bakugou's eyes sinful as he observed you.

"You'll have to be more specific than that". The same mockeries filled your ears, craving to see you flush as you spoke of all your desires, embarrassed by their explicit nature. As he awaited your response, he slowed his movements down, only teasing you further as it stript you off the pleasure you so desperately yearned for. "Shit, I want to feel you. I want to be closer- please".

The words dripped from your mouth as though it was second nature, the thirst for him more than unambiguous by your needy state. With that, his hands left your core, the cool air surrounding you as his warmth departed. You watched him carefully with longing eyes. The way his cherry centres locked on you as his grip came to your waist. His firm hands grabbed hold of you as he granted your wishes, placing you on his lap.

You sat on top of him, his toned legs holding you up and his hands pursued your body. The way your thighs rested atop his, your sensitive core throbbing against his hardening cock and the way his palms massaged your curves felt all so surreal. Subconsciously grinding against him, you felt his cock brush up against your folds, and with every stroke of your hips, the friction was shooting an electric buzz through you. "Didn't know you were such a needy slut for me". He purred at you with that deriding look in his eyes, smirking smugly. All you did was hum in return to his taunts.

Wrapping your hands around his neck, you lingered your fingertips along his neckline, gradually pulling his face in for another kiss. Devouring each other's lips once again, Bakugous hands slipped beneath your dress, lifting it to loosely drape around your waist. Your legs fully displayed, the frigid air hurried to leave goosebumps along your skin. Resuming his excursion, his fingers wandered back to where they seized you previously. As he leaned into the makeout, he rested your back against the steering wheel before tearing away from your mouth. Keen set of eyes watching you."Tell me exactly where you want my hands to go, baby. Your lucky I'm willing to take directions". For a moment you realised the exception he was making.

Bakugou was known for listening to no one but himself. So the fact he considered something like this, even if it was during an odd time, spoke volumes. It only stabilised, if not boosted, the feeling that you harboured for Bakugou. Yet there was no time to ponder over his actions. You hesitated to respond at first, slightly embarrassed to provide him with an answer.

"I want you to touch me". You deeply flushed at your reply but Bakugou only squinted at you. "Babygirl, your such a needy bitch but won't even get into specifics. Come on, you can be open with me". His words only strengthened the blush that overlaid your skin to deepen, if that was even possible. Even in your profoundly flustered disposition, you needed him and retaining your mouth shut was not an option.

"Bakugou, you know what I mean. Here". You childishly whine before grabbing hold of his hand, guiding it to your heat. His firm hand was resting on your bound cunt, not making a single move but rather looking at you intently. "Good enough" was his only response.

Swiftly, his slender fingers submerged under the fabric of your underwear, coming in contact with your wetness. The suddenness of his actions provoked a gasp to emit from your mouth, his fingers already exploring you. The feeling of his warmth travelling tenderly up and down your folds, with the occasional attentiveness to your clit made you squirm as you sucked deep breaths in. Your chest came up and down as air raced to pervade you, your moans getting gradually louder as you rubbed and arched against his touch. His attentive touch began centring more on your delicate bud, picking up his pace as he soaked in the sight of you falling apart atop him. Your heavy breaths and moans that filled the air and the way you desperately moved against every circular motion of his finger. Fuck was the sight something he had dreamt of for so long, and it was far better than he imagined. "You fucking like that huh?" he uttered through gritted teeth as his face crept closer to yours, observing the way you tightly squeezed your eyes shut, mouth dropped open.

"Shit, yes. Just like that" your breathy response came out as just above a whisper, too caught up in the pleasure of his touch. And just when you thought it couldn't feel any better, you felt his two fingers slip inside you. Your warm pink walls instantly sucking his fingers in, frantically tightening against them. A lusty moan shot out of your mouth, the overwhelming feeling of him fully submerged within you, pumping in and out. His fingers curled to hit just the right spot before you could fully adjust. The sensation was all too much and you felt the desire consume you. Panting and moaning, you could barely make sense of your surroundings as he didn't hesitate to advance his movements by pumping harder and faster, your wetness trickling down his bronzed palm.

His pace only intensified, his fingers gliding in and out of you, rubbing against your contracting walls that made your stomach burn. Burn in a way that made you almost lose control as it tied knots in your abdomen. Every spot that made your body arch against its will, legs jutting and twitching, he hit it all. And just as you edged nearer to your orgasm, moans building up at the back of your throat, ready for release as your nails dug into Bakugou's forearms. He came to a sudden pause, retreating his fingers, now soaked in your juices. You felt the dissatisfaction of his lack of attention, yearning to be touched again. Thick pants filled the car as Bakugou smirked at you and at the way you couldn't help but grind against him to supply for his loss of attention towards you.

"Princess, you didn't really think you'd get it that easy" he spoke tauntingly, rubbing your thighs as he trailed kisses on your collar bone. He'd wanted to mark up your delicate skin so many times, his presence forever embedded on you. Sinking his teeth on your flesh, he sucked and licked it, earning a soft moan from you against his ear. The tickling sensation of your breath against him accompanied by your lewd noises only hardened his growing erection. The restricting tightness of his trousers becoming infuriating for the boy.

He left mark after mark, immersing in the way you rubbed and groaned into him. "Bakugou... I need you. All of you.". Your words were like music to his ears, a combination of sounds he'd wanted to hear for so long. You begging for him to please you, make you his. It didn't even take him a second thought to know what he wanted to do to you, almost agreeing instantly. "Show me how bad you need me then". The challenging statement made you feel more heated, already in complete aw at the way his lips marked your skin.

You gently pushed him off you, pressing his back into the black leather seat, planting a delicate kiss on his lips before ducking between his legs. The position was cramped, the compact space of being under the steering wheel, legs crossed as you shifted your body further back until you could feel the disengaged pedal of the vehicle.

Bakugou sat with eager eyes on you, waiting for what you'd do next. To be honest, he felt uncomfortable at his lack of control at this very moment, already plotting how he'd regain it once more once he caught onto what your plan was. "Is this your way of proving yourself" he snickered at you, your hands on his belt, the clinking of the metal drowning out his voice. Through the material of his trousers, you could see the outline of his bulge, tight around the fabric restraints.

And just as you went to undo the restraints, unravelling the package that was contained, your head had hit the soft padding of the steering wheel. The sudden beep of the car horn went off, alarming the two of you. "What the fuck," Bakugou spoke up first in confusion. The car had obviously broken down only a few minutes ago yet it had finally decided to cooperate and disturb your guys' self-indulgence.

"Perfect timing" You giggled as you let your hands fall from his belt, slightly disappointed by the interruption. You wanted to continue this fantasy, see where it would take you both but you had other priorities on your mind as well. Like getting to the reunion for starters."Don't look so distressed, baby" Bakugou spoke softly as he lifted your chin, admiring you and the marks he left all over. "We will finish what we started, after all, I've been wanting this for so fucking long" He admitted and you couldn't help but redden at his remark.

You delicately slipped from under the wheel, dragging your dress down to cover your flashed skin. "I'll be looking forward to that then" You fire your own flirt his way, tipping over to leave a gentle peck against his lips before cleaning your lipstick from his face. He responded with a scoff and a rolling of his eyes, diverting his attention to the road to start driving again.

"I would say cover up the hickeys, but I want all those damn extra's to know who you belong to now" He smirked giving you the side-eye. Only then did you notice your wrecked state, desperately trying to fix your appearance in the small overhead mirror.

Bakugou steadily drove to your destination as his large hand rested on your thigh, you both wondering where you'd finish this excursion...

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[narnie3313]

Let Me Burn-Chapter 2

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Romance, Eventual Smut

Warnings: Language, Violence, Explicit,etc....

Summary: The moment you saw those piercing eyes in the corner of the club, you knew you were hooked. There was never a question about it…You knew this man would burn you, yet you embraced the flames.

Pairing: Dabi x reader

Chapter 1  |  Chapter 2  |  Chapter 3

“It’s you….who are you? Why were you watching me? Who are you? What did you have to do with all this?” At this point you didn’t care that you were rambling and repeating yourself, you were too lost to care.

“I wont hurt you. I put you in the room so you didn’t get hurt. I’ll ex….”

“YOU put me in the room? Why? When? Why don’t I remember?”

“If you’ll shut up for a minute I’ll explain everything but I need to get out of here and I want you to follow me. If you don’t, you wont get your answers and you’ll never see me again.” Without another word he turns around and steps towards the door.  

Shit. I don’t need to be involved in this. But I need to know what happened…I need to know who he is. You turn and quickly snatch up your belongings and follow after him. The front door is gone….a hole where it used to be. That must be what the explosions were before the blue light… You walk out into the cold night air, feeling it more than usual because you would usually be drunk going home so wouldn’t feel the cold breeze. You try to stifle your shiver as you follow the tall man in the black trench coat. What the hell am I thinking. This guy looks like a textbook serial killer or some shit….my mother would kill me. You sigh and shake your head. But something about him feels….safe? He saved you from whatever happened in there and those eyes of his hold too many secrets that you cant walk away without unravelling. I need to know.  

You’re not sure how long you’ve been walking but you keep about 5 paces behind him at all times. It’s not until he stands in a side alley holding a door open and staring straight into your soul again that you notice you’re far away from the regular bright lights and busy streets of the city. He looks from you to the door as if telling you to go inside. You slowly move towards him and look straight into his eyes questioningly then move inside the door and look around. It’s not what you expected at all. You’re led off the street down a short hallway into an elevator where he presses the highest number. As the elevator begins moving, you can feel his stare on you while you’re just looking at your hands. You allow your gaze to move up his body towards his eyes, admiring the body under his open coat. Tight jeans show the curves of his calves and his muscular thighs but his loose singlet shows his collarbones and strong neck. Moving up to his face, you notice his scars, once again feeling drawn to them as if they were magnetic to you. Paying close attention to every one of the staples in his skin, your eyes move to stare into those endless blue pools again only to find him trailing his gaze over your body that you had all but forgotten was only covered in a skimpy black dress.  

“Enjoying the view?” You ask with a roll of your eyes, hoping he’ll ignore the fact that you’d just been doing the same thing to him.

“Could ask you the same thing, sweetheart.” He says with a small smirk as his eyes come back to meet yours.

“Where are we? Where are we going?”

“One of my safehouses. You wanted answers so I’ll give them to you. But I had to get out of there before the cops and heroes got there.”

“What are you, some kinda hit man or some shit? What normal person needs a safe house?” You say as the elevator doors open with a ding.

“I’ll answer anything you ask soon. You’re cold and still in that little dress so go take a shower first and I’ll set some clothes out on the bed for you to warm up first. When you’re done, come out and we’ll talk.”  

“You’re serious? 1. I don’t know where those clothes have been. 2. I’m not just gonna get naked in a strangers apartment and 3. I don’t even know who you are.”

“You don’t have to trust me but you’re safe here. Why would I save you just to hurt you? Seems like a waste of time don’t you think?” He says with a tone of disinterest.

“I guess…” You say as you walk away into the bathroom he pointed to. You couldn’t deny, you were really, really cold. The winter air on the street certainly hadn’t done you any favours.  

You spent longer than you care to admit searching every possible spot for a camera or something suspect but gave up when you found nothing. You got in the shower only after making sure the door was locked like 3 times and allowed the hot water to warm your cold body. Once you were done, you wrapped yourself in the fluffy towel and unlocked the door to peek into the bedroom to see if he was waiting for you. Surprisingly he wasn’t….although not all that surprising. Despite the abnormal appearance that may have frightened anyone else, you weren’t phased by the scars….they weren’t what drew you in, and for some unexplainable reason, the moment you laid eyes on him, you knew you were a goner.  

Warm and dressed into a set of what you guessed were a pair of his sweatpants and hoodie, you walked cautiously out the bedroom door and entered a large, open plan living room/ kitchen surrounded by large windows over looking a dark part of the city. You weren’t sure exactly how high you were but you could see where the city centre was from the bright lights a few blocks away. You looked around for the mysterious man you’d allowed yourself to be taken by…I can’t even say he kidnapped me. Damn it y/n, why do you make stupid choices? Why are you like this? You place the ball of your hand in your eye socket and throw you head back in frustration. You’d made stupid, dangerous mistakes before but they paled in comparison to this. This takes the cake.  

“You know,” that husky voice sounds from to your right, sitting in an arm chair watching you. “Most women wouldn’t follow a strange man home. Do you have a deathwish?”

“I don’t know. I needed answers about what happened and….” You look back down to your hands.  

“And…?” He asks, cocking a brow.

“And……I can’t explain it but….I feel safe with you. Your eyes tell me there’s more to you.”

Your eyes are still on your hands in your lap so you miss the way his eyes widen with shock at your words.  

“I’ll answer whatever you want honestly.”

You’re not even sure what to ask first. You look up at him through your lashes. “Why did you save me from….whatever it was that happened back there?”

“I don’t actually know. Something about the way I was drawn to you the whole night and then the way you approached me and touched me without even a touch of fear in your expression….I knew I had to see you again.”

Your face flushed at that. “Ok, so, you were watching me the whole night?”

“Couldn’t keep my eyes off you, doll.” The way the name rolled off his tongue had your body heating up from within your core as his eyes noticed the change in your breathing and smirked.

“Ok….then….who are you exactly?”

“Dabi.” Your heart sank as each syllable of the name rattled in your brain. Dabi. You’d seen that name on the news. Extremely dangerous, do not approach. Yet here you were sitting in his living room. Your eyes widen slightly, not knowing exactly how to react. The news articles never specified what he was wanted for, just that he was dangerous. But this man in front of you seemed so…..soft? Despite his appearance he just radiated gentle vibes. What the hell is actually wrong with you, y/n? First thing, 9am, I’m booking a therapist.  

“I’m guessing by that reaction, you know who I am.” He sits forward, slouching and resting his elbows on his knees at that statement. You shake your head gently. “No?”

You look up at him with gentle yet cautious eyes. “Well, I mean…I’ve seen you on the news. Wanted and dangerous was all they say so no, I don’t actually know who you are, I just know OF you.”

He can’t help but smile at that. “Hmm.” He sighs, leaning back lazily in his chair. “You’re interesting. You know my name and that I’m wanted for reasons unknown to you but bad enough that they say my name more than twice a day on national television, yet you’re still here, sitting in front of me, without running or looking at me in horror. Why?”

“Well, all I can think about is how you’ve had literally every chance to hurt me but you haven’t. You could have in the club, but you put me in the room away from whatever happened there. You could have while I was looking in the locker. You strike me as the kind of person that would be quiet enough on your feet not to get caught if you didn’t want to be. You had heaps of chances while walking the dark, empty streets here. Hell, you even had me in your bathroom and bedroom where no one would have ever known where I went and you still did nothing except offer me a shower and clothes… I don’t think you want to hurt me. Then again,” you say throwing your hands up and shrugging, “maybe there’s bigger, more torturous plans for me.” You say with a giggle as you watch him smile slightly. “Look, I don’t know why you’re being nice to me or whatever, but thank you. The next question I have is, what actually happened to the club? And why did I pass out while watching you?”

“Both questions I don’t think you’re going to like the answers to.”

“I need to know.”

“Ok. The club was broken into and robbed by the team I’m involved in. That club was actually a front for a black market. They had the biggest stash of priceless stolen items in the city in their cellars. My group needed the money so we took what we could grab and destroyed the rest of the club as a message to the owner. As for why you got passed out, I’m sure you would have been hot from the dancing and the body heat of the dance floor and its not uncommon for people to pass out from heatstroke in events like that, but I’m pretty sure what sent you over the edge was my flames.” As he says the last word, he rotates a hand to rest on his knee palm side up as a small blue flame dances in his palm. “My flames burn way, way hotter than most so it would have knocked you out since you were so close.”

You were mesmerised by the flickering blue light in his palm still, until he noticed your dazed expression and closed his hand into a fist, extinguishing the flames. Shaking your head, you look back at him. “So that’s what the blue light was?” He nods. “Ok. There’s one more question, but I’m afraid to ask.”  

“You want to know what happened to all the people in the club.”

You can only bring yourself to nod, still looking into those glowing blue eyes.

“The flames I released that you saw were aimed for gas canisters being thrown above the crowd. The gas knocked everyone out. Another one of the group teleported all the people into separate areas of the city except for the owner and the people in on the market. When we got what we needed, I used my flames to torch everything that could indicate we’d been there without letting them spread to the outside so no one showed up until daylight.”

“You’re very calculated. What happens to me now? You said you saved me because you had to see me again… but what does that mean? What do you want with me?”

“I don’t actually know about that yet. I’m not evil. I don’t do things just to kill and maim people and I certainly don’t want to hurt you. I can let you walk away and return to your day to day life since I know nothing you could say to anyone would get me caught anyway, but you’re interesting. I want to unravel you.” Keeping his eyes on you, he stands up and takes 3 large steps towards you, stopping when his toes meet yours. His hand reaches out to your face as his thumb and forefinger cup your chin, tilting your head back slightly. “I want to know what’s going on in that brain of yours…” He leans down till you can feel his breath on your ear, causing goosebumps. “I want to know what makes you tick.”

Now, you couldn’t deny this man was enticing, for lack of a better word, but you also weren’t easy. No matter how hot this man was, you still knew he was dangerous and weren’t about to give it up that easy.

Placing your hands softly on his chest you pushed while leaning back to put some space between you, just enough to give him a smirk. “You’ll have to work a lot harder than that.” With that, he stood back upright and chuckled.

Author note: Ok, chapter 2 is up. I’m currently working on chapter 3 but will also be off grid this weekend (8th August - 10th August) so next chapter should be mid next week but don’t hold me to that. As always, let me know what you think as feedback is always extremely appreciated! Thanks for reading!

#bnha x reader #bnha imagines #bnha fanfiction #dabi x reader #bnha dabi #mha #fanfiction

[subidol]

Jaemin x Reader~ GO (Gang AU)

Jaemin x Reader~ GO (Gang AU)- Chapter One

Warning: This series contains mentions of drugs, violence, underage drinking and crime.

GO

Chapter 1: Following him into despair.

I included some prompts in this chapter :) For everyone that requested, i will include every prompt in this series!

The air was heavy with the smell of burnt flesh and smoke hug in a haze that partially obscured the full moon. This area of Seoul stood like skeletons, baren wastelands, stinking like semi stagnant pools of death. Your only comfort was the oppressive heat flickering against your skin reminding yourself that you were actually alive. A couple of young boys were beating up an old man across the street, and you felt as if you should’ve taken pity on the unfortunate wretches that lived in this part of town, but instead felt an unexplained loathing. As people shoved and pushed past you as you walked, you could see shop owner’s cruel, detestable, disturbing smiles in a permanent sinister snarl from outside of the window.

How did you even get here? You didn’t quite know, but you’d been following your boyfriend, Jaemin, for a while now. Apparently, after school every day, he’d go to a meeting with the ‘Dreamies’, who you didn’t have much of a clue about to be honest; you believed they were just his friends. How wrong you were.

You picked up the pace when you realised he had disappeared from your sight. ‘Shit’, you thought, pulling your jacket around you for a little more warmth and protection from the local’s stares. All of a sudden, you were certain someone was behind you, following you. Usually if you were in your part of town, this wouldn’t have been a problem, but you weren’t in your cute little neighbourhood anymore. You needed no other cue; you bolted out in a sprint, drinking in the polluted air as if each gulp could of been your last. Then came a shout, “What’s a pretty little girl doing out here by yourself?” Your legs almost felt detatched from your body as you ran, even before they could’ve been ripped, or shot to shreds. With a yell, you slipped mistakably and skid into a dumpster. The men trailing you eventually caught up, and loomed over you. The words “How cute.” slipped out of one’s mouth, making you disgusted and more than anything, afraid. You braced yourself for unevitable humiliation, before losing yourself to the paralysation of utter fear.

Moments away from having your clothes ripped off, the demonic bunch of men were heaved off of your weary body, and were tossed and flung like rag dolls, someone hitting them in the back of their heads with a bat. You lookec upwards to see the silhouette of what looked like a dandified prettyboy with a gun.

There was no mistaking it. His face was smooth and defined, and he had tousled brownish hair, thick and lustrous yet untamed, covered with a beanie. Mesmerising eyes with dark eyebrows, which sloped downwards in a serious expression. A careless smirk etched its way across his face as he spoke, “What are you doing here, (Y/N)? Did you follow me?” Somehow, even though he still adorned his usual innocent, soft smile, there was something dangerous and wary about him. 

“Why’d you have to be here now?”

 Badboy!Jaemin helped you up, steadying you on your feet and brushing down your clothes. You narrowed your eyes at his appearance, and was slightly taken aback when you realised there were six other boys, all around your age, crowding round the two of you. “How cute~ is she your girlfriend? What a waste~ I would’ve taken her!” One of them cooed over how cute you looked and knelt down to your level. “I’m Haechan, the decoy! But you can call me Hyuckie, Cutie!” ‘Decoy? What could that mean?’ You wondered, and Jaemin slapped a hand over his hyung’s mouth in protest. There was one guy you recognised, though- Mark Lee, an upperclassman at your college. He never really had much to say to you since you weren’t in the same year, but he always gave off this leader vibe, in a way. And here he was now, with who you assumed were the rest of the Dreamies. “Jaem, what’s going on? Why are you hanging out on such a vile street and...who are all these people?” You questioned, lingering by his side, relunctant to make yourself seen. “Come on, Jagiya, lets go.” He whispered into your ear, attempting to slyly grab your hand and pull you away from the dumpster and out of sight, but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

“Give me one good reason why i shouldn’t slit your throat right now.”

Mark kept a firm grip on your boyfriend’s shoulder, not letting go yet unable to look him in the eye as he spoke in a low, dangerous tone. You could practically feel the tension in the air as Jaemin looked up at his elder, forcing each other to make eye contact. “Nana, didn’t i tell you the rules? Since when did i state that you were allowed to date anyone outside of SM?” He gulped nervously; he knew what punishment was about to take place. Mark shoved Jaemin up against the wall, partially choking him, and you screamed at the horrid sight. A boy with slightly younger features stepped forward and held your arms behind your back and mumured, “Don’t struggle, he’ll be fine. Mark will be done soon.”

“Hyung..i didn’t mean to get her involved-” was the only utterance Jaemin could manage to get out without choking on air. Seconds pass, his lungs refusing to take in enough oxygen. “You know the fucking rules, Nana!” Mark screamed, and let go of the boy harshly. You couldn’t formulate a thought , at least not one based in any language. One thing was for sure though- Dream was not just a friendship group. Mark launched a fist at Jaemin, who barely had time to dodge. The Dreamies knew that Mark could be terrifying when he felt the team was threatened at all. “Mark- hyung! Don’t you think you’re being a bit too harsh?” Another boy with slick black hair and a baby face spoke up. “Jeno, if i was being harsh, i would’ve set you on him.” He was right; Jeno was one of the strongest of the Dreamies and usually carried out any dirty work. He turned back to Jaemin, who was hunched over, too respectful to move against his leader. “Who is she?” He avoided Mark’s gaze, and tilted his head towards you. “I said WHO IS SHE?!” A hard slap made its way onto his face, and he spat out, “My girlfriend! You happy now? I broke the laws of NCT. I’m a failure, a fraud! Was that what you wanted to fucking hear, hyung? Huh?!” Jisung let you run from his embrace and you lunged for Jaemin. He sat silently, shivering, eyes cast straight ahead at his leader with menace.When your hand touched his face, he kept his gaze away, unwilling to risk rejection. With your fingers on his cheek, you turned his head so he could see that there was no judgement in your eyes, no disappointment in the ragged sight of his clothes, or disgust by the way he stenched of alcohol and cigarettes, only love, worry and concern. 

“I have a secret. Should i tell you what i have to hide?” You nodded at your boyfriend, and with the other member’s reluctant nod of approval, he said, 

“There’s a famous gang in Korea called NCT, where not all of the faces have been revealed to the public. Have you heard of them?” You nodded. “Well...this is that gang, and i’m a member of the organisation.”

You passed out.

(Thanks for reading :) )

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[toloveapanther]

T’Cherik: To Love A Panther - Ch.1 - “Hey, cousin.”

Fanfiction: Black Panther.

Universe: Black Panther (2018 movie) universe.

Characters: T’Challa x Erik (Black Panther x Killmonger).

Time: Immediately after T’Challa takes Erik to see the sunset.

                  To Love A Panther - Ch1. “Hey, cousin.”

“Bury me in the ocean, with my ancestors that jumped from the ships, because they knew death was better than bondage..!”

“No..!” T'Challa exclaimed as he grabbed Erik’s hand, stopping him from puling the blade out of his chest. “Stop being so prideful! Let me heal you…”

Erik looked at T'Challa intensely with a mix of emotions. The first of those emotions being anger, for continuously being touched by T'Challa. The second being confusion, for T'Challa so desperately wanting to save him. Either way, T'Challa was getting on his nerves. “…Tuh! Get off of me!” Erik yelled, struggling to get out of T'Challa’s grip. “I already told you, you’re not healing me just so you can keep me prisoner! Tell me why the King of Wakanda would want to save the life of a man who tried to conquer it?”

T'Challa held Erik in place, at first refusing to let go. “Prisoner? I never mentioned keeping you prisoner.” He looked down at the blade piercing his chest, then looked back up to meet Erik’s eyes, exchanging a look of unspoken confirmation agreeing for Erik to hear him out if he lets him go. “It’s simple, we…” He paused, recognizing what he was about to say and remembering the whole reason why they were in this situation, he corrected himself. “…I don’t believe in murder.”

Erik shook his head and scoffed, spitting out some blood next to him. “Murder? You mean suicide. It’s a difference, and it’s definitely not simple.”

“Is there really a difference between the two if I just watch it happen?” Erik, wanting to say something slick in response, couldn’t find the words to say anything at all. All he could do is groan and turn away. T'Challa stood up and walked towards the edge of the cliff, staring at the sunset while Erik was staring at him, in awe. “If I’m being honest with myself, I’m not sure of what it is… I don’t know if it’s my ancestors trying to speak to me in some way, my duty as King of Wakanda, or simply my natural human feelings as T'Challa… but I have a sense of duty to…”

“…to… what? Being a big softie? A real King would have had my head by now.” Erik leaned back against the rock formation behind him, getting more confused, yet intrigued as the minutes passed by.

“…you. I feel a sense of duty to you, Erik Killmonger. As I said, I don’t know…”

“A sense of duty?! Ha!” Erik became hysterical, laughing as if that was the funniest thing he’s ever heard. “You’re a whole clown, yo! This has to be a joke!”

T'Challa chuckled a little to himself, agreeing with Erik. He was confused, honestly, more than he’s ever been in his life. “Are you telling me you don’t feel it? That energy?” T'Challa walked back over to where Erik was, kneeling so they could be eye level to one another. “…That unexplained connection between us?”

Erik was uneasy in a sense, rightfully so. What really was going on? “I mean, I guess it’s that family thing, cuz. I’m sure you feel that same type of “energy” with Shuri and auntie, too.”

“No…” T'Challa slowly placed his right hand on Erik’s left cheek, carefully rubbing across the scars Erik had gotten from their recent fight. “It feels like it’s more than that… so.. much more than that…”

Erik scoffed again and rolled his eyes, his curiosity turning into irritation. “Listen, are you gonna spit it out? Or are you gonna waste the rest of the day talking in Wakandan riddles? I’d like to die now, if you don’t mind..!” Silence. Dead silence. For the first time since Erik came to Wakanda, he was forced to stop speaking, entirely. No noises, no complaints… and he didn’t fight it. Erik feeling the King’s lips on top of his own completely stopped him in his tracks. T'Challa, in a moment of intense, unexplainable passion kissed Erik Killmonger… he kissed him.. and kissed him… and kissed him again, until he eventually pulled himself back, biting his bottom lip as if the temptation was too much for him, and letting out a sigh.

“I… I’m sorry. That was… I don’t know.. my first time… kissing… a… well, you know… ummm…” The courageous Wakandan King was falling apart emotionally, he couldn’t help it.

“Ummm… kissing a guy? It’s not a big deal.” Erik smirked.

“No big deal? How can you say that?!” T'Challa, losing grip of his emotions became slightly offended. Did Erik not feel the spark that T'Challa just felt?

“How can I..? It’s 2018 my guy, gay shit is all the rage right now. Well, in the states at least. Besides, some of these scars that you keep staring at are from men… that I had to get especially close to, if you know what I mean.”

T'Challa sighed, not understanding anything that was going on. “So you’ve done this before…?”

“Kissing a man? Yeah, plenty of times. Kissing my cousin? Nah, bro. You’re the first.” Erik shrugged his shoulders, seemingly unbothered.

T'Challa immediately got on the defensive. “Stop…! Don’t call yourself that. I…” Suddenly the two of them heard footsteps approaching.

“What… did I just witness..?” A confused and concerned Shuri walks up, looking at Killmonger, then back to T'Challa. “Brother, are you… do you like… men?”

Erik, becoming hysterical all over again, laughs and then abruptly stops. “…Hey, cousin.”

#toloveapanther #tlab #black panther #black panther fanfiction #fanfiction #t'challa #erik #erik killmonger #killmonger #t'cherik #shuri #gay #yaoi #gay fanfiction #au #alternte universe #erik x t'challa #hey auntie

[youngwidowofbrooklyn]

Heads. In front of people.

This week I did something I’d never done before. I stood on a stage and read something that I wrote in front of a crowd. The assignment was to create a piece seven minutes in length that somehow related to the concept of “Heads.” I went through several drafts, beginning with the notion of “Heads versus Tails” and ending up somewhere very different. Below is the first draft I wrote.

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

Heads.

Heads or tails. Right and wrong. Up and down. Here or there. Kill, fuck, or marry. Death is not an option.

Life is all about choices.

Two roads diverge, and which do you choose? Robert Frost, the pretentious fuck, chose the road less traveled and la-di-da for him.

Meryl Streep, dear Sophie, said to the Nazis “Take my girl!” and regretted her choice for the rest of her life. {Spoiler alert: Did she? I actually never saw “Sophie’s Choice” but I can never miss an opportunity to reference it}

It’s a matter of life and death, make a choice, the beginning or the end. The choice our protagonist makes at the beginning of the novel that sends her on an unexpected journey, and the courageous choice our hero makes at the end of the film to stay and fight and save the poor villagers when the odds are stacked against them.

We love to talk about beginnings and ends. Heads and tails. There’s romance in the newness of a fresh perspective, and there’s cathartic closure that comes in the resolution.

But that’s all bullshit. I call “heads” and we wait, collectively as the coin flips in the air, and some of you - you fuckers - are silently whispering to yourself, “Be tails, be tails, be tails.” And a moment later the reveal comes, and it’s all over. I’m either a winner or a loser. Well, the joke’s on you because I don’t choose. I’m fucking both.

I used to be a person who believed in right and wrong. I used to believe in good guys and bad guys. I used to have been a person who hadn’t experienced much living yet.

2014 was the year after my son was born. It was two years after I’d finally made a the decision to try to have a child before time ran out. In the what seemed like the last moment, we chose to  make another person, my husband and I. And as soon as we got pregnant, we had revealed our secret doubts about this choice we’d made. Could we do it? Could we actually put ourselves second and raise a human being up to be good?

My husband was more nervous than I was, for reasons he’d have to explain, I won’t try to armchair analyze his neuroses. Whenever I had moments of doubt, I was always fortified by the knowledge that my kid would get to have my husband as a dad. My husband: impossibly cool, practical, fastidious, kind and quiet.

My husband: in many ways the yin to my yan. He from a freakishly functional and loving family of educated Southern Democrats. The kind of people who call each other to….talk to each other, because….they love each other? And…are genuinely curious about how each other are feeling?

Me: I’m a fucking Tasmanian devil of skinned knees and dirty socks thrown on the coffee table. Me, the spontaneous one, the one who laughs too loud at shows and gets stink eye from other audience members, who can’t remember to pay bills on time and will jaywalk across streets without looking EITHER WAY, and who has broken a two twice this year, just walking around and not walking where I’m going.

My son’s name - no shit, this is true - my husband thought of his name, and we agreed on it primarily because, as he said, “It sounds really good when you angrily yell it.” And it does. That’s my husband. The practical one, the one much better at planning for the future than me.

So, anyway. 2014. The summer before our son turned 1. The summer that my husband first noticed the blue-black bruises of unexplained origin on his leg, that left his doctors scratching their heads.

After weeks of tests, they admitted to the hospital - about three weeks before our baby turned 1. They needed time to make a diagnosis to figure out what was wrong and how to correct it and he had to stay in Mt Sinai Hospital in Manhattan while they figured it out.

I’m not here to talk to you about my husband’s illness, though. I’m here to tell you about the year that I spent - every day - making an impossible choice. You see, here’s the thing, the only thing they knew for a very long time was that my husband’s immune system had been blown to smithereens. And when you have no immune system the last person you should have contact with is a tiny drooling person who doesn’t obey simple commands and who carries a bag full of human waste with them at all times.

One year. Every day, I had a choice to stay with my amazing baby boy and watch him take his first steps, say his first words and inch closer and closer to the funny, smart and silly dude that he turned into. Or, to take two subway trains and one bus from our Brooklyn apartment to the upper east side of Manhattan to put on a hospital gown, a mask and latex gloves to play countless hands of gin rummy with my quarantined husband.

Heads or tails. Every day.  Life or death? Every day I chose, and every day I regretted my choice. Sitting on the subway hurtling underground toward one half of my heart and away from the other.

Head or tails. How do you choose when those are the stakes? When both options will break your heart?

That year concluded almost exactly a year later, two weeks before my son’s birthday. My year of impossible choices ended like this:

Me and a stable of doctors in a shabby waiting room on the 11th floor. Something something this infection has made it’s way to his head. Blah blah irreparable brain damage.  There are two options. Which do you choose, m’am, as power of attorney?

Well, here’s the wisdom I have to impart to you after a year of playing heads or tails with those stakes. Choose whatever. There’s no right or wrong. Choose the road most traveled, for all it fucking matters. Just keep your fucking head out of your phone, walk to the right side and let the fast walkers pass you on the left side when you do, for Christ’s sake.

Your choices in life take only moments. The beginning of the book is one sentence. The end of the film is one scene.

It’s all the shit you do in between those choices that really matter.

Choose to look at the people around you. Choose to call your brother just to ask him how he’s doing even though he never even called you to offer his condolences. Choose to forgive yourself for all the times you chose wrong. Choose heads. Or tails. Or both. Or neither. And in between all those choices, choose kindness, always.

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

This was my first pass on the topic, and I sat on it for about a week, before attempting to sculpt it into something that felt more honest and less manipulative.

This was the version that came next.

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

I did not choose heads. I chose tails. Didn’t matter, though because I was actually assigned heads in this round of “Head vs. Tails,” which - ironically - seems to imply that a person has freedom to choose.

I did not choose to be here, either. Here in my life, this is not what I chose for myself. I chose an alternate version of my life. I chose the thing that so many of my peers and people in my age group choose: to get married, to have a child, to settle down, and by virtue of those choices avoiding the hellscape of online dating and the possibility of growing old alone, with only my collection of cats and parakeets to keep me company.

That’s what I chose for myself. But the universe chose something else.

So. Heads or tails? You want the good news first or the bad? You’re going to hear both, so it’s not really a choice. But isn’t it nice to feel like your preferences matter in this great big fucking universe that - lets face it - hardly even notices whether you exist or not?

So, tails it is. Bad news first, which is lucky because it allows me to end on an uplifting note. And everyone loves a happy ending, right?

The bad news is that your choices don’t matter. But that doesn’t mean not choosing is an option. You must. You must keep going, you must keep choosing. Even if you choose wrong over and over again. In fact, the ultimate paradox is that even in not choosing you still have made a choice. I’m aware that I am paraphrasing a lyric from a Rush song, and even though I think they are a shitty band, I cannot argue with their logic.

If you know me, then you are thinking to yourself right now, “Oh shit, Jen’s gonna stand on stage and talk about when her husband died and left her widowed and alone to parent their toddler.”

I’m not here to talk to you about my husband’s illness, though. I’m here to tell you about the year that I spent - every day - making an impossible choice. You see, here’s the thing, the only thing they knew for a very long time was that my husband’s immune system had been blown to smithereens. And when you have no immune system the last person you should have contact with is a tiny drooling person who doesn’t obey simple commands and who carries a bag full of human waste with them at all times.

One year. Every day, I had a choice to stay with my amazing baby boy and watch him take his first steps, say his first words and inch closer and closer to the funny, smart and silly dude that he turned into. Or, to take two subway trains and one bus from our Brooklyn apartment to the upper east side of Manhattan to put on a hospital gown, a mask and latex gloves to play countless hands of gin rummy with my quarantined husband.

Heads or tails. Every day. Life or death? Every day I chose, and every day I regretted my choice. Sitting on the subway hurtling underground toward one half of my heart and away from the other.

He didn’t choose that fate. Neither did I. We collectively called “Tails!” as the coin spun in the air, “Tails! We choose to beat this and grow old together and one day tell our grown son, TOGETHER - about the most surreal and scary adventure that our little family went on and how we beat it - we beat the big, scary monster that was a terrifying and rare disease, and an army of apathetic and jaded New York hospital staff members! That’s our choice! And when the coin finally landed, the universe hollered back, “It’s heads, fuckers.”

That was two and a half years ago. I struggle regularly with how to exist in a world where my own personal “worst case scenario” has already played out. I look at older couples walking together and know that it won’t be us. I see children on an outing with their fathers and - okay, first I think how fucking lucky that mother is that she has a fucking moment to herself, is she taking luxurious bath now? Or sleeping? Oh jesus christ I miss sleeping like I can’t even tell you

- and after that passes I think to myself, “What did my kid do to deserve this fate? He didn’t get a single, fucking daddy and son outing and it’s not fucking fair to do that kind of shit to a child!”

In my darkest hours I feel like a walking example of the life that no one wants to live. Sometimes the weight of my grief collapses square into my chest and turns me into the world’s saddest navel gazer. I stand here before you, the central character of the saddest story of all time: The Tragic Tale of The Young Lover Who Had and Then Lost Everything. The title is long, I know, but apt.

But as I promised, there is good news, too. And the good news is that your choices do not matter.

The universe is so vast and we are so tiny and very little of what we say or do matters all that much.

I know expect me to have a very bleak world view at this point. But I don’t. I promise you. I have found a freedom in knowing that the universe will not change irreparably with the choices that I make.

I am one tiny part of the universe. My grief is nothing compared to some people in other corners of this planet. I have lost one half of my heart. Yes. But I have also known love in a true and profound way and I am a better person for it.

I am a heartbroken person. Yes. But every day, I choose to be happy. I choose to have things to look forward to. I choose to laugh with my child.

The universe isn’t watching to make sure I’ll be okay. The universe will be just fine if I collapse and disappear. I could drink myself to sleep every night and stumble through my waking life. I could choose to let relatives raise my child. I feel like many people would understand if I did.

But I do not choose that path. I choose to get up. Again. And again. The universe expects me to choose “Heads.”

Fuck you, Universe. I choose “Tails.”

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

And I liked that draft just fine. But, as the date of the performance approached, I began to like it less and less. So with less than a day left, I endeavored to come at the topic from a very different approach. This is where I landed, and this is what I stood onstage and said. It feels like exactly what I wanted to say, in a way that I wanted to say it, to talk about my pain, my fumblings at being a good person, without asking for pity and by making fun of my sadness - mostly because that’s the only way I can bear it myself. Here it is, the final version, for all of my friends who could not be there to hear me say it out loud.

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

According to my tax returns, I am the head of my household, but this is surely an error. I am, in no way qualified to head up an entire household, let alone one containing myself, a small child and four small domesticated animals besides.

I plan to appeal this decision to the highest authorities, if need be. The following is a list of reasons why I should be removed from this position post haste.

1. I have totaled two cars and one bicycle, so far.

2. Assuming I was the most qualified person for the job, I have pierced my own ears, and my nose, several times, using safety pins, sewing needles and other pointy and unsanitized instruments.

3. I believe that food you do not pay for has zero calories.

4. I am suspicious of blonde haired people.

5. I have broken my arm three times over the course of my life, broken a toe twice in the past year, required stitches to close a gash in my wrist after being locked out of my apartment and deciding the prudent way to regain entry was to punch through the glass panel in the front door, and I once got high and laughed so hard for so long at my then-boyfriend saying the word “Snarf,” that I actually bruised my lung and had to be treated at an emergency room.

6. I consistently walk across intersections without looking in EITHER direction.

7. I am 42 years old, and I have not yet mastered the art of not peeing in my pants during awkward social interactions.

8. I once got high on Rush’s tour bus.

9. Despite all evidence to the contrary, I strongly believe that it is possible that I could be killed by a great white shark that someone put in a swimming pool as a prank.

For these reasons I feel I should be exempt from consideration for head of anything. I have throughout my life exhibited a pattern of irrational behavior and poorly conceived ideologies. I cannot - no matter how many reminders I put in my phone - remember to pay my bills on time. No matter how much I want to be an organized and orderly person, my home is still a mess of dirty socks on the coffee table and dishes are not loaded into the washer until I’ve resorted to eating cereal out of a vase with chopsticks.

If - for some inexplicable reason - the aforementioned anecdotal evidence I’ve presented is insignificant to persuade you of my poor qualifications for this title, please allow me to submit one final fact about myself. It concerns the manner in which I became head of my household.

Two years, six months and nine days ago. I was sat in a shabby waiting room on the 11th floor of Mount Sinai Hospital. Across from me sat three doctors, a nondescript white man, a south asian man, who did most of the talking, and a white woman with blonde hair (pause) who looked ready to burst into tears at any moment. They called me “Mrs. Bateman” - which was confusing because that’s my mother in law, not me.

“As you know, Mrs. Bateman, your husband began showing signs of confusion two days ago, and we’ve been working to diagnose the precise cause of it. Something-something an infection, Ma’am. This infection has made it’s way into his head. We’ve done some tests, and so on and so forth, and given the size of his pupils at this point, blah blah irreparable brain damage. So, Mrs. Bateman, we have to ask you - what would you like us to do? Did your husband ever discuss....etc., etc.?”

They asked ME these questions. As if I could be trusted with something of this magnitude. I don’t read operating instructions. I don’t save receipts. I don’t balance my checkbook.

Suddenly, it was up to me to say “I don’t think he would want this.” My husband who - incidentally - as the son of two educators, LOVED doing homework, was maddeningly meticulous and always paid our bills on time, had a 401K and great health insurance, HE was the head of the household. He was the brains of our operation. I was the often misguided but usually well-meaning heart of it. Not only am I not equipped to replace him, but I cannot bear that my first order of business in doing so was to give my permission for him to die.

So you see, surely there has been some sort of clerical error. It should have been me. I should have been eaten by a shark in a pool.

Because if that would’ve happened, sad as he would’ve been, my husband would’ve known what to do after. He was always much better at planning for the future than I was.

I can tell you for sure that HE wouldn’t have put MY ashes in a ziplock baggie that he accidentally let burst inside his purse.

Of course, it is possible that the authorities will reject my plea to step down from this post I did not campaign for. I do have a contingency plan, in that event. 

I look at my son. Four and a half years old now, he is. Blonde haired. And in his face, I see his father, as everyone who knew his father does. I see his calm reason and his reassurance in my panicked moments and in my grief that everything is going to be okay. Even if it’s hard. Even if it seems like it will never be okay again. And I remind myself that even though it does not come natural to me, it does not FEEL like it is me, I do know how to be sensible, practical, to not make rash or reckless decisions. I know how because these are the ways in which my husband balanced me. And if I close my eyes, I can still see him inside my head, telling me what he would do if he were here.

And so, if I must claim the title of head of household, head of my family, chief decision maker, I know that I am not doing it alone. He’s still here and I accept the title in his honor.

[postapocalypse13]

sex as power (#MeToo)

Rape is a political statement. It says: "I am everything. You are nothing." God of Sky and Rain Women hold up half the sky? In His world women hold up the sky. Men sit around, masturbate, watch football, occasionally, go out and rape lowering that small part of the sky. Rose Red I am prickly, admittedly. I come by it rightly. Organically evolved defensive weapon (note, no offensive weapon attached). You must approach me with care. Feel the velvet of my vibrant leaves, gently. My flower, radiant in grace and wonder. Musical poetry wafting, my enchanted perfume calling for the discerning touch. But grasp too hard, too clumsily, without reflection, a thousand tiny cuts push you far away. In no time, you will heal, leaving me to bleed forever, attempting to clear from my system your poisonous residue. Bitter Dregs You don't get it. You don't want to. It would be too much to bear if you let your thought go there. Briefly unconscious, awakened to hard concrete ground surrounded by heels and toes, amazing they don't crush me, but no, like clockstep they walk around though occasionally a(n unmeaning?) shove -- I'm not a someone, just a minor obstacle unnoted in their busy day. No worries. Not like shoved down under hard muscle, jutting bone, stinking of beer and rage; or waking from too brief oblivion, broken pain, bleeding tears, torn, bruised, a colorful toy made for pleasure. Then the voices, echoes. Harpies and Sirens, Furies and sad old women. Fingers shake in disapprobation. Shrill voices call me beautiful, in the way that ugly things are. So bad, so pitiful, cardinal status among the neverweres. Struggling shadows, whispering curses demurely lest anyone notice and throw them further down, below duration. Never easy, confessing degradation. The sin adheres. No one wants to know. logic of rape culture I don't know. Would it be morally acceptable to destroy a person's mind while they sleep, because they'll never know they had one? Would it be morally just fine to cruelly use people's lives while keeping them unconscious without consent or prior knowledge, because unexplained pain won’t rise to legal proof? Is there value placed on personal integrity? Must boundaries that make individual beings complete with self-control, define a zone of self to be respected? Do conscious beings own a right to privacy, a zone of personal integrity, sacred space for self-discovery: “This is mine. This is me.” When we choose to agree for common utility, what inner prize do we remember to defend? Or do we prefer to behave as a bunch of random beasts, subject to convenient moral rules, precepts to defend hierarchy of self-proclaimed reasonable men? I am beginning to think that this whole anti-abortion, anti-contraception idea is about rapists who want to impregnate their victims and then have access to torture them for life. Mighty big hate on. Dazzling glitter of star light is doing its job: distract and divide while they rape, kill and rob. Ascending spiraled steps in hope of eventually reaching a solid surface, more a chore than a mission as we continue inexorably day by day. Or is that eternity by eternity? There's not much choice, as these stairs, though solid and seemingly endless, do not provide enough solidity, enough surface, for other sustained activity. There is not even room to climb by twos, thus enabling the solace of close companionship. Certainly there is no room to make love between, stair to stair, to find what respite or pleasure such loving might provide. Perhaps for some of the more daring an occasional rearguard rape may be accomplished, coming from behind as it were, never seeing the face of the victim, so that's alright. A temporary digression from the rote work, hand over hand, leg up and leg up, monotonous unfulfilling dance. The land, when we found her was warm and inviting. We felt safe, supported, encouraged to grow. We ate of her fruit, fish, herds. We built with her trees, stone and clay. We drank from her beautiful streams which we soiled with our waste. Gaea was saviour and womb. We repaid her with rape. We didn't understand, thought her merely land, thought ourselves masters from afar. Perhaps it is not so much a war on women as another front in the war on people with lesser means. I mean, how dare a woman be raped if she can't afford her own treatment? Women are raped by husbands, strangers, dates, bosses, family members, often seriously injured or killed in the process. Implying we have nothing more serious to protest about than "glass ceilings" is a macabre insult. Small girlchild, rags and dust – follow her morning of traverse, this tiny world allowed. Each tent flap reveals fester of wounds deep and shallow, ravage disease. Senses, thought, subsumed to beat of breath outside rational context. Stuck in the dirt, her worth a hole where she bottoms out, tributary blood expelled. It could be rape; it could be terrifying violence. But you got it wrong. You blamed yourself. And the reasons you got it wrong go back to that world, not to you. Cross Purpose At time's crossroads, Reason drowns in rage, pain, radiated rain, treasonous air. Weary of care, of punishing, bottomless anger, of sobbing men robbed of their right to give birth. Taken from Mama's warmth, from the cave, to play brave. And it's ladies' choice as you squirm in fool's corner. Such a chore -- kissing at this and that for a chance to score the shame, the blame from stuck-out tongues, the bloody laughter "I could bite off that little thing -- make you squat to pee." Wired to fight, at any cost, because, of course, the Cross proclaims "We're right. They are inherently wrong." "Those below must be taught to obey our superior tools, to be broken, that we may ride." Against our better fate, our race divided along strict lines, by difference nature instilled to make us strong Our Gang Outrage Depression facing outward Taking power to give it away. This entrained impulse See them crackling, jangling puppets at puppy play, bite, bark, entangle, grab and tussle, growl, muscle in for the kill. Bloodlust arousal. Natural as puke, as death, violation as violent orgy violation as ecstatic initiation to the brotherhood. Life elevated to dreams, goals, careful weighing of coin and hours, dependable plans, actions that honor can favor, love, duty, allegiance to the rules of sanity and kind regard have no purpose here. Men of blood and battle fluid need no fine speeches, no valor -- only food and receptacles for their waste. Capital Crime Sweet old daddy Doing his will in the night Keeping the mamas afright for the plight of each beloved child, so tender so young He really oughta be hung! so say the neighbors, clicking their tongues Take him to the magistrate Fill his ears with the voice of hate while he's tied, defanged, prostrate Let our will be done! Tie him down in a prison cell Make him feel the wrath of Hell 'til we all are bloody well exhausted of our fun. No need to delete old daddy sweeping shit and burning bones any toil we deem atones to repay society's loans of wicked sowing days assuring he damn well pays for the pain and loss his wicked ways marred our happy homes. Trial It was said, everyone knew, some whispered in my presence, that I was born a bastard of rape. My mother, a pious maiden, in penance gave me into servitude to the Brotherhood. Thus she was allowed to return to her Sisterhood’s life of humble ministration. I never knew her, or have no memory of such an early time in my life. I knew nothing of the treasured childhood that comes with family. I was a low thing, circumscribed by duty. I was educated, taught to read, write, do sums, memorize long passages of scripture, sing in the Holy Choir, take my part in ceremonies, taught for useful service. I was taught to please my masters as my only worth. Any modification to please their plans was my sacred duty to undergo. Any master. Any metamorphosis. Any mutilation. Accept. When he bit me, as the fast-acting soporific emitted from his fangs entered my artery, I hoped this was my end. It wasn’t. He did not drain me, but woke me to force his blood into my sagging mouth to remake me in his image: immortal, powerful, supernatural, outside of the laws of man. I learn to create my own sacred place, free of duty, free of the yoke of belief. I am my own silent sanctuary beyond the touch, the reach of their world. What good am I, have I, what good does it do me to have a conscious me apart from my puppet role, plaything of powerful forces and men? Perhaps after all the trials of my journey, it is enough to have a consciousness that knows me so well and feels a kind of comforting love. Perhaps the kind of love a mother feels for a child she never wanted, who is yet of her, a companion to her trials. They arrive, enter a door next to a large glass window decorated in bright colored paint. It is a portrayal of a man on a cross. Bloody red holes mar his hands and feet. A thorny green crown sits on his head. Inside are cakes and hot black drinks on a short table. A few others are also eating and drinking. On the floor, next to a large, tattered chair, a woman sits, rocks, dirty and worn looking. Her shaking hands make attempts to feed coffee to her lips, but more is spilled on her worn and spattered dress. She has been mumbling incoherently. She is getting louder. Renata starts to make out words. "They fill yer belly with their babies. No more babies. They hurt and make me so sick. The men, they fill me with their nasty liquid babies. They make them grow in me, take over my body, make me sick, and cut so hard to get out. I won't take them, horrid demons. So they throw me back in the street for the men to fill me again, hurt me again. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. No more babies. No more pumping out their nasty babies. I won't. I won't go there. You can't make me leave." She burbles, gasps, cries, mumbles, and repeats her litany. She rocks her body, suckles on her fingers and strands of long, lank hair. She seems in a trance, perhaps poisoned, perhaps cursed. From further back in the room, a man dressed in black, prominently carrying a black book, approaches the group around the table. "Don't mind Betty. She's a hard case. We can't find anywhere that will take her." He seems perturbed by this inconvenience, embarrassed by this woman's plaint. Thoughts of keeping still while learning how to blend in have flown from Renata's mind. She goes quickly, yet with gentle motion, to sit beside this Betty. Close up, she is surprised to see this woman is young, certainly no longer a child, but not the old used up hag she had appeared to be. Her burbling snot and tears mixed with spilled coffee and older stains make her an unappetizing sight. Yet, there is something so fragile, so sad and affecting in her defiantly defeated form, Renata can not help but reach out her arms to comfort. Nobody likes to talk about Betty; but you can bet we cream over her (secretly, all cozy in our beds, in our heads and groins). Nobody likes to admit what casual cruelty we are capable of. Gang-raping children because we can doesn't appeal to our desired self-image. Her mother allowed it in exchange for food, a place to sleep, the blessed drugs to keep away the pain of knowing the endless, hopeless misery life had become. Or, she was alone on that dark street, lost and frightened, with nowhere safe to go, no one protecting her just then. Her sexuality tempted me, in all that frenzy of bonding blood cries, heightened primal energies, hot insistent bodies falling under ritual spell. She is but a sacrifice, a holding cell for sin. There is no freedom for will to grow within her, only unwanted, tainted seed, thrust outward from the nauseous collective psyche to poison her potential. Does she need to be defined by what has been done against her nascent will? Is there salvation in finding a slim, hiding, healthy cutting from her core, carefully planted and watered in hallow grounding? And what of all those other sacrificial lambs? What cosmically sympathetic vibration can be turned to healing, calling forth a will to grow whole, to become one's own desired destiny? Mothers' Night cascading shards uneasy echoes falling "It's our calling." Rape of Earth, hot spurts of words savage knives Abiding Mothers, sacred and mundane twist into harridan cold stars wail, hurtling waves Sad, old, crust of ages sliced, screwed, carved up for profit "It's not the color of the skin, the culture of the smile" the scent of danger, the inborn stranger -- all excuses for Us (superior) and Them (inferior) "They are not like we; but lower curs." we may harm with unfettered glee Cursed to be cut to our requirement. Borders clear "Here, fear fences in our livelihood and wives." Leave THEM to putrid pits cunning jabs, our pleasure. Thus, all treasure that might regale, heal, reveal true worth, of man and Earth sold for pittance of potash to dance a weary jig Post-trauma A child of my own rape, it shaped me, made me less and more Memories stored, to when I can't go on implore: "You'll feel better when you're gone."

#MeToo

[angelic-rin]

Fix it Please, Tailor's Apprentice. (Hercules Mulligan x Reader)

A/n: I am cringing so hard after re-reading this, but for some unexplainable reason, I'm posting it anyways. Also, a tiny bit of sexual stuff in there but not a lot, just a lil. Enjoy! ** A few words to describe her were: Upperclass. Dignified. Wealthy. Proper. Maybe even a little bit stuck up. She was definitely a lady, and didn't mess around with anyone who was of a lower status than she was. She knew her father expected her to marry rich. And though her family never put an extreme amount of pressure on her to do so, she was alright with it. It didn't matter to her. "(Y/n), we have to go," her mother called. "We need to visit the tailor immediately. We're going to need new gowns!" "Coming, mother!" She called back. She followed her out the door. (Y/n) LOVED getting new clothes. Her family was well off enough that her mother would simply tell her to 'be reasonable.' Which would mean 3 dresses rather than 5. As soon as she stepped into the cozy shop, she smiled. This place was like home to her. She recognized everything, from the rows of fabrics and threads to the people who worked there. It made her feel bad, but she didn't know either of their names. There was the tailor himself, who was an older gentleman, and his apprentice, a young man who always seemed kind of scrappy. Not that he wasn't good looking, but he was a little bit rough around the edges. And he always wore a bandanna tied around his head. Good gracious. But it didn't matter. She was here for clothes, not for him. Her mother said, "I'm going to browse in a few shops for a while. You can handle yourself, can't you, (y/n)?" "Of course, mother." She looked up and down the rows and rows of colorful fabrics, trying to decide what she wanted a dress made out of. She was thinking about something green, maybe, when she heard someone say, "Can I help ya?" It was the tailor's apprentice. It surprised her, and she turned around quickly. Her dress caught on a nail on one of the shelves that held the fabrics, ripping one of the seams. "Shit..." the tailor's apprentice said, after realizing hed startled her. Then he bit his lip, realizing that he probably shouldn't have used language. She glared at the young man, but then sighed. "Yes, if you would, I seemed to have ripped my dress. Would you fix it for me?" "Sure thing," he said. "Follow me." He led her into a room in the back, where she had gone often before for dress fittings. It had always been the tailor himself, though. The tailor's apprentice had always been elsewhere, restocking shelves or running other errands. He held up a needle and thread. "Do you have a color preferance?" She shook her head, and he picked out the white thread. As he worked on sewing the tear, she kept mostly quiet. But in her thoughts, she was thinking: how could someone so rough, and so strong, be so graceful with a needle? His stiches were absolutely beautiful, rivaled only by the actual tailor. Which reminded her. "Pardon me, sir, but where is the tailor? I haven't seen him since I've been here." "He's out," the apprentice said. "He'll be back, but until then I'm in charge. I can handle it fine." He said that last part as though it wasn't a challenge, like he was daring her to disagree. She didn't. "Your stitches are very beautiful," she said. They're so.... delicate. It's almost shocking." "Yeah? And why is it shocking?" (Y/n) said nothing. The tailor's apprentice laughed. "I'm screwing with you. I had a lot of practice. That's how I got good." "I've never been good with a needle and thread," (y/n) sighed. "Well then, it's a good thing I'm here to see up the tears in your dress." He finished his work and stood up. (Y/n)'s mother entered the shop. "Has my daughter not been attended to yet?" She asked in an annoyed time. "The tailor is out at the moment, mother," (y/n) said. She didn't want the apprentice to get in trouble. "Hmmph. I guess we'll come back later, then. I'm sorry your time was wasted, dear." She led her daughter out of the shop. (Y/n) smiled at the apprentice, and he grinned back at her. A real, big smile. After that, (y/n) visited the shop any chance she could. Sure enough, the tailor returned, but she always requested that the apprentice see to her. She always had something to be fixed.  "A button came off of the back," she said one day. The two of them talked about good books, and what the weather might be like. Another day, she said, "My sash is torn. Would you make me a new one?" And while he did, they discused their families and friends. Once, she came in, and said, "Could you add some bows or lace to the skirt? It looks plain on it's own." And of course, he did.  They talked about the revolution and their different opinions. Slavery? Horrible, she said. The King? A shitty ruler, he declared. The war? Necessary, but it will be good when it's over, she decided. (Y/n)'s family was starting to worry. Was it alright for a young woman to spend so much time with a man who had no money? They didn't think so. But (Y/n) wasn't going to have it. It made her angry. She had made a friend. A real friend! And her family didn't want her to see him because he wasn't rich. "Bullshit," she muttered. The way he talked was already affecting the way she thought. She marched to his shop, ready to have a conversation to make her feel better, but she hesitated as she reached the door.  Was he her friend? Maybe he was just being polite. Entertaining a silly rich girl. Oh god. She hasn't even asked his name. How could she claim to be friends with someone for all this time, and not even know their name? It was horrible to think about, and as she stepped into the shop, it was obvious that she was upset. "Hey, what's the matter?" He askedbas she stepped into the shop.  She was quiet for a moment. Then, she finally said, "Do you have any idea how much it means to me that you're my friend?" He grinned, that big smile of his, and she felt her heart turn. "Do you have any idea how much it meant to ME? I looked forward to your visits every day. I'm really truly happy that you consider me your friend." (Y/n) smiled. She realized that she was crying a little bit. "Thank you, tailor's apprentice." "Please," he said. "It's Hercules. Hercules Mulligan." "Okay Hercules. (Y/n)." "Now, that was truly touching, but do you have something for me to fix? Or were you just here to declare our friendship?" He smiled. My boss isn't here, but if he gets back and finds out that I've chatted with a customer instead of helped her, he wouldn't be too pleased."  (Y/n)'s eyes darted around the room until they settled upon a pair of scissors. She picked them up and cut a deep slit down her neckline. "There. I ripped my dress. Fix it." "Of course." He grinned at her, picked up his needle and thread, and prepared to sew. But his eyes faltered as he got closer. "That's.... quite a place for a rip to be." There was something else behind his eyes, and (Y/n) knew what it was. Luckily for him, she felt it too. "I know," she said. "I know what I'm doing. Fix it." "As you wish, then, (y/n)."  He used his hand to hold the thick fabric of the dress in place as he worked. Every once in a while, his fingers would brush the skin of her collarbone, or sometimes even lower, and she would sigh softly. But she didn't move, or else she might have broken his concentration. Then, as he got about halfway finished, she put her hand over his. He looked up. "Maybe we should do something else." "Yeah, maybe we should." She smiled. "Something fun?" "I'm always down for something fun," he said with a grin. She followed him into that back room where he had first fixed her dress. Only this time was different, because instead of sewing it together, it was coming off. She didn't care if it disappointed her family.  It definitely didn't disappoint her. "I might love you, Hercules Mulligan," she mumbled later as she pulled her dress over her head, sleepy from what they just did. "I might possibly love you too, (y/n)." She smiled, kissed him gently in the mouth, and left. Hopefully, she would be needing some new dresses soon. She loved going to the tailor's.

#hamilton #hamilton x reader #tweety writes #hamilton imagine #Hercules Mulligan x reader

[oflgtfol]

been thinking about death/the afterlife a lot lately...

i think the way rick riordan explained the afterlife in pjo was really interesting and optimistic, how all kinds of afterlifes exist and all religions are true in their own way, and when you die you go to your own version of the afterlife. but in a way its also freaky because he also accounted for the people who don’t have any belief or think that you cease to exist after death

and it’s just.... it’s scary to think about idk. because when i really think about it, i just. can’t really imagine there being an afterlife. we can all hope for one but based on the facts we as human beings have at this point in time, it just feels like a hope and not a reality.

even the more supernatural things in general, i just can’t... truly take them as fact? hell i’ve even had a very supernatural experience in second grade, and my brother was there with me and we saw the exact same thing so i can’t even say it was my eyes playing tricks on me, but even looking back on that it’s just... i cant say it was a ghost? it’s fun to think about ghosts and all that and it’s fun to think about What If They’re Real? or even to act like they ARE real but when i really rationalize it i just... don’t see it. and i think all the experiences that have probably the most basis for something supernatural at work are just... unexplained. outside of our knowledge for some reason or the other. maybe both me and my brother had our eyes playing tricks on us, i mean it’s not very hard to find the shape of a person in the darkness. 

and so the only ~definitive~ proof we have of what happens after death would be the people who have died but came back. and they tell of stories of a white light at the end of the tunnel, of god, of christianity, but like. even then i dont believe it. all these stories are all from people obviously raised christian. i wonder what people of other religions see when they die and come back? do they see their version of the afterlife or do they still see what christians do? like i just feel like maybe these are just hallucinations or something, dreams, your mind trying to make sense of something like death. and at that point you have to think, is this someone’s internal bias taking over? if you’re raised with the idea that the christian afterlife is what happens after death, as christians are, then you’ll of course see it. and if you’re a part of another religion/not religious at all and still see this - well, that makes sense, since christianity is so prevalent in society and shoved in everyone’s faces to where even if you believe something else it may have still gotten under your skin subconsciously 

i don’t really know WHAT i believe. because as i said, logically i just don’t see anything happening. life came about by chance on this hunk of rock we called earth. i dont see how life has any inherent meaning either, so death doesn’t have any meaning as well. life and death are just things that happen. the world existed before life ever did here and the world will continue after we’re gone. life and sentience are just a complex phenomenon in nature

but.. i dont really WANT to believe that. it’s scary to think that this life is all we have. if life has no inherent meaning, then it’s up to us to make meaning of it, and it’s so scary to think that yes i really have been wasting my whole life doing absolutely nothing meaningful. and to think that i could die at any point, soon or later, unexpected and still without having made something of my meager time, and i couldnt even continue in ANY capacity afterwards because i’d just... cease to exist. i couldnt even look on as a ghost and lament how i Died Too Young, Too Soon. i wouldn’t feel anything. i wouldn’t even be apathetic because i wouldn’t Be. and that’s so scary to think about, to go from Being to Not Being and have it mean absolutely nothing to the rest of the world, the rest of the universe. it’s scary to think about but i can’t help but feel like this is the most likely option

but on the other hand, thinking about if there is an afterlife is equally as scary. i was raised catholic, as i’ve talked about before, and i hate how much it really impacted me even down to subconsciously, to this day. because when i think about if there is an afterlife, i can only ever picture the kind i was raised with. and by god that afterlife is scary.

heaven is cool and all yeah whatever but like, i was raised catholic. and i’ve been a Bad Christian for years now. my best case scenario is going to purgatory and suffering my sins out for however long till i can go to heaven. but i mean with my track record, and the way that the church was like “you’ll go to hell for being a nonbeliever!!!!” i can’t help but feel like... yes i am going to hell. and it fucking terrifies me still. i’ve rejected the church and yet i’m still terrified of the wrath of god because of the Catholic Guilt i was raised with and i hate it. i hate it. because when i think about if there’s an afterlife and i think about how god will smite me down, and how scared it makes me, it makes me want to grasp at straws and cling to any chance i have at going to heaven.

and GOD. thats so ANNOYING. i should not want to be a Good Christian simply because i fear god! and that’s what annoys me so much about catholicism. i disagree with so much of the doctrine and honestly? i don’t fucking want to worship that kind of god if the stuff they told me is true. what kind of god rules his subjects with an iron fist like this. like “you’re going to hell if you dont worship me and dedicate your entire fucking lives to it.” like “i will offer no evidence that i even exist and expect you to continue to believe in me even when there is no factual basis and especially when horrible events occur to you and i do nothing to intervene despite me being a Benevolent Being who Loves You, and then when you have no faith in me, i will cast you into hell, because Good Christians Have Faith.” like “you’re automatically going to hell if you kill yourself even if you have a mental illness and shouldn’t be faulted for your actions because life was already suffering enough for you to be unable to take it anymore but now you’ll suffer for all of eternity just because you didnt value the life that god gave you, simply because its a gift from GOD.” like “you’re still going to hell even if you kill yourself to save other people, yes including literally the entire human species. you threw away god’s gift and so you must suffer for all of eternity.”

one of the first lessons i had as a child and we were learning about hell was with the teacher telling us about how the suffering was for all of eternity. do you know how long eternity is? its unfathomably long. it has no end. i was a child and being taught that If I Mess Up Badly Enough, i will suffer for literally longer than my feeble human mind can even understand, because it has no length, since it literally has no end!!!! do you know how terrifying this is for a kid. especially a kid like me who was anxious over literally everything like 2012 and alien invasions and zombie apocalypses. i was in 5th grade and i learned about the rapture and it scared me so badly that it made me suddenly really invested in Becoming A Good Christian So That My Eternal Soul Is Not Suffering For All Of Eternity

it makes me so angry to think about the church i was raised in and i cant tell if this is just how catholicism/christianity as a whole is or if my church was especially bad or what. but either way i just cannot voluntarily dedicate myself to this religion anymore ever since i started realizing everything wrong with it

and the fact im still terrified of eternal damnation just goes to show how deep this shit goes. and it makes me MORE angry . and it makes me want to separate myself from this as much as possible. but thinking of actually having to fact eternal damnation makes me doubt if i could hold true to this if i actually face judgment, and it makes me EVEN ANGRIER to think that god would be so cruel that he’d force people to be bootlickers just to avoid something like burning in the fires of hell for ALL OF ETERNITY simply for not believing in him.

so yes, the idea of an afterlife is just as scary as the idea of their not being an afterlife. and i guess in the end i’d prefer to just cease to exist. but sometimes i’m still worried that oh no! what if there is an afterlife! and it’s not even like you can choose, like oh no this is the only afterlife and now we’re all going to hell for being nonbelievers. and sometimes this worry makes me contemplate what it’d be like to return to the faith but then it’s like. i shouldnt do this simply because i’m afraid of god. it’d be disingenuous and i’d still go to hell anyway since it’s not like i can even love god with this kind of view towards christianity, so he’d see right through my fake ass practices and it’d all be futile in the end, having wasted my whole life slaving away for this god damn religion like i’ve always wanted to avoid. and even despite that, it’s like, i shouldn’t have to do this in the first place. what kind of god is so full of himself that he’d punish someone for ALL OF ETERNITY because they’re not kissing his feet 24/7 and Dare to doubt him

i wish i was raised without any religion at all. like, because i was raised with this, i don’t think i could even convert to another religion. i admire a lot of religions for the story aspect, but i simply don’t have the drive to carry out the everyday routines and discipline behind them (even if i can admire those too), and what’s the use to them really if i don’t believe in the more uh, supernatural aspect of them, for lack of a better word.

my ideal afterlife would probably be reincarnation maybe. or maybe like the greek afterlife. hades seems really fair in how there’s various tiers for people and their goodness levels.. outside of set religions though i think my ACTUAL ideal would be to just... spectate the living world. like, i’m dead, but i’m able to just. observe what’s happening. i’d love to do that. i don’t want to die but i don’t want to live forever, but my GOD i really want to see where humanity goes in the future and it pains me to think about everything i’m going to miss. if i could just observe it as some sort of outside spectator...

anyway, back in terms of like organized religions, i just can’t make myself truly believe in them. i can hope but that’s really all i can do. because of how i was raised it’s just, christian afterlife or nothing at all, and both seem so bad that death in itself is scary to think about. if only i was raised without a religion, then i think i could maybe do something. if i could choose a religion and rationalize it on my own and come to believe in it then okay. but i’d probably stay non religious then, but at the very least i’d at least be rid of this stupid catholic guilt and fear of god so i could at least ponder the possibility of different afterlifes without being afraid of going to hell beyond the abstract concept of it

#this got REALLY long and it got a lot more angry at catholicism than i was originally expecting it to but. LOL #delete soon #anyway . yeah my mom goes on about ~indoctrination~ at schools but really. REALLY. with what my church said?? #how its been years since i so much as stepped foot in a church and that godfearing instinct is still in me? #all because the church people saw it fit to instill that in us as LITERAL children? #i know we all joke about catholic guilt but GOD i will never not be angry about it #fucking tell adults that you should be guilty for existing fine whatever but i was like seven years old that shit got #under my skin and i'm only realizing it in recent years and months. #i really did not mean to get angry at all during this post but. thats just what fucking happens when i think about the catholic church huh #like i originally started off just thinking about death and the afterlife and by the end it devolved into nearly an essay about why i hate #catholicism and i really had to like set my mind back on track LOL #anyway it took me like an hour and 20 minutes to write this post im done bye

[idornasequel]

Chapter Forty-Two: Natasha and Akari

Natasha wrapped her jacket a little tighter around her body, glad she’d thought to bring it before apparating to New York. After talking with Enzo, she knew she had to make sure Akari was on board, hence why she was now in the States. Her initial plan had just been to send a Patronus to the Auror, but if she required any kind of convincing of their plan, Natasha would rather do it face to face, even if it was hard to look anyone else in the eye still.

The German walked down the street, thankfully remembering where Akari lived. She reached the familiar building and climbed up the stairs, knocking on the front door. Hopefully Akari was home, otherwise the trip would have been pointless. Although she could always try the Oasis as well, if the other woman wasn’t there.

Akari was on her couch when she heard the knocking from her front door. She had been mindlessly watching some cooking show while both Evangelos and Juno’s photos were laid on the table in front of her. She hadn’t heard back from anyone since they last met, and she decided that she would have to deal with it herself if no news came in the coming days.

She removed her wand from where it was trapped between her teeth, adding new indents to it, before standing up, keeping it behind her back as she moved to her front door. She didn’t know who to expect, but when she peered through the eye-hole, a curious grin played at her lips, along with a shrouded feeling of worry.

Nevertheless, she swung the door open, looking into the familiar dark-blue eyes of Natasha.

“Long time, no see,” she said, leaning against the doorframe, feeling the cold draft whisk in. “Oh, shit. Come in,” she quickly blurted, moving aside so the younger woman could step into the warmth of her apartment.

“Thank you,” Natasha said with a faint smile. She stepped inside, relieved that Akari was home. It would be easier to speak to the woman here than at the Oasis, particularly since she assumed they had more guaranteed privacy here.

“Enzo and I are going back to the club tonight,” she told Akari once the door was shut. She didn’t feel like wasting any time, particularly not when just looking at the shorter woman had her remembering vivid details. “Just the two of us, and you, if you want to come. We need to figure out what’s going on.”

Akari smiled, nodding her head as she moved into her kitchen, starting a pot of tea as Natasha continued. She turned back around, leaning against the counter, trying to shoo away any thoughts of Natasha’s naked body that tried to force their way into her mind. She clicked her tongue loudly from the roof of her mouth once before she spoke again.

“Any master plan? Or are we just winging it?”

Natasha shook her head, sighing softly. “There isn’t a lot to plan. We just have to be more careful than last time, and try to figure out what kind of magic they have in there.” And of course, avoid the drinks, but she assumed she didn’t need to say that.

“Can do,” Akari said, pouring herself a cup of tea. “You want one? It’s cold out.”

Natasha knew she should go; in fact, part of her wanted to leave very badly, not wanting to have to be around Akari any longer than she needed to be. But something kept her in place, a curiosity about the other woman.

“Sure. Thank you,” she said with a faint smile. “Have you made any progress?” she asked, remembering how insistent Akari was on solving this case herself.

Akari waved her free hand towards a second mug, filling it with the tea and sending it towards Natasha while taking a sip from her own. Although she was uncomfortable - to say the least - around any of the five students, she was glad to have company. She took a few days off work after the Veil to regain her normal state once more. However, she had to admit that it was lonely. She hadn’t even been back to the Oasis yet.

“Not much, really,” Akari replied, motioning towards her couch, flopping down on the far side, socked feet curled up underneath her. “They’re careful, Evangelos and Juno. They are hardly seen outside their little fantasy. Smart, too. Juno would be slammed by paps if she did. Big Quidditch star who retired without warning? Raises eyebrows. What about your little team?”  

“Hardly a team at the moment,” Natasha sighed, walking into the living room after Akari and taking a seat on the other side of the couch. “We’re barely talking to each other, which makes it hard to get any work done. Besides, I think at least a couple people might be on the verge of giving up on this.” She hoped that that wasn’t the case, since they all worked best as a group, but if it was, they would figure out how to do it without them.

Akari nodded, taking another drink to avoid speaking for a moment while she collected her thoughts. “I get that it’s not safe to bring everyone back to the Veil, but… keep your friends close, Natasha.” She kept her eyes trained on hers. “People like us - Idorna students and graduates - we have a hard time out in the real world after keeping a seven-year secret. You won’t feel it until you really get out there for yourself. But keeping others like you around softens the blow. It’s why I started the Nouveau.”

Akari thought back to a little over two years ago. She was on a job in Washington where a wizard dropped dead in a cafe for seemingly no reason. No one had an explanation, but Akari knew it well. When they examined the body, there were signs of an Unbreakable Vow along with a tattoo between his shoulder blades: Icelandic script that read ‘Exceed the Unexpected’. The worst part of it all was leaving the man’s file in the ‘unexplained’ section of her portfolio when she knew damn well what had happened.  

Not all of us are so lucky.

Natasha took a sip of her tea as she listened to Akari, knowing the other woman had a point. Before, during summers, she would barely talk to people, so it was easy to keep anything about Idorna to herself, but she couldn’t imagine not having anyone else to talk about it with for the rest of her life. And they had been through a lot together; they needed each other, even if they couldn’t look each other in the eyes at the moment.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she nodded. “Right now, though, I’m more concerned about dealing with the people that took away our control over ourselves.”

“And we will, kid,” Akari said, feeling a sense of determination she had lost over the past couple of days. “We just need to be careful.”

When her mug was ¾ empty, she flicked her wrist, levitating it towards the sink to wash.

“Kid?” Natasha asked, raising an eyebrow. She knew she was considerably younger than Akari, but it wasn’t that much. “And we will be. It will be easier to keep our heads down with just the three of us, and we know what to avoid this time.”

Akari couldn’t help but laugh at Natasha’s defense. “Don’t feel special. I call everyone that.”

She looked at the clock across the room, watching it read 12pm. She tilted her head back, groaning dramatically before running her hands down her face and standing up. “So, listen. I gotta be at work in an hour. You and Enzo meet me outside Veil around midnight. Sound good?”

Natasha nodded, setting her empty mug on the coffee table in front of her before standing up. “Yes. Thank you for the tea,” she said, smiling faintly before walking to the door. “See you at midnight.” With that, she left, heading back to Samoa to find Enzo and tell him their plan.

#script #Natasha #Akari

[occultafavos]

Few days ago...

  Dunham flashed her ID card walking through the corridor. She entered the codes to a numpad and stood as she stared into the empty cell where Nebula was supposed to be. She hadn't authorised any activities for her yet, something is wrong, Dunham's thought echoed in her head. Agent called out for the floor security.

  "Where is Miss Jones?"

  "Who?" The attendant asked.

  "The young woman in this cell," Dunham replied him, she was getting annoyed by his blank stare, "pink-blue hair, Native American, glowing eyes."

   "I thought those were contacts," he mused, then added quickly after the woman's scowling stare, "They took her to the training grounds--" His reply cut short as the whole facility trembled, "What the hell was that?"

  "It came from west," the agent thought out loud, training grounds, and she rushed towards to the lift.

  "Are we under attack?!" He called out but the agent was already gone.

 Moreno headed to the cells after the unexplainable quake. He almost knocked Dunham off when they both tried to turn a corner at the same time from opposite paths. He caught her by the arm and Dunham was quick to grab him to avoid her own fall with same notion

  "What's happening?"

  "I think there has been an explosion," she said, started to walk without wasting a moment of fix her uniform, "I think, it's Jones."

  "Excuse me?" Moreno caught up with her pace and they both started to run through confused crowd of people, he gave her a 'what the hell' look. Dunham shook her head as a response. She was tensed which was rare, and it had taken Moreno years to learn to read that. He went through his tablet to locate where was Nebula.

  "She is at the Area 8. Why she is there?"

  "What's the... west wing," she said as they both started to run.

  At the training grounds, far west section of the wing was crowded with medical personnel and security teams. Two agents cut through them to reach to the area where the explosion had came from. A group of recruits who were receiving training already have been out. They seem to be mostly supporting some superficial or light wounds.

  "Where is Miss Jones?" Dunham asked, her voice roared through the fussing crowd and made everyone to pay attention to her.

  "The new girl? She fucking blew us all up," said a man, gesturing towards to wreck. "You said she was ready for this!"

  "I wrote," Dunham threw a piercing glare at the owner of the voice, whom she concluded as the reason behind this mess, she walked towards him, "I wrote in my report that she was going to be suitable for training next month."

  What a mistake that was. Moreno didn't stay to watch how his partner tore apart the man in question, figuratively of course. He went forward without hesitation, into the training area. The structure of this place was strong, and most of the floor was already got enough support to hold together. Nevertheless he grabbed a helmet and a vest as he paced in as he saw no trace of Nebula among the people who was being cared for. Don't go into the wreckage, he sung song to himself in his mind, he didn't follow up on his own advice. There was a small team who were working through the debris, he approached them to check in and learn more about.

  "Send a medic over!"

One of them called out from the deep within the rumble. Only the head of the person and the arm they waved was visible. "Shit!" They jolted backwards in panic, a purple-green sparkle illuminated the spot for a brief moment. Moreno dashed towards, as he got close he could see a pair of legs, wearing company issues blue sneakers and gym set, laying out motionless and hear a muffled coughing.

  "S-sorry," Nebula's voice muttered at her rescuer after scarring them and then she flashed a bloodied grin at Moreno, "Man, what t-take you s-so long?"

  He stared at her, slowly gulping down a lump in his throat. He had seen many people die, it was part of the job when you are on the field. And even though he knew it was not that easy to kill people like her, people like Nebula. Still... it was not a pleasant sight.

  "I was," he started to talk as he took a step forward, closer to her and he returned a grin himself, "getting coffee. There is a new machine upstairs."

Nebula coughed a handful off blood before she managed to speak, "I'd love-- ah-- a coffee r-right now."

  "I will get you the best," he smiled, "once we get you out of here."

  "I think I-I over-- ah-- did with the--the p-piercing," Nebula tried to joke but she was scared. Moreno placed his hand over hers gently, which was clutched over a steel construction bar at its exit point, which was pierced through her chest.

  "Listen Miss Jo-- Nebula," he smiled again, her blood was soaking through his suit, "you will be fine. We will get you out of here, you will recover."

  "I-I-- aah--- don't feel my legs," she whispered in defiance of the possibility that she could survive this.

  "Nebula," he caressed some hairs off of her forehead, "listen to me. People like you, okay? You folks don't die easily. Okay?"

  She scoffed at him as her eyes closed slowly, Moreno tapped on her cheeks to keep her awake, "Hey, hey, stay with me," he raised his head and yelled out, "Where is that damn medic?!"

  "M-man," Nebula mumbled, "you g-guys s-s-suck at helping," she smirked at him but it froze on her lips as she passed out.

  "No, no, no, Nebula, Nebs, c'mon," Moreno tried to wake her up and shouted again for medics. They shoved him off when they arrived, and cut the steel bar off and hauled her up to the medical ward.

There is this dream, I keep seeing whenever I sleep.

Starts with an awakening... like, from another dream. Dream within the dream, does it even make sense?

I open my eyes to a bright night. I am cold, and it rains. I lay on wet rocks. It’s a shore, I think to myself, it smells of salt and moss... and something else.

I get up slowly to see what’s so bright. And I see it there, it’s the moon and the stars, reflecting from the sea, glittering in the night... cracked and shattered, falling apart...

And I woke up in a cold sweat, terrified with a sense of void stuck in my chest.

Only this time, it does not feel like a dream.

I can't wake up from this one, trust me, I tried.

This time it's colder, darker and it hurts. And it smells of blood.

My blood...

I can almost hear it oozing out. Filling the gaps and paths among the various small stones that lay beneath me. Spreading like how a flower would blossom.

I'm sure it looks kind of cool, in a way... maybe if we were in a vampire movie or something. But-- not the sparkling one. Don't get me wrong, I like sparkles, hell, I can make sparkles now.

Stars... I'm dying here and what I came up with? Vampires... and relatively bad poetry. Very Toreador of me.

Ugh, my chest hurts...

   "Get up, child," a voice echoed in the dark, get up, get up, almost like it came from near and from far at the same time. Like in the movies. She chortled at her thought and it made her cough more blood. The voice, joined by another one, they sounded kind, maybe even worried, definitely familiar. They both called out to her, called out by her name, told her to get up.

  Nebula coughed and pushed herself up, whined at the pain in her chest with a grimace on her face. Her breathes wheezed through her throat as she looked around, there was nothing but darkness. The voices kept calling out to her. She felt a heaviness on her heart, why did they sound so familiar.

  "Whh... who are y-you?" She asked, squinting into the void, "Where are you?"

Amber coloured, glittering particles floated in front of her, shimmering as they formed two figures. One woman and one man, made of golden light and semi-transparent. She stared at them with widened eyes and a whisper escaped under her breath, "no fucking way."

  "Language," the man said with a witty smirk, the woman let out a chuckle at them both, the sounds they made fluttered like the waves of the ocean.

  "H-how," Nebula stuttered, changed her glance from one to other, "How is this p-possible? Am I--am I dead?"

  "No, you are not my darling," the woman replied, "not yet."

  "Are you?" She asked gulping down a lump on her throat.

  "It is," the woman glanced at the man, who finished her words, "rather complicated, dear."

Nebula blinked, reality of the situation -if it could be called reality- was sinking on her slowly. She raised her hand towards to the woman instinctively, like all of a sudden she remembered that she could move. The woman did the same but when their fingers supposed to touch, Nebula's just went through other's hand as it caused a distortion in her amber form. Nebula closed her hands over her mouth to hold a hitching breath, her knees bent and she crouched down.

  "That's not fair," she whimpered with tears rolled out of her glowing eyes.

  "No, it is not," the woman replied, looking as heartbroken as she was. The man reached out to hold her hand, they exchanged sorrowful glances while Nebula's body trembled as she cried. They kneeled down to face her, stand close as much as they could even though their touch just bounced off.

  "Imagine it like... it's Star Wars," the man spoke softly, his fingers dissolved and reformed as he tried to caress for her blue-pink locks.

  "Yes, like Obi-Wan and that little green man," the woman added to encourage, "we are like... your Force Ghosts, for now."

  Nebula let out a muffled chuckle between her tears, "You are a Trekkie mom, you always thought Star Wars was too fantastic," she sniffled and tried to wipe her eyes onto the arm of her jacket. Semi-transparent figure of the woman shrugged, then confessed, "I like the way you both enjoyed it."

  She smiled at them both, "His name is Yoda."

  "Who?" The woman asked with a playful smile, pretending like she was not aware of that.

  "The little green man," Nebula replied, sniffled bit more, "his name is Yoda, he was a Jedi Master."

  "I remember," the woman said, "he talks funny, right?"

Nebula snickered then looked at them quietly for a time. They were still the way she remembered them, except being semi-transparent and made of golden light, and not a day older than the photo that Agent Dunham shown her today.

  "I missed you guys," she said eventually.

  "We missed you too baby," the man replied as the woman nodded, there was longing in both of their faces, then he talked again, "but you can't stay here Nebula, you need to get up. Let the dream flow and guide you, do not resist it."

  "Why? What's going on? Why I have these weird mutant powers now?"

  "You are chosen by Gaia," the woman answered, "like many that were before you, and like many will be after you."

  "But you have been resisting," he spoke, "you need to embrace it, hear it, feel it."

  "I-I have been trying," Nebula recalled all the other times she was trying to control it, "I keep failing and things keep blowing up, everytime, every single time."

  "Hey," he said, stopped himself from reaching out to squeeze her shoulder instead gave her a smirk, "Do or do not--"

  "There is no try," Nebula pouted at him, then she took a deep breath and pushed herself up to her feet. Suddenly she noticed that her pain was gone long ago, instinctively she wandered her hands over her torso to find no wounds, holes or blood. They followed her lead and got up as well.

  "Okay, whe-where do I go?" She looked between the two unsure of which direction to take. Upon her question the duo, each took steps to stand at her side. Darkness revealed a seemingly endless chasm. She quirked an eyebrow, "Am I... am I supposed to take a Creed style Leap of Faith?"

  "Have faith only in yourself," the woman said.

  "I guess that's a yes," Nebula sighed, she then turned around and looked at them, waiting for them to say one or couple of last things.

  "Oh right," the man piped up, swung on his heels back and forth slowly, "may the Force be with you," he said with his best Qui-gon expression, caused all of them to snicker this time. Then the woman moved to him and they held hands as he spoke with a more serious tone, "We love you Nebula, and we will never stop loving you."

  "You were the most special time of our lives," the woman added, "never doubt how precious you are to us."

  "I love you too guys," Nebula said, tears were starting to gather in her eyes again.

  "And," the woman raised her hand to give a Vulcan salute, which made Nebula chortle, "I know we kind of over did it but hey, live long and prosper."

  "Nerds," Nebula kept giggling as she didn't mind. She loved the quotes and the references. Best time of my childhood, she would say, it was the time I spent with my parents. The movies, the TV shows, the stories about space, battle of light and dark, good and bad, heroes who were stuck in grey areas than just black and white. The adventurers who travelled far and beyond, the rebels who fought for fairness against injustice. She wondered what would they think about the new movies and TV series of their favourite shows. Or about the death news of their favourite artists. Nebula sure did mourned her favourite odd star-man and rebelling princess who became a general.

  She kept smiling after she contained her laughter, turned around to stand at the edge of the chasm, looked into the endless darkness. She took a deep breath, shook her hands to ready herself then just before she took a step to jump in, Nebula whispered herself for courage, "To boldly go..."

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#Nebula Jones #SWL #Secret World Legends #Story Time #The Beginning #Miranda Dunham #Elliot Moreno #Sophia van Aldershof #Debora Jones #Tom Jones #Star Wars #Star Trek #Assassin's Creed #Vampire The Masquerade