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callsign-bunnie · 1 year

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First Meeting PT3 Rodolfo’s POV (Teeth and Skin)

Rodolfo wasn’t sure why he’d even agreed to this. Soap was back at the convenience store with Alejandro and Rodolfo was following Ghost around, making sure they had every supply they’d need. They should have been waiting for Roach to arrive back with their men so they could leave.

Ghost glanced back at him. “You’re an interesting character. I’m shocked you just let Soap stay with Alejandro.”

“Yeah, me too.” Rodolfo mumbled. “He did say he was going to fix Alejandro’s radio. So… I guess I decided he needed time to do that.”

“Soap won’t hurt him.” Ghost nodded.

Rodolfo snorted, not fully sure he trusted that. “I’ve heard similar phrases.” He muttered.

“Yeah, well, I mean this one.” Ghost finally managed to wrench the door that he was attempting to open. “Soap is… He’s not able to hurt people. I don’t think so, anyway. Good people, anyway.”

Rodolfo sighed. Admittedly, that was why he’d left him there. He kind of considered Soap to be harmless. He’d fought so hard for them to stay and he couldn’t think of a good reason for it besides genuinely wanting to help.

They went into the building and Ghost closed the door behind them. Rodolfo was not going to make the same mistake twice so they both went around, making sure it was clear. There were a few stray biters that they took care of quickly, and then Rodolfo immediately started to fill a bag with what they needed.

It was mostly just water and small things they couldn’t find in the convenience store. Rodolfo paused, seeing some fishing line. He shrugged and took it, comparing it to the wire on his garrote. It was much thinner… He stuffed it in the bag.

He realized that he hadn’t heard Ghost move in a bit and so he stood, looking for him. He frowned, seeing him standing over something and messing with it. He went over, hesitantly.

Getting closer revealed it to be a package of knives. Rodolfo relaxed and sighed, getting his own out. “Here. So you don’t have to keep yanking at it.”

“I have a knife.” Ghost huffed but took it, anyway, cutting the package. “They made these so damn hard to open.”

Rodolfo nodded in agreement and put his knife back. “They should have thought ahead to the apocalypse, eh?” He joked, lightly, but immediately regretted it when Ghost stared at him in shock.

“Did you just make a joke?”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t know you could do that.”

“I’m a man of many surprises.” Rodolfo muttered and turned away. He saw Ghost about to speak in the corner of his eye and just sighed, cutting him off before he could. “I think we have enough supplies from here. Do you want to go up onto the roof and scope out before we continue on?”

“Sure.” Ghost sighed and Rodolfo led him to a roof hatch. He started to climb up there, shoving open the hatch and almost immediately getting grabbed by a biter. Rodolfo was unfazed, though, and just shoved it down, fully climbing up and stabbing his knife into its skull.

There was just one. It had a shirt on for the store and he decided it was probably an employee that came up here to escape the zombies and either was bitten or got bitten. Then it got stuck. He went over to the edge of the roof, looking over it and sighing. He backed away quickly when Ghost came over. He didn’t think he’d shove him over the edge but… he wanted to be safe.

“I came here to discuss something with you.” Ghost sighed. “That’s why I had us go out instead of Soap and I.”

Rodolfo raised an eyebrow. “Alright.” He frowned. “Here I thought it was because of my scavenging skill.” He mumbled, again attempting a joke. Though, he wasn’t sure why. He decided to sit down, sitting crisscrossed when he was on the roof.

Ghost seemed to hesitate before doing the same. “Soap said we would come back to base. I don’t want that. You don’t want that.”

Rodolfo frowned a little, confused why Ghost was coming to him with this. “Yeah, I guess.” He looked up at Ghost, mildly annoyed that even sitting, he had to look up at him.

“Could you convince Alejandro that we’re not trustworthy so he rescinds his invite? I want to get out of here. I want to take Roach and Soap and leave.” Ghost sighed.

Rodolfo frowned and watched Ghost speak. His mannerisms were interesting. Even with the mask covering his entire face, Rodolfo could still make out most of his movements. When he was irritated he opened his mouth wide as he spoke, his eyes would shift around. When he was… hesitant like he was now, his words were spoken with a smaller mouth shape, his eyes would avoid whoever he was talking to. He was trying to make himself smaller, less imposing.

Ghost was interesting. Rodolfo knew he was sort of manipulating them with every movement but he had the idea that it wasn’t on purpose for Ghost. Ghost had simply picked up tactics and he was using them. Rodolfo knew because Ghost was barely trying to manipulate Rodolfo right then. He could see that Ghost genuinely thought he was being earnest.

“Why not leave Soap with us?” Rodolfo offered, though he had the feeling this may get him snapped at. Indeed, he watched Ghost’s eyes flash with irritation. They widened slightly and then narrowed before he tore them away from Rodolfo’s face and took a deep breath.

“I’m not leaving Soap behind.” Ghost muttered. “No matter what anyone would like.” Rodolfo heard the unspoken “even him”.

“Why?” Rodolfo again watched his expression. Ghost’s didn’t change. He just kept his eyes away and he went silent. For a moment, Rodolfo wondered if he’d get an answer at all.

But, Ghost did eventually take a breath in to respond. “If I tell you, will you do it?”

“Depends if I like the answer or not.” Rodolfo shrugged, answering honestly. “I may not trust you guys but if this is some weird sex thing- Or sex slavery thing, I’m not going to stand for that.”

“It’s not.” Ghost snapped and Rodolfo looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “It’s not.” Ghost insisted. He was now staring at Rodolfo, his eyes burning right into Rodolfo.

“Have you had sex?” Rodolfo hummed.

Ghost looked away and again went silent. Rodolfo wasn’t sure how he was supposed to be intimidating. Ghost seemed to be similar to Rodolfo. Deeply broken and using anger and intimidation to protect himself.

Yes, Rodolfo would be willing to admit that that is what he was doing. He didn’t want anyone to get near and they didn’t if he was angry and surly and mean. The only two people that stayed close to him were Valeria and Alejandro. Valeria because she was also angry and surly and mean. Alejandro… cared about him. That’s why he stayed.

Rodolfo sighed softly. “I just want to understand.”

Ghost looked at him again. “Yes. We’ve had sex.”

“Did Soap consent?” Rodolfo tilted his head. He had no problem killing Ghost if the answer to this question was no. He wouldn’t even think about it.

“Of course!” Ghost snapped. Rodolfo watched him, realizing he’d hit a sensitive spot. Hmm. “I told you, it’s not some sex slave thing.”

“Then why won’t you split off from Soap?” Rodolfo sighed, now getting irritated, himself. He wanted Ghost to give him a straight answer.

Ghost glared at him before his eyes softened. “I don’t know. But I won’t. I refuse to.”

Rodolfo hesitated before shrugging. He’d accept that answer. “Fine. But, no. I won’t be able to convince Alejandro. Trust me, I’d love to but Alejandro doesn’t listen to me.” At all.

“Damnit.” Ghost glared at the rooftop.

Rodolfo snorted and leaned back on his hands. He was exhausted. He’d barely slept the last few weeks and he’d gotten thrown around quite a few times already. “How much have you slept?” Ghost asked, suddenly.

Rodolfo shrugged. “Not much.”

“Why not? Surely Alejandro could have watched the door while you slept.”

“And shot himself in the head when I was preoccupied.” Rodolfo mumbled and looked at Ghost. “It wasn’t smart.” He shrugged again.

“He seems suicidal.”

“He’s self-sacrificial.” Rodolfo corrected and sighed softly. “He’s always been like this. Since we were young kids.”

“How long have you two known each other?” Ghost asked.

“God almost… 26-27 years I think. We met in kindergarten. Our moms were best friends.” Rodolfo wasn’t sure why he was telling Ghost this but… well, it likely wouldn’t hurt him if they knew. “We were quick friends.”

“You both joined the military together?”

Rodolfo laughed, though it was more sarcastic than amused. “Join… together is a strong term. We both joined, yes. I only joined because I knew Alejandro would get himself killed if I wasn’t there to help him.”

“Do you regret following him?”

“No, not at all.” Rodolfo meant it. He’d follow Alejandro again and again and again. “It did… get me disowned by my family, but… I was on that track, anyway.” He was not willing to share that particular story with Ghost.

“I see.” Ghost went silent and stared over the side of the roof, instead. “So, you followed him into the military? And you stayed?”

“Yeah. I’d do it again, too.” Rodolfo nodded and stared into the distance. He thought about when he’d joined the military. He’d been so young and stupid but… He’d been so desperate, too. Alejandro had came to him in the middle of the night, had thrown rocks at his window, and he’d taken Rodolfo in his dad’s truck to a spot in the mountains that they hung out in.

He’d then just turned to Rodolfo and laid it all out. ‘I enlisted in the army.’

Rodolfo remembered just exploding. ‘Alejandro, are you stupid?! Why would you do that? We were going to leave, to have a life together!’ It wasn’t going to be a romantic life, but it would still be a life, nonetheless. Rodolfo had wanted it to be romantic but he knew that wasn’t going to happen.

‘I know, Rudy, I’m sorry but… I need to do this.’

‘Why?! Why do you need to do this?!’

‘To prove that I can. To show my family that I’m not worthless.’

‘You’re fucking doing this to prove to your family- Alejandro, they’re never going to accept that! They’re horrible people-’

‘Rudy, please.’

Rodolfo had went silent after that. He’d refused to speak the whole rest of the evening. Even when Alejandro begged him. The next morning, he’d gotten out of bed and went and enlisted. They ended up in the same unit.

Alejandro had tried to yell at him for it but how could he, really? All Rodolfo had responded was ‘where you go, I go.’ And Alejandro had went dead silent.

Now here they were. In a zombie apocalypse. Funny how life turns out, hmm?

Ghost had been watching him. “Alejandro said something happened to you-”

“Don’t.” Rodolfo snapped. He stood and went to the hatch to get back down into the store. He was not having this conversation with Alejandro. He was not having this conversation with Valeria. He was not having this conversation with Ghost. He slid down the ladder, landing expertly, and grabbed their supply bags.

“Rodolfo, wait.” Ghost slid down the ladder, landing with a significant thud. “I wasn’t going to ask about it. I don’t want to fucking hear about it. I was just going to say-”

Rodolfo still didn’t want to have this conversation. “Don’t say anything.” He snapped and whipped towards Ghost. “I’ve heard it all.”

Ghost paused and stared at him for a moment before his eyes hardened and he nodded a little. “Right. We’re not friends, that’s my bad.”

“We’re not.” Rodolfo agreed and turned around. He threw the supply bag over his shoulder and went to the door they’d used to come in, going out.

Ghost grabbed his jacket, immediately, right as a biter lunged at him. He wanted to be mad, but really, he should have seen that coming. He’d been so irritated, the only thought in his mind was getting out of there.

Ghost stabbed the biter in the head. They really weren’t threats when there was one of them and you were prepared to deal with them. It was the multiples that got to be problems. The groups.

Rodolfo led them to another store.

“So… your base is a twelve hour drive away. How did you guys get here?” Ghost asked, though it sounded like he didn’t want to. Why he was was… beyond Rodolfo.

Rodolfo sighed. “We had a truck. But… it broke down. And then got swarmed.”

Ghost winced. “Sounds like this whole expedition was cursed.”

“You have no idea. Don’t… say that stuff around Alejandro. He’s superstitious.” Rodolfo explained. “He will definitely start to believe that it was a curse that caused all of this to happen.”

Ghost chuckled. “I will not say those things.”

Rodolfo relaxed. “Thank you. I am not superstitious. Ghosts… monsters… even Zombies until two years ago… I don’t really believe in stuff like that. I tried. But… even God… I just- never did.”

Admittedly, before the apocalypse, his thought process was on finding beauty in the real world. Why did everyone else find it so horrible they couldn’t find beauty and mysticism in the world around them… Granted, he loved fantasy and he’d often daydreamed about being in those worlds but… he didn’t understand making up those things for their world.

Now… the world just sucked. You didn’t need to blame any of that on mystical forces. He knew he was a pessimist. He’d already admitted to being angry all of the time to keep people away. He didn’t mean to be so angry at the world but… He had just been trying to be helpful and it had scorned him.

“Stop thinking about it.” He muttered to himself, glaring at the ground.

“What did you say?” Ghost asked.

Rodolfo shook his head. “I didn’t speak.” He lied. They finally made it to a general store. Rodolfo had to pause and question what the difference between a general store and a convenience store were. Especially since, as they broke in and went inside… they looked to have exactly the same items in them. “I don’t think this store is going to be very helpful.”

Ghost nodded in agreement. But, even still… neither of them moved to leave. They looked through the shelves. Rodolfo glanced over them, seeing if there was anything he thought may be helpful. He didn’t see much, but he still glanced around.

He did pick up the first aid kits he found, since there was a decent amount of them on the shelves. He found a kind of big one that was meant to clip onto the waist, so he emptied several of the smaller ones into it, packing it as full as he could, before attaching it to the waist under his hoodie.

Ghost came over. “Hey, you might want to see this.”

Rodolfo frowned. “What are you talking about?” But, he followed him to the back room of the store, almost jerking back at the sheer amount of biters behind the chain link wall thing. His eyes fell on the chain that was there and he frowned deeply. “What the fuck…”

Almost all of the biters had employee vests for the store on them. Rodolfo furrowed his brows, confused. He touched the chain, careful not to touch any of the biters desperately shoving their hands through the links at them. It had been… welded closed. No chain.

“La hostia…” Rodolfo whispered as he touched the chain and then glanced at Ghost, who was watching the horde of biters almost in awe.

“Look at the doors.” Ghost pointed. They were hard to see through the crowd for Rodolfo, so Ghost crouched down so Rodolfo could climb him to see over the crowd. They had a similar chain on them and Rodolfo could make out that they were welded shut as well.

“This had to be a choice…” Rodolfo sighed as he was let back down. “Who would do something like that?”

Ghost looked around the horde again and then he was walking to the outside of the store. Rodolfo followed him to another entrance to the back.

Where they discovered a rotting body which was practically stuck to the chain link. A couple biters were stuck holding onto it, though a few arms littered the ground around the body. Rodolfo felt like he was going to be sick. The bloated rotting flesh of the body had ballooned around the chain link fence so it looked like his body had melted onto it.

Even Ghost had a disgusted expression. “Let’s get the rest of our supplies and get the fuck out of here…” He muttered and Rodolfo nodded in agreement.

So, they went back to the store, grabbed whatever they could think of and then went to leave. “Do we tell Soap and Vargas about that?” Ghost stopped him right before they went to leave.

Rodolfo was surprised Ghost was asking. But, he shook his head. “It has no bearing on our current mission. Why would they even want to know?”

Ghost seemed to consider before shrugging and agreeing. “You’re right. It’s not important.”

Rodolfo nodded and then they finally left, making their way back to the convenience store. It was getting late, so Rodolfo knew Roach and their men should be back soon.

When he and Ghost got back to the store, Rodolfo went right back to the manager’s office, where Soap was reading a comic book. Likely from the small section the convenience store had had. He ignored Soap, going over to Alejandro, who was asleep. He felt his forehead, almost having to yank it away from how hot the skin was. “Has he been awake at all today?” He turned to Soap, who frowned.

“He was awake and aware just hours ago… Why?”

Rodolfo took a deep breath. That was good. “Roach needs to hurry the fuck up.” He murmured. “He’s progressing. He needs actual fucking medicine. Not someone else’s fucking penicillin prescription.” He made a sound of frustration.

“He should be here, soon.” Soap spoke up. “I mean, what else can you really give him besides penicillin?”

“Penicillin just fights the infection, but it can only do so much. He needs hydration, food… Real food not this prepackaged shit. His body needs to be strong everywhere else in order to be able to fight the infection. Yeah, I can get him the strongest fucking dose out there, but it’s not going to do shit if he’s already half fucking dead.” Rodolfo snapped, rounding on Soap as he talked.

Soap backed up a little, clearly surprised, and Rodolfo wasn’t shocked when Ghost was putting his hand on Rodolfo’s chest and firmly shoving him back. Ghost didn’t say anything, but it was clear it was a threat more than a warning.

Rodolfo glared at him before taking a deep breath. “I can do other things, too.” He decided, reluctantly, that being angry wasn’t really getting him anywhere, here. “I can keep it properly clean, too. He got an infection because I can’t keep the wound sterile here. So… the penicillin is just… fighting multiple rounds of the same threat over and over again. Also, I plan on giving him something way stronger than penicillin. There are stronger antibiotics.”

Soap considered and then relaxed. “I didn’t… know that. The few times I’ve had an infected wound, I was unconscious. So… I didn’t really get to see the process.”

Rodolfo nodded a little. “I get it.” He said, though he was still rather irritated at Soap for the question. “But, my chances of any of this even being worth it are shortening by the fucking minute.”

“Could you… temporarily sterilize the wound?” Ghost spoke up. “It won’t last, obviously, but…”

“I mean, yes. That’s what I do every time I clean it. How… how are both of you alive??” Rodolfo looked between them. There was no way they’d survived with how little medical knowledge they seemed to have.

Rather than either look offended, like Rodolfo was expecting, they both looked… well, incredibly embarrassed. “Um…” Soap winced. “I mean, I just kind of did what I learned in training.”

“Clean wound, stitch deep ones, it’s sort of… I don’t know, you don’t really need to know the specifics, just… the steps.” Ghost gestured, wincing. “Splint broken bones.”

Rodolfo blinked and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose after a moment. “Do you know… why you splint bones?”

“I think they explained it in training, but I didn’t pay attention.” Soap shrugged.

Rodolfo sighed. “Soap’s arm is splinted because it sets the bone back in place. You need the bone to be sort of straight for it to heal properly. Have you also noticed it hurts less when you use it?”

Soap looked at him. “Yeah, actually, it does!”

“I-” Rodolfo shook his head. “The splint basically acts as a fill in support while the bone heals as well. Neither of you paid attention when that was explained?”

Both shook their heads. Rodolfo stared at the ceiling before turning and going back to Alejandro, checking his wound and then just sitting with his back against the wall. He was frustrated and, he didn’t want to admit it, he was burnt out. Waiting even a few hours felt like too much at this point.

“I um… fixed the radio.” Soap spoke up, bringing over Alejandro’s radio. “There was a pin that had moved out of place.”

“That’s it?!” Rodolfo exclaimed. That… that was the last straw. The radio had been broken for so long and now Soap was saying it was a single fucking pin that had rendered it fucking useless. He decided to take deep breaths and when he heard a truck approach, he stood, immediately and went out to it.

He heard Ghost follow him, knowing from the lighter footsteps, and just ignored him. He expected to be greeted with a military truck, but he was instead greeted by a jeep.

And two men he didn’t recognize stepping out.

#Rodolfo Parra #Rodolfo COD #Alejandro Vargas #Alejandro COD #John Soap Mactavish #Soap COD #Simon Ghost Riley #Ghost COD #Gary Roach Sanderson #Roach COD #Call of Duty #Call of Duty Modern Warfare II #Teeth and Skin: a zombie COD AU #First Meeting Storyline #Aledolfo #Alejandro x Rodolfo #Ghostsoaproach #Ghost x Soap x Roach

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chanfictions · 3 years

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Shadow Clones

Part 1 - Chidori

Kakashi x Reader

Here by popular request is the sequel to Chidori.

18+ Content! Minors, DNI!

All of the fun you might imagine one would have in the bedroom with shadow clones. No spoilers this time 🙃.

"Let's play a little game. Can you figure out which of us is the real one?"

3.1k

With a yawning sigh, you stretched exaggeratedly, popping your tired back in a few places as you meandered down the hallway leading to your favorite person's apartment. After a long week of back to back missions, you were ready for some leisurely downtime and some much needed stress relief. Prior to your last mission, you had made plans to have dinner with Kakashi at his place tonight. He sounded quite excited about the idea and went on about how he was going to whip up something very special for you. Despite your best attempts at twisting the information out of him with your sexiest interrogation methods, he remained tight-lipped about it, only smirking from behind that damn mask with a coy hint of, "It's a surprise."

You finally reached his door with a wide grin spreading across your face as you flipped his key into your hand and let yourself in. Tucking the little ninja-hound keychain away in your pocket, you pulled the door shut behind you with a solid click. "Kakashi? I'm back!" You called out into the seemingly empty apartment. Confusion washed over you, as there was no delightful scent of dinner brewing in the kitchen, nor was there any sign that he was even home. Wondering if he had been sent on a last minute mission, you kicked off your shoes at the door and took a peek around the eerily quiet apartment. Your heart dropped for a moment, thinking that maybe he just forgot.

As you peered around the frame of the hallway, you yelped in surprise as a pair of arms coiled around your waist, and a familiar voice hummed in your ear, and familiar lips planted a kiss on your temple. "Hi, kitten."

Squeaking still from the shock of being startled, you whirled around and gave him a playful thump to the chest with a half closed fist as a laugh bubbled from your mouth. "Damnit, Kakashi! One of these days you're going to sneak up on me when I'm tired and you're going to end up stabbed."

He smirked down at you, taking hold of your wrist and giving your knuckles a light kiss. "It's cute that you think you're faster than I am," he teased.

"It's cute that you think I'm so delicate that I couldn't take you in a fight," you taunted back playfully, sticking your tongue out at him.

"Are you sure about that?" Kakashi��s voice chirped from behind you, breath fanning your neck as he placed a kiss just below your jaw.

For half a second, you let out a happy little sigh and melted into the touch. He knew what a sucker you were for that. Then your eyes snapped open, staring up at the far-too-smug-looking Kakashi in front of you. Your overly tired brain entirely malfunctioned. That was impossible, because he was behind you. Who was behind you?? With a high squeak, you spun around again, your back pressing firmly against Kakashi’s chest as you jumped back in surprise. It was still Kakashi’s smug mug staring back at you.

"Hi, kitten," the second said with a cool smirk.

Your eyes widened as it dawned on you that your drunken conversation with Jiraiya was about to come back and bite you for a second time. Oh, shit. He didn't forget about that. After your Chidori-fueled night of fun last week, Kakashi hadn't brought up your steamy little comment to that raunchy old smut machine regarding what else could be done with shadow clones outside the field of battle.

The Kakashi behind you curled his arms around your waist, leaning down to nibble at your neck just as the other one had. "Something the matter?" His inquiry floated so casually into your ear as those lips left nips and bites along your neck.

Caught between a nervous squeak and a moan, your brain was struggling to process that he was both kissing and staring smugly at you right now. "Uh, babe? You know I'm not a sensory type," you bit your lip to contain a breathy gasp as the one behind you ran a hand up your torso.

"Your point?" The one in front of you stepped forward, tipping your chin up to kiss you with the same lips you felt on your neck.

Your cheeks burned with a rush of heat over the embarrassing confusion surrounding your current predicament. A fluttering sensation replaced your heart beat, and a needy heat began to soak your panties. This was insane. "I, um, c-caan't -- teh-heelll which of y-you is the clone," you stammered weakly as the one in front of you grazed your inner thigh with his fingers. Hands were everywhere. It was a struggle to discern who they were attached to without looking. From what you could tell, the one kissing your neck slid warm palms up into your shirt while the other casually popped a button on the front of your pants.

"Let's play a little game, then. If you can figure out which of us is the real one, we'll give you a prize," he murmured from behind you as his rough palms slid under your bra.

"--but, there's a little catch. You see, if you can't figure it out, well, we're just going to have to punish you. That shouldn't be a problem, though. Surely a skilled shinobi like you can figure out who your boyfriend is, right?" The one standing in front of you grasped your chin softly, pointing your flushed gaze up at the tilted lips and coolly amused eyes staring back at you.

He planned this, that foxy jerk. You swallowed hard as a confused wave of arousal crashed over your body. Being the center of a Kakashi sandwich left you struggling to gather the words tangled upon your tongue. Your clothes were falling off at an alarming rate and you found yourself slowly being walked into his bedroom between the two of them. As the one behind you left you gasping with playful pulls and pinches of your nipples, the other was making swift work of the various fasteners on your clothes. "Mmm, define… punish," you breathed, biting your lip while running your hands up the solid chest in front of you, nearly losing your train of thought as a hand slid up your thigh, teasing you through your soaked panties. You felt someone's arousal pressing firmly against your ass. They were both solid. Figuring out who was who seemed impossible.

"Hmmm… maybe we won't tell you and that can be a surprise as well," the one in front of you mused, ghosting your throbbing clit through fabric.

"Who knows? It might end up being fun," the other teased, leaving hot kisses along your jaw.

A needy whine escaped your parted lips as you arched your hips into the hand teasing you through that silky material while working on undressing the Kakashi in front of you, tossing things aside as you went. Their combined efforts left you extremely distracted. Two identical pairs of hands roamed your body, caressing every inch of your skin. A little moan hissed through your teeth as one left biting brands on your neck and kneaded your breasts while the other swallowed your breathy sounds in hungry kisses while teasing you mercilessly through your silk panties, leaving your body pulsing with a lusty ache. Their respective arousals jabbed into either side of you, leaving you wiggling your hips suggestively against them to get them to elicit echoing groans. Hearing Kakashi hum in stereo like that was oddly satisfying.

You squeaked in surprise when you suddenly found yourself falling backwards, as the Kakashi behind you had maneuvered you towards the bed while they distracted you with the panty soaking flurry of hands covering your body. Still with that smug smirk plastered to his face, the one in front of you made swift work of the last article of clothing you had left. Shirts flew casually across the room, and you were flipped over to face one of the two smug, foxy bastards. Biting your lip, you slid one hand up his chest while unbuttoning his pants with the other, giving your hips a playful waggle at the Kakashi that was still on his feet.

A chuckle hummed behind you as that Kakashi shed the last of his clothes, pressing a palm on your lower back and sliding fingers through your slick folds. "Did you want something, kitten?" He inquired coolly, a smile curling at the corner of his lips.

A flush crept across your cheeks as the arousal in front of you sprung free from its cloth confines, in disbelief that you were doing something like this. "I--"

He didn't give you a chance to fully answer that and just slid two fingers into your soaking core, leaving you gasping and grinding yourself into his touch while his counterpart took a fistful of your hair, taking control of your head. "Have you figured it out yet?"

Your back arched, and you mewled as the fingers working your throbbing clit brought you ever closer to the edge. The hot knot of light in your core intensified, stealing your ability to concentrate enough to form words. "Nnnnn," you buzzed, trying to collect yourself and failing miserably.

"I'm sorry. I didn't quite catch that," the voice behind you hummed, now masterfully strumming your clit to a beat that left you gasping for air, stealing your words from you. The only sound you could produce was a quivering whine as his skillful fingertips let up enough just in time to leave you hanging.

With a pathetic whimper, you rolled your hips back into him. "Nnneed more data," you choked out, licking your lips while wrapping your hand around the delicious cock staring you in the face. You swirled your tongue around the tip. Even the taste was real.

They chuckled in unison before delving into your eager body - from behind, sliding achingly slowly into your throbbing core, stretching your walls around a delicious girth, and from the front, pressing your hungry lips down around the meaty arousal that had been twitching in wait by the grip one had on your hair. You groaned loudly around the thickness competing for space in your throat with air as he simultaneously rutted into you from behind. A chorus of contented sounds chimed from all three of you. "Come on, kitten. Surely you have a guess by now," the one behind you murmured huskily as the sound of chirping birds began to echo through the room.

You squealed around the obstruction in your mouth, struggling against the hand pressing your head down as little bolts of lightning struck in thousands of hot, tiny points around your clit, putting a wild arch in your back. You fell down on one elbow, letting out a cry of ecstasy as the surprise onslaught hurled you into oblivion. Your walls clenched and fluttered around the nigh perfect cock railing you from behind. Choking and sputtering, the hand in your hair pulled you up with a lewd pop as the wails of a soul crushing orgasm rang from your chest. A thumb smeared drool across your cheek with quiet laughter vibrating through his body into yours. "Well?"

"Fuuu-huuuck, K-kakaaa-haashiiii!" All you could do was let loose your pleasure-drunk cry into the ceiling as your legs trembled uncontrollably under the electric ministrations that set every nerve in your body ablaze. Muscles contracted involuntarily, leaving you strangling the cock stuffing your soaked pussy with an impossibly tight grip. With a guttural groan, the one behind you dug fingers into your hips roughly, fucking you hard through your unintelligible screaming before abruptly sliding out of you to ease you forward into the waiting grasp of his double like a twisted game of hot potato. You were impaled again, this time by the one beneath you who stifled your surprised moan by pressing your face into his neck. You gasped and stammered at the army of hands moving across your body, still fluttering wildly from that first charged orgasm.

"Do you remember exactly what you told Jiraiya the night you spilled all of your dirty little secrets?" One of them whispered in your ear, though it was difficult to discern the source over your panting.

"Oh, fuck," you whined into the solid chest below you. Of course, you remembered what you told that pervy traitor.

"Say it," they goaded, hands exploring every inch of you while never ceasing the pounding that was sending you into orbit.

You mewled softly, biting your lip to stifle your embarrassment. Heat flushed your cheeks and melded with the broiling sweat that began to slick your body. You wanted to feel both of them inside of your little vice of a pussy. That's what they wanted to hear. They wanted you to tell them that you loved his cock so much that you wanted to be stuffed with it twice. Your face flamed as you struggled to arrange a sentence in your head, but the little tag team duo was making that task incredibly difficult. Hands climbed your front and back, grasping your ass and tangling in your hair. Mouths on your neck, their breathing echoed in surround sound. The cock buried within you left you hungry for more, though you could hardly wrap your preoccupied mind around the logistics. "Please," you breathed against his neck, grinding your hips against his. "I… I want you both -- n-need you both," you whimpered pathetically.

The movements slowed to a halt, leaving you aching for friction as a quiet complaint breezed from your lips. "Such a good girl for us," a voice hummed from behind as you felt another tip sliding through your folds, teasing your already stuffed pussy. The skin strained against the second dribbling tip that was slowly making room for itself as you let out a pained little cry into the solid chest below you. They crooned to and praised you in unison as the second cock slowly worked its way into you. A rush of comforting hands moved across your neck, cradling and kissing your face. Another warm body pressed against you from behind. The beating of their hearts through their chests almost seemed synchronized as the second fully sheathed himself, leaving you moaning and clawing at the chest beneath you, overwhelmed and speechless at the absolute feeling of fullness that was the center of your existence.

"Please," you begged desperately, rolling your hips and hissing a lewd groan into their ears, nipping and biting the shoulder below you, urging them into action. A hand from behind you smothered your own, lacing his fingers around yours as the roller coaster ride of your life began that left you screaming into the abyss.

Two cocks. Two Kakashis. You could barely handle one of him. Seeing double left you drunk on your own cries of ecstasy as they pounded your sopping pussy, threatening to make the bed punch holes in the wall behind the headboard, leaving the frame groaning in protest under the songs of your wails. Your ears rang as the world around you vanished, leaving just you with your game of Guess Who: Kakashi Edition. You had all but thrown that idea out the window as you were now convinced that there had been two of him all along and this was just an elaborate setup. Teeth gnashing, you tangled your fingers into tufts of thick, silver hair as your body shuddered in time with their thrusts. A heat unlike you had ever felt before mounted rapidly in your core, leaving your jaw trembling and toes curling as a raspy hellcry readied itself in your chest. Your walls clenched almost painfully around the pair of cocks fucking the sense out of you. Your clit throbbed. Your thighs ached. That boiling heat built until you unleashed a banshee wail that had to be stifled by one of the four hands climbing your body to spare the neighborhood of the details. You creamed on their cocks, soaking them in your essence as your eyes rolled back into your head, as if your soul just left your body.

"Fuck--" they growled in unison, their grips on your sweat-soaked body tightening as your wrecked little pussy pulsed around them in intense waves. One stifled the chaotic sounds of your release, pressing your face into the neck of his counterpart.

Overstimulated and gasping for air, your hips bucked between them, almost unable to handle the onslaught of pleasure tearing you apart. Your face tingled as every muscle in your body contracted in sync with their motion, leaving you breathless and teetering on the edge of passing out. The sounds of their groaning and hissing your name in stereo filled your head. Lips and teeth grazed your neck as the frenzied pace quickened. You were deaf to the sounds of your own screaming as you flew off into space with them. Two final, wild thrusts tossed your body about like you were nothing but a doll. The moaning cry of overwhelming pleasure that escaped your throat came in unison with the intense heat that filled you as they delved into you to a seemingly impossible depth and painted your insides white.

Time slowed as you struggled to make sense of what your name even was as they rolled to the side with you, murmuring soft hums of praise as they slid carefully from your spent pussy and their collective essence seeped from you. Arms encircled you from both sides, pressing your incredible fatigued body between theirs in a mirrored tangle of limbs as you fought to catch your breath. The panting devolved into little bouts of giggling as you nestled yourself firmly into the delightful embrace of your Kakashi sandwich.

"Well?" They hummed in unison, smirking at you while brushing sweaty hair from your face and rubbing soothing lines up your arms.

"I have noooo idea," you giggled in tired defeat, rolling back slightly to gaze between their mirrored, amused expressions.

A voice from the door cut through the sounds of your panting and giggling gasps of fatigue. "Hi, kitten."

You squeaked in surprise, sitting up abruptly from in between the pair lounging smugly on either side of you. "B-babe?"

With a sly smirk, he unfolded his arms and strode into the room. "So, you started without me, I see."

Your eyes widened and your voice rapidly climbed into a shrill new register. "S-started?" You stammered, eyes rapidly darting between the three of them.

Chuckling in that soft, cool tone, his eyes locked onto yours as he casually unbuttoned his shirt and walked toward you. "That is what I said. You still haven't figured out which of us is the real one, am I correct?"

With wide eyes and another squeaky whine, you swallowed hard and bit your lip in excitement.

You were in for a long night.

#kakashi x reader #kakashi smut #naruto x reader #naruto smut #kakashi x you #chanfictions #naruto imagines

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luvyanfei · 3 years

Text

with a short & insecure s/o (hcs)

ft. xiao, kaeya, zhongli, & xingqiu requested by anon

this,,, this is me

xiao.

he’s appalled when he finds out people actually tease you for your height. xiao has always known how terrible humans can be, but to think they would attempt to tear someone down, specifically his lover, just because they’re considered small irate him to no end. you might want to hold on to him tightly before he can storm off and declare war on the bullies who dared to torment you in any way.

he honestly doesn’t care if you’re short or tall, ugly or pretty - your appearance isn’t what’s important here. he fell in love with you for what’s inside of you, don’t forget that, okay? xiao may not outright say all that because he’s embarrassed of showing his soft side to you, but if your insecurity gets the better of you, he’ll at least lend an ear to you as you rant to him while stargazing together.

however, what xiao despises more than others treating you poorly is you belittling yourself. he has zero tolerance for that kind of attitude and will react quite aggressively, gripping you by the shoulders and shaking you. he can’t help himself. it hurts him deeply, dare he say more than a stab to his heart, seeing you wallowing in self-hatred. he’s harsh, but he means well. xiao would much rather see a content smile on your face than having you look disconsolate.

“have you finally stopped your wailing yet?” xiao peers at your face drenched in tears in disinterest, but really, he’s pretty concerned on the inside. your sobs have been reduced to quiet sniffles, but your body won’t stop trembling. he looks away for a minute, sighs heavily, and pulls you into his arms, a blush coating his cheeks.

he stays silent the whole time, too nervous to do anything really, as your palms press against his chest lightly and will yourself to calm down. xiao clears his throat and brings a finger down to brush away the glistening tears from your eyes.

“look, just because you’re short, it doesn’t mean i don’t like you any less,” he whispers only for you to hear, and presses his lips to your forehead, letting it linger there for a few seconds. “even if you, or anybody else, don’t think you’re worthy enough, i at lease still care about you, so don’t let others’ opinions get to you.”

kaeya.

not to be blunt or anything, but kaeya being, well kaeya, he’s probably going to relentlessly tease you. he doesn’t do it because he harbors any ill-intent towards you. it’s just, kaeya is very fond of your flustered expression. if you happen to end up crying from his words, he’ll immediately stop and apologize guiltily. the last thing he needs is for you to abandon him too because of a fault on his end.

kaeya really does love you a lot, despite your flaws and silently admires you for your empathy and altruism. one good thing about being shorter than your boyfriend is that you can wear his clothing on and he’ll be a gushing mess in no time. he’ll purposefully place his jacket somewhere for you to find in hopes you’ll put it on. he may be doing this just for the purpose of having fun, but he likes knowing that it means you're comfortable and accepting in your relationship with him.

he likes patting you on the head when you pass by each other at random times, his lips curling in a knowing smirk. if you ever need help obtaining items that are out of your reach, kaeya will conveniently be there to lend a hand. it fuels his confidence how you always go to him for help instead of seeking support from someone who might be more reliable. it goes to show that your trust in him is deep.

“having difficulties, [name]?” kaeya hollers to gain your attention as you look down from the ladder to glance at the knight, your hand outreached to grab at the material you need with failed attempts. “allow me to be of service~”

he gestures for you to climb down and gets up the ladder himself, easily grasping the object in his fingers. once his feet has touched the ground, he lowers his hand to give it to you, but before your fingertips can make contact with it, he pulls it away from you. "ah ah ah~ shouldn’t i get some kind of a compensation for helping my dearest?” you stare at him in confusion before an idea plants itself in your head. ah. so that’s what he wants. with a roll of your eyes, you stride up the ladder till your eyes meet and kisses him on the lips.

as you push your body away from him, he gives a closed-eye grin and nods in satisfaction. “that wasn’t too bad, now was it?” kaeya finally hands you the item, but he grips your free hand in his and guides it to press against his warm cheek. “you should realize by now what you’re capable of doing, stealing my heart like this. you’re so cruel [name], but perhaps that’s why i’ve grown to love you.”

zhongli.

zhongli is an honest and good-natured man. he’ll immediately tell you that he doesn’t think to care about your height, so there’s no reason for you to worry about it either. he’s not an idiot though. he’s aware that your self-deprecating thoughts won’t disappear so easily with his consoling words alone. actions speak louder than words, after all.

if anyone ends up insulting you for your size, zhongli won’t hesitate to politely stand up for you. although, if they stubbornly persist in demeaning you, it’ll push him to the brink of indignation, but he’ll still attempt to keep up a courteous manner for your sake as he calmly tells them to back off. like kaeya, he loves it when you wear his clothing! he’s lived for a long time to see many things, but witnessing you cuddling him while his jacket is draped snugly over your body has got to be the cutest thing he’s seen yet.

ever the supportive individual, zhongli will help you come out of your shell and build up on your self-esteem. he’s there with you every step of the day, so if you ever slip and feel like you’re about to fall into an abyss of despair, he’ll take your out-stretched hands in his and guide you back into the light.

“[name], is something the matter? you look as if you’re bothered by something.” zhongli questions innocently, studying your face carefully. your eyes droop slightly, but you reassure him that you were pondering how it would feel like if you were as tall as him. he nods in understanding and brings a hand up to his chin in thought.

before you know it, he’s turned his back towards you and kneeled down. perplexed, you stare at him, unsure of what he’s doing. “you said you desired to know what it’s like to be around my height, so this is the only thing i can think of.” hesitantly, you place your hands on his shoulder blades to balance yourself and he makes sure to hold onto you tightly as he stands up slowly. you smile in appreciation at zhongli’s consideration over your feelings and presses your body closer to his.

he beams back at you, sealing a kiss to your lips. “if you ever feel down, remember that there’s at least one person in the world that loves you - one of them being me, of course.”

xingqiu.

he also reacts similar to kaeya, although his teasing is slightly toned down and less vocal. like, if you wanted to give him a kiss on the cheek, he might lean away from you and probably use a stool to make himself taller, but he’ll stop after a bit of fun and laughter. it’s not funny unless both of you are smiling, right?

he finds your short stature to be one of your charm points and will compliment you for that, calling you adorable and such. it’s kind of perfect for him because he likes being the big spoon, embracing you from behind and nuzzling his face against the back of your neck. if you’re around the same age as him, it’s alright! there’s still time for you to grow. he’s sure the both of you will be tall soon. there’s no judgement when you’re with him, so don’t be afraid of being yourself around xingqiu, alright?

if he finds out your confidence is still lacking, he’ll scribble down a list of all the things he loves about you for you to read to lift your spirits up! although, that might prove to be a challenge considering his handwriting is infamously known for being illegible.

“hmm... isn’t that the picture we took at liyue harbor together?” xingqiu observes the photo in your hand, reminiscing the fond memories. his honey irises flicker to you. “hey, what’s with the frown?”

you shake your head and tries to change the subject, but he presses on to persuade you into explaining. when you finally do, he bursts into a fit of laughter, wiping away the tears pricking the edge of his eyes. “i apologize for my behavior, but [name], you shouldn’t have to concern yourself with such a trivial matter.” he tucks away a stray strand of your hair behind your ear, his index finger ghosting over your lips.

“have i ever told you that you’re cute?” xingqiu murmurs, a sense of genuine compassion laced in his tone. “don’t stare at me like that, please. i’m quite serious, so there’s no need to compare yourself with me. no matter the height difference, i’ll always love you - if you’ll allow me too.

tagging. @liliisacutieowo, @scarymoosh

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #xiao #xiao x reader #zhongli #zhongli x reader #kaeya #kaeya x reader #xingqiu x reader #xingqiu

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unohanadaydreams · 3 years

Note

DAMAGE DONE FOR KENPACHI SOULMATE CAN YOU IMAGINE THE A N G S T AND CONFUSION

I know ppl who follow this blog have taste because you were the the first of four ppl to ask for this exact combo jdhdjsjs. We are all Kenpachi brain rot compliant.

Features: Cutting/self harm, a real shit start to a relationship, and angst.

Bleach Your Soul: Ask Meme

Kenpachi Zaraki + Damage:

So much of your life was defined by isolation. A patient treated terminal. Everyone paid you the same attention they would a ghost, fleeting smiles and tears that fell over your bed as though it were a grave.

How could you not feel tortured and angry, to be saddled with a soul mate determined to drag you through hell with them? There were times you truly believed were your last. Stabs too close to your guts. Slashes peeling open to far towards your heart.

There was little room in your thoughts to worry about who suffered with you, other than to curse them. Whether they struggled to live or delighted in violence, you didn’t know. You didn’t care. It was hard to care about anything while laying in your deathbed. Through childhood, your heart withered like the flowers always dying on your window sill. If only they’d throw you away for good, as well.

You garnered hobbies to keep busy rather than to enjoy them. Your stitching, calligraphy, and precocious little drawings stained in blood more often than not. The 4th division was your jail. Your soulmate, your warden. Keeping you there, always.

For years, you begged them. Desperate to be heard--to have a modicum of fucking control--, you carved words into your skin. Were they scared the first time you did it? Did they hate it? Did it hurt them?

Vindictive, you hoped all your horrible thoughts were so. When you cut ‘stop. stop. stop. stop.’ you did it on your side and hip, so it would reopen. Again. And again. And again. And--

They never responded. No matter what you wrote. ‘Please stop.’ ‘It hurts.’ ‘Doesn’t it hurt you?’ ‘I hate you.’ ‘Who are you.’ ‘Don’t you care?’ ‘Kill me.’ ‘Die.’ ‘I’m sorry.’

Slowly, then suddenly, the damage that had been near daily stopped for so many years stopped. Your family settled you back in the home, a living urn. They said your name and stroked your cheek and smiled too small when you spoke.

Your skin buzzed with the absence of what had plagued your entire youth. Was it sickness or shame that drove your blade through your skin still? Did you just miss it? Was the violence boiling you alive with no where to spill out anymore?

There were times you swore minuscule nicks would appear, healing too fast to smooth over, but staying long enough to feel. Older, able to be among people, you realized what that could mean. What kind of person you’d told to die as a pithy little tween.

Were they alive--really alive? Did anyone else care or were you the only one?

‘Songbirds.’ ‘Hello.’ ‘Your name?’ ‘Sorry.’ ‘Work sucks.’ ‘Too hot.’ ‘Alive?’ ‘Hotpot.’ ‘Cut words.’ ‘Please.’ ‘Alive?’ ‘Shinigami.’ ‘13th.’ ‘Rank?’ ‘Rukongai?’ ‘I’m sorry.’

Retsu Unohana, the only woman he couldn’t quite look in the eye, was there to smile all serene-like over him. After he’d lost. Figures she’d be there when he fucking lost.

She asked him all those annoying questions about how his body felt and told him all the things he needed to heal from. He wanted to shake her like Yachiru did when he wasn’t paying attention enough for her liking. Who gave a shit about all that--he lost and got what he deserved. He had to get stronger. Just because she’d abandoned her pride didn’t mean he would.

“Your soulmate is here, too.”

Kenpachi couldn’t ignore that one. He never ignored that one. Not that they let him, with all their fucking writing. Saying the strangest shit sometimes too.

When he was young, he’d been paranoid, not knowing what the fuck was doing the writing. He’d swing his sword over his calf or side or thigh, expecting to lob and invisible arm off. Running, Kenpachi would try to out pace the fucker.

Yumichika explained it like having one was exciting. Ikkaku had yelped for Yumichika to knock it off as the man with beautifully kept hands had given himself a paper cut.

“See? It means the person you’re meant for feels everything you do on the battlefield.” His colorful eyelids narrowed, sights shifting between his captain and Ikkaku. “Or in the file cabinet, if either of you would bother to help out.”

The more he understood--and thought about it--the less he wanted to meet them. His soulmate. Kenpachi wasn’t a person who forgave weakeness and anyone meant for him wouldn’t either, right?

He’d been consumed by sleepless nights, futile attempts to nap, and brutal training sessions, trying to keep his failures out of mind after the realization. What if Yachiru had been forced to take every blow the same as he had? Whenever he tucked in his lieutenant, the question ate at him further.

With time, there had come some form of solace--one day he’d find the thrill of a horrible battle again, to drown the thoughts out. But what Ichigo Kurosaki had offered hadn’t been horrible in the way he’d imagined. And here he was, face turned away from Unohana’s thinly veiled impatience, his feelings too complicated to bother with fully.

“Well?”

Unohana stood, like she was disappointed and Kenpachi couldn’t help but snap at her, “Fine. Whatever.”

She smiled, soft as she’d gotten, and went to the door. “Fine to what? I only told you they’re here. But if you’re so determined to see them, Captain Zaraki, follow me.”

Grumbling about how much he hated ‘that sneaky shit’, Kenpachi did follow her, and went through the door she gestured at before being closed in with your recovering body. Your body hadn’t healed as fast as his, but that wasn’t a surprise--you’d be a captain for sure if you could pull that shit off.

Worst of all, you were awake, the scar lining one side of your face as thick as his own. No one else was in the room with you. There were no flowers or cards. And your mouth was hanging open.

“You’re alive.”

“Yeah well,” Kenpachi didn’t know what to say, trailing off as one of his fingers brushed over his thigh.

“Everyone is talking about your fight,” you said, filling his silence with a light shrug. “I figured it was more than coincidence that I ended up like this at the same time. I’m glad it was you and not the ryoka.”

“You thought that kid was your soulmate?”

“How was i supposed to know? No one’s seen him since your fight, or so they’re saying.”

“The scar’s pretty fucking obvious.”

“Uh, I’ve never seen you before and it’s not like you’re ever in the Seireitei Bulletin or...or wandering around where people could find you!”

Kenpachi winced, not because of your words, but because the closer he got, the more your sweat and shaking arms showed. You must’ve been like this for a lot of your life. A worming feeling of guilt he seldom felt curled in his belly. Now that he had a person to pin to the thought, it swelled large.

Maybe if he were a softer person, someone rounded out like the long gone Yachiru turned Unohana, he’d say something comforting or concerned or even charming. But his hand was still on his thigh and his mounting frustration at himself, all revolving around his lack of strength, felt thick on his tongue.

“This mean you’re gonna stop with the fucking words?”

You pulled your head back slow, looking up at him like you couldn’t decide between succumbing to exhaustion or lunging at him.

“What if I don’t? What if I just keep going till you respond?”

“You’ll keep going until ya die.”

“Well, great! There’s you’re answer,” you scoffed. “You’ll have to kill me.”

It was a shit start, all things considered, and the silence that took over the room as Kenpachi sat on the nearest chair, so hard it almost cracked, felt as horrible as his zanpakuto refusing to answer him.

“The name’s Kenpachi Zaraki,” he said, resolved to at least get your name.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Damn right, you do. Now tell me yours.”

You wouldn’t have introduced yourself if he hadn’t looked so...well, you couldn’t quite tell what he looked like. Tired, maybe. Tired and wanting something.

So you gave him your name, your relief that he was alive, that you hadn’t wished him to his grave in your youth, outweighing your anger. An apology for putting you here was like grasping at the sky and hoping to hold a star, if his reputation proceeded him. So you let it go as best you could.

And Kenpachi settled back in the chair, grunting in acknowledgement. He didn’t think learning your name was gonna make him stronger, but it felt nice to hear someone talking to him like a person and not a beast.

If he was being honest, it’d always felt nice to be given your words, when so many people refused to give him any. A bit awkwardly, he stayed while you fell victim to sleep, your breath slow before he spoke again.

“Thanks.”

#kenpachi zaraki #kenpachi x reader #kenpachi zaraki x reader #bleach imagines #bleach fanfic #kenpachi having to grapple with his love for battle having direct consequences on someone he comes to care for more and more #and reader having to decide if they can move past the fuck ton of harm he's done to them or if they can't make peace with it #especially since he is not going to apologize for it #like lmao Kenpachi you keep calling Unohana a weak coward in your mind but just you wait JUST YOU WAIT #can you bare to lose the only one who loves you when both yachirus are dead and no greater enemy than a god will ever come again #tybw with this au would be pain #bc tbh i don't think reader would make it #unless they were also put in a pod

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datawyrms · 3 years

Text

Responsibility

For Phic Fight 2021, The Lord of Chaos’s prompt c:

Spectra fed off of misery; nocturne fed off of dreams. The elusive town cryptid that only shows up when people need saving gains a following and Danny finds that he gets a boost from the people who have faith in him, he starts to become aware of them, especially when they needed him.

The rest of the town seeing him as benevolent was a positive thing. The uncomfortable stabs that his ‘parents were right’ about ghosts lessened as fewer and fewer treated him as a monster just as troublesome as Technus. He didn’t need to tense when the news was on, to hear his attempts to help called a ‘savage attack’, or that stupid nickname. He’d slept a bit easier, knowing that people did understand he only meant to help lately. Sure, Mom and Dad might still insist he was an evil ghost, but it was so much easier to ignore that when he didn’t feel he was only one step away from proving them right to everyone else. Clumsy and reckless he could take. Just as long as he wasn’t some ‘evil soul sucking abomination.’

Having Jazz a bit more in the loop had actually started to pay off. She wasn’t as good at catching a ghost as Sam or Tucker, sure, but she wasn’t hindering him anymore either. Honestly, if all three of them worked together, his powers weren’t really needed unless something huge found its way to town. Which his friends had insisted he take advantage of at least once a week, to let them handle the usual patrols and alerts while he tried to catch up on work and sleep. Mostly sleep, to be honest. Focusing on work was almost impossible when his ghost sense went off, even if he knew they didn’t need help. He wanted to go, he had to go; but they were very good at yelling at him for not ‘trusting them’ to handle things. He really did need the break. That’s why he was feeling a little less haggard, a bit more alert. At least, that’s what made the most sense.

Then the ‘lurching’ started. He couldn’t think of a better name then that. It wasn’t like his ghost sense, that sort of just crawled out of him and didn’t give him much to go on beyond ‘there’s definitely a ghost around’. That could go off and leave him rolling his eyes at the box ghost, or fighting for his life against Plasmius with the exact same feeling. The lurching was...different. Like his ghost sense forgot where his windpipe was and decided to escape in a random direction. Inssenantly. It didn’t hurt, but it was annoying, worse than the pang that would pass when he ignored whatever got his ghost sense acting up. It just kept pulling in a direction, but refusing to get out from under his skin. Sometimes it would keep going for an entire class, which just made whatever the lurch’s chosen direction noticeably cold. He was pretty sure he was immune to frostbite nowadays, but that didn’t make explaining things easier if someone spotted his hand looking almost blue from lack of blood flow.

Maybe his core was on the fritz again. Who knew what sort of weird things could happen to a human who spent half his time dead?

Tucker suggested that he was just getting ghost puberty to go with the ‘joys’ of human puberty. Which sure, was funny and they could shove each other around and forget about it for a time. It didn’t feel like the right answer. None of his other powers acted up, honestly he was feeling better after fights then he usually did lately. Less drained, anyway. It wasn’t stopping either.

It just got worse. More intense. More frequent. Instead of vanishing the area the lurch decided to pull in seemed to grow the longer he tried to dismiss it. Noticeably. To the point even Dash asked if he should avoid punching him because ‘that shit looks contagious’. (He privately hoped it was. Dash totally deserved weird pulling that made you frost over.)

He had to ignore it, he couldn’t just drop everything every single time the lurch decided to show up. He’d look completely off his rocker, running in some random direction because ‘my shoulder feels cold to the north-west’. If it was close enough to be a real danger, his ghost sense would just go off!

So Saturday was going to be a ‘lurch hunt’. No more ignoring it, no school or mandatory activities that should keep him from following the strange cold that felt desperate to go after something. Yet even deciding that made his insides squirm. He had to follow it, he should be- but that was dumb. He missed enough class as it was.

So why was it so hard to focus on anything else when it started going? Like nothing else mattered? It wasn’t like he was drifting off or sleepy either.

Jazz said he was ‘fixated’ on something.

But how do you fixate on some weird feeling under your skin? He didn’t even know what it was! Just that Sam and Tucker kept needing to flick things at him to get him to pay attention to reality. One of his best rested weeks in ages, and he was worse off then he’d been focus wise in years. Stupid ghost powers. Saturday took far too long to come. Even when one of the lurches stopped pulling he couldn’t relax. Instead of relief he just felt. Hollow. He’d woken up in a panic, half expecting to be chained down in one of Vlad’s sick laboratories, but he wasn’t cut open. He wasn’t even injured. Safe, in bed- and feeling like the cold ran off with his ribcage.

Something was wrong with him. That had to be it. Once they found the cause, he’d solve it and it would stop. It had to.

Following it shouldn’t make him feel as relieved as it did. Taking his ghost form and flying after some...feeling that wanted to drag him somewhere was more like when Freakshow’s Staff dominated his mind than anything positive. A compulsion he couldn’t help giving in to.

At least his ghost sense went off once he’d followed it long enough, finding one of Vlad’s mutant ghost animals chasing someone through the streets.

Normal. A bit of one sided banter to get it’s attention, a few punches and ectoblasts and it was shoved away in the thermos. No more pulling, and one less ghost terrorizing town. That didn’t make sense. Unless it really was just his ghost sense increasing in range while becoming infinitely more irritating?

That’s what it felt like, at first. He’d follow, ghost sense, find the problem. Except there was something odd. Every ghost he found like this wasn’t just wandering about, or making a mess. They were all actively chasing, stalking or attempting to scare someone. Okay, so it homed in on more ‘violent’ ghosts then? That seemed possible.

Until one of the lurches kept pulling, but there was no ghost sense. The one that kept pulling him towards a man with his back against the wall, fumbling with a wallet. The man who wasn’t being threatened by Skulker, or a vulture, or any of this typical fare. Just another human with a gun, and the will to use it.

This so wasn’t his thing. He fought ghosts, they were half his fault to begin with. So why was his ghost sense leading him to this? Well. It hadn’t. Lurching confirmed for not ghost sense?

Jazz would totally chew him out for tackling someone with a gun. He just had to forget to go intangible at a bad time, and he’d be all ghost. Or worse, go intangible and someone else got a body full of lead. He couldn’t just...ignore it now that he’d seen it though. The chill that hummed below his skin wouldn’t let him.

So the guy was a bit startled about getting pulled through a wall and dropped off the other side. Probably lost some change. He’d expected a bit of fear, at least. Like come on, some ghost just grabs you while a gun’s in your face? That’s still scary.

Yet he didn’t seem bothered. Just thankful. Called him a ‘hero’. For being in the right place at the right time. By just happening to be there because...because he knew? Something in him knew. That was wrong, he shouldn’t just know when people were in danger like that. He vanished without a word, not wanting to stick around and hear more. It was coincidence. Hopefully the guy wasn’t too offended that he just bolted, but he couldn’t stay there. He didn’t like how the complement felt good in a way he couldn’t describe. That the cold in his chest thrummed with a pleasure that made the rest of him feel ill. He wasn’t a hero, he was just some kid. A kid who still wanted to have a life that wasn’t all this, eventually.

He can’t ignore at dinner that he picks at his meal, not from exhaustion but because he’s not hungry. He’s still energized, he’s still full- and no amount of gagging over the sink makes his stomach empty. ‘Ghosts helping humans only do so for their own ends’. He’d ignored and denied that, he hadn’t been getting anything out of being the local ghost punching bag- so why was he now? Did he steal something? Feed on that person he saved?

He hated that his face didn’t even have the sense to look pale at the idea. He looked healthy. Probably better than he usually did. Even the circles under his eyes weren’t as noticeable. Were Mom and Dad right? Was he just...more of a ghost now?

Sam and Tucker don’t buy his ‘couldn’t figure it out’ explanation. Mostly because he refuses to try it again with them along to help figure it out. Even as he grows cold and more lurching keeps gnawing at his attention. He’s human too, he doesn’t need...whatever this is.

Sam kindly tells him he’s being a gigantic idiot.

He’s too distracted by the chill to notice. Tucker explains that after he’s blinking confused at the corn chips bouncing off his forehead. They laugh it off. He’s pretty sure they’re just being nice. They know something’s wrong, but he can’t bring himself to tell them yet. They wait. For now.

He ignores the feeling. He tries to ignore the guilt, that he knows someone out there is in danger. That someone out there needs his help. That all he needs to do is walk out of class and he can go do some actual good. He can’t go chasing after everyone in town. Things happen! He’s just one person! The sooner the lurching in him figures that out, the better. It still ruins his focus, makes him grit his teeth and fidget in place. He wants to go, he doesn’t want to go, he doesn’t even know what he wants. For it to stop. That would work. The tugging stops halfway into his next class, the frost in his blood lifts. It leaves him empty. Starving.

Everything tastes bland. Breakfast, lunch, dinner. Even his favourites barely seem worth the effort of snagging off a table. He’ll eat, he can’t have Mom and Dad looking at him like Sam and Tucker are now, but it just feels heavy in his stomach. A brick he’s decided to try digesting for fun. He’s hungry, ravenously so, but doesn’t want anything.

He knows exactly what he wants and hates himself for it. Stupid ghost half. He doesn’t need that, he doesn’t want to be some...leech. Seeking out trouble just to benefit from it. It’s wrong, he hates it, and if he could grab his core and slam it on the table for a few hours he would. Just until it remembered that they helped when they could. When it was close by, when it was a ghost problem. Not every bit of danger in town!

Misplaced aggression goes to the nearby ghosts. Which it often had, really. It’s normal. He’s just making sure people don’t get hurt, ignoring the humming of MINE coiled in his ectoplasm. The other ghosts feel it. They hear it when he hunts them down and wants to keep swinging even when they put claws or hands up in surrender. He doesn’t trust himself to banter with them right now. He doesn’t want to hear the words his ghost side wants to say. He shoves them back into the Ghost Zone, and the smarter ones stay away. A stronger ghost is already feeding here. There’s nothing for them to take.

He’s running on autopilot. Days are meaningless. He can’t focus in class, his notes are nonexistent and his patience is beyond frayed. He can’t sleep, the cold is too much, the emptiness hurts and fewer ghosts show up. He can’t even blow off steam by kicking the Box Ghost through a wall. He won’t follow it, and he’s fairly sure it’s going to kill him. That or his parents will. Even they have to notice how he barely eats and won’t focus on anything short of a horn section in his face.

Sam and Tucker sit him down. Force the issue. They know he’s a mess. They don’t have answers. How could they? His choices are to starve this ghost instinct out, or to just give into it and completely ruin his human life. He’ll be fine. It’ll stop eventually if he keeps ignoring it. Then he’ll be able to focus again. It’s all he can cling to.

He’s stubbornly ignoring the prickling awareness of other thoughts. Ones not from his brain. Ones that get louder when the lurch grips him, that practically overwhelm his own as fear and panic grows. Maybe he’s just gone a little off the deep end. He doesn’t hear voices. He refuses.

Jazz has her concerns. That he can’t ignore it. She knows more about Mom and Dad’s research, more about classifications of ghosts. She tries to be gentle, nudging him to be aware that stronger ghosts were more...like a concept then an individual.

He doesn’t want to be some sort of ghost concept of problem solving. She’s worried he won’t have that choice. Some part of him already knows she’s right.

He seeks out Valerie. For help. She’s confused, baffled and suspicious. After all this time he spent convincing her he’s not evil, he’s begging her to call him that. To convince other people he is. To make them fear him and his help. He doesn’t want to be a hero like she is. He just wants to be himself, doesn’t want to hear the people begging for help when he’s trying to sleep.

She doesn’t understand, but understands one thing. He’ll feed on those who rely on them. She has to stop that, doesn’t she?

They fight, and often. He does poorly, lets her save people while his misfires cause damage and chaos. It makes him want to scream each time. Some of the thoughts and voices dim. Not enough. Too many are understanding, too many can see the regret and pain that wrack him with each failure. He’s always hungry. He wants to try again, but everything in him rebels against it. The ghost hunter avoids him. It’s ‘not a fair fight’. He’s ‘not himself’. His green eyes are more dead then they ever have been. He can’t maintain his legs.

As a human, all he wants to do is sleep.

Mom and Dad notice. He collapses and his eyes flare green when they try to help him. Just automatically sensing them as danger, against him, not someone that calls for him. They think he’s possessed, and he wishes they were right.

He half considers not telling them the truth. Let them think of a way to let his ghost half quiet down, to stop hungering for validation he doesn’t want.

Jazz tells them before they can do much of anything. Pinches his ear for being stupid- that getting experimented on won’t help him.

Their hugs make him feel bad. This should be a good moment, a time where he feels safe and accepted. But his mind is not his own, not with the others whispering in his skull. Their warmth and love feels like a drop in the empty barrel of his hunger.

They want him to be healthy. They want him to be happy. He can’t be happy if he needs to abandon his life to be healthy. He tries to explain it, the emptiness, the voices (Jazz cuffs him again for hiding this, which seems fair.) and they promise to try and figure out why, maybe find a way to limit it or separate himself from whatever connection his ghost half seems to have made with the town. Until then- they encourage him. To go ‘help’ people. To feed the clawing cold taking over his existence. He’s not sure if they really mean it. It doesn’t stop him from listening.

It’s hard to feel guilty when it feels so good. To have the fear quiet and be replaced with thanks. Someone’s out of danger and happy, and he feels less hollow for a time. Mom and Dad switch him to home school. They say it’s a better fit, to be able to stop and start based on when he’s not being dragged away by his own instinctive need to protect people.

It feels like giving up. Admitting he’s too much of a freak to live like everyone else. Dad tries to compare it to his special classes when he was young. Different to fit his learning style, not failing. The pulls and voices aren’t nearly as distracting when he’s full. Food actually tastes like more than sand again. Sam and Tucker don’t need to try as hard to smile now that he isn’t looking like death warmed over. He doesn’t like not getting to see them as often. He can’t deny he feels better this way, and can actually pay attention now. Even if most of the time he just wants to nap when the hunger stops. Go ‘back into hiding’ as the town thinks he does.

It’s getting better. Slowly. Not in a way he wanted it to. Better nonetheless.

#Danny Phantom #phic fight 2021 #Team Ghost #how to mangle a prompt in 3k words #it's a really neat idea tho!#angst train choo choo

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anonniemousefics · 3 years

Note

Can we please get more tfota scenes from cardan's pov? Maybe something from qon this time 🙈

Happy New Year! ♥️🥂

It’s so great you guys are enjoying these Cardan POV pieces! This one sort of follows His Monstrous Bride and this other little continuation -- it’s taken from Chapter 18 of The Queen of Nothing when Jude and Cardan talk about her exile before meeting with the Living Council.

I don’t have a title for it -- let’s just call it His Monstrous Bride Part II. lol

(Also a shameless plug for my ongoing fic The Nine Terrifying Moons, which will feature a Cardan POV chapter coming soon. Wheeeee!)

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Cardan is well versed at hiding his emotions, but it doesn’t hurt to look the part. And the day that his High Queen is finally awakening, once again restored to Elfhame, is a day to dress for a very specific kind of battle. Jude has ignored him for months – now he must be unignorable. He has gold along his cheekbones and caps like gold knives at the tips of his ears. Jude likes knives after all.

He’s flanked by his guards at her door. (Their door? He’s unused to sharing.) The Living Council means to interrupt her convalescence, and he’ll have none of it. He’s there to make sure she is fit and ready, and he doesn’t have to do more than that, he tells himself. His envoy is at his sides at all times now, and still, in this moment, some part of him wishes there were more of them. Wishes he could shrink back from what may lie ahead.

“Your Highness?” His guards are waiting for him to do something. He hadn’t realized how long he’d been hesitating.

It’s just… it’s been months of endless rejection, though he knows now she never received his letters, but still…he’s not sure he can take one more. And his heart is still cracked and raw from her most recent brush with death.

He steels himself. And knocks at the door.

It’s Oak who answers with an innocent smile, which is something of a relief. With Oak around, Jude’s less likely to become stabby.

Although, at least if she’s stabbing him, she’s no longer ignoring him. And Cardan really can’t stand one more minute of being ignored by Jude Duarte.

She’s there now, and the sight of her standing catches him right in the chest. The last time he’d clapped eyes on her, she was bleeding all over his spider-silk sheets. He’d cleaned her blood with his own two hands, but now she’s upright and clear-eyed, dressed in a foreboding black number with silver at her collar and cuffs. Her auburn hair has been braided like a crown, and with smoky traces of rose around her eyes, she looks deadly and formidable once more.

It’s such a welcome sight. He has never been so thrilled to see her. And that’s such a treacherous and terrifying notion, since he thinks it’s very likely she’s might smack him in the near future if he can’t navigate the mess of crossed wires between them.

The thrill lasts only a moment, because then his stomach gives a lurch. He’s just realized that all of her sisters are there, too. And they’re all staring at him. And he’s been staring right back.

Suddenly, Cardan’s on the verge of breaking into a cold sweat.

“Walk with me,” he finally tells Jude, eager to get away from so many Duarte eyes.

“Of course.” Jude’s brown eyes in particular seem uncharacteristically wide and confused.

Vivienne catches Jude’s hand before she can join him.

“You’re not well enough,” she objects. As if Cardan can’t take care of her. As if he hadn’t cleaned up her blood himself.

“The Living Council is eager to speak with her,” he says instead. Jude should be proud of how he’s learned to curb his tongue in her absence.

“The only danger anyone has ever been in at a Council meeting is of being bored to death,” Jude is reassuring her family, before stepping away, the guards folding in around them.

Cardan offers her his arm – he wants to keep her close, and he wants Vivienne to take note. It is different now, and he wants them all to see. Jude is cared for here.

He wants to take his time with her at his arm as they swap neutral business about the Roach, about the Bomb, about Madoc, but he can hardly even look at her. His head is full of visions of those nights he wrote to her again and again, outright begging in the end, and then lying awake, alone, certain his agony would be never-ending. Gods above, he’d even written once that his heart was hers, buried with her in the soil of the mortal world -- and she’d sent no reply. And though he knows now it’s because she hadn’t even received it, he’s still completely unsure of how to act.

It’s extremely unsettling how normal Jude seems in this moment. As if no time has passed at all.

And there are still so many eyes on them. Courtiers bobbing their heads as they pass. The guards just an arm’s length away. This is no place to try to sort through what he had written to her, what she needed to know. So maybe he just won’t, he thinks. Maybe it can just be like this for an eternity and he can go back to drinking away his feelings after this Council meeting. Maybe this is the most he should hope for.

But then, Jude says: “I need to talk to you.”

And his heart plummets to his guts. He’s not sure he can keep the dread off his face.

“It won’t take long,” Jude says, which is maybe worse. It means it’s simple: she wants to end their marriage. She wants to return to the mortal world. Of course she does.

But then, she says: “Whatever your scheme is, whatever you are planning to hold over me, you might as well tell me now, before we’re in front of the whole Council. Make your threats. Do your worst.”

What? What the bleeding skies is she talking about? This is such a mess he’s made. And it is, perhaps, the first mess he’s ever truly cared to clean up.

Cardan turns them away toward a corridor to the outdoors.

“Yes,” he agrees. “We do need to talk.”

He steers them for the royal rose garden, where he knows the guards will stop at the gate and leave them alone. He has only a few steps down a path of shimmering quartz stairs among the roses to decide exactly what parts of his heart he’s willing to reveal today. What exactly won’t hurt so terribly much should she throw it all back in his face.

“I assume you weren’t actually trying to shoot me,” he says, choosing first the obvious and easiest. “Since the note was in your handwriting.”

“Madoc sent the Ghost--” Jude starts, but then stops. Softens. “I thought that there was going to be an attempt on your life.”

This does not mean that she cares for you, he has to remind himself. He still doesn’t want to look at her. The memory of perceived rejection is still too strong, still too bitter.

But he’s not going to live with the regrets he’d drowned in when she’d nearly died. He tries to choose his next words carefully.

“It was terrifying,” he admits, feigning interest in a nearby bush of jet black roses, “watching you fall. I mean, you’re generally terrifying, but I am unused to fearing for you.” He swallows back the memories, threatening the periphery of his mind. “And then I was furious. I am not sure I have ever been that angry before.”

“Mortals are fragile,” Jude shrugs him off. She doesn’t get it.

“Not you,” he sighs. “You never break.”

There. Can that be enough? He’s made it fairly obvious now, hasn’t he? Surely she gets it now – he doesn’t want her to die, he doesn’t want to see her hurt. Witnessing it was the worst thing he’s ever seen. Because he cares for her.

If he has to spell it out, it might kill him. So, he just waits for what she has to say to that.

Jude’s looking at the roses, too, when he glances at her, her thick lashes lowered.

“When I came here, pretending to be Taryn, you said you’d sent me messages,” she says, and oh, please, gods, not this. “You seemed surprised I hadn’t gotten any. What was in them?”

Cardan wants to vomit. No, he needs to vomit. If his nervous stomach would cooperate and vomit everywhere, he could still get away from this with a shred of dignity.

He clasps his hands behind his back so she can’t see how they shake, his smile telling the lies that the rest of him can’t. That he is cool and unaffected, not at all hopelessly in love with the mortal girl in front of him.

“Pleading, mostly.” He tries to say it like it’s a joke. “Beseeching you to come back. Several indiscreet promises.” Maybe that little bit of tantalizing will flatter her.

It doesn’t. Actually, he’s not sure Jude can be flattered. She closes her eyes shut in no small amount of frustration.

“Stop playing games,” she growls. “You sent me into exile.”

“Yes. That.” Right, of course she doesn’t love that he’s beating around the bush. If only he could help it. He’s so goddamn nervous. “I can’t stop thinking about what you said to me, before Madoc took you. About it being a trick. You meant marrying you, making you queen, sending you to the mortal world, all of it, didn’t you?”

The glare she throws him is so very Jude, though he loves it less when it’s directed at him.

“Of course it was a trick,” she seethes. “Wasn’t that what you said in return?”

Well, this is rich.

“But that’s what you do. You trick people.” Though Cardan’s starting to realize just how wrong he’s been about the things Jude enjoys. “I thought you’d admire me a little for it, that I could trick you. I thought you’d be angry, of course, but not quite like this.”

“What?” Jude looks like she could unhinge her jaw and swallow him whole. He might even deserve it.

He needs to put an end to this nightmare. There’s still a miniscule chance she’ll find some part of it amusing.

“Let me remind you that I didn’t know you’d murdered my brother, the ambassador to the Undersea, until that very morning,” he points out. Surely, the context will help his case. “My plans were made in haste. And perhaps I was a little annoyed. I thought it would pacify Queen Orlagh, at least until all promises were finalized in the treaty. By the time you guessed the answer, the negotiations would be over.”

But Jude’s face is unchanged. He isn’t seriously this good at trickery, is he?

“Think of it,” he presses, hoping she’ll follow along. “I exile Jude Duarte to the mortal world. Until and unless she is pardoned by the crown.” Any minute now. Any minute.

“Pardoned by the crown,” he repeats to her blank stare. Right, so, this game isn’t funny anymore.

“Meaning by the King of Faerie. Or its queen,” he explains, watching her eyes grow wider, wilder. “You could have returned anytime you wanted.”

When he’d first envisioned her figuring out the riddle, he’d expected probably a punch in the arm, maybe she would have even drawn her blade again. That would have been delightful. He’d thought about trembling beneath her again, about that searing look she got in her eye just before devouring his lips. That would have been – gods. He might have considered letting her murder more of his brothers to have that again.

But what is happening now is decidedly the opposite. Jude’s breath is quickening, her face flushing, and in the air between them, Cardan feels a rift cracking wider. He hasn’t played a trick – he’s done something horrible.

When Jude begins to back away from him, he thinks back to what it felt like to find Nicasia with Locke. What Jude’s face is doing now – that is what his heart had done then. She is recoiling from him. Jude Duarte is recoiling from him, because he has hurt her.

He honestly had not thought it was possible. He honestly had not thought himself capable. He honestly had not thought she cared enough.

She whirls then and marches away from him, and he has never hated himself more. Stop her, he thinks, but he’s still stunned. If he’d known she cared…

Stop her!

He runs after her. She has to know he wouldn’t have done it if he’d known. She has to know he will fight to keep her now that he knows. But when he seizes her arm, she hauls around and slaps him, hard enough to turn his face.

It’s not the worst hit he’s taken, not by a long shot, but its sting is entirely different. There’s something fiery in her eyes, and, for the first time, he’s aware that he is not the only one who has been in agony these long months. Oh, he would undo it all now if he could. He would pull her in and kiss her over and over until they both stopped hurting.

Except she still looks murderous. Getting close to her face is probably not a good idea if he doesn’t want to be bitten. (He does kind of want to be bitten, just…in a very different scenario.)

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he says, carefully, and his hand finds hers. To his great surprise, she lets their fingers lace together, and his heart seizes with a wild hope. It does not mean she loves you, he thinks. He fumbles. “No, it’s not that, not exactly. I didn’t think I could hurt you. And I never thought you would be afraid of me.”

“And did you like it?” Jude asks, narrowing her eyes.

His cheek is hot from the slap of her hand, and now with shame. Because how is he supposed to answer that? He didn’t hate being more powerful for once. He didn’t hate being the one with the answer to the riddle.

“Well, I was hurt.” He’s hesitated too long, and now Jude’s pressing on. “And yes, you scare me.”

Cardan finds himself taking in her full face then, the one that has always seemed so defiant and fearless and headstrong.

“You’ve always scared me,” Jude is saying, and this is what almost undoes him. She repeats it, telling him again and again each moment she had been afraid of him, and with each one, his mind bursts a little more. This doesn’t seem real. “And I am scared of you now,” she concludes, that defiant gleam in her eye til the end.

Cardan is speechless. And Cardan’s never speechless.

There was a time when he enjoyed playing a villain in her heroic story line, but she wasn’t supposed to be truly afraid of him. She was supposed to vanquish him and make him beg for her kindness. (And he would now. He really would.)

(Maybe he will.)

“You despised me,” Jude reminds him, because he does need reminding. He’s not sure now if he ever really did. “When you said you wanted me, it felt like the world had turned upside down. But sending me into exile, that made sense. That was an entirely right-side-up Cardan move. And I hated myself for not seeing it coming. And I hate myself for not seeing what you’re going to do to me next.”

At that, Cardan closes his eyes. Hopelessness is threatening to overtake him. Fear has created this monster before him, the one who irrevocably holds his heart. Is it possible to unmake such a curse? He’s certainly been unable to find a cure for his own fear, lifelong coward that he is.

When she’d first returned and his heart was freshly cracked, he’d thought back to a fairy story about a boy cursed with a heart of stone and the monster he took as his bride. It had been patience and fearlessness that had won over the monster in the end – something the boy had managed only because of his stony heart.

So, Cardan thinks of stones then. Of pulling together all his cracked and raw edges. Of being impenetrable and solid and fearless. He thinks of doing what needs to be done. He needs her, for so many things, and she must know that. Perhaps it is folly to wish for anything more than simply averting a crisis.

But he can’t manage it if he’s looking at her. He releases her hand and turns away.

“I can see why you thought what you did,” he says at last. “I suppose I am not an easy person to trust. And maybe I ought not to be trusted, but let me say this: I trust you.”

Patience. Fearlessness. Deep breath.

“You may recall that I did not want to be High King. And that you did not consult me before plopping this crown on my head. You may further recollect that Balekin didn’t want me to keep the title and that the Living Council never took a real shine to me.

“There was a prophecy given when I was born. Usually Baphen is uselessly vague, but in this case, he made it clear that should I rule, I would make a very poor king.” It hurts more than he thought it would to say it out loud. “The destruction of the crown, the ruination of the throne – a lot of dramatic language.”

He has to be cavalier about it; it stings too much otherwise. It’s been the bane of his existence, this prophecy. It is the reason his entire childhood was filled with nothing but dismissal and cruelty. It’s the very, very low standard he’s spent his whole life trying not to meet. The best his family had ever hoped for from him was his complete and utter disappearance – and he’d failed to do even that.

He turns back to Jude. Patience. Fearlessness. He has so much more to say. He has so much more he wants to be than this. Deep breath.

“When you forced me into working for the Court of Shadows, I never thought of the things I could do – frightening people, charming people – as talents, no less ones that might be valuable. But you did. You showed me how to use them to be useful. I never minded being a minor villain, but it’s possible I might have grown into something else, a High King as monstrous as Dain. And if I did – if I fulfilled that prophecy, I ought to be stopped. And I believe that you would stop me.”

Jude sputters at that, blinking hard.

“Stop you?” she echoes. “Sure. If you’re a huge jerk and a threat to Elfhame, I’ll pop your head right off.”

“Good.” And he means it. To die by Jude’s hand would be a dream. “That’s one reason I didn’t want to believe you’d joined up with Madoc. The other is that I want you here by my side,” and just for good measure, just in case she still isn’t getting it: “As my queen.”

But he can’t read the expression on Jude’s face when he says it – if it brings her joy, if it brings her more distress. He’s not sure what else he could have said to make it any more clear. And now her silence is threatening to eat him alive. This reeks of the beginnings of yet another rejection.

He smiles at her, instinctively, a last ditch effort to make this even slightly less awkward.

“But now that you’re High Queen and back in charge, I won’t be doing anything of consequence anyway,” he promises. “If I destroy the crown and ruin the throne, it will only be through neglect.”

He wants her to smile back. To roll her eyes at him and act like she isn’t amused when she so clearly is. He’s missed that, oh, how he’s missed that.

He gets all that and more when she blurts out a laugh.

“So that’s your excuse for not doing any of the work?” She quirks an eyebrow, and it makes his heart swell. They’re smiling together again. He’d needed that, too, more than he’d realized. “You must be draped in decadence at all times because if you aren’t kept busy, you might fulfill some half-baked prophecy.”

“Exactly,” he says. Exactly… It’s more true than he wants it to be. His smile fades. And Jude is looking more tired than he’s comfortable with. He hopes he has not pushed her too hard. He touches her arm, gently, not thinking. Her gaze catches his, soft and warm. He finds himself leaning in…

“Would you like me to inform the Council that you will see them another time?” he asks. “It will be a novelty to have me make your excuses.”

But Jude is stalwart and determined as ever. He expected nothing less.

He pulls back. She does not need him. Not like he needs her.

“No, I’m ready,” she says.

How he wishes he could say the same.

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Tagging: @yellowavocadopit, @dagypsygirl, @ireallyshouldsleeprn, @booklover-sleeplover, @mwejh, @courtofjurdan, @faeriequeenofwest, @sugawsites, @loveyourselfsolid, @owl0y0s, @feelinglikecleopatra, @akaloto, @charrise, @persephxnecoven, @raging-bisexual-alert, @rteme, @nahthanks, @addies-invisible-life, @elorcanislife, @snusbandxknifewife, @poeticbrownmermaid, @duarteegreenbriar, @thefolkofthefic, @alittledribbledrabble, @carmensworld17, @annejulianneh111, @amandlas, @elriel4life, @idk-what-name-to-use, @thewickedkings, @juliazato, @woodsbeyond1, @booksmusicandgoodvibes,

#jurdan #the folk of the air #tfota #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #jude x cardan #cardan pov #fanfic #fanfiction #jurdan fanfic #jurdan fanfiction

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write-ur-wrongs · 4 years

Text

Thank you @itsjammin for the request! I didn’t fully proof-read this one so please forgive any grammatical errors!! I hope you like it !!

Geralt x reader where she’s having a really bad panic attack and Geralt’s not sure how he can help and he just holds her and helps her through it cradling her in his arms and just gently rocking her. After she’s calmed down, he just kisses her forehead and traces patterns on her back and just lots of fluff please!

Trigger warning: Anxiety / panic attack.

_________________________________________________

You were fine. You’re breathing and you weren’t bleeding and you’re fine. You closed your hands into tight fists in an attempt to ground yourself, digging your nails into your palms as you breathed out slowly through your nose. You felt the weight of your legs on the fallen tree beneath you, pushed your toes into the tip of your shoes and felt the pressure you created. Slowly, you relaxed your fists and rested your open hands on your thighs, feeling the blood rush back into palms. The tiny crescent moon indents in your palm stung dully.

You weren’t injured. You weren’t in danger of being injured. You were fine.

Geralt was watching you wearily from across the crackling fire, his steaming mug of broth hovering inches from his face. You had been balling your hands into fists, knuckles white, and relaxing them slowly on repeat for too long now. He looked over at Jaskier quizzically, a brow raised, but the bard merely mirrored his confusion, returning the look with wide eyes and an animated shrug.

You were normally a steady presence in the group, matching Geralt in energy level and Jaskier in wit. They’d known you for over a year now and had only ever seen you in that light; steady with a silver tongue. Tonight, however, was a completely different story. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened today; you had travelled a peaceful route and stopped in a nice clearing. No one had crossed you and Geralt sensed no threat in the surrounding area. And yet, there you sat, breathing slowly but with great effort, empty eyes looking out at nothing while your forehead was creased with worry.

Geralt wanted to know what was up, but he was no wordsmith. Huffing slightly, he looked at the bard pointedly and jerked his head in your direction, silently begging Jaskier to ask you what was wrong.

Jaskier might be good with words, but never when the situation truly called for it. He could banter with the best of them and diffuse tension with ease, but you were giving off such a distressing energy, he didn’t dare say anything unsure of what you’d do once the tension in you boiled over.

As such, he shook his head wildly and pointed at Geralt while mouthing, “You ask her!”

The two men mimed wildly to one another, both desperate to have the other take charge, oblivious to the fact that you had transitioned from the desperate-to-keep-a-steady-breath phase and into the weight-on-my-chest-is-suffocating-me phase of your episode.

Jaskier won out though, when he threw a torn piece of bread a the Witcher’s head. With a low grunt, Geralt gingerly placed his mug down and clasped his hands together and leaned over, bracing himself.

He cleared his throat a couple times before hesitantly muttering his question. Unfortunately, his noble attempt fell on death ears.

All you could hear was a dull ringing coupled with the amplified sounds of your body; every breath was deafening, your heartbeat was so loud you felt it in your ears, and you swore you could hear your bones creaking in their joints.

You hated this; all of it. You hated that you couldn’t identify the cause of your panic. That rationally, you knew nothing was wrong, but that wasn’t enough to keep you from spiraling as you were. Normally you could feel these episodes coming and stop them before the settled in full. Your mother had taught you countless coping methods and the healers you met along your travels helped you immensely; especially as new triggers made themselves known to you.

Yet nothing had happened, really. Geralt was a little colder than usual, and he did snap at you quite harshly but that wasn’t new. It was an occupational hazard. Jaskier had been moodier as of late, probably because Geralt snapped at him too, but they’re always squabbling and reconciling. It was their way.

You didn’t see this one coming. At the first sign of trouble, you grounded yourself and counted your breaths. When that didn’t work, you counted things around you; five conifers, three boulders, fifteen pinecones on the floor, and so on. But it didn’t work. You had even pulled out your vial of herbs – all to no avail.

Nothing was helping and everything was too loud. You were in pain but nothing actually hurt. The weight of your body against your bones was crushing but you felt like a ghost.

Oblivious to your internal struggle and unimpressed with the Witcher’s feeble attempt, Jaskier rolled his eyes at Geralt and whipped another piece of bread at him. Frustrated and frazzled, Geralt threw the bread back to the bard with force, shot him a death glare, and wiped his sweaty palms on the top of his legs before trying again.

“Y/N... hm… how –”

“I’m fine!” you barked, although your voice wavered in a way that clearly indicated you were far from fine.

Geralt looked to Jaskier in desperation, not wanting to have to try again, but Jaskier was already up and walking backwards towards Roach, mouthing ‘sorry’ and ‘good luck’ as he washed his hands of the whole affair.

Geralt rolled his eyes and muttered a quiet, ‘fuck’, before getting up to cross the fire and settle beside you uncomfortably.

The moment you realized Geralt had come to your side, your chin wobbled and you felt tears prickle at your eyes. You brought your hands up to your face and swiped at your tears quickly, doing your best to regain control.

Seeing you up close – how your jaw never relaxed, how you couldn’t sit still, the way you dragged the nail of your index finger down the side of your thumbs, seemingly unaware of the angry red lines you left behind – his heart broke.

“Come ‘ere,” he said, pulling you towards him.

Feeling his strong arms wrap themselves around you brought your tears to the surface in an instant. Before either of you could process what was happening, you were sobbing freely into his broad chest, hands grabbing at him desperately for comfort.

You cried for what felt like forever, raw and ragged sobs shaking you to your core. But no matter how deeply you surrendered into your panic, Geralt never wavered. He rocked you slowly, stroking your back softly. Every now and then he’d murmur words of encouragement into your hair and, despite all odds, you found that the low rumble of his voice comforted you greatly.

After some time, your sobs turned into whimpers, and your whimpers into choppy breaths. All the while, Geralt never released his hold on you. Only when he felt your heartrate return to normal did he lessen his grip and pull back to look down at you, smoothing back your hair.

“What –”

“I’m –”

You both laughed awkwardly into the sudden silence and waited for the other to go on. After a beat, Geralt tried again.

“Please –”

“Geralt –” you interrupted once more, shaking your head at the cyclical turn your conversation had taken.

“Y/N, you go.” He said softly, still drawing loopy shapes onto your back with his fingers.

“Oh Gods,” you breathed shakily, “I’m so, so sorry.”

“No, no,” he shushed, placing gentle kisses along your temple, “Y/N you have no reason to be apologizing.”

“Geralt, look at me!? I’m a mess,” you blurt, “and I’ve scared Jaskier.”

“Jaskier,” he replied with a small smile, “is a fool. He’ll be fine.”

“That might be worse! He’ll never let me live this down.” You say, your head in your hands. Geralt laughed softly at this, and gave your back a few comforting pats before holding you tightly and pulling you closer to him.

“If he dares,” he murmured in mock seriousness, his smile giving him away, “then I will kill him.”

“Geralt! Then who would write all those songs about you?” you said, turning back and smacking him playfully on his chest.

“Preferably no one,” he answered, face soft with laughter while his eyes remained trained on you, watching closely to ensure you were doing okay.

“Oh, you’d miss it, you big vanity.” You laughed, swiping at the last of the tears on your face and moving to stand up.

“Y/N… wait,” he said, reaching for your wrist and gently pulling you back down. “Are you… alright?”

“I’m fine,” you said, settling back down at his side, “Truly, I’m fine.”

Geralt let out a low, ‘hm’, in response, and looked at you dubiously, still acutely aware of your heightened heartrate.

“Okay, fine,” you admit, accepting that you couldn’t lie to him about this, “but I will be.” When he didn’t look convinced, you placed your hands on his arms and gave him what you hoped was a convincing look. “I promise, Geralt. I’m okay.”

He clenched his jaw tightly and breathe a sigh through his nose before speaking again.

“You didn’t just scare Jaskier tonight,” he said, slowly and with care, “you scared me too.”

You quickly cast your eyes downward, feeling shame prickle harshly at your chest. Geralt saw you bring the nails of your index finger to your thumb, ready to start your rhythmic stabbing once more, and hastily brought your shaky hands into his.

“Don’t punish yourself like this,” he whispered, rubbing his rough thumb over the tops of your fingers, “just talk to me.”

“I don’t know what to say, honestly,” you said, refusing to bring your eyes up to his. “I can normally manage by myself, I don’t,” you stopped to take a steadying breath, and Geralt responded in kind by holding your hands a little tighter, “I don’t know what was different this time. I’m… I’m -”

“Only human?”

“Gross,” you said, pulling one of your hands free so you could wipe your face, “and unfair.”

“Maybe so, but Y/N, I’m serious,” he said, putting his hands gently under your chin to bring your eyes up to his, “if you ever feel like you’re losing control again, you can come to me.”

“Yeah?” you asked, your voice small.

“Always.” He said, pulling your face towards him so he could lay another gentle kiss onto your forehead. “No matter what.”

At this, you allowed yourself to melt into his arms once more, letting his slow, steady, heartbeats soothe you as he continued to draw shapes on your back.

#geralt of rivia #witcher geralt #geralt x reader #geralt x y/n #geralt fanfic #geralt x you #tw #trigger warning #anxiety attack #panic attack #the witcher netflix #the witcher #jaskier

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heyheyloki · 4 years

Text

Yours

“Summary: Loki struggles to tell the reader ‘I love you’.

Loki x M!Reader

Word Count: 3005

Inspired by the song I Wanna Be Yours by the Arctic Monkeys

Romanic love was never in the cards when it came to the God of Mischief, Loki. He knew that, and so did everyone else. He never dwelled on the thought much since he had other priorities with taking over Earth, losing his mother, and dealing with his idiotic brother. However, now in the Avenger’s Tower, he had all the time in the world. Time that he spent thinking about you.

You were Stark’s assistant when it came to helping out around the Tower rather within Stark Industries. Tony was always messing with Loki if he ever stared at you for too long or if the two of you got lost within conversation to even notice how much time has even passed. Loki never let those comments get to him, in the beginning, at least. Now, it felt like he used his own dagger and stabbed the god through his icy heart that slowly started to thaw thanks to you.

Thor was the first one to notice, and sadly, the only one. Loki hoped no one would catch on, but for once he wished someone other than his brother noticed his change since he wasn’t someone Loki wanted to take advice from givin’ his failed relationship with Jane Foster.

“Just confess to him, brother!” Thor whispered under his breath in the kitchen, making sure to notice if anyone was about to enter. “It’s easy to tell that the Midgardian adores you.”

Loki tried his best to keep the wanting smile from popping onto his lips. “I’m not sure. Perhaps you’re reading him wrong.”

Thor laughed. “If anyone was easier to read, brother, it would be [Name].”

Loki’s head tilted in confusion. He wasn’t to sure if Thor was trying to sooth his doubts or mock him for not noticing your signals sooner. Still, was there even any signals to begin with?

Just as Loki was about to let his words slip past his lips, Thor immediately noticed a body turning the corner and when he knew who it was a coy smirk inched on his lips as he greeted the person with a joyous, “Good afternoon, [Name]! Stark isn’t working you too hard, I hope.”

Loki bit his tongue, his body quickly turning around to stare into your eyes. He noticed how tired you looked right away, after all, the dark circles under them were a dead giveaway. You haven’t been sleeping much, if any at all thanks to your job and more so who you work for. However, it was as if that look of tiredness that shield your gaze was replaced with fondness as soon as your eyes landed on him.

“Afternoon to the both of you as well,” you hummed out in a groggy voice as if you just woke up. Thor didn’t seem to mind, but when Loki heard the deepened voice he felt as if his feet were suddenly nailed to ground as he was forced to feel the jolt run up and down his spine. “I just wanted to get coffee, sorry if I’m interrupting.”

“You aren’t.” Loki coughed out, his voice subtle and low under his breath.

You nodded, walking your body over to the fridge. However, as you passed Loki you placed your hand on his shoulder and slowly let it trail as your fingers ghosted his body.

Thor saw the entire thing and couldn’t help but elbow his brother in the side, the force enough to make a human groan but to Loki, it was normal. The God of Mischief knew exactly what his brother was signaling him to do, and sadly while he hoped to do this action in private, he supposed this time was better than any other. Besides, right now you were tired enough not to overreact if things went south.

So, Loki took a deep breath in, his lungs filling up with pure, cool oxygen before releasing it whole when you turned back to him with a drink at your lips.

“Let me be your coffee pot.”

The room froze for a moment, and Loki couldn’t help but feel his heart race with anticipation and embarrassment. That was wrong. He said the wrong thing. He prayed for a second that maybe you didn’t hear him, or ask him to repeat that. But once he saw one of your brows tilt up in confusion, he knew you heard him. Loud and clear. There was no getting out of this one.

“My.. coffee pot?” You hummed. “What about it?”

Thor could quickly see this entire thing was going south, so, as the brother he was, he came to save Loki from his idiotic act. He swiftly threw his arm around his brother’s shoulders, the action causing Loki to gaze over at his brother in confusion. However, that wasn’t the thing on Thor’s mind. Saving his brother from losing his chance to truly confess to you.

“Your coffee pot, yes, uh, well, you see,” Thor tried to say, thinking about whatever excuse he could. Thankfully for him, a certain millionaire playboy soon walked in. However, it wasn’t so good for Tony. “Ah, yes! Stark, he broke your coffee pot.”

“Huh?” Tony asked at the entrance, everyone now having their eyes on him. “What the hell are you talking about, point break?”

Luckily for Thor, you were too tired to even consider that he was lying or try to even believe your boss. Your eyes were cold and distant as you looked at Tony, a look Loki hoped to never receive from you. “When were you going to tell me?”

“Tell you what? I didn’t touch your stuff.” Tony tried to defend. It was useless against this side of you.

Your hand placed down the glass of water that cleared your throat and slowly began to walk up to the famous Tony Stark. While he may be your boss and you his assistant, the two of you had a close relationship to the point where you didn’t even act professional around him unless it was at a gathering or with SHIELD officials around.

“You owe me coffee, now, Stark.” You growled. It was as if some other demon took over your body when everyone heard that.

On that day, Tony Stark had no plans to die. So, in an attempt to live, he immediately put on his suit and went to the nearest coffee shop. He was gracefully spared that day.

Loki’s next attempt was three days later. The two of you were comfortably sitting next to one another on the couch. He had a book that he was slowly finishing while you snacked on some cookies and flipped through the many tv stations before finding something that was up to your standard. Although, that didn’t last very long.

Loki wasn’t paying much attention to you until he heard the deafening quietness that surrounded the two of you. Finally, he lifted his head up to notice you had turned off the tv, your eyes gazing up at the ceiling as you seemed to ponder something.

“Something wrong?” He asked, his eyes watching your connect with his own.

“I’m bored, and frankly, I don’t see anything good on tv.” You admitted. Loki was about to suggest something you could do until you suddenly blurted out, “what are you reading?”

Loki paused. His eyes moving from you to the book and then back to you. “Something that Banner lent me. It’s nothing tricky, just a Midgardin fantasy.”

Your head leaned over to see the cover, a small smile inching on your lips before asking with an amused tone, “Alice in Wonderland?”

“Don’t mock it, it’s very entertaining.” Loki defended. While it was true he enjoyed the book so far, he wasn’t expecting the weight in the couch to shift. Forget about feeling your shoulder brush his own as you leaned in to get a look at the inside of his book.

“I’m not. I enjoyed it a lot as a kid.” You hummed out before slowly easing your head onto Loki’s shoulder. “Read to me.”

The God’s eyes trailed down to your face, the way you so effortlessly moved into him without fear was something that caused Loki to have to clear his throat before reading where he left off. His words came out smoother the more he read since his mind focused on relaxing thanks to your easy breathing. Though, anytime you moved closer into him or just to get more comfortable, he mumbled his words so you didn’t hear his stuttering.

“Loki.” His name coming from your lips was enchanting on its own, but when it come from a more sleepy tone he flew to cloud nine.

“Yes?” He questioned.

“I have a free day at noon tomorrow,” you explained. “Let’s hang out.”

Loki nodded, his mind wishing that perhaps something more could come out of tomorrow. Secrets were Loki’s trait. Yet, the secrets he’s been hiding in his heart have been harder to hide than he originally thought.

“Alright then, tomorrow.”

The next day, Loki waited in his room anxiously. You told him that you’d get him around noon, 12pm, now it closing to 1pm. As the clock ticked ever closer to later in the day, Loki took matters into his own hands made his way towards the lab Stark had stuck you in. He didn’t plan to be rude when he got there, but just give you a friendly reminder of the plans you both set up yesterday. When he turned the corner, his lips parted to speak. However, just as he was about to get some words out, he swallowed them back down.

His eyes watched as you. You were so close to Tony’s body that it psychically hurt, though, what made it worse was the way your fingers were undoing each of Tony’s buttons on his shirt slowly. The one thing that Loki couldn’t seem to pull away from was the look in Stark’s eyes though. It was almost the same exact way Loki caught himself staring at you. Stark’s eyes just happened to hold more lust in them in the moment.

“You can do this on your own, yanno,” you huffed out. “I have other things to do today than babysit you.”

“Now what could be more important than me?” Tony asked, his head leaning to the side a bit.

“If you must know, I have plans with Loki.” You confessed. “I was supposed to meet him an hour ago, but you just had to get hurt.”

“I’m sure he’ll get over it.”

You didn’t respond to that. Instead, you opened his shirt all the way to see all the small cuts and forming black and blue bruises about his upper body. He went out with the suit on his own to fix up some structures for the people of New York City, however, one thing led to another and a piece of equipment ended up crushing the top half of his suit.

“Just be gentle with me.” Tony said with a forming smirk when you began to fix him up. You could hear some hissing from your boss when you used rubbing alcohol to clean his cuts. Other than that, he was quiet. The most quiet he’s been in years.

“What? No witty or dirty remarks for me?” You asked in an amused tone. You were joking, of course, but it seems that didn’t register with the man.

When you raised your head, Tony’s eyes were already locked with yours. You froze for a moment at the look directed at you. It was familiar and yet uncomfortable all at once. It took all of your attention to the point where you didn’t notice Tony’s hand lace in your hair until you felt him carefully push it forward. He was asking, begging for your permission.

You paused for a moment and hoped your eyes were playing a trick on you. After all, to you, Tony Stark was a close friend of yours, and that’s how you’d like it to stay.

You eased your hands onto Tony’s chest before giving him a gentle push. You didn’t need to say anything. Tony was many things, but an idiot wasn’t one of them, so, he slowly began to untangle his fingers from your locks.

“I’m sorry,” you uttered as you brought your hands back at your sides. “I just, uh, like someone else.”

Tony let out an awkward, forced cough to clear this throat. His words coming out low, “Right, well, let’s just forget about this then, okay?”

You started at him as a soft smile tugged at the edges of your lips. “Sure.”

When you finished up helping Tony, you made your way over towards Loki’s chambers. You knew you were late and hoped he’d forgive you with an offering of a sleepover in his room. You were supposed to go out into the city today, but thought this would be better and more of his style. Besides, most of the people here are still not welcoming of the God thanks to the attack he led in 2012.

As you approached the door and tried to turn it, you noticed it was locked. Confusion printed on your face before banging your knuckles against the wood lightly. “Loki? It’s me.”

Nothing. It was quiet, silent.

Your brows furrowed as you asked, “I know you’re in there, why won’t you answer the door?”

It was a moment before a voice came through, and thank god you kept quiet. Otherwise, you don’t believe you would have heard him say, “Just go back to Stark, I’m sure he would rather your company.”

The tone in his voice was obvious. You were no fool. His voice was seething with jealousy, envy, and rage. He saw.

“You were there, weren’t you?” Your words may have come off as a question, but both of you knew regardless if he lied. You knew the truth.

It was a second or two longer before the door swung open suddenly. Now, face to face with Loki, you could see the hurt he was trying to cover up. His long, black hair was a messy and his clothes were all wrinkled.

“Hey,” you stated lowly as you inched closer to him. His eyes never coming off of you for a second. “Let’s talk about this.”

Loki paused, the look in his eyes uneasy to you. “I disagree.”

The God of Mischief turned swiftly and walked back towards his bed, sitting on the edge of it as you carefully entered his room and shut the door behind you so the both of you could finally get some privacy.

“Open communication was never my family’s forte.” Loki admitted with a smug tone of voice as he locked his hands together while his elbows rested on his thighs.

You leaned your head as you slowly approached the god. It was dangerous, you know, but you had to prove to Loki that you and Tony was never going to happen. Words are meaningless without action to back them up, after all.

“Fine,” you stated. “Then I’ll start.”

With that, all of Loki’s attention was drawn to you as you inched ever so closer to the God of Mischief before stopping in front of him. You were so close that if he just extended his hand and pulled you, you’d be sitting on his lap. However, he didn’t need to do a thing because you did it all on your own.

You carefully moved his hands up and untangled them before holding them on your waist, your legs bending to bring you square on Loki’s lap. Your hands slowly released his own as the both of you kept silent eye contact, watching each other as you made every single action slower than it needed to be. Your hands slowly began to ride up his chest, a sensation that you noticed caused some color to form on Loki’s cheeks. Your touch only ended when your hands locked with each other behind Loki’s neck.

Loki’s eyes examined every inch of your frame. “What are you doing?”

You leaned your head to the side as if you didn’t understand the question. “Tony and I are just friends.”

For some reason, those words angered the god further. The only show of it, truly, was the sudden and harsher grip he took on your waist. You moved your body instantly at his action, though, it was easily his biggest mistake when you notice him take a hard and large gulp.

Your body slowly began to heat up as the situation started to slowly become clear in your clouded mind. It wasn’t like you did this for just anyone, nor did you have to justify what happened with Tony since you weren’t spoken for. However, for him, you’d do anything. It was like this spell that overtook your most basic senses and made you reckless to the point where you’d do something like this so casually.

“Don’t lie to me.” Loki growled. “I know what I saw.”

“He was being an idiot and ended up getting hurt.” You began to explain. “I was just cleaning him up, I am his assistant after all.”

Loki stared deep into your eyes as you felt one of his hands slowly began to ride up your back. “I don’t like it.”

“What? Me being his assistant?” You asked.

Loki nodded.

“You’re going to have to get over it. I’ve had this job before I met you, plus, it’s the only reason why I even know you all in the first place.” You hummed as you leaned down, slowly closing the distance that almost felt suffocating with all this heat swirling around your body.

“Are you telling me to be grateful to Stark after he touched you like this?” Loki questioned as you felt his hand start to play with the back of your hair, lightly taking a fist full from time to time.

“You don’t own me, Loki.” You reminded him. “I don’t have any obligations to anyone.”

He paused as you noticed the God now focusing solely on your lips. “Shall I change that?”

A small smile couldn’t help but slowly inch across your face. It was one thing to be throwing hints at someone constantly, but it was another for that someone to be so direct and yet teasing that it made your stomach do backflips.

“Yes.”

#Loki Laufeyson #loki odinson #loki #loki x male reader #loki x reader #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel x male reader #gay male #x male reader #male reader

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nonagesimus · 3 years

Note

For birthday prompts the sastiel summer between season 9 and 10?

this loosely takes part in touch verse (though all you really need to know is that they're in an established relationship). If you want something less established then I cannot recommend Kettering (I Was Checking Vitals) by Fabella more. (It hurts, tho. It hurts so good).

(AO3 link)

“Sam?”

One breath Sam had just turned to see Cas, one hand outstretched, a concerned look on his face, and the next he was in his arms. He’d been keeping a tight grip on his panic – Cas had been gone, and then Dean had been dead, and then Dean had been gone – but all of a sudden it was overflowing. He was shaking, every muscle held taught, the shoulder of Cas’ coat turning damp where he’d buried his face into it.

“Cas,” he managed, voice ragged, arms squeezing tighter.

One of Cas’ hands was fisted in his shirt at the small of his back, the other pressed hard between his shoulder blades, holding him close. Sam tried to focus on that, on the breath on the side of his neck, on anything but the out of control race of his heart.

“Dean’s gone,” he choked out, and Cas’ arms tightened.

Eventually, eventually he got control of himself. Got the whole story out, heard Castiel’s.

Cas stroked a hand through his hair, pulled back far enough to look him in the eye. “We’ll find him, Sam,” he said, solemn and sure.

Steadied by Cas’ warm hand on his shoulder, Sam set up an alert for traffic incidents involving a black ‘67 Impala and then another for the plate number. Whoever took Dean, if they were smart, would’ve changed out the plates. But there was a chance they weren’t smart.

There was no way to tell what direction they drove when they left the bunker - but they went looking anyway. Sam drove. He wasn’t too sure on the hour count since he’d last slept, but he wouldn’t be able to if he tried anyway. Too keyed up, running his thumbnail back and forth the vinyl of the starting wheel, blinking hard when his visions blurred.

Three gas stations who didn’t think they’d seen an Impala and Sam was gunning for the fourth cardinal direction, but Cas put a hand on his arm and said his name, and-

He was shaking again, he dimly realised. And Cas looked exhausted too - guilt curdled in his stomach for a moment, and he nodded.

“Yeah,” he said. “Let’s go home.”

(He lay with Cas pressed up against his spine and his heart pounding for hours before he fell asleep).

In the morning there was a traffic report for a car matching the Impala’s description running a red in Dallas. Another in Atlanta. A hit and run in Nashville. They covered the ground - thankful that the worst injury was a broken arm.

No good shots of who had been driving.

No more leads.

They picked up news of what sounded like a poltergeist on their way out of Nashville and Sam - he didn’t want to. He wanted to keep looking for Dean. Even without a direction he just wanted to keep driving, and Cas wasn’t going to judge him from the passenger seat. He took the job, and Cas’ hand covered his on the seat between them.

They stopped for the night in a motel. Cas ran interference while Sam got the bags planted to expel the ghost.

There was a moment of relief they’d done it that way when a heating unit wrenched itself off the wall and launched itself towards Cas’ head in an arc of dust - a flash of light knocked it back the way it came. Sam pushed the last bag into place, ready for silence.

Instead Cas launched into a fit of wracking coughs. Relief turned to worry - Sam went to him laid a hand on his back, felt the fit subside slowly. Cas straightened from where he’d doubled over, wiping at streaming eyes.

“Sorry,” he said. “I inhaled at the worst possible time.”

He’d phrased it like a joke, but Sam’s laugh was hollow. “Are you alright? I’ve never seen you do that before.”

Cas forced a smile, pressed a little closer before stepping away. “I’m fine.”

More police reports. Louisville, Cincinnati, Cleveland, Chicago. Then nothing for a while until a man matching Dean’s description held up a liquor store outside of Vegas. No sign of him by the time they got there - plus the store’s CCTV had been on the fritz. But it had apparently been on the fritz for weeks, so nothing specific to the robbery. They took statements, the found a motel. Sam checked his laptop and found a new parking ticket for a ’67 Chevy Impala in Reno.

“Do you think it’s really him?” Sam said.

Cas said, “I don’t know.”

They drove to the bunker, for another fruitless search into the Mark, knocked out a murderous shapeshifter on the way. Sam kept his hands braced on the steering wheel so they didn’t shake. Cas watched him.

Days turned to weeks, turned to a month, turned into two.

Jody got a tip off about someone that sounded like Dean in Montana, they drove there and found stories about an asshole who’d broken three chairs and won a four-against-one bar fight, but again no proof - a man with a black eye and a split lip cottoned on to them maybe knowing the victor, and while they managed to avoid him getting hurt more, they didn’t manage to avoid Sam getting a bottle to the head.

Cas healed it in the car, grace sealing the cut, clearing up what felt like the beginning of a concussion.

They got a room there, too tired to keep moving, and Sam fell asleep curled into Cas’ chest.

Sam woke up and Cas - Cas was breathing even. Eyes closed, face slack, and Sam was used to Cas’ eyes opening as soon as he sat up. He didn’t need sleep, he stayed in Sam’s bed for the contact, and for Sam’s sake. But this. This was sleep. Real sleep.

Unnerved, Sam gently pulled himself free of Cas’ arms, of the tangle of sheets. Went to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

When he emerged, Cas was blinking awake, eyebrows knitting in confusion. “Sam?” he said, grogginess adding an unfamiliar tone to his voice. His eyes sought out Sam in the doorway to the bathroom.

“You were sleeping,” Sam said. “I didn’t know you needed to.”

“I don’t,” Cas said, pushing himself up to sit against the headboard. “I- I didn’t.”

Sam sat on the bed, facing him. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” he said, too quickly.

Sam shut his eyes. He heard Cas sigh.

“It’s nothing you should concern yourself over.” A hand covered his. He opened his eyes to see Cas watching him intently. “Sam, you have enough to worry about.”

Sam reached out to cup Cas’ jaw, leaned in to press their foreheads together. There were arguments he could make, there was logic, there was reasoning, there was a banked but still burning ember of anger, but all that came out of his choked-up throat was a small, petulant, “Are you lying to me?”

“I’m sorry,” Cas said.

It wasn’t an answer. They went back to the hunt.

When Dean had been missing for three months Jody made them drop in for dinner. Alex and Claire, and a couple of bottles of wine with dinner, and it was domestic in a way Sam had never had. He’d pretended to, with Amelia, when Dean and Cas had both been gone. The reminder felt bitter. The house, the conversation, the rapport, it was all warm, and it felt like there was glass around Sam keeping that warmth from reaching him.

He washed the dishes, focussed on the hot water and the suds, got lost in it for a while until Jody came over and started to dry.

“You don’t need to do that,” he said. “I was going to once I finished.”

“Maybe I don’t trust you to know where to put things,” Jody said. He managed a laugh, and they worked in silence for a little while, before she asked softly, “How are you really going?”

“I’m going,” he said. “It’s-“ He looked at his hands in the water. “I don’t know.”

“You’ll find him,” she said, sure and steady. “If he’s out there, you’ll find him.”

If he was out there. Sam nodded, made an attempt at a smile. Scrubbed at a stubborn scrap of food burnt onto the side of a casserole dish.

“That angel of yours is taking care of you?” she asked.

“He’s trying,” Sam said. “I’m not that easy to take care of.”

He got the distinct impression she was seeing through all the bravado when she said, “You let me know if there’s anything I can help with, ok?”

“Of course,” he said, knowing he was never going to take her up on it.

Sam still felt sober, but he’d had enough of the wine that Cas drove. He dozed in the passenger seat. Woke up as the car pulled over. Blinked to see a stretch of road in the headlights - turned to see Cas leaning forward, braced on the steering wheel, digging his hands into his eyes. Turned away to cough into his elbow.

He reached out to brush his fingers against Cas’ arm. “You ok?”

Cas looked at him. Apologetic. Maybe ashamed. “Tired,” he admitted.

Sam nodded, rubbed a hand over his face, sat up further. “I’ll drive the rest of the way.”

Cas clearly wanted to protest, but he didn’t. They got back to the bunker. To their bed, and Sam pulled Cas against him, arms wrapped around him, face pressed firmly into his hair.

“Will you tell me yet?” he whispered, into the back of Cas’ neck.

Cas took his hands, pulled them more firmly together. He didn’t say a word.

Month five.

Cas tried to hide but the cough was getting worse. He was sleeping more often. Leads for Dean would come in a rush, all of sudden, and then all turn out to be useless. They got some hunting done, when they could. A werewolf in Nebraska. A nest of vampires in Texas.

They were in Seattle.

A rumour that could’ve been Dean turned into a rumour about kelpies turned into a very real water hag, and they had the damn birch stakes blessed with salt and the blood of a fresh slain calf - and that had been a bitch and a half to get - but that didn’t make fighting it any easier. They were both exhausted, both running on empty but still running, and Sam-

Sam saw Cas go down and go down hard. Saw him lying still while the hag raised two spindly but heavy fists over it’s head and he- and he.

He gave up all pretence of strategy and just charged - got the stake up underneath the hag’s ribs, even as one of it’s claws stabbed solidly through the underside of his arm. The hag dropped, the stake pulled out of his hand, but the claw in his arm was stuck fast and it wrenched and-

His vision went white for a moment, cleared with him on his knees in the filthy water. Dead hag. Arm useless - caught. Cas still not moving.

The claw came out with a rush of blood, black spots in his vision, he blinked them away, scrambled over to where Cas was lying, his name falling out of Sam’s mouth in a desperate sob. He was breathing, Sam realised, and even as he slid his fingers to check his pulse, his eyes were opening.

“Sam,” he gasped, reaching - his fingers dug into Sam’s useless arm and Sam choked back a pained noise. Still enough for Cas to realise something was wrong - his eyes rolled wildly down to see the blood, see the arm dangling from the shoulder - within seconds he was pushing himself up, reaching out more deliberately, power cracking at his fingertips and-

“No,” Sam shook his head, “Just help me keep pressure, don’t-“

“Sam,” Cas said.

“Cas, every time you use your grace you get worse,” Sam said, and Cas flinched.

But he didn’t heal Sam.

Later, when they’d gotten to the motel, when Sam had gotten Cas to help pop his shoulder back into place, when he’d stitched up the wound from the water hag, that was when he made an ultimatum.

“I’m gonna keep looking for Dean,” he said. “But you shouldn’t.”

“Sam,” Cas protested, but he just shook his head.

“You’re not on your game,” he said. “And, I’m not- I’m not losing you.”

Cas drew him in with one hand tight in his hair, the other splayed on his back. “I’m not losing you either,” he said, fierce and hoarse.

Sam shut his eyes, and listened to the wheeze in Cas’ chest, and held him close.

#supernatural #sastiel #sastiel fic #sam winchester #castiel #samcas #samcas fic #my fic #birthday prompts #touch verse

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malfoymanortings · 4 years

Text

somebody else PT 2

SUMMARY: Mae has been in love with Draco Malfoy since her first year at Hogwarts. Draco Malfoy fell in love with Mae in their fourth year, and then promptly fell into Pansy’s bed instead. All the while, Mae clings to the hope that Draco will change. That is, until, Ron Weasley takes his chance.

PAIRINGS: toxic!Draco x OC, Ron x OC, Ginny x Luna

im not sure that I like how this turned out, but hopefully you all enjoy it! I was very surprised I got so much positive feedback on that little one shot i posted. thank you all for the love!

also, let me know if you want to be on the taglist for the next part.

Perhaps it was her conversation with Ginny the previous night, or perhaps it was because she felt so hollow inside, but Mae resolved herself on confronting Draco. Of course, he didn’t make things easy for her. He never did.

“Pansy and Draco are sitting awfully close, aren’t they?” Blaise said conversationally, taking a sip of his morning coffee. Full of cream, three sugars. As always.

Mae eyed Draco and Pansy warily, noting the way Pansy laughed into Draco, her hand seeming to move onto his leg although it was hidden from the table. “They’re just friends.”

“Rubbish,” scoffed Blaise harshly, stabbing an egg. “You’re much smarter than that, love.”

Pansy took that moment to brush Draco’s hair out of his face, and something broke inside Mae as Draco caught her hand in his own, bringing her knuckles to his lips and ghosting a kiss across them.

“It’s none of your business though, innit?” snapped Mae, slamming her glass of pumpkin juice down so harshly it brought the attention of the entire half of their table, including Draco and Pansy. “If Draco wants to fuck a slut, let him.”

Blaise choked on his eggs, slamming a fist into his chest as he attempted to swallow. Draco tilted his head, a sneer on his face, while Pansy began hurling insults at Mae.

“Perhaps if you weren’t a filthy half-blood, Draco would be more interested. He wants a real woman.” Pansy declared wickedly, her lips lifted up in a snarl.

“A real woman with real STDs, hm?” retorted Mae, standing up from the table. “Everyone knows you fucked Theodore Nott last week, and he had to go to Madam Pomfrey from whatever you gave him!”

The part about Pansy fucking Theodore Nott was true, although the STD part was not. But Mae was so angry, so fed up with how the both of them were treating her, that she couldn’t contain it anymore. At this point, most of the Great Hall had caught sight of what was happening, although the teachers at least pretended to be oblivious. She caught sight of Ginny grinning at her encouragingly.

“I’m going to be honest with you, because no one else will,” Draco said the words slowly, casually, as though he were speaking of the weather. “Anyone who says they’re interested in you, beyond just fucking you, is a liar.”

Mae felt her cheeks burn, as the Slytherin table began laughing and oohing under their breath, and she rushed out of the Great Hall. She heard footsteps behind her, but she ignored them, until someone tugged harshly on her arm, the rings on his fingers alerting her to who it was.

“Why?” demanded Mae, turning around with unshed tears. An amused Draco stood in front of her, looming over her. “Why do you do this to me?”

Perhaps the question caught him off guard, because Draco replied with “I don’t know.”

Mae let out a strangled sob, wiping her hands harshly down her face. “I just want to be the one you love.”

“Oh darling,” Draco said the words softly, reaching out to caress her cheek. Mae closed her eyes for a moment, and she could pretend everything was fine. “I’ll never love you.”

With those words, Draco shoved her jaw harshly, causing a loud popping noise to sound as pain reverberated through the lower half of her face.

“I’m breaking up with you.” Mae said the words first, opening her eyes to see Draco actually looking.. Hurt, by her words.

“Took you long enough.”

Mae looked to see Ginny heading her way, her hand intertwined with Luna’s, with the Golden trio, Pansy, and Blaise following close behind.

“We would have never made it anyways.” Draco responded quietly, and Mae felt a bit vindicated to see that he appeared to feel at least partially upset.

“That’s your fault.” her voice shook, but Mae said the words passionately.

“How?” he had the nerve to sound incredulous, and Mae balled up her fists as tears of anger came to her eyes.

“You always cheated on me with Pansy! You treated me like I was your pet, like you could keep fucking around without any care for my feelings!” the words she had been keeping in for so long burst out, and she felt a rush of vindication that she finally got to say them aloud.

Draco scoffed, and any hope of him apologizing or fighting for her went out the window. “You really think I give a shit about you? It’s your loss, Callisto.” he sneered her last name, looking over his shoulder to see the others approaching them.

Mae’s eyes hardened, hatred growing as Pansy ran pathetically over to Draco. “Your whore’s here.”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Sorry you don’t know how to keep a man.”

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be Callisto,” Draco drawled out, slinging an arm over Pansy. “Nobody likes a slut that doesn’t understand when her time is up.”

“What did you just say?” Ron Weasley was the last person Mae expected to speak to Draco after he said those words.

Draco scoffed. “You heard me, Weas-”

Before Draco could get the full word out, Ron’s fist collided with Draco’s delicate features. Mae’s eyes widened as Ron wound his fist back once more, knocking Draco flat on his back. Pansy started screaming, and Blaise started laughing.

“Blaise, help him!” Pansy shrieked, slapping a hand to her mouth in horror.

Blaise sighed, rolling his eyes. He gave Mae a quick look, (perhaps in an apology?) before he gave Ron a swift kick to his stomach. Ron stumbled backwards, falling on his bottom, and Draco lay on the ground clutching his bruised and bloody face.

Pansy promptly threw herself down onto Draco, and Blaise stood there with his arms crossed as though he were just waiting for the show to be over. Mae, on the other hand, had nothing left to say to Draco, and turned her attention to Ron, who had just gotten off the floor with the help of Harry.

“Thank you,” the words were quiet, but sincere. Ron nodded to her, his eyes not wavering from hers.

“He’s not worth it, yeah?” said Ron, shaking his bruised knuckles. “He never deserved you.’

Mae, suddenly flooded with emotion, just shook her head, and with tears burning in her eyes, she left the scene behind her.

--=--

The hardest thing was seeing Draco be so openly affectionate with Pansy. It broke her, each time she entered the common room to see her sitting on his lap. Getting a kiss on the cheek. A hug. A tender embrace. It burned like hell.

So, she began spending less time in the common room. She began joining Luna and Ginny on their outings, normally in the astronomy tower, and at some point, the Golden Trio started joining them. It became a routine, the six of them hanging out in either the tower or the library, if Hermione got her way.

On the bright side, her grades had never been better.

A month after the incident with Draco, Mae found herself feeling the wound particularly harshly. She paced outside the Gryffindor common room, hoping to find Ginny coming out of the portrait hole. Instead, she got Ron Weasley, who didn’t seem all too surprised to find her out there.

“You alright?” Ron asked awkwardly, halfway in the doorframe and halfway out.

Mae shook her head silently, her chest aching. “Not really.”

“How ‘bout we take a way, yeah?” suggested Ron, stepping out of the portrait hole. It swung shut loudly behind him.

Mae shrugged her shoulders, and together they walked in silence. They had no clear destination in mind, and Mae found she felt slightly better having his company around her. Ron, she had found, had a fairly dry sense of humor and it was ever so easy to laugh around him. Sometimes, the others didn’t quite understand the joke, but Mae always did. His humor was similar to hers, if she could just find it again.

“I always wondered,” Ron broke their silence, stopping to sit on a ledge overlooking the black lake. “If the squid really existed.”

“Oh, it does,” Mae assured Ron, hopping up on the opposite side of the stone ledge, wrapping her robe tightly around herself. “Sometimes in the common room, we get to see it swim by.”

Ron’s eyes flashed with admiration. “Wicked.”

“I suppose it might be a bit more exciting than overlooking the grounds,” Mae said the words pretentiously, sniffing as she hid a grin from Ron. “We get to see the inside of the black lake, while you boring Gryffindors just get landscape.”

“At least during winter we haven’t got to sleep under ten blankets just to get by,” protested Ron, bringing a hand up to brush his hair out of his face. “Then again, you might just have an iron deficiency.”

Mae’s eyes widened. “That’s a big word for Ronald Weasley.”

“Hermione mentioned it!” defended Ron, moving his hands as he spoke. “She’s the one who suggested you go to Madam Pomfrey for it! You’re always freezing!”

“It’s a perk of being damaged goods, I suppose.” Mae said the words without much thought, as she had gotten distracted by Ron’s rather large hands moving around.

Ron went still, and he gave Mae a confused look. “Damaged goods?”

Mae’s feelings of inadequacy came back, and she felt the stinging of tears hit her eyes. She tried to play it off, giving a weak laugh. “Well, yeah, what else would you call me?”

“Beautiful,” the word rolled off Ron’s tongue rather quickly, as though he hadn't had to think about it at all.

Tears slipped out of her eyes as Mae processed his words. How could anyone think she was beautiful? Couldn’t he see how damaged she was? Draco had used her up and thrown her out, and no one else would ever want his seconds. He had told her that many times.

“Don’t,” the words came out wet and wobbly. “Don’t lie to me.”

Ron was rarely serious, but he completely focused on her as he reached out to grab her hand in his large one. “Mae, why would I lie about that?”

The tears came freely now, and she could feel a sob building up in her chest. “Ronald Weasley, don’t you dare sit there and lie to me! Don’t fucking sit there, and tell me I’m beautiful, because I’m not. I’m used up and I’m damaged, I will never be anything beyond that!”

Before she could protest, Ron had pulled her into a hug, engulfing her small frame in his large one. Mae had forgotten what it was like to be embraced like this, and she buried her head into Ron’s wide chest as she cried. In the back of her mind, she understood that was likely having a panic attack.

“Calm down Mae,” Ron held her close, caressing her hair. “You’ll be alright.”

They sat like that, until Mae’s cries subsided and she took a shaky breath, pulling out of Ron’s embrace. She was suddenly embarrassed that she had overreacted as she did, and a blush stained her wet cheeks.

“‘M sorry about that,” mumbled Mae, wiping her cheeks roughly. “I didn’t mean to make you all soggy.”

Ron laughed at that. “Why would I complain, a beautiful girl cried on me today. Sounds like a win to me!”

Mae hit Ron on his arm for that, a small laugh coming out of her as well. If anything, Ron Weasley knew how to switch the mood. “Don’t be a prat, Weasley.”

Ron’s eyes crinkled in the corners as he tossed his head back in a loud bout of laughter, and Mae found herself staring at his full lips. Really, how had she not noticed how perfectly shaped Ron’s lips were before? And Merlin, how were his teeth so straight and white?

As quickly as she began admiring Ron Weasley, images of silver hair and grey eyes flashed through her mind, and she shut her eyes and swallowed hard. There would never be Draco and Mae, that much was clear. It did not do to dwell on things that would never change.

“Imagine leaving me for a Weasley.”

Mae’s stomach dropped as she saw Draco swaggering towards her and Ron, Blaise close behind him. She hated how she still got butterflies as he eyed her appraisingly, before sneering at Ron.

“Shut it, Malfoy.” snapped Ron, his ears growing pink as he dug in his robes for his wand.

“Oh,” whistled Draco, drawing out the vowel. “Weaselbee is going to show off how big of a man he is. Trust me, Weasel, been there, done that. I’m the best she’ll ever have had.”

“Tell me Malfoy, you ever been hexed so hard you had to fight for your life?” snarled Ron, standing before the silver haired boy and brandishing his wand.

Mae quickly got down from the stone ledge, standing in between Draco and Ron, placing a hand on both of their chests. “Both of you, stop it!”

Ron’s jaw clenched, and he didn’t lower his wand. Draco smirked at the sight of her hand on his chest, his eyes flicking down at it before backup to look her in the eyes.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Mae said the words firmly, glaring at Draco. “We aren’t together anymore. Stop acting like this.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t fight little Weaselbee.” drawled Draco, flexing his fingers on his wand. “I still had you first.”

“And I fucking left you!” shouted Mae, shoving Draco back from her and Ron. “Get that through your thick skull, and go back to Pansy. The bitch you always cheated on me with!”

“You said you loved me.” Draco said the words softly, bitterly, so quickly that Mae almost didn't catch it.

For a moment, it felt as though it were just the two of them, Draco and Mae, just as it should have been.

Mae stepped back, away from Draco, away from Ron. Her mouth twitched, her eyes grew wet, and she was at a loss for words. She turned then, and hurried out of the courtyard.

How dare he do this to her.

taglist: @xoxohollands @phantomsmalfoystyles @lidiyabest @justmimithings

Part one

Part three

#draco imagine #draco x y/n #draco malfoy #draco x oc #ron weasley #ronald weasley #ron weasley x oc #ron weasley x reader #toxic draco #harry potter #hp #ron x y/n #ron x mae #draco x mae

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strawbunniiee · 3 years

Text

A Girl and a Ghost Ch 5. Precious Rose

SOOOO this one is a bit lengthy!! there’s a bit of blood, a lil language, so fair warning! oh yeah and HEHEHE SPOILER ALERT THERE’S SOME TASTY PHANTOMEACH MWAHAHAHHAA

i had a LOT of fun writing the phantom and peach fluff hehehe ;)

dont worry!! this definitely won’t be the last chapter either, there’s still gonna be more of my cheesy fic sjfndkfd

hope you enjoy!! @salamifuposey @monsterbride99 just letting these lovely hooman beans know that this chapter exists!!

Jawaii had her arms raised, ready to slice King Boo to ribbons, but the king blasted her back into a wall.

Jawaii had the wind knocked out of her lungs as she slid to the floor.

Phantom rushed to Jawaii's side, picking up her petite body. His eyes became a deep, dark blood red as he shot a murderous glare at King Boo.

"She didn't even stand a chance." he smirked.

Phantom charged a blast of blue fire in his palm. "DIE!" he screamed, hurling it at the king with all of his might.

He had attempted to avoid it, but he wasn't fast enough. The ball engulfed him in flames as he screamed.

The king flung a fireball from his cracked crown, but due to his crown being damaged, it spiraled out of control, which hit Phantom in the process but also set the attic ablaze. He gasped and grabbed Peach's body.

Jawaii regained her breath and jumped off of Phantom.

"JAWAII, NO!"

She didn't listen, instead she ran to King Boo and aimed to tackle him. She phased right through him and onto the floor. This just made him guffaw.

"YOU IDIOT! OH, YOU MORONS JUST MAKE ME LAUGH!"

Phantom began to inhale, gathering air in his body to let out the loudest, most powerful opera scream he had ever sung.

King Boo saw this as an opportunity to take Peach back from Phantom. The ghost Rabbid glanced over at Jawaii in panic, as if begging her to do something.

Jawaii leaped up while the king was distracted and stabbed him, taking great effort to make it as painful as possible for him. It cut open his skin, creating a massive gash on the side of his face, bleeding out a strange blood-like substance, perhaps ectoplasm.

The king let out a monstrous howl as he fell over onto the floor screaming, his hands over the gash.

Then, Phantom finally let out his scream, after inhaling so much air he felt like he was about to explode. It was a force so strong, so powerful that it blew a massive hole in the attic, blowing the bleeding king far away, all the way to the swamps in Spooky Trails.

Both of their ears rung from the noise.

Peach began to slowly wake up. Phantom picked up Jawaii and burst out of the hole in the manor, taking the three of them away.

———

Peach screamed when she fully woke up.

"Wh-where am I? Who are you? ...Oh. Mr. Tom?... what happened?" the princess sputtered out, deeply confused by what was happening. "All I remember is... King Boo taking me away, and then... nothing. And... who's the little girl?"

Phantom's face turned red and his eyes widened as he shyly looked away, blushing. "Ah, w-well... Princess, it's a rather complicated st-story, you see,—"

"Phantom, why don't you and I tell her what happened together? Maybe it'll be a lot easier that way!" Jawaii chimed in cheerfully.

Phantom smiled at Jawaii. "I suppose you're quite right!"

The two happily retold Peach everything that had happened, complete with how the two became friends, their adventure in Spooky Trails, leading all the way up to them rescuing her from King Boo.

"Oh my goodness, what a story! It sounds very scary but exciting at the same time! I'm glad that you're safe and sound, though!" beamed Peach.

Phantom blushed yet again. "Oh, why thank you dear Princess! I'm quite happy you went on unscathed as well."

"Hang on a sec, you know this lady Phantom? She seems very nice!" asked Jawaii.

"O-oh, yes yes! I do know her. We're, erm, friends." Phantom said quickly.

Jawaii squinted suspiciously at him. "You seem super awkward in front of her. Do you have a crush on her or somethin'?"

Phantom's face was a bright red tomato at this point. "N-no, that's preposterous, o-of course not! Why, no male and female can be t-together without people believing that they are lovers!"

Peach giggled a bit. Jawaii grinned mischievously.

"You know, Jawaii has a point. Do you have a crush on me..?" asked Peach.

"...N-no, it's just hot out here. I act a b-bit strangely when it's scorching hot like this!" It was actually quite cold that morning, contrary to Phantom's statement. "Oh, and would you look at th-that, we're here already!"

They had made it to the silent castle in the early hours of the morning. The sun had not even come up yet, still pitch black and silent. Phantom set Peach and Jawaii down gently.

"...Thank you so much for saving me from King Boo, Tom." Peach gave Phantom a gentle kiss on the cheek. His face violently blushed as he had a look of sheer surprise on his face, his jaw hanging open. Jawaii couldn't help but snicker at the look on Phantom's face.

"I... oh my! I wasn't e-expecting that, my princess." Phantom stammered.

Peach simply just smiled. "Would you like me to get you a room to stay in for the rest of the night? You two must be very exhausted after your dangerous adventure together!"

"That would be very much appreciated!"

"Oh... Jawaii? Should I tell your parents where you are...?" asked Peach, concerned.

Oh crud, I totally FORGOT about that. thought Jawaii.

"Uhhhhh... I'm sure they're fine! I'll just come back when the sun's up!"

"All right, then. I'll be right back in just a moment!" Peach walked off.

Phantom went silent.

"Hey uh... now that she isn't here... do you actually have a crush on her?" asked Jawaii.

Phantom looked around and whispered in Jawaii's ear. "To be completely honest, yes. I do. She's the most beautiful, kind woman I have ever met... and thanks to King Boo bringing back the memories of my past life, I know that I had spent my past life attempting to get her to notice me. But it had resulted in my demise."

"First of all, and I mean this in the nicest way possible, no shit Sherlock, for a theater nerd you're a TERRIBLE liar y'know." she teased lightheartedly. "Second of all, ouch... that really sucks. But hey! In this life you befriended her!"

Phantom sighed. "I wish so dearly that we could be together. I tried so hard in my past life, I sacrificed so much to get her to notice me... but that red capped demon had gotten in the way countless times. And worst of all... he and Peach are together."

Phantom began to softly sob, his hands over his face in despair. Jawaii slowly walked over and gave him a hug.

"Aw... I'm so sorry about that... But my mom says it's not good to bottle up emotions. Maybe you should tell her how you feel..?" she suggested.

Phantom just stared in silence for a few moments before he finally responded. "...Perhaps."

"Maybe I could help you with it!"

"...No, i-it's best for me to simply just... tell her. I've known her for quite a while now, but I've mostly been too nervous to do as much as speak to her."

Jawaii hugged him again, even tighter than the last time. "I'm here for you, best friend." she smiled.

Phantom hugged back. "...Thank you, Jawaii."

After a few minutes, Peach came back in to tell them that their room was ready.

"Sorry about the wait! We had a few issues... come on in, it's much comfier in here than it is out there. It's so cold out." she said.

"Oh! You're all right, Princess."

Peach escorted the two into the castle and into their room. Just like outside, the castle was very dark. It had little to no light other than the light of the stars and moon softly shining through the windows.

When they arrived, Peach opened the door. The room was very tidy and had very expensive looking furnishings, and two extremely fluffy beds with plentiful amounts of pillows and blankets. Jawaii gasped and immediately began to jump on the bed. Phantom and Peach laughed a bit at Jawaii's antics.

"Well, sweet dreams you two. You both deserve it after the adventure you've had tonight! And thank you both again for saving me... that was such a terrifying experience. No matter how many times I get kidnapped, it's always so scary."

She smiled and blew them both kisses. Phantom blushed.

"Ah... you're welcome, Peach. Bonne nuit."

Peach smiled and closed the door. She went back off to bed happily.

"What the shit did you say to her? Bun... bon-nue. What?" Jawaii asked, deeply confused.

Phantom quietly chuckled. "Bonne nuit. It's French for good night."

"The heck's a French?"

"Heh heh. Perhaps I shouldn't be laughing, for you're an alien child. You don't know everything about Earth and that's understandable!"

"No, it's okay. I like to make people laugh. 'Cuz it means I made them happy!" replied Jawaii.

Phantom smiled at Jawaii once more. "We should get some rest, my child. We've had a very long day. Bonne nuit, Jawaii." He laughed a bit at his own joke.

Jawaii smiled. "Nighty night, Phantom." She yawned and stretched and sprawled out on her bed, quickly falling asleep within a matter of minutes.

Phantom, however, lay awake in his bed, thinking about what Jawaii had told him to do. He tossed and turned, pondering his decision. His heart throbbed, wondering what would happen.

Then, he decided.

He was going to tell her tonight. He had figured that he may as well get it over with now.

He nervously got out of bed and quietly phased through the walls to get to Peach's bedroom, where she had still laid awake. She was slightly startled by Phantom seemingly appearing out of nowhere.

"Oh! Tom? Is there... something you need?" she asked

"Well... there is something I must tell you. I've hidden it from you for so long... because I was afraid of being rejected, I suppose." he admitted.

"Oh... Well, what is it?"

"I know that you are already taken... b-but..." Phantom covered his blushing face with his hands, and forced himself to finally choke out the words.

"I l-love you."

He knew that this was the end. She was going to kick him out of her castle... or far worse.

But her response shocked him down to his very gramophone.

"Well... if I'm completely honest, I have feelings for you too. That peck on the cheek earlier... was something I've wanted to do for a long time." she smiled and looked away a bit.

Phantom stared dumbfounded at her. He couldn't believe it. "B-b-but, you— and M-Mario—" he stammered.

"Oh, that's just a rumor that goes around... everybody seems to think that! He's still a very close friend of mine, and I'm so glad he's saved me so many times."

"Erm... speaking of that... King Boo told me something about myself that not even I had known. I... I was a human once. I wanted so badly for you to notice me... each time you were kidnapped, I always attempted to save you... but my attempts were futile, for Mario always saved you before I ever could. But one day, King Boo trapped you in a painting... and for the first time, I had arrived in time to save you. Unfortunately, he had killed me and sealed my soul inside a gramophone. I had forgotten about this previous life... until he had told me. Then all of the memories rushed inside me. Saving you had felt... like I had finally fulfilled my goal." he explained.

"...Actually... now that I think of it, I do remember a handsome young man who had clothes not different than yours who had come to save me from him. I remember his beautiful deep voice... with that accent... it was your voice! Your voice was always so familiar to me...but I could never figure out where I heard it."

Phantom's face turned red from the complements. "P-princess, please stop flattering me..."

She giggled. "You haven't become any less handsome than you were as a human, you know."

Before Phantom could respond, she kissed him again. This time, on the lips.

The two kissed under the pale morning moonlight shimmering down into the room.

#tw blood #jawaiis cheesy fics #a girl and a ghost #jawaii #phantom x peach #phantomeach #phantom of the bwahpera #princess peach #king boo #mario #super mario #mario + rabbids kingdom battle #mario rabbids #mario + rabbids #fanfic #fanfiction

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dorki-c · 3 years

Text

Fuck him up (if he hurts you)

Characters: Dabi, Fem.(Reader), Toga, Mr. Compress, Giran

Relationship: Dabi and (Reader)

A/N: Hey! I’m finally done with this one! Whoop! Whoop! It took a little while but I’m glad its done because to be honest...I really enjoyed writing this, but, I have other things that require my attention. Also! Happy belated bday Dabi!

As always, PLEASE REBLOG AND LIKE! (ALSO COME JOIN MY VALENTINES EVENT, ALL YOU NEED TO DO IS CLICK HERE!)

TW: Threatening, Swearing and Cheating

Does anybody know the stages of getting over your cheating significant other?

It all starts out with denial- how bittersweet that filthy fucking word is-, although it doesn’t last long, when once you managed to eat at least five tubs of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream whilst watching the last show of some shitty soap opera, the next stage comes to bite your ass, anger- also known as throwing or burning your exe’s belongings that they left; however, I prefer burning it (they won’t be able to sell it if they come back).

Once those first two (rather tough) stages fly pass, this third one was like hitting the jackpot for me, but probably not for you, as the mental gamble caused lots of sexually frustrated people to bargain- to play the dice, you shall, but even gamblers don’t use the ‘third time is the charm’ as its utter bullshit- and then--!

OH GOD, HERE COMES FIVE MORE TUBS OF BEN & JERRY’S ICECREAM! THIS ONE IS A REAL KICKER! SOMEBODY HELP ME! THE LIVING ROOM IS FUCKING FLOODING WITH DEPRESSION- Yup, that was you five tubs of ice cream ago, maybe some chocolate might help…

At last, when the cleaning crew arrived, and you managed to accept- with the sunshine glowing down on your skin after four long stages of shit- with the fresh thought of buying a couple dresses that you saw on sale from that one adorable itty bitty corner shop.

But I’m not like that.

And here’s why in (you guessed it) 5 stages.

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1. Discovery.

Rolling their shoulders backwards, a blanket fell backwards as a tall silhouette ghosted from the bedroom door that they left open.

When the bathroom light blinked to life, (y/n) faintly heard the screeching of the door shut on itself. Though, she knew her beloved boyfriend had to go to ‘work’, what she didn’t know was who made his phone ping at 7:15 in the morning.

Scooting over to the opposite side of the bed, blankets stuck to sweat-ridden skin as they coiled around her legs similarly to a snake and ensnared them to stay stuck and stationary. The plush pillows tried to lull her back to sleep. However, (y/n) wasn’t having any of it.

Reaching out to grab Dabi’s phone- even if he didn’t give you permission- the time was as you predicted, though the contents of his notifications bleeping up was something you didn’t predict. The background of his lock screen was something to behold as it was a picture of your concentrated form doodling in a sketchbook whilst a pale white cup stood beside two fresh slices of cake.

Shakily revealing the messaging app, there was around four or five unknown contacts, all listed under the people’s numbers.

Though one of them caught your eye.

Opening the chatroom, your free hand clutched the blankets.

Dabi is going to regret making you break the way you did that morning.

(He has no choice in doing so.)

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2. Kicking the asshole out.

“Toga…? C-can you come over, please.”

The TV presented the small-town news that had little to no intervention though that didn’t mould the female into a wish less mess where a gentle hand went to work and smooth out ensnared knots. “Are you okay now, (y/n)-chan?” You never heard Toga murmur before, but that’s the perks of being alive now.

(Y/n) released the trembling bubble of air out of her lungs and into the atmosphere, readying herself for that front door to open. Shaking your head to respond to Toga’s question, a small huff was released out of the other female’s chest.

The blonde female knew why you still weren’t okay.

Whoever walks through that door will have a profound effect on whatever will happen to (y/n).

However, with the slight nudge of her friend’s hand pinching the side of her sensitive waist, a yelp was released in surprise whereas the blonde villain giggled at the reaction. “Your so easy to scare, (y/n)-chan!” Toga loved to tease you, but in this time frame it wasn’t to make you feel uncomfortable but rather the opposite.

She wanted to make your thunder stricken heart rumble with rage in an unknown and bizarre way- but to also remind that you weren’t alone-, though, you had this bubbly and extra crazy best friend who brought over too many sweets for your stomach to handle alongside the annoyance that you hadn’t noticed Dabi’s strange and desolate nature.

As Toga picked up another opened bag of candy (I think they were ‘eclairs’), unwrapped the golden covering as the crinkling plastic fumbled like sparks dancing across the fingers in a tantalising rhythm. In an attempt to grab the bag, Toga was about to throw it across the room so you could get off her because, and I quote “You’re killing me with your weight!”, how lovely that compliment is for somebody who’s blood is like a glacier falling apart after a storm chipped the exterior and revealed the icy truth underneath.

And may God cover their eyes, as that chilling sharp edge at the tip of the glacier crumbles under Mother Nature’s will (so does the female when the familiar screech of the door revealing whoever is walking through reaches her ears).

Sluggishly dripping back onto the couch where at least three of the seven stocked up with fluff blankets- wrapped around drooped shoulders- had slid onto the floor, Toga made an effort to pick them up and stuff (piling) them next to the drowsy (y/n).

“I’m home, dollface!” A familiar voice hollered.

When both of the female’s heard that voice, there was no turning back to the past.

(Y/n) glanced to a duffel bag next to the couch, then glanced towards the teenager’s sinking rage as the blonde’s lips started to slip into a scowl.

A step almost turned into two, however, was held back by the puffy eyed female. “C-c-can I handle this…please?” They whimpered.

Toga really needs to gain a resistance to (y/n) cuteness when she’s sad.

Grabbing the duffel bag, two slippers shuffled (real smooth) around the couch to enter the hallway that led to the front door. Exactly where Dabi was about to take off his shoes.

“I recommend not taking your shoes off.” The pair of blue eyes looked up in confusion. “What? So, I can’t take off my own shoes in our home?” It sounded like a tease, but what if there was another meaning behind it?

Dabi, however, knew that familiar look of sharp-edges eyes where the glossy swirling of a singular emotion led to- and his teasing didn’t make the situation, he’s found himself in, any more light-hearted.

“This isn’t your home anymore,” Hissed (y/n), where (the fuck) did she get that attitude from?

“Who told you that you can throw me o—” The heavy duffel bag clutched in (y/n) clammy hands thud against Dabi’s chest, where his feet slid against the front door’s matt- his legs trembled at the impact the bag had on his chest- along with the rising cough that caught up to him after fleeing from a hero.

“Nobody—told me what to do.” Another sniff ensued, “But, I figured out the truth.” An eyebrow twitched upwards in anticipation as his hand bawled against his hip.

“Then tell me, what’s this big ass ‘truth’ you figured out?” Retorted the male with turquoise eyes watching her head droop towards the ground to hide something.

Raising it after a momentary pause, she glowered “You’re a bloody cheater, Touya.” When tears stained the red canvas again.

“Oh, so this is what it’s about…” Voice as nonchalant as shallow murky river water, “Do you even realise why I did it?” Rolling his eyes, two fingers wormed their way towards a special ring on her left hand before it hit the ground.

“I don’t want to know why.”

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

3. Jealousy

It was sudden, quick, and loud how Toga came into your (lonely) apartment.

Bang went the door against the wall and crash went the multiple shoes from the shoe cabinet as they thudded against the floor.

“(Y/N)-CHAN! I HAVE GOOD NEWS!” Her shout was louder than the moans you would usually make when it was a pleasurable night with your (new) ex, however you shouldn’t dwell on past relationships.

Only moving your eyes slightly from the book gripped tightly in your hands, Toga sauntered over holding a suspiciously large bag, this only led one ping-pong ball bouncing back to another ping-pong ball within the crevasses of your mind.

Placing a ripped piece of paper in the book, it snapped shut, “Who did you kill?” questioned (y/n)- knowing that when Toga finds something, she will resort to violence, no matter the cost-, however the sweet smile presented as a defence for whatever action she committed was enough dull your concern.

“Not telling ya!” Then getting a knife out- wait, where did that even come from-, Toga stabbed into the black plastic bag and tore it open with many- I mean tons- of clothes sliding out of the bag and becoming a miniature avalanche in the small space that is your living room.

“…H-how?” Sputtered (y/n), Toga replied: “Big sis’ Mags let us borrow some of her clothes!”

(Y/n) can only imagine how Toga managed to convince Magne to let her borrow some clothes off her, and by clothes, (y/n) could only assume its short skirts and dresses.

“But!” Added Toga, “we have to wait for Mr.C to pop up!”

Great, even Mr. Compress knows about your breakup with Dabi.

“Fine.”

Sitting pretty on a kitchen chair, a small brush lightly dabbed a small hint of colour against the rooftop of your eyes. “Why are we doing this, again?” Murmured the relaxed female as a small dress laid boringly over the torso where it edged closely to showing the backside of her thighs.

Chuckling in response to her inquisitive comment, the villain grabbed liquid eyeliner, although it was smacked out of his hand and replaced with pencil eyeliner matched with a scowl from his subject.

“Liquid eyeliner is cursed, don’t get that shit near me.”

“My, my, even somebody as classy as I wouldn’t offensively smack such an object—”

Oh boy, here we go again.

“Shush, I could easily get Big Sis Magne to beat your ass if you use that tone with me, sir.”— “Oh heavens no! I think Magne would pick my side out of the two of us!”— “Oh really now?”— “I believe—”

Another door slammed open and in stormed Toga in a confident catwalk down the hallway just to profoundly exclaim; “NOPE! SHE’LL CHOOSE ME AS THE CHOSEN ONE!”

Cue the laughter.

Before the sun was ready to roll itself out of the closet, the patchwork villain made his way under the thick cover of darkness to a certain broker’s office.

Pushing it open to let the light of the office room scream in his eyes before he even had the chance to speak, the older male that greeted him, offered him a seat.

“Hey Dabi, what brings you here to my humble abode?” Giran spoke out as the glistening cup of coffee placed in front of the wanderer reflected the light into its murky brown ripples. “I need you to trace this number to its origin, and quick.” Anxiously sliding his phone to showcase your number, the broker twitched his brow upwards.

“First and foremost, where’s the cash?” A thick wad of yen slammed against the table.

“Happy now?”— “Very much so!” Scowling at Giran’s happy chirp, the broker worked his magic on the burner phone to effectively trace the number back to your location, where Dabi soon enough made his way towards the destination you were at.

He doesn’t know why he’s doing this…

Nor why he still keeps the ring…

However, he knows what he’s going to say next.

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

4. Anger

Simmering and low crackles of something in the kitchen of your apartment awoke the female from her drunken slumber.

What was being made and why does it smell so familiar? The waft of the meal being created swarmed the first stimulant within the hungover mind of yours truly as the wavering warmth rustled around your legs in an unspoken persuasive whisper to stay in bed.

However, curiosity killed the cat and also brought it back.

Two feet tapped the floor in alerted silence.

Tiptoeing across the room, a hand clenched the side of the doorway when two eyes surfed the surroundings outside of her den.

The sizzling stopped, with a small snap of fire going out.

At the same time this happened, it was then when she figured out who was in her kitchen: Him.

Him, with his tall stance that could make for a ladder to climb on or him with his broad shoulders that look like they were bricks squished underneath his skin, where his paired raven hair familiarly spiked up.

“What are you doing here?” If it wasn’t for the delicious food he was making, then you would’ve killed him on sight. A lacklustre glance at the female, he uses one of her spatulas to move the bacon from the frying pan onto a plate with plump golden coloured scrambled eggs.

“You were drunk, I brought you home, and am now making your hangover breakfast.” Placing the plate next to your arm resting against the counter, with another glance in your direction, Dabi made a finishing blow in the words of: “Since you can’t cook for shit.”

Oh boy, he knows you too well to expect your immediate reaction: anger.

From the built-up rage that started to stack up from days of unrest (and being bloated because of the several tubs of Bens & Jerry’s ice cream), it all started to splutter out of control.

“Oh-- So now your fucking attacking me after the shit you put me through?”

“Why should you know?” (Y/n) turned sour at his comment, “’Why’ I should know?!”

From the nearest counter, there was an empty glass. You took advantage of the potential weapon held it up ready for it to slam against the ground.

“(Y/n) -- put the glass down.” Warned the patchwork male.

With the tips of her ears feeling ever so hot, it felt like the pressure escalating within her ears caused only for her protests to be heard even through the pause of silence.

“(Y/n).” A small twitch of one of his feet made (y/n) flinch backwards. “Com’ on, I know you don’t want to hurt me.” He took another step toward, her grip tightened on the glass cup.

“Do you even know why I’m here?”

“No,” Moving her hand higher, Dabi took another step forward, (Y/n) took another step back, “And I don’t want to kno—” Blubbering a bit of salvia as the female attempted to speak, though it was incoherently heard through squished cheeks.

“Listen, for fucks sake,” Electric blue eyes pierced into your soul like a spear, it’s quite hilarious: You once loved those blue eyes of his, you once worshipped the feeling of his eyes raking down your nude body before- as they took in the sight of pleasure squirming and tightening underneath those diligently flexible fingers-, but those days are over.

He can worship your goddamn forgiveness if he’s going to restrain you like this.

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

5. Forgiveness

“That’s what happened.”

Two legs of your own were crossed over each other like two birds of a feather.

“Are you being honest with me?”

His hand tapped the table as he sat across from you.

“Yes, I’m being honest.”

Breathing inwards and releasing a slow, practiced breath. She glanced at the male’s awaiting expression.

“Okay…”

Biting his ruined lip, the raven-haired male let out a breath of relief.

“Will you forgive me?”

She wishes she could.

“I’m not so sure yet…”

Dabi looked to the side to see (y/n) with both of his eyes.

“But, I’ll give you one last try.”

Taglist:

@glitterfreezed, @in-this-house-we-stan-izuku, @haredabi, @orenjineki

JOIN THE VALENTINES WRITING EVENT HERE!

#tw: swearing #TW: Cheating #Fem! reader #dabi mha #dabi x reader #dabi imagine #dabixyou #Dabi lives rent free in my mind #mild yandere! reader #dorki talks like a dabi simp #dabi lives rent free in my mind #villain x reader #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnhaxyou #mha #mha x reader

70 notes · View notes

procrastinatorimagines · 4 years

Text

Okay Part 7

Fandom: One Chicago

Series: Okay

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 (Final)

Pairing: Matt Casey x Halstead!Reader

Warning/s: fire, attempted murder

Word Count: 3,033

Summary: After narrowly escaping certain death you decided to turn your life around and become a firefighter, and although it wasn’t easy, you survived your first week at 51. Now, the strange circumstances of your very first fire lead you to a second, deadlier act. As you dig deeper, aided by your brothers and your new firehouse, you begin to realise just how in over your head you might be.

Tags: @alievans007 // @louiselikeswriting // @killjoys-make-some-noise-na-na // @sesamepancakes

By the time you woke up your head was pounding and your mouth was dry, your ankles and wrists chafing against the ropes that tied you to a beam in the room you were in, where ever that was. You weren’t sure how long you’d been out, but as your eyes slowly focused in on your surroundings you noticed a small window on the opposite side of the room you were in, the night sky partially visible through a crack in the newspaper that had been used to cover it up.

This was bad, very bad, you thought, panicking as you tried to desperately to free yourself from your restraints, which actually seemed to do more harm than good. Taking a very shaky breath you tried to focus, breathing in and out of your nose slowly...

This had happened before, it had all happened exactly like this before. Only, this time, you weren’t alone in the dark.

When your vision began to focus and the roaring in your ears subsided slightly, you saw a figure out the corner of your eyes, looking to see Lily. Your breath immediately caught in your throat; she was as pale as a ghost, eyes red and face wet with tears and snot.

“Lily,” you whispered, drawing her eyes to you from where they had been fixed in the distance. She looked to you, shaking uncontrollably, but you saw it then, something in her eyes. Hope? Did she think you were going to help her?

You were, you were supposed to help her, that’s why you came here in the first place. Breath Y/N, you told yourself, focus, think, you needed to stay under control for her sake. “Hey Lily, where’s Paul? Where’s your dad?” You asked her as calmly as you could, not wanting to alarm her anymore than she was, if that was even possible.

She opened her mouth to reply when the door to the basement banged open, making you both jump as a man stormed down the stairs. He was erratic, mumbling to himself as he waved around a gun, pacing as he reached the bottom of the stairs and ignoring you both completely.

“No supposed to happen like this... all her fault...” you caught him say, “all your fault, all Jennifer’s fault!” He aimed the gun at Lily, raising his voice as she flinched back as far as she could while restrained.

“Hey!” You snapped at him, unsure of where such a steady and powerful voice came from inside of you as Paul jumped, apparently only just realising that you were also in the room. “Do not point that gun at her,” you demanded, catching him off guard as he looked between the weapon and his daughter, a moment’s pause gone as quickly as it came as he turned it to you instead. Far from ideal, but the better alternative.

“Listen to me, I’m a firefighter, okay and my brother Jay he’s a cop, he could help-” you began, rambling slightly, not really thinking about what you were saying as you tried to convince him to put the gun down.

Mention Jay seemed to be a bad idea, you realised it the second the words were out of your mouth, Paul’s grip tightening on the gun as he eyes flared with panic. “Cop, cop, no, no cops...” he repeated, very much appearing to have had some kind of mental break. Could he even be reasoned with?

Looking around as he began pacing again, more on edge than before, you noticed the canisters of kerosene along the wall by the stairs; he was going to burn this place down, with you and Lily in it.

“Shut up! Just shut up and let me think!” Paul yelled at a still crying Lily, and outburst that only made her cry harder.

“That’s enough, she’s a kid for god’s sake, your kid,” you tried, grating your teeth and hating how powerless you felt. You’d failed her hadn’t you?

“We were happy before she came, she isn’t even mine, she ruined everything...” he told you, his logic making absolutely no sense to you. Still, you had to try and get on his level if you had any chance of de-escalating the situation. You’d learned that much from Jay at least.

“Okay, but how is that Lily’s fault? She did do anything, you don’t have to do this, it’s not too late,” you took a shaky breath as his eyes flicked towards the cannisters, only half listening to what you were saying. His mind had been made up when he lit that first fire, maybe even before then, it was like reasoning with a brick wall.

“Yes, yes it is,” he said with way too much conviction.

“No, wait, let’s talk about this,” you tried desperately, pulling on your restraints in vain as he wandered towards the cannisters, gun now slack at his side.

That was when you caught it, a sharp pain in your hand as you winced, moving your hands slower to feel a now wet nail sticking out of the beam you were tied to. Your hand was bleeding, but you could barely feel it, shifting slightly so that the nail was rubbing against your restraints. Stall, a voice in your head screamed, stall.

“Talk? So you can buy time until your boyfriend can come save you?” Paul laughed in a vaguely unhinged sort of way, thankfully not noticing the confusion on your face as he continued, “is that who you were calling? Because it didn’t say - what was that name? Jay? - on your phone screen.”

You schooled your features as much as you could before he could turn around and wait for your answer. Matt. You’d called Matt. He’d know, he’d know you were in trouble, right? You hoped he would, he had to suspect you wouldn’t have gone straight home, and that that call was strange.

Stall. You worked through the aching in your wrist, the nail catching your flesh more than once as you powered through, working the rope with everything you had.

“No, I mean, yes, my boyfriend, but he has nothing to do with this, I swear-” you hoped that sounded convincing. You’d already made the mistake of mentioning your cop brother, but if you told him you’d had a fire captain o nthe other end of the line you didn’t know how he’d react. You had to put all your faith in Casey right now, hoping to hear sirens at any moment.

“Daddy...” Lily sobbed, voice small and strained, raw from the crying as she tried to get her dad to look at her, but even when he glanced in her direction, he never met her eye. Your heart was breaking even more than you thought was possibly, stabbing pains shooting through you like the nail in your hand, but you persevered, your sheer anger and stubborn determination numbing the pain and quietening your own panic and fear.

“I have to do this, have to do this now,” he seemed to decide, nodding to himself as he put the gun in his waist band, your eyes draw to him as you worked at the rope, you were so, so close... But not close enough.

Paul took a couple of cannisters at a time, opening the caps and dumping them all over the floor, your feet jerking back as the strong smelling liquid splashed near you. “No, no, please you don’t have to do this,” you begged him.

“It’s done, I’ll finally have justice,” Paul said, your nostrils flaring in rage as you tugged harder at the ropes, your blood on them making them harder to keep steady. Bastard, you growled to yourself

Paul turned without another word, taking the final cannister and pouring it up the stairs behind him. He took a packet of matches out of his pocket once he reached the top, the first attempt at striking it snapping the match.

Your mind was tugging you back to that other basement then, your senses slipping there too as your vision doubled and the all too familiar smell of kerosene filled your lungs. You’d cheated death once, and now he was coming to collect...

“Daddy please!” Lily cried out, cutting through you like a knife, hauling you back to the present as you willed yourself to focus, scrunching your hand into a fist. You dug your nails into the large cut on your palm, the pain keeping you tethered to reality as the second match flared to life.

Then, well, then everything happened so fast you could barely process it. Your hands snapped free of the ropes just as the match fell from Paul’s finger tips, the top of the stairs lighting immediately as you clamoured towards Lily, ignoring the pain as you forced her restraints free.

You looked to the already fast approaching fire as Lily stood, grabbing your leg with her arm and hugging you tightly. You didn’t have long, you knew, the poorly ventilated room already filling with smoke.

There was only one this for it, you realised, what Casey would probably call your Halstead instinct kicking is as you threw off your jacket. “Lily, Lily look at me,” you said hurriedly, crouching down and wrapping her in it so it was over as much of her body and head as you could make it, her terrified eyes meeting yours. “I’m going to pick you up okay? Whatever you do, keep your head in my shoulder and do not let go, okay?”

She nodded quickly, sensing the urgency as you drew her into your arms, her small ones wrapping around you. There were no good option, but Lily had the best chance this way, and she mattered more.

Here goes everything, you allowed yourself a split second to prepare yourself, and then you ran.

The stairs were still standing, for now, but they wouldn’t be for long, the fire dancing down the railing and walls as you pushed yourself, step by step, you ran up the stairs.

Paul hadn’t bothered to shut the basement door, why would he? So you bolted for it with everything you had, you body absolutely screaming at you in fear and pain as you maintained an iron grip on the child in your arms.

And then you were out on the otherside, stumbling but forcing yourself to keep steady as you oriented yourself, the fire still all around you. You put Lily down quickly, patting her down as well as yourself, making sure you weren’t on fire.

You needed a door, or a window, you didn’t really care. Taking Lily’s hand you looked to her. “We’re going to run, okay?” She nodded, taking your hand with a vice like grip.

A noise to your left drew your attention, making your way down the hall, barely staying up right as the burning in your legs flared up your body. You looked down as you felt your feet nearly slip on a substance, more accelerant?

This had taken place over a matter of seconds, a minute at most, and Paul was still here. You found him in the main hall, pouring the final drops of a kerosene by the entrance. There was a moment, when your eyes locked, both of you realised the other one was right in front of you before either of you sprung into action.

You’d dropped Lily’s hand at the same time as Paul had dropped the cannister, his hand reaching back for the gun you knew was in the back of his waistband. He was fast, but damn if you weren’t faster.

The fire had reached up from the basement and into the hall, you wouldn’t have long before it connected with the kerosene currently soaking your shoes, and then this place would go up like an inferno.

Paul had just pulled out his gun, drawing it around his side, when you reached him, catching his wrist before he could point it and slamming his hand back into the wall. He shoved you back, definitely having the upper hand in terms of strength. “You shouldn’t be here, this is all wrong,” he told you, taking a swing at you with his gun still in hand.

You ducked, the swing wide and uncontrolled as you threw a sharp punch in his gut, building on your momentum and his loss of balance to aim another tap into his throat, kicking him back straight afterwards into the opposite wall.

“That might be the first thing we agree on,” you snarled, moving quickly as he tried to hit you again, his gun hand twisting around, a suprised cry of pain escaping his lips as you expertly flung him over your shoulder, wrist so twisted he lost his grip on the gun.

Sure, he was stronger, but you were a Halstead.

He hit his head on the wooden floor and went down, Lily’s cry drawing your attention as you noticed the smoke filling the hall.

You kicked the gun away and released Paul, who didn’t appear to be getting up any time soon, rushing back to Lily and yanking her arm, dragging her away from where the fire was fast approaching you.

That’s when you heard it, that glorious sound that made you feel like your chest was cracking open in relief. Sirens. There were sirens approaching.

Pulling Lily forward you both scrambled towards the exit, the fire reaching the kerosene on the hallway rug as it flared to life with new found direction, hungry to consume everything in it’s path.

The front door was right there, you could make it. Throwing open the front door you practically pushed Lily out, nearly tripping as her feet met the concete, breath in fresh air.

Police cars were coming down the street, as well as fire engines and an amulance. 51. 51 was here, and so was your brother you guessed.

Fresh air hit your face as you took a breath of freedom, and then you paused. Something tugging at you deep inside. Looking back over your shoulder you saw Paul, still lying on the floor as the fire quickly approached, devouring everything in its path.

It would be too late, you knew, by the time 51 had arrived and put on their gear, the fire would have consumed him. The fire that he’d let consume the lives of two other innocent people, the fire he’d tried to turn on his daughter repeatedly, the fire he’d tried to use to end you, too.

Every fibre of your being was screaming at you to leave him, but you knew, you knew you couldn’t. So you ran back into the burning building, hearing Lily scream as you reached Paul, grabbing him under his shoulders and hauling his with as much strength as you could manage.

You’d gotten him outside onto the porch as truck pulled up, Stella barely stopping, let alone putting it in park, before Casey jumped out the door, barrelling towards you with a sense of pure urgency,

“Y/N!” He yelled, practically crashing into you as you dropped Paul, who was just beginning to stir. His hands found your upper arms, looking you over and breathing heavily.

“I’m okay,” you tried to tell him, your breath ragged as he led you away from the burning house, two other firefighters and a paramedic coming to take Paul, along with three officers.

“I was so worried, I thought...” he trailed off, unlistening, one hand going to the side of your head, still worried.

“Casey... Matt, I’m fine, I’m alive,” you grabbed the hand on your face, giving it a squeeze as you saw relief wash through him.

“Y/N!” A small voice called, Lily rushing towards you both and she wrapped you in a big hug, buring her face in you as Casey took a step back.

“I’m okay Lily, we’re both okay,” you knelt down, ignoring the pain in your legs as you wrapped her in a big hug, picking her up as Foster signaled you to bring her over to treat.

Boden was already giving orders to truck, seeing that Casey was too preoccupied as he followed you and Lily to ambo 61, the air getting clearer as you passed the small girl over to your friend. Foster gave your hand a squeeze, nodding to you as you nodded back.

As soon as she was out of your arms you nearly collapsed, Casey steadying you as you sit on the edge of the ambulance, signalling Sylvie to come check on you.

“Oh my god Y/N,” she gasped, grabbing her med back.

“I’m fine,” you repeated, but she shook her head.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” she said with an authority you weren’t going to argue with as exhaustion washed over you.

“How is she?” Casey asked Sylvie, eyes not leaving you.

“She needs to get to med, she has a potential concussion, serious burns on her legs and she definitely needs stiches on these,” Syvlie said, wrapping up your hands as you winced, coming down from the addrenaline that must have kicked in as you started to feel everything.

Casey opened his mouth to say something but he was interrupted. “I’m riding with her,” a voice cut in, Jay, appearing at your side. Casey took a respectful step back as Jay gave you a hug so tight you couldn’t breath, “I’ll let Will know you’re coming in, god Y/N, we were so worried, what the hell were you thinking?” Jay breathed.

“Sorry, I’ll try not to get kidnapped... again,” you replied, but he didn’t seem to appreciate your attempt at humour.

“I’ll meet you at the hospital,” Casey told you with a smile, eyes lingering on you for a moment before he turned to walk away.

“Hey Casey,” you called, pausing in his steps as he looked back at you, “we got him.”

Casey smiled, eyes full of pride, “you got him Y/N,” he told you, nodding to you before heading back to truck, something unsaid hanging in the air.

Sylvie made you get into the ambo, Jay by your side the whole ride.

You’d got him, Lily was safe, it was finally over.

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whump-town · 3 years

Text

It’s A Wonderful Life

Part Two

I don’t know how I feel about this chapter but I’m putting it up and dealing with it later. I need to go study for my sociology test and get some coffee-- so, now it’s your problem

Warning: tw for suicide, major character death (IT’S NOT WHAT YOU THINK AT ALL)

Part One here

“Aaron!”

He’s flat on his back, a rickety old ceiling fan wobbling above him. The base sways back and forth as the blades turn. That has to be a hazard...

Two cold hands press to his cheeks, blonde strands of hair falling into his face. “Aaron,” his name comes out more urgently from her mouth. Those cold fingers tapping at his cheek, trying to rouse some sort of reaction out of him. He can’t. Can’t think of what to say. He just looks up at her. Haley. “Baby--”

He coughs, weakly craning his neck as the pain of his fall registers throughout the rest of his body. “Ah!” rolling onto his side, pulling his knees up, he groans at the sharp stabs of pain up his back. He clenches his jaw, a moment of sheer panic blinding him as he fails to recover from the feeling of having the wind knocked out of him. Unable to draw air into his shocked lungs.

Haley leans over him, moving to compensate for his pained struggle. Her fingers probe along the back of his head wincing in sympathy when she finds blood and he whimpers, weakly pulling from her touch. “What were you doing?” she asks, smoothing down the hair on the back of his neck. Trying to offer some comfort.

He can’t remember anything before the fan.

“Maybe--” she smiles down at him but he can see she’s just trying to look assured. His head is turned into her palm, Aaron having slowly curled into her. Trying to compress himself, needing to feel that she’s really here. “Maybe you should go to the hospital? You’re bleeding--”

He aims to shake his head but ends up grunting, blinded by the pain that mistake shoots up the base of his neck. “No,” he whispers, trembling hand coming up to blindly touch her. She catches his hand, folding his fingers within her own and pressing them down. Holding him still. “No,” he manages, a little more assured. “I’m--I’m okay.”

Blinking, a cold sweat breaking out across his face he shifts a numb arm underneath him. Biting down to keep himself from making a sound as he eases him up. Attempting to sit up quickly dispels what he thought was a fact for fiction. His eyes roll back, white cold pain eating up his skin.

“Aaron,” she calls frantically.

The color of his naturally pale cheeks drains and sways for a moment, the color drained from his body. “I’m-- I’m--” he squeezes his eyes shut, forcing his breathing to calm. He’s taken far worse hits than this. This is nothing. Fingernails digging sharp pain into his palms is grounding and slowly he opens his eyes and the living doesn’t spin. Everything is still, if not hazy.

“I’m okay,” he breathes.

I’m okay.

smoke burns his nose, his vision too poor to see past the steering wheel, past the spiderwebbed glass right in front of him

crying, strained screaming-- he can’t tell where the sound is coming from

his chest aches, stomach twisting with each pitched, nearly choked inhale of--

Jack.

Jack is screaming, little feet kicking hard and solidly as his chair

he has to get to--

“Aaron?”

He’s looking down at the carpet, confused but… It’s gone. The vision, his vision, is swimming dangerously and he weakly manages to place a hand on the carpet beneath him. Leaning onto it, as he tries to ground himself. “Sorry,” he rasps, swallowing down the fear that itches at the back of his throat. “Sorry, I just…” he went somewhere else. He’s not sure what happened but something feels incredibly wrong about this, about here.

Haley’s hand comes to rest between his shoulder blades, gently rubbing. “Let me make you some tea,” she offers.

Tea. No one can make tea like Haley. “Yeah,” he agrees. Just thinking about it calms him. “Please?”

She nods, pressing a kiss to his temple. As she steps around him she pulls a blanket off the couch, settling it over his shoulders. “Stay here,” she asks, brushing the back of her hand across his cheek. “I don’t want you to fall again.” He can feel her hesitancy, she doesn’t want to leave him by himself.

He doesn’t get up, he’s not even sure his legs will hold him, but he does manage to scoot himself across the carpet until he can lean against the couch behind him. The cushions are old, they give easily against him but he loves this old couch. Haley’s parents had given it to them when they moved away. It had been his bed many a night in their tiny hometown. This old couch has cured many of his ailments.

It sat in the spare room of Haley’s childhood home. An off to the side, usually shut room full of old but loved things from Haley and Jessica’s childhood. Including the beat-to-hell sofa her parents didn’t have the heart to throw out-- plus they’re southern and the couch wasn’t falling apart so it still had a use.

Every night he crawled home to them, he’d find himself lovingly tucked in on it.

He finds himself nodding off, head leaning into the sunken cushions. The whistle of the kettle startling him slightly. It makes his pulse jump, vision swimming. “Haley?”

sirens

a hand, padded by thick gloves wrap around the base of his neck

“easy, just hold still. you’re okay”

he glances as far as he can to his left, out the door to asphalt

he can see Jack, his happy little hands, rocking back and forth on his feet

“J…” his tongue heavy, body sinking

“stay with me”

“Aaron?” Haley’s squatting down over him, her cold hands cupping his head. “Baby, you’re scaring me.”

He’s scaring himself.

She slides down next to him, throwing her legs over his so she can sit close. “Are you sure we shouldn’t go to the hospital?” Pulling the edges of the blanket back around him, she frowns when he leans against her. Tiredly just deflating until he’s limply laying with his head under her chin.

“I’m okay,” he whispers. His head is really starting to hurt. “I just… I think I need to lay down.”

Haley looks unconvinced but caves, nodding her. “Please let me help you?”

He’s not sure he can do it otherwise.

His feet drag on the carpet, nearly unable to lift them to move properly. There’s this chill he can’t fight, leaving him shaking as Haley holds them welded together. The bed, impossibly soft, as he sinks down is cold with their absence. He goes limply down, not fighting Haley as she tucks the thick comforter around him.

She crawls in after him.

He finally relaxes. The comfort of familiarity soothing his nerves. Haley’s arm over his chest, head on his shoulder is just as things should be. Closing his eyes, he lets sleep consume him. He needs it so badly. He can’t get warm, squirming, and trying to curl into himself to get some sort of warmth. No matter how hard he tries, he just can’t rest.

He turns over searching the nightstand for a clock but there are none. He frowns, sitting up. Tossing the blanket off his legs he gets up. Unable to see the time, he needs to go figure it out. He has to make oatmeal, get the day going. His every day revolves around a strictly held schedule. A maybe concussion doesn’t warrant straying from that.

“What are you doing?”

“I was looking for--” Jack. Aaron realizes where he is. He feels sick. There is no Jack. Not yet. This fantasy of his has no Jack. He swallows thickly and turns back around, shaking his head. He goes back to the bed. “Most have been dreaming,” he whispers, fighting to keep his emotions from getting the best of him.

He can’t remember having Jack. This boy, a whole child that he can visualize, is nothing more than a concept. They have no children.

He can’t sleep after that.

-----

“Let’s got out.”

He wakes, startles, alone in bed. Painful goosebumps have raised over his skin, shivering he squints up at her. She’s in the same clothes as yesterday, a fast that strikes him as odd. He can’t remember her changing her clothes yesterday either before they’d gone to bed. Yet, her hair is clean and swept back into a low ponytail. She looks happy.

“Out?” he asks. Sitting up, he self-consciously runs his hand through his hair. Taming what he knows is a rat’s nest. “Out-- Out where?” He tries so hard to rub the sleep from his eyes, aware of the fact that he’s gotten just enough sleep to wear him down more. Pulling himself out from under the sheets he glares down at his own body, he’s dressed too. They’d gone to bed in their clothes…

She sits down on the edge with him, taking his left hand. “For coffee,” she says with a smile. “You know that little bookshop just downtown? They put in a coffee bar! It’ll be fun. Come on, we can get a coffee and search the shelves. I know you finished the last one you got.” She smiles assuredly, rubbing at his arm but she’s so cold that she does nothing to abate his shivering.

“Coffee,” he repeats. “Yeah,” he mumbles. “Yeah, coffee sounds good.”

His stomach aches as they go. Twisted and acidic, he feels like he’s going to be sick but it’s not nausea. Disenfranchisement. Like he’s somewhere he shouldn’t be.

“The normal?” Haley asks as they step into the shop. He nods, regardless of not being able to conjure up what his “normal” is. She lets go of his hand and he drifts, ghosting across the old, dust-caked carpet. He doesn’t know where he’s going, he’s just guided by the undertoned scent of the old books.

The crime section-- novels covered in deeps seas of black highlighted to catch the eye with the harrowing shifts to crimson-- is where he finds himself. Deja vu. Ted Bundy. Ed Gein. He knows these men far more intimately than he feels the novels he briefly skims through do. He slides one of the books back, grimacing at the tone. The baroque, vulgarity of it unsettling him. Some people just don’t have any business dealing with sensitive things like this.

He hovers over a copy of a book--

FBI Novelist David Rossi

The words are crimson, meant to catch your eyes.

He looks over his shoulder, stomach twisting like he’s afraid to be caught doing something he’d convinced maybe he shouldn’t be doing. He opens the first page, swallowing thickly at the dedication. To the footnote for the author Agent Rossi and his untimely demise--

Haley appears to his left, smiling when she sees him. “Whatcha got?”

He takes the coffee she offers out to him-- he glares at the cup but doesn’t comment. He can’t feel the warmth that should be pouring out of it. “Uhm…” he shows her the back. To the picture of the agent, unsure of how to ask what’s on his mind. Hotch turns the book over in his hand, an immense pressure building in his chest. Anxiety making him jittery. “I-- I thought… I thought he was--” he looks to Haley, mouth parted as he fails to draw these connections that he knows, intuitively, that he should have the knowledge to understand.

Haley turns the book, manipulating his hold to face the book to her so she can really see what it is that he’d got. “Oh God,” she whispers, sadly. “Don’t you remember that bombing?” She shakes her head, “it killed all those agents. You were furious, I’m surprised you don’t remember.”

But, suddenly, he does. It’s such a graphic memory that it feels more like… it feels fake with its intensity. He knows, though. His face hot, knees anxiously drumming as he sat precariously on the edge of the couch. Watching on hesitant, nervous breathes as the news spread steady, if not a bit misleading information on a bombing. He’d seen them. Sat there all day watching them add people’s names to a growing list of the dead.

“It’s written by that David Rossi guy,” Haley says. “You’d probably like it.”

He nods, dejectedly opening the cover. The book is dedicated to Rossi, a small note thanking him for his service to the country and his insights with the FBI. He thumbs through it a little more, nearly morbidly curious for what he might find. Scanning the words, waiting for something to strike him.

He nearly drops it, unable to breathe as he takes in something he can’t imagine.

In the months after the bombing, I reached out to the remaining members of the elite Behavior Analysis Unit (Behavioral Science when I founded it some nearly thirty years earlier with my now deceased ex-partner Jason Gideon). Derek Morgan, now the only profiler left of Jason’s team, was hesitant to continue any prolonged contact with me. I suspected his reliance having to do with the perseverance of Jason’s memory. After Agent Spencer Reid’s suicide, only a matter of weeks after the bombing, any contact I had with Agent Morgan ended. The Bureau has no comment on what lead the young genius to suicide.

“Oh,” Haley whispers sadly. “That’s so sad.”

He can’t breathe.

“Do you think he had PTSD?”

He roughly pushes the book back where he found it. His left hand coming to rub at his head.

“Aaron?”

That’s not how that ends. That’s not how any of that happened.

The day that Jason Gideon made that call in Boston Aaron been standing right beside him. Reid had been sent back to a local precinct with busywork to calm down. He was a new recruit and, rightfully, had no business even being in the field with them let alone in a situation like that. It had been him, his decision to pull Reid.

He remembers the feeling of the heat hitting his body.

The shrapnel wounds impeding his ability to stand so he’d dragged himself ten feet to safety where he’d passed out. Having no memory of what happened a week later and years after the fact he still can’t actually tell you what happened other than to repeat back what he’s been told.

“Let’s go home,” Haley slips her hand into his.

He nods, eyes unfocused as he follows blankly where she guides him. Chest tight, hands trembling weakly he realizes this must be some fucked joke. Revenge? A test? He’s done. He doesn’t want to play this game anymore. It’s tantalizing and demeaning and so overwhelming. Is this within his control and if it is can he stop?

He wants to stay here with Haley.

“What--What about--” he’s worked himself into such a state that he’s shaking. Unable to speak properly as finds himself desperately asking, “what about kids?”

Haley winces, shaking her head. “No,” she says. “I don’t think I can do it. I don’t want any.”

No Jack.

“I think,” his voice is rasped whisper. “I think I need to lie down.”

Haley’s face falls, “ok. I’ll come with you.”

She holds his hand, whispering soft questions but he’s… gone. Hardly there at all, unable to even focus on the worried tone of her words. Asking if his head hurts or if he’d like some tea or something to eat. He just needs to lay down and eventually, she gives up and lets him.

Somberly, she lays down beside him. The bed sinks with her weight but she already feels too far away.

He can feel the weight of his chest deepening, each inhales a little shorter. “Haley,” he calls, hand searching blindly across their bedsheet for her. He finds her, skin chilled, but there. “I’m sorry.” Though she curls around him, wrapping an arm up around his back and pressing their hips close-- her contact does not abate his shivering. She can not comfort him.

“You have nothing to apologize for, darling.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #haley hotchner #tw suicide

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