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equestrianwritingsstuff · 3 years

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Drowning 6 pretttttry please. Your writing is amazing, honest to god. Wish I had your talent. Keep writing!!!!

Thank you for the ask and lovely message ❤

Drowning Part 6

Masterlist

This one is a tad different that the other parts, some segments are in from Supervillain's POV which are very vague because they are meant have an altered state feel to them. You also learn a lot about Villain and Hero's past in this one.

@shydragonrider @asrasmysoulmate

Warnings: unreality, wheelchair, schizophrenia, elecric shocking, hallucinations, hate towards another, possessiveness, restraints, drugged whumpee, sick whumpee

Supervillain emerged from whatever fluid contraption held him in place. His body went numb, pins and needles filling every limb, every muscle like wildfire.

But, nearly as quick as he broke the surface, he fell back in...

Falling...

His body seized up, a ringing in his ears... then he hit solid ground, his body going slack. Nearly immediately, he felt conscious of the tubes and moniters embellishing him like ornaments and garland on a Christmas tree.

His lead-filled mouth yanked open on its own free will, trying to force a scream out, but his tongue only managed a hoarse whimper.

He jerked his head about, finding it laid nearly on a pillow, but another trap locked his head in. He clenched his hands, but his body was already falling back into the sea- all feeling washed away by the waves.

Sand. He felt sand in his body, dehydrating and numbing, as consciousness was snatched away from him once again. The tubes faded, as did the traps- leaving Supervillain with an empty void.

He had a sense, but couldn't remember what happened in brief moments of waking like this. He hardly recognized the difference between unconsciousness and consciousness and if he did, it wouldn't matter. He never could escape. Never could escape the agonizing water in and around his body.

All he could do was fall.

Fall back into the water.

《~~》

"Mistakes are always forgivable, if one has the courage to admit them," a voice spoke. Hero had given up on trying to tell apart the various differences between the countless heroes and doctors that spoke to her on a daily basis. Trying to just intoxicated her mind with a weird feeling of displeasure and annoyance that couldn't be placed. It was right in between her eyebrows, where she would have a unibrow if she didn't wax it all the time in highschool.

"Do you know who wrote that quote, Hero? Hmm?"

Hero didn't respond. Why would she? It gave her no clearance, no escape, no epic prison break that one may expect from such a person of stengths and wits. She just sat there, limbs tied to the ground by unrelenting steel, her head angled to watch the suffering man on the bed slowly fade away with persistent illness and everyday drugs.

"Bruce Lee," the speaker answered the question after quickly realizing that Hero wasn't going to.

Hero tuned out of the conversation, leaving it as background noise as she studied the scene in front of her. Supervillain was hooked up so many moniters, it was as if he was in a coma. Hero twitched her jaw. Maybe he was. The ventilation and feeding tube stuck all the way down his nose and mouth, opening it forcibly, definitely made that thought come alive.

Hero did this a lot, zoning out whenever someone tried to talk to her. Her once vibrant personality and optimism was dampered, replaced by a dull depression. Even Villain, who watched Hero daily, was getting nervous of this rapid decline in attitude- not that Hero knew of her betrayer's thoughts and emotions. To her, in this foggy hole of misery, Villain was an outcasted shadow, adding depth to the painting, but never a main topic. Heck, if she didn't concentrate, she didn't even see the light shade on the white surface.

There was only Supervillain.

But even that has changed, and not just in the extra moniters and tubes, but her whole aspect of him. He was the cause of her pain, he was the cause of the insufferable cloud that ascended over her.

There was no fondness in the way she viewed him anymore, just resentment. The deepest kind of resentment that could also be described as despising.

But even that was an understatement.

One day, a movement drew Hero out of her hate-filled thoughts and back into reality. It was Villain, playing with something by her wrist.

"Back off," she snarled, her voice sounding unnaturally deep and cracky.

"And so she speaks." The glint in his eyes revealed the sarcasm that his monotonous voice hid. "How are you Hero?"

Hero snarled, raising her lips in an animalistic manner, but didn't reply. Once her wrist was let go, the unused muscles allowed it to flop aimlessly against her equally thining thigh. She was fed yes, a vile piece of bland, moist garbage that gave her body its much needed vitamins, minerals, and nutrients, but lack of use degraded the once hefty muscle.

Villain worked on each of the restraints. Each arm fell limp as her legs splayed out, thankful for the break from the locked position they were kept in. When her head was let free, it flopped, her neck unable to keep it up.

Villain steadied her, putting his hand unceremoniously against the base of her neck. Hero squirmed, aware of her vulnerability.

"The door with the exit sign is unlocked," he whispered, so close to her ear that Hero cringed.

At first, her brain using its old habit, began to block out his words, but suddenly stopped and rewinded, shoving them back to the front of her mind.

Unlocked...

She could get out.

Villain helped her into a nearby wheelchair and was about to wheel her away when a strand of her empathetic nature fought against the newfound distant demeanor.

"What 'bout Supervillain?" She asked, her voice a weak whisper.

"This is for you," Villain replied casually grinning down at Hero, happy that she was back to somewhat normal.

Hero sunk into the plushy cushioning of the seat and looked at Supervillain's still figure and snarled. Ha, he didn't get to leave. She did. She got to escape the inhumane confines that kept her bound up like a trapped goat.

He didn't. He could now pay for his crimes.

Yet, as stubborn as this thoughts of retribution sounded, they weren't. That sympathizing portion of her protested against the new arrangement. And, being the stronger of the two opposites, it left her tongue in forms of coherent words.

"I won't leave him," she said, her heart bursting. Whether the internal explosion was due to anticipation or exaltation, it don't matter. It felt natural, like herself.

"You really don't have a choice."

"Why do you want me free?" Hero asked.

"This place is the definition of boring."

Hero was silent and contemplated Villain's statement. He really didn't care about her levels of bore and joy, never did. Any interaction or any relationship that the two once cherished was borne of platonic care of the other's well-being. Nothing too deep, and barely held any real intent. Are you alive? Are you dead? Were the only two questions that brought along any vowels of conversing.

It was weird, abnormal. Hero might've even went as far as to say suspicious.

But it was also promising. Very, very promising. It held the possibility of freedom that the chair did not.

But he was Villain. He did not have one ounce of good will or honesty in his cold veins. He was a liar, a cheat, and as much as she would've loved to call them friends, it was close to impossible. They couldn't build a relationship off of trickery as much as the two once wanted to.

This was a scheme, a lie, to get to Hero and make her mess up. Mess up and then she gets hurt.

Or worse, Supervillain does.

That thought stood out from the rush of others in her brain for it held an interesting style to it. As close as she was to the old Hero and away from the shadow that "choosing who gets hurt" made her into, she wasn't it yet.

Not yet.

"Boring, but I am alive," Hero retorted, rolling her eyes as well as the stiff rectus muscles in her eyes allowed.

"That is otherwise obvious." Villain placed a hand on the barred door that only purpose served as an aesthetic.

"Yeah, in a way I suppose, but Supervillain isn't."

"He's breathing."

"He sleeps all day and when he does manage to wake, he passes out almost immediately. I need to stay with him!"

"You do nothing but glare daggers at him. You are released dear."

"No, you are not helping me escape from this damn place!"

Villain was silent, paused in the motion of pushing the door open.

"Amidst your utter hate for him, you still have the decency to protect him; Hero there is nothing to protect. With one simple flick of a switch, he is dead," Villain pointed out, turning to Hero with tears in his icy blue eyes that Hero once found gloriously gorgeous. Ones that she used to gaze into as they fought, unable to tear herself away. She lost many fights that way by being too distracted to actually land a punch.

But the innocence of that gaze was really just hiding the fact that Villain was a scandalous bastard- only giving half-truths and fake emotions about everything.

"Then why do you give him the serum. You guys know that I won't hurt those civilians," Hero pointed out with a shrug.

Villaim remained silent and wheeled Hero out of the room.

《~~》

Supervillain seemed to always arouse when the nurses swarmed him to administer the vile liquid that plagued his veins with nauseating adrenaline. He felt the hot- not warm, but scorching hot- drug enter his veins.

But it wasn't the beginning, the actual pain of the procedure, that caused Supervillain his horrifying misery. It was afterwards and he wasn't thinking of the dizzying fatigue that usually pushed him into another deep sleep, but the memories it brought.

Some were nostalgic, others taut with grief. Others held regret while some even had remnants of agonizing torture he once endured.

Or gave.

But they were never happy, nor comforting to any degree.

So, when a reverie of kind touch swarmed Supervillain's sensations, his lethargic heart started to pump in rocket speed, motorizing the boat to accelerate...

"Go to sleep."

Hero's voice. One that brought him so much comfort. Hands scratched at his scalp and he felt his heavy eyelids drop.

"I'll be hear when you wake up," Hero lulled, humming softly as the sweet scent of vanilla hit Supervillain's scent receptors. He smiled, the tiniest of grins and nuzzled his nose into her warm, fleece sweater.

But, even delirous as he was, in the back of his head, Supervillain knew this was a vision. A hallucination. The model of schizophrenia that the drug brought upon his mind.

But it was just so real.

So he gave in, purposely allowing himself to be washed away by the unreality of the dream.

Because he loved it. He loved the touch as if it was actually real.

A warm figure slid next to his body wrapping its- her- arms around his shivering body. Phony yes, it gave stability as the fatigue pushed itself to its maximum.

As consciousness dripped away, Supervillain hummed slightly, happy with the feeling.

《~~》

Hero's hand buzzed over the door, considering the possibilities of opening it, but in the end, she blatantly refused.

"No," she said, her old self returning. "I am not going to leave Supervillain."

Villain's eyes widened, chin shaking.

"You care for him?" He asked, voice slightly elevated like a flute's pitch. Such a change from the droning audibles that usually slugged off his tongue. "Like actually."

Hero's brows crunched together as she read Villain's new face expressions. Blond hair draped down to his pointed eyebrows where it slightly curled. Tears seemed to well in his azure eyes.

"Are you crying?" Hero asked, scoffing, but in reality, she cared.

Cared a whole bunch.

"It's just," Villain stepped forward, leaning down and resting his hand on Hero's shoulder. His other hand balanced delicately against the holster of whatever weapon he carried.

Suddenly, without warning, his hand shot up and an bolt of electricity flashed through her body. Hero fell forward, screaming and withering on the floor.

Villain leaned forward, breath warm against her sweaty cheek. "You are mine Hero. I won't ever let you hold, or care for Supervillain again," he growled, bringing thr taser back to Hero's neck. "Goodnight, my love."

The electric shock came again, and the world descended into blackness.

#supervillain whumpee #hero whumpee #villain whumper #retrained #hero x supervillain #hero whumper #heros and villains #delirious whumpee #drugged whumpee #shizophrenia

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datawyrms · 3 years

Text

Changed Hunt

For Phic Phight 2021! (not completely finished but AAAAfinshnowwww) lowkey Dannymay Day 2 Portal, as well

"That portal is awesome!" Sam says. "Would be so cool if it worked."

Danny goes down into the lab that night to try a few things—it doesn't quite go as he planned.(aka a no one knows au) (Dey’s prompt!)

Danny really wished Sam and Tucker had stayed a bit longer that day. With them around, maybe he wouldn’t have wandered in that portal like an idiot. In his own defense, how could he have known that little panel in there had been an on switch? Who’d put that inside a reality tearing portal device? Jack and Maddie Fenton, apparently. He was just lucky the thing hadn’t killed him! Or at least, managed to overdo it to the point he...survived somehow? He hadn’t really decided what that portal had done exactly. Waking in a pained heap, bathed in a haunting green glow from the now active portal was confusing enough. Looking up and seeing a stranger in the reflective panel nearby just made it worse. Of course he didn’t take it well, or know what to think. If he’d become a ghost, his parents would freak. Fixing their portal by turning into some...evil human hating creature probably wasn't in the plan. At least his terror somehow managed to get him to become human again. Heartbeat and everything. He hoped it had just been a weird one off, or he’d imagined it from trauma. Until he started falling through things. He died so hard that he got his life back? The portal only managed to kill half of him? He was dead but ‘imitating humans’ was his specialty? Some human that just got to use his ‘soul’ or whatever to be a ghost early? Sam and Tucker might have had guesses- but he knew one thing right away. Whatever happened, he wasn’t all human anymore. He couldn’t tell them. What if they decided that was just too weird? What if they blamed themselves for not being there- thought they’d killed him? It wasn’t worth the risk. Besides, he couldn’t let Mom and Dad find out, so he’d be trying to hide any of the new weirdness anyway. Might as well just always do it. Maybe the weird new abilities would just go away. They hadn’t. They just forced him to think about it to keep both feet on the ground. He could deal.

Until other ghosts started showing up. Ghosts that actually knew how to be ghosts, terrifying powers and all. Ghosts that seemed to know what he was. He’d nearly jumped out of his skin when a green woman in a hairnet tapped him on the shoulder and asked who ‘changed the menu’. There was a lot of screaming and running away at that, considering she was floating and well. Obviously some sort of dead person. Freaky Fenton attracts freaky ghosts. Of course. She didn’t buy his claim of not knowing why the menu wasn’t exactly the same as fifty years ago (why would he? That’s a lot of years!) and thought setting ovens on fire and throwing them at him was a fair answer! So apparently Mom and Dad were totally right about ghosts being completely terrifying monsters that he should run away from very quickly. Which he did. He only ran into two walls he meant to go through, even. Just more reasons to never, ever tell anyone he might be like that crazed ghost lady. Mom and Dad proving their inventions actually did work sometimes was just icing on the ‘i’m so screwed’ cake. Ghosts exist, they fought one, and the school got shuttered for a week from excessive damage via flying appliance. Fun.

It was dumb to pretend that was a one off thing. It was stupid to think he could keep hiding what happened that day. Even if it felt safer, even if he just wanted to keep denying the portal was open so she could keep pretending it hadn’t done anything to him. Maybe if someone knew, he wouldn’t be hopelessly trapped by a huge glowing robot. Running didn’t work on this one like it did the older ghost lady. He tried, he really did, but the self proclaimed hunter kept tracking him down. Even when he transformed into the strange ghost version of himself he failed to dissuade the robot. Punching metal still hurt as a ghost, and so did getting pelted with little missiles. So much for intangibility being an advantage.

“You’re lucky that you’re a rare creature, whelp. Otherwise I’d be disappointed by how little effort hunting you took.”

Great, flame head thought he was a disappointing freak. More pressing was the net the ghost had shot at him that he couldn’t struggle free of. Even drawing on his weird ghost side wouldn’t let him phase through it. “Pretty sure you can’t hunt endangered species!” He redoubled his effort as the ghost picked up the net, trying to trick himself that his swinging was making him feel ill, not the terror of being carried off by some monster that came through the portal just to hunt him down.

“Hah! If I didn’t take you ghost child, someone else would simply end you.” The blank green eyes stared into his own as the machine pulled him up higher. “You should be grateful to be part of my collection.”

Danny gulped, unsure if he should keep his attention on his captor or the fact they were getting closer to the swirling portal. “How about no thanks? Since you’re such a good samaritan and all. You can just let me go and forget all about uh...this.” Why couldn’t he just squeeze out of the net, or make the rest of him all weird like when his legs decided to vanish sometimes? Pulling with his gloved hands wasn’t working, and the glow just grew brighter as the lump in his throat got thicker. “Please? You already said I was weak, if you let me go I’ll be stronger next time!” Okay, it was a stupid plea but he’d try anything right now to not get dragged to some ghost world.

“I’m not a catch and release sort of hunter.” The ghost chuckled as his prey shrank back with the denial.

“How can you be the ‘Greatest’ hunter if you just go after kids, huh?” Begging wasn’t working, so maybe getting him angry? He couldn’t go through there, what if being on the other side made him more like this thing, or the other weird green monsters? “More like lamest hunter.”

“Oh you’ll see the sort of creatures I normally hunt, ghost child. Once you join them.” Skulker shook the net hard, rattling what little bravado Danny had managed to gather up right back out of him.

So much for that hope. “This has got to be a mistake, just let me go!” The ghost didn’t answer him, and he couldn’t help closing his eyes when the mechanical monster fired up a jetpack and flew through that portal. It wasn’t as cold as he feared it would be, it wasn’t like the void of space. Just as green as the portal, still a swirling background to everything. He swore he saw faces and doors, but couldn’t keep looking for long. The combined movement of being dragged along with the spinning energy was stomach churning enough, and he had to deal with the fact he didn’t know anything about this place. Even if this ghost decided to let him go, where would he go? Was there even anything to navigate with? He certainly didn’t see anything useful like stars. Would all this green stuff just soak into him and make him not want to find home? Nothing here made sense! It was easier to curl up instead of struggling with the net to stretch out, and the stupid ghost couldn’t see how the tears welled in his eyes as he struggled not to cry.

He should have been braver, should have tried to watch more, but it’d been too much. The crunch of metal against stone jarred him out of his silent self berating, just to be even more confused. He was on an island? That just floated, because islands did that here. Islands that had forests on them, that grew out of what looked like rock. Sure, okay. At least it was a bit of a distraction from the fact he was trapped by some evil robot in a completely different reality! Well. It had been. Seeing the fact the ghost lived in some weird stone skull jutting out of a mountain made him snort despite himself.

“You said my puns were bad, and you live in that thing?” He was pretty sure the green mohawk monster was Skull-something anyway. Mostly tuned it out after he kept repeating the ‘greatest hunter’ bit. “Ghost Zone’s Greatest Halloween Decoration’s a more fitting title.”

“For a terrified whelp, you are very chatty.”

“I think I looped around from terrified when I saw how doomed I am.” He was just joking. Totally. He wasn’t goofing around to try and fend off the engulfing panic of never getting home, nope. Absolutely not. He tried to pay attention to the strange ‘skull mountain house thing’, but the fact it reminded him more like a zoo inside wasn’t helping. Massive, monstrous glowing ghosts leering out and snapping as they passed, smaller sorts that didn’t even look up and several empty cages stained green was not calming his nerves. He couldn’t even describe some ghosts, being such a confusing jumble of parts that didn’t remind him of anything. All he could tell was robo-hunter probably didn’t have any willing guests. Unwilling guests that looked far, far more powerful than anything he could dream of trying. He was so, so doomed. To the point that being tossed roughly in a similar cage was almost a relief so he wasn’t right beside the ghost anymore.

First task was struggling free of the no longer glowing net (deactivated somehow? weird.) which wasn’t too hard, but just left him in his freaky ghost form, in a cage, in the middle of who knew where. The Ghost Zone, that’s what they kept calling it. Not Earth. Fantastic! That’s enough to get a C-, but not enough to get him out of this cage. Reaching through the bars was out, the unexpected shock had him rubbing his hand and grumbling to how having some invisible field between the bars was just unfair. At least let him see it before hurting him more. Now what? Grasping that feeling that let him walk through walls wasn’t letting him through the cage floor, just like how the net wouldn’t let him out. Floating just reminded him of getting dragged here. So that was it. Why did he have to get stupid dying powers? They didn’t even do anything useful!

Stressing out and not finding a way out was an exhausting way to spend a few hours. He kept thinking of new problems, like he didn’t have enough already. When the robot wandered past, he almost grabbed the bars to get closer. “Hey! Screw head!”

The ghost actually looked at him, the stern face looking more confused than anything.

“Yeah you! You know I’m gonna like, starve to death in here, right?” Danny had no idea how he was managing to say something he was very terrified of coming true like it was a joke. “Kind of a waste, don’t ya think?”

“You will be fine, ghost child. Your pleas for freedom won’t fool me.”

“Wanna bet? Maybe we’re so rare because we all starve to death in this dumb ghost world or whatever.” That and there probably weren’t too many people dumb enough to get shocked to...sort of death. “That and like, you’re some freaky machine man, you probably don’t know anything about eating to start with.”

Skulker kept staring at him, as if doing that would suddenly reveal all his secrets. “Well I prefer live specimens, but I suppose I could always do with another rug.”

Oh gross! “Seriously? Do I look like rug material to you?”

“Wall art?”

Yup, he was gagging now. The very idea a ghost would want to do that just made his spine want to shake right out of him with disgust. “I’d be way out of place, all of the other ghosts here look like animals! You’ll just gross all your hunter buddies out.” Maybe if he pretended to be some know it all like Jazz the ghost would...reconsider making him into wall art? Uurk. What was his life that he even needed to think that?

At least that got the metal monster pondering, massive hand scratching at his chin. “I do wonder if your pelt would only show half of your nature.”

“How about we don’t test that and say we did.” He’d seen some of the knives on the way in and did not want any of them near him thank you very much. Not that he had much of a choice- oh man he really, really did not want to learn why Sam hated the fur industry this way. “Pretty sure I’d just die. More. Or something.”

“Oh, but you’ve seen the other pelts on the way in. They’ve still got enough of a spark to not melt to nothing ghost child. I’m not that sloppy.”

Oh so he could be barely aware wall art. Even better! What would he do, skin him alive or just crush him? Both? “Humans don’t melt.” It was all he could think of blathering out. Don’t think about what the terrifying ghost guy can do Fenton, just don’t.

“True...unfortunately I don’t have another subject to test on.”

Score one for being a unique sort of freaky ghost kid. Maybe. “Soooo how about you just bring me back and rethink the whole uh. Hunting me thing.”

That just got Skulker laughing. “Not a chance whelp.”

“I’m not a whelp! I don’t even fit in with all your monster-things!” It had annoyed him, really. The other ghosts didn’t really...talk? “I’m not some animal!”

More chuckling, as if amused by a puppy chasing its tail. “Of course you are, with that stench of the human world on you.”

“You think I smell. With what nose, metalhead?”

“None of your business. Not to fear, any ghost here can tell you’re a hybrid. That human body you insist on wearing can be felt even when you’re in a superior form.”

Oh, was this a ghosts thinking humans were animals thing? Or was this a ghosts are kinda racist to different ghosts thing. Was there a difference? He probably should have paid more attention in civics. “Yeah well that ‘human body’ needs food.” He wasn’t even going to touch the idea that he was ‘wearing’ his own body, eeeeugh.

“I’ll figure out a solution to your hybrid failings, child. I won’t let a prize go that easily.”

Greeeeeeat.

#Danny Phantom #phic phight 2021 #dannymay2021 #skulker #unfinished im sorry fsljfsfs #i took longer writing then i meant to #but uh. i can use other prompts to finish #or something #i swear this was mostly meant to be funny but i didn't get to the funny bit yet

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yukipri · 3 years

Text

Marco’s Bauble Part 7 - a One Piece Mermaid AU Text Story

I ended up spending most of this past weekend setting up the Mermaid AU on AO3, so I do hope y’all will check it out over there!

Please note that on AO3, this Marco’s Bauble story is going under the title On the Courtship of Monkey D. Luffy. I didn’t really know where this series was going when I began writing it, and “Marco’s Bauble” was most definitely a starting point, but it’s expanded well beyond that now, as you’ll probably see in this update ^ ^; I haven’t decided yet whether I’ll rename all the parts on Tumblr or not.

BUT in the meantime, I’ll continue posting updates in advance here on Tumblr (and on Patreon even further in advance ;D), so here’s an update for this week!

In which Sabo confronts Koala.

Continues off of, and should be read after:

👒🐟Marco’s Bauble Part 1

👒🐟Marco’s Bauble Part 2

👒🐟Marco’s Bauble Part 3

👒🐟Marco’s Bauble, Part 4

👒🐟Marco’s Bauble, Part 5

👒🐟Marco’s Bauble, Part 6

Hmm, Koala thinks. So this probably counts as a "kabedon."

A kabedon, according to the young new recruits who'd explained it to her, is a situation in which one person, ideally tall and attractive, leans over a second, ideally smaller person, boxing them against a wall with their arms, essentially pinning them in place. Koala thinks it sounds like menacing posturing, but the recruits insisted that if done by the right person, it's a terribly titillating scenario, the kind you'd find in romance stories.

It happens to be the situation that Koala finds herself in now, with her back against the side of Merry's cabin as Sabo looms over her, effectively blocking all exits with his arms braced against the wall on either side of her.

Sabo, Koala grudgingly thinks, probably not only qualifies, but is likely the recruits' very definition of tall and attractive.

Right now, he's doing that thing where his eyes are half-mast, dark and unreadable as they peer down at Koala through the curtain of blond locks that have fallen across his face. It's a look that Koala knows has half of Baltigo swooning, and she's heard people call it Chief's Sexy Look.

Koala feels very strongly that those are a poor choice of words, because from personal experience, she knows it's a look that's usually followed immediate, brutal interrogation that often ends in screams and excessive bloodshed.

"Koala," he breathes, in that voice that has stolen the hearts of half the Revolutionary Army, and has convinced more than one unfortunate soul that perhaps, they might survive this encounter after all.

But Koala knows better.

Because his next words are, surprise surprise, "What are you hiding from me about my Luffy?"

He smiles then, and it looks misleadingly gentle, and Koala can see why strangers may mistake him for a benevolent princely gentleman.

But Koala knows Sabo. And all she sees is the manic sadism behind the oh so very fake expression.

She cringes, because no, there is absolutely nothing romantic or exciting about this situation at all. All she feels is Doom.

"Hmm?" she says, keeping her hands behind her back so he can't see them twist. In these situations, Koala's more than well aware that the more she talks, the more she incriminates herself.

Many who observe their partnership are under the impression that Sabo's just the overpowered guy who beats people up and destroys shit, while Koala provides intel. And while it's true that Koala has intel, Sabo's the one who often personally extracts it from their most stubborn sources.

In other words, what Sabo wants, he usually gets. It's usually a comforting thought, but not today.

"Hmm?" Sabo parrots back, eyes lazily tracing over her face, and Koala frantically tries to keep her expression neutral as he searches for an opening.

It's like when they were children, Koala thinks, when they played interrogation games with each other as assignments for Inazuma's class. Except this time, it's not Koala's grade on the line. And while Koala knows that her partner would never actually hurt her, he's also very capable of making life pretty miserable for her if she doesn't spill.

And right now, she has a secret she'd really, really like to keep away from Sabo.

The secret being, y'know, the fact that someone proposed to his dearest baby brother.

And even though it's extremely unlikely that Luffy understands the significance behind the gesture, she considers the gift hers, which, for all points and purposes...means she accepted.

Koala does not want Sabo to find out about this, from her, at least right now, before she has more information.

But, Koala glumly remembers, she's never actually managed to win any interrogation games against him.

"You know," he says, voice deceptively light, and Koala wants to groan because here we go. "Luffy and Ace mean the world to me. They're not just my past, they make me who I am. Even when I didn't remember, they were with me, and I was with them. They're everything to me."

Koala won't break. She tries to look for an opening without shifting her eyes, but Sabo's not an amateur and there are no escape routes.

"It would truly be terrible, if something happened to one of them, something that should be stopped, that I could have prevented if only I had known."

He's poking her defenses. He wants her to say, you're blowing this out of proportion, it's not that big a deal, or maybe you're overthinking this. Possibly even lie, I'm not hiding anything, or even counter, what makes you think I'm hiding something?

Koala knows better. Those are all traps, all openings that he'd pounce on, and she's seen him rip people apart for falling for them. Koala won't give him the chance.

He leans in close, and whispers in her ear, voice low and dark in a way that would make his fans cry, and his enemies cry too but for an entirely different reason. "You wouldn't know something that'd prevent me from fulfilling my duties as Luffy's older brother, now would you, Koala?"

Well, Koala thinks snidely, depends on what you consider your brotherly duties, and whether they include homicide and starting a war with an Emperor.

She says, "Mmm."

Sabo, or rather his mouth, smiles. His eyes are a void. Koala's not used to be on the receiving end of this particular stare, and she isn't enjoying a moment of it.

"Alright. If that's how you want to be. Let's figure this out together, now shall we?"

Sabo's voice is calm, exaggeratedly patient, like a therapist. He never talks to Koala like this, but Koala still recognizes this particular tone, and cringes as she realizes which interrogation pattern he's chosen. It's one she's ill equipped to counter at the moment, and he no doubt knows it.

Koala braces herself. Blank face, she tells herself, even breathing. He's using his stupid over-powered Observation Haki to keep track of your pulse.

"Well," he begins, "I know it's already about Luffy, because you're more nervous about me talking about her than Ace." It's stated as fact, and Koala blinks rapidly to moisten her eyes because she knows the real deal's starting now, and she'll have to avoid blinking when it might give her away.

"And it must be something you found out during your Fishman Karate sessions, because you don't have any other time together, at least when I'm not watching."

Koala isn't remotely surprised that he's monitoring everyone; after all, she's been doing the same. She wants to sigh but keeps it in.

"It's probably something physical, because Lu can't keep secrets if she thinks of them as secrets, so it might have been something you saw...a scar, or a mark on her body? No? Then an object she has on her...Ah, there we go."

Fuck you, I didn't give you any tells, Koala thinks indignantly, but she knows that expressing any annoyance will only confirm his guesses, and continues to refuse to speak.

"You've been going to the kitchen more often than usual, but not during meal times, or even prep times, but rather lulls...times that you have no business in the kitchen, and times where only cooks are present, cleaning up or otherwise doing tasks that don't require their full attention...the perfect time to chat."

Maybe I wanted a snack, Koala thinks, but keeps her mouth shut, because Sabo already knows when and how she snacks. This interrogation really isn't fair.

"And as for the cooks in question...well, if it were Sanji, I'd just ask him myself, but you knew I wouldn't do that, right, Koala? You know I could get it out of him, so if it was him, he wouldn't know anything of value. But I don't think he's involved at all."

Sabo looks at Koala expectantly. Koala stares right back at him, though her eyes feel very, very dry.

"So the question now is, why would my dearest partner want to protect Thatch, Fourth Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates and temporary first cook of the ASL Pirates?" Sabo talks as though he's asking himself, but he isn't, and Koala's not fooled. She keeps her face blank. "I doubt it's a personal thing, after all, his intentions towards Luffy couldn't be more obvious, he announces it at least once a day. And given my partner's obvious little lesbian crush, it doesn't seem in her best interests to help him, no?"

This does get a reaction from Koala, and her breath leaves her in a whoosh. Fine, make it personal. If he's figured out this much, it's only a few more steps till the answer, and at this point what does it matter. Koala glares, relishing freeing her face from its mask, and for a moment Sabo's back to his usual self, giving her a cheeky wink as though to say told you so. But then Interrogator!Sabo is back, because he's not quite done yet.

Whatever. She tried, alright. It's not like she owes the Phoenix anything. She leans back against the wall, bringing her arms in front of her chest, and scowls, hoping her expression projects exactly what she thinks of Interrogator!Sabo at the moment. Sabo likewise drops his arms, because he knows she's no longer going to escape.

"You're not protecting Thatch himself, because if you were we could solve it here, and it never needs to get out of hand. So you're protecting someone connected to him. The fact that you're being so stubborn, tells me that it's not just a personal thing, but something that could cause an incident, that would likely affect the Army. Which means, obviously, a Whitebeard pirate.

"But I don't think it's just any Whitebeard pirate. They're someone high profile enough that it would be a big deal if I were to confront them, possibly jeopardizing any potential future alliances the Army forms with them, or drawing the eyes of the World Government. Which, they're already watching us, which makes me think it's gotta be someone even bigger than Thatch..."

Which, of course doesn't leave much.

"It could very well be old man Whitebeard himself," Sabo says, but he's shaking his head. "But something tells me it's not. And I know that some very interesting little blue birds have been stopping by the Merry, likely with letters for Thatch, but possibly also with unsolicited deliveries for my baby brother..."

Your baby brother, chill with your possessiveness, does rubbing it in feel that good? Koala sniffs.

"And as for why it's a big deal...you wouldn't be so secretive over a crush. Everyone on the crew has a crush. That can be dealt with. This is a few steps beyond, something you think would make me mad, right, Koala?”

Sabo pauses a moment, but it's for dramatic effect, because Sabo knows that Koala knows that he already has an answer.

"So tell me, Koala. What did Marco the Phoenix give Luffy to try to claim her as his bride?"

And well, there you have it.

"Bravo," Koala says dryly. "I see you're qualified for your position, Chief. I'll be sure to inform the Boss."

Sabo tips his hat, and even though she allows herself to relax, Koala keeps her eyes trained on her partner.

He's taking this calmer than she expected, to be honest. Interrogator!Sabo still hasn't fully faded from his face, but he's no longer giving off sadistic vibes, and has that little frown that tells Koala he's still sorting through his thoughts. His ability to remain composed is likely affected by the fact that they're still in Paradise, and the Whitebeard Pirates and the New World are still quite a ways away.

Which is good, because it means Sabo can't just impulsively cause a massive incident on the spot. But it's also bad, because it means he's got more time to plot, and Sabo can come up with some pretty devastating things if given the opportunity.

"Sabo, I barely know anything myself, and neither does Thatch," Koala says, finally willing to speak. "I'm working on getting more information. Don't plan anything rash yet. It could all be a misunderstanding."

Sabo slowly nods, still quiet. Koala sighs.

This might be a good time to bring up a certain topic, she realizes. She'd been thinking about it for a while now, but had wanted to give him more time.

She first thought about it when the night after he regained his memories, she sees Sabo slip away from the Merry to pursue the ship that's transporting the slavers who tried to sell Luffy at the auction house. The slavers have already been passed in the hands of Army agents, all of the enslaved have been freed and are on their way to safety, and Luffy's back with her crew. Their job should have been over.

Sabo comes back before dawn, accompanied by Ace who had likely transported him with Striker. He seems calmer than the night before, but Koala doesn't miss that his gloves are still damp from recently being washed.

There've been other incidents too, in the short period they've traveled together. Koala's seen Sabo dangerously close to snapping (and actually snapping) more during the past few weeks than their entire decade together. And on one hand, it's understandable, but on the other...

"You know," Koala begins, as gently as possible. "she's no longer the child you left behind. She's an adult. Even if this ends up being nothing, she may still find someone, one day. What are you going to do then?"

If Luffy's in physical danger, protecting her is one thing. But what if it's something that she chooses?

The change is subtle, but Koala notices when the last of the Chief of Staff fades from Sabo, as his head tilts downward ever so slightly. And all of a sudden he reminds Koala all too much of the tiny, battered child who stared at himself in the mirror when he thought everyone was asleep, touching his scars and asking, Who are you?

"I can't lose her, I can't lose either of them," Sabo says quietly, and he overlaps completely with the lost child, and ah, Koala thinks, because she gets it.

That child, that self who was missing for so long, is back now, inside Sabo where he always belonged, where he always existed but couldn't be recognized. That child now takes up so much space, too much space, and still hasn't been fully reconciled with the adult that Sabo's grown up to be. Simpler, childish emotions and desires that feel too vibrant and raw, clashing with the adult's more weathered world view, aggravated further by all the darkness that Sabo's seen in their line of work.

Sabo's less concerned about Ace, Koala knows, because even though Sabo loves both his brothers, Ace is like his other half. They don't protect each other, but function seamlessly as a single unit, a unit with one priority that stands above all else.

Luffy.

Luffy, who as a child, Sabo was able to protect from anything and everything in their isolated microcosm. Luffy, who as an adult, Sabo knows all too well is more vulnerable than ever, as proven by the very situation in which they reunited.

A gilded glass tank, hidden away behind dusty curtains, with a dark, motionless shape crumpled at the bottom. Chains, chains, and chains upon bruised skin, and bubbles rising from parted lips, getting smaller and smaller as she slowly fades...

That was bad enough, but Koala doubts Ace or any of the others know exactly what the fate of a captured mermaid is, at least in the way that Koala and Sabo do.

Koala understands, she really does.

But she also knows the importance of freedom, not just to Sabo, but likely to Luffy and Ace as well.

"Would it be losing her?" she asks, and child!Sabo flinches.

"We vowed to be free," Sabo says, and he still sounds lost, like he doesn't know what the word means anymore. "And we will be." His hat shadows his eyes, and Koala can't imagine how they look at that moment. "But I don't want her to go where I can't follow."

"Then follow," Koala says, because what else is there to say? "Follow, if that's your freedom. But you can't stop hers."

"I know."

She couldn't have known how Sabo would take her words.

Part 8, we see more of Thatch.

Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!

As always, any comments are immensely appreciated and help motivate me to create more for this AU! ;A;

❀ ❀ Send YukiPri an Ask! ❀ ❀

~This ask has been added to the Mermaid AU Text Headcanons Compilation post~

#OnePieceMermaidAU #One Piece Mermaid AU #fic #text headcanons #Sabo #Koala #genderbend #longpost #long post #pre-SaboLu #should I still even post fics on tumblr or is that a waste of my time? ^ ^;;;

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catwithangerissues · 3 years

Note

Okay so for your weekly prompt, Fukunaga and I/Me/Myself by Will Wood please! Thank you! :))

I/Me/Myself by Will Wood - Fukunaga Shōhei

✨Hey! Before anyone says it, I’m fully aware that this song is about gender identity! But, I couldn’t do it justice to use it quite that way here, so I instead used the upbeat tune to make a cute ending :) Please give the song a listen, cause holy shit he’s one of my favorite artists now✨

“I’ve been feeling lightheaded since I lost enough weight to fit back in my skin

Flower petals and feathers tether me to the ground (pound for pound)

Take my tea with formaldehyde for my feminine side since the day that I died

While I whittle my bones until I’m brittle, am I pretty now?

For some reason I find myself lost in what you think of me

And too confused to choose who I should be

And now you’ve got me thinking”

“You’ve got to tell them at some point bro!” Yamamoto had been going on and on for what felt like hours, telling Fukunaga about how he needed to finally confess to you, but it always ended up the same way.

The black haired boy was too scared to tell you how he felt, for fear that you didn’t feel the same way. He was pretty insecure about himself, he thought you could do so much better than him and that there was no chance you’d ever feel the same as he did.

He had been quietly talking to the other second years about his problem, he thought that Tora would be helpful because he’d push him out of his comfort zone in the way he needed, and he thought Kenma would be the voice of reason in comparison to the teams ace.

What he didn’t expect, but probably should’ve, was for Tora and Kenma’s inevitable fighting and commotion to draw the attention of two of the third years, minus Kai who had been talking to Lev at the time.

“Come on, Kenma! You know just a-“

“Oi, what’s this about?!” The libero and resident mom of the team was becoming noticeably annoyed with all the noise.

“Fukunaga won’t confess to y/n because he’s scared they don’t feel the same way!” Tora shouted while trying to pry Kenma off of his torso, only for Kuroo to separate the two.

Fukunaga looked down at the floor, and a layer of silence dawned on the entire gym. His pale face flushed, and he began fiddling with his hands out of embarrassment and nervousness.

You see, basically everyone knew of your little crush on Sho, except for him. The entire team had been trying for months to get him to ask you out already, because they had long since come to the conclusion that you were too much of a scaredy cat to make the first move yourself.

“I- I just find it hard to believe that they w-would ever feel the same way..” Fukunaga timidly explained.

“Are you kidding!? Y/n has been going on about you for months dude! Just do it already!” The mohawked ace was quickly silenced by a loud back of the neck smack from the captain. “If you keep telling like that, they’ll hear you.”

After a quick exchange of discipline to the yelling boy, Yaku had made his way over to Fukunaga to comfort him, fearing he’d explode or melt from embarrassment at any second, now that the entire gymnasium had been made aware once again of his situation.

For the next several minutes, Sho had effectively poured his heart out to the much shorter upperclassman. He told him of his fear of you not feeling the same way, as well as informing him of all his insecurities both physical and otherwise. But it’s what slipped out of his own mouth during his rant of confessions that really stuck with Fukunaga.

“I think I’m in love with y/n and I’m terrified.”

“I wish I could be a girl, and that way you’d wish I could be your girlfriend, boyfriend

Am I pretty enough to lie to?

I wish I could be a girl, and that way you’d wish I could be your girlfriend, boyfriend

Just little old me in a big, big world

Little old me in a big world

I wish I were a girl”

Later that night, he laid in bed, hands behind his head and one leg over the other, staring at the ceiling, thinking of the words that slipped from his lips earlier that day. He didn’t know if he really knew what love was, let alone if he even felt it for anyone but his family.

But the words changed something in his brain, like a switch had gone off, and he couldn’t help but feel as though he was running out of time to tell you how he felt.

You both still had another year before graduation, so it couldn’t be that, at least he thought so. Maybe it was that you were the most gorgeous and kind human he’d ever met and he feared someone snatching his best friend away from him. Or maybe it was the ever present fear of one of his team mates, most likely the tall Russian puppy dog or the shark toothed ace, would slip up and tell you how he felt without him knowing.

He spent the rest of that night talking himself up to telling you, how he’d been head over heels for you for what felt like forever, tomorrow. He had to, he couldn’t let the love of his life slip through his fingers. “Wait, did I just think that?!”

“I’ve been feeling lighthearted since I gained enough weight back to cover my bones

I get dressed up in shadows one leg at a time – we’re so alike

But if the shoe fits, then I won’t try it on

You’ll be walking out early, but the show must go on

No, I know that I’m wrong

But I love how you’re on my side when I cross that line

It’s been a point of contention between myself and this body that they stuck me in

The privilege of being born to be a man

And now you got me thinking”

He met you in the usual spot. Your bright smile at his presence instantly making his cheeks heat up. You two had small talk for a few minutes, it eased his nerves slightly, but the voice in his head was screaming for him to just rip off the bandaid. If you were going to reject him he may as well get it over with, he thought.

“I told them I couldn’t beca-“

“Y/n.” The black haired boy interrupted you. Turning your head to meet his gaze, he looked tense and deep on thought, but at the same time more focused than you’d ever seen him before.

“Yes, Sho?” Your curiosity got the better of you, long forgetting the story you were previously telling the boy.

He was noticeably nervous, hands shaking and you could tell he was straining to keep eye contact with you. You felt concern wash through your entire body at the sight, fearing he may be ill or something worse.

“I- I need to tell you something, t-that’s been on my mind for a while.” His voice trailed quieter towards the end of his sentence, his voice slightly wobbly. Your hands came up to his cheeks, effectively forcing him to look you in the eye, and yes, he blushed profusely at the closeness.

“I wish I could be a girl, and that way you’d wish I could be your girlfriend, boyfriend

Am I pretty enough to lie to?

I wish I could be a girl, and that way you’d wish I could be your girlfriend, boyfriend

Just little old me in a big, big world

Little old me in a big world

I wish”

His confession had been a surprise to you, but you were overjoyed at the newfound information that the shy quiet boy had actually felt the same as you all along.

You couldn’t stop smiling for hours after it happened, and from the looks of it, neither could Fukunaga. He held your hand firmly but carefully in his as the two of you walked to the gym, routinely getting ready for you to drop him off for practice. Planting a small kiss on his cheek and exchanging your goodbyes, he turned to walk into the large familiar building.

He was greeted by the loud congratulations and praise of his teammates, noticing they’d been watching through the windows of the building, he couldn’t help but chuckle. He spent the next few minutes answering endless questions, and even if he was normally used to the provocative jokes that his teammates made, he couldn’t help but turn bright red when he heard, “remember to use protection” followed by laughter, as they dispersed to being warming up for practice.

“Eating your prosthetic meat/meet your anesthetic criteria, pathetic seeing you become acetic

Say my name like a slur, but I’ve been called worse

I’ve heard it all before, no this isn’t a first

Let me be the void you fill with taxidermy fingerprints, taxonomize our differences

I am quantum physics, my witness brings me into existence”

-Flash forward a few years into the future-

The loud, upbeat music played throughout the small space the two of you shared, it seemed as though the notes resonated off of the floor under your feet as you listened. With his right hand on your waist and his left hand clasping your right, the two of you spun around enthusiastically to the music. The tile floors of your shared apartment kitchen were as smooth as a dance floor for the two of you. With loud laughter, poor dueting, and pounding heart rates, you couldn’t find it in you- no matter how deep you thought- to feel anything but love at this moment.

With your partner of a few years now, stable jobs and schooling going well, in your first apartment together, dancing in the empty space- as you hadn’t bought any furniture yet. As the late afternoon, orange sun rays bled through the small kitchen window and onto the tiles, you two twirled and dipped to the beat, feet moving without thinking. You saw his bright smile as you spun, his arms catching you with ease. You wanted to burn this memory into your brain forever and never forget it. If you weren’t already certain of your love for the black haired boy, you definitely were now.

“I wish I could be a girl, and that way you’d wish I could be your girlfriend, boyfriend

Am I pretty enough to love back?

No, not yet

I wish I could be a girl, and really I’d prefer it if you would use I/Me/Myself

Am I pretty enough?

Am I pretty enough to fucking die?

Little old me in a big world

Well I would give you my whole world

Little old me in a big world

I wish”

-Flash forward again-

You were brought from your thoughts by the noises of your partner getting ready for the day. The two of you had woken up well over an hour ago, but neither of you wanted to leave the others warm embrace.

You laid in bed, watching as your partner got ready. It wasn’t that watching your now fiancé getting ready for the day was very exciting, he liked to keep his routine simple. But as you watched the way he moved around quietly so as to not disturb you, as he gave a glance over to your tired form to check up on you every few minutes, only to smile when he caught you staring again. As he routinely kissed your forehead after gently lifting your hair out of the way with his thumb, and as he told you he loved you and he’d be home soon to treat you to dinner and a movie tonight in a whisper.

You could almost cry at the sense of relief, happiness, and thankfulness that washed over you. In this moment, you were more grateful than ever for his old high school team of energetic boys that talked him into asking you out all those years ago.

✨Tag list: @almalckd @toworuu ✨

🌱This was fucking cute don’t @ me. Thank you for requesting! I love this song 😭 not super happy with the way this was written but oh well :)

#weeklypromptevent #haikyu #haikyuu #haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu fluff #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu matchups #haikyuu matchup #haikyuu fukunaga #fukunaga shouhei #fukunaga shōhei #hq fukunaga #nekoma #haikyuu smut

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iamtheempress · 3 years

Text

A Vegeta x OC Fanfiction (part 5) ¤ ¤ ¤

With this holo map lain out in front of them it was time to plan a first attack. A city not 70 miles away was perfect.

"You remember what i told you right?" Vegeta asks first, exiting the ship, and moving hair from his face. "Yes Vegeta. When does the moon rise?" He beeps the scouter on his face and looks to the ominous twilight sky. "About 3 hours. I wouldn’t suggest you look to the moon seeing as though you haven't changed into a Great Ape yet.. hideous being but it does its job and it does it well." He comments closing up the holo map and strides right past her

“Cant wait to actually see it!” Vegeta chuckles “That’s depending on the and crosses his arms over his chest looking at the slightly shorter Saiyan with an uncurled tail. Excited. Ready for action. Her blood was already pumping!

"We go there. Clear the area. Scout for food or signs of lifeforms and return back. This planet is enormous so i don't see this being a problem for you. As long as you follow my orders." His tone of voice really started to grate her nerves… “Lighten up Vegeta! Were going to be fine! I promise ill listen to you.” She punched his shoulder making him look back at her with an almost annoyed look on his face. It really made her feel a little wary, then she did beforehand.. if that were even feasibly possible..

"Do you plan on turning into your Great Ape form yet?" He rolled his eyes and squinted a bit, deep in thought, taking in some fresh air before doing anything yet. “You'll see.” He watched her tail winding around her tight waist as she adjusted the suit to fit her more comfortably. Vegeta scoffed. "Can't believe they made you wear that here…" he grumbled beneath his breath tightening his fist as he blasted from the entryway of the ship. Calamatta followed close behind after closing up shop.

It was now that she noticed the way the sun shone through the atmosphere made it perpetually twilight, it was beautiful and picturesque scenery of a brand new landscape giving way to rolling hills and mountains that looked untouched by anything even closely resembling a bipedal intelligent lifeform. A herd of animals ran beneath them as they made their way to this dystopian cityscape, shrouded in fog and lit up in a bright light.

SHe wondered to herself if this is the type of scenery they would see before terraforming a planet, it was romantic even in a sick and twisted sort of way.

The city came into focus and the time was nigh. To lay waste and do a job. Lives, alive or dead….or otherwise meant nothing. Vegeta landed in a city center. Void of life and anything at all. Overturned vehicles and blown out buildings stretched the alien metropolis. Vegeta turned to Calamatta and nodded.

"Do the honors, Calamatta.. if we get no action soon ill fall asleep standing up." He told her as he crossed his arms and stood close to her.

The small Saiyan smirked and flicked her wrist pointing up at the sky blowing out the city surrounding them in a hellscape beyond measure. This eruption caused the city to crumble into cinders beneath their feet. Flattening it to molten slag… the hiss of the hot ash settling on the ground earned her a slow clap from Vegeta. "Well done."

"Learned from the best." She bumped him with her hip, playfully.

All playfulness flew out the window when she locked eyes with the prince staring out at his scouter, beeping rapidly.

She looked in that direction and saw 6 lanky arms protruding out of the ground and pulling out a large bipedal creature.. mold colored and large eyes staring back at them opened its maw and croaked like a frog. "Oh hell…" Vegeta cursed and shot up into the air out of reach as it lunged like a spider to Calamatta earning a loud shriek from the saiyan and a panicked ki beam to the face blowing it to meaty chunky smithereens. Laying the field with snapped bones and limbs.

"What the hell was that???" She screamed up at Vegeta pointing at what's left of that thing. "Get the hell off the ground and up here before more come! They croak as a way to communicate!" She gasped and started to fly off the ground. Only to be grabbed by skeletal arms beneath her. Gripping her ankle and leg pulling her hard to the ground beneath, Vegetas look of blind shock was brief but he managed to slice these skeletal hands away as quickly as they clamped onto her meaty thigh. The 7 finger like appendages wrapped fully around her ankle and thigh causing a bruise to take its place. "This is worse then i imagined.. we cant remain on the ground! Stay up here woman i dont need you dying already!" He shouted and two more of those things came from behind a scalded rock, Burnt and mangled but still charging for them.

They ascended further and watched them leap aggressively for their legs. The two Saiyans look at eachother and blast these mindless monsters to smithereens. Their entire bodies turning to ash and flying away in the wind. “Those… are the inhabitants?” “What's left of them.. They’re zombified. Its that virus that took them over and reanimated them.” Vegeta warns turning to the perplexed female saiyan, she simply gulped and met the princes eyes.

“We wont be reaching any form of diplomacy.. Were only going to have to take them out the old fashioned way…” He growls and cracks his knuckles, his scouter beeps and a small smirk spreads on his face.

“The moon is almost up and I'm becoming already impatient.” He turns directly to her and places a hand on his hip, puffing his chest up. “We need to speed up this extinction event abit. Don't get in my way and watch your prince in action..” With that he blasts in a direction opposite her, she whips around and shouts after him “Hey!” She charges in the direction of the prince, keeping distance and just all over confused, miles upon miles later Vegeta comes to an incredibly large city. A grin growing on his face when he lands upon the highest building, “Calamatta!” He calls out to her though the scouters mic, she looks to the prince silhouetted against the rising moon and questions out of complete confusion and frustration.

“Vegeta what the hell are you upto! Didnt you just give me the third degree about 3 hours ago about doing anything drastic..?” She nags in his com, only earning a bark of laughter.

“Silly woman! You are not yet skilled enough to control your Great Ape form! It would be absolutely idiodic of you to do that! So do yourself a favor and relax and watch the best of your race in action.” He barked harshly at her, his words started to sting more and more and goddamn did she hate it. She crossed her arms and kept her distance as Vegeta turned his entire head to the sky and drank in the power of the full moon beaming down upon him. Igniting the great Oozaru that dwells inside of him like a match in a house full of open gas tanks.

He cranes his head back and roars loudly his entire body morphing from his original height into a massive ape. Calamatta was impressed.. terrified even, by the sheer magnitude of an untamable beast.

Upon hearing his roar of the Saiyan Prince made Great Ape came a cacophony of croaks rapidly approaching and thunderously loud approaching of feet, scuttling rapidly. The Ape turned his head and looked upon the small Saiyan pointing a thumb to himself. “Observe, Woman.” Vegeta boasted and turned back to the city scape back handing the sky scraper over, crushing smaller buildings beneath his boot. Devastating crush for smash the buildings came down and these creatures were being crushed like bugs. Scaling his boots only sealed their fates when he would kick buildings. His maw would open and a beam of chi would explode forth devastating everything within its path. He looked like he was having the time of his life. Leveling city block for sky scraper with a thwip of his tail.

Everything seemed so simple. Like these creatures only needed the touch of some Saiyans to get the job done. With this thought came that cocky demeanor yet again. Calamatta lowered herself to the roof top of a lower building and marveled at the Saiyan princes destructive wake. His roar enraptured her and made her feel alive… Something small within her that made her start to see what being a Saiyan meant. She hoped she could be exactly like him. Maybe stronger. She considered herself just as strong but didnt fully grasp the sheer magnitude of power she has within her little Saiyan body.

Unbeknownst to her and Vegeta she was being crept upon by an even larger zombie, a loud croak spooked her from her seated position and she was grasped tightly by this creature around her waist. A shout comes from her throat as she fires a beam of ki into his face only angering it as it smashes her against the side of a building, gaining Vegeta’s attention. He snarls and took one solid leap into the air to come down hard onto its back arms and dead legs.

“Goddammit you cant stay out of trouble cant you?” He snarls at her as he snaps the arm holding onto her like a pencil in his hands. With his free hand he grabs the croaking monster by the face and crushes it hard in his grip, holding the caged saiyan in his other hand. Giving her full attention with a disappointed face. “C-Can you get me out.” She asked him struggling to pull the fingers from her torso and leg. “Youll only cause more trouble if i do so i will keep you like this till we return back to base.” His booming voice reverberated sounding more and more condescending by the second.

Calamatta pouted and retorted “This isnt remotely fair!” Vegeta snapped, tired of being back talked. “Its not fair i have to watch over you like an unruly infant so remain still in my hand or ill leave you to die and I will do this goddamned planet on my own!” His teeth bare and foam spills forth from his teeth. The prince is fuming, if his bright red eyes had blood vessels they would have been long burst now.

Calamatta had heard enough. That one sentence struck a chord in her. It stabbed her right to the core. Vegeta just stared at her merciless in his words. He meant that. She knew it. Theres no question.. She took a breath and nodded, only to earn a single growl and a flash of his canines, as he turned back to the city to continue his onslaught.

Over 3 hours and the city was leveled entirely. Vegeta had been quiet as well as Calamatta. Her eyes remained fixed upon Vegeta as he finishes his onslaught.

Not a croak for miles. Not a peep from Calamatta’s pretty lips. “Hear that Calamatta…”

He says flatly in his godlike deep voice. She listens to the wind and raises a brow confused “No i dont hear any-” “Exactly… Silence. Sweet silence… Now i would like to hear it the entire trip back… and ill release you.” “B-But Vegeta!” “Not a word from you.. This is your punishment for being caught, woman.” She goes quiet and slumps into his hand. “Fine…” Her voice cracks and keeps her head turned away from him Quiet. Solemn. Forfeit…

¤ ¤ ¤

Tags: @memevember @dragonblobz @lizardhipsdontlie @nikabriefs @gonuclear @msgreenverse @fallen--lilith @lilhemmo @supremeleadershitlord @thotful-writing @dragonball-hcs-or-sum-shit @solidsock @jimbobslurpnchug

#A Planet To Conquer Fic #oozaru #great ape vegeta #Vegeta x OC #Calamatta~#ZombieAliens #dbz fics

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blackfemmecharacterdependency · 4 years

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13. Exposing the Void Pt. 1

A lot of this chapter is straight up Simon’s thoughts, so it gets jumbled and possibly confusing. Let me know if there’s parts where things are unclear (most likely in those times, we’re inside of Simon’s thoughts). Word Count: 5969. Trigger Warnings: Self harm, child death, child abuse, mental instability, mental abuse, dehumanization, betrayal, delusions, intrusive thoughts...

This chapter was actually the hardest for me to write in this story, thus far. And please keep in mind that in this space, there is no ableism allowed. So, refrain from using terms about psychosis or mental illness as insults towards the characters. The purpose is not to blame Simon’s actions on poor mental health or to excuse his behavior due to his trauma. The purpose is to understand a story in a world where mental illness is not necessarily the cause of why some people do evil things, but is sometimes a factor (not usually, as mentally ill people are generally more likely to hurt themselves than others), but yes, there are occasions where our psychosis can led to dangerous outbursts. Please don’t use the phrase “Go psycho” when referring to any variation of Simon Laurent, even this one. Thank you.

Simon was getting a tattoo. He’d already decided that much. He didn’t know of what, but he was convinced that he would think of something. It seemed healthier than self harm, at least… and a professional would mark him in this scenario.

He had a full course on his schedule, additional hours of extracurricular activities and work, plus interviews and maintaining his website. Plenty to do to keep his mind off of it - the void. His nostrils flared just thinking about it. Sometimes, he found himself checking social media for updates from a backup account. He had been blocked under his personal and professional ones. But, it wasn’t back. The last post was the same post that had been shared to each of them by its team.

“Hello, Apex Members. On behalf of The Internet’s Honey, Miss Grace Monroe, we would like to express the sincerest apologies for the negativity that has been spread and for the things that Miss Monroe stands accused of. She is seeking help at a secure location, and it is our hope that she will return to you soon, in all of her glory, fully restored, healthy and well.”

The comments were thousands of “Fuck Grace Monroe. She’s cancelled.” etc. He had been amused before, but the more comments that were added, the more numb he became to them. He was numb to many things… still somehow… it left its mark on him. He pulled up his sleeve and looked at his tallies… it left several. “Fuck Grace Monroe,” he whispered, shook his head and said in a louder, more confident tone, “Fuck the void.” A little mantra before his early AM classes.

Whenever he got home, though… He went through a range of emotions for a while. Everybody lies to me. Everybody leaves me… Even when nothing had anything to do with this thought process, if he wasn’t focused deeply on something else, there were the thoughts. Sometimes, even when he WAS working on something else. The thing about living alone and being at home was that he had a lot of time to get trapped in his harmful thoughts, and no Grace there to ease things. Not anymore.

It started with his mother. She was only going to be gone “for a little while.”

Simon wasn't confident in his abilities to watch himself AND a younger person. He was a cub scout and even a careful child, but he knew that Hope could be a handful, sometimes even for their parents. “I don’t think I can watch Hope, Mom.”

“Oh, of course you can, Simon!” She cheered. “It’s only for a little, short, while, and you’re my capable little man.”

Hope laughed and said, “He’s not a man. He’s Simon.”

“If Mom says I’m a man, then I am!”

Their mom clarified, “He’s a big boy who gets to be man of the house when Mommy and Daddy aren’t here. Mommy’s Little Man. You’ve got this, Si. Like I said, only a little while.” She tousled his hair and filled him with confidence that he had not had a few minutes prior… then she was gone for what felt like forever.

18 year old Simon knew that she had only been gone for 2 hours, but as a 10 year old watching a 4 year old who didn’t want to be watched by a “fake man,” it seemed like a lengthy stretch of time. With Hope doing things that she knew she shouldn’t, taunting him by telling him that he’s a fake man and that’s why he couldn’t stop her, and whenever she tried to go into the attic, that was the last straw. He had gotten really mad at her. She had been teasing him, calling him a fake man, a little baby, a small, small Simon… He didn’t mean to hurt her, but he was offended by her name calling. He was only going to drag her into her room and make her have a time out.

18 year old him knew that he was angry when he grabbed her by the back of her shirt, as hard as he could, upset with her, but also needing to get her off of the ladder and into her room. 10 year old him yanked her off of the ladder and flung her to the floor beneath them with rage. She let out a screaming laugh whenever she went flying down, but when she hit the floor… she became silent.

Simon shook his head. That wasn’t my fault. I was a child! The void had been right about that. “Who leaves a 10 year old home alone with a 4 year old?” He heard her voice ask, when they were kids. More than that - Who tells a boy that young that he is trusted with the life of a smaller child? That he’s “a man” because you need a little favor? Two. Hours!

He still didn’t know how long he had sat there trying to wake Hope up before their mother came back or where she was at that time, but wherever she was, he hoped she thought about it every single day that she tried to blame him. He hoped it ate away at her and corrupted her from the inside out until her health faded and her heart stopped. He didn’t always feel that way.

When he was 10, he blamed himself. He loved his mother. He wanted her back. He wanted to be her little man again, even though he failed her. He was still so young and confused, and nobody was helping him to understand it all. He couldn’t answer why he didn’t call 911. He was scared. He was crying. He... just didn’t think about it at the time. He hadn’t been prepared for an emergency.It was supposed to just be a little while! I was supposed to be the man of the house. Nothing bad was supposed to happen on my watch...

It continued with his father. So furious with his wife’s decision that he couldn’t stand to share the same breathing space with her most of the time. Unfortunately, that also meant not sharing it with Simon. He told Simon that he didn’t blame him. He lied. Some part of him had to, because otherwise, why would he have left him with the woman who had been so irresponsible that they already lost one child? Because… he died in his father’s eyes that night, too. The man was just too much of a coward to admit it. So, he just… left.

And Grace… He almost started crying, but shook his head and shook her it out of his mind. “Void,” he said and clenched his fists. Still… He missed her it. She It was the only thing that used to be able to get his mind off of his family, his pain, his guilt, his rage…

For so long, she it was the only thing. Now, he was left to just force himself to live through this. He was better off. It was going to stop his full potential. It had already stunted him so much. He spent years building a fortress for it and throwing himself in front of everything that came its way. Never again.

After they began officially dating, she was acting weird and he let it go. This was new for both of them and she was still trying to figure out her sexuality. He thought he was extremely understanding about her characteristics. As a matter of fact, up until the moment that he realized that she was a liar, he found no flaws in her at all. He loved all of her, perfect in every way and in the ways that she wasn’t, he never took notice. He just re-imaged those things as perfect, because they were things that were of Grace. Being a snobby, rich bitch - fine. Being lazy and irresponsible, sure. Being wishy-washy and confusing… he didn’t love that, but he accepted it and always assumed that maybe he was mistaken, or maybe she was the confused one in those moments. He never thought that she was deceiving him. Now, it was all that he could think about.

How many lies she must have told him over the years, how much of his childhood and adolescence was built upon those lies… He had to try to void everything that he had ever known her to be from his life, and from his mind.

“Do you not love me?”

“I do!”

Had he not been so blinded by his love, he would have known that she didn’t mean it. He would have heard it in her tone. He would have seen it in her eyes. “The void was just that good,” he told himself. “It tricked everyone. You watched it work for so long, you thought that you were exempt. It cares about nothing but itself.”

She seemed like she was withdrawing from him. He didn’t want to see it at the time, but he knew what that looked like. He couldn’t stop his mother from doing it. He couldn’t stop his father from doing it. He couldn’t even keep the pet cat around! How does one even run off an animal?

The point was… he saw Grace leaving. He saw her packing up. He saw her setting out. He did everything he could possibly think of to prevent it, even before she realized that she was leaving. But, when somebody wants to get away from you, they’ll do whatever you let them do to get away. She should have thanked him. He not only let her go, but he removed her completely. That’s what she wanted, anyway. She made that decision herself. “The void would have taken everything from you. Everything you worked for. Everything you’ve built. Everything you set in place to manage without the liars, the leavers, the lost ones…”

She first began slipping away from him before they became official. She started having problems with things that she didn’t have problems with previously… Honestly, she started the moment that she chose to leave him behind to tour for the summer when they were 15. The previous 5 years, she had plenty of times she could have went on the road. She either blew off her auditions or she didn’t push herself as hard. She had said that she could show off her skills on the Internet and have just as big of a following, if not a bigger one than if she built a resume of dance troupes and traveling ballet. She even forfeited the chance to be in a Broadway production, because she was worried that she’d never get to see him again. Then, when they were 15… It became more important to her than him.

He tried not to take it personally, because she had sacrificed plenty of opportunities for him before. But, it was a bad time for him, and a busy time and… he needed her. He always needed her back then. He had never been prepared to not have her. Sure, he could have went with her, like she wanted, but if HE put off his things, he didn’t have rich parents to fall back on. He didn’t have parents to fall back on, period. She… was in more of a position to give up her goals… but she had decided not to. That was fair. He told himself many times every day that was fair and she deserved to choose herself sometime. She came back changed… or maybe he changed without her there. That much doesn’t matter, right now. What matters is that he TRIED to fix them. She leaned more into these changes. These changes that could tear them apart. Changes that would leave him lonely again, for the first time in years.

Grace was working on her music career junior year. After the tour, she had connections that she didn’t want to go cold. She would throw herself into those and into creation while Simon was working on a future that he still hoped was for both of them. He was working his ass off for them, but in hindsight, she was working hers off for herself. After she was Simon’s girlfriend, at school, things felt different for her. Everybody treated her exactly the same way that they always had, but everything was just different.

Simon was either more social than she knew him to be, or had gotten that way overnight. Then again… He was in StuCo and held a position… so he had the social skills to at least win people over. She supposed that she hadn’t noticed because he was the one who she always had to talk out of a fight. He was more than that, of course, but… she guessed that she hadn’t realized how many friends he must’ve had, because he was doing a lot and having to leave her behind, most of the time.

Most times, he gave her a quick rundown of what type of stuff he had to do for the day, kissed her on the cheek, promised to see her later and rushed off. She chalked it up to the busy schedule that he had been speaking about for this year, at least a year in advance, and didn’t think much of it. At least, whenever they had space, she didn’t have to wonder what to do next. She didn’t have to decide if she should be sitting in his lap like his friend’s girlfriend, or in between his legs like that girl across the way, or straddling him like Shana sometimes did whoever she was dating, or… sit there, with her book, pretending not to see any of it and smiling at Simon whenever they made eye contact.

Simon was always studying her, surveying, making inventory of her expressions and potential emotions. She could feel him investigating and she didn’t know what to do with that. He didn’t know what to do with his findings… Why was she so uncomfortable when he looked at her? Why did she shy away from his gaze? What was wrong with her that she didn’t want his attention? She always wanted attention… it was basically her identity! Not only did she start to seemingly have problems with his attention, but also the rest of the world’s attention.

Being trapped in her room most of the time meant more work on her music. Anytime she posted something new, someone always showed up to remind others of how she "accosted an innocent woman on the train and threatened to ruin her life if she sought justice" and that she "is actually a terrible person." Sure, her fans defended her, but her focus was stuck on the negative feedback. Simon told her, “Don’t worry about those nulls. You’re Apex royalty. They’re scrubs.” He wasn’t remotely concerned about it.

Simon had asked himself if he had defended her to them, would things have been different between them… but the previous times he had defended her, she got mad at him! It took him days to get her back to normal, and even then, she seemed tepid. She was letting a bunch of strangers on the Internet doubt herself.

“She let a bunch of nulls weigh in on her confidence, then she got made at ME for agreeing with her parents that it was weak of her. It was! The Apex doesn’t care about the opinions of nulls!” He realized that he was speaking of the void like it was a person again. Personifying it. Humanizing it. That was sometimes difficult not to do. He would tap into his disappointment, hurt, and anger and he knew it was because of this rot that had spread in his life for years.

But, every now and then a glimmer of her smile, her smell, her softness would hit him in the heart and he would forget about it temporarily. For a few moments, she would be the love of his life again… “It doesn’t care about you. It never did. The void is a parasite. It would have poisoned everything, if you hadn’t cut the head off and incapacitated it.”

He glanced over at a mannequin head designed to look like it. It had given him the idea, inadvertently whenever it jokingly accused him of being a life size figurine of himself. Immediately, he thought - I’ve gotta make her one of those! It was a passion project, and of course, he didn’t have a lot of time to work on it, but the head was complete by the time it showed itself as the hollow it was.

Grace felt like she hadn’t smiled for real in a while. Nobody really noticed. The Apex didn’t know her that well. Simon didn’t have time for her. Her parents probably never cared. She went into town with her flock of girls, these days. She felt like Simon was sending them to be around her and she didn’t know if that was sweet or creepy. But, she ditched them at the mall to go to see him. He was at work that night, at the learning center. He had a job helping to tutor struggling kids - one that his credits as a student tutor at the Academy, his grades, his position as one of the students enrolled in the early college program, and a recommendation from Mr. Monroe got him hired at, despite the fact that most of the staff here were actual educators.

They didn’t even know about the fact that Simon had started a business of doing people's homework, projects, sometimes their tests from the time he was 11 until he was 15. He was definitely qualified for tutoring, but it was her father’s recommendation that really gave him the edge over actual teachers. He was satisfied enough there. He still did a project or two for the rich kids when he could squeeze something in, for extra cash. He was saving up to move out of his dad’s house. Now that his mother was at her mother’s, his dad was considering leaving the military and coming home. Simon didn’t want to be around for that, but there never seemed to be enough money for anything. That was his “adult” experience… Working all of the time, going to school, barely hanging on to his sanity, and yet being so broke that had his father not still been paying the bills, he knew he might be homeless and starving… so it was presumable that's how he might live once Mr. Laurent got back.

He couldn't ask the Monroes for more help. They had practically been taking care of him for the past two years. Mr. Monroe, at least, had been helpful in ways that Simon couldn’t describe. Sure, he believed he would have figured things out for himself , but thanks to the Monroes, he hadn't had to. He intended to pay them back eventually, but for now, he worked hard and loved Grace with everything else he had.

"Hey." He heard her say, walking in with a bag and a cup holder. His smile was wide and his eyes lit up. That made her reflexively smile back. How many of those smiles were fake, he’d have to wonder for as long as he couldn’t shake her out of his mind. “Ditched the girls to bring you dinner. Didn’t know if you’d have a chance to get to some on your own.”

He checked the time on his phone, “Actually, you’re right on time. I was about to go into the computer room and work on homework before I head out.”

“Yeah! Great timing is a thing that I definitely usually don’t have.”

They went into the breakroom to eat and Simon was on his phone, furrowing his eyebrows and blocking people in Grace’s comments. She glanced over and saw, then sank in her seat, not wanting to think about her latest post. “This sounds really good, Grace,” he told her. And he meant it. The vocal coach that she had began to see so that she could confidently transition into singing was paying off. It wasn’t that she sounded bad before, but her voice was pretty bland and she didn’t seem to be able to find her range on her own.

“I wish the audience thought that,” she said, with a sigh. The Internet was making her depressed and isolated. Every thing that she shared came with thousands of critics. As someone used to only either being complimented or ignored, criticism hurt a little more than she would have expected. Perhaps because she was too popular and therefore attracted more feedback than a person probably should have to be faced with at 16.

Regardless of that, Simon shrugged and said, “Anybody who doesn’t like it doesn’t have to listen to it. They’re there, so they obviously wanted to hear the song. Besides, I see way more support than hate.”

“Maybe so, but there’s a LOT of hate, and it’s very aggressive and hurtful. Like… I don’t understand why me trying out a new song and someone not liking it can’t just be scrolled by. Why did this girl have to tell me: Ugh. Everybody tries to be a singer. You’re a lip gloss model, Honey. Keep doing that. Beautiful gowns.”

“Because, she’s a bitch,” Simon said and took a bite of his sandwich. Grace let out an irritated sigh that caused him to look up from his phone. “What?”

“You just… don’t get it.”

“What don’t I get? The song sounds good. You have excellent equipment. You wrote pretty clever lyrics, did your own music, sang and was proud enough of your work to share it with the world. Now that a few birds have come squawking, you no longer see the greatness in what you shared? I know you wouldn't have posted it if you didn’t think it was perfect. So, I get it more than you do. You’re distracted by someone with a crooked wig on in her profile picture?”

Grace looked at the profile picture and saw that the woman’s wig definitely had been sadly placed onto her head. She laughed about it and laughed at herself a little too… but this was always Simon’s reaction to her venting about the people that made her feel bad. He’d basically make her feel a little bit worse by not acknowledging that her feelings were valid and by pointing out how insignificant her critics were. The simple fact that he had a point, that they were nulls, and she was letting them upset her only made her feel worse, which she couldn’t tell him because he didn’t seem to take her feeling bad that seriously anyway.

She knew it was because she had always prided herself on being strong and not caring what people thought about her… but she was handled a lot differently outside of her echo chamber. The Internet was global and her following was high, but some of the people who followed her seemed to do it just to see what to complain about, just to make a dent in her day. They succeeded, too. But, the only person she could admit it to just told her to suck it up.

“I’m thinking about going to a performing arts college,” she said. Simon dropped his phone and stared at her. She smiled awkwardly and said, “I mean… You’re preparing pretty hardcore for college and I’ve dived into this music thing. Maybe, I ought to be more serious about it and actually get the official credentials..”

“Where are you thinking of going?”

“I’m thinking of trying to go to Julliard.” He relaxed a little bit at that. Juilliard was in New York. That would be farther from him than he would like, but if he was at MIT, that would be about an hour away and if he was at Princeton… well… That would be 3 hours, or more… but… He had enough time to put these things into his planning and decision making. “Or… I might go uh, overseas.” Now, his frown was embedded in all of his features. “If I can’t get into the best one in the world, I’m going to shoot for the next best… that’s in Austria…” She bit her lip, waiting for his demeanor to change, hoping that he just had to think about it for a moment. His demeanor did change, but he seemed further away from what she wanted of him at the moment. “What brought this on?” He asked.

“Just… want to get more serious about my craft. Sure, I can spend hours and hours a day working on choreography and songs, training with some of the best professionals in the entire world, but people are still coming onto my dance video posts and saying things like, “I didn’t know that Grace Monroe could dance! I love her more now!” Didn’t know that I could dance? That’s like… the ONE THING that I can do with complete confidence! I’m trying to get my music career started when my first talent isn’t even recognized…”

“It IS recognized! It’s recognized ALL of the time. You’re just so focused on the dregs that don’t recognize, that you’re willing to go 4000 miles away from me, for years, to impress strangers on the Internet who probably STILL won’t fuck with you, because most of the people inciting you are people who just don’t like you, Grace!” He let out a chuckle of disbelief, but she hated it.

“Don’t laugh,” she said, very seriously.

“I’m not laughing,” he said, shook his head, then slumped back in his seat, resting his face in his palm as he tried to collect himself.

"How could you have possibly taken everything that I just told you about how I'm feeling and what I intend to try to do about that and just… make it about you?"

He uncovered his face to look at hers. She looked like she was going to cry. He hated when she cried. It was too far away from her normal… at least it used to be. She was crying more and more lately. Sometimes from the littlest things.

"If you can't see how much a decision like that will affect both of us, then I'm not sure if I currently am in the mood to explain it to you."

"Whenever I shared my thoughts about how much people were hurting my feelings, you didn't care about how that could affect the both of us. You just expected me to deal with it on my own. This is my idea for how I deal with that."

He leaned his elbows on the small table, steepled his fingers and rested his head against his hands. She wants to leave you. She’s using the excuse that people are hurting her feelings so that she can leave you and never come back. She never wanted you. She made that clear and you refused to see it. You thought that it was your brain being mean to you. She lied to you. She never loved you and she never wanted you. Now, she’s pretending that worthless people make her feel bad… She would rather look WEAK to you than to stay with you…

“Simon?” She said. He scoffed. Fake concern. Don’t let her trick you with her soft voice. She’s venomous. She let you love her because she was bored, and now, she’s trying to abandon you like everyone else. “Simon,” she said, more stern. Drown her out. Drown her out. Drown her out. Drown her… “Simon!” She had gotten up and turned his face to look at her with her palm. She made him look into her eyes and he was powerless again. “Where’d you go?” She asked, smiling nervously.

“Did I do something wrong? Why do you want to leave me?” He asked, in a small voice. Maybe his brain was being mean right now. Maybe… it was all a misunderstanding? PLEASE, JUST TELL ME YOU LOVE ME AND THAT I’M OVERREACTING! I. WILL. BELIEVE. YOU.

“No. I did. I thought that I was ready to introduce myself to the world and now that the world knows me, there’s people out there who can’t stand me and I just… I don’t know how to do with that. In real life, they at least pretend to like me, you know?”

She rubbed her hands together anxiously. Lies. She can’t possibly care about the way these strangers feel. She’s Grace Monroe. She knows that she’s invincible. Caring about the movements of ants is futile… “Okay… What do you need me to do to fix it?” He asked, trying to ignore his brain’s warnings.

“Just, support me? I just want to take a step back from all the Internet music, maybe keep creating and try to get into a studio with something I’m proud of, instead of posting onto my websites, and… I really want to try to go to school, just to be more confident that I really do belong in the industry and that I’m not just Internet famous because I was a pretty face with the best organic lip gloss.”

“Support you… leaving me,” he said.

She couldn’t pick up any emotion. It was like something had settled in his mind. Something that he didn’t let her know. “It would be temporary, Simon. Just like whenever you thought you would have to go to the military after graduation.”

“I recall very minimal support from you in regards to that.”

“Yeah, well… I stick by what I said. Our military is a global terrorist, oppressing and destroying civilization in mostly Brown nations. Juilliard is hardly like that, and I most likely will get in! I don’t think I'll HAVE to go to Austria. I wanted to be clear that it’s an option. I just meant the time that we’ll be apart. Plus, I’d send for you if you ever need to see me.” She knelt beside him, cupped his face and kissed him on the lips. He froze in place. She NEVER kisses you on the lips. She always moves her face to make you kiss her on the cheek, or the nose, or… something. She’s placed her hand between your mouths, before! You can’t ignore this any further. It’ll break your heart. You’ve lost her. There’s a void where your Grace once was… Tears fell down Simon’s cheeks as he stared at Grace’s confused face.

She wiped them away with her thumbs and as his tears were being cleared away, so was her face. He just saw a blurry form in front of him, a dark shadow, with an aura of smoke. He looked terrified. She turned to look behind her, alarmed by his reaction, thinking something was hovering over her. She definitely felt a switch of things in the atmosphere. She didn’t see anything though. Simon did.

A void. It stood in front of him, speaking with Grace’s voice and trying to pass itself off as the girl he’d loved for as long as he knew her. That girl was obviously gone. No longer fit for him. No longer fit for the Apex. “Okay.” He said, suddenly fine, as far as she could tell. “I’ll support you.” She offered him a small, confused smile, but he didn’t return it. He didn’t even look at her again. He collected their trash, threw it out and took her hand, “I’ll get you home.

Simon was silent the entire way to the Monroe’s estate. He didn’t get out to get her door, or walk her to the mansion, or talk with her father, so she knew that even though he said he was okay with her decision, that he wasn’t. It was best to just give him his space to work it out, she thought. She thought wrong... Simon tensed up whenever she kissed him on the cheek goodnight. As soon as she got out of the car, he peeled away, vigorously wiping the Apex red lip print from his face. She didn’t deserve to grant anybody that mark anymore.

He drove with trembling hands and lips, talking to himself, arguing with himself about Grace. Grace that once hunted down his bullies with him because she thought he was the most important person in the world. Grace who had threatened anyone who so much as said something rude to him in passing. Grace... who used to want to be near him, and have his back. The Grace that couldn’t stand the thought of being anywhere without him at her side... She was as dead to him as Hope was.

Speaking of... This had began right around the time that she brought him to the cemetery. Was it related? Had Hope somehow reached over and taken her vengeance on him by stealing away his Grace and replacing her with this dark spirit? This ghost? This VOID??? He pulled into the garage of his house, crying again. He left his backpack in the car. He wasn’t going to be doing anymore work that night. He passed the shrine that his father had in the workspace every time he pulled in, but usually, he avoided looking at it. Tonight, he paused and stared at her face. He... had forgotten it. He looked at the photos, wondering if she always looked that way? Not the angel that he remembered dying, but something sinister, smiling joyously at him as he shriveled in pain. “Did you do this?” He asked her. He could hear her laughs in his mind from that night. Her taunting him, making him feel like he wasn’t enough. “I didn’t mean it, Hope! It was an accident!” he yelled at the photos.

“Fake man! Fake man! Wook at the widdle baby man! Can’t catch me! You’re not a man! Mommy lied! Mommy lied!”

“I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to. I didn’t... Please, just... stop.” He whispered, crying more than he had in a long time. Her photos began to move, to cackle, to point at him and call him a baby man... He roared and punched the display, breaking the glass of the frame, which fell on it’s face, bounced off of the desk and crashed to the floor. Now, it was covered in blood. Only a bit of it was from his fist... the rest seemed to be seeping from the cracks in the frame. Like... he had killed Hope, all over again. He picked up a shard of the glass and clenched it in his fist. This was too much. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. This was his mind messing with him, He needed to center himself.

He raised his sleeve and looked at all of the tally marks that he had made for his Grace and he began to add on to them. “1 You are stronger than anybody you know. 2 You are smarter than anybody you know. 3 You can survive losing Grace. 4 Only you can get rid of the void that swallowed her whole. 5 You owe the Apex to get rid of the void. 6 You can do anything. 7 There’s nobody who could stop you. 8 You’re on your own now, but that’s for the best. 9 No one will hold you back. 10 No one can hurt you again, because everyone you loved is gone...” He took a deep breath, looked at the broken frame and threw his piece of glass on top of it. He didn’t even care about cleaning it up. The girl in the photo couldn’t hurt him anymore. And neither could the one in his memories... The one that he used to call Grace, “The void,” he said, going into the house.

#If They Didn't Get on the Train #AU Infinity Train #Infinity Train #Nesha Fanfiction #Infinity Train Fanfiction #fics

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impala-dreamer · 4 years

Text

A Rough Debriefing

SPN FanFic

~Abby is taken on a hunt, leaving Sam and Dean behind in what they thought was a nest of vamps. Turns out her captors had bigger plans, and maybe it was all just an elaborate trap.~

Arthur Ketch x Abigail Watson (OFC), Dean Winchester x Abby, Sam Winchester.

5,009 Words

Warnings: Angst. Smut. Plot Twist. NSFW. Extremely rough relations. Slapping, fighting, kicking, biting, choking. Handcuffs, Breath play, Asphyxiation Kink, Dirty Talk, Marking, Claiming. It's rough sex, ok? Not like normal fic rough sex. It's actually... bruising... rough... beating up... rough. Just... yeah.

A/N: Written entirely for my darling Logan. I hope you all enjoy!

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Lightning cracked overhead as Abby crouched down beside Dean. The ground was slick and oversaturated, and her boot heels sank into the soft earth.

"Nice rock," she teased, leaning against the boulder Dean was using as cover.

He cocked his pistol in time with the thunder, making his smirk seem impressive and not nervous.

"This is gonna suck, you know."

Abby shrugged and tucked a wayward strand of auburn hair behind her ear. "Not necessarily," she answered, trying to keep a bit of pep in her voice. "Besides, I thought you liked it when it sucked." Like a true Southern Belle, she batted her lashes and flashed an innocent smile

Green eyes smiled cautiously as they scanned the tree line. "Well...if you're offering…"

A laugh caught her by surprise and Abby punched his shoulder playfully. "Not what I meant, Sugar. But, maybe later."

Sam sighed louder than the rain, eyes rolling at their ill-timed flirtation. Pulling the gun from his waistband, he shifted onto his heels and started to stand. "You two wanna stay here and bang it out, or we are gonna do this?"

Abby clicked her tongue. "So much for romance."

Sam’s research told them that a baker's dozen of vamps were holed up in the long-abandoned Newton Asylum- the large, half-demolished, brick building that lay before them.

The trio had planned to arrive well before sunset, but a few minor setbacks had pushed their timetable back nearly three hours, giving them very little wiggle room on the clock. Not that it mattered much anyway; the sky was darker than night, lit only by harsh streaks of lightning that set the storm clouds aglow.

The front door was shut, but not locked; the windows void of their shatter-proof glass. Immortal weeds grew in every crack of the broken stone walkway and ivy crawled like streamers up every wall. Nature was taking the land back, but not before something wholly unnatural moved in.

Sam led the way, flashlight atop his pistol, arms high and locked at the elbows. He scanned the entryway as his boots crunched over dead leaves and shards of glass.

The building was silent.

Thunder shook what was left of the decaying windows as they moved through the first floor, senses on alert, eyes wide in the darkness.

Every turn was taken with a quick step and a lung full of air that lingered, waiting, holding on until the coast was deemed clear. Shadows lurked but not a being, human or otherwise, living or dead, was found.

“What the hell?” Dean cursed under his breath, letting his light fall to illuminate the dark scuffs on his brown boots. “Sam must have screwed something up.”

A deep hiss replied from down the hall. “I didn’t screw anything up!”

Dean mocked him silently, shooting Abby a glance in the dark. She was a room away, but the doors were long gone, hinges hanging naked as old wood rotted away.

As Abby stifled a laugh, every amused by the brother’s biting bickery, her shoe hit something hard and she tripped, arms flying out in front of her to catch her balance. Rubber skidded, metal clanged, and Abby gasped as the room went dark.

“Shit.”

“What?”

Abby turned her blind eyes towards Dean’s voice. “My torch is out!”

A faint laugh hit her ears and Dean shone a spotlight on her from across the giant room. “Who says ‘torch’?”

She rolled her eyes but blushed, embarrassed. “I do...sometimes. Shut up!”

“Catch.”

“What?”

The beam of light went spinning across the room towards Abby’s head and she ducked out of instinct. The flashlight rolled into the corner behind her, light flickering as the batteries shifted.

“Great catch,” Dean teased.

“You ain’t exactly Aaron Rodgers, sir. Toss much?”

She couldn’t see it, but Dean threw a face that was somewhere between impressed and annoyed. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t bring that hack up in public, please.”

Abby reached the light and flashed it across the empty room. “Public? This place is emptier than a Nickleback concert. Where the hell is the nest?”

Dean shrugged, his shadow’s shoulders lifting on the floor behind him. “Let’s keep moving. They gotta be here.”

The rest of the main floor was just as empty. The vast rooms held nothing but old furniture and dusty memories.

They climbed the stairs one by one, Abby taking the lead for once, tired of always being pushed aside. She wasn’t afraid of what waited upstairs; ghost or vamps be damned, she was going first.

A cold breeze lifted the short hairs on the nape of her neck and Abby sucked in a deep breath.

“I don’t know about vampires,” she whispered, looking over her shoulder at Sam. “But this place is more haunted than the Queen Mary.”

“Always wanted to hunt there,” he replied casually.

“You’re a nerd,” she laughed, almost missing the top step as she did.

“You brought it up.”

A deep shush cut their banter and Dean snuck up between them, pushing Sam aside to step in front of Abby. “Someone’s in there,” he said, nodding towards a half-open door down the hall to their right.

Abby looked around his protective armbar and shook her head. “You hear something?”

“No, my spidey senses are tingling,” he snit. “Yes, I heard something. Now, shut up.”

Ducking beneath his arm, Abby slipped around him and aimed her light at the door, pistol following. She raced off before Dean could pull her back, her tiptoed run silent on the antique linoleum.

A bolt of lightning set the windows ablaze.

A crack of thunder made Abby jump, her boots slipping through something wet on the cracked floor.

“Oh, fuck.” Her flashlight revealed a pool of blood filled by a stream coming from farther down the hall. “Wrong door, Parker.”

"What's that?"

Dean's voice was lost beneath a loud thud and a muffled scream.

Abby spun with her flashlight, nearly losing her footing in the slick flood. "What was that!"

Sam was gone, his spot behind Dean now empty.

"Sam?"

"Sam!" Dean turned on the spot, light shining upon nothing. "Sammy!"

Something creaked behind Abby and her heart skipped. Her face contorted in the shadows, filling with nervous energy as she tried to keep her hands steady. “Dean, someone’s in here!”

Dean was gone, pivoting away from her to find Sam.

“Dean?” She flashed her light but the hall was empty. She had two choices: follow and help, or get on with the show.

Abby continued up the river of crimson, following its flow to the end of the hall. The door was ajar, faint light seeping outwards, calling to her. The hinges moaned in protest as she pushed at the portal, gun raised, heart racing.

She held her breath as she stepped into the room, every cell on high alert, flight response threatening to kick in.

“It’s OK! I got him!”

Dean’s shout startled her back into herself and Abby exhaled in relief.

“What happened?” Abby asked, slowly turning back towards the hallway and his voice, boots sunk into the blood.

“Don’t know,” he called back, muffled by the distance and walls between them. “Knocked out. He’ll be fine.”

“Just what he needs,” she muttered, “another concussion. I swear to Go-”

Another bang of thunder struck, this time hitting Abby in the back of the skull. She thought briefly for a moment that thunder had never once actually hurt her before, but the idea soon died away as the blood-soaked floor rose to greet her. Her left shoulder hit the ground, sending a wave of pain through her system that shook the last breath from her lungs and made the edges of her vision fade to white.

It was dark.

It took a moment for Abby to realize that her eyes were closed, but once she opened them, the darkness remained, somehow seeming even darker.

She coughed, lungs struggling to take in air as if they had been still for hours, but her inhale was blocked, strangled by a leather strap pulled tightly between her teeth. The more she woke, the more details came through to her foggy mind. Her wrists were cuffed behind her back; cold steel digging into her flesh, her shoulders pulling and painfully strained. The leather in her mouth was wet, the hood over her eyes scratchy and thick, making it hard to breathe.

The world around her rocked rhythmically; wherever she was was moving. She uncurled her legs and hit a hard wall just inches away; lifted her head and slammed into the ceiling. She was in a trunk.

“Shit.”

Abby closed her eyes again and relaxed her body, trying to calm the painful pace of her heart. She listened to the engine, the wheels; pavement soon gave way to gravel and the car turned to the right, momentum slowing down.

She twisted her wrists, hoping to wiggle free, but there was no give. She squirmed, hunting for something to pick the locks with, but the upholstered trunk was empty around her.

The car jerked to a stop and Abby was thrown onto her back; arms aching as her weight crushed them beneath her.

A rush of air hit the hood as the trunk was opened and the faint scent of rain and mud passed through the tight fibers. Rough hands grabbed at her upper arms, yanking her from the car into the cold night air. She stumbled as her sleeping feet hit the true ground; toes numb, legs tingling.

“Walk.” The voice was gruff and unfamiliar; the palm shoving into her back was hard and uncaring. “Now.”

A protest bubbled in her throat but was pushed out as a huff, failing to make a difference as it faded inside the hood.

Abby listened as best she could, counted each step she took, noted the temperature change as she was led inside somewhere. The smells, the sounds, the feel of the ground beneath her feet- it could all be used later if she ever got a chance to escape. It was a trained instinct, ingrained in her mind, and no amount of fear for the unknown or her life could make it stop.

Finally, her journey came to an end, and the big hands pushed her forward until she fell, knees hitting cold concrete, chest bouncing against the ground. Abby grit her teeth as pain webbed through her body, but she refused to cry out.

A door slammed shut.

She rolled and sat up; tried to stand but gave up, slumping down against an empty wall instead. The cold seeped into her back, soothed her raw wrists, but only for a small moment until panic made her blood boil, and she began to sweat beneath the hood, gasping for air. She screamed and the echo called back, mocking her. She struggled to free herself but it was no use and the twisting only made her hands go numb.

When the air became thinner and her head began to swim with lack of oxygen, she let herself fall, hoping to rest against the stones and dream of rescue.

The door opened.

Shoes clicked against the concrete.

Abby was pulled up suddenly by smaller but just as forceful hands that curled easily around her arms. Her balance was off but they kept her steady, helping her to her feet and shoving her back against the wall.

She screamed, muffled beneath leather and wool; still raging against the unknown captors.

The world was set aflame with bright white as the hood was pulled away and Abby blinked into the fluorescent lights, struggling to focus on the gray and black shape before her.

“Ms. Watson. So nice to see you.”

Abby blinked furiously until his face came into view. She growled at him, trying to speak against the strap between her lips, but doing little more than drooling and moaning.

Warm hands lifted to her face, pulling away the gag. “Please, allow me.”

Her eyes narrowed as he drew near, slinking close like a snake ready to strike. His right hand curled around her neck and shifted through her hair, tangling in the deep red locks as he tugged, forcing her chin upwards.

She sneered. “Ketch.”

Arthur smiled. “Abigail.”

His lips found hers, easily pushing against her willing mouth, feeling it part instantly for him. His tongue dove inside and she moaned against it; eyes closing as he licked into her mouth. She smiled, sucking hard on his bottom lip when he backed away, breathing a gentle sigh.

“You bastard,” she sang. “What are you doing?”

Ketch cocked his head and looked down at her, his hand still tight in her hair. “I wanted to see you.” His tongue shot out again and ran across her lips, making them visibly shudder.

She gasped as he let her go unexpectedly; backing away into the room and letting her stumble to catch her balance. “Where’s Dean?” she asked, regaining her footing. “And Sam? What have you done with them?”

A smug smile pulled at his lips. “They’re fine. Back home in their little Bunker by now, I’d assume.”

“They’ll come looking for me, you know.”

“I’m counting on it.”

She laughed. “Dean’s going to kick your ass.”

Ketch’s jaw twitched. “Is he?” Rushing forward, he grabbed her throat with one giant hand and slammed her back against the wall. “Tell me about Dean Winchester,” he growled, lips ghosting across her cheek. “Tell me about how he’s going to burst in here and kick my ass.” He hissed, tongue pushing out the words on deep, rumbling breaths that vibrated through her his chest into hers.

She swallowed hard, barely able to breathe against the wide palm pressing down on her windpipe. “He’s going to kill you,” she managed, ruddy lips trembling as she spoke.

Ketch came back to center, hazel eyes boring into hers, lips meeting once again in a whisper of a kiss. “I very much doubt that,” he said softly.

She smiled, softening even as she began to collapse. Her vision faded once more as his fingertips bruised her throat. “So do I.” She kissed him hard, pushing back with all her strength until she had what she wanted. Her tongue snuck between his lips and he allowed it, savoring her desire as his grip loosened around her neck.

“Delicious,” she grinned, lapping at his lips when he withdrew. Somewhere inside the kiss, her voice changed, words taking on a crisp and proper accent much like his own.

“You’re awfully stuck on Mr. Winchester,” Ketch observed, dragging his thumb slowly down the middle of her, dipping into the curves of her collar and cleavage.

“That is my job, isn’t it?” she teased, neither denying or confirming her entanglement.

“Have you fucked him yet?”

Abigail laughed politely. “I really don’t think that’s relevant information.”

Both of his hands rose to grip her shirt. “Did…” He tore at the top buttons, popping them without much effort. “...You…” Down and down until her shirt was open; plain black bra and full breasts greeting him in the bright lights. “...Fuck…” Deft fingers slipped under the thin strip of fabric holding her tits in place and snapped, shredding the fibers instantly. “...Him?”

Her chest was heaving, breaths shallow and fast. “You told me to get close to them,” she reminded him, slowly licking her lips as he pushed the satin cups from her nipples. “So I got close.”

Ketch huffed loudly and slapped her cheek hard, forcing her face to the side, left ear crushed against the cold wall. Her body shivered with arousal as the skin on her cheek prickled with pain.

“Do it again.” Her voice was hard and rushed, her pale skin flushing as his handprint bloomed on her face.

“You do not tell me what to do,” he grit.

Heavy breaths and a husky voice defied him. “Do it.” She turned her eyes back to his, lips slightly parted as she waited for his response.

It came like a wave of aching pleasure; his thick fingers nearly leaving a mark on her creamy skin. Abby moaned as her flesh absorbed the sting, sending prickling bliss throughout her body. She swallowed it all down and her cunt pulsed in anticipation.

“Again,” she begged, voice dropping to a pathetic whimper. “Please.”

“No.”

He leaned in, black lashes brushing like wings against hers. She reached with her lips, catching his and sucking the bottom in, taking a bite of revenge for his lack of compliance. Ketch growled, his hands sliding firmly down her body, grabbing and massaging, bruising and caressing. She slumped against the wall, knees weak under his weight and attentions. Every pinch of his fingertips, each suckling kiss down her body melted her strength until she was limp in his arms.

“Arthur, please…”

He ignored her, sucking a bright red mark over her left nipple. He scraped his teeth across the bud and she screamed, thighs shaking against him.

“Take the cuffs off,” she whined. “Please...I need you.”

Pulling back he looked her over, plump tits out and shining with his spit, body marked by his lips and hands. A smug smile pursed his lips and his jaw pulsed as he clenched his teeth, holding in a proud moan.

“You need me?” he asked, running his left hand gently through her hair.

“Yes,” she breathed, eyelids fluttering as he offered a sweet kiss. “Please.”

The moment was over too soon and Abigail sobbed as he jerked her around; rough hands digging into her shoulders. Her tits slapped against the wall and she cried out again, all the heat in her body flooding between her thighs. The cuffs were gone in a snap, hitting the floor with a harsh clash as Ketch tossed them aside to take hold of her now bare wrists. The skin was raw and his touch burned.

“What about this?” he asked, forcing both of her hands up above her head. “Is this what you need?” He held them tight in one big hand and let his full weight fall on top of her as his teeth found the crook of her neck.

Abigail gasped. “Yes.”

His breath warmed the nape of her neck as he pulled his hips away and kicked at her feet, violently spreading her legs apart. “And this?” She bit her lip as his free hand rammed between her legs. He rubbed at her jeans, pushing the hard seem up into her already aching pussy.

“Yes!”

She pushed back, shoving her ass against his crotch, feeling him already hard and ready for her. Abigail wiggled her hips, grinding on him, panting lips pressed to the wall.

“Oh, you do want this,” he mumbled, teeth cutting into her ear.

Her eyes rolled as his left hand dropped from her wrists and slid down the wall. He pulled her hips back just enough to pop the button on her jeans and slip his hot fingers inside.

“Yes! Fuck!”

He plucked at her clit, strumming his fingertips against it, grinning as her body jerked in his arms.

“That’s right,” he whispered, “my dirty slut needs to be fucked so badly, doesn’t she?”

Her voice was as shaky as her legs. “Y-yes...please…”

His hand pushed farther down into her soaking panties and Ketch shoved two fingers deep inside her cunt.

Abigail clawed at the wall, her arms falling as the sudden fullness took the last of her strength. “Oh please...please…” Her head fell back against his firm shoulder and Ketch took advantage, tasting her rapid pulse with hungry lips and sharp teeth. “N-need to be… to be fucked...need your-your cock.”

Suddenly, he was gone, hands leaving cold spots on her body where they lifted, lips abandoning her throat causing a chill that spread through her system.

Ketch took a giant step backward, smirking as she nearly fell over. “Then you shouldn’t have fucked the Winchester.” His voice was steady but filled with jealousy, words spilling out over tight lips into the empty room.

Body shaking and pleasure stunted, Abigail pressed her forehead against the cool stone wall and took a breath. She tried to calm herself, but he’d already wound her up too tightly. She wanted to turn and beg him, but rage churned in her gut and she spun, eyes like daggers trained on his face.

“You son of a bitch.” She took a step, mindlessly pulling the shirt from her arms and letting her torn bra fall away. “You’re so obsessed with what I did with him? Why don’t I show you…”

Ketch crossed his arms defiantly as she rushed to him, her hands out like claws about to scratch him blind. Her strike came against his shoulders, shoving him off balance unexpectedly, and Arthur flew back a few feet, jaw agape at her sudden fury.

“Well now,” he began, steadying his stance. “This is new. I didn’t think you-”

Abigail shut up him as she jumped into his arms, giving him no choice but to move to catch her. They stumbled backward together, thankfully braced by the door, and her hands moved roughly through his short black hair, scraping at his scalp and gripping what she could.

“He always likes it when I do this,” she growled, shoving her tongue between his lips as her slight nails dug into the nape of his neck. “He’s a glutton for pain.”

Ketch let out a breathless moan and regained himself by slapping her ass hard. “Not unlike yourself,” he noted as she tried to take a chunk out of his collarbone.

She laughed against his throat as she dropped down, letting her feet tiptoe on the ground. She kept one hand around his neck, gently dancing through his neatly trimmed hair as the other tugged roughly at his belt. “He likes it when I take charge.” His slacks fell open, zipper pulling easily downwards. “Likes being used...being taken care of.”

“Is that so?” He tried to keep his composure, his face a mask of mystery, seemingly unaffected by her words or touch, but his blood was boiling, his cock throbbing, mouth watering.

Abigail tugged at his pants, nails scraping at his hip bones as she yanked his bottoms away. The cool air hit his cock and he tightened, letting his eyes fall closed for a split second.

“It is,” she replied, still on course, wrapping a tight fist around his full shaft. “He’s very needy. Very soft underneath all those scars and ripped flannel.” Her thumb slid over the tip of his cock and Ketch grit his teeth. “Very... compliant in bed.”

“Well, now I know you didn’t enjoy it,” he said with a smug laugh. “You’ve never enjoyed a wet blanket.”

Her lips curled in a secret smile as she rubbed through the wetness on the head of his cock. Ketch ran a finger up her spine and then grabbed the back of her neck, ripping her body away from his in a fury.

“You need to be roughed up,” he reminded her as she moaned loudly. “Need to be used like the whore you are.”

“And who’s going to do that?” she spat. “You?” Abigail cocked a condescending eyebrow and Ketch’s hand closed around her jaw, fingers puckering her lips painfully.

He leaned in; a devilish spark behind his eyes. “Yes.”

The floor greeted her, painfully jutting into her side as Ketch threw her down, barely using any effort to push her away. She landed with a thud and rolled onto her back, determined to fight him off despite the arousal deepening inside of her.

Ripping off his shirt, Ketch knelt down at her feet and caught her left as it came up swiftly, trying to connect with his jaw. While he was occupied with that, Abigail cocked her right knee and jabbed forward, aiming for his chest. Ketch was quick and dodged her attack, knocking both legs down and apart and reaching for her waistband.

“You fuck!” she cried, lustful anger burning her voice.

His hands tore at the denim on her hips, yanking it down and way as he sat back on his heels. “Don’t fight,” he cautioned, “it’ll only make this worse.”

She kicked at nothing, blows blocked by large forearms that bruised her calves and shook her bones.

He had her naked in no time, ducking beneath fists and soaking in her cries like nourishing sunshine.

Abigail fought him still; finding perverse joy in slapping his meaty shoulders and scratching at the soft down on his chest. The more pain she could inflict, the more would come back to her ten-fold, and all she really wanted, all she needed, was him to break her down to nothingness.

She didn’t have to wait long. Once Ketch was satisfied that the bruises on her arms and the marks on her stomach would set, he tugged at her knees and twisted them around his waist, lining himself up with her hungry cunt.

“Do it,” she hissed, “do it. Fuck me. Hard.”

His palm connected with her cheek, knocking her command away. “You’ll get what I give you.”

“Fuck!” Her cry faded into a desperate whine as he sank inside; thick cock filling her up perfectly. She whimpered as her body reacted, nipples stiffening, cunt tightening, lungs seizing. He’d been too long away, but her body remembered.

Arthur thrust in deeper. “I see Mr. Winchester wasn’t man enough to give you what you need. You’re just as tight as I recall.” Another hard snap of his hips. “Perhaps even more so.”

Her eyes rolled and she clawed at his chest. “No. No. He was nothing,” she cried, blissful tears forming at the corners of her eyes. “Nothing compared to you. Fuck.”

“That’s right.” He smirked above her and then dropped down, elbows framing her face as he set his pace. Every thrust pushed her spine into the hard floor, every jerk of his hips made her gasp and curse under thinning breaths. “You’re mine.” His teeth reclaimed her flesh, marking the delicate spot just behind her ear and Abigail gave up all fight, going limp beneath him as her body trembled.

“Yours.”

“Again.”

Abigail arched beneath him, pressing her tits into his chest. “Yours.”

“Again!”

Her body convulsed as his shout tore through her. “I’m- I’m yours!”

He took her lips, sucking the last breath from her lungs. “Then prove it,” he snarled. “Cum. Now.”

It took but a moment for her body to catch up with her mind, and Abigail let out a wail as she came, the orgasm rushing through her like fire, burning her inside and out. Ketch slapped a hand down over her mouth and nose, muffling her screams as he rode her through the pleasure. Her mouth pulled at his palm, her eyes bulging as she tried to breath against his skin, and the look of terror and surrender in her eyes pushed him over the edge.

He spasmed as he came, body shivering and hips locking between her thighs. He laid down, dropping his full weight on top of her; grunting loudly in her ear, hand still sealed over her face.

When her jerking ceased and her eyes began to roll, he sat up, removing his hand and kissing the corner of her slack mouth.

“Good girl,” he teased, already pulling out of her ruined cunt.

She rolled over, curling into herself on the freezing floor; waves of aftershock making her body twitch uncontrollably. “Fuck.” Her lungs burned; her face swollen and hot. Not a single part of her body didn’t hurt, didn’t feel his lingering presence.

“Indeed.”

Ketch was already up and dressing by the time she regained enough of herself to sit up. She stared up at him from the floor, eyes wide, body wrecked and dripping; a beautiful mess.

“So,” she asked, reaching to pull her clothes back on. “What’s the plan?”

“You’re going to be debriefed and then put back in the field,” he replied, closing the final button on his shirt.

Abigail stood and buttoned her jeans. “We could have done this with just a phone call…”

Ketch rushed forward. “Could we?” He reached out and grabbed her tits, squeezing hard, molding them in his big hands.

Her heart raced and her shoulders fell, feeling the rush of desire once more. “I suppose not,” she laughed, head flooded with endorphins. “What am I going to tell them?”

He turned away and she continued fixing her clothing, adjusting her shirt to fit better around her now unsupported breasts. “You know Dean Winchester won’t let this slide.” There was a hint of mischief in her voice, daring to bring his name up again. “He cares about me. He’s going to come looking for me.”

Ketch bent to retrieve the handcuffs from the floor. “That is the plan.” Grabbing her arms, he spun Abigail around and locked her wrists back up, tighter than before.

She was intrigued and let him do what he pleased. “What are you doing?”

The leather gag wrapped around her face and Abigail turned in his arms, confused.

“You’re going to wait here,” he explained, not a hint of sympathy in his deep voice as he fit the gag in place. “The Winchesters will call us for help and of course, we shall oblige, being the wonderful, helpful organization that we are…” He left her only for a moment to grab the wool hood from the corner. “And I shall help them rescue their poor, pathetic, little girlfriend.”

Abigail’s eyes went wide with anger and fear as he lifted the hood over her head. She shook violently and protested, drooling around the gag as her pleading words were stifled.

Ketch leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek before sliding the hood down over her eyes, sending her back into darkness.

“See you in a few days.”

It was dark, cold. Her body ached.

A muffled scream left her mouth as the door slammed behind Ketch, but no one could hear her.

She simply had to wait.

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@67-chevy-baby @akhuna01 @amanda-teaches @autumnmoon @because-imma-lady-assface @blondemarvelchick @blushingjared @broiderie @burningcoffeetimetravel @classic-rock-angel @coopercharlie16 @cosicas-cuquis @covered-byroses @crashdevlin @deansgirl215 @deans-baby-momma @deangirl7695 @deanwanddamons @deanwinchesterswitch @defenderrosetyler @desiree---1986 @dolphincliffs @dontshootmespence @edge-oftonight @emoryhemsworth @eternal-elir @fandom-princess-forevermore @fangirlxwritesx67 @feelmyroarrrr @flamencodiva @focusonspn @herbologystudent252 @heycasbutt @hornyandsmol @ilovefanfic86 @i-love-superhero @ilsawasanacrobat @imjustadrummer @ivvitm1109 @joseyrw @justagirlinafandomworld @justcallmeasmodeus @katymacsupernatural @laxe-from-outer-space @leatherandfrackles @lessons-of-red @letsby @letsdisneythings @lonewolf471 @maddiepants @mariekoukie6661 @meganwinchester1999 @missjenniferb @mrswhozeewhatsis @mummybear @onethirstyunicorn @our-jensen-ackles-love @screechingartisancashbailiff @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @starboycas @stephaniecanfield96us @stoneyggirl @squirrelnotsam @thebookisbtr @thehardcoveraddict @thevelvetseries @veevm @winchestersister55 @wendibird @winecatsandpizza @winterpoohbear

Special tag for @manawhaat for her gifspiration ;)

#ketch x reader #arthur ketch #smut #ketch x ofc #spn fanfic

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demonic-imposter · 3 years

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(Vent because holy fucking shit I need to scream somewhere)

(Disclaimer: I'm safe. Everything is just way too much and I don't really have any outlet rn. Was promised a therapist but once again our contact person has decided to disappear, so that's not happening rn apparently)

So like- adults keep being all "oh, I'm sure you and your dad will work it out eventually" and I get it. They relate to my dad, so they'll try to put themselves in his place. A lot of them probably have kids and have done stuff to their kids they're not proud of and they wouldn't like to be in my dad's position, but do they fucking ask why? No. And sure I'm being dramatic for just cutting him out of my life but like- I fucking cant rn. I already want to die and already hate myself as it is and I cant deal with all of the pressure that comes with trying to be his and my stepmom's perfect "daughter". I can't. Dear fucking dad. You kept telling me I should never let anyone pressure me into trying to lose weight, yet you're the reason I went for long periods of the day hungry because I was afraid of being fat. I still fucking do that shit. Because you told me I had gotten too fat. I was a fucking child and you told me I was too fat. Fucking thank you for that. I had a panic attack when someone suggested i should start working out because all I could hear was that i had gotten too fat and I can barely run around people because all I hear is you and my stepmom mocking me for being out of breath and all that translates into is that I'm fat. Yesterday I went without eating for about 6 hours. That was without breakfast so it's really longer, but from I woke up until I actually ate. I felt dizzy and almost lost my balance at one point. I also weighed myself, obsessed over trying to figure out whether I was overweight or not. Felt proud that I was close to underweight. Kept hoping I'd find some fucking page that would say that I was underweight. I felt proud for all of that bs. Apparently my body fat is too low. Halle-fucking-lujah.

Dear dad, you say that you don't recognize all the problems they're describing at the psyk. You say that it doesn't sound like the happy girl you knew. I'm not a girl but thanks. I didn't feel like I could come to you because for as long as I can remember you've taught me that mental illness is wrong and that people are just being lazy. You didn't have to say it with those words. You said it about my mom. You wouldn't hear any other story than the one in your head and it sorta seems like that's still the page we're on.

Dear dad, you say you weren't angry but you said you were in the message you sent me. You said you were angry and disappointed and worried about my absence from school. You were angry because I included mom and not you. Tbh I didnt want to tell mom either, partly because you pushed me against her, but also because she really couldn't and cant take it. I had to because otherwise I couldn't go to the doctor. Calm down?

Also why the fuck couldn't you message me to tell me to get my stuff? My stepmom had to? And she had to deadname me? Thanks

And you know what- dear mom, I'm not your friend. I'm your son and I want to die basically every week. I'm so overwhelmed by the smallest ammount of stuff and you venting to me is not helping that. I understand that you need someone to talk to, but you know what? I dont think that should be me. It has always been me and you know what? I really dont have the energy to be the mom in this relationship and just... please stop treating me like a friend. I'm not your equal. I'm your child. I'm tired. You feel guilty about me being like this because you feel like it's your fault and honestly it partly is. I have had too big of a burden on me since I was a kid and it's never going away it seems. I can't deal with that.

Dear void. I want to die, but I won't because my mom will blame herself and if she fucking tries to kill herself that'll devastate my brother and he can't be alone. My mom keeps talking about our relationship as if it's just this equal thing where I listen to her problems and she listens to mine. Sure, I'm totally not her responsibility in some way but okay let's just talk about how it's bad for your mental health that I finally admitted after 10 years that I'm not doing so Gucci. Everyone keeps saying they didn't see it and like- no shit. You didn't create a space where it felt safe to show it and you still don't. I tried to tell you but words aren't enough apparently. When I was 9 I used to fantasize about killing myself so my mom would realize she loved me, but honestly now I just want peace. I'm not even sure she'd react the way 9 year old me would've needed her to either way. After all, she didn't do anything that day when she thought I was gonna leave. Why not?

#suicidal thoughts tw #suicidal thoughts #tw suicidal thoughts #vent #negative #personal #death mention #tw suicide #suicide mention

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miserydemandscompany · 3 years

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Everything feels wrong

Horribly, horribly wrong...

I feel sick, I feel nauseated, a part of me feels that something isn't real

I despise this, the feeling that everything I do, or that my entire personality, is somehow false. I've spent so long having to pretend that everything is fine, that everything's okay.

Even with tears in my eyes, I have to pretend that my ever-changing mask is who I am. If it cracks, if it slips, should I falter for even a second...

Would there anybody be by my side? I can't help but feel that I'm somehow imagining my surroundings, that I'm back in the place I was as a child, that all of my efforts were for nothing...

The strangest thing is, I know it's in my head; I can see that my surroundings haven't changed, but somehow I feel that I'm blinded by this reality and the one in my head is where I should be seeing myself, that the past several years have been nothing but a mirage of lies I had deluded myself into.

The static in my head is deafening, persistent, it aggravates me whenever it pleases and always at the most inconvenient of times.

Perhaps it's an undiagnosed illness? Mental or otherwise? That's what I'd like to say, but...

Of course it's a lie. I've always been faking things for attention. Why would now be any different? There's nothing actually wrong with me. Never has, so why would that be any different? It's probably just hunger anyway from me accidentally not eating on time.

Just because there are tears doesn't mean it's real. Not for me.

And even if it was, who would believe me? What right do I have to speak about things I don't understand? Not even questioning the possibility is allowed, because it's just my mind making excuses to justify ignorance of any kind. It doesn't matter if it's intentional or not.

Even if I wanted to say my piece and speak of my experiences, I couldn't. The only thing I am capable of is silent screaming; I had lost my voice a long time ago. Even the mere thought of it would cause me to suffer; I would choke, suffocate even, before I could force the words out of me.

Ahaha... this sadness? This rage? What right do I have to emotions like this?? What a joke, me, pretending to even be remotely human! I was never human, I was only a tool. People like me only exist to be used; that's what society has always said.

The thoughts in my head consume me, deafening but ever-silent like a void. Tears? From where? There wasn't anything to justify it, after all; I feel nothing right now.

I think about the masks I have to put on, and the hats to show what skill I have, if I have any; it's depressing that I have to be a solo circus act, pretending like I am not one, not six, but twenty different performers. They are always in awe of me, but it's never enough, it's never enough for anyone, they will always want more!

And when the performer fails, when they falter under the pressure from all directions, where are the souls that claimed they cared? Where are the ones that usually tried to help, but couldn't because my burden of stress is too much for anyone but myself; even sharing the weight is nothing but agony for them.

They will leave me soon, or worse turn on me. They usually do. I can't keep this up forever, I'm slipping.

And so is the ever-shifting mask I wear. The minute it slips, that's the moment it cracks.

I can't help but feel that the pedestal that life has put me on is unstable now. Will it break, or will I collapse and fall?

...Will there be someone to catch me before I hit the ground?

#tw intrusive thoughts #tw insecurity #tw internalized phobia #opening up the vents #pâro #everything i'm doing is somehow wrong #let me know if tags are needed #hehe intrusive thoughts and imposter syndrome go brrr #tw unreality #daydream don't peek #if you happen to find this somehow #would me having a rough day count as bad news? I'm uncertain but don't want to take my chances #slow descent into madness #long post #tw self-hate #i don't know what to believe anymore #i thought I was so much stronger #looks like I've somehow lied to myself again #why should I even be surprised that I'm this good at manipulating myself anymore?

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d20owlbear-deactivated · 4 years

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Discorporation VII

From the Ineffable Bingo prompt I4, “Temple kiss”

538

“You ride with Arthur then?” A low, subdued voice asked from behind Aziraphale, who turned on his heel, hand on his sword hilt. A woman was there, with a particularly familiar voice. She wore a veil that hid her hair from him but her dress was black velvet with burgundy stitching around the hem of subtle scenes of serpents and hares. He had no doubt her hair matched the color underneath the veil.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale whispered sharply, frowning loudly and dropping his hand from his sword. “Just what do you think you’re doing here? I told you, I won’t be helping you– helping foment your chaos!”

“None of that, angel.” Crowley scoffed with a frown Aziraphale could only barely make out. She stepped into a shaft of light from the tall, thin window and Aziraphale’s breath caught. Her eyes were bare and piercingly golden, though she had forced her pupils round, and wisps of her hair curled seductively from underneath her head covering. The fabric of it was thin and nearly transparent except for it’s dark color and her wine-red hair could be seen through it if one stood transfixed long enough.

Aziraphale quickly pushed the observation from his mind and narrowed his eyes at her. “And if that’s not why you’re here, then why are you?”

“Morgein!” King Arthur called solemnly from down the hall, having caught sight of them in passing. Her back was to him and her eyes remained on Aziraphale as she smiled. It felt like a sword in his chest for some reason he didn’t care to look into.

“Yes, Great King?” Crowley said back after some moments of silence, waiting patiently for the King to come to her. Aziraphale huffed at the indignity of it, and eyed King Arthur dubiously.

“There is supper to be had, and it would delight me if you were to join us.” Arthur said, offering her his arm. “And perhaps we may speak then of why you have come.”

Crowley looked up at Arthur, who was only just barely taller than her, “My heart may never cease to rejoice when I hear such pretty words from you, Great King.” And then she turned her golden gaze onto Aziraphale pointedly.

“And which knight is this?” She asked Arthur, placing her hand on his elbow without bothering to look, obviously familiar with this charade of hers. “I have not seen him before now.” Arthur laughed in reply and proceeded to guide Crowley away, presumably for her to pretend to eat and break bread like she wasn’t a demon in his castle, and regaled her with the tale of Sir Azira Phail and how he’d saved him and his lot from a dastardly beast in the woods only a few months ago.

Aziraphale, of course, followed.

Over the course of the next fortnight Crowley was everywhere. Each time Aziraphale attempted a miracle to aid who he could, Crowley was there doing something nefarious. Aziraphale was forced on his toes at all times, he could not sleep—not that he had before, but he had no time to read at night as he liked anymore—he could not eat, nor could he take any leisure time to himself with her presence around the castle. She was constantly fomenting her evil mischiefs and damning the days of those around her, under the guise of being witty and well-liked by those in court.

She inspired envy and lust alike, Aziraphale was sure. And by the end of two weeks, she seemed no longer content to simply run him ragged as he did his best to contain the ill she caused. Another fortnight passed and she still avoided him except to wile her way around and worked her way up to timing things just so, so that his miracles would be truly reversed, fully nullifying them in their entirety.

“Sir Phail,” Crowley greeted him, circling his shoulders like she made a habit of these last few days, from his right to his left, as if he might ever be inclined to hide her behind a shield. Well, perhaps, if there was suitable cause, but Aziraphale was finding himself less and less inclined to do so the more she vexed him like this.

“Lady Morgein.” He replied dryly, his distrust of her was not something he was particularly opaque about, cautioning King Arthur to keep his eyes on her. The King’s affirmative reply was not as assuring as it could have been, with his eyes on her barely-hidden hair.

Crowley offered him her hand and he took it, drawing her roughly to his side and placing her hand in the crook of his elbow. It would have been unbearably rude for him to do otherwise, and he had never loved and hated the social morasses Humans created more than now. His hand remained atop hers, holding her there so she wouldn’t be able to pull free so easily and swan off before he was done speaking, but the words left his mouth when she smirked at him and laid her remaining hand over his. As if to say check and mate.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale growled lowly, the rumble of his lion’s head in the ether seeping into his voice and he turned all of his eyes onto her, sharp and staring. He watched for every movement of her incorporeal form and every nuance of her human body, standing so still even moss may have grown on him given the chance.

“Aziraphale.” She sneered back, the void-black hood of her occult form flared and she reared back on that other plane, and between two human-like bodies there were nearly sparks of lighting for how charged the air grew between them, the smell of burning ozone filling the room.

“King Arthur is under my protection, foul fiend. I will not let you corrupt him.” Aziraphale intoned, Heaven in his voice.

“You can have him,” She replied, a hiss threading through her throat and her fangs sharpening even as Aziraphale watched. Crowley didn’t bother to flinch when Aziraphale’s eagle head screeched and snapped at her spiked tail, which had snuck up behind Aziraphale when all his eyes were so trained on the less hidden parts of her.

“Then what is it you’re here for?” He grimaced, not noticing the way servants and other nobility alike fled from their path, even as they couldn’t comprehend why two mildly upset looking individuals were so abhorrent to pass by.

“That’ss not for you to know, now is it, angel?” Crowley stood to her full height, both in the mortal plane and the one above it, flaring her wings in challenge. The way she said angel was an insult this time, no longer some secret adoration. “We have no sssuch Arrangement.” And with that Aziraphale pulled his hand out from under hers, feeling her magics pull together for a retreat, and he snapped a circle in place beneath the two of them. One meant for binding a demon in place and rendering it harmless.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale accused her with nothing but her name, disengaging from her and stepping out of the circle and remained unflinching when she screeched, enraged, and pounded fists that quickly turned into scaled claws at the invisible barrier. She opened her mouth again to scream before quickly pulling all her demonic form inside her mortal body. With his eyes on her, Aziraphale could see the seams of her corporation glow an uncomfortable Hellfire orange with the strain.

She tumbled to the ground with a grand performance of grace, seemingly boneless in her fall, and began weeping great, fat tears and her veil became artfully shaken, hair dripping from its previous confines in sultry curls.

“Azira!” The King shouted from down the hallway, but he was too far away to do much, and certainly not god-blessed enough quite yet to stop a smiting.

Aziraphale unsheathed his sword in a smooth gesture and moved with divine poise to take his sword in both hands and dropped his body along with the point to pierce her unguarded back which she had presented him on her knees with her show for the Humans.

She died dramatically, writhing and screaming like a snake, and snarled that the entire court would rue the day they allowed her in to be killed, before scrabbling her clawed fingers up Aziraphale’s chest to sink her nails into the back of his neck and pull him close to whisper in his ear.

“Remember, angel,” she murmured throatily, and Aziraphale could not help but be held entranced at the seduction in her voice, even as he didn’t let go of the sword that ran her through, “This could have been easy.”

And with that she turned her head to kiss his temple, and let her grasp on her corporation whither as she was shunted back to Hell, leaving him with an alarmingly, rapidly decaying corpse and a blackened, burning imprint of her lips on his face. And Hell to pay in the form of the ire of the king he was meant to empower.

#discorporation #discorporation series #Aziraphale #Crowley and Aziraphale #aziraphale/crowley #crowley #crowley good omens #good omens #good omens fanfic #good omens fic #My writing #Help I've fallen into Good Omens and I can't get out

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warmau · 5 years

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{Regular Inspired!AU x NCT} Doyoung

tw: weapons mention, violence mention, n*fw elements, be warned. everything written here is a work of FICTION, it does not in anyway reflect reality, nor do i condone any of the extreme behavior. ♢ introduction ♢ pick mark instead | pick haechan instead | pick yuta instead | pick johnny instead

“i know i have asked a lot of you, and that you picked me to protect you and all ive done is use you to help my own means - but this will be the last time.”

“i choose doyoung”

you say

only to regret it a moment later because maybe you shouldn’t have called him doyoung so easily,,,,,maybe you should have went with mr.kim,,,,,,,

he is the head of a major department for this company

i should be more formal from now on! i mean he looks like he probably hates being spoken to casually

but doyoung doesn’t correct you

instead he slips the notepad he’d used to write down something into the pocket of his lapel

he steps closer to you

and for some reason it seems like the room has gone ice cold

not because you think doyoung is particularly,,,,,,,mean,,,,,but his eyes are so dark they could look black in the weak office lights

he outstretches a hand to help you off the table

and the rest of the members watch intently as you take it, skin warm and shaking against doyoung’s palm

“ill take care of them well”

doyoung says, gaze settling on jaehyun as he continues to hold your hand

you’re too embarrassed to scan the rest of the room

instead you stare down at your shoes

and hear jaehyun confirm

“doyoung might not look like it, but he’s pretty agile and smart. im sure you won’t get hurt~”

taeil comments as he floats past you

the room emptying out

until it’s just you, doyoung and jungwoo

who takes his phone out before letting out a sigh

“i would stay with you as well, but i have to deal with something.”

he says to doyoung who gives a short nod

“go. send a report if you need me.”

jungwoo runs a hand through his hair, throws one glance your way and then turns on his heel

“jungwoo and i work closely together. he keeps me in the loop of the,,,,”

doyoung pauses

“of the extra affairs of jung enterprises.”

you don’t even notice it until you try to answer him, but your lips are quivering

you touch them and doyoung watches

“you’re probably trembling because of everything that’s happened so far. don’t be fearful, it’s a natural response to shock.”

you just open your mouth - but nothing really can come out

what do i say to that? is he trying to comfort me - his tone sounds automatic, even robotic ,,,,, being a genius must make him very careful with his words,,,,

doyoung motions with his hand for you to follow him outside

you go along, thinking that you’ll be driven to some secret hotel or be kept in some warehouse owned by the jungs

but you’re taken to your home and when you get out of the car

doyoung steps out with you

“i,,,,i think ill be ok on my own-”

you start, but doyoung scans the quiet block of your neighborhood, without a second to spare he takes his notepad back out and scribbles something down

muttering to himself the whole time

“three, no four possible entry points - there are mostly residential buildings here with ample spots for stakeouts and ambushes. i classify it as,,,,,most likely dangerous.”

you blink, it’s hard enough to follow along with his train of thought but he speaks so fast that it makes your head spin

“it - it’s not that dangerous really so -”

he clicks his pen closed and ignores you

“best that i stay with you tonight.”

before you can think of a response, let alone register it in your head

doyoung,,,,the kim doyoung,,,,,wants to spend the night in my apartment?!?!?!

doyoung is already heading toward the lobby

you rush to catch up and take the edge of his sleeve in your hand

“um - do-doyoung! i mean mr. kim! i just ,,,, i don’t know ,,, ,what ,,, what the neighbors would think about me having you over for the night and i don’t -”

he stares at you without much of an expression as you try to form a coherent sentence

before cutting into your gibberish

“you’re of an age where you could be bringing me home as your partner. there isn’t anything suspicious about that.”

WHAT?

your mind rattles at the sudden string of words that come out of his mouth

partner???? your partner???? bring home?????

while you’re back in a stage of shock, doyoung proceeds forward

within a matter of seconds he figures out what floor you’re on and the passcode to your door

which you don’t even want to ask how he does, but he tells you the answer anyway

“it’s either your birthday or whichever keypads have the slightest indentations on them.”

he walks the perimeter of your home silently, hands clasped behind your back, dark eyes outlining the walls - the windows - the doors

you’re still silently stunned when he’s done, jotting down whatever it is he’s gathered from his self-tour of your home

before tilting his head toward the hall

“it’s been a long day, you should sleep.”

finally you break out of it - ok ok kim doyoung is standing in my apartment what should i do,,,,,,should i offer him water? should i tell him to make himself comfortable? should i ask more about what the hell kind of situation im in?

doyoung doesn’t waste time waiting for you to answer, he instead shrugs off his blazer

folding it neatly and placing it on your sofa

“if you don’t mind, ill be borrowing your couch for the night.”

you only manage a meek nod and he puts his hands up to undo his tie

“and again, if you don’t mind, im going to get undressed. i don’t much care if you watch, but seeing as though i don’t think you’re that kind of person-”

you throw your own hands over your eyes and mutter that you get it, you get it - you’re going to sleep now

doyoung watches you scurry embarrassingly away and when he hears your door shut

he pulls the notepad out again

in the morning, you nearly forget about doyoung

only to catch a heart attack when you come out after your shower in just your towel

and doyoung is standing at the door, fully dressed, hair slicked back and his eyes completely void of any surprise when he looks at you

“oh, you’re up.”

you scream,,,,,,,,,,,,,,which you apologize for later profusely as you and doyoung wait for a car to pick you up and take you both to work

he puts a hand out as if to say that’s enough and you shut up, berating yourself quietly about how much of an idiot you must look like to him now

but also,,,,,you think it’s a little odd about how calm he is about everything - from spending the night with a stranger, to nearly seeing that strange half naked

i mean it’s not like im such a sight to see,,,,,but still - he didn’t even avert his eyes,,,,

the car pulls up and you’re surprised to see jungwoo is driving

he looks tired - there are bags under his eyes, but otherwise he’s still as intimidatingly handsome as ever

doyoung gets into the passenger seat beside him and the partition is rolled up so all you can hear is their muttering voices

you sigh, resting your head on the window as the streets of seoul roll by, the looming shadow of jung enterprises getting closer and closer

out of curiosity you begin to wonder how doyoung ended up working here,,,,

trading his natural intellect for a life of underground crime

he’d got world famous for being appointed his head position of marketing, but he had been in the news even before that

called a boy genius for graduating college at the same time most other people were just becoming high school freshman

he’d become the south korean champion at chess when he was thirteen

you remembered seeing his face on tv, your parents gushing over how it’d be like to have a child so gifted and so talented

looks like they’d just sell their brain for money

you think, but then reprimand yourself - you’re sure doyoung and everyone else working here had their reasons

when you get to the office, mark and sicheng both ask you sympathetically if you’re ok

johnny chastises doyoung the second he sees him

“kim doyoung, i never took you to be such a dog! sleeping with them on the first night! looks like you’re giving nakamoto a run for his money!”

doyoung doesn’t entertain the comment, but you’re sure the rest of the office sees you nearly turn red

jungwoo throws a sharp look the lawyers way and johnny seems to know better than to provoke

so he turns away and you walk with your head down behind doyoung

“i have a lot to do today and the marketing team has deadlines, be useful and assist anyone in the department who needs it.”

doyoung instructs and you’re happy that he’s given you some kind of assignment

you were worried you’d be forced to sit in a corner with jungwoo’s hawk like stare fixated on you for hours

so you readily agree and leave his office to go ask if anyone needs a hand

the marketing team is made of regular people, unaware of any other business going on other than legitimate projects

you help out making spreadsheets and inputting corrections into documents - everyone treats you like the job you applied for - an intern

and even though it’s not the kindest treatment all the time, you’re content because you don’t get your hands on anything illegal

and plus, the experience is what you wanted for your resume in the first place

not like im writing - hostage of jung enterprises when this is all over in my past employment section

every now and then you think you can sense someone watching you, but you write it off as jungwoo or jaehyun

you don’t guess that it’s doyoung - who keeps detailed notes to himself

jungwoo does notice it, he notices the file doyoung makes in the afternoon and slips between the other paperwork on his desk

the file with your name and the numbers 000127 on it

you spend the next couple of weeks doing just that - intern work

and it’d all feel so normal

if it wasn’t for doyoung staying over at your place every single night

and every time you want to argue that it’s fine, you promise you won’t run away or do anything to jeopardize the jung’s secret

and that doyoung shouldn’t stress himself out living here when he could be in, what you assume is, his million dollar loft somewhere

but doyoung just goes, “shall we set ourselves up together in a hotel somewhere?”

and that thought just seems somehow worse than letting a world renowned genius crash on your sofa

it’s just,,,,,,he seems so out of place ,,,,,,,, with his expensive clothing and his piles of paperwork - which he does keep tidy

and the way he,,,,,,, works in complete silence unless he’s on the phone with jungwoo

he just seems so meticulous and neat,,,,,and you’re a young person who sometimes throws your sweater on the floor and who leaves books on the kitchen table

you notice that these things irk him

doyoung quietly moves your book back to it’s shelf and folds your sweater into the closet

your living room seems more and more spotless as days go by

and you’re not sure,,,,,,,,,why - but you think doyoung needs to have things in order, he needs things to make sense to him

you get home from work with him one evening and you suggest that he watch a movie with you

at first you just wanted to see his reaction, you were sure he had other things to do

but he’d agreed

and when you put it on - you sat uncomfortably far apart and still throughout the whole thing

you’d, like any normal person, had made responses to whatever happened in the movie

when it was a sad scene, you’d sigh - when it was a humorous scene, you’d laugh

doyoung did neither

in fact he showed no reaction at all, aside from opening up that notepad and writing something down

he must always be thinking about work, writing whatever comes to mind even when he should be relaxing

you’d turned off the movie when it ended and awkwardly thanked doyoung for watching it with you

he said he’d “enjoyed it” but you weren’t all that sure

you start picking up on the fact that doyoung doesn’t really have any sort of reaction to anything

he fluctuates only between two expression; stone serious or almost murderous when someone messes something up in his department

even jungwoo shows more emotion than him

you’re copying papers for the marketing team one day when mark comes into the room, he shuts the door

and you open your mouth but he motions for you to be quiet

“huh, what? no, that can’t be right they promised they’d take care of the authorities in that section. what? you’re telling me that our guy got picked up?”

mark makes a pained expression followed by an exasperated sigh

“we have no choice, we’ll have to send someone in. if they took him hostage ,,,,,,,,, doyoung is going to make sure we get him back.”

the look of pain turns almost malicious as mark straightens up

“yes, yes. he’ll be there? ok. ill inform jaehyun and doyoung, see what mr. jung wants us to do.”

you feel uncomfortable for eavesdropping, but the copying room is small - even if you didn’t want to hear, you didn’t much have a choice

mark stuffs his phone back into his pocket, hand on his forehead as if he’s lost in thought

he then looks up at you and puts his hand out

“you’re going to have to come with me.”

you find yourself following mark downstairs

past the offices and past the first floor receptionist, you’re going into what you can only assume is the basement of the building

it’s dark at first, and there’s a door with a touch sensored lock on it

mark presses his palm to it and tries to say that everything is ok to lighten up the terrified look on your face

it doesn’t work

especially when the door opens and you step behind him into a room illuminated by only a red light

the walls decorated in photos of shady looking people, weapons of all sizes lined up in cages, and two sectioned off tables

at one end is jaehyun, feet up on the table - stacks of money spread out in front of him

“jaehyun, we have a problem”

mark starts and jaehyun shifts, getting up he looks at you as if you’ve done something bad

but mark shakes his head, reading his train thought

“no,,,,it’s ,,,,,, it’s got to do with jungwoo.”

doyoung is brought down and briefed on the situation

apparently a deal that was made with some underground thai faction went sour

they were supposed to help jungwoo get into thailand with no problems, of course smuggling across a couple of very illegal and very sought after valuables

but instead of helping, they’d taken him hostage and were demanding the jungs pay a hefty price,,,,,,,,or else

you avert your eyes when mark explains that this can be deadly

but you do curiously take a peek at doyoung

but again

nothing

aren’t they close? not even the prospect of jungwoo being in danger can make him show any sort of reaction?

instead, doyoung adjusts his blazer and crosses his arms over his chest

“so who is going to be sent to retrieve him?”

jaehyun paces back and forth, “jungwoo is too valuable of an asset to lose. my dad will agree with this. i think we should send sicheng and-”

“they took him in thailand right?”

doyoung finally speaks and all eyes in the room turn to him

“send me. ive never done a job like this and the people in thailand won’t know who i am.”

mark shakes his head, “that’s too risky, you were pretty famous before you joined -”

“i was famous in south korea, maybe japan and even america. but no one in thailand cares about me. plus, i can wear a simple disguise.”

jaehyun seems to be considering this, but his lips pull into a thin line

“and what about -”

he jerks his head in your direction and you stiffen

“they’ll come with me. we’ll go undercover to thailand like a couple of an engagement trip. no one will suspect us.”

wait what?

you turn your attention back to doyoung who doesn’t seem to even be thinking about what he’s just implied.

you doing an undercover mission with him? the deal was you’d just be another intern as long as you kept your mouth shut - not working directly for the jung family?

but you can’t bring yourself to argue, you just hope jaehyun can read the look on your face or at least mark

but both of them once again look like they’re actual considering this.

you have to figure out a way to protest this, to get some sense knocked into everyone, to remind them that you’re just a-

“they’re a regular person, it’ll make our undercover operation impossible to unearth.”

if you could, you’d slide down the seat you’re sitting in and refuse to come out until they all agreed that sending you to thailand with doyoung to save jungwoo from a bunch of dangerous goons isn’t the best idea

but jaehyun signs off on it

he motions with his hand for you and doyoung to go off and get ready, while instructing mark to set up plane and hotel arrangements

before you know it, you’re following doyoung to the garage and getting to a car with him

“w-what is going on?”

you finally manage to ask as doyoung puts one hand on the steering wheel and stares straightforward without even tilting his head to acknowledge you

“im sorry to get you tightly wound up in this, but you chose me to protect you. i promise to do just that, but for now - you’ll have to deal with helping me out on my job.”

“i thought your job was head of marketing - i thought you were just updated on these things, not that you’d take part in them!”

your voice shakes as you raise it - but doyoung doesn’t even blink

“that is true, most of the time i simply help out with strategy and figures. but they have jungwoo and im convinced if we send any of the other men, they’ll be found out. this is the safest way for us to get him back.”

you open your mouth, but you catch something flash across doyoung’s face as he speaks about jungwoo

it’s a look of,,,,,,,,,,of failure?

“now, im going to drive you home. get your things ready in an hour.”

he starts the car and you decide you have to drop the subject, there’s no way you’re going to get out of this

great, looks like im now not an intern but an accomplice in something that’s probably not going to look good on my record if we get caught!

doyoung waits in your living room as you try to pack, muttering to yourself that thailand is going to be super hot and you don’t even remember where you packed away your summer clothes

for the first time since he’s been staying here, you see doyoung come into your bedroom

looking around with a hint of annoyance in the twitch of his lip

“what is taking so long?”

“it’s just all of my winter clothes are out, i think my summer stuff is in storage so-”

doyoung turns on his heel before you can finish your sentence

“nevermind that, follow me.”

you do as your told, trying to tell doyoung that you haven’t managed to pack anything yet

but he ignores you, picks your keys up for you and ushers you out the door

he drives downtown, unphased by the questioning look on your face, before pulling up to the mall

he parks, all the while saying absolutely nothing, and makes his way toward the doors

you try to ask where you’re going, but doyoung doesn’t waste his breath

just goes into whatever store he sees fit, pulls you in front of him and toward one of the sales associates

who tries to say her rehearsed greeting but doyoung cuts right in

“we’re going on a trip. it’s a warm place. please choose some clothing for them.”

he hands you off to the associate who looks just as confused and startled as you do

before he takes a seat and pulls out that little black notepad

you don’t even get as much as a squeak in before you’re being corralled into a fitting room with piles on piles of clothing

all of which you don’t think you’d ever be able to afford

but when you pick out a couple of things, doyoung instructs you to just give them to the cashier

before slapping down a gold card and then motioning to one of the duffel bags on display

“that too, and if you’d be kind enough just put them inside that bag.”

the cashier starts off by telling him the price, but doyoung shakes a hand

“it doesn’t matter, just please be quick.”

you stare at the receipt for what must seem like hours

rereading the number in your head and gawking at it

as doyoung drives back to the jung offices and meets mark back in the basement

mark slides over to fake passports, a pair of plane tickets, and a bottle of what looks like bleach

you start thinking about one hundred different reasons as to why you’d need bleach

when doyoung picks it up

“ill go do it before the trip.”

mark nods and you look between them

when doyoung is gone, you look to mark and ask him what the bleach is for

to which you only get a small laugh in reply

“you’ll see.”

it takes a while for doyoung to return, mark stays with you and you chat a bit

when you decide that this might be your chance to ask what you’ve been thinking for a while now

“do,,,do you know why doyoung joined the jungs?”

mark gives you a bit of a half-nod

“you’re wondering why a natural born genius would need to work for what essentially are gangster, right?”

“yeah,,,,i just i remember seeing him all over tv. a chess champion, a mathematician, it just seemed like he was going to use his intelligence for good ,,,,,”

you play with the fake passport, opening it and looking at the photo of you

the fake name and fake address

“well,,,,we all have our reasons for working for mr. jung. i can’t personally talk about doyoungs,,,,,,but sometimes being a kid genius isn’t the best way to grow up.”

mark shrugs and you hear the door open

doyoung is back, but you nearly fall from your seat when you see what he looks like

his thick, black hair always neat and proper has been dyed a solid bleach blonde

the bangs hang in his eyes, unkempt and almost intentionally messy

the striking color brings out the narrow, handsome features of his face and the darkness of his eyes

he was handsome before - you admit that, but now he looks like a character from a manhwa

you can barely pick your jaw up after it dropped, but once again - true to doyoungs style - he acts like this is nothing

he grabs the passport, bids mark a farewell after letting him now he’ll be in touch when you land

and he snaps his fingers, to let you know it’s time to go

im not a dog, don’t treat me like one! you think, still too nervous to really object to anything doyoung says or does out loud

but still you step in line behind him

at the airport is when your real anxieties sink in

these are fake passports, will your face give away the fact that you’re hiding something, how are you and doyoung supposed to act like a couple if he’s never even once shown any kind of emotion related to affection?

the questions make you dizzy and as you get closer to the ticketor you think you might just pass out

she greets you when you two approach, doyoung handing her the passports casually and placing your duffel bag on the scale beside her

“ah, a thailand trip - so nice to get out of this cold weather~”

she says and you can’t think of an answer, but you should because doyoung hasn’t been the best at making normal conversation -

but then doyoung’s poker face breaks and he smiles at her

actually,,,,,,,,,,,,,smiles

“yes, me and my fiancee can’t wait to get there!”

fiancee?

she sheepishly smiles back, tells you two to enjoy the weather, and hands back the passport

no qualms, no problems, no questions

and doyoung’s own acting,,,,,,,leaves you more stunned than anyone else

the flight there is short and you get nestled into the hotel mark booked without any slip-ups

everything is going smoothly

the only thing out of whack is doyoung,,,,,,,,,,who has not stopped smiling at flight attendants and hotel concierge

and who’d even made a dad joke with another couple on the plane over

who is this person? did the bleach rearrange his brain?

you think, before scolding yourself - no he’s just pretending to be normal, this is part of the undercover ploy

once alone in the room, doyoung opens the duffel bag and dumps your clothing onto the bed - beneath it are a couple of tech devices and doyoung gets to work on setting them up

taking his phone out to call jaehyun and let him know that you two have arrived safely

you start folding the clothes, remembering that doyoung has a bit of a quirk with messes

and even though you don’t want to listen to what they say, once again, you can’t really help it

“we’re here. everything is set up. do you know where they’ll be?”

jaehyun’s voice comes over the phone

“according to intel the same group that has jungwoo operates out of the hotel’s casino. you should be able to get a view on them when you go there tonight. ill send over photos of who to look out for.”

you places the clothes neatly into one of the empty drawers and notice how doyoung keeps tapping his finger against his knee

“i think we’ll keep our distance for now, but it’ll be good for me to know their faces. has their been any news on jungwoo?”

it’s silent for a moment and the whole room feels still

“,,,,,,,they won’t release any information on him so we think he might be in serious trouble.”

you bite back your lip, you don’t know much about jungwoo personally but it still hurts to think of what could be happening to him right now

doyoung doesn’t ask anything else, he just tells jaehyun that he’ll keep him posted and hangs up

you finish with unpacking and sit on the bed - doyoung gets up and checks the time

“the casino opens for business at around nine, we should get ready and have dinner before then.”

the hotel you’re staying at is grand, it’s more like a resort than anything else and as you and doyoung walk through it

you’re distracted trying to get a glimpse of everything

doyoung doesn’t really take particular care in any of that, he fiddles with his cuff link and then stops you before going into the casino

he offers his arm and you stare at it

“we have to give off the appearance that we are engaged, please hold onto me.”

you tremble a bit when you do as your told, but doyoung is calm and unaffected

the casino is bustling, even though it’s just opened and doyoung scans the room for any familiar faces

he seemingly spots a group of men clustered around the in-house bar and smoothly leads you over too

he doesn’t get too close - maybe five or six seats away and he orders a drink

turning to you, you notice that some of his hair has gone out of place so you reach up to fix it

doyoung puts a hand casually on your waist

and you try hard not to peek over his shoulder to see if the group of men are watching you

“don’t look that way, it’ll make us seem suspicious.”

you nod and thank the bartender when he slides a glass over to you

doyoung doesn’t touch it, instead he nudges it toward you, but you’re so nervous you think alcohol will only make it worse

“takes small sips and talk to me.”

doyoung instructs and you hold the glass as you try to think of something to say

“um,,,,did it hurt?”

“what?”

you motion to his hair and he shakes his head

“no.”

“do you like how it looks?”

“i don’t particularly care.”

yeah, great conversation.

you look around and watch all of the other people or a bit, bringing the glass to your lips and only sipping the smallest amount

everyone else looks so relaxed

they’re here on fun trips with family or friends, unaware of anything bad in their lives

you think of jungwoo for a split second - when you feel doyoung grab a hold of your wrist

“one of them is coming over, be natural.”

you blink, putting the drink down before a man finds his way over to you and doyoung

“excuse me, but i couldn’t help but overhear - are you two speaking in korean?”

doyoung plasters that smile on his face, oddly charming in its own way

“why yes, we’re here for vacation. an engagement gift from my parents.”

the man gives a slightly flustered look

“so young you two and already engaged?”

doyoung takes your hand and brings it up to his lips, kissing the skin gently

you smile too, but you can feel your pulse quicken

“we may be young, but i know this person is the love of my life.”

doyoung looks over at you, dark cold brown eyes suddenly full of warmth and adoration

“i don’t want anyone else getting their hands on them.”

the man gives a jolly laugh, you note that he’s stocky - wearing multiple golden rings on one hand and his friends from his group watch your interactions like a hawk

“well i can’t just say my goodbyes without giving my congratulations - “

he waves down the bartender and tells him that whatever you and doyoung put on the tab tonight will be on him

he gives doyoung a hard pat on the shoulder

“enjoy your youth, and happy marriage to the both of you!”

he exclaims, throwing a wink your way and picking your hand up to shake before returning to his circle

you swallow a small lump in your throat and doyoung turns to you

“how kind of him!”

but his eyes have gone dark again

“let’s go play a couple of games of cards in case they decide to tail us.”

he adds in a lower voice, leading you to a table where a game of blackjack is about to commence

you and doyoung sort of just mingle around, pretending to chat like a regular couple, partaking in games here and there

before doyoung signals that it’s time to go

when you get back to the hotel room, doyoung rushes to lock the door and shut the windows

he switches on the bathroom light and immediately contacts jaehyun

“how was it?”

“slightly off-putting, one of the men spoke to us at the casino. do you think that’s cause for alarm?”

jaehyun says something and you can’t hear it because doyoung shuts the door

you sit back down on the bed and sigh - everything is so weird, everything feels so on edge

you’re being tugged between lying and pretending to being completely ignored by doyoung and it just

it messes with you, even though you really wish it wouldn’t

maybe half an hour later doyoung opens the door and starts quietly moving around the room, undoing his tie and switching on the desk lamp

pulling out that small black book

you look down at your hands, thinking about the kiss doyoung placed on them - thinking about doyoungs hand in yours

and then you narrow your eyes

“do,,,doyoung -”

you start and you hear his pen stop moving

“if we’re supposed to be,,,,engaged,,,,,,,,,why don’t we have rings on?”

doyoung stands up so fast you think it shakes the room -

“shit”

he curses and your eyes widen - the first change in tone you’ve heard from him in a while

“did the man at the casino look at your hand?”

“y-yes he shook it when he was leaving.”

doyoung puts a hand on his forehead

“that’s not good. our cover might already be blown, ill have to arrange to fix that.”

and with that he’s putting his tie back on, and in a matter of minutes he’s gone

and you’re alone ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, you lay back against the bed

tired and a little bit frightened, since this whole mess started you’d never been left alone, doyoung was always somewhere near

this was the first time he’d gone off without you

then again, he was probably sure you wouldn’t run off. you where in another country, had no money, and where at his whim.

you curl up into a small ball, the fogginess of the hard day taking over your mind

why did this happen to me? i just wanted to live a regular life,,,,,,,,,,

you wake up groggy, wincing at the sudden sunlight that hits your face

looks like you’d fallen asleep and doyoung had returned, opening the windows in the meantime

and when you roll over you don’t see him anywhere

only a box sitting on the table side drawer with a note beneath it

‘wear it immediately’

it says and you open the box, stopping mid yawn to see a beautiful silver band

you stare at it,,,,,,,,,,,touching it and then recoiling your hand

he must have got these when he left last night, but where is he now?

you put the box down carefully and roam around the spacious room - but no sign of doyoung is to be seen

you look at the desk where he’d last been and the notebook is there

the one he always jots notes down as well as a file folder

it’s simple, but it has a label on it and you’re surprised to read your own name across it beside the number 000127

doyoung isn’t around so you carefully open it, wondering if there’s something inside about this secret undercover operation

but it’s not

it’s just

pages and pages of notes

you gasp softly, because the notes are all about you

from what foods doyoung has noticed you like, to your habits in the office

what is this? some kind of log about me?

you don’t understand, is jaehyun asking doyoung to keep such close tabs on me? i really didn’t think it was that serious?

you put the file down and your eyes hover over the small notebook

“don’t tell me -”

you reach out, but can’t bring yourself to touch it

and just in the nick of time you hear the sound of the soft beep of the hotel room unlocking

and you only manage to hurry back to the bed with a second

doyoung comes in,,,,,,,,,,,,,dressed in beige slacks and a colorful short-sleeve shirt

he’s got sandals on and sunglasses perched on the top of his head

he looks like the epitome of resort chic

and the exact opposite of prim, proper, always business ready doyoung back at the jung offices

the first thing he does is look at the box beside you and your hand

“why isn’t your ring on?”

you shakily open it and slip on the accessory quickly

doyoung just gives an affirmative nod and doubles around the bed to the windows

“i think for the next couple of days we’re going to be tailed,,,,,,,,,,so we need to act as normal as we can.”

“is there any news about jungwoo?”

doyoung keeps looking out the window, hands in his pockets, before he turns around

“they sent photos to jaehyun. he’s alive, but they’re getting impatient.”

he opens one of the drawers and pulls out your clothes - he drops them on the bed and motions to the shower

“when you’re finished, we’ll have breakfast.”

the following three days are full of what seems like normal resort like activities

you and doyoung have meals at the restaurants on the hotels premise

sunbathe by the pool and spend time near the ocean

doyoung even insists on taking you to the on-sight souvenir shop and throws out the fake names of your friends back home to buy little trinkets for

all the while initiating casual skinship and dropping pet names that nearly make you fluster every time

he makes sure that you two come off as any other couple staying at the resort - but you can tell he’s also constantly aware of who is around you

one evening he decides to go back to the casino, in hopes of making one last grand gesture of you and his “normal couples vacation” right in front of the suspected faction members

the same group of men is there as they’d been on the first day and doyoung gives a small greeting to the man who spoke to you back then

he comes over and asks how your vacation is going

it all seems wonderful until he asks

“and so, you speak so highly of your partner - what is it that made you fall in love with them?”

he asks doyoung, and you tense

how is he going to answer this, we barely even know one and other?

but doyoung doesn’t falter, not even a bit

he pulls you close by the waist

“why, where do i even start? i met them at this coffee shop - they’re so picky they spent ten minutes picking out a dessert. cutely talking to themselves. i was mesmerized with them, and the more we went on dates the more i learned about how deeply empathetic and hardworking they are. what could i want more, than someone who understands my emotions. who works with me. who loves everything about me and who i trust with my life.”

doyoung looks deeply into your eyes as he recites a bunch of your tiny quirks, all the little details about you

and if you hadn’t known better, you would believe that he was looking at someone he truly felt that strongly for

“i adore them, i realized i would die for them if i had to so - i wanted to make the promise of my life.”

doyoung picks your hand up, flashes the ring and then leans in - kisses you

really, really kisses you

and looks back at the man

who for a second twitches between a frown and a smile, before settling on a grin and nodding

he looks totally convinced!

you think and he says something along the lines of how beautiful it is to see young people in love

with that he turns back and you feel as if the wind has been knocked straight out of you

who knew doyoung even had a grasp on such a range of emotions? is this the same person who watched a movie with you absolutely silently - the same person who didn’t react when being told his closest associate was being held hostage?!?!?!

after another twenty minutes of hanging around, doyoung puts a hand on the small of your back and leads you out

as you two are hurrying back to the room he whispers against your ear

“they’re going to keep watching us, but i think they’re less suspicious now. there’s only one last thing we have to do and im,,,,,”

he pauses

“what, what is it?”

“it might be uncomfortable and i feel like an animal asking you to bear with it, but we have to put on this one last show,,,”

he casts his eyes downward and it takes a moment for you to register what he means

you put your fingers up to your mouth and can’t stand the increase of your heartbeat and the heat that creeps up your neck

“you mean,,,”

“yes - just a little bit, so they’ll believe we’re really together.”

you take in a deep breath, as you two get closer to your suite doyoung stops and ducks you two into a corner between two of the hotel buildings

you feel your back up against the wall and you look up to see doyoung has covered you almost completely with his frame

“i know i have asked a lot of you, and that you picked me to protect you and all ive done is use you to help my own means - but this will be the last time -”

you don’t let him finish, you know that this is for show and that in the long run it will help doyoung get to jungwoo

so you put your hands around his neck and tug him in close

you keep thinking of what he said back in the casino

“i adore them, i realized i would die for them”

those are such romantic, heartfelt words and you would be beyond happy to hear them from someone

you press your lips to doyoungs, letting yourself fall into this fantasy

that you’re not kissing someone who is just pretending to love you, that you’re kissing someone who does

and you can’t tell what doyoung is feeling or thinking

but he’s absolutely on the verge of falling apart

he holds you, close and hungry, because the truth is doyoung has never had the chance to feel so alive

he was born a genius, grew up being paraded around for his talents and hailed by adults for his intellectual abilities

everyone who ever showed interest in him

showed interest in his brain, how he thinks, how fast he can solve a problem

no one had ever allowed him to express anything above rational, accurate answers

he’d never had the door opened to relationships with others, from freindships to romance

so this overwhelming feeling of your body pressed against his - it drives him crazy

and he can tell you’re still shaking, still worried about everything he’s had to put you through

but you’re being strong and brave by helping him out, even when you have nothing to gain

so he apologizes to you in his mind, a thousand times over

as his hands take hold of your hips and he brings you flush up against him

small hums against your mouth, quick parted breathes as he kisses you with a passion that’s been locked away for most of his life

neither of you can control your bodies natural reaction, the low groan of his when you trail your lips down his neck

his hand coming down to grasp your thigh, hitch it around his waist as you moan into another kiss

his name comes out of your mouth and doyoung thinks this is what its like to see stars

by this point, it should be enough to convince anyone that what’s going on between you two is real

and that’s partially because in the moment it is - it really is

and when doyoung finally breaks away from you, his mind lashing out on him

you’re using them! how could you do that?!

you stare at him because for the first time he’s the one that is shaking, eyes big like a doe

you feel as if you should ask him if he’s ok, but there’s not much to say after what just happened

just that you and doyoung need to get back to your room and hope that this makes everything easier in the morning

which it does, from the operations stand point of view

jaehyun calls doyoung with information about where he could possibly find jungwoo

and when doyoung scans the perimeters outside your room there’s no suspicious people

no feeling of being watched

you managed to convince them that you and doyoung are nothing but two young people in love

but on the other hand,,,,,,,,,,all you’ve done is make everything more confusing between you both

doyoung is fixing his watch, tinkering with some sort of recording device that he’s built into it

when you ask

“what you said yesterday, about all the reasons you fell in love with me,,,,,,,,,were they all things you got from my file?”

he turns to you, putting down the watch

“how do you know about the file?”

“you left it on the desk and i happened,,,,,,,to read it.”

instead of being angry, or telling you with some sort of deadpan arrogance that you shouldn’t touch his stuff

doyoung just tells you that yes, he did just list off habits he’d recorded in the file and then asks why you seem to want to know

“why,,,,,why did you write all those observations down about me.”

you pull your knees up to your chin as you sit on the bed

you don’t look him in the eyes, but you don’t feel like you’re the one in the vulnerable position here

“because you’re the first person ive been close to who is seemingly,,,,,,,,regular.”

“but,,,,,you work with regular people. the people who work in marketing with you aren’t involved with the jungs.”

“that’s true, but they are not ,,,,,,,,, they are not interesting. you are a regular person, who has an emotional and physical stake in your relationship with me- well,,,,,,,with everyone who works for mr. jung.”

patiently you wait for some other explanation

there has to be more than just the fact that you’re a normal person - normal enough to be studied like some kind of test subject

but doyoung says nothing more on the matter

and you can’t pinpoint what about that makes you feel so ill

“do you think ,,,,,, what you said about me ,,,, are those things someone could actually fall in love with?”

the questions from you are all real, you just want to know - how someone like doyoung could take what he wrote down about you and put it so elegantly

make you and everyone in the room believe that he could feel these things he’d never shown any hint of having

but to him, the questions are like poisoned darts sinking deeper and deeper into a wall he’s put up since he was a child

and suddenly he’s on the bed too, coming closer to you, pulling you up toward him

“i don’t think you understand how very lucky you are.”

“doyoung what-”

“the fact that you have all of these things about you,,,,,all of these unique quirks different to all normal people, that you can feel so strongly, react so vibrantly - how i wish i could understand all of that.”

you were scared at first, but now you just feel pity - what mark had said about doyoung growing up as a child genius, was that the reason he was so ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, closed off?

“im sorry that you weren’t allowed to be normal.”

you start and doyoung’s eyes go big again

“i don’t know what it’s like to grow up with all that responsibility on your shoulders - to have the world look at you as something other than a child with hopes and dreams. but i just,,,,,,,i just think that there’s more to you.”

he lets you go and sinks a little bit

his shoulders sag and it’s as if he’s gone from the strong, stoic man he’s been around you this whole time

to nothing more than wilted flower

“sometimes i hate that i was born with this gift, that i look at things logically, that i can never act on my emotions like all other humans do.”

“but you do.”

he looks up, his hair is in his face and he looks a little unkept

“i know we were just pretending in front of all of those people - but even if it was fake, for you to take notice of me like that and to say things that are so full of raw emotion - you have it in you doyoung,,,,,,,,,you can really love someone-”

your voice is cut off by the sound of the phone ringing

doyoung picks it up and he reverts back to his usual self

eyes dark and serious, shoulder straight

when the call is over he waits a moment before telling you

“they now where jungwoo is.”

you tell doyoung that you must go with him, you’ve gone along with him for this whole trip, he can’t just leave you behind now

doyoung explains that this is the dangerous part - the part where someone can get killed

but you shake your head, “i didn’t like it when you left me alone in that hotel room the first time. im not letting you do it again.”

doyoung racks his brain for some kind of response, all the logical ones point to arguing against you

forcing you to stay behind

but somehow you end up by his side, outside of what looks like a shed near the back of the casino

at first, you can’t believe that they’d hide a hostage so close to a hotel full of bustling people

but doyoung says they’re not, they’re hiding him underneath that shed - probably even underneath the casino

you wince, thinking about jungwoo tied up and starved in some murky basement

at least the jungs were kind enough not to do that to me,,,,although am i hostage?

you shake the thought out of your head as doyoung comes close to the shed - picking apart the lock faster than you can blink

the inside looks absolutely normal

there’s equipment inside for the casino tables and stacks of poker chips, nothing out of the ordinary

but doyoung is observational and catches on to the one creaking plank beneath your feet

he pushes back his bangs, and then grips something hidden in the belt of his jeans

you see it, a silver handgun, and you pray that there won’t be any use for it

as quietly as he can manage, he pulls the plank up and reveals a secret door

it’s narrow, you can’t imagine that stocky man from the casino slipping trough, but doyoung has no trouble

and as you follow behind him, you’re greeted with a completely new room under the floorboards

the fluorescent light in it is blinding and it looks like a hospital ward more than anything else

there are a couple of cots set up and on one of them is the familiar figure of jungwoo

he’s unconscious, but you can see the small rise of his chest

you want to gasp, tears stinging at the corner of your eyes, but you don’t want to make any noise

and doyoung is cautious before approaching the body

as you and doyoung work on getting the cuffs off of jungwoo’s arms and feet, you hear a noise

you are about to warn doyoung, but it’s too late

and before you know it three people have dropped down from the open floor

and there are three guns pointed blankly at you and doyoung

you freeze, the blood in your body goes cold, and you can feel jungwoo waking up only slightly

moving gingerly against his cuffs

doyoung is standing beside his head, his fingers are still snared between the cuffs, but to your surprise they’re loose enough that you think jungwoo could slip his hands through

but you’re distracted by one of the men suddenly making a statement

“ah,,,,,aren’t you the young couple the boss talked to in the casino?”

doyoung doesn’t answer and you keep as quiet as a mouse

“what, no conversation for me? that’s fine, the boss will get here soon and you can answer to him -”

doyoung shifts a bit and shakes his head, putting on that fake smile

“oh really? i’d love to speak with him.”

you try to hide your expression of confusion, but then you see it

doyoung twists his hips just enough out of view that it covers jungwoo’s upper half

you take a risk and move from jungwoo’s legs up toward doyoung

you stand right at his side, shielding more of jungwoo from view

as you pretend to cower at his side

“honey,,,,please - tell them we don’t mean any trouble”

one of the men cocks his gun and points it at you

doyoung tenses, you feel it as his arms flex where you’re holding him

but he plays along

“it’s ok baby, the boss will get here and sort it all out.”

you barely hear it, but in a moment you sense doyoung let out a small breath

jungwoo slips his hands from the cuffs and snatches the gun from doyoung’s side

in a matter of seconds he yells for you and doyoung to duck

and when you down, opens three clean shots out onto the men

they all fall, guns clattering to the ground and you turn to help jungwoo finish undoing the cuffs on his feet

doyoung helps as well

and jungwoo is a little bit woozy on his feet - but enough for him to make it past those men with you and doyoung

and up toward the open hatch

you think they must all be dead

jungwoo’s marksmen shooting was spot on - but as you run past their still bodies

someone’s hand shoots out and you turn, just in time for him to get a hold on the gun

and point it up - at you

you close your eyes, ready for impact, ready to take this shot - but it doesn’t happen

instead, you feel doyoung’s arms wrap around you

the bullet brushes into his shoulder and lodges there

and the blood spills down his arm

you freeze, but doyoung clenches his teeth and urges you to get out after jungwoo

who pulls you and doyoung up

you only have maybe five minutes before you’re sure more goons will come running, so you three book it out of there

you must look absolutely insane to passerby’s

but the adrenline gets you all out of there and to your shock, just as you all barrell out of the hotels gates

a car pulls up, sleek and red

the window rolls down and another person pokes his head out

he grins, pearly white

“im ten. jaehyun told me to get you all.”

he tilts his head and looks at doyoung’s bleeding shoulder

“try not to get too much of that on my leather seats.”

jungwoo flings open the car door and all of you pile into the back

you immediately turn to doyoung and press your hand over his where the bullet is

“are you ok? does it hurt badly?”

doyoung’s eyes slowly begin to glaze over and he drops his head into the crook of your neck

you panic, begging this ten person to get you to a doctor

he waves off your concern, “a shoulder injury isn’t lethal!”

you want to snipe at him, but jungwoo puts a hand on your shoulder

“he’ll be ok”

but then he sort of stammers over his own words

“i just,,,i never thought he’d jump in front of a bullet to save anyone.”

ten pulls up to a condominium where doyoung is treated by a doctor and jungwoo is given his first hot meal in a week

you sit, dazed and confused by everything that’s happened, before ten joins you

“i hear you got tangled up with the jungs, how’s that going for you?”

you think he must be joking and when he chuckles you realize he is

“still, you must be one brave person to accompany the guys who work for him on such a job. are you maybe,,,,”

he leans in close to you

“in a special relationship with one of them?”

you refuse the thought the instant he comes out of ten’s mouth, but he just thinks that’s even more hilarious and continues to prod

“so which one, doyoung or jungwoo? which one is it?”

he looks down at the ring on your finger and the sly grin only grows wider

“woah, isn’t doyoung wearing the same one?”

you want to explain to him that this is a misunderstanding

but the shadow of someone towers over ten and you both look up to see that it’s doyoung

his sleeve has been cut off and his arm is bandaged, dry blood sticking to it

you get up, asking in the same breath one hundred questions till he just says

“im ok, how are you?”

ten looks between you two and excuses himself, says he should let lovers be alone

you grind your teeth, but your more important focus is doyoung

jungwoo is right, why did he jump in front of a bullet that was heading right for you?

doyoung seems to know that’s what you’re thinking

so he sits you down and tries to put together a coherent reason

but the thing is

he really can’t think of one,,,,,,or at least he can’t think of one that sounds like an excuse for why he knows he really did it

“you asked me,,,back in the hotel room if the things i observed about you are things that someone could actually fall in love with.”

“yes, but what-”

“i think,,,”

he starts and stops himself, because this is all new - this is all different for him

he needs time

“i think,,,,,,those things about you - they’re very much lovable and very much worth protecting which is why,,,,,,”

he wants to bring up his hand to run through his hair, but the pain from his wound makes him wince

you come closer, touching him gently and just that sends a shock wave through his body

unfamiliar, but not unwelcome

“which is why i took that bullet. i couldn’t bare the thought of you losing any of those habits, of losing you.”

this sounds like a confession of feelings, but you can never be sure with him

so you decide that the best way to know is to be straightforward, to be logical just like he always is

“does that mean,,,,,,,,,,you like me?”

doyoung’s eyes flash for a moment, but he tilts his head

“all of my reasoning points to that answer. yes. i do like you.”

you resist the urge to smile a little

“oh,,,,,,,,well”

“do you like me too?”

coming from him, you can’t believe it sounds so childishly cute and innocent

“i will admit, the whole keeping a file on me thing was a little weird but im going to assume you were just trying to understand me - right?”

doyoung plays with his fingers and looks shamefully down

“yes,,,i just i have never really-”

“shhh shhh,,,,,,,what im saying is yes doyoung i like you too. in a weird way, this whole trip - this experience with you has made me understand that deep down you’re not some emotionless person. you’re a person who feels a lot and just has never had the chance to express it.”

he looks stunned - and you’re proud to say that you’ve stumped one of the smartest man in all of south korea

but on the other hand none of that matters

what matters is that you want to be a person who will help doyoung discover this side of himself

because it’s been locked away, stunted from growing since he was a child

doyoung stands up and you follow him as he leads you into the room where he’d been treated

he closes the door and you stare at him, blonde hair a mess, clothes a mess, blood on his jeans and on his knuckles

nothing like the doyoung you met for the first time back at jung enterprises

he comes closer, you bite back your lip but let him places his hands back on your hips

“since we both like each other, can i re-do the kiss from before?”

he breathes against your neck

you close your eyes, nod and feel doyoung unleash what he’s been holding back for so long

after all of that, jaehyun contacts doyoung and tells him that the trip back is all set up

it’s on the plane back to seoul where you finally ask doyoung what’s been on your mind

“why did you join the jungs?”

“what better job is there for someone whose been conditioned to be emotionless than illegal work?”

you agree, but now he’s not the same person as before - does that mean he wants to continue working for them?

he looks to the side, where jungwoo is fast asleep

the superficial scars are small on his face, but he’s worn out and still malnourished from the week of starvation

“i don’t think i can leave this job right now, will that make it hard for you to be with me?”

you touch the ring that you’re still wearing, doyoung is still wearing it too

“i just think you could use your mind for better things - for medical discoveries or helping others ,,,,, it’s a shame you have to use it working for people like that.”

he leans in, and you’re shocked when doyoung places a fluttering kiss to your lips

“you make me want to be a better person and i want to do all of those great things you believe im capable of, but it’ll take time - will you be there by my side?”

you think that if you can survive an undercover rescue operation for the jung family, you can stand by doyoung’s side through anything

that being said you’re not sure how the rest of the office is going to take a romantic relationship between you and him

but when you get back home - everyone is crowded around in your tiny apartment

everyone from jaehyun to taeyong to taeil

and when you and doyoung come in holding hands

mark nearly faints and jungwoo goes

“yeah i know, i can’t believe it either.”

let’s just say it takes some getting used to, but it’s worth it because each day doyoung becomes more and more his true self

and even jungwoo picks up on a smiling habit

and maybe not right now, but in the future you know he’s destined for better things and you’ll be there to help him see those goals through

#nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct au #doyoung scenarios #doyoung imagines #doyoung au #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 au #member: doyoung #regular au #blood/#weapons/#who am i? who wrote this? that k*** scene? shaggy......it was not me!

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