#so there’s this sense of stress and dread kind of hanging over me… like something terrible could happen at any moment

[starbuck]

you know, i was trying to figure out why my brain is going so haywire all of a sudden and i realized it’s prooooooobably because it’s about a year since All That went down which like. Yes, perhaps that WAS a tiny bit traumatizing, come to think of it!!

[thenavysealkie]

One Foggy Night || Felix and Marcus

Parties: @thenavysealkie & @recoveringdreamer

Location: The Beach/ Lighthouse

Timing: Early April

Triggers: Parental Death (Mention)

Summary: Felix tries to seek refuge from the fog in the lighthouse.

Often, when Felix left the Grit Pit, it was late. Some days, the sun was already beginning to rise and others, it was still a few hours off. Tonight was the former. Felix was already on edge, the last fight of the night having been a relatively rough go. Walking home through Worm Row seemed like a bad idea, given the… everything going on in town lately. Between the rise in cult activity and the sinkholes that couldn’t seem to give the neighborhood a break, Felix figured they were better off taking a much longer route back to their apartment.

So, they decided to head back along the beach. There was still ‘activity’ along the coastline, but at least they could see farther ahead and have more of a warning of it here. It was thanks to this ‘early warning system,’ so to speak, that Felix spotted the fog rolling in long before it got close. There was a feeling of quiet dread in their stomach. Their mother always told them to avoid fog, though Felix had never quite understood why. Still, the warning had stuck with them. But with the fog coming at him from three directions and the ocean sitting in the third, there were only so many places the balam could run. 

Desperately, they glanced around for an escape, a sense of relief flooding through them at the sign of a lighthouse silhouetted not far from them. They ran towards it quickly, knocking on the door. “Um, hello? Is anyone in there? I — I could use a place to hang out for a minute!”

—

Sunrise was usually around the time Marcus would be ending his watch. That is, if there wasn’t a massive wall of fog rolling in. Now, he didn’t know when it’d be safe to leave the lighthouse. While he was sure the lights would still work perfectly fine, he didn’t want to risk any wrecks. He knew thick fogs such as these could make the waters borderline innavigable. Marcus walked to his little cubby and brewed himself another pot of coffee; he didn’t know how much longer he’d be there working after all.

Just as he savored his first sip, he heard a knocking at the lighthouse door. It wasn’t often that he had a visitor, however, they sounded frantic. He quickly walked down the steps to the lower level, coffee mug still in tow, and opened the door to find a stranger standing there. He seemed safe enough at first glance, so Marcus decided to let him in for now. 

“Can barely see your hand in front of your face out there. I hope it passes soon. You okay?” They certainly appeared scared, but he didn’t know if this was due to being disoriented in the fog or if they had encountered something in the fog. “You’re a little far off the beaten path, it’s a good thing you found your way here.”

 Relief washed over them when the lighthouse keeper let them in, and Felix all but jumped across the threshold and into the safety of the lighthouse. It was impossible to know if the fog was normal fog or the more sinister kind their mother had warned them about for most of their childhood, but Felix had no intention of finding out the hard way. It was definitely better to be safe than sorry, especially in a town like Wicked’s Rest. 

“Right, yeah,” Felix agreed with a nervous laugh, unsure what to say or do now that they were safe in the lighthouse. “I, um, I’m okay. Just, you know, the fog rolled in really fast, it kind of, uh, caught me off guard. I was taking a shortcut home, you know, because of the sink holes. I thought, hey, this way will be safer! But then there’s the fog, and it’s just…” They waved a hand, a little flustered with the stress of it all. “I’m glad I found you here. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d gotten caught in it.”

—

Whoever this person was, they certainly seemed sufficiently freaked out. Marcus followed behind them as they rushed inside the lighthouse, hoping to calm their fears somewhat. 

“Yeah, man, sink holes and now a thick fog. I’ll be honest, I don’t want to go walking around in this mess either. Think I might crash here for the night, you never know what might be waiting in there. This town can throw all types of bullshit at you,” Marcus walked further into the lighthouse, beckoning the stranger to follow him. “I’m Marcus, by the way. I actually tend to the lighthouse here. Do maintenance, scout the shoreline for emergencies, that sort of thing.” 

Then he thought more about what they had said. They were on their way home, but the sun had just begun to rise. 

“You must have been out pretty late if you’re just coming home now. Wild night out? Let me tell you, dealing with fog after a night of partying probably makes it all ten times more terrifying. No wonder you were in such a hurry to get in here.”

The lighthouse keeper followed them further into the lighthouse, and there was some relief in that. Until they heard his footsteps behind them, Felix hadn’t thought to worry that their clear anxiety might drive the man out into the fog to investigate, but they were glad it wouldn’t be the case tonight. They weren’t sure they’d know what to do if he did.

“That’s probably a good idea. You crashing here, I mean. It’s — People get crazy with stuff like this, right?” It wasn’t why Felix was so anxious, wasn’t why his eyes kept darting uncertainly to the door, but it wasn’t untrue, either. Humans sometimes used events like this one as an excuse to get… rowdy. Their father had ranted and raved about it often, usually over the corpse of some such human. 

Following behind the lighthouse keeper, Felix let themself glance around the interior of the lighthouse. They’d never been in a lighthouse before. It was neat, they thought; not quite what they’d imagined it would be. “I’m Felix. I bet it’s a cool job. Do you like it?” Something ached in their chest at the question. It was a simple thing, the idea of someone having a job they enjoyed. Felix yearned for it.

They swallowed as, inevitably, Marcus’s question had them thinking more about their own work. “Um, no, nothing like that. I just got off work. I don’t usually end up staying so late, but, you know. It happens sometimes. Right? So I was just ready to get home and get some sleep. But… I think I’ll wait out the fog. I could get lost otherwise.” That’s what their mother always used to say, at least.

—

“Sometimes” Marcus began, “but really, people will take any old excuse to act a little wild. A little fog seems like the perfect excuse, I’d imagine.” It was true, the people of Wicked’s Rest really seemed to love some good old fashioned mass hysteria. After all, why else would they choose to live there in the first place? Always some sort of cataclysmic event or another going on. 

Marcus watched as the new arrival looked around the lighthouse with curiosity. People often only saw lighthouses from the outside without ever venturing to the interior, so it was common even for locals to have never been inside one before. He didn’t think anything inside was particularly interesting, but he was more than happy to give a tour if he could. “It’s an okay job, definitely rewarding. But it’s hard work. I have to constantly be observant, hoping to prevent tragedy rather than just detecting it. But whenever I pull someone out of the water or send a signal for a wreck that ends up saving lives, it all becomes worth it, you know?” Marcus then turned to Felix and looked him up and down. 

“What kind of work do you do? Obviously something with a graveyard shift. Healthcare? Security?” He didn’t really have a good read on Felix yet, he could be working in either one of those  fields and it’d be perfectly believable. 

Marcus then walked over to his desk and pulled a pack of playing cards from the drawer. “Either way, you’re more than welcome to stay here! Maybe we can pass the time with some card games?”

—

“That’s true, too.” If nothing else, Felix had learned that there were people out there — human and supernatural alike — who were only ever a feeble excuse away from doing something terrible. It was a line of thinking they disliked, one they tried pretty hard to shy away from, but it was an undeniable kind of thing. People did bad things, sometimes. So much of Felix’s life had proven that to them, even if they tried to pretend otherwise. 

But people did good things sometimes, too. Like letting a stranger into their lighthouse on a foggy night, and not questioning why they were so jumpy. The lighthouse keeper seemed like a good man, too. As he described the work he did, Felix couldn’t help but feel an added sense of safety in spite of their anxiety surrounding the fog outside the building. “Do you have to do that a lot? Um, pull people out of the water and stuff? It sounds… really stressful. But definitely rewarding.” How nice must it be to have a job where you saved people instead of hurting them? Felix yearned for something like that, for an opportunity to do good instead of bad. 

The question, inevitable as it was, dampened the balam’s mood a little. Their shoulders hunched, their muscles tightened, their heart beat a little faster. They didn’t like talking about what they did because they didn’t like what they did. Not to mention the fact that their contract tended to prevent them from offering up any real details to begin with. “I, um… I work at a gym.” It was the most common lie they told, something close enough to the truth that it was easy to pass off but not so close that they felt bad saying it. 

They smiled as the lighthouse keeper promised they could stay, nodding as he pulled out a deck of cards. “Uh, yeah! Sure, that sounds fun. I don’t know a lot of card games, though. I know Go Fish! Um, but if that’s boring, I can learn another. I’ve got, you know, Google.” They held up their phone, wriggling it in the air as if to demonstrate the point.

Marcus thought for a moment about Felix’s question. He definitely did have to pull a lot of people out of the ocean, far more than he cared to. “It’s pretty often, yeah. You wouldn’t believe how many people here seem to have no sense of self preservation. Although there are also plenty of folks who get into accidents that can’t really be avoided.” It was rewarding work, definitely. Even saving one life would make the hours of patrol worth it. “If I get to people in time, it can be very rewarding. Problem is, I catch a lot of people after it’s already too late…” It was a hard reality of what he set out to do. He couldn’t save everyone, so relishing the small victories instead of being caught up on everything he failed to do was important to stop himself from going insane. “But hey…worst comes to worst I can bring them back in for a proper burial. Nobody wants their remains to be lost at sea.” 

“Oh, a gym? That’s pretty cool! I get my cardio in well enough and keep in decent shape without one, but maybe joining one wouldn’t hurt either. Which one do you work at? Maybe you can hook me up with a friends and family discount?” It was worth a shot, even though he barely really knew them. 

“If cards aren’t your thing, I can give you a little tour instead? Up to you. There’s not a whole lot up here but the room with the beacon in it is pretty cool,” Marcus said, trying to be accommodating and not make Felix feel awkward in any way. “Sorry, it’s not the biggest or most interesting place in the world. But it’s cozy enough”.

The thing was, Felix would very much believe just how much people in this town got into trouble. They’d seen it firsthand, more than once. Felix had been tricked into signing up with the Grit Pit, but most of the other fighters there hadn’t. They might not have known how binding the contract was, but most people who fought in the Pit walked in knowing what kind of violence they were signing up for all the same. Self-preservation, in this town, was a hard thing to come by. It made sense that the lighthouse keeper would see a lot of that absence. “I’m sorry,” they said quietly as Marcus admitted that he didn’t always get to people in time. “I know that — I mean, it must be really hard. But it’s good, you know, that you get them back to their families. That’s important. It’s — It helps, to know what happened to them.” The hours after their mother’s death in which they had no idea where she was or what had happened were the longest of Felix’s life. Even now, the unanswered questions surrounding her demise were a ghost that didn’t disappear when they shifted their eyes back to human. If what Marcus did helped alleviate that for someone, even a little, then it was good.

Felix shifted their weight uncomfortably, looking down at their feet. “It’s not really that kind of gym,” they replied. “And it’s — I mean, you wouldn’t want to join it. It’s shit. There are way better gyms in Wicked’s Rest, you know? I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone.” Certainly not someone like Marcus, who seemed kind. 

A tour of the lighthouse did sound fun, though, and Felix looked up again at the offer. “That’s — That would actually be really cool, yeah. Um, only if you don’t mind. I wouldn’t want to put you out any more than I already have. I’m just grateful you let me inside, you know?”

—

Marcus swallowed hard, agreeing with Felix but ruminating in the implication of their words. Did William’s family even hear what happened to him? Did they still believe the Navy’s official story of what happened?  Did Marcus deprive them of closure by leaving his body there? “It does. It doesn’t offer much solace in the moment, but it saves a great deal of grief in the long run.”

Marcus eyes Felix a bit skeptically. What gym could be so bad that someone who works there would feel that strongly about it? Perhaps it was one of those overpriced dumps that never have open machines and always reek of BO. “Ah, say no more.” Marcus began, nodding understandingly. “I’ve been in a couple bad gyms in my time. Must be hell working at a place like that. I can only imagine it can wear on you after a while.”

He was glad to see Felix seemed more interested in the tour. He liked sharing what he spent so much of his time doing, even if there wasn’t much to it. Smiling, Marcus gestures toward the large metal spiral staircase that lead to the Lightroom. The pair walked up the steps until the reached where the beacon was housed. Marcus allowed a moment or two for them both to take it all in before saying “Breathtaking view up here, isn’t it? Plus this way we’ll be able to see when the fog starts clearing up!”

—

“The not knowing can really mess people up,” Felix added in quiet agreement. They’d only had a few hours of not knowing what had happened to their mother and, while the truth of the matter had been harsh and painful, they’d prefer it to a whole life of that not knowing. It had been a suffocating thing, an unimaginable one. If Marcus and his lighthouse duties saved even one family from a lifetime of that, wasn’t it all worth it? Wasn’t it something to be immeasurably proud of? 

Thankfully, Marcus didn’t seem interested in asking any more questions about the Grit Pit. Felix wouldn’t have been able to answer most of them, anyway, would have remained bound by their contract in a way that could have probably come off as rude. And then what would happen? What if Marcus had taken offense, asked them to leave? They were glad to avoid it, their smile turning grateful. “It’s not a great place to work,” they replied. “But I’m kind of stuck there. Um, you know. The economy.” Right. Because that made sense.

It was easy enough to follow Marcus up the staircase. It was a little exciting, actually. Felix felt like a kid on a field trip, but without the soggy bagged lunch or sweaty bus ride. They marveled at the view, nodding their head. “This is really cool,” they said earnestly. “Do you come up here a lot? I think I’d be up here all the time, if I worked here. I like heights. You know? I think they’re fun.”

—

“Don’t I know it” Marcus replied, “I used to serve. I feel like everyone’s family was in this state of limbo, not knowing how their loved ones were doing or if they were even still alive.” Even his folks worried a lot, even though they knew he’d be safe even if the ship sank. 

Marcus nodded, knowing what Felix meant about the economy. Most of his funding came from his parents back home, who were very well off, but he knew several people in town who’d felt the pinch of rising costs recently. He had just been to the grocery store the other day and saw a bag of Doritos being sold for $6. Not the party or even the family size. A regular sized bag. Groceries were expensive. Living was expensive. It was no wonder poor Felix had to work at some shitty gym. “Hey man, we gotta do what we gotta do to get by, right? I’m sure you’ll find a better place soon. Maybe a nicer gym? Now that you have some experience?” 

Marcus was very pleased to see that Felix seemed to be enjoying the view. Some people had a fear of heights as well as a fear of the ocean. That made for a bad combination when showing them this kind of view. “It’s not the type of view you really get anywhere else. Well…except at the other lighthouses I guess. You should be up here during a storm, now that’s really cool.” He thought of the lightning streaking across the uninterrupted black sky as the waves crash high against the rocks. “I mostly use it for scouting though. There’s not much I don’t see up here, you know?” 

“Oh. I imagine that would have been… really difficult.” Felix didn’t have much experience with the military, in all honesty. They knew what they’d seen in recruitment ads, but even movies on the subject had never been of much interest to them. Surprising no one who knew them, Felix didn’t have the stomach for war, even the fictionalized version. 

To their relief, Marcus made no attempt to poke any holes in their flimsy excuse, didn’t try to pry. People who did were usually well-meaning — it wasn’t particularly rare for someone to ask Felix if they were okay with enough concern to make them want to cry — but it wasn’t something Felix liked talking about. Even the parts they could talk about weren’t particularly enjoyable subjects. Marcus seemed nice, and Felix offered him a small smile. “Yeah,” they said, wishing it was true. “Maybe.” 

The idea of the view during a storm did sound cool. Felix remembered going to the beach with their sister before their mother died, looking out into the ocean to watch lightning at a distance. It had always made them feel so small, but not in a bad way. There had been something almost comforting about it instead. “It doesn’t seem like the kind of thing you could get used to,” they said, still staring out at the water. “It’s — I mean, it’s beautiful. And yeah, you can definitely see a lot. I bet nothing gets by you up here.” For a moment, they were tempted to try to shift their eyes just enough to access the jaguar’s enhanced sight, to see what it might look like from his point of view. But it felt a little too risky in the presence of a stranger, so Felix stuck to looking through their own eyes instead. It was still beautiful.

—

“I’ll be honest” Marcus responded to Felix’s statement about not getting used to the view “you never see the same thing twice. We had lighthouses where I grew up, on the West coast. But there’s something about the view here that’s just…different in a way. Maybe it’s the New England charm, maybe it’s because of how magical the town itself is.” It really was a view unlike any other. 

“Nothing gets by me as long as I’m looking in the right place. Unfortunately, the ocean is massive and my eyes are only so big. It’s sort of luck of the draw if I catch something in time, to be honest.” Thankfully, Marcus had very good intuition. He attributed it to his latent animal instincts, and as a result he was usually able to catch things right when he needed to. 

As he looked further out into the distance, he could see a bit more light shining through the dense fog. 

“Looks like the fog might be letting up soon.” And not a moment too soon. He had been up all night, he was exhausted, and just wanted to head back home safely. He appreciated the company, visitors were somewhat rare, but he desperately needed some sleep at this point. “And here I thought we’d be stuck here forever. Good to know we’ll be able to head out soon without worrying about getting lost and ending up on the wrong side of town. I hear Worm Row can get a little dicey at times. Do you live far from here?”

There was something nice about the optimism of Marcus’s words, something that put the faintest smile on Felix’s face. The ability to look out at a view and find it breathtaking every time… Wasn’t that what everyone ought to strive for? Wasn’t that what it was all about? Felix wanted to be like that, in spite of everything. They wanted to think of this town as magical instead of terrifying. They really did.

“Yeah,” they agreed, looking out to the sea again. “There’s definitely too much space for any one person to cover. But… It matters that you catch things in time sometimes, even if it’s not all the time. You definitely make a huge difference in some people’s lives.” You couldn’t always save everyone, right? Saving someone mattered. It was all Felix really wanted, if they were being honest — to save someone instead of being a thing that hurt. 

There was some relief in the revelation that the fog would be gone soon, though Felix found a small amount of disappointment in knowing that it would end their ‘tour’ of the lighthouse and their conversation with Marcus, too. But Felix needed to get home, and Marcus probably did, too. They offered him a small smile, glancing down at the comment about Worm Row… where the Grit Pit was. Dicey didn’t begin to cover it. “Uh, yeah, I’m not far. How about you?”

—

“Yeah, that’s a good point” Marcus said, “Can’t win ‘em all, but helping some instead of all makes a world of difference.” It was easy for him to be hard on himself over what he couldn’t do, to the point where he never took the time to appreciate the things he was actually able to achieve. Just because he saw his watch as part of his duty didn’t mean he couldn’t take pride in his duty, right? 

Marcus caught the change in Felix’s demeanor when he mentioned Worm Row. Was that where he lived? Did he just insult this person’s home? Sometimes Marcus had a bad habit of opening his mouth before he thought properly, and he was hoping he hadn’t insult somebody who he had hoped would be a new friend. “I don’t live too far, I’m in Harborside actually so real close. Shouldn’t run into any trouble.” He rarely did, unless he made the journey from his home to the lighthouse in the middle of the night. Then he was opening himself up to all sorts of danger, which is why he typically waited until sunrise to head back out. 

“It was nice meeting you, Felix. Hopefully you can come around again some time. Not sure what we’d do, but I do like the company up here some times. And uh, if I ever try to find a gym membership, I’ll be sure to avoid yours. What did you say the name of it was?” He didn’t want to get roped into another overpriced shitty gym membership that took forever to cancel. 

“Definitely,” Felix agreed. It was important, they thought, to focus on the victories instead of the defeats. If you only ever focused on your losses, you’d lose yourself along with them, get so caught up in the bad that the good meant nothing at all. Felix didn’t want to live like that. They didn’t think anyone should.

There was some relief in hearing that Marcus wouldn’t have to venture too far from the lighthouse to make his way home. Even with the fog lifted, Felix knew that there were other dangers lurking in Wicked’s Rest. He didn’t want any of those dangers to find Marcus, didn’t want someone who spent all his time helping people ending up hurt because of the town’s oddities. “That’s good,” Felix offered with a small smile. “Um, I hope you make it home safe and everything. Even if it is a short walk.”

They felt a lot more secure than they had upon their arrival, some of the anxiety in their chest having died down as the fog moved out. They nodded at Marcus’s invitation. “Maybe next time, I’ll bring Uno cards or something,” they said, only half joking. “Thanks again for letting me in. Seriously, I don’t know… what I would have done.” Their smile faltered at the question, but… it would be good for Marcus to know what to avoid, wouldn’t it? “Uh, it’s called the Grit Pit. Just… Be sure to stay far away from it. Okay?”

—

“I should be alright”, Marcus replied back, knowing he had navigated his way through much worse in life. “But thank you for your concern. It’s hard to come by these days, oddly enough. I hope you make it back home okay too.” Felix seemed like a pretty decent person, he didn’t want them to end up getting hurt after taking enough care to hide out in the lighthouse for however long he needed. 

“Hope to see you come around again some time! And thanks…I’ll be sure to avoid it.” Hadn’t he heard of that before? The Grit Pit? There was talk of some sort of fight club for the town’s most dangerous cryptids to duke it out, all while others watch and put bets on the line. Felix certainly didn’t look out of shape, and could probably hold his own in a fight against an average person. But they certainly didn’t seem like a killing machine, so they must have been a bookie or bartender or something. 

“I love Uno! If you forget to bring yours, I’ll leave a pack here just in case.” He was hoping he found his way back under much better circumstances. “Take care, Felix. It was very nice meeting you”. He was glad he was able to share his lighthouse with someone else for a little while, even if the circumstances were a bit dire. With that, the pair headed off in different directions, Marcus headed back home for some much needed sleep.

[lestwritewhilewaitingforajobcall]

The Odd Rumble of Thunder - Thor x Reader

(A/N)

Hey guys! I wanted to personally thank you all for the kind comments and messages, they really inspire me to continue writing more and the support truly means a lot! Also, I just found out how to access post replies, I apologize I haven’t gotten to reading them since my first story, I’m still trying to figure out the gist of things here on Tumblr! Anyways, recently I’d only been posting more on Poseidon, so here’s a special one for our Norse god of thunder (aka the god I simp for the most). This idea came to me while out on a camping trip, I hope you guys enjoy it! Feedback would really be welcomed and appreciated!

This is for entertainment only. Record of Ragnarok belongs to Shinya Umemura, Takumi Fukui and Ajichika. I also do not own you, the reader.

The Odd Rumble of Thunder

Thor x Reader

Even before the news spread like wildfire, Thor had become under the tyranny of a good habit to bringing his wife with him wherever he may go. It stood to reason that he would never be so careless to invite you over to danger, hence why, at a god’s ephemeral notice, he had stopped seeking direction for his combative side, but when, at last, he had to venture, he made much quicker work of it than when he would have otherwise.

Inarguably, if you’d wanted to lay down and rest instead, it was a surety you’d receive your meals in bed, unbothered. But for Thor there was no guarantee he’d ever have to worry about you, so the whole of Asgard knew by now he’d drop whatever he was doing to accompany you, uncaring about diplomacy in the first place.

Not that Odin nor Loki minded either; especially since the Allfather knew more about the concerns of a father expecting their first child. Moreover, Loki enjoyed shapeshifting into his cousin during days he was absent. It was much more fun to cause mischief legally, as he would say.

Today, Thor stood by his wife who sat comfortably in her rocking chair on the porch, allowing a full view of the hills that sloped gently down to the grand gardens. You were seven months along, approaching the eight month, the swell of your stomach now far more prominent.

At the very moment you had begun to show, you had a companion of whom would almost never leave your side, your husband’s absence in the kingdom gradually becoming more frequent, more lengthened, till at last his presence among his people became an exception. Despite your constant reassurances that you would be fine, Thor insisted on staying, casually sweeping aside your thoughts regarding his habitual sense of duty.

“I would only be gone for nine months to tend to my wife and child, they should fare well on their own lest they are more incompetent than I would’ve thought.” Thor had told you once before, and you’d decided not to question him further on that. You understood your husband’s concerns, to be truthful, you had a few of your own as well, so having Thor assist you alleviated some of the stress and worry concerning your child’s safety.

Especially now that you were nearing your due date. For instance, you were having the toughest time moving, suffering primarily from the weight in your belly and pains in your back and legs that made walking and even standing difficult. What made the physical strain worse too was your child’s eagerness to know you and Thor both, unable to stay long in one position, much like their father’s enthusiasm for battle.

“How are you feeling?” Thor’s question rested upon a rather precise calculation of the last time he had asked the same only a short moment before. It was quite visible in his actions that he did not want to cause any negative feelings if he could help it, though desiring you to avoid stress as much as possible.

You smiled. “Come close. You’ve been standing there for ages just ogling at me.” You opened your arms out wide. “Are you not tired?”

Truth be told, despite Thor’s constant need to remain close to his wife, he felt a real, undeniable fear of touching you, specifically, your abdomen. He closed the distance between until he was right in front of you, staring down at you with hard eyes. Longing leaped like a flame reaching out in his celestial yellow orbs.

“Love, I am always grateful for your concern for me. And I am feeling much better just knowing you’re beside me.” You raised yourself up, pushing against the chair to try to stand. Thor rushed forward, held you then put his hands under your arms to lift you up. Your child was growing fast. “But how about you? How are you feeling?”

You inched closer, your fingers playing with the locks of his hair that you could reach. “Aside from the stress of waiting, I’ve noticed that you have something else weighing on your mind.

“Tell me, what is it?”

At the sight of you through his warworn eyes, his mind was filled with bliss. For that loving glance of yours, he felt a divine presence and holy atmosphere that seemed to pervade everything around you. Having an inkling of what you were hinting at though, he broke your gaze, in an attempt to avert the guilt you conferred on him.

“Please. We’re in this together, I would want nothing more than to help you back as much as you’ve helped me.” Thor felt you shift in his arms, get more comfortable. He felt the bulk of your child across his legs, the weight no doubt pulling you down. Seeing you in pain like that, was sad and unbearable, and the gnawing feeling grew stronger. And since he knew you were always so full of strength and determination, always unrelenting in your attempts to make him feel better, he began,

“I am afraid.” Red eyebrows drew together.

“Afraid of what?”

“That I might accidentally hurt you and our child,” Thor took a deep breath in then let it out in a sigh while taking a step back. “I do not want that to happen, even if I want to be at your side at all times. And this frustrates me to no end.”

Thor did himself a favor by giving attention to anything other than his wife, refusing to be a witness on the sadness and any he may have caused. Dealing with his own disappointment was nothing new, but he had trouble dealing with the fact that he was the cause of yourpain. He wished he could take his troubles which escaped, hanging in the air, and all the bad feelings on himself and let things continue as they were, but he knew it didn’t work that way. You needed to know that he only wanted you and your child safe and protected, even from himself.

He could not understand how the cosmos could play such a cruel joke on the both of you: you, bore so much pain because of one of the greatest affairs of life, and him, the strongest deity in the Pantheon, was powerless against the natural laws of existence.

Strong shoulders slumped, head bowing as stray strands of red hair fell over Thor’s brow. Not again. He did not wish to be reminded of the cautious sympathy his father and cousin had approached him with. His stomach lurched whenever the subject of your frailty came up. Dread and a terrifying fear overwhelmed his soul for the first time, the thought of losing you−

“Hey,” Your voice which lingered on the gentle breeze brushed against Thor’s face, pulling him out of his stupor. He refocused, turning his gaze onto your sweet face.

How were you able to hold yourself up well despite your obvious pain and suffering? Did you not bear the same nervousness as he did? The answer was obvious, practically screaming in Thor’s ears but became deaf following his guilt and clouded instincts. For a long time since you’d first told him about the news, he bore these worries in silence; but when at length he’d been perplexed by your introspection−or seeming lack of it. Why, in fact, did you concern yourself with him at all? Compared to you, there was hardly any threat to his own life posed. Why had you always done more to make him feel better when you were the one who needed it most?

Cutting through the haze he found himself in was the shape of you, or maybe your hair billowing in the wind, a wisp of it across your face, and then suddenly the feel of your skin, the sense of your head on his chest. Even if it were fleeting, that alone brought him the possibilities of comfort that he’d so needed. Oh, how he missed this; you cupped his big callously marble hands around yours, caressing them so tenderly, as if he were fragile and might break, so short it could never be pulled back.

As he relished the warmth of the blaze you gave him for the winter of unease, he’d realized much sooner that the coldness that inched its icy fingers up his spine still threatened to battle your kind words, you, his very own wife, and he detested himself for being unsure whether or not it was of his own doing; was he pushing you away when you’d only wanted to offer your help?

Thor’s immediate impulse was to pull back from you, abruptly halted by your fingers which slipped between his now splayed hand. You wrinkled your nose in a delightfully unguarded manner that caused his breath to hitch in his throat.

“Do you remember the first time we said our vows?” If only you knew the way Thor perceived you: in his eyes, your radiant smile reflected the morning sunlight of Valhalla, for a split second picturing the moment you’d walked down the aisle, that headpiece on your head instantiating the paradox of mystery that once lifted revealed your beautiful face, marking it the best day of his long life. Something warm bloomed in his chest once again and spread its heat out through every vein in his body. He remembered the smooth feel of the veil against his cheek after sealing your promise with a kiss, his lips parting with a breathless sigh.

“Your hands caressed my fit of nerves with light, tender touches and then inspired me with hard, passionate embraces,” With effortless ease, you lifted your intertwined hands to your mouth and kissed his knuckle. Thor watched with great admiration your every move, the desire to distance himself was now but an afterthought. Nothing would ever separate him from you when all you’d ever done was pull him closer than ever.

Then, you sought out his hand, kissing his palm as he stroked your face. You clung onto his arms, gripped at his chest as if you were searching for warmth, as if you needed his touch, and much like him, couldn’t bear to be even an inch away. His mind was still slowing its racing to let him mutter something in response, so he allowed himself to be entranced by how smooth and sure of yourself you were, with nothing to mar the calm serenity of your features. Your smile seemed to be a natural adornment, the utter gentleness in your eyes, reminded him of every morning when he woke up, he would see you by his side, as well as your sleeping snoring face. Right at that moment, the silly scream finally made it to the deaf god’s ears:

He was your haven,

The place you called home and went to find peace.

As Thor immersed himself in your smell, your sparkling eyes, he felt the excruciating cold all melt away in your warmth. No more seeds of doubt with which to sow and seek his destiny. Slowly, he began to see his surroundings from a keener point of view, realizing, then appraising them: from the passing wind your hair messed which he pushed aside, tucking it behind your ear, to how his sash seemed to fit him better indeed, rather than cling onto his skin even tighter as brutally as it had done before. He noticed the minute changes since he’d last taken a good look at you months ago: a little flusher on your skin, lines around the eyes a little deeper, a little increase in body temperature.

He pulled you closer, his actions not arising from calculation instead led by instinct. You let him take more of your weight, your belly pressed against his stomach as you sighed, his fingers working wonders on massaging the muscles that had been much abused in carrying the baby’s weight. A sudden wrenching through his sash struck Thor’s heart and had him holding his breath.

The baby had moved, and he’d felt it.

Bending down, he buried his nose in your hair, closing his eyes as he drank in your scent. Your arms wrapped around his back as he connected in this loving embrace, feeling his heart beat in rhythm with your own.

“Our child would no doubt love to be enveloped in their father’s safe arms,” With a light, gentle touch, your fingers ran through Thor’s hair, making him shiver with delight.

On that day, only the beautiful gardens of Asgard became privy to nothing more than a moment in which husband and wife reached for the same comfort and their concerns met. These gardens were simultaneously the very same place where Thor had first avoided the problems that plagued his mind, but also became exactly the same place where he’d find solace in the arms of his lovely wife.

Resting his hand on where his child was, he recognized that familiar feeling turning up, but upon realizing the bittersweet irony of and within these gardens, the revelation came to him: happiness could also come from the very object of fear.

And as you had an unmovable trust in him, there was an unspoken mutual understanding that he too, should put his trust in you.

[needleandhammer]

Prism

Pairing: Robert Pronge x Reader; featuring Jake Jensen

Warnings: 18+ only, dark fic, non-con touch, kidnapping, it's Freezy so yeah

Notes: Happy spooky season! I cannot believe the writers I am following have led me onto the Freezy Train 😳

For a year, you worked alongside Jake. He came through your office suite to set up new computers one morning. Designated the unofficial tech responder, you reached out to him often, asked questions politely and endlessly until he resigned himself to visiting your office multiple times per week. Somehow, the two of you ended up having lunch together as he listened to you grumble about coworkers adverse to seeking technological solutions on their own. Then going to happy hour together. Then texting each other; Jake followed your lead until the two of you could speak in memes and emojis.

Your friend abruptly left his job a few months ago. With no response to your text messages, you swallowed down the disappointment of losing touch with a friend when adulting kept your circle so small already. You only hoped he was okay.

Now, after a late night at the office, your coworker Carter lies unconscious in your peripheral. The person responsible for knocking out Carter stalks toward you. You’re scrambling around your desk trying to keep distance between him and you, this stranger with scraggly hair hanging over a pair of thick spectacles.

You’re so startled, mind trying to salvage some kind of escape plan that you haven’t even tried yelling for help. You hurl a solid glass paperweight at him. Air rushes up your throat – a scream working its way out when you see him dodge and strike forward at you. His hands circle your wrist, you’re yanked against him and a painful blow to the base of your neck sends you sinking into blackness.

---

You wake with a start. Where are you?

Your hands roam, grasping lightly across your body in search of any new injuries while you breathe past the lingering pain at the back of your head. At least it wasn’t bleeding. Assured that you were able to stand and move with relative ease, you’re on your feet and tiptoeing to the door of the bedroom. Your shoes are gone, dammit.

You swallow hard, breathing deep against grogginess and the aching pulse at the base of your skull. That fucker isn’t here so you need to act.

Go out that door.

Wait. You need something. A weapon. Anything.

A shaky breath forces your stark fear at bay as you look around the room. You make it to the open closet door.

A pink color halts you physically and mentally. Pink. You collapse to your knees and grasp at the cotton fabric. The word printed on the pink shirt triggers a breathless sob that you can’t control.

Petunias

Oh gods, did this deranged man kidnap Jake too? What can he possibly want with you and your friend? Is Jake in some kind of trouble? Questions bombard your mind, tangling into nothing that makes sense. Your head aches. Your limbs feel weak. Has it been long enough that your body has weakened from lack of nourishment?

Beneath another shirt, you discover a scraggly object. It’s chestnut colored, wavy strands that sends a creeping shivering down your spine. You quickly drop the Petunias t-shirt over it, as if to hide some vile creature from sight, and peer around the room again.

Damn it. No light décor or metal objects you can arm yourself with. You’ll have to be quick.

The door gives a creak when you swing it open, revealing a small galley kitchen.

Your heart skips – dread douses you – you freeze when you see the figure standing opposite you at the far end of this small building. He turns, arms falling from the curtained window, to look at you.

You reel backward; your hands reach and claw for something, anything that might help you in this horrible circumstance.

Right back where you started. You made it barely a foot out of your prison.

Your captor descends upon you. You shriek, push and shove against him but his weight follows you, presses you down on the bed.

His palm stifles your cries while he easily restrains you.

“Awake are we?”

You shake your head. You don’t want to hear his voice. You close your eyes. You don’t want to look at him – afraid that your eyes are deceiving you.

He tsks. “Don’t be a brat. We can make this part quick.”

Growling, you shake his hand away and snap at him. “What the fuck are you talking about? Let me go.”

He scoffs at the additional impolite names you call him.

Panting, you glare at him. “What do you want?”

“You gonna play nice?”

You try to headbutt him.

He sighs in irritation.

Your wrists are snuggly wrapped and tied to one bed post. You lean away from him as much as possible where you sit on a corner of the mattress, cutting him with a glare.

He still hasn’t answered you. That cold dread weighs down in your gut as you force another question out.

“What did you do to Jake?”

“Jake?” His smile grows.

“Don’t play with me! That’s his shirt. He – he has a family. His sister and niece, they’re…” Your words die on your lips as he starts laughing.

“Oh, sugar,” he says with a fond look your way. “Time to break the bad news to you. Your buddy Jake is…Well, you wanna take a guess?”

“You hurt him?”

The cold smile does not waver. You swallow down the lump in your throat. You already know the answer.

“C’mon. Don’t leave me hanging,” he purrs at you, waiting for your next guess.

You’re not ready to accept it, despite the tangible evidence in front of you. Despite the bright t-shirt lying in the closet. Covering the brunette wig. It can’t be true.

This man’s face, his nose, his lips. You feel like you’re going mad as you keep being pulled back to those blue eyes. The glasses are gone; you can see his full brows, the aquamarine of his irises. That laugh that sounded wrong, even though the tenor flows through you in familiar waves.

His hair is now a natural deep brown. It's shorter, lacking the gel that previously held it up in blonde spikes. The wig must have just been a precaution for when he showed up at your office. And his facial hair is grown out more evenly and that alone could have transformed the man you thought you knew.

He disappeared months ago.

You study his eyes – you know their exact color – and recognize the mirth glinting beneath dark lashes. But your heart starts racing when his signature crooked smile doesn’t appear. Instead, a hard smirk twists his face into a stranger.

“Jake…” Maybe you hope invoking his name as you know it will make this all go away - will make the world make sense again. Maybe you want to cling to an impossible salvation.

He scoffs softly, a quiet murmur of your name on his lips, almost remorseful. Almost.

“The name’s Robert.”

Gone is the awkward, clumsy colleague you had grown close to. The man you formed a slow companionship with during late office hours sharing fast food while ranting about administration or complaining about the local asshole that stood at the corner of your block shouting right-wing rhetoric to people trying to get to work.

Gone is Jake Jensen, the cute nerd you called friend.

Robert Pronge closes in, looms before you. His fingers skim your jawline before he grips your face tight, deliberate.

“I couldn’t leave you behind,” he says, dipping even closer so his lips graze your cheek. You grow stiff at the gentle affection. His grip loosens enough that you can drop your gaze.

“I…d-don’t know you.” You don’t know this man. “I don’t.”

Robert watches as you press your forehead to your hands. He supposes it’s normal - you haven’t arrived at acceptance of reality yet. Your frame clenches with stress, the physiological response to danger. Robert has witnessed this countless times with countless hits.

A breathy chuckle tickles your skin. He knew you well enough at this point. “You’re a smart one, sugar.”

“No, no, no…”

“And you know now that ole Jake Jensen. Never existed.”

Faced with this man’s remorseless confession, you steel yourself for the inevitable.

“Are you – are you going to kill me?” You raise your eyes. You'll look at this man's face one last time, you won't be deceived in your final moments.

That dark chuckle returns.

“You think I risked showing up in town just for a quick kill?"

He cages you in, enclosing you between arms thick with muscle.

"No, sugar. Wouldn’t wanna waste a sweet thing like you.”

His mouth is on yours and for several seconds, the heated, hungry pressure stuns you. Confuses you. You squawk at the sensation of him probing for a deeper taste, and start twisting out of his hold.

Strong fingers tighten in your hair and make you whimper in pain, stilling enough for his tongue to delve into your mouth.

A quiet moan of satisfaction rumbles through Robert when he accesses the hot taste of you for the first time.

Robert decided long ago. Once his mask is peeled back – that blonde, chirpy mask – he’s taking you as his. And he’ll make sure you get to know the real him intimately.

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

A/N: Hurrah! I have been wanting to write a Jekyll and Hyde inspired fic for a while. Tis the season and all, so I present to you all: "Jensen and Pronge." muahahaha. I am trying to plan this out as a multipart fic. 😏 I'm gonna try to make this soft!dark bc that's the kind of shit I'm into.

[aminiatureworld]

Damocles

Characters: Zhongli, fm!reader

Word Count: 3,211

Warnings: Hanahaki disease – depictions of a fictional illness with symptoms mimicking tuberculosis, mentions of coughing up blood, talking a lot about death

Premise: In which the reader thinks Zhongli doesn’t reciprocate their feelings, and fears the consequences.

Author’s Note: Ngl, I don’t think I’ve ever really heard about this trope before, except maybe in passing. So if it’s a little weird that’s why.

I ended up taking the story in a bit of a macabre direction. Hopefully not too melodramatic, but I kinda like how it turned out.

Zhongli

“Thank you for telling me, but I’m afraid I cannot return your feelings. I’m sorry to be a disappointment.”

 In truth you couldn’t decide whether or not you had expected your feelings to be returned. You and Zhongli had been friends for years now, and you had grown closer to him than you had to most of your previous friends and acquaintances. Indeed, you had grown closer to him than you had to many of the people you’d been in previous relationships in. You called upon him in some form almost every day, whether it be to discuss something of importance or simply bask in his presence. When there was something new you found about, whether it be a story in a book or a particularly funky looking shell, you almost immediately sought out Zhongli to share your find with.

For Zhongli’s part, he also liked to share experiences with you. At the very least you couldn’t say that your friendship was one sided. He often would be the one to walk up to you on the street, a new brand of tea written down on a piece of paper in his pocket, or a location where one could find particularly beautiful glaze lilies on his lips. He never seemed to mind when you peppered him with endless questions, or talked his ear off about your own day; something which you often asked if he found annoying. No, you were very sure that Zhongli wasn’t simply spending time with you out of pity.

In truth it was your friends who guessed the trajectory of your personal feelings before you did. Though you often found their poking and prodding intensely irritating, they had the common sense to keep the questions to a minimum – perhaps in hope their silence might guarantee that your affections would reveal themselves naturally one day. Now though you had to admit they had been right. You had fallen for Zhongli how long ago? It seemed so difficult to say when, so gradually had your feelings changed from viewing him as a confidante to viewing him as something more. Once you had finally come to terms with it you’d put off revealing your feelings as long as possible.

It wasn’t just the chance of rejection, something that would already cause emotions to run high. You had seen what sort of disease could ravage those who were unlucky in love. One of your own friends had suffered from such a disease, a fellow member of the Liyue Qixing had died from such a thing only a few months ago.

It was a terrible disease, everyone at least could agree about that. The origins of such an unfathomable sickness was much less understood. Most saw it as a curse from the gods, a punishment to the humans who would love a fellow mortal more than those who ruled above them, who gave their protection, their mercy, and their gifts to the people below. Others argued that it was simply a result of stress, for what heart could take the shock of a truly deep rejection. A rare parasite, a curse from malevolent demons, all these theories made little difference when it came to the actual disease. You were fairly sure anyways that people dying of it couldn’t care less why it happened, only that it was happening to them.

First came the coughing, easy enough to ignore in a land where the common cold truly lived up to its name. Then you couldn’t run as fast or as far as you had once, at least on the days were you weren’t fighting off crippling fatigue – the night sweats doing little to help you in your desperate need for rest. Then the fever set in, then the blood that stained the porcelain sink. By the time the first few petals would appear emaciation would already begin to claim your muscle mass and the precious body fat that kept you alive. Some people didn’t even get to the point of regurgitating fully formed flowers. Those people were usually considered lucky, for when one must deal with an incurable disease, well, surely it is better to go sooner rather than later.

You wouldn’t lie and say that wasn’t one of the reasons it took you so long to confess. After all, what you don’t know won’t kill you, right? You weren’t actually sure about that, but it sounded right in your mind, regardless of its actual veracity. However, as with most people in love, you’d found a growing recklessness inside you, paired with the sudden desperation for a happiness which you would certainly never obtain at this rate. So you’d made up your mind to tell him, deciding that perhaps the certainty would be better than the ever growing cloud of anxiety that surrounded your thoughts.

Now you’d been rejected. You had to admit that your first reaction was utter panic, the distinct feeling of having made a terrible sort of mistake. Oh sure, your feelings were undeniably hurt, but that was less important than the virtual death sentence you’d been handed. Why oh why had you decided to do this? The world seemed to swim in front of your for a moment, as simultaneously everything came into sharp focus and faded away into the recesses of your mind. What would you do now? There was nothing to do, you just had to wait for the inevitable, wait for the cold embrace of death to welcome you to its abode. You took deep breaths, trying to control yourself. Tears were forming in your eyes, but you knew that they weren’t from romantic distress. Ironically romance was the last thing in your mind right now.

“I, I see. Thank you for your honesty.”

It was all you could manage to make out. Turning around, head light from fear, you bolted down the streets of Liyue, desperate to be in your home, desperate to ignore the sword of Damocles that now hung dangerously low over your head.

 Zhongli watched you go, watched as you stumbled your way through the crowd that always packed the streets of Liyue in the daytime. He was fine, he was perfectly fine. He had seen it through, had done what he knew was right. There was no reason to regret. Surely the small stab of pain he felt was temporary, a pinprick compared to all that the ex-archon had suffered over the years.

Zhongli had suspected that a confession like this might’ve been on the horizon for quite some time now. Not that he was dreading it out of a personal inability to reciprocate. No, in his heart Zhongli already reciprocated your suspected feelings. He loved you, adored you even; within the stony heart that had atrophied over years of war, suffering, and personal duty, grew a love that Zhongli had not felt for a very long time. He cherished every moment with you, knowing that his long life would try to compress the memories that were so precious to them. Seeing you whenever he could, dragged out conversations as long as he possibly could, Zhongli was practically desperate for time with you. He was also intensely aware of how short that time would ultimately be.

How could Zhongli push the curse of loving an immortal being on you? For it truly was a curse, to both parties involved. His side was painful of course, the knowledge that your memory, you lifespan even, would slip through his fingers like grains of sand. He would always be wondering whether or not the two of you would be experiencing a “last”. Last visit to the sea, last time to climb up the Huaguang Stone Forest to watch the sunset together. Last, last, last. Always the shadow of death would hang over you, so palpable in Zhongli’s mind that he might almost reach out and grasp the gossamer veil that would eventually steal you away. Yes, it would be a truly painful experience. Not nearly as painful however as your own experience.

Zhongli had long ago come to the conclusion that mortals had no true concept of the passage of time. You were young now, the world was your oyster. Zhongli’s immortal status would be nothing more than a passing thought, an anomaly and nothing more. Then your 40th birthday would pass, then you 50th, then you 60th, 70th, 80th. By the time you reached the end of your life the difference between you and Zhongli would stretch out like a chasm between the two of you, something to never be reconciled, for the old rarely forgave the young for their youth. Not to mention the other scenario, the one that Zhongli would never allow the freedom to truly cloud his thoughts. Your death of old age would be a tragedy, the alternative a catastrophe.

He knew all this, had seen it time and time again. Zhongli was hardly the first immortal being to fall in love with a mortal, would not be the last. Adepti, archons, all walks of immortal life were drawn to humanity, drawn to the freedom that came with mortality. Humans did things because they died; they had no forcible tie to nature, no innate duty other than to themselves. Humans could be wicked or kind or cruel or merciful as they wished. To those who were chained by their destiny, well, there was something very anomalous in such a choice. Perhaps it was no surprise then that an immortal being would inevitable find themselves interacting with those supposedly below them. Perhaps it was no surprise that this often led to love.

All that being true, Zhongli still refused to give into his needless selfishness. He loved you, yes. Knowing that was enough. He wouldn’t push such a burden on you, wouldn’t cause you resentment or pain. It would be better if you thought that your feelings weren’t reciprocated, it would be less painful.

Nor would you have to worry about the curse to which many less lucky fell. Zhongli still loved you, still cherished you deeply. You would never have to worry about that, for archons and adepti do not move on from love the way humans do. Zhongli’s love for you would long outlast your lifespan, one which, the archon prayed, would be very long indeed.

Yes, everything had been handled well enough. Perhaps you would never wish to speak with him again, perhaps you would grow to resent him even, how quickly love can turn into hate. It didn’t matter though. Zhongli had shielded you from long, drawn-out suffering, and that was all that mattered. He should’ve been satisfied, should have felt relief. Instead however he only felt a great sadness pressing down, a sadness combined with the pain that accompanied a love that must never truly be realized.

 It had been nine days since you’d been rejected by Zhongli. Crossing off another square on the calendar which you had dug out of your old stationary you sighed. The nine days succeeding the encounter had been utter hell. At first you were convinced that the worst thing that could happen was the symptoms of the wretched illness showing up quickly, so convinced you were that the next day you would wake up with blood on your pillow. Soon however, you’d come to a completely different conclusion. There was nothing worse than waiting.

Every day was spent in the agony of anticipation, every day waiting for the coughing to begin, for the night sweats to begin ravaging your sleep, for the breathe to be stolen from your lungs. Yet every day you woke up with none of these things, though your fatigue was real enough.

You should have been relieved, should have been glad for the opportunity to live even a few more days. Yet instead of relief you only felt deep, unrelenting dread. You couldn’t bring yourself to do anything, so crippled were you by morbid anticipation.

Not that your thoughts were particularly worthwhile either. Perhaps it would be one thing if your ruminations had brought up something profound, something that you could write down in a book for your family or your friends. Though it still would be poor solace, well, at least it’d be something. But your thoughts had all turned to mush, replaced by a paranoia so strong it confined you to your bed most days.

You thought that the death sentence would in some way be freeing, that you might be able to recklessly throw yourself at all the things you had avoided out of fear for so long. Instead you found yourself depressed, waiting for an inevitable so terrifying you found yourself disconnecting from the people around you. What did it matter anyways? You’d be dead soon enough.

This gross neglect of your wellbeing was at least somewhat allayed by the routine that had been drilled into your body from so many years working for the Liyue Qixing. Though you didn’t go to work, something you were sure you were going to hear about eventually, you still dared to venture out to the market. At the very least you would eat your fill in good for before the end was nigh. No need to worry about your health after all. Besides, your definition of good food didn’t necessarily always align with completely unhealthy.

Walking through the familiar streets you stared at the people around you. How odd it was to see people so close you could touch them but so far they might as well have been in Inazuma. Was there anyone else here suffering like you were? Anyone who could understand the thoughts that now flooded your brain? You stared at the ground, trying not to think about it. You’d be confronted with these thoughts the minute you got home anyways. Might as well delay it a bit.

Turning to find the fishmonger you spied a familiar silhouette. Stopping in your tracks you stared unabashedly at Zhongli. The man seemed to be carrying himself much as ever, but the unapproachable atmosphere which he’d blanketed himself in seemed somewhat more prominent. Perhaps it was your imagination, he seemed to be talking to the butcher easily enough. Not that it was any of your business. Zhongli wasn’t any of your business anymore. It would be better if you could forget him, if you could erase this feeling in your heart that refused to go away. Even now Zhongli was beautiful. Even now you wished to run up to him, to hug him, to make pretend everything was right with the world. You couldn’t do that though. Just as you couldn’t forget him, you couldn’t love him. Not in the way you wanted. Turning away you trudged back home, good food utterly forgotten.

It was day eighteen since Zhongli had rejected you, and by now your emotions were running almost unbearably high. You’d sunk into an odd reverie of adrenaline, anxiety, and utter disbelief. What in the world was going on? This was a familiar illness to you, something that had almost claimed the life of your friend and had felled your coworker. You knew everything about symptoms, timeline, etc.; and what you knew was you were supposed to be falling ill ages ago. Eighteen days between the initial rejection and the beginning of symptoms? It was unheard of! You didn’t know what to think. Were the rumors about the gods true, had Zhongli imposed some divine protection on you for the sake of your friendship? Were you somehow a superhuman who had the white blood cell coding to defeat the bacteria that caused this disease? Why hadn’t your descent begun yet?

You lounged on the couch, having moved out of your bedroom on the thirteenth day, three days after the latest possible showing of symptoms. Though you still felt deeply afraid, you found that curiosity was a surprisingly good deterrent when it wanted to be. Your fears hadn’t disappeared, but mixed with them was a disbelief so great that you often found your thoughts drifting to questions of how rather than questions of when.

Of course your initial instinct had been to seek out Zhongli. Pride mixed with fear however had kept you firmly at home. Really what was the point in even seeking out the answer to your miraculous reprieve at this point? It wouldn’t really change the outcome. Instead you might as well enjoy this unexpected extension of your life. Besides, you didn’t want to tempt the fates a second time.

 Zhongli stood at the window of your first story apartment, a glaze lily in hand. He hadn’t meant to do this, but the urge refused to leave him.

He’d noticed you a few times at the market, face drawn, eyes empty. Zhongli wasn’t sure what exactly he was expecting, but certainly this wasn’t it. He knew you weren’t suffering from illness, your pace was strong, if slightly erratic, your general aura not that of the sick that Zhongli was all too familiar with. Why then did you look so terrible? The doubts that had plagued Zhongli began to rise again, jeering at the mistake he had made. He was supposed to protect you, right? Why then did you look as if you had experienced a total health collapse?

At first Zhongli tried to ignore it. You had not come to him for help, it was not his place to try and insert himself back in your life once more. The more he thought of you however, the more he found himself uneasy. He had to have some form of communication, some way to enquire about your health. At least one last time. If you explicitly rejected all forms of contact, well then Zhongli would leave. He would never defy your wishes in such a way. Until then however, he felt like he needed to ask.

The idea of walking up to your apartment and asking you was utterly off the table. Who knew how that might end? No, he wanted a subtler way. Glaze lilies had always been a favorite of yours, sneaking out into the evening to see them bloom even more so. He would simply leave one on your windowsill. If you took it, then he would enquire about your health. If you left it, well Zhongli would have his answer.

His hand trembled slightly as he stared at the windowsill, causing the gold ribbon tied around the lily to tremble slightly. At first Zhongli wanted only to give you the flower. He realized soon however that you might be confused, wondering if someone had not simply dropped a flower on your windowsill, or had the wind blown it there? The ribbon would hopefully clear things up. Even if it looked a little silly.

Slowly placing the flower down onto the open window Zhongli sighed. Turning around he did not dare spare a glance backwards. He would have his answer soon enough after all. Until then, well, there was no point in looking back.

 You exited from the kitchen, having finally felt the energy to make yourself that good food you’d been promising yourself. Going to look at the sunset you let out a soft gasp.

On your windowsill was a single glaze lily, wrapped in gold.

[babyjamiebarnes]

Build-A-Bear

Part Eleven

Featuring: Bucky x Stark!reader, dad!Tony, Steve, Sam, Peter, OC background characters

Warnings: language, sexual implications and references, blackmail

Summary: Bucky decides it’s time to come clean to Tony, consequences be damned. Steve has his own bombshell, of sorts.

Author’s Note: Hi. I’m a lazy piece of crud. I wanted to post this earlier but I suck. It’s kinda short too, at least compared to previous parts. There will probably only be a couple parts left, maybe 2-3? I’m posting these chapters as I write so tbd in length lol. And as always, feel free to buy me a coffee!

Tags: @amourmarvel @fangirlvoice @kennedywxlsh @devilswaldorf @what-the-hap-is-fuckning @alyispunk @fredweasleysbitchh @wearegroot @sunflowerbebe107 @prestigious-tea @brckenmemories @angelbabymed @charmedbysarge @cruelsummer-s

Series Masterlist

“Are you fucking insane?”

Everyone moved back to your apartment to avoid freaking poor Matt out any more. And now there was a standoff in your living room.

“It’s the only course of action that makes sense,” Bucky said in his defense.

“Buck, her dad will skin you alive if he sees those pictures,” Sam said. “Even if he’s somehow fine with it, she’ll lose her job!”

“If we don’t do this, that kid downstairs loses his family!” Bucky shouted back.

Sam groaned in exasperation and ran his hands over his face. “There’s gotta be a way to get the money.”

“There’s not,” you said defeatedly. All eyes turn to you. They initially looked to you for guidance, but your reliance on Bucky gave him the wheel on your own personal highway to hell. “Even if we do give this person the money, there’s only one person we can get that kind of cash from. Bucky’s right. We have to tell my dad.”

“[Y/N], maybe we should brainstorm some other options,” Peter nearly whispered, keeping his voice soft in the midst of the chaos. “I don’t want you to lose your job.”

“I’ll quit,” Bucky said suddenly. “I’ll quit being an Avenger and just do, fuck, private security? Or something.”

You could see the stress and fear and frustration written on his face. In a couple steps, you were standing in front of him and were able to cup his scruffy cheeks as you spoke.

“We’ll figure all that out later.” You perked up on your toes and gave him a short kiss. “But right now, we’re on a bit of a time crunch. I’d like to end this sooner rather than later so… let’s tell Tony.”

With Peter willingly sitting in the open trunk area of the Jeep, everyone was able to fit in one car back to the Tower. The tension inside the vehicle could’ve been cut, sliced, and diced with a knife. No one wanted to say anything, but no one really knew what to say anyway.

Steve was still silent. He didn’t say a word when you discussed telling Tony, but you could practically see the gears turning in his head. He had something to say, he just wasn’t saying it.

By the time you got to the Tower, you felt like you were gonna throw up. You held the envelope with the letter and media tight in your grasp, only letting go to open your door. The second your feet touched the garage floor, Bucky was right beside you.

He kept a firm grip on your hand, squeezing a little extra so you knew he was there with you and wasn’t going to let anything bad (worse) happen. Knowing he was willing to risk his entire livelihood for you made you love him even more. But you knew if it came down to it, you’d give up your position with the Avengers. Even with only two years spent at Stark Industries — just under a year spent with the Avengers (and nearly a year with Bucky) — you’d have no problem getting a new job with any other company. Bucky’s skills were put to the best use saving the world.

As the elevator approached the floor with your dad’s office, Sam finally broke the silence.

“Do you want us to be in there with you? I’m thinking it might be better if it’s just you two.”

You turned to see Peter wringing his hands, subconsciously agreeing with Sam — he clearly didn’t want to be in the room when all this went down but was putting on a brave face to be a good support system. Steve still stood silent with his arms crossed over his chest. Whatever was going on in that head was still festering.

“I think you’re right,” you agreed with Sam. “We’ll come find you once he gets the news.”

Your eyes met Bucky’s and even though he was trying to remain confident for you, there was fear behind those baby blues.

“We’ll be okay,” you said just loudly enough for him to hear.

When you reached the floor you’d been dreading, Sam, Steve, and Peter all turned to go to their designated rooms, partially because it had been a while since all of them had been back, partially to stay far away from the impending outburst.

You took a deep breath and started toward Tony’s office, just to be pulled back into Bucky’s arms. He held you tight, nuzzling his face in your hair and just holding you. You gripped the back of his shirt in response and just took a moment to appreciate the hard muscles of his chest and the weight of his arms around you.

“We’re gonna be okay,” you whispered.

Bucky let out a breath and kissed the crown of your head.

“I don’t want to lose you.”

This made you pull back and look up at him.

“Lose me? Bucky, I’m not going to let this affect us. No matter what happens, I’m not going anywhere. I love you too much, Bucky Bear.”

The affectionate nickname made him smile, even if it was just a little quirk of the lips.

“I love you too, Build-A-Bear.”

You let him hold you for a couple more minutes before leading him to your dad’s closed office door. When you slowly pushed the door open, you saw Tony sitting behind his desk with half a dozen holographic screens open in front of him.

“Hey pumpkin, what are you doing here?” he asked, barely taking his eyes off his work for a second.

“Um, I kind of really need to talk to you.” Despite being on close speaking terms with your dad — the kind where you felt comfortable swearing in front of him and joking with him, even sharing some of your secrets — you felt like this was crossing a line.

Of course it was. You were in bed with (his perception of) the enemy.

Tony could tell something was wrong by how timid you sounded. You were always loud and bubbly with him — a quality you definitely got from him. He swiped all of the screens closed and walked around the large desk to stand in front of you. He briefly met Bucky’s eyes as the super soldier stood close behind you.

“What’s going on?”

“You-you should probably sit down for this,” you said shakily. Tony took the seat nearest you instead of walking back behind his desk. “So… you know how I’ve been dating James for, like, 10, 11ish months now?”

“And I still haven’t met him?” Tony said with a quirked brow.

“Yeah.” You forced a chuckle. “Well, when we were going through mail this morning, I… I got this.”

You held up the envelope before sliding out the letter and handing it to your dad. His expression went from curious to furious in seconds as his eyes scanned the entire page.

“They sent pictures. Pictures taken through my apartment windows of me and James. Being… intimate.”

“James who?” your dad asked, still staring at the letter. When you didn’t reply, he looked you in the eye, his expression hard as he demanded, “[Y/N], what is James’s last name?”

You took a short breath, the most your anxiety-gripped lungs could handle, and avoided his gaze as you replied.

“Barnes.”

Tony shot up from his seat, his eyes moving from you to the man behind you. The familiar feeling of a metal hand on your lower back helped ease the anxiety coursing through you at your dad’s reaction. When Tony took a step toward Bucky, you countered with a panicked step between them, looking up at your dad and pleading.

“He didn’t know who I was.”

“Bullshit,” Tony spat. He and Bucky were glaring at each other over your head.

“He didn’t, I swear. He found out the same day everyone else did.”

The grinding of his teeth let you know he was seething. But trying to hold it together for now.

“Let me see the rest,” Tony said calmly, holding his hand out. You reluctantly dropped the photos and DVD into his open palm. Bucky didn’t want to get too affectionate, so he just rested his hand on your hip while Tony flipped through the photos.

Everything was back in order, so he went through the same sequence you did: pap photos, to apartment photos, to sex photos. You could tell when the pictures turned raunchy by the way Tony’s face contorted, tossing the photos down shortly after.

“Friday, play the disc,” he commanded. The video played against the only blank wall in the room, the audio of you and Bucky playing through the speakers.

“Dad, you really don’t need to —” you started, quickly stopped by a sharp glare from your father.

“What are you gonna do to me?”

“I’m gonna put a baby in you. I’m gonna cum inside this tight pussy until you can’t take it anymore.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Tony nearly growled. “Friday, shut it off.”

“I tried to tell you,” you murmured under breath, though not loud enough for him to hear. Bucky did hear it though, evident by the way he squeezed your hip.

Tony leaned forward against his desk, hanging his head in clear frustration. You knew better than to speak up while he contained his emotions, so you stood in silence with Bucky as your dad sighed heavily and spoke to himself under his breath.

“You just have something against me, don’t you?” Tony said accusingly to Bucky.

“Don’t do that,” you scoffed. “You don’t get to do that. If you’re going to get mad at anyone, it needs to be me.” You never got snappy with your dad, but everything weighing on your shoulders frayed your nerves and his attitude didn’t do anything to fix it. “I’m the one who knew full well what we were doing. I’m the one who had all the details. I’m the one who chose to risk everything for this from the start. So if you’re really that mad, take it out on me. Otherwise, help us. We’ll get to the semantics and firing and all that bullshit later. Right now, there are literal lives on the line.”

Tony was still fuming until he heard the last line.

“What do you means ‘lives on the line’?”

Bringing Steve, Sam, and Peter in helped all of you explain what happened, from the note you received to the first viewing of the photos and video to the confrontation with Matt, but not without Tony grilling all of them about when and how they found out about you and Bucky. Peter looked nervous about keeping a secret from his boss, but you knew your dad wouldn’t do anything too bad to the kid. Maybe kick him off a couple missions, but nothing noteworthy. Steve and Sam looked like they really couldn’t care less, especially since Sam was the last to know.

Despite still wanting to rip Bucky’s arm off and beat him with it, Tony remained civil for your sake, at least until all of this was sorted.

The first step was getting Peter, Happy, and Pepper to try to track down where the letters came from, which likely meant scanning for fingerprints (despite how many hands held it that day alone). The second step was for you, Bucky, Tony, Sam, and Steve to scope out your building and any neighboring buildings someone may have been scoping your apartment from. There was no one someone could’ve been dangling outside your windows without you noticing. The third step was meeting with your doorman again to try to piece together some answers.

You all agreed to keep local law enforcement out of it so the culprit didn’t catch on as quickly. Having a few Avengers and Tony Stark show up at Tony’s daughter’s apartment wasn’t out of the ordinary so you could still stay under wraps. There was no reason to draw attention to your place and possibly trigger the mystery person into accelerating their plans.

With your dad’s confidence in the plan, you gradually grew more and more optimistic about the plan. If all else failed, Tony would get the two million and continue tracking the fucker down. It wouldn’t be hard to sneak a tracker into the cash and watch where it goes once it’s out of your hands. That’s when you could bring in local law enforcement.

It felt like things were finally going your way.

As you and your crew headed downstairs to drive back to your place, Steve grabbed your arm and tugged you to the side.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” he asked quietly.

You nodded and followed him down the hall; Bucky was busy talking to Sam and Tony was on the phone briefing Rhodey so he could stand guard outside your doorman’s place for a while, giving you the perfect opportunity to step away for a minute. When Steve pulled you into a side room, you finally spoke up.

“What’s up? Is everything okay?”

Steve crossed his arms and huffed. That signature frown of his softened when he met your concerned gaze.

“I know we’re not necessarily close, but I consider you a friend. You know that, right?”

“I consider you a friend too,” you said with a nod.

“What I’m about to say... I need you to keep it between us. Don’t tell Bucky or Sam or Peter or your dad. Just between us, at least for now. Okay?”

“O-okay...? You’re making me nervous, Steve,” you admitted. “What’s going on?”

“I think I know who’s blackmailing you.”

[mxvladdy]

THE WAY YOU FILLED YOUR FIRST REQUEST SHOOK ME?!?!?!? YOU BLESSED US!? Would you mind also imagining how Mammon, Luci and Belphie would feel with a MC who's guarded with themselves and their feelings to avoid hurt, so they try to keep these brothers at a friendly arm's length as they don't believe the brothers don't really care about them? It would make me so happy, thank you so much!

EEEEK! Sorry for the wait. It took forever and a day to get enough time to seat uninterrupted and then try to edit ;.;

I hope you like it! Apologies if I didn’t get the prompt just right!

Mammon

He didn’t hide his disdain for his human protection duty when you first met. The fact that you kept him at an arm's length was a devil’s blessing. Good! He is a busy demon after all, he doesn’t have time for some human. At first.

Then he caught the feels and it’s all downhill for him at his ‘cool devil’ act. Not that you ever NOTICED.

He tries to flirt with you. Before you, he thought he was good at it too.

He’s never had someone so civil with his advances. You smile and laugh politely at whatever complement he throws at you. You might even give him a few back in a teasing, but clearly friendly manner.

You stress it heavily whenever he comes on too heavy with his advances. You stamp down whatever feelings he evokes and try to keep your line clean and precise in the shifting sand of your relationship.

He takes you out one evening after school, determined to get an actual answer from you over some made up snack he lied about. You don’t think anything of it, happy for an excuse to hang out. You walk and talk, not taking notice of his steadily reddening face as he keeps making swipes at your hand each time it brushes his.

You make an off-handed (get it) remark about the closeness and offer to walk behind this was bothering him.

He is miffed and throws out all semblance of “coolness”. Just flat out confess. Face flaming hot from embarrassment and sweaty palms now shoved into his jacket.

It was a blink and you’d miss it kind of moment. Mammon’s cheeks start to heat gradually. A staunch look of panic growing behind his eyes.

The words just slip off his tongue. His lips forming a sentence you were dreading. You didn’t quite catch it all; his declaration lost in the wind of the open market. You try to catch his gaze, to make him repeat himself clearly, for what purpose you didn’t know. You don't particularly want to hear it again, yet it would give you time to compose some kind of response.

He refuses to look at you. No matter which way you bob and weave beneath him, he dances around you. His face always looking in the opposite direction of yours. His gaze permanently pointing at his feet. The uneven cobblestone beneath his scuffed boots was suddenly very interesting it seemed. "I'm sorry? I didn't catch that." You ask once more, grabbing on to the crook of his elbow.

He buries himself deeper into the flipped collar of his coat and whispers it again. "I-I like ya, ok? Like like like ya know?" He stumbles over his thoughts.

Now how in the hells were you supposed to dodge this? It had been easier to evade his blatant affections when even he wasn't admitting to them. "No, you don't." You step away with a dry chuckle. "Don't be silly." You back away shaking your head in denial. You were sure Mammon could feel your heart rate picking up. You need some space, more space than the street could give you. Somewhere away from your tall, sweet, white-haired problem.

"Oi!" He makes a grab for you as you turn to flee. He spins you around leaning down to meet with you face to face. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"We are friends Mammon," You try to wiggle out of his strong, yet gentle grip. "You're just mixing up the feelings." Bullshit. With him touching you, your joint pack acted like an amplifier. You very much felt what he thought of you. The yearning from his newfound mental clarity mixes with the panic of your rejection. It makes a bittersweet taste bloom in your mouth, so hopefully yet reserved.

He was not so lucky. Your feelings felt like ash on his tongue, a sour tang of fear and self-doubt building on his sense. You were afraid of the inevitable, or what you presumed to be the inevitable.

  You were supposed to be friends then disappear forever once the school year was up. Him, down here, and you back to being just another nameless soul in the human realm. No need to get the storyline all tangled. "Hey-hey," Mammon speaks in a rush. "It ain't like that, really." He coos shuffling you closer till you are wrapped tightly in his soft leather jacket. He pours more of himself into the pack, opening himself up in ways he never thought capable of from his demonic form.

"I'm stupid." You speak into his chest. The warm reassurance of his unspoken pledge soothing you. It lessens the tight feeling of uncertainty that you had grown accustomed to.

"Ah- now, ain't that supposed to be my job?" The taste in his mouth dissipates slightly as you let out an indignant huff. He flinches as you poke his side hard between his rib cage.

"Told you to stop talking down on yourself Mammon."

The demon hums noncommittally keeping you close. He rocks you both from side to side, oblivious to the throngs of other pedestrians forced to walk around you two. "Guess I forgot. Maybe you could remind me? O-on a date?"

He smiles down at the little sliver of your face and eyes peeking up from the darkness of his jacket. He could damn near feel the smile trying to break from your forced scowl. "Just one?"

"Heh- don't bet on it."

Lucifer

Welcome to the ultimate game of pleasantry chicken. The two of you know this dance by heart, but your footwork isn't synching up.

Lucifer is trying to keep this whole debacle as professional as possible. You are an esteemed guest and pact holder for all of his brothers and himself. This should be business as usual. He totally has his emotions and growing frustration at your lack of interest in him in check.

Yup. He's fine. He's great; glad you two have such an unspoken understanding of your standing in his company and in the house. The same book, same chapter, same bloody page.

You are a good friend. Just. A. Very. Good. Friend.

He breaks first. Not that he will admit it. But the weekly coffee breaks become a bi-daily thing as he tries to court you. He draws these evenings out now. Have you finished your schoolwork? No, allow me to tutor you. Perhaps you would like to listen to this new vinyl with me tonight? It is a complete demon rendition of Wagner's Die Meistersinger. A classic, you’ll love it.

You take it all in stride. Thanking him innocently enough and going along with it. You buffer every little turn of phrase and slightly off-color hint of what he wanted from you with grace. So tactfully done he begins to doubt himself. You couldn’t be misconstruing his intentions right? He hasn’t doubted himself like this in a long time.

Diavolo catches on quickly to the kicked puppy look Lucifer tots around in your presence. He’ll tease, but try to help. He’s a decent wingman truth be told. “How has Lucifer been treating you? I haven’t seen him this happy in ages. He is a great friend to have, yes?” Kinda backfires when you agree that he is indeed a good friend. Oops.

He’ll crack one night over a glass (or bottle) of something strong he pulled from his study. You had slipped into his room unannounced asking for a quiet place to read before bed.  The interruption to his musings leads to him running his mouth and pile driving his pride into the ground.

He can’t say no to you anymore. He really should. You were hell bent on keeping him at an arm's length, so he should too. Lucifer watches you like a hawk from behind his desk. His ungloved fingers swirling the dregs of his drink. The cognac inside of it looking up at him, his scowl reflecting in the rich red liquor. Don’t judge me. He scoffs at himself, was he that far gone that he was arguing with his glassware? Should have switched to the bottle hours ago.

“Luci?” You say again waving a hand in his face. “You forget to sleep again this week?” Your smile was warm, a little twinkle in your eye drawing a heat to his collar that had nothing to do with the spirits. You sit on the edge of his desk in your sleepwear. The baggy shirt and sweats reeked of his brothers.

“No.” He lies pushing his desk chair away. “Did you need something?”

You shrug hopping off the desk. “Not really. Wasn’t feeling movie night. You ok if I hang out here? It’s nice and quiet.” You slink off to the couch in front of the fire before he could answer.

“You could not do this in your room?” Lucifer snips. He tosses back the rest of his drink and rises to his feet. He grimaces at the burn spreading across his throat. “I’m sure it is quiet in there too.” He catches your eyes looking over the back of the lounge. While everything lower than the bridge of your nose was blocked by the black velvet he could feel the frown growing on your face.

“Well, yes. But I still want some friendly company. Just not rowdy company, I thought you wouldn’t mind...”  

Devils. There was that word again. "You assume to know me?" He cannot hide the venom lacing his words. The liquor had dulled his senses enough that he could not hide his rancor.

“I’m-” You leave the chair coming around it to give him your full attention. This wasn’t like him. Not anymore at least. But you were used to the odd mood swings that plagued your companions. "I don’t assume anything about you Luci. But if you want to talk-"

“I don’t want to have some idle friendly chit chat.” He could feel the tantrum coming. “Have I not proven myself capable of-” His jaw snaps shut with an audible click that echoes across the spacious chamber.

“Of?”

A noticeable blush grows on his pale cheeks. “More.” He sighs deeply, he feels light-headed at the admission. Whether it was from the drinks or from going against his nature and swallowing his pride he couldn’t tell. “Am I not enough to be more than a friend to you?”

That takes you by surprise. You had speculated that he harbored feelings for you. Diavolo all but cementing the idea in your mind. But, this was Lucifer. It felt like just yesterday you were at each other's throats, before he recognized you as something other than a threat to his family. You wanted to respect that little bit of trust he had given you. “It’s not like I never thought about it.”

“But?” He perks up slightly hearing the unspoken word in your inflection. He could see your apprehension yet there was a shimmer of something else underneath. Something he could work with.

“I was- I am scared.”

“Finally, a reasonable response from being around demons.” Lucifer snorts.

“Hey! You know that’s not what I mean.”

“No, I don’t. Explain it to me.” He invades your space waiting to see what you would do. Run or stay. He would have his answer either way. You don’t move, instead, you wrap your arms around yourself. Guarding yourself yet standing firm. One of the many reasons why he admired you.

“I feel like we just became friends. I didn’t think you felt the same and I didn’t want to mess this all up.” You confess. “I just thought it would be easier this way.”

Lucifer absorbs your words quietly, nodding at the logic behind them. “Messes are not something I generally like true, but," He reaches for you, careful of your defensive stature to lead you back to the couch. “If you are willing to iron out the bumps with me I’d like to see what we can make of it.”

If it meant he could have you he would take as much time as you needed.

Belphegor

It takes him the longest to notice that you were trying to keep him at arm's length emotionally. It was hard for him to see at first since you still readily accepted his invitations to snuggle and hang out.

He thought he was very blatant with his desire for you and your affections. The head pats and evening is the planetarium or his attic.

The fact that he had apologized for that little murder mishap. He thought that was a big bright neon sign. Yet you always seemed to try to invite someone else along to chill or leave quickly after an hour or so. As much as he loved his twin and tolerated his other brothers he was trying to get you ALONE.

He starts trying to see you outside the house now too. Lunch in the cafeteria? Pffft. You are going to eat and nap with him in the courtyard. After School activities? Could you help him with some council stuff instead?

Yes, he will go out of his way to do work if you are involved.

You are still too closed off though. You act around him like you do around any of the other brothers and it drives him crazy. You are just so friendly and cordial with everyone. How come he is the only one that becomes a flushing mess now?

He becomes your second shadow, almost as bad as Mammon. You start to get an inkling of his intentions when he starts wanting to sleep in your bedroom at night instead of his or the attic. You let him but offer up the couch or split the bed with a pillow.

He snoops when he gets desperate. Did you like someone else? Was that why you were constantly acting like his advances were just him being overly friendly? He doesn’t find anything, you act like this around everyone else too.

He gives up. Stops interacting with you entirely. He is 99% sure he can sleep through the next century without being bothered. Maybe he’ll get over you by then.

“Belphie? You up here?” The demon in question opens a bleary eye to his locked door. He should stay quiet, leave you hanging. Give himself some vindictive pleasure in snubbing you.

“Hai~” He rises from his nest of blankets and pillows. “Hold on.” Unlocking the door he opens it ajar. You smile around the large stack of books and binders in your arms. “What is that?” Please don’t say homework.

“Work you’ve missed sulking up here.” You confirm his worst fear. “Satan and I thought we would spot you a bit though.” Belphegor watches you struggle for a second to pull a folded piece of paper out from the middle of the stack. “We got most of the answers done for you. Now you just have to fill the worksheets in with your handwriting.” You wave the paper expectantly.

Hearing his brother’s name makes him sour immediately. How long had you been hanging out with him now? “Thanks, leave them at the door then.” He goes to shut the door and return to his dreamless slumber but it’s blocked by your foot.

“Ouch.” You wince hopping back on one foot.

“Idiot! Are you hurt?” He wrenches the door open crouching down to take a look at your sock-covered foot.

“Nothing I can’t walk off. Though my arms are getting sore- weak human muscles an’ all.” You hint wiggling the stack in your arms. He takes the work this time, still eyeing your foot. “Relax, I’ve stubbed my toe with more force than that before.” You whisk by him, using his brief moment of distraction to slip by.

“Did I invite you in?” Belphegor eyes you with a frown. He kicks his door close and dumps the pile of papers on his already over-encumbered desk. Hmm. How many days had he missed?

You ignore him plopping down on the still warm sheets. “Nope!” You pop the ‘p’ with a grin. “But that has never stopped you from sneaking into my room. So fair trade all around.” You pat at the bed, clearing inviting him to join you. “Come on. I’ll help you finish that work then we can chill.”

Oh, now you want to hang out. He felt a rush of bitterness wash over him.  “Don’t you have something better to do?” If this keeps up he’ll need another nap, alone preferably. “Doesn’t Asmo need a shopping buddy or something?”

“What’s gotten you all worked up?” You frown, hurt by his accusatory tone.

Belphie shoots you a wounded look. "We never hang out anymore." He sulks. "Alone, I mean. I'm tired of you always inviting Beel or someone else with us."

He glances over to you idly thumbing at one of the books on his desk. It's frustrating. This game of touch and go he accidentally got himself into. Ugh- why did this have to be so hard. "I want to spend more time with you. Just us, so why are you always avoiding that?" 

"I.” You look down at your feet dangling off the side of his mattress. “I’m sorry you feel that way. I just felt like- like things were going off the rails between us.” You weren't oblivious to his advances.

He cocks his head in confusion. "Mmm? What are you afraid of?" You read a flicker in his eyes, a haunting memory of cruel fingers around your neck darken his gaze. "Ah-"

"No! No that's not it!" You panic waving your hands up. Of course, he would immediately go to that. "I'm just worried. I know you like me, and-just what if things don't work out? What if you realize what a mistake this could be?"

Your admission gives him pause. So you knew this whole time? Not surprising; he wouldn't fall for someone stupid. "So, are you admitting to liking me back?" He feels giddy when you nod, covering your heating face with your hands. " Well then, what’s the problem? It’s not a mistake if we both are making it.” He grins slyly. “How can it not work out if the feelings are mutual.”

“But what if you are mistaken?” He wraps you up into his arms, flopping you both over onto his messy bed. He takes one of your hands and places it on the top of his head all while burying his nose in your neck.

“Please,” He yawns, feeling his body grow heavy. “I don’t waste my energy on ‘mistakes’.”

[pink-imagines]

bad day

request: Hi. I'm going through a rough patch rn (someone I thought of as a best friend stabbed me in the back) and it's really hard. I was wondering how Bakugou, Kirishima, and Twice (if you write for him) would react to their normally perky s.o. suddenly being to upset to even get out of bed. Thank you so much.

a/n: i hope this helps a little bit. loosing friends is hard but you can’t do anything to stop it. i hope you feel better soon, i’ll post the ones with kirishima and twice soon!

warnings: crying and slight angst, otherwise very fluffy

masterlist

requesting rules

Katsuki Bakugo

It had been a while since the two of you had started dating, you had actually just moved in together. Though you had taken your relationship pretty far you hadn’t really cried in front of him, or exposed any negative emotions to him. Sure, you’d fought like any other couple but it was always easily solved and no tears had to be shed. 

Today, however, was unlike any other day - in the sense that you weren’t your usual happy self. You were always the moodsetter in a group, the happy one who always made others laugh. Maybe that’s why everyone was kind of confused by Katsuki and your relationship, as you seemed like two opposites on the outside. Either way, today you didn’t feel like you usually presented yourself and you were way too tired to even try to pretend like you’re happy - which was often what happened on your bad days.

When you woke up that morning Katsuki was already out of bed, and most likely already at the agency. You reached for your phone and called into your work, explaining that you were feeling sick and that you couldn’t come in for the day. It wasn’t a complete lie as you weren’t feeling well, but it’s not like you were physically sick. When you put back your phone on your bedside table you immeditately crawled back under the covers and curled up in a little ball. You didn’t want to get up. You didn’t even have the energy to move at all.

Eventually you had to go to the bathroom, even if you really didn’t want to get out of bed. You forced yourself out of the comfortable covers and walked over to the bathroom, on the way you walked past a clock and you noted that it was in fact already noon. More exact, it was already 5 pm and you had slept through the entire day. Grumpily, you made your way to the bathroom and did your business rather quickly. When you were washing your hands you looked up at the mirror, seeing someone who you couldn’t actually recognize. You touched your cheek and then let your hand run through your very tangled hair. With a sigh you looked away from your reflection and went back to the bedroom. You looked through Katsuki’s closet and took out a hoodie of his. All you wanted right now was for him to come home and hug you tightly, but for now one of his hoodies would have to do. 

Over the past few hours you phone had been blow up with messages, from social media, to text, to emails. You felt a sense of overwhelming stress by just looking at your phone. You hadn’t showered, hadn’t eaten, and you hadn’t done any work what so ever. To say the least, you felt absolutely useless and shitty. There were no messages from Katsuki, meaning that he was probably out for a shift at the moment and would be home late. With dreaded steps you walked over to the bed and crawled back under the covers. 

After a while your neighbors, living above you, started watching TV. This wasn’t usually a problem but, with all the stress building up around you, the noise was becoming unbearable. You felt the tears brimming up in your eyes and you choked out a sob. All you wanted was a hug... would he even want to hug you now that you were such a total mess? You were always so happy, what if this wasn’t what he had “signed up for”? It didn’t matter, he wouldn’t be home until you were supposed to be asleep and so you let your sobs sound through the room.

You couldn’t hear Katsuki putting the key in the keyhole and opening the door. You couldn’t hear him kicking off his shoes and hanging up his jacket. You definitely didn’t hear him walk into the bedroom... but you did hear him call out to you. “Baby? You okay?”, he asked and your whimpered immediately quieted down. He sat down on the bed, making it tilt slightly, and he put his hand softly on your shoulder. You wouldn’t answer him. “I gotta take a shower, okay? Come out to the kitchen if you feel like it and I’ll make you some food.”, he said and got up. You heard him take clean clothes out of his wardrobe and take them to the bathroom. Hearing him leave made your heart ache but you hadn’t exactly done anything to make him stay.

Eventually you heard the water running in the other room and you sat up in bed. You dried away your tears with the cuffs on Katsuki’s hoodie. For a while you sat there and stared out the window through the small gap in the curtains, as you hadn’t bothered with opening them today. You listened to the shower running... and then it turning off... and then Katsuki walking around the bathroom, only to later walk into the kitchen.

After a while of listening to him making something in the kitchen you decided to get out of bed. Suddenly you remembered that you hadn’t eaten all day and you got extremely hungry. Katsuki was standing in his sweatpants and hoodie, what he usually wore at home, but he couldn’t look more handsome in your eyes. His hair was ruffled around and still damp from the shower. Normally you’d never do this, but you didn’t care tonight and you wrapped your arms around him from behind. You felt him stiffen before relaxing under your touch as he kept stirring around things on the stove. “Have you eaten at all today?”, he was way more quiet than usual. You shook your head and let out a sound that was supposed to resemble a “no”. He let out a sigh and turned off the stove, turning around to look at you. “Did you go to bed early?”, he asked. “... no.”, you managed to croak out and you didn’t dare look him in the eye. “... you were in bed all day?”, he asked again and you nodded in response. He sucked in a sharp breath and you were ready for the weird comments or the negative statements... but they never came. Instead Katsuki wrapped his arms around you and pressed your head against his chest. You could hear his heart racing, and even though the sound was calming you couldn’t help but to shed a few tears of relief that you were finally in his arms. “Had a bad day, huh?”, he said softly and you nodded, “It’s okay... let’s get you some food and then I’ll tuck you in.” “... I have to shower...”, you whispered hoarsly. “Then I’ll get the bath ready while you eat, okay?”, he never spoke this softly to you, “I’ll try to see if I could get off work earlier tomorrow too.” “... thank you, Katsuki...”, you muttered against his chest. Before he could say anything else, your grumbling stomach interrupted him. “Food’s ready. Sit down, would you?”, he motioned for you to sit down by the dinner table.

Once you had eaten dinner Katsuki came back from the bathroom saying that your bath was ready. You walked in there, got undressed and got into the perfectly warm bath. It felt like the bubbles around you were embracing you, as if you were on a cloud in the sky. You tilted your head back and relaxed your tensed up shoulders.

After a while the door to the bathroom opened once again and Katsuki stepped inside. He usually took his time with eating, as it was one of the times he could relax and just be with you. However, this time he had been very quick to be back to you - you hadn’t even started washing your hair. Katsuki grabbed the showerhead and tilted your head back slightly, so that he could rinse your hair off with warm water. “Is it too hot?”, he asked. “No... it’s perfect.”, you mumbled. He hummed in response and kept washing your hair as you closed your eyes in immense pleasure. It was like going to the hairsalon, except ten times better since you were in the comfort of your own home and you were with Katsuki. “Give me the shampoo bottle.”, he said suddenly. “Oh but I can-” Katsuki simply hushed you and motioned for the shampoo bottle. You reached for it and gave it to him, letting him put the shampoo in your hair and massage your scalp. You let out a pleased hum at his motions. “You don’t have to do this for me, you know?”, you muttered out to him. “You’ve had a bad day, let me pamper you.”, he huffed, “It’s not like I’ll do this for you all the time, alright?” You chuckled at his flusteredness over something as simple at this. There was a clear image of his red face in your head, making you smile a bit brighter. “This made my day a lot better... thank you.”, you told him softly. “Don’t worry about it.”, he breathed out, “Next time text me or something, I don’t want to come home to you hurting without me even knowing about it.” “I didn’t think you’d react like this to it...”, you shrugged, “... sorry.” “You don’t have to apologies.”, he shook his head slightly, “Just let me know next time, okay? I’ll try helping you.” “Okay.”, you nodded.

Once you were out of the bath Katsuki gave you a new set of sleepwear and you followed him to the bedroom after brushing your teeth.Like he said he would, Katsuki tucked you in and then crawled under the sheets himself. He pulled you close to his chest, where you snuggled up. “Goodnight, baby.”, he whispered. “Goodnight...”

-

permanent taglist: @theoceanphoenixhasrisen | @raven-r0ses | @darkbeautyswife | @sondering-thoughts | @gowoneandonlyone | @bnhabadass | @queenblackcat | @jayetheanimefreek101 | @witchy-anna | @cutest-celestial-princess | @missymysa | @karebear5118 | @weebartistinc | @crystal-lilac |

[nerdynuala]

hc/ oneshot of levi coaching hanji bc they were about to fight w the mp bc someone was making fun of them?

First off, I'm so so sorry anon I really took my sweet time with this one.

The thing is I don't usually write anything beside very random headcanons when inspiration hits lol

I've been debating whether to try this or redirect you to a fanfic writer's blog since I'm not confident about my writing and my English is kinda rubbish imo.

But yeah, in the end I gave it a try. Also, sorry Anon but I'm not sure if I got exactly what you were asking for, and I went full MP huge fight mode. And it's kinda turned into vets stuff. I still suggest you ask a writer to do this, there's many cool blogs out there who can do a much better job in half the time lol

Anyway, if you wanna read my poor attempt at writing, here it is.

Warning: just some swearing, she/her pronouns for Hange

"Look, if it isn't the crazy bitch from the Survey Corps" a man with a raspy voice barked.

Hange dreaded those meetings with the MPs, no one in the Survey Corps could stand them, to be honest, but still, they had to put up the façade and feign some civil behaviour for the sake of the Scouts and the funding. Hange was well aware she had trouble controlling her temper most of the times, and experience taught her that she couldn't stand the Military Police talking badly about her comrades.

She knew that Levi and herself together managed to make a few scenes before, and Erwin particularly stressed it every time before one of these meetings. "And please, please I beg all of you to refrain from making scenes or even talking back to anyone. We're there to make a good impression, we need funds and fo heaven's sake the last thing we need is for them to have an excuse to think even less of us and undermine our funds" he said every time, with a pointed look directed at Levi and Hange.

She turned and stared right at the Military Police man who was talking about her. She smiled and waved, "Yes, that would be me, it's a pleasure to meet you!".

Levi snorted at the facial expression the idiot made. He hoped that Hange brushing him off like that would settle it, but he had been to enough meetings to know it wasn't over at all.

"She probably didn't score high enough to get into the good Corps. That's what they do isn't it?" the man nudged a colleague in the chest, gesturing towards Hange.

"Aye, scoring shit and then ending up in some titan's mouth. They're replaceable anyway" the pug-faced man joined the teasing.

Levi could sense Hange tense next to him. He knew what she felt, he loathed hearing comments about his comrades just as much as she did.

She laughed it off, though. "Maan I would love to watch the insides of a Titan! What do we have to lose? Another cadet will score shit and they can take my place. Unless some of you feel the thrill of bravery once in your life and decide to join" she shrugged. "Who knows".

Levi knew this could only get worse. He tugged her sleeve. "Hange, come, let's join Mike and Erwin".

"My, my, if it isn't humanity strongest!"

"The underground scum you mean"

"No, no, he's a hero now, isn't he? Should've been thrown to prison and was rescued by Smith like a fucking stray dog"

Both men laughed, while others were gathering around.

"Shut the fuck up all of you!" Levi admitted to himself he would have snapped just like that, but Hange had anticipated him. His eyes went slightly wide for a moment, but then his lips briefly curled up in a small smirk upon seeing the fervor in Hange's brown orbs.

He would have loved to join her and teach a lesson to those morons, sure, but they promised Erwin.

He tugged again at her sleeve. "Oi, it's not worth our time, let's go".

The MPs laughed. "Only thing that's worth the time or your sorts is getting minced up by some stinky titan's mouth".

Hange tensed and she opened her mouth to strike back, but Levi gently made her turn to face him.

"Let's not get into trouble", he said, staring directly in her eyes.

"But Levi you should-"

"Yeah I want to break their fucking noses as much as you do. But we promised Erwin" he tugged once more.

The MPs laughed again, louder this time.

"Erwin Fucking Smith keeping his lapdogs tamed!" roared the pug-faced one.

"No wonder he needs to tame them" laughed another one with an annoying high-pitched voice, "look at the kind of lapdogs he got himself! One's a nutcase eager to step into a Titan's mouth, the other one is a pint-sized thug fetched straight from the filthy undergound" they all laughed. "I think we're missing one..." he feigned thinking hard, with a hand on his chin.

"What did you expect from the Survey Corps and Fucking Smith? That's the best he could get, to be fair" a black-haired man joined them.

"Not that he particularly cares..." he added with an unpleasant smirk "these are just chunks of meat he is more than willing to feed to titans, anyway".

That was it. That was just what drove Hange over the top and Levi knew it. He could feel her clenching her fist under his hand, he felt her muscles tremble. He looked at her, she was clenching her jaw, a fiery light in her eyes, cheeks slightly flushed. She briefly looked at him, and he didn't need words of any sorts. He let go of her arm and nodded.

Hange launched herself at the black-haired man and punched him on the jaw.

Everyone was shocked.

"Do you idiots have anything else to say?" She challenged them. "You can talk shit about me all you want, I don't give a damn, but show some respect to my comrades, people willing to DIE for your fat asses"

Levi watched her. She was scary, definitely scary when angry. He briefly smirked to himself, she had used one of the moves he taught her while sparring.

She suddenly grabbed the collar of the pug-faced man. She lifted her fist and the man flinched.

Levi approached her but he just glared at the MPs. "I won't restrain her, you called it".

He turned towards Hange. "If you punch him in the nose like I thaught you, you'll knock him out and fuck him up, but not enough to kill him".

"I know" she growled, but she clearly was trying to control her impulse to strike him.

The man had the courage to smirk. "Did Smith manage to tame the thug but not this nutcase of a weirdo?".

Hange hit him on front of his nose with the heel of her palm. He passed out instantly.

It was chaos, the other two men launched themselves against Hange. Levi announced "I've got your back, Hange" and the fight started getting bad. Levi's eyes were checking Hange all the time, he knew she could handle it but he resolved he would avoid risking her getting hurt.

Erwin, across the enourmous room, paled. He heard shouting and suddenly a group of people were hitting each other. Levi and Hange had been gone for a while, and he had a gut feeling they were right in the middle of it.

He was speaking to an important old man who may just want to fund the Corps if he worked him correctly, he couldn't leave him. Not now. Erwin subtly excused himself and fetched Mike, without getting more than two steps away from the man.

"Stop them" he whispered close to his ear.

Mike's eyes travelled to the corner of the room and took notice of the fight. He didn't see Hange and Levi since there were a lot of people gathered around, but he didn't need to see them to know they were there.

He stared at Erwin. "The two of them?" he whispered back, "You think I can stop the two of them? Are you nuts?".

"Just do something, please. I can't leave this one, he's going to fund us with some good amount of money" he clapped Mike's shoulder.

Mike sighed. "Fine" he said, murmuring something along the lines of "wish me luck" while he made his way to fetch his friends.

He sure had to admit he didn't think it was this bad. Hange was clearly having the upper hand and she was the one who was hitting the most.

He grabbed her from behind and lifted her up, gesturing to Levi to stop the fight and keep the opponents away. She kicked around and ended up elbowing him on the temple.

"Fuck" he hissed, gripping her waist tighter "Hange stop! It's me!".

Suddenly, Levi was on his side.

"Let go, Mike, I'll show them" Hange was struggling to get out of his arms, hitting him in the process.

"Levi do something! What the hell" he hissed again, getting frustrated.

Levi caught Hange's wrist and she looked at him. "That's enough, Hange" he said calmly and she sighed and tried calming down.

Hange's gaze lingered on the mess she and Levi made. Well, it was mostly Hange's doing.

Feeling her relax in his arms, Mike released her and let her again on the floor.

"Erwin's gonna kill the both of you" he looked around. His eyes stopping and widening as he took notice of the limp man on the floor, two of the MPs were lightly slapping his cheek. "Is he-?"

"Just passed out" Levi interrupted.

Mike sighed and rubbed a hand on his face.

"There's the lapdog we were missing" the man with the high-pitched voice chimed up. "The sniffing weirdo".

Mike smirked. He put a big hand on Hange's shoulder and turned her aroun. "Let's go, Hange. Levi" Levi nodded and started to follow him, when the man with the black hair spoke up again.

"I've always thought he is involved with Smith"

Mike laughed. "I sure love that man, but I don't think the nature of our relationship is any concern of yours"

"That explains why he's been around for so long. Smith doesn't want to feed him to a titan like the fucking rest of these idiots"

Hange turned around vehemetly, but Levi stopped her before she could speak. "That's enough, Hange, they weren't even worth our time to begin with" he said in merely more than a whisper.

Mike stopped in his tracks.

"I'll have you idiots know he's been around for so long because he's fucking capable of staying alive and keep his squad alive. I'd love to see some of you out there" Mike was surprised Levi interjected to defend him, but the insults towards his capability wasn't really what had bothered him.

"Listen here" he said, turning around to face them. "You can say all the shit you want about myself, but not a word about my friends or Erwin for that matter-"

They laughed. "Isn't it funny how they fucking defend him and the coward is just throwing them to their deaths instead?". The black-haired man roared with laughter "Fucking idiots".

Without warning, Mike punched one in the face and Hange punched the other on the nose, the loud crack all too telling as to what happened to the bones.

Mike sighed. "I guess Erwin can't kill the three of us in one go".

Levi walked closer to Hange. "You okay?".

She nodded and stared at him. "Thanks for trying to stop me. And for understanding I didn't-"

"Want to be stopped" he finished for her. "I get it. I'll always have your back, Hange, but let's be more careful next time. They weren't worth it and I don't want to risk you getting hurt".

She smiled. "I got carried away, but you saw I actually learned your moves?"

Levi smiled. "Yeah, we should work on them".

She nudged his arm "That's not true, they were perfect and you know it".

"Yes, they were perfect".

[miraculous-ladybug-et-chat-noir]

Overwhelming

Request: No

Pairing: Rose Lavillant x Reader

Prompt: The reader is struggling with self-deprecating thoughts and an overwhelming sadness that insists no one loves them. Rose is there to ensure them that that is not true. They are very loved, by her.

“Sure there are people out there who love you, I do.”

Warning(s): TW: self-deprecating thoughts, angst, the reader is not being very kind to themselves

A/N: I will not be including any physical self-harm in this fic, at this point the reader is merely hating who they are but not harming themselves physically. Also, note that this is only a fic, someone professing their love won’t magically fix everything, but it does help to know someone is rooting for you Xx. If you ever need to talk, my inbox is always open.

(Not my GIF)

(Y/N)’s all-consuming thoughts were clouding their judgments from the moment they woke up. It was a subtle flutter of anxiety circulating in their chest. A sudden doubt was invoked seemingly overnight. Though that wouldn’t be accurate. There was always that cloud in their mind telling them that something wasn’t right, but they could never figure out what it was. It just happened to be that particular day that hit them the hardest.

They woke with that sense of dread that had developed over time, only they felt it tenfold. They had the overwhelming need to cry. Cry over what? Nothing, but also everything. It was so overwhelming living their life and after days of dragging on without the sweet relief of letting everything out, their feelings were starting to overflow like a river after heavy rain. Yet they refused to allow the tears to stream down their cheeks. No matter what their heart was feeling, they wouldn’t let anyone know what they were going through. Why would they want to bother anyone with their pity party? It’s not like they’d care anyway.

So (Y/N) forced themselves out of bed and dragged themselves to the bathroom to ready themselves for the day. They spent some time staring at themselves in the mirror. Taking notice of the bags under their eyes. The stress was clearly written all over their face. They forced a smile, trying to convince themselves that they were okay. ‘Just one more day,’ they promised, ‘One more day and then you can be the sad sack of shit that you really are.’ It was a routine, forcing themselves to bore through life.

Once they were finally ready for school, they forced that smile back on their face and proceeded out the door. They decided to walk to school rather than burden their mother with the task of driving them to school, though she had persisted. It was merely her obligation as a mother to care for them. They blasted music through their earbuds on the way, drowning out the world around them. For a moment they felt peace, it was just the music blasting in their ears and the worries and doubts were drowned out. That is until they got to school.

Here is where the real test would begin. It was rather easy to convince their parents they were okay. It was a quick “good morning” and a “see you later,” so (Y/N) did not need to worry about them asking any questions. However, now they were at school where even people you never talked to would press their noses into your business. (Y/N) had kind of hoped they’d be late to avoid talking to their friends, not that they didn’t like their friends, no, they loved them. But… they couldn’t help the guilt and dread at seeing them. Maybe they didn’t want to see them, and they were just too nice to actually say anything. Maybe it’d just be easier if they just stopped talking to them, stopped burdening them with their presence.

“Hey (Y/N)!” Marinette greeted happily.

What (Y/N) would give to have her constant good mood, “hey,” They waved with a strained smile.

“We were thinking of hanging out after school, care to join?” Alya slung her arm over their shoulder.

(Y/N) looked from Marinette to Alya, did they really want to hang out with them? Or were they just trying to be nice?

“I don’t know if I can, I’ll let you know, okay?” (Y/N) subtly shrugged out from under Alya’s arm.

“No problem, hopefully, you can,” Marinette grinned.

“Yeah, hopefully,” (Y/N) agreed halfheartedly.

“Marinette,” Alya singsonged teasingly, “Look at what Adrien is wearing!” She smirked when she noticed the blond boy walk in sporting the blue scarf that Marinette had knit for him. Marinette’s cheeks flushed red and her face turned to panic.

“Go say hi!” Alya urged.

“I-I can’t!” Marinette shook her head, “Come with me! Please?” She pleaded.

Alya sighed, “sooner or later you’ll need to speak to him by yourself,” despite her words, she trailed after her best friend. Alya glanced back at (Y/N), “coming?”

“Uh, no, I’ll be fine,” They brushed off, “I have to get something out of my locker,” They lied.

“Okay, see you in class,” Alya smiled and waved.

(Y/N) waved back and once Alya was no longer looking at them, their hand dropped and their shoulders dropped. They shuffled toward their locker even though they didn’t need to. Their mind was too occupied, on autopilot rather than actually focusing on where they were going. How would they get out of hanging out later? Why shouldn’t they go have fun? ‘They only invited you to be nice,’ They thought. Was it a genuine invite? Or was it out of obligation? (Y/N) leaned against their locker. They slowly sunk until they were sitting. They ignored the people around them.

It’d probably be best if they just disappeared. Who would miss them?

“(Y/N)?” A soft voice spoke nearby.

(Y/N) looked up, startled by the sudden appearance of Rose. “Sorry, am I in your way?” (Y/N) moved to get up and make room for Rose.

“No, silly. I just wanted to talk to you,” Rose beamed.

“Oh…” (Y/N) wasn’t sure what to say.

“I couldn’t help but notice… Are you okay?” Rose sat next to them, concern etched on her delicate features.

And there was the million-dollar question. ‘Are you okay?’ (Y/N) couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out. No. No, they were not okay.

Rose’s brows furrowed, even more, the tears slipping down (Y/N)’s cheeks didn’t go unnoticed. “(Y/N)?” Rose spoke softly.

(Y/N) shook their head. They furiously wiped away their tears, suddenly angry at themselves for allowing themselves to cry, especially in front of sweet innocent Rose. Rose was like a ray of sunshine, she was like a warm spring day. Rose was perfect. She shouldn’t be worrying over someone like (Y/N). “I-I don’t-” Their voice cracked. They couldn’t speak. The more they tried, the more they began to sob uncontrollably. It was a wonder no one called the authorities on them and had them admitted to an asylum.

Rose pulled them into her arms, allowing them to cry into her chest. Her heart broke seeing someone she loved cry so brokenly. How long had they felt like this? What if this could have been prevented? If only she had asked before, maybe (Y/N) wouldn’t be this upset.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Rose murmured softly. She pressed a kiss to the top of (Y/N)’s head, “I’ve got you.”

(Y/N) took in a shuddering breath. This was embarrassing. How could they burden Rose with their issues? “S-sor-sorry,” They hiccuped out.

“Sorry? What for?” Rose lifted (Y/N)’s face to look into their eyes. She wiped away their tears as they fell.

“M-me,” (Y/N) swallowed around the lump in their throat.

“(Y/N), you have nothing to be sorry for.” Rose lightly brushed their (H/C) hair behind their ear.

“O-of co-course I do! You-you shouldn’t be bur-burdened by th-this,” (Y/N) furiously wiped away their tears, ashamed of the meltdown they were having, at school no less.

“(Y/N), listen to me,” Rose forced them to look into her eyes again, “You are not a burden.”

“B-”

“No! I won’t hear you say otherwise!” Rose snapped. The fury in her eyes spoke volumes. “You are not a burden.” She repeated.

(Y/N) looked from her determined eyes to her set jaw. They’ve never seen such insistence in her before. “Then why do I feel this way?” They spoke softly.

Rose sighed and pulled them in for another hug, “honestly? I don’t know… but you are an amazing person, (Y/N). Anyone would be lucky to have you in their life.”

(Y/N) scoffed, “Yeah, sure.”

Rose frowned and lightly slapped their arm, “I’m serious.”

“Yeah, so am I,” (Y/N) sucked in a deep breath, steadying the shakiness in their voice. “I can’t help but feel like everyone hates me. Almost as much as I do.” They whispered.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Lots of people love you!” Rose rubbed their arm soothingly. It hurt hearing such hateful remarks coming from their lips.

(Y/N) shook their head, “I just feel like they’re all pretending or just tolerating me. No one loves me.”

“Sure there are people out there who love you!” Rose bit her lip nervously, “I do.”

(Y/N) looked at her in disbelief. No one who is as perfect as Rose could ever love them… Right?

Rose gave them a nervous smile. She shrugged, “It’s probably not a good time to tell you, but I do. I love you, (Y/F/N).���

Okay, maybe it wasn’t impossible after all, “I love you too, Rose.”

[omlwhatamidoinghere]

Mr. Moreno

Chapter 1: Mr. Moreno

Summary: You're struggling in a class but fortunately, the new teacher is extremely kind and offers a helping hand...

Warnings: A little bit of smut but not much, flirting, teacher x student kink I guess but you can tell by the title

Word Count: 1459 words!

See MASTERLIST for the rest of the series!

______

"Ugh, c'mon! You've gone over this topic so many times with Mr. Louis!"

 You yell at yourself as your head looms over your notes, the pages illuminated by the warmth of your desk lamp as the clock strikes 12 am. Rubbing your stress-crusted eyes, you decide to call it a night and ask for help yet again in class the next day.

After a long night of frustration stealing your Z's, you find yourself staring at the door to your dreaded class, caffeine holding your eyes open. Hesitant, you stretch for the handle and open the gate to hell. A weight remains on your shoulders though you've set your bag down, "I should have just slept in today and called in sick instead of humiliating myself again." A tsunami of negative thoughts floods your head. Class is about to begin when you hear them, the footsteps of the devil himself walking out of his office, or so you think. You turn to your notebook to avoid the piercing glare of your teacher but something is different. 

You sniffle to keep your nose from running, taking in a new scent...a new cologne. A friendly voice fills the room, gently grabbing your chin and lifting your head as it welcomes you, "Good morning class! I will be filling in for a while for your teacher. He is absent on personal matters and will be gone for an unknown period of time," a melody dancing about in your ears, you feel as if you've indulged in 10 energy drinks. He continues as he writes his name on the board, "My name is Marcus Moreno and yes, I am the leader of the Heroics but for now, I will be your new teacher so for formalities, I ask you call me Mr. Moreno in the classroom. If you have any questions at all, please feel free to raise your hand! If you feel uncomfortable with that, I am more than happy to stay afterwards and answer any questions in private." His words course through your veins as your heart jumps to your throat. You can't believe it: the leader of the Heroics is your substitute! 

He paces the room as he begins class, your mind drifts off, "Mr. Moreno...I like that name." It feels so natural falling off your tongue. His deep, hickory eyes glance over, locking onto your shy gaze, "Did I say that out loud?" you mumble to yourself. His smile snatches your breath from your lungs as he moves closer. Leaning down toward you slightly, "What's your name, miss?" His lips stretch across his tan complexion as he speaks to you, revealing his perfect teeth. His question finally registers in your love-struck brain, "Oh, it's...uh..." You trip over your own words, your name stumbling out of your mouth like you're trying to spell it. "And what is your last name?" you answer a little more quickly this time. He repeats your name, making sure he gets it right, flowing from his lips like honey. "That's a lovely name..." He stands upright keeping eye contact, minus the wink he just gave you. Oh how he seemed to tower over you. His arms, strikingly large, and his hands...oh his hands. You come to your senses, "What the hell? He's your teacher! Yes, you're both adults and he's an older man... that could take care of you ...and could easily push you over onto his desk to- what am I doing?!" Your cheeks, slightly red from the thought. "... it is such a pleasure to meet you."He continues; his smile, still glowing beneath his mustache, as he turns to the rest of the class, a glare hitting his glasses. 

He leans against the podium, his  sleeves quarter-rolled, allowing your eyes to peek at his forearms...- are you okay? You're fantasizing about how strong Marcus is just by looking at his forearms! Get a hold of yourself! You quickly snap back as he calls on you,

 "Yes sir?" 

"Do you know the answer to number 7?"

"N-...No sir. I do not. I- I'm sorry."

"No worries! If you need help just ask!"

Glances, winks, and grins shared between the two of you throughout the lecture. Time seems to fly when the clock signals the end of class. The last student left the room, your clammy hands flip back to the start of the notes from the class, "Hey, would you mind staying afterwards?" you blurt out before your lips can stop the words. His smile returning to his face, "Absolutely! What can I do for you sweetheart?" Words become difficult to process again, "I, uh, I'm still...umm...I'm still kinda c-confused on the...the topic." His strong figure rises from the podium and signals for you to follow him into his office. 

Holding the door open for you, he closes it after the both of you enter, taking a seat behind his desk while you sit anxiously in front of him. His finger carefully follows the bridge of his nose as he readjusts his glasses. You cross your arms as if to prevent his eyes from seeing your heart beat out of your chest as his voice eases through you, "What's causing you issues, sweetheart?" That's the second time he's called you sweetheart in a matter of minutes. Does he know what he's doing to you? "I don't know why but I just can't grasp the subject. I can't tell you how many hours I spent going over it with our teacher after school and I still don't get it. I barely get any sleep because I try to study the material. I even stayed up late last night to try and prepare myself for class today so I didn't embarrass myself but that clearly didn't work and it's really frustrating..." he cuts you off "Well I'm not Mr. Louis." His voice soothing your frustration. "Yeah, that's true. I just...I-I'm not the best at this subject." He stretches his arm across his desk and opens his hand, "Can I see what you're having trouble with?" Your hands trembling as you hand him your notebook, open to the page that sits at the root of your struggle. His dark eyes glance over your material, refreshing himself on the information, writing in more things he believes will help you. Rising from his seat, he walks around to the front of his desk, leaning against it as he picks up his gaze to meet yours. Words pour from his mouth, illustrating the topic from a different perspective, your brain filing away the information. He goes on for a few minutes as you absorb more and more from his lesson. 

Looking up from your notebook, he hands it back to you, "Any questions?" 

"Um..can you go over the stuff you wrote? I just wanna make sure I got it. This is really helping."

"Absolutely! I'm glad you're starting to get it! Here, let me explain this stuff a little more..."

Heat rises in your face as he kneels next to you, peering into your notes. His cologne embraces you, "Hang in there, c'mon, he's explaining this to you...but he's so close to you." Shaking your head back to tune into Marcus, you try and get a little closer, leaning towards his strong figure. You notice a difference in his breathing as he follows your lead, moving in closer, "Did you, um, did- did you have anymore questions?" his eyes remaining on your notebook. Curious, you face him. He turns just as you do. He's so close to you; Marcus Moreno is inches away from your face. "Say something! Your hot teacher is totally into you too!! But what if he isn't?? No. He is one-hundred-percent into you!" Reaching up, he covers your hand with his, carefully squeezing it. "I...um, I-"

"Shhh...quiet, sweetheart."

His eyes make their way down your face, landing on your lips. Air stutters as it leaves your chest, the tension pushing it out of you. Marcus wets his lips before leaning in, your mouths almost touching, his warm eyes peer to yours slowly. The sensation of his thumb, rough and calloused, sliding across your delicate lips sends a shiver from your spine to the warmth between your legs. You moan at his touch while you grind yourself into the seat, gasping at the touch of his free hand gliding up to your heat, rubbing you through your denim as his pants grow tighter. The desire for him becomes unbearable, "Please, Mr. Moreno..." His mouth now lightly against your ear, his breath raking down your neck. How much more of this can you take? You need him now, "Mr. Moreno-" His voice, husky as it rests in your ear, his hand tugging at your zipper, 

"Call me Marcus"

Tag List: @absurdthirst @autumnleaves1991-blog

[yourgalaxy]

Pairing: Taehyung x female O/C

Genre: Fluffyest Fluffy Fluff, a little bit of angst if you squint really hard.

Summary: After getting used to the idea of just being her and her little daughter against the world. Autumn is proven wrong once again when fate has different plans for them.

Warnings: None

A/N: The original prompt is from @hybridfanfiction ( their prompts are the cutest, check them out!) This is my first attempt on sharing some of my work and is also my first hybrid fic. I love the reader inserts but not a fan of the Y/N type thing so feel free to just imagine your name instead if you prefer! I have material to make this a series but will leave it as a one shot for now to see if you guys like it! I totally don't own the gifts.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language. Read at your own risk 😂

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3

A smile spread across her face as she listened to her little beam of sunshine’s effusive explanation of her adventures with her imaginary hybrid friend Tata, the girl’s imagination never ceased to amaze her mother. It was definitely a trait that she got from her Father, she thought with a certain melancholy in her eyes.

‘’ And then, last time, Toby was being really mean, he said that I was weird and pulled my hair, but Tata growled at him a little bit and he ran away. Isn't he the best Mama?" - Her little eyes twinkled with adoration, Autumn's first instinct was to coo at her cuteness but something of what she said sent alarms to her mind.- "Haneul, honey, are kids being rude to you at school?" - Having her daughter being bullied at school because of her heritage was one of her biggest fears-

" Mmm… sometimes, but after Tata saved me, they haven't! - She smiled the brightest smile, and Autumn felt a knot clog her throat and dread wash over her stomach. She forced a smile at the best of her ability while nodding and made a mental note to talk with the teachers at the end of the day. She would transfer her daughter to another kindergarten if needed.- ‘’ Ok, honey bear, we are here. Remember that I’m picking you up earlier today for your dentist’s appointment. - Haneul immediately sulked at the prospect, murmuring indecipherable complaints under her breath, but she still kissed her mom’s cheek before running off when she caught the sight of her favorite teacher.-

Autumn waved at the teacher, answering to her smile with one of her own as the teacher was dragged away by an enthusiastic Haneul. Just for the time being she decided to put her worries aside and tend to some of the urgent matters at hand. Jimin and Jin were driving her insane by the minute, her phone buzzing every 2 minutes as if they were taking turns to annoy her.

‘’ You know perfectly fine that I need to drop Haneul at school every day, Jimin!’’ - Was her response as she heard the whiney complaints from the other side of the line, she assured that she would be there in a few minutes with a roll of her eyes before she hanged up.

She loved her friends with her whole heart, they were the ones that pulled her through when Haneul’s dad decided to abandon her while she was pregnant with their daughter, If it wasn't for them and Haneul herself, she wouldn’t be where she is at… But they were, a lot of the time, pains in the butt.

The store was a battlefield once she got there, flowers and decorations scattered everywhere, and a very stressed out Jungkook running around under the direction of an even more stressed out Jimin. They looked at her as if she was some kind of savior before throwing themselves to her arms once they realized she had arrived. She could just roll her eyes at their antics before getting down to work.

‘’ Ok, I’m out!’’ - She announced, after they finally handed out the last piece of arrangements for the wedding, the event was a really big project and she was relieved that everything turned out ok, the customer was more than ecstatic with the results, and there were really few things that gave Autumn more satisfaction than a happy customer.-

‘’ But Noona…’’ - Came Jimin’s protest as an instant response. But it died out quickly when she turned around sharply and Jin put his hand over his mouth to quiet him down. She could be a little scary when tired. Jin thought the younger boy should know better, having been her friend for so long. - ‘’ Go ahead, and bring Haneul over to my place afterwards, we miss our little bundle of joy, I’ll cook dinner for all of us! Maybe I could convince Yoongi to come and bring Hobi with him’’ - Jin requested and the other two agreed with eager nods, Autumn smiled lovingly, she truly had the best of friends. She assured that she would be back quickly as she made her way out of the flower store that Jin and her had opened together. The last thing she heard, a chorus of ‘’By noona’s’’ and ‘’I love you’s’’ ringing one over the other, that made her smile grow even bigger. She truly loved the punks.

‘’ I’m here to pick Haneul up for her dentists appointment’’ - The teacher nodded knowingly, with a small smile, apparently HaNeul had been complaining to all that would lend an ear about the terrifying encounter with a robot monster that she would have to go through that day. Autumn could just chuckle at her daughter's dramatics. - ‘’ Also, is Mrs. Lee, around today? I need to talk with her about some worries of mine’’ - The teacher sent her a worried look as she sensed the discomfort in Autumn’s tone but after she assured her that it wasn’t something too serious, she explained that the principal wasn’t available at the moment. Autumn would have to call her. She had known Mrs. Lee for a long time anyways.-

Following the direction of the young teacher that had to leave her on her own to attend one of the kids with a little potty emergency, Autumn made her way to the playground where all the kids were taking lunch break. After a few minutes, she spotted the light haired girl sitting over one of the farest corners close to the fence. Her heart dropped as she started to come closer and noticed who her little girl was talking so excitedly to, she couldn't believe her eyes, the school was not just reckless about bullying but they also let the kids unsupervised where they could be approached by strangers?

The stranger was munching on a half sandwich, the other half on Haneul’s hand remained untouched as she bounced on her place, there was a soft smile on the man’s face as he seemed to intently listen to her daughter. As Autumn came closer, her steps slowed down as she realized that HaNeul was actually talking with a hybrid, the male seemed to be younger than her, probably around Jimin’s age, but he was so skinny and dirty that he could easily pass for someone younger. Her heart hurt for him.

She noticed some movement that made her nervous but before her quickening steps took her close enough, a scene that horrified her took place before her eyes.

A group of kids came running with piles of mud gathered on their hands, one of them quickly throwing some in Haneul’s direction. A scream died on Autumn’s throat, unable to really comprehend what had happened before the kids ran away from the scene. The man that her daughter had been feeding for weeks now, the same one that she thought was just an imaginary friend, had jumped over the fence standing in between the projectile of mud and her daughter’s little body, staring down the mean boys until they had left the scene running.

‘’ MAMMA!’’ - Before having much time to react, Autumn felt the little body crash against her leg. HaNeul’s flushed little face was stained with drying tears as she explained how the mean boys had attacked her friend and asked her to help him out. Autumn took her in her arms, hugging her and whispering comforting words to calm her down. She started walking towards the Hybrid who was awkwardly standing in the same spot, mud dripping down his right leg, she noticed now that he was standing, how much taller than her he was. Once Haneul noticed her mom wasn't moving any more, she turned her head to face her friend and dedicated a watery smile towards him that he struggled to reciprocate. Autumn could sense the fear emanating from him.

‘’ Look, Tata! It’s my momma, isn’t she super pretty?!’’ - Haneul’s eyes sparkled with innocence, the hybrid timidly nodded in response and Autumn noticed a cute blush spreading across his cheeks. -

‘’ Hey there…’’ - Autumn started but was quickly interrupted by the terrified hybrid’s frenetic attempt to explain himself.- ‘’ I’m really sorry, I tried to refuse but she was so kind and her sandwich smelled really good. I… Please don’t report me, I’ll take any kind of punishment, but please don’t call Hybrid control.’’ - His deep voice ended up as a whimpery whisper as he begged her. Autumn felt her stomach drop and her mouth dried out, she felt like crying for the pitiful state of the boy in front of her. -

‘’ Sorry, but I have no intention to report or punish you whatsoever. I actually wanted to thank you for protecting Haneul, It makes me happy that she has a friend like you.’’ - His fluffy ears twitched in her direction as soon as she started talking but as she called him her daughter’s friend, his eyes jumped to her face, trying to look for any sign of hostility, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips as he took in the soft smile that she was dedicating him. - ‘’ I’m Autumn, an it’s a pleasure to finally meet you Tata!’’ - She extended her arm, patiently waiting for him to shake her hand. He hesitated for a few minutes before timidly taking her hand in his for a second of two. - ‘’ My name is actually Taehyung’’ - He softly corrected, the blush coming back to his sunken cheeks, making Autumn smile even brighter -

‘’ Well, Taehyung, if you don’t have anything else to do today, I would love to invite you for lunch to thank you for helping Haneul, you could come and wash out all the mud from the attack too if you would like.’’ - She suggested but he was nodding before she could even finish the idea. -

‘’ ¡Oh, my gosh! Mrs. Kim, I am so sorry, I don’t really know how he got here, the kids told me about what happened, I’m calling Hybrids control right now.’’ - The panicked voice of Haneul’s teacher caught their attention, Taehyung immediately flinching back with a loud whimper at the mention of hybrid control, pleading no’s flowing out of his mouth incessantly as he started backing away slowly. Haneul started crying out to him,but before things escalated too much, Autumn, lowered the teacher’s hand that was holding the phone. -

‘’It won’t be necessary, Miss Kang. Taehyung here is a friend of ours’’ - Autumn assured, making both the teacher and the Hybrid freeze on spot. She then gestured for Taehyung to come closer, Haneul reaching for his hand as soon as he was close enough. - ‘’ If you could just let Mrs. Lee know that I will be calling her, that would be awesome! - She requested before leaving the scene with the boy that already felt like the new addition to her family. 

[ultimatetrashyfanfic]

I’m just gonna say Non-despair AU cause I want everyone to be happy. I freaking LOVE Gundham so much, he’s wonderful and I’ve been wanting to write him for a while (but stalling cause of his DIALOGUE. It’s so hard). Buuuut I decided to finally give it a shot. And to kind of vent a little cause he used to stress me out in his dark coat and scarf in tropical heat. With Kazuichi because I want them to be friends, and because I seem physically incapable of not putting Kazuichi in every fic. COULD be seen as pre-soudam if you prefer, I didn’t write it like that but it could be if that floats your boat. I do like that ship, I just like other ones with Gundham and kazuichi more. Anyway, hope you enjoy - Circle

Also on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33543364

Warning: descriptions of overheating, sickfic. Nothing really bad here.

Kazuichi wasn’t shocked to wake up sprawled across a towel with sand in his hair and a dry mouth, completely alone on the beach. This wasn’t even the first time it had happened. When his insomnia was really bad he’d always doze throughout the next day - for some reason he couldn’t sleep in his warm, comfortable bed at night but could drop off in seconds with his head on the breakfast table or against Hajime’s shoulder. His classmates never bothered to wake Kazuichi if he was somewhere he wouldn’t be in the way, so the beach was a frequent napping spot. They always made sure to leave him in the shade with a water bottle for when he woke, so Kazuichi didn’t mind. It was normal.

What was very much not normal was waking up to Gundham grasping the front of his t-shirt, shaking him violently and yelling some weird gibberish that Kazuichi was still too woolly-headed to understand.

“Wha..?” he muttered, trying to wake up properly. For a second he wondered if he was having a weird lucid dream, because Gundham never usually touched people, especially him - though he was shaking him by the shirt instead of the shoulders.

“You’re gonna stretch out my clothes,” Kazuichi whined, sitting up and scrubbing his eyes.

“As if your tattered garments are a priority right now! Answer me with honesty, lest the demons tear your tongue from your very mouth. Have you encountered the wrath of my Crimson Steel Elephant?” Gundham cried, far too loudly.

“What?” Kazuichi mumbled. “Gundham, I can’t decipher your witchy language when I’ve just woken up.”

“Foolish mortal! This is a dire emergency!”

“Why? What’s happened?”

“I shall repeat myself just once more, so listen well. Have you encountered one of my Dark Devas of Destruction? Maga-Z appears to be missing,” Gundham said. Despite the grandeur and fancy words, Kazuichi could see he did look pretty distressed, holding the three remaining hamsters in his hand as if he was scared they’d dash away too.

“Oooh, okay. You’ve lost a hamster. That’s all you had to say, Gundham. One single sentence and I would’ve understood,” Kazuichi said.

“Do not talk so disparagingly! My Devas are far more powerful than mere hamsters. And Maga-Z has an independent spirit and often attempts to cause chaos alone. I have my concerns for the safety of everyone on this island if Maga-Z wields his destructive power without my guidance.”

Gundham was completely serious, but Kazuichi had to bite his cheeks to stop himself laughing, picturing a hamster storming across the island in a tank, decimating everything. But Gundham was clearly frantic, and Kazuichi was trying to be nicer to him recently, so he sighed.

“Okay, I’ll help you look for him. We should try to get the others to help too.”

“Indeed. You were the first mortal I came across,” Gundham admitted.

“Right, what does Maga-Z look like?” Kazuichi asked, taking a long drink of water. He felt like he’d be running around in the hot sun for a while now and wanted to drink while he had the chance.

“Your memory is abysmal.” Gundham seemed irritated that Kazuichi didn’t know the hamsters by sight.

“Look, I’m not exactly on nodding terms with your ham- Devas, am I? How am I supposed to know which is which? I only recognise the chubby one.” Kazuichi pointed to Cham-P.

Gundham reeled back like he’d been slapped, spluttering in outrage. “How dare you mock his corporeal form! If Cham-P was not so patient, he would obliterate you where you stand for such cheek.”

“Look, I wasn’t trying to body shame your hamster,” Kazuichi said irritably. “I wasn’t mocking. He’s just bigger than the other ones.”

“He is of the Golden variety, of course he is larger in stature. It has nothing to do with his nutritional intake.”

“Are we going to search or not?” Kazuichi snapped. God, talking to Gundham for more than five minutes was exhausting. “Do you know if Maga-Z has favourite places to go or something?”

Kazuichi let Gundham lead and did his very best not to talk to his strange companion as they searched through bushes and inside cupboards, asking any of his classmates they encountered to look too. Gundham muttered to the remaining hamsters, but didn’t try to talk to Kazuichi much either except to order him around - though his grandiose tone was quickly becoming softer and more anxious.

“Maga-Z has never disappeared from my influence for so long,” he mumbled, pulling his scarf to cover his mouth. “I cannot contain this feeling of dread.”

“Hey, don’t worry,” Kazuichi said, surprising himself. “We’ll find him. He’ll be okay.”

Gundham blinked, then stood up straighter. “I assure you, I fear for the inhabitants of the island. Maga-Z will come to no harm.”

But he was worrying, and even Kazuichi could see it. His searching was becoming frantic, his usually careful hands clumsy, so he knocked things off their shelves and forgot to tidy up or close doors behind them. He started running between buildings and bushes, long coat billowing, calling out for his lost hamster.

“Gundham! Hang on a second,” Kazuichi gasped. “I can’t breathe!”

Surprisingly, Gundham did as he was told, leaning against a palm tree in the shade. He wrapped his arms around his chest, pale fists gripping his dark coat. His carefully styled hair was starting to droop in the heat, and his face was very pink. Kazuichi had never seen so much colour in his cheeks before. The three remaining hamsters cowered inside Gundham’s scarf, sensing his anxiety.

Kazuichi went to lean beside him, wiping the sweat off his own forehead. He didn’t know how Gundham managed in his black clothes every day.

“We’ll find him,” Kazuichi said again. “Ibuki and Twogami and Mahiru said they’d look. And Miss Sonia looked like she was going to cry when I told her Maga-Z was missing. She said she wouldn’t rest until he was found.”

“She has a good heart,” Gundham said softly.

“Yeah…” Kazuichi paused. “Hey, you didn’t say anything nice like that about me. I’m the one who’s been running around with you in the baking sun for hours.”

Gundham didn’t respond. He’d been talking a lot less in the past twenty minutes or so, though he’d originally been giving incomprehensible orders to Kazuichi every two minutes. Souda assumed he was just growing more concerned for Maga-Z the longer he was missing - so he was caught off guard when Gundham slumped over and fell limply against him, almost bringing them both to the floor.

“Dude!” Kazuichi managed to catch hold of Gundham. “What are you doing?”

Perhaps Gundham didn’t know what he was doing either, because he had a look of sheer bafflement on his face. He tried to pull himself upright, clinging to the rough bark of the palm tree, but each time he wobbled dangerously and Kazuichi had to grab onto him again.

“What is this..? I appear to be reacting negatively to your mortal world’s atmosphere.” His usually forceful speech came out laboured and slow, and Gundham placed a hand to his lips in surprise.

“What? You’ve been surviving in this atmosphere for ages already,” Kazuichi argued. “What’s up with you? You sound drunk. Can you tell me in plain English?”

“The temperature in this godforsaken land exceeds even the fiery bowels of hell,” Gundham hissed, having to cling to Kazuichi to stay upright.

Kazuichi took a second to disentangle Gundham’s web of fancy words. “Sooo… you’re too hot. I guess that makes sense. Who wears a black coat and a scarf in this heat? And I know you haven’t had any water since we started searching. I’d better take you back to your cabin,” he sighed.

“Unhand me this instant, you fiend!” Gundham growled, though he was the one using Kazuichi like a walking stick. “I could never rest while one of my Dark Devas of Destruction is unguided.”

“Well they’ll all be unguided if you get heatstroke and drop dead,” Kazuichi said. “Half the island is searching for Maga-Z - and I’ll go back out to keep looking as soon as I can, okay?” As much as Gundham might get on Kazuichi’s nerves sometimes, he didn’t want him to get really sick or hurt. He hoped Maga-Z had enough sense not to wander into the sea or something; Gundham would be crushed.

“Hmm.” Gundham didn’t look convinced.

“Your other three ham- I mean Devas probably need to cool down a bit too,” Kazuichi tried.

Another pause. “Very well,” Gundham sighed. “I shall retire to my artificially cooled domain until the effects of this oppressive atmosphere wear off. I trust you to ensure the search continues.” He turned on his heel and tried to walk on his own, staggering alarmingly.

“Hey, careful!” Kazuichi ran to steady him. “I told you I’d help you.”

Gundham slapped his hands away. “Fool! Have you forgotten I am cursed with poison?”

“Oh for God’s sake! Could you just give an inch for once! Why do you make everything so difficult?” Kazuichi cried exasperatedly.

Gundham stuck his chin in the air and started berating Souda again - but before he’d even finished the first sentence his words died away. He blinked several times, looking dazed, swaying where he stood.

“Gundham..?” Kazuichi said nervously.

Gundham didn’t respond. He took another few staggering steps towards his cabin, then crumpled as his knees gave way under him. Kazuichi cried out and hurried to catch him, their foreheads bashing together painfully. Gundham’s skin was clammy and damp, his face looking much more… alive than usual. Kazuichi realised it was because his pale makeup was running.

“Fucking hell, Gundham,” Kazuichi groaned, hauling one of Gundham’s arms around his shoulders. “Just hold onto me, okay? Try not to pass out.”

Surprisingly, Gundham nodded, staring down at his feet like it was taking a huge effort to make them move. It was clear he was trying to be helpful, but Kazuichi had to carry a lot of his weight and they were both breathless by the time they reached Gundham’s cabin. Kazuichi breathed a sigh of relief as the wall of cool air conditioning washed over them.

“Thank God for that,” he mumbled, dumping Gundham onto the bed. It was carefully made, which Kazuichi had never understood; why bother making your bed when you were just going to mess it up every night? The entire room was neat, though the giant cage meant it rather smelled like hamsters. “Right, get your coat and scarf off.”

Gundham glared at him viciously.

“Oh, that’s the thanks I get, is it? Well, no matter how annoying you might be, you’re overheated. No wonder, wearing that stupid dark coat. So get it off.” Kazuichi grabbed Gundham’s arms and yanked the coat sleeves off like he was undressing a sulky toddler. Gundham hissed a series of furious curses at him - one of which sounded like Latin, which was actually pretty impressive - and the three remaining hamsters hopped out onto the bed, startled.

“There. Was that so hard?” Kazuichi said silkily when Gundham was lying on the bed in his shirt and scarf, glaring. Kazuichi tried to take the scarf off too, but Gundham’s hissed threats became more vehement and he gave up. “Fine, keep it on then. Though I don’t think the gothic look is very sustainable in a tropical climate, man. Right, I’m going to get you something to drink.”

Gundham didn’t respond until Kazuichi had returned with a cup full of water from the bathroom. “I shall take advice from one with such abysmal fashion sense as yourself with a grain of salt, fiend,” he said, with as much dignity as he could muster while tomato-red and damp with sweat on his bed.

Kazuichi had to fight very hard not to pour the glass of water directly over Gundham’s head, but he just about managed to help him drink it instead. Then he grabbed the little fan from the bathroom and placed it by Gundham’s bed, dampened a cloth and slapped it rather unceremoniously on his forehead. Gundham yelped and glared again, water trickling down his temples. Good. Serves him right for that earlier comment. “There. Keep your head back or you’ll smudge your eyeliner. And don’t move. I’ll try to find Mikan while I’m looking for Maga-Z, okay?”

Gundham turned his face away, cupping one hand over the Devas protectively. He mumbled something into the material of his scarf.

“What?” Kazuichi asked.

“I said I am grateful for your assistance…”

“Oh.” Kazuichi was surprised. He’d never heard Gundham acknowledge he needed any help before - though maybe that was Kazuichi’s own fault. He’d been the one to start up the whole stupid rivalry thing (which wasn’t ever a rivalry in the first place since the girl wasn’t remotely interested). Maybe this was a step towards a reconciliation.

“I mean, I wasn’t gonna leave you to die,” Kazuichi added awkwardly.

“You are far more tolerable when you do not echo the Dark Queen like a parrot. I once believed you had no real mind of your own,” Gundham said bluntly.

Kazuichi flushed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You made yourself an extension of the Dark Queen. You never disputed her or challenged her. You agreed with her every word.”

“Well… I wanted her to like me,” Kazuichi mumbled. “Look, you don’t need to lecture me about all this. You know I’ve left Sonia alone.”

“Indeed. But you still wish to befriend her?” Gundham asked. Even weak and overheated as he was, his eyes were burning into Kazuichi’s with such a fierce intensity he had to look away.

“That’s her choice. Why are you asking all this?”

“If you still seek a friendly companionship with the Dark Queen, you should not forget she is a mere powerless mortal,” Gundham said. “She does not wish to be treated like she is extraordinary. She does not wish to be around those who only agree to please her.”

Kazuichi stared at him. Was Gundham really offering advice? Was this a weird way to repay him for helping out? It was pretty embarrassing to be given advice on how to make friends from Gundham, who openly distrusted everyone - but he was friends with Sonia. Maybe even something more, Kazuichi honestly didn’t know. He’d tried to stay away from Sonia as much as possibly, partly because he wanted her to be more comfortable and partly because he was pretty fucking embarrassed by his past behaviour. But he would like to be her friend. Nothing else - he knew that wouldn’t ever happen - but friends was good.

“Now make haste!” Gundham suddenly cried, making Kazuichi jump. “Continue the search! I shall rejoin you as soon as I am able.”

“No, rest. Don’t move and especially don’t put your coat on again. I’ll find Maga-Z,” Kazuichi said quickly. He dashed outside before Gundham could protest, groaning as the sticky heat wrapped around him once more.

He started searching again, after taking a quick detour to Mikan’s cabin to ask if she could go check on Gundham and make sure he hadn’t gone out into the sun again. Almost everyone on the island was searching now, splitting off into little groups to cover more ground. Nagito was one of the last to join in - and Hajime and Kazuichi watched in astonishment as he shifted the very first box he touched in the storage room of the old building and pointed. “There he is.”

“WHY didn’t I ask him first?!” Kazuichi practically screamed.

“Ultimate Luck seems a pretty useful talent,” Hajime murmured to him, not wanting Nagito to hear. It’d only start him off on a long self-deprecating rant. “Go on then, Kazuichi. Get him.”

Kazuichi peered behind the box on his hands and knees. Maga-Z was cowering in the corner, fur dishevelled and standing on end. He didn’t look too friendly. “Why do I have to grab the stupid hamster?” Kazuichi whined. “You grab him, Hajime. I don’t like them. They look like they know too much.”

“What are you on about?” Hajime sighed. “It’s just a hamster. You can’t be scared of a hamster, Kazuichi.”

“They’re Gundham’s hamsters. They probably like… worship the devil or something.”

“Hamsters don’t worship anything. They’re just hamsters.”

“Can I go now?” Nagito asked, looking like he was losing braincells just listening to this conversation.

“Yeah, thanks, Nagito. Unless you fancy grabbing this hamster,” Kazuichi said. He looked hopeful, but Nagito left without another word.

“I’ll do it,” Hajime said, exasperated. He reached behind the box to ease his hand underneath Maga-Z, but as soon as his fingers brushed fur, the hamster made a mad dash forward. Directly towards Souda. He squealed and hastily cupped both hands around Maga-Z, holding him at arm’s length. “Oh my God, oh my God, I got him… Oh God, he’s gonna bite me, I know he is,” Kazuichi whined.

“Hey, good job,” Hajime said, surprised. “I didn’t think you’d catch him.”

“I’m not a baby, Hajime,” Kazuichi huffed. Then he whimpered in a very childish way. “Ugh, he’s wriggling around. Can I… put him somewhere? A bag or something? I don’t trust him.”

“Just shove him in your pocket and let’s go. It’s boiling in here. And Gundham will be stressing about Maga-Z. Do you know where he is?”

“I had to put him to bed because he nearly fainted. He was running around in his black coat all day.”

Hajime rolled his eyes. “Nobody on this island has any self-preservation skills.”

“At least Maga-Z is okay.” Kazuichi studied the little ball of fluff cupped in his hands. Somehow his little ink drop eyes did look menacing. “Hey, he really does look like he wanted to go off and cause chaos on his own, doesn’t he?”

Hajime gave Kazuichi a look. “I think you’ve spent too much time with Gundham today.”

Thankfully, Gundham was still in his room and looking a lot better, though still very visibly agitated. His colour had returned to ghostly pale (he must’ve reapplied his makeup) and his eyes were far more focused - they snapped to the door right away when Hajime opened it. When he saw Kazuichi, his hands still full of wriggling hamster, his brow cleared.

“Take him, quick!” Kazuichi said, hurrying over to the bed. “I’m sure he wants to bite me.”

“You fiend,” Gundham murmured, taking the hamster. For a second Kazuichi was offended, thinking Gundham was calling him names when he and Hajime had been nice enough to bring the hamster back, but then he realised Gundham was talking to Maga-Z. He spoke to them in exactly the same way he spoke to his classmates, no silly mushy voices like most people did with cute animals.

“I can only pray you have not caused too much destruction while unsupervised,” he murmured, smoothing Maga-Z’s fur. The hamster sat up to greet him like a little puppy, and Kazuichi noticed for the first time that Maga-Z’s cheeks were bulging.

“Did he really run off just to steal food?” Kazuichi groaned. “We’ve been so stressed and he was just eating!”

“Ah yes, a feast befitting the magnificent Crimson Steel Elephant,” Gundham said, gently placing Maga-Z with the other hamsters. They circled him joyfully, happy to be reunited too.

Kazuichi threw his hands up exasperatedly. “I give up. You’re all nuts.”

Gundham turned to Kazuichi, his face solemn. “I am deeply indebted to you, as is everybody who resides on this island. I cannot speak of the terrors that may have occurred if Maga-Z was without guidance. I shall spread the story of your triumph to every other mortal here so they can show you due gratitude,” he said.

“Oh… Thanks, man.” Kazuichi could see he meant well, but the thought of Gundham telling everyone Kazuichi saved the island from a hamster’s destruction was pretty embarrassing. He could already see Hajime smirking out of the corner of his eye.

“You should stay inside a bit longer though,” Hajime said. “Just in case. You need to make sure you’re totally cooled down.”

“Indeed. I have had ample excitement for one day,” Gundham said.

“Me too,” Kazuichi mumbled.

“If you’re feeling better, you can tell everyone about Kazuichi saving the island over dinner,” Hajime said, grinning. Kazuichi glared at him.

“Asshole,” he muttered as soon as they were outside Gundham’s cabin.

Hajime burst out laughing. “Maybe he’ll make you sound really gallant and fearless when he tells it.”

“Then everyone will know it’s a lie right away. And anyway, Nagito saw what happened. Even if you don’t give away the real story, he’ll definitely tell.”

“Probably. But you did save his hamster, even if you weren’t that fearless about it. Is there a truce between you two now?”

“I suppose so. He’s not so bad. Crazy and dramatic and difficult… but okay,” Kazuichi admitted. He paused. “I don’t know what half of the words he uses mean though.”

“Yeah,” Hajime agreed. “I don’t either.”

[actress4him]

Overexposure - New Ideas

(Prompt #17 for Summer of Whump)

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Warnings: lady whumpee with male whumper, creepy/intimate whumper, captivity, referenced beating, noncon touching (non-sexual), forced stripping (non-sexual), restraints, stress position

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It’s only a few days after the exhibit, a few days after the brutal beating Ellery received for trying to ask for help, when the door to her room flies open and he’s standing there with that smile on his face. The smile she hates more than anything. The smile that says she’s about to suffer even more.

“Good morning, Princess.” Lucas strolls into the room - the cell, really, just a tiny corner of the basement built expressly for the purpose of keeping her inside. “In the midst of the fallout from your misguided attempt the other night, I failed to mention how much of a success the exhibit was. Everyone adored you.”

Her skin crawls at the thought, but she knows better than to respond by now. Instead she pulls her knees up to her chest, hugging them to herself as if she can keep him away.

“I’m getting plenty of sales, too. So many people who want to have our beautiful artwork all for themselves.”

She knows better than to respond, but she can’t help it. The image of those photos hanging on someone’s walls, or being hidden away to look at secretly… “Guess they’re just as sick as you are.”

All of her muscles tense up as soon as she says it, expecting him to lash out. But he must be in an awfully good mood, because he simply ignores the outburst, pacing toward the tiny table with his hands clasped behind his back.

“I’ve been getting requests, too. Some from patrons at the last exhibit, others from people who have seen my previous work.” He turns, leaning up against the table, eyes roving over her body in the way he does when she knows he’s imagining ways to torture it. “Seems like there’s a whole collection of people out there who love...well, I keep hearing the word ‘whump’, but...basically, they draw all kinds of inspiration from what we’re doing. And now they’d like to see something...a little less refined, a little more...hm, how do I say it? A little more...raw. Primitive.”

The smile creeps back onto his face. “It’s something I’ve never done before, but I’m certainly up to the challenge. I’ve got ideas already. And I have a feeling once I get started I’ll be quite inspired to keep going.”

No wonder he’s in a good mood. He’s in his creative zone, which means a nightmare of a day for her. And it’s so soon, she’s still healing, her body isn’t ready.

He won’t care about any of that, though.

“Alright, come on, chop chop! Up to makeup we go.”

It’s one of the few instances when she’s allowed out of the basement, so she tries to enjoy it. If she cranes her neck as they come to the top of the stairs, she can catch a glimpse of green and sunlight through a sliver of window, and overall the rooms upstairs are much brighter. It’s a refreshing change.

Lucas’ assistant, whose name she’s never bothered to learn, is ready and waiting in the usual spot with her makeup and hair tools. It’s the one thing that he doesn’t do himself. Ellery expects the same treatment for the bruise around her eye - now turned a sickly yellow - as it got for the exhibit, but it’s ignored. Instead the assistant focuses on eyeliner, mascara, and a little bit of lip color. The basics, meant to make her features pop in the photos, nothing fancy. Maybe that’s what he meant by ‘raw and primitive’. She can certainly hope that it’s nothing worse, though hope has done her a fat lot of good so far.

“You want her hair pulled back at all?” the assistant asks.

Lucas, who has been lurking the whole time, watching the process, steps forward and runs thick fingers through her long black hair. She doesn’t bother to suppress a shudder and a look of disgust, but doesn’t try to pull away, either.

“Yeah. Go ahead and put it up, something simple, though. Simple and messy. I might take it down partway through, we’ll see.”

It’s brushed back into a ponytail with lots of strands hanging down around her face, and the top is fussed over until it’s perfectly, believably messy. The assistant looks up to Lucas for approval.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s good. I like it. Okay, moving on.”

This is the point where her starting wardrobe is usually chosen. She stands, waiting while he scrutinizes her current outfit of a baggy white t-shirt and black cotton shorts.

“Take that off, remind me what you have on under it.”

Ellery’s face flushes scarlet. She hates this, hates obeying and hates demeaning herself for him, but last time she refused to take off the clothes herself he just did it for her, and that was so much worse. And it’s not like he’s actually interested in her, not in that way. She was so incredibly afraid of that for a long time. But no, to him she’s not a person for him to want. She’s a piece of art, a canvas, a sculpture. A thing. All he’s thinking of is how he can best use her to create the ‘masterpiece’ he has in mind.

So she slips the t-shirt off over her head. Stands in just her sports bra and shorts with her cheeks burning and wishes that she could melt into the floor and cease to exist.

The expression that comes over his face is nothing short of delight. “Ooh, this is so much better than I was expecting.” He practically trots over to her, eyes on her bare stomach, and reaches out to brush his fingers along the tender, aching skin. She flinches, instinctively pulls back, but he only latches onto her waist, digging his fingers into a myriad of bruises. “This is fantastic. Just what we need for today. So glad I gave you these already.”

Gave her. Like the beating was a gift. She doesn’t need to look down to know that her torso is pretty much one giant bruise, she can feel it just fine.

“Yep. That’ll be perfect. Leave it just like that. No sense in covering up any of this beauty.” He strokes his fingers across her stomach one more time before stepping back to admire the whole thing. “Alright, thank you, Jordan. Let’s get back to the studio.”

The studio - aka the basement. Back down to the cold concrete walls and the artificial lights. She can’t help but slow, just a little, as they pass the room with the window, trying to get one more little peek of the outdoors. She pays for it with his hand coming to land on the back of her neck, squeezing tightly, promising much more pain if she doesn’t keep walking.

The area of the basement that Lucas uses to take her photos isn’t much to speak of, especially today when the white backdrop is rolled up at the ceiling. It’s just an expanse of grey, but it haunts her nightmares.

“Alright.” Lucas is practically giddy with excitement. “I’ve got so many ideas I don’t know where to start. No, scratch that. I do know where I want to start.” He turns to his shelf of props and rummages through a box, pulling out several pieces of metal with chains draping in between.

The dread that had been swirling in Ellery’s stomach all morning suddenly solidifies into something heavy, a stone that simultaneously pulls her down into the floor and threatens to make her sick. She can’t do this again. She can’t. The pain of being stretched into positions her body was never meant to be in, the humiliation of being photographed in the most vulnerable state possible...and now it’s even worse, because she’s already in pain from being beaten.

Lucas is at the far wall, tinkering with his contraption, using existing bolts and screws from previous sessions to attach things to both the wall and floor. “Come here,” he says after a few minutes, and it’s the last straw.

Something inside of her crumples.

“Please…” It comes out as no more than a trembling whisper, but it catches his attention anyway. “Please don’t, I can’t, I can’t, please…”

Sighing heavily, he walks toward her, boots clomping out her doom on the concrete floor. “I thought we were past this, Princess. You’d been doing so well.”

She opens her mouth, to say what, she doesn’t know, it’s all pointless anyway, but before a sound makes it past her lips his fist is connecting with her temple. Her world is reduced to black and pain and falling. When her vision returns, the room whirls around her, Lucas’ face up above hers dipping and bobbing in a way that makes her stomach churn, and her head throbs. She can tell she’s being dragged, though, by the ankle over to where he wanted her.

Rough hands grab her by the arms and heft her to her feet, and the room goes spinning again. Her back is pressed up against the wall, concrete blocks cold on her bare skin, and Lucas wraps an arm around her waist to lift her slightly. She gasps as he puts pressure on the ribs she’s pretty sure are broken.

A second later, something thin and cool falls across her throat, and after he fiddles with something just under her ear for a moment, Lucas steps back and leaves her to settle down onto her bare toes. They just barely touch the floor enough for her to rest her weight on, the metal across her neck digging slightly into her skin and threatening to cut off her air. She tries not to notice him watching her as she struggles to adjust her feet to push herself a little higher.

“Nice. I love it already. Actually, hang on, I’m also loving the disoriented look you’ve got going on right now. I need a shot of that.”

He grabs his camera and gets right up in her face. Ellery automatically squeezes her eyes shut, hating that lens, hating the thought of anyone else seeing her like this, but all she gets for it is his finger poking her in the ribs. Her eyes fly open as she cries out, and the camera clicks. Once, twice, three times.

“Ooh, I don’t know which one of these I like best.” He studies the screen with a grin, flipping back and forth through the shots. “The hazy, disoriented look I was going for, or the gasping in pain. And the restraint around the neck really sets it off. Fantastic. Okay, moving on.”

Bending down, he picks up the rest of the metal pieces, the ones with the chains attached. While she wasn’t paying attention it seems he had hooked one end of the chains to the floor, several feet out in front of her, and now he brings the other end to her. She only finds out what it is for sure when he yanks her hands away from the wall where she had been attempting to help support herself and clamps it around her wrists. The shackles pull her arms out in front of her, naturally making her body want to lean forward, too. But if she gives into the pull, or if her feet get tired and try to lower, she’ll choke.

Lucas stands back to admire his work. “Yes. Just as good as I had hoped. And you’re already starting to get that wild look in your eyes, too. I think if I leave you here for, oh -” he checks his phone -“around thirty or forty-five minutes, I’ll really get the desperation I’m looking for. Maybe an hour. We’ll see.”

With that, he turns and heads for the stairs. As the echo of his footsteps dies out, Ellery finally lets the tears start to pour down her cheeks. She can’t spare the focus to stop them anymore, anyway. All of her concentration until he decides she’s done is going to have to be on staying balanced so she doesn’t die.

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Disclaimer: I don’t think people who like whump are “sick”. Obviously, I am one of them. Now, if there were actually people like Lucas out there who hurt real people for whump’s sake, then yeah. They would be considered “sick”. But of course, Lucas’ patrons don’t know what he’s really doing...or do they...?

[drxwsyni]

Petrified (pt.5)

Yandere Erasermic x f!Reader

SERIES MASTERLIST

a/n: idk what to say about this part. the dialogue wasn’t fun, but that’s about it! hope y’all enjoy!

5.9k words

Warnings: reader experiences anxiety

Realistically speaking, there was a very low chance that you’d be able to wrestle your nerves under control as you waited for the impending meeting. It was creeping upon you, quite painfully slowly. On top of that you still had yet to resolve the almost instantaneous sensation of despair you felt upon waking.

Even as you spent the time you had to yourself completing menial tasks, nothing could truly remedy the feelings that plagued your being. It was incessant. Eating away at your will to distract yourself. And eventually you did succumb to its pestering.

No matter what you occupied yourself with, the reality of the approaching situation would invade your thoughts. It would keep you there until you mentally fought tooth and nail against it. But even then it wasn’t enough. It simply became easier to settle with the mindset.

You opted to lay on your thrifted couch, toying with the soft tussles on the blanket that was draped over your lower half. The connection of the fabric running across your fingers to how it actually felt wasn’t something your brain was choosing to register at the moment.

Rather, you simply stewed on your conflict.

It felt like you did this a lot nowadays. Brewing over muddled thoughts that didn’t entirely make sense but also did at the same time.

You trusted Shouta and Hizashi. Yet there was always an inkling of suspicion―or perhaps it was moreso a fear. Probably both, you assumed. What you wouldn’t give to have this whole reality be erased from existence. To never have met the two. Never have gotten preyed on by some lowly criminals that made you so indebted.

But that wasn’t something you could control. Much like you couldn’t seem to control the extent of the impact the heroes were having on your life. That was something they preferred to dictate, regardless of your protests.

Not that you protested all that much. To be fair, you hadn’t exactly been assertive with your wishes. Still, that doesn’t mean your few opinions should be as disregarded as they were.

It angered you more than anything. Shouta wouldn’t give you the chance to speak your mind while Hizashi glazed over the problem with a delusional sense of care. With their combined insistence it was more than enough to force you back into your shell. A place where no matter how upset you were, the courage to speak your mind was next to impossible.

If you didn’t know any better you would think that they were just as aware of this as you. After all, they seemed to be exploiting your weaknesses more and more. Maybe they did know you quite literally feared their methods of approach and were doing it just to see your pitiful reactions.

It would be cruel, and highly unlikely. But your mind had a habit of coming up with the worse case scenario, and this idea was no exception.

You were so wrapped up in contemplating the meaning for their behaviour and subsequently how you felt because of it that the time passing at an alarming rate didn’t even phase you.

No, not until the sound of your phone pinging―an alert for received text messages―were you finally pulled out of your stupor.

From: Shouta

Are you still okay with being picked up at 5:30?

4:32 pm

The time on the receipts made your heart drop a little. An hour left.

You:

That’s fine :)

4:33 pm

From: Shouta

Let me know if you need more time.

4:33 pm

You:

Will do, thanks!

4:34 pm

Of course you didn’t need more time to meddle with your own thoughts.

How exactly were you supposed to get ready to spend time with them? You couldn’t make anything to bring, something they made clear. Were you supposed to wear something casual? Or maybe dressing up a little was the better option.

None of these details really mattered, but overthinking was one of the things you were best at. So at each decision you came across you muddled over what to do. When all was said and done, you chose to settle with a navy blouse and black high waisted jeans. Dark colours were best for not drawing attention to yourself after all, and that was exactly what you wanted to do.

The rest of the routine to prepare for your slowly ensuing departure from the comfort of your apartment was done on autopilot. Any actions couldn’t be fully processed when your mind was drowning in nonsensical worries and ‘what if’ scenarios. The phenomenon wasn’t surprising, but still mentally taxing nonetheless. Nothing you could think or do would make you feel better. This was just something you would have to push through regardless of the voice in your head urging you to make up an excuse not to go.

After all, excuses now would only postpone the inevitable. And right now the inevitable was already here.

From: Shouta

I’m outside.

5:29 pm

You’d been ready for the past fifteen minutes―spending your remaining time anxiously waiting at the kitchen table. You regarded the text with a feeling of dread, but pushed the sensation down as you pulled on your shoes and jacket, stuffing your wallet in a pocket.

Just as he said, Shouta was waiting outside the apartment complex in the parking lot. He was leaning against the side of his car, eyes trained on his phone. Dressed in casual clothes with his hair pulled back into a half bun, he lifted his head upon hearing your approaching footsteps.

You watched as his eyes briefly scanned your form, presumably taking in your choice of clothing. “Ready to go?”

He didn’t exactly sound bored with the pseudo-greeting, rather it was a ‘let’s move this along’ kind of sound. It made you question for a moment whether he actually cared about the situation, but you disregarded the idea. “Of course.” Out of habit you offered a warm smile, which made his face lighten slightly in return. Even that alone was comforting compared to his normally serious facade.

Shouta opened the passenger door for you, letting you step in before closing it. He rounded the car and entered on the drivers side while you fastened your seatbelt, hands shaking ever so slightly. It was in your best interest to keep your nerves under control as much as possible, lest one of the two men pick up on it and become more concerned.

The car started with a low hum, the interior dashboard lighting up in areas that were blacked out before. The radio was playing quietly, allowing you to just barely register the soft rock music being emitted from the speakers. Shouta was the first to break the silence as he began driving.

“So, how was work yesterday?”

Small talk, thank god.

It would probably be a good idea to disregard the normal strain it put on your body. “It was good, like any other Friday I guess.”

The erasure hero nodded slightly before replying, “Anyone giving you trouble?” His eyes never left the road as he spoke, which you were thankful for, but it also made his expression hard to read from where you were sitting.

“I suppose a few people were a little impatient, but it’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

To that he only offered a hum in response before moving to turn the radio up. By now there was a segment between the hosts, and you gratefully let it fill the silence if it meant you could avoid any awkward bits of forced conversation.

You found out regrettably that his home wasn’t too far from your apartment. Perhaps roughly ten minutes there by car, and you were already pulling up to the settlement.

It was comfortably small, set in a neighbourhood with houses of a similar size. You could tell that it was a pricy abode, evident in the elaborately carved wooden doors and smooth stone walkway. Everything exuded luxury, and you expected to find the same quality of handiwork on the inside. Not only that, but it was placed comfortably in the midst of the city―not close enough to any normal bustling life but in an area that would allow for a fast commute. Just another aspect that alluded to it’s likely expensive cost.

Shouta pulled into the driveway, parking the car inside the garage which was surprisingly big enough to fit the automobile. You stepped out as soon as the car door unlocked, the erasure hero following suit. The sound of the doors slamming shut echoed off the walls loudly, causing you to jump a little with your nerves already being on edge. Silently, you prayed he had yet to pick up on your behaviour.

“S’just through here.” Shouta gestured to the only door in the room before heading towards it, one hand shoved in his pocket. He held it open in wait for you to round the car and step through the threshold.

Instantly your senses were flooded with a smell that was so indisputably welcoming―a certain warmth, enhanced by the aroma of a home cooked meal in the making. It was wildly calming, and in that moment you forgot how stressed you’d been over the ordeal you were about to sit through. And yet, even as you came back to reality, the atmosphere continued to still your worries to a certain extent.

“We’re home.” The erasure hero’s voice sounded off behind you, causing you to turn to see that he was removing his jacket. You did the same, but before you could ask where to hang it Shouta had already gently removed the article from your hands, placing it on a hanger in the front entrance closet.

As you were removing your shoes a certain voice hero made himself known. “I’m just in the kitchen, grub’s almost done and cooked!”

Once the two of you had finished up getting comfortable, Shouta led the way deeper into the house. Following him, you finally laid eyes on his partner who was preoccupied at the stove. He glanced over his shoulder, face turning bright upon seeing you.

“Songbird? How’ve ya been?” He talked like he hadn’t seen you in forever, but that was no surprise.

What did come as a surprise was the suffocatingly tight hug he went on to wrap you in. The contact was jarring, but you did your best not to recoil. After all, you would be lying if you said the hug wasn’t at least a little nice. Sure, your mind had momentarily ceased it’s functioning from the shock, but biology did have its ways of easing your pain. Namely, in the form of that sweet release of serotonin as an innate response to the affection. Leaning into it to prove you weren’t too bothered by the close proximity, you responded. “Ah―fine. The same as last time you saw me I guess.”

The blond pulled away, opting to hold you by the shoulders as he spoke. “That head feelin’ okay? Your meds workin’?” The look in his eyes told you how concerned he was, even though the soft tone in his voice did more than enough to convey it. It was one of the few times it carried such delicacy to it, something you were grateful for as you don’t think the normal booming of his voice would’ve been tolerable from such a distance.

You smiled warmly, doing your best to maintain eye contact―and failing after a few seconds. “Yep, everything's back to normal, pretty much…”

That’s what you said, but it wasn’t the truth.

The reality of your health was something you normally chose to disregard, but you knew it wasn’t normal. At the end of the day, your normal was likely another person's hell. The exhaustion you felt was second nature, but that didn’t mean it was easy to deal with. However, putting up with the sensation was worth what you got out of it. So you kept going―kept lying―both to yourself and others that you were okay.

The pause Hizashi gave before answering instilled a brief pang of anxiety. The two were unbearably perceptive―they had to be, being heroes and all. But whatever he was thinking seemed to pass. “Good ta hear, why don'tcha make yourself comfortable while we finish up sweetheart.”

You glanced over to the stovetop, then to the countertop that was adorned with wayward vegetables and measuring cups. Naturally, you couldn’t help but offer assistance. “Oh, I don’t mind helping out. If you want I could―”

“Nah listener! Go get comfy, ‘Shou and I’ve got this.” He gave your shoulder a few reassuring pats, before motioning to the living room with his other hand.

As he gave you a gentle push, you managed to sputter out a response. “Um―okay, then…” Was it a strong response? No. But they weren’t giving you time to come up with something more polite. So you took Hizashi’s queue and padded over to the living room.

The first thing you noticed when you stepped into the expanse was how...empty it was. It had furniture―more than enough to fill the room. All of it looking high in value, only adding to the comfort and prestige of their home. That wasn’t the issue. It was the lack of personal items that stood out.

There were none of the items that you would expect in a well lived in home. Things like photos or framed degrees on the wall―nothing to suggest that either of the two heroes stayed there. Not so much as a haphazardly discarded personal belonging like a sweater or even a stray coffee mug was in sight. It was immaculately devoid of unique human presence. The only thing that served as evidence to suggest someone was actually living there and it wasn’t more so a showroom was the laptop on the coffee table in front of the couch.

But that was it. Peculiar, to say the least.

There was quite literally nothing else for you to evaluate. Nothing to help you get a better sense of who the heroes were behind closed doors. With the lack of stimulation came an awkward feeling of self awareness. So you did what the blond instructed―you made yourself comfortable.

The couch looked invitingly cushiony, so there you took up residence, pulling out your phone for the distraction of social media. You had your back to Shouta and Hizashi who were still in the kitchen. That particular detail mildly unsettled you, and you did your best not to let the paranoia induced urge to keep looking over your shoulder get to you.

With the comfort of the temporary seclusion you concluded that while they might be taking your presence to make up for the burden you’ve placed on them, you were paying an equal amount with your sanity. They couldn’t have seen how much their existence in your life as of late was displacing your will to remain calm. If they did then you were sure the heroes in them wouldn’t have suggested this meeting.

They were getting too personal, and all you could think about was never having to see them again after tonight.

Regrettably, the sound of clinking metal pulled you out of your thoughts. Behind you Shouta had begun setting the dining table, placing down cutlery along with napkins. Part of you knew that your offer of assistance would be shot down. It was all routine at this point, and you’d honestly lost track of the amount of times it had happened.

You inwardly cursed yourself for causing unnecessary anxiety, “I can help with that, if you want.” The ‘if you want’ came out unintentionally, your subconscious knowing what was about to happen.

Shouta glanced up at you, “That’s fine (y/n), you can just take a seat.” He went back to what he was doing without another word, before heading back to the kitchen.

It wasn’t even worth putting up resistance over.

Standing up, you walked over to the dining room, claiming the spot next to the head of the table. Not a moment later and the two were walking out with various bowls which appeared to be steaming.

“Hope you’re hungry sunshine! Dinner’s comin’ in hot” Hizashi set down a bowl in front of you.

“It’s beef stew, hope you don’t mind.” The erasure hero sat down at the head of the table. His partner left the room, only to return with a tray of golden dinner rolls.

“Homemade and fresh outta the oven!” He set the tray down in the middle of the table, taking a seat across from you.

You looked down at the food displayed before you. Frankly, it looked absolutely delectable. “This looks really good, you must’ve been at it for a while.”

Shouta had already begun eating so you assumed it was safe for you to do the same. Lo and behold, the food tasted just as good as it looked. The perfect ratio of vegetables to meat, seasoned to perfection. It was impressive, to say the least.

“Yeah it did take a bit, but it’s worth it for you songbird!”

You were almost too distracted by the mouth watering meal that was gracing your tastebuds to care about his pet names. And even if you did care, the hospitality would help in overlooking it. Thankfully your nerves had calmed down a bit, part of you thinking that you were growing used to their presence ever so slightly.

As you ate, the two took it upon themselves to make idle discussion to fill the silence, Hizashi always doing more of the talking than his counterpart. You did the listening, as they were dealing with topics beyond you. Namely hero work, its details something that you couldn’t quite relate to, let alone offer something valuable to the conversation. You weren’t complaining either―it was easier to let them go on than it was to worry yourself over trying to find something interesting to say.

It would’ve been nice if things could’ve stayed like that. The mood was something you could tolerate at the moment, an occurrence that was rare when you were around the two men. But of course something so ideal as that would never last.

Soon enough their back and forth discourse began heading exactly where you hoped they would avoid tonight.

Hizashi was on the subject of a few unsavoury criminals that had been active in the area. Nothing too serious, but still posing a large enough threat to those who were less capable of defending themselves.

And then he started talking about the area you were walking through when you just so happened to get cornered by similarly dangerous individuals.

At that point you were a little over halfway done eating, and desperately wishing to quickly move from the subject if not just drop it entirely. But no, Hizashi was intent on remaining on the topic.

“Ya know, a few buddies of mine have been dealing with some trouble in that area.” With his mouth half full, he continued. “Sure you gotta work so late? Can’t imagine walkin’ home at that time is very safe.”

You’d lost your appetite.

“Yeah, they need me to cover the later shifts, and I don’t really mind it, so…”

Shouta seemed to be more interested in the discussion now that you were involved. “Still, you should try and switch to morning shifts.”

“Mm―not only that but ya can’t just go exploring a bunch of alleyways. Shit’s bound to happen there hun.” The blond had set his food aside and was more than happy to indulge himself further in telling you what to do.

Did they really think you were so dense that you’d be going down alleyways just to explore?

You placed your spoon in the almost empty bowl, bringing your hands to rest on your lap. At least like that they wouldn’t be able to see you trying to relieve some stress by repetitively fidgeting with the end of your sleeve or digging your nails into the palms of your hands.

“I was taking a shortcut. That’s not something I would normally do.” There was a certain feeling of spite in your voice, but you doubt they could register it. Rather you probably simply sounded displeased to be talking about that night, mixed with a hint of shame for letting yourself get attacked like that.

“If that’s the case then I’d advise you take the long way. You’re just putting yourself at a higher risk by going down that path.” Shouta was taking a sip of his drink as the two let you process their advice. He didn’t seem to like the idea of you ‘putting yourself at risk,’ judging by the almost disappointed tone in his voice.

It was hard for you to meet their eyes as they spoke, so instead you alternated between staring at the table while looking at them for a brief second to prove that yes, you were listening to them.

However you did watch as Hizashi moved to fold his hands atop the table, leaning forward slightly. He paused, likely gathering his thoughts. “And, ah...somethin’s been sorta bothering Shou’ and I for a bit.” The two men eyed each other for a moment, “It’s just...the doctor never said what was quite wrong with ya, being so tired and all.”

The heroes were looking intently at you for an answer, causing you to mentally recoil from the unwanted attention. But you still had to come up with something to influence them into moving on to something that didn’t directly relate to your wellbeing. “Oh...well it was the end of the week I guess. That probably explains it…” You were curious to see if the answer was satisfactory, but upon looking up a little more to judge their reactions you found that oh no, that was most definitely not enough.

They didn’t look convinced in the slightest. You weren’t lying to them, just omitting most of the truth. And somehow it felt like they knew you were doing so―your suspicions being quickly confirmed.

“You passed out, (y/n). Your records don’t list any medical problems so there should be no reason your shifts cause you that much exhaustion.”

You had no doubt Shouta was boring holes into your skull with the unmatched intense look he was likely giving you. The wavering amounts of courage you held only allowed you to observe him from the shoulders down. He’d leaned back in his chair at this point, one hand in his lap while the other rested on the table.

They didn’t have the right to be so invasive with your personal life. They were heroes. They saved people and then they were supposed to move on.

Not access their medical history without their permission to see if they were being completely honest.

As if sensing your growing uncomfortableness, Hizashi piped up. “We’re just worried about ya sweetheart. Stuff like that doesn’t just happen outta the blue. And if somethin’ really is wrong then you gotta tell us.”

You could almost drown in the concern blanketing his words and tone. It was conflicting―you knew he was being genuine, and that the two were just that invested in your wellbeing at the moment. But that’s what scared you.

The attention was entirely unwelcome. How many times did you have to reassure them that you were handling things before they let it go?

Self-awareness was haunting you, knowing full well how you were going to be unable to control the shakiness in your voice. Even less so was the hold you had over the stirring of worrisome emotions brewing inside you. You knew skirting around the truth was better than telling them you used your quirk at work. They would probably get mad at you―the reality wasn’t a conventionally accepted thing.

“I think..I’m just a naturally tired person. And those guys freaked me out a bit, so...I don’t know. I guess it was just a combination of those things?”

You waited in heavy silence for a response. For once it seemed that they were thinking before they spoke. Hizashi especially liked to say whatever came to mind, at least that’s what you thought. Shouta wasn’t as impulsive, but he never hesitated this long. And so when he finally spoke, you weren’t sure whether to be relieved due to the occurrence or not―given what he said.

“If you think we believe that excuse for a second then you're very wrong, (y/n). You might be tired, but we know there’s more to it than that. It’d be much easier if you’d just cooperate with us.”

Looking up was a bad idea, but your head moved on its own. While Shouta looked as menacing as ever, his partner looked...nervous. You’d never seen him that way, like he was suffering just as much as you were. Perhaps it was a side effect of this irrational concern he felt, realistically you didn’t care. But the feeling transferred to you and slowly the pit in your stomach grew bigger and bigger with each passing second. You weren’t sure how much longer you’d be able to hold out.

“Please just tell us the truth, songbird. You’re not in trouble, we promise. It’s just―we can tell there’s somethin’ off with ya.” If your hands were on the table you wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to hold them, knowing of his tendencies.

You looked back and forth between the two, eyes silently pleading for them to just drop it altogether.

Of course, you knew they wouldn’t.

Maybe you should just run while you had the chance?

“R-really, I’m okay. Listen, dinner was...really good, but I think I should be going n―”

“You’re not leaving.”

The erasure hero was in no mood to put up with you dancing around the topic at hand anymore. He brought you here to find out what the fuck was going on with you and he’d be damned if you just denied them that truth any longer. Hizashi had no complaints―maybe wincing at his partner’s harshness a little, but otherwise was in it just as much as him.

The blond could bring the tension down a little though, mostly for your sake. “Are ya not gettin’ enough sleep? Shou’ knows a pretty good doctor that helps with that kinda thing if that’s the problem. We just wanna make sure you’re being safe is all, sunshine.”

Really? Because this feels more like an interrogation than a friendly discussion over your habits.

Perhaps it would be better to just cut your losses and tell them. You didn’t want to, if they deemed fit they could be the reason you lose your job. Your boss didn’t know that you used your quirk―nobody did. It was how you stayed ahead of everyone else. Technically it was like cheating, having such a big advantage over your coworkers in your line of work. But where was the harm? You were making people happy, there’s nothing wrong with that.

But just like before you left your apartment to be accompanied to their house, your mind decided it was a perfectly fine and healthy idea to come up with countless ‘what ifs.’ One of which included the possibility that yes, you would be fired for this small transgression. Even though it was unlikely, it still plagued your mind with dread. The shop was where you got validation―a place where you knew you were doing something right. You didn’t want it taken away from you.

But you had to tell them. They were waiting. There was no way out of this.

“M-my quirk…”

How were you supposed to explain this?

“What about your quirk?” Shouta was not giving you any room to weasel your way out of this.

Your eyes remained trained on the abandoned dinner in front of you. “I use it...at work, sometimes. It just makes me a little tired I guess.”

The erasure hero didn’t give his counterpart the chance to ruin the moment, knowing you were susceptible to revealing more information with another push. “Only sometimes?”

God, it felt like you were being shamed for what you did.

“A lot...I use it a lot.” Admitting it felt hard even though you were more than aware of your behaviour. It was their reaction that made the task so difficult.

“What’s your quirk, sweetheart?”

You looked at your hands―the tools that made the fruits of your labour possible. “I...um―it’s called Nurture. I can sort of...put life back into plants? It just makes them healthier, but doing it puts strain on my body. Makes me a bit sleepy, but it isn’t usually that bad…”

Shouta gave a quiet hum in response before continuing, sitting up in his chair a bit. “Well―I wouldn’t call that a bit. No point in trying to downplay it now, just be honest.”

It was probably supposed to sound lightly encouraging, but he sounded more like he was making a demand.

A demand in which you had no choice but to meet.

“Okay...it can be a little much sometimes. B-but Friday was the exception, I had to use it a lot the night before so...the exhaustion just caught up with me.” You left out the part where the emotional response from being cornered was likely a bigger problem than the sorry state your general physique was in.

Hizashi sighed, and it would appear that the two were relieved to finally get the explanation they were looking for. You however were not in the same state. You were vulnerable, and inwardly you prayed they would leave well enough alone.

The erasure hero took a sip of his drink, and you caught the men exchanging glances before the blond spoke up. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You didn’t respond. Just kept staring at your hands.

“What you’re doing isn’t illegal or anything, but it’s still not something you should be doing. I’m sure you know what could happen to your career if this kind of information got out.”

At that your eyes shot up, looking desperately in Shouta’s direction. “Please don’t tell my boss. He doesn’t know, and I’m not hurting anyone by using it. Please just―I don’t know what I’d do without my job.” You glanced back to Hizashi, looking like your words were hurting him as well.

“I don’t know (y/n), you’re not exactly being responsible with your quirk. Just because you’re not hurting anyone else doesn’t mean it’s safe to disregard your own health.” Shouta must enjoy judging you when you were at your lowest, seeing as he tended to do it an awful lot.

Just when you thought this night couldn’t get any worse, it did. It got so much worse.

You weren’t able to form a rebuttal, but it didn’t matter when Hizashi beat you to it. “Listen, we don’t want to do that songbird, honestly. How ‘bout we make another deal instead…”

What in god’s name could they want from you.

“W-what kind of deal?” How you wished they’d just let you walk free, unburdened by their presence like you planned on before coming here. It’s like they wanted to watch you squirm uncomfortably with anticipation.

Finally the blond continued. “Simple. Ya try not to use your quirk as much and we don’t tell management!”

Shouta added his take, “And you have to keep coming over for dinner so we can make sure you’re holding up your end. It’s a fair proposition. Take it or leave it.”

It was unbelievable. Of course you didn’t want to comply―they were blackmailing you for christ’s sake. But one problem did stand out, “What are you guys getting out of this? I―I’m just not quite sure I understand.”

The erasure hero sighed, “Call it peace of mind―lets us know you're not on the verge of death while enjoying your company at the same time.”

Clearly they couldn’t see how much you weren’t enjoying their company. Or maybe they did and simply didn’t care. How they thought this was a fair deal was beyond you, and it didn’t exactly matter either way.

You didn’t want to admit it―to agree to their ‘deal,’ but you had no choice. They’d effectively cornered you. At this point you could only hope they would get bored enough of your presence to eventually call it off. You wouldn’t be able to stop using your quirk, it would break your heart not to. You got so much out of using it―emotionally at least.

They might not know if you were lying now if you agreed to it, but having to see them again wouldn’t be good news. Was it that obvious what your quirk did to your health? Honestly speaking, you’d never really evaluated whether or not you looked worse for wear. All this time you just acted without thinking of the effects. Perhaps there was physical evidence―but it was something you would have to evaluate later.

Not that you personally cared whether or not you actually looked tired. There was always makeup for that if you were feeling self-conscious. Mostly, you needed to see what you had to do to fool them into thinking you were complying.

At least they were patient when it came to this response, and eventually you did manage to give one. With great reluctance, you spoke. “I guess...if that’s what you want. But I―”

“Then it’s settled! We can keep meetin’ up like this every Saturday from now on!” Hizashi was positively beaming at the prospect, you however were not as excited.

Every fucking Saturday?

The thought of having to experience the same god awful stress made your heart sink. They should be sick of seeing your face by now. All you’ve done for them was place an immense burden, both on their wallets and apparently their minds as well. It didn’t matter if they were worried about you―they would have to get over it.

You would play along for now, mostly for the sake of your sanity.

It was simple. You just had to convince them that you were keeping up your end of the deal. It wasn’t impossible. You would be fine.

Shouta stood up from his chair, muttering an “Alright, then” as he did so. You watched almost helplessly as he began gathering the bowls and glasses off the table, stacking them in a neat pile.

You would've offered to help, but they’d already taken enough from you tonight. Realistically, you doubted it was even possible to form a coherent sentence. Your mind was too muddled with what was currently an inescapable despair, alongside of a slowly kindling detestment for the two men.

The audacity they held to put you in such a position would be impressive if it weren’t also mildly disturbing at the same time. For heroes, they seemed wildly unaware of how oppressive their behaviour was.

For the time being you were under their every whim and command. It wasn’t ideal, but it was something you would have to put up with.

Just enough for them to see you were okay. That you were capable of functioning even when your quirk posed certain unpleasant obstacles.

And in your mind of calculating escapes, you just barely registered that the two had gone back to their discussion of life events that you’d never come close to relating to. Hizashi still being the more dominant, relaxed as his partner cleaned the dining table.

The clock ticking away on the wall read 5:57 pm. You wondered how much longer they’d keep you here, seeing as they never made a point to ask you what you were comfortable with anyways―probably planning on doing the same with when they thought you should be free to go for the night.

End of Part 5

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taglist: @roseloverofpastels @shinsous-eye-bags @tjhonoluluprezstitch626 @pekusofixus @riarora @glitterypinkkitty @elektraeriseros @hadesnewpersephone @axolotleyeliner

[ophelialoveshandsomemen]

Cristo y Tú vivís en mi corazón.

 Capítulo Dos.( second chapter.)

Warnings: mentions of blood, wounds, seizures, medical procedures, self indulgent use of an ABBA song, Catholicism, maybe a swear or two. If you are under 18…please go to sleep instead and do not read my works!!!!

Medikua; is Basque for Doctor. Espagnole is French for Spaniard. I realize he’s not a spaniard but hispanic however she doesn’t know that and espagnole can sorta mean someone who speaks spanish if you will.

And yeah, I used an ABBA song. Guilty pleasure of mine and -Fernando- just shouts romance with El Catorce for me, so voila! Enjoy!

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 Medikua Hermenigilde Hortense, or Doc Hortense as he is more commonly known, is Isabeau's nearest neighbour from 6 and 3/4's of a mile away. A kind 88 year old man of Basque and French descent and the best medical man this side of the Atlantic, he came over to ask Isabeau if she could perhaps spare him an onion or two for his supper. Then promptly found her hunched over a strange, injured Hispanic man almost a km into her 'woods'. Luckily, he rode the donkey cart in. Making the delicate job of transporting said caballero back to the house much more stress free.

 Isabeau sat on the floor of the cart, the ragged cotton quilt he keeps on his seat to fend off the cold now draped across her lap to cushion the patient's head. As his donkey walked the trail to her house, the doc turned his head towards the back. The stranger is still unconscious, and Isabeau gently brushes his hair from his forehead, with her right hand keeping steady pressure on his wounds.

 That punctured lung is worrying him. Not because he doesn't have the equipment to treat such an injury. Of course he has the correct equipment, he is, after all, ex-military and he knows people, for God's sake. But because it's a punctured lung caused by a machine gunshot, something the good doctor can spot a mile away. Those are never pretty or easy to treat and almost always end fatally. How this young pup has stayed alive for this long is beyond him! Must be his guardian angel putting in much needed overtime...

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  Isabeau has officially gone into shock. Or a panic attack. In this situation there can't be much difference, one is just as useless as the other. She vaguely wonders if it's a result of falling out of the cherry tree or of finding a badly wounded, Hispanic man in her woods. Both, in all honesty.

She still cradles his head in her lap and is monitoring his breathing almost constantly.

'"Doc, his breathing is getting to be quite laboured. Can I do something?"

 Doc hears the heavy worry saturating her tone. And makes the donkey pick up his pace.

" Alright, try hanging his legs off the end of the cart, get his blood to rush to his feet instead of into his lungs. And settle his back fully on your lap to elevate his heart level even more. But do it slowly, girl. Slow and steady."

 He turned back his head many times as he ordered her to ensure she didn't accidently jostle the boy wrong. He had noticed her complexion become paler. "Breathe, Isabeau, breathe! I don't need the both of you passed out in a donkey cart on me. I'm far too old to deal with this all by myself."

 She wordlessly nodded. Her returning nausea didn't thank her for it. She subconsciously and minutely tightened her grip around the caballero's shoulders, consequentially pressing his scalp further against her stomach, mildly alleviating her need to lose her guts. She could feel his shallow breath in the crook of her left arm, quick, wheezing in and outs with a few of the inhales resulting in short choking fits. By now, both her arms and her naked thighs made her appear to be a human incarnation of a battlefield, stained scarlet with the lifeblood of young men, ( or of one young man, in this instance).

 His heartbeat, Isabeau could faintly feel thrumming in a rhythm too slow and unsteady for her comfort.

 She began to sing. Softly. For her comfort. For his comfort. In order to forget the pain in her head from the fall. In hopes to ground the wounded man in her arms. To gently guide him back to the land of the living through his sense of hearing. Isabeau knows from both her studies in university and her own brief dabblings in mild hypnosis and lucid subconsciousness that a person who has lost consciousness, either from sleep, or pain, or loss of blood, can still register, deep in the recesses of their mind, sounds and voices and even full conversations. But they especially hear singing.

 So, Isabeau sings.

 The melody is the first that pops up in her brain, a song from one of the numerous cd's she keeps in her 2001 Ford f-250 King Ranch. An ABBA Gold cd, if she recalls correctly. She can't remember all the words, so instead she hums when her mind is blank of lyrics.

Can you hear the drums, Fernando? I remember long ago another starry night like this.

 They hit a tiny bump in the road, not even enough to bother the steed pulling the cart, but more than enough to send a jolt of pain coursing through the caballero.

In the firelight, Fernando

 The pain noticeable in the wince upon his face, causing the girl to expect him to awaken soon. However much she dreads to see the pain etched on his brow, at least he would show more sign of life than now. She continues to hum.

You were singing to yourself and softly strumming your guitar!

 A thought briefly flitters across her mind. She wonders if he plays guitar? Or perhaps he sings? Maybe his voice is strong, loud and boisterous. Or is it smooth and deep? Or he dances? Perhaps none of these and he prefers to sits in the sidelines and enjoy the talents of others instead...

And I'm not afraid to say the roar of guns and cannons almost made me cry!

" Almost there cerisette, which door?" "Uh...the back garden door has no stairs and is the closest to my bedroom." "Oh, your bedroom huh!" "My bed's on the floor. Easier to care for him that way."

There was something in the air that night. The stars were bright, Fernando!

Her chorus much slower and more weary than the original.

They were shining down for you and me, for liberty, Fernando!

The doctor steers the cart off the driveway and towards the house.

Though we never thought that we could lose, there's no regret.

They round the last corner of the house, stopping a few feet away from the door, back end turned to the door.

 If I had to do the same again, I would, my friend, Fernando!

******************************************************************************************* Three Hours Later....

Isabeau was exhausted.

 They'd been barely successful in carrying the still unknown man into her bed before he slightly awoke, only for him to begin having seizures while she went away in her pickup to Doc's house, grabbing the direly needed equipment for the procedure. Mercifully, he'd only had two minor fits before Doc stabilized him enough to treat the wounds.

Which had taken nearly three hours.

 She'd held his hand through most of it. But no one, including herself, could genuinely tell you if she'd done that for his comfort or her own...

She honestly can't recall much else.

 She stood in the bathroom down the hall from her bedroom, furiously but tiredly scrubbing at the blood stubbornly caught beneath her fingernails, staining her hands, sticking to the plush hairs on her arms, seeped deep into the fabric of the old yellow plaid shirt she'd swapped her lacy 70's top for...

 Her thoughts were disrupted by the good old doc gently placing his freshly washed hands upon her shoulder.

 " Get some rest cerisette. The sun may still be awake but you shouldn't be. The caballero is safe now...and so are you. " He sighs. " I am going home for a few hours. Call me if you need me. But get some rest."

 With that, Doc Hortense leaves the room. And yes, he did grab a proffered onion on the way.

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 She carefully pads across her own bedroom, silent as a Trappist monk, to not disturb her espagnole, as she's begun to call him in her mind. She decides against simply grabbing her sleep clothes and changing somewhere else. Instead she stays standing before her dresser, in full view of son espagnole if he were to awaken. Which he doesn't. She swaps her soiled plaid shirt and jeans shorts for a comfortable pair of well-worn navy flannel pants and a soft long sleeved beige cotton undershirt. No underpinnings either. Girl likes her freedom too much to subject herself to that.

 Still a tad too wired up to fully rest, what with the time only being around 8:30 or so, Isabeau cautiously rummages through his minor belongings. Carelessly thrown to the side whilst his life was in danger, now she takes everything in her hands as if it's a precious object. She gingerly folds the white linen jacket, the torn beige button-up, the filthy knit cotton undershirt and the striped wool pants, putting them to the side to be washed later.

 Next come the gun holsters and the bullet belts, made of beautifully well crafted leather, the stitching somehow immaculate. Without a doubt handmade. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Isabeau gets the barest nudge that there is no way in hell this was made within the last 50 years. They seem worn: however, they can't be older than a three or four years.

 What intrigues her the most about the belts and the holsters, besides being nearly completely full, is the embroidered cross upon the pistol holster. No outlaw trusts that much in God, but no soldier dresses like this. Perhaps a revolutionary from Southern America way back...in...the...

 She quickly makes the connection between the guns and the age of the leather and the medallion of La Virgen, the fact that he was shot by a machine gun, mass manufactured and distributed to many governments by Americans in the time she's thinking of.. She may be wrong, but an inkling tells her that she probably isn't. She walks hurriedly back to the bed, sits gently cross-legged on the side where she will rest and softly stares at her sleeping espagnole. Several minutes, or maybe hours, pass and then, she whispers, to the unconscious man, to the dark, to the angels, to God, to herself.

"There's a Cristero in my bed!"

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