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bucksfucks · 3 years

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𝙁𝘽𝙍𝙊 ; 𝗯𝘂𝗰𝗸𝘆 𝗯𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗲𝘀 [𝟳/𝟭𝟭]

summary┃bucky’s past comes back with a vengeance and you’re determined to get the answers you’ve been searching for.

pairing┃roommate!bucky x f!reader

word count┃2,682 words

warnings┃bucky’s past is revealed, character mentions; [sam wilson, natasha romanoff, tony stark], pet name [kid (platonic), sweets & baby], threats made against bucky + reader, trust-issues, mention of hit-men, brief mention of death, phone sex, praise kink, masturbation, mention of toys, slight angst, soft ending — 18+ ONLY • MINORS DNI

notes┃there is A LOT of plot here but also some filthy goodness and a sprinkle of angst <<3

SERIES MASTERLIST

Ex-wife.

Bucky’s words echoed in your ears as he didn’t dare to look at you.

His ex-wife was threatening you.

And he didn’t think to mention her? Ever?

“Can I please explain?” Bucky croaked finally, voice sounding broken as you shrugged your shoulders — in a state of shock.

That was all he needed before he recounted his previous relationship with the woman who was now sending you threatening emails.

Married young, too young and too fast and it ended up blowing up in their faces.

Well, clearly she hadn’t gotten over it.

“I thought I lost her,” he explains. “I thought that moving halfway across the country would be enough.”

You finally looked up to meet his eyes, glossy, sad and terrified as you sniffled.

“There’s a reason only Tasha calls me James.”

It broke your heart hearing that, the way his head hung low and he nearly winced at the sound of his own goddamn name.

But you didn’t know who to trust anymore.

Bucky always glossed over how he, Sam, and Nat knew each other — telling you that they were old friends that go back.

How far back?

You needed to know, but clearly you weren’t about to get answers from him.

“Buck,” he stopped you, taking a step closer as his eyes begged and pleaded you not to finish your sentence.

“I can’t,” he shook his head, “I need some time.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to say those words that would shatter both of your world’s. But you had no idea what the hell you had gotten yourself into and you needed answers.

And you knew exactly who to go to for them.

“I understand,” Bucky sighed. “I’ll stay at Sam’s for some time, okay?”

You could only nod your head, watching him walk past you and into his door.

Then he shut it, something he never did because his door was always open for you. No matter what you needed and no matter what time of day it was.

It felt...wrong.

But you couldn’t dwell on it, grabbing your keys, phone, and whatever other important things you could think of being you nearly bolted out of the front door.

You plugged your headphones into your phone, hitting shuffle and descending down into the subway.

The entire ride made you anxious, slowly approaching your stop and you were way out of place in this crowd.

People rushed by you in expensive suits and what you could only guess were the infamous red-soled shoes that were worth close to your monthly rent, if not more.

You cringed, thinking of the man you were about to see in his stupidly tall office building that you had to crane your neck at an uncomfortable angle just to get a look at.

The elevator could not have taken longer, tapping your foot impatiently as you rode up to what felt like the heavens before the doors opened to revel smooth wooden doors that reach from the ceiling to the floor.

You were so close, before you were stopped.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, you can’t be here right now.” A man’s voice stopped you, dressed in a security guard uniform and oh, this was so him.

“I know him,” you said, intent on seeing the man probably sitting behind those large doors.

“I’m sorry, I can’t let you do th—”

“It’s okay, Marv. I know her,” his voice came not from behind the doors, but from the long hallway to your left.

The security guard, Marv, nodded his head as he looked at you once more before retreating back to where he was leaning against one of the walls.

“This is a surprise,” you rolled your eyes, “Tony, please. I don’t wanna hear it.”

He walked over to you, embracing you in a hug, “oh c’mon, I’ve missed you, Kid.”

You shook your head, “I haven’t been a kid in years,” you tried to remind him, but it was Tony, he wasn’t going to listen as he just laughed it off and welcomed you into his office.

It was much different from last time, all new furniture and appliances, but nothing lasted more than a year with Tony.

Tony was an old friend, sort of.

He was an old friend of your father’s, something like an uncle, but also like your older brother.

So just one giant pain in your ass.

“So,” Tony sighed. “What trouble did you get into this time, Kid?”

You told Tony everything.

From being roommates with Bucky to the way he asked you to be his fake girlfriend to Sam’s wedding and all the way to the situation you were in now. Confronted by his ex-wife without any idea of what she was going to do.

Tony had that look on his face. The one where he was going to tell you that you were crazy.

“I don’t know how you manage to get yourself into these situations,” he chuckled, hand clamping over your shoulder as he walked around his desk and typed something into his computer.

“Last name is,” he looked at you. “Barnes.”

He nodded his head, typing away at his computer again before he stopped.

There was a brief moment of silence, Tony hiding behind the computer screen before he stood up and walked back around the desk, “I’m gonna need some time.”

You understood, shaking your head. You were asking Tony to hack into any known database and collect as much data on Bucky as you could. It was wrong, but you just needed to know who you were dealing with.

“Thank you, Tony. I-I really appreciate it.” You weren’t good when it came to...well, the heartfelt side of things but luckily neither was Tony.

“Don’t get sappy on me now, Kid. You know it makes me sick,” he joked playfully, smile on his lips as you stood up to give him a half hug.

“I’ll call you as soon as I know anything.” He promised before you walked out of the too-tall building with far more questions than you came with.

It was a waiting game that you didn’t want to play, but you didn’t have a choice.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It seemed like your relationship with Bucky was doomed from the start.

Friends to lovers rarely, if ever, works out in anyone’s favour.

The fake dating trope you could handle, pushing your feelings aside to help Bucky win a bet didn’t seem like the worst thing in the world. You had a great time, great fucking sex, and a trip out of it.

Then Steve wouldn’t leave the picture. Going as far as coming to the wedding as Natasha’s boyfriend to spite you not realizing that you and Bucky had gotten married.

Married.

You and Bucky were married. Bonded in a whole other way and now, his ex-wife was out for you and him.

Maybe this was a sign from the universe, a big red fucking flag telling you that it wasn’t worth it and yet...you couldn’t let go.

The apartment felt empty without Bucky, his bedroom left the way it was in the morning with your favourite sweater of his laid out on the covers and a little post-it note on top of it.

You never could really decipher Bucky’s handwriting. It was absolute chicken scratch as you picked it up and managed to make out in case you get cold scribbled onto it.

It was an easy decision to pull it over your head and drown yourself in the scent of Bucky’s cologne as you fiddled with the small gold band you now wore around your neck as a necklace.

You didn’t want anyone other than Bucky. There was no in the world who understood you better. Who knew how to make you laugh when you were having a bad day.

Everything led you right back to Bucky.

So when your phone rang from the other side of the couch, you were secretly hoping it was Bucky.

Instead, Tony’s name flashed and your heart sank into your stomach as you quickly hit answer and held the phone up to your ear.

“You’re not gonna like this, Kid.” Tony’s voice flowed through the speakers as you took a shaky breath in and braced yourself for what Tony was about to tell you.

“He did a damn good job at erasing his history, but you can’t erase all of it,” Tony chuckled as you rolled your eyes, “quit stalling.”

He sighed, “the Howling Commandos was an organization tasked with,” he paused, “tasked with collecting intel and making sure that information never got released to the public.”

This time, it was your turn to fall silent.

“Like, spies?” You asked and Tony hummed, “sort of.”

“They had spies, agents, hit-men.”

No. You shook your head, no.

“James Buchanan Barnes was their highest ranking hit-man. Him, along with Sam Wilson and Natasha Romanova worked as a team. A spy, agent, hit-man trio.”

You had to shake yourself out of spiralling, what you needed was everything Tony could possible tell you.

“Anything on his ex-wife?” You then asked and heard shuffling on the other line, “not much. Mary Barnes, but I doubt that’s her real name, was part of a training initiative the Howling Commandos were testing.”

You bit your lip, at least you had a name, even if it wasn’t her real name.

“By that point it looks like James—”

“Bucky. His name is Bucky.”

Tony cleared his throat after a moment’s silence, “Bucky looks like he had disappeared. Blipped off of the face of the Earth. There’s nothing in his file after 2014.”

That makes sense. Bucky was perhaps the most old-fashioned man you knew, only upgrading from his flip-phone just a few years ago. He barely knew how to unlock it, though.

“Sam and Natasha went on to live normal lives, Kid. I’m sure that’s all Bucky wants.” Tony tries to assure you and you laugh, “you sound like my dad.”

He laughed on the other line, “oh gross.”

“Thanks for everything, Tony.” You said, “you know what number to call in case you’re in trouble.”

With that, you both hung up, tossing your phone away from you to digest everything you’d just been told. You knew you had to talk to Bucky, but you didn’t know when.

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“So you’re tellin’ me,” Sam was confused. “That this is the same Mary that tried to get you killed?”

Bucky rolled his eyes, taking another swing of his beer as he rounded Sam’s kitchen island.

“That’s the one, you know, the undercover agent working for Strucker.” Bucky scowled at the name.

He was angry, beyond angry at the fact that his past was creeping up on him despite how far he had gone to erase it.

“But why now? Why come after you now?” Sam poses the question that even Bucky doesn’t have an answer to. So he just shrugs his shoulders and finishes off his beer.

“Unfinished business.”

They stand in silence for a little while longer, listening to the old ticking clock hanging on the wall before Sam takes a step towards Bucky.

“Whatever you need, you know that Tasha and I are here for you, right?” He whispers and Bucky feels the warmth blooming in his chest as he gives him a half-smile.

“Yeah,” he nods his head, “thanks, man.”

Sam knows that Bucky was never really good at the sappy shit, so he doesn’t force it. Instead, he offers him another beer, bottle necks clinking as Bucky’s thoughts race.

He was worried.

Not about himself, but about you.

And you were worried about Bucky, curling up in his bed as you sighed and tossed and turned. There was no way you’d be able to fall asleep alone tonight. And hugging his pillow just wasn’t enough.

So you grabbed your phone, hitting his name and waiting for the ringing to sound before he picked up — tired and groggy.

“We need to talk.” You didn’t give him a chance to greet you. He sighed on the other line, but hummed in agreement, “tomorrow?”

You hummed in response to his question, the sound of his voice soothing as you played with the sheets of his bed.

“I miss you, Sweets.” Bucky whispered, your breathing hitching at how low and raspy his voice really was.

“I miss you too, Bucky.” You admitted, shifting as you got comfortable on the pile of pillows against your head.

There was a moment of silence before Bucky spoke again.

“You know what ‘m really missin’ right now?” His words sent a shiver down your spine as you shakily inhaled, “what?”

Bucky sighed, reminiscent of how he sighs when he runs his hands all over your body.

“I miss that sweet cunt of yours.” Bucky purrs, you know he’s smirking, possibly even dragging his tongue across his bottom lip as he closes his eyes to imagine you under him.

You’re at a loss for words, feeling your panties grow damp, core aching and you’re going to have to touch yourself soon. But that’s all part of Bucky’s plan, you think.

“Here I am, all alone, with my hand wrapped ‘round my cock,” he whispers, but you can hear him stroking himself.

“And all I can think ‘bout is that way your tight little pussy grips me and milks my fuckin’ dick, baby.” Bucky was always so good with his words, knowing exactly what to say to make you melt.

And it was working, because you were a squirming mess in his bed.

“Well,” you could tell he was smirking by his tone, “what’re ya waitin’ for, Sweets. Go on, touch yourself. I wanna hear you work your clit.”

Your hand flew under your panties, being given the permission only made it sweeter as your fingers came in contact with your soaking folds. The sensitive bundle of nerves needed desperate attention as you slowly circled it.

“Good girl, that’s my girl.” Bucky praised, continuing to work himself.

“God,” he hissed, “can’t wait to have you all to myself again. Bury myself deep, maybe even have you sit on my cock as you beg me to do somethin’.”

You worked yourself a little faster, applying some more pressure as you let out a whine at his words.

“Add two fingers, Sweets. I know how much you love bein’ stretched,” Bucky chuckled deeply, “been thinkin’ of gettin’ you a mould of my fuckin’ dick for when ‘m not home.”

Oh my God. Oh my God that shouldn’t be so fucking hot so why does it make your walls flutter and breathing uneven as you have to stop yourself from actually fucking cumming.

He chuckles again, “yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You can’t verbally respond, too focused on the tight coil in your abdomen that’s ready to snap.

“I know you’re close, can hear it in how fuckin’ desperate you sound,” he pants, “so why don’t you make a mess all over my clean sheets.”

You gasp, how did he know, but you don’t get to dwell on it for much longer than a moment because your orgasm rips through you and leaves you panting Bucky’s name.

Both of your breaths are uneven and ragged through the phone’s speakers, bed springs creaking on Bucky’s side as he hums.

“If only you could see the miss I made for you, Sweets,” you shuddered at his words, closing your eyes to relish in the moment.

“Now get some sleep, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow.” His tone has changed, entirely sweet and caring as you grab the phone to bring him closer to you.

“Okay,” you reply, another lick of silence before you hear Bucky going to end the call but you stop him.

“I love you, Bucky.” You quickly blubber out and it feels good to finally say those words because there’s no more denying how you really feel about him.

“I love you too, Sweets.”

It’s a bittersweet ending to the phone call, thoughts and emotions running wild as you’re forced to remind yourself that Bucky has a lot of explaining to do.

#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes headcanon #bucky barnes headcanons #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes oneshots #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #roommate!bucky #bucky barnes series

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yandere-sins · 4 years

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The Fox Wedding - Marry Kita

Summary: You are to marry the fox spirit Kita Shinsuke after you accidentally agreed to become his wife by signing the deed to your new home. A contract is a contract, he says, but is there more to this marriage than you know? Will you be whisked away by one of the foxy twins instead, or have to marry Kita after all? Can you be with a creature that only seems tender on the surface, or will you try to run even if it might cost you your life? Choose your route carefully, you never know what these foxes are up to!

Characters: Kitsune!Kita Shinsuke x afab!Reader

Rating: Explicit Warnings for this chapter: Yandere, Kidnapping, Forced/Unhealthy Relationship, Rough Handling, Blasphemy, Tying of wrists/ankles

You heard about Fox’s Weddings, however, only ever in connection with rain on a sunny day. How fitting that outside the small preparation room you had been led to, sprinkles of rain were falling to the ground, lit by the sunshine sparkling in them. For almost an hour now, you simply watched the droplets fall, all while everyone around you was pulling and tearing on you, bustling about with preparations. It might not have been the best time to contemplate your life, but what else was there for you to do.

Beneath the white, beautiful, ceremonial kimono, your wrists were tied with ropes, and so were your ankles. The rope itself seemed to had better days in the past, but the knots were intricate, and the woman who did them seemed like she knew what she was doing. As if this wasn’t the first time she tied someone up like that.

Perhaps, there had been others before you. You hoped not, but you wouldn’t put it past them. Your life was transient, while theirs seemed to be boundless. It was weird, and you had only been here for a night, but you were slowly getting used to their faces. Yes, their eyes seemed too sharp, and their mouths too wide, but some had wrinkles, scars, or pimples. You saw your own species in them, even with their tails sticking out from their kimono and their ears twitching on top of their heads. Scary as it was, the longer you watched them hustle about, the less weird they looked to you. The more you could find yourself accepting them.

Sighing was all you could do as you looked back outside, the tall grasses still swaying in the wind. Occasionally, you saw a fox run by. Sometimes the animal stopped, sometimes it didn’t. You didn’t see the two men - three if you counted the one that came with Kita - from your window again, and no one came to help you escape. The more hours passed as you were alone in your cell, the less hope you had for anyone to come and save you. Even the gods - if there were any - seemed to have abandoned you, allowing something like this to happen. You began to despair, but soon enough, you slept. Slept until they woke you up with their sharp nails and hectic demeanors, having to make you presentable and, as they put it, make a jewel out of a rock.

You were still drowsy when they bathed you in shockingly cold water, your reaction being enough for them to decide they did not want to deal with you throwing another tantrum, tying you up before proceeding with their preparations. Surrounded by their yapping voices, their nails leaving many, many tiny cuts on your body, something in you… gave up. You weren’t proud, and you weren’t happy, but at least they stopped lecturing and patronizing you as your struggles ceased and your expression turned somber.

Finally, they stopped their nagging, gave you water and bread instead to consume. The women of the village let you go to a proper toilet, and they sent out the guards before they undressed and re-dressed you. At least, that much dignity you regained by not resisting. Of course, it was still strange to imagine you were about to marry the head of their clan, a fox spirit nonetheless, and looking into their faces was nothing short of agonizing. But staring out into the rain and being able to block their voices out from your hearing gave you some peace with the situation, no matter how absurd it might be.

“Miss?” you heard from beside you. Slowly, almost as if in pain that you couldn’t resist the urge to acknowledge the person who was speaking, you turned your head, letting out a soft hum instead of an answer. “Kita-sama wishes to speak to you before the ceremony. We’ll close the doors now, is that alright?”

Silly question, you thought, nodding slowly. You still had a hard time remembering anyone’s names or faces, but you were sure the young fox woman who just spoke to you got introduced as your liegewoman or maid. Whatever she was, you couldn’t quite remember exactly, but they never asked you for your consent for anything before, so you didn’t know how else to react but to nod.

“Isn’t it bad luck for him to see me before the wedding?” you asked her. It wasn’t like you cared if he saw you or not, but now that someone had spoken to you like a normal person, the question that came to mind just fell off your lips without any restraints.

“I… I--” she stuttered, her brows furrowing while her ears twitched nervously. “--I don’t know?”

What had you expected? Of course, she didn’t know. She was a fox. How would she know human rituals other than the ones that might have been passed down to them hundreds of years ago? At the same time, you felt the dread of knowing you’d have to marry into this kind of environment. An environment that wasn’t going to nurture your talents, skills, or knowledge, aside from - and you dreaded this thought the most - producing babies.

She looked at you curiously, yet hesitant, as if she wanted to ask something, but decided not to last minute. Perhaps it was the fact you were wearing the wedding robes now that they started to respect you more. Or maybe, she just fulfilled expectations of her, which you found most likely. In the unlikely event that she merely pitied you, you couldn’t help but agree with her.

As they closed the sliding door to the outside, you watched the rain - your only source of comfort - vanish from your vision, pitying yourself too.

One more sigh did you heave before the door to the hallway opened, the foxes respectfully bowing their heads. Even if you had wanted to bother getting up, you couldn’t have, considering your feet were rendered useless, with your ankles tied up still. You didn’t acknowledge him or looked up as he spoke, asking everyone to leave him alone with his ‘bride’ - a word that sent a chill down your spine - and you didn’t face him even as he sat down beside you, covering your fist with his hand. You made him responsible for all of this, for all the emptiness you felt. But all you could do to punish him was avoiding him, no matter how much it upset you that there wasn’t more you could do.

“[Name],” Kita spoke softly, and you weren’t sure if you heard happiness swing in his voice as he called out to you or if it was the usual indifference you were used to from him. Unfortunately, Kita knew what to do with you, even if you tried to ignore him so vehemently. By lifting your hand, he also pulled on the second one, and though you forced yourself to stretch, you were no match to his insistence that you’d turn around to face him. Letting your eyes sink to your hands, you watched him kiss both of them on the back lovingly, nothing but affectionately despite how demanding Kita was.

“It’s finally the day,” he sighed, and for a matter of seconds, his lips curled into a smile. “I’ve been waiting for you for too long. I did everything I could, not for the Gods, but for them to finally gift you to me in this ceremony.”

“There’s no such thing,” you whispered, genuinely believing in the absence of gods if they allowed a mere spirit to capture, kidnap and force you into a marriage with him.

“It wasn’t easy to get to this day, but you’ll soon see that life will be good. I will protect and cherish you, no matter what. I’ve been--”

Breath hitching, Kita stopped, and for the first time, you looked up at him as you expected the sentence to finish eventually. But all he did was look up, right back at you, and smile. As if these words never left him. As if there was something he was hiding. That moment you swore, even if it was the last thing you did, you’d find out what. There was no way you’d let him off that easily. Even if it was a tiny spark, you felt the fire burn up again inside of you. The fire of resistance and fight that you had drowned with your sorrows returned as you yanked your hands out of his, letting him know exactly what you felt.

“This marriage is nonsense! None of us will be happy with it, even if you declare your devotion as if you’d actually care about me!”

“I do,” Kita was quick to counter, even with hints of indignation in how clearly he spoke those words.

“You don’t. If you did, you’d let me go.” Unyielding, your hands returned to their place in your lap and your eyes back to the tatami mats on the ground before you. “A caring husband would listen to his wife and help fulfill her wishes! But you don’t do that at all… All you do is keep me like an animal, captured in a trap--”

“Stop!”

For the first time, you actually felt fear that froze you as his hand landed in the back of your neck. Even with the fabric covering you, Kita instinctively found it, his fingers clasping right around the flesh around your spine. Never before had he raised his voice like that, and though for a moment his eyes widened too, when you finally looked at him again pleadingly, unable to even reach back to pry him off you, all you saw was disgust.

“Stop saying things you don’t understand anything about.”

Giving your helpless body a rough shake, you couldn’t help but burst out into tears from the pain of his hand in your neck and also the fear you felt as he scolded you like a young dog, looking at you condescendingly. “P-Please--” you winced, and Kita let go as suddenly as he had attacked you. Cowering low and rubbing the back of your neck with only one hand carefully, you could feel a headache growing, your body not being made for being disciplined like an animal.

You flinched as Kita leaned over you, his hands on both of your shoulders, holding you down. He didn’t do anything as you sobbed your eyes out, just sat there, covering you with his body and keeping your head down low. If this was his way of comforting you, it was shitty, but you were too afraid of what he’d do if you resisted or made a fuss again.

“I want to go home,” you pressed forth between sobs and gritted teeth. “Please just let me go home.”

“This is your home now,” he answered you, his lips next to your ear so that his voice spoke over the sound of your thoughts.

“No…” you sobbed, shaking your head and feeling his face pressed up to your hair and shoulder with every movement.

“Once we are married, you’ll be happy, I promise. You’ll come to understand your role as my wife, and you’ll feel as happy here as in any other place.”

Finally, the weight on top of you lifted as he sat up, pulling you with him by the collar of your kimono. Once up, this time, he focused his hands on your face alone, turning it over towards him, and wiped away the tears from your eyes with discontent in his expression as he held your cheeks. “I’ll make you happy, [Name]. I am the only one who can do that, for I owe this to you.”

“What?” you croaked, but Kita merely leaned forward to kiss you between your eyebrows before letting go of you completely. Having to support yourself on the floor, you reached out towards him as he stood up. Your pointer was able to snag the seem of his kimono to which you held on tightly even though it almost made you fall over since his movement pulled away the support you had. “Don’t go! Talk to me! Stop speaking in riddles, damnit!”

Your frustration was getting the better of you, but Kita merely leaned down to brush off your hand from his clothes before his hand settled at the back of your head, pushing your forehead down to the ground in a deep, involuntarily bow. “It’s time you learn your place, [Name]. You might find the answers you keep nagging me about when you make me happy.”

Kita didn’t wait for another complaint from you before he strode off, the door opening without him even having to lift a finger. You looked after him, disgruntled and frustrated. In how many riddles could one man speak, without ever giving answers despite seeing you in this pitiful state you were in? Making demands as if he had any right over you and treat you like a pet despite swearing he cared about you? There was no end to his mysteriousness, and even if nothing about this situation was resolved for you, he made it seem like his will was absolute, and it would be a waste of time to tell you more since he had already made up his mind.

“Please return her to a presentable state before the wedding,” Kita ordered softly to one of the women standing in wait in front of the door. “I don’t want to drag this out any longer.”

That was the last you heard of him as he disappeared in the masses of - you assumed they were - servants and curious onlookers which glanced at you with nothing short of irritation. You tried to get yourself up from the floor again, idiotically feeling embarrassed as if you cared about their opinions. But only with the help of the fox lady assigned to you were you able to sit up again.

They were quick to rearrange your hair, which had come loose from Kita’s touches, and when one of the older women threatened to burn your tear glands shut, you even managed to stop your crying so they could fix your make-up. The time spent making you ‘presentable’ seemed even more unreal than the one before where they prepared you for the wedding. Your head was bursting with questions and also the anger over the situation dwelling in it, and at least a little bit, you wished your overthinking would actually end you.

As they finally pulled you into a stand and led you outside with the ropes replaced by shimmering shackles, allowing you the bare minimum of movement, the drizzling rain and sparkling sunshine no longer consoled you, the rain merely weight heavily in your mind, reminding you of your fate with its name.

You were to marry into a family of fox spirits, as you agreed upon by a contract.

You’d marry their head no matter what you thought about it, though he claimed that it would make you happy, even if it really wasn’t.

There was no saying what the future held for you, and the more you thought about it, the less you hoped any of your ideas would come true.

Yet, what else was there to do but take Kita’s hand as he waited for you at the head of the ceremonial procession? Taking it out of your own free will was less scary than you expected and less painful probably too. His hand was soft, and though awkward, he held it gently, leading you into the direction of what you assumed was a shrine from the looks of it.

“Kita-san, I can’t make you happy. No matter what you say, there’s no way I could love or cherish you after all that happened,” you whispered, only for him - and perhaps some very sharp other pairs of ears - to hear. “I don’t think our marriage will be a happy one, and as long as I live, I will remind you every day.”

“Shinsuke. Call me Shinsuke.”

“Shinsuke… I--”

“I know,” he chuckled, and it made you look up at him wide-eyed. You weren’t even sure he was able to laugh from his demeanor, but for a moment, you caught yourself thinking that it was better than his indifference. “I know you don’t love me, but I…”

His eyes swayed from you up to the green of the trees, the sun reflecting in his irises in sparkles. You followed his gaze from beneath your hood, wondering what he was seeing in the leaves. “I waited many years for this. I can wait many more until you do.”

Stepping through the stone lantern entrance, you didn’t expect the sight of hundreds of different creatures waiting for you. Subconsciously, you squeezed his hand tighter, and he squeezed back almost reassuringly. There was no time to scan through all of what was gathered, some having bodies, others simply… didn’t. You saw feathers and more tails, green skins, and disfigured proportion, but your fiancee kept pulling you forward towards the waiting shrine where the same mysterious flames from the night before were dancing up and down through the hall.

What a world this was, you wondered as you lowered your head again, pitying yourself more than anything at this moment. Why you? What had you done to deserve this treatment? To be confronted and forced into a world you didn’t want to be part of? And, oh, why were there more questions than answers?

Kita - or Shinsuke, you weren’t sure if you wanted to call him that - took the first step up into the shrine, leading you by his hand, but stopping you before entering further, keeping you outside in the rain still and gaining a defeated sigh from you as you came to a halt. Some part of you just wanted this to be over and not prolong it as he said, but you realized that this was only one of the first of many times that Kita would put his demands on you, ignoring your wishes in favor of his own.

“Even if we are bound by this contract, I want you to know…”

His free hand reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair out of your face. A gesture for friends or lovers, not mad spirits that forced you to marry you. But he seemed to have learned how to touch you without his claws hurting you, and as unnerving as his ability to learn was as gentle was his touch to your cheek, caressing your skin even if his touch made your stomach turn in disgust by how intimate it felt.

“I do love you. I loved you all this time, and by marrying me, you’ll make me happy - even if you aren’t.”

That was when you finally realized it. All this time, you had been bothered by him claiming to care for you, despite putting you through this situation. The hypocrisy of it had nagged you endlessly, but just by his words, you seemed to finally have figured it out.

Kita did what he thought was best.

It didn’t matter if you disagreed or if it hurt you, as long as it seemed to be the best option for him. Perhaps, in a twisted, self-righteous idea, he did love you in his own way, and no fighting, screaming, and struggling would keep him away from this idea, he manifested in his mind. The idea that wasn’t even remotely close to how humans perceived ‘love’. Even worse than that, you realized that there was nothing you could do that would change his mind.

Not even the rain falling onto your face and his hand could hide your tears as you realized what kind of a monster you were about to be married to. Someone who didn’t care about you beyond this love he felt and who’d not stop fulfilling his own desires rather than your wishes. But what could you do? You, a mere human who did everything you could have thought of to convince him otherwise? Was there anything else you could have done besides yielding under his pressure?

Was there anything else than accept Kita’s so-called ‘love’?

➤ Embrace the marriage

➤ Go back to the prologue to change your fate

➤ ?

Read other routes first to unlock more fates

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theonewiththefanfics · 4 years

Text

Because Hearts Get Broken - I Know That You’re Scared (Part 2/3)

Continuation of ‘Because Hearts Get Broken’ - see my masterlist for it :)

Synopsis: She’s trying to move on. He’s still hoping for a chance

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: angsty, bruh, but with a sprinkle of fluff and a hopeful (??) ending

Warnings: swearing, emotionally distant mindset... can’t think of anything else, really.

Word count: 3656

Heartbreak isn’t loud. Y/N doesn’t even know if it had a sound what it would be like. Like glass shattering against the ground? Or maybe like a book being ripped and shredded apart, memories of time spent together ruined. Or maybe it'd like the crackle of a fire, as it slowly but surely crept up and turned everything into charred remains before it became nothing but ash and was carried away by the winds.

No one in her family talked about feelings. If they did all they received back was ‘suck it up. That’s life’. After that, it was time to move on. So, when she got together with probably the most open-hearted person in the world, it was almost laughable.

Y/N had always been the friend others went for advice, relationship or not, but she herself never asked for one, simply because she didn’t wanna bother anyone. Not that she thought the others were bothers. It’s just having grown up in a household where emotions were basically suppressed, opening up was quite impossible.

Then came Harry. Perfect, impossible, loving, sweet, kind, ridiculously open Harry. God, she just wanted to punch him because no one should be that nice.

January 2nd, 2020 he’d called her up, having gotten Y/N’s number from Sarah (after ages of pleading, because as much as Sarah sometimes couldn’t handle drunk Y/N, she’d defend and protect her until the very last breath), and they set up a coffee date.

Slowly but surely, they spent more and more time together and seeing as her job had her based in LA for a while, visiting Harry was no problem. Then the pandemic hit, and on March 18th the whole stay-at-home order was issued in California.

Y/N was in a panic. She was meant to leave LA in ten days, and the hotel her company was paying for had been paid until the 28th. With all flights getting rapidly cancelled, she was scrambling to get one, but even her firm was unable to get her a seat. That’s when Harry had called up, his tone a worried, urgent mess as to if Y/N was alright and what her plans were.

Of course, him being him, he immediately offered her a place to stay.

“We don’t even need to stay in the same room, there’s like five other guest rooms you can take up,” he tried to joke, and ease her tension.

“Fuck, Harry, just rub it in how rich you are.” Y/N cackled, and when she heard him laugh in the background, her heart did that stupid fluttery thing she’d grown so used to.

It took a little persuasion from Harry’s side, and reassurance at least seven more times, that Y/N wouldn’t be intruding on his space, and he was more than happy to spend the quarantine with someone else, instead of being alone, and that in no way her taking over a room or two would limit him and his own artistic endeavours. So, apprehensively Y/N packed her suitcases, grabbed an uber, wearing a mask the whole time, and drove to Harry’s place.

When Y/N saw the gated community and the palace he was living in, the inside of her cheek was practically bitten in half. They’d barely been together for three months, and now she was basically moving in with him, but given how it was either live with Harry in a fucking mansion or walk across the country to New York, she took the first option.

As much as Harry loved on her, pretty much shagging her brains out every possible second, and loving on her until her cheeks hurt from smiling, the anxiety about the whole situation never left.

Harry was worried about his mom and sister, Y/N was scared of what was happening in New York. So, when the state boarders opened, immediately, although reluctantly, she flew back to her apartment and her dying plants, but never forgetting to FaceTime with Harry. But they couldn't stay away long from one another.

Which is why they decided, given how she was able to work from home now, and Harry could do so as well, they’d fly over to one another every two weeks, quarantine together for the next two weeks, and then fly to the other place. Her boss actually loved the idea that Y/N was so willing to go back and forth between the two cities, so all her flights were written off as business expenses, not to mention when she said she wouldn’t need a hotel, he was more than thrilled to let her be in LA whenever she wanted, as long as her work got done.

It seemed funny to her now, that before Y/N couldn’t wait to get back to the sunny state of Cali. Now when she had to fly over (which was just a couple of times since the breakup), going through JFK security made her sweat, and landing was a vomit-inducing action. And the last time she’d gotten back to the home-base state, she’d actually thrown up, Harry’s last words ringing in her ears.

It’d been three weeks since Sarah’s New Year party, and three weeks since she’d spoken to him although he still kept calling. Every morning she’d wake up to a couple of notifications of missed calls, and each time she’d listen to the messages; it was all the same – I miss your voice. And every time she’d listen to it, her thoughts were exactly the same. You could say it was almost pathetic as to how many times she’d listened to his albums, just to hear him sing. Almost like he used to do right before she fell asleep.

But Y/N had no one else but herself to blame for it. She’d been the one to call it quits, she’d been the one who walked out of his apartment, and the one who decided she wouldn’t fight.

Now, she was sat by her small magazine table, documents spread out in front of her as if a tornado had rolled through, while an apple and cinnamon candle spread its delicious scent through the air.

Y/N would only admit it once because, well, the proof was all over the apartment, but she was very lazy when it came to taking away the Christmas décor. It made her feel warm and comfy. And it reminded her of Harry. How when she’d woken up after their first date, already in the new year, he still had colourful fairy lights strung across the curtain rods, giving everything a soft, cosy glow.

He’d also been the one who convinced her that a real Christmas tree was so much better than a plastic one.

“Yes, it’s a hassle,” he’d said through slurred words as they’d slinked away from the partying crowd after the countdown was done, and each of them had taken three shots of vodka. “But it’s so worth it. Smells like a fucking forest in your room. Like proper Christmas!”

And although she’d spent this holiday season alone, Harry had been right. Just like he’d been right about Y/N.

She tapped her pen against the glass surface and readjusted her position on the floor.

“This is the periodic table, noble gases stable, halogens and alkali react aggressively,” Y/N hummed as she highlighted the incorrect parts of the paper in front of her. “Each period will see new outer shells, while electrons are added moving to the right.”

Just as she was about to start off the second verse, her doorbell rang, and her stomach gurgled in response.

“Ugh,” she groaned to herself. “Pasta come to fuckin’ mama.”

But when she opened the door, she wasn’t greeted by the Uber Eats delivery man.

“Harry.”

Y/N was taken aback. She didn’t expect him to visit her, especially not so soon and especially to fly out to New York (as much as he was most likely there to do other stuff as well, her gut told her he was there for her).

Sure, she hoped that one day they could be friends, if not acquaintances, he was too important of a person for her to lose completely from her life, but that was looking like five years into the future.

“I bring gifts.” He raised his hand where her boxes of food hung in a paper bag. “Can I?”

“Uh, yeah, of course!” She shook her head to clear it from the shock and allowed Harry to enter into the warmth of her apartment and escape from the cold January air.

“I was on my way up when the delivery man came in, and I recognised by the boxes it was yours.” The smirk on Harry’s face was something Y/N loved to see, but usually, she liked to also wipe it away. Preferably with her own lips.

She let out a small scoff, not waiting to see if he followed inside, as she scurried to the adjacent kitchen and grabbed two plates, while he opened up the white cardboard containers and allowed the delicious smell of spaghetti Bolognese as well as a carbonara waft into the air. Y/N had wanted to eat the latter at some point during the night when the munchies hit, but she supposed Harry was probably hungry as well. “Maybe there’s someone else here, who likes Italian.”

“Probably, but only you would order from the shittiest Italian restaurant just because they have pesto and parmesan bread.”

“Hey!” She slapped his arm. “They’re not shit. They provide me with everything I need – calories, carbs and bread.”

“What more does a person need?”

“Exactly!”

Both of them let out small chuckles and then settled down on her couch to dig into the meal. They ate in silence, and despite Y/N’s initial shock, it wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, they were sitting pretty much shoulder to shoulder, as she watched Harry re-read the spread-out articles on the table and use her marker to tick some stuff that could use re-wording. He had a knack for words, after all.

“I uh…” He wiped his mouth with one of the napkins provided by the diner before clasping his fingers together and looking at the woman sitting next to him, as she slowly set her empty plate on the small cupboard beside the sofa. “I was hoping we could talk.”

Y/N hung her head. She should’ve known he wasn’t here to just check-in and have some dinner. “We already did. Twice might I add. What makes you think this time the ending will be different?”

“Third times the charm?” Harry let out a little laugh, and she rolled her eyes. “Look, I didn’t wanna leave everything the way I did. I – I said some pretty shit things.”

Y/N fiddled with her thumb. ‘I had,’ Harry’s words echoed in her head. ‘Only she didn’t trust that I loved her the same.’ “Nothing that was untrue though.”

“See, that’s where I think both of us are wrong.”

That was not what Y/N thought this conversation would be whatsoever.

“I – “ He cleared his throat. “I know I said I didn’t think you trusted me that I loved you enough. I think you know I did – do.”

If Y/N still had any food in her mouth she would’ve choked on it, as she bit back the rising lump in her throat, but instead of interrupting him, she let Harry continue. “And honestly, it’s not your fault that it fell apart, ‘s my fault too. I pushed you to do something, you didn’t want to, weren’t comfortable with, when you told me not to… just because I wanted to feel important, ‘nd because I wanted to get a role in your life you weren’t ready for yet. And I’m sorry for doing that. I should’ve never forced you.”

“Harry…” Y/N was at a complete loss. “I – I don’t really know what to say.”

He took her left hand in his and clasped it, finally able to properly say what'd been eating away at him. “During the New Year party, I didn’t go about it the right way. I was just – I was just still so hurt, and I wanted you to hurt the same because… it didn’t seem like you cared at all, which I know you did… I know you loved me, and…” He took in a deep breath. “I hope that you still do. At least enough to give us another chance. We can take it at your pace,” he instantly added, knowing how she’d react, expecting the sigh and the almost tired and resigned ‘Harry’ that escaped her lips. But he’d say everything on his mind. “You can take how long you need to feel like you can trust me with what’s bothering you.”

“Harry,” she repeated, but it didn’t seem like he was about to stop.

“But I think we can do it, and we can do it right this time. We know where we stand, we won't make the same mistakes.”

Y/N’s hand came to rest against his cheek, and he practically melted, engulfing her palm with his as to not let her touch leave his skin for even a second. “Are you even listening to yourself?”

“Look, I know, you’re scared, and the thing is, so am I. I don’t want it to end like that or end. Period. But I do want to try again.”

And if nothing but to humour him Y/N asked, “And if it does end the same way?”

“It won’t.” He was so sure of it, she had to laugh.

“Harry, the big difference between us is – you like to talk about your feelings. You like to go through them and stuff. I don’t. I feel… icky when I even think about talking to someone of what I feel. We’re just too opposite.”

“Opposites attract.”

“No,” she pointed a finger at him, stifling her laughter, though Harry seemed not to be hiding his smile. “Do not use science against me.”

He raised his hands as if in surrender. “I’m not, I’m just supporting my point with facts. Scientific facts, that you can’t argue against.”

“I mean…” Y/N shrugged her shoulders. “I dunno… Maybe it was a good thing we ended it when we did. It was ten months – almost ten – amazing months, but… can you imagine if we’d gone so far as to think about moving in together, and then it fell apart? That would’ve been a whole different kind of a mess.”

“Do you love me?”

Y/N sighed, resting her cheek against the couch while she smoothed away his brown locks from his face. “Of course, I do. Don’t think there will be a time in my life I don’t.”

“Then that’s all I need.”

“Is that really enough for you?”

“Yes.”

And there was no lie in that single word. Did he want for Y/N to feel comfortable enough with him that she talked about whatever concerned her, however small? Of course. But he also wanted her to be comfortable enough to be herself. If that meant her keeping things to herself, and trusting Harry to support her decisions, it’d be enough.

Her Y/E/C eyes hadn’t left his green ones, and they only widened as he leaned forwards and pressed his forehead to hers.

“Haz…”

Fuck, how he’d missed her calling him that. It wasn’t an exclusive nickname by any means, but when it came from Y/N’s mouth, it was the sweetest sound in the universe.

He was her Haz when he broke a plate, he was her Haz when she threw her head back as pleasure exploded through her body, he was her Haz when he took her hand in his to quell her anxiety, and he was her Haz when he gave her tissues as they watched a movie, and she couldn’t help but cry each time a dog or cat died (or a dragon, but he was a sobbing mess as well because ‘Dragonheart’ messed with them both).

His lips were so close, and just as they skimmed over her own, Y/N’s phone rang making her physically spring back, eyes like saucers.

“S – Sorry,” she stammered, scrambling to find the annoying device between the cushions. It was Sarah’s name that lit up her screen.

“Hey, what’s up?” Y/N started, voice trembling and shaky. God, when had she suddenly gone so out of breath? And why was her head so dizzy, as if she’d just gotten off a rollercoaster?

“Yeah, he’s here,” she replied, eyeing Harry. “Yeah, just a sec,” and Y/N handed him her phone with a quiet ‘why’s your phone always dead?’

‘Didn’t know it died’, he said, but that was untrue. He’d turned it off so this sort of a situation wouldn’t happen; so a call or text wouldn’t interrupt him at the most critical moment. He had to give the universe a proper talk once he was done.

“ ‘Ello?”

Seconds of silence passed, and Y/N didn’t like how weird it was, so she took the empty plates and put them in the sink to soak.

“Now?”

She could see the frustration rise in Harry as his forehead creased, and he let a hand rake through his hair. “Fuck’s sake… yeah, I’ll be there in ten. ‘S alright,” he sighed. “Not your fault Sarah. Tell Jeff not to worry, and that I’m not dead.”

With that, he pressed the red button and ended the call, drumming his fingers against the screen. God, he really didn’t want to leave. Not now. Not after he’d been so close.

“Uh, work?” Y/N asked, arms crossed in front of her as if she was protecting herself from the answer.

“Yeah, sorry. I uh a meeting from tomorrow got rescheduled for tonight, like right now because there was some sort of an emergency from the label’s side."

“ ‘S alright, I get it. Showbiz never stops.” Y/N motioned to the door. “I’ll walk you out.”

There were a couple of times in his life Harry wanted to give himself a beating. Once when he was six and Gemma had told on him after he’d broken a favourite vase of their mothers, he decided to get revenge and destroy her favourite plushie. He’d never forget the tears Gem had cried, and how absolutely heartbroken she’d sounded. He vowed although he was the little brother, to never ever let anyone hurt her like that, and if someone did, they’d meet their maker sooner rather than later.

The second time was when he was still a teenager, One Direction on the rise, and it had gotten to his head just a little bit more than it should’ve. He’d gotten really messed up at a party (which Harry shouldn’t have even been at). The disappointment on his mother’s face as she scolded him through FaceTime was gut-wrenching enough to make him promise to always know the limit.

And Harry guessed this was the third time.

He could’ve said no to the meeting. Jeff was there and so was Sarah and Mitch. The three of them could handle it for him. It’s not like he would mind much whatever they came up with if it had given him the time to settle things with Y/N.

“It was great to see you, Harry.” She brought him out from the thoughts as she unlocked the door and opened it for him, bringing her jumper sleeves over her palms to hide from the cold outside air. “Really. I – I missed you, and honestly, I’m glad we got to talk. I uh well, take care. And say hi to Sarah from me please.”

“I – “ he took hold of Y/N’s wrist before she could turn away. “I’m holding a small concert in a week. Here in uh in New York. It’s for charity… I want you to come.”

“I umm… I’ll have to check if I’m free, but yeah. I will. Thank you.”

“ ‘S no problem… Sarah missed you like crazy now that you’re not in LA as often… ‘n yeah. Anyway. I’ll put your name on the guest list, so just bring some ID, and they’ll let you backstage.”

“Okay,” she whispered and gave him a small, genuine smile. “Thank you. I’ll really try to come.”

“Yeah.”

And he was going to go without doing anything else. Harry truly was. But as he released her wrist, going to the stairs, he gave Y/N one last glance back, and it was like his feet had a mind of their own, as they carried him back to where she stood by the still open door, grabbed her by the waist and pressed his lips to hers.

He expected Y/N to push him away, but to his very huge delight, she didn’t. Instead, her fingers wove through his hair and her legs almost on instinct rose so he could take her by the thighs, wrap them around his middle and press her against the doorway.

The groan that Harry swallowed from Y/N only ignited the fire that’d been burning ever since he met her, but it wasn’t the destructive kind, like the ones that leave nothing but charcoal behind. It was warm. Safe. Like the light of a fairy light. Like the embrace of home.

“Come to the show,” he muttered against Y/N’s lips, as they broke apart, and he set her down on the ground, not letting go until he was sure she was steady on her feet. “I’ll wait for you.”

With that, he left because if he didn’t, he’d make sure Y/N would be unable to walk for a week.

And Y/N watched him retreat while her brain fought with her heart.

What was it he’d sung in ‘Golden’, as he’d twirled her in the sea of bodies and glitter a little bit more than a year ago? ‘Loving is the antidote?’

Maybe love was the antidote to her fear.

She closed the door.

And smiled.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue @im-squished

Harry Styles tags: @sarcasticallywitty15 @breezykpop @girlboss99 @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist @alliyjane @sirtommyholland

A/N: I’ve been listening to ‘Fine Line’, ‘The Periodic Table Song’, ‘Welcome to the Christmas Parade’ (Welcome to the Black Parade mix with All I Want For Christmas) and ‘Rasputin’ Boney M remix exclusively... I feel like a complete crackhead... :D

Decided to tag also those who wanted a part 2 but didn’t necessarily ask to be tagged :)

P.S. I guess there will be a part 3???

P.S.S. if you wanna be added to a tag list drop me a message :)

#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles fandom #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x you #golden #fine line #one direction #one direction imagine #1d #1d fan fiction #harry styles angst #harry styles and y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles and you #harry styles and reader

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hrodvitnon · 3 years

Note

And it was only after Rodan had gone many, many rounds with Mothra. After they tried out just about every position they could think off (while also sprinkling some dirty talk along the way) and enjoyed themselves thoroughly, that the King decided to finally reveal himself.

The Queen soon found herself on her back, moaning loudly towards the Fire Demon on top of her, still trusting away like a wild animal in rut and making her have climax after climax without stopping, her mental faculties were all but absent and instead were replaced with her most basic instincts, to spread herself wide and let the male on top claim her body as his. Said fire demon was in a similar wild state, and much like the Queen, any semblance of higher thought replaced with pure instincts and need to breed the willing female beneath him.

The lover's surroundings very much reflected their current situation. The floor beneath was caked under layers upon layers of their stray juices, claw marks littered the places where Rodan griped the floor for better leverage and there was even scorched soil in some places thanks to Rodan's flames flaring up in excitement.

But even the most excited and eager lovers had limits, and both of them were working themselves way beyond the limit. Rodan was now positively exhausted and his body was this close to giving away. And yet he still kept going, he was determined to reach just one more, just one more orgasm before he called it a day, he wanted to gift the Queen every last drop of his seed, and she wasn't exactly objecting to the idea. In fact, she seemed to want it just as much as he did. Because despite being cleary tired and positively dirty, the look on her eyes didn't change, she craved him just as much as he craved her.

The Queen was in a very similar state, she lay beneath Rodan and with barely any strength and virtually no higher thought left in her. And yet, she still clinged on to her fiery lover with all of her remaining strength, her legs still refused to let go of his waist and she still managed to pull him back in every time he pulled away, her walls still tightened and massaged his cock and clamped down on it whenever she orgasmed. Her whole body, and I special her lower body, was caked in scorch marks lovingly given to her by Rodan.

But finally, after what felt like a neverending build up, their final release finally came. Rodan felt his trusty efforts being rewarded as the last serving of his seed exploded deep inside the Mothra. And due to his fatigue, he didn't roar out proudly as he claimed her like he normally would. Instead, his tired body remained flush against hers and all he could muster as he was pumping the last of his seed deep inside her was a low, feral growl. The Queen could only muster squeaks and groans as she felt yet another wave of warmth invade her, her walls still massaging Rodan's length in a natural attempt to syphon out every drop.

And despite the fatigue finally starting to overcome him, Rodan still managed to pull himself out and roll away from Mothra so she wouldn't have to handle his full weight, before collapsing right besides her. The Queen was only able to let out a breathless whine as Rodan pulled away, unable to do much besides laying on her back and try to catch her breath. And once it became clear the couple had finally reached the end of their lengthy session, the King finally makes his move.

Rodan squawks voicelessly feeling a familiar tongue on his aching groin cleaning up the overflow of his seed, and the sensation isn't helped by a low chuckle rumbling through his spent cock. Goji slides his tongue up to the fire demon's chest and thanks him for putting on such a sinful show. He even quips it's probably a good thing Monster X hasn't shown up yet, as they'd be terribly disappointed to see Rodan too exhausted to give his own mate the kind of fucking he just gave the Queen... but at least they'd be happy to help clean up, since it gives them a taste of their lovers.

It takes Rodan a while to remember that Monster X mentioned wanting to visit the love nest and have him to themselves for a change, which gives him the mental image of being at the mercy of both Monster X and Mothra at the same time. If he hadn't totally emptied his balls into (and onto and all around) Her Majesty he'd be rock hard all over again. As it stands all he can do is try and watch Goji lap up his messy Queen before passing out.

The King is ravenous when he gets to Mothra, going so far as to tease her and give her ideas as to what her stud will do if they see her like this. She's already delirious with pleasure and practically sings when his tongue roughly runs all over her sensitive body, teasing at her hypersensitive slit to coax out more delicious fluids to drink up. He growls sultrily for her to not worry, she'll get to play with both her lovers soon enough... and after that, he's going to take his time reclaiming her and making her scream as he breeds her. Mothra enjoys one last blinding orgasm before falling dead asleep.

#gemini amorim #spicy~!#en ess eff dubya

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skeezsbbygirl · 4 years

Text

call me that too + kim seungmin

this one’s for anon who requested a seungmin scenario with a dash of oppa kink. i didn’t go too overboard hehe, just a sprinkle of a suggestive theme at the end (i’ll leave it to your imagination asdjhfrirgjgl cuz i can’t handle them feelssss ugh)

nonetheless, I hope you guys enjoy! oh and thank you for the love that you guys are showing for “peaches + bang chan” uwuuuu (ღ˘⌣˘ღ)

REQUEST BOX IS STILL OPEN. STREAM GOD’S MENU AND VOTE FOR OUR BOYS.

[5:12 p.m.] A yawn escaped your lips as you managed to go through all your assigned lectures for the day. You logged out from your university's portal and shut your laptop close, not wanting to stare at the bright screen any longer. You sauntered towards the kitchen and opened the drawer that contained all your caffeine-related pick-me-ups. As you were about to grab a mug, your actions were halted by your phone's ringtone, signalling a call as it rang on the coffee table from your apartment's living room. You managed to accept the call before it was dropped.

SeungMong <3

"Hey," you answered, sauntering back to the kitchen as you cradled your phone in between your right ear and shoulder to keep your hands free. "Baby, are you busy?" Seungmin asked. You shook your head but you mentally facepalmed as you remembered that the boy on the other line couldn't see you, "No. I just finished some school stuff. What's up?"

"Can you come over? Chan-hyung wants to take us out for dinner," Seungmin replied and you could faintly hear Jisung and Changbin screaming in the background -- something about Chan covering food expenses for the first time. You lightly chuckled and responded, "Yeah sure, I'll be there in twenty."

An hour passed and you were all gathered at the boys’ go-to restaurant, which was three blocks down from your university's dormitory.

"Am I dreaming?" Jisung teased as he hopped off Chan's car, Changbin and Jeongin not far behind him. “Somebody drive him back home,” Chan groaned to which the younger one giggled, jumping on his back in the process. “Hyung, come on. I was just poking fun at you,” Jisung cooed at the elder, earning him a light flick on the forehead from Chan.

You beamed at the sight of the boys playfully bickering. “Pay attention to me,” Seungmin whined and nudged your shoulder. You broke into a cheesy grin and gave his cheek a peck, “You always have my attention.”

Seungmin extended a hand towards you, to which you gladly complied, squeezing his hand three times as you intertwined your hand with his -- your silent way of saying ‘I love you’.

Soon after, you guys were seated inside the restaurant and you fell into each of your own said conversations.

“How was your day?” Seungmin asked as he adjusted his seat closer to yours. “Better now that I’m with you,” you said in a voice soft with affection. Seungmin chuckled, “Stop it.” You shook your head, leaning closer so that your forehead touched his. “You’re so cute,” you teased, which earned you a pout from the older male. “You do know that I’m a year older than you, right?” Seungmin bragged. You rolled your eyes, “Your point being?”

Seungmin sighed in defeat, opting to plant a kiss on your lips, but you were interrupted by multiple groans and a chorus of complains. “Get a room already!” Felix exclaimed with his hands covering his eyes, a poor attempt to discard the sight of yours and Seungmin’s “sickening” affection, as Minho described it. You stuck a tongue out at Felix, “Stop being so bitter.”

Felix faked sob and Jeongin joined in on his act, embracing the older male and patting his head.

Soon, your playful banter came to an end as your orders arrived. You guys were eating in silence, uttering a compliment here and there towards the dishes that you were served, until Hyunjin called for your attention.

“Oh, (y/n), before I forget,” the older male started, only stopping for a second to sip on his drink. “I found that outline you’ve been looking for,” he continued. “Please tell me you have it,” you pleaded, eager to finish the book review that your professor has quested upon your class a week ago. Hyunjin nodded, “The copy is in the car, I got you.”

You cheered as you reached out your hand to give him a high-five. “You’re the best, oppa.”

With your response, Hyunjin immediately side-eyed Seungmin’s reaction. He might have known something or at least sensed something, specifically when Seungmin blabbered -- well, more like ranted -- about you not calling him the said endearment you just used on Hyunjin a few seconds ago.

Let’s rewind, shall we?

Hyunjin was an hour away from a deadline, and yes, he admits that he may have finished his project sooner, but a certain someone, who goes by the name of Jisung, decided that it would be more fun to play video games over at Felix and Changbin’s dorm. “That stupid project isn’t even due for another day. Chill out, dude,” Jisung claimed with burgeoning excitement. Instead of turning his friend down -- or better, kicking his tempting ass out of the dorm -- he caved in.

Hours later, he was cramming at least two days worth of work into an hour. Then comes your boyfriend, Seungmin. “Hyunjin!” the younger male called out from their dorm’s entrance. “In here!” Hyunjin hollered, his fingers still hot on his laptop’s keyboard, seven more questions and a descriptive about his said stand on the project, and he’ll be done -- both figuratively and literally, his brain’s slowly pan-frying itself to destruction. He mentally cursed Jisung.

“Procrastination at its finest,” Seungmin mocked as he entered Hyunjin’s room. “You can nag me later, bur right now I have to finish this and then kick Jisung’s ass,” Hyunjin said with firm persistence. The younger lad sighed and sat down on a bean bag at the corner of the room. “I don’t have the energy to nag,” Seungmin whispered, but Hyunjin still managed to catch his words. He jokingly rolled his eyes, finding slight amusement towards Seungmin’s puppy expression.

“You and (y/n), had a fight?” Hyunjin asked, his attention still on his laptop but he figured he needed Seungmin for a little background noise to keep him sane, plus the guy’s one of his best friends. “Not really,” Seungmin disagreed. “Then, what got you all gloomy?” Hyunjin insisted, but he was only met with silence.

“Seungmo, come on, spill.”

“She addresses you as an ‘oppa’,” Seungmin blurted out after a few seconds. “Who addresses me as what?” Hyunjin asked, his eyebrows contorted in confusion. “(y/n),” Seungmin answered as he buried his face in his arms. “Seungmo, you do know that she does that to everybody that’s older than her, right?” Hyunjin replied, “It’s called being polite.”

“Well, I call it being unfair.”

Hyunjin chuckled in amusement, “Please elaborate.”

“You and I are the same age, which means that I’m older than her too, but she doesn’t call me that,” Seungmin whined.

And that’s how Seungmin ended up being silent for the rest of the night. You, being unaware of the situation, shrugged it off, thinking that he was just exhausted from his vocal lessons. Until, Hyunjin decided to let you in on the puppy’s cause of gloominess.

“Here, now go ace that literature course,” Hyunjin handed you the outline he promised, giving your head a pat in the process. “Thank you, oppa.”

“One more thing, (y/n),” Hyunjin said as he leaned down and whispered, “Seungmin wants to be called that too.”

“Huh?” you turned to him in confusion, but Hyunjin just stared at you and decided that you would come into revelation in a few seconds. “Oh,” you gasped, eyes lighting up in the process. “That’s why he’s been acting weird,” you added. Hyunjin smiled in approval, “Do something and wipe that pout off his face.”

The car ride back to your dorm was silent. Seungmin kept his eyes on the road, no words were exchanged between the two of you and he clearly showed no effort of doing so any time soon. You’re slowly running out of time as your building came into view a few minutes later. Seungmin slowly stopped the car and got out, he jogged towards your side and opened the door for you.

Go time.

“I’ll text you when I get home,” Seungmin said. His expression was sad but he still managed to give you a kiss on the forehead. He was about to pull away but you prevented him from doing so by holding his face in your hands. You stared at him lovingly, thanking the universe for bringing this man into your life.

“I love you, oppa,” you whispered, but loud enough for him to hear you.

A soft gasp escaped from his lips as his eyes widened, “What did you just call me?”

“Oppa, why?” you giggled and gave his nose a kiss. “Don’t get me wrong, I feel like I’m on top of the world right now, but you never call me that,” Seungmin wondered, his arms now wrapped around your waist, allowing him to pull you closer. “Let’s just say, a little bird told me,” you teased.

“Hwang Hyunjin!”

You laughed, “Don’t get mad at him.”

“Listen,” you called back for his attention, “I don’t call you oppa because I use that on everybody who’s older than me, well close friends of course, but you know what I mean.”

“And you, Kim Seungmin, are not just anybody. You’re my person, my everything, my whole world. You’re special to me and you matter the most,” you explained, pouring your feelings out for the said man. You were about to say more in order to get rid of Seungmin’s doubt, but he cut you off with a kiss.

You guys were practically making out in your dormitory’s parking lot, but it’s the least of your worries right now.

You pulled away first as you tried to catch your breath. “I love you so much, (y/n),” Seungmin confessed, his expression now darker as you witnessed his eyes fill with desire. “And I’ll prove that to you.”

“What do you mean, oppa?”

Seungmin leaned down, his lips dangerously close to your ear. “Don’t test me, baby.”

You whimpered in response, “Do whatever you want. I’m all yours, oppa.”

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jinmukangwrites · 4 years

Text

Whumptober 2020 Day 8

Abandoned | Isolation

Ao3

Warnings: Depression, Panic Attacks, Claustrophobia, blink and you'll miss it Suicidal Thoughts.

Dedicated to @ckbookish! Hope you don't mind me tagging you 👉👈

-o-o-o-o-

"That's great, Dami! I'm happy for you."

Dick held the phone between his ear and shoulder, listening to Damian ramble on about an advanced theater class he got into because the teacher felt the current intermediate class he was in was wasting his potential. He carefully scrubbed the sides of the bowl he had just finished eating about five servings of pudding out of and set it off to the side. He wiped his hands then leaned against the counter, smiling.

"Thank you, Richard," Damian said. His voice was just as stiff and careful as it always was, but Dick could hear the excitement and gratitude sprinkled in there. The kid was opening up. Expressing himself more and more every day in ways the place he came from had never allowed him to. Dick couldn't remember the last time Damian genuinely threatened anyone with violence, let alone threatened Tim. In fact, last he heard, Tim and Damian were going to go to the Gotham Zoo together next weekend. There was no real reason for them to. It was just to attempt at hanging out and Dick couldn't be more proud.

"When will you be switching to the new class?" Dick asked. While he did, he began to migrate from the kitchen counter towards his bedroom door, careful to not trip on anything that was laying on the floor. Not for the first time this day, week, month, or year, Dick made a mental note to finally deep clean the place. "Like, is this a tomorrow thing or…?"

"At the end of the term, actually," Damian answered, his voice dropping ever so slightly. Dick hummed in sympathy. He sounded very excited about it, it must be agonizing for him to find out he needed to wait another few months for the first term to come to a close.

"Well, I'm sure you'll have fun being the best in your current class until then," Dick joked, finally reaching the door to his bedroom and placing his hand on the door handle. Damian scoffed over the phone.

"I am not the best, unfortunately." Damian didn't sound that torn up about it, which was good. Admitting someone was better than you was good character growth. It proved that Damian was letting himself start from the bottom of something instead of immediately being at the top. "There is another girl, her name is Abigail. She has been taking classes since she was a toddler because her mother runs a local theater group."

"So she's as good at theater and you are with a sword," Dick confirmed and Damian hummed.

Dick opened his door, mentally planning out the least tedious way to get undressed, in bed, and asleep as quickly as possible. First he needed to end the phone call, as much as he didn't want to. He started a new job tomorrow, so he needed to be rested. There was a swimming pool downtown that was looking for an assistant coach for the children's gymnastics classes they held there. Dick took up the job the moment he saw it. Or well, the moment he was no longer swinging past it as Nightwing and was back in civilian clothes. There was a good chance that he could work his way up to being a head instructor with his own classes, considering the woman who hired him didn't really seem the type to enjoy children very much. Dick gave it two months tops before she began to just not show up, making it so he was promoted.

"I suppose so," Damian said, "she won't be moving up with me however. She has… friends in the lower class that she doesn't want to-"

Dick missed out on the rest, because the moment he stepped into his bedroom and closed the door behind him, his feet were knocked out from under him and his phone flung from his hand. Decades of experience made it so he was immediately able to go from zero to a hundred, allowing him to scramble up from the floor and throw a punch at the closest shadow like clockwork.

His fists met air. With wide eyes, he spun around his room, heart in his throat as he tried to figure out what had shoved him to the floor.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. All he could see was his messy room, his unmade bed, his open closet, and his closed window.

Suddenly, Dick heard a noise sound across his room from where he threw his phone. Dick rushed across his room and searched for his phone like he had been jolted by a bolt of electricity. He hated how confused and worried Damian's muffled demands sounded.

"Richard! What happened?!"

There! Dick bent down and reached out his hand to grab the phone-

And then his hand went through the phone.

Dick stared down at his empty hand and the phone that sat unmoving on the ground, everything going deathly still as he tried to… process what happened. If it was actually real.

Okay. His nerves were just shot. He tried again, this time a little more slower and careful. He watched with disbelieving eyes as his hand once again just… went through the phone. It just laid there, undisturbed, like Dick wasn't… even there.

Damian's voice rose in volume and Dick kneeled down, noting now how he was fully grounded on the floor; his shirts and other various objects around him phased through him like holograms. Okay, okay so something was definitely wrong. "Damian?" Dick asked, but Damian didn't say anything, just continued to shout for Dick to answer.

"Damian!" Dick yelled louder, but Damian didn't say anything that counted as a reply.

"Richard, if you don't answer me, I will fetch father!"

"Bruce might be a good idea there, Dami," Dick breathed, falling back onto his rear end and watching how he simply went through everything. He brought his hand back to his phone and purposely stuck it through, his fingernail soundlessly tapped the hidden floor beneath.

Curious, Dick knocked on the wood, and when no noise reached his ears he hit it harder.

Nothing. He can't touch anything and apparently he couldn't be heard.

And suddenly, Dick was filled with the crippling realization that he had… no idea what to do now. He just sat there, listening to Damian panic until he eventually hung up to fetch Bruce. Dick sat there, running his fingers through everything he couldn't touch around him until he knew the entire space around him by heart. Dick sat there, and it took him… awhile to work up the energy to stand up and figure this out. But when he did, he forced himself to not let the confusion, horror, and fear stop him. He walked around the room first, looking for something that must have made him like this. There were no sigils that he could see, and if one was hidden under the things he had left on the floor, he wouldn't know because no matter how hard he focused or how many times he tried, he couldn't get anything to move. He went to sit down on his bed to think this through, but then his hand went straight through the mattress and he barely caught himself in time to avoid landing on his rear.

Thoroughly freaked out now, he ran through his dresser, heart pounding to the upbeat rhythm of his phone as Bruce began to call him. Dick didn't pick up the phone, he knew he wouldn't be able to.

He couldn't touch anything. He couldn't. Touch. Anything. His feet would hit the ground and have no volume. His hands would slap against the wall but nothing would sound. He tried not to panic, but when he went to go out his door, it didn't move. He tugged on the door handle. It didn’t budge. Not a single millimeter.

And okay. Okay he was beginning to panic now. He sprinted to the window and slammed his elbows against it, but it was like the glass was replaced with a transparent sheet of solid steel.

Was this some sort of hallucination? Had whatever knocked him down drugged him somehow? Did he hit his head?

He was hyperventilating—this he knew for sure but suddenly he didn't know how to stop it—and without thinking he ran back to his door, banging his silent fists against the wood and tugging on the frozen in place handle.

Oh gods. This was really happening wasn't it? Somehow, he had found himself unable to move anything. Unable to go anywhere. Unable to- to-

His knees gave out, causing him to slide down against the door and press his forehead against the unmovable force before him. He couldn't- he couldn't breathe. Somewhere, at the back of his head, a voice told him that he could breathe. He could take breaths right now and calm down. He could count five things he could see, four things he could touch, three things he could hear, two things he could smell, and one thing he could taste. He could calm down and think rationally and explore his situation a bit more calmly. But the moment he opened his eyes after not realizing he had them closed in the first place and saw his leg phasing through his empty trash can he knew he couldn't go anywhere from there without having a full blown mental breakdown.

So he closed his eyes, tried making noise on the door once again, and tried to keep his breakdown to a minimum.

Just hyperventilating. Just fading.

"Help!" He shouted before he could really consider what good that would do. He was at the top floor of his building and the neighbors across from him weren't home until early in the morning thanks to the graveyard shift. No one will hear him… even if he could be heard.

His phone began to ring again and Dick stuck his fist into his mouth and bit down on his knuckles to keep from screaming.

He sat there—trying and failing to breathe, trying and failing to not cry—and continued to sit there until eventually, he found himself leaning against the door with half lidded and tearful eyes, staring at how his body continued to not touch a single thing.

He let his eyes fall shut one final time and let the stress and anxiety and confusion whisk him away into a very troubled slumber.

-o-o-o-o-

When he woke up he was immediately made aware that his current situation was, in fact, not a nightmare.

And so much worse than what he could even predict.

He awoke to him falling backwards, a crick in his neck and spine suddenly becoming undone as the door he was leaning against suddenly opened, hitting his head with a disquietingly silent bonk on the floor of his living room. For a hopeful, blissful moment he thought whatever happened before he passed the fuck out was all fake and he had just imagined the entire thing, but then he opened his eyes and lifted his head…

Just to see a pair of legs sticking out from the middle of his intangible chest.

His breath hitched, his eyes flicking up to see a worried Bruce literally standing inside of him. The threat of hyperventilating once again became a very real thing as Bruce stepped past him, into the room, and started calling his name.

"Bruce!" Dick shouted, scrambling up from the floor and running back into the room that had previously been his impenetrable prison. He instinctively tried to grab his shoulder, but ended up flinching back violently when his hand simply went through Bruce. He couldn't feel Bruce at all. None of the course fibers of his winter coat brushed against his touch receptors. "Bruce! I'm here!" He tried again, but surprise surprise, it didn't work.

"Is he there?" A new voice said, and Dick just managed to turn around in time to watch Damian walk into the room with wrinkles between his brow and bags under his eyes, shining black against his olive skin. Dick jumped away from Damian's path as he approached their father and watched with a frown as Bruce bent down and picked up his discarded phone.

Then, Dick's phone suddenly began to ring, causing Bruce to scowl. Frightened, confused, and curious, Dick slowly approached to read his phone's screen.

It was close to 6am. Bruce must have driven here as quickly as he could after Damian probably took a few hours to panic to himself and work up the courage to tell Bruce that he thought something was wrong. Though, Dick didn't ponder over why they were here so early for very long. The number calling belonged to his new boss.

He was supposed to be at work thirty minutes ago.

"Shit," Dick breathed, stepping back as Bruce clicked the answer button on the phone and held it to his ear.

Immediately, there was the sound of the lead coach’s nasally voice. Coach Shah. Short, lean, toned, full of freckles, and rocking curly red hair. The woman who was definitely a phenomenal gymnast, but probably shouldn't be allowed to work closely with kids with her grumpy attitude. She didn't sound entirely upset from the muffled tones on the other side of the speaker. Maybe she was saving the angry for later, letting the passive aggressiveness of her annoyance at him for being late to his first day of work steadily drip into her tone.

Bruce finally opened his mouth. "I'm sorry, but I'm not Mr Grayson."

Dick winced at the sound of her confused squawk. Bruce proceeded to explain that he was Dick's father, and that he couldn't find Dick anywhere. Bruce's frown slowly began to deepen as Coach Shah began to probably explain that Dick was her newest assistant and that she hadn't seen him. Shockingly, the phone call didn't end with Dick being immediately fired. Just with Bruce clicking the screen off and looking down at Damian with barely contained worry.

"You said he just shouted then stopped responding?" Bruce clarified.

Damian nodded, looking at the phone still in Bruce's hand like it had threatened him.

"Okay," Bruce sighed, brushing his free hand over his jaw. "Okay. Let's look for signs of struggle."

And this was how you could immediately tell that the Wayne family was nowhere close to normal. Normal families would call the police.

The batfamily searched on their own, then only called the police later to keep up the civilian facade.

Dick stepped slowly back, then flinched forward when his shoulders met the walls solidly. The feeling of any walls touching him while his feet stood through the things on the floor almost made him want to bend over and vomit. But thinking about vomiting also made him stress about what would happen then and what the sick would touch or if it would make any noise at all. It was repulsive and horrible to think about, so he found a tiny place of clear flooring that wasn't near any walls and folded his arms across his chest.

He watched Bruce and Damian comb through his room, looking for any signs that his disappearance wasn't on his own power. Dick hoped they found something. A reason for why he was a ghost in his own room.

A solid thirty minutes passed before Bruce deemed Dick's bedroom clean. Evidence wise. Not literally. Dick was pretty sure his room was in an even bigger mess than what it had been before. He jerked out of the way of Bruce as he walked ignorantly past Dick towards the living room. Damian followed along, dragging his feet.

It was then Dick noticed Damian's hand wrap around the door’s handle. Pure terror shot through Dick's veins, which gave him just enough courage to quickly dart forward and purposely run through Damian into his living room before he was locked back in there again. He didn't know he was gasping and choking back horrified sobs until he felt the first tear tickle down his cheek and off his chin.

And this all felt so real suddenly. Like not being able to touch Damian—one of the most important people in Dick's entire life—was what gave it the official stamp of reality.

Dick was a living, breathing, walking ghost.

He couldn't touch anything. He couldn't be heard. He couldn't open doors or pick up phones or touch the shoulder of the man he had considered his father for longer than he had known his birth father.

It was all he could do to stand and force himself to breath—but did he even need to keep doing that?—and let his tears silently fall. He watched Bruce and Damian sift through the rest of his apartment and finish empty handed. It was hours later when Bruce suggested going back to the cave and checking Dick's phone for any possible clues. So, after Bruce hid a few sensors around to warn them if Dick "came back", they went to the front door while Dick made sure to stick as close as he could without going through them. He wiped under his eyes as they approached Bruce's car, his heart stuttering when he realized he didn't even know if he could even sit in the car with them without phasing through the seats. He might have to walk back to Gotham.

That would take… hours.

And oh God, would he starve? Would he be slowly forced to thirst to death because he couldn't touch any of the substances he needed to live?

Bruce opened the drivers door and Damian opened the passenger. Instead of thinking about the very real possibility that Dick probably had less than a few days left to live—if he was alive at all—Dick once again forced himself to go through Damian.

Somehow, against all odds, Dick was able to touch the car. Except, when his knees went through Damian's lap to touch the cushioned chair and his hands shot through Bruce's shoulder to support himself jumping into the back of the car, the normally well padded leather was stony and unrecognizable to his touch. It didn't give under the pressure of his weight or grip. It didn't sink around his touch. It remained like cement.

It felt like cement.

Dick curled up in the back seat, his heart jumping madly when both the drivers and passenger doors closed. He suddenly felt like a trapped animal. He had no will here. He didn't even bother to try the door handle of the back seat, because he knew it wouldn't go anywhere. The doors wouldn't open for him. The walls wouldn't bend. He brought his knees up to his chest as Bruce drove onto the road and as Damian turned on the radio.

And he… simply watched out the window and tried not to make too much noise that no one would hear anyway.

-o-o-o-o-

Getting out of the car door was more adrenaline inducing than standing toe to toe with Killer Croc. It was a good thing Dick was so flexible and had decades of experience with flipping his way through life. Thanks to that, he managed to jump out of the car just in the nick of time.

Seeing the manor like this hit differently. He was barely aware of Bruce and Damian walking past him towards the front doors until he saw Alfred open those aforementioned doors. Dick had to sprint to get inside, and he tried his best to not flinch as the door shut behind him. He didn't succeed.

Not that anybody saw.

"Master Dick?" Alfred asked, and more a heart stopping moment Dick almost thought Alfred was talking to him.

But then Bruce shook his head and began to shed his jacket.

"No sign of him. His apartment was locked and there was no sign of forced entry."

Alfred frowned and Damian shoved past them all, his body moving with less confidence than it normally did. Dick watched him go, desperately wanting nothing more than to race after him and gather him into the world's bestest hug, but Bruce was heading to the cave with Alfred trailing along. Dick had to help in whatever way he could to push Bruce into finding out what happened. Damian… could wait. He'll have to wait. It wasn't like Dick could do anything for him if he decided to follow after the clearly upset teen anyway.

"It's almost like he just vanished, Alfred," Bruce continued, his voice oddly wet. Dick's heart tied itself in a knot. "Into thin air."

"No one simply disappears into thin air," Alfred sniffed. "You will find him."

"Yeah," Bruce agreed, sounding unsure but determined at the same time. They walked into the study and Dick carefully followed them both into the cave through the narrow passage of grandfather clock.

Bruce quickly got to work and Dick stood back, careful to not touch anything. Bruce started the search as he always did, by sifting through traffic cams around the scene of the crime. And since it was Dick's apartment, he also had access to the normal security measures Dick had installed.

Hours passed and Dick soon found himself sinking to sit on the floor of the cave, watching as Bruce found nothing after nothing after nothing.

Dick could relate. He certainly felt like nothing.

-o-o-o-o-

Dick couldn't thirst or starve. He found that out on day three of this entire mess, slinking around from open door to open door, doing nothing but breathing and existing. Well, existing to no one but himself. He hadn't even realized he wasn't starving or dehydrated until Tim, Cass, Jason, and Duke showed up three nights later for a quick family dinner. Dick was touched that Bruce called them, and even more touched that they all came. But, as much as he was touched, he was also jealous of the meal Alfred provided. Frustrated that he didn't exist enough to join.

Bruce filled them all in on what little they knew on the situation and then they all spent the night patrolling Blüdhaven for clues. Dick didn't get into the Batmobile in time to follow along, so he spent the entire night trapped in the cave with Alfred's silent company.

He spent the nights wandering the hallways and avoiding everything he could walk through. He'd walk and walk and walk until he'd sit down in the middle of the dining room floor, where the carpet was short and didn't stab him like the shaggy carpet of bedrooms did. Where the animals were least likely to unknowingly fall asleep inside of him.

On the fifth day, he thought Alfred the Cat was watching him. He cried for hours later when he found the cat was just watching a fly.

Days ticked on. Dick was reported missing to the police. Damian talked less and less, smiled less and less. The others went back to their lives with "keep me updated" being mumbled before they went.

Dick continued to not exist.

When the second week passed by, Dick found himself sneaking outside when Alfred went to get the mail. He didn't know why. Maybe it was because it was raining and he was wondering if he'd be able to feel that.

He didn't. It just went through him and he ended up being trapped in the cold air outside, exploring the wet grounds and not making a single splash, until night came and Damian let Titus and Ace out for a quick potty break.

By the time the third week came around, things really started to change. It seemed Bruce was constantly talking to people. The police, the Justice League, Dick's friends, everyone who were trying to track him down… and it killed Dick to stand back and watch, clutching his stomach as nothing turned up and Bruce kept coming up with nothing. Dick wished he could leave some sort of message. A way to tell Bruce that he was right there. Just invisible and silenced. But there.

Dick would love to tell Bruce that he was right there. But at this point, Dick really began to wonder if he was really there at all.

What if he was dead? Living people didn't go for three weeks without eating or drinking and remain alive. Alive people don't walk through furniture or get trapped simply by closed doors.

But he couldn't tell Bruce. Which was why when the third week came up and Bruce once again ran into a dead end, he wasn't really all surprised to watch Bruce angrily hurtle his phone across the room and collapse into his chair with his hands in his hair, dangerously close to ripping the fine strands from his scalp.

The longer Bruce sat there, the more Dick was sure Bruce had finally given up. Batman couldn't find him. It was the waiting game now. Sit and wait and hope.

Dick left the room shortly after, his mind racing, loneliness running like a poison through his veins. He went to find Damian, but when he found the kid cuddled in a giant beanbag in the library, Alfred the Cat on his shoulder watching him draw carefully, he knew there wouldn't be anything here to reassure him that he'll be found. He walked around Damian anyway, bending down to look at what he was drawing.

His heart clenched. It was a portrait of Dick. Damian was carefully working on the details of his top lip, shading each little bump and pore with incredible accuracy.

Dick didn't look more at it. He left the library and roamed the halls, looking for an open door that he can sneak into and get some alone time. Just to calm down. Just to reassure himself that there was no way his family would leave him like this forever.

That they haven't truly given up on him. That the whispered words of maybe he's dead and he's not coming back, is he haven't actually been said.

He finally found a room with an open door and he immediately squeezed inside. The room was smaller, which made his anxiety climb ever so slightly, but it was also close to empty with a clear enough space for him to sit down and meditate without touching and going through anything. The door must have been opened by Damian. The kid had been searching out silent places to be alone quite often recently, sometimes forcing Bruce to search the halls, calling his name loudly until Damian finally revealed himself.

Dick sat down and breathed.

Of course, it couldn't be so easy. His brain immediately recalled back to Bruce looking defeated. To Damian painstakingly crafting every detail of Dick's face with a pencil like he was worried he'd someday forget what Dick looked like. To Jason not having been over in way too long; reports in Blüdhaven of Red Hood being spotted on multiple occasions. To Tim who accidentally referred to Dick in the past tense a couple days ago and looked sick with himself the moment he realized what he said. To Cass who would somehow stroll the same halls as him when she's over until they pass by his bedroom door and she would stop and frown and walk away. To Duke who looked at his portraits Bruce had on the walls and look like he desperately wanted to understand something that he'd never actually be able to now.

They've all given up. He knew it was only a matter of time before there was an empty casket funeral.

He wondered if he could make that a reality. Death. He didn't need to eat or drink. What if he just… stopped breathing? What if he clawed out his own throat with his nails? What if the next time Alfred opened a window to air out an old, unused room on the highest floor he just jumped out?

Or would the world be so cruel as to keep him like this for the rest of eternity? Forced to watch as he's given up on, buried, and forgotten? He didn't want to die. Not like this. Not in name before body.

And not for the first time since Dick inexplicably became a ghost, he felt his throat choke on the beginnings of a sob.

He curled up a bit, trying to staunch it because he had quickly become annoyed with the sound of his own voice. Why could he still hear it when no one else could? It was awful. Like his words and noises we're all just in his head and he was only hearing what he thought he should hear.

He gasped wetly, wiping under his eyes and trying to stop this all from happening again. He had already cried enough these last few weeks. He couldn't keep crying every time he felt alone.

He bent in on himself further, his arms curling around his stomach in such a way that if he imagined hard enough they belonged to someone else and he was in another's calming embrace. It didn't work though. He knew he was alone. He couldn't pretend.

He was so deep in this attack of utter turmoil and unhappiness that he didn't notice approaching footsteps until he heard the sound of creaking door hinges followed quickly by a click of a door latch.

Dick looked up with blurry, panicked eyes.

The door. The door was closed.

"No," Dick breathed. "No no-" he scrambled to his feet, all the blood rushed from his head and combined with the terrible spike of horror to make him perfectly lightheaded as he stumbled to the door and wrapped his hands around the knob. It didn't budge. "NO!"

He spun around, barely aware of his already panting breaths and frantically searched the room for a hopefully open window.

The window was closed. He didn't know why he even looked.

"Fuck," he gasped, grabbing his chest as it constricted tightly. More tightly than what he had felt in a long time. It felt so painful that it was all he could do to turn and bang a closed fist on the door. He wondered if this was what a heart attack felt like. "HELP!"

He didn't know why he was calling out. Hitting the door like he thought it might make noise.

No one would hear him.

"ALFRED!" Dick screamed. "BR-" he was forced to stop mid-word on that one thanks to a heaving gasp that curled dangerously in-between his ribcage. He swallowed. Or tried to. "BRUCE!"

He kicked the door. Covered one hand over his mouth and tried to calm down. Tried to not think about the solid walls and the solid door and how he was powerless to leave this room. Why did he come in here in the first place?!

He couldn't calm down. All he could think about was how screwed he was. How hopeless everything was. He kept his hand on his mouth as his legs eventually gave out. He brought his knees to his chin and laid on his side atop the carpeted floor, babbling cries and names and pleas until his throat was raw and everything woozy.

He didn't know how or when he finally passed out, only that he woke up to a still closed door and a still small room, and it took every ounce of his will power to not immediately cry again right then and there. He stayed curled up on the ground and closed his eyes, wrapping his arms around his stomach and tried to pretend that everything would work out. Eventually everything would be okay.

He was wrong.

It took two weeks for the door to open for Alfred's regular airing out of the rooms to reach the one he was trapped in.

By then, he didn't even know if he should bother to stand up and walk out.

Not when he was surely no longer alive. Not when he felt perfectly content just laying here being dead.

But the thought of that door closing again and him having no power over it eventually managed to force him stumbling to his wobbly feet and walking out.

He didn't know what to expect when he shuffled slowly deeper into the manor. More than a month has passed since his disappearance. Most people don't keep a whole lot of hope for a missing person to return after this long. By this time, people normally began to suggest funerals quietly between each other.

It didn't take long to find the family. What shocked him though was that everyone was together in the living room, even Alfred who must have finished opening certain doors and windows to refresh the stale air inside the rooms they belong to and walked back quicker than Dick. A movie was playing, some Pixar movie Dick hadn't seen before because of his busy lifestyle.

And for some reason, this hurt more than if he came in here to find them alone, mourning, depressed.

They're all watching a movie together. Bruce on the recliner, Damian squeezed between him and the arm of the recliner even though there was more room in other places. Jason sprawled over the three cushioned sofa, his legs resting over Duke, Cass, and Tim like a makeshift blanket. Alfred had his own recliner to himself, reading a book to himself but occasionally glancing up towards the screen. Steph was there too, but she had made herself comfortable on the floor with the entity of the living room's decorative pillows.

They're all watching a movie together.

Dick had been trying to get that to happen for months. And they're doing it now, when he's gone with no foreseeable way to get back.

Dick slowly sank to the floor and watched them poke each other and whisper quips to each other and laugh at the funny bits with each other.

Was this the life he was doomed to have for the rest of eternity? Chasing open doors and watching people move on from him? Do things simply in his memory?

If he had tears left to cry, he would have shed them.

Instead, he just sat there and watched.

-o-o-o-o-

Dick's funeral was four months later. The gossip channels and media said they have finally given up. Dick thought they held on for longer than most.

He didn't attend his own funeral. He didn't want it to feel final. He didn't want the undeniable proof that they've stopped searching. He didn't want to see them cry for him.

So he walked the manor grounds opposite of the family graveyard. He kicked his feet as he walked, pretending that his footsteps carried weight on the grass and that he was solid enough to disturb the smallest pebbles on the stone pathway.

Maybe he was dead. Maybe this was hell. He didn't remember where he went, if he went anywhere, when Lex Luthor killed him, but maybe this was it. He didn't know what killed him or what happened to his body, but he was starting to become convinced that he really was simply a ghost, cursed to walk the world and watch people move on and live on without him.

Half a year ago, that would have settled horribly into his gut. Now? He was numb.

He continued to walk, to let his mind drift. Pretend he was alive for a little while longer before he returned to the manor and the services and dinners and receptions were over. Decide what to do now that his life was now officially over.

He sighed and ignored the feeling that he's just as trapped out here in the manor grounds as he was in that room all those months ago. Ho continued to roam.

Though, the sound of a humming voice had him stopping in his tracks.

No one should be over here. They all should be back at the funeral. Dick immediately focused on the noise, not even bothering to step carefully or approach cautiously. It wasn't like Dick could be seen or heard anyway. He just wanted to see who had snuck into these parts of the grounds while his literal funeral was going on. It was strange and horrible to think about, but come on? A little respect please? He hoped it wasn't some paparazzi. It meant that they'd somehow gotten through Bruce's security… which also meant that Bruce was more depressed about this than what Dick initially thought. He'd seen Bruce get low these past few months, but never low enough to sacrifice the safety of the people he provided shelter to.

Dick walked towards the grove of trees that the humming was coming from and frowned when he eventually saw the back of a person strolling through the controlled nature. The man was taller than Dick—which wasn't a difficult achievement—and was wearing a simple brown-orange hoodie with dark blue jeans. His hair was dirty blonde and styled up like someone glued a giant ball of cotton to his scalp. Dick didn't recognize him, which instantly set off alarm bells inside his head. The open house reception should be over but the rest of the services were all reserved for close family and friends of Dick's. But this man… he couldn't be someone that was invited.

Not for the first time, Dick felt the crippling weight of helplessness wash over him. This man could be dangerous, but Dick couldn't do a thing. He couldn't warn anyone.

He could just watch it happen.

Or… ignore it.

He shook his head and sighed, stuffing his hands into the pockets of the same pair of sweats he'd been wearing since that fateful night half a year ago. He almost began to approach further, because even though he was helpless to change anything or warn anyone, he was still curious… but then the man turned around and Dick was stopped in his tracks.

He didn't... He didn't have a face.

Dick gaped and watched as the bumps in the man's face that must be cheekbones rose ever so slightly.

"Oh!" The man said, even though he had no mouth. Dick had absolutely no idea where the sound came from. "You are here!"

Dick turned around behind him, and saw nobody. Something fluttered in his chest. A hope he didn't dare grasp at even though… even though… the man could only be talking to him.

"We lost track of you after the convergence. Most people stick around where they disappear!"

"Are you…" Dick tried, his voice barely recognizable even to himself, "are you talking to me?"

The limited features of the man's blank face softened. "Yes I am, Dick Grayson. You've been lost a long time."

And Dick… didn't know what to do. This entire time he's had absolutely no contact with anything in the world. He couldn't move anything, couldn't touch anything, couldn't speak or make himself known. This scene before him, one where his voice was heard and he was answered… it was so foreign. Unreal. Dick almost reached down to pinch himself.

"But luckily," the man continued, "after a long time searching for you at your home city, we figured you must have found a way to your family. That or began to aimlessly wonder like others like you sometimes do."

"Like… me?"

"Yes," the man nodded then took a step closer. Dick stood his ground as his thoughts ran circles in his brain. What was going on? "You're trapped within the folds of reality, Dick Grayson. It's not something that commonly happens, but something that can be catastrophic if we cannot find you immediately." He paused. "You are Nightwing in this world, are you not? You must understand how the universes work in odd ways."

Dick wanted to nod. Laugh. Cry. Step forward and see if he could touch the man. But he didn't. He just stood there as the man continued.

"You see," the man said, bringing a hand up to his featureless chin, "what happened was that this universe brushed sides with another one. One that's almost exactly the same in every aspect to yours. Normally, when universes brush, they're so different that they reject each other and go on their merry way down the time stream. The problem was, that because these two universes were so similar, reality as we knew it, well, it got a little confused. It tried to sort out what belonged to what. It gets it wrong sometimes, which is why you're like this. In the universe you brushed with, Dick Grayson was dead. Everything else was exactly the same, but because you were dead and alive the universe decided to make you both. This is why you're stuck here. The universe can't remember if you should be living or dead."

Dick never pretended to understand the multiverse. It always seemed the rules were constantly changing. Shifting to accommodate spontaneous things. It seemed the only one who truly had a grasp on the entirety of the universe was Bart Allen, but the kid was shockingly tight lipped about most secrets of reality despite his superhero name of Impulse.

And really, Dick didn't care how he ended up like this. All he could really think was how this man could see him. Was looking for him. Something was finally going to change. Whether he was supposed to be fully dead or fully alive... He didn't really care.

He couldn't stand around, trapped in his own intangible body, and do nothing for much longer.

"So… what does this mean?" Dick asked. "What happens now?"

The man's face squished oddly, and Dick couldn't figure out what he was thinking at all. "What happens now is that we make things right. Return you to the universe you're supposed to be dead in, and keep you in the universe you're supposed to be alive. It will be painful, but don't worry, neither of you will remember a thing."

"Neither-?"

Dick's question didn't get much further, because in an impossible blink of an eye, the man was right in front of Dick, hand pressing against the side of his head with his thumb pressed above the bridge of Dick's nose. Lightning shot through him, and his vision whited out. Everything became too much and so little at the same time. Hot and cold. Loud and silent. He might have screamed or he might have sighed.

Either way, the sensation didn't last for long.

Soon he wasn't feeling anything at all.

-o-o-o-o-

Damian hated this. He knew death and sorrow unlike most others. He had seen men and women fall in so many ways it was impossible to list them all. He had seen the way a corpse would slowly rot, and stink, and collapse. He had seen bodies feasted upon by wolves and flies alike.

He knew death. Yet, for a number of reasons, he just couldn't comprehend this one.

Because Richard couldn't be dead. He couldn't be. He was simply missing. Nowhere to be found.

He wasn't dead.

Damian didn't understand why everyone else insisted on believing otherwise. Father had said that he's searched, and for some reason that meant if Batman couldn't find him then he must not be able to be found. No one besides Damian argued with him. Even Timothy didn't believe him.

He at least had the decency to look ashamed when Damian called him out on it.

However, it seemed Damian's thoughts and feelings on the matter didn't, well, matter. Even though he was the last one to speak to Richard. Even though he knew for sure that Richard was somewhere alive out there, doing everything he could to get home. Damian swore he would continue to believe in that. No matter what. Even if these months turned into years. Even if Damian no longer remembered every detail of his face by thought alone.

Father wouldn't let him skip out on the fake funeral though.

Which was horrible for a massive amount of reasons. All of Richard's friends were here, sobbing and blabbering like children. The empty casket sat above a deep hole with flowers piled on top, and one by one someone would approach, say something emotional out loud or under their breath, then leave the flower in the mockery of Richard's life.

Damian was glad that his immediate family went first. That way he could slink to the back of the crowd and hold Titus by the leash. Watch from afar. Plan for the millionth time on how he was going to fix this.

That speedster… Wally West was in the middle of breaking down on top of the casket with large tears cascading down his cheeks when Damian felt a tug on the leash. Damian frowned and looked down at his normally perfectly behaved dog to see the animal trying to tug Damian towards the unoccupied grounds of the manor. Damian tugged Titus gently back, tutting at him under his breath.

Except, Titus didn't stay at Damian's side for long. The animal took one wide eyed look at Damian before turning tail and sprinting. The leash was yanked out from Damian's hand, and it was all Damian could do to not shout in surprise or outrage.

He nervously shot a look at the casket, where Donna Troy was now saying her goodbyes while West leaned onto her for support, making sure no one was watching him, then turned to chase after his disrespectful dog.

It might be a fake funeral, but it was a funeral nonetheless.

Damian ran after Titus, jumping over shrubbery and flowers like they were the gaps between rooftops, diving for the trailing leash whenever he got close enough.

He never got close enough.

Out of breath and covered in grass stains and twigs, Damian watched with glaring eyes as Titus took refuge in a carefully planned grove of trees. Thankfully, Damian saw the dog halt on the other side of a bush, bending his neck down to sniff at something. Probably a wild animal. Even though Damian could have sworn he trained Titus better than to chase rabbits or squirrels.

Damian stuffed his hands in his suit pockets and began to stomp his way over.

"Titus! Quit this misbehaving!"

Titus looked up from what he was sniffing, whined, then bent back down. Completely ignoring Damian.

What was going on with that dog?

Damian walked around the clump of bushes and between the trees, extremely curious as to what was so important that Titus would disregard orders for it.

When Damian saw what Titus was bent over, Damian felt every single molecule of air leave his body like he had been sucker-punched in the stomach.

"Richard?" Damian breathed. Double took. "Richard!"

He sprinted forward and Titus quickly jumped out of the way. Horrified and terrified and shaking, Damian grabbed Richard's shoulders and turned him around, for he was laying face down on the ground.

Richard groaned, but didn't open his eyes. Blood trickled down the corners of his lips and nose. His clothes were filthy. He looked like death.

But he was alive.

Damian turned to his good, good dog. "Go! Get father! Hurry!"

Titus didn't have to be told twice. He barked then sprinted back to the forest.

Damian turned back to Richard, running his hands across his body, taking in the loss of weight, the eye bags, the stains of mud all over his clothes. He shook his shoulders, trying to wake him up, but Richard remained asleep to the world.

It took a second to realize he was crying.

Thankfully, he was able to wipe them away when a confused and worried Bruce Wayne busted into the grove of trees along with the rest of the family and even a few of Richard's friends. Gasps and shouts filled the air, and Damian soon found himself pushed back as Dick was rushed to by the adults.

The ambulance was called not long after.

The drive to the hospital seemed like a dream.

The wait felt like it took years, but Richard only took about three hours to wake up, severely starved and dehydrated and not a single memory of the past five months.

And somehow, everything went back to normal. Richard was released from the hospital a few days later with a strict meal plan and physical therapy schedule. His memories didn't return, but sometimes Damian noticed things had changed in Richard since then.

Like his new and strange fear of small spaces and closed doors.

It didn't matter though. Damian was just… overjoyed that he was right and that Richard was still living a breathing, even if it seemed he had simply vanished and reappeared from thin air, with no trace of anything in-between.

All that mattered was that the family was whole again. Richard was on the road of a full recovery.

No one could ask for more.

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purplesurveys · 3 years

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1180

The last time you washed your hair, did you use conditioner? Yeah, I’m pretty paranoid and always feel the need to use conditioner because of a bad rebonding job from like a decade ago that stiffened up my hair as soon as it would get wet. It lasted for around a year, so I formed the habit of always using conditioner every time I shower. I don’t think I’ve ever used just shampoo since then.

Do you prefer light or dark jeans? Dark, but I suppose it would be nice to start experimenting with lighter shades as well.

When you listen to music, do you generally sing along, or just listen? It depends if I know the lyrics or I’m feeling the song at the moment. Obviously with my new obsession with BTS I can’t really sing along to entire songs, but I do sing the few English lyrics they have per song, hahaha.

Do you have any of your exes as friends on Facebook? Yeah but she’s been muted for like half a year already, as is the rest of her family. I do have plans to unfriend her entirely; I’m just not sure when I would push through with it, and I already gave Angela permission to log onto my account one of these days to be the one to do the unfriending.

Who was your first love? Do you ever miss that person? Gabie. I miss the friendship sometimes; I don’t think I’ll have a friendship as deep and connected as the one we had, so I will always feel sorry about how that went to waste. But I don’t really think about our relationship anymore as I’m pretty good at blocking off certain memories, so I don’t miss her in that sense.

How many cars are parked at your house right now? Two.

Do you have any Italian ancestry? I highly doubt so. If anything there’s probably a tiny drop Spanish blood in there but that’s the most European I’ll ever get.

Do you prefer water to be ice cold or at room temperature? Like, drinking water? Ice cold, always. I hate warm water.

Has anyone ever told you you’re a control freak? Not to my face, but I know I’m one so I’m sure other people have said that about me at least behind my back.

Do you know anyone who has gone missing? If so, were they ever found? Yes, my friend Mik and one of my aunts. They were both found eventually.

What was the spiciest thing you’ve ever eaten? Eating ghost pepper instant noodles was a pain I would never want to go through again...I threw that shit out after my first forkful, lmao.

Do you need to talk to someone? No, not in particular. In a more general sense I do wanna start gaining more friends though, so I’ve been meaning to expand my circle by creating a new Twitter account just for my BTS dump. In other words, I am a 23 year old with a stan Twitter HAHAHAHA

Is something confusing you at the moment? No, I’m good.

When was the last time you had a real deep chat? Maybe my conversation with Andi a couple of nights back. We were talking about a tricky situation with their ex-friend who turned out to be a real dick when they came out to him a year ago, and they just wanted to get my perspective on how I would handle it.

Who did you last see on webcam? The PR manager for one of our clients, who we all despise because he doesn’t know how to do his job. Thankfully he’s resigning soon so we’re all just waiting for him to leave and finally meet a much more competent replacement.

What’s your best friend’s pet’s name(s)? Angela has two dogs, Hailey and Kennedy. Andi had Apollo, who I wanted to meet so badly but sadly he passed away a week ago at 15.

Have you ever taken a picture while laying in the grass? There are photos of me sitting on grass, but not lying in it. I would imagine that would feel very prickly and uncomfortable.

Who’s your favorite Disney character? Baymax or Flynn Rider.

Have you ever deliberately tried to get someone drunk? I’ve made my friends chug drinks or down shots and it’s happened vice versa, but it was always in good fun and we never made each other harassed from it. It’s just your typical college rambunctiousness, and if anyone felt uncomfortable or iffy then we didn’t hesitate to move on.

When was the last time you used a pay phone and who were you calling? I’ve only ever seen those in my first school, when I was in kindergarten. I never got to use it and they also took them out not long after.

Do you like being kissed on the neck? Yessssssssss

Have you ever had sex with someone you weren’t dating (but had feelings for) in the hopes that they would ask you out later? Nope. I don’t think I would have sex with anyone I wasn’t dating.

What’s the most you would be willing to spend on a good bra? Probably a couple thousand bucks if I thought I looked good in it.

Do you have any of your teachers’ personal cell phone numbers saved in your contacts list? I don’t think so. I never tried getting close with any of them, and I always tried to stay hidden as much as possible. I was just in class to get good grades and pass.

Do you ever stalk peoples’ personal blogs, even if you don’t know them very well? I never really scroll through people’s Tumblrs anymore. That was more of a thing I did in like 2013, but these days going through my dashboard is enough.

What’s one thing about today’s generation that you just can’t stand? Some social media trends done for clout make me revolted, especially when it has anything to do with wasting food. I also hate when they do extreme pranks that I know I wouldn’t find funny if I were ever the victim, like tossing someone’s phone into the ocean.

Be honest: how do you feel about abortion? Pro-choice.

Is there anyone you currently want to reach out to? I would love to catch up with Katreen at some point, but I know we’re at different points in our lives now and it would probably never happen.

What is your favorite piece of art you own? I commissioned my sister to make an artwork of the 2D1N cast, and she did a great job making it! I haven’t gotten to use it or promote it yet, but I will soon. It’s really well-done.

What’s the one thing you apologized for this month? Replying late.

My favorite color is ______? Pastel pink.

I wish I had _____? Longer weekends.

What did you buy today? Nothing – I’d call that a success lmao, I’ve been spending money as if I had a million fucking bucks over the last week. I did have some packages arrive today though: my own copy of 2 Cool 4 Skool (my first physical BTS album!!!!!!); the official poster from their album BE; the Ivy Park sneakers I ordered earlier this month, and an Ivy Park bucket hat Bea had apparently gotten for me as a birthday present.

What has challenged your morals? Vices.

What made you pick up the last book you started reading? I had to read it in preparation for a one-on-one session with my employer’s CEO.

What about your life concerns you the most? Whether a stable future is in the cards for me.

What do you find particularly offensive? Would you say you’re easy or difficult to offend? Probably Filipino-American comedians or influencers who use stereotyping of Filipino accents and habits as a punchline; they do more harm to the culture than good. I can tell you not one Filipino who lives in the Philippines actually finds those funny, and Bretman Rock is probably the only personality who’s able to flaunt the culture in an entertaining and hilarious yet classy way.

When it comes to being offended, I guess it depends on the context. My humor can get pretty dark and low-blowy, but I would have a problem with someone who I know has genuinely problematic views.

What was the last series you finished watching? Do you have any plans to begin another? I think it may had still been Start-Up from last December. I’m not too big on Korean dramas since I find one episode waaaaaaayyyyyyy too long. I don’t think I’ll be starting on anything soon, Korean or otherwise.

What is one way in which you are different from a year ago? What is one way in which you are still the same? I’m single now, for the first time in technically six years. I also think I’m doing better and happier, breakup notwithstanding. OH and I love wasabi now, hahah. As for what’s unchanged, I still like taking surveys and I’m still stuck at home, though the latter’s not really in my control anymore.

If you could learn about anything without the stress of grades or cost, what kind of classes would you take? I’d just go back to UP for the free tuition. We also have the widest range of programs out of any university in the country, so it’s a damn good deal.

Name a song you’ve listened to today? Fly To My Room - BTS

When you were younger, did you have a swing set or a playhouse in your backyard? We didn’t; but one of our relatives that we’d regularly visit did have a playground that I’d use all the time. It’s still there, just very unmaintained since no one uses it anymore.

Is your mall nice? Which one? We have five different malls nearby lol. Mall culture here is on another level.

Do you have a Sonic near you? If so, what’s your favorite drink from there? No. I’m not so sure what they serve there, either. I’m guessing milkshakes?

Will you be voting in the presidential elections next time around? I’ll always exercise my right to vote.

How do you feel about chocolate-covered strawberries? I hate strawberries and I hate fruits, so even if you coat that shit in Nutella and cookie butter and chocolate syrup I still wouldn’t touch it.

Did you ever stop having feelings for someone and then started having those feelings again for them? No.

Do you hate the last guy you had a thing with? I’ve never had a thing with guys.

To whom did you last give the finger? I haven’t had to do that in a while.

What was the last musical instrument played in your presence? My sister’s keyboard.

Do you like sprinkles on your ice cream? Not particularly. They make things look cute, but they never taste like anything tbh so I never saw the point in paying extra just to have them on my desserts.

Honestly, have you ever crashed a party before? Nah. I cringe thinking about that.

Do you know how to do the moon walk? I don’t.

Has anybody ever told you that you have a good singing voice? Never gotten that specific compliment before because I know I don’t have one.

Onion rings or french fries? Onion rings.

Has anybody ever described you as a heart breaker? No.

Has anybody ever told you that you talk too fast? I don’t think so, but I know I have the tendency to do so occasionally, especially while I’m presenting a deck. Once I notice it I make an effort to pace myself.

Who is the best cook that you know? My dad and both my grandmas all deserve that title.

Which meal throughout the day do you skip the most? I literally never have lunch ever.

What’s the largest amount that you can juggle at one time? I can’t juggle.

What was your favorite thing to go on at the playground as a kid? Sandboxes, since I liked the texture; the sandboxes in school were also often empty, which worked well for my introvert self. I find that it’s carried over to today, since I still enjoy touching things like slime and kinetic sand.

Do you know how much you weighed at birth? How much? I think 5 or 6 lbs, I’m not exactly sure but it’s definitely somewhere in that small range.

Which aspect of your daily routine takes the most time? What do you do? Work, for sure. I work a normal 9–6 so that’s already 8 hours out of my day, but I also OT a lot after hours, and I work throughout my lunch break as well so that technically makes it 9 hours. I also like getting up earlier and starting some work before my shift so that I would have less tasks on my plate for the day.

Do you enjoy buying gifts for others, or could you do without this? I LOVE getting people gifts. Food is especially my love language, and I always get food delivery for my friends, family, and my team at work.

What is one thing you are expected to do, if anything? I mean, I have work deadlines tomorrow so there’s that.

How do you tend to view driving? Monotonous or entertaining? I love driving. I don’t think I ever complained about having to do it. It’s calming and relaxing when I’m doing it alone or with a partner; and it can be entertaining with the right set of people.

Do you enjoy talking about music with others? Not always. If I don’t listen to the artist then I can find the conversation quite boring, like if my friends would get into a full-blown discussion about Taylor Swift.

Is acting something you enjoy? No. It wouldn’t even be something I’d be interested in doing.

When do you feel most accomplished? Finishing a work day with no tasks left behind.

Do you think Manwich is amazing or completely gross? Idk what that is.

How many best friends do you have? Two.

Are you a smoker, drinker, pothead or none of the above? I drink sometimes. I also kinda smoke, I guess.

If you have your ears pierced, when did you get them pierced? My mom had them pierced when I was a month old.

Do you own any exercise machines? My mom has this rowing equipment thingy. I don’t have any of my own, though.

On Facebook, do you have people listed as your siblings who aren’t really your siblings? No.

Have you ever drawn or painted a self-portrait? I remember having to draw one as a school assignment, but I’m pretty sure I half-assed that because I couldn’t care less for art class back then.

Who was your last voicemail from? We don’t have voicemails.

Have you ever been falsely accused of something serious? I don’t think so. That’s the sort of situation that would stick out in my memory if ever.

Did you ever set up a lemonade stand when you were a kid? No, not a thing here.

When was the last time you spoke to someone in a different language? Around an hour ago when I went downstairs and chatted with my sister briefly.

Have you ever received an anonymous gift? Nope.

Have you ever camped out somewhere for an event the next day? Nope but I definitely still wouldn’t be opposed to doing that haha.

When were you the saddest in your life? 2016 was fucking miserable. < I’d have to agree. 2017 was also awful.

Do you know anyone, personally, who is in an abusive relationship? Are you? I used to know one but she got out of it. In a sense, I suppose I also was in one.

If you have siblings, have they moved out or do they still live with you? Well they’re younger, so they definitely still live here, with our parents. I’m the first one expected to move out, but I’m taking my time.

Have you ever gotten searched by the cops? No.

Do you like fried rice? Of course. I like any kind of rice.

What was the last thing you drank? Water.

#survey #surveys

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shebeafancyflapjack · 4 years

Text

First Strike

One last mini-fic before it’s back to work for me. Inspired by something @cecret-with-c said months ago about if Chris revealing himself had been more intense. It’s been a while since I wrote some whump as well.

What if Chris had done more than punch Eleanor in the face? (Sort of a sequel to Let Me In).

Once again, Michael is grateful that he was given a human suit with such long legs to help him sprint in such far strides. He’s had to do more running than he ever expected to do in the past couple of years and the only time he was ever ‘caught’ was when he willingly gave himself up, not that he counts that time as a loss.

He races across the town, ignoring the heads of the Janet babies who turn in his direction out of vague, programmed curiosity, making his way towards the most dull-looking beige bungalow on the corner. It’s the house of the grandmother no kid ever wanted to visit because all she did was sit in her armchair and forbid laughter while she ranted about the noisy ‘illegals’ living next door.

The door is closed. From the outside, there’s no obvious sign of distress.

And of course, every resident’s home is made to be sound-proof in the interest of privacy (a feature Tahani pushed on when Janet revealed the ‘surveillance’ feature of Michael’s previous experiment. They weren’t happy about that). It explains why the others are all going about town as normal despite being close enough to hear any sort of ruckus.

He braces himself before rushing forward, finding the door unlocked as he turns the handle.

“Eleanor?” He calls, immediately.

What awaits him inside is as bad as he predicted, furniture turned aside, a few smashed vases and torn, hideous flowery wallpaper. But at least nothing is on fire. Michael feels that’s always a plus to be counted in most situations.

He stumbles in, almost tripping over the leg of an upturned side-table.

“Shirt...Eleanor?!” Michael tries again, looking down the hall, the house seeming like a small bull just charged through the place.

“I’m here.”

He follows the dejected voice to the living room, finding her sat on the one half that remains of broken sofa. The tiny bit of relief he feels at first to see her in once piece shatters when she raises her head up from her hands.

An uneven pattern of swollen bruises decorate her face, tearful eyes shining between the puffy lids, blood still dripping from a cut on her lip and to the side of her left eyebrow. There’s marks on her throat, her hands and where her jacket has been torn on her arm as well.

One would think Michael had seen enough beaten up humans in his existence for it to no longer affect him, but the sight of Eleanor in this state cuts deep.

“Shirt...”

She braves the smallest smile; “You should see the other guy.” She then winces, possibly regretting speaking.

“Linda?!” He still can’t believe it. It doesn’t make sense!

He’d been leaving his office to head over to Tahani’s when he’d bumped into a furious Janet, frog-marching a pissed off looking Linda in her grip. Before Michael could ask what the fork she was doing, Janet simply ordered him to get over to Linda’s house, for no other reason than ‘Eleanor is there’. He didn’t need more than that.

It was only after he’d left he smelled the blood on Linda’s hands. Eleanor’s blood. The same that is sprinkled around the room in its destruction and still leaking from her fresh wounds.

“Turns out Linda’s not as boring as we thought.” Eleanor scoffs, raising one of her blackened hands and cringing in further pain; “Fork...”

He puts aside the issue of Linda for a moment as he goes to kneel in front of her.

“Here...” He gently takes her wrists, cradling what looks to be an almost crushed set of fingers, delicately; “It’s okay...”

He snaps his fingers.

Eleanor hisses again, in discomfort more than pain this time, as the bones reset and fuse, her cuts seal up and the bruising settles down, hopefully taking the pain away with it. She lets out a deep sigh, now simply looking pained with exhaustion.

“Thanks, bud...”

He stays kneeling before her, eyes full of concern.

“What happened?” He asks, carefully; “Why didn’t Janet do that?”

Eleanor shakes her head, “Y’know what? It’s crazy. I don’t even remember...I just came here, wanting to try again with Linda, see if I could have a talk and understand her...For a few minutes she was just quiet, sitting and sucking on her mints while I did all the talking...And then out of nowhere...she got up and...”

She clenches her fingers on her lap, clenching her jaw to the point Michael hears her teeth grind.

“Take your time.” He tells her; “What did she do?”

“Not she...He.” Eleanor smirks again, annoyed; “Suddenly Linda was speaking in a guy’s voice...Calling me an annoying little bench, raging at me about how he got so sick of having to ‘play nice’ around me, and put up with me, when all he wanted to do whenever I opened my mouth was...Well. You saw for yourself.”

Michael takes a breath. He saw the result. He dreads to imagine what actions the clearly-not-human took to leave Eleanor looking like that.

“I just kinda blacked out, I guess. At first it was almost funny...this little old woman picking her chair up and throwing it at the radio, that was kinda neat. Then he started throwing things at me and I wasn’t ready to get out the way. And then, when I tried to call for Janet...his hands were on me and...”

It might be more terrifying than the scene he walked in on, to see Eleanor Shellstrop this shaken and struggling to form a sentence.

He flips the coffee table back upright and slides it close so he can sit and take Eleanor’s healed hands in his. He cages them safely in his own, rubbing them warm.

She laughs again, tears spilling; “Fork, Michael....I dunno what’s wrong with me!”

“You just took ten rounds from a demon, no one is going to judge you for not being yourself.” At least, that’s what he’s assuming. If Linda isn’t a human then angel is also very improbable, which leaves one last option.

“I’ve dealt with ashholes on Earth trying to cup a feel when I wasn’t interested and I had no trouble handling myself or knowing how to get help. But this...” She trembles in his grip; “I was so....frozen. Like I couldn’t do anything! It was only when I thought he was gonna throw me through the window, I managed to call for Janet. She did offer to fix...” Eleanor gestures to her face; “But I just told her to get that motherforker out and somewhere secure...And I asked for you.”

She...wanted him? That causes a selfish little ball of light to glow inside of him, that he was the first one she wanted, out of the others.

Then he reminds himself that he’s the only one out of them with magic to heal.

“You said this guy talked about having to put up with you before?”

She nods; “Yeah, I can’t remember if he was in those memories I saw...He might have been at that bar in Canada, I don’t remember. Might be the concussion.”

“Ah...I think I know who Linda might be underneath. I...put you with a lot of demons who posed as your fake soul mate and...one of them kept coming to me with a lot of complaints by the end because he was sick of it. It was only because he had the most handsome skin suit out of them all, he claimed I was being objectifying.” Michael waves off that bit; “His name was Chris.”

If he was working for Shawn to infiltrate them, posing as one of the humans, did he agree to it purely for the chance to finally get to physically hurt Eleanor like he always begged Michael permission for? He feels sick at the idea that he contributed to this in a way.

“Well I’m glad Chrissy got it out of his system, now I know how guys really feel after having to put up with me.” Eleanor lightly jokes.

“No guy who’s been close to you would ever dream of hurting you like this.” He says that, earnestly.

Even before he changed sides, no matter how crazy Eleanor drove him, no matter how often she foiled his designs, he never wished physical hurt on her. Just to make her miserable by pranks and mind games. Nothing like this.

This was the last thing he ever wanted.

“I’m so sorry, Eleanor.” He brings one of her hands to his lips, “This is my fault.”

“No it’s not, dude.” She says, tired; “I should’ve waited for you to be done at Tahani’s before we checked on Linda...We agreed to do these things together...”

Damn, will he and Janet have to chaperone all the humans now until this is over, in case something else threatens them?

“I’m just pissed that we didn’t see through Linda’s whole boring schtick. Tahani even said something was up with her but I ignored it.” She groans and rubs her head.

“Does it still hurt?” Michael frowns. It shouldn’t do, if he did it right.

Eleanor shakes her head; “No...Not from the fight, just...all of this. I was so sure I could handle it but this...I wasn’t ready for...”

“Blame me. You wouldn’t be in this position if I hadn’t had that break down at the start.” Michael tells her, feeling twisted with guilt.

“You didn’t make me choose to take this on, Michael. Stop it. None of this is on you...I’m just glad you’re here now.”

“Of course.” He gets to his feet and offers her his hand; “C’mon. I think we better call Shawn and tell him we’ve got something of his. And the Judge too while we’re at it.”

Eleanor looks up at him and gives a smile, then a nod, before taking his hand and standing up.

They’re half-way to the door when there’s a sudden tug on his hand.

Michael turns, frowning, seeing Eleanor standing motionless behind him. Her fingers are gripping his with such ferocity, his fingers would probably crunch if he was human, while her shoulders tremble, the smallest wince of panic on her face.

“What is it?”

Her bottom lip wobbles, her eyes on the ajar pink door; “I...I dunno, I just...I d-don’t wanna go there yet.”

“Eleanor, he’s restrained. Janet’s way stronger than any demon, remember? And I wouldn’t let him touch you agai-.”

“I know that, dude, all right?!” She raises her volume, frustrated; “I don’t need your forking rational argument - I know that he’s all chained up and I’m safe and, whatever, because I’m a sexy badash who doesn’t get scared of anything so, fork you, this isn’t because I’m scared because I’m not! I’m fine! You’re the one who’s scared, I’m just protecting you, got it?! So lay the fork-.”

Once Michael has pulled her into his arms, she shuts up. It’s hard for her to keep babbling once her face is smothered into his chest. He waits for the resistance, to be shoved back, but nothing comes. Instead she stills, before her knees buckle, and her arms slip around his middle to cling to him. He places one hand on her neck and the other on the top of her head, stroking gently.

He just holds her tight for a moment, closing his eyes to stop his senses from seeing all the clear signs in the mess around them of what that deckhead did to her. How there’s a dent on the wall from where she was clearly thrown, or how that particular drop of blood stained on the carpet must have come from a blow to her mouth.

“Michael...Bit too tight, bud, you just fixed these ribs...” Eleanor sniffs against him.

“Sorry, sorry.” He loosens a little, still keeping her close, for as long as she clings to him. He pulls back after another minute to touch her face, searching for those green-blue eyes; “Listen. I know you, remember? No one’s aware of what a badash bench you are more than me, okay? But I also know you’re still human...And humans break, that’s what you guys do, it’s what makes you so amazing. That you can be so spunky even when you’re so stupidly fragile.”

And the more vulnerable they are, such as the small woman in his arms, the more courage they seem to hold to compensate.

“I know how often you’ve wanted to break down when things got tough but you always had to put up a front to save face. You don’t have to do that with me, remember?” He whispers, softly, his thumb brushing a tear from her face; “You were there for me when I collapsed like a Tahani being told she has to fly economy. You trust me to be still be there for you if you do the same right?”

She sniffs again, nodding.

“It’s not just you, bud. God can’t be seen weeping, can she?” She japes.

With a wave of his hand, the blinds close and the door shuts.

“God can have some privacy. You’ve earned it.” Michael smiles at her and brings her back in again, letting her curl into him, one of her hands grabbing at his jacket; “Take as long as you need. I’m sure Janet can have fun with Chris while he waits for us. Make him sweat. We’ll go when you’re ready.”

Perhaps he’ll ask Janet to have some ‘time alone’ in a quiet room with Chris, even after they’ve called Shawn and the Judge. He might not be Chris’ boss anymore but he still feels the need to offer some ‘managerial feedback’. Which is a euphemism, by the way, he plans on eviscerating the forknut.

He hears the smallest hum.

“Thanks, bud. I dunno what I’d do without you.” Eleanor whispers, still shaky, clinging onto him; “We should’ve known they’d be too dumb to use something like a Michael-suit and instead they pull a stunt like this that gives them away. Forking idiots.”

He chuckles with her, resting his cheek on her head as he keeps her close.

“They’re no match for us. Say it with me...We’ve got this.”

“That’s my line.”

“Our line.” He jostles her a little, delighted by the sound of her laughter, more so when she smiles up at him, that fire slowly starting to ignite in her eyes again.

Michael moves a strand of her hair away before planting a kiss on her forehead. Only fair, as she kissed his cheek last time, and it had felt...oddly pleasant.

She sighs, “Fine. We’ve got this.”

He looks down at her, feeling ready to burst with admiration. There she is. Eleanor Shellstrop. Holding it together after taking a pummelling from an immortal being.

Unstoppable, as always.

Better luck next time, Shawn, old pal. But try to lay a finger his humans again and there will be Here to pay.

#tgp fanfic #michael x eleanor #hellstrop #whump #hurt/comfort

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chappedandfadedvds · 4 years

Text

Oct 30th, Friday 17:45

Time never had passed as slowly, it felt like. Okay that obviously was an exaggeration, but it didn’t feel any less true at the moment, that Jens watched the digital clock of the reciever change from 44 to 45.

„So just Lucas is missing now, right?“ Zoë asked into the group as they finisched up, pushing all the furniture out of the way. The floor was scattered with pillows and blankets arranged in some sorry excuses of four circles. Sprinkled in between them, pens, paper and bowls full of all kind of sweets and crisps. The actual food was waiting in the kitchen for them, ready to be stacked on big plates. Plus the bottles of alcohol cooling in the fridge.

„Seems like it. Amber, did he text you yet?“ Yasmina said, looking over to the blond, who just had helped Aaron carry out the couch table into Milan’s room.

„I can check again, but the last thing I got, was his message after school to tell me, he’d swing by his house and bring some beer later.“ She replied, taking out the phone from her cardigan’s pocket. She didn’t had to search though, as just in that moment the door bell rang.

„I’m gonna get it.“ Jens proclaimend, already on his feet and leaving the living room, checking the flat’s hallway, it seemed, he was on his own. Good, because before he went straight to open the door, he glanced at himself in the mirror, trying to get the last strands of his hair into a position he thought looked alright on him. Taking a deep breath, he put his right hand on the door handle and turned the knob. He was greeted with Lucas’s smiling, puffing air, a woolen hat pulled down to almost his brows. His cheeks held a faint red, that Jens found endearing.

„Hi.“

„Hi.“ Jens reprocrated just as awkward as they stood in the door way staring at each other. The déjà vu of their instagram chat hit him instantly. Not that it made this situation any better.

„You look good, should I have come dressed up?“ Jens was as always confused, when Lucas said anything that sounded remotely flirtatious. He wasn’t sure how to handle the dutch boy. This was so far out of his comfort zone. Usually it was on him to be the active part and take the first step with girls.

„I am literally wearing a hoodie and jeans, dude.“

„Doesn’t mean you don’t look great in it.“ Lucas doubled down on it. Shit, was he blushing? Shit, were they both blushing?

„Is that Lucas, or what?“ Zoë shouted from the living room, and it dawned on Jens, that he should have let the boy step into the flat.

„Fuck, sorry, eh, come in.“ Jens stepped aside a little, to make room for the missing guest to enter.

„I would be just as fine leaving again, if you came with me. I know this really nice bus stop half an hour away, that has an awfully similar name to this one here. It’s great, stunning even. It has a supermarket close by, and lot’s of houses and...”, he paused contemplating, “...that’s really it, I’m afraid. But I fortunately went to the wrong stop, so I may show you my detour as your own personal guide.“

If Jens already wouldn’t be afraid that he was about to fall for this boy, it certainly was settled now, as he had trouble taking his eyes of the smirking lips in front of him. He was so close to grab his jacket and close the damn door behind them on their way out.

„Jens?“ It echoed through the staircase, as now Milan made sure that the whole house must have heard his name.

„Yes, we are coming, let that poor guy arrive in peace.“ Jens turned his head away briefly and yelled, before looking back at Lucas.

„Sorry, another time maybe?“ He tried to hide his disappointment. Jens felt like he wasted one of the rare chances of getting somewhere in this.

„Yeah, that’s propably for the best anyway. It is fucking freezing outside. A cosy evening in sounds great actually. And I don’t think the bus stop will wander off on it’s own.“ Lucas said, as if he meant to promise it to Jens. Another time then. For now he helped to take the heavy bag filled with bottles of beer from him, as Lucas took off his jacket, throwing it onto the ton of coats on the hangers.

„Evening!“ He greeted joyfully, as he stepped into the door to the living room, in which everyone by now had settled.

„I am super sorry, guys. I actually took a wrong bus to a wrong bus stop and that cost me at least 40 minutes. Also my phone kinda died on me, could I charge it somewhere?“ He explained his late arrival and handed the phone to Aaron, who had offered to connect it to a charger by the bookshelf.

„Eh, right, so to everyone who hasn’t met me yet, Im Lucas from the Netherlands. Hi! I’m really happy that I could join you today. Thank you so much for the invitation. Jens took the beer. Not sure if it was the wrong decision to leave him alone with the alcohol though, but now it’s too late.“ There wasn’t really any ice to break between them, but a little joke did seem to be a good choice, considering having 11 people stare straight up at the new boy. Most he already knew from school, but not all of them.

„I like him.“ Milan declared first and got up from his spot, to walk over and pull him into a hug.

„You aren’t gay by any chance?“ He asked confidently, leaning into the dutch boy, who didn’t quite moved away, but certainly looked to do so any second now.

„Milan! Lucas is here for one minute and already probably regrets having come in the first place, let him actually get to know all of us first. Poor Robbe last year and now this guy. Also, underage. Shame on you.“ Jens passed Lucas to blow a kiss on Milan’s cheek and pull him away by his hand. He went to join Sander and Robbe on the other end of the room, not before briefly turning around, to wink at Lucas. In return Jens was greeted with Lucas mouthing back in silence:

Thank you.

To be honest, he just really didn’t like another guy making advances on Lucas. Not that he was actually sure that the dutch boy was really into guys, but he feared he wouldn’t have wanted a girl for Lucas either.

„Well, I’m Senne. And no worries, I’m definitely not gonna make a move on you, though with Milan around you should get used to it. I’m Zoë’s boyfriend by the way.“ He introduced himself first before Zoë next to him went on to take over. „Well the guys from school you are familiar with. And Milan you just met. Eh, the boy next to Robbe is Sander. Robbe’s boyfriend.“

„Oh him, I know. We are in on a two-day-deep conversation about music. Or should I say argument.“ Lucas interrupted while sending a salute over to Sander. Much to everyone’s surprise. Well Robbe seemed to have known, but to Jens that was news. All they had exchanged where two emberrasing ‘hellos’.

„Okay, great, than that just leaves Noor, who sits next to them. Robbe’s ex-girllfriend.“ Zoë added, as if that wasn’t a wierd thing to say, and then gestured him to join Senne and her. „You are on our team.“ She explained and pushed a bowl aside so Lucas had space to fit somewhere. This room was most definitely too small to host 13 people.

„Welcome, welcome!“ Milan began, standing up and doing a little bow in greeting. The born entertainer, as he then presented the room with a white board, listing all the teams on it, as well as some space to count points.

Robbe, Sander, Jens.

Zoe, Senne, Lucas.

Amber, Aaron, Yasmina

Noor, Moyo, Luca

„So, if you haven’t decided on a team name yet, you have until half past six. Roughly 30 minutes starting now. Til then, you can also grab something to eat and drink from the kitchen. We have four categories to complete, but we will have a break after the second. Buffet open and don’t get too drunk too early, I guess.“

And off the teens went.

They lost that night.

Not that they ever had a chance of winning, with Jens and Robbe being absolutely useless to Sander. Who tried his hardest to make up for it on his own, while the two boys giggled and joked at almost every question they got, not having the slightest clue what to answer.

They ranked dead last, at a solid 41 out of 100 points.

It took Robbe an outright minute of pecking kisses all over Sander’s face to get his boyfriend back into a better mood. Still Sander sat cross-legged hung up in a deep sulk, yet smirking lightly at their devestating failure written across the white board. Jens didn’t mind their loss at all, as he watched Lucas squeak in his pure childish excitment over the annoucement of his team’s win. 94 points. Zoe, Senne and him jumping up and down in a group hug, celebrating, even though all they had won was a ‘Milan is the best’ coffee mug.

#week 1 #wtfock #skam #vds #jens stoffels #lucas van der heijden #chapped and faded #the group #sobbe #and milan my king

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have-each-others-six · 5 years

Text

face to the wind, eyes to the sun (pt. five)

part one

part two

part three

part four

so today is the day.

october 13th.

the sad day.

here’s some angst to exacerbate your sadness.

***

two.

Anne looks up at the grey sky as they walk through the park on the way back home.

The snow has started to fall in earnest now, wet, heavy flakes falling down from above.

It likely won’t last. In London, snow never really stays, it typically melts within the day.

Anne remembers when she was very little, at her family castle near Kent, there was always at least one huge snowfall a year. She’d sneak outside after dark with her brother and sister, and together all three of them would play games in the snow, the vast grounds lit in sparkling silver by the moonlight.

She can remember seeing her older sister Mary, walking just ahead of her, raising a finger to her lips to signal that they should keep quiet as they went inside, because their father was throwing a party. Giggling when they slipped past the open door to the drawing room, filled with extravagant ladies and gentlemen. Carrying an exhausted George and brushing the snow from his hair.

She smiles at the memory, but another one, unbidden, floats up from some dark recesses of Anne’s mind, and she can see Mary’s face, twisted with disgust and shame as she’s roughly shoved into a kneeling position. The executioner adjusts his grip on his sword, and she can hear his gloves rubbing against the leather handle.

It’s like she’s back there, kneeling on the scaffold, trying not to let her fear show even as her heart pounds in her chest, her prayer book clenched in her fists, the slight breeze blowing her hair into her face.

She remembers everyone claiming she had slept with George, but that wasn’t true, it wasn’t true, and disgust curdled in her gut at the mere thought of it, so why did everyone believe it so easily?

She can feel her breathing getting shallower and her eyes getting glassy, both telltale signs that she’s disappearing into a panic attack, but at this point she doesn’t know how to save herself.

Adrenaline spikes in her body, rushing through her veins and causing her heart to race while her limbs lose feeling.

As the demons in her subconscious get closer and she falls further and further away from reality, Anne becomes aware of someone holding her hand.

“I need you to breathe for me. In and out, okay?”

The voice is faint, and Anne can barely hear it from the numbness she’s trapped in, but she tries to comply anyway.

“Easy, right? In and out. Everything’s all right, Anne. You’re safe.”

You’re safe.

Her vision slowly clears, but her heart is still beating at approximately eighty million times its normal rate and she’s numb all over.

She registers that she’s sitting on a bench on the edge of the park. All of the queens are watching her with concerned looks on their faces, giving her a bit of space so she doesn’t feel crowded by all of them at once.

“How bad is it, scale of 1 to 10?” the voice that had brought Anne back asks.

“6,” Anne answers quietly.

“She’s coming out of it,” the voice says, and when Anne looks to her left, it’s Parr who’s talking, resting a gentle, steadying hand on her knee.

Fuck, she curses internally. Anne tries not to let anyone see her panic attacks. She knows that in her old life, her symptoms would have gotten her locked away for good, or even executed.

And even though it’s been 500 years and things have certainly changed, a part of her still feels deeply flawed whenever she has a flashback in public. An even smaller part wonders if maybe the other queens will abandon her if she shows them all of her darkest moments.

She remembers one night at a hole-in-the-wall bar after a show, when she’d had to sprint out the side door after it got too loud and sweaty and cramped.

Jane had found her after a while, sitting against the wall of the alley next to the dumpster with smeared mascara.

“What are you doing here?” Anne had asked softly, feeling pathetic and tiny when she looked up at the blonde woman.

“I noticed you weren’t at the table anymore,” Jane said gently, sitting down next to Anne on the sticky concrete and pushing her hair out of her face. “It wasn’t hard to guess where you’d gone.”

“I’m sorry, I know, I’m sorry, I just couldn’t-”

“Anne, sweetheart, slow down,” Jane had said, effectively cutting off Anne’s rambling apology. “You don’t have to apologize, darling. You should never have to apologize for recognizing when you need to remove yourself from a situation.”

They’d gone back inside after a while. Jane had given Anne a pack of tissues and sat next to her all night, keeping a grounding arm around her shoulder.

Anne never talked to her about it again. Jane clearly wanted her to, and had even tried bringing it up to her a few times, but every time Anne just changed the subject.

Hiding her true feelings has been a survival strategy all of her life. If she stops now, the people closest to her might abandon her when she needs them most.

Realizing this, she stands up abruptly, jolting out of Cathy’s space.

“We should get home,” she announces, fighting to keep her voice steady. “Come on, slowpokes.”

“Are you sure you’re all right, love?” Jane asks, and Anne loves Jane with all her heart but that is a very stupid question to ask right now.

She’s dying in twelve hours and something minutes (Cathy could probably tell her the exact number, but knowing that won’t really help anything). She’s definitely not all right.

But she nods anyway, forcing a grin. “I’m fine. Geez, Janey, don’t smother me.” She groans dramatically for effect, walking forwards with her back to the group so that they won’t see her bite her lip to keep from crying.

Her bloody animal crackers are still in her pocket for some reason, so she eats handfuls of those as she walks.

She hears quick footsteps behind her, and then Katherine’s there, falling into step with her.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Anne says, knowing her tone’s too harsh even as she starts talking. “I don’t know if I even can.”

“I wasn’t going to ask you to,” Kat replies gently. “I just wanted to walk with you.”

They fall into silence after that, and Anne knows the other queens are following a bit further back, but she’s glad they aren’t trying to interrupt the quiet.

The branches overhead form a sort of vaulted ceiling, a breeze coming through every few minutes and shaking down a dusting of snow.

“It kind of looks like we’re getting cocaine dumped on us,” Anne jokes, ruining the stillness of the moment.

It was purposeful, though. If she was left alone in the silence, she might have another panic attack, and two of those so close together might leave her spent and vulnerable.

It was better to sabotage your own life before anyone or anything else could do it for you.

Katherine nudges Anne with her shoulder. “Penny for your thoughts,” she says, and she looks so young in her multicolored scarf and pink hat, but Anne thinks her little cousin might be the smartest out of all of them.

“They’re not worth that much, Kitty,” Anne says softly, kicking up some old leaves into the gutter, where the slushy snow has started to pile up.

“Well, they are to me,” Katherine responds, making eye contact with Anne so she can tell she means it. “What’s on your mind?”

“Just… considering some things, that’s all,” Anne replies vaguely, shoving her hands in her pockets. She should’ve brought gloves.

“I think we all are. Today’s certainly a day for considering things.”

Anne appreciates that she doesn’t interrogate her about her feelings, like some of the others might’ve done.

“Do you believe in an afterlife?” she asks, looking determinedly at the sky and not at Kat next to her, trying not to cry. “Maybe not heaven or hell, but something? Like, was there one when you died the first time?”

“I want there to be one,” Katherine says, running her mittened hand over the slats in a fence as she walks next to Anne. “I don’t want to say goodbye to any of you tonight, and I can’t lose-” Her voice breaks before completing the sentence, but Anne knows she’s talking about Jane. Katherine takes a shaky breath and continues. “But no matter how much I want there to be an afterlife, believing in it is a different story entirely. I don’t remember anything happening after the first time I died, so why should something happen now?”

Anne nods, and then she laughs, causing Katherine to look confused and a little hurt, so she rushes to amend it.

“Sorry, it’s just- you put it in words. Exactly. That’s how I feel too. A few more fucks sprinkled in there, maybe, but you just somehow vocalized what I’m feeling right now. Thank you, Kitty.”

“You’re welcome, Annie,” Katherine says, smiling.

They make easy conversation for the rest of the walk, the rest of the queens catching up to them for the last few blocks. Jane looks up every so often at Anne, clearly still worried, and Anne tries to be as jovial as possible to alleviate her concern.

The effort is tiring, though, so she heads straight to her bedroom when they get back to the flat and shuts the door behind her, sinking to the floor and sitting with her back to the wood.

At that exact moment, though, pulling her knees up to her chest to make herself smaller, Anne sees blood on her hand.

It’s a small cut, really. She probably got it in her rush to take her shoes off, or might’ve scraped her hand against something accidentally.

But the sight of blood sends her plunging into memories, and her scar throbs, and for the second time that day Anne Boleyn is left helpless, completely at the mercy of her past.

Some time later, the door opens, but it’s not Kitty this time.

It’s Jane.

“Hey, love,” she says, coming over to the bed, where Anne had moved once she realized she was slipping into an anxiety attack.

“Hi,” Anne replies, and it takes an immense amount of effort to get the word out. She doesn’t turn away from the wall.

“You don’t have to talk if that’s too much. I just wanted to check up on you,” Jane explains softly. “I brought you some water, it’s here on your nightstand when you want it.”

Anne nods. “Thank you,” she whispers, her voice near-silent.

“The rest of them are very worried about you, darling. Can I tell them they can come up?” Jane asks. “They just want to know that you’re all right.”

Anne gives another small nod, feeling guilt at having worried them over something so trivial.

The door closes, then opens, then closes again, and Anne can hear the shuffling sounds that mean someone’s sat down on the rug.

“1 to 10?”

Anne recognizes Cathy’s voice and hesitates, but chooses to be truthful.

“8. Maybe 9.”

“Oh, Anne,” Cathy murmurs.

“I’ve had worse,” Anne responds, in a hurry to ease Parr’s mind. It’s true. Their first week of reincarnation, she didn’t leave her room, constantly trapped in a state of complete terror.

“Just because you’ve gone through something worse than this doesn’t mean that this doesn’t matter,” Cathy states firmly.

The door opens again, and light footsteps enter into the room.

Still curled up and facing the wall, she hears the bedsprings creak as Jane sits down on the edge of the bed.

“Is this okay?” she asks quietly, and in her peripheral vision Anne can see Jane reach out and lightly rest a hand on her back, making sure that Anne can track her movements and pull away if she needs to.

“Yes,” Anne whispers, feeling the tension in her shoulders relax at the contact.

Cathy sits there for a few more minutes before moving to stand up and walk away, and Anne whimpers before she’s even aware that she’s doing it.

“Please don’t leave,” she says in a small voice as she finally turns to look at Cathy, hating herself for how cowardly she sounds.

Jane hears her first, and because Jane is Jane, and because at this point she probably knows Anne better than anyone else alive, she lays down on the bed next to her and pulls Anne close, making sure not to grip her too tightly.

It’s exactly what Anne needs. She can feel herself melting into the hug, clinging to Jane like she’s about to get swept away in a flood. Cathy lays on the other side of her, so Anne is sandwiched between two of her best friends as she finally lets herself break.

She starts crying, whispering “please don’t leave” over and over again, and she feels absolutely pathetic but Cathy’s still there, rubbing a hand up and down her back and telling her to breathe.

“I won’t leave, I promise you, Anne,” she replies softly. “I won’t ever leave, don’t worry. None of us will.”

“But you will,” Anne protests, sitting up, panic overtaking her again. “You’re leaving me tonight, and so are you-”-she looks at Jane-“and so is everyone else, and I don’t know what I’m going to-” She breaks off, afraid of revealing too much, but Cathy’s looking at her with some sort of understanding in her eyes.

Anne breathes in, and breathes out, and decides something.

A survival strategy doesn’t really matter if you’re going to die anyway.

“I’m scared,” she says honestly, letting the tears she’s been holding in for so long finally fall.

Catherine nods, giving her a smile laced with worry. “I am too,” she replies softly.

It gets quiet again, but then there’s a light knock on the door and Katherine comes in.

“Are you okay, Annie?” she asks, trembling a little bit as she stands in the doorway.

Anne shifts her position on the bed so Kitty can join them, gesturing for her to come closer, because she knows that Katherine does best when she’s got some sort of grounding contact in these situations. So does Anne, honestly.

She never gives an answer to Katherine’s question, and neither does Parr or Jane, because the response is fairly obvious.

They sit together on Anne’s bed, two-thirds of Henry’s wives, trying not to fall apart.

#six #six the musical #six the musical fanfic #today is gonna hurt like a motherfucker #they're all leaving #face to the wind eyes to the sun #i'm just sad #but also happy for them #but also sad

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tic-of-the-tac · 5 years

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The Ultimate In-Depth Analysis of Carlton Burke from the FNAF Novels (PART ONE)

(This took me a really long time to make, so I hope you enjoy it! I was inspired to write this by sn0ji’s in-depth John analysis post, so thanks, sn0ji! Also, I do discuss POTENTIAL TRIGGERS in this, including, but not necessarily limited to, SEXUAL ASSAULT and MANY FORMS OF VIOLENCE, so read at your own risk. And I know what you’re thinking: Cara, what on earth does Carlton have anything to do with sexual assault? Well, prepare to have your mind blown, and not just based on that fact, because I go into SO much detail in this essay and I mention little events and details from the books that NO ONE has EVER talked about before. It’s in so much detail that I had to make a Part 2 for it, so be sure to check that out! So sit back, relax, and enjoy my in-depth analysis of Carlton Burke!)

People know Carlton for his most obvious character trait: his humor. This is the trait that either makes you love him on at least his surface level or overlook him completely. The first group LOVES his humor. It is their favorite thing about him. While most will just like him for the jokes, some people in this group will even dive deeper into his personality and appreciate him even more. (I’m in this group.) The second group chooses to overlook Carlton because his sense of humor and surface-level personality can often come off as immature. However, calling Carlton immature based on these facts alone is completely ignoring his entire character ark and deeper personality which motivates him to put the safety and happiness of others before himself.

In The Silver Eyes, people will notice his humor, but they won’t notice the other subtle details of his personality that Kira and Scott took the time to mention throughout the book. The first action he is described as doing when Charlie enters the diner is thinking of his words carefully before he speaks them. That is not an easy task for most people, and it takes a level of maturity that is often overlooked to avoid acting on impulse. Also, when the boys split up from the girls (and John) after visiting Freddy’s on the second night, Carlton is the one that looks back at the girls, smiles at them genuinely, and waves over his shoulder. This moment is probably one of the most overlooked small moments in the book series, but it is probably one of my favorites, and it took me a couple rereads to catch. It shows that Carlton is a genuine and sweet person who will go out of his way to be friendly to others and make them smile. While people may see his prank-pulling as ignorance to other people’s emotions, it is quite the opposite. Carlton has shown that when it is time to be serious, he is VERY serious. His speech about Michael during the ceremony is super emotional and a sweet testament to his childhood best friend. However, he also sprinkled in some humor not because he is constantly a jokester, but because he doesn’t want to make people more upset than they already are given the tragic circumstances. He is trying to make them feel better. The number one motivation that pushes him forward in life is making people smile and laugh, which in turn is making them happier than they are. (I can honestly relate to that on a personal level because this is the one thing that keeps me going too, which is why I appreciate and adore his character so much.) The pranks he pulls make him happy, and he is hoping to make people laugh by doing them. He does not have ill intentions by telling jokes and pulling pranks. His humor allows him to push through his grief as well as help others push through theirs, which is very honorable and admirable for him to do. It is not immature of him at all. He also tends to use humor when he is terrified, in attempts to calm himself. He’s not just saying jokes for the heck of it, he’s hoping to make the best out of any dangerous or scary situation. (I relate to that too, as I tend to crack more jokes when I am nervous.) It may not be the brightest idea to crack jokes in front of someone who could literally kill him with the tap of a finger, but he is doing what his brain has trained himself to do his entire life when dealing with a bad situation. Not to mention he has a severe concussion (I know that the book says that it’s mild but let’s get real here, being unconscious for HOURS is a REALLY bad sign), so he’s not thinking clearly. He’s acting on impulse because his brain is physically not working properly. Anything that he says from Chapter 9 onward is not an entirely accurate representation of his overall character. It does, however, give us a good insight into how he deals with physical pain and the effect his pain may have on others. He keeps telling people that he’s fine even though he’s CLEARLY NOT FINE, and he constantly apologizes for the way he is acting even though it is NOT HIS FAULT. Even through pain and terror his genuineness shines through. Also, even though he is not thinking clearly, he is able to focus his anger and pain to stand up to the person that killed his best friend, nearly killed him, and is still threatening him and his friends. That is very courageous of him and it is an action worthy of audience applause. He doesn’t let his anger and pain out on his friends, but he is not afraid to show it either, which shows a sense of control in his life, even when he is not thinking clearly. Having this control shows maturity. In The Silver Eyes alone, Carlton proves that there is more to him than meets the eye.

Carlton is not in The Twisted Ones, but there is something worth mentioning about what he is doing during the events of the book. He is studying acting in New York City. Coming from someone who also wants to study acting in New York City, I know that you cannot be some ordinary idiot to get into a college in NYC. It takes a lot of time and effort to apply, and to get into many NYC acting colleges, you need to be smart as well as good at acting. Carlton got into a college in NY, showing that he’s no idiot and he is willing to put in time and effort to achieve what he wants. Not to mention, during all of this, he is dealing with the grief of his parents separating a lot better than most people. (He certainly handled it better than I did when my parents got divorced.) These actions are very mature of him, showing that even in The Twisted Ones, Carlton is a deep, complex character that is more than just dumb comic relief.

Lastly, there’s The Fourth Closet. This book is the most obvious example of Carlton being more than what he appears. In the first scene Carlton appears in, John, who has been in a constant depressed state for the past six months, smiles genuinely when Carlton races downstairs to greet him for the first time in almost two years, while only faking a smile when reuniting with Jessica and Marla. To John, Carlton is a joy to have around. Not to mention the condition of Clay’s house dramatically improves when Carlton comes home. It shows that people find Carlton as someone who makes them happy and they want to have around. Later, Carlton shows genuine concern for his father when he ends up in the hospital and also when they find a sick Charlie. He really cares about other people and wants to make sure they’re okay. While Carlton is VERY intrigued by Not-Charlie’s appearance (and people use this as reasoning to dismiss him as a dumb jokester), he is TERRIFIED of her. He likes to look at her, sure, but when she presses up against him, strokes his face, and tries to kiss him, he repeatedly tells her NO and tries to get away from her. Carlton is not a dumb, horny teenage boy; he is a victim of a downplayed sexual assault attempt, and it is overlooked because he’s a boy, she’s a robot, and he showed interest in her appearance before and after the attack. It is also overlooked because people think of it as just a way to lure him in to kill him, but the text specifically mentions that she “leaned in for a kiss” and ALSO KISSES JOHN WITHOUT HIS CONSENT (meaning yes, John is a victim of sexual assault). (And yes, kissing someone without consent can be considered sexual assault. I did my research before writing this.) Carlton is not completely innocent because staring at Not-Charlie like he does could actually be considered sexual harassment, but showing interest in her does not warrant her to approach him with sexual intentions because he did not give consent. Immediately after, he is unsure how to feel about it. He is still extremely fascinated by her appearance, but he didn’t want to be anything more than frenemies, and the fact that she tried to push it further terrified him. He is essentially thinking, “Isn’t this what I wanted? I thought she was hot, but I didn’t really want her to approach me like that.” These mixed emotions confuse him, and he shows this confusion when he meets up with Marla and sees Not-Charlie on the TV. Again, it’s not him being just a dumb, horny teenager. Then, he is the one to point out that Not-Charlie, in one of her alternate forms, looks like Circus Baby. No one else was able to make that connection. If he is really an idiot as people claim, he wouldn’t have been the one to make this connection. Instead, he shows that he is actually smart, insightful, and observant. (This is actually the third time he showed these traits; the first time was in The Silver Eyes when he observed Dave’s personality, and the second time was in the same book when he found the security camera above the back room door and made the GENIUS decision to slowly make his way across the floor to get in view of the security camera, which ended up saving his life.) Carlton and Marla’s mission from this point on is to save Jessica and hopefully find the missing children. When Carlton and Marla are in the mirror maze and being pursued by Funtime Freddy, Carlton steps in front of Marla, shields her, and keeps her calm on several occasions, showing that he is protective of the people he cares about. Once they find Jessica and most of the missing children, Carlton makes the courageous and mature decision to give his earpiece, the only defense he has, to Jessica and go out on his own to rescue the last missing child. This is the most courageous decision made by any character in the entire book series. TO BE CONTINUED IN PART 2.

#carlton burke #carlton fnaf #fnaf carlton #the silver eyes #the twisted ones #the fourth closet #fnaf novels #fnaf books #fnaf tse #fnaf tto #fnaf tfc #fnaf #character analysis

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artificialqueens · 5 years

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Like a Surge Running Through my Veins (Crameron) Chapter 1 -MissChimKi

Summary: She hadn’t gotten the chance to thank the hero, or tell her that she was in fact a black belt and could defend herself on most occasions. Her hand went to beneath her chest, where her words were, that was the biggest thing that she hadn’t gotten a chance to say, that the hero had said her words and was apparently her soulmate.

In a world where both soulmates and superheroes exist, Brianna and Kameron struggle to connect all the dots, but still manage to find a connection.

A/N: Here’s a superhero/soulmate AU with a sprinkle of roommate AU that no one really asked for besides me so I wrote it. I’ve been writing this since about August and I’m finally at a point where I can start posting so I really hope y'all enjoy it! Title take from ‘Heroes’ by Conchita Wurst.

Kameron was 19 years old when she first used her powers to save someone. She was a party with a friend she had just met at beauty school. She didn’t know the girl very well, but she was trying to make an effort to be more social, so she found herself at a party surrounded by strangers all in various stages of their drunkenness. It was a lot for Kameron, and she had to admit that she’d much rather be at home playing video games. This was only one night though, and she would be fine, at least she hoped.

Pearl had been nice enough to her, sort of taking her under her wing once Kameron had started school. She had put off going for a year after graduating high school, but she knew she needed to get going so she could get out of Tennessee. Nashville wasn’t too bad, but it was an adjustment that she had to make. Often, she found herself spending her time by herself in her cheap studio apartment, so getting out for once was probably for the best.

Pearl had let her borrow a dress, it was a little tight on her though and Kameron was feeling self-conscious about her muscles showing through. Pearl kept reassuring her that she looked great and if she hadn’t already found her soulmate she would definitely tap that. Of course hearing that made Kameron blush, but it also helped give her more confidence to stay at the party and try and talk with some of the people at the party. Who knows, she might even find her soulmate along the way.

The one good thing about Kameron’s muscular physique was that it kept a lot of guys away. They were typically intimidated by her which made things a lot easier seeing as she wasn’t into dudes. Unfortunately she wasn’t really the type to do any kind of casual dating either, she was just on a mission to find her soulmate and have a magical love story like her mother and grandmother both had. Yet, here she was surrounded by drunk people that couldn’t really hold conversations, and she was sure that no one would say her words here.

The words ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t realize this was happening today, come in’ were written on her hip. It was nice because it was something she could cover easily and no one had to know her business. Pearl’s words were written right on her hand which made it very noticeable to everyone she spoke to. It ended up working out in her favor when she met Violet who had introduced herself and when she’d gone to shake her hand she saw the words immediately. Pearl of course said her words back and they had been inseparable ever since.

That’s what Kameron wanted above anything else, true love. It was cheesy and annoying, but it was so special to her and that was what mattered. Her eyes scanned the party once again. Pearl had gone off to smoke with some friends a while back, and she hadn’t seen her since. That led to her standing in the corner and awkwardly looking around the room.

Her eyes landed on a girl on the other side of the room. There was a guy talking to her and she clearly wasn’t interested, but he looked like he wasn’t going to let up. She continued to watch them, intrigued. The girl seemed to be alone, Kameron wondered if she’d come with anyone. The girl seemed to eventually give in to whatever the guy was saying, and she watched him walk into the kitchen. Something in her gut told her to follow him, so she did.

She saw him pouring some of the punch into a cup, and then she watched him slip something out of his pocket and into the cup. She couldn’t believe it, she never thought she would witness something like that, and she didn’t know what to do. He turned to go out of the kitchen, and she tried to make it look like she was just coming in to grab a beer. Luckily he didn’t seem to pay her any mind and walked back out of the kitchen.

She stood still for a moment, unsure of what to do, but she knew she couldn’t just do nothing. When she walked back into the living room she saw the girl was already drinking the drink he gave her. Kameron was a little frantic, she had no idea what to do in this situation, but she knew she had to act quickly. She was a little buzzed herself, but not to the point where she didn’t know what was going on. She walked around trying desperately to find Pearl or someone else she knew but it was to no avail.

When she returned to the living room the girl and guy were gone. She started to freak out even more then and rushed to find them. Luckily she was able to fairly quickly. They guy was pulling her down the hall and she looked completely out of it. Kameron had to say something. “Hey you need to let go of her, I think she’s had a little too much to drink,” Kameron called out to him.

“She’s fine, I’m taking care of her,” the guy rolled his eyes.

Kameron stepped forward, “No, I don’t think you are. I think you’re just taking care of yourself.”

“Look just back off and mind your own business,” he continued walking. Kameron had no choice, she grabbed her necklace and quickly let it charge her up before racing to get in front of him and giving him a huge punch in the face. She may have used a little too much force though, because he flew across the hallway and left a dent in the wall. The noise of course caused a group of people to rush over.

“Courtney oh my god,” a green haired girl rushed over to the blonde that was now passed out on the ground, when her friend was unresponsive she looked up to Kameron for an explanation.

“The guy over there drugged her. When I saw that he was taking her I had to do something, and when he wouldn’t let her go I punched him,” she explained.

“Damn girl you got some force,” the girl acknowledged, “Thank you for helping my friend, I should’ve been with her,” she admitted.

“Kameron, Adore, what’s going on?” Pearl burst through the crowd that had formed. They filled her in on what had happened. She shook her head, “You sure are something else. I’m just glad that everyone is okay, except for that douche,” she pointed to the guy who was sitting on the floor groaning in pain and looking confused.

“I think I’m gonna go home,” Kameron said.

“Yeah, I’ll come with,” Pearl agreed before ordering them an uber back to Kameron’s apartment. Kameron didn’t explain anything more about what happened and luckily, Pearl didn’t ask. It was the first time she had ever used her powers like that, but it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

Two years later she found herself in New York City, if she thought Nashville was huge and crazy it was nothing compared to this. She moved up because Pearl had connections from when she used to live there, while she had no intentions of going back herself, she encouraged Kameron to do it, telling her it would be the perfect opportunity for her to meet new people and potentially her soulmate. Kameron eventually gave in and moved. She had been there for almost 3 years and nothing that exciting had happened. Well besides her part time career as an amateur superhero.

After that night at the party her thoughts on her powers had shifted. She no longer felt as though she could sit things out and ignore all the problems happening in the world. Since she’d been in New York, she’d been saving people on pretty much a daily basis. It was usually just saving girls and stopping robber type of deals. Petty crime she could handle, but anything more was a stretch for her.

That played into the public’s opinion on her as well. They said she picked and chose her crimes and that she wasn’t really a benefit to the city. She kept at it though, she saw in the faces of those she was helping that what she was doing was worth it, so she kept at it. She had also managed to get a fair amount of clients in the time she’d been there and was able to afford a shitty studio apartment in Brooklyn. It wasn’t great, but it was all that she had so she went with it. There wasn’t much left in Tennessee for her anymore so all she could do was focus on the present, whether it was saving people or saving their hair.

Brianna found herself left alone at a bar, yet again. She could only blame herself really, she should’ve known better than to third wheel with Aquaria and Vixen. Even after almost a year of dating they were still somehow in their honeymoon phase and always connected at the hip. Not to mention constantly slipping away to go fool around. So she couldn’t really be that surprised that they had left her. They checked before they left that she would be okay on her own, but of course she said yes. What else was she going to do?

Now, however, she was really feeling all the drinks she had had. She was tiny, and she really knew better than to drink so much, but without Aqua and Vixen keeping an eye on her she had apparently gone overboard. She had been chatting with a group of girls earlier but she couldn’t remember what had happened to them. She was just ready to go home at this point, so she closed her tab and headed outside get an uber and clear her head hopefully.

Once she was outside, things were spinning a little less, but her mind was still foggy. Cars passed in a blur, and she tried to focus on her phone for long enough to order an uber. She managed to call for one and it said it would be about ten minutes. She sighed and slumped against a wall while she waited. Luckily it was summer, so it wasn’t freezing outside.

She focused on her phone to make sure she wouldn’t miss when her uber came up. A few minutes later a man walked up to her. It was the exact opposite of what she needed, but she tried to keep her cool.

“Hey sexy, you looking for a ride home?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes, “No thanks, I’m just waiting for one right now.”

“I’ll wait with you, a pretty girl like you shouldn’t be out alone,” he offered, but it wasn’t a generous offer, there was a clear dangerousness in it.

“I’m good, my ride will be here in just a minute,” she told him, she checked her phone, three minutes away still.

“Nonsense, we can have a little fun while you wait,” he took a step forward. Her heart was pounding, her vision was still blurry and she knew she couldn’t fight back.

“You heard her, you need to back off,” a voice said from behind him, he turned around to tell whoever it was to back off, but then he saw who it was. She was dressed in her typical black cat suit and black mask to cover her face and hair. She had quite a reputation around the city, citizens and heroes alike viewed her as more of a vigilante than a hero, even though she had powers, she still had a lot of growing to do, and the general public wasn’t a big fan of hers, but in this moment there was no one Brianna would rather see.

“Now are you going to back off or do I have to make you back off?” The hero asked with bite in her tone. They guy was apparently even more insane than she assumed, because he stood his ground. The hero shrugged and quickly went in for a punch, she seemed to know he would block it however, because her leg went up to knee him in the crotch and while he was doubled over she hit him with another blow. She had a little mercy though, because she let up and gave him a chance to leave. He limped away, defeated quickly and she called after him, “Just so you know you’re getting reported.”

She quickly turned back to Brianna and once she saw that she was completely unharmed her job seemed to be done, she gave Brianna a small smile, “You should be more careful, there might not always be someone there to save you,” and with that she was off, up in the air and then out of sight. Brianna watched in awe and confusion.

She hadn’t gotten the chance to thank the hero, or tell her that she was in fact a black belt and could defend herself on most occasions. Her hand went to beneath her chest, where her words were, that was the biggest thing that she hadn’t gotten a chance to say, that the hero had said her words and was apparently her soulmate.

A car honked pulling her from her thoughts. Her uber had pulled up while she was lost in thought. She sighed and got in. Her mind still reeling from the many drinks and a missed opportunity. When she got home she went straight to bed, hoping her thoughts would be less muddled the next morning.

Luckily by the time she got up Aquaria had returned to the apartment, bringing Vixen with her. “You’ll never guess what happened to me last night,” she announced, rushing into the kitchen and pouring herself a cup of coffee. They both looked at her waiting for her to explain. She told them how she’d almost been attacked outside the club.

“Oh my god Bri,” Aquaria interjected worriedly, but Brianna shushed her.

“But then the mystery hero showed up and saved me, she beat him up and it was awesome,” she explained.

Vixen let out a sigh of relief, “I’m just glad you’re okay. We shouldn’t have left you,” she apologized.

“I wouldn’t expect anything else honestly,” she joked, “but that’s not even the best part.”

Aquaria raised a brow, “It’s not?”

Brianna shook her head, “She said something to me after she saved me. My words,” she pointed to right under her chest.

“The hero is your soulmate?” Aquaria’s eyes were wide.

“Who is she?” Vixen prompted.

“I have no idea,” Brianna frowned sadly, “I was pretty drunk and she flew away before I could respond.”

“Hey it’s okay,” Aquaria reached out to squeeze her hand, “you know who she is now and you know she’s the one who’s meant for you, you’re gonna see her again,” she promised.

Brianna smiled, she knew Aquaria was right, she had found her soulmate and that had to be the hardest part, right?

#rpdr fanfiction #misschimki #like a surge running through my veins #crameron #miz cracker #kameron michaels #lesbian au #cisgirl au #soulmate au #superhero au #roommate au #mutual pining #slow burn #s10 #tw vague mentions of assault #concrit welcome #submission

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