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dienamights · 3 years

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Unfavorable Guidance | H.Shinso

✎ Mindjack has been doing these kind of jobs since he was recruited as a hero, he is unmistakingly the best at them, doesn’t need anyone butting their noses in his business, especially you, the sly fox in disguise, offering your tainted helping hand.

✎ Protagonists: Hitoshi Shinso x Fem!Reader.

✎ Word count: 6.4K

✎Category: noncon/dubcon, Smut MDNI, Prohero!au

✎Caution(!): noncon/dubcon, Smut 18+ MDNI please, , mentions of alcohol, mentions of murder, minor character death, sex under quirk use, spitting, degrading, swearing, manipulation, unprotected sex.

✎ Author’s notes: I KNOW I’M LATE EUFGKHDFVBDFXL, but here is my contribution to @daisy-bakugo 2k event Vice City! Please take the time to read everyone’s work if you haven’t! Thank you so much for letting me participate.

I listened to this throughout the entire process of writing it, if you’re familiar with Kingdom Hearts, some names will ring a bell to you lol. also I hate the header and the summary but you’re just gonna have to live w it for now cause its 8 am I NEED SLEEP

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The annual auction of Vice City is one of the biggest social events of the year. The wealthiest families and richest people in the world come from everywhere in attempts to win what is secretly considered the greatest treasures of all time. Greatest and most expensive.

Alas, the after party held later on is what people are all secretly actually waiting for, where the most exquisite and rarest artifacts of the year get auctioned off to whoever is lucky enough to even be included in the guest list.

While not all are there for the auctions, it certainly is the perfect opportunity for anyone who's anyone in the world to show off their wealth. Filthy rich people sway all around, laughing and bragging. Venetian crystal chandeliers, velvet carpets, gambling, and alcohol. Men with their cigars, men with their wives, and men with their arm candies, their escorts or mistresses.

Yet, Shinso isn’t here for the luxury, he isn't here for the fame and the fortune, nor the reputation people thrive for when they buy those - meaningless, he calls them - relics. No, he is here on a mission, one he certainly wants to be done and over with because he wants to go home. He loosens his tie with an aggravated sigh before knocking back the last of his only gin and tonic, the bitter taste prickling his throat as he surveys the crowd of people all around him while he stands idly by the bar.

He knew it’d be a pain in the ass the second he got the mission assigned to him from the agency, the words “intel” and “Vice City'' of all places forced a frown upon his face, yet, being the most suitable for this job, he couldn't really decline.

Mindjack isn’t the type of hero you see on billboards and magazines, isn’t the type of hero to kiss babies’ heads that get thrusted at him in meet and greets, he certainly isn’t one to have those adoring fan clubs that follow his every move, posting about his greatest conquests. Oh no, he is a hero that works in dingy jobs with filthy manipulative men in black markets and the human trafficking industry, undercover -lie through your teeth throughout the whole ordeal- kind of hero, the kind of hero that goes home at the end of his missions with no gratitude towards his work, because nobody knows who he is or what he contributes to the society.

For the longest time, Shinso accepted the life he’s living, he didn’t look for validation from the citizens, knowing his work is always beyond the scope of their knowledge and their awareness, but sometimes, just sometimes, the sour droplets of envy would foul his mouth when his amethysts for eyes scan over the extravagant heroes, making a show out of saving their cities and getting praised and awarded and loved for doing what they’re supposed to be doing, their job.

“Squeeze that glass a bit more and you’d break it”

A voice just like silk, weaving around him and entrancing him, Shinso blinked twice before his eyes dragged over to you, oh so beautiful and oh so close. Your nimble fingers wrapped around his fingers, the lacey glove lightly scratches his hand before he lets go of the glass in surprise, dropping it into yours. You giggle sweetly, turning around to place it on the bar before ordering your own, but not without looking at him over your shoulder and sending him a smile.

“What will it be, sugar tits?” the bartender leans over the counter, towel thrown on his shoulder as he sends you what's supposed to be a sultry look. Your elbow is placed on the counter while you rest your chin on your hand, smiling temptingly at him. “Anything that’ll get you to stop staring at my boobs.” Shinso almost laughs at the contrast between your smile and your voice, sharp and venomous, and the man leans back so far from you like he’s been stung. Walking away to work on a drink for you.

Shinso’s eyes rake your body without his knowledge, he admires the dress adorning your body, hugging you in all the right places, cascading down to the floor, and that slit my god, your legs looking endless in those heels he wonders how you can strut so elegantly with them on. A snap of your fingers breaks his trance and he tries - keyword tries - to act nonchalant to his obvious ogling and you only laugh in return.

You hum lowly, “So,” you’re turning to face him as you lean back on the counter, pushing your chest out to grasp even more of his attention, “what's an esteemed hero like you doing in a place like this?” It takes Shinso a good minute before he narrows his eyes, left foot back and ready to either take you down or run away if you were to involve greater forces. No one is supposed to know about his true identity, no one is supposed to know that there is a hero within them.

But what shakes his demeanor is the way you dangle his wallet in front of him, like dangling a stupid feather for some silly cat, waiting for it to jump at you to entertain you. Shinso swallows with a struggle, deciding that using his quirk to retrieve his wallet back will lead to him leaving, and he didn’t want that. He’s been keeping an eye on the wanted man for hours now, and it’ll all go to waste because of your slimy little hands and your-

“Here,” you toss it back to him, and he stumbles a bit before catching it properly, eyeing you for any sudden movements, but you simply turn back around in time to hold the drink from the bartender’s hand with a smile dazzling your lips. “You’re getting intel on The Wise?” you mumble against your cup, sipping slowly, eyes never leaving Shinso’s glaring ones. How the fuck do you know?

“You’re not the first.” you smirk, finger wiping the smeared lipstick against the glass before circling the rim. “You all look the same, thinking you’re better than them because of your position in the society, only for that ego to come and bite you right in the ass.” It’s almost ironic how poisonous your voice could get while still maintaining that mesmerizing smile, and oddly enough, Shinso’s eyes keep drooping despite his desperate attempt to fight against them.

You hum again, the click of your heels sounding muffled to him, eyes blurring when you get so close to him your breath tickles his cheek. “But you’re different, hmm? You’re gonna make the bad guy go away?”

“Yes.” it's rushed, almost desperate, and the hero is astonished at how he sounds. “Then, lemme help you… Hitoshi.”

A blink, and you’re gone just like you vanished right from under his nose, slipped right between his fingers. A low curse escapes Shinso’s lips and he turns around swiftly to question the bartender, hell bent on getting any information on the girl that just revealed his entire identity and mission to him in a matter of seconds.

“How can I help you, sir?” the question boggles his mind, the big burly man with an attitude problem wasn’t there anymore, replaced by another sweet woman that held concern in her eyes at his sight. “You’ve been staring at the wall for a while there, need me to call your driver to get you back?”

“Wa- but I- She,” Shinso’s body started heating up in anger, worry, embarrassment, he doesn’t really know, but what he wants to know right this instant is how long he’s been out of it and for god’s sake, why?

Shinso doesn’t really consider himself to be the sharpest tool in the shed, but dammit did he feel like a complete idiot letting you run off like that, a quick trip to the restroom for a splash of water clears his head enough for him to pull back his wallet from his pocket, flipping through it and finding something he was absolutely sure wasn’t there prior to your visit. A silver card, with ‘Surveillance room’ scribbled on a note behind it.

Caving in and accepting whatever help you were offering him, Shinso slides the card through the reader, sighing in relief upon the satisfying ding sound, followed by the door opening to the surveillance room.

“Now that’s what’m talking about.” life got so much easier now that he could watch The Wise through multiple screens, making it hard to miss a single move of his. The hero allows himself to relax a bit, hand messing with his hair and tired eyes blinking in irritation against the glare of the screens. The Wise was the mastermind of Organization XIII, as their name intel, they’re consisting of the same thirteen members that founded it years ago, nobody really knows how they started, what shocked the whole world is how grand their first crime actually was, bloodbath of the century -they would call it, seventeen slaughtered heroes, followed by their families, including women and children, thousands of millions of ¥ in money laundering atop of it, all within a span of 4 months, that was years ago, back in their prime.

Now, with eight of them behind bars, the remaining five were able to stay under the radar, distributing whatever money they were able to keep between them and fleeing to different parts of the world. Just because they were apart, didn’t mean they were any less dangerous, The Wise is a prime example for that, brutally murdering three of the undercover heroes sent his way to bring him back to justice, but they weren’t Shinso, he’d try to remind himself.

May their soul rest in peace, they were those heroes he felt dissociated from, the type of heroes to flaunt their powers, monetize the peoples’ knowledge of their quirks, uncover the secrets of their job, they were easy targets for people like The Wise, he’d know their weaknesses and how to take them down before they even think about pursuing him. Now, Mindjack was a different story, he wasn’t held on a pedestal by the people he saves, simply because they don’t recognize him, while he would loath that reality sometimes, he thanks the god for it today, as he’s watching the man’s call out for a drink.

Amethyst eyes scan the remaining screens, widening upon the sight of you looking right back at them, you are a vixen to him, eyes half lidded with a smile so intoxicating it does nothing but entrance whoever was lucky enough to catch its sight. Lace clad fingers wrapping around a piece of paper, you are so beautiful, Shinso tries to stop his mind from wandering, imagining what you wore underneath that angel crafted dress, envisioning what those fingers could do to please him, the same fingers that held the unfolded paper, the word ‘RUN’ smeared across it in lipstick.

Wait a minute, run?

Even before the poor hero could react, the similar satisfying -now dreadful- ding rings in his ear, before the door opens behind him, illuminating the room even more. Shinso stands to face two men, both as surprised as he is to see another occupant in the room. Right before any of them move, the hero opens his mouth and prays to god that whatever way he’s winging it works. “You got a permit to be here?”

Jesus one of you answer, and they both do - the left having fingers curving into talons while the right pulled at strings from the tips of his fingers, both ready to attack - and by god Shinso couldn’t be happier upon hearing a sound, because the minute the word ‘yes’ slips through their lips, Mindjack is smiling like a madman, welcoming the look of glossy eyes and heavy heads like a beloved relative’s return back home.

“Great… Now,” the two manipulated men face him, unaware of the dreaded fate bestowed upon them, while Shinso just can’t seem to keep the glint in his eyes at bay. “Why don’t you put on a show for me,” he breathes, smiling down at the ground before looking at them. ”Choke the fucking life out of each other.” The men don’t even blink, quick to face each other and jump, hands wrapped around throats like a vice, Shinso only moves away from the men on the floor as they thrash and kick at each other, limbs flailing as they try to force the life out of each other.

Turning his back against them, Shinso eyes the screen he was monitoring before their entrance, ignoring the groans and gasps of air behind him. He curses under his breath when he sees The Wise getting up from his place, heading towards a room that is supposed to be monitored by screen #6, but is purposely out of service. If he isn’t able to question The Wise or even keep an eye on him, then he’s gonna head on over to the next best thing. Gargled screams echo through the corridor as the hero makes his exit, making sure the door clicks shut behind him, he wouldn’t want to cause disturbance to the esteemed guests of the society of lowlifes.

Mindjack works in dingy jobs with filthy manipulative men in black markets and the human trafficking industry, killing machines that didn’t spare the live of the innocents, so why should he spare theirs?

Shinso makes it back to the main event, immediately finding you between guests, sitting so pretty on the poker table, eyes drawing him closer, the grin adorning your lips now wobbly, easy for him to distinguish as fake, forced, a façade kept for the people surrounding the table. He is hasteful in settling himself in the chair near you, shoulders tense when different pairs of eyes fall upon him, the dealer shuffles the deck to draw cards for Shinso, but you hold your hand out with a smile. “He’ll sit this one out, by my lucky onlooker.” A round of laughter causes Shinso to flush in embarrassment, feeling degraded and looked down upon by all these lowlifes, petty thieves and criminals, thinking they’re better than him, oh he’ll show them.(1)

It takes a few rounds for the table to empty out, now occupied by Shinso and yourself, the dealer asks him to move over to the next chair before they start their game. “Place your bets.” you’re quick to slide over a few of your chips to his side - some black, others red and blue, he didn’t really pay that much attention to them- your eyes daring him to reject your invitation to take the money to play.

He only blinks at you, his eyes seemingly never wanting to lose sight of you as he fights with himself to sit straight to face the dealer again, the man proceeds to deal both of you the cards for you to review before placing your bets. “You tricked me.” Shinso is almost appalled at the hurt laced in his voice, as if the two of you had a bond that was never meant to be broken. “don’t believe so, told you to run didn’ I?” The mockery in your voice is a hoax, the single twitch in your brow catches his attention and he can only deem it as you being stressed, whether it be because of the ordeal regarding the surveillance room or not is beyond him. No, he was stupid and foolish and he will not fall for your silly games again. “Exactly, you knew they were coming.” you hum in response to his accusation.

“Call.” Dropping a few of your chips on the table, your eyes shift momentarily to him, “I did, I said I’d help you and here I am.” He slams his bet on the table, ‘Raise’ gritted right through his teeth at your words. “I don’t want your help!” He reveals his cards on the table, a way to show his disinterest in your assistance as the dealer announces ‘Flush’ at his hand. Your eyes meet again from above your cards, now narrowing down instead of the half lidded look you seem to always have “You don’t want it, but you need it.” The façade you held before is slowly but surely breaking, now a deep frown tugging at your lip as you reveal your own hand, brows furrowing even further in challenge as you hum in displeasure when the dealer announces your ‘Full House’ hand to be the winner of this round.(2)

Shinso moves swiftly to stand when he sees you do the same, right before his entire world starts to spin, lights and colors mingling together and causing his head to spin, he sits down again, head between his hands as he tries to calm himself down, it's probably the strain of the mission, maybe it’s the weight bestowed upon his shoulders to finish it up. The hero lifts his head up to ask you, about something he himself isn’t even sure of, he just wants to hear your voice, like a drug to him that he can’t help but ask for more. Except when he does, you aren’t there, the table is occupied by different people, the dealer is another man with longer hair and slimmer figure, and by god did Shinso want to rip his hair out.

The minute he feels like he could get back on his own to feet without falling down on his ass, Hitoshi is quick to check his pockets, adamant to find a clue your sneaky hands slid into one of his pockets while he was out, despite the tantrum he almost threw at not wanting your help nor guidance, and he does find something, a simple metal key, attached to it was a tag with the number XIII on it.

In his shock, he almost drops the key on the ground but barely holds himself together to avoid any further embarrassment, Shinso takes deep breaths, knowing that the key in his possession is his entry to the heart of the organization, and especially to The Wise.

Every year, specifically at the Vice City annual auction afterparty, The Wise holds a meeting with the most dangerous men within the continent, the most loathsome masterminds of the criminal world, all in the hopes of recruiting one of them into the organization, to uphold its name and spread its message. Every year, with no recruitment yet.

With trembling hands, Shinso stuffs the key back into his pocket, eyes on the lookout for anyone who might’ve caught the key in his hand, but sighs in relief when he sees some engrossed in their meaningless poker and absurd talks, while the majority have made their way to the next hall over for the auction that is being held. He takes the stairs three at a time up the floors, facing a red oak double door, the same forsaken number engraved into it. After multiple failed attempts at inserting the key in the lock, he finally does with a huff, hearing the lock echoing in his ears before pushing the door open.

To be honest, Shinso didn’t know what he was expecting to see on the other side of the door, he thought maybe he’d watch weaponry trade off, perhaps people brawling and fighting amongst each other for the title of being the new members. But he certainly didn’t expect to be engulfed in jazz music, men with their cigars laughing and chatting, without a single care in the world, as if their hands weren’t tainted with the blood of the innocents, oh how he loathed them. In an attempt to fit in, he grabs a glass of whiskey from the butler standing by the door, nodding to him in thanks before moseying his way over to the corner in the room, he’d be damned if he got caught in the crossfire of those lunatics.

A stage is set up in the front of the room, and it takes a second for him to acknowledge the pole placed right at its center, it takes him another few seconds to see the beauty dancing on that pole, Shinso’s eyes rake her body without his knowledge, he admires the lingerie adorning her body, hugging her in all the right places, garter snug against her thighs as she twirls, her legs looking endless in those heels he wonders how she can dance so elegantly with them on… wait a minute.

As if predicting the minute he realized it was you, you twirl to face him, lips pulled into a smile yet again, a giggle interrupting your humming as your body twists and turns on the pole. Shinso isn’t really sure how long he sits there captivated by your body, the only thing breaking his trance is the clap on his back and the heavy weight that sits next to him. “Beauty, isn’t she?”

Bile rises to Shinso’s throat at the mere sound of the person next to him, fear stills him in his place, restricting any movement he’s even thinking of doing, all he could do is sit, widened eyes and sweaty brows at the sight of The Wise right beside him.

“Don’cha love it when women like her,” The Wise points at you with his cigar, “work to please men like us?” His arm now completely wrapped around Shinso’s shoulder as the hero feels his soul levitating from his body. “Look aroun’ya,” and he does, and only then does he really pay attention, he should’ve seen it all along, the glossy eyes, the droopy heads, it's a sight he was so well accustomed to that his brain normalized it to him. With whatever courage he musters up, he shifts his eyes to look at the man beside him, noticing the ear plugs he wore, and right then the gears start to turn in his head. “My most prized possession I tell’ya.”

Of course you would be, how else would you have access to all these things, the card, the key, the vanishing from thin air, it all makes sense now.

“Enjoying yourselves, gentlemen?” your words are flowing like honey to his ears, a low buzz ringing in his brain as you spoke to the men in front of you. His ability to frown is nonexistent, a relaxed look adorning his face as he looks up at you, so elegant and beautiful in whatever hugged that miracle of a body.

“Sure are,” The Wise jerks Shinso by the shoulder, and he realizes that was done to break whatever trance he was in, he could only glare back at you when you smile at them, that conniving smile that hosted all the lies you spouted to him.

“y/n,” He calls you and by God if this isn’t the most beautiful name Shinso ever hears, what a shame it's being tainted by the voice of this criminal. “Wadda ya say to takin’ this fine boy to the red room, hm?” The man urges him to stand and take your hand, which he did at the blink of an eye, his body moving on it’s own to graze his lips against your knuckles in a breathless kiss. “Treat’m real nice for me.” The hero’s feet take him to follow you, his steps light, like walking on clouds, the sway of your hips pulling him closer to you until his chest is flush against your back, pushing you to move faster into the room you are pointed towards.

Walking aimlessly through hallways, taking lefts and rights he would never be able to recollect in his current state, you both enter a room, red just like The Wise called it, crimson silk sheets fitted on a king sized bed, maroon loveseats and plush carpets, everything in that red hue that it's almost nauseating.

Bringing your hands in a loud clap, the fogginess in Shinso’s vision dissolves, your creased brows and frown now more prominent to him than ever, his eyes catch the scar trailing from the back of your neck to your cleavage, confused as to why his usual perceptive self would miss it, but then again, he doesn’t feel like he was ever himself throughout this whole ordeal.

To say he was furious is an understatement, he never felt more played in his life, he is Mindjack, the most conniving hero of all of Japan, he was manipulative and sly , known by his people to get jobs done, no matter who his opponent is, he always comes back victorious. And when his ears pick up your sigh of relief, he could only see red, he is hurt, he is scared, but now its his act, his turn to fuck shit up, he wants to hurt, he wants to scare.

“Fuckin’ lying bitch,” It takes him all but two steps for his body to graze yours, tantalizing eyes boring down into yours as you gasp at the close proximity, “you were workin’ with’em this entire fuckin’ time?”

“N-no that’s not it,” you stutter, flustered at his overwhelming presence, trying to put some distance between you and the fuming man by pushing his chest, “Please, I need you to listen to me.”

“Oh, now you’re beggin’ hmm?” his firm warm hands circle your wrists, tugging them away from his body and using them to pull you even closer to him, his breath now grazing the tops of your cheeks, “Didn’t your boss tell you to treat me right?” he breathes, “well, get to it, slut.”

“That’s not what this is Hitoshi, just listen-” for the love of all that’s pure in this world, why does the sound of his name exceed his perception of how happiness is supposed to reverberate in his ear? “Keep my name outta your mouth, or I swear,” He hisses at you, the grip on your wrists tightening as you whimper out in pain.

“You think you can just toy with me? Have me running around and following your orders like a lil bitch!?” He sees you trembling, lips wobbly and in tears, how ironic, he doesn’t know a few words would get you to start tearing up, the change in demeanor from when he first met you confuses him for a second, but only a second, because he’ll be damned if he falls for any of your tricks anymore. “N-no, I swear it isn’t like that, just p-please, please c-calm down! Let me explain myself-” the ugly cackle he lets out shuts you up, teary eyes widening as they fall on his, the aura he’s radiating is terrifying to say the least, your knees shaking in dread at what’s about to fold.

“You think you can play my game and win?”

It takes you a minute to answer, the word no echoing in your head, throbbing in your brain so painfully you forget the words that follow it, but what you can’t forget, what you will never forget, no matter how delirious you feel, is the look of pure sin across Shinso’s face, grin rivaling that of the Cheshire cat, because you were now simply a measly little pawn in his game.

Mindjack works in dingy jobs with filthy manipulative men in black markets and the human trafficking industry, criminals that broke every law in their way to get what they desire, so why couldn’t he indulge even a little himself?

He lets go of your wrists, watching as your arms sway next to your body like dead weight before he turns around to flop down on the loveseat, legs spread wide as he waves his hand over to you.

“Waddaya waitin’ for,” he knows you can’t answer him, but it feels so fucking good to hold such power over you after all you’ve put him through. “Now, strip.” the surge of power he feels jolts his dick up in excitement as he watches you take off your lingerie, moves robotic and forced, eyes glazed over both with tears and his control over your dumb little brain. Hitoshi is no villain, he is a respectable hero, but he’s been called that all his childhood, he might as well live up to that expectation, one way or another.

Shinso stands when you’re fully naked in front of him, long legs circling you and taking you all in, the back of his hand grazes your nipple and he all but groans as it pebbles at his touch. But god, he was nowhere near being done with you.

“Spread your legs for me on that bed,” he grins at the way you follow his orders even before he asks, “will ya?” you settle yourself on the bed before slowly dropping your weight on your back, hazy eyes staring up into the ceiling as your arms bring themselves down to circle the back of your knees, pulling them up close to your chest to expose yourself to him.

Shinso’s cock twitches in his pants again at the opportunity to just seath it into you without any warning, but he barely holds himself back, approaching your body and feeling himself salivating at the sight, what a sight it is, your pussy looking so fucking beautiful clenching over nothing, the sight tempting him to just dive his face right in to get a taste of your juices.

Taking off his suit jacket and rolling the sleeves of his shirt, Shinso presses his thumb to your clit, frowning when he notices how dry you are, of course you would be, he chuckles to no one, puckering his lip to spit right at the nub, watching it trail down to your clenching hole, the sight igniting a flame within him, he does it again, simply to watch your spit hide in your cunt, impatient to follow suit and bury himself in there.

His thumb is quick to draw circles with your clit, needing for your orgasm to wash over you quickly, eager for the things he’d do to you after he preps you enough to take him. The usual comforting silence is thick between you, no moans escaping your ajar mouth as your arousal seeps out of your pussy, he prods your hole with his finger to collect your nectar, smearing it across your clit again to rub even faster against it.

The only indication of you coming undone is when your thighs start to shake, your body curling in on itself as your back arches, your cunt gushing on his fingers, and Shinso is almost disappointed to not hear you moan out his name in pleasure. But he isn’t that disheartened, he’s bound to hear you scream.

You on the other hand, are petrified at the way your body is being handled, feeling yourself looking down at the horror being folded in front of you, this isn’t you, this is a shell of who you are, wrapped around his finger, at his mercy, and you want out, no matter the cost. But, you are to regret these words, because you see him unbuckling his belt, you hear the zipper drilling in your ear, and you watch him lay atop you, feeling your lungs constrict at the weight settling upon it, and to your utmost terror, the only thing that breaks his bind on you is when you feel his warm head prodding at your entrance, right before seething completely in, your throat prickling when you wail hoarsely in pain at feeling like being split into two.

“No, nonononon, st-stop please, please!” You’re crying, legs thrashing and arms flailing trying to push this monster off of you, but you can’t, you think as your walls pulsate in pain at the intrusion, you’ll never be able to with him placing his entire weight on you like that, and the way he pulls out before impaling you again has you seeing stars in the worst way possible. Desperate for an escape, you grab a chuck of his hair, your nails digging into his scalp before you yank, your jaw throbbing at how tight you clench your teeth in pain and disgust and pure panic. The strength you muster to pull his head up is in vain, because it only jerks his face deeper into your neck, right where your scar trails, and he bites, so hard you’re certain it draws blood.

Only then does he lift his head up, his upper lip smeared with a smidge of blood, your blood, before he spits right into your mouth. Sick to your stomach at the metallic taste invading your taste buds, you spit right up at him, mindless to the debris falling right back at your face, your mascara running down your cheeks as you sneer up at him. Even as he laughs teasingly at you.

“Don’t worry slut,” He rasps, his nose brushing against yours as his thrusts find a pace, pulling out to the tip before pushing himself fully inside, “It’ll feel good in a minute.” and it does, he feels more of your arousal coating his cock as he snaps his hips against yours, your wails and whimpers slowly yet surely are coated more with lust as you moan out his name. “See tha’, almost too easy…” almost too good to be true.

And it is, because when his eyes struggle to find yours, he is reminded by the feeling that overtook him this entire evening, and when he sees the corner of your lips pull lightly does he want to rip your head right out, but the minute he moves his hand, he is overwhelmed by how wobbly he feels, how your face distorts and misshapes before he is met with the sight of the ceiling, the sight you grew accustomed to when he was taking advantage of your unconsciousness.

He groans when he feels you impaling yourself on his cock, pussy clenching so tight as you bop yourself up and down his shaft, your tits bouncing with you as he looks up at you, so mesmerized and entranced by your beauty all he does is hold your hips, helping you lift yourself up before dropping you on him, the squelching sound that follows it music to his ears.

You plant your hands against his chest, hips rolling as you pant at his lips, both of you so drunk on the feeling of each other and chasing your highs, “You gonna listen to me, when I ask you to?” His hand claps against your ass at your question, “Yes, yes oh God, anythin’ just don’t stop.” He can’t help but want more of you, want to feel his cock push against you even further, so he plants his feet firm against the bed, hand grabbing handfuls of your ass as he starts thrusting up at you, moaning against your neck when he shoots ropes of his cum inside of your sopping cunt, squeezing him so tight and milking him, and all of what Shinso remembers is the way you arch your back, pressing your chest against his as your whimper out his name, as he feels your juices dripping against his balls and down on the sheets beneath you. After that, all he could see was black.

Shinso awakes startled, eyes darting in alarm before he relaxes when he confirms he’s alone, the red silky sheets now draped over his lower body, pooling at his lap when he sits up to look around once more, desperate for any sign of you. Yet he only sees a brown folder on top of the love seat, impressively thick with the amount of papers stacked inside it, and when Shinso reaches for it, he catches the note that slipped off and draped down on the floor, reading it and scowling at it. ‘You promised you’d listen’

And boy is he more than lucky to listen to you when you asked him to. Because that folder has every tiny little detail he needs to know about The Wise, from the quirks of his circulating bodyguards to the keys to his multiple homes within the world. Pictures upon pictures of the man, decoded letters and basically intel on his entire criminal record.

Fucking finally, Shinso gets to just go home no that everything’s over and done with.

Limited Edition Sneak Peek:

It is way too early for Shinso, the sun glaring at him as he makes his way into the agency, the honking cars and chattering people feeding into his migraine so early in the morning, and he groans as he pushes his door open, ready to get back to his regular routine after the incident at Vice City.

It hasn’t been even a week, but it sure was eventful, using the folder you left him, Mindjack was able to capture The Wise the very next day, via the map of the routes he takes that was attached in the folder. They were able to ambush him, easily being able to bring the right heroes for the job to overcome the quirks of both his workers and himself. Now the mastermind of Organization XIII was behind bars, making the job of catching the remaining members now much easier.

It almost felt like child’s play, at least, that’s what the heroes made it out to be, flexing their powers and their potential, when they were well aware that all their efforts would’ve been in vain if you and your folder weren't there to aid them in every step.

To say that guilt ate him up is an understatement, he feels himself decaying from the inside out from resentment, he figures he spent too much time in the dark, that it started to mess with him, manipulate him, carve him into someone he isn’t, someone that isn’t fit to be a hero. He feels like was walking into a tunnel with no way out, engulfed and trapped in pure merciless darkness, that ate away at his soul every step he took further in.

Shinso trudges up the stairs with a heavy heart, the dread at what he did to you, especially that your intent to help him didn’t waver despite his actions loomed over him, and he couldn’t remember the last time he felt like he didn’t deserve the life that he’s living in right now.

Yet, the saying ‘there's a light at the end of the tunnel’ rings in his ear, the minute he opens up the door to his office, eyes widening at the sight before him, smile so dazzlingly sweet, a voice just like silk, weaving around him and entrancing him as the words captivated him despite their simplicity.

“Missed me, Hitoshi?”

(1) its common in poker for women to be onlookers, like the wives of the players for example, the jab at him being an onlooker is basically just a sexist joke to make the people around the table laugh to ease their mind.

(2) to help gain more perspective about the poker scene you can read the elaboration here

Aaaand more about the reader’s quirk here!

Hope you enjoyed! Also, PLEASE if you could theorize with me after reading the fic I’d love you forever, ask me about the reader’s quirk, ask me about some hidden meanings between the scenes JUST ANYTHING. MWAH

Borrowers (taglist):

@hanji-is-life @anarchicmartyr @sleepykyan @yourprincess-maybe @wolfygirl1900 @tteokdoroki

@theehoneybunii @nanamisbento (not sure if you wanted to be tagged for bakuhoe only of all my fics, so sorry if its the former!)

if you want to be tagged with for any of my fics let me know ♡

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tommyspeakycap · 3 years

Text

Painted Roses

jordan henderson x reader

word count - 2k I think

jordan takes you back to the place it all began as you expand your life together.

second part to Rose Garden

4 years to the date.

The country house with the long gravel road that lead up to the huge red brick cottage. The owner passed away over a year ago and their family, to Jordan’s utter shock, weren’t interested in maintaining the beautiful home as the wedding venue it had existed as in the past. The second he heard it was up for sale, he placed an offer and had the keys in the space of two weeks.

“Jordan where are we going?”

“You’ll see.” He promises, giving your hand a gentle squeeze where it sat on top of your knee. The blindfold is making you sweat more than you already were. “I can’t see anything.” You note pointedly with a roll of your eyes behind the blindfold. Jordan chuckles heartily with what you can imagine in your mind is his signature smile, all white teeth and crinkled eyes. “You’ll love it,” he says through that smile, “I promise.” His hand pats your knee again as a silence falls between you.

Gravel crunches beneath the wheels of his fancy black Mercedes as the smell of cut grass and fresh flowers enters your nose and makes you grin subconsciously in a way you barely even notice. Jordan catches sight of that out the corner of his eye and his heart grows with joy in his chest. The slow, careful turn of his car, paired with the sound of his hands sliding along the leather of the wheel alert you to his parking. He does so with ease and you hear the keys jangling as he shuts off the engine.

“Wait here,” he instructs, climbing out his side with the door thrown shut behind him. He’s round at your side of the car before you have a chance to think up a cheeky retort. He’s gentle as he always is when he helps you out of the car carefully, wrapping one arm around your waist so you don’t fall. Admittedly, it doesn’t work very well because the ground beneath is so incredibly uneven, so when he gets to that first smooth grey cement step, he opts to simply scoop you up into his arms with ease.

“Okay,” he begins, placing you down as you feel the smooth material covering your eyes loosening and slipping from your face. His hands replace it for only a moment as he presses a kiss to the side of your head from behind you. “Open.”

You do as told and tears spring in place of his hands to blur your vision.

It’s beautiful.

It was that Victorian style country home that once acted as a wedding venue, redecorated to a minimum. “Wanted it to look nice for you, but so that you can give it your touch. You know better than me.” He admits sheepishly with a pink tint to his cheeks. You beam at him tearily, hands clasped together in sheer joy. “God Jordan, you shouldn’t have!” You exclaim, tears bleeding over your lash line. You knew how expensive these types of homes were, never mind ones so big with such history to them. It hadn’t even made much of a dent for Jordan really. He had more money than either of you could ever have spent and he likes to remind you of that to ensure you know full and well his gentle spoiling of you is not a hardship for him. He actively loves to do it.

“Take it as an anniversary present.” He shrugs, trying to fight at the smile that was tugging his lips. The warmth of your hug and the tears seeping through his white shirt was all a welcome to him no matter how hot it was outside. He could not wait to come home to this house, be welcomed home by you and hopefully some littler mixtures of you and him with your eyes and smile. “Makes my present look a little rubbish now,” you jest, making him chuckle heartily.

The house needed a fair bit of work. New flooring, new carpets, your furniture from home would do just fine but you reckon Jordan will be all for new stuff for a new home. A few new coats of paint and nice clear out, but all in it was still absolutely gorgeous.

“There is one room I really wanted to show you though, if that’s okay?” He asks, keeping his eyes trained down on the floor. You furrow your brows, but nod your head. “I gotta grab something from the car first though?” You hum, detangling your hand from his, “And pee.”

He tilts his head like a curious puppy. “Again? You went right before we left?” He queries. You shrug your shoulders indifferently. “Since when do you question a woman’s toilet habits at that point in the month, Henderson?” You poke with a blush and a light giggle. He chuckles with you and holds up his hands in defeat, but the second your out of eye and earshot his shoulders fall and a sigh bursts out his lips. He wouldn’t let it show to you right now his disappointment. You hadn’t been trying long, but it was enough for him to be in the longing stage. Longing to see your swollen belly, longing to feel those tiny kicks against his hands and then hold his brand new baby for the first time, spend all those nights wide awake wishing for nothing but sleep while he cradled them through to the morning. You said it would happen when it happened, but it still ached with every negative test. Hearing you say you were on your period hurt a little more than he had anticipated, but he’s still heart set on showing what he had done with the short time he was able to keep this new home a secret.

You return with your handbag and take his hand. He is instinctive in those soft movements of his thumb over the back of your hand. It’s something he always does to sooth both you and him.

“So this is the master bedroom and I know it’s not quite good yet but I thought-“

“Jordan it’s beautiful,” you cut him off, your hand drifting out of his as you step in slowly. Being cautious of dust sheets and some tools, you walk into the massive room. You’d never been in a bedroom that big and it had blown you away. The huge bed, still with plastic attacked and tags on the mattress. The en-suite bathroom is marble worktops, one of those huge bathtubs and a walk in shower updated to a beautiful mixture of modernity and it’s antique homage. Tears are found again. The window gives a perfect view out the back of the house, rolling fields worth of garden space, loosely fenced in for acres into the distance. There’s a pond on the land a little to the left, not far at all that leads off towards the beginning of the hidden Rose Garden where you met Jordan 4 years ago today. All of that owned and shared by just you and the man you love. “Bloody hell, it’s so magnificent Jordan. I literally have no words.”

He beams shyly almost, “That’s how I feel about you.” He mumbles softly, almost too quiet for you to hear, like he didn’t want you to. “What’s through here?” You call behind you as he trails after you on anxious legs. You carry on through the very short pathway attached to the master bedroom that had some extra storage space. “Well uh..I haven’t finished that so maybe we should just an-“

“Oh my god.”

Jordan rubs nervously at the back of his throat as he enters into the connecting room behind you. His eyes take you in immediately, studying your features carefully. Your hands are clasped over your mouth with slow tears sliding down over your rosy cheeks. Your eyes are afire with love and happiness. “I know it’s weird but-“

“It’s perfect, Jordan.” You throw your arms around his neck, his arms finding you immediately as he buries his head into your shoulder.

It’s the only room with a new carpet yet. It’s soft beneath your shoes, a plush cream colour to match a white wall. The window on the back wall gives the same fantastic view you have in the master room. There’s a white crib pushed against the wall furthest from you with a mobile of twinkling toys dangling above and a baby changing table a little away from the top end of the crib stocked full of pampers and baby cream. In the right corner of the room just by the window is a white wooden rocking chair next to a little book shelf with baby books that had a couple plush teddies and a photo of you and Jordan 4 years ago sitting atop it. The other side corner is decked out with two beanbag seats, a soft baby mat and a bundle of all sorts of soft toys.

“Left that wall blank ‘cause I remember that day you told me you’d always wanted to paint it like the sky.” He recounts, pointing his finger at the wall that the crib was situated next to, making your head whip towards him. He had such a fantastic memory even for the little things you said, just like that. You barely even remember it, spoken under the stars as you’d fallen asleep on his shoulder. It gives you no doubt about having kids with him, the thought of him remembering your babies favourite little treats or ineffective toddler secrets makes your heart soar with pride and joy. “Look closer at that.” He turns you round so your facing that wall again, the one with the little cosy corner.

Painted on the wall intricately above it is that rose arbor your stood underneath when he first laid his eyes on you. Where he first had that dance with you, where he told you he wanted to see you again. Where you snuck into when it was late, dark and only lit by those same fairly lights so he could tell you he loved you for the first time all those years ago. The roses are painted in perfect colour, careful and precise in the way they hung around you for that first ever dance you shared together. It’s so beautiful and so lifelike you that get lost in it, reliving the moment your world came together. Every time you sit there, it’ll be like sitting under real thing when you can’t take the baby out there.

“Well this makes my present a little more fitting, then.” You sniffle, letting Jordan swipe the tears gently off your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs in a slow, loving motion. “What do you mean?” He asks, “I told you not to get me anything.” He crossed his arms over his chest as you rifle through your bag. “Okay okay, here. Open this.”

You hand over a small gift bag, one stuffed with tissue paper he has to tear through as you sit your bag down and wait, watching him with wide and watery eyes. He pulls out first the tiny little wad of fabric and places the gift bag on top of the white wooden dresser, carefully unravelling the rolled up clothes. “That’s bloody adorable.” He breathes out, trying to keep the tears he has inside his eyes to no avail. You wrap your arm around his back, rubbing his tight shoulders softly. “Look at the back.” You encourage, his eyes meet yours then look back to the tiny clothes.

HENDERSON

With a little picture taped carefully to the bottom that he peels off with shaky, tentative fingers. “No way!” He booms, jumping back from you in shock. He looks down at the picture, up at you, back down at the picture, then up at you again with tears slipping over his cheeks. “But you said-“

“It was a surprise!” You squeal back as he swoops forward and scoops you into his arms, spinning you around in glee. “So no food poising? And no period?” He giggled out like a schoolgirl in shock. You shake your head. “Morning sickness and just a diversion. We’re having a baby!”

“We’re having a baby!” He repeats, louder. His words bounce of the walls that can barely contain the happiness inside of them. Threatening to burst at the seams as it fills beyond belief. This room, though incomplete, is perfect. Because you are in it together. Here, together in each other’s arms sharing in joy just like you’ve both shared in pain, hurt, love, happiness, nerves and everything else along the way. Head on, together.

“And this,” Jordan holds up the little football strip with his name printed across the back, his england appointed number proudly underneath, “This is perfect. You,” he pauses, leaning forward to capture your lips in his, “Are perfect.” His hands wander down to your stomach, placed gently over where his pea sized baby currently exists, growing and feeding on the love he intends to drown them in just like he does to you, “Both of you…perfect.”

It is perfect, really. Your love is. Even when it isn’t, it is. When he’s gone too long and you can’t see him because of a pandemic; the effort is made, emotions are shared. He tells you he misses you and his ego is never too big for its space in your relationship. When the world is against him or when fate turns against you both, it’s in each other’s arms that you find solace even if space is needed first. There’s an understanding of the love you have. It’s special. The kind that only a lucky few seem to find these days, a one people can look at and spot from a mile away. It’s beautiful, it’s own space taking entity that makes you both target to significant teasing from friends and family alike. It’s perfect.

Even when you fight over what blue is better to represent the sky just because your pregnant and too hormonal to admit he’d found the right colour before you did. Even when he coats you in paint that ends in an all out paint war, thankful you both removed all the furniture before painting. Even when you sob as your body changes, with pregnant emotions skewing your mind and making you question whether he’ll ever be attracted to you again, he’ll remind you that he’s never been more attracted to you than now. Housing his child, taking the aches, the pains and the changes like a true champ while he can do nothing but rub your feet and buy you ridiculous quantities of Solero ice creams. He’ll remind you in more ways that one just how perfect you are to him. Love by it’s very nature is as messy as that paint fight. It’s up and down and all over the place all the time. But the kind of love that you and Jordan have is a special that doesn’t waver, doesn’t dull or dim or change through time.

If anything, each day he loves you more. Even if he was convinced it wasn’t possible. But then it just was. Seeing you red in the face with sweat dripping over your forehead and tears leaking from your squeezed shut eyes as your screams echo through the room. All he could do was coax and coach, trying to tell you how proud of you he was. Even when you screamed that you despised him, he laughed and told you to squeeze his hand a little harder. It hurt, but that was nothing compared to the pain that you were enduring from multiple areas of your body as that baby ripped through you to make her grand entrance to the world, kicking and screaming just like the fighter her mother was. He thought his heart might burst with the amount of love he has, surely that’s as good as it gets?

No. No, it gets better still.

Everyday it’s better. Better when he gets to watch that woman that he loves so much sing to his tiny baby daughter, rocking in that chair under the painted rose arbor as she feeds from you. The most beautiful, natural thing in the world and he is enthralled by it. Watching you giggle at her she coos up at you. Placing her down in the crib beneath the gentle jingling of the cloud themed mobile next to the pale, sky blue coloured wall, blossoms falling, trickling down through clouds from a painted blossom tree on the wall and rose petals in variations of pink and red along the bottom of the crib. Roses and rose petals just like the ones that surrounded you on the day you danced with each other in under the trees of the garden that summer night. Roses like the ones you stood under to profess your love for one another. Roses, like the ones he took a knee beside, beneath and with one in his hand to give to you as he asked for your hand. Roses like you would stand beneath with one pinned to the breast of his suit to say the vows that would tie you in law to one another and to give you his name. Roses like the ones painted on the far wall, still fresh when you shared the news of that baby girl’s existence. Roses that were such an important symbol of the love you shared, pure and beautiful, sometimes painful but always worth the fight. Those roses painted on that crib with space for just one word carved into the wood.

Rose.

Your own beautiful little Rose.

#jordan henderson #jordan henderson imagines #jordan henderson imagine #jordan henderson x reader #england national team imagine #england national team #footie fics #footballer fics #football fics

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tales-unique · 3 years

Text

FAITH, LOST II

Tagging @chelseareferenced so she can read this goodness first hand! ;3

Chapter 2

“You have got to be joking!” Heisenberg can’t contain himself, not that he ever censored himself in the past. This is beyond ridiculous, even for the high and mighty bitch herself. He’s quick to turn on his heel to stare down the deceiver but he doesn’t call her out. Not yet anyway. He doesn’t need to, not when Lady Goliath looks about ready to burst a vein. “Mother Miranda, I must protest!” Lady Dimitrescu hisses, eyes practically glowing with rage. “Heisenberg hasn’t the faintest idea of the gift you are giving, he’d sooner throw it to the dogs!”

You wince at how little she regards you, conflicted. As it stands Lady Dimitrescu is fighting viciously to no doubt claim you as her own, which bodes marginally better than the man who would sooner toss you aside without a second thought than look at you. The Countess stands tall but her posture reminds you of a petulant child, demanding to be given what they want. Albeit a regal one. All while Heisenberg stands there with a mean snarl on his lips that brandishes his impressive canines, aimed squarely at Mother Miranda. Lady Beneviento sits silent as the grave watching the exchange while her devilish doll wiggles in excitement on her lap. Lord Moreau lingers on the edge of the fray, wringing his hands; he’s clearly distressed at the fighting and you almost feel ashamed for being the cause of the turmoil. “My decision is final,” Mother Miranda states firmly, voice echoing unnaturally around the room, her form already receding towards the doors. “Mother Miranda, please!” Lady Dimitrescu calls out, a brief look of panic flitting across her porcelain features when she receives no response at all. The cracks are already showing — she will not get her way today. In a desperate attempt to regain control she turns to Heisenberg, who stands tense as he watches Mother Miranda leave. “Heisenberg!” She seethes, hands balled tightly into fists that threaten to snap the delicate neck of her opera length cigarette holder into splinters, “say something!” You watch, helpless, as he casually lifts his hammer, taking his sweet time under Lady Dimitrescu’s smouldering gaze. The others have already made a hasty retreat, following their Mother’s steps closely, leaving you at the mercy of the feuding siblings. When Heisenberg finally locks eyes with her, hammer set proudly on his shoulder, the tension is so thick you struggle to breathe. Then, he smirks. The tautness of his body melts away into a well versed confident swagger, complete with a wolfish grin, and Lady Dimitrescu recoils so quickly in rage that you fear she’s given herself whiplash. The tirade of pure and unadulterated hatred that spills forth is in no way befitting of a woman of such high standing but Heisenberg seems unaffected. In fact, it amuses him to see her become undone when he ignores her. You don’t understand how he’s so calm when faced with such venom, practically cowering when she turns to you, face twisted in indignation. “Now don’t be a sore loser,” he tuts, quickly tugging you to his side, “Mother Miranda made her choice, are you really going to defy her?” He teases, grin widening at the sight of faint colour spreading on the Countess’ face. Heisenberg always knew how to get under skin and make her squirm. Sparing you one last glance Lady Dimitrescu turns sharply on her heel to leave, huffing in annoyance and frustration. Neither of you are worthy of even a biting retort, it seems. “You can breathe, you know.” You startle at Heisenberg’s teasing remark, finally releasing the breath that you didn’t realise you had been holding the whole time. You had been so transfixed on the very real prospect of your demise at the hands of a nine foot tall Vampire woman that you may have neglected that small fact of life. Lightheadedness makes your vision swim and for a moment you think you’re about to faint. If ever there was something to make you feel like you had one foot in the grave that moment was very much it. It does not bear repeating. Heisenberg takes in your deer-in-headlights expression, chuckling at the way his stare makes your little hummingbird heart flutter more. You’re absolutely petrified. It’s understandable, he knows that he’s dangerous and your little flock has more than enough stories about the big bad Lycan master that lets his hounds descend from the ominous Factory to feast on the nonbelievers. Utter bullshit. Well, mostly. But they don’t need to know that, of course. “So,” he drawls, tilting his head, “Mother Miranda says you’re my new— what was it? Ah, right, right, my new servant.” It’s a statement, but you’re not sure if he fully understands what he’s supposed to actually do with you, just like Lady Dimitrescu remarked. You nod shakily, bringing your still bound wrists up in a feeble attempt to warm yourself. It doesn’t offer much, the metal is so cold it brings your skin out in goosebumps. Thankfully, Heisenberg notices. “Oh, uh, sorry about that,” he clears his throat, a sudden switch, and with a flick of his wrist the shackles snap apart and shoot off to the side. They clatter to the ground unceremoniously, rusted and broken. It’s almost sad how much you relate to them at that moment. “T-thank you,” you answer meekly, rubbing at your sore wrists. The blood rushes to your fingers, making them tingle. It’s an odd, but muted, sensation, given the gravity of your situation. He doesn’t reply, merely tips his hat at you before motioning for you to go ahead of him. You’re unsure if it’s because he’s a gentleman or if it’s a power play but you move regardless, your pace hesitant. You’re not eager to be thrust out into the chill of the mountain, not that it’s any warmer inside at this point. You can only hope that the Factory is better than this.

It’s so much worse. The heat— it’s humid, stagnant, and downright heinous. Steam hisses and spits from rusted, internal pipes that streak across the walls and ceilings of the corridors, making the air humid and cloying. Your feet ache through your boots as you try to keep up with Heisenberg's strides, echoing off the metal grating underfoot in an annoying clank clank clank rhythm. In an attempt to cool yourself down you try to sweep up your damp hair from where it sticks to the back of your neck, grimacing at the wetness that covers your fingers. You’re a sweating mess and you hate it. The elevator is your near breaking point. In such a small space the heat intensifies, stuffy and borderline unbearable. It’s normal, your muddled mind tries to rationalize, since the lower levels are closer to the furnace, and it’ll get better once you go up, but it doesn’t take away from discomfort. You notice with great irritation that Heisenberg is barely batting an eyelid, though it’s to be expected. He lives there, of course he’d be used to it. The ride to the upper levels is uncomfortable and not just because of the humidity. His eyes are on you the entire time, at least you think so given those round glasses that he wears obscure his eyes from your view, no doubt wondering just why he’d taken in such a mess. And a mess you most certainly are. Heisenberg can see how your desperately try to keep stringy, moist hair from plastering itself to your sweat-soaked skin, failing miserably as the rebellious strands slip from your fingers. There are dark patches to your simple dress, made worse by how it clings to your body from the heat. He can barely stop himself from smirking when you curse quietly under your breath, rolling your eyes in irritation as you fuss over your hair. It’s the first time that you’ve shown some real spirit. Your annoyance is refreshing on your flushed face, the dim, artificial light casting you in a dewy, warm glow. Sadly, it’s not enough to overpower how badly you need a bath and fresh clothes. “Well, here we are,” he announces as the elevator stops and the door opens up; your new home. It’s another long hallway that looks similar to the dozen odd that you walked through to get here, but you do notice that it’s comparatively cooler. It must be near the top of the Factory. It’s a pleasant relief and you follow Heisenberg to a cluster of rooms a little lighter on your feet. The tour is, well, barely that, as he shows you a bedroom, a kitchen, and a bathroom, all outfitted with the barest of necessities and far too much scrap metal, tools, and other engineering components. You linger in the doorway of the modest bedroom, staring at the single bed pushed up in the corner as though that’s the out of place object in the room. He leaves you for a moment, fumbling through papers and projects on the heavily cluttered desk that takes up the length of one wall, and you wander the hallway, peeking inside rooms with doors slightly ajar. Most are storage rooms with all sorts of junk inside, but one looks salvageable with an old, banged up couch and minimal debris. As you look about envisioning how to make it more homely, leaning against the door frame, you’re not paying attention and it gives Heisenberg the perfect opportunity to scare you. “Found yourself a room, huh?” He whispers into your ear, pulling back quickly as you shriek in alarm and swing out your arm instinctively to hit him. You can barely hear your heart hammering wildly in your chest over the sound of his raucous laughter, retreating from him quickly. “Why would you do that?” You shout, wide eyes staring at him. Heisenberg can barely pull himself together, breaking into small fits of laughter at the sight of your astonished expression, exhaling deeply to try and ground himself. “Couldn’t help it,” he explains, grinning at you, “it was a perfect setup!” Flabbergasted, your mouth falls open at his response; this man was one of the four Lords of the village, not some child playing tricks! Noticing the offense you take at his actions Heisenberg scoffs, his own expression souring as he turns away from you. What was he honestly thinking? You were just another haughty, stuck-up, loyalist to Mother fucking Miranda that clearly wouldn’t know a joke if it came up and slapped you in the face. “Bathroom is right there, you reek,” he snaps harshly, pointing into a small room lined with cracked, dirty tiles and rusting, dated appliances. You glare at his back, wordlessly going inside and doping your best to slam the door shut, but all you manage is a half-descent rattle. You look about yourself and suppress a shiver of disgust, staring at the old, rusting shower that has clearly seen better days, questioning whether you can forgo washing after all. Needs must, you think to yourself, as you dig out the cleanest towel you can find from a rickety old cabinet in the corner. Thankfully the water is fine when you turn the handle and you quickly strip to take advantage of the first good thing since you came to the Factory. As you stand under the tepid spray you wonder if you are, as Mother Miranda had said, perfect for this task. Doubt nips at your resolve and tries to whittle down your faith, but you refuse to let it win. You must succeed, for Mother Miranda.

#RE #RE8 #RE 8 #Resident Evil #Resident Evil 8 #Resident Evil 8 Village #RE Imagine #RE Imagines #RE8 Imagine #RE8 Imagines #Resident Evil Imagine #Resident Evil Imagines #Karl Heisenberg #Karl Heisenberg Imagine #Karl Heisenberg Imagines #Karl Heisenberg x Reader #Heisenberg Imagine #Heinsenberg Imagines #Heisenberg x Reader

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floofs-headcanons · 3 years

Note

Hello hello! Both of your have such awesome writing! I had so much fun reading the headcanons and scenarios of the bodyguard AU! Could I request either college AU or a soulmate AU or your choosing for Zoro? Whatever you feel like writing! Thank you!!

College & Soulmate AU; Scenario

Character; Zoro

Word Count; 1,718

Thank you so much, we’re glad you liked it !! But no, but let me tell you how we screamed at each other for literally half an hour when we saw this request. There were too many good soulmate AUs we ended up using a generator aksjdhas.

The first time you and your soulmate touch you get stuck together for a while.

December is when you find him sleeping on campus grounds. He’s resting on one of the outdoor tables, book open, with arms covering the pages. Snow is falling, and you’re cold even with a heavy fur coat and umbrella keeping the white specs from melting into your hair.

You’re not sure if you should wake him up despite the fact that he was wearing nothing other than a T-shirt and some jeans, but he doesn’t seem very bothered. Well, that is until he sneezes. It’s followed by some incoherent grumbling and nearly scares the shit out of you, but it’s enough for you to decide to help.

“Hey,” you poke his cheek with the butt of your umbrella, not too fond of touching strangers. “Hey!”

He doesn’t stir, and you’re left wondering if anyone else has tried to help him before you showed up and ended up leaving it be because he wouldn’t budge.

Still, you couldn’t leave him here in this type of temperature; so you decide to leave your umbrella behind. It’s long enough to lean against the table and shield him from the ever piling snow without directly touching any part of his body and possibly bothering his rest- not that you think it would. He didn’t flinch even when you yelled at him.

December is when you’re working at Shakky’s bar late into the night to pay off your college tuition.

Those loans wouldn’t pay themselves after all and the salary was good.

The company at the bar itself was interesting to say the least. You could never truly say you had a dull night while working there. Be it the slurring drunks and their awful attempts at pickup lines, to the terribly sobering tales that would be shared across the counter; it was an eye opening experience.

Tonight would be much like any other- at least, that’s what you had thought until a familiar man comes through the door.

He seemed well- that was good. You didn’t give it too much thought, after all, you were on the clock and this was a rather popular bar for the student body to frequent. From the way Shakky greets him, he must’ve been a regular long before you had begun working here.

Setting down the glass you had been mindlessly polishing, your attention is drawn towards a customer sitting near the back of the bar. He’s a bit louder than the other customers, but you were pretty used to that. Eustass Kid came in all the time and drank until he either passed out or his blonde haired friend carried him out forcefully. At the very least he wasn’t bothering anybody.

“Excuse me,” the green haired man raises a hand, successfully catching your attention. It seems he was done talking to Shakky by now.

“Yes?” You make your way over, an award-winning customer service smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “What can I get for you?”

He ends up getting a few, maybe more than a few, beers. This man sure could drink.

December is when your car decides it needs its own break from the cold winter snow. It thankfully doesn’t break down anywhere too traffic heavy, and there’s an auto-repair shop not even five minutes away.

“Oh, hello,” you greet, surprised to see a familiar face working here. He’s wearing a tank-top and some slacks, and this time you think the attire is appropriate given how much he was sweating.

The owner, Franky, had more than generously came to pick up your mobile and gave you a ride along the way, saying it would be done the same day. I have a reliable repairman, he said more than just a bit too loudly for comfort.

The male glances up at you for a second before going back to finish up on the vehicle he was already occupied with. “Hey, there.” You’re not too sure if he recognizes you- it’s a hard to not recognize him- but that’s fine, you just needed your car fixed.

It doesn’t take him very long to finish up on his current project before moving onto yours. He thankfully doesn’t ask any questions, it seems like the owner had already filled him in, and just starts working.

“You know,” he spares you a glance, picking up another tool. “He said it’d be done the same day but it’s still gonna take a few hours. Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“Unfortunately not,” you sigh. The only plans you had were to go back home and take a long, long nap, but there was no way you were going to walk back in this type of weather. For a while, you’re standing around a little awkwardly, fiddling with the fluffs of your sleeves before he speaks up.

“If you want you could sit inside where it’s warmer. There’s a TV and some magazines you could read to keep you occupied.” You debate that for a bit, looking through the glass door to the waiting area, but ultimately decide to stick around for a bit longer.

“It’s fine,” you say with a smile. You could wait inside later, for now you’d want to wander a bit. It’s not every day you’d get to go to an auto-repair shop and you’ve always been a bit curious with how often Kid yells about it in the bar. “Would it be alright if I take a look around?”

He gives a grunt of approval and you make yourself comfortable, roaming the workshop. It’s quite big, and you hadn’t noticed ‘til now that the walls were painted in vibrant blues, red, and yellow. It matched the owner’s eccentric personality.

“Oh,” a stand hidden to the back of the shop catches your attention; a lone umbrella resting on its handles. Yours- to be more precise. “You use an umbrella during snow time?” You hadn’t bothered to ask for it back, the thought never really occurred to you. Considering they weren’t that expensive buying a new one wouldn’t be much of a hassle. If anything, you were more surprised he’s kept it around.

The male clears his throat, stopping whatever it was he was doing to your car and wipes his hands down with a towel. “Actually,” he admits sheepishly, “I’ve been meaning to return it to you. I just kept forgetting.”

You raise a brow, “You knew it was mine?”

“I’ve seen you use it around campus before,” he admits. “Not a lot of people use an umbrella while it’s snowing, and the color’s pretty vibrant so it’s hard to not notice. I had wanted to give it to you when I visited the bar, but you were constantly busying yourself so I never got the chance.”

A chuckle escapes your lips at his little confession. He seemed like such an intimidating guy, with the furrowed brows and scar over his eye, but he was a lot more awkward than one would expect. “Well,” you catch his attention. “I’m working there again tomorrow night if you want to come give it to me in person.” December is when you’re sparing hopeful glances at the door every time the bell chimes.

“Expecting someone?” Shakky teases, coming behind the bar and pouring herself a glass.

“Something like that,” you mutter before making your way past her to attend to someone in the corner of the room. It’s the same person from around two weeks ago- he’s louder this time, but there were also less customers tonight and no one seems to be complaining any so you let it slide. “Yes? How may I hELP-?!”

What you can’t let slide is how he forcefully grabs your wrist and essentially drags your body to lean over the table. “Ah, damn,” you’re used to drunks, not idiots. He has a permanent grin plastered over his lips and his grip on your wrist tightens. “I can’t let go! Guess we must be soulmates!”

There is no explaining the disgust that washes over your face. “Sir, I’m asking you politely to let go.”

Everyone who goes here knows that it’s simply an unwritten rule to not fight unless you wanted to be beaten half to death. Not by you- dear lord no- Shakky on the other hand was ruthless and you’d never want to end up on the other side of her fist.

Ever.

“Huh?” He slurs, “didn’t I just tell you that I can’t let go?”

“I’m telling you-” before you’re able to get anymore words out another hand wraps around the older man’s wrist, successfully shutting you up. For a second, the dread of it being one of his friends rises, but it’s quickly crushed by the voice that follows.

“I’m sure you’re not deaf. She said let go.”

The bar is dead silent for a few seconds before the man roughly releases his grip on your arm. A bit gentler would’ve been nice, you internally grumble, rubbing the sore area.

“Hey there, could I ask exactly what you were trying to do with my precious barkeep?” Your boss comes over, leaning against the table. She gives you a wink and a slight nudge of her head towards the break room and you don’t think twice before leaving the scene, your green haired friend following close behind.

“Is your wrist alright?” He questions as soon as the door closes. “My bad for being late, I got held back by some work Franky wanted done.”

His hand reaches out to gently hold your wrist and a spark of electricity shocks you both. Usually, your first instinct would be to flinch and pull away, but he has a firm grip.

“Uhm,” you glance down, then back up at him. “It’ll probably bruise tomorrow but it’s nothing to worry too much about...”

His face is unreadable, and after a couple seconds his ears turn a faint shade of red. “I can’t let go.”

You chuckle at his poor attempt of a joke. “C’mon now, we just went through this.” You lift your free hand to pry his fingers off your wrist only to feel the same electric shock as earlier. It doesn’t hurt, only stinging enough to really initially surprise anyone, but you quickly realize he wasn’t trying to pull your leg.

Oh.

“So,” he awkwardly lifts his other hand. “I brought your umbrella.”

#roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #one piece scenario #one piece x reader #the way we struggled writing this is unreal #but also it was really fun so maybe it was worth it LOL #this turned out way longer than i expected it to #struggle was worth it fr

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lovely-angst · 3 years

Text

hbd dearest dynamight

a/n: a little late, but happy birthday boom boom boi! ily!

genre: fluff

pairing: bakugou x reader

summary: you try to surprise bakugou on his birthday, but he comes home early from work!

word count 1.7k

04.21.21

"I can't believe I gotta work on my birthday," Bakugou groans as he runs his hands up and down his face. It was just hitting six in the morning and Bakugou was about to head out the door for work, not before lounging on the couch one last time to bask in the warm presence of his home.

"Hey, it's okay. Heroes gotta work on their birthdays sometimes. If it makes you feel better, your fans are probably pretty excited to wish you a happy birthday when they see you on patrol," you say, bending down to kiss him on the forehead, feeling his arms snake around your waist, cheek resting on your pregnant belly.

"I guess, but we could've been doing something together," he mumbles into your swollen stomach. Chuckling, you try to push him away, but his strength was far greater than yours, even when he didn't try.

"Katsuki," you whine, "we can always celebrate when you're off," you try, but he doesn't budge. Instead, he lifts you into his arms as he carries you over to the front door.

Your eyes lock and you give him a shy smile, feeling nervous with the way he stared you down so passionately and quiet.

"I could just not show up. They can get Deku to cover for me," he whispers against your lips, but you shake your head at him, "it's not just me who loves you, you know. it's a day the citizens want to celebrate—to celebrate you. Plus, you already have the whole night with me," you say with a shy smile and Bakugou couldn't help but smile back, closing the space between the two of you to press a kiss onto your lips.

"Can't really do much now that we have the little pooper on the way," Bakugou says, eyes glancing down to your stomach. "We still could," he inquires, but you slap his chest, "we are not gonna cause a ruckus in there for him." Setting you down gently on your feet, you watch as Bakugou puts on his boots before opening the door, the sun just rising in the sky. A frosty chill in the air before he turns back to look at you, "don't you have something to tell me?" Jumping in your spot from the sudden question with an 'oh!', you lean forward to press a warm kiss on his lips, "I love you, have a good day at work." But that didn't seem to be the answer.

Bakugou frowned, lips slightly pouting before speaking up once more, "anything else?"

Staring at your husband, you give him a quizzical look before the light bulb finally goes off in your head.

"Happy birthday, Katsuki, my dearest Dynamight," you say, pressing many kisses over his face before pulling back, hands lingering on his cheeks. "See you when you get back,"

"There you go," he says with that handsome grin you've always been fond of, "I love you too," and with that, he was off and ready to save the world once again. You sighed happily, watching your husband using his explosions to propel him to work. Just when he left your field of view, you quickly ran back inside and grabbed your phone before dialing a number.

Pressing the phone against your ear, you listening to the rings before a deeper voice spoke up on the other side, "Hello?"

"Kirishima? Great, Katsuki just left, you can come over now?" "On my way, (Name)!"

And a quick fifteen minutes, the cute redhead showed up at your door with loads of boxes behind him before flashing his adorable smile, "I have everything ready here!"

"Thank you, Kirishima! You're a lifesaver!" you cried as you helped him bring the small and light boxes in while he took on the large, heavy boxes. And though you offered to help him out with some medium-sized ones, he continued to swipe them from your hands, not wanting you to stress your body and the baby.

"So, what do you have planned for him today?" he asks, placing the last box down in the once empty room now filled with boxes. "Okay, so I really want to surprise Katsuki by finishing the nursery room today by the time he gets home!" "Thankfully, Katsuki and I had already painted the nursery room a while back, so all that's left is to add the furniture and decor," you explain as you spun around gently, already envisioning the final product.

"It'll just make everything so much more real," you say softly, running a hand over your belly.

Kirishima offers you a smile before rolling up his sleeves, "well then, let's get to work!"

It had only been five hours into his shift, and Bakugou was already pretty miserable at work. Nothing was going wrong, he just would rather have been spending the day, his birthday, at home with you, his pregnant wife. Hearing a knock on the other side of the door, Bakugou mumbled out a "come in" before Midoriya and Todoroki walked in with a small cake in their hands, a lit candle as a finishing touch.

"Happy birthday, Kacchan!" Midoriya cheered, but Bakugou could only roll his eyes. "How come you didn't take the day off to celebrate?"

"I couldn't and I was just gonna have IcyHot or you cover for me, but (Name) insisted I come," Bakugou replied, somewhat salty. Midoriya could only respond with a light chuckle and a supportive smile, "(Name) probably just wanted you to go out and have the people celebrate with you." Bakugou scoffed, "she did."

"Well, you're not on patrol today, so why don't you take the rest of the day off? Midoriya and I can finish the rest for you," Todoroki suggests and Midoriya nods enthusiastically.

"Yes! Go enjoy the rest of the off! Take the cake to share with (Name)!" Midoriya chirps, practically shoving the cake into the birthday boy's arms before pushing him out the door.

"Tell (Name) we said hi!" and with that, the two shut the door closed in his face, leaving him alone with the small cake with the still lit but melting candle. At least he was free to go home now.

It was just hitting noon when Bakugou made it back to the luxurious apartment the two of you lived in. He had been stopped a handful of times by fans and citizens alike gifting him presents or wishing him a happy birthday. Either way, he was thankful for everyone, but right now, he just wanted to spend some time with you.

"(Name), I'm back early," Bakugou calls out, expecting you to run down the hallway to greet him like you always did, except he was met with the faint sound of music coming from down the hall.

Placing the cake down on the kitchen table, Bakugou curiously made his way towards the door where the unfinished nursery room was. The door was slightly ajar, and he could hear your singing come from inside along with a few thuds here and there.

Gently pushing the door open, he peeked inside only to see you sitting on the floor with a bunch of different parts and tools all around you as you continued to build whatever you were working on.

You looked extra attractive working so hard with your hair out of place. Strands turning every which way as you focused hard on what looked like a baby crib? "(Name)? What are you doing?" Bakugou finally asks, spooking you in the process. "Katsuki! You're home early! I was nearly going to pop the baby out early!" You say, quickly getting up to hug your husband.

"Deku and IcyHot told me to take the rest of the day off," he responds, eyes drifting away towards the work in progress behind you.

"Oh, you weren't supposed to see all of this until you got back!" you whined, "it was supposed to be a surprise!"

"A surprise?"

"I wanted to finish the nursery by the time you got back, but I didn't expect you to come home early," your words were shy as you played with the hem of your outfit.

Bakugou's eyes widened before he glanced back up, fully taking in the view partially furnished nursery. There was a changing table placed along the wall and there was even a rocking chair and some drawers for all the baby clothes the two of you had bought or so kindly have been gifted.

"Kirishima did most of it, but he had an emergency to run to, so I tried finishing the rest. I'm really slow at it," you chuckle, glancing back to the unfinished baby crib.

"Well, now that you've seen it, happy birthday Katsuki! I really wanted the nursery finished by your birthday, but plans do always go the way you want them, right?" Your bright eyes glanced up into his own before he got out of your embrace and walked past you before sitting himself on the floor where you were previously.

"Katsuki?"

"We can still finish the nursery today. Where did you leave off in the directions?" He asked, picking up a screwdriver before paging through the instruction booklet. Squealing in joy, you ran over towards him before beginning to assist him with whatever he needed. Though, you spent most of the time ogling at his well sculpted arm muscles that he might've caught and teased you for.

The sun had gone by the time the two of you had finished furnishing the room. You and Bakugou stood in the middle of the peaceful nursery room, admiring the hard work and love that went into the room.

"It really feels like we're gonna have a baby soon, huh?" you say gently as you slowly began to rock in his arms to the soft music that was playing through your phone. "We're going to be parents."

Bakugou let out a hum in response before a content sigh left your lips. "Sorry I wasn't able to get you more. This is all I had planned," you confess, upset that you weren't able to give your lover more of what he deserved.

"This is enough already. The pooper is going to love it," he says, smiling into your hair as he continues to rock you side to side. Smiling back, you snuggle into him deeper,

"Happy Birthday Katsuki, I love you."

#katsuki bakugou #bakugou #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki imagine #bakugou katsuki imagines #bakugou katsuki scenario #katsuki bakugou scenario #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou scenarios #bnha #bnha x reader #mha #mha x reader #boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia x reader #my hero academia #my hero academia x reader

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lovesupernova25 · 3 years

Text

Broken Glass

a Quackity Oneshot

warnings: torture (non-explicit), blood, insanity, brief alcohol

i sat down at my computer, blacked out, looked up at 3 am and this was here. please enjoy. (idea from this one comment on this one tiktok that suggested that quackity uses the shape shifting powers some people hc him to have to torment dream. i’ll see if i can find the tiktok!)

~~~ *** ~~~

Quackity knew what broken glass felt like. He knew how it felt slicing up his hands, his face, being kissed into his skin. But this was the first time he knew what it felt like in his soul. Yeah- that's what this feeling was.

Broken glass.

Quackity didn’t turn around when he heard footsteps getting closer. He knew who it was already. No one else would be in this wasteland he’d built, anyways. No one was ever here.

“Q?” The rumble of Sam’s voice was concerned, almost hesitant. Quackity grabbed a bottle from the rack. “Quackity- you said it was urgent. What’s going on?” He turned, and the liquor slammed onto the counter. He might’ve relished the way Sam startled, on a better day. Quackity’s hands found the shot glasses, twisted the cap of the bottle. The neon blue that sloshed from the cup reflected the thunder in his gaze.

“Quackity, it’s still early-” But he tipped his head, knocked back the burning liquor. This time, Sam didn’t jump when the glass crashed down next to his hand. Quackity splayed his palms on the cool granite and leaned across to level his gaze with Sam’s.

“I need to visit the prison, Sam.”

Sam had the good sense to nod.

Maybe this was the wrong way to deal with things. Maybe strapping on armor and sharpening his knives wasn’t a healthy way to process his ex-fiances showing up trying to- what? Apologize? Make things ‘how they used to be’? If that was the case, they really were just mocking him. Nothing would ever be the way it used to.

It ended in a fight, of course. It ended in his already cracking heart fully giving out, splintering into a thousand shards like shattered fvcking glass. It ended in him envying Schlatt, because at least when his heart broke down he got to leave.

Quackity’s stuck here, with this void in his chest that keeps him floating oddly outside his body as Pandora swallows him whole.

They don’t even bother signing the waivers anymore. It would be ridiculous, at this point, especially since Quackity’s fully decked out in armor and tools. He guesses Sam’s just realized Quackity won’t be the reason Dream gets out of the hell they’ve so carefully crafted for him.

Levers, keys. The threshold to the heart of the prison is as claustrophobic as ever, but Quackity embraces the suffocating heat. There’s not much for his mind to wander on, here. There is the wall of lava, and there is the rasp of his boots on obsidian, and there is the rough leather pommel of his sword. There is, on the other side of the fire, a sacrificial lamb. Quackity grins and it hurts as the lava simmers down.

Sam says nothing.

“Dream…” He leans on the butt of his axe, looming, and his ears are still ringing with screams. “Wouldn’t it be so much easier to give me what I want?” He kneels next to the ragged lump of man on the ground and grabs his chin, forces it up. “C’mon… I would leave you alone then, right? I wouldn’t come, wouldn’t have to hurt you- you would get so much peace and quiet… you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Quackity makes his voice honey, his hand gentle. Gods, he thinks he even sees Dream lean into the touch. It’s pitiful, what the admin has become. One of Dream’s acid-green eyes is bloodied and purple, swollen shut, and a cut on his face oozes crimson. His mouth is positively dripping with the stuff, courtesy of Quackity’s pliers and some molars that were just begging to be yanked. He can hear the ragged, wheezing breaths of the man in front of him and Quackity has never felt so sickeningly alive.

“Heh…” Dream flicks his working eye up to hold Quackity’s gaze. “No-” He coughs violently, wheezing and convulsing. The hacking subsides and he forces out; “No peace in death, Big Q. You’ll know that s-soon.”

Quackity’s lip curls. He stands abruptly, taking little satisfaction in the way Dream’s chin cracks against the obsidian.

“You’re pitiful.” This was supposed to help. He thought it did- when he funneled all the glass inside of him into the swing of his axe, the cut of his knife. When the voices in his head were drowned out by the screaming. But Dream was on the ground, bleeding and broken and still acting like he had the upper fvcking hand, and it turned out the glass had grown only sharper.

This isn’t working.

He paces to the back of the cell and yanks a tattered book off the lectern, flipping through it with a scowl. He’s about to chuck the thing in the lava--just to see if it’ll get a reaction out of its’ author--when a name catches his eye. Gingerly, he thumbs back to the page it was written on. Quackity feels so sick he grins when he finds it.

It’s not just one name. It’s hundreds. Some he doesn’t recognize, but most from this server. In fact- it looks like everyone who’s ever stepped foot in Dream’s land has been scrawled on the black-bleeding page. Quackity even thinks he sees his own name in there somewhere. They cover the page almost entirely in ink, written and rewritten and scribbled over each other.

George, Sapnap, Karl, Tommy. Tommy seems to be in there a lot.

Dream must have sat here for hours, scribbling the names of people he would never see again, alone in his personal hell. It’s sick. And something in the back of Quackity’s mind sparks.

“Dream,” He says, as the start of an idea appears. “How would you like to see your friends again?” He sees the confusion in the prisoner’s eyes and has to fight to keep from grinning. “Or… your old friends, I suppose. But I bet they still care about you, don’t you think?” He sets the book down, pacing towards the heap of blood-streaked orange jumpsuit with mock sincerity plastered over his face. His mouth twitches at the look in Dream’s eyes. There’s fear, suspicion, pain… but also, delightfully, hope. He can see Dream trying to crush it, but it’s there. Gods, Quackity could get drunk on that look. Maybe he already is.

“How do you think,” He leans over Dream, hands folded behind his back. “They would feel about you if they saw you now?”

Quackity really is grinning now. The axe wasn’t working, the knives weren’t working, the pliers only made Dream more determined. It was time for a new tactic. He feels that spark in the back of his mind and fans it, turning away from Dream as it grows. He hasn’t dipped into this ability for a long time--people don’t much like his kind--but the only person to see him now is barely human himself. Quackity closes his eyes as the fire washes over him.

When he turns around, he almost breaks character at the shock in Dream’s eyes.

“George?”

There’s so much raw hurt in his voice- gods, why didn’t he think of this sooner?

“Dream…” Quackity says in George’s voice. “Gods… what happened to you?”

“No… how- George-”

“I mean, everybody says you deserved it.” Quackity makes sure the revulsion is clear on his--George’s--face as he steps closer. “I guess you did… Still, though… this is a new low for you.” Dream is actually trying to push himself up now, trembling on wounded arms. “I mean, don’t you remember how things used to be? When we were all together? And now you’re… this. Not to be rude, Dream, but it’s kind of no wonder no one’s broken you out.”

“Stop, you’re… you’re not even real, I…” Dream screws his eyes shut, chest heaving. Aw. It looks like he’s starting to catch on.

“We were all happy, before.” He continues, letting the glass, the anger, slip back into his voice. “Like a family. And then you ruined it. All you’ve ever been is a parasite- it’s just amazing we didn’t notice sooner.” Quackity snarls with George’s face and he knows Dream can’t separate the illusion from reality. “You know what everyone says? They say good fvcking riddance.” Quackity--George--takes a step toward Dream with every word, until he’s sneering directly down at him. “I used to defend you. Down to the very end, I’d defend everything you did- all the wars, all the hurt, broken promises and broken hearts. I was loyal to you.” He shakes his head in disgust. “Not anymore. Now, I say good riddance with the rest of them.”

Quackity doesn’t know much about George and Dream’s history, but he knew they were close. And Dream, for all his boasting about cutting ties, has never truly let go. “I loved you, Dream. And look where it got us. You’re bleeding out in a cell, alone and powerless, and I…” Quackity turns. It’s a damn good thing he’s an amazing actor, or the look on Dream’s face might just make him lose it. It’s the same look he’s seen on just three people’s faces before; three people with worthless rings and broken promises to tie them together.

(“Didn’t you ever love us?”)

But Dream was right about one thing. Attachments are dangerous. And Quackity can wield them like a sword.

“I’m leaving. I don’t need you, Dream. And neither does anyone else.” His lip curls. “You’re worthless, Clay. I hope you rot.”

And the curtain falls.

Dream has pushed himself against a chest by now, heaving and trembling.

“Stop. Stop this, you’re not him, you’re not-” Another coughing fit seizes him and he hacks up blood.

“Wasn’t it a good performance, though? I think I was spot on, Clay.” Quackity leers, in his own voice now. Gods, that was exhilarating.

Dream rests his forehead against the chest, face contorted. “What do you want?” It sounds almost like a sob. Quackity’s smile drops.

“Oh, you know exactly what I want, Dream. You know exactly why I’m still here, and why you can barely stand.” He cocks his head, lip twitching up into a smile. There are a thousand names scrawled into that book, all of them knives sharpened to cut. Quackity’s just gotten started. “Let's see if someone else could encourage you more.”

Dream barely has time to look afraid before the fire has washed over Quackity again.

Lights, camera, action.

“...You always wanted to be remembered, huh.” Sapnap’s voice says. Dream closes his eyes, breath hitching. “You’d always play the hero, when we were kids. Make George and I be the villains every time.” His eyes have been on the ground, but he lifts them now, stares down the figure in the corner. “Look where that fvcking got us.” And this hurts both of them, Quackity knows- because he knows Sapnap’s voice, his mannerisms, the way he sounds when he’s devastated and the way he sounds when he wants to burn the world with rage. Slipping into his skin is as easy as breathing and feels like suffocating all at once.

“You promised me- you promised me this would be our world. That we’d stay together, that we’d finally be happy.” And it is too easy to let that heartbreak bleed into his voice, sprinkle it with the rage and hate of wasted memories.

(“You promised me we’d be happy together.”)

He paces towards Dream with a glare like wildfire. “Well guess what, Dream. I am happy now. This whole server is happier now.” Quackity yanks the man in the orange jumpsuit up by the collar and snarls at his whimper of pain. “Without you. Without your sick fvcking games, without your wars, without your broken promises!” He’s shouting now, and he can see the whites of Dream’s eyes, like a horse near a fire. Quackity drops him with Sapnap’s hands like a rat he’d been holding by the tail. “Do you remember the promises you’d make, Dream?”

And now Quackity feels himself shifting again, almost involuntarily. His voice pitches higher and demonic horns scrape the obsidian above them. “You promised me peace.” Quackity says in BBH’s voice. “You said we’d be safe, that we’d win the wars!” It’s almost sickening to take the form of someone whose mind he knows is long gone. Worth it, though, to watch Dream squirm. “Is this what peace looks like to you, Dream? I can’t even remember what your face looks like!” There’s desperation in his voice, though Quackity doesn’t even know if what he’s saying is true. For all he knows it could be. “I can’t remember,” He takes a step towards Dream, glowing eyes wide with horror “What my own face looks like.”

“Bad-” Dream’s voice is almost pleading. He doesn’t want to hear this.

Good.

"Every time I look in the mirror-” Quackity’s breath hitches, just for dramatic effect. “All I see is red. Crimson. I’m poisoned, Dream. Because that’s what this place does to people.” The fire is back, transforming him. Quackity doesn’t even try to control it this time.

“That’s what you do to people.” Ponk’s voice rings throughout the cell.

“You poison them.” Alyssa.

“You tear them down.” Fundy.

“You think you’re so powerful,” Punz.

“But in reality-” Skeppy.

“You’re. Just. A. Parasite.” Karl hisses at the god on the floor who bleeds red regret instead of ichor.

Quackity doesn’t know where the words are coming from, now.

(“This country- it’s like a parasite, Q!”)

His breaths come ragged. When the fire sweeps through him again, Quackity nearly burns away himself.

Sapnap’s voice is tired when he speaks with it.

“You were never the hero, Dream. Turns out, you were never even part of the story.”

And Dream is left a crumpled mess of grief and blood at his feet as the fire dies to ashes.

Quackity’s tired when he leaves the cell that evening. It’s the bone-deep exhaustion that comes from more than lack of sleep, and it drags at his limbs. Sam does not look at him, and Quackity wonders if he knows what horrors were used in that cell today. He somehow can’t bring himself to care.

It was cruel, he knows. He slipped into their skin and cut Dream to shreds with the broken glass at his fingertips, ripped open his soul instead of his flesh and took pleasure in just tearing something down. It was cruel, but so is (was) Dream, and so is the world he created. Everyone gets cut and everyone bleeds, and the only thing to do is hope that your weapon is sharper than theirs. He’s had that lesson seared into his mind and cut into his skin too many times. So today when Quackity leaves a trembling mess behind the wall of fire, he cannot see Sam’s eyes- but if he could, he thinks they would hold something like fear.

So he steps out into the night, and he smiles, sharp and painful as broken glass.

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rowyn-writes · 3 years

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Star Struck (Castiel x Angel!Reader)

Warnings: Language, a splash of angst, a little bit of fluff, make out scene

Pairings: Castiel x Angel!Reader

Characters: Cas, Sam, Dean, Gabriel, Jack (mentioned only) Mary (mentioned only)

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: When the Winchester's and Cas call on you for your help, Cas can't help but be star struck by your presence.

Requested by: @danitisx

You roamed the streets Dublin, Ireland. Fascinated by the beautiful scenery and amazing culture.

"It's wonderful, isn't it?" A handsome man beside you asked.

"Indeed." You agreed. "Do you live around here?"

"Yeah, just up the road a couple of blocks. I've lived here my entire life. What about you? Where are you from?"

"Uh," You laughed as you scratched the back of your head. "I'm from the States. New York." You decided. It's not exactly like you could tell him you were an Archangel from Heaven.

"I'm Charlie, by the way." He gave you a cheeky grin.

"Y/N." You introduced yourself.

"Would you like to go out for a drink?"

"I would l-" You broke off as you felt a strange tug on your body. "Damn."

You were surrounded by a circle if Holy fire. You took in your surroundings. You seemed to be in some sort of emergency bunker. "What in Dad's name." You mumbled. "Alright, whoever summoned me here, if you don't show yourself, I'll smite you!" You growled, trying your best to be intimidating.

"Y/N." A soft voice said.

You whirled around to see a familiar angel. "Castiel." You breathed. "You're the one who summoned me here? Why?" You tilted your head to the side, similar to how Castiel would do whenever he was confused.

Two other familiar men emerged from around the corner. "Winchester's. Hello."

"Y/N. Good to see you again." Sam nodded.

"Ya know, if you wanted me here so badly, you could've called instead of summoning me here with a ring of holy fire. Which, by the way, is extremely uncomfortable."

"Sorry," Dean shrugged, throwing a glass of water, extinguishing the fire. "Precautionary measure."

"Fair enough." You slid off your black over coat and set it on the back of a chair. "So, what can I do for you boys? Do you need an elixir of some sort? An herb, perhaps? A spell?"

"They need some of your grace."

Your eyes darted from Castiel's over to him. You thought he was dead, long dead. This didn't make sense.

"You."

"Me." Gabriel smirked. "Hello, little sister. Long time no see."

"Yeah," You scoffed, raising your voice. "Long time no see because you dumbass got yourself killed by our brother! Or so I thought. Because to me, you look perfectly fine."

You trembled with anger. You had thought your brother was dead. You mourned him for so long. You cried for him, and there he was, alive and healthy. For now.

"Y/N-" He sighed.

"No! You don't get to talk, asshat!" You growled. "You let me believe you were dead for years! I cried for you, I prayed to you, to Dad! And there you are, fine and dandy."

Sam, Dean and Cas stepped back a little, giving you and your brother some space. Out of everyone, they understood family problems.

"You son of a bitch!" You screamed, using your powers to slam Gabriel into a wall. He gave out a small grunt as his back hit the cold brick wall. "You let me think you were dead! How could you?!" You clenched your fist, making it harder for Gabriel to breathe. "You were my best friend! My brother! And you heard how much pain I was in and decided to let me keep suffering! You insufferable dick!" Your eyes were glowing a bright blue.

"Y/N!" Castiel called your name, trying to calm you down. "Y/N! Stop." He rested a hand on your shoulder, squeezing lightly. "You need to calm down. Let Gabriel explain."

"You guys have ten minutes to explain everything that's going on before I get my ass out of here and never come back."

The men sat you down and explained everything that happened in your absence. Including your nephew.

"You're telling me Lucifer has a son?" You questioned. "Someone actually wanted to have sex with my brother?"

"Uh, well, Kelly thought that Lucifer was the President." Sam coughed.

"The Presid-" You cut yourself off. "Okay. . . Clearly I've missed a lot. So, you want me to give you some of my grace in order to get Jack and your mother back?"

"Yes." Dean nodded. "You're our only option left. Gabriel tried to help, but most of his grace was drained by Asmodeus and it'll take time to replenish."

"Fine. I'll help."

"Really?" Cas said hopefully. "You'll help us?"

"Of course." You gave him a gentle smile. "Jack is my nephew after all. He needs a female figure in his life. And I refuse to let him be corrupted by Lucifer. My brother won't have any contact with Jack if I can help it."

"Why do you care so much about Jack?" Dean asked, his eyebrows furrowed. "You've never met him."

"Doesn't mean I love him any less. He's family. And until recently, I thought everyone I loved was dead. So I can deal with the fatigue and snappiness that comes with losing some of my grace."

"Thank you." Cas said gratefully. "Thank you so much."

"Okay." You took a deep breath. "Could I get some help with extracting my grace? I'd do it myself, but I can be a bit squeamish." You looked over at the beautiful blue eyed man in a trench coat. "Would you help me?"

"Oh," Cas seemed to be flustered. "O-of course."

You grabbed the tool and headed into an empty bedroom. "Okay, let's get this over with." You said, pushing your hair to one side of you shoulder to let Castiel extract your grace. "Just. . . Be gentle, okay?"

Cas nodded, still seeming unnerved. "You're scared. Why?"

"Well. . . You're one of the most powerful angels to ever walk the earth. You were one of God's favorites and most trusted. You led an entire army of angels into battle with demons. You banished the Princes of Hell back into Hell. You're amazing!"

You gave Cas a soft smile. "That's very sweet of you, Castiel. But I'm not the same angel anymore. I'm certainly not Father's favorite anymore. He was the one that cast me out of Heaven after he found out I had relations with a human. I'm not amazing. I'm ordinary."

"Well, you're extraordinary to me. You're helping us get Jack and Mary back. Even though you don't have to."

"It's the least I can do." You dismissed him with a wave of your hand. "You and the Winchester's have saved the world more than once. Granted, you almost ended it as well, but at least you fixed it. Plus, I can tell these people mean a lot to you."

"They do. They're my family."

"And I'm very happy that you've found your family, Castiel." You cupped his face in both of your hands. "You were a wonderful servant to Heaven, and an even better leader when the time came. You deserve to be happy after all the havoc that's happened to you." You pulled away, resting your hands in you lap.

"You would have been far better than I was. You are a good angel, and an amazing leader."

"I'm no better than Lucifer."

"Y/N," Castiel said in astonishment. "You are nothing compared to Lucifer. You are compassionate and kind. You care about people."

"But when the world was ending, I was off galavanting around the world. And when people were in danger and dying, I turned a blind eye and let it all happened!" You cried, tears rolling down your cheeks. "If I don't help, then I'm part of the problem, Castiel. I yelled at Gabriel for disappearing, but I did the exact same thing. I left, I left Heaven, my brother's, all of the other angels, I left them. For a jackass human that never really loved me. So you ask me why I'm doing this for you? I'm doing it because I've never done anything good in my existence. Ending that war with the demons, sure, it saved humans in the long run, but I never cared about that. I was just following Dad's orders. Like a good little soldier."

"Y/N," Cas began.

"Just. . . Take my grace. . . Please?"

Castiel frowned as he gingerly brushed your hair aside. "This might sting." He warned as he plunged the extractor into your neck. You winced, gripping your leg in order to cope with the pain. Cas ended up getting five vials filled with your grace.

"It should replenish eventually, but it might take some time."

You went to stand up, but immediately felt lightheaded. Cas came behind you, holding you up. You inhibitions were lowered when you lost grace, and this time was no exception.

"Has anyone ever told you you have the most beautiful eyes?" You smiled. "They're like the ocean."

Castiel's face tinted pink and he gave a sheepish grin. "Thank you, Y/N. You have very beautiful eyes as well."

"Is that the only thing you find attractive about me, Castiel?" You ran a finger along the length of his arm.

"I- Um. . ." The angel was flustered once again. "Well, o-of course there are other things attractive about you. You're gorgeous. Your lips are perfect, t-they look very soft."

"Why don't you find that out yourself." You smirked. You pulled Cas down by his tie, his lips meeting yours.

Castiel was hesitant at first, and you knew he never really understood kissing. You moved your lips against his, and he finally understood. You didn't even know you had been moving until your back hit the brick wall.

You hands got tangled in his dark hair, while his wrapped around your waist.

There was a loud bang at the door, making Cas pull away from you. "If you're done making out with my sister, we kind of need this show on the road." Gabriel called from the other side of the door.

"Cockblocker." You grumbled. "That was one hell of a kiss, Cas. We should do it again sometime." You gave him a wink as you headed back to the library.

"I need a cold shower."

#castiel imagine #sam winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #jack kline imagine #supernatural imagine #supernatural fluff #dean winchester imagine #gabriel imagine #jack kline #jack kline x reader #gabriel x reader #castiel x reader #castiel fluff #sam winchester fluff #dean winchester

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jackrrabbit · 4 years

Text

it will come back [pt. 1] /// Yandere Shigaraki x f!Reader

Summary: You have a bad habit of picking up strays, and the half-dead villain you find bleeding out in a dumpster is no exception. [Part 2] [Part 3]

A/N: Low budget yandere for my greasy king. This concept has definitely been done before, but I couldn’t resist. This is my first non-smut on this acct and I’ll be so sad if it bombs 😭

Title from the Hozier song: “don’t let it in with no intention to keep it / jesus christ, don’t be kind to it / oh honey don’t feed it / it will come back.”

Tags/warnings: light yandere, minor injury, angst, Shiggy likes you, reader needs a friend and a good night’s sleep. [In later parts but not in this one: violence, sex, more yandere, 18+]

You’ve always had a soft spot for strays. Maybe that’s why you became an ER nurse—from the first abandoned puppy you brought home as a kid to the patients you refuse to give up on even when it looks hopeless, you’ve never been able to turn a blind eye when something needs your help. Sometimes (times like this) you wish you knew better. It’s hard enough to take care of yourself these days.

Today’s shift was…what, 16 hours? 17? The 20-minute walk from the bus stop to your apartment building feels like it takes twice that long in the rain. God, you need a shower. And a decent night’s sleep, preferably for at least 12 hours. Tomorrow’s your day off, and you’re ready to take advantage of it the best way you know how: Netflix, soju, and your favorite vibrator. But tonight? As soon as you’re clean, you’re going to pig out on leftovers and collapse into the bed that’s the only halfway nice piece of furniture in your shithole apartment. You really do deserve a break; you’ve earned it.

Unfortunately, as usual, the universe has other plans.

You hear him before you see him: wheezing, choked breaths, like someone’s trying to breathe with an anvil on their chest. You’re not quite out of nurse mode so your mind starts trying to diagnose the issue before you even register what you’re hearing. Fluid in the lungs, possibly blood. That hacking isn’t good. Broken ribs? Definitely bruised. But probably not a puncture…

The breathing is coming from down an alley next to your building. It’s dark enough that you can’t see from the street what’s making the noise. And you’re not a fool, you know it’s a bad idea to walk down pitch-black alleys late at night, especially in this area—a neighborhood you’re living in by necessity, because it’s the only place cheap enough for you to get by. But the coughing…it just sounds so awful. It sounds like it hurts.

Your phone’s already in your hand with 119 dialed and ready to call (standard practice when you’re walking home by yourself), but you turn the flashlight on and shine it down the alleyway. “Hello? Anyone there?”

Nothing responds, but you can still hear the breathing. You step in a little deeper, swinging your light from side to side and looking over the heaps of trash bags overflowing from the dumpster. The raindrops make clicking sounds as they hit the plastic, and you can hear gurgling from a rain spout down the side of the building, but the wheezing doesn’t stop.

One more step. And then one more. You wish there was something you could do to make the splash of your rain boots in the puddles a little less loud. Something about this situation—the rain, the dark, the flat grey light from your cellphone, and that horrible hacking breath—it makes you feel like you’re walking into a horror movie. But you don’t stop walking.

The hacking is coming from a man propped up on the wall between a few XL bags of trash. The black outfit he’s wearing almost blends into the bags, but a mop of grey-blue hair gives him away. His head is slumped onto his chest, and if he’s conscious he doesn’t show it. “Hello?” you ask again, even less confident that you’re going to get a response.

No answer.

The smell of garbage is…ugh…hard to ignore, but on top of it is an oppressive stench of copper coming from the man passed out in the trash. You kneel down to get a better look and yep, he’s covered in blood. It’s hard to make out in the low light, but there’s a trio of long gashes in the man’s abdomen, cutting apart the skin and flesh so deep you can see traces of a slim layer of yellow fat between all the inky clotted blood. It looks like he was attacked by an animal. Or someone with an animal quirk. There are a lot of villains in this neighborhood.

And the coughing...definitely internal injuries. Whoever this guy is, he needs treatment. You hold up your phone to hit the call button on your pre-dialed 119—

“Don’t.” The voice is a growl, low and surprisingly firm despite the scratchiness. You jerk back and clutch your phone to your chest, caught off guard not just by the interruption but by the intensity of the face glaring up at yours.

His eyes are red. “You need an ambulance,” you tell him in your calmest nurse voice.

“If you try to call the police, I’ll—kill you,” the man says, but the threat is a little less threatening when he has to stop in the middle to retch blood onto his own chin.

You glare back at him but don’t call the emergency number. There are a lot of of reasons why he wouldn’t want to go to the hospital, but the most obvious one is probably true. “You’re a criminal. A villain?”

He doesn’t respond, choosing instead to keep glaring at you like you’ve committed some mortal sin against his ancestors by having the nerve to check on him and try to help him. Somehow it pisses you off. When you were getting your ADN, you once took a temp job doing health screenings at a local middle school and you would always get so annoyed at the kids. Didn’t they see you were just doing your job? Why is it so hard to understand that what you’re doing is for their own good?

Stupid kids. Stupid villain. “You’d rather bleed out and die?”

The man bares his teeth at you, and it’s a pretty disturbing scene considering how they’re covered in scarlet. “You think they’re going to save me? Think I’ll go to the hospital and get all my HP restored?”

He’s mocking you now. You only have a second to move out of the way before he spits off to the side. “I mean…that’s how a hospital works.”

“If you think I would—make it out of that ambulance alive, you’re—dumber than you look.” His voice is interspersed with coughs.

“Well, you’re not going to live if I leave you here.” You hold up your phone, ready to call the ambulance, but in a shocking display of agility the man lunges forward and grabs it out of your hand. “Hey, wait! Give that…back…”

Your voice trails off as your phone crumbles—literally crumbles to dust in the man’s fingers. Once he’s satisfied that there’s no way for you to call the cops, he slumps back onto the trash bags and closes his eyes, apparently exhausted from the effort.

Goddamnit…! For a second, you can only stare blankly at the pile of dust that used to be your $300 smartphone. And then you’re seized by something, maybe not hatred but an annoyance so strong you can feel it in your throat, and you decide right then and there that this villain is not going to die. You’re going to save him. Out of spite.

You’re not sure how you manage to half-carry him from the alley to your apartment, but you do. You’re lucky it’s ass-o-clock at night and no one’s in the lobby or the elevator, or you’d definitely be getting some looks trying to lug a maimed body around. What would you say if someone did call the cops? Don’t worry, don’t worry about it officer, it’s just my friend drank a little too much, oh those wounds? We were at a costume party, haha…

But no one sees you, and no one calls the cops. The man is unconscious the whole time you’re carrying him, and by the time you have him laid out on a shower curtain on your living room floor his breathing is a little bit shallower than it was before. You’ve got your tools—nothing fancy, just some gauze and closures and antiseptic from your personal first aid kit. It’s not much, but it’ll have to be enough.

“Let’s get to work, asshole,” you tell the unconscious body in front of you, and you crack your knuckles.

///

The day after you pick the villain out of the garbage, your body decides that it’s not going to let you sleep in no matter how much you need it. You can tell because the huge windows in your bedroom—the only saving grace of this apartment, honestly—are depositing golden-pink sunrise light over everything you see when you open your eyes, including the villain’s face. Which is about six inches away from yours.

“You smell like death,” you tell him sleepily. He doesn’t move.

He’s…probably in his early twenties, you think, but it’s hard to tell because of all the wrinkles. His hair is on the longer side, and it’s striped with rusty brown smears from his blood. Again, you notice how red his irises are. Have you ever seen someone with eyes that color before? You’re pretty sure you haven’t.

“You slept for a long time,” the villain says, finally moving back so he’s not breathing into your mouth.

“Yeah, I was tired. From saving your life.” You sit up and rub your temples. “I’m thirsty…”

Before you can finish your complaint, the villain is holding a glass of water out to you in an awkward 4-fingered grip.

“Um, thanks, I guess.” You suck down the water and immediately feel better, enough that you realize how wrong it is that he’s up and moving around and probably undoing all your hard work. “You should be lying down.”

“The floor hurt, and I was bored.”

“Lie on the couch then. You can watch TV. But first—“ He’s sitting on the edge of your bed next to you, and you make him lie down flat so you can look at the injuries. They’re not nearly as bad as they looked last night—no walk in the park, but at least you won’t have a corpse in your apartment in a few hours.

When you’re done inspecting him, he sits up and asks you for a shirt. You had to cut his off, not that it was any great loss. The thing was shredded. Him pointing it out is the only thing that makes you really realize he’s shirtless, so you give him an oversized pajama shirt of yours. It has the name and motto of your old high school on it, and the villain reads it out in a half-mocking tone when you hand it to him.

“Beggars shouldn’t be choosers,” you snap. “You should be grateful.”

“I am grateful,” he says, putting the shirt on. “But I don’t understand.”

“I mean, you need a shirt, right? It’s cold—“

“No. Not that.” He’s staring at you again, and you find it difficult to maintain eye contact. “Why you didn’t leave me where you found me last night.”

There’s a lot you could tell him, all of it a little bit true. You were curious. You believed him when he said he wouldn’t make it out of the hospital alive. You couldn’t leave him alone the same way you can’t leave abandoned puppies alone. You wanted to prove to him that you were right, and that being stubborn wouldn’t get him what he wanted. But you don’t say that. “You killed my phone, so you owe me a new one. And I can’t get that back if you bleed out.”

He’s looking at you like he doesn’t believe you, and you fidget under his gaze until he sighs and says, “Whatever.”

You have to let him lean on your shoulder when he walks back to the living room to lie down on your couch. How the hell did he even get to your bedroom by himself? You really didn’t think this through—what are you supposed to do with an infirm possible villain who can barely walk unsupported without opening his injuries back up?

But that’s a problem for tomorrow you to deal with. Today, you’re content to set your laptop up on the coffee table so the two of you can watch TV in…oddly companionable (if you’re not imagining it) silence. It’s almost the lazy day off you were daydreaming about before you got yourself into this mess, and the atmosphere is so relaxed that before you can really decide whether to force the man to go to the hospital or turn him out on the street (or…?) you’re dozing off on your couch like there isn’t a potentially dangerous stranger lying beside you with his head just a few inches from your lap.

When you wake up, your problem is solved for you. He’s gone, and it’s like he was never there—except you’re down a cellphone and a pajama shirt, and your shower curtain is drenched with blood. You wrap it up with the rest of the soiled medical supplies and toss all of it in a dumpster a mile away from your building without knowing exactly why.

///

It’s not the last you see of him, but somehow you had a feeling that was going to be the case.

He scares the shit out of you the first time he visits (over time, that’s how you’ll start to think of his little unannounced drop-ins: visits. Like you’re being visited by a ghost or something). You’re coming back from another grueling shift in the ER, so tired you think you might be sleepwalking, and what do you find when you come in your apartment but a strange white-haired man sitting on your couch eating dry cereal out of the box and flipping through one of your books?

You nearly piss yourself.

He doesn’t seem surprised, which makes sense, considering he’s a villain and he’s probably used to pulling this dramatic entrance thing on people. He certainly doesn’t seem the least bit threatened when you brandish the mini canister of pepper spray on your keychain and demand that he tell you how he got in if he wants to retain the power of eyesight.

“It was unlocked,” he says.

“It was not unlocked,” you reply, rolling your eyes. You may be sleep deprived, but you’re not careless. Never careless.

“Whatever. Calm down. You’re not going to use that on me.”

He’s right, but you don’t want to admit it. If he wanted to do something to hurt you, he could’ve done it that first night. And you’re too tired to really put up a fight, so you just put the cap back on the pepper spray and flop down next to him on the couch. “What the hell are you doing here?”

He looks at you curiously from between his shaggy bangs, like you’re the one intruding in his home and not the other way around, then reaches out to hand something to you. “Here, payback.”

It’s a cell phone—not a smartphone like the one he destroyed, but a flip phone circa the 2000s, the kind that forces you to press “9” four times to get the letter “F”. You stare at it for a second, then look back at the villain. “Are you kidding? Did you get this from a museum?”

“Take it or leave it.” His feet are propped up on your coffee table, but you can’t make yourself care. Actually, it looks nice…him stretched out with an odd look of comfort on his lanky form.

You lean back on the couch and kick up your feet next to his. “Fine. Thanks, I guess.”

He shrugs.

“How are your wounds healing?” Why are you trying to make conversation with this guy? He’s…a villain, right? Not that you’ve ever received affirmative confirmation of that fact, but the hesitance to call the police and the breaking and entering are pretty good tells. But…it might be weird, but since you picked him up that day, you’ve felt a kind of kinship with him.

Alone. Abandoned. No place to go. No one to save him. It’s not a pretty comparison, but you can’t deny it rings true.

Maybe that’s why you pick up strays.

“They’re fine,” he tells you after so long a pause that you’ve almost forgotten your question. “Doesn’t even hurt anymore.”

You take a long look at him, at his posture—he’s relaxed, but his abdomen is crunched a little bit, curled in on himself so subtly that even you wouldn’t have noticed it if you weren’t looking. It’s not your problem. He’s an adult, and you’re sure he could be seeking real medical attention if he really needed it. You’re in no way obligated to perform some kind of checkup on this arrogant dick who literally broke into your apartment to give you a shitty phone and eat your cereal. The sensible thing to do is to tell him to forget that you live here and hopefully never see him again.

His head tips back to rest on the top of the couch, and he holds your book up to read. At this angle his long hair is out of the way of his face, and you notice among the deep-set creases in his skin a pair of wide scars across his right eye and on the corner of his lips. They’re pale and faded—old, then—but they look off to you, and after a while of snatching glances at his face you realize it’s because they’re healed badly, extraordinarily badly, the kind of healing that you don’t see very often because it only occurs when a stubborn patient tries to let a particularly nasty injury heal on its own. The part of you that isn’t sensible wonders how old he was when he got those scars.

Has he learned his lesson?

You doubt it.

“Lie down,” you sigh. “Let me see the cuts.”

Which is how you find yourself examining this annoying villain again, checking on his injuries and giving him recommendations for care like you’re his personal nurse or something. It’s not a role you enjoy playing, but at least he takes it without complaint, and you start to wonder if maybe this is why he broke into your apartment in the first place. If anything, he looks calmer when you’ve flipped up his shirt and prodded at his wounds, his eyes closing slowly and freeing you of that scarlet-red gaze.

He’s like a cat, you think, and then you shake your head and remind yourself that it’s a terrible idea to think of this man—this grown man who is probably a great danger to you and others—as a wild animal you’re trying to domesticate.

When he finally leaves (only after you drop a couple dozen unsubtle hints about how long you’ve been at work and how exhausted you are), you take a moment before you sink into bed to look at the flip phone. It’s no nicer than your original impression, but as you scroll through the screens you notice that it’s factory-new, except for one thing: there’s a contact programmed in, a phone number with an area code you don’t recognize listed under “T”. And you don’t want to be curious…

…but you are. Shocking.

Down the rabbit hole it is, you decide. So you text him.

///

[You: 12:03 AM] > Hey it’s (Y/N) > (the girl whose apartment you broke into) > What does T stand for? [T: 12:07 AM] > What do u think [You: 12:09 AM] > ?? [T: 12:09 AM] > My name > Dont you know who i am [You: 12:10 AM] > Are you famous? [T: 12:10 AM] > You dont watch the news do u [You: 12:11 AM] > Not really > What’s your name then [T: 12:12 AM] > … > Didnt u say u had to sleep [You: 12:15 AM] > Oh yeah > Whatever I guess > Good night

[T: 2:34 AM] > Its Tomura > Dont look it up

[You: 8:02 AM] > Ok > I won’t > Tomura

➠ [Part 2]

#Shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki tomura #yandere bnha #yandere shigaraki tomura x reader #bnha imagines #feeling real shy posting this 👉👈#bnha #yandere shigaraki tomura #boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia imagines #mha #my hero academia #mha imagines #my hero academia imagines #shigaraki tomura/reader #yandere shigaraki tomura/reader #yandere

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flautistsandpeonies · 3 years

Text

Prominence Part 2

Read the Previous Chapter [Here]

Word Length: 3,502

Summary: The aftermath of a ruined banquet.

The floor was covered with blood.

“Wei-Xiong!”

“Young Master Wei!”

“Wei Ying!”

Rushing to his side, the three fluttered about the young man as blood soaked through his clothing.

Yu ZiYuan’s breath came out in rapid huffs as she continued to glare at the men below her. Zidan retracted into its ring form, and the matriarch clenched her fists in anger.

“Does...does it hurt- oh of course it hurts what am I saying!,”Nie Huaisang was pale as he fussed

Kneeling down beside his nephews, Lan Qiren said nothing as he placed a hand on Wei WuXian’s shoulder and started to offer him his spiritual energy. Seeing their uncle’s example, the Twin Jades followed suit.

“Where are your medics, “Nie Mingjue turned to a servant carrying a tray of drinks

“Ah, they’re at the healing pavilion, “the servant stated with an ashen face

“Then go get them!, “Nie Huaisang nearly screamed while fanning his friend

“Ah-ah, right away, ‘the servant jumped

“Wait,”Wei WuXian said with a wet cough

All eyes were on him.

Wei WuXian lifted his other palm, “It’s not that serious; I can go there myself.”

“You will do no such thing, “Lan Qiren grunted

“What, Wei-Xiong, “Nie Huaisang said in disbelief

“Wei Ying, No.,Lan WangJi gripped his arm

“Sit there and ,wait for a medic; don’t aggravate your wounds!, “Nie Mingjue glared

“Young Master Wei, it might be worse than it looks, please just sit still, “Lan XiChen held him fast like his brother

Wei WuXian blinked at all of them. They all stared at him like they would pin him to the ground if he dared moved from his spot.

He tried another approach, “It’ll be easier for me to go to the pavilion so they don’t have to lug their tools here.”

“Wei-Xiong, “Nie Huaisang stopped fanning him, “This isn’t fair”

“I know this isn’t fair, Nie-Xiong, “Wei WuXian grunted at his friend

Nie Huaisaing seemed to frown even more, “Wei-Xiong.”

“I can see to him.”

Eyes turned to a woman in blazing sun robes as she strode through the circling crowd of guests and up to the group on the floor. A pursed look was upon her face, her hands clasped in front of her as she observed the situation in front of her.

“Wen Qing, “Wei WuXian recognized while wiping the blood from his mouth with his sleeve

“Why offer help to another sect’s disciple, “Nie Mingjue gave her a suspicious glance

“I am a doctor. My purpose is to help the sick and injured, and there is a bleeding man in front of me, “Wen Qing’s reply gave no chance of rebuttal

“Wen-guniang, “Wei WuXian’s voice was a bit garbled, “I appreciate the offer, however, our YunmengJiang’s medics will be good enough.”

“Whether you walk out of here Wei WuXian or they take on a stretcher, your whip wounds will reopen, “Wen Qing watched as he used his spiritual powers to slowly stitch the lashes, “You will need better than “good enough.”

Rather reluctant, Wei WuXian seemed ready to protest again.

“Is the healing pavilion close, “Wen Qing questioned

“Ah, no, it is a little ways away, “Wei WuXian answered

“Is their anywhere closer that I can examine you, “Wen Qing seemed to have decided that YunmengJiang’s medics were out of option

“My...rooms are closer, “Wei WuXian shook blood from his hand, “That is...if Wen-guniang is inclined to enter an unmarried man’s room?”

Undeterred, Wen Qing replied, “Then, when the medics arrive, notify them to send supplies to Wei WuXian’s room.”

“Wait!, “a light voice interrupted the surprising calmness of the scene on the floor

Guests made way for the Jiang Sect Leader and his daughter. Jiang Fengmian’s face was set in a hard frown while Jiang Yanli looked like a nervous rabbit. Whispers started up in the farthest corners of the room as Jiang Fengmian tried to pull his wife towards the outer halls.

Jiang Yanli timidly stepped past her fuming mother, “A-Xian, “she started but paused and gave an apprehensive glance at the people around them

“Shijie, “Wei WuXian gave her a bright smile, “Don’t look so wary, it’s not as bad as it looks.”

“Don’t pretend like it’s not serious, “Lan Qiren reprimanded him immediately, “Zidian is no laughing matter.”

Flinching at his tone, Wei WuXian replied, “Lan-Laoshi, Yu-Furen-”

“Has grievously injured you, “Nie MingJue interrupted him while crossing his arms and side-eyeing the Jiang parents as an argument between the two ensued

“Even now, you deny it, Fengmian!, “Yu ZiYuan snatched her arm out of her husband’s grasp

The Jiang matriarch looked ready to attack even her own husband. Manicured nails transformed into beast claws in the guests eyes and sneered lips into venomous snake talons.

“Sanniang, calm down, “Jiang Fengmian’s voice was far too calm in everyone’s opinion, “Don’t make even more of a scene than you already have.”

“Why don’t you just say it right here and now, Fengmian? Say it! Wei WuXian is my bastard, “Yu ZiYuan’s voice grew with each word, “Isn’t that what you want?! For him to be heir and have him replace A-Cheng!”

“Sanniang, that’s enough, why don’t you go rest? You’re obviously stressed and-”

“I’m not going anywhere!”

Whispers from before became a torrent of gossip in seconds. Fingers pointed at the perturbed madam, questions and laughter about her sanity cropping up in the furthest corners of the banquet.

Wen Qing bent on a knee in front of Wei WuXian, spiritual power at her finger tips. With delicate hands, she used her energy to pinpoint the amount of damage to his face. Wei WuXian hissed in slight pain as she prodded his still bleeding nose.

Jiang Yanli tried to step forward once more; however, Lan WangJi shuffled to the side, blocking Wei WuXian and Wen Qing from her view.

Nie Huaisang stood up, “Jiang-guniang, you don’t look all that surprised.”

It was true, while everyone else in the room was still wide-eyed and gaping mouths, members of the Jiang Sect -servants, disciples, and clan- looked at the scene with a solemn familiarity.

Yanli didn’t meet anyone’s eyes, “Mother...mother has been rather upset lately with recent events and a-Cheng’s injury. And a-Xian....a-Xian, you know how she is...and-”

“Are...are blaming him for her assaulting him, “Nie MingJue turned a surprised glance at the Jiang heiress

Yanli shuffled at his tone, “It’s not that..it not. It’s just that a-Xian, you know how mother is.”

Jiang Yanli didn’t seem to be able to say much more, especially under the critical gazes of the guests.

“Young Master Wei, “A quiet looking young man stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Wei WuXian’s other shoulder

“You...you are?, “Wei WuXian seemed to squint

“It’s me, Wen Ning, Wen Qionglin. We met at the archery competition years back, “the young man answered

“Wen Ning? Ah, I...I don’t remember, sorry.”

Wen Qionglin shook his head, “Please, let my a-jie see to you, Young Master Wei”

“He doesn’t have a choice, a-Ning. Either he let’s me see him in his room, or I’ll paralyze him here and work from there, “Wen Qing’s tone was serious and none doubted her words as well

“Ah, well then, I suppose I really don’t have a choice, “Wei WuXian smiled wanly before addressing the whole room, “This one apologizes, but I’ll have to leave for a while”

With Wen Qionglin still holding him by the shoulders, Wei WuXian was slowly helped to stand by him and the Lan brothers. Like Wen Qing said, the whip wounds opened and a fresh bout of blood started dripping to the floor.

“Wei-Xiong!”

“Hurry, a-Ning.”

Quickly, the two Wen siblings ushered Wei WuXian from the room and from everyone’s line of sight as he gave directions to his rooms.

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

With the departure of Wei WuXian, the air grew even tenser than when the guests first arrived in Lotus Pier.

“Violet Spider, do you normally whip your disciples or was this something specific to Wei WuXian, “Sect Leader Nie stood straight and gave the purple clad woman a pointed look

Growling, Yu ZiYuan pushed her husband’s arm away once more and turned her fury towards the tall man

“How does Nie Zongzhu have anything to say about how I punish my disciples, “Yu ZiYuan sneered, “Is it not my right to hand down punishments?”

Nie MingJue raised an eyebrow, “Punishment for what? Talking with Lan XiChen?”

The banquet hall was still a sea of whispers. Quips about the Jiang Sect as a whole started up in some small circles. Disciples of the sect started to separate themselves from the crowd, some pressing themselves against the walls of the banquet hall, while others shambled from the room entirely.

“Punishment for his actions against my son, “Yu ZiYuan gritted her teeth, “Surely you see how he’s been trying to depose my a-Cheng. Is it not my right as a mother to protect his rightful place as heir?”

“Depose Jiang WanYin, “Lan XiChen interjected, “he’s the only viable heir to YunmengJiang; it’s impossible to depose him.”

“Not if Jiang Fengmian makes him his heir, “the Violet Spider was close to raging again

“That doesn’t make any sense!, “Nie Huaisang, in a rare show of fearlessness, nearly shouted back in reply

The heir in question was no where to be seen in the hall. Jiang WanYin hadn’t attended the lectures, nor had he made an appearance at the banquet. Some had questioned where he might be, but most concluded that the man must still be too agitated at his da-shixiong’s success to attend.

“If Jiang Zongzhu wanted to depose his own son, he would’ve given Wei WuXian the Jiang name before he published his works, “an amused voice broke through the noise

Wen Ruohan strode up the the group with a haughty look upon his face. Each of his strides were well calculated, eyes sharp as he assessed the people before him.

Many found themselves agreeing with his words. Why let Wei WuXian publish his works in his birth name when your clan could’ve gained recognition instead?

”Madam Jiang, “many guests gasped at his address of her, “Surely you don’t truly believe that Wei WuXian is Jiang Zongzhu’s bastard?”

Seeing his wife about to lash out again, Jiang Fengmian intervened, “Sanniang, I’ve told you countless times that a-Xian isn’t mine.”

“And yet you publish his works, and don’t pay attention to your own heir, “A new voice, Madam Jin stalked to stand beside her best friend, seeing that no one else was siding with her

“You’re mistaken, “the Jiang Sect Leader replied, “Had a-Cheng come to me with anything like a-Xian did, I would have publish it just the same.”

“And where is your son now, “Madam Jin inquired, “I haven’t seen him the entire time I’ve been in Lotus Peir.”

“I asked a-Cheng to come to both the lectures and the banquet multiple times. He declined, “Fengmian revealed, “I even tried to get his sister to convince him. It was his own decision not to come.”

“Madam Jin, a-Cheng is just upset for the moment, “Yanli smiled at her, “Father hasn’t punished him; he just needs time to cool down.”

“Did he at least punish him for attacking his head disciple unprovoked?, “Wen Ruohan questioned, “It seems attacking Wei WuXian with Zidian seems commonplace.”

While most sects didn’t have a spiritual weapon like Zidian, they did have discipline whips. The thought of whipping their disciples for minor infractions - and obviously made up ones - made stones forms in the pit of their stomachs.

Yanli shook her head, “There was nothing to punish. a-Xian and a-Cheng will make up eventually; they always do. A-Xian will apologize for breaking a-Cheng’s arm and the rest will follow.”

“Why does Young Master Wei have to apologize for defending himself, “Lan Xichen joined the conversation, “If they were to truly make up it should be Jiang WanYin asking for forgiveness.”

The three Lans had formed a front with the Nie brothers, staring down the Jiang family. Their disapproval radiated throughout the room.

“If I may interject”

Silence ensued and eyes turned to the doorway; Wen Qing had returned.

Wen Ruohan nodded, “Speak, a-Qing”

Wen Qing bowed at her uncle, “I have thoroughly examined Wei WuXian, and I have come to speak with Jiang Zongzhu”

“How is he, “Jiang FengMian asked

“Other than the whip scars, he is actually mostly healed. By the time we got to his rooms, his core had already healed his broken nose and bruises, “Wen Qing answered

“And the....Zidian lashes, “Lan XiChen frowned as he spoke

“That is what I’ve come to talk about, “she sighed, “Jiang Zongzhu....

Had Wen Qing been a disciple or servant of the YunmengJiang Sect, she would’ve thought twice about speaking about this, especially now when it would reflect badly on the Sect Leader and his wife.

Wen Qing was not a disciple of the YunmengJiang Sect.

“Wei WuXian’s back is covered in whip scars, some years old and some as much as a few weeks old. It is my greatest advice that he be excused from leading next week’s competition and be left to rest, “Wing Qing voice was terse

“Covered, “Lan XiChen voiced everyone’s horror

“How can he be covered in scars? She only lashed him a few times, “a voice, people turned to see Jin ZiXun standing from his table

That wasn’t really a questioned that had to be answered. Everyone’s eyes shifted to the Violet Spider once more.

“And I suppose that his old scars were all punishments from you as well, Violet Spider, “Wen Ruohan sounded amused, “I’m decidedly curious, if your Head Disciple is so unruly and so undisciplined that he needs to be whipped with Zidian multiple times, why have him as your Head Disciple? Why keep him at all?”

“Don’t patronize me, “Yu ZiYuan glared, “How arrogant of Wen Zongzhu to come into my home and decide that I’m being to harsh on my servant after only listening to his rubbish for a week.”

“You consider his work trash, ,”Wen Ruohan was amused, “I see”

“You permit this, Jiang Zongzhu?, “Lan Qiren turned his ire to the sect’s leader, “How long has this been going on? Was Wei WuXian even being whipped during his days at the Cloud Recesses?”

“Lan-Xiansheng, “Jiang Fengmian looked surprised

“Well?, “Lan Qiren nearly glared at the man

Jiang Fengmian replied, “It...wasn’t always this bad. Sanniang usually only hit him two or three times or made him kneel in the ancestral hall. This is an outlier event. She isn’t normally like this.”

“That doesn’t make it better, “Lan XiChen stood with his uncle, “There’s a reason we only use the discipline whip for extreme infractions and treason.”

“And what would you have me do?, “Jiang Fengmian sighed

“Release Wei WuXian from his duties, “Lan Qiren demanded gruffly, “Let him come to the Cloud Recesses to heal physically...and mentally. These events no doubt have disturbed his mind.”

“Lan-Xiansheng, that is truly unnecessary, “Jiang Fengmian tried to placate him

“What is necessary is making sure you haven’t let a disciple be wounded beyond measure, “Lan Qiren countered

“The Unclean Realm opens their doors to Wei WuXian as well, “Nie MingJue stated, “Some time away from this sect will do him good.”

“Yeah,” Nie Huaisang added, “Wei-Xiong has been to the Unclean Realm before and liked it; he should come with us.”

“My niece has already started treating him, “Wen Ruohan replied, “it would be best for her to continue treating him in Nightless City.”

Madam Jin quickly glared back at her husband, as if sensing him about to open his mouth. Jin GuangShan, who had hung back the entire time, said nothing but tipped his head in their direction.

“The Yao will open their sect as well, Jiang Zongzhu.”

“Young Master Wei may be a bit more comfortable in Ouyang, Jiang Zongzhu”

“Lotus Pier is not safe for your head disciple, why risk his health making him stay here?”

“Jiang Zongzhu?”

“Jiang Zongzhu!”

Countless people started hammering Jiang Fengmian at once. Some demanded answers for his inaction, and other were trying to make gains from him. The man couldn’t please them all, nor could he come up with an answer.

Lan, Nie, and Wen watched as both Jiang Sect Leader and Madam were surrounded by troubled and disquieted guests.

“Out of my way, “yu ZiYuan shouted, making many jump away from her in fright

The woman snarled at them and then jerked her head at her best friend. With a nod, both women strode from the room, obviously displeased with how the circumstances turned out.

“Jiang Zongzhu, there is still the matter of restitution for Wei WuXian, “Lan XiChen addressed the man once more, “Either let Wei WuXian come with us to the Cloud Recesses or punish your wife, that’s all we ask. Letting a matter such as this stand is unrighteous.”

“Zewu-jun, “the Jiang Sect Leader sounded defeated, “Very well.”

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

Leaving the banquet hall as quickly as possible, Lan WangJi and Wen Qing stalked down the halls toward Wei WuXian rooms. Passing by servants, the two were stone faced and harshly avoided by the staff.

Coming up to a door, Wen Qing knocked and feet shuffled inside. A minute later, Wen Qionglin opened the door and gave his sister a nervous smile.

“a-Jie, I tried to make him rest but..., “he paused as his sister pursed her lips and moved to let her inside

Walking into the room, Wei WuXian was sitting up in bed.

“I told you to lay down and rest, “Wen Qing glared and started toward him

“I need to go back to the banquet hall, “Wei WuXian stated

“You need to rest, “spiritual energy arose once again to assess the damage to his body

Stepping into the room, Lan Wangji gave a courteous nod to Wen Qionglin, who smiled and nodded back.

Looking around the room, he noticed a destroyed desk that hadn’t yet been removed. Scorch marks resembling lightning lined a couple of the walls. Slash marks from sword glares looked down at him from the ceiling.

The only thing that was relatively untouched was the bed that Wei WuXian was using, but Lan Wangji wondered if it was new.

“Lan Zhan, “Wei WuXian called as soon as he noticed the man

Turning from the room to assess Wei WuXian, Lan WangJi’s blood turned to ice as he gazed at his back.

His entire torso was wrapped with bandages, some having been soaked through with blood from his recent movement. his shoulder were bright red in pain, and sweat was running along his neck.

Seeing where his eyes were drawn, Wei WuXian couldn’t come up with anything to say.

“How long have you borne this?, “Lan WangJi demanded

“Lan Zhan, “Wei WuXIan frowned and tried to stand

“Sit still, “Wen Qing quickly pulled a needle out of her sleeve, a silent threat

“How long, “the second heir glared, eyes bright and furious

Wei WuXian sighed, “Lan Zhan....Lan Zhan, it’s unfair I know but-”

“Don’t try and excuse it, “Lan WangJi was furious, “She had no reason to attack you.”

Pursing his lips, Wei WuXian tried to change the topic, “Never the less, I have to return to the banquet hall.”

“No, you don’t, the Lans and Nie are handling the situation, “Wen Qing said while changing a soiled bandage

“And why should the Lan and Nie handle Jiang matters, “Wei WuXian stood despite the protests, “I have to return; I can’t imagine everyone was happy with what happened.”

“Yes, and hopefully Yu-Furen will be punished for what she did, “Wen Qing huffed

Turning away from the men, Wen Qing started to work on a salve for Wei WuXian injury. The smell of alcohol soon filled the room as she mixed medicines.

Frowning at the bitter taste entering his mouth, Wei WuXian said to Lan WangJi, “Look, Lan Zhan, I have to handle this.”

A spark of displeasure lit in Lan Wangji’s eyes, “Wei Ying, “he started

“Shijie and Uncle Jiang need my help putting out the fires, “Wei WuXian shook his head once more

“Jiang Zongzhu can handle this mess himself. You are a patient, the only thing you should be worried about right now is yourself, “Wen Qing said without turning around

“I also have duties to attend to, “Wei WuXian denied, “I can’t just sit around waiting for myself to heal”

Lan WangJi sighed, disgruntled.

“You’re being released from your duties, “he finally revealed

“What, “Wei WuXian ground out through gritted teeth, “Why?!”

“Your wounds needed to be tended to, “Wen Qing stated while griding herbs in a mortal and pestle, “the Lans have opened their doors to you, among other things.”

“I can tend to them just fine here in Lotus Pier, I don’t need to go to Gusu, “Wei WuXian shook his head is disapproval

Grasping Wei WuXIan’s hand, Lan WangJi held it tight and looked into the other man’s eyes.

“Wei Ying, “he started squeezing his hand tight

“Lan Zhan, “Wei WuXian frowned and looked away, “I can’t go.”

Squeezing his hand harder, Lan WangJi brought the man’s hand to his chest. The rapid beating of his heart thumped against Wei WuXian’s hand.

“Please,” Lan WangJi nearly begged

Startled at the action, Wei WuXian stared into the Lan’s eyes, but took his hand away from his chest. The golden orbs held anger in them, blazing like a fire that wanted to consume everything and everyone around it, but they also held something else; and it was directed at him alone. Worry.

Eyes widening, Wei WuXian gaped at the normally inexpressive man, “Lan Zhan....”

“Wei Ying, “Lan WangJi took both of the mans arms in his hand, “Please. Come back to Gusu with me.”

Having only truly known Lan WangJi for a couple of months, Wei WuXian was surprised at the dedication and worry directed at him. His heart thumped as the man focused solely on him, truly worried about his condition.

Giving a small smile, Wei WuXian could only reply in earnest, “Okay....Okay Lan Zhan. I’ll come to Gusu with you.”

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

Author’s Notes:

-In the original draft of this, JC was gonna be at the banquet but then I had a better idea. Till then

Read my Prompts and WIPs [Here]

39 notes · View notes

emf005 · 3 years

Text

Cramps

James Sirius Potter x Female! reader

Warnings: Puberty, James being the cutest thing ever, pain, couple cuss words for pizzaz(Maybe)

:readmore:

“Oi! Y/L/N!” You smiled as you saw the one and only James Sirius Potter strutting up the hallway with his band of trouble makers behind him. Most of them were his family, but a few were unrelated family members(Very Very close friends.)

“Oi! Potter!” You called back teasingly.

“Having a bad hair day today?” He smirked, looking you up and down. You rolled your eyes and touched your crappily put in braid. It may have looked like it, but you weren’t having a bad hair day. You were just crap at doing hair.

“Nope. Having a hard time coming up with insults? Am I too perfect for the James Potter to insult me?” You joked. You always took the teasing light heartedly. You listened to this song over the summer called Sarcasm. It was pretty good. But one of the lines that stood out to you were “Sticks and stones can break my bones but anything you say will only fuel my lungs”. It wasn't like you let him get to you before this, but you had only rarely hit him back with a come back. Now, you always threw one back.

“Ha! Perfect? You? Those two words shouldn’t be in a sentence together, Y/L/N.”

“You’re right,” you nodded, leaving him confused. You strode off down the hall with a swing in your hips. “Perfect is too dull of a word to describe me, Sweetheart!” You called over your shoulder with a wink. You disappeared behind the corner as you heard his friends laughing.

They knew you were light hearted about it. You were actually pretty close with a few of them. But James was competitive in everything. And for some reason he had chosen you to be his muse for picking on. You didn’t know why, nor did you actually care. You always liked a bit of banter, especially around this time of the month. And no, you weren;t a werewolf (Though you would gladly take that over having your period)

See, all periods come with their… side effects. Hormones bounce crazily off the walls and make some moody. Some get cramps. Some get both. Some break out and others(A very few minority) just have it without anything to think about. You had it worse than anyone.

Cramps. That may have been all you got, but they were so bad that walking, breathing, talking, or even moving could be impossible. You were once nearly paralyzed for a whole week and a half. You only moved to go to the bathroom. Your mom had to actually feed you. You were a very active person, you can only imagine how insane that made you.

Madame Pomfrey, your great Grandmother and god mother because that woman is a queen, always took care of you during these times and often threw things at you because you weren’t taking good enough care of yourself. You loved the woman dearly, but wow could she yell at you.

You watched James and his crew head down to the quidditch pitch for practice while you skipped down to Hagrid's. You loved to play quidditch but never wanted to play on the team. You knew you weren’t good enough for that and you would rather have just messed around with some friends.

“Hey Hagrid!” You said happily and plopped down by a pumpkin. He turned around from tending his garden and smiled at you.

“ ‘ello, Y/N. How ‘er you today?”

“Alright I guess. How about you? Any new creatures come crawling around?”

“Not yet. But I suspect they’ll show up soon.”

“Need any help?”

“You know where the tools are.” You hopped up, but not too fast because.. Well.. you know, and grabbed a pair of gloves and shoved them in your pocket in case he let you tend to the Biting thorns again. You had a knack for everything Herbology and Magical creates. You were Professor Longbottom and Hargrid’s favorite student, you knew it. I mean, you definitely were, no doubt.

About three hours later you started to get a stabbing pain in your lower stomach, losing your breath for a moment.

Shit

“Hey, Hagrid, I think I’m going to clean up before dinner. I only have a few minutes and I doubt anyone wants to be sitting next to my smelly butt.” You laughed, the stabbing getting worse.

“I’ll see ya there, Y/N! Thanks fer tha help!”

“Anytime!” You jogged away from him and a relaxing Fang so you could visit your great gran. Well, she wasn’t technically related to you. She was a close friend of your grandmother’s. They had gone to school together and been (And still were) closer than sisters. You grew up with her and she had become very over protective of you.

You waltzed into the hospital wing with a smile on your face. You were used to the stabbing pains. You had a very high pain tolerance, I mean, you had to.

“Gran!” You yelled out, not even flinching when you felt another annoying stab.

Madame Pomfrey came walking over to you with her arms crossed over her chest.

“You haven’t come to see me all week. Does this mean that you have finally come to your senses?”

“Oh, you make such a big deal out of everything. I barely have felt anything so far, and plus it's only Wednesday, perhaps I was just busy.” She gave you a knowing look. She always knew. You didn’t know how, but she always did. “Well, anyhow, I was helping Hagrid and the stabs were a bit worse than normal. Got anything that’ll just subside that?”

“I have the potion you should've been taking since the beginning of the week, young lady.”

“It's nothing major, Gran. Just something small. I don’t need the whole nine yards.” She sighed. You were the only person who she would give into.

“Fine, but don't come crying to me when you are hurting so badly that you can't move.” She was about to walk away when the doors banged open. You two looked over and saw James and his crew walking in. Madame Pomfrey sighed. “What is it now, Mr. Potter?”

“Don’t know I-”

“Fell off your broom and landed wrong while you were trying to do some wicked trick. I know. Set him on the table. I’ll be there in a-”

“I have to take a shower, Madame Pomfrey. I’ll come back later. Feel better, James! Hi guys!” You waved at them all and jogged off, ignoring your gran calling after you. Oh, yeah, another thing about you. You really didn’t like attention. You also didn’t like the fact that there was someone in more need of help than you and you were getting the help first. James needed more help than you did, you would just come back later… You thought you would.

You had planned to go back after dinner, but you didn’t. A friend asked you with help on the Divination homework. You decided to go the next day. Asked to help first years. Friday? No. Dueling club and extra studying. Before you knew it, it was Saturday and you were in so much pain. But you just kept going.

You were headed down to the quidditch pitch to watch Lysander and a few of his buddies play against Albus and Scorpius and a few of their friends. It was just a scrimmage, nothing major, but they all liked to have an audience. And since they all knew and liked you, they asked if you wanted to join. What you didn’t count on was James being there.

“Well well well. Look who we got here?” You looked over to see James, alone, walking over to you.

“Hey, James.” You said a bit weakly and short of breath.

“You alright?” You just nodded. He seemed to get more concerned. “Are you sure? You don’t look so good?” You laughed.

“Yeah well, I have my good days and my bad ones,” you joked, thinking he was teasing you again. He wasn't.

“Y/N. Stop for a second.” You did and turned to him.

“Are you sure you're alright? You look really pale and tired.”

“I’m fine. I promise.” You smiled and continued down to the pitch with him besides you. That's when the worst one you have had in a while hit you with full force, knock every ounce of wind out of you.

You collapsed and held your stomach, trying to take deep breaths like you had taught yourself to do.

“Y/N!” You felt a hand on your back and another on your arm.” What's wrong? What happened?”

“N-nothing. I’m-Ah!” You collapsed completely to your knees. The throbbing hurt so bad. It was like someone was digging a knife in you and just twirling it around.

“Obviously something. What can I do?”

“Take-take me to-to Gran. Please.”

“Gran, who's Gran?”

“Sorry. Madam Pomfrey.” He nodded and helped you up, putting an arm around you to keep you up.

“You're explaining that to me later.” You laughed, which only made it worse. “Can you walk faster? You're getting paler by the second.”

“This is… as fast… as I can… go.”

“Here,” he moved in front of you and bent down. “Get on my beck, it’ll be faster, alright?”

“James you really don’t have-”

“I want to. Come on.” You wrapped your arms around his neck and he, carefully, hoisted you up. He quickly walked to the hospital wing, being cautious as to not bump you around too much. “Madame Pomfrey!” He yelled when he banged the doors open like he always does. A dramatic entrance for a dramatic boy. You heard the oh so familiar sigh.

“What did you do this time, James?” She walked around the corner and saw you on James' back, her eyes widened in horror and she quickly moved into action. “Put her down here,” she opened up a section and he set you down carefully. She quickly ran away and started to gather stuff. James stood beside your bed and stared at you oddly.

“What?”

“What happened? You seemed fine the other day. Are you sick or-”

“I’m really fine, it's just.. Um… girl stuff?” His eyes widened in understanding (Not horror).

“OH! Oh Merlin, are you ok? What do you need, like literally anything?” You furrowed your eyebrows.

“It's just cramps,” you shrugged, confused by his reactions. Normally anything under the topic of puberty or periods boys were off running. Even your own brothers.

“Not just cramps, young lady.” Your gran scolded and walked in, holding a bottle of the potion you were supposed to be taking. It really didn’t do much. And it tasted horrible. “These are getting worse as you get older.” You glanced at James.

“Ok. You don’t have to be talking about this with him here. No offence.” He just shrugged.

“You have to start taking this seriously!”

“Gran, I do! I was just busy!”

"You came in and then you left without taking it, telling me you would be back!”

“I got side tracked! And James was in more pain than I was!” Your voice was horse and it was getting harder to talk and breathe. She handed you the potion and you chugged it.

“You left because of me?” James asked. You swallowed the rest of the foul tasting liquid.

“You needed her attention. And then someone needed help on homework and it just” you coughed, making your stomach knot again. “Got out of hand.”

“Thank you for bringing her up, Mr. Potter. You can leave.”

“But-”

“She needs her rest.”

“Tell the boys I’m sorry I missed the game.” He hesitated but nodded and left. Your Gran scolded you for a few moments before she left and told you to get some sleep, which you did.

The next day your friends visited you and you ignored the pains. They weren’t as bad as yesterday’s, but they were still pretty bad.

Soon they left and that just left you sitting hour after hour. You were still awake when it was one in the morning and you heard footsteps coming towards your bed. You figured it was your gran coming to check on you so you shut your eyes and pretended to be asleep.

They set something on the table and you opened your eyes seeing James.

“James?” He was startled and jumped a bit. He looked down at you with guilt on his face.

“Sorry,” He whispered. “Did I wake you?” You sat up slowly.

“No. I’ve been up. Kind of hard to sleep.” You moved over and motioned for him to sit, which he did.

“Cause of the…”

“Cramps?”

“Yes.”

“Yep. You know, you’re a lot cooler with this stuff than a lot of boys your age are.”

“I never understood that. I mean, it's something that happens. Why do guys have to be so weird about it? Plus my little sister goes through it so…”

“That's right! Your sister’s Lily.”

“Yeah. She gets pretty bad cramps too, but not as bad as you, I think.”

“No one gets them as bad as me, which I’m grateful for.”

“So the potion doesn't really work?”

“Takes a bit of the edge off, but other than that? No.”

“I’m sorry.” You just shrugged and shifted. “Is there anything I can do to help?” You smiled.

“You’re sweet, James. But, I’m afraid not.”

“Well, I do know one thing I can do.”

“What?” He grabbed whatever he had sat on the bedside table and set it on your lap. It was a basket full of chocolates. Your eyes lit up at the sight.

“Holy Merlin! Where did you get all this?”

“I have my ways. I remember Lily said chocolate always makes her feel better so I figured it would help you too.”

“Wow. James! Thank you! Can I…”

“No. Absolutely not. I just brought it down here so that it can stare you in the face. You aren’t allowed to eat one piece of it.” You smirked at him and didn;t reach for a piece, just to see what he would do. “Oh my go, I was joking.” You laughed.

“I know I know!” You grabbed two pieces and handed one to him. He looked at it and then back up at you before taking it. You opened your piece quickly and bit into it. “Eat! Come on, you are stayen for a bit aren’t ya?”

“Why would you want me to?”

“Because you're my friend.”

“Why would you consider me that?”

“Because you helped me out a lot and you gave me food. We also talk all the time. Why? You don’t want to be friends?”

“I figured you wouldn’t want to be mine.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve bullied you countless times.”

“That was just playful banter. I've seen you bully people. You were just teasing me.” He stared down at the candy.

“But still…”

“James, listen. I want to be your friend. If you don’t want to be mine I guess that's alright, but I've always wanted to be your friend.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You seem really cool. And you are really nice. I've seen you with your siblings and your friends and have always been kinda jealous. I've never really had that," you shrugged and took another bite from your chocolate bar.

"You have all sorts of friends, though."

"Yeah but I'm kind of the replaceable friend. And then my family is a bucket load of insane. So I guess I’m sort of jealous. Like this.” you motioned to the chocolate and at him. “I have been having this happen since first year and my friends come in once to check on me unless they need help on something. I guess it's kind of childish, but-”

“No.” You looked at him, a bit shocked at his tone. “That's not childish at all! How are they your friends if you’re in pain and they don’t come to see you unless they need something?”

“James, it's not that big of a deal. I have a high pain tolerance and plus I have gran worrying over me.”

“Oh please explain that to me. You're her granddaughter?”

“Well, sort of. Great granddaughter, and honorary. Her and my grandma were as close as sisters when they went to Hogwarts and stayed that way throughout life. And when I lost my great gran and both my nans, she stepped up. Very over protective of me.” He smirked and leaned on his legs.

“I’d say. ‘Get out, Potter. I appreciate you bringing her up but I don’t want you here.” he mimicked her voice, and not too terribly. You started to laugh, making your stomach knot in protest. You groaned and fell back on your bed. “Oh! Sorry. Do you need another pillow? More blankets? Chocolate?” You smiled gratefully at him.

“No. Just gotta wait it out. Thank you though.” You smiled at him gratefully and you two talked until you fell asleep. He smiled, finding it odd how much he actually liked you. Every “conversation” he had he always enjoyed. Always enjoyed your banter in the halls and in class, but he had never actually talked to you before.

He stood up and pulled the blanket over you more so that your shoulders and arms were covered. He put the chocolate on the bedside table and brushed the wrappers off of the bed so that it wasn’t a mess when you woke up in the morning.

He then snuck out of the infirmary and back into his dorm room. James was surprised to see that his last thought before falling asleep was of you and hoping you felt better. He really hadn’t realized how much fun you were.

You weren’t in classes that day. Madame Pomfrey seemed to be punishing you and kept you in bed, bringing you meals from the great hall while you survived on James’ chocolate. You were reading over your notes when someone cleared their throat. You looked up, chocolate half in your mouth, to see James standing with a plate and his school bag.

“Hi James! Back already?” He laughed and sat down where he had sat the other day.

“You weren’t in class or the great hall. Wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“That's sweet. Thank you. I’m feeling lots better, but Gran won’t let me go to classes yet. She wants to monitor me and make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

He slid the plate of food and your face lit up. Sweets and meats, your favorite.

“Figured you would be hungry.”

“Starved! Yet again, thank you.”

“It's what friends do,” he said with a nod. You smiled happily. Friends. You had finally made it to friends with James Sirius Potter. “I also brought notes. In case you wanted to copy them.” He pulled his notes from his bag and handed them to you. You grabbed it and started to flip through the surprisingly clean and crisp notes. This boy took better notes than you do. That was unexpected.

“Thank you, James! I was a bit worried I was going to be overrun again.” He shrugged and stole a swipe of Mashed Potatoes off your plate. You smirked at him but didn’t say anything.

He sat and talked to you while you ate and then helped you with homework when you set your plate aside and started to work on notes.

“Here. Like this.” He moved next to you up by the head board and held your wrist, showing you the proper hand motions for DADA. You tried to focus on the correction and not your burning cheeks.

Damn hormones.

“There you go. Now try it without a helping hand.” You shoved him and laughed.

“That was terrible!” He smiled crookedly, fixing his glasses.

“Yeah, but you laughed.’ You bit your lip and shook your head.

“You, sir, are utterly ridiculous.”

“Oh, I’m sir now.” He joked, settling back by your feet. You kicked his leg lightly. “OW! OH MERLIN SHE KICKED ME! I THINK MY LEGS COMING OFF!” He fell to the ground dramatically causing you to burst out from laughter and your stomach to continue to knot up over and over, but you couldn’t stop. He was twitching dramatically on the ground like a dork.

Madam Pomfrey came over and tapped her foot agitatedly.

“This is no place for fooling around, Mr.Potter. Either stay and behave or leave.” She turned and cast you a glance before walking away. You two burst out laughing when you heard her door shut. He popped back up onto the bed.

“So, what have you been up to? I've caught you up on all you’ve missed.” You just shrugged.

“Studying. It's really all I can do. She won’t even let me stand up.”

“Well that's no fun. You haven’t even been outside?”

“Nope. Her one rule is stay in the bed. Not allowed to stand, unless it's to go to the bathroom, which has to be the one in this room.”

“Why so specific.”

“Second year I went to the restroom, on the fourth floor on the other side of the castle.” James chuckled and looked over his shoulder.

“Well, how about we make her get even more specific?”

“What did you have in mind?” He snuck over to where the wheel chairs were and rode it over. A wide grin spread across your face.

“Your carriage awaits.” You laughed and quickly hopped in. He then ran, pushing you in front of him. You two ran through the castle laughing like mad people.

“What's this?” Fred asked, a smirk on his face as he and Erinie Longbottom came out of the great hall.

“Never thought I’d see you two get along, let alone laughing.”

“Mischief is mischief.” James shrugged and stood up on the back of the wheelchair.

“Madame Pomfrey has forbidden me from walking.” You explained. “James just wanted to get me into some trouble.” Ernie looked at the wheel chair, a slow grin spreading on his face.

“Why don’t we all get into some trouble then.” He cast a spell on the wheels on the wheel chair before making three more appear. “Now, you can control it on your own and so can we.” He sat down in his and went zooming off. You, Fred, and James watched with smiles on your faces. They quickly sat into theirs and the three of you chased after Ernie. Who knew you would become such quick friends with James and that would leave you to get into a bit of mayhem with him.

You four raced down the halls but all stopped abruptly by a tapping of a foot. You all looked up to see Madame Pomfrey standing there with her arms folded across her chest. You swore under your breath.

“Madame Pomfrey!” Ernie squeaked and fell out of his chair. “Uh, we didn’t see you there?” You shook your head at the lame excuse.

“Madame Pomfrey I-”

“You, with me, now.” You sighed and rolled after her. Waving bye to the boys. They waved back and watched you go.

“So.” Fred said with a smirk on his face. “Finally come to your senses?”

“Shut up.” James muttered, feeling a bit guilty that you were the only one who got into trouble. It had been his idea after all.

“I told you that it wasn’t a smart idea to get out of your bed!” Your gran scolded as she wheeled you into the Hospital wing.

“Technically you said I wasn’t allowed to stand up unless it was to use the restroom. I was not standing up, I was sitting down. And what's the big deal? I’m fine! It's almost over anyhow!” She groaned in frustration. “Gran, I’m in 5th year. I think I can make decisions for myself now.” She looked at you for a moment before sighing.

“Alright. But, you have to promise me, when you start to get bad you will come straight-Oh!” You hugged her tight around the waist and she patted your head.

“Thank you, Gran.”

“Yes yes. And you should be careful around that Potter boy.”

“Which one?” You asked cheekily.

“Now don’t you get cheeky on my young lady. You know what I’m talking about. Don’t you go falling in love with him. I’ve actually had girls come in because they said that he broke their heart. Like his name sakes,” she shook her head and walked away leaving you thinking.

You wouldn’t get a crush on James, would you? I mean, sure he was tall and cute and a dork with an adorable personality that kind of made your heart flutter. But that didn’t mean you- You smacked your head.

“Dammit. How could I have let that happen?” You muttered to yourself. You silently cursed your gran. You had been blissfully unaware and now you were very much aware that you had a tiny crush on James Sirius Potter. This ought to go over well.

Over the years you had only grown closer to James and his friends. Mostly James though. It was rare not to see you two together. You both would jam pack your schedules so you would have each other in classes. You knew he did it because of your cramps and how you didn’t really discuss it with anybody or like to bring it up. So when they got too bad and you couldn’t go to classes he would bring you your notes and help you study, like you didn;t help each other study any how. But now, now it was all going to change. You had passed your last year at Hogwarts and were now lying on your couch in pain. You had taken the potion your gran had sent you but the potion had seemed to do less and less over the years while James had done more and more.

You had a pile of letters in the corner that he had sent you. You two had sent back and forth non-stop, both of you now having your own separate apartments that were, sadly, not very close to each other. Of course, you could just apparate to the others house but you wouldn’t really do that on a daily basis, sadly.

You had sent him a letter the other day and found it weird you hadn’t gotten one in response yet, but you weren;t the most important thing in his life, sadly. As you and James had grown more attached, your crush on him had grown and grown and grown. Being away from him for so long, This was your first month, and knowing that you weren’t going back on September first to see him and your other friends was killing you. How could people live without knowing if they would ever go back to Hogwarts? It may sound cheesy and a bit cliche, but it was and forever will be your home.

There was a knock on the door as another wave hit you and now you had to stand up and pretend you were alright. You looked at your empty chocolate bag, you really should’ve stocked up after the last time.

You opened the door and leaned heavily on it as you looked up into the familiar glass covered eyes.

“James!?” He beamed happily.

“Miss me that much? We’ve only been out of school for about a month.” You chuckled and shook your head.

“You’re such a dork. What are you doing here?” He held up a abox.

“Figured you would have forgotten to restock since Hogwarts, like you always do.”

“How do you remember these things? And why would you want to?” You opened the door and let him in. He strode in and looked around your apartment. He wasn’t familiar with it yet.He set it down on the kitchen counter and jumped up onto it to look around the place, nodding in approval.

“Nice place.”

“You say that everytime you come over.” You said sarcastically as you grabbed the jacket you had thrown on the floor after work. It caused your stomach to cramp and you were stuck for a second because you were trying to breathe.

“Ok, couch, now.” James said, grabbing your arms and leading you over to the couch, setting you down and taking your jacket.

“James, you really don’t have to-”

“Yeah I do. Stay.” He left your side and went to the box. “Did you take the potion?”

“Yeah. Did nothing as usual.” You whined, he sat back down and opened the box, pulling out two candy bars and handing you one, like he always did, and keeping one for himself.

“Sorry, kid.”

“I am like a week younger than you!”

“A month and a half,” he corrected. You glared and bit into your chocolate, making him laugh and look around your apartment until his eyes landed on a moving picture you had put up. It was from the first year you two became friends. He walked over to it and took it off the wall. “You still have this?” You smiled.

“Of course! That was the first Weasley Summer I had! It was the best summer of my life!” You laughed lightly smiling at the memory of James trying to get you on a broom. And then you had crashed into four trees until you semi-got the hang of that.

“Didn’t you get a concussion from that summer?”

“Don’t know, wouldn’t let anyone check.” You laughed, your stomach cramping again, but not as bad as usual. He smiled and hung it back on the wall. He sat back down next to you.

“How've you been, though? You always sound like you're doing great in your letters.”

“It's been alright. Adult life isn’t terrible and my job’s pretty fun. I've been thinking about getting a dog.”

“Really?” He asked excitedly.

“Yep, and I was going to name it Sirius.” His face turned disappointed.

“You know, I brought you chocolate, you can at least be a bit nicer to me.” you giggled.

“I’m joking, I'm joking. But yeah. I do want a dog.”

“Get lonely up here already?”

“Definitely. How are you? You seem like you are having a good time in your letters. Var hopping every weekend.”

“You can join us. We’d love to have you hang with us.” You shrugged.

“Well, definitely not this weekend.”

“No, definitely not. Though you look like you could use a bottle of fire whiskey.”

“I need two.” He laughed and put his arm around your shoulders, you rested your head on his shoulder.

“I felt ya there.”

The rest of the night, James hung out with you. Chocolate and talking and radio and, when you were feeling up to it, he made you dance with him because he’s the biggest jerk in the world.

It was now near midnight and you two were on the couch listening to old muggle records because why not. You were half asleep on James’ chest. He was playing with your hair and humming along to the song. It was a familiar position for you two. Madame Pomfrey had once caught you two like this, though James had been the only one awake. She had looked at him and then at you back in sixth year.

“Be careful there, Mr. Potter. I do not want her getting hurt.” And then she turned and left. He had planned on telling you that morning, but the thought that he would hurt you in any way had kept him from saying anything. But now… Now he couldn't help it. The smell of your shampoo and the way you smelt like chocolate and… and he couldn't help it. This had been the most fun he had had since Hogwarts had left out. All because he was with you.

“Y/N?” He whispered, just in case you were asleep. He knew how hard it was for you to actually fall asleep when you got these cramps.

You hummed in response. Half asleep, but not completely. He took a breath.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

You hummed again.

“I love you.” He didn’t get a response this time and thought you had fallen asleep. He was a bit relieved that you hadn’t heard. The other part was a bit disappointed.

“What?”

Shit.

“I-I love you.”

You sat up and looked him in the eye. He knew this look. You were trying to detect a lie, he let you look. And boy, did you take your time.

“You-You do?”

“I do. I get it if you don’t in return but I just had to-” You grabbed his collar and pressed his lips to your quickly. His eyes widened in surprise before he quickly kissed you back. You pulled apart and both of you were smiling messes.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” You said, biting your lip.

“Seriously?” He pulled back from you with wide eyes. You nodded nervously. “How long?”

“The first time you helped me, I guess. And I wouldn’t have even realized it if Gran hadn’t said anything to me.”

“You’re joking.” You shook your head.” He kissed you again, taking you by surprise.

“Why? How long for you?”

“End of fifth. I was going to tell you in sixth but…”

“But what?” You looked at him. “James…”

“Your Gran scared me.”

“What did she do?” You sighed.

“Nothing!”

“James, I am too tired, what?”

“She just told me not to hurt you.” You frowned and looked at your hands.

“And you planned to?”

“No! No no no no.” He pulled your face up to his and smiled. “I was scared that I might. I got scared that I would be the reason you were in pain. I didn’t want that. I didn’t even want to think that I would be the reason for that. So, I thought it was better to not do anything but be there for you.” You stared at him for a moment and bit your lip, thinking over and being completely touched. And you believed him. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“I-I was scared.” You rested your head on his shoulder to hide your face, embarrassed that your feelings had been reciprocated this whole time.

“Of what?”

You muttered something that he didn’t catch.

“Come on, I spilled my heart out to you, your turn.”

“That I’d lose the best friend I've ever had.” You muttered a bit louder. He heard this and couldn’t help the soft smile that spread across his face. He pulled you onto him and leaned against the arm of the sofa so you were on top of him. You looked at him, confused. You head was on his chest again and your eyes were fluttering shut again.

“You’re not going to lose me, Y/N.” He said with a smile. You smiled into his chest and wanted to say something but your mind was already powering down. You felt his lips press against your hair. “You won’t ever lose me. Good night, Y/N.” You murmured an incoherent goodnight, but he got the point and smiled before falling himself.

You woke up in the morning to smell the most wonderful smell you ever had smelt before… Bacon.

You groaned and sat up, a bit confused as to why you were smelling bacon. You thought it was just your mind at first and your mind wandered back to the dream you had had of James. You wished it were true. The kiss seemed so real, so perfect. You pushed yourself off the couch and your foot hit a box. Your eyes widened immediately. You opened it and saw a group of empty chocolate wrappers.

Oh no…

You turned around quickly and saw James’ back in your kitchen over the stove. Then you heard the sizzle of food cooking on your unused stove, since you were a wreck in the kitchen. ANd then you heard James’ humming. That wasn;t an illusion.

“James?” He turned around and smiled.

“About time you woke up. I thought you were dead for a little while there.” You pushed yourself off the couch and stumbled into the kitchen. “Coffee in the cup.” You looked down to a steaming cup.

“I’m not so convinced yet.” He chuckled and slid the food onto two separate plates handing one to you. “I didn’t even know that worked.” You muttered looking at the stove.

“Figured. You can’t cook to save your life.”

You threw a piece of bacon at him, which he gladly ate.

“Did you stay all night?” You asked half way through breakfast.

“I figured we should talk this morning.” You nodded and bit your lip. So it did happen.

“Right so we… kissed.”

“Yep.”

“Yeah.” The silence turned awkward.

“Ok, I’m just going to say it, then. I don’t know how much you remember but everything I said, I meant. I really do like you, Y/N.” You bit your lip and smiled.

“I-I think I remember enough to know that I have told you the same. And I-I meant it to.”

“Really?”

“Really, James. I meant it all and I really do like you alot.” You smiled. And he let out a sigh and collapsed into his chair.

“That is a huge relief.”

“Tell me about it. So what do we do now? What happens?”

“I think I'll ask you out.”

“And I obviously would say yes.”

“And then we go to a… quidditch game?”

“And I’d buy the snacks after arguing with you about money.”

“Right. And then I would completely sweep you off your feet when I book the stadium for afterwards and teach you how to ride more.”

“Of course, unless I blow you away with my mad skills.” He beamed.

“Which is very possible with the way you ride.” You laughed.

“So when would this hypothetical date take place?”

“Saturday at six?”

“I think I could be there. If you were to ask me, of course.”

“Well maybe I’m getting there.”

“Maybe you should hurry up before we spend another three years without each other.”

“Y/N, would you go out with me?”

“Yes.” You said smiling. He returned your smile with a crooked one of his own.

“Then I’ll pick you up here, and I am buying the snacks.”

“James you are no-pop-James Potter you get back here!” You yelled to the open air laughing as your best friend-boyfriend- apperated from your apartment.

You bit your lip and leaned on your hand.

You got a date with the boy you loved. And who would’ve thought it would all be because of a terrible time dealing with cramps?

#james sirius potter #hp fluff #fluff fic #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #madame pomfrey #chocolate fic #one shot

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darkeninganon · 3 years

Text

Heyo! Back at it again with Ghost Dream (Gream). He has a little weirdness happen in this chapter, mostly because my brain just yeeted off to Pluto. I don’t think I need any Trigger warnings, I mean... Tommy gets a little shaken up emotionally, but beyond that, this is a pretty safe chapter.

Gream smiled, setting up the final blocks to complete the diorama on the table. It had taken many days, but finally Gream had completed it, with the help of Tubbo, Ranboo, and Tommy. It was an exact replica of the server. Well, with a few changes. Some places had no walls, and the building in place of the prison was nothing more than an obsidian box surrounded by red and orange string. There were also the dolls, almost exact replicas of the people of the SMP.

Almost.

Tomothy had a blue sweater on, instead of whatever the real Tommy was wearing. William was grey-skinned, had no white streak, and was wearing a yellow sweater. Prezbo was wearing a classy suit, reflecting his position of power. Lethe was wearing a cloak and bandages over his eyes. Gream even made one like himself, naming it "Nightmare", it lacked a mask though. He was not about to try and figure out how to make a doll-sized mask. There were so many more as well: A centaur-like creature named "The Warden" sat on top of the prison box, a tall cloaked figure standing in a sandy area along with many other smaller ones, including a fox man; most notably was a figure in a bloody suit with crooked eyes, a pink scar slashing vertically through one, a beanie, a gold tooth, and a square smile. "Fangs", "Raev", "Sir"....

Gream shook his head, fear and dread creeping up his spine and making his stomach roll. He sighed, setting the dolls down after inspecting them. Raev was his favorite in the group; Gream had given him bright orange hair and a smile, plus a cute green-black suit. It clashed with the hair and fur, but Gream didn't mind, it was kind of cute in a way.

Gream continued to just stare at the little scene, sitting cross-legged as he took it all in. All of these characters were related, their stories tied together in some way. Gream reached over, pulling Nightmare from the little brick house he stood on and placing the doll in the cell The Warden stood on. That was where Nightmare belonged.

Gream spun to look at the door as the floor creaked, Tommy looming in the doorway, staring at the ghost.

"Hey there. Your table is finally done?" The teen asked, stepping into the room and over to the table. He wouldn't deny, it made him nervous; it was a replica of the SMP with New L'Manburg, the oldest version of the Community House, and the maximum security cell of the prison, plus Snowchester and Las Nevadas. It was like the server had been spliced between several time periods. "Looks good."

Gream looked back at the table, nodding. "Thanks. I also made the dolls." Gream motioned to them. He noticed Tommy tense, specifically when looking at the one in the prison. "That's Nightmare. He belongs in jail."

Tommy knew Dream was... quiet, to put it lightly, but he had never seen Gream do the same. "Yeah, and why's that?" he asked, sitting next to the ghost.

"He did a lot of bad things." Gream grabbed the doll, pulling it from the "jail" to look at it more.

"Well... sometimes people do bad things for a good reason-"

"That doesn't make it okay. Nightmare did a lot of bad things. He wanted to have a family... He wanted Tomothy to be his little brother, but Tomothy chose William, and William was a megalomaniacle dick to everyone, even Nightmare. But then William died and things got better." Gream placed Nightmare back in the cell. "But... William managed to convince Tomothy that Nightmare was evil, and Nightmare saw people drifting apart because he gave Prezbo a test, and Prezbo failed it." He grabbed the two dolls, holding them close. He then placed Prezbo back in the town he had built, placing Tomothy in a bare plains-like area with wooden fort-like walls around him. "Prezbo kicked Tomothy out of their home because Nightmare got mad and threatened the town. Then, Nightmare tried to... twist? Corrupt? No, neither of those words work..."

Tommy's breath hitched, and it took a moment for him to speak; "Manipulate?" His voice pitched up. Fuck, he really had to get that under control. It was such a tell.

Gream looked to Tommy, nodding solemnly. "Yeah. Nightmare tried to manipulate Tomothy into liking him. Like William had done when alive. Instead, Tomothy just hated him more." Gream picked up another doll, rolling it around. "Then, Nightmare asked for Lethe's help. A favor. Lethe needed to protect the server, but he had to forget everything unless there was actual danger. A True threat. They cast some... spell or something, and Lethe forgot." Gream placed the doll in the area that looked like Snowchester, and now Tommy could see who it looked like: Ranboo. "there is a way to reverse it, but... I don't know if Lethe knows it."

Tommy watched, listened. It was so obvious who was meant to be who. It was like Gream... Wait... "Hey, so... you said Nightmare wanted a family, right?"

"Yeah."

"So... he made everyone think he was evil... and now he's in jail, yeah?"

"That's right. Mostly. He is in jail."

"Well... did... I mean, how did he get in there?"

Tommy watched as Gream seemed to think, staying silent and still before grabbing "Nightmare" from his cell. "Well... everyone teamed up against him. But... even though he'd never see anyone again, he was happy."

"Why?"

"Because, they were finally a family." Gream placed the little doll back in the cell. His voice was soft, wistful.

Tommy nodded. "Pardon me." He stood and left, Gream nodding to show he had heard. Tommy barely made it to the stairs, clinging to the railing as he finally broke. Gream was... He wasn't just playing out his memories, he was sharing what he felt and his thoughts at the time. Dream was... Jealous? No, that didn't excuse his actions, at all! He was still worse than... But... No, he wasn't. Dream was just more physical, less mental.

Tommy took out his communicator, sending a message to Tubbo and Ranboo: We need to talk. Meet me at Snowchester. Bring the others Ranboo. Tommy grit his teeth. He couldn't let Wilbur near Gream. Wilbur would see Gream as an easy mark, and likely a way into Las Nevadas. Sure, seeing Dream's version of everyone on the SMP was unnerving, but it was even more unnerving that he has so perfectly replicated Quackity and Las Nevadas. Quackity who was likely the reason Gream even existed in the first place, and also someplace Dream had never seen. Gream probably didn't even know he had done that.

Tommy swung open the front door, hoping to meet the others right at the tunnel; nearly smacking right into Wilbur. Fuck.

"Tommy! There you are! Now, look, I know me and Quackity were a bit intense-"

"Not now Wilbur."

"Okay, but hear me out! We need so much more stone, and more importantly, we need to team up with-"

"I have more important things to worry about here."

"It'll just take a moment! We team up with Tubbo and Ranboo and let them expand into our land right by Las Nevadas, and-"

"I'll talk to you about it later, alright?"

"Alright, but real quick, We also need to come up with a plan to get Dream out of Prison-" Tommy tensed, unseen by Wilbur; "Because, you know, he has that book that brought me back. God, imagine how useful that'll be! No more death ever! We can fight for eternity and no one can stop-"

Wilbur's head was snapped to the side. Tommy had punched him. "He's not a fucking tool you can just lock up once you're done using him! What the fuck man?!" Wilbur groaned, rubbing his jaw as he slowly turned to look at Tommy, clearly wanting to say something, but too shocked to do so. "You will... never get the revive book, or the power it holds... Dream is... I hope Sam kills you again." Tommy turned away from Wilbur, storming over to the tunnel. He knew Wilbur was following silently behind, confused and desperate to say something, to get to the bottom of why Tommy just punched him.

Tommy stood by the tunnel, furious. Sure, Dream was a dick, and everything would have been solved if Dream had just talked to Tommy, but at the same time... Asking Gream more about Nightmare would shed some light. But he needed everyone else to show up first, to see what Gream was doing. Tommy tapped his foot, staring at the sky as they waited for everyone else.

Ranboo burst from the tunnel, trident in hand, panicked expression, netherite on. "What's going on?!" Someone crashed into the poor half enderman, causing him to make that distinct noise of an enderman in pain as they crashed to the ground.

"Shit! Sorry-" Phil couldn't complete his apology as the rest on the Syndicate tumbled out of the hyper tunnel, crashing into each other.

Tommy snorted, trying his hardest not to laugh as the four people untangled themselves. Ah yes, the most fearsome group on the server, couldn't navigate a hyper tunnel. Tommy lost it as Tubbo came speeding out of the tunnel with a scream, crashing into his platonic husband and causing Ranboo to let out another pained enderman noise. Something about Ranboo yelling like an enderman was just so funny to Tommy, surely he was cursing in the language of the End.

"What did you want to talk to us about, Tommy?" Niki cut in, her usually calm voice cold, snapping Tommy out of his laughing fit.

"Right, uh... Let’s walk and talk, yeah? It's a little tough to explain." Tommy lead the group to the mansion, casting a quick glare at Wilbur. "So, you all know about Gream, yeah? Of course you do, anyways, he was building and working on a table to play games with when it comes to spending time with Big Mike, since neither are really allowed to leave due to safety." Tommy glanced back, making sure everyone was following along; Techno and Wilbur looked completely lost, while Niki looked confused but was clearly listening. "So, the thing about this table, more importantly the dolls he made for the table, is that they're... well... This is going to sound really weird, but it’s everyone and everywhere on the server. You’ll see." Tommy pointed to the door, and everyone crowded around to peer into the room.

Gream sat by the table, looming over it. Even with the cursed mask on, it was clear he was concentrating hard on something. The table and dolls had his full attention. Tommy motioned for everyone to linger back, hiding just outside the door-frame; before he walked in, he let out a quiet cough to not startle Gream. The ghost looked up at the noise, spotting Tommy and nodding at the teen.

"Hey Gream. I... actually had a question for you about that uh... Nightmare character." Tommy carefully walked up to the table, pulling the doll from the cell.

"Well, ask then."

Tommy smiled nervously, fidgeting with the toy. "Well... You said he did bad things because he was angry... jealous, actually. Um, why didn't he just talk it out?" It was such a huge risk, and for all Tommy knew, this could make Gream angry and have the ghost snap like he did back at his house.

Gream was silent, perking up as if thinking about something. Finally, he sighed. "Nightmare... Nightmare can't figure out his emotions... and he doesn't like talking about them... Someone... Hurt him once, someone he loved. It’s something I understand, but... you prefer talking about things, right?"

Tommy was quiet, frozen. "What?"

"I..." Gream pulled on the edges of his mask, a puddle of acid began to form under him. "Ever since the incident with Jack and Puffy I... Tommy, you're not telling me the truth, are you? No one is!"

Tommy flinched. He could hear netherite armor being thrown on behind him, but he took a breath, relaxing as he placed the doll back in the cell. "You're right. I haven't been honest. But-" Tommy held his hand up as Gream glared at him; "But I have my reasons. Nightmare... He did bad things for a good reason... He knew he'd go into jail for it, didn't he?"

Gream was silent, thinking again before nodding.

"That's why he asked Lethe for a favor. Well... People do bad things for good reasons all the time. I'm... withholding information from you for some very good reasons. It's not just for your safety, it's also for me. The things I'm keeping from you... they're things I don't like talking about, ever." Tommy sighed, running a hand through his hair. It sucked having to try to explain it, but now... Now they'll get to see things from Dream's view... something that no one was interested in before-

"Dream died?!"

Tommy cringed as he was reminded that Wilbur was there. "Yes, Dream died. Congradu-"

Wilbur shoved Tommy out of the way, grabbing Gream's hand and shaking it vigorously. "It's amazing to meet you! You and I were such- Oh man, we had so much fun together! I was... What was the word again? Oh yeah! I was your vassal! You helped me blow-"

Tommy shoved Wilbur away. "Alright, enough! Leave the poor guy alone!" Tommy stood between Wilbur and the ghost, Gream didn't need to know that he helped destroy L’Manburg or was a traitor or anything like that. Wait... Tommy shook his head. Dream was never really on their side.

"You... I don't like you."

"I'm.... What? What do you-"

"You're a megalomaniac aren't you?" Gream crossed his arms, glaring at Wilbur from behind his mask. "You... You were... Why do I hate you?" Gream turned away, pacing around until he looked to the table. He grabbed Nightmare and William, setting them up along with Tomothy on a hill. He stared at them, gently fiddling with Nightmare as he stayed quiet.

Wilbur went to go say something, but Tommy stopped him, staring intently at the ghost.

"You could have been a good leader... But I don't want to be a good leader. I hate you so much, I'm going to be worse than ram man... I will tear this place apart because I hate you... Tomothy gave up everything and you gave up nothing, you are going to get him killed..."

Gream removed Tomothy, setting him up with Prezbo on top of an obsidian wall. "Can't we all just be a family... No, you're the bad guy... but why?" Gream stopped, picking up Nightmare and holding him close. "But why?"

#Gream #Ghost Dream #mcytg/t #mcyt g/t #Gream is trying to remember things #but he doesn't see himself/Dream/Who Dream Became as the same #So if he were to ever make a ''pre-wilbur'' version of himself #he'd call it Dream as opposed to Nightmare #I was super creative with names wasn't I? XD #He also references the incident with George #angst

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supermarvelgirl15 · 4 years

Text

Small Gestures

Summary: It's always the smallest gestures that speak the loudest; the best gifts come from the heart.

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) × f!reader

Word Count: 1,920

Warnings: Minor spoilers for season 2, slight angst during one part

A/N: What? Me posting another fic? I know, I know, I'm surprised too. I'm just currently obsessed with Din Djarin. Also, there's a part where it's in Din's pov and it is not that good, I'm still trying to get the hang of writing him. Anyways, enjoy! And check out Is There a Problem Here? if you haven't already!

Main Masterlist

××××××

At first, it was just small gestures. Making sure the other had eaten or had rested plenty. Helping cleaning their weapons or keeping up with the state of the Razor Crest. Even making sure that the Bacta spray or patch was being used correctly.

It was those small gestures that knitted the strong partnership between Y/N and the Mandalorian. Their relationship was based on trust and taking care of each other. Together they took care of the Child until they were able to return him to the Jedi. Until then, they were deemed his parents and he was their foundling.

They worked extremely well together in both battle and everyday tasks. If Din needed a tool to fix the wiring in the Razor Crest, Y/N would give it to him without him even asking. If Y/N needed cover as she ran to help the townspeople, they would just exchange a look and Din would do his job to protect her.

Greef had once commented on how they were the most in sync duo he had ever met. He's sworn he has never heard the pair mutter a word to each other while they were working, that it was like they knew exactly what they were doing. The Mandalorian and Y/N just shook it off, claiming it was because they had worked together for a few years now.

One time, after seeing how Y/N had brought up a cup of soup to the cockpit for Din to eat, claiming that he hadn't eaten all day, and how he didn't even argue, Cara realized how those small gestures were bigger than they appeared to be. She herself hadn't even realized that he hadn't eaten, and she was the one who was in the cockpit with him the entire time while Y/N was down in the hangar watching the Child.

Later on she watched how Mando placed a blanket over Y/N after she had fallen asleep with the Child in her arms in the cot. The heating had given out once again, so it was quite cold in the Crest. Cara didn't dare mutter a word as she observed how he watched her, as if to make sure she was still breathing. It was then she knew that it was a mutual thing.

∞∞∞

When Y/N saw Din get swallowed by the krayt dragon, her heart dropped. He had told her to take care of the Child and ordered Cobb Vanth to get them both to safety. She didn't dare breathe as she hoped that his Beskar was enough to protect him.

As the krayt dragon breached out of the sand and the Mandalorian had flown out of it just before it blew up, Y/N could've sobbed. She had never been so scared in her life and it wasn't even for her own sake. She would have rather go up against the army of Stormtroopers again than to go through that.

Y/N made her way towards him, the Child in his pod following right behind her. Din watched as they approached, meeting her halfway.

“Sorry, I didn't have time to explain,” he starts but is stopped when Y/N's hands come to grab either side of his helmet, pulling him closer to her. Her eyes scan over his body, ignoring the goop that he was covered in.

“Don't ever, ever do that again,” she says sternly.

Din and her stay like that, just staring at each other, the Child looking up at the both of them. They didn't break away until Cobb called them.

When they had gotten back to the Razor Crest, Y/N went to venture the street vendors as Din talked to Peli Motto about transporting a traveler. She came across a vendor that was selling necklaces with black obsidian.

She remembered being told that black obsidian was used for healing and protection. Din immediately came to mind, along with the feeling that she felt when she thought she wasn't going to see him again. Y/N knew it was just some stone, but that didn't stop her from telling the vendor that she would take one.

Later, the passenger that they agreed to transport was asleep in the cockpit while both Din and Y/N took a break in the hangar, mostly to make sure the Child didn't eat any more of the lady's eggs.

The Mandalorian was leaned up against the side of the wall, his head tilted back against it. Y/N wasn't sure if he fell asleep or if he was just relaxing for once. She held the necklace in her hand, rubbing her finger against the smooth surface.

“What's that?” Din grumbled, sitting up straight as he looked at Y/N. She looked down at the object in her hand, becoming slightly nervous for a reason she wasn't used to.

“Uh, it's black obsidian. It's used for healing and protection,” she answers him, fiddling with it some more before looking up at him. “I, uh, actually got it for you.”

Din looks at the necklace in her hand for a couple seconds before looking back up at her. “For... Me?” He questions incredulously.

Y/N nods slowly as she sticks her hand out to him, chewing on her bottom lip. Din reaches out and grabs it, his gloved hand lingering for only a brief second. Once it's in his own hands, he observes it more closely, rubbing his thumb around the hexagonal shape of the obsidian.

“It's for when I can't be there. It'll protect you. I know it sounds stupid, but... It's a nice thought,” she shrugs before pulling the Child by the robe away from the egg container.

Din smiles to himself as he watches her. “Thank you... Cyar'ika.”

∞∞∞

“It's like you don't even trust me anymore. It's starting to sound like you just don't want me around!”

“I don't! I worked better on my own before you came along.”

Din had been angry. It had just slipped, but those words dripped like venom from his tongue. He regretted saying such a thing to her. He didn't mean a word, but he knew Y/N wouldn't believe him.

He was just on edge about what Bo-Katan had said about his Creed. Then Y/N had gotten shot during their raid on the Imperial ship, and it was like adding gasoline to a fire.

All he had said when they left Nevarro was that she should stay behind once they reached Corvus. Y/N, of course, disagreed and that started their argument. He had already made her sit out when they took out the Imperial base, he should've known she wasn't going to sit on the bench again.

In reality, he was worried and didn't want her to get even more hurt, so his solution was to make her stay in the Razor Crest while he worked the jobs. Din realized that he was asking her to quit her way of life and it made him feel like a hypocrite.

For the rest of their flight to Corvus, Y/N stayed in the hangar, spending what time she had left with their Child and avoiding Din. He didn't see her again until they had landed.

Y/N wouldn't look at him except for the occasional glance. A word wasn't said between them when Din checked her Bacta patch or when they made their way to the city.

When they met Ahsoka Tano, she could feel the mixed emotions going on between the two. Anger. Worry. Sadness. Fear. Grief. Even the Child seemed to feel the tension going on between them.

The Mandalorian knew he shouldn't had been as relieved as he was when Ahsoka said that she couldn't train Grogu, that he would have to choose his own destiny with the seeing stone, but he was grateful to spend more time with him. He knew Y/N was relieved as well.

But once they were back in the Razor Crest, the tension between them returned. Din didn't know how he was going to apologise to her, he was sure she wouldn't even listen.

Din reached into his pocket, pulling out a necklace that he had gotten made when they had visited Nevarro. He had meant to give it to her then, but the argument had occurred between them, so there was never a perfect time.

He walked by her as she entertained Grogu, stopped in front of her, and dropped the necklace into her hand. Grogu climbed up into her lap, trying to see the shiny trinket. Y/N waited for him to say something, but was met with silence when he went up to the cockpit.

Y/N looked over the necklace in her hand, flipping it over a couple times. She ran her finger over the letters that were ingrained into the metal bar. Vaii gar slanar, Ni slanar.

She didn't know what it meant, but she knew that it had to be Mando'a. Din had taught her a few words in his Creed's language, but she didn't recognize these words though.

Taking a deep breath, she sat Grogu down. The little one looked up at her curiously, tilting his head slightly. She told him to wait there for a few minutes before making her way to the cockpit.

Y/N eyes widen slightly when she saw Din fiddling with the necklace she had gotten him a while ago, rubbing his thumb over the black obsidian. She didn't know that he held on to it, thinking that he had just put it up somewhere.

“I didn't know you kept it,” she finally says, coming up to sit beside him. The Mandalorian looks up at her surprised, his eyes slightly wide under his helmet.

Din looked back down at the stone in his hand. She thought he put it away? Why would he ever do that with something she gifted him? He realizes he probably would've thought the same thing if he was in her position.

“Vaii gar slanar, Ni slanar.”

The Mandalorian's head snaps back up to her, the modulator picking up his sharp inhale. “What?”

“Vaii gar slanar, Ni slanar. I hope I'm saying that correctly. That's Mando'a, right?” She asks, showing him the necklace he gave her. He looks at it briefly before nodding slowly.

Y/N looks back down at the necklace that was now around her neck. “What does it mean?”

Din reaches over, rubbing his leather-clad thumb over the ingrained lettering. He looks at it for a few seconds before finally looking up at her, making eye contact through his visor.

“Where you go, I go.”

Y/N bit her lip, putting her hand over his, scanning his helmet. She always respected the Way, but right now, all she wanted was to rip the stupid thing off his head.

“I'm sorry... About what I said,” Din apologizes, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of her hand.

She smiles slightly. “I know you are,” she replies as she gives his hand a comforting squeeze. Din let's out a sigh of relief, leaning forward to place his helmet against her forehead. Y/N closes her eyes, the Beskar cold to her skin.

Din watches her from beneath his helmet, seeing how content she looked. He reaches his other hand up, cupping her cheek, the fabric a warm contrast compared to his Beskar.

“Close your eyes.”

××××××

#star wars #star wars imagine #the mandalorian imagine #mandalorian imagine #din djarin imagine #the mandalorian × reader #mandalorian × reader #din djarin × reader #the mandalorian #mandalorian #din djarin #pedro pascal #baby grogu #baby yoda #grogu #grogu djarin #kay writes

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youllallriseintheink · 3 years

Note

13 Henry and Joey 💫

The words are “I’m worried about you.”

I decided to do a kind of best-case-scenario with them, where Henry stays at the studio and they have a mostly-healthy relationship. I hope you enjoy.

Word count: 951

---

Joey and Henry had been friends for ten years now, artistic partners for eight, and lovers for seven. Joey had been a Godsend back when Henry was young and lonely and newly on his own in a new city. He could still remember calling Joey up for a night out on days he was homesick, or Joey demonstrating how Heny should talk to girls (and enjoying himself a little too much as he did so). In some ways, he’d been the best partner Henry could have asked for.

And that’s why Henry was about to go behind his back and break the lock to his private study.

It wasn’t without reason- Joey had been acting in some concerning ways as of late. When Joey had demanded that everyone bring an item from their workplace as a sacrifice to the Gods, Henry had thought it was some strange team-building exercise. And then he’d seen the bandages around Joey’s wrist.

Suddenly, all the other signs Henry had seen but not registered as important- the hours he spent locked away in his “study,” his newly acquired ability to stay up for days on end, his sudden rants against law enforcement- they all started to come together. They were the behaviours of someone developing a dangerous habit, and whose mind was beginning to fray from it.

“I’m scared that he’s had some kind of mental break,” Henry explained to Jack, a good friend of his who he knew could keep his secret. “I’ve already tried asking him if anything’s wrong, but he won’t open up to me. I’m hoping that if I break in to his study, it’ll tell me something about what’s going on with him.

Jack nodded solemnly. “Best of luck Henry. I hope he’s alright.”

Henry picked up a book on lockpicking, and on the next night Joey was out, he tested out his skills. It took most of an hour, but he finally heard that tell-tale click.

The room on the other side of the door was small and ominously dark. The carpet was pulled back halfway across the room, revealing concrete covered in pentagrams the colour of dried blood. In the small, still-carpeted portion of the room, a bed was pushed against the wall with a lamp and end table stacked on top of it- this had been a guest bedroom before it was a place to hide secrets. Two bookshelves- one containing numerous black books and the other containing jars of dried plants, red and balck fluids, and flesh-looking items Henry didn’t even want to hazard a guess at- shared the remaining space with a desk, which contained a radio, one of those huge, black, unmarked books, and a cage containing a dozen live rats.

“So that’s why Joey didn’t want to call pest control about the squeaking.”

Henry hadn’t expected anything good. Drugs, maybe- or tools for self-harm. Something that would require a difficult conversation and for Henry to show Joey ongoing support. But at least with that Henry would have known what to do. He had no idea what to do with this. He immediately shut the door, reset the lock, and left for his drawing desk. He needed to draw. Needed to be a little distracted to think of something.

Maybe an hour later, Joey arrived home.

“Henry!” he called, clearly happy to see him. He kissed him on the cheek. “Heh, don’t you get enough of that at work? Well, so long as you’re after your hands.”

Henry dropped his pencil and sighed. “Joey, I...”

“Yes?”

“I’m worried about you. I thought you might have a drug problem, or a mental problem, or something, so I got into your study. And now I’m even more in the dark. Please just tell me if you’re okay.”

Joey was alarmed. It was good- and very sweet- that Henry was more worried about his well-being than anything. Maybe he could use that. He hugged Henry, who was in obvious distress.

“I’m fine. I promise.” Would that be all Henry needed?

“What about the bandages on your wrists?”

“I tried a few blood rituals, is all.”

“And the staying up for nights on end?”

“Spells work better than coffee. You should try it!”

“And the rats?”

“Look- we eat meat. It’s no different from that, really. And anyhow- all the stuff in there? Totally outdated. Now that I’ve started a project operating in the studio, I was going to bring all my supplies down to its basement. I know more about what I’m doing than I did when I bought all of that. I promise, Henry- the project will be lawful, cruelty-free and you don’t have to see any part of it that bothers you.”

“Okay. I guess it’s all okay, then. God, I’m glad...”

Joey was glad, too. “Yes. Well, I hope you get more comfortable with this over time. There are some spells that I’d love to share with you. But for now, mind showing me what you’ve been drawing?”

---

Years passed. The ink machine was built. Joey’s magic supplies were moved into the basement of the studio. Henry and Joey went on as a couple, and Henry even warmed up to magic a little and let Joey use it to fill him with energy or ease his hands when they were sore from drawing.

After the deaths of Norman Polk, Buddy Lewek, and Sammy Lawrence, Joey moved the art department to the most ink-free area of the studio to keep Henry safe, and made sure he had a story for why Henry’s adorable little art mentee had suddenly disappeared.

To everyone else, Henry seemed oblivious to the strangeness that surrounded him, but the truth was that he just wasn’t worried. He saw the moving ink and heard the scratching in the walls, but he trusted Joey to keep things under control for the most part. He was okay, Joey was okay, and everything was fine.

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #joey drew #Henry Stein #creatorship #my fanfiction #thanks for the ask #smileyfred #tw: self harm #tw: drugs #(not sure if those are necessary since it's only mentioned but I'm being safe.)

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woogyu · 3 years

Text

A World Tinted Gold | Mingyu; Chapter Two

Kalon; beauty that is more than skin-deep

streamer!y/n x werewolf!mingyu

notes; werewolf au

word count; 1749

previous | next | masterlist

summary; The only werewolves you encountered were the ones living inside your video games. They were nothing more to you than mythical creatures you often had to kill in order to complete objectives. You had a good thing going with your online gaming setup. Your supporters were kind and usually tipped well during streams. Sure it meant you had to deal with the occasional creep sliding into your DMs, but it was worth it. Playing games online was putting you through college. Little did you know your quiet life was about to be turned upside down at the hands of someone you didn’t think existed outside of the virtual world.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Are you seriously watching that steamer again? Why don’t you just play the games yourself?” Seungcheol questioned as he stepped into Mingyu’s room, chuckling as the younger wolf quickly turned around and blushed.

“It’s not the same… I’m not really interested in the games, I’m interested in her” Mingyu admitted sheepishly, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. He didn’t know what it was about you that made him so transfixed, but he had a hard time tearing his eyes from the screen. Hell, just the other day when you read his comment aloud, he was over the moon.

“It’s rare for you to show interest in a girl at all” Seungcheol remarked, eyebrow pulled up in question. Until a wolf found its mate there was little reason to get involved with or show interest in others romantically. There were of course some wolves that preferred being unmated; it allowed them to be explorative with their romantic partners. Not all wolves longed to find their mate, and not all wolves would end up finding their mates. He knew destiny had a hand to play in it all, but the thought of never finding who he was supposed to be with made the wolf in him whine. Mingyu wasn’t an unmated wolf that enjoyed exploring his options, he was desperately waiting for the day he met his mate. Right now, Mingyu wasn’t sure if he was simply lonely or if there was something more going on.

“There is just something about her…” Mingyu started, pausing for a second to find the right words, “I just have a hard time tearing my eyes away from the screen. There is something about her that just draws me in” Mingyu explained. He wasn’t doing a very good job at explaining the feelings that bubbled up inside him when he saw you on screen. When he tried to explain it he could never quite describe the feeling that settled over his chest and body, it was a warmth almost like a subtle glow within him.

Seungcheol didn’t comment on it any further as he moved into the room and crossed his arms over his chest. Mingyu knew better than to ignore the alpha, closing his laptop he turned to face Seungcheol fully. Their pack had a different dynamic than most. Normally a thirteen-member pack would be impossible because of the strain it put on the head alpha. It worked for them because while Seungcheol was their main alpha, they had two secondary alphas, Jihoon and Soonyoung. The three of them shared the work of looking after the group and it worked perfectly for them. He liked that the alphas didn’t abuse their power, there was a lot of lenience in the pack and it made for less confrontations.

“Joshua has to head into town tonight and won’t be able to run the perimeter. Would you be alright with doing it?” Seungcheol asked, pursing his lips as he looked down at the younger wolf. Mingyu normally enjoyed running the perimeter, it meant he got to shift and stretch his body, but this time he was a little bit more hesitant with his answer. Mingyu knew that later on tonight you would have a new video posted and he would have to wait even longer to watch it. It seemed like a silly reason, but his heart ached at the thought of not being able to ‘see’ you on screen until early tomorrow morning.

“Sure! I don’t mind” Mingyu answered with a half-smile, Seungcheol never asked him for much so he figured he could help him out with this. Seungcheol breathed a sigh of relief as he leaned back against the wall.

“Thank you, I didn’t really want to be the one stuck doing it again” Seungcheol admitted, the alpha had been on perimeter duty for the past 3 nights and must have been eager for a good night’s sleep. Mingyu smiled and nodded his head a few times, his own wants would just have to be paused for a little while.

Before leaving the room Seungcheol patted him on the shoulder, yawning a little bit as he headed toward what Mingyu assumed was his own room. Mingyu was thankful that Seungcheol’s parents had left him their families pack house. Coming from a family of alpha’s certainly had its perks, and it meant they all got their own rooms.

Once Seungcheol was gone he checked the time, he had roughly 4 hours before he would have to head out.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“I just don’t understand what this trend is supposed to be” you complained to Ciri for probably the 20th time over your video call. Apparently, there was a trend going around among streamers to recreate video games in real life. You hadn’t thought much of it when it first gained popularity, but now Ciri thought it would be a good idea for the two of you to join in on it. Her big plan was a two-part video where the two of you recreated iconic aspects of the Witcher 3 video game. You should have known she would want to do it, she already owned a Cirilla cosplay.

“It’s going to be fun” Ciri reminded you, drawing out the last syllable as she drew a fake scar along her face, effectively transforming herself into the iconic video game character.

“Come on, I even sent you the Yennefer cosplay and everything!” she exclaimed, using her make up brush to point at the camera accusingly. You rolled your eyes as you reached up to adjust the dark black wig that you now wore. To her credit, Ciri had sent you everything you would need to transform yourself into Yennefer of Vengerberg. How she somehow guessed your sizing right you would have no idea. Probably the Witcher powers.

“I wish we lived in the same city” you sighed, leaning your head back and looking up at the ceiling. Things would be so much easier if you and Ciri, and the other girls, didn’t live so far away from one another. But that was the price you paid for finding your friends online.

“Me too” Ciri said with a gentle sigh, setting her make up tools down and picking up her phone, her face coming into full view.

“I sent you the script, I won’t be able to stay on the call with you while we are filming because data rates are crazy, but I know you’ll do amazing” Ciri said with a reassuring smile. You would have to film all of this on your own, which was just a little bit intimidating. Ciri’s script mostly just directed you to do a lot of handwaving and she would add in the ‘magic’ elements later.

“Just find a good spot in the woods and it’ll be perfect” Ciri finished with a nod of her head. You sighed, straightening yourself up and looking down at your phone.

“I’ll call you later on when I’m finished to send you the video” you mumbled, pouting a little bit as you stood and picked up your phone.

“Good luck!” Ciri told you, waving a little bit before ending the call. Great, now you actually had to go do it…

»»————-　♡　————-««

You were lucky there was quite a bit of woods around where you lived, the problem was going to be trying to get to the woods without anyone seeing the ridiculous clothes you were wearing. You threw on a huge coat, effectively covering up most of the costume. After grabbing the bag with your equipment, you ventured outside, keeping your head down as you walked to avoid drawing attention.

Twenty minutes later you were standing in the middle of a beautiful calm forest. Now that you were here you questioned why you didn’t come out here more often. You couldn’t hear the loud noises that came with living in a bustling city and the air felt fresh on your face. Once you reached a small clearing by a river you laid your things down and took a deep breath, basking in the coolness of the air. Maybe this trend wouldn’t be so bad.

After setting up your camera in a place you were at least half sure wouldn’t result in it falling over, you walked into frame and took a deep breath. You briefly checked your phone to see what Ciri’s notes asked of you, before you began doing your best to follow directions. Your portion of the video wouldn’t be long, but you did re-film it 4 times to try and get your motions to be less stiff.

After forty-five minutes of waving your arms around, you walked back to your camera, picking it up before taking a seat on a nearby log. Reviewing the footage, you winced at how awkward it looked, you seriously hoped that Ciri could work some magic on this because you didn’t have it in you to film it again.

The forest around you was darkening as the day began to draw to a close, but you couldn’t bring yourself to head back right away. The forest was too peaceful and serene. Reaching up you pulled your wig off, stuffing it in your bag as you sighed with relief. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, focusing in on the sounds of nature around you. Maybe coming to the woods would become a weekly thing for you, like therapy.

A low deep growl broke you out of your trance, your eyes flying open and flickering around to find the source. Your heart hammered against your chest, and your whole body stiffened in fear. A few moments later a dark black wolf emerged from the trees, larger than any wolf you had seen on tv. You could vaguely see blood dripping from its muzzle, and its dark red eyes were focused right on you.

It paused at the edge of the clearing, its lips pulling back to reveal sharp blood-stained teeth. Your breath came quick as you leaned back, unsure if you should run or try and hide behind the log. Both seemed unhelpful in this current situation, but you were really low on options.

The wolf’s body tensed before springing toward you. Your hands instinctively grabbed whatever was nearest to you, which happened to be your very expensive camera, and threw it toward the wolf. This did nothing to deter the predator from its prey, and within seconds the beast was on you.

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