#you know?? it's kind of like seeing a piece of yourself that was forcibly ripped away from you in something so tiny and defenseless | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

unohanadaydreams · 3 years

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As the name suggests, I'm always thirsty for the Big Guy 😉 I wonder how Kenpachi would react if Ikkaku found a piece of your lingerie in the barracks, but no one knew about your relationship?

The idea of Kenpachi being viewed as sus for fucking a 4th member fuels me so ofc. This got out of hand but I fully blame the energy IkkaYumi brings to anything ever and not myself. Thank you for understanding.

Features: smut (18+) at the mid-point, IkkaYumi being real <3 for the majority of it, and sub!Kenpachi (☆ω☆), also idk maybe some minor angst but like made Seggsy.

Kenpachi Zaraki x f!reader (and IkkaYumi...mostly them tbh.)

Ikkaku slapped the door open with loudest ‘OI’ he could muster. The paper of the door ripped somewhere along the way as it slid open, the wooden frame wobbling as he stepped into the room.

Despite the noise, Yumichika’s hand stayed steadfast as he finished smudging eye shadow on his outer lid. Another ‘OI’ sounded, but no hand shook him or foot kicked at him while Yumichika held a brush to his eye.

Glacial, he finished blending the color until he was satisfied--rinsed the brush--set it to dry. Through the mirror in front of him, Yumichika looked to Ikkaku’s reflection only after admiring his own.

The lacy scrap of undies in Ikkaku’s hand lifted Yumichika’s brow.

“I thought you hated when I wore those,” he said with a sniff, turning to get a better look.

Ikkaku rubbed at his bald head, “yah think that because I do.”

Yumichika gestured for the undies and Ikkaku threw them. “And yet?”

“Yet, I found ‘em anyway!” Ikkaku fell into a wide squat, his hands fisting into the fabric of his uniform over his knees. “In the captain’s office.”

They stared at one another, both settling deeper into their feelings.

“Ikkaku, you must be joking,” Yumichika said, holding the undies against his arm. “This color makes me look positively jaundiced.”

“You think captain gives a shit about color theory?”

Yumichika threw the lacy bit of bullshit at Ikkaku’s face. Smiling when they landed on his dumb, shiny head. “He won’t even let me do his hair, Ikkaku. Your delusion is exhausting me.”

“Then--”

“Yes, Ikkaku. Then, they’re not mine. And they’re someone else’s.”

Ikkaku pulled the undies from his head, squinting at them. ��Huh.”

Rising with a flourish, Yumichika let the sleeves of his robe billow behind him as he went for the cabinet to rummage for sake. Possibly a new boyfriend.

He came back after a few gulps, offering Ikkaku the bottle only after giving him a sound kick to the head that sent the man flopping to the side.

“Hey!” Ikkaku steadied himself with one hand and rubbed where he’d been kicked with the other...undies still in hand. “Ya can’t blame me. No one else around here would wear that shit.”

Yumichika gave a flat look. Took another gulp of sake. Sighed heavily as he sank to Ikkaku’s level.

“Which means they belong to someone who would,” Yumichika offered along with the sake. “Someone from a different division.”

“Must be serious,” Ikkaku said, sake dribbling down his chin. “Never found anything in his office...ever.”

Yumichika kissed at the trail of sake and took the bottle back once he’d settled into Ikkaku’s lap. “That means whoever it is will be back. And now we know what to look for.”

Ikkaku grunted, shoving his tongue in Yumichika’s mouth before the man in his lap could swallow his sake, not pulling away until he’d swiped as much alcohol with his tongue as he could.

“That shit ain’t good enough for you, anyway.”

“I know,” Yumichika said softly, tone at odds with him rising to stand, heading for the door.

“O--” A raised hand stalled Ikkaku from pointing to his tightened hamaka.

“Fix my door first, dumbass.”

Ikkaku lowered from his tip-toes, a man afflicted. “No way.”

“I told you,” Yumichika said in a hiss. “Not just from 4th division, but a pencil pusher.”

You looked like the kind who’d scramble to bring an 11th division soldier any impossible request they bullied you for. The quintessential mouse every self-respecting soldier was inclined to paw at.

“Don’t look so fucking smug, Yumi,” Ikkaku grumbled, peeling off the wall and pulling Yumichika back towards the training grounds by the back of the puffed-up peacock’s uniform, right at the lower back. Yumichika had just gotten his fifth pay-back punch in when they hit the gate that separated captain’s estate from training ground.

Theirs might have been the only captain so enamored with battle that he’d moved his quarters as close as the captain general would allow. If it weren’t for the bullshit ‘housing codes and regulations’, Ikkaku was sure the house would’ve been on top of the large rectangle of packed dirt that served as the largest training ground in the entire division.

Once they’d hopped the low wall, more meant to keep Zaraki’s house away from the grounds than to keep his underlings on the grounds away from him, Yumichika fell on the nearest bench to fix his uniform.

“Well now what?” Ikkaku rubbed at his side, knowing he was going to need to stretch soon or the tight knot Yumichika had punched into his side or even a night drowned in sake wouldn’t numb it when he collapsed in his futon.

Yumichika didn’t look up from retying his stiff, decorative obi but his face softened, “Now that we’ve been successfully nosy? I was thinking that new, chic sushi bar near the 1st. The one where all the wait-staff look just as yummy.”

“No I, mean--yeah, we’re definitely going,” Ikkaku said, his previous thought tripping over the vision of pretty smiles from androgynous beauties. “But, what do we do about the captain?”

“Well, I’m not going to say anything, but I also have tact. And grace,” Yumichika shrugged, fluffing the bow of obi.

Ikkaku kicked dirt and tensed forward at the shoulders, like he planned to lunge and attack. “I ain’t no fucking snitch and you know it. Don’tcha?”

Sliding forward, Yumichika massaged at Ikkaku’s tense shoulders, rolling his eyes. “I wasn’t saying you would. Just that you’re tactless. And might on accident--which makes you an idiot, not a snitch.”

“Damn right,” Ikkaku grunted, anything but Yumichika’s agreement sliding off his bald head like water. “Wouldn’t snitch for anything. But what if someone else finds out? Like a captain or something. We can’t kill one of them and--”

“Oh, stop worrying about it,” Yumichika said, interrupting and pulling at Ikkaku’s arm--he was hungry, both for refined food and beauties. “No one who wants to live will chance Kenpachi asking for a fight. Or that Captain Unohana; she seems vicious in a way more of our men should be. Such grace.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right,” Ikkaku nodded, letting himself be dragged off for sushi, sake, and sublime wait-staff. Still, there was morale to think about. No hardened warrior of the rukongai wanted to hear their fearless leader had a weakness for...the weak.

There had to be something more to it but Ikkaku wasn’t going to dig more into his captain’s business. He was more than happy to put the shovel down and follow Yumichika, even as the truth sat uncomfortably at the base of his skull.

You were weak in all the ways shinigami measured such things--swordsmanship, spiritual pressure, and kido were subjects you studied more than you practiced, let alone pulled off. But you had enough power to pass school and be sorted into the 4th division ranks, where you excelled.

An aptitude for medical procedure, surgery, and technology was what garnered you not just safety, but respect among your peers.

As for the other divisions? Well, you had some friends in 12th who fully understood your position.

Kenpachi Zaraki? Certainly wasn’t someone who could relate to you.

But, that was fine.

You preferred your men muzzled, anyway.

“Too bad, Cap--tain,” you breathed, stretching his title with your tongue playfully. “I was hoping they’d find out everything.”

Pulling yourself up, one fist over the other, by the leather leash tied taunt around Kenpachi’s neck, you delighted in seeing the muscles there strain to accommodate your weight and the need for breath at the same time.

You pressed your lips against his ear after admiring the rough line of his mouth being forcibly split open by a ball gang, pretty, pink, and yours. “Can’t you go faster?”

His answering grunt was followed by his body pressing into yours quick enough turn your teasing into moans. That’s what you liked most about Kenpachi; he was always striving to be better and exceeding expectation.

it would be effortless for him to put his hands on you without permission or rip out the ball gag, but he didn’t. Even when you met in a grimy bar close to the 11th, too drunk to realize who’s thigh you were toying with, his attention to what you wanted was surprising.

You panted, toes curling as he hit that lovely spot only he ever had, “H-hands on hips.”

So eager, he kneaded from the tops of your thighs to your hips like dough, obviously glad to be rewarded. You were eager too--for the angle. Your hips tilted upward gave him more depth and your fingers tightened on his leash.

There was no need to command for more, because he was giving you his all. And he kept going until your scattered breathing paired with the tight heat he was pounding into you snapped all at once, so intense that your eyes watered.

While you basked in the trembling after shocks, catching your breath, Kenpachi went still.

Until you said, “Sit on floor.”

The bed creaked and rose as he left it, leaving you to collect yourself in peace. When you rose to sit, he was kneeling on the floor, his cock hard and bobbing above his thighs.

You walked to him slow, nails scratching through his rough, black hair as you circled behind him. “Such good work,” you praised, “Just like always.”

Trailing down to the buckle, your fingers made quick of his ball gag, parting it from his teeth gently, and tossing it on the bed.

“What do you want me to reward you with, Kenpachi?” You asked him, only once you’d come to face him, your hand urging his jaw up, his eyes on yours.

“To get off,” he said, shameless.

You hummed, “then do it.”

Frowning, Kenpachi leaned his face into your touch. “I want you to.....please.”

The word ‘please’ was said slow, his eyes leaving yours several times before he said it. You wondered how many people Kenpachi Zaraki had ever asked, for anything. Let alone, with manners.

You kissed his nose, finding the almost demure behavior cute, “Then I will. Lay down.”

He did, his arms behind his head, like he napping under a tree instead of waiting for your hands to give his weeping cock relief.

You took your time, teasing him with sensation by spitting into your hand and giving him light rubs, again and again until his hips lifted off the ground.

The lacy bit of pink undies that stretched tight over his thighs, were yours too. And you peeled them off, throwing them toward the ball gag as his breathing grew heavy in the air.

Perhaps you deserved less teasing, but you couldn’t resist dragging out the fun a touch more, one hand fondling his tightening balls while the other scratched lightly at his inner thighs.

His breathing was catching on groans and audible ‘ah’s that had you biting your lip. Thigh’s clenching, you finally began circling the tip of his cock. Soon, you were giving him his first pump, slick hand trailing his length from tip to base in smooth, steady motions.

Straddling his thighs, you took advantage of the position and put both your hands to work, gripping him harder but keeping the same pace.

“Look how hard you are,” you cooed, hands pausing as your thumb circled the slit topping the bulbous head of his cock. “Do you want to cum for me?”

His, “yes,” was immediately pushed from his heaving chest. You hummed, so tempted to climb on top of him fully. But, that would be a kind of weakness you didn’t allow yourself.

Kenpachi’s lone eye struggled to stay open as you lowered your lips to kiss the tip of him. You rose back up and licked them as he watched, his pre-cum salty as it settled on your tongue.

You couldn’t call him unraveling under your firm, fast touch seeing him at his weakest. But, you were certain it was a kind of vulnerable he seldom experienced. Even his arms had come from behind his head, his fingers flexing around air while he struggled to keep them away from you. His hips began bucking with such strength that you were forced to tighten your thighs around his to keep your place.

Desperate, is what he was. For you to give him what he worked for.

And, you did.

His cock pulsed as you wrung his orgasm out, thick ropes of cum falling over his sweaty stomach and dripping down your hands. His moan was loud, deep, and reverberated through out the room like a cry of victory.

You kept stroking him until he was completely spent, until he made a sound almost like a whine.

“I need--”

He sat up, setting you on the floor before padding to the bathroom, and coming back with a damp cloth. “Here.”

“Thank you,” you said, keeping your eyes on your hands as you willed yourself to calm down. His orgasm had made you want him again, badly. But you had things to do. He had things to do.

What you had with Kenpachi was strange and tenuous. And your smug confidence drained a bit as you cleaned yourself and him, until you were almost unsure.

What now? You’d never even seen his house before this. Always in more public places, where you parted almost immediately after playing with him.

“You want these back,” he asked, lifting the ball gag and undies in one hand while pulling back the blankets on the bed with the other. The leash was already on the bedside table, his neck angrily red still.

If you took them, you wondered if it was all over. “No, you should. They’re easy enough to clean.”

“...You sure?”

You nodded, not so attached to a couple cheap props that you’d be wounded if something happened to them. “They’re all yours.”

Shrugging after a moment of silence, he gestured with his head to the bed, “unless you wanna take a shower first.”

“I’m fine for now,” you responded, climbing under the blanket, more confused than obedient. “Are you tired?”

“Enough to sleep.”

The bed dipped from his bulk, forcing you closer. He tossed an arm around you, so you could get comfortable against his side. You lay your head on his chest, eyes still open, listening to him breathe.

At first, you’d thought maybe it was all a joke. That Kenpachi Zaraki was trying to trap you into....something, like those men who feigned nice before using all their muscle to force you to bend as they wanted. To teach you a lesson for trying to dominate him.

You didn’t delude yourself into thinking you had real, tangible power of him or any man you’d toyed with, after all. Just something momentary, like a brief understanding.

But you felt less cautious as your eyes drooped shut and your thoughts circled around his intentions. He always approached you and asked, vague and gruff, ‘here good?’ And you’d find a closet or office or twisty alley that would do.

This time, you asked him. And he took you to his bedroom, compliant as ever, waiting for you to sprinkle nice words in his ear, for you to give him pleasure for being his best.

Drifting off to the rise and fall of his chest, you wondered if things like that meant so much to him.

#this is very lightly edited bc im so short on time lately #but this was fun #kenpachi zaraki smut #kenpachi zaraki x reader #kenpachi zaraki #bleach sm #bleach imagines #bleach scenario #zaraki-oriented #kenpachi: i like being praised and having someone acknowledge me #reader: wait....is this....kind of depressing and not just kinky?#but fr i just think dommed kenpachi is hot and i can not resist sprinkling crumbs of angst

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598-inspiration · 4 years

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Answers from the writers Part 2: What comes next? Parallels between LN and LN2

You can find Part 1 here, it mainly deals with character motivation.

In this part I mainly want to address a miscellaneous question from the previous interviews as well as a video interview with senior narrative designer David Mervik, which you can watch on YouTube.

The first question deals with regards to the ending in both games:

It may sound crazy to think that the endings are not so different, but they aren’t:

-Both Six and Mono gain an immense amount of power by the end

-They are both chained down by those powers: Six’s hunger, the tower and Mono still exist

-They are both alone and still trapped by that world

The way I personally look at this, is that both Mono and Six in a way wound up cursing each other. Thin man (Mono) forcibly ripping Six’s soul is what caused her hunger, likewise Six dropping Mono in the tower is what caused him to be trapped by it.

Little Nightmares: Deals with Six’s character

Little Nightmares II: Deals with Mono’s character

My prediction for Little Nightmares 3 is that it will bring this whole situation dealing with both characters as the main focus, and resolve their storylines. To quote the achievement when you complete the DLC, which as it turns out, was never talking about the Runaway Kid, but someone else (Mono):

And sure enough in that post credit scene, we see a familiar view

If you listen closely, you can hear the sound of Seagulls at the end of both post credit scenes for the first game, which is now officially confirmed to be a sequel to LN2. They will meet again indeed.

Now to move on to the video interview, you can find it on YouTube:

I feel like this particular interview, doesn’t get enough attention. But it does bring up some important points regarding the lore, as well as ease worries for those that think another studio working on the next installment may ruin LN. Some notable points:

- LN2 development started a bit after LN DLC finished for a short break, but the lore kept developing over the entire time.

-Mervick wrote 150-200 pages of lore by the time they started LN2 dev, there may be more by now. -It is mostly a biography for all the LN characters, such as the resident. What drives them, their backstory, etc.

-”You guys think you will ever release the book?” -Mervick: “That's up to Bandai, they own the IP. Maybe if its the right time, to give the people something definitive.” -"We didn't want to tell people too much, like where they were born. You didn't really get to play it yourself in that case."

- "All the children come from [pause] They don't belong in this world" -"What kind of pattern shaped their life, and what brought them here?"

- "The continuation of their journey" -"They (the children) are here for a reason" -"Something that happened before in their lives that made them a good "fit" for Little Nightmares"

- "That's about as much as I should probably say"

- First game came out of nowhere while the sequel got to build off of a familiar name -People are completely starved for new horror games so when one actually comes out and streamers latch onto it word-of-mouth spreads faster -The sequel's dynamic of actually traveling/caring about another characters adds another level of emotional investment that spawns more discussion and fan art.

- They didn't want dialogue, but rather wanted the player to piece it together on their own.

- "The comics are a good way to give the players more, about things they may never encounter in the actual game"

- In a lot of corporate words and stuff,, the writer basically says that Bandai really liked LN, kept it in its original state, and bought into it as it was.

-Inspiration for LN are: Novels by Roald Dahl, specifically how things actually seemed to happen to kids in the books. Also the book Momo (The grey gentlemen) by Michael Ende

News about the TV Show:

-Interviewer: A while ago, it was announced that Henry Selick (Coraline, Nightmare before christmas director) would be working Little Nightmares project. Could you say anything about that (25:40)

-Writer: I have no idea, since I'm not present at the discussions for that. If anything is released or needs to be announced, its gonna come from Bandai.

So TV show is still up the air. Hasn't been canceled yet as far as they know, but still no news yet.

#little nightmares #little nightmares 2 #Little Nightmares II

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sedated-love · 4 years

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ShigarakixReader smut

Tenth post of October!!

TW- Piss, Noncon, Voyeurism

Hope you guys enjoy! If you like it, please take the time to reblog <3 It helps a ton! Also if you have any suggestions for what I write in the future, please feel free to leave them in my ask box!

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“Shit…”

You cursed softly under your breath as you made your way across the ball floor, noticing just how bad of a position that you were in. You were sent undercover to this villain’s ball as a spy to try and gather information, but you didn’t realize just how many villains there would be. The worst part is that everyone of them that you recognize, wants your head on a silver platter for tonight’s main course.

You were thankful it was a masked ball but the half mask covering your face didn’t stop you from feeling completely naked and vulnerable as you tried to weave your way through the dancing villains. You hadn’t even realized this sort of thing existed until you were sent as a pro hero to go and infiltrate it. A ball for villains to dance and dress up almost sounded fake after all but it very much wasn’t.

You would like to say you weren’t worried, but it felt like the smallest of wrong moves could get you killed and honestly it could. With the number of villains here, it wouldn’t take long for them to rip you to shreds limb by limb. Just the thought had you shivering as you grabbed a shot off the tray of a server walking past, not caring what kind of alcoholic beverage it was as you closed your eyes and shot it anyways, feeling the burn immediately settle in your chest. You were going to need it for tonight.

“Drinking already~?”

You practically jumped out of your skin when a voice you recognized appeared behind you and you slowly turned around to see Shigaraki…aka the man who probably wanted you dead the most here out of everyone. You choked down your anxiety to offer a smile, handing the shot glass away to the server before turning all of your attention to the villain who was easily recognizable as he used a muzzle as his mask of choice. How fitting. You always did think he seemed a little too feral to be without one.

“It’s never to early for a drink…”

You kept your voice steady, not liking the way the villain’s eyes were traveling your body since you couldn’t tell if he wanted to kill you or eat you. Either way you didn’t really like the outcome. “I suppose.” His eyes dragged their way back to yours and with the way he looked at you, you felt like you weren’t wearing a mask at all. You felt completely vulnerable and suddenly you wanted to dart the other way but that would completely blow you cover so instead you stood still in front of him, trying to keep yourself from looking too suspicious.

“Care for a dance, M’lady?”

He offered his hand which you noticed was gloved. A part of you was thankful as you had seen his quirk in action more times than you’d like to admit, and you weren’t looking to get disintegrated any time soon but you still didn’t reach to take his hand. “Well, actually, I was just about to get going so…” You went to turn on your heel as you politely declined his offer, knowing that dancing with your number one nemesis was about the worst thing that you could do.

After all, that made him about a million percent more likely to figure out your true identity and you weren’t desperate for your demise just yet. Though you were quick to freeze when you felt that gloved hand wrap around your wrist, forcing you to turn back to look at the villain. “I suggest you dance with me~” He spoke barely above a hushed whisper, which made him barely audible with the music in the background drowning everything out unless you concentrated hard.

His tone, despite being soft, told you that this was no suggestion. He was demanding that you take the floor with him but still you offered a tightly lipped smile, doing your best to not appear rude while still being firm. “I really do have to get going…” You looked down at your wrist where his grasp tightened to a point it was almost painful. You had to hold back a wince as those red eyes stayed focus on you, devouring you alive.

“I’m sure you have time for one more dance.”

He pulled you by your wrist against his chest with ease. His other hand, which was now painfully obvious to you wasn’t gloved like the other, rested against your lower back. His pinky being raised was the only thing keeping all of your particles in one piece. “Unless, of course, you want everyone here finding out who you are, hero~”

Your body tensed as you realized he knew exactly who you were already. You racked your brain for what must have given it away when he answered your question, leaning in close to your ear as he whispered. “I’d notice your frame anywhere…you think I haven’t memorized it by now?” A soft purr left his lips as his eyes wandered down your body, making you feel like you were completely naked despite wearing a decent amount of clothes. “Every measurement…every curve has been scanned into my brain. I could recognize you out on the street even if you were wearing a baggy hoodie and jeans just from the degree of the angle your jawline makes~”

He ran a gloved finger along the outline of your jaw, causing a shiver to go through your spine as you looked up at him with a horrified expression written all over your face. The expression just seemed to amuse him though as he offered you a smirk before dragging you towards the dance floor. “It’s time for that dance, M’lady~” He didn’t give you a chance to argue as you were pulled around in his grasp like a doll. Your hands were moved to rest on his shoulders as both of his held onto your waist besides the one pinky which hovered over your frame in almost a teasing manner.

“What is it that you want from me?”

You couldn’t help the question that had been wracking your brain as your bodies slowly began moving with the beat of the music. You were absolutely surrounded with no escape. The mass majority of people that wanted you dead were surrounding you while the one who wanted you the most had you right in the palm of his hands…literally. Now you just needed to figure out what he wanted, and you didn’t see the harm in asking. After all, he proved he already knows who you are and if he wanted you dead immediately, he could have killed you by now.

He proved that with the way he had his pinky carefully hovering over your hip. As if one wrong move and he would have you turned into nothing more than a pile of ashes at his feet. “It would be easier to ask what I don’t want from you…” His voice spoke softly as he seemed just as dangerous with the muzzle on. Like either way he would manage to bite you with the way he was looking down at you.

“I’m gonna make you mine.”

A shiver rolled its way down your spine with the way he said that and you wanted nothing more than to sock him in the face but you were pretty sure causing that much attention to yourself while you were surrounded by the countries most powerful villains wasn’t the smartest idea. He had you trapped right where he wanted you. “I’ll claim you right here in front of everyone~ You’ll be my own little hero pet~”

The unease that flowed through your body at the sound of that left you stiff. It took everything you had to keep your feet moving with the beat as you slow danced with the criminal. “You’re fucking sick, you know that?” You kept your voice hushed but you couldn’t help the disgust you felt. He wanted to claim you? What sort of sick nonsense was that? You weren’t some toy to be chosen in front of a room of toddlers but that’s exactly how he was treating it.

“I’ll show you just how sick, I can be.”

A sadistic look twisted on his face as he grabbed a handful of your hair, dragging you towards the center of the ballroom. You had to stumble behind him to struggle and keep your balance as he pulled you along with ease, an act that quickly grabbed everyone’s attention as you struggled against his tight grasp. You were promptly forced onto your knees as all of the villains in the room made a circle around you and the music cut. All eyes were on you.

“Now that I have everyone’s attention!”

Shigaraki yanked off the mask that was the only thing keeping your identity hidden, disintegrating it in his grasp as you heard the hushed whispers of all of the villains surrounding you. This wasn’t good. “I’ve seemed to find a little spy amongst our numbers tonight~” The man standing above you kept you held down with his hand place firming on your head, his index barely lifted off as he spoke proudly to everyone around you.

You could feel all of the eyes digging into you, ripping you apart already as if the only thing holding them back was Shigaraki. You didn’t know whether you were grateful or just wanted them to get it over with already. “I’m going to claim her as mine!” The cheers that filled the room pounded into your core. It was like everyone knew exactly what that phrase entailed besides you. Though you were going to find out very soon.

Using his clothed hand, he undid his pants, pushing them down along with his boxers until his hard member popped free and pressed directly against your face with where he was holding your head. You wanted to jerk back in disgust but doing that would have that index finger pushed down faster than you could pull away.

You were completely stuck there, with his cock in your face, in front of everyone. “Be a good little hero and fix my problem~” Shigaraki used his index finger and thumb to press against either side of your cheeks until your jaw was forcibly opened, not waiting another moment before he shoved his cock down the back of your throat. “Bite and you’ll end up a dust bunny~” He tightened his grasp on the top of your head as if proving his point as he started roughly thrusting his hips, not seeming to give a care in the world that everyone was watching the two of you.

If anything, it seemed to make him all the more excited as he throbbed against the back of your throat. He didn’t bother being gentle as he started using your throat like a flesh light, pounding roughly against your face with no care in the world of how you gagged under the rough treatment. You had to force yourself to concentrate on breathing through your nose as the thick cock pushed its way down the back of your throat with every thrust. His rough grip on your head giving you no wiggle room as all you could do was sit obediently on the floor in front of everyone and suck on your worst enemies’ cock.

You gagged with every thrust, tears starting to stream down your cheeks as he used your throat as he pleased. You felt dirty and used as the villain effectively claimed you as his own, but little did you know that he wasn’t finished. His thrusts got sloppy as he approached his orgasm and he gave you no time to prepare before he shoved your head all the way down on his cock, cumming deep in the back of your throat and forcing you to swallow every ounce of his cum.

A groan left his lips as he looked down at you, pumping your throat full as he took in how completely wrecked you were underneath him. The tears streaming down your cheeks doing even more for his ego as he rocked his hips through his orgasm, only pulling out once he had become completely soft against your lips.

You coughed softly, your throat feeling sore from being used so ruthlessly and your face was a wreck as a mixture of drool and cum slid down your chin. Your cheeks burned hot with embarrassment and you wanted nothing more than to hide away completely, already brought to shame just from being forced to do something so lewd in front of everyone you hated…but being embarrassed wasn’t enough for Shigaraki.

He wanted to make you feel so ashamed that you wouldn’t have the dignity to ever come back from it. Which is exactly why he grabbed you by the back of your head, shoving his flaccid dick against the back of your mouth before using his other hand to pinch your nose. “Drink.” He gave you no other warning before he started releasing his warm piss down the back of your throat, letting out a soft sigh of relief as he released himself in your body.

You felt your entire face burning with shame as you had no choice but to drink his warm liquid, closing your eyes as you took all that he had to give to you, feeling absolutely filthy as he emptied himself inside of you in front of everyone. “Good girl~” He waited until he was completely done to uncover your nose and pull himself completely from your mouth, grabbing you by the front of your clothes just to pull you closer to his face as he leaned down until your lips were almost touching.

“The shame that you feel right now ties you to me. Don’t forget it~”

He placed a soft kiss to your lips before letting you drop completely, turning to look at the villains who were all watching your limp body. “The girl belongs to me now. Anyone who lays a finger on her…” He grabbed the face of a random person standing behind him in the outline of the circle, watching as he disintegrated to dust at his feet. “Will suffer a similar fate~”

#shigaraki x you #shigaraki x y/n #shigaraki smut #tomurashigaraki #myheroacademia #mha #mha smut

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sirowsky · 3 years

Text

The Flowers Always Know

Description: When a mad scientist uses you as an experiment while you’re on holiday, the Heroics only just manage to save you. And in your recovery you become very close to the leader of the group. (Slow burn)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Language, kidnapping, torture (not the gory kind), angst, buried trauma.

Link to Masterlist

Comment: You have a woman that seriously hurt you, at your mercy, and you’re struggling with how far to take it. Meanwhile, Marcus realises he’s going to have to save you from yourself, if he can find you in time.

Chapter 43

You waited for her to wake up for almost thirty minutes, and that was after you’d taken her to the abandoned warehouse, and secured her to a solid metal post that used to connect the floor to the ceiling. You didn’t know exactly what kind of tranquilizer Tech had used, but it sure was potent. Her feet were still tied together and you’d placed her on her knees with her back to the post. Her arms were strung up above her head on either side of the post, and secured individually, to ensure she couldn’t use either hand to untie the other. Her head hung low between her shoulders and her body seemed completely limp. If not for her slow and even breathing, you’d have thought she was already dead.

***

After your phone had gone to voicemail for the third time, Marcus lost it. He’d been working on dismantling the containers, no longer needed, while he waited for Aidan to finish his task, and for you to call him. He didn’t do well with idle hands when he was worried about something, and there was so much at stake right now. Then his phone had beeped, and as he’d read the message, his blood had turned to ice. He’d immediately tried calling you back, but he was routed straight to your recorded voice declaring that you were indisposed at the moment. Desperate to believe that you wouldn’t do this, that you weren’t cruel enough to do what his mind was telling him were the only reasons you would have taken off with the believed head of the entire organisation you were trying to bring down, he tried again. The third time was just dumb, but he really was losing it. He ran back to Tech.

“I need you to track my wife, right now! Her phone, car, fucking watch – anything!”

“What? Why? What’s going on?”

“She took off with Kane, we have to find her before she does something she can’t come back from.”

“She wouldn’t do that, Marcus. She started all of this because she wants the pain and deaths to stop. She’s a good person.”

“Yes, she is. But Kane very nearly killed our baby, and as much as I hope that she’s strong enough to resist, I know that the mother in her is the most powerful part of her, and she’s gonna wanna hurt Kane. Even if she doesn’t kill her, she might still torture her, and I can’t let her do that. It would never stop haunting her, specifically because she is a good person. Please, Tech.”

“Okay, okay. Let me see what I can find.”

Marcus was beside himself with worry, and his mind was grasping at anything it could to distract itself, while there was nothing he could do but wait.

“Where are we with the operation?”

Tech answered him at the same time as he typed impossibly fast on his laptop, and various windows were popping up and disappearing on the screen.

“Only six more cities left to confirm completion. All the others have been successful.”

“I’ll check on the kid.”

He walked over to where Aidan sat on the same spot in the grass. The boy was pale and bathing in cold sweat, breathing hard and visibly trembling with the effort it had taken out of him. With so few locations left, he had been able to let go of most of the birds, but he was exhausted and still had hundreds of birds left to direct for a while yet. Marcus knew that Aidan’s fate mattered to you, and it did to him as well, so he sat down next to him, and put his arm over the kid’s shoulders. He just wanted to convey that he was there and that he cared, and Aidan seemed to feel it, because his discomfort lessened a bit.

“I found the car!”

Tech’s voice reached him from across the field, and he got up, but not before whispering ‘hang in there, kid’ to the boy. Then he sprinted back to his friend’s station.

“Tell me.”

“I don’t know what the hell she did with her phone, but I can’t see it at all. I had to break into her car’s emergency alert system, and trick it into believing there’d been an accident, to get it to reveal the coordinates. It’s parked on a street on the edge of a warehouse district, but she could be in any one of a hundred different abandoned structures on that lot.”

“Just send me those coordinates, I’ll find her.”

***

When she finally did wake up, you felt oddly calm. As though something inside you relished the thought that she was about to wake up to a real-life nightmare. Somewhere deep inside, you knew that you should be disgusted with yourself for reacting like that, but your hatred towards this woman was clouding your mind, and darkening your heart. But just knowing that wasn’t enough to make you wanna stop. Her head twitched first, and then her hands, as she tried to move against her restraints. When she realised that she was unable to, she tried to lift her head, but she was still groggy, and her nerves weren’t responding normally, resulting in a clumsy few bobs of her head before she managed to draw it back to rest against the post. She was still too groggy to speak, but you saw the recognition in her eyes when they fell on you, and there was surprise in there as well, which pleased you more than it should have.

“Hi. I’d say it’s good to see you, Emily, but it just isn’t. I don’t even know what to say to you yet. I’ve been sitting here for half an hour thinking about what I wanna say… or just do, to you, and I still don’t know. But we have time. I’m sure I’ll figure it out.”

“You… have no.. idea… what… you’re doing.”

“And why is that? Because you experiment on people against their will, and have no problems with being complicit to mass-murder, if not committing it yourself? Or is it because you’re the leader of a covert organisation of hundreds of agents that do all of that on your behest?”

She was regaining control of her body, and you could see the contempt in her face as it dawned on her just how much you’d already figured out.

“How?”

Her tone was demanding and arrogant, and as the façade of the benign doctor fell away, you didn’t even recognise her face anymore.

“You told me. Through my subconscious. Word of advice: if you’re gonna give people powers, having no idea what they might turn out to be, don’t show them your fucking face.”

“Those memories... were removed. The super who took them… he never fails.”

“He left behind just enough that my powers could recreate a single image for me. But that was enough.”

“Well, congratulations, you figured it out. You’ll never stop us; our organisation has grown exponentially.”

“The Society of Inferiority Complex, yeah, we know.”

“How mature…”

“An acronym that spelled SIC (sick) was just too appropriate to pass up.”

“I don’t give a fuck what you call us. Before long, you’ll be introduced into a world where everyone is just as powerful as you. You won’t be so smug then.”

You got up from the crate you’d been sitting on, and stepped right up to her so you could squat down and face her at eye-level, mere inches away from her.

“Tonight, hundreds of our operatives have kidnapped hundreds of yours, just like I did with you. We’ve been monitoring your activities for months, mapping your movements, documenting your labs and temporary offices all over the world. You never even knew how many supers live covert lives in today’s society, did you? Well, we found hundreds of them, and after hearing what you did to me, and to those children, they all volunteered to help us. Your own actions created an army of superpowered people hellbent on destroying you. Did you really think you’d be able to beat us? All you’ve done is unite us.”

“Aren’t you clever, little Rainbow. But, tell me… If you’re such a good girl – why’d you bring me out here? All alone. Where no one can hear us.”

You pulled back just a few inches, but her question only managed to wake all the anger inside you back to roaring life. If she really wanted to know the answer, you’d happily show her.

“Because you tried to kill my baby.”

You dropped all pretence, and allowed your powers to flare freely. The concrete under your feet snapped and cracked, sending long trailing crevices through the floor. Time and erosion had created flaws from underneath, that meant that large sections dropped several inches in some places, sending thunderous rumbles through the whole area. But you didn’t care. Ordinarily, your mind automatically shielded anything living, standing in your vicinity, when you flooded this dimension with the denser energy of the others that you had access to. Otherwise, you’d destroy every living cell around you by forcibly compressing them until they were crushed. And, ordinarily, that wasn’t something you wanted to be responsible for. But not this time. You merely sat there, hands clenched into fists, staring at her, seeing only those eyes that had looked at you with such fondness while you worked with her. Those eyes that had fooled you so completely. You wanted to rip them out of her head.

“Good show. But we both know you don’t have what it takes to…”

Your stillness was an illusion. You were slowly gathering an increasing amount of energy into the air around her, and as the space got more and more crowded, her whole body was slowly being crushed. She fell silent mid-sentence when she realised that your stare was in no way harmless, and a minute later, the first scream escaped her.

***

The car was unlocked when Marcus got to it. The keys were still in the ignition, and on the front passenger-seat he found a contorted piece of metal and plastic and glass that had probably been your phone. All the materials had melded together as you’d forced them to compact more than they were actually structurally able to. That was a bad sign, if he’d ever seen one. There was nothing else in or around the car that could indicate which way you’d taken your prisoner, and the odds that you’d have stayed close enough to be able to hear him if he shouted for you from there, were non-existent. Using his current, he tried to sense your energy, and was almost startled at how strong a trail he discovered. But, of course, he should’ve known that you’d use your ghost hands to move Kane, to prevent leaving marks on the ground, as well as make it easier for yourself. He started following the signature of your powers, so familiar to him by now, and it led him into the very heart of the labyrinth of old run-down buildings and factories. But when he got to a certain point, the energy suddenly quadrupled, snaking off in four different directions.

“Oh, for god’s sake, woman… Give me a chance, at least.”

A terrifyingly loud rumbling, accompanied by what very well could’ve been an earthquake, but wasn’t, came from his left, and without hesitating he ran towards it. The ground was split open and uneven and half-collapsed buildings lined the roads that he followed to get to you. But he still had to run for hundreds of yards until he reached the structure that it seemed to be coming from, based on the directions of the cracks under his feet. Realising how far you’d allowed your energy to reach, he was once again amazed at just how powerful you were, but also petrified that it might mean he was already too late. As he made his way inside the lightly trembling warehouse, he heard blood-curdling screams coming from somewhere inside, and his heart fell. But if she was screaming, she was still alive, which meant he still had time. When he got to the right place, it was like walking into a nightmare. There was no ceiling above you and no lights were working, leaving the room basking in nothing but the pale and ghostly moonlight. You’d somehow twisted the whole room so that nothing was straight anymore. Posts and beams and even the walls, were all bent or curved or twisted around themselves or something else. The ground had risen in some places, and fallen in others. It felt like he was walking into a physical representation of what your mind looked like right now. And in a way, he supposed it was. Kane was still alive, but whatever you were doing to her was painful to the extent that she was shaking uncontrollably against her restraints, pleading like a child for you to stop, in between fits of vomiting and convulsing. And you were so calm. So viciously calm it was heart-breaking to him. You just sat in front of her, one knee resting on the ground, the other under your elbow, watching her as though you were a cliff and she was the ocean, thrashing against you with all her might, but unable to move your solid frame even a single inch. If he hadn’t known how much this was actually hurting you, he might’ve found it fascinating. But he knew you so well that all he could see, was his beloved wife being destroyed.

***

“Hermosa.”

His voice came to you like a butterfly against a hurricane. Like soft whispers carried on those wings, so faint, but still able to drown out that howling wind in your ears. Your eyes automatically turned to find his, and the pain that was already overwhelming your heart, seemed to double. This wasn’t who you were, you knew that. Every fibre of your being knew that, but you’d forced them into silence with your anger. Used your pain as a shield against all those voices telling you to stop. But Marcus… seeing him look at you with that much fear… Not the fears you’d seen before, when he’d thought he was losing you, or when you were injured or being threatened, or the fear that you wouldn’t love him anymore after he walked away from you. No, this time he wasn’t afraid for you – he was afraid of you. Of just what you were capable of, how far you were willing to go, how much darkness you were willing to let into your heart to try and be free of the pain that festered in there. Your powers were draining you fast. You’d made no attempt to hold them back at all, and if you stopped now, all that exhaustion would come crashing over you, and you’d be unable to finish what you’d started. But what had you started? What was it you were hoping to achieve here? You’d wanted to hear her scream, and you had. You’d wanted to hurt her like she hurt you, and you had. But did you want her to die? Were you willing to become a murderer just so that you didn’t have to see the falseness of her face ever again? Confused, but no less angry, you forced your gaze away from your husband, and refocused on Kane, pulling even more energy out to thicken around her until one of her shoulders was pushed out of alignment with the amount of force bearing down on her. The harsh popping sound was loud enough to reach Marcus’ ears, and her resulting scream made him close the distance between you, while he started begging you to stop.

“Please… this is wrong, you know that, mi amor.”

“You know, I remember thinking that if there had just been someone there to stop my torturer, I could’ve been spared so much pain and fear. And then I found out someone was there, but she did nothing to help me. She just watched and enjoyed the show. So, why should I treat her any better? Why should she be spared that pain?”

Your energy already filled the room, and half the damned district, so when the images started appearing, they didn’t just show up around you, they flooded the whole area. Every memory you had of every moment that had hurt you, throughout your whole life. There were hundreds of them.

“The tears I’ve shed could build a lake. Tell me what I’ve done to deserve that. How could anyone do anything bad enough to deserve all of this?”

“You’ve done nothing wrong, hermosa. Life just doesn’t work like that.”

“Then I should at least get to avenge myself!”

Her other shoulder popped, and she squealed and wailed until her voice gave up and she just sobbed instead. Marcus moved even closer, just a few yards away from you now.

“You should. You should get to avenge all the terrible things that have been done to you, but you never can. All you can do, is hurt yourself instead. I know you’re forcing yourself not to feel it right now, but this hurts you. You want it to feel good, to make you feel better, but it won’t, because you’re a good person. You are a good person, hermosa. That’s why I married you, that’s why you’re carrying my child, and that’s why my daughter loves you.”

Missy. Fuck. Why’d he have to mention her?

“Please, sweetheart. Don’t make me watch you destroy yourself. I already lost one wife… I need you to let me keep you.”

His voice was so frail by the end of that sentence that you feared a mere breath might break it apart. And yet, his words held so much power. They forced their way under your skin, cooling your blood and pushing the anger out. But the pain was still just as strong. Desperate to get rid of it, to be free of everything that haunted you, you collapsed on the ground, and enormous quantities of your sparkling dust poured out of you, flooding the room in every direction, flowing unhindered through all that energy that you’d pumped into it. The images were still there, snapshots of the worst moments of your life, the one’s that caused you more pain than you could ever voice, and you wished that you could make them solid. That you could pull them out of yourself completely and leave them behind in that room. The dust pulled the images apart, turning them into three-dimensional representations of themselves, while you watched, actually seeing the magic happen for the first time. When the sculptures were finished, they solidified, just like before. A single tear escaped your left eye as you saw your very worst memories turned into some sort of bizarre museum-exhibit all around you. It rolled swiftly down your cheek, and with the way you were sitting, it should’ve hit the top of your left hand, holding you up from the ground. But it never landed. Instead, it hovered mid-air for a few seconds, before splitting into dozens of smaller drops, that each flew away to one of the sculptures. And as the drops made contact with them, the sculptures turned to stone. Transparent, and still sparkling in every colour on the spectrum, but unmistakably more solid than just the dust. Once again, your powers had tried to give you what you asked for, what you needed the most. If only the memories could’ve been trapped inside those statues as well. If only you actually could get up, walk away and leave them behind forever. Strong arms encircled you as Marcus pulled you off the ground and into his chest, and you finally gave in. Now that you allowed yourself to feel it, you were completely spent. You wanted to say something to him, but he didn’t need an explanation, he understood everything, you knew that.

“Marcus… I’m sorry…”

He just kissed your forehead and held you closer, but if he said anything, you passed out before you could hear what it was.

Author’s Note: As always, I love criticism, please don’t be shy to let me know if there’s anything you like/don’t like/have questions about.

@allmyspideys @blueeyesatnight @hrk-fic-recs @strawberryperegrine @lucrezia-thoughts @computeringturtle @sarahjkl82-blog @giselatropicana @ayamenimthiriel

#marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno fic #we can be heroes #we can be heroes fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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romiithebirdie · 4 years

Text

From the Furthest Tether: Part Five

Everything was dark, the only light coming from a few dull-looking lights that continued to flicker constantly like a dying flame of an old candle.

Water droplets fell from the rotting ceiling of a rundown warehouse where the villain group known as the Paranormal Liberation Front had chosen to lay low while they recovered from their earlier injuries.

Izuku felt like he was floating, watching the villains converse with each other while Tomura Shigaraki heaved over his elite Nomu creations whom were currently being used as nothing more than a makeshift throne for the leader.

One of the Hero Killer's main followers had stood up, attempting to call out Shigaraki's odd behaviour while Izuku's insides twisted with discomfort and fright, while the other villains didn't seem to sense the scent of death in the air, the teen could.

Shigaraki's entire aura was completely different; calmer than usual, yet had a dangerous edge that the teen could feel, even in his current phantom form.

Speaking of which, was this the doing of One for All? Or some kind of link that Izuku had with Shigaraki due to them meeting back in the subconscious of both Quirks?

Thinking about it made his head hurt…

"Now that your concerns have been duly noted there is a more pressing matter that needs to be addressed."

"Which is?" The blunt voice belonging to Dabi piped up from the background. The eldest Todoroki child looking completely unbothered by the many pairs of eyes staring widely at him, the other members of the group fearful of Shigaraki's response to his tone.

Thankfully, All for One who was currently using Shigaraki like a puppet, chose to wave off Dabi's remark as if he were nothing. "Just the little spy in our midst," Shigaraki's crimson orbs suddenly honed in and immediately connected with Izuku's own fearful emeralds.

He can see me?

Was that even possible? Izuku fought back a heavy gulp.

That being said, the teen wouldn't have put it past All for One to have some kind power that allowed him to sense the strange link between the two successors…

Either way, this was bad. Really bad.

"No need to worry, though," he looked in the direction of the teen, his rough voice sounding as if he'd swallowed sandpaper. Pointing a finger from the mangled hand, old burned scar tissue littered across his remaining fingers as they twitched erratically; "Soon everything we've strived for will be in our grasp."

Snap out of it, Ninth!

Izuku gasped loudly, clutching his head and cursing darkly as he gripped the bedsheets of his hospital bed tightly.

Why was this happening to him?

Everything was moving so fast, his brain was completely overwhelmed.

Tears of frustration stung his eyes and he blinked hard, fighting them back with all the energy he could muster as he breathed out sharply. Every time something was going right for him and his friends, there was always something that completely tore that newfound hope to shreds.

It wasn't fair.

Especially when the talk with All Might, once he'd arrived at the hospital, had gone down so well. Aside from Izuku's own worries, he had been quickly pacified by his mentor's comforting and reassuring words.

To Izuku's relief, they had discussed the Eri concern and addressed it straight away, with All Might immediately getting into contact with U.A and his acquaintances from the Police Force. His mentor had also informed the boy that Aizawa had been discharged a day prior and was currently recovering back at U.A, albeit with the Pro undergoing physiotherapy to help get him used to his temporary leg prosthetic.

"There are measures being taken to protect Young Eri so try not to worry yourself," his mentor had explained, offering the boy a faint smile tugged across his thin face. All Might had left after Izuku had gotten a visit from his doctor who'd then informed the pair that the teen would more-than-likely be discharged from the facility a lot sooner than they had thought.

About an hour or so later, his mother had arrived and Izuku finally allowed himself to lean back against the plush pillows to finally relax. However, this was quickly short-lived when his mother announced something that nearly made Izuku choke on his own air;

"Your father called me last night," Inko's voice was soft as she folded Izuku's old nightshirt into a neat little square before placing it in the bag that she had brought with her. "We talked for quite a while."

"With Dad, uh...You did?" Izuku's mouth and brain suddenly felt as if it had been set on autopilot. Was it weird that he felt oddly...numb to that revelation? He hadn't heard from his father in years, surely he should have been happier about hearing this?

Inko nodded, humming delicately, sliding another one of Izuku's shirts into the open bag, "He was concerned, of course. I caught him up with what's been happening, he's…" she paused. "He proposed something that I've been thinking about since last night."

Izuku's heart thudded under his freshly laundered nightclothes. He dreaded what he was about to hear but had to ask nonetheless: "What was it?"

His mother inhaled sharply, nibbling on her bottom lip, "He wants us to come overseas so we can be together as a family. Like before," her hands began to tremble. "There's so much that Hisashi and I need to discuss but right now, Izuku, I feel it would be for the best."

"W-What are you saying?" Izuku felt queasy, was his mother seriously suggesting that he pack up all his things and move abroad? To live with a man that he barely knew?

"Izuku-"

"I can't just leave!" Izuku's voice grew louder. "What about U.A? My friends?" All Might.

Inko's own temper flared and she glowered at her son, gesturing to his bandaged limbs, "Look at yourself, Izuku!"

The younger Midoriya visibly flinched, swallowing the retort back down his throat and averting his guilty gaze away from his mother. His eyes wandered along the lines of thick gauze around his knuckles and he shakily exhaled; unsure what to say next.

Was there anything he could say? He was completely tongue tied.

Thankfully, Inko was the one who broke the awkward silence by running a hand gently through his curls, "I'm sorry, Izuku."

He tried not to wince at those words. It honestly felt like he'd been punched in the gut.

"But I don't know what to do at the moment."

"Mum-"

"Stop," her voice was quiet but firm. Izuku's eyes moved along each part of Inko's face, noticing the blotchy skin from crying, the heavy bags under his mother's eyes and the way her hair just hung limply over her face like a set of old curtains, dreary and aged.

Was there anything he could say to her right now?

Aside from…

I'm sorry.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

"Here are your discharge papers, Midoriya-san."

It was as simple as that.

Before he knew it, Inko had been given Izuku's hospital paperwork and had then quickly ushered her son into a cab alongside All Might. After a short and frankly slightly awkward car journey, they had eventually arrived back at U.A High School where they had then escorted Izuku to the dormitory facilities.

To Izuku's relief, his classmates had respected his space and quietly offered greetings to him as he limped towards his dorm room, his adult supervision carrying his luggage for him due to his arms still being heavily bandaged.

His mother hadn't mentioned their earlier talk and Izuku wanted to keep it that way for the time being. She had left after barely speaking and All Might had offered to walk her to the gates, which she begrudgingly accepted. Izuku noted the hardness in her voice when she spoke to the retired hero, a tone that Izuku had rarely heard Inko use in all the years of his life.

He prayed that she didn't give All Might a hard time once they were out of earshot. They had left quite a while ago…

From the other side of his locked door, he heard the distant sound of his classmates calling out loudly to each other, Izuku recognised Kirishima's cheery voice and he felt his lips tug into a small grin.

Maybe he should have gone downstairs and taken part with the others…

Izuku glanced at the red and blue striped clock on his wall and sighed, his chest tight as he shuffled over to his drawers to begin loading his clean clothes back into storage. Although it wasn't the same as his bedroom at his mother's apartment, he was glad to be back in a familiar place…

For how long? Came the unwelcome and unwanted nag in the back of his already-racing mind as he clenched his teeth together. He had no time to worry about the what-ifs right now, what mattered was getting back on his feet and concentrating on his Quirk control.

DANGER!

Izuku blinked, ears buzzing. He could hear laughter in the distance, was One for All reacting to something else? Maybe it had something to do with the connection he was sharing with Shigaraki-

A loud slam against his window completely destroyed his own concentration, his heart jumping in time with his body.

The walls violently quaked and Izuku soon stumbled. He had barely enough time to react as a massive hole seemed to be forcibly ripped through the wall to the outside.

The impact shook off the teen's balance as he fell to the floor, kicking back against the carpet as he shuffled up against the door. A large, scaly hand clamped around the broken pieces of plaster and a familiar face peered in that sent waves of absolute terror up Izuku's spine.

It was another Nomu. Did that mean the League were here? Speaking of that, how could they know that he'd returned or where his dorm room was?!

Izuku moved his hand towards the doorknob of his dormitory door and the creature screamed loudly squeezing itself through the small hole with little resistance. Izuku pressed himself up against the door frame, bandaged arms and legs screeching at him as the Nomu loomed over him. Sharp pieces of broken brick dug into it's thick hide, small trickles of blood forming around it's body as it slammed a heavy palm straight against Izuku's jaw, the movement cutting off any attempt that Izuku had at crying for help.

A crackle filled the air and Izuku's attention was drawn away from the fact that the Nomu currently had him pinned to the door by his head. With a narrowed gaze, the teen's eyes fell upon a tight-fitted collar around the creature's massive neck. Due to the odd crackling noise, Izuku soon noticed the device attached to the thick leather, which looked to be some kind of radio device.

"Excellent work, No. 1977. Remember this one needs to be alive. For now, at least."

Izuku paled, recognising the person talking immediately.

That blend of eerie voices, like an unhinged duet completely out of sync with each other.

He attempted to speak, a choked gasp cut off as the creature tightened it's grip. He knew that voice all too well; the man who planned out multiple attacks on his friends, the one who was involved in the incident in Kamino and most recently, the Jaku attack...

Tomura Shigaraki.

#ao3 bnha #my hero academia fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #tomura shigaraki #izuku midoriya #inko midoriya #dadmight #dad for one #bnha manga spoilers #deku needs lots of hugs rn #my writing

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weeb-stomper · 4 years

Text

Motels

Mirio Togata x F!SexWorker Reader

Prompt: “I’m tired of being your secret.”

Word Count: 1,404

A/N: I thought, the prompt usually makes people think that there’s a half in the relationship begging for love and so I did a little subverting of that. Sorry, it’s pretty angsty. Also, I felt like this piece was a lot more about reader than it was about Mirio, so he’s not actually really in it outside of reader’s thoughts.

@reinawritesbnha Haha, I feel like this is maybe not your normal type of fic but I’m really kinda proud of how this turned out and wanted to share with you.

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You’ve always hated motels. The horrendous patterns of the carpets that never seem to change no matter where you go, the stale air that never freshens despite the open windows, the dirty sheets that smell like the hundreds of people who have abused them no matter how many times they’ve been washed. You hate the artificial swirls and patterns that cover the ceiling in every room and the judgemental eyes of the desk workers who have come to be familiar with your presence. You share a moment of awkward eye contact with the woman behind the counter tonight as you collect the small room key, not missing the pitying look in her eyes and the sad smile that takes her lips. Your finger traces the large number eighteen emblazoned on the plastic tag, and you huff out a mirthless laugh.

“Key to misery…” you mumble to her, turning on your heel to head towards your prison cell for the evening.

Your fingers trace along the sparsely decorated walls, occasionally catching against a raised edge of the peeling paint. The smell of the dingy hall was gag-inducing, memories of your history in any given one of these disgusting rooms flooding your mind despite your efforts to knock them back, and your forward progress halts. You can see it up ahead. The dirty white door set into the wall accompanied by the dimly shining bronze eighteen drilled to the wall beside it. Breathing isn’t so easy at the moment, knowing that as soon as you step into that room the waiting game begins. Your now-long hair tickles the small of your back, kickstarting your nerves once more, and your heart hurts.

Taking a shuddering breath, you teeter forward, falling into an uneven gait. The soreness in the soles of your feet radiates up your calves, the strappy black heels having long since blistered your feet through the thin black nylon tights that clung to your skin. Slipping the key into the lock, you take one last look at the nightmarish halls that surround you before slipping through the door and locking yourself into your nightly cage.

You forgo the lights, opting instead for one moment longer of semi-peace. One extra minute of not being able to see your reality, and you could indulge in the fantasy of being literally anywhere else. Crossing the small room to the far left corner, you drop your bag into the padded chair that resided there. It was a terrible muddy yellow color, musty from overuse and under-cleaning, and (for tonight) home to a large bag of gifts from your client. A grimace mars your face as you pull out an intricate black-lace teddy, laying it out on the bed before slipping off your thick black coat. The cool air of the room stings against your previously shielded skin as you continue undressing, removing your shirt and folding it carefully before placing it, along with your skirt and jacket, inside the cheap particle board dresser drilled into the wall below the cheap and old tv. There’s something calming about separating your personal belongings from the job you do. Like locking your personality inside an industrial safe and exchanging it for the illustrious mask you don for the sake of the people who seek you out in the darkest hours of the night,

You cast a side-long glance at the old digital alarm clock sat on the simple bedside table. 8:52 flashes back at you in angry red lettering. Eight minutes to prepare before the ever-so punctual hero arrives to inadvertently destroy what little sense of ease you’ve managed to scrape together in the days since your last meeting. You’ve seen others since you last met him, but he was always the worst. Maybe because he’s a hero. Maybe because you know how truly sadistic he is behind that golden smile. But most likely because he demanded things be so extraordinarily personal. He treated every meeting with you like a beautiful secret meeting between a count and his mistress, cloaked in darkness and complete with loving embraces and chaste kisses before a teary departure. Forcibly disconnecting from your internal monologue, you turn back to the lacy article resting gingerly on the bed below you.

The scratchy material of the lingerie gouges canyons in your skin as it slides up your legs to settle across your torso, and a chill of a different kind tears through your muscles. Wearing the gifts was never pleasant, the sheer material writhing you in a permanent sense of discomfort, but there was something especially terrifying about tonight. You knew him well enough now to know that he’d been gearing up to something bigger than normal, and your instincts were screaming that tonight was the night it would culminate into whatever he’d been planning. Those thoughts, however, were for later. Now is the time for preparation, for rebuilding the mental barriers that he insists on tearing down every. Single. Time. Time to guard the parts of you that you’d rather not share and the words that you’d rather keep to yourself.

The smell of oranges turns your stomach. He loves the smell of oranges and had bought you his favorite version of the scent to coat the room before he appears for his evening visits. A generous spray for each pillow and blanket, pull back the sheets to spray the mattress, mist the doorway as per request. You can hardly control the rising bile in your throat, but you manage to choke it down. In a way it makes sense for him to seek the scent of oranges. It’s like a child reaching for a security blanket, a man seeking solace in the scent of summer. Fitting for the someone who “shines like the sun”, as his friends tell the news reporters in interview after interview. Lazily strolling to the large bag, you almost laugh. Your hand snakes inside, gripping the leather bound handle of your least favorite gift. A long, eight tailed braided flogger. Your fingers trail along the name etched into the handle, the weight of it amplified by the memory of the heavy strikes it’s performed on your skin time and time again.

Laying the weighty toy across the foot of the bed you take one last look at yourself in the cloudy mirror on the wall. Hair frames your face in a way that you’ve come to hate, in a hairstyle that he’s picked out for you. A long braid down your back that swings just so when you walk. You don’t understand why he always insists on it, he’s only going to rip it to shreds 20 minutes from his arrival. Sitting gently on the bed, your shoulders slump forward, and you remember better times. Being small, running through parks and playgrounds with friends and family, your feeling the wind rush through your short hair. The feeling of that smile stretching and splitting the chapped skin of your lips. You’d grown out your hair when he’d asked you to. The pay was too good to refuse. You miss your short hair.

A hollow feeling slams against your weary bones as a knock sounds at the door. Your eyes shoot to the clock. 9 o’clock on the dot it screams at you, dread settling deeply in your bones. You rise from your spot on the bed and walk languidly to the door. You can almost watch the mask fall over your face as a sensual smile slides onto your lips, a foreign and bizarre sensation. The door clicks open and there he stands. Looming impossibly tall above you, golden blond hair swept back and away from his face. The piercing blue of his eyes rakes up and down your body in an appraising gaze, a certain softness to his face that you knew better than anyone to be as false as the love he claims for you. He offers you a hushed greeting as he steps inside the room, pressing a small bouquet into your hands that is identical to every other he’d ever brought, right down to the bright yellow ribbon tied around the stems. You watch him as he approaches the bed, pulling his shirt off before lifting the play thing from amongst the bunched sheets. You can already feel the merciless strikes against your skin as the door closes to seal you in for the evening.

You’ve always hated motels.

#mirio togata #my hero academia mirio #myheroacademia #my hero academia #mha #boco no hero academia #bnha #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mirio togata x reader #Self Insert #angst #tw sex work #female reader #fem reader

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pandemilkbread · 4 years

Text

abashed ✩

eyes like sinking ships on waters

ᴛᴏᴅᴏʀᴏᴋɪ sʜᴏᴜᴛᴏ ✩ masterlist

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: It was something that crept up so slowly it left Todoroki unaware, but he thought that was the best kind of love; one so natural you don't even notice.

[ᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀ ᴛᴏ ᴢ’s ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴsʜɪᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜ sʜᴏᴜᴛᴏ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʏᴇᴀʀs]

warnings: suggestive themes of smut, though only detailed at the last parts. read at your own discretion. not really smutty tho...

author’s note: i promised to upload this earlier, whoops, i apologize. hehe

ⓐ — ᴀʙᴀsʜᴇᴅ

ᴀʙᴀsʜᴇᴅ:

/əˈbaSHt/

adjective

embarrassed, disconcerted, or ashamed.

Warmth.

Warmth was the ray of light shining through the gray-like curtains at the peak of dawn, the heat amassed within the heavy blankets that covered skin, the hotness of pillows from where your touch lingered and left, with all the toss and turning in between; the very definition of warmth described the comfortable heat radiating from the arm wrapped around your stomach like a safeguard—

Cold.

Cold was the sweat dribbling down your forehead in sheer panic, the chilly breeze that encased your body as you quickly ripped the blankets off, the freezing temperature of the tiled floor immediately upon falling on your bare bottom soon after, cold and empty was your mind, connecting the images of what transpired the previous day— or night rather.

All you picked up were bits and pieces: bright lights, booming music, the smell of strong alcohol, a pop of a balloon… ‘Ah, yes.’ You thought, hesitantly. ‘The birthday party.’ Who knew an adult as yourself, who had the alcohol tolerance of a Viking from the late eighth century, could flat out collapse from drinking too much.

And God you wanted to throw up.

Besides wanting to spill out your guts onto the crystal clear floor—you cringed at the thought of whoever was supposed to clean the mess after, if you chose to do so anyway—there was a direr issue to address; which was… knowing where the hell you were, and who you were with.

You slightly inched yourself onto your knees and peered back at the comfortable blue sheets where he laid, fast asleep. Surprisingly, your fumbling did not wake the sleeping man. You assumed as much as you were knocked out from the liquor, he was in a similar state as well.

Sighing, you pulled yourself up only to be met with a painful ache on your upper thighs, forcing you to stumble on your backside. You hissed. ‘What in the world?’ Squinting at the dark splotches on your skin that darted from your lower thighs up until your upper stomach, a small part of you believed there were more sprinkled on your chest and neck. It forced one notion down your thick skull.

First, you were naked. The bareness of your skin provided neither protection from the cold breeze coming from the air conditioner, nor the heat radiating from your cheeks in embarrassment. The pain from earlier, and the bruises that enveloped your skin were two of the many testimonies of your late night endeavor.

You groaned. In truth, you weren’t the type of person to be hooking up with a stranger, no— scratch that, you were never the type of person to be having sex at all, and with a stranger nonetheless. Frankly, the only time you were close to doing the deed was with your boyfriend of a year and a half, whom you broke up with months ago, and it did not end well.

Let’s just say, he had a ‘technical difficulty’ with putting on a simple condom; leaving the touch starved you, furious as he suggested to do it otherwise without it. And the night was cut short. ‘A great night forever encased into my memories.’ You mused.

Back to the crisis at hand, your eyes shifted to the human unconscious on the bed, the sound of small breaths reached your ears. You prompted yourself onto your knees then leaned your upper body on the bed, a small blush dusted your cheeks as you glanced at the man.

‘Great.’ You breathed. Over 126 million people in Japan and you slept with the one person you’d rather not see again.

Your fingers gently swiped the strands of red hair covering his closed eyes. Breathtaking. Even while asleep he managed to send your heart into a frenzy, and brought shivers down your spine, and reignited the little speck of hope you had left, one you thought had blown out years ago, only to reemerge stronger than ever.

Oh, god, you hated hope.

You propped your chin on the palm of your hand. Sighing, you continued to play around with his hair. A part of you hoped the beautiful stranger, not-so unfamiliar anymore, woke from his slumber— a sort of wakeup call and signal for you to get going. Another, cruel part, wanted him to stay asleep, a somewhat impossible wish; and you wished, you really wished, this was a dream.

If it was one, please, please, please, you wanted to crawl back under the covers, just for a few minutes.

You pinched yourself.

Once, then twice, then thrice.

Maybe seventh times a charm?

You massaged your temples. If it were a dream, you would have awaken by now. Then, you were not in a dream, and this was real. And if it was real… you can afford to be a little selfish. So you sat up from your spot and leaned forward, brushing your lips against the top of his forehead.

“Good morning,” you whispered.

Loud enough to satisfy your wants, but as quiet as the passing breeze, rendering it nonexistent.

You could always shuffle back into the sheets, you know you wanted to; bask in the warmth of the bed, so soft and cozy; pretend reality did not exist, yes, in another life this apartment was your home; and the notion of walking in shame was all fiction, you were abashed.

You sighed, sounding more like a mix of a hiss and a groan.

It was time to go. There was no use dwelling on the what-ifs and the what-could-have-beens. Simply, you are an adult. Yet, the years of being humbled at college, forcibly awoken by the harsh realities of adulthood, and the gruesome jobs at the hospital— could not diminish your fairytale dreams and hopes, by now reverted back into one intense form.

Your high school crush on the one and only, Todoroki Shouto.

Something that had shrunk to the size of a pea, had somewhat grown into a bowling ball, all in the span of ten minutes and by all means, it would continue to grow bigger. You were sure of it. The plausible solution?

Running out while you still had your mind, heart, and spirit intact. Oh, yes. The very same went for your embarrassment and shame: behold, the little youngling had initiated her very first hook-up for all the world to see! ‘Technically anyone awake by seven’ you presumed by looking at the light from outside.

Grabbing your discarded clothes, you walked to a room, closer to a closet than an actual bathroom, and put them on. Now that you were fully dressed, the whole idea of sleeping with your high school crush was unbelievable.

A prank? You rolled your eyes. No one would go that far to prank someone as unimportant as you.

…Would they, though?

Your mind wandered back to the mix of silver and red asleep in the bedroom. Was he the type of person to sleep around with anyone he wanted?

He can, though. You thought. Then again. He did not seem like the type to do so.

You ruffled your hair in front of the mirror, sliding your fingers through your hair in an attempt to smooth out the tangles.

Is it possible? Perhaps you never slept with him in the first place? Maybe, your lower pain was the symptoms of a forthcoming period, or maybe the bruises on your skin were the scars of an epic battle fight sequence in the bar, or maybe the person sleeping on the bed was never Todoroki Shouto and you were delusional.

Putting it that way, the lame excuses sounded more ridiculous than reasonable.

The door opened with a click, and you winced at the sound, your fingers quickly twisted the knob to prevent any more unnecessary noise. Stepping out of the bathroom, you glanced at the person laying on the bed. For someone considered one of the nation’s top heroes, Todoroki slept pretty peacefully while a stranger used his room to her volition.

What if I was a villain, hm? You grumbled. One slit to the throat and you’d be a goner.

The exact moment you thought about assassinating (not that you would actually do it, you were a hospital resident for heaven’s sake!) the peppermint boy stirred in his spot, forcing you to freeze. The blankets shifted downwards to reveal the bare skin of his chest, littered with splotches of dark blue, and you gaped.

His neckline gleamed with love bites, his collar taking the brunt of all the kisses, and the chest area had a trail of kisses all the way down to his lower stomach, where the blanket laid comfortably— ‘did I do that?’ you breathed.

This close, you were this close to pulling all your hair out in frustration. Last night must have been the best night of your life and you couldn’t remember a thing! The whole thing was unfair!

You shook your head. No time to dwell, time to go! And go you must before the object of all your teenage fantasies woke up. Eyes scanned the room for the last item of your possessions, the shoes you wore.

You scoured under the gray sofa to the side of the bed, then softly shifted the blanket on the floor, it was not in the bathroom where you changed, the carpet showed no sign of the footwear, and you remembered really wearing shoes to the party. ‘So, where is it?’

After searching for what seemed like twenty minutes, you plopped down on your knees in front of the bed. ‘Maybe Todoroki knows where it is?’ A stupid suggestion, why would a sleeping man know the location of your shoes? He was not psychic; and if you did not know the place, how on Earth would he know?

But that did not stop you from asking either.

“Good morning, dear. Happen to know where my shoes are?” You joked.

It was barely a whisper, a joke for your ears only; a gag really to soothe yourself during moments of distress. He was not supposed to reply, you weren’t expecting a reaction either, so you slumped. If you could handle three back to back shifts at the hospital without a break, you can handle walking out of this damned apartment without shoes.

By the shine of the bright light outside, and knowing it was a Sunday morning, there should not be a lot people to gawk at your unruly appearance. If you were lucky enough to hail a taxi in three minutes, all before the early joggers on the street gushed about your lack of footwear, you would be safe from the impending embarrassment.

Maybe, you could take a pair of slippers from the apartment? The hero will never know, and if he did, what kind of rich hero would search far and wide for a woman who stole his flip-flops? It was just some slippers! ‘All right, do it!’ You dared.

Just as you were about to stand up, a warm arm reached for your neck— the base of his palm wrapped around the back of your head, compelling your chest to rest on top of the bed. Mismatched eyes of gray and turquoise stared back at you—your stomach jumped, and you gulped, God was it that hot in here?— rather groggily, the corner of his lips smirked.

“Have you tried the shoe rack outside?” Todoroki murmured.

One blink, two blinks, three blinks. You hissed in realization. ‘Of course! Who brings their shoes inside?’ You had to be the dumbest drunk to have ever lived, you weren’t drunk right now per se, but, the alcohol must have done something to your brain. It was strong enough to make you forget simple Japanese customs, you wanted to smack your skull.

Eyes peeping at the man, you diverted your gaze sheepishly, the intense stare he had made you bashful, slightly making your insides churn and almost making you a spluttering mess. You glanced back at Todoroki, and tilted your head.

“W-Were you awake this whole time? I-I thought I saw you move…” You admitted.

He loosened his grip on your neck and rested his palm on your shoulder. “You were not exactly quiet,” he then traced tiny circles on your collar. “Falling off the bed…must have hurt, are you all right?”

Your face swiftly turned three shades darker. ‘He was awake!’ The moment you woke up in shock and slammed your bare ass on the floor, he was awake! ‘Naturally! He’s a god damned hero!’ Obviously, who wouldn’t stir awake from the loud smacking sound, and your cry of pain?

You squinted at the smirk on the corner of his lips. ‘He’s teasing you!’ He was awake this whole time… then, he must have felt your lips on his forehead, and heard the ‘good morning’, and the fumbling for your shoes, and the swipe of your fingers, and you playing with his hair, and everything else!

How was it possible to be this abashed? Your cheeks felt as if they were on fire, oh fuck, it had to do with his stupid little smirk, his stupid intense gaze, his stupid hold on you as if you meant something to him like—like you meant the world to him.

Oh, how your stomach kneaded at the thought.

“I’m… fine.” You snatched his hand and placed it on the bed.

By the way he looked at you, you reasoned out he was waiting for something. Gratitude for the night before sounds way too conceited, he did not seem like a narcissist. An apology for taking too much of his time and space sounded too sad, your heart ached and hearing him jab it with regrets would hurt.

What else was there to remember? God, did you puke into his suit, or clothes, did he want you to pay for his dry cleaning? You cringed, goodbye self-esteem.

“…I’ve never done this thing before, you know?” You spoke. “Ah, I don’t really know what happens the morning after…” Blushing, you pinched your fingers, a nervous habit. “I’ve… I mean… I watch those shows and… I know someone has to walk out after and seeing this isn’t my room, I have to walk out. Yes. Me.”

His face contorted, confused. “Why do you have to walk out?”

The whole purpose of walking out was to signify the end of a session, like you would tell him that. Basically, the room was unfamiliar territory, therefore, not your apartment. Who else would walk out if not you?

“This,” you gestured the room, “is your apartment. Not mine. Why would you walk out of your own apartment?”

“Yes, I know.” Todoroki said, matter-of-factly. “But, why?”

“What do you mean ‘but, why?’ Why? Me… and you… we aren’t even a thing! We just happened to—“ You pointed. “You! This is all your fault! If you just pretended to sleep and continue doing it, we wouldn’t have this awkward exchange in the first place!”

“You asked where your shoes were.”

“I didn’t actually think you were going to reply!”

He pulled himself into a sitting position and stretched his arms. You heard the sound of a crack followed by a soft groan, and his feet perched on the ground, right in front of where you stood. The sleepy man placed his chin on his closed fist, while his elbow laid on the top of his now crossed legs.

Todoroki sighed. “You did not answer the question. Why do you want to leave?”

There were a hundred reasons to leave. He was a top hero, a celebrity in the eyes of his followers, an untouchable God by his multitude of fangirls. You believed it was impossible to stay with someone like him, your ego would not allow it.

A part of you was scared. If you stayed, the chances of talking about what happened increases. Staying meant realizing you really slept with him, and in a way reconfirmed your feelings that you might actually stand a chance. Maybe your feelings were worth it, maybe he would give you a chance, and maybe your impossible love was never impossible at all, maybe—

“It’s— It’s… not proper…” You conceded. “You’re… you! And I’m me! I barely even know you and in all honesty… I don’t really remember what happened last night. I’m sorry, it’s better if we pretend this never happened.”

He paused for a while before answering. “Why? Do you hate it that much? Do you want to talk about it?”

You clenched your hands. It was infuriating how easily his words planted fantasies into your head. The way he phrased the sentence drove an idea down your throat. ‘Did he want you to stay?’

“The thing is… I don’t remember. Do you?” You replied.

“Of course…” He took a quick glance at your face, almost looking for something, before staring back at the curtains. “Are you married?”

‘Married? Married!’ You gaped. You could not begin to comprehend why he asked such a question. Did he think you were running away because you had someone waiting at home for you? Or did he ask because he tied the knot with someone else? God… did you sleep with a married man?

You don’t recall him being married. “No! I don’t have a ring on my finger…”

“Do you have a boyfriend?” He added.

Oh, you breathed. Was that the reason why? Was he asking all these things because he felt inclined to know whether the woman he slept with had someone waiting for her at home? He was minimizing the potential of a possible scandal. You sunk at the thought. “Ah, I did… But that was months ago.”

Do all hook ups have these morning questionnaire sessions? Or was this a top hero only session, to reduce the possibility of a hot and spicy front page article on the tabloid? Oh, maybe he felt guilty. You glimpsed at the man, his eyes closed in ponder.

You were never one to snitch, and something like this was a secret that would never leave your lips, until, well… you were six feet down under. You deflated yet again, presuming after his barrage of questions, he would send you out the front door.

“If it is not because you are married, not because you are taken, not because I did something wrong…” He began. “Then… stay.” His arms wrapped around your waist, while he leaned his forehead on your stomach.

Faint, you were going to faint. You heard it right, didn’t you? He said ‘stay’, not ‘leave and never come back,’ not ‘forget this, go,’ not ‘get away,’ he told you to stay. You died and went to heaven, didn’t you? Was it possible for someone like him to want you? Even if it was just for a moment, you wanted to succumb to the feeling of being loved.

Your face heated up, and your hands unconsciously reached for his head, dragging your fingers slowly between the locks of his hair. “…Are you this touchy with all the girls you sleep with?”

Right off the bat you tested the waters, almost grimacing at the implications. Why you formulated such a simple sentence into something with a double meaning, you never knew.

“No. Just you.”

Great. The issues with double ended questions. What did ‘just you’ mean? Did he sleep with a lot of women, and you were the only one he cuddled with so far? Did it mean something else? You had to pry further, not that it mattered whether he slept with other people.

“So… do you sleep with people this often or…?”

He scowled. “What makes you think I take anyone I see to bed?” Todoroki swiftly twisted you around, facing your back, and pulled your body to his lap. “…Only you.” He mumbled.

Ah, you instantly felt relieved. Though, the reassurance only managed to disorient you even further. What happened at the bar? What conversations happened during the hours of the party? What did you say to make him interested? Was he really interested? Maybe, by the way he was holding you right now, his body language proved he was.

Your stomach stirred at the close contact, pulse racing as he settled one hand on your thigh while the other swaddled your waist. “…Do you really not remember?”

You wanted to recall as well. “I don’t… sorry.”

He sighed in defeat. “All right.”

His breaths caressed the back of your neck, sending goosebumps all over your body. You shook your head and forced yourself to breathe, breathe in, and out, in and out, in and— were you being cuddled by the Todoroki Shouto on his fucking bed, why me? Out of all the women in this world, Japan rather, why would he be wrapping his warm arms around you— breathe out!

Everything was so confusing, so perplexing, so—a prank! ‘Ha ha ha, good job everyone!’ You mused. ‘Time to reveal yourselves, you assholes!’ Your list of ‘bastards who pissed you off for a living’ had hundreds of guys. The idiot from work, the bartender near your apartment, your next door neighbor who played rock music at 3 in the morning, stupid Monoma who fucked around at the hospital.

You sighed. One more time, one more phrase of reassurance. Just one more. And you’ll stop asking.

“Hey, hey… Todoroki?” You nudged him with your head, gently. You heard a soft ‘hm’ and continued. "Are you really Todoroki?”

He paused. “…Shouto.”

“I know who you are,” You hummed, a smile flickering your features. “I mean, is it really you? You’re like this… cool hero. A celebrity, really. And I’m just… sitting on your lap, in your room, in your apartment, wherever this place is.”

His grip tightened on your waist. “Who else would I be?”

“Monoma trying to fuck around and fuck up my feelings.”

“Ah, trust me, princess. I would not let that happen.” His so soft voice, sent shivers down your spine. “…Do you really not remember?”

Knock out! He called you ‘princess’, princess, princessprincessprincess. Such an endearing word for a stranger, oh but you love it so. You took a double take, the word was very familiar. Very familiar. It was difficult to pin point a certain time or place, but…

You pinched his ear. “Why do you keep asking? Was it that good that you can’t stop talking about…?”

“We talked about this right before I took you to bed and you—“

“You know what,” You spluttered. “Never mind! Don’t tell me. I’ll figure it out on my own.”

The tips of your own ears tinged red, you could feel the heat. Learning more of what happened last night made you squirm, …it will flow back eventually. You hoped. Learning about it from the man himself made you embarrassed, super embarrassed. Knowing he was the type to be nonchalant about everything, he might describe the whole night without any reservations.

Feeling braver, you wiggled yourself into a position that had your legs wrapped around his waist and your head rested on the crook of his neck. Cloud nine, you sighed. This is what cloud nine feels like.

You closed your eyes and listened to the beats of his heart, the rhythm pulling you quicker and quicker into the sensation of sleep. As long as the man himself told you to stay, you shall indeed stay, God, you wanted to stay.

Eyes moving under your lids, one memory emerged— and boy did it send your heart tumbling. You yelped in reaction, eyelids immediately snapping open.

“Hm?” Todoroki asked, certainly with a teasing tone. A fraction of smirk was displayed on his lips. He had sort of an inkling of what happened.

“Nothing, nothing.” You deflected, snuggling your head back into the crook of his shoulder, a way to hide your forthcoming blush.

Warmth was his breath on your neck, trailing kisses down your collarbone, as his teeth lightly nipped the base of your throat. Your head blanked at the pleasure, the heat, the excitement— and only he, calling your name pulled you out of your drunken stupor, though the words he muttered afterwards sent you into a crying mess.

“…I love you.”

#todoroki shouto #todoroki shouto x reader #bnha todoroki #todoroki x you #todoroki x y/n #shouto x reader #bnha fanfiction #bnha scenarios #bnha imagines #eyes like sinking ships on waters #todoroki shouto x you

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rosemaidenvixen · 4 years

Text

A Secret’s Worth

Chapter 14: Barbara

Ao3

The brochure had been feather light when Barbara had picked it up at the travel agency earlier today, but now it felt like there was a brick in her purse.

It took a great deal of effort to keep her eyes on the road and not on the handbag sitting in the passenger seat.

Ever since Barbara had seen that magazine article all those months ago, in the back of her mind she always knew how ridiculous it sounded. Her son's nightly transformation being linked to seventeenth century witch trials that had happened on the other side of the country; no matter which way you cut it, it was a stretch. Nix that, even a stretch started from somewhere rational, this was a half-baked, half-assed, barely-plausible, hypothesis.

But she couldn’t let it go without making sure. The odds of finding anything might be slim to none, but Barbara couldn’t risk letting a cure slip through her fingers.

And she’d already done all the research she could from California, the only thing left was to go to Massachusetts and look for answers there.

It wouldn’t be an easy trip, by any stretch of the word. Taking a plane was theoretically possible but in practicality way too risky, and it was much too far for her to drive them. Their journey was going to involve switching between buses and trains and stopping at different motels each night. But maybe, just maybe, three thousand miles away, they would find the answers they were looking for.

A lead weight sank into the pit of her abdomen as the house came into view.

Logistics aside, what worried Barbara the most was that in all the research she’d done the past few months, there was nothing suggesting that there was actual magic involved in the Salem witch trials. Nada. Zip. Zilch. And mounds and mounds of evidence to suggest colonial mass hysteria and a gigantic coincidence based on a common name. Knowing that, the thought of dragging them both to the other side of the country, only to find nothing....

That scared her.

But not because she was afraid of failing, Barbara had plenty of opportunities to get used to that over the past ten years, but because this was it. Their last clue, the final stone to unturn, the end of the line. If they didn’t find anything on this trip…

Her throat tightened as the house came into view.

Then it was over, for good.

Turning to pull into the driveway, she was surprised by the presence of an unfamiliar Niesan parked on the sidewalk. Usually they didn’t get many strangers in their little cul de sac, maybe it was a salesman, or Jehova’s Witnesses. Either way she had bigger things to worry about. Putting it out of her mind, Barbara pulled into the driveway and killed the ignition; five breaths in, hold for five, out for five more.

The conversation she was about to have with Jim was going to be rough. No matter how tactful she was there was no way he was going to react well to hearing about the Salem Witch hypothesis she’d been sitting on for months, much less how she was planning on taking them to the east coast for a good chunk of the summer.

But as much as she was tempted to, Barbara couldn’t put off telling him forever.

Best to not drag her feet any longer and rip the bandaid right off.

Steeling herself with a final deep breath, Barbara grabbed her purse, stepped out of the car, and marched up to the front door.

“Jim?” she peeked inside “Are you--”

The rest of the sentence died in her throat.

There was a man, not a particularly threatening looking one but still a stranger to her, sitting on their staircase, going through their clean laundry basket like he owned it.

She froze midstep; the picture in front of her too baffling to form a coherent reaction to.

The man glanced up at her from the basket “Oh Dr. Lake, glad to see you here,”

“I-- you-- who-- who are you? What are you doing in my house?”

The man didn’t answer, instead a new voice cut in “Hello Dr. Lake, how about you join us in the living room?”

Still bewildered beyond all belief, Barbara found herself moving towards the living room. Stepping around the corner, the first thing she noticed was a woman, just as unthreatening and unfamiliar as the man on the stairs, sitting on their couch and smiling at her. It was the second thing she noticed that caused her confusion to shift into concern.

Jim, sitting bolt upright on the other side of the couch facing the woman, plastic smile carved into his face “Hi mom, welcome home,”

Barbara just stood there frozen in the door frame. What was happening, these people didn’t look or act like burglars or home invaders….but who were they? What were they doing here? And why was Jim so on edge and desperate not to show it?

“What is….going on?”

“Oh I’m sorry, let me introduce myself,” the woman stood and held up an ID badge “My name is Dorothy Butler, you can call me Dorrie, I’m an investigator with CPS,”

For a second it felt like time had stopped.

Then Dorrie,

The child protective services investigator

Held out her hand, and everything became painfully real.

Forcibly snapping herself out of it, Barbara reached out and shook the offered hand, willing herself not to tremble, and returned Dorrie’s smile with one of her own. Panicked scream ringing silently in her skull.

Dorothy Butler.

CPS investigator.

A fist to the gut would have been less shocking and painful.

Who had called, what had they seen? Had it been their routine made someone suspicious, or had they seen something more--

Barbara clamped down on that thought hard, walking over and taking a seat at the couch next to Jim, using years of practice as an ER doctor to compartmentalize and stay composed.

For whatever reason these people were here, right now it was vital for Barbara to maintain a level head. Keep calm, tread carefully, figure out what exactly had brought these people to their home, and what it would take for them to leave.

Besides, if someone had seen something...telling, it wouldn’t be CPS that came knocking on the door.

“Sorry I guess I’m just...a little confused, why are you here, who called you?”

Dorrie’s porcelain smile didn’t so much as twitch “Someone came to us concerned that about the disciplinary methods going on in your household, but I’m afraid I can’t tell you who, that information is confidential,”

Not the answer she’d been hoping for, but not an unexpected one. Even with the waves of dread it sent through her.

Barbara leaned over to get a better look at the man still sitting on the stairs “So who is…”

“That’s Detective Charles Lunau, he’s my police escort,”

“I’m sorry your what now?”

“It’s nothing to be concerned about,” Dorrie’s expression instantly switched from chipper to contrite “It’s just standard department procedure,”

Barbara had more questions but bit her tongue, it would not be in her, or Jim’s, best interests to come off as defensive right now.

But her brain was starting to catch up to her surroundings. And anger was starting to rise past the shock.

“I know you’re with child protective services, but you can’t come in to my house, talk to my son, without--”

Dorrie whipped a folded piece of paper out of her bag and held it towards Barbara “Here’s your copy of the search warrant, please feel free to look it over and keep it for your records,”

The bottom dropped out of her stomach for the second time today. From beside her she could see Jim flinch.

Barbara numbly reached out and took the paper, a quick glance revealing the seals and signatures that meant it was official. Turning the anger in her veins to ice.

An investigation was one thing, anyone could shoot their mouth off and get CPS to come sniffing around. But a warrant meant that not only had someone reported them, but they had given something concrete enough for someone else to take it to a judge and get him to put down his signature.

More than that, a warrant meant that Dorrie and Charles could look where they wanted, talk to who they wanted, and stay as long as they darn well pleased.

Which meant that now Barbara really had to play nice.

“Well then…” she took a deep, grounding breath “How can I help you?”

Dorrie beamed, clearly pleased at the cooperation “Right now we’re just trying to get a feel for how things are in your household, Jim and I were already talking about some things, now I’d like the three of us to talk together, does that sound good?”

“Yes...that would be fine,”

“Great, then let’s get started,” she pulled over a notebook that had been sitting on the coffee table “Besides Jim and yourself, who comes and goes from your home on a regular basis?”

“No one I think, it’s mostly just us-- Oh! Except for Jim’s friends, they come around fairly regularly,”

He nodded along with her words “Yeah, and they’re all pretty well behaved, straight A’s and all that stuff,”

Dorrie quickly scrawled something in her notebook “What are your friends’ full names?”

Jim frowned but answered all the same “Toby Domzalski, Claire Nuñez, Darci Scott, Mary Wang,”

A few more notes and Dorrie paused her pen and looked up “And how are your grades Jim, any areas where you’re struggling in school?”

“No not really, all A’s and B’s and stuff,”

“I can send you a copy of Jim’s most recent report card if that would help,” Barbara added.

Dorrie beamed “That would be great, now can you tell me what kind of family activities you two do together?”

Barbara and Jim turned towards each other simultaneously.

“We...go camping pretty often,” Barbara said haltingly.

“Yeah, kind of our thing, love the great outdoors,” Jim let out an awkward chuckle.

“Good good,” Dorrie turned towards Barbara, smile shifting into something more somber “Now how do punishments and discipline work in your house?”

Her heart skipped a beat “There aren’t really any huge issues, Jim’s never had behavioral problems severe enough for me to be deeply concerned about discipline,” she risked a peek at Jim from the corner of her eye, for the most part he appeared calm, but his face had gone deathly pale.

“On the rare occasions I do find a punishment necessary, it’s usually grounding from video games or electronics, how long depends on the severity of the situation,”

Dorrie’s smile slid back into place as she jotted down another note “I know a lot of households operate at different hours, so do you have any kind of set curfew in place?”

“Yes…” Barbara continued “Four pm during the winter and six pm after daylight savings,”

“Why did you pick those hours?”

Barbara paused, and very deliberately did not look towards Jim “I think it's safer that he’s home before dark,”

In her peripheral vision she could see Jim stiffen.

Her chest tightened. She just got a sinking feeling she’d just said something she shouldn’t.

Dorrie’s only response was to keep smiling and jot down another note “So between school and work how do you--”

“Actually I have a question,”

Barbara over to see Detective Lunau coming into the room holding the laundry basket “Are you dating anyone Dr. Lake?”

She was momentarily taken aback “I’m sorry, what?”

“As of this moment are you currently dating or in a romantic relationship?”

“No. No I’m not. I haven’t dated anyone for years,”

He set down the basket and pulled out something on top. Her breath hitched when she saw it was one of Jim’s pajama shirts.

“Do you mind telling me who this belongs to?”

“That’s mine,” Jim piped up, startling her.

Lunau looked at the shirt, then back at Jim, frowning “Seems pretty big for you,”

Jim’s smile slipped just a fraction “I like baggy clothes...”

Going by the look on Lunau’s face he found this hard to believe. Jim trailed off, tension in the room rising.

“Ok,” Dorrie abruptly broke the silence, shutting her notebook and getting to her feet “How about we all take a break and go look around the house?”

This new development had problems of its own, but Barbara was mainly relieved that the subjects of clothes and her social life were being dropped “That’s fine,”

Dorrie grinned at her “Great,”

The rest of them stood and followed her towards the stairs. Lunau held back to let them pass, and then followed them up.

Meanwhile Barbara was still trying to reassemble her mind. Trying to gather her thoughts felt like herding bees, but she needed to get it together and figure out what they had laying around the house that needed to be tucked out of sight, or at the least they should come up with a very good explanation for.

She only remembered right as they all stepped up to Jim’s bedroom door.

They all reacted the instant Dorrie pulled it open; Dorrie herself flinched and took half a step back, both her and Charles cringing, Jim had gone even paler and Barbara had to fight to keep a wince off her face.

Frowning for the first time since Barbara had seen, Dorrie turned back and addressed her “Can you tell me about this smell?”

Barbara just stood there, hoping she didn’t look as much like a deer in headlights as she felt.

The smell wasn’t anything overly rotten, halfway between vegetation and musk, but it was distinctly animal. And it got even more noticeable after Jim started puberty. At first Barbara had been vigilant about scrubbing it out of his clothes and sheets as soon as it started to linger. Until Jim had admitted he couldn’t stand the way soap and air freshener smelled when he was blue. Since then they'd decided to more or less let the scent go in his room while making sure to keep it out of the rest of the house.

None of which she could say to the woman in front of her.

Not to mention that she’d just now recalled the other thing that was unusual about Jim’s room.

“I...it’s--”

“It’s my fault,” Jim said abruptly, causing every head in the room to swivel towards him.

He flushed under the scrutiny “I’m...bad about washing my sheets and stuff,”

Dorrie, still frowning, jotted something down in her notebook before looking back up “Is it ok if we go inside Jim?”

His face was tight “Sure….”

Jim stepped ahead of them and pushed open the door, allowing them to file in before he followed suit.

Barbara’s insides knotted as he shut the door behind him.

Dorrie stumbled a little bit, the space was cramped with four of them in it, before glancing between Barbara and Jim, looking equal parts confused and concerned “Is there any particular reason your bed is so messy?”

This time Barbara knew the flinch showed on her face. Calling it messy was being generous.

During the little time that Jim slept at night he tossed and turned aggressively, inevitably making tangled nests out of sheets rather than sleeping under them. It had taken years of work and a special hypoallergenic fitted sheet to keep Jim from tearing the mattress apart. But they still couldn’t keep him from tangling up the sheets.

Jim forced out an uncomfortable laugh “Guess I’m just bad about making it…”

Dorrie briefly held his gaze before looking towards Barbara.

Barbara knew that she was waiting for her to say something regarding Jim’s bedding situation, to step in as his parent and caretaker and provide a good explanation.

But she couldn’t speak past the lump of static in her throat, teeth digging into her lip.

After a few moments of loaded silence Dorrie quietly raised her ever present book and took down another note.

“How about we look at the bathroom?”

The bathroom was, mercifully, normal. But Barbara had to force herself not to glance out the window at the steadily setting sun while Dorrie rifled through their medicine cabinet.

They were running against the clock here, sunset was in less than an hour and she didn’t know how long Dorrie and Chalres were planning on staying. And the warrant meant that they weren’t leaving until they were good and ready.

And the way he kept tugging at his sleeve and glancing at his watch told her the time hadn't escaped Jim’s notice either.

After finding nothing amiss in the bathroom or her bedroom, they soon found themselves back downstairs; Dorrie casually peeking inside their fridge and cabinets “How do you handle meal times with Jim’s school and your irregular hours,”

Finally an easy question “I try to keep a good supply of snacks and ready-to-eat meals on hand, we go shopping together once a week to get everything we need,” Barbara said, Jim nodding along in agreement with her “Jim enjoys cooking and does a lot of our meals together, We try to to eat together as often as possible, but there will be some nights I leave Jim to find his own dinner,”

“What about chores and housework?”

This question was a bit trickier, Barbara hadn’t even thought of the best way to answer before Jim piped up.

“I--”

“Jim,” Dorrie interrupted, not unkindly “I know you’re trying to be helpful, but I really need to hear this from your mom,”

He clapped his mouth shut, face red, all eyes in the room slowly turning towards Barbara.

“We...try to split things up pretty equally. I do clean and cook on my days off, and Jim has a chore list and contributes to meals when he’s up for it,”

Barbara glanced around the room, Dorrie’s face was still a neutral mask, but Lunau was frowning darkly and Jim was positively ashen.

A cold lump dropped in her ribcage. She knew she had just said the wrong thing.

How many times did that make now?

This was too much, she couldn’t keep doing this, guessing and trying to give the right answer. She was already on edge, and didn’t know how many more straws she could take before she snapped.

“I’m tired,” Jim spoke up suddenly “Can I be done?”

Barbara stared at him in surprise, before shooting a discreet glance out the window. They had a little time left, but she wasn’t sure how Dorrie would react to such a blunt demand.

Looking over at Dorrie, also appearing surprised by the sudden request, she appeared to consider it for a moment before smiling at him “Oh of course, but before you go just one more thing,” she flipped through her notebook “You’ve sustained injuries from an animal attack on your ankle, correct?”

This time when she bit her lip Barbara tasted blood, how on earth did they know about that!?

Jim raised an eyebrow, looking more confused than anything else “....yeah?”

“Do you mind showing us?”

He froze “What now?”

“If you don’t want to that’s perfectly alright, you don’t have to,”

Anger rippled up, eclipsing every ounce of anxiety. Damn right he didn’t have to, warrant or no warrant, this woman had just crossed a line. Barbara was half a second away from telling Dorrie just how outrageous her request was and that there was no way she was examining her son, when Jim cut in.

“No! No--” Jim stopped himself and took in a deep breath “It’s fine,”

Before she could stop him Jim propped up his foot on a stool and rolled up a pant leg, exposing faint pink lines an inch above the ankle joint “There, see? No big deal,”

Dorrie stepped closer, leaning in to glance at the scars. Lunau hung back, but kept his eyes locked on Jim and Dorrie. She spent the longest ten seconds of Barbara’s life staring at her son’s ankle before looking up “Thank you Jim, that will be all,”

He gave a curt nod, before jerking his pant leg back over his ankle and putting his foot down “I’ll be in my room,”

With that he turned and headed upstairs. Barbara hoped that his rush to escape the room was only obvious to her.

Dorrie and Lunau watched him retreat up the stairs, once he was gone their focus shifted onto towards Barbara.

“Now Dr. Lake we’re just about done here there’s a few more things I want to ask you,”

Barbara nodded along, even as her heart soared at the words ‘just about done’ “Alright then, do you mind if we sit at the table?”

“Not at all,”

Forcing herself to maintain a neutral expression, she was in the homestretch just had to make it to the end, Barbara stepped over and took a seat at the table; Dorrie and Lunau right behind her.

She was going to make it, just a few more questions and these people would be out of her house.

She was going to be ok. Jim was going to be ok.

Settling into the wooden chair, Lunau standing behind her, Dorrie held up her notebook and pen “Can you describe your and Jim’s relationship with your extended family?”

The second those words fell from her lips whatever relief Barbara had started feeling vanished. Her stomach curdled, acid rising in the back of her throat.

Not a completely unexpected question, they wanted to get some background on the situation and see if there was a history of abuse. But that still didn’t mean it was going to be easy for her to answer.

“Of-- of course,” Barbara took in several gusty breaths to steady herself, and then spoke.

“I’m not in contact with any of my living relatives and I haven’t been for sixteen years, Jim has never met or spoken with any of them,”

That statement caused both Dorrie and Lunau to perk up instantly.

“Why is that?” Dorrie asked, pen poised and ready.

Somehow Barbara’s throat got even tighter “My maternal grandmother, my last grandparent, passed away when Jim was two, my only aunt and uncle are my mother’s sister and her husband, they were never interested in a relationship with me so I never pursued one. I have no siblings,”

“And your parents?”

Her face burned, chest tight, all the emotion from this afternoon threatening to bubble out and explode, along with decades old wounds ready to tear open and bleed fresh.

“I made the choice to cut them out of my life when I was twenty three,” Barbara said at last, unable to maintain eye contact as she did.

When Dorrie spoke up again her voice was softer than she expected “And why did you decide to do that?”

It was a long time before Barbara answered, summoning the words back from a part of her life she had long tried to move past.

“Both of my parents were emotionally abusive to me for my entire childhood,”

“Do you mind giving me a specific example?”

Actually she’d prefer to get an appendectomy without anesthesia “They….they were constantly critical of me,” not good enough, some people wouldn’t even call that abusive “They used guilt to manipulate me all the time, growing up I was always trying to appease them and keep them happy,”

Her voice nearly cracked towards the end. It was true, all of it, but there was more, so much more. How much were these people going to drag out of her before they were satisfied?

In a move that surprised her, Dorrie extended a hand across the table, not touching, but close “I’d like to know the steps you took to go no contact with them, but please take all the time you need Dr. Lake,”

Barbara nodded her acknowledgement while gripping the armrests of her chair, knuckles white She was standing on the edge of a cliff, pushed there inch by inch by everything that had happened to her since she walked in the door. She needed to calm down, get it together, shut this chapter of her life back up and plow forward.

“When I realized that they were never going to change I decided that I didn’t want them in my life anymore, I left home at seventeen to live with my grandmother, but for a while we still spoke on the phone and saw each other at family gatherings. But when Jim was born I knew I never wanted him exposed to any of that toxicity and cut them off completely. To this day my parents don’t have our contact information or even know what city we live in,”

She risked a glance across the table.

Lunau, whether because he was unbothered or had an excellent poker face, hadn’t responded at all to Barbara’s story, for her part Dorrie’s expression was somber, but also sympathetic “I can see why you would make that decision, what about his father’s family?”

Now that question was a lot easier, even if knowing what question was sure to come after it made the burning in her gut return with a vengeance “We’re not in contact with them either, James’ grandparents were never involved in his life, neither were his aunts and uncles. His parents live in South Carolina, we never visited but we did speak over the phone back when we-- James and I, were together, but once we….separated that contact ceased, James has a half brother, but he lives in Georgia and I’ve never had contact with him,”

“And James, your ex-husband,” Dorrie said gently “How did your relationship with him end?”

Even though she’d seen that question coming from a mile away, hearing it out loud, Barbara knew she must look physically ill.

With her parents she hadn’t asked to be born or chosen to grow up with them, but James….

James was a mess she’d gotten into all on her own.

All of a sudden Barbara couldn’t do this anymore, she was fighting with everything she had to stay composed, but all she wanted to do was scream, tear off her skin and let the raging storm inside her explode “I...I...I’m sorry can we just take a break for a minute?”

Lunau frowned “Actually--”

“Actually,” Dorrie cut in “I think we’re at a good spot to stop for today,”

Shock and relief rushed through her like twin lightning bolts, hot and cold all at once “Really?”

“Yes,” Dorrie said, getting to her feet “It sounds like that’s a complicated subject, and it’s getting late, so how about we meet up another day so you can tell me everything in more detail?”

So it didn’t look like she was completely out of the woods, but still Barbara would take what she could get “Of course, that would be just fine,”

“Excellent,” Dorrie tore a page out of her notebook and slid it and her pen towards Barbara “If you can just give me your contact info I’ll send you some dates and times and you can let me know what works best for you,”

Beyond grateful that today’s visit was almost at an end, Barbra hastily scratched down her phone number and email address before sliding it back to Dorrie, who gently folded it and tucked it into her pocket.

“Just one last question before we go, is there anything in particular that you find yourself struggling with as a single parent?”

By this point Barbara was so burnt out that she was barely able to put together a cohesive answer “I...I’m sure there is, but nothing comes to mind right now,”

Dorrie beamed at her, and as much as she was grateful for her patience this woman’s overly cheery attitude was uncanny “Struggling is nothing to be ashamed of, taking care of a family is hard work,”

She held out a pamphlet towards Barbara “Here are some general resources if you ever feel like things are getting to be too much,”

Barbara barely had time to take the pamphlet before Dorrie was flashing a business card in her direction to “And here’s my card with my contact information. If you ever have any problems or get into a jam, or even if you just want to talk, don’t hesitate to call me,”

“Thank you,” Barbara said as she took the card, guilt managing to wriggle it’s way in past every other emotion.

These people hadn’t come here with the intention of destroying their lives, they just wanted to help. But the fact of the matter was they couldn’t, not unless Dorrie had a magic wand tucked next to her pen.

The cold hard truth was that one else could be trusted with Jim’s secret, and by extension, taking care of him.

Dorrie glanced over at Lunau, that seemed to be some kind of queue as they both got to their feet “Alright I think we’re done here,”

Even though she was counting the seconds until they were gone, Barbara forced herself to go through the motions “Are you sure? Is there anything else you need to see?”

Once again Dorrie flashed Barbara her unflappable smile “No need, we were able to take a look at everything we needed to. Take care,”

Barbara gave a halfhearted wave as they walked away “Thanks, have a good rest of your night,”

“You to,” with that Dorrie and Lunau stepped out the front door, shutting it behind them. Barbara sat in silence for a few seconds, then thirty, only when a whole minute had passed did Barbara allow herself to go limp and collapse against the table, awashed with equal parts overwhelming relief and overpowering dread.

It was a massive load off her back to have the investigators out of the house, why had they been here in the first place? Who had called? What exactly had they seen?

Dorrie and Lunau. What were they talking about right now? The curfew? The smell? The bed? The scars? Her?

Barbara pushed against the table and forced herself up straight.

She couldn’t let herself fall into a spiral of paranoia, the bottom line was if one person saw something concerning, another could as well. And regardless of what Dorrie and Lunau had seen, that bell had been well and truly rung. The only thing they could do was watch themselves on all sides and make sure that no one in their lives had reason to be suspicious.

And it was just one visit, it wasn’t like they were already looking up foster homes. If she and Jim cooperated and played along this was sure to fizzle out in a month or two.

But then why couldn’t she stop trembling?

Barbara dragged herself to her feet, heading into the kitchen to make some tea to hopefully settle her nerves, fighting and losing the battle against working herself into a panic.

And she couldn’t stop thinking about what could have possibly been concerning enough to get a warrant signed?

She paused mid step and glanced around the room. Admittedly the visit with Dorrie and Lunau could have gone better, but it wasn’t like they’d seen anything outright damning. If they made a point to clean up Jim’s room and for Barbara to pick up a few more chores they should be in the clear. And the scars….

Well every animal bit had to look a little different.

So why did she feel almost sick with dread, why couldn’t she shake the feeling that something deeply private had been exposed?

All they’d done was talk a little bit and look around the house, granted Barbara hadn’t exactly been thrilled to walk in on strangers talking to Jim and--

Her heart stopped.

Dorrie and Lunau had a warrant, and they’d already been here when she got home, who’s to say they hadn’t already been here when Jim got home to? What if they’d gotten here way ahead of both of them and done some poking around on their own?

And there was one area of the house they hadn’t touched while Barbara was here.

Chill spreading out from her chest to the rest of her body, Barbara slowly walked over to the door that Dorrie and Lunau had ignored in her presence; desperately hoping to be mistaken. Maybe it wasn’t that noticeable. Maybe it could probably easily be mistaken for something else.

She pulled it open, blowing every last one of those possibilities out of the water.

The claw marks were still there, fresh as if they’d been made that afternoon. A neon sign would be less obvious.

Barbara shut the door, feeling disconnected from the action, like her body didn’t belong to her anymore. But she could still see the claw marks flashing in the front of her brain. They needed to get those fixed, yesterday. But wait, if they’d already been noticed wouldn’t covering them up be more--

Then she caught a glimpse of something worse.

The exercise band, hanging just inches away; deliberately hung and placed in such a way that it could only have one clear purpose.

How many times had she pulled it shut over the basement doorknob? How many times had she listened to her child screaming from behind that same door?

Just because she couldn’t trust anyone else to take care of Jim didn’t mean she deserved him.

A child wouldn’t get taken away for a slightly smelly room or messy bed, but this….

This would do it.

Suddenly keeping herself under control was the furthest thing from her mind.

Barbara ripped the band off its hook.

Get rid of it get rid of it now.

Couldn’t throw it away, someone might see it in the trash, she needed to destroy it, she needed to--

Barbara ran over to the junk drawer, yanking it open and tearing through its contents, grabbing the first thing that could do the job. A box cutter.

Whipping the blade out, she slashed and hacked at the rubber cords without hesitation.

Strangers in their house.

Tiny chunks of yellow rubber flew to the floor.

Jim being taken away from her.

She didn’t slow down her frenzied assault on the band. Not even when the blade missed her fingers by millimeters. If anything she sped up, all the emotion from the past hour she’d tried to suppress boiling up to the surface.

Her baby, far away and surrounded by other people.

She couldn’t cut fast enough, tearing and cutting and shredding with everything she had.

Someone else seeing his other face.

Her hands were shaking as she kept slashing at the blade, unable to pull in enough breath as the world collapsed around her.

Strangers, hurting, or even killing Jim because of it.

All of a sudden she had nothing left to cut at. Panting with exhaustion as the band lay in pieces on the floor all around her, just the empty handle in one hand and the box cutter in the other.

It was only now that she registered the feeling of tears running down her face.

“Mom?”

Barbara jerked her head in the direction of the sound. Jim, he had already changed for the night and come downstairs without her noticing, she’d forgotten how stealthy his blue form could be despite his size.

Walking in on his mother tearing apart an exercise band like a madwoman.

Her eyes stung. How could she? How could she let herself break down like this? No matter how stressed she was about the CPS visit, her child must be even more--

Jim hurried over to her and got down on his knees; starting to pick the bits of yellow rubber up off the floor “What’s going on mom? Why were you--”

Acting completely on impulse she hugged him, kneeling down just far enough so that the top of Jim’s head went up to her chin.

“It’s going to be ok sweetie,” she squeezed his shoulders “No--”

No one’s going to take you away.

“N-- nuh-- nothing’s going to happen from just one visit,”

Don’t say those words, don’t put that idea in his head. Barbara was the parent, right now her feelings weren’t what mattered. She needed to pull herself together so she could be there for Jim.

“We-- we just need to cooperate and go along with them for now, everything’s going to be ok, I promise,”

For a moment Jim didn’t move, frozen and stiff in her embrace. Then he softened, leaning into the hug.

Barbara squeezed him tighter “We’re going to get through this together,”

Jim slowly reached up and returned the hug “Right, we take care of each other,”

In spite of everything that drew a fragile smile out of Barbara, even as fresh tears threatened to spill “Right,”

#tales of arcadia #Trollhunters #A Secret's Worth #jim lake jr #Barbara Lake #original character(s)#sunshine au #fanfic #rmvwrites

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kiapet2 · 3 years

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Aperture Sides Facility, Chapter 6: PULL ME OUT! PULL ME OUT! PULL ME OUT! PULL ME OUT! LEAVE ME IN! LEAVE ME IN! LEAVE ME IN! LEAVE ME IN!

Masterpost

Chapter Summary: The big confrontation.

Chapter Warnings: Attempted Murder by and towards main characters, Neurotoxin, Not-Really-Unsympathetic Sides

The Control Chamber is large and dimly lit, cylindrical with a high ceiling. Hanging from the walls and in a circle from the ceiling are a collection of large screens, like you would see in a stadium. They flash through a series of images almost too quickly to follow: red theater curtains, a black hat, a courtroom, a two-headed snake, a lock with no key…

What really draws your eye, though, is the figure hanging from the ceiling, right in the center of the screens. It’s a massive form constructed of plastic, metal and hanging cables, gathered into a long body that moves with a sinuous grace as it turns to peer at you. At the end of the body is what you recognize as a Core, but one that differs significantly from the designs you’re used to. Where the others are formed of intricately interlocking metal pieces, this Core is one piece of sleek, jet black plastic, an unlidded yellow eye staring out at you with an alien gaze.

“So,” the AI says, “you’ve made it here at last.” His voice has changed, all pretenses of a robotic monotone dropped in favor of a smooth, sonorous drawl that sends shivers down your spine.

“No thanks to you,” Virgil spits.

“And you brought the whole group with you! Now what could I have possibly done to deserve such an honor?”

“Tried to kill me, for one,” you say, placing a hand on your hip and trying to seem casual and self-assured. Hurry up, Logan…

The AI gives a scandalized gasp. “Kill you? Now why would I ever do something like that?”

“Drop the act, villain!” Roman yells. “We know what you really are!”

The AI hums, sounding unconcerned. “I can’t help but notice that one of your number is missing. You wouldn’t happen be planning something, now would you?”

You laugh nervously. “What? No, we’re just here to talk.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Subject One,” the AI says. “Let’s stop with the stalling, shall we?”

There’s a hissing sound as vents open up in the walls, some sort of gas coming out.

“Don’t breathe that in!” Virgil hisses, and you back away from the steadily encroaching cloud, before your back hits the opposite wall. The gas keeps advancing, and your next breath tastes sickly sweet with it, making your head spin.

“Enjoying the neurotoxin?” the AI taunts. “It’s my own special recipe. I’m sure dear Patton is familiar.”

“Don’t do this, Ja-” Patton starts, before cutting off into static.

The AI lets out a deep, villainous chuckle. “Be sure to take in a nice, deep breath now, I’ve heard the toxin has lots of nice vitamins in it. If you live long enough to breathe it in, that is.”

That statement and the sound of machine parts clicking are your only warnings before a torpedo launches out of the AI’s mainframe, directly at you.

You throw yourself sideways, landing painfully on your side on the floor as the torpedo hits the wall and explodes behind you, showering you with bits of concrete or whatever substance this building is made of.

“What was that?” you yelp, scrambling to your feet. “What kind of science facility gives their AIs freaking torpedoes?!”

Your only response is another torpedo. This one you sidestep, watching as it again hits the wall behind you. That gives you an idea…

You shoot the blue portal behind yourself and the orange higher in the wall, then move to stand in front of the blue portal as the torpedo system targets you again, jumping out of the way of the ensuing missile.

Instead of flying through the portal, however, the torpedo runs straight into Remus, who apparently decided that it would be fun to follow you as you dodged the explosives.

“Remus!” Roman screams as his brother’s robotic body-frame explodes into scrap metal. For a moment your heart is in your throat as you search for telltale rounded parts in the scattered pieces, then you slump in relief as you see the Core himself rolling away from the carnage, giggling.

“Let’s do that again!” he cheers. “Can you build me a bigger body and then blow it up with an even bigger rocket?”

“Absolutely not,” the AI says. “Giving you arms and legs was a bad idea in the first place- too much opportunity for chaos.”

“Well whaddya know, he’s actually right about something for once,” Virgil snarks.

Another torpedo comes shooting out at you, and this time when you dodge it flies unhindered into the blue portal. You watch as the torpedo shoots back out of the orange portal, straight towards the AI. It connects with his long, sinuous body near the top, making the entire thing shake, and he falls limp.

“Did… did you just kill him?” Roman says in an awed whisper. Beside him, Patton whimpers. You swallow, staring at the motionless form of the AI in front of you, not knowing which outcome to hope for.

After what subjectively seems like an eternity but is probably only a few seconds, the AI twitches back to life and straightens up.

“That was unpleasant,” he says. “But not as unpleasant as being hit by one would be for you, I expect. Shall we see who gives in first?”

You jump out of the way of another torpedo, which deploys harmlessly into the wall since you didn’t have time to set up another portal. You land awkwardly, and bite back a curse as your elbow smashes into the ground and sends a wave of pain up your arm. You just barely roll out of the way as a second torpedo follows almost on the tails of the first, the AI taking advantage of your momentary distraction from the pain.

You stumble as you roll to your feet, the combination of pain and neurotoxin making you unsteady. The AI was right; you don’t know how long you can keep this up.

Warning, Central Core is 80% corrupt, an automated voice announces, and your heart leaps in your chest with sudden hope.

“That’s funny, I don’t feel corrupt,” the AI says nonchalantly.

Alternate core detected, the voice says. To initiate a core transfer, please deposit substitute core in receptacle. A metal socket folds up out of the ground, clearly intended for the placement of said substitute Core.

Logan’s voice fills the room. The replacement process has been initiated and should be autonomous going forward. Follow the instructions carefully.

“Logan, you beautiful nerd!” Roman cries. You couldn’t agree more.

“So that’s your plan,” the AI hisses. “You little-”

I’m placing a timer on the screens for when the neurotoxin will reach potentially lethal levels, Logan says, and the screens surrounding the AI turn a light blue with a red timer counting down to the millisecond. It looks like you have around two minutes left.

I’m afraid I can’t do much more, Logan continues. Just follow the steps, and- He cuts off into static.

“Did you hear anything?” the AI says. “Such an echo in here, I swear.”

Two more torpedoes shoot out of his mainframe, and you dodge to the left, letting them be redirected through the portal behind you. They both hit, and as the AI once again goes limp you use the window of opportunity to cast a look around you for the nearest Core.

“Patton!” you say, spying the Core nearby. “Are you ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Patton says with a forced cheer. Not having time for more confirmation than that, you run up and take him by the handles, pulling him off his rail, then run over to the receptacle thingy and carefully slot him in place.

Substitute Core accepted, the automated voice says. Substitute Core, are you ready to start the procedure?

“Oh, is that me?” Patton says nervously. “Uh, yes!”

Corrupted Core, are you ready to start the procedure?

Almost before the voice is done talking, the AI yells out, “No!”

Stalemate detected. Transfer procedure cannot continue...

“Are you kidding me?” Virgil shrieks. “What kind of crappy replacement system asks for permission from the Core it’s replacing?”

...unless a stalemate associate is present to press the stalemate resolution button.

“Oh dear,” the AI says, “you’re not a trained stalemate associate, are you? That’s too bad, it looks like this whole thing will just have to be cancelled.”

Another torpedo comes whizzing towards you. You don’t have time to shoot a portal behind you this time, so you just dart out of the way. Out of the corner of your eye you see a red button pop out of the ground- a small one, meant to be activated by hand rather than by cube- and you dart towards it.

“Ah ah ah, not so fast,” the AI admonishes, and several panels fold up from the ground, blocking your path. You try to dart around them, but more fold up as you go.

“Remember your portals!” Roman shouts.

Right. Portals. That’s a thing you have. You shoot one portal onto the wall on the other side of the button, then another directly below your feet. As soon as your feet hit ground again you’re running, too fast for the panels to react to your sudden relocation, and then the button is giving way beneath your hand.

Stalemate resolved, the automated voice says. Please stand clear of the transfer bay.

The others cheer and you turn with a grin, only to be interrupted by a chilling scream.

“Thomas!”

You look just in time to see a long, flexible metal tendril with a pincer claw at the end seize Patton and forcibly rip him out of the socket. Quicker than you can react, it retracts back down into the floor with Patton still wiggling in its clutches, and then it and Patton both are gone.

The mechanical voice announces, Substitute core has been disconnected. Aborting transfer in sixty seconds.

You stare for a moment, frozen in shock as you try to process what just happened. The AI was holding that in reserve, you realize. If you’d known he had the ability to grab the others, you could have accounted for it, redirected torpedoes into the pincer arms or had Logan try to interfere remotely. But instead, he waited until you were distracted with the stalemate button- until your back was literally turned- and then made his move. And now your friend is gone.

Another voice shrieks your name, and you turn to see a torpedo streaking towards you, the AI once again having taken advantage of your distraction. You shift your weight and prepare to make a last-ditch dodge, but before you can, Roman comes flying in from the side.

“Roman, no!” you scream, but it’s too late. The torpedo glances off his round surface, veering off from you and exploding on the nearby wall. Roman goes flying, wrenched off his track, then bounces once and rolls into one of the holes in the floor created by the raised panels. You go sprinting over and stare down the hole, but all you can see is blackness. Wherever Roman fell, it’s too far for you to see.

A whistling in the air alerts you to another torpedo, and you frantically roll to the side. The torpedo hits where you just were, widening the hole Roman just fell through and littering you with shrapnel.

“You bastard!” you hear Virgil shout. You pull yourself up to a standing position, feel a sudden rush of dizziness at the motion and briefly sway on your feet.

“Feeling a bit poorly there?” the AI says faux-sympathetically. “That definitely doesn’t have anything to do with the neurotoxin you’ve been breathing this whole time. I’d keep up the exertion if I were you- it makes the toxin take effect even faster.”

Substitute core has been disconnected. Aborting transfer in forty seconds.

You glance up at Logan’s timer and see that it has just under a minute left. You won’t have time to go through the stalemate process again if the transfer halts here, not before the neurotoxin kills you. You need to find someone else to replace the AI with, and you need to do it fast.

You spin in a circle, fighting down the dizziness as you do, looking for- there!

“Virgil!” you yell. “Virgil, I need you!”

Virgil’s eye widens as your gaze falls on him. “What?”

You run towards the Core, panting with exertion. “I need to put you at the head of the facility, come on!”

“No!” Virgil shouts, floating backwards and out of your reach. “Thomas, you can’t, you can’t put me in there, please!”

Substitute core has been disconnected. Aborting transfer in thirty seconds.

You reach out, trying to outwardly project calm despite the panic racing through your body.

“Virgil, I know it’s scary, but there’s no one else!”

Virgil floats even further backwards, his parts audibly clattering as he shudders. “I- I’m sorry, maybe if I can find Roman fast enough...”

“Virgil, wait!” you scream as the Core flies down the hole Roman fell into and disappears.

Substitute core has been disconnected. Aborting transfer in twenty seconds.

“Well,” the AI says, “I think this foolishness is just about finished. Honestly, did you really think your little half-baked plan was actually going to work?”

You can barely hear it over the pounding in your own ears. This can’t be it! You can’t have fought your way through all the trials, can’t have had your friends believe in you for so long, only to die here. There has to be some way-

Substitute core has been disconnected. Aborting transfer in ten seconds.

A high-pitched cackle follows the announcement. You and see Remus muttering gleefully, his green eye spinning in circles within his battered frame.

“How do you think he’s gonna kill us, huh? Will he smash us flat, blood and guts and jagged metal all strewn across the floor? Will he drop us? How long do you think we’ll fall for, how will it feel when we hit the ground? Clatter-squish!”

Substitute core has been disconnected. Aborting transfer in five seconds.

You don’t have time to think. You seize Remus by both handles and with a gutteral cry slam him down into the receptacle.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” The AI says, distorting with volume. “Thomas, don’t-”

Substitute core accepted. Substitute core, are you ready to start the procedure?

“What?” Remus shrieks, sounding genuinely rattled for the first time since you’ve met him.

“Say yes!” you yell desperately. “I’ll help you figure it out, Remus, just say yes!”

“Uh, yes!” Remus says.

Acceptance verified. Resuming transfer.

“You idiots!” the AI yells. “You absolute, blithering idiots! What have you- wait, no! No no no n-aAAaAaaAaAah-”

The bot’s screams turn distorted and desperate as metal appendages seize the core at the end of his robotic body and begin pulling it down towards a circular hole in the floor as walls come up and shield it from view. A similar scream sounds behind you, and you turn to see the receptacle that holds Remus also sinking into the floor.

Your heart pounds. Is that supposed to happen? Logan said the process wouldn’t hurt them, right?

Both cores disappear below the floor. For one heart-pounding second, it is silent. Then, the walls around the hanging robotic form retract back into the ground, and-

“WOOOOOOO!” Remus shrieks, the snake-like body rearing up to reveal his familiar round, green-eyed form where the black-and-yellow Core once was. “Boy, that’s a rush!”

“Remus?” you say, heart still pounding so loudly you can hear it. “You- you’re good? You’ve got it?”

“Fuck yes I do!” Remus crows, spinning around like a top in his perch. “Check it out!”

As you watch, the wall panels around you begin to flip and move, forming abstract patterns. It’s strangely mesmerizing, and your heart finally starts to slow from its adrenaline-fueled patter.

“You idiots,” a familiar voice says, and you look down to see the black core lying on the ground, its yellow eye glaring straight at you. “You have no idea what you’ve just done.”

“Aww, lighten up, Jan-Jan!” Remus says, bending down to peer at him. “It’s about time we switched things up around here, it was getting booooooooooooring. Ooh, I’m gonna make some mashy-spike-plates! Can’t go wrong with mashy-spike-plates!”

“Uh,” you say, “Maybe before you do that, we should, y’know, find the others?”

“Oh come on, Thomas, at least give me some time to have fun!” Remus says as the wall and ceiling continue to shift, smooth walls now being replaced with ones that have disconcertingly sharp points.

“Remus,” the AI snaps, “stop playing around where you don’t belong and put me back!”

All the activity in the room halts, wall tiles freezing in place.

“Playing around where I don’t belong?” Remus says lightly. “Right, because a corrupted core can’t be trusted to run this place, right? Gotta get Roman and his dull white-bread ideas up in here, cause that’s so much better.”

The AI huffs. “You know that’s not-”

“Nuh-uh,” Remus says, “My talking time.”

Several metal appendages rise from the floor- long, flexible metal tubes with grabby claws at the end, like the one the AI used to grab Patton. One of them reaches down and plucks the black and yellow Core off the ground, holding him in front of Remus and tilting him side to side, as if Remus were inspecting a bug.

“Y’know, Janny, I feel like you need a change. That old plastic thing is so last decade, know what I mean? Hey, remember when you said I had the processing power of a potato battery? That was funny! And it gives me an idea.”

The AI only has time to get out a final, “Remus-” before a metal tendril comes out of the circular opening below Remus and drags the Core back in.

“And Thomas,” Remus says, turning his green gaze on you, “Don’t think I didn’t notice how I was your dead last choice.”

Your stomach tightens in sudden fear. “I didn’t mean-”

Remus cackles, the sound reverberating off the walls and assaulting your eardrums.

“Naw, I’m not too torn up about it, I know me. But once you find the others it’s only a matter of time before you decide I’m just too dangerous and unpredictable to stay. So I think I’ll have some fun, while it lasts.”

The circular opening below Remus makes a little ding, and the metal appendage that had pulled in the black and yellow Core pops back out, holding- is that a potato?

“Voila!” Remus says with a flourish of one of his grabby-arms. “One potato battery. I dunno Janny-poo, I think it’s an upgrade!”

A yellow light flashes from the potato battery’s circuits.

“Are you done?” It’s the AI’s voice, sounding tinny because of the potato’s speaker quality, and sounding sardonic because of the potato’s occupant.

“Not quite!” Remus says cheerily. “Hey Tommy-boy, catch!”,

The metal hand tosses the potato at you, and you fumble with the portal gun, trying to get one hand up to catch it, before the potato smacks you in the face with a thump and falls to the ground.

“Ow,” the potato says.

You duck as more metal appendages pop out of the ground and start slamming the top of the elevator, making it shudder. You look below you, through the clear bottom of the elevator, and see only blackness. You don’t know what’s at the bottom of this shaft, and you don’t particularly want to find out.

“I’ll see you in the testing chambers!” Remus says cheerfully as another metal arm slams down onto the elevator.

“Remus, wait-” you yell, then lurch and catch yourself on the side of the elevator another big bang makes the whole thing tilt. Spider web cracks form on the glass floor below you, making your heart rise into your throat.

“Ta-ta, Thomas!” Remus calls. “If you survive this, we’re going to have so much fun together!”

There’s one more big, jarring impact, and then the glass elevator floor gives out from under you, sending you careening down into the dark.

#aperture sides facility #my writing #ts storytime

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aprils-arcadia · 4 years

Text

Trust

Pairing: Sungin x Reader Genre: Fluff Word Count: 3,7k Summary: You have been dating Sungjin for years now and he is still deadset on helping you overcome your fears.

"You trust me, right?"

"Of course I trust you, but that does not mean I trust the madman of an architect that came up with this hell."

Sungjin took your hand and squeezed it reassuringly. "I'm here Y/N and I am not letting go of your hand. I promise"

You looked at him pleadingly. "I don't like this. I don't like this at all," you said, your voice now small and slightly shaking.

Ever since you had met Sungjin in college two years ago he had been constantly chipping away at all your insecurities and fears. He made you feel loved and appreciated and cleared your doubts that he would leave you like people used to do since you were little. And while he did all of that unconsciously he also tried to help you overcome some of your fears in a more direct manner. He tried his best to help you tackle your fear of roller coasters by taking you to a theme park last summer. Sadly facing a fear does not necessarily equal overcoming it. You might have enjoyed it after the first five gut-wrenching rides, but by now you still didn’t want to do it again.

And now this. Heights. Heights were probably your arch nemesis, scaring you ever since your brain started to understand what a fall would actually mean.

"Just focus on me and don't look down." Of course you had looked down by now. Normally when you tried to avoid Sungjin's eyes like - let’s say - now when he was so patiently putting up with your whiny, scared self, you instinctively looked to the ground. But in this case the ground was further away than you could ever be comfortable with. Ideally you liked your feet to touch the ground and by ground you meant not only wooden slats that by all means you couldn't completely trust. Your desired version of steady footing was about 30 meters below you. This was nothing compared to jumping off the 3 meter tower at the pool. Nothing compared to climbing a tree a bit higher than you usually would. This was certain death. No bruises. Not a broken bone. Just plain and simple death.

Sungjin snapped you out of your spiraling thoughts effortlessly by squeezing your hand. The warmth and pressure of his touch making you feel just a little safer.

He lifted your chin with his finger and looked you straight into the eyes. “Just look at me. Everything will be alright.” He kissed your forehead and you could smell his perfume that so perfectly fit the surroundings. You had always loved this perfume on him. It felt like you were standing in a thick forest full of trees, standing tall around you and enclosing you in the sweet scent of pine. It was able to combine the two things that made you feel the most safe in this world. The man you loved and the nature you so adored. Sungjin was keenly aware of your love for all things nature and especially forests and that was why right now you were surrounded by towering pine trees that were gently swaying in the evening breeze. He had taken you to a place you’d feel safe to help you get over the thing that frightened you the most.

You had only been able to take two steps on the suspension bridge before you had stopped, not being able to take even a single step further. You lifted your head and tried to steady your breathing.

“You can do it.” You took a second to let yourself get lost in the eyes of the man before you. His brown eyes were filled with kindness. How was he able to erase all your doubt and inspire such confidence without so much as a touch of his lips?

You could still clearly remember the day you met. Well, not the day you met precily but the day you had first really spoken to each other. It was two years ago in an introductory course to film scoring. You had loved this course, the different composers you got to know, the power that film music had in giving a movie a certain feel. Every two weeks your course had met for movie night, to watch the movies that would be discussed in next week's session. You had dreaded this particular one ever since you saw it in the syllabus on your first day - Horror. It would be an understatement to say that you disliked those kinds of movies. In fact you were terrified of them, but apart from that you were also unbelievably stubborn and didn’t want to miss out on one of the probably most exciting sessions. So you decided to not be such a wimp and went. Thinking of yourself as pretty clever you chose a seat in the back of the small classroom so that no one would be able to see you twitch or jump in your seat.

To your luck the chair next to you had stayed empty for a while and you sighed in relief once the movie started. Nobody picked the seat right beside you, nobody that would be able to notice all your little tells that showed that you were scared out of your wits.

Seconds later the door had opened one last time and a young man had walked in. He made his way towards the back of the classroom, looking for one of the empty seats that were left. You hoped under your breath that he wouldn’t see the one right next to you - But he did and with that your wonderful plan had been ruined. He smiled at you and gave you a little nod before he turned towards the screen.

Your heart sank in your chest and you decided to let your gaze wander around the room, avoiding to pay direct attention to the terror that was unfolding on screen. Your eyes wandered for a while before stopping on the person next to you. If you recalled correctly his name was Sungjin. Out of all people there was no need for that one guy you started to take an interest in lately to sit right next to you. He had held a presentation on opening credits last week and you had been absolutely mesmerized by his calm and low voice. You had probably never listened to another student as attentive as you’d done that day. And now he was sitting right next to you. Out of all the possible scenarios, the cafeteria, the next class no it had to be this one. The one where you felt vulnerable and uncomfortable. All you had wanted was to make a good impression on him next time, to have him get to know you and think: “She seems really sweet.” And what did you have to work with now? He sure as hell would not think that once you started to silently sob next to him because you were frightened or started to shriek at every possible jump scare even the ones that were highly predictable.

Lucky for you the lights had been dimmed and the room was completely dark apart from the movie screen illuminating the faces. You couldn't help but notice his sharp jawline and the small wooden earrings. Right when you were getting lost trailing over his broad shoulders he turned his head to the side. You froze in place.

“Everything okay? You seem a bit twitchy.” You could clearly hear the concern in his voice and you cursed yourself for being so easy to read.

“No it’s okay. I’m fine. I just don’t handle these sort of movies well”. You turned around and hoped that your blush wasn’t visible.

The movie had been the perfect example for the absence of film music and you were going mad not being able to tell when something bad would happen. Until it was too late. A simple jumpscare was all it took for you to completely lose your composure. You squealed loudly and before you could stop yourself you had grabbed onto Sungjin’s cardigan and pulled him towards you. You cowered behind him, your face buried in between his shoulder blades. His broad back gave you a sense of security and it took you a second to fully understand what you had done. The giggles of your classmates made you slowly and painfully aware of your situation. You heard Sungjin clear his throat and felt his back trying to turn underneath your death grip.

It was blatantly obvious that you had the worst reaction by far. You almost just wanted to run out but this wasn’t some anime, you couldn't just run out every time you did something embarrassing. So you picked up all the little pieces of courage that were still stored somewhere inside of you and started to loosen your grip. You didn’t want to face him right now. You could feel the heat in your ears giving you a hint at how red your whole face must have been. This could not have gone any worse. You would not be coming back from this. He must think you are crazy or just plain pathetic, because that’s how you felt at this moment - like an utter idiot. Straightening his cardigans where your hands had been, you leaned back into your seat and looked at him apologetically.

“I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to.” You had expected him to scold you, to scoff and to never talk to you but instead you were faced with a kind albeit a little forced smile. It seemed like he knew how to handle this situation as little as you did.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it too much.” He smile grew more genuine. “But seriously you gave me a worse scare than the movie did”

“I don’t know what to say. I can’t believe I just did that. Normally I wouldn’t just… you know… grab a guy like that. I’m really sorry for using your back like that. I really am”

“No worries. It might have come as a bit of a surprise but I should have known better, you looked like you were ready to jump for about 20 minutes now. I just didn’t know it would turn out like this.” He laughed.

If anyone would ask you when you had started to really fall for him you’d probably name this moment. His laugh captivated you, the way his mouth became a broad grin, the way his eyes lit up and the low, husky chuckle left you feeling completely helpless and completely smitten. You couldn't fight the smile that was forming on your lips and you didn't intend to.

You were forcibly ripped out of your little world by a loud “shh” from a few rows in front of you and both of you had to giggle as he jokingly put his finger above his lips, signaling you to try and be quiet.

“You know. If you’re still not comfortable-” he said in a whisper as he moved a little closer to you. “-just in case you need something to hold onto I mean.” He slid his elbow over to your table. Did he seriously just offer you his arm to hold unto?

“If you’re still not comfortable I mean. You can always hold unto me.” He gave you a shy smile.

What? You couldn't just take him up on the offer, could you? It couldn’t be like that. You’d probably die of a heart attack or embarrassment if you moved any close to him and he would be able to clearly hear your heart beating, which was currently drowning out most of the sounds in the room with it’s deafening noise. Did he really have no problem at all with this? Was he just being nice and considerate or did he maybe just maybe felt that little tiny flame between you kindling as well. He looked at you a little awkwardly, waiting for you to do anything despite staring at him blankly.

Without warning a blood-curdling scream had filled the room and you immediately twitched in your seat, resetting your brain and reminding that you still hadn’t given him an answer.

“Thank you,” you said, your whisper barely audible over the terrifying sound effects that were coming from the movie. You felt like you had already done too much damage but on the other hand he wouldn’t just offer this, would he? And above all it would be unbelievably impolite of you to leave him hanging like this. Yes, it was definitely only your sense of etiquette and not the fact that some part of you, which you didn’t even try to shut up anymore, longed to be closer to him. You slowly scooted your chair in his direction and wrapped your hands around his biceps. You could feel the muscles tense up as you touched him but his face did not change. He probably didn’t want you to pull back immediately. With your thumb you could feel the blood pumping through the veins in his arm, picking up the pace the closer you moved to his side.

Was he nervous?

You couldn’t stop that stupid part of your brain from imagining that he might be. No matter how far-fetched the idea of him liking you or even being remotely interested in you was to you.

You had spent the rest of the movie in that position and his steady breathing and his presence beside you calmed your nerves considerably.

When the credits started to roll you were still clinging onto his arm. The last few minutes of the movie had unlike you expected not ended in a mellow ending of some survivor being rescued or anything of that sort. Instead the maniac of a director or the psychopath of a writer decided to rip the slight chance of a happy ending from your desperate hands and killed everyone in a big gruesome showdown. The credits gave you no sense of relief - your hands still tightly clutching Sungjin’s arm and slightly shaking. Sungjin lightly patted your hand with his own signaling you to let go before the lights would be turned on.

You didn’t want to leave his side and the seconds that his hand lingered on yours told you that maybe he didn’t want that as well. The light turned on and you were torn between wanting to stay in this position forever and not wanting to have that movie go on for even a second. You felt a warm pressure at your side as Sungjin started to move beside you.

“How are you doing? Did you survive?”

“Better than expected but I wouldn’t say I made it through perfectly fine. Survived sums it up rather nicely. Thank you.” You slowly loosened your grip and moved your chair back, the absence of his warmth leaving you feeling a little down. He’d probably be gone within a minute and you were left with only seeing him once a week.

“Are you really okay? You look quite gloomy”

“Yeah I’m fine. It’s okay. Really. I’ll see you next week.”

Sungjin stopped packing his back and hesitated for a second.

“Actually I was thinking of walking you home, if you wouldn’t mind. I’d rest better knowing you arrived safely.”

This time you couldn't hide your blush, the lights were on and he had to have noticed the beet red color of your ears and cheeks.

“Okay,” you said trying to act unfazed by packing your bag and strategically turning your face away from him.

It was a warm late september night. The air was still hot from the summer but the wind already carried a freshness marking the arrival of autumn. The quad was mostly empty by now and you had to admit that you would have probably tried to sprint home hadn’t Sungjin been by your side. The first few meters had been awfully quiet. You hadn’t known what to say and Sungjin seemed to be at a loss as well.

Was he regretting it already?

You turned the corner of the dimly-lit faculty, frantically searching for something you could say. The silence had not been comforting at all instead you could practically feel the awkwardness oozing around the both of you. What were you supposed to talk to him about? Even though you enjoyed having had him this close to you during the movie, you still felt unbelievably embarrassed. This was not your MO. This was not something you usually did. Basically throwing yourself into the arms of the person next to you but on the other hand normally you would have also completely avoided seeing such a movie. So who were you to say that this wasn’t something you would have done.

“I’m sorry,” you said, finally breaking the silence between you.

“For what?”

“For you know… being that clingy and I probably left a couple of bruises. I’m really sorry”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. It’s nothing really. It’s by far better than hearing you sniffle during most of the movie. And to be honest I think you were very brave.”

“Okay, if you say so.” You lifted your head to look at him and saw his lips curl up into a smirk “Wait. Did I just detect a hint of mockery?”

“From me? Noo not at all.” His poker face being non-existent by now.

“You idiot.” You softly punched his upper arm and pouted jokingly.

“Aw come on, don’t be like that. Haven’t I suffered enough tonight?”

You weren’t able to keep a straight face not in the slightest and the both of you broke out into laughter. The initial awkwardness finally left your side closing the distance between the both of you both figuratively and literally.

The rest of the way felt like it was over in seconds. You talked non-stop about everything you could think of. First simply about university, the courses he was taking and how nervous he was when he held his first presentation last week. But as you passed the first dorms, yours still not visible on the horizon you started to talk about stuff outside of uni about how both of you were raised in completely different cities, about how hard it was for you to leave your family and friends behind but also about how exciting it was to finally take a few steps forward. He was wonderfully easy to talk to, listening attentively and sharing his own experience and thought without much hesitation. The conversation just flowed effortlessly and without you really noticing you had already arrived at your dorm.

While you searched the depth of your bag for your key Sungjin had just stood there saying nothing. It felt like he was debating something in his mind, as if he was right here with you but part of him was somewhere else completely.

“I’d like to repeat this,” he spouted suddenly. “But maybe with a less scary movie this time.”

“Are you asking me out?”

“I guess, yeah.” He scratched the back of his head. “Only if you’d like, of course. We could grab something to eat and see a movie or something”

“I’d be delighted.” You gave him a hug and placed a quick kiss on his cheek, which you never thought you’d ever be capable of.

It had just felt right and you didn’t want to take it back. No matter how shocked you were by your unexpected courage, nothing compared to the look on Sungjin’s face. He’d simply frozen in place his mouth ajar and his ears slightly turning red. You couldn’t stop yourself from giggling and he shook his head probably to regain a little bit of consciousness.

“This friday? I’ll pick you up. At 6?”

“That would be wonderful,” you said and you could see Sungjin’s eyes light up as he started to give you what you started to call his most honest and charming smile. A move he by now had used against you many times.

All this had led you to where you were now.

On this construction designed by hell itself in a huge beautiful forest. You’d liked the idea to go on a little trip with Sungjin and had been looking forward to it for the last couple of weeks. Knowing what you were getting into, you had tried to mentally prepare yourself for it but now the drop below your feet was way too real. You held onto his hand tightly and tried your best to stay calm or rather to finally calm down.

“It’s okay. Just take your time,” Sungjin said, not paying any mind to the number of people walking past you and eyeing you curiously. “Just concentrate on the treeline and don’t forget I’m right here and you’re perfectly safe” You looked up at the huge towering pine trees around you and tried to keep your gaze stready. The fresh evening air filled your nose and a soft breeze carried Sungjin’s scent. You felt comforted. You knew he wouldn’t leave you here alone. You knew that he would be there for you and that he even would be fine with you turning around now. But you didn’t want to do that. You wanted to finally show him that all his efforts weren’t in vain. That he gave you the strength to do things you never imagined. That without him you would still not have seen so many beautiful things and that you were eternally grateful for every single day you spent together. The sun was slowly setting behind the tree line and suddenly the forest was filled with a thousand little lights.

“Ah, finally they turned them on,” Sungjin exclaimed, his eyes filled with excitement and wonder. You could not believe how breathtaking it looked within a couple of seconds. The sides of the bridge were illuminated by multiple strings of fairy lights and in the distance you could see them guiding your path further into the forest.

“This is beautiful,” you whispered <,your voice finally not shaking anymore. You let go of his hand and drew him into a kiss, placing both your hands on his cheeks.

“Thank you so much for this.” The light of the fairy lights reflected in his eyes. You truly did love this man. “Let’s go.” One step after the other you finally started to walk across, the person you trusted the most in your life, probably even more than yourself, right by your side.

#Day6 #fanfiction #day6 fanfiction #park Sungjin #sungjin fluff #sungjin x reader #long term relationship #aprils fanfiction #aprils arcadia

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mattzerella-sticks · 4 years

Text

I’m Here (Coda to 1x10 “Brainwave Jr.”, Wildstar pre-slash, 3.2k)

Losing Henry was sad, but it's not the first person Courtney knew whose future was snatched by the Injustice Society of America. That doesn't make his death any less tragic. It does remind Courtney how screwed up and dangerous her life was. At least she was able to wake up the next day and keep moving. And so was Beth, and Rick. But Yolanda...

Where was Yolanda? Courtney needs to know.

Courtney’s bag falls to her wrist as her shoulders sag, expectant tension fizzling out in disappointment. She stands frozen at the corner of the school’s hallway, gaze trained on a familiar and abandoned locker. Students and faculty passing it without a second thought, unaware that its owner will no longer have use for the space and all left inside. While the memory stays fresh because it constantly repeats itself every few seconds, Courtney still woke up thinking it might have been a dream. A projection from Brainwave, forcibly implanted in their minds, instead of the awful truth. That she would walk into school and find Henry going about his day like everyone else.

He’d never get the chance again. Like Joey, Joey’s parents… her dad -

“Hey,” she feels a hand snake itself around her elbow, startling Courtney from her thoughts. Beth offers a kind smile while dragging her past Henry’s old locker. “How are you holding up?”

She glances behind her one last time in punishment, answering without thinking. “Better than Henry.”

“I think we can all say that.” Rick joins them, squeezing Courtney in a loose hug on her other side. Their trio walk in silence until they reach Courtney’s locker, letting her search inside for her books. “Yesterday was fucked up.”

“I can’t believe Mr. King…” Beth hugs herself, shivering, “he always seemed kind of… cold, whenever I would run into him at the hospital. But, to do that – to his own son – that’s…”

“Fucked up?”

She sighs, “Yeah, exactly.”

Rick leans against the lockers, staring ahead with a dazed look in his eye Courtney recognizes. She saw it in her own reflection, after washing her face the night Joey died. Like being dragged from icy waters and left on fragile ice, no protection from the freezing winds slashing your skin like knives. Surviving, but barely. “You kept saying he was a villain. And knowing what we know it wasn’t hard to trust you. But being there and watching… If he was willing to do that to his own son… what’s that mean for any of us?”

Courtney stuffs textbooks into their section, steadying herself with a deep breath. “It means we need to strike them before they get at us,” she tells them, voice bouncing off her locker walls. “To prove that Henry didn’t… didn’t sacrifice himself in vain, and that we can stop his father and the others. Prove to them all that good will triumph and…” Losing steam, she closes her locker with a slam. “And everything else.”

Scoffing, Rick pushes off the locker. “And everything else? Real inspiring speech there, Court.” His sarcasm drips off his words and onto her shoes. “Give us the truth, do we have any chance in beating them? Or are we doomed to end up like Henry?”

Before she can answer him, Beth jumps in. “Of course we do,” she says, a brighter, more genuine smile stretched across her face. “We’re the good guys! Plus, we’ll all be together – I don’t see how they can beat us as a team!”

“Beth…” Rick pinches his brow, fighting the smirk twitching on his lips, “I doubt the power of friendship and teamwork will work on cold-blooded killers.”

“Maybe it will if you let yourself believe. You know, Chuck says –“

“I don’t want to hear what your computer boyfriend has to say.”

“Chuck’s not my boyfriend,” she whispers, shoving at Rick while choking on an awkward chuckle. “And he’s not a computer – he’s an AI. An AI of a superhero, who’s in my backpack and can probably hear us.”

Rick’s good mood finally appears, egged on by teasing Beth. “Sorry,” he says, grabbing for her shoulder. A friendly gesture hiding betrayal because he immediately spins her around, loudly talking with her backpack. “I didn’t mean to offend your AI boyfriend!”

“Rick!”

Watching Beth repeatedly slap Rick should have lifted Courtney’s spirits further. They settle at a halfway point, enough that she knows moping around won’t do any good. For Henry, and everyone else in the town, they need to pick up and carry on. She’s thankful for her friends being there, helping her believe in the muddled speech she gave earlier. Beth, Rick, and –

“Hey,” she interrupts their bickering, looking around, “Where’s Yolanda?”

Her question snuffed what little lightness broke through the heavy darkness. Beth draws her hands back from Rick’s collar, wringing them. “Courtney,” she starts, eyes bouncing around everywhere except Courtney, “do you really expect her to be here. After what happened with Henry…?”

Courtney remembers. Escaping from the underground tunnels, tears streaming down hers and the others’ cheeks. Navigating the dark tunnels, searching for the staircase they came down. Yolanda tripping halfway, a sob ripped from her chest alongside Henry’s name. In the next breath Rick picked her up and shouted, “Keep moving!” Courtney trailing after them, numbly letting Beth lead so she can hold the rear. Brainwave, Dragon King, or any of his cronies could have rushed them at that point; she wasn’t paying attention. She was too busy with Yolanda and how she clung so tight her claws ripped through Rick’s cape. Cycling through a number of phrases that didn’t feel right enough.

It didn’t matter. They stopped running, ten blocks from Cindy’s old house. Gasping, tugging on their masks save for Yolanda. In the space between Rick setting her down and Courtney asking if anyone was hurt, she disappeared.

And she refuses to answer any of Courtney’s texts.

“No,” she tells them, “Did I hope…?”

Rick shrugs sympathetically. “Yolanda needs her space right now,” he says, “her and Henry… shit’s complicated. I doubt she’d be able to fake enough enthusiasm to make it through school like she normally does.”

“But it’s not safe,” Courtney fires back, frowning, “The Injustice Society… Beth’s right. We need to be together. If she’s alone and-and upset, it’d be easy for them to pick her off and…” She replaces Henry’s body with Yolanda’s, a frightening chill rushing through her like Jordan grabbed Courtney with his icy hand and squeezed.

Except it’s not Jordan, it’s Beth again. She lets go of her wrist, stepping away. “If Yolanda’s in danger, she’ll call,” Beth tells her, “Besides, it’s daytime right now. The Injustice Society’s been operating in secret for how long? They won’t risk blowing their cover now. If we haven’t heard from her when school ends, then we can go to Pat and go looking. Okay?”

Courtney nods, stomach uneasy. “Okay.” She bites her lip, thinking. “Also, until this is all… sorted out, I think we should be closer, easier to reach in case there is danger. Like… sleepovers?”

Beth claps, bouncing. “Sleepover!” she gasps, “I’ve always wanted to have a sleepover!”

“You know this will be less about braiding hair and more about keeping us alive, right?” Rick asks, crossing his arms.

“I won’t let that take this victory away from me!”

Courtney looks at Rick. “You in? I’m sure my mom will be cool now that she knows about… everything, but she might have you sleep downstairs.”

He rolls his eyes. “Just tell her I’m gay. That nothing’ll happen.”

“Listen, after the Cosmic Rod, I think I’m done lying to my mom for a while…”

“Good thing it’s not a lie.”

“Oh.” Courtney pauses, letting Rick’s tactless declaration sink in so she won’t continue with a foot in her mouth. She was getting too familiar with the taste of shoe leather. “I’m not sure that’ll change her mind, but it’s good to know. Thank you… for telling us.”

Rick’s mouth stretches in a thin smile, haze faded from his eyes. “Honestly thought you knew.” He and Beth set off from Courtney’s locker, slow in their exit. “You coming? The whole sticking together plan won’t work if you get detention for being late… then we’d all have to get detention –“

“I will not,” Beth says, “Courtney don’t get detention!”

Courtney chuckles, swinging her bag over her shoulder. “I’ll be there, you guys go on ahead…” She waits until they disappear around the corner, her happy expression dropping into seriousness.

Class is the furthest thing on her mind. A waste of her time. She knows what she must do, even if it goes against her own orders. Courtney knows Beth and Rick won’t be mad, though, if her plan works out.

First, she needs to escape. Doing that should take a few minutes, especially with how quickly the halls are emptying. Courtney casually retraces her steps, tiptoeing past closed doors hoping no one spots her. Still, knowing how important it is she leave quickly, Courtney cannot help detouring by the dark training room. Punching bag swinging from the breeze instead of Yolanda’s punches. The dull thud echoing with her grunts, Yolanda truly in her element. In those days when they were still strangers, and she wondered who would join her new Justice Society, Courtney found herself drawn by those noises. Studied her friend’s form and skill, hidden from view. Although Yolanda knew. Always did, but never bothered shooing her off.

Both were glad Yolanda let Courtney watch as long as she did.

“Hey, shouldn’t you be in class?”

Courtney spins, an excuse ready at the draw. She doesn’t use it. Silence preferable given who caught her.

Cameron’s brows dip in confusion, “Hey, Courtney… you okay?” He waves his hand in front of her face, Courtney flinching despite herself. There wasn’t any frost.

“Sorry, Cameron,” she says, slouching, “you caught me off guard.”

“No kidding…” He pulls tighter on his backpack strap, other hand buried in his pocket. “So… what’re you doing?”

Nothing she can tell him about. When Courtney pieced together Jordan’s identity, she briefly considered what it meant for her and Cameron. She did mourn the possibility of something more happening between them, but the biggest feeling Courtney had about that being over was relief. “I was on my way to the bathroom,” she lies, “because of… girl issues.”

He blinks at her. “Girl issues?”

“Y’know,” she gestures at her body, “the usual. Think I’d get a break because of the accident, but no… time stops for no woman.”

Cameron understands, a slight blush dusting his pale cheeks. “Oh, I… I hope you feel better,” he says, shifting on his feet, “Hey, if you’re not busy later –“

“Sorry Cameron, gotta go!”

Courtney disappears, rushing off from the scene. She doesn’t stop until she sees the doors leading to the parking lot, practically barreling into them. However they refuse her, knocking her away. Not taking rejection lightly, Courtney tries again. And again. Rattles the push bar so loudly she’s sure anyone in a five-mile radius can hear her. Huffing, Courtney kicks the door and collapses against it.

“Stupid… door… why won’t you… open…?”

She hears someone clear their throat behind her, Courtney tensing. Peeling herself off the door, Courtney sees the school’s janitor standing a few feet away. Staring disapprovingly, no doubt frowning from behind his bushy beard. Mop held at his side like a sword, scabbarded in its bucket. “Are you trying to leave?”

“Leave?” Courtney snorts, waving his question off, “No… why would I – that’s…” Wincing, she braces for what comes next. “Please don’t tell the principal!”

Eyes closed, she hears what happens next. How the janitor walks closer, mop bucket rolling after him like a trusty steed. His soft humming accompanied by the jingling of a few keys. Finally, the squeaking of hinges as the doors open. Courtney pries her eyes open, gaping at the janitor. He holds it open for her, waiting.

“I don’t understand,” she says, “Why’re you -?”

“I’m sure there are more important places you need to be.”

While cryptic, Courtney shoves her suspicions aside. Questioning her janitor can be saved for a later date, when she can ask Pat if any of the Injustice Society had beards, talked in a strange accent, and were named Justin. Until then, Courtney thanks him and runs outside. Finds the Rod waiting at the parking lot’s entrance, hovering in place. “Hey,” she says, petting its head, “I know you need your rest, but…”

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

She was in the woods. Courtney descends from the sky, silent, as Yolanda tears through another tree. Many others laid strewn about the bloodless battlefield, victims of her claws. Given the amount, Courtney guesses Yolanda was there all night. She hadn’t gone home, slept, ate, or even changed her outfit. The Wildcat bodysuit looked duller, dust from the tunnel’s debris untouched. Peering closer, Courtney saw some in her hair.

Rick was right. This is some complicated shit.

Yolanda stops, one hand raised above about to slice through more wood. “I know you’re there Courtney,” she says, “can you please leave me alone?”

Courtney jumps off the Rod, it flying off like it knew they should have space. “I think alone is the last thing you should be.” She walks closer, careful. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She swings her hand down, Courtney wincing as metal nails meet wood. “Not really.”

Nodding, Courtney changed course and sat on one of the fallen logs. Watched Yolanda finish eviscerating the tree’s trunk until it couldn’t stand any longer. The tree fell onto one of the others with a loud crash. Its death wail hiding Yolanda’s own screams that left her ragged and clutching onto the base of the trunk. Courtney’s heart twists at the sight, and her fingers twitch on her knees. She doesn’t move, though.

“Feel better?”

Yolanda catches her breath. She punctures the trunk with her claws, voice a deep growl. “No,” she says, “because it wasn’t Brainwave. None of them were Brainwave.”

Studying the massacre again, a heavy weight settles in her stomach. “Yolanda,” she starts, “are you seriously thinking of killing –“

“Yes.” Yolanda turns on her heel, facing Courtney. Shoulders squared and head held high, she almost convinced Courtney. Except her bottom lip wobbles slightly. “After what he did to his own son? What he promised to do to you, your family… there’s only one way of stopping him.”

“Yolanda,” Courtney stands, frowning, “you can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because we’re the good guys,” she hisses, striding closer, “Good guys don’t kill. We stop the people who want to kill.” On instinct she grabs for Yolanda’s wrist, only for the other girl to snatch it away. Nerves fraying at the action.

“Funny,” she scoffs, glaring, “were you the good guy when you fried his brains? When you put him in a coma?”

Courtney blushes, faltering somewhat. “It was an accident,” she tells Yolanda, “I had only just gotten the Rod. I didn’t mean to –“

“Which is why he’s still walking. Why he was able to…” Yolanda skips over the words, shaking her head. She pops her claws, holding them between her and Courtney. “I won’t make the same mistake you made.”

“Yolanda…” she sighs, running a hand through her hair. She’s conflicted. A small voice in her head sides with her friend, thinking how a man as awful as Henry King doesn’t deserve life if he would so flippantly take it from people he should care about – like his wife and son. But another one, a voice she thinks is her father’s, overpowers the crueler instinct. “I won’t let you make that mistake.”

“I. Don’t. Care,” she spits, slashing the air, “I’ll go at him by myself if I have to. Let him try and stop me.”

Again, the image of Yolanda buried under a pile or rubble pops into view. Seeing it spurs Courtney forward, and she seizes her friend’s hand despite the sharp nails. “No! He’ll kill you!”

“Courtney –“

“Please, Yolanda,” she says, trusting her gut as she drags Yolanda into a hug despite her rigidness. “Please… don’t go after him alone. You saw what he can do, I can’t… just, promise me.”

The silence stretches on more than Courtney would like, but thankfully Yolanda agrees. “Fine,” she says, “I won’t go after him alone.” She shifts in Courtney’s hold, “But I have to… he has to pay, for what he did to Henry.”

Courtney curls her fingers around Yolanda’s neck, closing her eyes. “Do you think Henry would want you to kill his dad?”

Yolanda shudders, breath wet on Courtney’s neck. She waits as the other girl considers her question, defenses slowly crumbling. Her arms rise and wrap around Courtney’s back while a sob breaks free. “It’s not fair,” she hiccups, “it’s not fair!”

“I know Yolanda, I know…”

“No, it… I spent so much time hating Henry. Believing he was nothing more than an evil bully. Convincing myself that if he were to die, that I wouldn’t feel a thing. Hell, I almost eviscerated him myself. There were so many times that I could, that I wanted to. I mean, he ruined my life. But at the end I… I still loved him.” Her knees wobble, so Courtney guides them to the floor. Courtney kneeling, with Yolanda stretched out across her lap. “And now he’s gone. Because he trusted his father to be a good man, when really he’s scum. Maybe we could’ve worked on what we had, or maybe I could have forgiven him. That was taken away from me. He died and I couldn’t forgive him. I still can’t forgive him for what he did… even after he gave his life for us. I’m not a good guy Courtney. I’m an animal…”

“You’re not an animal Yolanda,” Courtney tells her, stroking her hair. She tucks her head under chin, resting on the helmet. “Yolanda, you’re a hero. You’re exactly the kind of person I knew you were when I gave you Wildcat’s costume. And what Henry did… what Brainwave did, that doesn’t change anything. Because you’re strong. That’s why you never gave in, why you won’t let yourself kill Brainwave even though every part of you may want to. You won’t let yourself sink to their level.”

“I’m tired of having to be strong all the time,” Yolanda says, “Why can’t it be easy?”

Courtney sighs, “I wish they were. I wish my dad wasn’t a superhero, and he and all the others weren’t killed. But he's gone, and they’re gone… so it’s up to us to stop the bad guys.”

“Do we have to stop them now?”

Pausing, Courtney’s lips quirk up in a tiny smile. “No… no, not right now. We can just sit here and be easy. Sound okay with you?”

Yolanda nods, “I’d like that.”

They stay like that for a while, Courtney holding Yolanda. Rocking her slowly, gently like the waves. Yolanda’s body relaxes in her arms, breaths evening until Courtney thinks she’s asleep. When she says the other girl’s name and gets no response, she continues at a whisper. “I’m sorry so much has been taken from you,” Courtney tells her, staring up at the cloudless sky, “I won’t let them take anything else. We’re going to beat them. You, me… Beth, Rick, even Pat… we’re the Justice Society. The good guys. Good always wins in the end.”

In the forest, surrounded by fallen trees and with a slumbering Yolanda in her lap, Courtney finally believes in what she said. The lingering shadows of Henry’s death shed from her mind, the wisps disappearing into the sky. A hushed voice breaks through her lazy thoughts, thanking Courtney. Before she can wonder who said that, Yolanda stirs in her grasp.

Distracted, Courtney soothes her tired friend. “It’s okay Yolanda, I’m here… nothing will happen. And if it does? I’ll protect you…”

#stargirl #stargirl cw #1x10 brainwave jr #courtney whitmore #wildcat #yolanda montez #beth chapel #rick tyler #wildstar #stargirl x wildcat #stargirl fic #wildstar fic

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saintheartwing · 4 years

Text

Jeremy Spoke In Class Today

Author's Note: I've had this story idea in mind for years. Today, I finally wrote it out. So...trigger warning. The follow content isn't for the faint of heart. The story you're reading is going to contain violent imagery. Harsh depictions of violence and death. I write this story not to make you disgusted, but in inspiration from a very famous song about this very subject matter, and as a warning to all who may be on the verge of becoming their own Jeremies.

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"I want you to tell me what happened."

The air is sultry, choking the life out of those that sit in the room. It's quiet. Still. Uncomfortable. Every single person that's been in this room has to tell him what they saw. It's just them and the cop. The cop is trying to go easy on them, he speaks quietly, softly, carefully. There's a social worker just to his right, in case any of the children start to cry.

None of them have yet. That's good.

Right?

The first interviewed had blood splattered all over his right eye. It doused his glasses, his black jacket, a splotch falling on the dark blue undershirt he wore, with the "meh" looking cartoony face atop it. His black hair is slicked up in a scythe, his skin paler than usual. He's quiet and somber as he speaks.

"I would…see him drawing in class. Stuff he'd taken from home."

Dibbun Membrane kneads his hands together in his lap. His breathing is shallow, but he speaks all the same.

"Drawing pictures of mountaintops, with him on top. Lemon yellow sun, arms raised in a "v"." Dib confesses as he bits his lip, and looks down at the desk. If he closes his eyes, he can still see them, and see himself. He sees himself peering to the left, looking at Jeremy. Jeremy, who's got so little hair that the kids tease him for going bald so early. Jeremy, who has the kind of fat, sort of ugly nose. Who's got small ears, and a kind of skinny frame. Dib can see him, drawing at his desk, drawing himself as king of the mountain.

And the dead lie in pools of maroon below.

"I know he talked about…how his dad didn't pay attention to him. We had that in common." Dib goes on. "I'd bring it up to him too. My dad can't even remember exactly when my birthday is. The last time we ate out together as a family was when it was my birthday last year. My sister's having her's coming up soon, then it'll be mine. Every other meal, there this…robot. It asks us in our Dad's voice if we love him, and we gotta select "yes" on the screen before it lets us have our food." Dib confesses. "So I told him "How sad is that? I've had a dad replaced with a TV screen that keeps asking for love and can't show it"."

"What did he say?" The cop wants to know, though, deep down, he really isn't sure he wants to.

Dib sighs. "He said "Yeah. Sucks. But I'd rather have that than a Dad who IS there…and even though he's looking at you, he isn't seeing you". That's what he told me. His Dad never actually talked to him. Doesn't ask ONE question about how his day or week's gone. And his mom's no better. She doesn't care. She's only there every once in a while, she's always working, like…some kind of lawyer, I think. She's some kind of lawyer. And then there's the birthday gifts."

"What did he get?"

"A card and a little check." Dib sighs. "I know a lot of kids who'd love that, but there's never any parties. And they don't even put anything in the card. Not even their name. He showed me that too when he showed me the check. I think he used the checks to save up for that…for what he brought in to class." Dib murmurs as he rubs the back of his neck, feeling the air choking his throat again. "So his dad isn't paying attention, and his mother doesn't care. So what does he have left? Isn't it sad when I'M his only real friend and we're only really…like, we just talk sometimes at Recess or lunch. That's…wow. I mean…just…" He trails off.

There's silence for what seems like ages. Then he speaks up again, and says the same thing the other boy said, the one with the bad black hair, the green skin, who didn't have a nose or ears.

"Then one day he attacked Ms. Bitters."

"He attacked a teacher?"

"We all remember picking on the boy. Zim especially. He was a…what's your term? Lightweight? Pathetic. As Torque Smacky put it, a "harmless little fuck"." Zim goes on. He's wearing his normal dark maroon shirt, three small stripes across it, dark pants, boots, gloves. He looks oddly…cold. He's usually smug in class. Or frowning. His face is different. It's almost expressionless. It is as if he's trying to comprehend something but can't.

"How did he attack Ms. Bitters?"

"We had no idea we'd unleashed a lion." Zim goes on. "He was yelling at Torque. Torque had insulted him again. Jeremy actually does something Zim approves of, and kicks him squarely in the face. It's glorious, his nose is broken on the spot." Zim nods firmly. "Torque begins tearing the kid's hair out as they tumble about on the ground, and Jeremy, in turn, begins biting Torque wherever he can. Ms. Bitters slithers her way onto the playground and everyone turns silent. We had all been cheering and jeering, laughing, pumping our fists into the air, the cry of "Fight, Fight, Fight" stops at once. Zim sees her forcibly lift Torque and Jeremy off the ground. She shakes them, first Jeremy, then Torque. She's turning to Torque to admonish him after she's got Jeremy in one hand, but it isn't a good grip, and he breaks free, and then it happened."

"He bit her?"

"He bites her on the chest." Zim rests his hands on the desk he's sitting at, faint dust motes wafting through the air about him as he speaks. "I've never seen her look so…astounded. Jeremy is screaming. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you", and he punches her in the face, and her glasses shatter. The skies are all cloudy and it looks like it might rain, and she just stares at him. Zim can SEE the slowly building rage. She's going to kill him on the spot. It was amazing. I'd never seen such raw fury in two human faces before."

He almost sounds…intoxicated. Impressed.

"I was just…astounded by it. He gets hauled off, by his arms, into the school. He's got detention for a week. We find out he even got a paddling from Ms. Bitters, and as he walks by me in the hallway a day later, I look down and see his pants have been ripped. Ms. Bitters had been paddling him so hard that morning that she tore his pants and he can't go home to get new ones. So I laugh. I sing that human song, "I see Paris, I see France, Zim can see your underpants". Something like that."

The green-skinned child rubs his cheek. Not two hours ago, blood was dripping down it, splattered over his left eye to drizzle down his cheek and onto his shirt and his arm. Jeremy's blood.

"He hits me with a surprise left hook. He almost breaks my jaw. MY jaw." Zim speaks. "I had no idea humans could hit so hard."

"…it is a mortal sin."

Sara can barely bring herself to speak. She's from a very Catholic family and she commonly dresses as a nun. She's been clutching her rosaries and fumbling with her words and she won't look the cop in the face.

"He's done a mortal sin. You cannot ever, ever, EVER do such a thing. I don't understand why you'd damn yourself to Hell like that, he-his…his head. His head!" She murmurs. She grips the rosaries so tightly, her knuckles whiten. The cop almost thinks they're going to pop right out of the skin. "There was…yellow stuff. Not just…not just the blood, and all that pink but…yellow stuff. Wh-where does the yellow stuff even come from?"

"I understand this must be very difficult for you to talk about." The cop tries to say, Sara feeling the tears springing to her eyes.

"So much of it." She murmurs. "So much of that…yellow stuff. And…and the yellow stuff, it…it got all over the blackboard. They will never erase that. We will never, ever forget this." She whispers out.

"Did Jeremy ever talk to you or anyone else in class about his problems at home? Did he ever talk to anyone about being…mad? Or very angry? Or sad? Did he ever bring up weaponry?" The cop wants to know. Nick has that…odd expression on his face. He, like Jeremy, is missing a good chunk of his head. His skull needed surgery, his brain, like Jeremy's, exposed. But he has a polymer plate from the surgery, his brain is still intact. It isn't in pieces, splattered in splotches like a Pollock painting. Nobody's sure how Nick got the injury to his head, evidently there was some kind of drill that got stuck in his skull, and he had to be rushed to the hospital with a probe removed from his cranium. It's a miracle he can talk. But his smile is unholy. He's…

Laughing.

"Jeremy hardly ever spoke. But Jeremy spoke in class today! Jeremy spoke in class today!" Nick laughs. His smile is horrifying, his laughter sends chills down the cop's spine. "Spoke in…spoke in. Yeah…spoke in class today."

He knows he won't really get much else out of him. The cop dismisses him. He's the last child to be interviewed. Ms. Bitters remains oddly silent. She's waiting outside to be called in, but hasn't said a word. When it finally is her time to speak, when he asks her what happened, her voice is creaky and croaky and she seems miles away.

"I've never, ever had this happen." She takes off her glasses, rubbing them on a hankerchief in her pocket. "Ever. This sort of thing never happened in my day."

"When did you realize he intended to do what he did?"

"He said he had something from his parents that he had to give to me. He'd left it in his locker, he said. He walks out of my room. Five minutes later, he's come back. I don't see what's in his pocket. I should have realized something was wrong. Nick starts….laughing. Just this creepy, foul, laughter, and then, THEN as he raises his arm up, pulling his hand out of his pocket, he says "I've got what I came for." He puts the gun in his mouth, and then his upper head vanishes, and everything's all red and pink and…some…yellow stuff."

She can't say any more. The room is dead silent, and still. It's gone cold, too, as the pitter patter of rain turns into a low roar against the windows. The cop doesn't say anything as Ms. Bitters once again cleans her glasses and then looks out the window.

"It just got…everywhere. I didn't think that somebody could small could have so much blood in him. He's still standing upright for a good…twenty seconds. And we can see parts of his skull have flown up into the ceiling tiles. Then one of them falls out, and when it hits the ground, he collapses, and his blood is pooling out, and it's soaking into Dib and Zim's shoes. And that's when I hear Sara screaming, and Nick is laughing, and he keeps saying "Jeremy spoke in class today". Over and over and over…"

The boy's parents are being informed of what's happened. Neither of them have any explanation for how Jeremy got hold of a gun. They didn't even seem to be aware he even HAD been being paddled at school. Evidently Jeremy was supposed to tell his parents of his punishment. Whether he did or didn't isn't known, but the cop is fairly sure Jeremy did. They just weren't really listening.

The crime scene is a mess. Jeremy's desk even more so, scattered pictures lying inside, with the boy atop a mountain, arms raised in a "v", and the dead lay in pools of maroon below.

How do things get so bad that you resort to this? Why did nobody speak out? Reach out? Could anything any of the children have stopped this with some kind words? Or perhaps it really was all on the fault of the parents?

The cop doesn't know.

The children, however, do. Or at least…Dib does. And he'll remember what happened that day, and take it to the grave. He will never forget the way Jeremy's head vanished in the flash of the gunfire. The splattering of blood on his glasses, the bone fragment that shot up, up into the air, and plunked off his desk and onto the floor below. He can't forget that horrible, insane laughter from Nick. How Zim looked so...stunned. Almost broken.

Dib wonders if Zim's ever actually seen a dead body before in his life. Dib had, when his mother died. This was different.

He's not going to forget. Not ever.

He will always remember the day Jeremy spoke in class.

And he's going to have a little talk with his father. Before it becomes his turn to talk in class.

#horror #drama #invader zim #Zim #Dib #school #tragedy #Pearl Jam #fanfiction #fanfic

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ajokeformur-ray · 5 years

Text

Lay all your love on me // Joker x Reader // soft comfort for you.

This is the twin piece to Beacon of Hope; I wrote it once again for @rebs-doom in the hopes that this will also comfort her. I’m so happy that Arthur’s one helped you!

Summary: Joker isn’t happy. You’re not okay, and he can’t have that. So he does the only thing he knows how to do - he questions you closely enough that he shatters your already crumbling walls and vows to pick up the pieces with you.

TW; same as Arthur’s one - reader and Joker smoking, swearing, suicidal ideation, dissociation, angst and fluff. Heavy feelings are described here so if this may affect you, then please either read with care or skip this one.

Word count: 1, 373.

Joker leaned against the open bedroom door, his arms folded over his chest and his index finger tapping erratically against his red blazer. You hadn’t noticed him yet. Though you had a preference for lying on the floor over lying on the sofa or the bed, tonight you were doing just that; you were curled up in bed on Joker’s side, a cigarette between your lips and a book in the other hand. The radio played quietly and every now and then would you hum along.

Joker knew that your heart wasn’t in it, though.

You were just doing what you could to stay distracted from the demons inside your head.

“I make that,” Joker squinted up at the ceiling, mentally tallying up how many cigarettes you had smoked today. Fuck, but your lungs hurt. You felt like you shouldn’t have been smoking this much today but the other part of you really just didn’t care. So you would die young. Fuck it. “Twenty nine cigarettes. You gonna stop at that one?”

“Probably not.” You exhaled as you spoke, your voice a sigh.

Joker pushed away from the door frame after a tense moment of just staring at you, his eyes seeing far more than you would have thought. To an outsider, he looked like he was curious. In reality, though, he was able to look right into you and see everything that you were trying so hard to hide. He took his time in closing the door, resting his forehead against the cool wood for a moment as he fought himself for some composure. He hated seeing you in so much pain. He turned to you, then, his dyed green strands seeming brighter in the natural light of the room, and said, “Game’s up, sweetheart. You gonna tell me what’s going on in that complex little mind of yours?”

“Nope.” You popped the ‘p’, still staring off into space. Joker was a red blur in your vision and you blinked, caring little for how cold you could be coming across. You had seen each other in worse states, anyway.

Joker narrowed his green oceans. “And why is that?”

Your bottom lip quivered a little and you bit down on it. “Because I’m hanging on by a thread. And I can’t - “ You closed your eyes against the sting of tears and took another deep drag. As you exhaled, a single tear slipped down your cheek, and that was all Joker needed.

In an instant was your cigarette, almost burned down to the filter, plucked unceremoniously from your hand. Joker took a long, deep drag, finishing it off, and he stubbed it out on the bedside table, drawing a smiley face with the smouldering ashes. He made it to the other side of the bed in the same instant, his eyes bloodshot from how hard he was trying not to cry. Your pain had always been his pain; you were so in love with each other, so close mentally and physically, that any emotion either of you felt was felt just as strongly by the other. Laying on each other’s side of the bed, you were reminded of all the intimate conversations that occurred in this room, of all the times you had held one another after a nightmare or all the times you had brought each other to a toe curling orgasm after a long day. Images of your lives together so far flashed through your mind and as Joker reached out a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, a broken cry ripped its way out of your throat as your walls finally, finally came crumbling down.

As you began to cry, to really cry, Joker couldn’t help feeling a small amount of pride. He had been the one to break down your walls; sure, it hadn’t taken a sledge hammer but he had had to chip away at you, piece by piece, glance by glance, and now he could see you in your rawest, most vulnerable state. He was so proud of you. His own tears slipped down his painted cheeks, the blue triangles dripping down his face and creating an expression on his face that matched your own. The wide painted smile so greatly contrasted with the tears that you felt, even in your state, that it perfectly encapsulated your Arthur; he laughed when he wanted to cry, he cried when he wanted to laugh; he was so often at odds with himself but now... oh, but now was he free from all that had been holding him down, holding him back. Was it really so bad that he had stepped into himself and gotten comfortable? You didn’t think so.

“I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. I’m so scared that everything is just a joke, that you’re gonna get sick of me and you’re gonna leave. You’re all I have. I don’t want to be alone.”

Facing you as he was, Joker couldn’t stop the tears pouring down his face. They fell hot and fast but he ignored his own tears in favour of wiping yours away. “Everything I do is for you,” he murmured, “to keep you safe and happy. You have been by my side through all of it and that kind of loyalty is something I will never forget. Don’t you see how loved you are?”

You reached out, blinking quickly. The edges of your consciousness flickered back into view and it was with a sudden mental jolt that the room seemed brighter, the sheets under your body suddenly felt warmer and life came flooding back into you as Joker drew you out of your dissociation without even trying. It was unprecedented the effect he had on you. “Please don’t leave me. Please.” As you shifted forward to seek physical comfort did he also move, recognising the signs that you had come back into yourself after days of dissociating and functioning on auto pilot; and your bodies collided together, Joker shoving a leg between yours to anchor you to him. He pulled you so close into his front that not even a sheet of paper could have gotten between your bodies, and as you wrapped your arms around his middle did his hands cup your face. Joker angled your head upwards so that he could kiss all over your face, his lips so soft and gentle against your face that it only made you cry harder as you clutched at his red suit. You were wrinkling it but you didn’t, couldn’t care. Not when he was being so tender and gentle with you. He was so Arthur in moments like this that you were forcibly reminded that they were one and the same person and that Joker was who Arthur had always been. The man you so dearly loved and cherished had always been right beside you.

“I would burn this world to the ground if anyone dared to try and take you from me.” His words, so violent, were at odds with the soft lilt of his voice, the way his bloodshot eyes were looking at you with so much love, the way his lips were kissing away the physical signs of your pain, the way his leg between yours was keeping you attached to him. “You’re all I have.”

You smiled, tears slowing their descent as you gazed at Joker. Gods, but he was beautiful. “You save my life every day.”

Joker’s eyes hardened. His jaw set. His nostrils flared exactly once and his soothing hold on your face tightened minutely. “The next time you feel this way, tell me. I want to be here for you. You’re never alone because you have me.” He tightened his grip on your face just a little more, dipping his head so he could kiss you fully on your lips, his mouth commanding yours. You gave in, sunk into his comforting weight, fell into his touch and allowed Joker to love you just as he always had and always would.

A promise was made on this night and Joker would hold you to it. He wouldn’t accept anything less than all of you, just as you had accepted all of him.

The Arthur Fleck/Joker Defense Squad @writings-of-a-gen-z @x-avantgarde-x @insomniabird @mavalenovaninagavi @itwasrealenough @morrisonmercurymalek @rand0ms-fand0ms @rafaelina-casillas @aclownthing @rebs-doom @vivft @help-i-am-obssessed@autumnaffection @taintednihilist @vladtoly @mg-woolf99@misstgrey92 @that-s-life @dopey-girl-blogs @seeking-dreamland @sweetheart-syndrome @heartxfdesire @xmusichealsthesoulx @0callmejude0 @the-one-that-likes-riddles @hannibalsslut @folliaght @freeeshavacadoo @bingewatchingmylifegoby @unlovedbyeveryoneandeverything @okamiredfoxx @sp0okysp0oky @the-pandorabox @mardema @jibanyyan @honeyflvredcoughdrop @emissarydecksetter @jokerfleckk @epidendroideae @chuuntas @stillmabel @pumpkinpeyes @onehystericalqueenposts @the-jokers-wolf @nalsswa @justahyena @arianatheangelworld @soullessblondbitch @gothamslittlejester @twentyonestarrynights @sirianfromsixties @kissmeclownman @joker-is-my-hero @lazyloosah @lovesickkloxx @ladylovelyluna @live-love-loki @clownerybbxx @tragicarthur @anmach123 @rommie-chan @arthurflock @lucyboytom @anti-peach @ immortal-bi-bitch @hearthurfleck @crazieroutthere @curlystark @hailmary-yramliah @sagyunaro @playinthedarktillitsgoldenagain

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