#⤷ ❛ ARE YOU STILL MY PUPPY ? / ( shadow x laura ) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

writingsofmyimagination · 4 years

Text

28 Days |2|

GIF by: @suggamiin

Genre: Werewolf Au (Jimin x Reader) Part 1

Rating:18+

Summary: You’re relationship with Jimin has flourished. Your maker wanting to claim you as his pushes Jimin and your adoptive pack to the old ways.

Word Count:7540

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, violence (wolf and human), Smut - Ice play, slight exhibitionism, sleepy sex. Slight Dom Jimin

Originally this was only going to be one part, now it’s two (I’ve tagged the people who mentioned about wanting a second part...Thank you!)

@safi4x @nerdygaloresposts @sockie-the-dumbass @jimin-75

And now i have basically just finished writing an epilogue for this so if you want to be tagged hit me up! (up by this friday)

Please enjoy all the sin!!

The Yaegerbomb burned your throat with sweet victory after beating all the guys to empty the glass first. The pumping of the bass from the latest dance hit reverberated right through your chest like an irritating drum. You were shoved and pushed from the side alerting you your time at the bar was done, next, move along. Laura glared daggers to the unknowing inebriated guy. You lifted the pair of glasses dripping with condensation from the bar. Over your head of course to preserve the precious liquid inside. Only lowering to normal height when the fanfare of the bar was passed and the booth you were inhabiting was in safe sight.

“Remind me again why we go OUT to drink?” you put to the group.

“To celebrate another uneventful full moon” Hobi beamed, face flushed red, eyes only half focused.

“To celebrate your third one with us” Laura added shifting back into the bright red, fake leather half crescent seating. You chose to remain standing, resting on the sticky table. Jimin hooked his hand round your waist and pulled you in between his legs.

“Yeah but we can do all of that you know, with PYJAMAS on, AT HOME!”

“We’re not all hermits like you babe, we actually like to let off steam after a forced change” Jimin teased, increasing the grip momentarily on your hip. You turned with a smirk

“Being surrounded by a bunch of alcohol infused people all compacted together is not how I’d choose to let off steam” You relaxed in-between his legs a bit more, perching in between the warm thighs.

“Yeah and we all know how you prefer to let off steam” Yoongi blurted out toying with you. Even with the flashing lights momentarily shining on his new dirty blonde hair that did nothing to brighten the dark teasing look in his expression. Your mouth in a playful shocked “o”. The others giggled knowingly; you shared your feigned look of surprise with all of them.

“Oh come on, if you’re both not disappearing to one of the spare rooms at the house you reek of it”

Yoongi was not wrong.

“Your point being?” you chuckled back in response with half a glare. Yoongi just responded with an amused smile signalling his defeat.

“Exactly” The last swig of your drink hit you the wrong way. You needed air! In a trying to be cool rush you zig zagged and criss-crossed your way through the buzzing crowd; completely failing to notice Jungkook watching you leave from across the dancefloor.

You took yourself down the alley that backed onto the club. You attempted calming, slow breathes attempting to ease the chaotic nausea in your stomach. The orange hue of a street light was failing in its job to illuminate clearly where you stood. The pound of the bass was heavier and throbbing more and more around your skull with your enhanced hearing and spinning vision.

Nausea slowly seeping off, a familiar smell painted over the dampness of the alley. You were not mentally equip to deal with Jungkook in whatever approach this was.

“Jungkook now is not..”

“I saw you head out in your ‘I’m pretending to be casual escape walk’ and just wanted to see if you were okay”

His heart was annoyingly in a good place, you were also now low key irritated that it had to be your cheating ex with a years’ experience of you to notice. You had to tell yourself as much as you and Jimin had something completely out of this world you’d only known each other a matter of months. So it’s a given that some delicate details about each other were still yet to be discovered.

“I think you’ve lost the privilege to be concerned about me don’t you” Your defensive tone was also infused with bitterness. His eyes bloomed wide, the annoyance that started to fill in his gaze quickly morphed into deep regret and sadness.

“Well I don’t see Jimin here” he muttered, pettiness shining through.

He had to go there

You straightened yourself up

“What and that gives you some sort of upper hand. Jungkook it’s over, you have to deal with it” Your frown was lethal.

“If I could take it back I would, you’re the one I want to be with, you’re the one I lo..”

“Don’t even! Just leave!”

Your previous relationship with him now finally served a good purpose; the look you shot him was one he KNEW meant you were done and not to be argued with. Your whole body sighed with relief as well as at the daunting prospect of going back inside to the social nightmare of clubbing. You were briefly aware of a shadow shrouded figure entered the alley

Brushing your lack of motivation off your leather skirt you stood up straight and started to head back in, in the direction of the new alley inhabitant

Before you had a chance to react to the unmistakeable scent of a werewolf your back was shoved into the cold wall. Your utter disbelief and shock rendered you near defenceless. His body pushed up fiercely against you barricading you in. One of his hands firmly silencing any cries from your throat. He delved his face into your neck inhaling harshly as you struggled against him

“I’d recognise my scent anywhere” he growled.

“And what a catch you are” he added. The tar like of his eyes, only broken by the raging gold flecks

Wait is he…

One of his hands dipped and started creeping up your thigh. Adrenaline flushed through your system like wild fire, screaming into his hand; trying to thrash yourself free. Your wished you heart that was smashing into your ribcage would smash through your chest and into his jaw.

You drew air into your lungs, the cold fresh air burned down your trachea. The cool air whooshing around you as the creep was flung crashing into the brick’s opposite. With his body out the way Jimin was shooting sharpened daggers to the body on the ground.

“What the Fuck do you think you’re playing at” Jimin snarled taking a step to be more in front of you shielding you.

“Well if it isn’t one of Yoongi’s puppies” The man responded with venom scrambling to his feet

“Jimin…” His attention and head shifted towards you. Big mistake. Your eyes blooming wide was the only warning he got of the impending attack; it was too little too late. A powerful punch landed square on his jaw followed by a loud grunt from him and a high pitch scream from you. His balance lost for a moment. Recovering strong, his eyes now glaring almost glowing red; saturated with nothing but rage. Jimin lunged going for the jugular, your peripheral vision caught intense, sudden movement.

“ENOUGH!” Yoongi’s voice boomed down the alley. Jimin obediently stopped dead in his tracks, fear sparkling in his and the creep’s eyes.

The way they both glared at Yoongi you thought they’d both be bowing. He approached all of you, his presence calming your nerves. Nothing would get out of control with him around.

“Jimin enough, go and sort yourself out, Y/N go with him!” he barked. You nodded dragging Jimin under the street light to evaluate the damage on his face. Blood was dripping down his chin, you managed to catch it on your sleeve before it dripped onto his shirt. His lip was split, not too badly thankfully.

“Trevor I don’t need to tell you this is neutral territory”

“Neutral or not she’s ours and you know it”

“You turned her and left her! You had no idea she existed until tonight” Yoongi snapped back. Jimin kept batting away your concerned hands at his face.

“You know that’s not how it works; Max will be hearing about this. She’s mine!”

“Good, at least this will be handled the proper way according to you guys anyway. And I think you’ll find she’s spoken for. She isn’t property it’s 2020 you asshole” Yoongi spat. There was a warmth inside you, Yoongi standing up for you was sweet and comforting for what it was worth. Trevor spat some blood on the floor through a devil glare and stomped off down the alley.

“Jimin, take y/n back to mine, you can stay there tonight just as a precaution”

“But Jungkook will be home” you protested

“I’ll be fine” you added

“I’ve seen what he’s been drinking and I heard you shun him so he’ll be drinking a hell of a lot more, I doubt he’ll be home for a while and even when he does he’ll be fucked okay! It’s not a request y/n”

Before you had a chance to protest further Jimin pulled you past the others and made your way back to Yoongi’s.

“Stop faffing and let me look after you” You scolded Jimin for the umpteenth time. His split lip had stopped bleeding and had started to swell. You were trying to combat this by holding a tea towel shrouding ice cubes to his face. You were sat on your legs next to Jimin who’d just slouched on the sofa.

“I’m fine, it’ll be cleared in a day or two, stop fussing”

“But it’s my fault, if I hadn’t called you…”

“Babe its fine” he reassured taking your hand that was aimed for his cheek.

“Promise?”

“Yes, stop worrying” After a prolonged stare, ending in his diamond sweet smile reigning victorious.

“God I can’t believe that asshole is my maker” you slumped further down onto your legs.

“What did they mean settle it the right way? Am I going to cause you guys a lot of trouble being in your pack?” In your drunk state your thoughts had started to spiral and Jimin knew it, pulling you onto his lap.

“Hey, hey. Stop! You trust Yoongi yeah?

“Yes, of course I do” you responded almost offended

“Well then trust him to deal with it”

“But what needs to happen?” you pushed further. Jimin was hesitant for a second, wanting to avoid getting into it; especially when he had you unconsciously squirming on his lap.

“Well normally nothing would, we’re normally free to go to any pack as long as they accept you. Technically you don’t even need to be in one but seeing as wolves are social animals it tends to happen. But Max’s group live in the dark ages mentally so they see it as if they made you, you are theirs and that’s it; you have to go with them”

“So what if it’s challenged?” you urged

“The two packs will need to fight for you”

“WHAT!”

“I’m not having anyone fight for me!”

“I know, I know, but it’s just how it’s got to be done with these guys”

“Uggh!” you groaned shifted off of him and headed to Yoongi’s room.

“Where are you going?”

“To get an oversized shirt to wear to bed”

“Wear mine” his shirt was already peeled off and being offered to you. You were not displeased with the view

You chuckled lightly

“Jimin I appreciate the gesture but that won’t even cover my ass”

“Y/N please, I don’t want you covered in Yoongi’s scent” You smiled

He was so sensitive to smell even for a werewolf. You shimmied out of your white off shoulder crop top, taking your bra off under his shirt. He dragged you in between his legs teasing the zip at the top of your leather skirt down. His eyes endearingly looking up at you, chocolate filled gooey eyes consuming you as his palms massaged your behind and tops of your thighs gently pulling you again into his lap.

Your hands sat cradling the back of his neck, fingertips gently caressing his hairline.

“Please don’t worry tonight, nothing is going to be done about it this evening before anything happens Yoongi will call a meeting anyway and you can say whatever you want then” Your hips angled into his lap following the squeeze on your behind.

“Do I get the feeling you want to try and help me not think about it?” You ground your hips into him again. You could already feel your arousal beginning to pool.

“Uggh!” he whined throwing his back.

“What?”

“I can smell you and I won’t even be able to taste you tonight” he whined pouting his ballooned lip to you.

“God I can’t even kiss you!” he added. He was pissed, that boy loved nothing more than to be between your thighs, to have them compress around his head as he absorbed everything he could as you came.

“Well lucky for me you have other assets beside your mouth” you placed a gentle kiss on his forehead before nestling, placing light kisses along his collar bone. His eyes lazy watching you pick an ice cube from the towel. Hissing as the cold water trailed down in between his chest bumping over the definition of his hands leaving the trail a disrupted line. His hand gripped yours when you’d trailed the ice around his right nipple.

“Okay that’s enough, bed!”

“Did you bring it?” Jimin asked in a half pant setting himself lying on top of you, knee pressed to you core. Foreheads touching both fighting every urge to lose each other into desperate kisses.

“Mmmhmm, in my bag” exhaling as he left you on the bed. Jimin had convinced you it would be a good idea if you started carrying your bullet vibrator around with you more often. On multiple occasions he’d more than proved it was a great idea; especially once during a particularly tense break during one of your exams. He’d easily swayed you into one of the dance practice rooms and had you shoved up against the mirror.

“Why have you brought that in?” You queried questioning eyes taking in Jungkook’s bobbly polka dot scarf.

“Do you think he’ll mind if I’ve borrowed it to fuck you?” The wicked grin that crept across his face had you shaking your head, your lip bit between your teeth.

“You are awful Park Jimin” You did not hesitate when he secured it at the back of your head blindfolding you. You had to concentrate on bypassing the scents from Jungkook’s scarf and only the musky, wood and comforting scent of Jimin. The path down your body that would normally be formed by his lips was replaced with the light buzzing of the vibrator. His face wasn’t far from yours, his hot amaretto tainted breath told you that; one of his arms was planted next your head keeping him steady.

“Jimin, please!” you whined, full of impatience. He’d conducted the bullet passed where you wanted it way too many times.

“You want it?” he spoke in your ear

“Take It” He didn’t have to ask you twice. When the vibrations hit your throbbing clit your head blissfully rolled back into the mattress. Your free hand dug into his hips when his fingers easily thrust into you

“Fuck your beautiful when you’re like this”

“I bet you can’t wait until you finally have my cock inside you, until my hands are around your throat and you’re begging me to give you what you want. You clenched around him panting out obscenities.

“Oh you like that when I talk dirty in your ear don’t you” You’d automatically depressed the small button on top of the bullet to increase the setting.

“You know I fucking do, stop teasing me and just do it already” you ordered breathless. You were pressing your hips harder into the vibrator chasing that seducing rhythm. Just as you were about to fall off the edge his fingers left you and snatched the vibrator from you. Hips chasing nothing.

“Where are your manners?” he teased.

“Jimin I swear to fucking god I…” You both stilled, both your ears catching the noise of the front door clicking open and shut. Jimin being the asshole that he is only saw this as an opportunity when he realised it was Jungkook who was stumbling around.

“Jimin, stop! He’ll hear” you pleaded weakly, his hands easily pinning yours above your head as well as easily securing them with just one of his hands. The other snatching the toy from and cruelly holding it harsh against your clit on full power.

“Only if you can’t be quiet” The vibrations were too powerful to escape and too powerful for you to be quiet. Jimin was using his body weight to keep your body from squirming to ease the vibrations.

Asshole

Even funnelling your moans through your lips seemed futile, they seemed to fill the room.

“Just cum and I’ll stop”

Like you had a choice at this point. Your cries were not quiet, the second your whole body started convulsing he stopped the vibrations and let go of your hands.

Your heart rate steadied, the sweat on your skin cooled. His fingertips ghosting your skin elicited goose-bumps where they traced. He slid the scarf from your eyes, the first view of his smug face had you giggling quietly.

“Asshole!” you scolded whacking his arm.

“Baby I haven’t even fucked you yet”

“You can’t be serious!” He was deadly serious. He crept off the bed and etched the door open as quietly as he could.

“He’s passed out on the couch” Not believing him, you stumbled to where he was. Jungkook was indeed passed out on the couch in an awfully uncomfortable looking position. He hadn’t even closed the curtains so the moonlight sifted in illuminating his flushed out face.

“Happy?” he quipped his head to the side closing the door. You pulled him by his belt into you; only the clinking of the buckle coming undone was heard over your hurried breaths.

“Baby I don’t want to be loud” you whined as your hand crept down his waistband.

“Better get on your hands and knees then” you elicited a groan from his lips when your hands wrapped around him.

He shoved your face down into the pillow gripping at the back of your neck.

“I guess I’ll have to go slow to try and keep you quiet” You nodded into the mattress, already gasping as he soaked his cock in your arousal. His hand left your neck and balled up your shirt in his fist pulling you onto him. Long drawn out groans escaped both of you. Fully inside you he stopped moving

“God, you feel so good every time” he grunted finally moving, your hand scrambling to grip the side of his thighs as he was tortuous in his lack of speed. Your moans deep and prolonged with each thrust.

“I bet Jungkook never felt this good did he?” he panted

“No, faster!”

“Is that what you want?”

“Fuck, yes, I don’t care about the noise”

“You changed your tune quick. Music to my ears”

His hips snapped into faster thrusts; you cried your moans into the mattress. Your knuckles stained white holding onto the cotton barrier. His hand firmly snuck back to the back of throat and pressured on either side. Jimin readjusted himself slightly; each snap of his hips now hitting the velvet goldmine sitting inside you. You started pushing back onto him, the gentle light headedness seeping in. You turned your head to the side to take some fresh air into your lungs

“Fuck Jimin, I’m close don’t stop” you cried out after a harsh thrust. The cry was not shrouded in the pillow. Your words sent him to jerk his hips more sporadically and his grip tightened on your throat. That was enough. Your muscles released the pressure in overwhelming waves. He carried on thrusting into you, shoving you into a state of over sensitiveness which had you whimpering in high gasps until he finally grunted and his hips started jerking. He went to pull out but your hand clamped onto his thigh and pushed him into you giving him no choice but to grunt your name and cum inside you.

Your hips collapsed on the bed with him behind you hand resting docile on your side.

“There’s no way that didn’t wake him” Jimin chuckled. Jimin’s phone screen brightened up and vibrated loudly against the wood side table. You rolled onto his chest as he selected the message that had just come through

-sod JK, there’s every way that I heard it-

“When the hell did Yoongi get back?” you asked burying your face into his chest.

You spent the whole of your lecture staring at your phone trying to coax a message from Yoongi to pop up. Your word document open on your laptop remained empty, not a word typed.

“We’ll know more later” Laura tried to offer

“It will get sorted” She still wasn’t helping. You responded with a blank water filled gaze; eliciting a warm hug which actually was half comforting.

“Anyway, aren’t you supposed to be going to lunch with Jimin after his practice before the meeting?” Laura spread her books and notepad like a deck of cards on the library desk

“Yeah” you replied.

“Well go on then, I’ll send you my revision notes from today seeing as you failed massively to take any”

“Thanks, catch you in a bit”

You’d actually never been over to the dance studios on campus; it was a damn side better aesthetically than the science building. The reception area was neat. The navy-blue sofas pressed against the window matched the scattering of large bean bags beside them. Elegant dance pictures framed and hung on the flawless white paintwork of the walls. You took the door labelled ‘Practice Rooms’ and headed for no.4. Number 1 & 2 were clearly the larger rooms; 1 was clearly more of a show room as there was a large rectangular window peering in. Practice room 4 was much smaller and only occupied by Jimin and Hobi.

Both the boys were glistening with sweat that had permeated in pools on their tank tops; loose trackies sat on their hips. The door lightly knocked shut behind you. Shoes off bag down on the ground. Both sets of eyes glancing their way acknowledging your entrance; bodies still moving flawlessly in sync with each other focused on the music throbbing round the studio. It was definitely something choreographed by Hobi, the sharper more prominent moves contrasting to the softer, fluid movements of Jimin’s contemporary strengths.

“Well that was definitely something” praising the masterpiece you’d intruded on.

“Think so?” Hobi questioned regaining air in his lungs.

“Oh come on, you know it’s good!” When it came to dancing modest was not something he was capable of.

“He’s been a …. Douche this morning” He went to hug you, pushing your palm on his chest in refusal.

“Erm no. Sweaty. I’d like my outfit to not be covered in Jimin sweat” His shoulders slumped, Hobi finding amusement in your words.

“Toold!” Hobi teased retrieving his holdall, slinging it round his shoulders.

“I’ll catch you guys later. Y/N please don’t worry about later we’ll sort it”

“I’ll do my best”.

“Honestly I wish people would stop even mentioning it”

“Well I wish you wouldn’t worry about it” Jimin countered. You slid yourself onto the beech table pressed to the back wall. Jimin swiping the damp hair from his face.

Why is everyone so fucking calm about this.

“So what do you wanna do for lunch. I think a burger from Benny’s will ease my overthinking”

“Yeah?” He stalked over to you nudging himself in between your legs, forefinger tracing under your neck angling your head aiming to meet his lips.

“I was thinking maybe more you?”

“Well that was about as smooth as a cactus” you quipped. Both his hands interlocking with yours lifting them around like they were joysticks.

“And what makes you think I’ll be in the mood with all this fighting stuff?” He edged into you as far he could his cheek brushing against yours

“Because you know when I touch you…” He gripped your thighs tugging your clothed core onto his thigh

“Mmm”

“… just right” the whisper and breath crept along your ear, fingers tip toeing their way up your body creeping to hold snug around your neck.

“I can get you begging for me to fuck you” Your half weak smile powered up to a full-on smirk.

“You know you can’t resist me” he cooed, the innocent beautiful face hiding the demon tempter beneath.

He was right

No matter your state of mind with you both being essences your bodies would take over; completely over fuelling and over writing any processes your rational mind was running. Like animals in damn heat.

Your hand tugged at the drawstrings of his bottoms.

“I think you’ll find you’re trying to seduce me. Sooo…” Your hand wandered, pushing under the elastic waist band. Palm pressing against his cock

“It’s you who can’t resist me” You can’t resist each other. The deep groan in his throat, the slow tilt of his head back. Your senses ran wild. Pupils blowing out like balloons, your irises flaming golden at each other. The primal wolves taking over.

Lips chasing yours plump with need as you slid of the table hand still nursing his growing member

“Tell me you want me” you breathed between heavy kisses. You want to hear his desperate breathes for you

“I want you” A relieved exasperated exhale fanned across your neck, hand leaving his straining cock with no more contact. His own hand under your control to unhook your jean buttons. Forehead nudged to yours watching your hand disappear.

“Want this?”

“Mmm need this” the plea slipping past his lips. Hungry eyes looking down lip between his teeth.

If a look could have you flatlining it was him biting his lips

“You want to make me feel better? Want to make me cum, whine out your name?” Your words were slightly broken, the delicate swirls of your fingers on your clit his hand following your movements.

“God yes!” The growl pried from his lips.

“Then go lock the door” you whispered.

“Okay so we all know why we’re here” Yoongi began stood, the fireplace behind him crackling an orange hue into the room. The five of you all lounged around the option of sofas, determined curious stares all facing the Alpha. The leather jacket was non-existent but the standard white tee and jeans remained consistent. The rest of you were much more at home; slouched in variety of comfy hoodies and trackies. This house was huge and often played host to pack sleepovers.

You and Jimin were snug to each other, his arm cocooning you into his chest. When Yoongi started to speak Jimin felt your heart start to rattle unnerved in your chest; he placed a light squeeze at your waist.

“So I went to see Max last night and safe to say they haven’t changed”

“So you’ll be fighting?” Laura questioned; you sensed no fear in her voice just utter curiosity.

“No” Everyone began shuffling, uncomfortable air and unknown suffocating the room. The unwelcome spirit stirring.

“Trevor was pretty beat up when I went. Max was not too impressed by the whole ordeal if I’m honest he was furious. He’s basically washed his hands of the situation and told Trevor he will not be fighting his battles…but was adamant the old ways are still followed” he continued

“We agreed that is only fair that if one alpha isn’t fighting then neither should the other”

Nausea oozed through your being, uncomfortably smashing your thoughts everywhere. The others all wide eyed still suffering from the shock that:

1. Max actually seemed to been reasonable

2. Yoongi was not going to fight.

Will I have to fight for myself?

I’m not strong enough yet

I’ll have no…

“I’m putting it to you guys. Obviously, Y/N it’s out of the question you’re nowhere near strong enough yet”

Gee thanks!

“Guys I can’t…” you launched yourself up. Jimin wanted to hold you close but he knew you were adamant

“I can’t have you fighting for me this is ridiculous. You didn’t ask for any of this.

“It should be Hobi he’s next strongest” Laura piped up. Everyone completely ignoring you trying to make their point. Arms tightly folded nails digging into the skin of your arm

“Yeah I’ll go, I’ll be more than happy to wipe that smirk of that assholes face” Your glare hit Jimin a call for backup. He shifted to speak

Thank you

“If anyone it should be me” leaning forward with sincerity. You flayed your hands, fingers wide

For god’s sake!

“Jimin I don…” Yoongi began

“I know I’m not as strong as Hobi but I’m not that much weaker either and besides don’t you think out of everyone I’ve got the most motivation and drive; I mean she’s my girl!”

“Jimin we can’t ris…” Yoongi returned

“No Yoongi, I think he has a point, like we all love Y/N but he will have the most resolve and determination and the facts it’s his essence he’s fighting for will be all the better” Hobi giving Jimin a supportive smile.

“I agree” Laura arm raised up in solidarity.

“Joon? Tae?” Yoongi glancing to the quietest two of the group. Nothing would ever be decided without everyone’s opinion being noted.

“Makes sense to me”

“And me”

In the time they’d all ignored you, annoyance had crept into your skin, a toxin flushing out any desire to spend time with these guys this evening.

“Okay, fine it’s sorted then. Jimin you’re in you’ve got 3 days” Yoongi beamed casually, shoulders down, weight lifted.

“Now let’s enjoy the evening” Yoongi went to hand you your glass that had been resting on the mantle. You blankly refused.

“I think I’ll just go to bed” Tone low with agitation seeping over your words. Jimin stood.

“Just leave it” You spat, everyone calling after you as you stomped yourself to the bedroom.

You launched yourself into the chair in front of the mirror with a huge huff. Staring harshly at your mirror image. The glistening glint of fluid filling your eyes.

Nope!

You shoved yourself up and rummaged aggressively through your bag for one of your virology books. Fundamentals of molecular virology by Nicholas H Acheson. Had been you’re favourite so far this course.

Nothing like reading about genius designed killing machines to take my mind off going full breakdown.

You were only minutely disturbed by the low throb of the TV downstairs, and the occasional outburst of laughter.

-Baby, I’m sorry, please don’t be angry with us. Can I come up yet? -

-I’m angry you’re all so easily wiling putting yourself in harm’s way just for my sake. And NO!-

- I LOVE YOU! That’s why I’m doing it. The others love you two-

The three words that you can’t wait to hear in a new relationship. The three words that should fill you with that queasy happiness. They only made you irritable.

-Don’t you dare say that for thre first tiem in this situation. Getting beaten the fuck up is not how I want you ro show it to me -

You cursed yourself at the angry spelling when your words popped up in the conversation bubble of your chat. You lent back kicking the book to the floor snuggling yourself into the duvet as much as humanly possible. Jimin would have to fight you for his side of the duvet later.

You felt his struggle begin, the struggle which disrupted the calm ambience of your sleep. You drowsily rolled over, huffing with your movement. He crept up behind you, a nervous mongoose rolling next to the sleeping snake. You were too dazed to fight for too long and eventually allowed him to press himself up against you, the reluctant small spoon.

“Baby…” he whispered

“Not now” you exhaled weakly. His hand pulling down the collar of your top placing a delicate drawn out kiss against your skin.

“Jimin” you warned softly. He preceded to creep sloping his arm up, resting his hand between your breasts. You were not going react, letting sleep slowly re-capture you. Being the stubborn one he was he nudged his hips into you. You felt his lips crease on the back of your neck.

“Please… baby” The sucrose dripping off every word into a whine.

“What!?” clunking yourself around to face him. Features barely visible, diamonds in his eyes shimmering none the less.

“I Love You princess” You took a few seconds.

The anger draining out of you as you exhaled a forgiving chuckle.

“I also want you” he nudged you to lay on his chest.

“To trust me”

“You know I do” The smell of alcohol diffusing of his skin.

“Let me finish, I want you to trust me to do right by you and fight for you okay” The happiness that had swelled had now deflated to nausea.

“I’ll win okay. There’s no way you’re going with them. You are far too precious to all of us for that to happen”

“Precious?” bemused.

“Okay cheese loaded choice of words but I…”

“Okkkaaay” you exclaimed pressing a forefinger chaste to his lips.

“I’ll try and be a calmer bitch, but I’m well within my right to be scared that my boyfriend is going to be fighting an absolute tank”

“That a low dig at my height?” he chuckled pinching your hip

“You really do have a thing about that don’t you” you teased.

“Well good thing I love you anyway then” You shuffled up kissing him.

“Oh decided to say back it to me then” Your palm flat across his chest, fingers gently circling his chest

“Say it again, I was half asleep before” You cooed, the pleasant beat of his chest, lulling you sweetly.

“I love you, now go to sleep I can hear you heart slowing”

“Mmm I can get used to you saying that”

“Only if you stay mine”

“Mmmmhmm” you mumbled.

“You’re getting so much stronger and faster” Yoongi praised panting the second he heard the human knackered pants from the next. You were on the floor, back heavy on the cool concrete floor. Enough energy was mustered to grab the blanket you kept in your cell. Your exposed body at least had some cover until the energy was mustered to dress yourself.

“You...think?”

“Yeah your doing so well, progressing so much faster than the others did” The light metal clink of his buckles clear as a bell.

“You decent?” he added.

“Enough” you managed, Yoongi creeping around the corner peering down at your feebleness.

“Recovery is tough for me”

“I can tell” he chuckles securing the blanket round you assisting you to your feet.

After your first full moon you quickly learnt it wasn’t all plain sailing from there. Yes in human form everything was enhanced; hearing, smell, strength. Every sense amplified. In wolf form though it was bit more complicated. Stamina and strength needed to be trained, perfected. Yoongi had been taking you out for runs and various exercises. You knew he’d taken you out today to tire you out and distract you like a toddler; I guess in wolf world you were in a way. You were becoming more confident with your capabilities and using the abilities you now possessed. With your wolf form being tested you needed a good few hours of recovery time. Most of which you spent in bed or in a bath.

“Help me to bed please”

“Obviously”

You crashed the second your head graced the pillow

Bed depressing next to you, that addictive scent swallowing you whole; warm arms pushing gentle at your stomach shifting your body closer to him. An unyielding kiss pressed to the top of your shoulders. The subtle nudge of his crotch into your behind signalling his intentions. Half pulled out of your sleep you responded with a weak nudge of your behind into him. Consent given shirt pushed up over your chest. Harsh kisses on the top of your back; your weak spot. Fingertips creeping down your side tugging your hips harder into his already hard cock. He really couldn’t control himself around you, so easily driven wild. Hands now slick in your arousal open mouth bites at your shoulders. No words spoken, just breathier pants slowly escalating. Band snapped; patience dry. Your hips were shoved forward, cock sliding through, coated enough in your juices to thrust into you with ease. Your close-mouthed moan loud in his ears. His even pace torturous and sweet. It stayed even, slowly winding the coil tighter and tighter within you. Part of you wanted to beg him to go faster the other part wanting the steady climb to never end. You wanted to keep feeling anything, anything to keep you away from you fear of later.

Fist flying to his hip gripping his flesh. The restraint he had to muster to not accelerate his hips. He wanted you to come undone hard and slowly.

“Harder” His hips snapped slower, more deliberate pressure harder and your spot.

“Not that your mouth” It had hardly left your shoulder you wanted his teeth sunk deeper.

“Are you sure?”

“Mmm” you choked

“Bite me” you begged breathless, growl pursing through his lips. He was never going to deny you anything you wanted. Canines growing against your skin. The sting of skin being pierced had you clenching around him causing him to choke, pushing the blood swirling in his mouth out the side of his lips. The warm trickle running down your shoulders painting the sheets red. The copper taste swallowed down. Blood wasn’t amazing to were’s; I mean that’s for the vamps but it wasn’t disgusting either. It was mildly nice; but to Jimin yours was so fucking sweet, a delicacy he would savour every chance he got.

One harsh thrust and you were done. Each pulse seeming longer than the last, by the last one he was jutting into you swearing your name. Heat flushing away you rolled to face him. His hand cradling your cheek. His looked completely fuck out, blood staining those pump lips and in the creases of his mouth.

“I love you” he panted; those word hit you again. Salty tears filling slowly over your pupils.

“Oh baby don’t” he pleaded. His thumb brushed away the first droplet to fall down your flushed rose tinted cheek.

“It will be fine, Yoongi wouldn’t let me if he didn’t think it was doable. And if something was to go wrong then he would probably fuck the rules of anyway for you. He’s so bonded to you”

“I know but… what if this is the last time you make me fall apart”

“It won’t be, I’m not giving up your pussy for shit!” He was good at making you smile and giggle no matter your mood. It was a pure talent.

“Now that I do believe”

“There you go”

“Please just get ready and go now before I start completely balling it”

You’d been banned from going, at the request of Jimin of all people. He didn’t want to get distracted and did not want you to see him get hurt. Yoongi also backed this so your fate was decided; not that you didn’t give them hell for it.

“So… who’s the puppy that’s going to lose” Trevor goaded walking forward breaking the crescent of his pack stood for the show. Jimin stepped forward announcing his participation.

“Why am I not surprised”

“Alright stop the bullshit let’s just get this redundant old thing out the way” Yoongi interrupted at the centre of his pack’s crescent.

“Fine, you both know the rules” Max Began

“No jugular attacks! The wolf to be down for 7 seconds loses” he continued. Trevor and Jimin squared up to one another

“I’m going to enjoy fucking your scent off her” Trevor toyed, vicious glare with venomous eyes

Jimin did not even dignify that with a response; shifting and jumping straight to attack.

Animal whines echoed through the blanket of trees surrounding the gathering. Yoongi, Laura, Hobi, Tae and Joon stood, quiet in silent confidence. Max’s pack however were goading and cheering Trevor on like a pack of wild animals, they outnumbered Yoongi’s pack by five.

Snarls seething with venom, blood matting the fur surrounding their jaws. Jimin pressing against the rage trying to keep the cool head with difficulty. An equal fight, both being launched by their necks to the ground. Paws swiping at faces leaving streaks of blood.

“Jimin!...Get Up!” Laura wailed, Trevor had slung Jimin against a tree and he’d not moved.

“1”

“2”

“3”

Jimin’s vision had blurred, indistinguishable noises rattled round his head. Body on fire, the overwhelming taste of copper disgusting in his mouth. His body not responding to commands. Trevor’s wolf walking away, swag in his step already declaring himself the winner. His pack cheering…

“4”

Something illuminated inside him, his body on fire from the inside, like it wasn’t even his pain. It felt like he could feel your pain, your distress; the agony of being without him. It broke him, the tears formed at the corner of his eyes stinging the wound at the corner of his eye.

At the house you rolled over, a sharp pulling in your chest. Something detaching inside you. Your groan and cry falling on no ears.

Jimin snarled quietly, rejuvenated, he would not have you feeling so distraught. If Yoongi’s pack had been smart they would have warned him Jimin had pushed himself up, paws sore but he was past caring. He began to sprint; Jimin being faster than Trevor could react smashing him into a tree. Determined bark growling out past Jimin’s mouth. Teeth clamping down on Trevor’s neck just below his jugular; tugging hard before flinging him into the tree again.

“1”

“2”

“3”

Trevor’s pack were swearing. Profanities thick directed at him.

“4”

“5”

“6”

“7”

The silent pack now erupted with cheer, rushing over to the limping form of Jimin. Both guys transformed back, wounds seeping, a pair of panting naked bodies. Wounds being assessed of both participants. Most of Trevor’s were round his neck, thick lacerations going down to his chest. A covering of scratches spanning his torso. Jimin had one particularly worrying gash in his neck, he was unbothered. Trusting in his friends and their ability to stop the flow of blood. His healing ability would do the rest. Eventually. His right eye was curtained with red, cut above his eye pissing with blood. His torso wounds were mildly more severe than Trevor’s; but Jimin just wanted to get back to you.

Yoongi relieved, waltzed up to Max, A begrudging handshake occurred.

“Now it’s done! I don’t want to hear of anymore shit from your guys. You go near here again and they’ll be hell to pay” Yoongi snapped. Max frowning more at the wailing sack of shit that was Trevor on the floor.

“Of course,” He seethed through gritted teeth.

You’d sat numb in a ball on the sofa staring blankly at the tv. Noise becoming white, words and light becoming indistinguishable mashes of colour. You heard the distinct whirring of Yoongi’s car as it drew closer. You rushed up to lean against the sofa, folded arms, nails anxious between your teeth. The door clicked; feet fast to greet whatever was about to walk through that door. Laura walked in first, holding the door ushering Tae and Joon inside. Hobi and Yoongi supporting Jimin who was just about supporting his weight. You’re not sure what happened first, the hand flying to your mouth or the tears now running down your cheeks. The thought of your fate a speck of dust in the wind compared to overwhelming state of Jimin’s welfare.

“Oh my god!”

The boys lowered him to the sofa, his face creased up wincing. You flew to the first aid kit Yoongi insisted on having for shifting injuries. The others began flapping around and preparing things.

“Can I just be with MY girl please” Jimin groaned. All eyes on the two of you, the antiseptic wipe briefly leaving his eyebrow.

“You mean?”

“Told you” He croaked. Your sweet smiles mirrored in each other. A long kiss against his forehead followed by the others leaving.

“We’ll be at Laura’s if you need anything. Y/N just make sure you slow all the bleeding down, he’ll be fine”

You spent a good hour or so wiping the field of cuts. The alcohol causing a stream of curses from Jimin’s mouth. You went to un-tape the red soaked towel from around his shoulder and neck. His battered hand stopped yours.

“Please don’t. There’s no way you want to see that”

“But it’s got to be cleaned”

“Trust me it will be fine”

“Can we just please go and rest together, don’t know about you but I’ve had a shit day” He teased

“Even the early afternoon?” you countered, feigning insult.

“Well I mean that was alri…ght” You supported him up off the chair.

“Do not make me add to your injuries Park Jimin!” You jested. The fact his sense of humour was intact pulled the plug to your overflowing concern.

#bts smut #ksmutclub #smutcentralnet #btswriterscollective #kwritersworldnet #btsguild #bangtanarmynet #networkbangtan #park jimin #BTS jimin #jimin x reader #werewolf au #28days #bts

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tw-anchor · 5 years

Text

10. Investigation

Anchor

Stiles Stilinski x Original Character (Reader)

Episode: 1x10; Co-Captain

Word Count: 4,852

Warning(s): Mature language

Author’s Note: There’s little to no Olivia and Stiles interaction in this chapter but Olivia talks to Peter and Stiles gets information from his dad. Let me know what you think. Reblog and like!

Masterlink in Profile Description!

"Siri, buddy, come on," Olivia called, her bare feet freezing against the cold concrete surrounding her pool as she waited for her puppy to finish going to the bathroom. "Let's go, Sirius!"

Bringing her fingers up to her mouth, she whistled. After a few seconds of waiting in silence, she huffed and started walking to the gate that separated her yard from the preserve. She wished that she had thought to put on shoes because, while their grass was pretty soft and the dog waste was picked up every-other-day, there were still some pebbles and sticks pricking the sensitive skin on the bottom of her foot.

"Sirius, are you there, bud?"

The light from the moon gleamed against the grass, lighting up the gate enough that Olivia could see without a flashlight. The gate was open—which meant that Sirius was probably somewhere in the preserve right about now.

Damn it, Olivia thought, Lydia's gonna kill me.

"Siri?" Olivia called, stepping out of the limits of her backyard. "Sirius?"

From her left, a branch snapped in half; Olivia whipped around at the noise and almost screamed when she saw two figures in the shadows of the trees. Before she could make a sound, Peter and Derek stepped out into the moonlight.

Sirius was in Derek's arms, happily rubbing his head against his leather jacket.

"Cute dog," Peter said casually, crossing his arms over his chest.

Olivia's bottom lips quivered as she looked from her dad—his face now fully healed—to Derek, who didn't look happy at all. His pale-green eyes were narrowed and his jaw was clenched tightly. He was fully healed from his fight with Peter at the hospital, though his clothes were still stained with blood.

"What are you doing here?" she asked quietly as Derek let Sirius down.

The puppy ran over to Olivia; she scooped him up and pressed him protectively to her chest.

"I'm here for you, of course," Peter said, a hint of a smile curling his lips.

Olivia didn't like his smile anymore; there was something menacing about it.

"Ollie, cupcake, don't you want to be in my pack?" Peter stepped closer to Olivia but she stepped away just as quickly.

There had been a time when all she wanted to do was run into her father's arms—things had obviously changed.

"No, I don't," Olivia said defiantly, raising her chin. She sent Derek a hard look, unable to believe that he was actually working with her father. Peter had killed Laura, for God's sake.

"We're family."

"You killed your family!" Olivia exclaimed, looking at him with wet, accusing eyes. "You killed Laura, you nearly killed me, Dad!"

"I wasn't actually going to kill you," Peter rolled his eyes at her dramatics. "You just happened to be there."

"Yeah, that's why you had Jennifer lure me to school that night," Olivia threw back at him. "so we could have a little dad-and-daughter chat while Scott was ordered to kill me and my friends."

"Enough Olivia," Peter said, his voice growing stern. "I'm trying to make things right."

"You're murdering people!"

"Only the ones responsible," he explained, stepping closer to her. "Don't you understand? I'm killing the ones who did this to me, to your mother."

Olivia gasped softly in realization, tears falling from her eyes. All of these murders, the victims had something to do with the fire? They worked with Kate Argent to kill her family. Her mother?

Peter nodded, as though he could read her mind. "Every one of them," he said strongly. "Don't you want to help me get revenge? To help me finish what I started?"

It was tempting—it was so tempting. She hated Kate Argent so much for what she did to her family and she had always wanted to get revenge on the hunter. She didn't know that other people had been involved with Kate but they helped kill her family too. A dark part of her knew that they deserved what they got.

But the other part of her, the larger part, knew that revenge wouldn't solve anything—for her, at least. Her mother would have never wanted her to kill anyone, not even if they deserved it. Grace Martin was a forgiving soul through and through and though Olivia could hold a grudge, she wanted to be a person that her mother could be proud of.

Killing Kate wouldn't solve her grief over her mother's death. It wouldn't do anything but rob Allison of family—and wouldn't that make her just as bad as Kate? Who even knew that Peter was going to stop at Kate? What if he went for the whole Argent family?

Throughout the time Olivia had gotten to know Allison, she'd come to love her. She was one of her closest friends and she didn't deserve to pay for what Kate did. She was innocent, just like Olivia's family was.

Olivia shook her head. "No, no!" she shouted; Peter's eyes hardened. "I'm not a killer, Dad. I know that they deserve it but it wouldn't change anything, okay? Mom's still gone; she's not coming back. Please, just stop this."

Peter smiled bitterly, his blue eyes glowering at her. "I'm not going to stop."

He turned around and walked into the preserve, leaving Olivia horrified and afraid of what was to come.

Giving Derek a betrayed look, Olivia ran back into her yard and locked the gate before rushing back into her house. She made sure the alarm was on and the locks were secure; with Lydia and Natalie in the house, she was nervous that somehow Peter and Derek could get in and harm them.

When she entered her bedroom and set Sirius on her bed, she jumped when her phone rang. To her relief, it wasn't Peter or Derek; it was Stiles.

"Hello?"

"Olivia, we have a serious problem," Stiles practically shouted. "Derek's with Peter."

"Yeah," Olivia said sullenly. "I know. The showed up at my house."

"Wait, are you serious?" Stiles asked nervously. "Are you okay? Do you need me to come over?"

"No, no, I'm fine."

"You're not—you're not with them, are you?" his voice turned hesitant. "I mean—"

Olivia was taken aback by his question. Sure, they didn't know each other that well, but she thought Stiles knew her enough that she wouldn't join her dad and kill people.

"No, uh, I have to go, Stiles," Olivia didn't want to talk anymore. "Um, yeah, I have to go."

"Wait, Livvy—"

"Bye."

Olivia ended the call in the middle of Stiles' protests and fell face-first on her bed, tears already springing to her eyes.

"Holy shit, go!"

Scott pounded encouragingly on the dashboard as Stiles pressed on the gas pedal, speeding through the Iron Works. Stiles' eyes darted back and forth between the road and Scott, whose head was sticking out of the window like a dog.

"Am I going the right way?" Stiles called to him.

"Yeah, keep going straight!" Scott gave him a thumb's up. "Hurry, I caught Mr. Argent's scent."

Stiles cursed under his breath and sped up.

At the lacrosse game, while Stiles, Derek, and Olivia were confronting Peter, Scott had overheard a conversation between Kate and Chris Argent. Kate had spotted the scratches on the back of Jackson's neck and asked Mr. Argent about it, who told her that it was possible to change into a werewolf through a scratch.

So, now the Argents thought that Jackson was the second beta. It was good for Scott but not for Jackson.

That was how Stiles found himself driving through the warehouse district, looking for Jackson's stupid Porsche.

"All right, it's there," Scott fell back into his seat and pointed at an upcoming warehouse.

Stiles turned into the driveway and went down the ramp, spotting Jackson's Porsche and Mr. Argent's red SUV. Jackson and Mr. Argent were standing at the back of his sports car, the trunk popped open.

He squealed to a stop.

"What's up?" he greeted Mr. Argent and Jackson with an overly friendly wave.

Scott smiled. "Is everything okay?"

"Hey, Scott," Mr. Argent smiled tensely. "your friend, here, was having car trouble. We're just taking a look."

Stiles gave an impressed sound as Scott commented, "There's a shop right down the street. I'm sure they have a tow truck."

"Yeah," Stiles added, looking over at Jackson. "You want a ride?"

Scott opened his door as Jackson blinked uncertainly.

"Hey, come on, Jackson," Stiles tried to persuade him. "you're way too pretty to be out here all by yourself."

He couldn't believe he just said that but it was, unfortunately, necessary. Olivia would kill him if he had an opportunity to help Jackson and instead the lacrosse co-captain got hurt.

Jackson pressed his lips together and nodded; he walked toward the Jeep while Scott jumped out to let him in and Stiles kept an eye on Mr. Argent. The hunter bent down over the Porsche's engine for a brief second before closing it.

He walked to the driver's door and pulled it open. "Hey, boys," he called, leaning down to turn the key; the engine rolled over. "told you I knew a few things about cars."

Mr. Argent smirked at them and got back into his SUV, driving away.

As soon as he was out of sight, Jackson angrily turned to Scott. "What, are you following me now?"

Scott slammed his door shut and faced Jackson, his jaw clenched in irritation. "Yes, you stupid fucking idiot!" he exclaimed. "You almost gave away everything right there!"

Stiles jumped out of the Jeep and made his way over to Jackson and Scott, figuring that he'd have to break up a fight.

Jackson scoffed. "What are you talking about?"

"He thinks you're the second beta."

"What?" Jackson blinked in shock.

"He thinks you're me!" Scott slammed his fist into the side of the Jeep, grunting with hostility.

"Dude," Stiles objected. "my Jeep!"

Scott ignored him. "I can hear your heart beating from a mile away, literally!" Scott told Jackson. "Now he thinks that there's something wrong and now I have to keep an eye on you so he doesn't kill you too!"

Scott growled and went to hit the Jeep again but Stiles pulled him back.

"Okay, how about we step away from Stiles' Jeep," he recommended.

"You know what, this is your problem, not mine!" Jackson declared, angrily pointing at Scott. "I didn't say anything, which means you're the one that's gonna get me killed, okay?" he pushed Scott into the Jeep. "This is your fault!"

Stiles threw his hands up in exasperation. "Can we stop hitting my Jeep?" he cried. When Scott pushed Jackson back, he intervened. "Yo, all right, guys. Stop, all right?"

Jackson backed away and ripped Stiles' hand off his shoulder.

"When they come after you, I won't be able to protect you," Scott seethed at Jackson before calming down and looking at Stiles. "I can't protect anyone."

Stiles raised his eyebrows at Scott. "Why are you looking at me?"

Scott just pressed his lips together and looked back at Jackson. Jackson rolled his eyes.

"You know, now you have to do it," he said. "Get me what I want and I'll be fine protecting myself."

"No, you won't!" Scott disagreed. "Just trust me. All it does is make things worse."

"Oh, yeah, really?" Jackson said in disbelief. "You can hear anything you want and run faster than humanly possible. That sounds like a real hardship, McCall."

Scott narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, I can run really fast now, except half the time, I'm running away from people trying to kill me!" he stated. "And I can hear things like my girlfriend telling people that she doesn't trust me any more right before breaking up with me."

Jackson scoffed, shaking his head.

"I'm not lying to you," Scott continued. "It ruins your life."

Jackson shook his head again. "It ruined your life," he scoffed. "You had all the power in the world and you didn't know what to do with it. You know what it's actually like? It's like you turned sixteen and someone bought you a Porsche when they should have started you out with a nice little Honda."

Jackson stepped toward Scott, lowering his voice. "Me? I drive a Porsche."

He turned around and didn't spare them another glance as he got into his Porsche and drove away.

Stiles sighed heavily. "I really hate that guy."

Lydia huffed loudly as she, Olivia, and Allison walked through the preserve, the cold air prickling unpleasantly at her skin. Olivia rolled her eyes at her cousin's aggravation and continued following Allison, a little more than curious about what the taller brunette was carrying in the large black bag swung over her shoulder.

"Allison, when you said you needed to stop for an errand before we went shopping, a five-mile hike in the woods was not what I was expecting," Lydia was limping a bit, having worn high heels that seemed impractical even for the mall.

Olivia stuffed her glove-clad hands into her coat. "What are we even doing out here?" she asked Allison. "Is this so our calves look better in heels?"

Allison snickered at her. "No, I just want to see something," she rolled her eyes. "Oh, Lydia, before I forget, I wanted to ask if you're okay with something."

"Go for it."

"Jackson asked me to the winter formal," Allison admitted, her voice a little triumphant.

Lydia faltered and Olivia gave her cousin a concerned look.

She knew what Allison was trying to do but she wasn't going to get into the middle of it. Both Allison and Lydia were in the wrong.

"Did he?" Lydia's voice shook.

"Mmhm," Allison nodded with a smirk. "Just as friends but I just wanted to make sure you're okay with it first."

Lydia took a second to answer. "Sure," she said shortly. "as long as it's just friends."

"Well, yeah, I mean," Allison laughed bitterly. "it's not like I would take him to the coach's office during lacrosse practice to make out with him or anything."

"Uh," Lydia winced, ashamed. "About that..."

"Don't bother lying about it, Jackson already told me," Allison said sharply.

"I wasn't going to lie," Lydia declared. "I was going to apologize."

Allison hummed as the three of them stopped walking when they came upon a small clearing.

"Allison, I'm sorry," Lydia apologized sincerely. "I shouldn't have kissed Scott. I was angry with Jackson but that's no excuse."

Allison set her bad on the ground and knelt next to it, looking up at Lydia for a moment. "Thanks."

Lydia nodded and crossed her arms over her chest, stepping closer to Olivia for warmth.

"Okay, this area will do," Allison declared, unzipping her bag.

"Will do for what?" Olivia asked and gasped loudly as Allison pulled a crossbow out of the bag. "What the hell is that?"

"It's a crossbow," Allison answered, pulling a shooting glove onto her right hand. She grabbed an arrow and something that looked like pinecone made out of lead. "I want to see something."

She started screwing the mysterious pinecone onto the end of an arrow, so Olivia assumed it was supposed to be some kind of arrowhead.

"What does that even do?" Lydia eyed it carefully.

Allison smirked. "We're about to find out."

She stood up and placed the arrow in the bow; she pulled back the string, aimed at a tree on the edge of the clearing, and let go. The arrow soared through the air and when it hit the three, it exploded, flashing brightly.

Olivia gaped at the sparkling tree, now figuring out what exactly that arrowhead was. Derek had told her about them; they were flash bolts. When they make contact with something, the flash that appears blinds werewolves—or any creature that has sensitive eyes.

Shit, Olivia thought, this is not good.

"What the hell was that?" Lydia breathed.

Allison put down her bow, looking thoughtful. "I don't know."

"Well," Lydia clapped sarcastically. "that was fun! Any more lethal weapons you wanna try out?"

A branch snapped somewhere in the distance; Olivia and Allison's heads turned at the noise.

Olivia really hoped it wasn't Peter again; she couldn't protect Allison against him. If even Derek could hardly get a good punch on him, she was absolutely screwed.

Allison held her bow out to Olivia. "Hold this."

"What?" Lydia asked sharply as Olivia hesitantly took the bow and awkwardly held it away from her body. "Why does she need to hold it?"

"Because I thought I heard something," Allison whispered, taking off her glove.

"So what if you heard something?" Lydia whispered back.

"So," Allison gave her an annoyed look. "I want to find out what that something is. Don't worry," she assured Lydia and Olivia when they gave her panicked looks. "it's probably nothing."

"Allison, no!" Olivia hissed worriedly. "What if that nothing is something and that something is something dangerous?"

"Shoot it," Allison said, walking away.

"Oh, God," Olivia groaned as Allison walked out of sight. "Lyds, hold this," she handed Lydia the bow, ignoring the redhead's protests.

"Why?" Lydia whimpered, pouting at her.

"Hold on, okay?" Olivia pulled her phone out of her coat and quickly pulled up her messages with Stiles.

Livvy: Please tell me that Scott's following us

Livvy: Please

Olivia and Lydia gasped as they heard some grunting in the direction that Allison had walked to.

"Uh, should we call the police or something?" Lydia asked, her voice high.

Olivia's phone buzzed in her hand.

Stiles: Yeah, he is. Why?

Stiles: You okay?

Reading the messages, Olivia sighed in relief.

"No, I think it's okay," she assured Lydia, texting Stiles back.

Livvy: All's good

The words were hardly out of her mouth when Allison came back over to them, grabbing her bow from Lydia's grasp. She looked sad as she packed up her bag and threw it over her shoulder.

"Are you okay, Al?" Olivia asked quietly.

"Yeah," Allison confirmed. "I just don't feel like shopping today."

Lydia shrugged. "Well, we've got a week."

Stiles read the text message from Olivia, grateful that she was okay, and shoved the phone back into his pocket. He paused his video game and ran out of the living room, successfully sliding across the kitchen tiles toward his fridge.

Laughing to himself, he grabbed the half-empty milk carton and unscrewed the cap, drinking straight out of the bottle. He went to bring it back into the living room with him but he caught sight of his dad sitting at the dining room table, files, paperwork, and pictures spread out in front of him.

He put the milk back into the fridge and stepped into the dining room.

"Whatcha doing?" he innocently asked his dad.

Noah adjusted his reading glasses. "Work."

"Anything that I can help with?"

Noah glanced away from the file he was reading. "You know, if you poured me an ounce of whiskey," he showed Stiles how much he wanted, spreading his fingers an inch apart. "that would be awfully nice."

Stiles eagerly walked over to the liquor cabinet and pulled out the brand-new bottle of Jack Daniels he put there to replace the one he stole a few days before. He picked up a glass and walked back into the dining room, taking a seat at the table.

"Any leads?" he asked, reaching forward to pick up a discarded file. Noah slapped his hand away.

Noah shook his pen at him. "You know I can't discuss that with you," he said sternly. As Stiles opened the bottle of whiskey, he added, "Not too much."

Stiles nodded and poured an ounce of whiskey into the glass. He went to put the cap back on the bottle but paused thoughtfully. Whenever his dad was tipsy, he was a lot more talkative about his work with Stiles...maybe he would tell him what was going on in the Derek case.

He poured more whiskey into the glass until it was full.

"Okay," he sighed, putting the glass on the coaster by Noah's hand. "There ya go, Dad."

"Thanks."

"Bottoms up."

Noah's eyes didn't leave the file in his hand as he picked up the glass and took a drink. He emptied the glass without noticing how full it actually was. It was only five minutes later when the alcohol started to affect him.

"You know," he said, setting the glass down. "Derek Hale would be a whole hale of a lot—" he paused, cocking his head in confusion. "Hale of a lot?"

Stiles tried not to smirk because that was a great pun that he couldn't wait to try out on Olivia—he knew that she would probably roll her eyes at him or something cute like that.

"Hell of a lot?" Stiles suggested, trying to make it seem like he wasn't correcting his dad.

Noah grinned and pointed at him. "Hell. Yes, he would be a hell of a lot easier to catch if we could get an actual picture of him."

Stiles gave him a confused look. "How do you not have a picture of him?"

"It's the weirdest thing," Noah admitted. "It's like every time we tried to get a mug shot, it's like two...laser beams were pointing at the camera."

Stiles grabbed the picture out of his dad's hands. Two blue lens flares were blocking Derek's whole face, which he thought was kind of cool. It was like his own personal photo-blocker or something.

"Nice."

"Oh, my God," Noah groaned, taking off his glasses and leaning back in his chair. "God, that ounce hit me like a brick," he shook his head and pointed at Stiles again. "and I have said way too much and if you repeat any of that—"

"Dad, it's me," Stiles cut him off with a chuckle, innocently gesturing to himself. "I'm not gonna say anything. Come on."

Noah smiled at him and sighed as he looked back at the files on the table. Stiles picked one up and pulled out its contents, seeing old newspaper articles about the fire at the Hale house.

"See, the thing is, they're all connected," Noah said thoughtfully. "I mean, the bus driver that got killed? He was an insurance investigator assigned to the Hale house fire."

Stiles leaned forward, looking at the file on the bus driver that Noah had in front of him. "'Terminated under suspicion of fraud,'" he read.

Noah nodded. "Exactly."

Stiles furrowed his eyebrows. "Who else?"

Noah dragged another file in front of him. "The video store clerk who got his throat slashed," he pulled a picture of the slashed throat out of the file. "He's a convicted felon, history of arson."

Stiles blinked, putting down the newspaper articles. "What about the other two guys?" he asked, referring to the two victims the police found on the night of the full moon. "the guys who got killed in the woods?"

"Priors all over their records, including—"

"Arson," Stiles finished, horrified. "So maybe they all had something to do with the fire."

Scott had told him that Peter said he was going after the people responsible—now he knew what he meant. All the victims were allegedly involved in the fire and the murder of all those people in the Hale house.

In that moment, Stiles kind of understood Peter. If his mom had been killed by anything other than a biological illness, he'd want revenge too.

But, still, killing your own niece?

Noah slammed a file shut, catching Stiles' attention.

"Another shot?" he asked his dad, grabbing the bottle of whiskey.

"No, no, no," Noah waved at him dismissively. "No more."

"Dad, come on," Stiles tried to convince him, wanting to know more about the case. "You work really hard, all right? You deserve it."

Noah sighed. "Oh, my God," he rubbed his face. "I'm gonna have such a hangover."

Stiles chuckled. "You mean you're gonna have such a good night's sleep," he corrected him and started pouring him another glass. He lowered his voice into a whisper, "and I'm gonna have an eternity in the lowest circle of Hell."

By the time the second glass of whiskey was gone, Noah was full-blown drunk. He tried to put the glass back on the table but ended up dropping it. Luckily, Stiles used his fast reflexes and grabbed it before it could shatter on the floor.

Noah gave him a thankful smile as he set it carefully on the table.

"Oh, Stiles," Noah sighed, resting his head on his fist. "there's just so many questions."

Stiles frowned. "Like what?"

"Like, if Derek wanted to kill everyone involved with the fire, then why start with his sister?" Noah asked, trying to find a motive that he never would figure out. "I mean, she had nothing to do with it. Why make it look like some kind of animal did it?"

Stiles pressed his lips together, feeling guilty. His dad was absolutely torn up about this case and he would probably never know the truth. Noah was a good cop—one of the only ones out there—and he took it personally whenever there was a case he couldn't solve.

"When that cougar ended up in the parking lot, I checked with animal control," Noah went on. "You know the instances of wild animal reports were up seventy percent over the past few months? It's like they're just going crazy, running out of the woods. I don't know..."

"Or something's scaring them out," Stiles thought about the herd of deer that almost ran over Scott on the night he was bitten by the alpha.

Noah slowly smiled at him. "You know, I miss talking to you," he confessed. "It's like we never have time—"

As if proving his dad right, Stiles dug his hand into his pocket, trying to find his phone. "Dad, I have to make a phone call. I'm sorry, I'll be right back."

"—I do," Noah said sadly, watching as Stiles stood up. "I miss it...and I miss your mom."

Stiles froze in shock, not expecting those words to come out of his dad's mouth.

He knew how much Noah loved his mom and how horribly he missed her. Noah and Claudia had still been madly in love when she was diagnosed with her Dementia when Stiles was eight. They hardly talked about her since she died, as they were still raw from the holes she left in their hearts.

The illness destroyed Claudia; she couldn't remember Noah on some days and she couldn't remember Stiles at all. At some points, she thought that Stiles was some random little boy out to get her. She was violent, anxious, and disoriented most of the time as her mind battled with itself. Her slow descent into a lifeless shell was the worst thing Stiles and Noah had ever gone through.

And they still hadn't healed yet.

Stiles turned around to face his dad, his eyes stinging. "What'd you say?"

Noah didn't answer; he reached for the whiskey bottle but Stiles walked forward and grabbed it from him.

Noah closed his eyes, whispering, "Thanks."

Half an hour later, after helping his dad to bed and cleaning up downstairs, Stiles stared up at his ceiling as he laid in bed.

He was thinking about his mom. The memories were starting to get blurry the more he aged but he treasured them so much. There was the time when Claudia taught him how to swim, the day in December when he was seven and they spent all day making cookies for Santa, the vacation their family took to Mexico where they had authentic tacos that Claudia loved.

Nothing was the same without her, that was for sure. Stiles and Noah were managing fine but they would have done anything to have Claudia back.

Claudia's death changed Stiles. Before his mom died, he didn't really know exactly what death was, even though his grandmother had died a few years previously. Until his mom died in front of him, he didn't realize that death doesn't just happen to you. It also happens to the people you leave behind.

And that was the honest-to-God truth. Stiles knew that; after all, his panic attacks started after his mom died, his temper got worse, his ADHD was out of control for a while. In his opinion, a person's death was worse on the people they leave when they go off to whatever afterlife they believe in.

That was why Stiles was growing more afraid of the situation with Peter Hale. He wanted to live, he did—especially for his dad—but he knew that if Scott or Olivia were killed in this mess, he'd be broken.

It was getting so intense and it scared the shit out of him.

His phone rang from his bedside table, making him jump. He furrowed his eyebrows when he saw that it was Scott, and quickly answered it.

"Scott, what's up?"

(Gif is not mine)

#teen wolf rewrite #stiles stilinski x oc #stiles stilinksi x reader #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski fanfiction #teen wolf fanfiction #stiles stilinski x original character

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helpinghanikan · 5 years

Text

End of the game

Avengers (and Matt Murdock) x Reader

Sum: Game has played and the war has won, now live with it's consequences.

AN: My attempt at angst

Steve Rogers:

It’s hard to hear what was being said from so far away. Mouths are moving after Sam approached. A small glance towards you before he was at this familiar stranger’s side.

“It was beautiful,” said in the same tone as the rest but might as well be screamed.

A verbal gunshot through your heart.

Your bleeding out with realization with every clear cloud. When an opportunity arose to with the one you love nobody would pass it up. The years and decades you dreamed of, Steve had lived it without you, living in a house bought with a wife with someone else’s face, having children that weren’t yours.

Your Steve had left in a machine of science-fiction come alive. It was easy to think of the billion different ways he could have been convinced to stay. Hug him tighter before he leaves, do more of those things he liked weeks before. Maybe you should hop into that machine yourself, try and start over and hope it’s good enough.

It would never be, though. He was yours because he couldn’t have her.

You were just borrowing him.

Tony Stark:

There is a weight on either side of you in the form of a person. Happy on your right and Rhodey to your left. Both there for their own grieving and to counteract the weight dragging you down towards the lake.

Just like a wedding we’ve all had fantasies of our funeral. How we’d refuse the clichés and go our own route. That we’d be able to have a say in what happens. Change it from a day of mourning to that of celebration. Where there is to be nothing black, the music going, and drinks raised in our name. That won’t happened most of the time.

Death is more likely to grab you before any plans can be put into action. What little can be done for the dead’s wishes still won’t change the “cliques”. Every story of a wild party, of the great deeds and everything he’s ever done that’d go in history was covered. A thick layer of depression frosting you were forced to choke down with every bite.

You unknowingly start to waver back and forth. Happy’s arm slides into yours, your head resting into his shoulder, his head on yours.

Pepper took the reins of the entire funeral. A strong woman handling a horrid time with the grace of a CEO. A wavered voice here and there, tears on the bridge of her eyes that refuse to fall but constantly threating to.

That was okay, you could do that for her.

Thor:

“You’re still tired,” your hands disappear into his blonde beard.

You were too after the long nights alone in New Asgard.

“And you’re still gorgeous,” He says.

He was probably hoping that his pick-up lines (which were starting to become cheaper than cute) would make up for his ‘loss of looks’ and detachment from you in the five years. Ironically you had gained muscle; Brunnhilde putting you to work minutes after arriving to New Asgard.

“And I’m gonna throw up,” The, despite Thor’s protests, raccoon says from a chair somewhere in the background.

You probably had roommates before, maybe even gone to college. But this ship, although massive on the outside, was cramped on the inside. Dorm with roommates wasn’t the best description of the ship. Camping would be a better way of putting it. Sharing a tent with several people, things and animal that yells at you is the best way to describe.

There was no way Thor would leave the Earth again without you. With only one thing left to lose he wouldn’t be leaving you alone.

Bucky Barnes:

Bucky falls backwards like he’s full of cement. Although the comforter feels to be almost half a foot thick it still bounces you when he lands. He only made it to the middle of the bed, legs hanging off the side and spread out. With his long hair and beard it could be considered religious imagery.

“You’ve slept way too much to be tired.” You comment, sliding along the bed until you were looking down at him.

“Apparently I haven’t slept in five year.” He says, refusing to open his eyes. Another groan, bringing the metal arm over his already closed eyes. “Lights are making it worse.”

Another headache.

Reaching towards the lamp and clicking it off. The hotel room you’ve paid out of pocket was put into a shade of almost complete darkness. Light from the curtained window put the room into a blue haze, Bucky beneath you nothing more then a very detailed shadow.

“How’s that?” You whisper, hands going to either side of his head.

He nods slightly, letting his arm go down but kept his eyes closed.

They shoot open when your hands go on either side of his head. Thumbs gently rubbing over the temples, fingers sliding through the brown hair and to his scalp.

After the uncertainty of your touch is gone it’s like watching a full puppy. Trying their best to stay awake with a tummy full of food and laying down in a large blanket. Little noises at the back of the throat, whining that he was starting to fall asleep when he wanted to stay awake.

His head curls backwards when your hands slide through his hair. Scratching your way back upwards and smoothing the brown locks back down.

By the time your thumbs rub over his eyebrows his jaw slackened and let the moans out easy. Every hardship of the last day, past problems he’d live with forever were all gone. At least for a moment, with your scratches and gentle touch.

Natasha Romanoff:

The first invitation came minutes after your face is buried in Clint’s chest. Your hands are trapped between you, his head rests onto of yours. His arms around your back; holding your weight from falling to the ground then actually hugging you.

He stayed in arm’s length the entire ride to the farm. Only letting go when the jet’s door opened and the yelling of “Dad! Dad!” comes with the air through the open door.

You were the new adoptive member of the Barton family. An extra plate was added to the dinner table, a guest room was always ready, and Laura’s arms were always open when you entered the room and a beer was ready in the back, farthest part of the fridge when you would eventually need to talk.

That entire time you kept it together; lips in a thin line at any mention of the past few weeks and always a half-hearted smile towards the children who look at you with questions they aren’t allowed to ask.

It’s ironically little Nathan who breaks the hold on your emotions.

“Where’s Auntie Nat?” A whispered question to the older, wiser, Lila unfortunately made in the same room as you.

Trying to hide behind your book as the tears started running worked for a few seconds before Clint appeared in place of his children. Bottle opener ready in his back pocket for the next step of the healing process.

Bruce Banner:

Even standing on the kitchen chair you had to stand on your tippy-tip-toes to reach the back of the arm strap. Bruce could probably do it himself, but he stays perfectly still until you tightened it perfectly.

It horrible and unfair to say, but your lives had turned for the better in the five years. It was still a permeant memory of Bruce raising a human hand in a thumbs up for the last time before you slapped and turned on the machines.

It took some more weeks before you felt as comfortable with this Bruce/Hulk hybrid. A horrid mix of uncanny valley and outright monster forcing a few foot gap between you for a while. When you finally closed your notebook, unofficially completing your observation, his hands almost absorbed your head when he cupped your face.

T’challa:

It was a waiting line to get to your man;

His mother gets to him first. Cupping his face, kissing his face and forehead in quick succession. She coos in their mother language quickly. T’challa regressing to his mama’s little boy. Only able to stand there and take the affectionate assault.

Next is his sister. A side arm bump and the Wakandan salute, Shuri immediately starts laughing after words. T’challa practically grabs her, pulling her into his chest in a hug that Shuri still laughs at. Better to laugh then to start crying as she so obviously wanted.

Third was Okoye. She was respectful, butt of the spear slamming into the ground twice, an arm across her chest and fist over her heart. He, again, did the same, two handed version, of the salute. Bowing his head as she did hers.

Finally, there was you, hands behind your back. Pretending this was the same as any other situation you had ever been in.

He doesn’t play this game for every long. The moment you were close enough his hand goes out to your face. Cupping your cheek, forehead pressing against yours.

This wasn’t the first time you had seen him after he came back. The first lasted mere seconds before that wizard appeared and he was gone again. That hurt worst then when the snap took him from you. At least then he hadn’t left by choice.

Pietro Maximoff:

It’s hard to breath with your face pressed into a toned chest and long hair getting into what little opening your mouth could get.

He had probably thought when he reunited with you it was be romantic. He’d hugged you tight, maybe spin you around. Do all that cute sappy shit you’d mock on all the movies you unironically watched.

When he’d reunite with Wanda it would be more intimate in the opposite direction of yours. They wouldn’t have to say as much as all the cooing and almost tears he’d express with you. Try as you might, it would be hard to match the connection the twins had with each other.

Now, maybe if he had seen you individually after the massive battle this could have happened. Instead he found you both at the same time. Wave of emotions for both of you combined until words were impossible. A combination of both scenarios when he rushed forward. No words, and a combination of a strong hugs pressed you both into his chest.

Peter Parker:

May holds herself on the armchair like a teenager. Knees pressed to her chest, tea on the coffee table forgotten seconds after being set down.

It became a weekly tradition that you’d visit at least twice a week. May would open the door with tired eyes and an even worse smile. She’s been burying herself in charity work days after the Snap, staying up her eyeballs in work to keep from coming home and seeing the empty room.

Conversation was never the reason for your visits. Instead just taking comfort in each other’s isolation on separate sides of the living room.

This night was no different as your own tea was already gone. Laying the exact opposite way of May with your legs outstretched and arms hanging off the chair’s arms.

Sudden light takes over a quarter of the room. May’s legs stretch out from the chair as slow as the light had appeared. You rose at the same speed. Coming together between the chair and coffee table. May holding your shoulder, both to throw you backwards or to stop you from going forward, her nails digging into your shoulder.

It’s dark on the other side with the only color being shifting shadows.

Color finally comes through in shiny shades of red and blue covering one leg. Then another. Both attached to hips and a torso, leading to a brown-haired head who can’t speak through his tears.

“Peter…” May gets him first.

He wraps both arms around her neck, almost crushing her in a headlock. He presses his face against the side of her face. May holds him with almost equal strength. Holding him against her the same as she had after the plane crash years ago.

The golden circle tightens and closes behind them. It’s a tie between the circle and the extremely intimate moment that you kept a generous distance from Aunt May and Peter.

“Oh, I missed you.” She said, starting to rock him slightly.

“I’m sorry…” She says into her shoulder. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Your phone had five years’ worth of texts to Peter. Little good mornings and good nights. A few “I miss you” and other small messages. That Peter would read through every single one when May lets go of him grew a guilt garden in your stomach.

Your hand reaches out and touches his shoulder. When he looks up, sees your attempt of a smile, he starts sobbing even harder.

Stephen Strange:

His hands are shaking more then usual now. Old doorknobs were the enemy as every door you added a stop, only after permission of course. Any meals had to be pre-cut, you casually taking his plate and going to work without a single pause in conversation.

It hard to say if Stephen still counts as mentally human by this point. That maybe God or the universe or whatever created the world in it’s infamy had no intention of humans knowing everything that Stephen now possessed. He combs over books he’s had to had memorized by now. Snapping them closed when you’d look over his shoulder. Warning you from trying to read some as you were either not prepared or just wouldn’t be able to handle the information.

Stephen never outright told you he wanted to be alone. Instead moving through the sanctum at a pace you jogged to keep up with. Becoming more of a puppy or a side kick then as a romantic partner.

It’s rare that he in body sleeps. No matter if he’s twitching beside you or an astral projection above you take possession of his body. Legs wrapped around his center, arms keeping him close as possible, everything to keep him from escaping from you again.

Matt Murdock:

Your mug shatters across the floor. White pieces of glass stop from skirting around the floor by socks with sweatpants tucked into them.

You should probably feel bad that you basically took over his apartment. Turning the place into an almost shrine to your lost man. Coming in every few days to make sure it wasn’t broken into during the few days you stayed at your place.

Matt’s head tilts side to side for a few seconds. The shattering mug probably sent his senses into a spiral for a few seconds. Focusing instead on you, his partner, who had a five-year difference in their smell, heart beat and overall feel.

Your name coming from his mouth was the greatest song ever sang.

Hands cupping his face without saying anything. Matt standing there as you basically frisk him. Making sure he was completely there and not just some dream here to mock you.

“Um, Honey?” He says, using the almost mocking version of a pet name.

“If you do this again I’m gonna fucking kill you.” You whisper into his chest.

It was a promise you made every time he didn’t answer his phone or came home late. Unsure what was going on he said the same he did every time. “Wear something nice to my funeral.”

Carol Danvers

This moment was for Carol, a woman desperate to get drunk on nothing but you. Holding you in your practically abandoned apartment, the heater and power still out. No blanket was needed, though. Just being the little spoon with a leg over yours to keep you still would do.

It doesn’t matter how often or not she holds you. Nobody is ever prepared for that amount of heat to come from somebody. Her star’s breath on the back of your neck, nose in your hair and arms finding every inch to feel. Make sure nothing is broken and everything is the same. Even as a superhero, and a woman, she still found annoyance at the thickness of your bra cups.

Your turn to check her over would come later. For now, you just enjoy reaching back into her new haircut. Just to make sure it was still able to be tugged.

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scripted-dalliances · 5 years

Text

Rest In Peace: Chapter Two

Title: Rest In Peace

Chapter: 2

Summary: A part of Faithless Fairy Tale, a more in depth look at how they brought Laura back to life. Appearance of old faces, creation of new ones and if you’re looking for canon, it left a long, long time ago. If you squint you might be able to see some pieces from the book.

“Ut Vidi, Ut Perii”

“When I saw you, how I perished.” -Virgil, Eclogue VIII

Oh.

Laura doesn’t know what to say to that. She had presumed his reason was about her being dead. Of the possible rancid taste or scent of her…she had planned to tease it out of him but ultimately pop a mint before the big move. She had even expected it was due to him being awkward about Shadow being so near.

She did not expect this.

“Got a crush, asshole?”

Sweeney sniffs indignantly, “Fuck off, cunt.” Then later adds, “Maybe.”

She laughs at that, she really does.

“I am, in your constant -and loud- opinion, a dead bitch.” She leans up, placing her small hands on his chest for support as she does. Under her palms she feels his heart, quick paced but daunting with every assured beat. “I have kicked you through walls, nearly popped your balls from the sack and oh yeah, a walking corpse because you killed me but you still caught feels? You are one sick puppy.” The nickname slips out without too much thought, but honestly she isn't surprised that it pisses him off. Unlike Shadow, he doesn't take it like a cutesy nickname, unlike her ex-husband, he knows an insult when he hears one.

“Ain't no fucking puppy.”

Laura, still perched on him with all the grace and dignity of a queen on a throne, nods. “Yeah. No. Puppies are more enjoyable. You're more like a tick, one with like, the plague or some shit.”

“Oh, yeah keep whispering sweet nothings, dead wife.”

-and just like that, he is giving her that insufferable smirk, all teasing and delighted despite or maybe even because of her un-creative insult.

“I'd never thought I would have to kink shame a leprechaun, but here I am. Don't get a boner about me insulting you, weirdo.”

Mad Sweeney chuckles darkly to himself, all low and twisted, and if she was alive she thinks she might even like it. “Ain't your half assed insults, love. And I ain't a corpse fucker, as pretty and pleasant as you are with half your guts on display.”

Laura doesn’t even bother hiding her confusion. In her vast knowledge of the workings of men, their actions tended to really boil down to two things. Their dicks and pride, and everything else derived from those.

Even love.

Shadow had loved her because of what he thought she was, what he could build for her (never mind that she was bored and borderline suicidal) and she had even enjoyed that to a point. Playing a role, hoping he would break it. Help her become someone better and new.

Just as she had hoped he could bring her back to life.

She is not unaware of the bitter irony that is her shitty afterlife.

“Then what is it?” She finds herself demanding. Curious despite him being an insufferable prick with a matching smile about it. Like it's cute that she can't imagine the reasons.

She can't. She has nothing to offer a man, she is dead. She was broken long before that. She has no warmth, no heart or softness; she never has, she has lied and tricked her way into people's affections. Like the gods of death painting and sewing her up to look like a real girl.

Truth was, she has only ever been this: a bitch, bored and cruel, who only ever felt anything when it hurt. Who did more in death than she ever did with life. Laura was empty and cold, even before they scooped out her insides and buried her six feet under.

“A girl cuts the head off an ancient and powerful god to save a boy, and that boy might get some ideas.”

Laura huffs in laughter and rolls off him. Joining the idiot on the floor, who looks over as she makes herself comfortable. Hands resting on her stomach, legs down and out. She feels her death more now than ever, in this position with the growing silence and stillness. So she breaks it.

"Don't get any ideas then, idiot."

"Oh, why not? Go about slayin' gods often do ya?" Sweeney counters, tone false and sweet as if he was flirting badly and knew it. She suddenly wants to twist his flesh between her fingers just to make him stop, but just as easily, she lets the urge slip out of her. She's growing tired of this. Of only feeling alive when she's tormenting him. Or when he's doing the same to her.

It's a toxic game, forged by two people who are broken in the same way. Like fucked up puzzle pieces that have lost their original shape and now only fit to each other and nothing else. They exchange barbs, crass truths and hard hands, and to anyone else it's impossible to stand. Anyone else, and they would hurt, and flinch away from that pain.

Sweeney and Laura are just two insufferable kids, pressing their thumbs into each others bruises to get that ache and reaction, because no one else wants to play that fucked up game.

For a second she feels alive, he gets his earned punishment, and in any other relationship this kink would only happen behind closed doors and probably involve a safe word or two. And a ball gag.

(Laura's brain supplies x-rated images of herself bent over his lap, his hand covering her whole ass, each smack hard enough to leave her pale flesh red with soon to be bruises, just as easily as she can picture herself in mile high heels walking across his back as he curses her out.)

She is well aware of their twisted natures, their shared broken edges and only kind of exhausted at pretending she isn't. He is her killer, she his victim, but it is not roles they fit or play well for long.

After all she 'stole his coin' and is holding it hostage until she gets what she wants. He calls her a cunt and she breaks his hand and then calls him a dickhead. Both of them are total assholes to each other, and so neither can stand too tall on the moral high ground for long.

Worst yet, neither of them are willing to walk away from this. Not without a fight.

He has tied himself to her just as much as she has to him. For better or worse, it's his hand she's got a fucking death grip on because like hell she's letting him go.

(She refuses to do this alone.)

But there's a price, with never letting go and it's paid in revelations.

At all times she is exposed, from her bitter mouth to her rancid guts. The worst of her is unwillingly on display, and he doesn't ignore it. He complains, pisses and moans and laughs at her but she does the same back.

How could she not?

This is without a doubt, his lowest. He is without luck, weak and hides not an ounce of how much that ruins him. Everything about him that would shine, is buried in her like a bullet and she isn’t giving it back any time soon. Just like her, he's missing a vital piece of himself and the world tears them asunder, for daring to be without it. Just as unrelenting and vicious as a hungry vulture would rotted meat.

How dare you be less than what you have always been. How dare you stand and be without faith or luck.

Better souls would forgive each other, learn and heal. Better people would want to rid themselves of such poisonous actions and words, that got them screwed in the first place. To let death take her, to ask for forgiveness, to let go of the past.

-but that's not who they are.

As much as she hates to admit it, they are matching pair in that regard.

They will never forgive, they will never fully recover and they don't want to.

They would rather let this pain become gangrenous, let it twist and boil, let it dig in like a parasite and replace the pieces of themselves they've lost. It's this pain that fuels them, to push on and keep going because fuck the world, fuck the blood they've unwillingly spilled to earn their place in it.

They will not bend just for the spite and salt of it.

She wants her life back, but she doesn't want to do it with false promises. She doesn't want to be tricked and conned into some life long affair of faith, to surrender herself, heart or soul. She doesn’t want to sacrifice some other innocent idiot, or shove some different magical relic into herself in hopes no one down the line wants it back. Laura wants what is her's. Nothing more, nothing less.

-and she isn't stupid. She knows she only got this chance because of a magical coin accidentally given to her by a man who didn't want her back. That without it, she'd be nothing but road kill…

The image of the ice cream truck, on it's side. Window busted through and how she awoke on warm pavement with Sweeney above her flashes through her mind.

Holy shit

"You gave me the coin back."

Sweeney doesn't answer, and she continues. Tilting her head just enough to catch his expression. Haunted hazel eyes that are glued to the ceiling like it holds the lucky lotto numbers.

"When the truck flipped, and I went through the front. I was a mess, like...splat." Laura uses hand gestures to further her point, "-and I remember that, but not hitting the ground. Which wouldn't be weird, if I wasn't already not alive, and it's not like I got brain damage or something. So. From my perspective, I crash, I tumble out and then blank. Come to your ugly face above mine touching my tits."

"I did not touch your tits!"

She smirks, "Bet you wanted to."

"Fuck off."

"It's okay to admit it. I mean, I've got a decent rack, right?" Dead or not, she did.

"For the last bloody time, I did not even look!"

"Ah, but you did put that coin back, didn't you?" Silence again is the answer she's looking for, because he's never silent unless she's right. "So. You gave me a second...maybe third chance I didn't deserve and still tried to get Ostara to help me.”

Sweeney grunts in response. He is mad, she can tell, that she has figured this out. His dirty little secret.

“Then, for whatever reasons I haven't figured out just yet, totally stepped up to Odin to defend me...for like half a second before he kicked your ass, but I'm choosing to ignore that bit." Laura positions herself onto her side, “I’m starting to think you liked me before I slayed a god to save your skinny ass.”

He still refuses to even look at her so she takes her time looking at him instead.

There hasn't been much want to check him out, in the start of their adventure. All she knew was from what she noticed first. That he was tall -stupidly so- and ginger. With a smart mouth that pissed her off and hands that could wrap around her throat.

Now, she adds that he's also got freckles everywhere (and she wants to count them, connect them…probably into a shape of a dick), a wide chest with matching shoulders, that probably makes other women swoon with lust. That he weirdly smells like cloves and the best kind of beer -despite knowing that he hasn't showered in days- all with a jaw line that makes her want to trace with her fingertips because it looks sharp enough to cut her.

Everything about him seems like an exaggeration of a man; his height, his build and his hair. Large and not in charge, but that's only when he opens his mouth and then it becomes pretty obvious under all the flash and very nicely built body, is a rotten fucking attitude. Just like her.

Laura smirks to herself, aiming to poke a bruise she knows is a mile wide. This is who she is after all. "What is it really. Guilt because you killed me? Need someone to spank you, while you confess your sins and tug one out?"

Sweeney's expression hardens, and his lips form a mulish pout. "Ain't that."

"–because I'm well aware that it wasn't you. I mean it was. But I'm gonna go and firmly place the blame on Odin. Hey, speaking of, do gods have a hell? Like for themselves?"

He sighs, "No, cause if there was, it be here. Listening to you go on."

"Don't make me kick you in the balls.”

He gives her a manly snort in reply, one that seemingly comes from deep within his chest as he sits up and fishes out a crumpled up cigarette packet from his pocket.

He offers one to her, more out of habit than anything, that she takes and lights with her lighter (that she stole from him) and hands it over. Watching as he mirrors her actions, and slips the stolen piece back in his pocket.

She is mentally making plans to steal it back when he starts talking again.

“Its not guilt. Not really. Not what…what I think it means to your lot.”

“And the giving me the coin back part?”

He inhales and exhales. Buying a bit of time.

“Part of it, I suppose, but ain't all of it.”

Laura rolls her eyes, “Way to explain fuck all, Gingerbread.”

Quick as wild fire, he becomes furious. Suddenly standing and glaring down at her like he wants to burn her down to ash with just his eyes and nothing else. It’s powerful and violent enough of a reaction that even she takes pause.

“What the fuck do you want me to say? My life ain't some easy by the by poem you read on the back of a bleedin' cereal box. I was a king. I was a bird, and a mad man. I was all of these things and more, but saying them to you, do they have any meaning to them? Do you understand or even believe them? No.” He sneers, and she frowns deeply. Thinking about her reaction in the ice cream truck and knowing he's right.

Hating that she can't defend herself.

“Just as reading all these damned books is fuckin’ useless. You could read them all but it doesn't make a lick of difference to your state of being. You have a limited scope of understanding. By nature of what and who you are. Even dead and crawling out of your own grave hasn't changed that. You'll feel no heart beat from me like your lover boy, kiss or no kiss, Laura Moon. So don't even bother trying to test ya little half baked theory.”

He has called her cunt and bitch a thousand times over, but never before has he insulted her to this level. With so much truth and venom. Never has it been so painful to hear. Laura likes to pretend she isn't affected, but she is.

For a long, drawn out moment they merely look at each other, poised at the edge of some great cavern of suffering. His. The one that is fathoms deep with age and unknown truths that as he so rightly stated, she can not understand. It seemingly grows wider in their combined silence.

Slowly, the massive angry fire in his hazel eyes fades and he turns his back. Stalking from the room, from her without another word.

Laura remains, lost in thought.

#mad wife #mad sweeney #mad sweeney x laura moon #laura moon #mad wife fic

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green-eyeddragonfanfiction · 7 years

Text

Time: Chapter 13

Summary: Soulmate!AU/Reincarnation!AU. Female!Reader lives in a world where alien invasions threaten Earth, hordes of death robots destroy entire towns and past lives and soulmates are very real. Like most people, she gets brief glimpses of her past. Although a person’s past lives and their current life may have little to nothing in common, soul mates tend to transfer between lives, the core of a person staying the same throughout the eons. What happens when reader’s soulmate from her past life, Steve Rogers, shows up out of the blue? Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader, Steve Rogers x Female!Reader Warnings: Language, angst, fluff Word Count: ~3,097 A/N: Look at this cute dork. So precious.

Masterlist // Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

“Goodnight, (Y/N),” he whispered, brushing a piece of hair off of your cheek. Unable to look at him for a moment longer for fear of what you might do, you turned away from him. A moment later one of his arms wrapped itself around your waist and reeled you into his chest. You smiled, resting your head on the bicep of his other arm as his legs moved up, spooning you. You should have been alarmed at how normal if felt to lay there like that with him, but you were so tired and happy that you didn’t question it, once again drifting off to sleep.

“This is a terrible idea,” you hissed.

Steve glanced at you out of the corner of his eye before his gaze snapped back to smile at a woman exiting the store. He gave her a polite nod and half smile then reached for your hand. She passed by without recognizing him, a feat in and of itself. It was shocking how many people couldn’t see the great Captain America past a pair of thick rimmed glasses and baseball cap. His fingers wove with yours and he gave you a comforting squeeze as you stepped through the sliding glass doors of a local grocery store.

“It’s going to be fine,” he whispered as he grabbed a shopping cart.

“And how often do your plans actually work?” you asked, leveling him with a steely gaze.

He thought about it for a moment before he smiled guiltily. “It’s a toss up,” he said jovially, leading you down the closest aisle.

“I still think Scott should have come with me. He isn’t as recognizable so this isn’t as-” an older man turned down the aisle and you bit your words off, suddenly pursuing the shelves so scrupulously it was definitely suspicious. Steve chuckled, grabbed a box of cereal, and threw it into the cart. When the man had safely turned the aisle Steve turned to give you a reassuring smile.

“We tried that already, remember? There was screaming over cake?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

“I meant- He’d be normal sized, not tiny,” you explained, exasperated.

“You do realize he’s a normal guy, right? A great guy, but a completely normal one without his suit? If anything happened you’d only have his questionable hand-to-hand capabilities as backup,” Steve said, eyebrows raised in question.

Your eyebrows knitted together into a glare, which you leveled at Steve. “Fine,” you said grumpily. “This is still a terrible idea, though,” you insisted.

Steve grinned down at you as you continued down the aisle. “Yeah, I heard that the first fifteen times you said it,” he said, pausing to reach above your head and grab a box of granola bars from the shelf. You wrinkled your nose at his selection, grabbed a box of a brand you liked better, and tossed it into the cart.

“Just as long as we know I’m not the one to blame when this goes to shit,” you griped, staring up at the aisle signs in search of the next items on Clint’s list.

Steve spotted the right aisle before you did, turning the cart one handed while he pulled you in the right direction.

“Relax, (Y/N). I won’t let anything happen to you,” he said, gazing at you fondly.

“Steve, I survived the battle of New York in a coffee shop with two baristas as backup. It’s not me I’m worried about,” you said, exasperated.

Steve looked taken aback. “You never told me- Wait, you were in New York when-”

You rolled your eyes, shushing him as you glanced around to see if anyone was watching. “One question at a time, Steve,” you said, taking the cart from him. It seemed he was so shocked he’d stopped walking. You were still holding his hand. He was so strong it was like trying to tug an industrial cinder block behind you so you stopped, too.

“You were in New York when the Chitauri invaded?” he asked, alarmed. He realized he was talking a bit loudly because he looked around, wary.

“Yeah, of course. I live.... lived there, y’know? I ran a coffee shop. I couldn’t just up and leave. The shop was on shaky ground at time and I was worried if I left it’d go under. Then... shit hit the fan and I got out as soon as I could... although ‘as soon as I could’ ended up being two years later,” you said, grumbling at the memory of bureaucratic red tape bulllshit.

“Oh,” Steve said simply. You glanced at him and immediately felt guilty; his face was shadowed. He’d done the math and realized that around then was when you met him at D.C.... and consequently left just days later, not contacting him for two years... until just a few days ago. He stayed locked away in his head for a moment before he returned to earth. “You said you defended the shop with... two baristas? How did you and two baristas survive a Chitauri invasion?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

“A lot of guns, luck, and basic strategy,” you said, grimacing at the memory.

“Tell me more about it when we get back?” he asked, excited.

You frowned, apprehension lining your features. “It’s not my favorite story. One of my baristas, May, didn’t make it through the fight. It was a dark time for me and Dean, her soulmate,” you said, trying hard to black out that part of the memory.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked,” Steve said, contrite. “I’m sorry we couldn’t stop the invasion fast enough to save her,” he said, frowning. You turned to look at him and sighed. He looked like a sad puppy. You threw your arms around him, and he looked down at you, startled.

“I can see it in your eyes. You’re blaming yourself for not being able to save May and so many others. Don’t. Just don’t, Stevie. It’s not your fault. I know how hard you try,” you said, thinking back to when you found him half dead on the bank of the Potomac. He considered your words for a second before he wrapped his arms around you, squeezing you gently to his chest. “Half the bastards you save don’t even deserve it,” you grumbled bitterly into his shirt.

He chuckled and leaned back enough to look down at you, smile dancing on his face. You couldn’t help but blush. You were still getting used to seeing Steve in civvies, and the glasses weren’t helping. You were so used to seeing him that you sometimes forgot how attractive he was (though those instances were few and far between). You were surprised to see Steve seemed to be thinking along the same lines about you. His gaze roamed your face, pausing on your lips. He tore his eyes away after a moment, focusing on your eyes, instead, making you smile. It looked like that had taken a lot of effort.

Was his face getting closer to yours? Were you tipping your face up to him or was he leaning down to you? You were definitely getting closer. You were just about to bridge the gap when he stepped back, eyes wide.

“We should probably- Clint’s shopping list-” Steve sputtered, dropping your hand as he grabbed the cart and turned down the next aisle.

“Ah, you’re right,” you mumbled, trailing after him, face hot. Fifteen minutes later you and Steve headed out to Laura’s car, Steve carrying most of the bags by himself. It’d begun to get dark out while you were in the store; the sun was just beginning to set. It was your turn to drive so you happily hopped in the driver’s seat once all of the bags were safely stowed. “We should go back a different way than we came,” Steve said, looking at the GPS app on your new phone that you’d taught him how to use.

You followed Steve’s directions. It’d taken him a while to get used to the tech but he proved himself to be a capable copilot. You’d made it fifteen minutes out of the parking lot when you spotted them. Twinkling lights in the distance. The rapidly darkening sky made them easy to spot and it took you only a second to identify what they were.

“It’s a fair,” you murmured as you got closer and closer to the fairgrounds. Traffic was getting heavier and tons of people were crossing the road on foot; Everyone from families with young children, to couples, to groups of seemingly drunken teens and young adults seemed to be attending.

You eyed the tiny ferris wheel and other amusement rides, trying to remember the last time you’d gone to a fair of any kind.

“We could go, you know,” Steve said, smiling knowingly at you.

You whirled around to look at him, then remembered you were driving and snapped your attention back to the road. “No, no. It’s alright. We should get back,” you said, shooting Steve a reassuring smile.

“We’re ahead of schedule. We can stop for a little while,” Steve said, looking around. “There’s parking there,” he said, pointing to an empty spot halfway down the block.

“We have groceries in the ba-”

“There aren’t any perishables. It’ll be fine. Besides, this is our last night in town,” he said, smiling softly at you. Your traitor heart thumped loudly in your chest at the sight.

“Stop giving me that face. It’s not fair,” you said, groaning.

“What face? I’m not making a face,” he said, brows furrowing in confusion.

“Oh great, you’re not even aware you’re doing it. That almost makes it worse,” you groaned. “But you’re right. I’ve been a tense mess since we got here and a local fair might be just the remedy I need to unwind a bit,” you said, pulling into the parking spot Steve had pointed out. He grinned at you, happy he’d convinced you to go.

“Where to first?” Steve asked, stepping out of the car.

“Tickets. Rides before food, always,” you said resolutely, remembering all the horror stories you’d heard from your friends who hadn’t been wise enough to eat fair food after they went on rides for the day.

“You have a particular ride in mind?” Steve asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

“The ferris wheel and roller coaster, mostly,” you said, squinting up at the two rides as you spoke. You could just barely make out the coaster cars plummeting down the biggest drop. It seemed like they managed to get a decent coaster at this fair.

“The coaster?” Steve asked, sounding suddenly unsure. You dodged children as you walked to the ticket booth, Steve trailing behind.

You handed a twenty to the lady at the counter and she handed you a small sheet of tickets. You thanked her and turned to Steve, eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, the coaster. Is that a problem? I know it’s hot a huge one but-”

“No, it’s alright,” he said, not meeting your gaze.

It was clear from his tone it wasn’t alright.

Suddenly, something clicked. “Steve... are you afraid of roller coasters?” you asked quietly. Something in the back of your mind was nagging at you that you were forgetting something.

Steve’s gaze snapped back to yours, eyes a little wider than normal. “Well, no. I wouldn’t say I’m afraid, but-”

“Steve, you jump out of planes. Without a parachute,” you said, deadpan.

“I know that! But something about being strapped into a speeding death trap just makes me-”

“Coney Island,” you said suddenly, interrupting his excuses. The memory hit you like a ton of bricks.

“What?” he asked quietly, though you had a sneaking suspicion he knew what you meant.

“Coney Island. The Cyclone. He... made you ride it with him. You puked. You told me... her... the story. But everything’s fuzzy... I can’t remember everything,” you said, fingers massaging your temples.

He surprised you by wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. “I’ll tell you the whole story later if you promise to forget about it for now and enjoy the night,” he said, batting his unfairly long eyelashes at you.

“Fine,” you mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

It was well and truly dark by the time you left the fair. Steve had braved the roller coaster, although he looked sick the entire time up until he actually got into the coaster car. Once he was in, his jaw was set in a hard line, his fingers gripping the safety bar until his knuckles turned white; you were surprised the bar survived, honestly. Once the ride started with a jerky thunk forward, you reached for his closest hand, wrapping your fingers around it. He’d had enough time to look at you, a small smile chasing away the worst of the uneasiness, before the coaster plummeted off of the first drop.

After the roller coaster you rode the ferris wheel. It was only when you made it to the top that you remembered you were petrified of heights. When Steve leaned over the side to look down at the fair below, you let out an undignified squeak, going completely rigid with fear as the gondola swung on its hinges. Steve looked at you, alarmed, but his gaze softened the moment he studied you. “Heights, right?” he’d asked, smiling knowingly. You’d nodded stiffly, not wanting to move any more than necessary for fear of rocking the gondola more. He’d moved closer, looking to comfort you, only to cause it to sway ominously. You’d yelped and lunged to him, jumped on his lap, and shut your eyes tight, clutching him for dear life. He’d held you close and slowly convinced you to open your eyes, promising you that you were safe in his arms. You had to admit, seeing the town and the fair from that high up had been stunning.

When Steve spotted you staring at a particularly cute stuffed animal above one of the carnival games, he’d won it for you easily. He’d knocked over all three milk jugs with all three attempts his five dollars had bought, surprising the attendant at the booth. She’d said you could take home the huge stuffed animal that loomed over the booth, but Steve chose the tiny plush you’d been eyeing earlier and handed it to you, smiling when you beamed at it and thanked him profusely. No one had ever won something for you at a carnival or fair before.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know,” you said, smiling at him as you started walking out of the fair. Rides were starting to shut down and the fairgrounds were getting dark rapidly.

“I know... But I wanted to,” he said, smiling softly at you as you crushed the stuffed animal to the side of your chest with one arm. Your cheeks grew hot under his gaze. The ride next to you shut off suddenly, plunging the area around you into darkness. You looked around, alarmed, unconsciously reaching for Steve’s hand with your own free hand.

“Let’s get back. The team’s probably wondering where we are by now,” you said, walking faster towards where you parked the car, dragging Steve along behind you.

He pulled you back suddenly, spinning you to face him.

“Play along,” he whispered. You had a half second to wonder at his words before he cupped your face in his hands and his lips crashed against yours. Your mind went blissfully blank as his lips melded to yours and the world fell away around you. You kissed him back eagerly, arms wrapping around his neck.

A moment later Steve pulled away, panting slightly, eyes glazed over. You followed the movement, leaning forward slightly, not wanting to part from him just yet. He glanced over his shoulder and nodded.

“All clear,” he said, taking your hand in his, and started walking towards the car again.

“What?” you asked, still dazed.

“Sorry for not giving you more of a warning. There were two policemen patrolling, likely stationed here temporarily to keep fair-goers safe. I had to think quick and, well, I was told once that public displays of affection make people uncomfortable,” he said sheepishly. “I hope you’re not upset with me,” he said, turning his head to smile down at you.

You shook your head violently as you spoke. “No, no! Of course not, Stevie,” you said a little too quickly.

“I’m glad,” he said, unlocking the car from a few feet away. You felt your pockets, confused. You were supposed to have the keys, not Steve.

“When did you get those? I thought they were in my pocket,” you asked, confused.

“I took them while you were distracted a minute ago,” he said, chuckling as he opened the passenger door for you.

You glared at him as you got in the car. “Who are you and what have you done with Steve,” you said, mock anger coloring your tone.

“He died on that roller coaster. I’m Steve’s evil twin, Fred,” he joked, grinning wickedly for show before he closed the door and walked to the driver’s side. You snorted at his terrible sense of humor, grin lighting up your features. He got in and turned the car on, deftly maneuvering out of the parking spot, and pulled out onto the main road.

“A joke, huh? I thought you’d forgotten how to make those,” you said, resting your head on your hand, elbow propped up on the armrest.

“Ah, I’m wounded,” he said, grinning. “I happen to have a great sense of humor,” he said, raising an eyebrow at you in challenge.

“I’m pretty sure every funny bone in your body got replaced by justice, freedom, and kickass,” you said, rolling your eyes. Streetlights flashed above you as Steve drove towards the Barton house.

“Hey, I’ve always had the justice and freedom genes,” he said, sounding a little offended.

You snorted. “Does getting beaten up in back alleys by neighborhood bullies really count as being a shining example of American ideals?” you asked, eyebrow raised in question.

“Yeah. 100%,” he said matter-of-factly, grinning broadly.

You groaned and rolled your eyes. “At least you have the kickass gene to back the other two up now.”

“Yeah, that does help a bit,” he said, smiling over at you.

“Come on, wonder boy. We need to get back asap so we can pack for tomorrow,” you said motioning vaguely to the road in front of you.

“Yes ma’am,” he said, throwing you a winning smile as the car picked up speed.

Chapter 14

This series is finished, but if you want to be tagged in my other fics, check out this post! Sorry, but responses to this post asking to be tagged will be ignored, so send me an ask or like one of the taglist posts!

☕ Buy Me a Coffee! ☕

#steve rogers #steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #Bucky x Reader #bucky barnes x reader #marvel fanfiction

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wesonerdy · 7 years

Text

With Laura back in the picture, Shadow’s a little confused. The New Gods don’t have time for that nonsense, though, and have a proposition for Wednesday and Shadow that takes them both away from the motel. Here’s our recap of “Lemon Scented You” and a preview for episode six, “A Murder of Gods”!

Courtesy of STARZ/Sony Pictures Television Inc.

Coming to America

“Lemon Scented You” begins with Atsula. Based on what I found, she’s a very old priestess who brought her God, Nunyunnini, to America across the land bridge separating North American from Siberia.

Her daughter dies along the way and there’s no food once they reach the promised land.

“The Gods are great, but people are greater. For it is in their hearts that Gods are born and God’s return.”

Shadow’s shock at seeing Laura hasn’t faded a single bit. He stands at the door in shock.

“Hi, puppy.”

“Hey, baby. What the fuck are you doing here?”

Then to prove he isn’t going insane, he throws a pillow at her to see if she’s real. Of course, it nails her.

Courtesy of STARZ/Sony Pictures Television Inc.

When he’s satisfied Laura’s really there, he wants to talk about Robbie, but Laura wants to talk about how she’s back from the dead.

“You rising from the dead is par for the course since I got out of prison.”

We all feel you Shadow. Since your release, it’s been chaos.

Laura, in her no-nonsense fashion, tells him that she always sorta knew she couldn’t wait for him while he was in prison, and that it was thirteen months after he went to jail that she began to have an affair with Robbie.

She explains that the cat died and there was wine, and it just happened.

“Were you going to leave me for him?”

“Robbie? Please. I love you. You’re my puppy.”

Then she goes into details about their final night, and how she felt about dying.

“Really, I was very blah about the whole thing. I wasn’t scared.”

Laura then asks Shadow for a cigarette, and if I were Shadow I’d be asking if I was losing my mind, too, because she’s so nonchalant about everything.

Shadow goes and gets the cigarettes but notices a car parked across the way with someone in it.

Back inside the room, Laura is in the bathtub. She tells him that she wants to warm up her body because he would probably prefer if she was warm to the touch. Shadow looks at her like she’s crazy.

“What?”

“Normally, people who die tend to stay in their graves, that’s what.”

Cut to a raven hopping down the hallway to Wednesday’s room. (Is he Odin?) The raven does a Lassie-esque talking thing and Wednesday goes to Shadow’s room.

In Shadow’s room, Laura asks him if he wants to put her ring back on her. He ignores it and explains that the last time he talked to her, he knew something bad was going to happen that nothing felt right.

Courtesy of STARZ/Sony Pictures Television Inc.

Laura moves toward him and tells him that things can feel okay again. She kisses him then and her heart beats again as light feels her chest.

She always sees light around Shadow and this happened, so is Shadow a God? Perhaps one of life?

Laura tells him that she loves him so much then:

“You got yourself mixed up in some really weird shit, by the way.”

She thanks him for the coin and asks him if he’s still her puppy. She’s asked Shadow in a lot of ways if he still loves her or cares for her but he hasn’t given her anything yet, so this direct question is meant to have a direct answer.

“No.”

At that moment, Wednesday knocks on the door. Shadow opens it and barely steps out. He can tell Wednesday smells something off, so Shadow steps outside completely. Wednesday’s is making a point to look into Shadow’s eyes like he can see into them.

That’s when the sirens show up and the cops arrest Shadow and Wednesday for bank robbery.

Laura’s back in the tub and is watching through the window as she sees Shadow’s light leave the area.

****

Technical Boy is walking out of a club and the lights start going out around him as he approaches a limo.

Inside is Media (as David Bowie), and she’s not happy at all. In fact, she brings a message from Mr. World that Technical Boy needs to apologize immediately.

Courtesy of STARZ/Sony Pictures Television Inc.

***Gillian Anderson stars as the New God Media in the critically acclaimed series “American Gods.” Media assumes whatever form will deliver her message most effectively and is often personified by iconic celebrities. [via STARZ]***

Technical Boy misconstrues that as an apology to Mr. World, and Media explains he has to apologize to Wednesday’s man, Shadow.

This really sets Technical Boy off.

“Wednesday’s collecting monsters. Fucking Pokémon.”

He’s still going to apologize and he’s going to mean it.

****

At the police department, Wednesday and Shadow are being interrogated.

Shadow repeatedly asks for a lawyer and Wednesday is playing the senile, old man game from the first episode.

They ask Wednesday for the true story for being in Chicago.

“I’m recruiting an old God of Death to fight the New Gods because they fear him and they should fear me as much.”

He also tells them that the leprechaun has been against it since the beginning and Mr. Nancy is bitterly dispossessed.

Over in Shadow’s room, the detective explains to him that they found him because some FAXED the exact GPS coordinates to them on a fax machine that hasn’t working in years. He and Wednesday have powerful enemies and she wants to know who they are.

“I’d like to know what you know.”

“I don’t think you do.”

The detective says that they’ll look leinientely on him since he just lost his wife if he’ll help.

****

Laura is in the motel room, getting dressed when Mad Sweeney shows up, demanding his coin.

“Give me my fucking coin, dead wife!”

Laura interrogates him about what he is and what’s going on. Sweeney tells him not to trust Wednesday and that Shadow shouldn’t trust him either. He also tells her that he’ll get his coin back eventually because she’ll decompose and turn to soup, especially if she keeps taking warm baths.

Sweeney tackles her into the tub and is holding her under when the cops bust in again. Laura pretends to be dead the entire time as the cops haul Sweeney aways.

He yells the entire time.

“You’re an asshole, dead wife!”

****

They put Wednesday and Shadow in the same room with the photos, and Wednesday tells Shadow that they’re a “God’s eye” view of the world.

Courtesy of STARZ/Sony Pictures Television Inc.

Mr. Nancy, in spider form, opens up his cuffs. Noises of fighting start filtering in from beyond the doors, and Shadow asks who is after him.

“Someone you don’t want to see your face until you’re ready to be seen.”

The door opens and Media floats in. This time as Marilyn Monroe. She gives up details about Marilyn’s death, and Shadow begs Wednesday to tell him that this isn’t real.

That’s when Mr. World makes his much anticipated appearance.

Courtesy of STARZ/Sony Pictures Television Inc.

The first thing he does is apologize to Wednesday. He says he should have sought him out sooner, but he couldn’t see him clearly.

Wednesday tells Shadow not to say a word to Mr. World, but World says he already knows Shadow.

“You’re a person. I know people. All of them. You have a name, Shadow Moon. You have a blood type and a recurring nightmare. B positive and an orchard of bones.”

His head turns to gigabytes almost as he speaks. Media pulls him back to the present and he straightens himself back out. Then he asks Media if Technical Boy is still sulking.

After he whistles a couple of times, Technical Boy shuffles in the room. Technical Boy knows what he needs to do, but doesn’t want to.

“I’m sorry…for lynching you. Hanging a dark-skinned man was in very poor taste.”

Shadow doesn’t look impressed (and he shouldn’t be because that apology was shit) and Mr. World offers Shadow a free shot at Technical Boy. Maybe knock out a couple of his teeth, but Shadow declines.

Mr. World “absolves” Technical Boy and tells him to sit. That’s when they begin their pitch since all the unpleasantness is out of the way.

“Technology’s evolving. We’re all evolving. It would be an honor, sir, to evolve with you. I want to help you influence people like never before.”

Media adds: “We want to help you find your audience.”

Wednesday asks if this is a truce, and Mr. World says a truce implies they’ve been at war and he doesn’t think they have. This is more of a merger. Media tells him it would be a “new, lemon scented you.”

They’re appealing to his desire not to be forgotten, but it’s not working because he’s too much of an individual. They tell him that individualism doesn’t work and that’s why he’s been forgotten.

Courtesy of STARZ/Sony Pictures Television Inc.

They show him a rocket set to take off from North Korea called “Odin” and all four walls turn to T.V. screens. This missile would kill millions of people, everyone would know his name, and Wednesday would be rebranded…and that’s just the start.

Wednesday slams his hands down on the table and it all disappears.

“An oyster. Inside every pearl is a single, irritating grain of sand. That’s me. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here.”

He then tells them that the New Gods just occupy people’s time while the Old Gods gave them meaning.

Mr. World: “Give it to them again.”

World says it’s time to go, and Technical Boy is pretty ticked off that they don’t just kill Wednesday. He’s there and they have him. Why let him go?

This incredible scene is below. Crispin Glover nails it!

As Mr. World leaves, he tells Wednesday:

“I’m not your enemy.”

After a few seconds, Shadow asks if this is really happening to which Wednesday tells him that it’s still happening.

They escape and as they exit the station, they see all the police have been murdered.

“What story will they tell here?” Shadow asks.

“Anyone they want.”

This implies heavily that Mr. World, Media, and Technical Boy are spinning the world’s news and views.

The female detective from earlier is dead, and her chair has a an eye on it like the people from the beginning of the story.

The chair grows and forms a tree like from Shadow’s dreams. A branch reaches out and slashes him as he passes.

****

Outside, Sweeney is in a police car and sees several police go in and hears the shots being fired. He breaks out the back window and as he tries to escape crushes his balls on the window edge and lands on his back.

He picks himself up and runs away.

****

At the morgue, the coroner hears a noise and goes to look where all the bodies are placed. Laura knocks off the door to her box and it hits the man.

Once she’s on her feet, she steals some clothes and leaves.

****

Next week on American Gods, “A Murder of Gods” will focus on Wednesday’s recruitment of another to his cause and put Shadow in a pretty uncomfortable position.

On the run after the New Gods’ show of force, Shadow and Mr. Wednesday seek safe haven with one of Mr. Wednesday’s oldest friends, Vulcan, God of the Fire and the Forge. [via STARZ]

Courtesy of STARZ/Sony Pictures Television Inc.

American Gods airs Sundays on STARZ at 9/8c! Be sure to live tweet with us @WeSoNerdy on Twitter!

RECAP: ‘American Gods’ Season 1, Episode 5 “Lemon Scented You” With Laura back in the picture, Shadow's a little confused. The New Gods don't have time for that nonsense, though, and have a proposition for Wednesday and Shadow that takes them both away from the motel.

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wesonerdy · 7 years

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American Gods focused solely on Laura Moon this week! She hasn’t always made the best choices, but she’s cheating death and back on Earth to find Shadow. Here’s our recap of “Git Gone” and a preview of next week’s episode, “Lemon Scented You”!

Courtesy of STARZ/Sony Pictures Television Inc.

Coming to America

“Git Gone” begins with Atsula. Based on what I found, she’s a very old priestress who brought her God, Nunyunnini, to America across the land bridge separating North American from Siberia.

As you can imagine, things don’t go well for Atsula, but another God has been brought into the land that will someday be called America.

The rest of the episode focuses around Laura Moon. Who she was, how she met Shadow, her struggles with addiction and depression, her part in Shadow’s incarceration, her affair, and ultimately her death.

This backstory provides us with the ability to connect with Laura in a way we haven’t done before. We understand she has issues, and we still don’t know where/when they started, but she makes no excuses for her flawed nature.

She is who she is, and that’s that.

Courtesy of STARZ/Sony Pictures Television Inc.

We find out that Laura worked at a casino, dealing blackjack. Her favorite part was shuffling the cards, but a device comes along that shuffles the cards for them and cuts the time down, so she’s regulated to dealing.

She hates it, and her life is monotonous. Laura goes home in the evenings to her cat, Dummy, and sits on the couch. One evening, she kills a fly with some bug spray, “Git Gone”, and she looks out to her hot tub.

She takes the bottle of spray and gets into the hot tub, closes the lid, and sprays the poison into the air. When she can’t take it anymore, she pushes the lid up, and gasps for breath.

I don’t know if she was attempting suicide or getting a high. The bug spray comes back into play over the episode, so it seems like death to me.

Her life changes the night Shadow comes into the casino. He’s trying to hustle her, but she catches him pretty quickly and tells him that he needs to finish his drink and leave. He’ll get caught if he stays because he’s not as slick as he thinks he is.

Courtesy of STARZ/Sony Pictures Television Inc.

He follows her advice for the most part but sticks around to meet her outside. He asks her if she wants to rob the casino with him since she probably knows everything about it. She declines, but they go to her home together. This is the beginning of their relationship, and Laura lets him know that she likes things rough from the get-go by slapping him as they start to have sex.

It’s very obvious throughout their relationship that Shadow cares more about Laura than she does for him. Her nickname for him, “puppy”, is condescending, but he sticks with her. During their love scenes, she seems lost in thoughts or staring at the hot tub.

After they’re married, she comes to him with the proposition he made her that first night in the parking lot.

Rob the casino.

She’s bored and wants to do something. She loves Shadow, or so she says, but she’s bored in their marriage and with their life. Since she knows the casino so well, she thinks it will go off without a problem…

Unfortunately, it doesn’t go as planned and Shadow ends up getting caught. Instead of letting her take the fall, too, he says it was all him so she can stay out of prison.

The only thing Shadow asks is that she wait for him.

In the end, she doesn’t wait. She has an affair with Robbie with Robbie that will eventually lead to her death.

When Shadow’s return is days away, she tries to break it off with Robbie as they’re driving down the road. To ease his sadness, she offers a goodbye blow job, which is what ends up killing them when her elbow accidentally shifts the gears and they run head on into another car.

Since she’s dead, Anubis comes along to collect her…

When she sits besides Anubis in the desert, and he attempts to weigh her heart, she slaps his hand away.

“I lived my life. Good and bad. Definitely not light as a feather.”

Anubis tells her that since she believed in nothing, she will go into nothing.

“You will be done. There will be darkness.”

“And peace?”

“Darkness.”

In the desert, is a hot tub just like her own and a bottle of Git Gone bug spray. Laura tells him there’s no way she’s going in there, and Anubis lets her know that he’s not lost a soul yet.

“Death is not a debate. How many do you think have come before you? All with promises and threats and offers of glory, gold, love. Who are you to misguide me from my duty? You are but a man, not even one I should remember. You will go into the darkness and I will forget even having met you.”

“Fuck you.”

Then she’s pulled away and out of the desert, leaving Anubis to look around, wondering where she went. That lucky coin of Sweeney’s has given her a second chance.

After she crawls out of her grave, she begins walking. She’s still very much dead, but able to move, talk, think.

The first place she reaches after her escape from her grave is Shadow being beaten and lynched by the faceless men of Technical Boy. We didn’t know who saved him before, but it’s quite obvious now.

As she sees Shadow, he’s surrounded in light. She kills all the men, losing her arm in the process, then hides behind a tree so Shadow won’t see her.

Courtesy of STARZ/Sony Pictures Television Inc.

Instead of seeking out Shadow right away, she goes home, takes a shower, gets clean clothes, and is almost out the door when Shadow arrives.

She hides in the hot tub until he’s gone.

Once the coast is clear, she goes to Audrey’s house because she needs some supplies to sew her arm back on.

Of course, Audrey shows up and freaks out. It’s the perfect levity to the situation because Laura’s having some severe reactions to all the embalming fluid inside her. So much so, she busts into the bathroom and sits on the toilet, expelling massive amounts as diarrhea.

In the end, it’s Audrey that ends up sewing her arm back on. Laura apologizes and says she feels badly about what happened, and in true Audrey fashion, she says,

“Fuck your feelings.”

Courtesy of STARZ/Sony Pictures Television Inc.

Then since she’s so kind, she ends up driving Laura to find Shadow. In the process, Laura reads her obituary and isn’t happy with it. Audrey lays out some more hard truths:

“You had a shitty obituary because you had a shitty life. You were shitty.”

In the middle of the road, Anubis and his friend, Mr. Ibis, appear and stop the trip. From there, they take Laura to a funeral home, and properly fix her arm.

In doing this, they tell her that she is still dead. Her body will decay, and she’ll need regular upkeep if she wants to last long enough to finish what she’s there for.

Before they finish, Anubis makes a pledge to Laura…

Laura ends up in Shadow’s motel room and sets out some fly paper since they’re always around her now. As she sits on his bed, light comes through the windows and the cracks around the door, and Shadow enters.

We end the episode where we did last week, with Laura saying:

“Hi, puppy.”

Courtesy of STARZ/Sony Pictures Television Inc.

*****

This Sunday, Wednesday and Shadow find themselves in a bit of a jam with the New Gods. Is there any way to stop the war brewing between them?

Trying to work things out with his dead and unfaithful wife, Shadow’s emotional reunion is interrupted when he and Mr. Wednesday are kidnapped by the New Gods. [via STARZ]

Take a look at these clips and stills for “Lemon Scented You” and let us know what you think!

Courtesy of STARZ/Sony Pictures Television Inc.

The incredible Gillian Anderson will also reprise her role as Media on American Gods for “Lemon Scented You”! You won’t want to miss it!

Gillian Anderson stars as the New God Media in the critically acclaimed series “American Gods.” Media assumes whatever form will deliver her message most effectively and is often personified by iconic celebrities. [via STARZ]

Courtesy of STARZ/Sony Pictures Television Inc.

American Gods airs Sundays on STARZ at 9/8c. Be sure to live tweet with us @WeSoNerdy on Twitter!

RECAP: ‘American Gods’ Season One, Episode Four “Git Gone” American Gods focused solely on Laura Moon this week! She hasn't always made the best choices, but she's cheating death and back on Earth to find Shadow.

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