#I’m out for blood but not when it’s unwarranted | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

darylmydix · 2 months ago

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THE SCARS WE SHARE | daryl dixon - 003

summary: you were the only good thing daryl had in his life. bonded by similar trauma, you suffered abuse at the hands of your stepmother, just as daryl had suffered from his own father. when you finally decide to escape your abusive home life, you're forced to leave behind your best friend in the process. now with the world in an apocalyptic state, you're left wondering if daryl was even alive.

pairings: daryl dixon x fireader.

warnings: smut, violence, blood and gore, unrequited love, best friends to lovers, mentions of s/a, mentions of abuse, mention of suicidal thoughts/attempts, mention of drug use, use of deadly weapons, fluff, angst, slow burn, strong language, kidnapping, coercion, seasons 5-11, 18+, minors dni.

word count: 2.3k

author’s note: if you asked to be in the taglist and you’re not, i apologize. it wouldn’t let me tag some of you. and yes, the person featured in this chapter is exactly who you probably think it is. also warning because this chapter may be triggering as it has attempted s/a.

You stare dolorously at your reflection through your vanity mirror; there was a desperate desire to wipe off all the makeup that coated your face. If the action didn’t come with an unpleasant outcome, you probably would have. Especially if it made you unappealing to whatever “guest” your stepmother had coming by.

You were adorned in a sultry black dress that was form fitting and showing off your curves. One thing your stepmother loved doing more than degrading you was dressing you up like her own personal doll. You hated it. You never pictured yourself as the sexy type. You didn't wear makeup because that merely wasn’t your cup of tea, and typically dressed down to avoid unwarranted gazes from depraved men.

Not that it mattered anyway. Dressed up or down, it still never ceased a creep from saying anything perverted. Merle Dixon proved that theory for you when he referred to you as “sugar tits” the couple times you’d been around him.

You get up from your vanity stool, shuffling over to your bed. You plop on the edge, trying to calm your nerves. You never knew what to expect from the men Sandra brought over. Some of them like to sit and talk before they get to business, while others like to jump straight into it. Some of them were vanilla and traditional, while others had kinks they were into.

None were ever too extreme, but it all made you feel filthy and uncomfortable nonetheless. What made you more unsettled was how many of the men were old family friends, or people in the neighborhood. It surely opened your eyes to how fiendish humans could be.

That’s why you always cherished your friendship with Daryl. He could be an asshole, and a bit prejudiced at times but deep down he had a heart of gold. You were lucky to be able to witness that side of him. He gave you hope for humanity.

A hard knock at your closed door interrupted your thoughts. You could feel your heart beating through your chest as it often did when this ordeal occurred. You let out a deep, unsteady sigh before speaking. “Come in.” You say. As the door opens, you’re face to face with a man you’d never seen before. “Well hello there.” He smiles, shutting the door behind him.

“H-hi…” you mutter, examining the man in front of you. He had longish gray locks, and facial hair. And he wore a buttoned up black long sleeved shirt embroidered with skulls and roses on it. He gave off a biker style. “I’m Joe.”

“Y/n.” You reply dryly, now looking away from the man.

“You’re very beautiful. I wasn’t sure what to expect.” He laughed heartily as though this whole scenario wasn’t disturbing. You don’t bother to respond, wanting the man to just get started and let this baptism of fire end. The man seemed to notice your lack of communication, and walked over to you. You tense a bit, but he suddenly takes a seat on the edge of the bed with you.

“You seem apprehensive, darlin’.” He says.

You weren't sure what he was expecting from this situation. You were being trafficked by your stepmother, and he was a dirty old man contributing to the crime. The man pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Y’know,” he starts. “I get it. This isn’t the most forthcoming thing to be happening right now, and you probably think I’m just a pervy old gu–”

“Can we just… not talk? I want this to be over as quickly as possible.” You finally speak up. The man looks at you, his expression suddenly changing from faux sincerity to an off putting smile. “Oh darlin’, this won’t be quick. It’s been awhile, so it might take me some time.” He chuckles before standing up and moving in front of you.

You keep your head down, not bothering to look at him until you hear the sound of metal clanging together. The man suddenly throws handcuffs beside you where he was sitting. You scrunch your brows together, looking from the cuffs to him. “Cuff yourself to the headboard.” He says, his tone demanding and not as laidback as it was moments ago. His entire demeanor had changed like the flick of a switch.

Your eyes widen at the command. You had never been cuffed to the bed before from any of the past men. The thought of being restrained and not able to fight back if anything happened frightened you. You weren’t so willing to put your trust, or even life into the hands of this stranger, who you were now getting an unwavering feeling about. “Go on. Do it.” He pushes.

“I don’t think… I don’t think I should.” You say slowly, looking away from the man’s displeased face. “You don’t… think you should?” He repeats your words just as slow. You nod your head. “I just wanna be comfortable. That’s all.” You try your best to get him to rethink the cuffs, but he seemed to be dead set on them. “Your mama back there told me you were obedient. I didn’t pay nearly $200 for you to tell me what you won’t do, girl.” He spat.

You cringed at him referring to Sandra as your mother. She could never be your mother. “She’s not my mother.” You correct him. The man scoffed. “I don’t give a damn who she is to you. I paid that money, and I’ll get what I want even if I have to cuff you myself.”

You shake your head. You didn’t care if you were going to suffer the consequences from this later. You’d put up with a lot of odd things from these men, but even the sheer thought of being cuffed to the headboard gave you crippling anxiety. You stand up from the bed, the man still towering your small frame. “I’ll get you your money back,” you assure him. “But I can’t allow you to cuff me.” You stand firm on your decision.

You tried to push past him to leave the bedroom, but were suddenly snatched by your wrist and pulled back. “Ain’t no need for that girl because I’m getting my money’s worth.” He says before tossing you to the mattress. You quickly try to get back up, but he’s pushing you down and grabbing the cuffs. “Get off me!” You shout, struggling against him.

“You’re only going to make this worse for you. Stop squirming.”

A stinging sensation comes across your cheek and you cry out in pain. The man had slapped you, leaving your cheek heated. “Sandra!” You yell for your stepmother in the most desperate attempt to get the man off of you. You knew better though. Your stepmother didn’t care what happened to you. As long as she got money, you were at the mercy of the men who paid her.

You muster up all your strength, finally able to flip the man off of you. He falls to the floor with a thud and a “oomf”. You use this opportunity to quickly jump from the mattress. The man swiftly gets back up to his feet. You know you had no time to make it to the door without him stopping you. You run to your dresser, grabbing the razor blade off the top of it.

Joe approaches you in ignorant bliss, unaware of the tiny blade you held. “Nowhere to run, girl. Let’s just bury the hatchet and start over. No cuffs.” He offers as if you were going to let this psychopath have his way after what he tried to do. “Fuck you, pig.” You snap.

“Have it your way.” He says, lunging at you. You speedily swing your arm, the blade cutting the man’s hand. He steps back, holding his bleeding hand. “You little bitch!” He shouts in pain. You take this opportunity to run to the door, ripping it open as you run out to the living room. You head for the front door, but are immediately grabbed. “Hey!” Your stepmother shouted. “What the hell’s going on? Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“That bastard tried to assault me, didn’t you hear me screaming for you?!” You cry.

“Assault? Did you forget your place, girl? He’s supposed to do that.” She spat angrily, knowing she was going to lose money for this.

“He tried to make me cuff myself to the bed, and when I told him no he tried to force me!”

“You think you have a say in what goes on? I do! If he wants to cuff you to the damn bed, then so be it. He’s a paying client, and I will not lose out on my money just because you wanna bitch about goddamn handcuffs!”

You look at her through wide eyes. Your stepmother was always cruel, this was no shocking matter. But to let this man attempt to assault you and tell you to just deal with it? You refused. You shake your head, snatching away from her grasp. “No.”

“No?” She questions. “I’ll teach you to tell me n–”

“I want my goddamn money back, bitch!” Joe came stumbling into the living room, his hand dripping blood. Your stepmother turns to him, her eyes drifting from him to his hand. “What the fuck happened to your hand?” She asks.

“That little whore cut me, that’s what!” He grimaced. “I want my money back, or both of you bitches are gonna pay.”

“Listen, I’m sure there’s a way we can work this out.” She tries to reason with him. As the two of them go back and forth, you use the opportunity to make your grand escape. You whip around, running to the front door before jerking it open and running outside. You could hear your stepmother yelling your name as you ran down the street barefoot.

You run to the only place you could run to, the only person you could run to.

You ran the entire 20 minutes until you finally reached the trailer parks. You walk through the gravel trail, ignoring the pain of rocks digging into your feet. You’re relieved as you see the Dixon residence lights on. You walk up the stairs, frantically knocking on the door.

“You get into some kinda trouble again, boy? Who the hell is bangin’ on the damn door like the feds?”

“Hell should I know?” You hear Daryl’s voice, footsteps approaching. You step back as the door opens with Daryl on the other side of it. Daryl’s staring at you, a worried expression on his face as he looks your shaken frame over. “Who the hell is it?” Will yells.

“It’s for me.” Daryl responds, closing the door as he steps outside. “The hell happened to you?” He’s grabbing your chin, looking you over. “Is that blood?” There’s a hint of fear in his voice at the thought of you getting hurt that bad. You nod your head. “But it’s not mine,” you assure him. “It’s some guy. I cut his hand after he tried to…” your lip quivers, eyes watering as you try to force yourself to explain to him, but he stops you.

“You ain’t gotta repeat it. He still there? I’ma kill that son’na bitch.” He stomps down the stairs. You follow him. “Daryl, no, wait!” You grab his forearm, stopping him. “Fuck we waitin’ for, huh?! I ain’t just gonna let ‘em get away with it!” He swings his arm in frustration.

You shake your head. “It doesn’t matter,” you say. “Last night you said this doesn’t have to be our reality…” you pause before speaking again. “So run away with me.” You speak through glossy eyes.

Daryl stares at you with a blank expression, as though he didn’t hear you. “What?”

“Let’s run away,” you repeat. “We could go anywhere. We could start over. Get out of this fucking dead weight town, with these twisted fucking people. Me and you…”

You await his answer, hopeful that he’d agree.

But he didn’t.

“I can’t.” He replied.

“What do you mean you can’t? Yes you can. We could leave right now and never look back, Daryl–”

“Man, I said I can’t!” He snapped. “I can’t just leave Merle alone with that asshole in there. He’s my brother.” You stare at him in shock. “And what am I to you?” You ask him. He doesn’t answer, looking away from your hurt gaze. “What am I to you?” You ask again, your eyes watering. He still doesn’t answer, almost as if he’s afraid to say.

“You think he cares about you? You’re not even worth a damn to care about.” Sandra’s voice echoes in the back of your mind.

“Oh god… Sandra was right. You don’t give a damn about me…” you push past him, on your way to leave the trailer park but Daryl hastily grabs you. “Aye, stop. You know that shit ain’t true. I just… I just need you to wait. Once Merle’s outta jail I’ll tell him so he can come with us.”

The thought of Merle tagging along wasn’t ideal. All his presence would do is drag Daryl down and the whole point of you two running away together was to get away from bullshit. Unfortunately Merle brings bullshit wherever he goes. Regardless of that fact, there was no clear way of knowing if he’d even come along when he’s out.

“And what if he says no? Then what?”

Daryl goes silent again, but that was all the answer you needed. You nod. “I get it,” You whisper. “Stupid of me to ever think you’d choose me over blood.” You sniff, laughing at yourself. “When he’s out,” you say. “We’ll ask. I’ll wait a little longer.”

“Will you?” He speaks up. Now it was your turn to go silent, not answering his question as you began to back away to leave. “I’ll see you later, Daryl.”

Taglist:

@daryldixmedown, @supernaturalstilinski, @vampiresluv, @myassisasolarsystem, @mosstheshoeshoethemoss, @scripteria, @moonlightreader649, @creepumiku, @filmsbyblair, @ginger-haired-queen, @darylsdollie, @inkofthebrain, @teethvenom

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woman-of-balnain · 2 years ago

Note

maybe a smut where the reader is jealous after seeing mary and arthur hanging out, argument sex brrrrr. <<33

Masterlist | A03 Ver. | Part 2

Title: Bold as Love

A/N: Hopefully this is what you wanted anon! I'm used to writing a more soft and affectionate Arthur, but this was definitely a fun change for me. I hope it's okay... I took your request as wanting him more on the dominant side.

Also, I hope it's ok to cross-post this on A03. If not, just send me another anon ask to let me know and I'll delete it.

Warnings: Possessive Reader, Possessive Arthur, Jealous Reader, Arthur and Reader fighting for dominance, arguing, smut, unprotected sex, creampie, NOT proofread, I literally wrote it and posted it, so there might be mistakes.

Word Count: 2,781

Dividers by: cafekitsune + newlips

Your blood boiled when you saw them together. If Miss Grimshaw hadn’t let you come into the city that day, leaving your chores back at camp to get what Arthur had requested from the store, then you wouldn’t have even known. It was only by chance that you even found out, which made it so much worse.

You remembered seeing her come into camp, back when the gang was at Horseshoe Overlook and leaving that letter for Arthur. And of course, he’d gone straight to her, as if no time had passed, as if she hadn’t hurt him all those years ago, as if he wasn’t with you now.

He’d reassured you afterwards, told you what happened and more importantly what didn’t happen, but it had taken a while for him to calm you down. That was what made seeing him with Mary again, outside the Théâtre Râleur, hurt and anger you so much more.

She had her arm linked with his, pressing her body close to your man and laughing coyly at something he’d said. You had watched them coming out of the building, which told you they’d just watched a show together. Dim lighting, seated closely together for a whole show… the possibilities were endless in your mind and just made you feel worse.

Almost as though he sensed angry eyes on him, Arthur turned his head away from Mary, looking around before his gaze met with yours. A look of surprise spread over his features, but there was no guilt. You didn’t really know if that was a good thing or not.

Mary followed his gaze, wondering why his attention had strayed away from her. She looked at you with confusion, even though you’d already met when you took the letter for Arthur from her at the old camp.

“Do you two know each other?” Mary enquired.

Her voice was soft and pleasant. A stark contrast to how you saw her.

“Yeah,” was all Arthur said, eyes still not leaving you.

His blasé answer was the worst one he could have chosen in your mind. He didn’t tell her that you were together, that he was now yours. He didn’t put up any boundaries and it caused your anger to get almost to its breaking point.

“Oh,” she looked at you with faint recognition. “You’re one of those… girls…”

The way she said it made it clear how she saw you. Like some two-bit whore who she viewed with obvious disdain. There was nothing wrong with being a working girl. Abigail had been one before she fell for John. But you weren’t that to Arthur and you wanted to make it very clear to her.

“I’m his girl,” you gestured to Arthur, the venom dripping from your voice.

Mary glanced at him with uncertainty, but he just gave you a strange look, as though you were intruding on a moment you shouldn’t have been. As though your hurt and anger and jealousy were unwarranted somehow.

“I have to take Mary to the station,” he told you, voice deep and gravelly.

It was the tone he had when he was either angry or very, very turned on. You knew it was the former this time though.

“I’ll see you back at camp,” he continued, dismissing you.

You clenched your fists, fingernails digging into the skin of your palms as he began walking away, Mary’s arm still linked with his. He was acting like such a… gentleman with her. You knew a softer, more affectionate and loving side to Arthur in your private moments, but the way he was being with her seemed almost unnatural compared to his true personality.

She turned her head only once as they walked away, still eyeing you with uncertainty before saying something quietly to him. You didn’t hear what she said, but it didn’t matter. You’d seen and heard enough.

You’d kept to yourself after returning to Shady Belle. Your chores were done in record time and before Miss Grimshaw could find other tasks for you, you’d stormed off to the open area behind the house. Hiding yourself away, you sat behind one of the smaller, empty buildings and tried to sort through your feelings regarding Arthur and seeing him with Mary.

That was where he found you, late in the afternoon, when the sun had almost met the horizon.

“There you are,” he said, his tone the soft lilt you were used to in private moments like this.

“What do you want?” You fumed, unable to hide the anger still bubbling inside you.

“Darlin’, why’re you so angry?” He asked.

You looked up to glare at him before standing so he wasn’t towering over you.

“Are you serious right now, Arthur? I catch you off on a date with her and you ask me why I’m angry?”

“It wasn’t a date,” he insisted.

“Whatever,” you were seething, letting all the pent-up emotions spill forth. “I don’t care what it was. I don’t like it.”

“Mary… she was just askin’ for a favour.”

“To go to the theatre?” You asked incredulously. “I’m not an idiot, Arthur.”

“Sweetheart, it’s like you said. You’re my girl.”

The sweet endearments didn’t feel so sweet right then, so you continued taking your anger out on him.

“No, I’m not yours,” you hissed. “Not anymore. Not after that. You want her so bad? Go have her. But you and me? We’re done.”

Arthur’s gaze darkened but you ignored it, moving to brush past him and head back towards the main house. You didn’t get very far though because he grabbed your arm and held you in place.

You felt Arthur move so that he was right behind you, chest pressed against your back. His arms snaked tightly around your body, keeping you firmly in place.

“Calm down,” he said lowly in your ear.

His own voice was too composed for your liking, like he wasn’t taking you seriously.

“Just let me go,” you struggled against him.

“No,” he kept you held in his arms. “Take it back.”

That angry tone was coming back, the one that always sent shivers down your spine. You tried to resist it, but when he started pressing kisses along your neck, it became harder.

“Cut it out,” you snapped at him.

“Take it back,” he repeated, lips brushing against your skin. “Say you’re mine.”

His teeth nipped at the place where your neck and shoulder met, and you let out an involuntary moan. You could feel the curve of his lips as he smiled against your skin and when his arms loosened a little in their hold around you, it was the perfect chance to free yourself. So that’s exactly what you did.

Turning to face him, you saw him get irritated as well, annoyed that you were still so defiant. You opened your mouth to say something snarky to him, but Arthur didn’t give you a chance. He closed the distance between you, taking hold of your hair and pulling your head back a little, forcing you to look him in the eye.

You glared at him, and he challenged you right back with his own commanding and unwavering stare. When he saw that you weren’t going to give in, Arthur smashed his lips against yours in an angry and domineering kiss.

You struggled a little, still infuriated with him, but his hold on your hair and the other arm he had wrapped around your waist made it impossible to get away. His lips were bruising and dominant against your own, forcing you to submit.

Eventually, you gave up, giving in and opening your mouth a little wider, allowing his tongue to wrestle with yours. You moaned again, unable to deny how much you loved this forceful side of him.

You always got lost in the feel of his lips, the things he could do with his tongue, the firm grip of his hands, the coarse hair on his cheeks and around his lips that tickled and teased your skin… it was all familiar. It was all yours and you weren’t about to have it any other way.

You managed to pull your head back a little, his grip on your hair having loosened at your submission to his kiss. Breaking your mouth away from his, you looked into his eyes, seeing the way his pupils were dilated and his hair was wild and messy from your fingers running through it.

“You say it first,” you demanded breathlessly.

“What?” He asked, like he was in a bit of a daze.

“Say you’re mine,” you insisted, your tone a little more composed this time. “Only mine.”

“You’re beautiful when you’re jealous, darlin’,” he teased, lips curving up into a devilish grin. “All wild and ferocious.”

“Say it,” you demanded again.

His gaze softened a little, but the dark lust never left his eyes.

“I’m yours,” he promised.

It was enough for you, so you brought your lips back to his, both of your lips fighting for dominance. You gasped into his mouth when you felt him slam you against the wall of the small building you’d previously been sitting by. His hands were everywhere, possessively exploring your body.

“You’re mine too,” he murmured against your lips. “Ain’t you?”

It was spoken like a question, but you knew it wasn’t. He was telling you to admit it, but you weren’t ready to just yet, so you refused to answer, seeking his lips for another kiss instead.

“You’re really pissed off, huh?” He let out a light laugh, pulling back so you couldn’t kiss him again.

You just glared at him once more, feeling like he should know the answer to that. Arthur didn’t seem to mind, his hands reaching down and taking hold of your skirt. The fabric bunched up under his hold, snaking up your legs tantalisingly until the entirety of your lower body was revealed to him.

His gaze darkened even more when he saw that you weren’t wearing anything underneath.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he said, tone more menacing than anything else. “I’ll have you admittin’ it for me soon enough.”

You looked down, seeing the way his erection was straining against his pants and you couldn’t help but to get turned on by the insinuation of his intentions. You could feel the desire spreading through your lower belly, and the way your pussy reacted, already getting wet.

Arthur took hold of one of your hands, bringing it to his clothed cock. You let your instinctual lust take over for a moment, cupping your hand around it and relishing the faint groan that escaped his lips.

If this was how he wanted to play it, you decided to comply. You were quick to get rid of his gun belt before unbuttoning his pants and pushing them down his hips. When his cock sprung free, you saw that it was already fully hard, and it just spurred you on even more.

Your hand wrapped around it, tugging up and down on the velvety skin that covered the steel hardness underneath. His lips sought yours again and he groaned deeply into your mouth as your thumb swiped over the head of his cock.

It wasn’t long before he took control again, though, because he pushed your hands away from him before using one of his to grasp your hip tightly and the other to line him up at your entrance.

Your head fell back onto the wall behind you with a moan as he moved his cock back and forth along your slit, coating it in your wetness.

“Your body can’t lie to me, darlin’,” he groaned out. “You can be angry, but you’re still mine.”

You reached down, taking control by grasping his cock and putting it right where you wanted it. You pushed your hips forward, causing him to enter you and savouring the way his eyes fluttered shut and his mouth fell slightly open at the feel of your tight walls squeezing down on him.

“Yours doesn’t lie either,” you grit out, thrusting up your hips a little.

Both his hands gripped at your waist forcefully, ensuring that he had some hold over how much you could move. Arthur lifted you until your legs wrapped around his own waist and then he began thrusting into you.

“Just… admit it,” he managed to get out, voice rough as he slammed into you.

“No.”

Yet, with each time his cock entered you, it pushed a little deeper and teased that one spot that always brought you undeniable pleasure. If you kept letting him have all of the control, it would be a losing battle for you.

You squeezed down on his cock, milking him and causing him to get lost in the feel of you again.

“Why didn’t you tell her that I’m yours if it means so much to you?”

To your ever-increasing frustration, Arthur just grinned.

“Wanted you to get jealous,” he admitted, one hand moving down to grip your thigh as he continued pounding into your tight pussy. “Because you’re so god damned gorgeous like this.”

“I’m not jealous,” you lied, wanting to goad him. “I’m done. Enjoy this, because it’s the last time.”

His fingers dug into the skin of your thigh possessively at your words and he brought his lips back to your neck, covering your body completely with his. It meant that every sensation you felt was from him. The familiar smell of Arthur wrapped around you and all you could feel was his hands, his lips, his tongue…

“You’re mine, sweetheart,” he insisted again, teeth scraping at the column of your throat. “This pussy is mine and you know it. Just admit it.”

He was clearly frustrated with you too and while it brought you satisfaction, you knew that you wouldn’t last much longer. His long, thick, perfect cock was dominating every aspect of you, eating away at your resolve.

“Apologize then,” you requested of him softly.

He pulled his head back to look at you, his pace never once faltering and the dark desire never leaving his eyes.

“’M sorry,” he admitted instantly.

You knew it was sincere, you could see it in his eyes. He may have liked frustrating you and making you jealous, but you could see in that moment that he realised the hurt you felt too.

“She… doesn’t… mean anything… to me,” he promised, getting the words out between his deep and brutal thrusts. “Not anymore. Not since you.”

“Good,” you replied heatedly, pulling his head closer. “Because you’re mine and I’m yours.”

He was obviously pleased with you finally admitting it and your lips met in another kiss, tongues moving languidly this time, as you savoured the feeling of one another. You could feel the familiar build up within you, knowing that you were close. Bucking your hips slightly, you let him know without words what you needed, and Arthur was quick to oblige.

He knew you like the back of his hand, every aspect, and every desire. So, his hand left its bruising hold on your thigh and moved upwards, caressing and teasing your skin until his fingers finally brushed against your aching clit.

You squeezed down around him again and he broke the kiss, his head falling to your shoulder. His thumb moved perfectly against your sensitive nub, rubbing in circles, and applying just the right amount of pressure.

“God…” you moaned out, now constantly milking his cock inside you as your pussy edged closer and closer to release. “Arthur…”

“That’s my girl,” he murmured against your skin, loving the way you said his name. “Let go, darlin’. I wanna feel you cum around me.”

With two more strokes of his thumb against your clit, along with a teasing nip of his teeth against your shoulder, you came undone around him. Your back arched and your body was overcome with ecstasy.

Your orgasm washed over you blissfully and the vice-like grip paired with the spasming of your pussy sent Arthur over the edge too. You felt his cum fill you up, as well as his cock throbbing deep inside you and it just made your own orgasm intensify.

His lips never seemed to leave your skin through it all, pressing countless soft and loving kisses all over your neck and then up to your jawline and finally on your cheeks. As you both came down from your highs and your frustrations with each other ebbed away, his fingertips stroked along your thighs.

“You’re… incredible…” he breathed out, nuzzling against your cheek affectionately.

You turned your head to capture his lips once more, determined to make sure he never forgot it again.

Part 2

#arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan request #rdr2 request

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wheresmymilliondollarman · 2 years ago

Text

aaron warner x ferrars!reader

hcs about being juliette’s sister and aaron being enamoured by you.

(taken place during shatter me /some of unravel me)

a/n: this is a borderline fic, but i used bullet points so i’m labeling it as hcs (LOL). i use the hayden fancast, but feel free to envision aaron as you want. reader and juliette aren’t biologically related but both adopted & grew up together thinking they were related by blood. you’ll likely being seeing me use juliette more than ella bc i prefer it and confuses less. readers powers similar to emmaline, but differs. (heavily took inspo from jean grey & wanda maximoff) timeline changes a bit. also i don’t exactly know/remember how school worked during the book so i’m just going by my own experiences LMAO. lmk if you are interested in a part 2!

word count: 9.6k

warnings: mentions of mental and physical abuse, gun violence, mentions of injuries and blood, some swearing, long backstory, grammar errors and spelling mistakes

you and juliette were the same age; you were younger by a few months. however, due to how close your birthdays were, your “parents” decided you both would be played off as twins to yourselves and everyone else. of course, growing up you did see the differences in appearance between you and juliette, but your parents assured you it was due to being fraternal twins.

you both were very close sisters; you shared a small bedroom in your home. facing the abuse from both your parents brought you even closer. you both shared your thoughts, secrets, feelings, and anything else with each other. anytime your parents shouted at you, hit you, or berated you, juliette was there with open arms to comfort you - telling you it would be okay. even tho she wasn’t sure herself. you returned the favor vice versa.

similar to juliette, you also discovered you had a curse gift at a young age. instead of a lethal touch, however, you were gifted with the ability of mental manipulation. you began to discover the nature of your ability when voices that weren’t your own, were suddenly heard in your head whenever you neared another person. being only 6, you thought you were going insane and tried to confide in your mother. she did not take well to this and scolded you for being a liar and attention seeker. she urged you never to mention this to anyone ever, or else you would be seen as a psycho freak and bring shame to the family.

after that, you were too ashamed to even mention it to juliette, afraid she would react negatively too. eventually, you were able to piece together that the voices were actually the thoughts of others. you hated your gift; it felt like an invasion of other's privacy. you would never want someone to listen to your every thought, so why should you listen to people's. it was even worse, you couldn’t control it to prevent the unwarranted thoughts. you did what you could to try to avoid reading minds, luckily, being an outcast had its advantages because if people remained far enough, you weren’t able to hear their minds. you were cautious around juliette because you would never want to take advantage of the privacy of her mind.

even before the accident that revealed juliette’s gift, you both were never popular among your peers. your shy personalities made most assume you were just weirdos, and as a kid, that’s the worst possible title to have when you wanna make friends. of course, there was a boy named adam kent who was occasionally kind to you both, but you could tell his interest was more focused on juliette. based on a few thoughts of juliette’s you unintentionally listened to - you knew she was forming a small crush on adam.

at one point, you were able to conjure a friend of your own during one recess. you noticed a girl in your grade, sabrina, crying behind the slide on an afternoon, and found out the reason for her distress was a bad grade on a math assignment. while sabrina didn’t tell you directly, you were able to piece together the strictness of her parents based on her thoughts. you felt sympathetic towards her, you knew how harsh parents could be on school grades. it was then you offered to help her with her assignments to prevent her from failing. the girl seemed reluctant at first, and her mind was filled with not-so-nice thoughts on you & juliettes reputation, but finally, she accepted your offer.

sabrina’s thoughts on you were pretty negative the first few times you got together to study, she was embarrassed to be seen hanging with you, and she didn’t want to get a bad reputation among the class too. as you hung out more, you partnership turned into a real friendship. she sat with you for a few minutes at lunch before returning to her own group, and you were invited to her house to hang out on a few occasions. sometimes like juliette, you did your best to turn a blind eye to her thoughts for the sake of her privacy - this was your first official friend, and you didn’t wanna mess it up.

however, you did mess it up in the end. you and sabrina were friends for almost a whole school year, and you truly believed she was your best friend. any negative thoughts she had originally were nowhere to be found and replaced with mundane ones about school, family, hobbies, etc. at this point, you were still struggling to learn the extent of your abilities and having no one to confide in really affected you. you decided you could trust sabrina with your secret, and maybe just maybe, she wouldn’t hate you, and you could grow even closers as best friend.

you were totally, indefinitely, absolutely wrong. when you confessed your mind-reading capabilities to sabrina, she laughed at you, thinking you were joking, however, after you proved her wrong by reciting phrases, word by word, spoken in her mind, she flipped out. she called you every synonym to the word freak she could come up with and ran away from you. to make matters worse she told her friends about your ability, imploring them to stay away too. of course, you were already labeled a weirdo, so why wouldn’t they believe the weirdo is actually weird. it spread to the entirety of the school which caused everyone to distance themselves from you even more. no one could trust a mind reader, much less have them as a friend when they could read your every thought.

juliette was quick to confront you at home, in your shared bedroom, about the rumors that spread. you were quicker to break down and confess the rumors were true, how horrible having this ability has been, and the betrayal of your best friend. you thought juliette would also be disgusted with you and make a demand to our parents that you should be sent away and stay very far from her. the fears you had were shut down the moment juliette hugged you tightly and told you she loved you anyway and that she was here to support you in any way she could.

after you calmed down a bit, you went on to explain your gift, how you found out, and how you felt alone in this whole mess. you were also quick to add on how you did your best to stray from listening in on any thoughts juliette had. your sister assured you she thought no less of you, and it wasn’t your fault you had this gift. she even joked about how she needs to remember to not think about any birthday gifts around you. you let out a soft laugh and were eternally grateful you had such an amazing and understanding sister.

it wasn’t a shock that soon your parents soon became aware of what everyone at school was saying about you - you were sure it had already spread throughout the town. they berated you for causing embarrassment and shame to your family. unlike juliette, they treated you with disgust, making sure you knew how much of a disappointment you were. next thing you knew, you were pulled out of school for a few weeks, being homeschooled instead. if you didn’t have the comfort of juliette in your room, you would’ve been incredibly lonely in your isolation.

it didn't end there however; you were sent to multiple therapists. your parents hoped it could help “cure” you of your “disease,” as they liked to call it. you tried multiple types of therapies, even electroshock, when your parents were especially desperate. it was a complete physical and mental torture and made you resent yourself for your gift even more. you weren’t able to see juliette as often, a few times a month if you were lucky. you wanted nothing more than her warm embrace and reassuring words.

the final straw for your parents was when juliette accidentally killed a young boy with her touch. many believe it was done purposely, even though she was only trying to save that boy. your parents were even more horrified at this point. not only did they have one freak of nature daughter, they now had two.

you and juliette were both taken away and sent to scientists to be studied and tested on from then on. they experimented on you constantly and tied you down to the lab bed to prevent you from moving. you were beginning to prefer the therapies. hearing juliette’s yells of pain from the table next to yours made you want to kill hurt the scientists badly. it was worse when you knew from their thoughts they had no remorse either but were heavily fascinated with both of your guys’ abilities. it hurt you to know your sister was going through the same thing, and it infuriated you how they treated you both like wild animals. neither of you asked to be born with this curse.

eventually, you and your sister were both sent to the asylum quickly after that. while the events that brought you here were poor, you were grateful to share a room and be close to your sister again, even in a hell like that. juliette, however, didn't allow you too near her - afraid she would hurt you as well. you tried to reassure her that she’s never hurt you in any way, and that she’s touched you before the accident, but she didn’t want to risk it. you understood, if you thought there was even just a chance you would hurt and possibly kill juliette, you wouldn’t take it.

nonetheless, you still did your best to comfort each other in the harsh environment. it was still hard to be happy in the asylum; the treatment didn’t differ much from home. still seen as weird freaks by guards. when the morale was low, you did your best to bring up any happy memories the two of you shared, and juliette would let a small smile grow on her face here and there. however, you couldn’t help but grow lonelier and a bit insane as the days passed. you were too distraught with your own thoughts to really listen in on juliettes, but from bits, you heard you were able to piece this place was also affecting her mentally.

it was after 264 days (juliette made sure to keep track of the days they were there) that the guards brought in another prisoner, more specifically, a man. you thought this was a cruel joke from the guards; why would they add someone else to those closed spaces.

while you were against listening to the thoughts of others without their knowledge, you needed to make sure this guy wasn’t going to be a threat to you or juliette. however, you heard nothing. no thoughts, no images, no voice - it was silent. you were stunned; this was the first time you haven’t been able to read someone's mind. you probably would’ve been happy if it weren’t for the fact you actually wanted to know this guy’s thoughts.

adam, you learned your roommate’s name was, was an asshole the first few nights. it started when, without even saying anything, he took over both yours and juliette’s beds for himself, even taking what little blanket and pillows you had. you protested immediately and got up to try and take back your beds, but juliette pulled on your shirt, reeling you back. she insisted the fight wasn’t worth it. you gave in, but still insisted to adam he at least gave you a blanket so you both didn’t freeze to death. he gave you a deep glare but relented anyway.

those nights you and juliette would huddle in a corner to try your best to sleep, using what you could spare of the blanket to separate juliette from touching you directly. you whispered to juliette about how you couldn’t read his mind, and she seemed as stumped as you were.

adam eventually gave you a bed back so you could sleep a bit comfier. you thanked him, even though he shouldn’t have taken it in the first place, but wanted to remain peaceful. juliette insisted you both help him adjust to the routine here to return the favor. he began to try to press on any backstory about you and juliette, and juliette often responded for the both of you, never giving much information. she also was adamant he seemed quite familiar, but she didn’t know why.

the three of you became somewhat friends, and it would’ve been nicer if you all weren’t stuck in a hell hole. still, you and juliette was able to learn more about the current world through adam; things seemed to be darker than they were 3 years ago. you could sense adam and juliette were forming an unspoken attachment, but you never pressed juliette on it. some nights you would try to go to bed early to give them the privacy to talk.

you were startled awake one morning by the sound of yelling and guards entering the cell. you turned to juliette to question her on what was happening, but before she could even form a response, you were both pulled roughly by guards and pushed on the ground. they yelled at you to not move or speak, but you still called out to your sister and tried to reach her - which got you a horrible kick to the ribs. you don’t remember much, only vaguely hearing some yelling from adam. before your vision went black.

the next time you woke up, you were, once again, in what seemed a prison cell. after gaining little strength to sit up, you found juliette next to you - barely waking up herself. you threw each other worried glances, and she mouthed to you it was going to be alright. but you knew from her mind she was already panicking as well.

the door opened behind you, but you were still a little out of it and too focused on juliette to look as quickly as she did. suddenly her face looked like she saw a ghost. you threw a confused glance to, which she ignored, so you followed your line of vision - adam. based on his attire matching the other guards that entered the room, you knew that meant he was working with them. both sisters were heavily confused about what was going on, but adam was quick to demand that the two of you get up, threatening you with the gun in his hand.

you both were led to a dark room that suddenly filled with light after you walked in. before your vision could adjust to the light again, a voice called out to the guards to bring you and juliette closer - this prompt them to shoved you with the butt of their guns.

first thing you noticed was that a man sat before you on a folding chair. the man couldn’t have been that much older than you - he was tall, maybe 6′0 ft, give or take, he had a head full of golden blonde wavy hair, his attire seemed that of a general (decorated with different medallions), and his eyes were a piercing green. he looked straight out of a victorian painting; he was surreal to look at. his presence gave that it demanded respect, and based on the fearful thoughts of the soldiers behind you, he always got it. he was gorgeous intimidating.

you noticed a name tag on his attire - warner, it said.

“ferrars sisters, we meet at last.”

you and juliette remained silent, still not fully understanding what was happening. he leaned closer toward you two, and without even thinking, you stepped in front of your sister. this seemed to intrigue warner, making a crooked smile on his lips.

he continued anyway - going on to explain adam’s role in the asylum. but as soon as you heard the word kent - you put it together and knew juliette had done the same. adam was the same boy from all the years ago - the one juliette constantly thought of to this day. it took everything in you to not turn to adam at that moment. you knew this betrayal was affecting juliette as well.

not waiting for your reactions, warner went on to say he had a proposition for the both of you to join the reestablishment. you then learned he knew about the abilities you both have; he had been studying the two of you for years.

creep, you thought. but after a wide-eyed glance from juliette and a painful kick to the back from the soldier behind you, you realized you had said that aloud. warner gave a stern look your way, but saw a small glint in his eyes. maybe it was just in your head.

warner still went on to say how you could put your abilities to use in the reestablishment, but you knew he meant that juliette could torture people while you could always know what someone was thinking - seek out any traitors.

you were furious with this situation and the fact warner seemed to think you two would want to hurt people willingly just because you had gifts. you spoke before you even realized it, “oh, i’m just dying to join the reestablishment after they’ve isolated juliette and i and studied us like we were animals.”

you were once again kicked, but this time to the ground - juliette even shouted at the guard a bit in protest. warner held up his hand to say it was enough. as you were getting up (agonizingly), you show warner getting up from his chair and walking closer to you.

when he stood a foot or two in front of you, he stared at you intensely. you just wanted to crawl into a corner at that moment, his pale emerald eyes made you feel like he could see through you. you then registered another thing. you couldn’t read his mind either.

juliette decided to speak up this time, “what my sister means, is that we have no interest in joining you.”

warners gaze seemed disappointed at this. he glanced at juliette before looking back at you, “you’re choosing the wrong side here.”

you both were then sent off, adam being the main guard for juliette and another guard for you. (kishimoto you think his name tag said.)

you and juliette were demanded at dinner, and each brought a dress picked out by warner himself. you couldn’t even deny the dress wasn’t gorgeous, it was white, mermaid style, decorated and embroidered with pearls, subtle floral designs going all around it, some type of pendants in the middle with pearl strings draped - it was in simple, ethereal.

now, you knew you shouldn’t accept anything warner offers you - but the little girl in you who dreamed of a dress like this took over. you told yourself you were taking advantage of what was given, it wasn’t going to persuade you.

when it was time for dinner, you and juliette were again side by side, walking toward the dining room. the moment you saw each other, you both gasped and asked “what are you wearing?” you were shocked she was still in her attire from the asylum, and she was shocked you were wearing the dress given.

after you both explained your reasoning, you laughed at how ridiculous you both looked in a side-by-side comparison. you quickly caught her on to the fact you couldn’t read warner mind like adam, she was shocked and urged you to not let him know for your own safety. then you gave each other a comforting look to help brace yourselves for whatever was to come.

warner was displeased at juliette’s outfit, but seemed proud to see you were wearing what he requested. he scanned you up and down, making you shift from foot to foot nervously under his gaze. it didn’t help you notice how he cleaned up as well - crisp white dress shirt, black dress pants with a black belt and a gold buckle, fancy black shoes, and a black tuxedo coat. you also took note of the rings on his hands, but especially a green one on his pinkie, which you think you saw him wear earlier too.

you and juliette sat at dinner, juliette directly across from adam warner next to you. him next to you did not help your nervousness, it increased it tenfold.

the food in front of you looked so delicious you could feel the saliva forming in your mouth. all you wanted to do was dig in, but hearing juliettes thoughts, you knew she was feeling the same but going to protest it regardless. as much as you love food, you loved your sister more, so you weren’t going to feast no matter how much it pained you. and you knew juliette deeply appreciated it.

when warner noticed this, he raised a brow, “are you not going to eat?” you nodded no and juliette responded, saying you both weren’t hungry, which was a lie of course and warner knew this.

juliette was better at pretending than you. you couldn’t help but look at the food longingly every few minutes. you knew it was pathetic but you haven’t eaten in days. the only thing you did give in to was water because if you were gonna starve you, you could at least prevent being dehydrated to death.

from the side of your eye you saw warner holding back a smile, as if this was hilarious to him. suddenly, he picked up your fork and picked up a bit of the (what you assumed) meat from your plate, and you for a second, you thought he was going to eat it. but instead he held it up near your mouth. “eat.”

you face felt flush with heat, you knew you were red all over your face. “what are you doing?” were the only words you could form.

“since you won’t eat willingly, i suppose i’ll have to feed you myself, amor.” his crooked smile was back and even wider. you wanted to die at that moment.

you reluctantly took a bite after he showed no sign of backing down. you were deeply embarrassed feeling the gaze of everyone on you and warner; you couldn’t even look him in the eye. you knew the smug bastard took enjoyment in feeding you.

it didn’t end after that, he did that for the entire meal, despite your many protests that you would do it yourself. even juliette followed suit in eating after a pleading look from adam. you could tell warner was pleased.

when dinner finished, warner had taken the task of walking you both back himself. he asked questions about your abilities, you both responded as vaguely as you could. he then asked you and her to showcase your gifts on him. you both profusely refuse, but he didn’t accept that. so instead, he called one of his soldiers and demanded he removes his gloves - you knew from his thoughts he was terrified but still obeyed the order.

thats when juliette ran off, you following behind before warner grabbed your arm tightly, stopping you. he started ordering his men to get her. it didn’t take long for the soldiers to surround her, trapping you. the soldier ordered from before, jenkins, stood in front of juliette once more and, despite her begging, grabs her.

he’s immediately bent down in pain, screaming in agony. juliette was in what seemed like a trance, and she was having trouble letting go.

you made the haste decision to knee warner in the crotch and run off to juliette. you swiftly wrapped your arms around her and pulled her away with all your strength - making you both fall to the ground. you believed a good percent she wouldn’t hurt you, but was still very relieved when no pain seemed to come.

when you turned to juliette she looked stunned but then passed out in your arms. you didn’t realize your were crying when you shook juliette’s body and repeated her name. or even when you shouted for help for the sake of both your sister and the poor guard nearly dead on the ground.

warner (after recovering from your knee) pulled you away, trying to calm you by rubbing a hand on your back, but it only made you more furious.

you pushed him harshly back, though he barely reacted, and in a second, slapped him across the face. you angrily spewed out how he could do that to both your sister and the guard and called him nefarious names.

when you came down from your fit, you realized what you had just done and gasped, putting a hand over your mouth. while you hated warner at that moment, you knew he could kill you and juliette without a second thought. no one moved for a moment, you thought time was still. warner was looking so dangerously at you, you were starting to think you could die from it.

without looking away, he told kent to tend to juliette, and that the rest of the men to clean up the mess and deal with jenkins. it was eventually just you and him in the hall. you suddenly found the ground very interesting. you were honestly scared.

he grabbed your chin, making you look at him directly, “you were upset and acting rash, so i’ll let you off this once. but the next time you try something like that, it won’t be so easily forgiven, amor.”

you said nothing but gave a slight nod in response. he then walked you to your room, and bid you a good night.

he turned around before leaving, “don’t worry much about juliette, she’ll be alright. oh, and don’t think i’ve forgotten about your gift, i expect a demonstration very soon.” he had another stupid smirk on his face before closing your room door. oh god, you were in trouble.

he made an appearance in your room the next day, commanding asking you to join him on a walk. you knew it wasn’t an actual question, so you got ready to go.

you went outside, still on base grounds, and for a moment, you were shocked - you couldn’t think of how long it had been since you were outside.

“what, never seen a tree before?”

“i’d forgotten what they looked like.”

you could’ve sworn you almost saw pity in his eyes, but it was quickly gone and replaced with his usual neutral face. he didn’t respond and grabbed your arm to guide you on the walk.

he never let you out of his grip, much to your disdain. he went on to say juliette was going to be fine, along with jenkins, the guard.

throughout the walk anytime a soldier passed by, he asked you to tell him what they were thinking. you could’ve lied, but then again, you were honestly bad at lying. so you complied. a lot of it consisted of random thoughts like hunger, complaining about their job, some light gossip, and even a few uncomfortable ones about you. warner looked irritated when you told him the last one, but overall amazed at your gift.

he must’ve thought you have somewhat control over hearing thoughts or not because he then gave you permission to read his thoughts. you didn’t want him to know you couldn’t, so you asked him to see juliette and remove the cameras in both of your rooms before you would do so.

he thought about it for a moment, especially regarding the camera issue, but eventually relented and agreed. he took you straight to her room, walking side with you too.

as soon as you saw her, you gave her a huge hug and asked how she was feeling. she wasn’t used to being to someone close yet, so she tried to back away at first, but then returned the hug.

ignoring warner still standing at the door, you both tried to think of an explanation for being immune to her touch, but couldn’t come up with anything. but you both were mutually glad you could be physically close again without a barrier.

warner interrupted your touching moment with his questions to juliette about the night before, to which she was angry he brought up again. you knew she still thought she killed jenkins, so you cut in to let her know he was fine (mostly). they both went back and forth for a bit before you had to say your goodbyes to juliettes, dragged away by warner to your own room.

after that, he did his other part of the agreement and got your guard, kenji, to do it. while the two of you didn’t interact much, you knew he was better than the other guards assigned to you. he also often had thoughts that made you silently laugh when he wasn’t looking.

you also saw warner quite frequently, more than you thought you would it was becoming annoying to you. he would pop up in your room almost every day - when you were in bed, walking in the room, getting out of the bathroom, etc. there was even a time you had just gotten out of the shower with a towel around you and, low and behold, he was there on your bed, with his arms behind his head looking in your direction.

you shrieked and ran back into the bathroom, yelling at him to get out. he laughed in response, telling you he didn’t mind the view, but let you know he’ll wait outside your room.

when you returned to your bed, you noticed he had left something there, clothes. he even chose the undergarments. he had the audacity to pick out your outfit after coming unannounced. but... you did end up wearing it because, hey, the guy knows how to style.

after noticing you wore what he put out, he made it his mission to pick an outfit for you every day, even if he wasn’t physically there, he would send a guard with the clothes.

it was annoying how good his fashion sense was because you deeply wanted to protest this and wear your own choice, but the clothes were just so pretty it was hard. you never had worn such expensive clothes before it felt nice to be able to now, even though you were basically a prisoner here. and you didn’t need to hear his thoughts to know it made warner even cockier than normal when you wore the clothes.

whenever warner visited you it was barely ever for anything important, mostly stupid questions about yourself as if he didn’t know much of your life story. but when you tried to turn the tables and ask him personal things, he would answer vague or change the subject - even on the topic of his first name.

you saw juliette when you could, kenji was pretty lenient on it whenever you asked him to take you to her.

the two of you discussed warner, the reestablishment, and when the topic of adam came up she admitted he could touch her as well, which was a big surprise. made you a little sad you weren’t the only one special now. she explained how she found out, and also went on to say he hadn’t betrayed you both and was going to help you and her escape. knowing there was a chance for escaping made it easier for you to live there.

however, there were days that really made you hate warner - when he made you and juliette, witness him killing a man in person, showcasing you both like a brand new toy, his ruthless demeanor and unsympathetic nature towards others, etc. but the big one was the day he prepared some type of testing for you and juliette.

both of you wearing a thin tank top and shorts, way more revealing than the two you were used to. the both of you uncomfortable from the stares it got from the guards. juliette was then taken into a different room from yours. you were led to a room; there wasn’t much in it except a two-way mirror several feet in front of you. you assumed warner and others would-be behind there observing whatever they set up.

you didn’t know what was to come until dozens of guards began entering the room. as they came closer to you, you could hear all their different thoughts overlapping, getting louder, and overwhelming you.

you guessed warner wanted to see how’d you react with so many people’s thoughts in the same room - if you were able to stop it altogether, stop some of it, or if it was overwhelming and made your head hurt, like in this moment.

to an outsider, it was silent, but to you it was as if you were in a busy crowd walking by, hearing all the different types of conversations. you made another guess that warner told them prior to your ability, so to make sure they use their thought more than usual.

you tried your best to focus, but it was getting to be too much that you started crouching down and holding your head. you closed your eyes and tried to concentrate on yourself. focus, try to make it stop, you told yourself. you could barely hear your own thought from all the noise of the others. stop. stop. please. be quiet. stop it.

“stop! shut up!” you shot up and yelled out, frustrated. it was quiet; you didn’t hear anything. your relief was short-lived as your eyes went wide when saw everyone in the room was now crouched or kneeling down, holding their heads as they shouted out in pain.

you didn’t understand what happened; all you did was block them out. you did this, you realized you were hurting them.

you looked around at everyone, trying to figure out how to help, but their pleas and begs for you to stop increasingly grew. you again couldn’t think with everyone shouting at you in agony, it was much worse than when you only heard their thoughts.

you tried to talk to them, “i’m sorry! i-i don’t know what happened! i’ll fix this! please, i just need a moment to think!” you were quickly panicking and feeling like you were going to cry, burst, or both. a fire feeling was bubbling up inside of you.

you couldn’t control it, your body took over, and you closed your eyes and let out a loud yell - falling down onto your knees.

instantly, everyone and everything in the room was pushed by an invisible force serval feet back. the mirror separating you from the observers was also broken into hundreds of pieces.

you gasped, both hand covering your mouth as you saw the damage done. did you really do all of this? you didn’t understand how it was possible. you backed against the wall, sliding down to sit on the floor and pulling up your knees to hug them.

during your breakdown, warner must’ve come out of the other room because he had come slowly walking toward you. you didn’t want to be near anyone at that moment, much less the man responsible for this experiment. he didn’t get too close before you put a hand out to tell him to stop, but instead, it accidentally sent him flying a foot or two back, resulting in him stumbling on his back to the floor.

you again gasp, horrified. you hadn’t even meant to do that. you felt like an out-of-control monster. unlocking a new ability should’ve been fun, but this was too traumatizing for you.

you buried your head into your knees and started sobbing, begging for this to all be a dream and that you didn’t actually just hurt a ton of people with your powers. you felt like the star of the carrie movie.

during all your crying, warner had gotten up again and kneeled beside you. you would’ve been shocked he wanted to be near you again if you weren’t so disoriented. he pulled you close to him, petting your hair in an attempt to soothe you. you were too physically and mentally exhausted to protest his comfort.

it was all a blur when you were taken back to your room and tucked into bed by warner. you had no energy to change, shower, or even try to check on juliette. you blacked out before you knew it.

juliette sought you out the next day; she also looked distressed. before she could even talk, you knew from mental images what had gone down. you held her close and cursed warner up and down for doing that to her. you were also astounded at her newfound ability. she asked about you, and you confided in her what had happened with your testing. similar to you she was bewildered to learn what else you could do.

she brought up the topic of escaping again, and you were happy to jump on that topic. adam then walked into the room; you both greeted each other with a hug - you hadn’t realized how long it had been since you saw or even interacted with each other. you three then divulged into possible ways to leave; the quicker the better. but you were interrupted when an alarm went off in the whole building, commanding all soldiers to gather. juliette urged adam to go to avoid suspicion.

he hesitated, and in that moment, warner barged into your room. he gave juliette and adam questioning glances, “soldier, what are you two doing here, there an alarm.”

adam was quick with an excuse. “we were already here before the alarm went off. i wasn’t sure what to do with them as juliette was under my watch, which also extends to her sister.”

if warner thought he was lying, he didn’t show it. “alright, as you can see, i’ll handle it from here. please escort juliette back to her room before you go.”

adam nodded and lead juliette out the door, not before she could shoot a worried glance to you.

now it was just you and warner. he didn’t say anything for a moment, then he asked what you and juliette were discussing. you were honest but kept it short and responded by saying you were talking about the testing the day before. he went silent again.”

“do you write?”

you were thrown off, huh? “not particularly no.”

“hm. weird because i wandered across this in juliettes room.”

he had brown worn out notebook with fade florals on it. you internally gasped when you noticed it was your old journal.

for context, when you were around 6, you were given a journal to practice writing but ended up keeping it for personal use. you used it over the years - up until you were taken away. juliette must’ve saved it for you because it had left your mind during those 3 years of isolation. you couldn’t barely even remember what you put in it.

“uhm, thats not mine.” you mentally face palmed.

“no? it says your name on the cover of it.”

curse your six year old self.

he came closer, “it’s honestly cute when you try to lie, amor.”

you prayed your cheeks didn’t have hints of pink.

“i’m gonna need that journal back.”

“hm, alright, but i’ll need a favor first.”

“what favor?”

“read my mind.”

you were taken aback, no one had been so desperate to have their mind read as much as warner. in fact you can’t name a single person whose ever asked you. you needed an excuse and quick.

“no, i rather not.” you tried to keep your face neutral.

“why? are you that repulsed to see inside my head, or is there another reason? my bet is on the latter.” oh no.

you were saved from answering when a gun was pointed at warner, and at the one pointing it was your sister. “get away from her.”

you were so proud of juliette in that moment, but then a gun was pressed to your chest.

“i’ll shoot.”

“you’d be an idiot then.”

warner didn’t need to respond because adam came in and hit him hard with the butt of his own gun. however, this caused warner to misfire on the part of your thigh.

you held back a scream; you didn’t want juliette or adam to see and worry - they were preoccupied with warner, handcuffing him to the wall. luckily, you were wearing black pants that day, so the blood wasn’t visible if you weren’t paying close attention.

adam grabbed duffel bags and put them near the window, and then you realized you were going to have to jump, and now you werent sure if you could.

“we need to leave now.”

“you can’t seriously believe you can trust kent, he’s using the both of you.”

you scoffed. “as if you’re any better.”

“i only want you to reach your potential amor.”

juliette cut in with her gun pointed, “shut up and call off your soldiers.”

he let out a humorless laugh, “over my dead body.”

after realizing he will provide no help, you all gathered near the window.

“you’re making a mistake, both of you! don’t tell me you’ve fallen for kent’s romantic notions like your sister.”

“no, but i trust him a whole lot letter than you.”

“we have a connection and you know it.”

“no-” “i can be patient, and you’ll learn to love me-”

“stop!” “no one understands you like me!”

adam shut him up by hitting him again, making warner stagger back.

he returned to the window, “we’ll have to climb then jump off. i’ll go first and catch each of you.”

“you can’t touch her.”

no one answered warner. “wait, amor, can he touch her?”

you ignored him despite his constant repeat of the question.

adam went out the window, and then signaled for you and juliette to go down.

you looked down at your leg; not too severe, but it was painful, and needed attention very soon. warner was also on the verge of breaking free of the handcuff, so it wouldn’t be long before he chased after you all. you decided in that moment you couldn’t hold them back if they wanted to escape.

juliette was climbing down, gesturing for you to follow suit, but you stood still.

“juliette, i’m not going.”

“what? why? don’t tell me warner go to your head.”

“of course not, it’s just...juliette i’m injured.”

she climbed up a bit enough to see your leg, and she gasped. she started asking why you didn’t say anything, but you briskly interrupted that you’ll hold her and adam back, it was best if you didn’t go. no matter how much you wanted to leave this wretched place.

she of course, protested, saying she won’t leave you behind. behind you, you could sense warner breaking free and coming toward you both.you worried you’d have to do plan b.

“i love you, don’t hate me for this.”

“for what-” “adam get ready to catch her!”

warner was next to you in a second, reaching for juliette, but you quickly pushed the rest of the rope in the window out - leaving juliette to fall straight down into adam.

you tackled warner to the ground to prevent him from reaching out to stop the rope. but you noticed the brush of their hands before her fall. he could touch her too.

you didn’t have time to contemplate because the pain in your leg made itself known again, oozing more blood. you noticed some blood had seemed onto warner when you tackled him. crap you forgot too much blood loss = death was a thing for a moment.

you rolled off our warner and ripped off a piece of your dress to try and wrapped it around the wound.

warner recovered and noticed you were hurt, he looked worried and quickly removed his coat to use as a makeshift tourney kit. “what happened?”

“your misfire.”

he frowned, “never meant to actually shoot you amor.”

soldiers were piled in the room in an instant, warner demanded adam and juliette be brought back, and alive.

he carried you to the infirmary and sat next to you as the medics handled your injury.

when the medics left the room, you could tell he was going to start questioning you.

“you’ve been a very bad girl you know, helping your sister and kent escape.”

“is this the part where you torture me for information? i don’t know where they went.”

“oh, i know. but maybe some spanking ought to straight you out.”

you turned to him alarmed, “what? you’re not serious, right.”

he grabbed your chin, “hm, i don’t know, do you promise to be a good girl?”

your face flamed red, “s-shut up!”

he laughed at you, amused, “you’re too cute.”

he eventually went off, assuming to check on how the hunt for juliette and adam was going. you prayed they made it our alright.

your leg was feeling much better, you could now walk in it with a small limp. might’ve just been the painkiller, but regardless it was enough you were released to go off to your room that night.

warner escorted you back, not trusting his soldiers, and preventing a second escape attempt. as you both walked the halls you heard whispers about kishimoto being under investigation, in other words being tortured in a cell right now.

you immediately asked warner about it and he shrugged saying he was friends with adam and was your guard, so he wanted to ensure he had no information concerning the escape. you tried to defend him, saying he wasn’t involved, but warner didn’t yield and that he would be the judge of that.

he helped you into bed, making sure you were comfortable. then he stood by the door, getting ready to leave.

“don’t think your off the hook just yet, i’ll question you tomorrow, especially involving your sister and me being able to touch her.”

oh shit, he noticed. of course he did, he’s a perceptive bastard.

“and, it’s aaron.”

you threw a confused look. “my name, it’s aaron.” and with that he walked out, locking your door securely.

huh. aaron warner. interesting.

when you awoke the next day you were again with aaron warner by your side. he waited for you to get dressed then took you with him wherever he went.

you could sense something was wrong but didn’t want to ask. from a few whispers and thoughts, you were able to find out what happened- kenji kishimoto escaped. you were silently cheering, glad he was no longer being tortured. he was your favorite guard after all. you hoped somehow he was with adam and juliette and they were all safe.

you were proven drastically wrong when hours later, you found out they had been spotted and taken by the soldiers back to the base.

warner was very pleased with the news, he ordered adam to be sent to the dungeons while juliette was to be heavily restrained.

you asked warner to speak to them, but mainly juliette. he obviously declined - he didn’t need to you and them trying to escape again. you didn’t let up and continued asking and begging, saying he could be there to supervise, you just wanted to make sure they were okay.

“please aaron.”

he seemed taken aback by the title and stayed stunned for a moment. he then dragged you away, and you assumed he’d be taking you to juliette. however, instead, you were led to a room, his room, you realized.

his back was turned to you, “i was surprised when i found out juliette’s touch didn’t affect me, probably the same way you were when you discovered the same. i couldn’t conjure an explanation as to why, and still can’t. but then i started thinking about you and your ability.” he turned around to face you, slowly creeping closer. “i thought about all those times i asked you to read me, but you refuse or avoided it. at first, i thought you were doing to in protest, or even because you had no interest in doing so.” you gulped. “ then this new revelation came and it occurred to me, maybe juliette’s not the only one i’m immune to.”

he stood directly in front of you, and you were so nervous you wanted to throw up. “you can’t read my mind or thought, can you amor?”

you went wide-eyed, he knew. you didn’t say anything, still paralyzed.

he caressed your cheek, “that scares you, not knowing what i’m thinking. must make you even a bit mad.” you couldn’t breathe. he was so close, you felt his breath, and the gun in his jacket pocket.

“don’t let that stop you from loving me. my every thought is yours, if you want it, and i so desperately want you to want it.”

he roughly leaned in and pressed your lips together, you couldn’t think for a moment too shocked, but then you remember the gun.

you kissed back in an attempt to get closer to the jacket. you acted as if you were feeling on his chest, and slowly trying to get your hands on the weapon.

he murmured, “we’ll be so good together,” before diving in for another deep kiss. you tried to keep up with his rushed lips to keep him distracted.

aaron was so absorbed into the kiss he didn’t notice the gun pressed against the side of his chest.

you pulled back, his lips following after your before you lightly pushed him away. looking at him directly in the eyes, “i’m sorry it had to come to this.” pow.

his face was full of confusion, horror, pain, and betrayal before he crumpled on the ground.

you wasted no time in running off to find juliette before someone found warner. it didn’t take long after reading a few thoughts and taking some guesses of your own.

you entered to see her on a hospital-like bed with restraints on her arms to legs to keep her immobilized. you were quick to free her and get her back on her feet. once she regained her full consciousness, you both went off to find adam.

you snuck up on a few soldiers and knocked them out with your gun, juliette mainly knocking them out with her strength, and found adam pretty easily. he was in chains hanging by his arms, with his head down. he looked to be heavily injured as well.

you took care of breaking him free while juliette woke him up. he had trouble standing, so you both carried him by his arms and hurried toward the exit. you three quickly came up with a solution to get out; the guards hadn’t noticed warner or the fact the prisoners escaped yet.

you all ran outside, helping juliette carry adam. he was heavy, but you carried on, not knowing when guards would start chasing you three.

you and him were left for a moment while juliette went off and before you knew it you were inside a car “woah, where’d you get this!”

juliette was in the driver seat preparing to leave and turned to you, “long story short, it’s stolen”

“cool. wait you know how to drive?”

“no.”

with adam’s guidance, soon enough, you all were off to your not-sure-where. you were in the back seat while adam and her were in front. juliette had taken the liberty of catching you up on events during the escape, mainly about kenji and james.

adam and juliette discussed where they could be and then found them.

you greeted kenji and introduced yourself to james, he was a very sweet boy and seemed a bit excited by this whole situation. having known a bit about you, he asked you to tell him what number he was thinking, to which you couldn’t help but do it. he beamed excitedly.

juliette was the one to bring up warner, “how’d you escape him, i’m sure you were under heavy surveillance after we left.’

“oh..i uhm... shot him.” after he kissed me.

everyone turned to you, shocked at the revelation, juliette was proud of you for defending yourself, and the rest of them were just struck you even had the chance to do it.

kenji then switched with juliette, leading the drive to this supposed location of people who could help.

you fell asleep, and when you awoke, there was a large facility like building in the middle of nowhere.

you got out of the car, helping carry adam again, and rushed into the building. inside there were numerous of people, more than you ever expected. adam got taken away by, what you assumed were, medics. but juliette had many questions. you were too stunned looking around to form anything. at some point a man had introduced himself to us as castle; he seemed like the head of this place.

you snapped back when you saw juliette hounding kenji, getting dangerously close to him, and then accidentally touching him. it wasn’t enough to kill, but he was still quite injured a bit to be taken away by medics like adam. juliette was then sedated and that’s when your concerns were raised.

it was your turn to ask questions, but not wanting to end up like juliette, you remained calm. castle briefly explained you all were in a place called ‘omega point’ and its purpose was to build a group of gifted individuals to help them understand their gift. it went against the reestablishment was basically a rebellion against them.

overwhelmed by information, you asked to be taken to where you would sleep. castle led you to a room and informed you you’d be rooming with two other girls, along with juliette. your sister was already there, still passed out from whatever they gave her. the two twin sisters, who you found out had healing abilities, introduced themselves as sara & sonya. they seemed nice, and you could tell you’ll easily be friends.

you bid them goodnight after they reassured you adam, kenji, and juliette would all be fine.

after that first day, the days passed by quickly. you were given a suit to wear, a red leather corset-like top, black leather pants, and a long dark red leather coat, accompanied with black fingerless gloves and black boots. it made you feel like a superhero in it.

you practiced with castle to help learn to block out unwanted thoughts, which a major relief to learn. he was also helpful in managing your new telekinetic ability since he had the same. another ability you were slowly practicing was mental manipulation, you weren’t sure if you ever wanted to mind control someone, so it wasn’t focused on much, but still learned from time to time.

you admit, you had a better time adjusting than juliette; she was keeping to herself, having lunch with only you, adam, and occasionally kenji. you couldn’t blame her; the asylum doesn’t exactly help in forming relationships. her relationship with adam was a huge step as it is, and you were proud of her for it.

eventually, you were stable enough to go on outdoor missions. the first time you went was an unforgettable experience. you saw what society was like after all these years, it was horrible the conditions people were living in under the reestablishment.

that day you also saw aaron for the first time in a few weeks. you were glad he was alive because it really hadn’t been your goal to kill him. he was wearing a cast on his left arm, near where you shot him. you wondered if he told anyone what happened or changed the story.

he also saw him human for the first time. when no one was looking, he fed and injured dog, even carrying him for a bit. you found the sight cute. it almost felt like a dream.

it almost got you caught by him; you swore you made .1 second eye contact before you were turned invisible and taken away by kenji. you didn’t know what could’ve happened if he recognized you.

after that, you frequently joined them on the outside missions, aaron was there for almost all of them, which left you wondering why. you even encouraged juliette a few times, and she even ended up following along on the most recent one making friends with winston and brendan.

after the task you got back to your room, juliette made a stop to adam, and it was empty. you took off the clothes given to you to blend in, removing your tattered jacket and replacing it with your red one.

you were folding the coat to put away for next time when something fell out of the pocket, a paper.

you didn’t remember putting anything in, so you figured it was there when it was given to you weeks ago. but then again, you should’ve noticed by now if it was.

curious, you unfolded the piece of paper and looked at it contents.

you gasped out loud, dropping the paper on your bed in the process.

see you soon, amor. -your injured dearest, A.W.

oh, you were fucked.

1K notes · View notes

intheshadowsbehindyou · 11 months ago

Note

Okay, so this request got inspired by your post of how the Mercs react to Y/N telling them they have PTSD. Not sure how the situations go but what about a hurt/comfort Mercs x Y/N when they unknowingly, or somehow, triggered Y/N’s trauma?

Y/N knows they didn’t mean it but it’s scares them because Y/N doesn’t breakdown like THAT. Y/N tells them it’s okay, although they are triggered they find comfort with the Mercs because they make them feel safe. Mercs just being there for them, listening, and like asks Y/N to let them know if they need anything.

(It’s not often I see these kinds of requests with x reader/y/n stuff, but your post did make me smile a bit as someone with PTSD)

I understand your point of view. Thank you, by the way. I feel very alone in my struggles and it’s nice to hear i’m not.

TF2 Mercs Scare Y/N With PTSD On Accident

Scout:

- Oh.. Fuck. Immediately goes into panic mode because he’s a very empathetic person. You can see it on his face as he struggles to hold it together. He knows freaking out will only make this worse. (He’s less stupid than you think.) Watching you cower and breathe heavily is breaking his heart. Maybe he shouldn’t have mentioned that name.

- “Hey, whoa whoa, whoa, hey hey, relax. It— It was a different person! I was talking about someone different!” He pauses, trying to deduct a possible solution. The fact you’re telling him it’s fine is making him angry at himself. Why would he recklessly slip up like that in front of somebody so important?! He wants you to beat him up. “No, No. You need to like — beat the shit out of me for that. Don’t ever settle for less in a person. Like, actually, beat the shit out of me.”

- This is definitely causing some stares. Scout rarely at all takes accountability for his actions because of how on the defense he is. Seeing this side of him is uncanny. Scout takes you by the shoulders and pulls you into a big hug. Your face immediately meeting his chest. When he was a child, his mother would give him physical affection to subdue his panic attacks. This is the first thing that came to mind.

- “Easy, easy. Alright? That stupid shit won’t ever happen to you again. Not while I’m here.” He whispers in your ear. Running his fingers through your hair. Somehow, he comes rightly by his mother. He even forces himself to steady his breathing on behalf of you. He knows you’ll calm down eventually.

——————————————————————————-

Soldier:

- All it took was one disagreement. One. Single. Sideye from Soldier and you suddenly got transported into the past unwarranted. Your breathing became shallow and you felt like passing out. The impending doom was indescribable. At first you wanted to lash out and attack him for this. But Soldier quickly tilted his helmet up in alarm upon seeing your unexpected reaction. You had to kneel down.

- “Private?” He asked. His voice was more higher pitched than usual. The sight of somebody he loved breaking into pieces like janga blocks all so suddenly was shocking. He was briefly scolded and slapped to death by Medic for triggering your PTSD before, and you didn’t want that for him again. “It’s fine— I’ts fine—“ You said. “No, it fucking isn’t.” He answers.

- “It isn’t fine that you’re feeling this way. I’m going to go into your ear and fix that damn hippo campus or whatever, so help me god.” He said, his eyes full of despair as he knelt down beside you to hesitantly place a hand on your back and rub you. His answer was so unbelievably stupid you almost snapped out of it.

- “I’m sorry for glaring.” He said, sort of laughing at his own pettiness and shaking his head. He truly felt like gutting himself. As i’ve mentioned, Soldier knows full well what PTSD is. The world war did numbers on his comrades’ mental health. He’s seen people completely crumble under the weight of tragedy. “Sometimes it’s just the little things, isn’t it? One moment you’re in the present, and the next moment you stand on the hills of the battlefield overlooking the bloodshed, and you wonder: where the hell did we go wrong?”

- You sort of calm down at his attempt to soothe you. Crawling onto his lap and shoving your face into his uniform. Soldier allowed you to do this. A distant and exhausted look in his eye as he defeatedly fell back against the wall. “Did you feel that way in the war?” You mutter to him. Wondering where his knowledge came from.

- Soldier was still holding his rocket launcher in the other hand. He turned it to the side to examine it for a second. “Eh…” He muttered back. Noting the blood on the handle that was spilt earlier on the frontlines. “I’m just one of those war dogs whose mental strength rivals Zeno of citium himself, I guess.” He said sarcastically.

____________________________________________

Demoman:

- Immediately tries to distract you from the horrible things you begin to relive. Shoves you into your quarters and locks the door. Under normal circumstances you wouldn’t have liked this, but he’s made it clear to give you your space. You sit on the edge of your bed, unsettled, whilst he peaks out the blinds of your window.

- “Datse’ sum wee ass birds sittin ow on the tree out there. Look at em, bloody fat roosters dey are.” He says, as you look away at the ground. He notices your lack of attention and sighs. Taking an abundance of alcohol into his mouth. “Hey look, ye wanna know sumthin?” He points his flask at you. “Lemme tell you sumthin about explosives.”

- “Once a landmine explodes, kablooey. Thatse it. No goin’ back. But yer brain ain’t like that.” He tells you, pointing at your head. Frustratingly, you roll your eyes “Why’d you bring me in here, Demoman? And — thanks but my fucking wounds are unfixable.” Your tone sounds more annoyed than you’d like it to be. But you couldn’t help it right now, you felt like your body was attacking itself.

- “NAH. You ain’t. y’know why?” He knocked on his own head with his flask. “See this thing er’? this thing can mend itself. Unlike an arm or leg. OR AN EYE.” He made sure to put emphasis on that last part for some reason as he spoke it to the ceiling. Tavish still kept his respectful distance as he paced around the room. “Isn’t that just my luck? Enough about dat, tho. Look at ye! Just look at ye! You’re here. Despite those aforementioned metaphorical landmines goin off! Isn’t that crazy? There’s so much space in between what happened and whatse to come. Dont be impatient with yerself. I’ll follow you through this dense forest. Okay? You go there and then you’re there, and once you’re there, you’re there and then you’re there. Y’know? I’ll get you there.” He’s clearly drunk but this somehow helped. You watch him clear his throat and unsteadily sit down in a chair. Sitting in silence with you.

—————————————————————————

Engineer:

- Engineer is an adult. He has (mostly) mastered the art of keeping calm on behalf of a panicking person’s sake. “Hey now…” You hear that thick, creamy drawl behind you. What had triggered you was a loud noise in the server room followed by the crashing of metal echoing off the walls. Engineer happened to be nearby. “That was all me, sorry for the scare pardner.” He tilts his hard hat in respect. He must’ve heard your yelp.

- As you sat cowering against those old computers, tears flooding down your cheeks, Engineer approached you like he would an injured stray kitten. Slowly kneeling down, a refusal to make any sudden movements. His wrench in the other hand had a dent in the adjustable jaw. “Was tryin’ to tinker with somethin’ and some shit fell onto the grating. Ain’t nobody gonna hurt you.” He said. Tilting your chin up to admire your face. Even as you were caked in tears and sweat, he still found profound beauty in this.

- He was making an effort to lie. The wrench had traces of dark red blood on it. Your eyes peaked over his shoulder and you caught a glimpse of an enemy spy’s shoes just behind the mess of computers. Engineer was a good liar. If it weren’t for the dead spy beyond him then you would’ve believed his comforting lie. It wasn’t the spy you were scared of though.. The noise did it all. “Ain’t nobody gonna hurt you.” He whispered again. “It’s alllllll in the past.”

- voooooOoshh. Yeah, figures :/

- “Would you excuse me for a sec, darlin?” He planted a kiss on your forehead, whipping around as he stood up and bitch slapped that same enemy spy with his wrench. Watching him slam against the machinery and lie bleeding on the ground. “Dead ringer, seriously?” He asked. “je te déteste.” (I fucking hate you.) The enemy spy choked out. You felt slightly better afterwards. Knowing Engineer would be able to protect you before anything could truly occur.

—————————————————————————

Heavy:

- Offers to beat the shit out of anybody who triggers your ptsd. TO DEATH. He comes pretty close to doing so a bunch of times. Scout had unintentionally done this and he couldn’t walk for a week afterwards. Heavy was pretty certain he crushed some of his spine. So imagine his dismay when your vacant eyes couldn’t leave a poster on his wall. He knew that stare anywhere — in fact — he had that disconnected stare before.

- Heavy snapped you out of your momentary dissociation by ripping the poster down and crumbling it up. “Heavy did not like that book anyway…” He said, frowning as he threw it away in the trash bin next to his bed. “Come. Do not look at things that remind you. Not good for health.” He beckoned his large hand over to his bed and you laid down next to him. Instinctively cuddling into his chest to try and even out your breathing, But your agony was evident. He could feel your heart practically bursting out of your chest.

- “fetal position.” He instructed you. You did so, hugging your entire body. It was then he took you into his arms and applied light pressure. He had learnt to do this from a Russian psychology paper. Your pain was quickly dying down after this. Who knew being squished to death would help so much? The lingering feelings of dread would remove themselves from you in record time. Normally it would be hours or even days. Every time this happens, he’ll use pressure therapy to aid you.

- If you dislike that type of stuff, he’ll read you a children’s book. For some reason those always helped him. Maybe even take you into the main lobby area to sit down with the boys and listen to their conversation. The white noise of their stupid conversations is distracting, and the presence of friends is always comforting.

——————————————————————————

Pyro:

- :((((((((((((( Looks completely fucking devastated.

- They’re quite reasonable. Immediately asks you what triggered you, and how they can keep you away from it. They’re patient and observant. Especially if you’re incapable of answering them. Their senses will eventually find the object, smell, or word, etc that had caused this in the first place. Silence to Pyro is always louder than words. They make quick work of the issue.

- They tell everybody on the team about this. (Which takes a while by the way because nobody can fucking understand them.) And go into huge detail about why they shouldn’t have/say certain things around you. Nobody’s allowed to rudely question them or else somebody’s belongings are going up in flames.

- Speaking of setting people on fire.. People aren’t allowed to call you a faker either. This happens way too often. How stupid can people truly get? Said people go missing after a week or so and the Tuefort police can never find the body. Every time this happens, you know who to blame. For some reason you also find out later down the line that several power classes were working in cooperation with Pyro’s murders. Thanks guys.

- If present in their room, they’ll bring a bunch of their plushies over to you and cover you in blankets. Watching old kid’s movies with you to make you feel better. This especially works well if you sfw age regress to cope with ptsd. Will 100% be your caregiver.

—————————————————————————-

Sniper:

- God dammit fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck why didn’t he just shut his big mouth and die god dammit fuck fuck fuck he wants to die FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK NOOO WHY DID YOU GO SILENT

- It was the way he said something that got you. It sounded too familar to you-know-whatsit. You were in his sniper nest when this happened. He took his eye from the scope to see you on the floor holding your chest and trying in vain to control the breathing issues you were encountering. “SsShit!” He hissed angrily at himself, getting up and sitting next to you on the floor. He didn’t even make a move to touch you. He knew how horrible things could feel in moments like these. It wasn’t until you returned the favor by leaning your head against him did he put his arm around you.

- “Sniper, I feel like throwing up..” You say, nausea symptoms setting in. He didn’t have any medicine with him other than painkillers, so he made room for you to lay your head on his lap. Putting his hand on your head. “Easy now. This’ll pass.” He whispered. It was moreso his crazy low voice that began calming you down. Jesus christ he was trying so hard not to blame himself right now.

- He was right though. It was important to believe him. This’ll pass too. It always does. You weren’t in that horrid space right now and the nest was dead silent minus the chirping of song birds outside. He remained on guard the entire time you rested on him. His eyes looking at the door, then the hole he peeped his gun through, then the door again.

- He said nothing the entire time. What was there to say? Your past had been eroded. He had no excuses nor complaints. Not even a single question. Sniper was purposefully making himself soundless to aid your recovery process. Every so often when you twitched, and started breathing heavier than normal, he’d rub your scalp in response. This is how he comforts you during a flashback most of the time. Allowing you the bliss of silence and touch.

—————————————————————————-

Medic:

- HUH???? Wait a second.. fast breathing, wanting to self harm, panicking like you were about to die, and other familiar symptoms? Oh. He knew right away what this was. Time to make sure.

- You were screaming in the corner of his lab, cowering and on the verge of pissing yourself. It was awful. It was god awful. Probably the worst one you’ve had this year. Heart palpitations and all. Your vision was blurry and you couldn’t focus. Medic knelt down in front of you with an incredibly serious expression across his face. Lifting his finger up and watching you — or at least you trying — to follow it. Some other mercs were nearby watching this go down in slight horror. They had no clue what you struggled with or why you were acting like this. You felt like you were surrounded by a bunch of idiots once again who were too stupid to fathom your experiences.

- “What’s wrong with Y/N, Doc?” Soldier asked. He had the faintest idea of what it was but he didn’t want to assume. “Hm.” Medic answered bluntly in response. He didn’t even look at soldier as he dismissed everybody with the aggressive shooing of his hand. Waiting until everybody left to talk to you.

- He took you gently by the shoulders. “Y/N, look at me.” He instructed. You thrashed a bit and struggled to do so. It was hard to not feel intimidated by all this. “The year is 1971. You’re you. You’re here. The stuff that happened, it happened a long time ago.” He said. When it didn’t ground you enough he made you repeat your age, and the date.

- “It’ll happen again!” You exclaim, “It’s happening again!” You scream in retaliation. Medic shook his head calmly. “No, it is not happening again. You have a brain injury mien schatz—“ He was cut off by your terrified yelling. You clung to him for dear life and desperation and he clung back just as hard. He was kind of thankful nobody was here to witness this.

- He only pulls away to take a deep breath and you instinctively mimicked him, holding it for a few seconds as he counted and then let go. You synced up your breathing with his and after what seemed like forever, the repeated breathing exercises were slightly helping. He had his latex glove on your chest the hold time to make sure you were doing it. Weakness took over you and you threw yourself into another hug. Wanting to be carried by him.

——————————————————————————-

Spy:

- Spy has flashbacks too but they’re less aggressive than yours. He had trained himself to stay composed by suppressing it, and he’d rather not make the same mistake with you. For a spilt second, one could easily mistake his stoic posture as you cried there in his chair as complete indifference. But he felt things far from that. You had dumped all this stuff onto him out of nowhere upon entering his quarters because you were sick of being quiet. It boiled over then and there like a volcano.

- “Hmph.. So it seems once again someone has been failed by a worthless system. Pour l'amour de Dieu.” (For god’s sake.) He angrily snuffed out his cigarette in his ash tray. Crushing it for good measures. His righteous anger was filling the entire room with dread. Spy wasn’t pleasant when he was mad. You made your posture smaller in an attempt to look innocent. You did not want to face his wrath.

- “What is this?” He asked you curiously. “It is not you I am angry at. It is the inept incompetence of those around you.” He sat in his chair adjacent from you. He wanted better for you. So much better. After a moment of silence and Spy rubbing his temples he finally spoke. “I have learnt.. Many languages. In none of them do I have the words for just how angry I am that you suffer this way.” He admitted. Looking at his gloved hands. It was rare he was so vulnerable like this, so it immediately peaked your interest in-between sobs.

- “Perhaps words aren’t enough to describe how even you feel. Yes?” He asked. You were trying to nod in response but you couldn’t focus hard enough to do so. The pain was too much. There was a look in Spy’s eye that suggested he knew that. “Come sit on my lap, let me lull you to sleep.” He offered, holding his arms out.

#tw ptsd #cptsd #tf2 #team fortress 2 #medic x reader #spy x reader #demoman x reader #heavy x reader #tf2 x reader #tf2 x you #sniper x reader #mod spy #pyro x reader

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millenialfanfictionaddiction · 2 years ago

Text

Being Team Japan’s Manager:

Miss Manager gets her Period

Team Japan x female reader (she/her pronouns)

Warnings: period talk, swearing, blood mentioned, period symptoms (cramps, vomiting, bloating, etc)

A/N: I need comfort right now, feel free to ignore

Honestly you should have seen the warning signs YN

But somehow you missed the notification from your period tracking app

You missed the sighs of being extremely tired, moody and just down right agitated

You cried for no reason the other day and it still didn’t register

I mean, it’s not like you are busy or anything

You are the team manager for Team Japan after all

Probably the one of the worlds most dangerous jobs

But also super rewarding 😌

You’ve been the teams manager for a few months now

And you’ve definitely had your period before during practice

But this, this was completely different

You see, never has your period fully started right in the middle of practice

And certainly not with this much vigor 😬

Let’s just say, you aren’t on birth control at all

But you also never really needed it

Because as shitty as birth control can be sometimes, it can be very helpful

Anyways, it was a normal Friday morning and you woke up feeling… off

Like just blah

Honestly you didn’t think much of it because the Olympics were a month away

Which meant that the boys were on edge

Practices were lasting hours and downtime was limited

Not to mention you were dealing with more Bokuto Emo modes than normal and more tantrums from Atsumu and Kageyama

Basically the fatigue and blah feeling wasn’t unwarranted

You checked the mirror, noticing you had a small acne flare up on your jaw

You sighed, putting some coverup on it before heading out

On your way to the gym, you stopped to grab you and the coaches coffee

A typically Friday routine you had developed

Walking into the gym, the sound of volleyballs hit your ears

As well as the agitating, grating voices of those hitting said volleyballs 😒

You barely hit the door when it starts

“YNS HERE!!” Hinata screams

“YN please tell me you finished the laundry yesterday, we ran out of fresh towels and I only have 5 stashed away!”Sakusa chimes in

“YN please help tape my fingers,” Hakuba adds

“YN you promised you’d measure our jump heights today too! I have to show Hinata that I can get higher!” Hoshiumi shouts

“YN do you have that extra nail files? I left my kit at home,” Kageyama says

“YN I need you to toss for me because these other idiots can’t do it like you do!” Atsumu whines

Literally it’s like walking into a daycare but with giant volleyball players 😅

“Guys give me like 5 minutes please!” You shout, walking over to the coaches and handing them their coffee before stomping to your office

“Is Yn ok?” Coach asks as the assistant coach shrugs

You just need a minute to breathe, that’s all you need

Too bad you work with people who don’t understand the idea of “needing a minute to breathe”

*knock knock*

You groan as your door open and Iwaizumi appears

Please, you don’t even want to see Iwa today

Damn YN you ok 👀

“Iwa what?” You say a little annoyed

“Damn, did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed or something? I just came to give you the training schedules,” Iwa said as you sighed and took them

“Sorry Iwa, I’m just feeling off I didn’t meant it,” you said as Iwa nodded

“It’s cool Yn but maybe drink that coffee or something to help?” He says as you sigh and sit down

You manage to drink approximately 1 sip before Aran is at your door

“YN hey! I was hoping we could go over some plays?” He said as you resigned yourself to the fact that today just isn’t your day

A few hours in, you get ready for the team meeting

Your walking through the gym when the first cramps hit

“Ohh ouch!” You whince as you grab your side

“YN, you good?” Komori asks, noticing immediately

“Yeah I think I’m fine,” you say

“You know Yn, when my tummy’s upset, I go to the brathroom and it helps a lot!” Hinata says as Kageyama rolls his eyes

“Hinata nobody knows more about the bathroom than you do!” He says as Hinata glares at him

“I’m sure I’m fine, it’s almost lunch anyways. I think I just need to eat,” you say

You grab your lunch, sitting with the few mature memebers of the team

The VERY FEW

Aran, Hyakuzawa, Iwaizumi, Komori, Yaku and occasionally Sakusa, if he’s not on one 🙄

Anyways, as your finishing lunch, you stand up and it happens

You rn 👉🏻🧍‍♀️😐😳

The fear in your eyes 😅 trust me YN, we’ve all been there

“Yn you good?” Aran asks as Iwa and Hyakuzawa look at you

“Umm I think my period just started,” you say

Now the fear in your eyes has transferred to their eyes 👁️👄👁️

Please Yn, nothing is off limits with these guys

They talk about bodily functions daily and some of them have sisters, so like they aren’t clueless to what a period is

Before they can even say anything you RUN to the bathroom, and sure enough

“Dammit!” You scream as everyone in a 20 mile radius hears you

“Uhhh Yn, you good?” Yaku asks, knocking on the door to the bathroom

“Yeah but uhh I don’t have a tampon, can you grab me one form my desk?” You asks as Bokuto runs to your office

At this point, they’ve all come to the bathroom hallway and it’s like a team effort to help you 😂

Team bonding if you will

“Crap there isn’t any in here!” Bokuto shouts as Atsumu runs to tell you

“Yn Bo said there isn’t any in your desk!”

“Shit, check my bag!” You scream

“Check her bag bo!” Hakuba shouts

“Nothing!” Bokuto shouts back

“Fuck!” You say, resigning yourself to the fact that you’ll definitely need to make a makeshift toilet paper pad

“YN do you want me to run to the corner store?” Hinata asks

“Would you please? I’m not really looking to make a toilet paper pad,” you said as Hinata nodded

“Wait what’s a ‘toilet paper pad’?” Atsumu asks

“YN send Hoshiumi a picture of the tampons you use and we will go!” Hinata shouts as Hoshiumi and him race out

“Is anyone gonna answer my question?” Atsumu says, annoyed

“Idiot she would have to shove toilet paper in her underwear to stop the bleeding until she got a tampon or pad!” Yaku says

“Omg this toilet paper is so course and had like zero absorbency!” Atsumu shouts

“I know Sumu!! That’s why that’s not ideal!” You say

“YN do you need pain relievers?” Iwa asks

“If you have some, the cramps are getting bad,” you say as Iwa runs to his office

He grabs a heating pack and some pain relievers

He comes back just as Hinata and Hoshiumi return

“Damn that was like 7 minutes impressive!” Komori says

Hinata and Hoshiumi 👉🏻💅💅

“Here Yn, we got them!” Hinata says passing the pads into the bathroom

You manage to get yourself sorted, leaving some pads in the bathroom as you exit

You come out of the bathroom and are greeted with a forest 🌳

“Uhh hey guys?” You say as Iwa hands you the heating pack and some pain relievers

“Are you ok YN?” Bokuto asks 🥺

You just laugh

“I’ll be fine guys, I deal with this every month but I’ll admit, I was a little surprised this time!” You said

“Ok well I think it’s time we get back to work,” Aran says

“I’m super hyped up right now!” Hinata says as him and Hoshiumi race back to the gym

“Is anyone surprised?” Iwa says

“I’m actually surprised they managed to handle the task of getting tampons for Yn,” Yaku interjects

“This isn’t Hinata’s first time dealing with this, he does have a little sister,” Kageyama added

“And Hoshi?” Hakuba says

“He probably just wanted to race Hinata,” you laugh

“Ok guys, let’s go! Yn go sit down and out that heating pad on!” Iwa orders

“Iwa I’m fine-” you argue

“YN I wouldn’t argue with Iwa if I were you,” Sakusa interjects

“Yeah he’s super scary when he gets mad!” Kageyama shivers

“WHAT DID I JUST SAY?!?” Iwa yells as you all stiffin

Aye aye captain 🫡

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ay0nha · 1 year ago

Note

Buggy searching out reader after a fight and showing up to her doorstep like a puppy looking for help

feel free to make it angsty or fluffy (or smutty lol)...reader could be an ex-marine and hates pirates so it's not clear whether or not they like each other (spoiler they do)

PAIRING: OPLA!Buggy x f!reader

WORD COUNT: 2.3K

WARNINGS: ANGST, canon-typical things, cursing, smoking, descriptions of injuries/fucked up shit Buggy did, mutual pining, brief mention of reader being a former marine, vague description of smuggler!reader, soft touches, enemies ish to lovers, etc.

A/N: This was fun lol. It's a little weird and experimental (?) for me? So, she got a little messy as I was getting excited to just Get This Out, so it didn't sit in my drafts. I want more buggy angst lol. Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in any OPLA things or along the lines. Enjoy.

!!!COMMENTS ENCOURAGED!!!

(tags: @gingernut1314)

There were reasons habits quickly morphed into vices, something immoral and wicked. Yet, you were lethal, the definition of torment. Your silhouette alone was enough to send Buggy spiraling.

Each step toward you felt unreliable and fuzzy, making Buggy question if he reattached his limbs correctly. His gut felt twisted with a foreign feeling that he wanted to trap away. He wondered if he buried the feeling deep enough if it would turn to treasure or become forgotten rot.

“Buggy.” Your voice even irritated him. Yet, he found relief in finding you alone. “Third time this month. Careful…I’m starting to get a big head.”

“That sounds like a medical problem…” He mumbled with little enthusiasm and a half-hearted smirk, “...should probably get seen for that.”

“Admitting you care, eh?” You teased. You were preoccupied, cigarette dangling from your lip and bobbing with every word. “What can I help you with?”

The receipts tended to be formidable, but you couldn't help but feel your concentration falter when you were met with uncharacteristic silence. Typically, you were shy of whiplash from an unwarranted insult or backhanded compliment. However, once your eyes landed on Buggy, you only saw deep anger veiling desperation.

“How serious is it?” Your pen was settled beside the book, whatever records you were once concerned with dismissed. Buggy looked awful—his posture gave away his exhaustion and discomfort.

“What? Can’t we skip the part where I say ‘the other guy looks worse’?” His busted lip ticked with dry humor. There were rumors he was in trouble, but that paled compared to the truth you knew about Buggy.

“Depends.” You frowned. “That other guy isn’t stopping by, is he?” If it were true, you’d have to lay low, something you never had time for. “This is why I don’t like your kind.”

“My kind?” Buggy continued unamused. You weren’t more than a wolf in sheep’s clothing to him. You were a smuggler. Plain and simple. It was impossible for something to stay hidden from you for long. “You’re not far off, sweetheart.”

His terms of endearment never held affection, but he seemed to soften this time for some reason—almost pleading between the lines. You held a trained expression, taking a moment of consideration.

Your typical jobs with him were small. Typically, they consisted of information that he could coax out of you for trinkets. He brought the world to you. Other times, you moved things through the shadows to an even darker location.

This was different, you decided.

Stalking toward the clown, you saw how the pain mapped on his body. “You look awful.”

The jester’s bow was fueled by pained sarcasm. Although his abilities helped, Buggy's flesh was still pliable. His jaw was a deep-set purple, contrasting the faded red of his cracked lips. It was hard to distinguish what was paint and what was blood. His eyes were bloodshot with broken blood vessels, and there were gashes littering every place imaginable.

You were surprised he was still standing. You noted how his breath became labored, as if holding onto what he could before he collapsed entirely. But looking between his eyes, you saw the struggle he had deciding what was worth his final breath: business or pleasure.

—

At the atrium of the town, your home went unnoticed. The average eye missed it, but those who could look past the unassuming home knew what lay behind the walls. You were particular with your arrangements, always done tightly and if challenged dangerously.

Buggy learned the hard way of earning your loose alliance. The scar you left behind cinched on his side, and sometimes, if he found you lingering in his mind, he swore he felt it ache. Yet, just being in your presence seemed to be the closest thing to a remedy.

“You can’t just show up like this.” Your scolding was shallow, there only as a buffer. You distanced yourself from the pirate despite the intimacy you provided.

The handful of candles in the room glowed yellow, highlighting the dark corners that threatened to swallow everything whole. Your fingers trailed various cabinets, pulling out necessities: make-shift gauze, old booze, and something loosely resembling thread.

“Then, don’t leave a key under your mat.” Buggy hadn’t bothered with the front door, stumbling through a window once locked. The so-called key was that he knew how to dance around your traps, dragging in an air of death.

“Hilarious.”

“Gimme a minute...” He raised his uncovered hand.“... I’ll come up with something better.”

The irony hadn’t set in yet, but whoever had hurt him made it personal. Buggy’s middle fingers were gone, not detached, but entirely ripped off.

“Oh—” You bubbled with laughter lightly, “—that must’ve hurt.”

“Well, aren’t you a twisted one?” Buggy’s tone was flat, but his eyes tracked you. He silently begged you to put him out of his misery.

“What’s twisted is you, Buggy.” The decision had already been made to help him, but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t draw it out. “You come here asking for my mercy and expect it for free…”

Buggy’s throat went dry, his tongue barely able to wet his own lips without tasting blood. He leaned through your threshold, head hung, leaving a trail of blood with every uncomfortable shift. His breath was heavy, wheezing with effort to remain upright.

There was no use in prayers. The gore set the air with dust that could never settle; a blood-warm heat had set into your marrow, never to be forgotten; Buggy had been dragged to your doorstep like a cat bringing in fowl.

Buggy spoke low as if the neighbors would hear. He hadn’t even wanted to hear himself, knowing his desperation. “...can’t you play favorites for once?”

“That’s a trick question.” Your facade had slipped. Your response was a second too quick, letting warmth trickle throughout his chest.

Buggy’s ears rang at the admission. Your words filled the room and stuck like honey.

You were always thinking. You were intentional; everything was thought out, and if it wasn’t, you were still level-headed. It wasn’t hard to recognize his behavior patterns; he knew what he was doing. Finally, though, everything became a second thought as you reached him with intent, tilting his chin to expose his neck.

“Easy, puppet.” Buggy caught your wrist. The tight hold was a warning moments away from a fracture. “Pity isn’t your color.”

Buggy fed off cruelty that incited fear. It was foolish to think he could do the same to you.

“How naive of you to think this is what pity looks like.” Your voice was soft and steady, pent-up venom behind every word. “Before me is a shell of a man playing pirate—”

You paused to regain your wrist. Regret flashed over Buggy’s features, but he held onto every one of your words. His humor was his defense, and beyond that, he was pliable in your hands. There was little room for recovery.

“—don’t fault me for something you let get out of hand.” You finished.

Fear clawed its way up Buggy’s throat, determined to make itself known. It fought with another emotion he was too proud to name. He wasn't unfamiliar with loss. But this. The feeling was wild. Sentimental.

The small candles’ fire illuminated the room only so much, hiding the loneliness of the small space. Very little signs of life filled the room, but your supplies dominated the counters. It was a tick you picked up from the Marines that you couldn’t shake. On nights when sleep was hard to find, you would organize and filter through everything in preparation for nothing.

It seemed wrong to encourage the relief you felt, finally putting what you had to use. But its familiarity was oddly cathartic. So, with clean hands, you began.

“Lean forward—” You instructed. The chill in your tone softened as Buggy struggled. “—move slowly. Slowly.”

You’d already discarded his hat; scorched by the battle, it had lost most of its form. You moved slowly, calculated with every experimental touch. The years of back and forth and treachery never lead you to believe Buggy would be sitting at your mercy.

He grunted as you removed his jacket. It was tattered and drenched with rainwater. The leather of the chair protested against being ruined. Each layer removed revealed every minute it took for him to arrive.

“Were you shot? Show me where it hurts. ” You prompted bluntly. The training was still ingrained; your mind filtered through a clinical set of diagnostic questions, your hands moved with practice, and you were returned. “Dizzy? Light-headed? Anything like that?”

His skin pricked. Your touch tickled him, but he leaned into it fully. Buggy was used to touch hurting or leading to something that hurt. He put far too much faith in you, unlike the others. He humanized you. It would be a mistake if you did the same.

“No, no,” Buggy shook his head, the action unsteady. “My ribs—” He coughed with discomfort when you pressed against his side. “Fuck—”

Your hands were steady as you worked. The gauze was taut in the right places, and Buggy’s body finally relaxed. He received a good beating, but nothing bed rest would fix. While you tided, you rambled on about the possibility of a fever, infections, and whatever else came out of your mouth to ignore the feeling of his severe gaze.

“You’ve changed,” Buggy muttered sharply. He took in your entirety. You held yourself well; you’d matured into your confidence unrestrained. Without him, you soared.

“And you’ve fallen.” Your mouth fidgeted with a frown. Your head remained leveled with his, bandages secured at his temples.

Buggy’s bloodshot eyes darted between your own. He wanted to tell you that you were the brevity of his curse, his burden. His mind was always riddled with reflections, constantly ruminating about possibilities that could bring so-called success. You quieted it and saw him for what he was good and evil. He gave all of himself to you.

“Oh yeah?” He encouraged.

You only noticed now the position you were standing in, not entirely between his legs, but knees brushing with every motion. Intentional or not, Buggy took advantage, bruised knuckles, finding a place just shy of your pant’s fabric.

“I got you something.” He whispered. Buggy knew you well enough that the seed that only he could nourish had been planted. It was only moments before you’d cave. “Check my pocket; the left one.”

A strange feeling surfaced, pulling away, but you were enticed. Buggy learned your tastes, knowing you placed value on rarities. There was no rhyme or reason behind it, possibly besides the fact that each trinket was tangible evidence that you were on his mind. Therefore, there was no stop to the allure. You explored his discarded jacket, eagerness fueling your search.

“Jesus, Buggy!” You cursed from the texture alone. Buggy fulfilled his titles, always sporadic with his behavior and anger. The blood was warm and fresh, staining your palm as if making sure it was now shared blood on your hands.

You flung the nose to the floor, cartilage still firm and skin still stringy with the residue of its owner. The image alone told you everything. The scene was explicit—nothing could be saved from Buggy’s carnage.

“Oops.” He wheezed an ill-timed laugh. To be seated in the depths of your home, he still sought out an advantage. “Must be the other pocket.”

“It’s too late for your pranks.” You spat. Your kindness felt thrown back in your face. The faint embarrassment morphed into anger. “Don't you get this is exactly why I—

“I forgot, you don’t like my kind.” Buggy chose malice as his only form of self-preservation. The statement mocked you and your previous life sewing up Marines that Buggy most likely sent you. “How selfish to think everything is about you.”

Buggy detached his bandaged hand with the little energy he had left, going to the correct pocket. He let his defensiveness stew, already committing to the rash gift he’d brought for you. It was heavy on its return to you.

Reaching out, your heart dropped to your stomach. The glass was pristine, and the snowglobe’s inner frost moved your heartbeat to your ears. You refused to shake it, nervous your uneasy hands would break something so inherently precious.

Holding it tightly to your chest, your eyes were blown wide, pouring into Buggy’s. It was clear to you now the state he was in was of a transactional purpose. He offered himself for the trivial object. It spoke of the confusion of feelings that drowned Buggy. Pain became inherent to his life, functioning as a scale of value.

The greater the risk, the greater the reward.

“Do you like it?” Buggy’s voice surpassed the thumping in your ears.

When you were young, you threw things out of your bedroom window to learn how they would break. Many of them did not—the plastic dolls and plush toys landed safely on the grassy yard below—but the wooden toys did break, or at least they came apart.

One day, you found a snow globe. A winter village stood inside, with snow-covered roofs and chimneys shooting up into the domed sky.

This snow globe was the last thing you threw out of your window, not because your mother scolded you, which she did, but because this snow globe smashed so gloriously—an explosion of crystal, water, snow, and glitter, the village utterly destroyed —you thought you wouldn’t be able to replicate such destruction again.

It was bullshit then, and it was bullshit now. Moving and letting go was never in the stars for you. Or the tea leaves. Or in the deep lines of your palm. You were destined for destruction.

You’d told Buggy this once. Your state of inebriation fostered the interaction, the memory far more fuzzy for you than for him. It was told nonlinearly, but he followed it well as if he were then to witness it himself. He understood its value to you even if he couldn’t fully understand it. It wasn’t odd or facetious. It was your greatest regret that he became determined to restore.

“Yes.”

#q #buggy the clown #buggy #buggy one piece #buggy fic #captain buggy #captian buggy #buggy x reader #buggy x f!reader #buggy the genius jester #opla!buggy x f!reader #opla!buggy x reader #opla!buggy #one piece buggy #buggy d clown #op buggy

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thowawayuntilfurthernotice · 8 months ago

Text

“Critical Role is just a DnD podcast and the cast are Z-List celebrities. You shouldn’t expect them to comment on what is happening in Palestine.”

They why do they have their own non profit org that is dedicated to humanitarian causes?

And are we seriously gonna sit here and pretend like they weren’t one of the first groups to put out a public statement regarding the Russian invasion of Ukraine?

The fact that it took them four months to donate to any Pro Palestine charities honestly makes my blood boil.

It shouldn’t have taken them that long, all they had to do was voice their support for a ceasefire and their fans would have done whatever they could to help push for a ceasefire.

I’m not expecting them to fix the issue overnight, but they have one of the biggest platforms imaginable and they couldn’t be assed to do the bare minimum.

Meanwhile, voice actors who have much smaller platforms are organizing Pro Palestine rallies and using their social medias to speak out. Even though they know they’re most likely going to get blacklisted by the industry by doing so.

Like I said when I discussed Mercer’s video, I am happy that he contacted his reps and asked them to push for a ceasefire, but waiting five months to put out a statement is a pretty bad look.

Yes, the CR crew gets a lot of unwarranted hate, but for a group that built a brand around the importance of social justice, their handling of the current situation in Palestine has been downright abysmal.

#Palestine #Free Palestine #Gaza #Gaza Strip #Matthew Mercer #Critical Role

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adaptacy · 10 months ago

Text

A Found Flame {Pt.14}

Pairing: Mentor!Gale Dekarios x Apprentice!GN!Reader

(Previous Chapter) ➔ (AO3)

Word Count: 3.2k

“You seem distracted, Gale,” Shadowheart comments, picking a bit of fuzz off of her chainmail and flicking it into the grass. The wizard she speaks to doesn’t reply, simply idly walking alongside the rest of the group, and it takes a nudge from Astarion to earn his attention.

“Hm?” His head lifts, drawn out of his thoughts as he looks between the group, whose eyes are all on him aside from Lae’zel, who stares confidently at the road ahead.

“Something on your mind, darling?” Astarion hums, leaning towards him with a knowing smirk – one that only serves to confuse (and slightly unsettle) his target.

“Me? Oh, no. Well, aside from our unwarranted brain pilots, that is. Though… perhaps too literal of an interpretation,” he jokes back, though it falls mostly flat, save for a quick chuckle from Halsin.

“Still suffering the effects of last night’s fun?” The cleric asks, a hint of teasing in her voice.

“Must be. I wonder – do the tadpoles feel the effects as well? I believe mine has been positively tamed since drowning it out so literally,” Gale replies, attempting to draw the topic of conversation away from his drifting mind.

“If only we were so fortunate. If that were the case, I would have subjected myself to wasting away in the reserves as the two of you did. Alas, one of us needed to keep their wits about them,” Lae’zel hisses, cutting into the conversation as if it were yet another meal, her tone a freshly sharpened blade.

“Right. Because you have such endless wits to begin with,” Shadowheart snaps, and the two share an angry glare. It comes as a surprise that they’re capable of maintaining their pace and don’t jump into an all-out war on the spot, but by no means is the tension any weaker. “Refusing to indulge does not make you any better than the rest of us, gith.”

“Perhaps it does not. But sustaining self-control certainly does, elf. You are lucky we were not attacked. You would make fine bait for predators,” Lae’zel growls, forcing Halsin to physically step between the two women, making for a large and hefty barrier.

“Let us remain focused on the journey ahead. I do not believe it will be an easy one. Moonrise towers may prove quite the threat, and it’s best that we do not allow our minds to stray,” he reminds, his tone gentle, almost guiding, and he even goes so far as to place a hand on each of their shoulders.

That plan backfires immediately, as both of them simultaneously bark out “Don’t touch me,” which both makes Halsin retract his palms and earns grumbles from the arguing parties.

“We are plenty focused,” Shadowheart defends, keeping a slightly cooler head than Lae’zel – at least on the surface.

“Focused on ripping one another’s throats out,” Astarion mumbles, and Halsin frowns at him in some attempt to scold the pale elf, though it doesn’t seem successful by any means. “All I’m saying is, if the two of you do get into a bloody tussle… My bets are on Lae’zel winning.”

“Hah,” Lae’zel chuckles, and Shadowheart’s cooler head is quickly set aflame. “A wise choice, Astarion. Shadowheart would prove no more difficult to defeat than those measly goblins. Not much better looking, either. Such a distracting nose – best it may be that I slice it off,” she threatens, and Halsin seems more intimidated than Shadowheart.

“Best indeed. Better off I would be, free from the curse of having to smell you in the vicinity. It would be the ultimate mercy. Take my eyes, while you’re at it, so I may be obliged the avoidance of seeing you,” She shoots back, her scowl intensifying.

“A wise choice, to submit. It is unfortunate that I care too deeply for my blade to stain it with blood from the likes of you. Were I lent Astarion’s daggers, the circumstances may change,” Lae’zel answers, finally breaking her gaze away from the cleric to investigate the surroundings, and she begrudgingly comes to a halt when she spots Halsin a few feet behind the trio, appearing most confused as he kneels in the dirt, inspecting something.

Shadowheart grumbles, somehow even more irritated. “You need not pull up every hunter’s trap. I’m well-aware you are ‘one with nature’, but you’re slowing us down,” she scolds.

Halsin chuckles sheepishly at her critique, but shakes his head. “Not a hunter’s trap. As much as I would love to allow you two to continue bickering, I must bring to your attention the absence of a certain brown-haired wizard,” Halsin replies, and the group immediately looks around themselves, finding that he has, indeed, disappeared.

“Chk. Your gods have seemed to bestow upon us a blessing at last. I can only hope that Shadowheart follows suit,” Lae’zel muses, though her comment goes unanswered by Shadowheart, who seems genuinely concerned at his leave.

“He was just here, was he not?” She asks, and both Astarion and Halsin nod, her tone convincing enough for Lae’zel to remain quiet and temporarily stand down from the argument. “He wasn’t attacked – as talkative as he is, he surely would have made some verbal alert to us.”

“Seems he was pushed away by your incessant arguing,” Astarion hums, as if he hadn’t been encouraging the two of them no more than moments ago. “Marvelous. Now we have to search for a wizard and a cure. Gods, this trip manages more hellish bounds than I knew possible,” he complains, unsheathing one of his daggers in case of lurking threats.

“Footprints, in the dirt,” Halsin speaks from where he is crouched by the ground, running two large fingers over a firm print in the soil. “Seems to have left in a bit of a hurry. A wonder why he didn’t alert us as to what drew his attention.”

“Suppose we ought to follow him,” Shadowheart sighs, mildly irritated at the inconvenience, but she knows he wouldn’t have split up from the group without good reason – very good reason.

So they follow, and it only takes a few steps and even fewer seconds to spot the wizard, his staff loosely hanging by his side, his grip on it barely enough to keep a hold. Only a few yards from where the group had been, he stands at the edge of a river, looking at the other side as if he expects the waves to part and allow him to cross. Alas, they do no such thing – while there are rocks that could serve as stepping stones to the other side, the water rushes quickly and roughly, permitting no traversal. He doesn’t quite detect the group’s presence behind him, not until Halsin clears his throat, and Gale looks over his shoulder, squeezing the staff and straightening it in an attempt to fix his posture.

“Ah– Apologies,” he says, sounding slightly conflicted. His head turns as he looks back at the opposing bay, watching it for a moment more before fully pivoting to address the group. “I believed I had… spotted movement on the other side,” he explains, glancing once more behind him, and the rest follow his gaze, though it is only an empty few ledges that they see, notably lacking any life.

“Movement? Such as a deer? Frightened by your approach, likely,” Halsin suggests, shrugging his shoulders in a minor shift.

Gale’s eyebrows slant inward, and he narrows his eyes, expressing his disbelief as he disagrees, “No, not an animal. It looked to be a pair of humanoids, or so I thought. It may be that my mind is playing tricks on me. Please, let us proceed.” He lifts his hand, motioning with a palm back towards the area that he’d initially left their side.

“Becoming quite the hunter, are you?” Astarion teases, his tone purposefully mocking. “Maybe next time you’ll actually have prey, rather than a… belief.”

“I’m sure he was only trying to watch out for us,” Shadowheart defends, growing increasingly annoyed with the elf’s constant taunting.

Lae’zel snickers, angling her head scantily away from Shadowheart. “Absurd. Surely he does not doubt our capability in battle? Should we be ambushed, I advise that we welcome such boldness – the cowards will be quick to realize their mistake,” she scolds, looking back at Gale and leaning her head forward, attempting to intimidate during her ridicule. “It was fallacious of you to depart from the group. You lack the strength to act so boldly.”

Gale cringes, raising his hand and dipping his head in a quick apology. “Of course. Thank you, Lae’zel, I’d nearly forgotten,” he responds, rejoining the group with a few steps forward.

“Do not make me remind you again,” she growls, not picking up on his sarcasm. The group turns back towards the path they’d been walking, heading again towards the goblin-raided village, but a quick, loud whine to their left yanks their attention away.

“A wounded animal,” Halsin states, quick to discern the noise. He’s the first to step towards the sound, and the rest of them follow, allowing Halsin to lead them towards the source of the soft whimpering – a white dog, attempting to free one of its back legs from the confines of a net that tightly wraps around it, ensnaring the creature.

“Disgraceful. The creature must be utterly dense to have been caught in such a lazily concealed trap,” Lae’zel gripes, reaching to ready her blade, but Halsin raises his hand, instantly discouraging the violence. Instead, he approaches the animal, showing his palms as he lowers himself to the ground and extends a hand, allowing the dog to sniff him.

“I suppose I could not ever disarm enough of the traps. It is horribly cruel – vile, to act with such cowardice towards the innocence of nature,” he sighs, looking behind himself and holding out his hand, his gaze on Astarion. “May I borrow one of your daggers?”

Astarion narrows his eyes, thinking about denying the request, but ultimately gives an exhale of contempt and unhooks one, holding the blade as he hands it to the druid. “I’m sure the hunter who has to fight for his food would argue otherwise. After all, not everyone is able to purchase food so readily.”

“I have no quells with hunters. Trappers, however, are entirely craven folk. Should one wish to reap the benefits of nature’s grace, it is only just that they fight for their food in the same fashion fellow predators do,” Halsin explains, using his dagger to carefully clip the thin netting around the dog’s hind leg. Once it’s able to, it steps to the side, shaking the freed leg as if to check it over.

“It has a collar,” Shadowheart mentions, pointing towards the creature’s neck, which bears a leather collar, engraved with faint purple lettering. There’s a small medallion hanging at the center, and Halsin peers closer, the dog letting him reach for the collar and lift it slightly, the light catching it better at a different angle, allowing for Halsin to read it.

“Scratch,” he hums, and the dog gives a short whine, tilting his head curiously at the name. Halsin chuckles and rubs the animal’s head, making his ears flatten and his tail wag.

“Great, you freed the mutt – I’d like my dagger back,” Astarion mumbles, his hand on his hip as he watches the scene, just short of scowling. “We’ve wasted enough time. Is it too much to ask that we please keep moving?”

“Patience, Astarion,” Halsin muses, handing him his dagger and standing up, presenting his hand for the dog to sniff once more. “Seek us if you wish, Scratch. May the Oakfather protect you on your journey, wherever it may lead.” He gives the dog another gentle pat on the head, and Scratch barks in response, seeming to understand what the elf was offering. Finally returning his attention to the group, he merely smiles in response to the few judgmental glares he was faced with. “Let us carry on with our own journey. Moonrise Tower awaits, as do the perils on our path.”

“We have had enough distractions for one day. We proceed, and we proceed swiftly,” Lae’zel commands, and while three of her four companions nod in agreement, Shadowheart lets out a short huff of irritation. Nevertheless, she does follow the group as they continue moving, even if her gaze is tainted with her distaste, she stays silent about her misgivings.

– – –

“Makes me killer in battle, which tracks, given Zariel’s purpose for me,” Karlach speaks through a mouthful of food, loosely motioning with the stick on which the freshly cooked boar meat was impaled. “Been runnin’ hotter than I’m used to, ever since I caught a ride outta the hells. Doesn’t change anything – I’ll happily take an overheated heart over being controlled by Zariel any day. Guess it wasn’t really made to operate outside of Avernus, though.”

You take a bite of your own kebab, only difference being that you fully chew and swallow before responding. “Does it hurt? I mean, all those flames, and inside of you no less? Surely it’s a little painful.”

Karlach shrugs, bringing a knee up and resting her arm on it. “Eh, at first. After ten years, you get pretty used to it. And anyways, I was pent up in the hells for long enough to get used to the heat,” she chuckles, and though her tone is light, you’re sure that the memories aren’t all too pleasant to reflect on. “I was fighting – all the time. Usually had worse, and more painful, wounds to bear than the ol’ furnace. Always been a fighter, though. Even as a kid. Your pain tolerance builds up pretty fast when you’re constantly on the wrong side of a weapon.”

“I can’t imagine what that’s like. At least you’re resistant to it, though,” you hum, not entirely sure whether you should attempt comforting her or not.

Karlach smiles, nodding and taking another bite. “Beggars can’t be choosers, eh? Oughta take what I can get. I like stayin’ optimistic – lookin’ on the bright side, all that jazz. Even if the odds are pretty shit,” she explains, tearing off the last of the boar meat and snapping the stick in half, tossing it into the campfire between the two of you. “I don’t mind all the fighting n’ killing. Just prefer to do it on my own terms, and avoid violence against innocents and all that. Plus, all my experience means I can protect those who can’t protect themselves.” She gleams, pulling up an arm and flexing, laughing at her own expression of strength. “Got somethin’ to show for all the hell I’ve been through. Or, more specifically, all the hells I’ve been through.”

“Figure we’ll probably need it,” you tease, knowing damn well that she was a necessary companion if you wanted a real chance at survival. At least until you found Gale, though you didn’t have any intentions of ditching Karlach once you did – you just assume that surviving won’t be so dependent on her when you have an extra person to accompany you.

“You said you’re lookin’ for someone, right? You think the nautiloids got somethin’ to do with him? Or, maybe he has something to do with the nautiloid?” Karlack asks, using a nail to pick out a stuck piece of meat between her teeth.

As she flicks that piece of meat off into the distance, you finish off your own meal and contemplate her question. You’re not sure, really – but there’s always a chance, and things seem about as impossibly derailed as they could be. Nautiloids in Faerûn, something about new deities and everything that Elminster talked about? Hardly imaginable, yet they seemed plenty real. “Not sure, to be completely honest. I have no clue how he would’ve somehow wound up in such an ordeal, but… I also struggle to grasp that any of this is actually happening.”

Karlach chuckles in agreement. “You and me both, scout. Gods, I’ve missed the grass. Such a simple thing – oh, and the sky! The flames of Avernus ain’t got shit on the stars,” she sighs dreamily, laying back and folding an arm under her head, looking up at the sky.

“My mentor’s obsessed with the stars. Sorry – Gale’s obsessed with the stars. Back home, where we live in Waterdeep, he has this balcony with a drop-dead gorgeous view,” you comment, imitating her movements and stargazing as well. “I guess obsessed is a strong word. He just has an odd affinity for them.”

“He’s your mentor?” Karlach asks, and you hum out a short affirmation. “I don’t blame him. If I could, I’d spend the rest of my years watching them. Never really know what you got ‘till it’s gone. Wasn’t always trapped in the hells, you see – I was a city kid, and I used to live in Baldur’s Gate. Born and raised Baldurian.” She speaks with pleasant recollection, and takes a pause to truly reflect. “Almost twenty years spent under the sky. Almost twenty years to really enjoy it, take it in, appreciate it. Never did. Not enough. Back in Avernus, there’s nothin’ like it. Missed it everyday. Might sound ridiculous, and maybe it is,” she lets out a mildly self-deprecating chuckle, “But damn, did I take it for granted.”

“It’s not ridiculous,” you argue, hardly finding her struggle anything short of realistic. “I don’t think so, anyways.” You give yourself a moment to think through your next words, carefully tip-toeing into the subject of her servitude – she speaks calmly about it, and doesn’t appear particularly troubled or bothered by the topic, but you don’t know her very well at all, and don’t want to risk upsetting her. Still, you don’t want to avoid the conversation completely and risk seeming apathetic. A middle ground is foggy at best, but you’re willing to try and find it. “Can’t say I’ve ever been to hell myself,” you begin, your tone just light-hearted enough to keep the conversation gentle, “But I can at least imagine how different it probably is. I think the stars have a sort of reassurance about them.”

Karlach’s head turns to look at you, and she seems more curious than anything close to hurt, or offended. “A reassurance? What do you mean?”

Squinting, you let out a short troubled exhale. “I mean, like – it’s the same everywhere, you know? Like it connects everyone,” you attempt to explain, and although you’re sure that you don’t sound entirely sure of yourself, Karlach is at least interested in further elaboration. “The stars never change,” you quote, “No matter what happens. No matter where you are. Everyone sees the same sky. They could be hundreds of miles away, but they’d still see the exact same stars. The exact same constellations.”

“Huh. Never thought about it like that. Guess they’re pretty strong, huh?” Karlach laughs, looking back up. “I always just missed it cause it was pretty, and reliable, in a way. Gave some routine, no matter how fucked-up life got. In hell, life just gets fucked-up. There’s no balancing acts, or calmness. But you’re right. It’s kinda weird to think about. Bunch’a different people, races, backgrounds, experiences – but everyone sees the same stars. Wild.”

“It is wild,” you chuckle in response, tracing imaginary lines between the stars. No matter how far away, everyone saw the same sky. Gale was out there, somewhere. You didn’t know exactly how close, or how far, but you did know one thing – he was out there, and he saw the same stars you did. You were going to find him. You had to, and you would. But for now, you watch the stars, telling yourself that he was watching them as well.

#bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #gale dekarios #gale dekarios x reader #gale of waterdeep #gale bg3 x reader #karlach cliffgate #karlach bg3 #lae'zel bg3 #shadowheart bg3 #halsin bg3 #astarion bg3

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shih-coulda-had-it · 9 months ago

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FEBUWHUMP | NOT ALLOWED TO DIE | WC: 695

a/n: speculative ficlet on the end of bnha. manga spoilers.

His whole body ached. This was nothing new to Tomura, who had been plagued with an awareness of bodily discomfort since he was conscious enough to register it, but unlike before, there was no way he could relieve himself of the pain.

He could not lift a limb; he could barely turn his head.

Beside him on the torn-up battlefield, Midoriya wheezed and wept dry, rasping sobs. He looked even more of a mess than Tomura, and the insides of Tomura were still churning with the stupid, indigestible truth that deep down, he was a pitiful child wanting to be saved. The ghosts had been ruthless in their excavation.

“Shut up,” Tomura managed, and his lips curled weakly to bare his teeth. “Just--would you shut the hell up and kill me already?”

Midoriya twitched. Unlike Tomura, Midoriya was laid-out flat on his back, face turned to the sky and all four limbs stretched out like a butterfly pinned to a corkboard. The kid didn’t even bother twisting his neck. He just side-eyed Tomura with unwarranted incredulity.

“A hero wouldn’t hesitate. Not after all I’ve done.”

“What do you think I’ve been trying to do,” Midoriya said, unsteadily, “for the past hour?”

“You’re trying to be the good guy. ‘There’s always someone to save.’ Ugh.”

The doctor had subjected him to intense electric shocks, conditioning his body before the transfer of All for One, and the Quirk still hadn’t integrated peacefully. Star and Stripes tried to smother him in the ocean and obliterate him altogether. In neither of these cases did Tomura cry.

Tears were beading up now, threatening to spill over and soak the ground. Tomura crooked his fingers against the dirt, seeking Decay in the fiery ruins of his veins, and tasting blood when all he turned up was more pain.

“I can’t do this,” he gasped. “I can’t look at--at all their stupid faces--and listen to them tell me that I was wrong--”

Unbelievably, Midoriya wrenched himself to the side and reached over to grab a fistful of Tomura’s hair. He said, “You don’t get to die.” He sounded like a hero; he sounded like a maniac who would see Tomura thrown into some asylum for ‘recovery’ when all it would really be was an indefinite term of drugged incarceration. “One for All didn’t go away so you could die. I told them I’d save you, and I will.”

“You and what Quirk?! You think you count for anything now? Even All Might’s word doesn’t mean shit!”

“You’re Quirkless too, now!” Midoriya fired back.

Tomura clenched his jaw. Maybe if he ate enough dirt, he’d throw up, choke on his own vomit, and die before any medical assistance reached them. Like being unable to use a Quirk mattered to the terrified, paranoid judicial system. He’d dusted both of Overhaul’s arms up to the elbows and they booked him in Tartarus anyway.

“I won’t let you disappear,” the boy swore.

“Moron,” Tomura spat. “I’m telling you over and over again, it doesn’t matter what the hell you want. You’re gonna stand against the heroes when they drag me to prison? You’re gonna ask them to go easy on me with the sentencing? It’d be more merciful to just kill me!”

Midoriya yanked on Tomura’s hair, and Tomura wailed a long, despairing cry into the dirt. Would anyone else help him? Dabi--useless. Toga--useless. Spinner--gone. Mr. Compress--imprisoned. All Tomura had left was Midoriya, and he hated Midoriya, but not enough to suppress Tenko’s needy want for a friend.

“If they take you, I’ll find you. I’ll ask All Might to find a safehouse in the country. I’ll make sure you have dogs to take care of.” Midoriya released Tomura and rolled himself completely to his stomach. His eyes were red-rimmed but dry. Exhaustion weighed on him as heavily as the hurt did on Tomura. “Don’t you want to live?”

This was the final straw, amidst the many final straws that had edged their fight further and further in Midoriya’s favor. Tomura had no desire to voice Tenko’s want, so he scrunched his wet eyes shut and screamed into the shattered earth.

Next to him, Midoriya waited.

#bnha #shigaraki tomura #shimura tenko #midoriya izuku #deku #shih.txt #febuwhump 2024 #febuwhumpday29 #seven days out of twenty-nine... i think i did better on word count than last year at least

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leafkingofbirds · 8 months ago

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WIP Wednesday

More Jack/Kieran conversation!!

Please forgive my verbosity haha (this is so long omg it needs editing)

Jack stares at Kieran, uncomprehending and wary.

“I could hate you for all you’ve done,” Kieran begins. “In fact, I wish that I could. It would be far, far easier to hate you. To condemn you, kill you, and feel vindicated, without ever having to accept the truth. Instead, I must confront the facts. I must acknowledge that, despite the abhorrent actions you took, the offenses you committed against me...they were not entirely unwarranted. Your crimes deserve punishment – for the murder of my most beloved knight, whose innocence and lifetime of dedication to my family demands I bring his spirit justice. But I will not kill you, Jack. There must be peace between our peoples, at long last, and killing you would only continue a destructive cycle. For the sake of everyone I love and have ever loved, I am compelled to make this right. Somehow, we must find a way to change things. And I can’t do that without you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re their leader. They will follow you, Jack. I’ve seen them. Few mortals would find the bravery to invade the Moon Court without such a general at their head. Your people will not trust me, and, I admit, they have no reason to. But your job is not finished. Join your army with my cause, and let us together take down Opulence.”

Jack makes a face toward Ella, her aura of magic softened - but still evident. “You have your super-charged mortal weapon right there. Use it. Use her. No army of mine can compare.”

Kieran resists the urge to bristle at the dehumanization. He’s angry, lashing out like a wounded animal. Trying to inflict any wound he can.

Kieran knew exactly how that felt.

He took a moment to ensure his voice was calm, no to rise to Jack’s bait. “Perhaps Ella’s magic is enough to take back the Sources - but she is still just one person. And this fight concerns us all.”

“No,” Jack says immediately. “They’ve suffered enough under my command. I won’t lead them into certain death.”

“I can’t die,” Ella interjects, making them both turn to look at her. Her arms crossed in front of her, she looks haughty, almost bored. “I’m not Fae. No weapon can stop me. Let me lead them.”

Kieran can’t help but flinch at how eagerly she jumps to violence, remembering her callous disregard for life on either side of the battle, destroying everything without restraint.

That is not my Ella. That is a stranger wearing her face.

“Ella,” Kieran says, unable to bare looking at her. “Could you give me a moment alone with Jack, please?”

“Suit yourself. I’ll be outside the door. If you try anything, Jack–”

“He won’t,” Kieran assures them both, locking eyes with Jack. Ella leaves, closing the door behind her.

Jack’s gaze fits uncomfortably to Kieran, and somehow, without knowing this man – without knowing he ever existed until a scant time ago – there is something of an aching familiarity, pulled deep from the recesses of his heart and memory. To look upon someone of his own blood, when he thought he never would do such a thing again…

“Why did you do that?”

“To gain your trust. At the moment, Ella is not herself, and her magic is more than both of us combined. This is between us - let us stand on equal ground and speak man to man. Without my secret weapon.” Kieran sighs audibly, hating himself, hating what he knows he must do. “I look at you, Jack…and I cannot help but see the resemblances between us. Had our fates been reversed, I very well may have followed the same path you forged that found us here today. I would feel the need to make others suffer the way I have suffered. You’ve committed a grievous wound to me, and it’s one that will not heal quickly, if it ever shall. But…I look at you and I see our mother’s eyes. I see a man who should have grown up beside me…who should have been my brother. I see many wrongs that can never be put right.”

Kieran is surprised at how much the urge to pummel Jack lessens as he speaks. Whatever spirit of grace Ella had infused in him was still at work, even now that her own merciful heart was gone.

Jack sucks in a pained breath, and Kieran falters only briefly at the glimpse of this alternate life that flashes before his eyes. He had never once aired these thoughts, not even to Ella. Had scarcely allowed himself to entertain the idealistic imaginings that he should have long since outgrown.

But he couldn’t help picturing what childhood might have been like, trailing in the footsteps of an elder brother. Someone he could have looked up to and admired. Who could have given him advice. Been there beside him, as a comfort, a guide. Perhaps it would have been Jack learning swordplay with Sir Monty, Jack laughing as he bested his teacher for the first time, with a friendly rivalry.

The path of those thoughts was a downward spiral, too painful to continue. Kieran quickly pulled himself away before it drowned him.

Even now, looking into Jack’s eyes, still so full of suspicion and an unwillingness to surrender, Kieran can see the young man Jack once was, and know that he would have idolized these same traits in his elder brother. This strength, bravery, and determination.

Kieran has to force away the emotion in his voice. “I spent a long century cursed and alone, Jack. I pushed away, or frightened away, everyone but Longclaw and Sir Montgomery. Until Ella came along, it was a century empty of love or hope. And now, knowing that all along, you were experiencing the same? It fills me with grief. But I was given a second chance, and it changed everything. Tis only fair I offer you the same. You should have been allowed to grow up a prince. To be welcomed home to your…family.”

I wouldn’t have been alone. Neither of us would have been alone.

It would have caused no end of scandal, Kieran knew, if he had known of Jack and welcomed him into his court. It might have even sparked a way between the courts. But there was a part of Kieran that wished it could have happened. He would have fought that battle if it meant none of the rest of this had ever happened.

Jack’s throat bobs on a swallow. He says nothing for a moment, then… “You can’t tell me a halfling bastard would have been allowed to become a prince of Fae. And if my parents had stayed together in defiance of the Sun Court, you would not have been born.”

Kieran grimaces. Jack isn’t wrong. The most likely outcome, if Jack’s father and their mother ran off together with the infant Jack, all three of them would be dead now, and Kieran would have never existed.

“I’d like to believe we could have changed things, given time. The crown grants many privileges of rule. Once my mother was gone…Well. We can’t say what might have been. But I wish I had known. I would have sought you myself. All of this could have been avoided.”

Jack’s mouth screws up into a petulant frown, and he crosses his arms over his chest. “Really?. What would you have done, Night Prince? Welcomed me to sit on the throne? Given over your crown, and shared dominion over half of the realm?”

Kieran feels the urge to rip out his hair. “Gods, you are infuriating. Now I see what my parents had to endure with me. Jack, listen to me, damn you. I am offering to share that power now.”

If anything, Jack’s suspicious eyes only narrow more.

“You have shown yourself a good leader – I’ve seen how you take care of your people, not risking their lives unnecessarily. You’ve managed to take down both courts with an army of mortals, something that has never been done since their creation. I have no choice but to respect that. And what Fae remain will have no choice but respect you. Or fear you.”

“So you wish to install me as a puppet to pacify the unwashed masses? I set out to destroy the courts, not join them!”

“You set out to save your father, Jack. Perhaps abolishing the courts was simply a convenient bonus, and I understand why. But the courts were formed because Fae are too powerful to exist without laws governing their behavior. So consider that in order to gain something out of all of this disastrous mess, you may have to compromise a little.”

Jack glares at Kieran, but he’s no longer arguing. Which meant he was listening, at long last.

“I want mortals to have a place in the future of this realm. I want this realm to have a future. The responsibility of these lands has rested on my shoulders since I was old enough to stand.” Kieran glares. “This goes against my nature, I hope you appreciate that. If we had met a year ago, things would have been very different - but I am a changed man. I owe many things to Ella, but most of all I have learned to admit when I am wrong. Here and now, Jack, I offer the hand of peace. And with it, an offering to change centuries of injustice.”

Jack stares at him in disbelief. “I don’t believe a word of this.”

“I do not lie,” Kieran hisses, insulted. “A tyrant now holds all the power of Fae. That is your fault. We are going to win it back, or die trying. Join me. Take the first step in showing that Fae and changeling need not be enemies. For whatever it may be worth, coming from a crownless, mortal, powerless prince – I’m offering you a chance to help shape the world we rebuild from the ashes into something better. For us all.”

There is no lessening of Jack’s suspicion. “If I refuse, are you going to let your consort kill me? What strange curse have you put upon her to make her so powerful?”

“I did nothing,” Kieran growls. “Ella made the only choice she thought could save the ones she loves - from you. She sacrificed her heart to gain magic no mortal was meant to possess, and it stole away everything that she was.”

Jack’s eyes went wide. “She used the mortality cure.”

“It is no cure. It is a curse,” Kieran tells Jack viciously, who glares back, unrepentant. “It stole Ella away from me and made her empty. And it would have done the same to your father. No magic can stave off death forever. But my Ella would not want you to die. And in her stead, I must do what she would have wanted.”

Jack doesn’t fully believe him, Kieran can tell. But he’s beginning to.

“Help me fix this,” Kieran urges.

“You acknowledge the world can’t return to what it was?” Jack asks, venom in his voice. “I won’t help you return Fae to power while mortals beg for scraps.”

“You did a fairly thorough job of dismantling the Sun Court,” Kieran muses. “So I imagine the world cannot return to what it was, no matter what happens next. But the magic of Fae must always be held in balance. Someone must be strong enough to hold the key to the sources of magic, and willing to keep unruly Fae in line by whatever means necessary.”

“So you propose yourself for the role, I assume?” Jack sneers. “Trading one tyrant for another.”

“No,” Kieran snaps, insulted. “I propose we return to the Moon Palace to reunite with whoever is left. And that we all work together to determine what our shared future will look like. We aren’t bound by the constraints of the past any longer. None remain who installed those unequal structures of power. I’m offering you a chance no other Fae has ever offered a mortal, let alone a changeling, to influence what comes next.”

Jack’s eyes widen slightly, a flash of surprise. “You want credit for doing the bare minimum? Why would any Fae ever give up one iota of their power? Let alone a prince?” He sneers the word with derision.

Kieran’s irritation flares, and he tamps it down with some effort. “Because despite what you may believe, I have known what it means to suffer. In fact I have known little else. I have watched every last member of my family die at the hands of those who professed peace, until I alone was left to defend and uphold my court. I have been betrayed and cursed heartless by someone I believed to love me, forced to roam the night as a thoughtless beast for a hundred years, unable to feel love or happiness. I offer this because you are the last of my blood, and you too have suffered unjustly. Because I have found peace in the love of a mortal, and I must save her from this curse. Because I tire of pain. I have had my fill of it. And I’m not the only one.”

Kieran glances behind him, where Ella has gone. Despair spins into a whirlpool inside him at how empty Ella's eyes have become, knowing she won't be there to give them the advice he needs. He turns back to Jack, who at long last has the decent to look shaken. “I’m tired, Jack. I’m tired of losing those I love. Aren’t you?”

Instead of answering, Jack looks toward his father’s body, and he squeezes his eyes closed.

Kieran softens his voice. “More than vengeance, more than anything, what I want now is to create a world in which these things cannot happen to another generation.”

“The selfless Fae prince,” Jack scoffs bitterly, not looking at him. There's tears in his voice. “Such an unlikely choice of hero for this fairy tale.”

Kieran, fed up, grabs Jack and hauls him to his feet, forcing him to look Kieran in the eye. “Do not mistake me: I am a selfish man. I am not merciful or kind. But while my Ella cannot be…” Kieran closes his eyes briefly, trying to remember her smile. “Then I must be both, for her sake. The reason you are still alive is not because I lack magic, but because I choose to break this cycle. You may be stronger than most mortals, but even without my magic, you are no match for me."

Jack glares and bristles, an argument ready in his mouth. Kieran can see it, and the beast in him roars its ugly head and dares him to say it, wants the fight, wants to be justified in venting his rage with fists and more pointless bloodshed that would solve nothing.

Instead, Kieran lets go of Jack, and steps away. “You don't trust me; that's fine. I wouldn't trust me, either. But you must decide if your cause is worth more than your ego. For I will create a new world from the ashes of what you have destroyed. I will move heaven and earth, do whatever must be done, because I wish to finally know what it is to live in peace. I want to know what it is to have hope in a better future. And I want to love my Ella as well and as long as fate grants us. It is not only for our mother’s sake that I spare your life, but mine as well. I do not want to live a life chained to hatred and vengeance any longer. I want to learn what it’s like to have a brother, to create a new kind of family. I want to live my life with a clear conscience. The question is…do you?”

Jack’s lips part, as if he means to speak, but no words come out. He pushes himself away from the wall, his legs trembling.

“It seems I am not the only stubborn, foolishly idealistic one in this room.” Jack’s eyes move to his father’s deathbed once more. He’s exhausted, wounded, weakened. There is blood pooling where he fell. And yet he sets his jaw and thrusts out his hand. “This will not be easy. Even with your secret weapon. Even if we best Opulence, the rest of Fae will fight you tooth and nail. They will resist any attempts at change.”

Kieran can’t help but smirk. “I know my countrymen perhaps better than you, Jack. But I am their prince. And they will bow when I tell them to.”

“With that kind of confidence…” Jack coughs, hacking and wet, blood in his teeth. Kieran had wounded him perhaps worse than Jack had let on. “What could possibly go wrong?”

Kieran allows himself a smile. “My thoughts exactly.”

"That world you describe…” Jack begins, his voice choking only a little. “It's something my father always hoped to live long enough to see. Perhaps...perhaps we can yet fulfill his dream. I think I owe him...that much."

Jack's shaking hand takes hold of Kieran’s, and the brothers touch for the first time in peace instead of in violence.

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bronx-bomber87 · 1 year ago

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Happy weekend everyone :). We’ve reached the episode where Emmett and Lucy’s relationship comes to an abrupt end. Get to delve into why it ended and see Tim help her through it like he does. It’s a solid ep for them. Also more growth for our boy. Lets get going.

3x08 Bad Blood

We start with Lucy waking up to a cowardly breakup text from Emmett. Ugh. Not only that he’s dragging Tim into to it to grab his stuff from her. Extra helping of coward. I kinda wanna nut check him for this. No matter how Lucy treated the relationship this was unwarranted. I can’t stand people who aren’t forward with their feelings. Eject out of relationship through a text message instead of doing it face to face. Confrontation isn't fun but its better than doing this. Because that's all Emmett will be remembered for. Is having zero balls about their breakup. That's the legacy he's decided to leave.

It’s the first thing Lucy talks to Jackson about when she gets to work. She’s so mad and rightfully so IMO. Asking if he’s 14 years old? Why he couldn’t do it to her face? (man has no balls or integrity would be my guess) Jackson tells her sadly that’s most guys these days. She’s lucky she didn’t just get ghosted. So I guess he's one level above Uber coward then. Tim is within ear shot of all this. Asking Lucy if they can just get to work now?

Lucy ignores his plea to just go to work. Instead asking him if Emmett talked to him about this? Tim replies no why would he? That when they hang out its not a feelings party LOL Also If Emmett did Tim would’ve defended Lucy and told Emmett he was an idiot. I bet you he was far too scared to tell Tim about what he did. Especially after he ate him alive in 2x19. No way in hell he was coming to Tim about hurting her. Dude wouldn't have survived that convo.

Tim has the most Tim Bradford answer ever when he replies if she wants his advice? To Tim it’s so clear. He treated her badly to end the relationship. So naturally she just needs to walk it off. Cut that off emotionally and move on. Saying he clearly wasn’t the right guy for her. (He very much was not… *cough you are cough*) He’s always so brusk at first in his advice to her. Then once they’re alone in the shop away from Jackson he gets softer. I think part of that advice he gave here was cause they weren’t alone. How he is with her one on one is so different than when they have an audience.

We pan back to them finishing up a call. Lucy asking if Tim had ever been dumped out of the blue before? Then he makes a hilarious dark joke about Isabel. The change in this man regarding his ex-wife is unreal. The place he’s in now that he can use what happened to him in a sarcastic way is amazing. It has a dark edge to it like satire but progress none the less.

Clearly saying it to bring a little perspective to her about her situation. Lucy recognizes that but has to know the Why. I can’t blame her I’m the same way. It’s hard for me to let things go with no explanation. Especially when its affected me on a deep level. Lucy is practically begging Tim to ask Emmet WHY did he do this? This is something that is going to consume her day till she gets some answers.

Tim doesn’t have time to reply because he see’s the shop has been tagged. He goes white as a ghost. Lucy is trying not to laugh because she doesn’t understand what’s happening. Then Tim touches it and it’s fresh. He loses it and calls in the calvary. Lucy is looking around in a panic trying to asses the threat. Wondering why this feels like a DEFCON 1 situation right now.

We return to them at the station. Tim is explaining the situation to her. That 3Eyez was active from 2006-2010. Telling her they had victims all over the city. Whenever they got close to catching them it stopped. Tim assumed since it’s been so long they stopped. He also lets her know he checks the data base every 3 months. Just in case he shows up in another city.

Lucy says wow he must’ve been hardcore for him to obsess like this. Asks Tim what his biggest crime was? He tells her it’s him being a tagger. Costing the city hundred of thousands of dollars in repairs. Lucy is confused and says ok…in property damage though.... She is trying to connect why he’s so obsessed with them.

Then we find out his shop was tagged when he was a rookie. Not only that but he let it happen right under his nose. Lucy is getting a MAJOR kick out of this. Laughing and enjoying this piece of his history. Best part of her day so far. For a couple reasons. One he made a big ol' mistake as a rookie. You know she loves that. Delights her to no end. Especially with how he has berated her mistakes as his boot. Second she knows he must've had some unrelenting teasing attached to this moment. It happened right under his nose.

She is down right giddy as she is putting the pieces of the puzzle together. Asking him if he had a nickname? That after an incident like that no way he didn’t garner a nickname of some sort. Lucy is so desperate to get any intel on him pre-her. Especially in his own boot days. Tim can sense how damn eager she is about this. Tries to shut it down with a defensive ‘No…’ hahaha god I love them sfm. Lucy is enjoying teasing him about this far too much LOL

Lucy continues on saying this why he’s so intent on catching this guy. It’s personal. Tim tries to deflect as he does. Saying no. He’s a criminal and it’s their job to stop him. (Sure love sure....) Lucy tries to insert some logic into the situation by saying this seems pointless. The way he snatches back the photo it’s clear it’s not pointless to him…His wounded pride about an early mistake haunting him. Can't say I wouldn't be the same way. I take my failures so seriously even when they're not serious.

Jackson and Wade see 3Eyez mid tagging. They call it in and Tim hears it. Has them immediately attach to their call. Grey steps out of the shop and his back goes out. Jackson and Lucy go to help him. Tim stays in the shop and wants to go after the tagger. Leaving Lucy and Jackson behind to stay with Grey till ambulance arrives. Tim think he spots them in an ally and leaves his shop. It ends up being a dead end for him. He returns to which gets tagged again LOL Poor Tim can’t win for losing in this ep. He’s so mad.

The ambulance arrives for Grey. Lucy recognizes Dave from her time with Emmett. Asks if he works with him? He is instantly flirty with her and says Yes. He replies back she’s dating Emmet? Lucy says not anymore. His forwardness continues when he says how gorgeous she is. That he would be a fool to let her go. (I mean obviously... ) Lucy starts to see this as an opportunity to get back at Emmett. Not her most mature move here but she's going for it anyways.

Jackson can see this developing and isn’t on board. Gotta love him being frank with her about it afterwards. Lucy is just as forward and asks Dave out. Tells him Jackson will give him her number. Clearly only going out with this guy to get back at Emmett. Jackson immediately calls her on it. Lucy pulling a Tim defects what he’s saying. Before he can grill her further Tim pulls up in their tagged shop LOL He tells her not to say a word about it when he rolls up LMAO It’s too damn funny. He could not be more agitated about this.

Lucy is going on about her date with Dave. Asking Tim where they should go for dinner? Tim just makes a disapproving face. Lucy catches on real quick. Asking if he isn’t approving of her plan? Since he hasn't replied Lucy just goes OFF on a rant. Tim doesn’t even have to say anything. It’s almost like she unburdening her soul with the guilt she feels. Wanting him to say anything to justify or right her decision. Saying yeah maybe she is dating this guy to make Emmet jealous...

Tim says nothing and Lucy continues on saying Emmett deserves this. Radio silence... Then she point blank asks if he can say something to her please? She’s so desperate for his POV on this. Because when it comes to Lucy his emotional intelligence is off the charts. She needs his wisdom in this situation. Tim sighs and finally breaks. Says this is the first time In WEEKS she’s even mentioned Emmett. Lucy tries to deflect it by saying he doesn’t allow personal talk.

Tim doesn’t let her get away with that at all. Just like she calls him out he returns the favor in kind. Saying and yet we still have these conversations despite that. Basically saying if Emmett meant anything to her he would’ve been brought up to Tim. Even if he didn’t want to hear about it. That in all the conversations over the past few weeks she never once mentioned him. Lucy is still a little confused asks ‘What do you mean?’

It’s then Tim comes down with the truth hammer. It’s insane how well he can just zero in on her relationships. Like a mechanic looking at a car and spotting all the issues. This is something he does in the future with Chris in 5x08 as well. Helps her notice and face these issues. The issue in this instance being she was never invested in Emmett. That he treated the relationship the same way she did. With no care or effort. That it didn't matter. You watch the realization wash over her.

Like being smacked in the face with the truth. Melissa really crushes this portion. You can see her realizing what he's saying is true. That it's really sinking in and the guilt kicks in. Just like how only Lucy can talk to Tim like she does. It's the same for Tim with her. Only he can deliver the same telling her like it is that she does. This is what she wanted from this conversation though. Perspective, truth and the why behind it. Sometimes that hurts. This is something we learn with the relationships she has before Tim though. That's she never really all in with them.

She’s never really invested enough because they’re not what she already has with Tim. That deep inexplicable bond they share. It will forever take precedence over any of the other men she has in her life. They will ALWAYS pale in comparison to him. Now I don’t think she realizes she’s doing this at this point. But it’s exactly what she is doing. Especially knowing her next relationship and how that ends and why.

Leave it to Tim to deliver the why she has been searching for all day. The sad look of realization on her face gets to Tim though. You can see it above. He knows she's hurting now and distracted. So he does what he does best. Distracts her. Asks her what she thinks 3Eyez next plan is? Asking if they’re done for the day? Trying to get her brain moving. Get her out of her mental funk.

Even when Lucy explains what she thinks is their next plan she is still sad and distracted. So Tim offers up the info she so desperately wanted earlier. Offering a piece of his past to help heal her present. Something he’s done before and will only ever do for her. I love him not only telling her but having Isabel be involved in it. He has her laughing and smiling early into his story. Mission accomplished.

Using a good memory he has and sharing a part of his history to help her feel better. This is an underrated moment in the episode. I love it sfm. He needs to make sure she is ok. So he does this by offering up a piece of himself to her. That no personal life rule is a legit joke at this point haha

Tim has not shared a lot of happy moments if at all about Isabel. This was another massive step forward to the Tim we all know in s5. Willing to do anything for her especially if it makes her feel better. This tactic works like a charm. She is smiling and laughing at his story. Saying how sweet it was cause I mean it was. We forget there was a big chunk of time Tim was very happy with Isabel. Him sharing that vulnerability with her always floors me. Such a good scene. Look at how he is in that final gif. He's shared a past moment about Isabel and a happy one at that. He is not mad or grumpy he is happily reminiscing. Looking back and have it not hurt him but to just smile. This is HUGE for him.

They receive a falling incident call. Make their way towards it. Tim goes over trying to make sure this woman is ok. Lucy is trying to get his attention. Love her using his nickname to get his attention. ' Eagle eyes look up' Haha He finally looks where Lucy is staring and sees her tag. He then realizes it’s 3Eyez that’s in front of him.

This is their married scene of the episode. Lucy correcting him when he says how many times she’s tagged his shop. Can’t help herself and he looks up at her like really? You think now is this time for that? LMAO. Lucy knows when to shut it and walk away from being right. I love her body posture as she says this too. It’s too funny. Even has the most wifey look as she says it. Once again the ONLY person he allows to talk to him like this is her. It’s wonderful.

Tim joins her solo in her hospital room. Asks her why she started up again? She lets Tim know her husband left her....For his massage therapist. That she wasted the last 7 years of her life. You watch how her story impacts him. The empathy in his eyes when she’s telling him her story. Tim then asks 'Did she do this to get back at him?' She shakes her head tells him no. She just wanted to feel young again.

Then he does something truly lovely. He uncuffs her and gives her some lovely advice. Even makes her smile. Saying her husband is an idiot with a sweet smile. You can't tell me Lucy Chen hasn’t had an impact on this man. How is empathy has grown tenfold. Lets himself be kind and soft with others again.

This moment is proof of that. He spent the whole episode hunting her down. Wanting his justice for his past mistake. Then finding out she’s human and with a relatable past. He lets her go with just the misdemeanor and builds her up before he goes. Lucy would be so proud.

Speaking of Lucy she is filling out paperwork when she runs into Dave. He asks her if they’re still on for tonight? It’s then Lucy has to let him know her reasons behind it. Especially after her talk with Tim earlier. He seems ok with the reasoning. (Cause she’s beautiful that’s why.)

He tells her Emmett dumped her over text. He deserves this. Lucy can’t go forward with it. I’m proud of her for not being petty. That she wants to go out for the right reasons. Not because she’s hurt and angry. He tells he tells her he respects that. But in two weeks he’s gonna ask her again. We all know this legit goes nowhere LOL Never hear of Dave again but was a good moment of growth for Lucy.

~~~~~

Side notes non-Chenford.

Poor Jackson getting pulled in two different directions about his career. Both wanting to set up his entire life for him. Nice to watch him stand up for himself with them.

Oscar’s SL pretty hilarious. He’s always funny to watch come on. Do love Lopez wanting to murder him LOL She had good reason.

As always thank you to all who engage with these reviews. Your likes, comments and reblogs fuel my desire to write them. You’re all amazing. Shall see you all in 3x09 :)

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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 1 year ago

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Part 12

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 11 🟣 Part 13

A reverse harem vampire AU ft. Mikey, Marshall, August and Sherlock

Series summary: Somehow, you've managed to live with your boyfriend and his roommates for months before finding out they're vampires, but the real shock first comes when they find out you have a special quality. A quality the guys would love to make use of...

Warnings: Ongoing vampire shenanigans, mentions of blood, biting. Some interesting negotiations, and some unwarranted anger because of a jellybean budget...

Word count: 2.8k

A/N: There we go... A moment we've been waiting for... NO, not that moment (y'know... the moment where this finally becomes the RH I promised everyone...) Oh well, we're going for that slow burn I gues... It's a shorter one today. The vampy boys haven't been talking much...

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @summersong69 @teamfan7asy @mis-lil-red @ellethespaceunicorn @sillyrabbit81 @peyton-warren @livisss @itsrubberbisquit

“So,” you said, looking at the four guys in front of you, dragging out that one syllable until you started to feel ridiculous. You were all gathered in the kitchen, sitting around the table, and the boys definitely seemed more at ease than you were. After a few moments, a sense of calm washed over you without any good reason, and you looked at August, who nodded and smiled. It was his doing.

“I’ll have to stop doing this when we start,” he said, “we can’t have you influenced in any way – especially not this one. Sorry, princess.” When you first moved into the apartment, you had found August’s nickname for you extremely derisive. Now, you found yourself more or less offended when he used your name instead of calling you ‘princess’. Luckily, he almost never did.

“Alright,” Sherlock said, and with that, the nice feeling August had been spreading through the room disappeared, and was replaced by the tension you’d felt before. “Let’s get the formalities over efficiently and in an orderly fashion, so we know what to expect and-“

“Who died and made you king?” August sneered all of a sudden. It wasn’t necessarily hostility you heard in his voice, but it sure as hell wasn’t far off.

“I’m going to pull rank based on the fact that I’m five centuries older than you and could take you down before you’d even realize I had moved,” Sherlock deadpanned, before looking at the others, skipping you. “Any further questions before we begin?” Mike and Marshall just shook their heads.

You smiled at Sherlock, silently thanking him for taking the lead and nipping any out of line behavior in the bud like this. It was a good thing you were paying close attention to his reaction, because you might have missed the brief smile and wink otherwise.

“Very well,” he continued, “as some of us – and I mean me – have to communicate the details of the arrangement to be negotiated with their employers, I would very much like whatever is agreed upon today in writing. Is there anyone who objects to that?” The guys shook their heads, but you were still processing what he’d said.

“What do you mean you have to let your employers know?” you asked.

“You are a student attending the university where I currently teach,” Sherlock explained. “These engagements are not illegal, or even frowned upon, don’t worry. They would just like to know. I expect no problems, especially since the classes I teach are not a part of your major an-”

“But suppose I wanted to take one of your classes,” you interrupted. Sherlock looked at you for a moment. Something in his eyes caused your thoughts to take a whole new direction. What if your relationship took a certain… turn? Marshall must have heard that thought, because he almost choked on his coffee, leaving Mike and August to wonder what was going on in your head. You were glad they were probably not going to find out about that.

“A fair question,” he said after contemplating his answer for a bit. “If the past is any indication, I will have no trouble finding employment elsewhere. Over just the past three months I have had several universities offer me a position with them.”

“You would change jobs to be a part of… this?” you asked full of disbelief. When Sherlock nodded resolutely in reply to your question, stating bluntly that you still underestimated the value of ‘this’. You just shook your head and stared ahead of you for a bit while Sherlock took care of the basic administrative mumbo-jumbo such as names and dates.

“Our request is to be allowed to feed at least once every two weeks, while still allowing flexibility in scheduling. A sidenote being that minimal overlap – especially during the first period – is advisable. Can we all agree to that?” Sherlock said. The boys all nodded, and you followed their lead. So far, there was nothing new.

“I feel like Mike might get a little something extra, do we need to talk about that?” August asked. His voice was curious rather than accusatory, but there was a slight hint of teasing to the remark that made you blush. The faint arrogant grin on Mike’s face disappeared as soon as you thought about how much you wanted to wipe it off his stupid, smug face.

“As long as any privileges provided in private settings are within the confines of our basic parameters, I feel no need to discuss these matters,” Sherlock said plainly, and Marshall quickly agreed.

“A more important order of business, I would rule,” Sherlock continued, “would be the agreement that feeding is not to be withheld by means of punishment or as a result of a disagreement. If there is ever an argument so grave that differences can’t be set aside for the duration of the feeding, I suggest we take a vote to determine the course of action.”

“Hold on… what?” you asked.

“Easy, princess, this is a contingency,” August answered a little too quickly – and a tiny bit too condescendingly in tone.

“I need some help understanding this, August,” you snapped. Marshall put a hand on your arm and squeezed lightly to comfort you. It didn’t work.

“Allow me,” he said quickly, before August could open his mouth again. “Maybe we’ve been a little preoccupied with the benefits this agreement provides us with, and not transparent enough about the responsibilities that come with it. Later, when we’re discussing payment, this may make a little more sense. Because while we will absolutely pay good money for convenience and comfort, the compensation will also reflect the responsibility you will have towards us. The easiest way of putting this would be as follows: You will be our primary source of sustinence.”

“To deny feeding because of an argument,” Sherlock added calmly, “would not only be cruel, but potentially dangerous. In most cases, the chemical processes will prevent us from saying something so monumentally stupid that it comes to this, but it never hurts to cover ones bases.”

For the first time since the guys had suggested this agreement, you really realized it would be more than ‘just’ having four vampires bite you on occasion. You cursed yourself for never for a second thinking about the fact that you would become a key player – or practically the only player – in keeping them alive. That said, there wasn’t a doubt in your mind that this was something you wanted to do. At the risk of sounding dramatic: it felt like something you were supposed to do. Something you were made to do.

“In a way, you are made for this,” Marshall said quietly. Would you ever get used to how right he was about that? You looked up when Sherlock cleared his throat. He seemed very eager to get things settled as quickly as humanly – or vampirily? – possible.

“Furthermore, if there are no objections so far,” he said, “we would like at least two weeks notice of substantial disruptions in the aforementioned schedule, so that we may make other arrangements if necessary. We will grant you the same courtesy, of course.”

“Can I get an example of that?”

“The most common thing would be a vacation,” August said. “Of course, if anything were to happen unexpectedly, we would sort things out, but emergency feeding at the Bank is expensive, so we’d like to prevent having to use it.”

“So, the same thing I’d have to do if I took a job at the grocery store,” you joked.

“Yes,” Marshall said, “with the added difficulty that if one of us leaves on a longer trip, we’ll have to try to anticipate that. It’s probably worth telling you that we don’t leave all that often. Sherlock is the only one who sometimes leaves for longer periods of time.”

“And if circumstances allow it, I think I might opt for teleportation instead of whatever alternative.” Sherlock’s gentle smile was heartwarming, as always, but something about what he said made you feel a strange sense of pride. Suddenly, a question popped up in your mind.

“Does anyone else feel it’s really unfair how cool that gift is? And why do you get two?” you asked, making the others laugh.

“I’m nearly a milennium old, darling,” Sherlock answered, as if that was a real explanation. “Do you mind if we circle back to that after this is done?”

As far as the guys were concerned, that concluded the extent of their demands, which meant it was time to hear what they had to offer you. There had been so many moments where you had thought about what life would be like if you were to go through with this. Now that you finally were, you realised you hadn’t given as much thought – or any thought at all – to what you would get out of the arrangement. Not that it mattered. Nothing you could have possibly come up with could hold a candle to what they were offering you…

“I think she zoned out after ‘no rent’,” August said. He was very much entirely, totally, completely right. Because what? No rent? And there was more?

“Sweetcheeks, split between us, that’s a hundred bucks every month. My jellybean budget is higher than that,” Mike said. He wasn’t kidding – he really did have a jellybean budget. You knew that. What you’d never been told, however, was how exorbitantly high that budget really was…

“Besides, it’s less than what we’ll be saving just by not having to go to the Bank anymore,” August added. That seemed to make sense… But it was still a lot more than you had ever thought you’d get out of this. “And then there’s whatever we won’t be spending on extra groceries to keep us from having to go back to feed earlier than planned. I will somewhat reluctantly refer back to the jellybean budget here.”

“What’s wrong wi-” Mike started, but he wasn’t given a chance to finish, because August interrupted him.

“You’re a grown man, you can eat normal things instead of pounds of jellybeans!” This was clearly not the first time this subject had been breached: Marshall and Sherlock sighed, Mike frowned, and August was just slightly too worked up about this to have it be a new argument.

“And now that I won’t need crazy amounts of sugar to keep my brain running during finals week, I might!” Mike said – alright, yelled. August looked at him in disbelief as Mike continued: “We probably also won’t have to keep ten pounds of gnocchi in the pantry in case you timed something wrong.”

“Jellybean-feud aside,” Sherlock chuckled, “they’re not wrong. This arrangement will free up enough space in our budgets to easily accommodate your part of the rent and utilities, and groceries – which is the second part of our offer.”

“Say it,” Mike said next to you, having caught on to your desire to ask for something else. “We’re negotiating, right? So: negotiate.”

“I think I’d feel uncomfortable getting things that don’t feel necessary if it came out of your pockets,” you admitted.

“Would you feel more at ease with a fixed budget to spend however you see fit?” Sherlock really wasn’t kidding when he said he wanted to get the formalities over with as quickly as possible. The number they came up with was high enough to make you choke on your tea, and despite your complaints, the guys refused to agree to something you considered more sensible.

“Whatever you don’t spend, you can save,” August said. “Or you can find another way to spend it.”

“Buy me some jellybeans,” Mike suggested – probably just to get a rise out of August.

“You won’t need as many jellybeans,” you reminded him. He just shrugged.

“I know,” he sighed, “I’m going to miss them…”

There was one more thing that needed negotiating, as far as you were concerned. Well… Negotiating… There was one thing you needed to call Mike out on, and it was something you wanted the other guys to promise they wouldn’t do to you. Only now that you’d so bravely spoken up about having something to discuss, and the four of them were looking at you, patiently waiting for you to come out with it… you weren’t feeling it.

“Eh…” And then you remembered the unwelcome surprise you had been met with in the bathroom mirror that morning. “Sherlock, are these going to go away?” You turned your head and pointed at your neck, but Sherlock was already next to you.

“I’m afraid not,” he said as he looked at the bite marks Mike had left on you the night before. “These will definitely scar. They’ll barely be visible, though.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” you said, “August, can you punch Mike for me, please?”

“I’ll do you one better, princess,” August said with a suspicious wink. Before his smug grin had even spread out all the way, Mike cried out in agony.

“That’ll do it, August, thank you,” you said, and the pain seemed to stop immediately. “Neat trick.”

“Please don’t use me as a torture device every time he does something stupid,” August said with a nod towards Mike. You promised him you wouldn’t before you continued your ‘demand’.

“None of this bullshit,” you said sternly, “seriously.”

“No marks, got it,” Marshall said. The others didn’t seem to have much of a problem agreeing to it, either.

“I’m sorry,” Mike mumbled, a look of horrible guilt on his face that made you feel sad for him – which was something you didn’t necessarily want right now. “I got a little jealous. Won’t happen again.”

All in all, you settled everything quickly, which seemed to make Sherlock very happy. He joined you in the living room after taking care of the administrative end of things.

“I guess you’re up first,” you mentioned offhandedly as he sat next to you on the couch with a book. It was one of your favorites, you noticed, and you smiled.

“I suppose,” Sherlock answered, “but I’m in no hurry. I have a few days before I truly require your services.”

“Okay, now that makes me sound like a prostitute,” you laughed. “I’d rather you didn’t wait that long, if that’s alright with you.”

“Certainly,” Sherlock said as he put the book on the armrest of the couch and moved to sit on the floor as he had the last time. “And afterwards, I believe I owe you an answer to your question about my gifts.”

“So,” you said as Sherlock joined you on the couch again. Before you could stop yourself, you were next to him, with a blanket, and leaning into his side. When he put his arm around your shoulders, you sighed contently. This was nice.

“Curious as ever,” Sherlock mused before shifting in his seat and pulling you even closer. “First of all: I’m not the only one in this house with two gifts. August has two, and I’m fairly sure Marshall is well on his way to developing his. Mike will have to wait a few more centuries.”

“What do you mean August has two? Why don’t I know about the second one?” you were a little offended that he’d only shared one with you.

“Oh, but you do know. He gave you quite the demonstration earlier,” Sherlock replied. That didn’t make things the least bit clearer… “To be able to feel the emotions of others is one thing. To influence them – the way he just did to Mike, for instance – is something else entirely. Both gifts are rather closely connected, which means it’s understandable to see them as one and the same, but I can assure you they’re not.”

“And what about Marshall?”

“You’ll have to ask him. He asked me some questions a while ago… Come to think of it, that was over a decade ago, perhaps I should ask…” You were fairly sure you would never understand how anyone could think of ‘a decade’ as ‘a while’, but you supposed it was something that just happened when you had spent nearly nine centuries on this planet. “As a general rule, we develop a mental gift first, and a physical one later. August occupies a bit of a grey area there. I very decidedly do not.” You nodded, but you didn’t say anything.

After a while, another question popped into your head: “Why did the bite on my… neck… not heal?” You already knew you’d hesitated far too obviously for Sherlock to have missed the subtle wavering of your voice. His low chuckle confirmed your suspicions. When you tried to hide your face, he caught your hand with his, and pulled you closer to him.

“It’s alright to be upset with him, darling,” he said softly, “but there’s no need to be ashamed.”

“Besides, it’s not like anyone but Mike will ever see it, right?” you joked. The pensive chuckle Sherlock let slip in reply, however… You didn’t care for it.

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