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afictionalwhor3 · 2 months ago

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Hitting the Books

IceHockey!Cregan x Tutor!Reader

Summary: Cregan has to get tutoring after being put on academic probation, but he doesn't expect to fall for his tutor

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, cursing, a small amount of angst

Word Count: 4.3k

"Yeah Jace I'll talk to you later I'm about to walk into the tutoring center now," Cregan says with a sigh as he holds the door open for someone and walks in.

"AHAHAHA I forgot you had that. Bye loser have fun" Jace laughs in his ear before hanging up the phone.

"Dickhead" Cregan grumbles under his breath walking up to the front desk to check himself in, "Cregan Stark. It's my first time here. My session is supposed to be at twelve" He tells the man sitting behind the desk. He watches him type something in the computer and thinks about the series of decisions that landed him here. He knew he was slacking in school, not going to class, not turning in assignments. But in his defense with hockey season starting all those things seemed irrelevant. He found himself in an increased role this year and the team looked better than ever. He was ecstatic about the season and would go as far as to say this could be the year they win the conference. After coming so close in the past, he felt like this could be it. Now he watched as the best thing in his life could be taken from him. His coach brought him into the office to let him know he was on academic probation until further notice. This included spontaneous class checks, weekly academic checkups, and tutoring at least twice a week. He was one wrong step away from not just getting kicked off the team but kicked out of school all together. That was something he could not afford.

"Y/n is gonna be your tutor she is at table six" the man behind the desk says and he nods his head walking to the back and finding multiple tables placed around the room. Spaced out far enough to grant each one some respective form of privacy. The large windows that surrounded the room allowed plenty of light to illuminate the area and granted views of campus. The view was beautiful and had Cregan momentarily entranced. Coming back to reality he looked around, seeing a few people scattered across the room when he finally saw a table labeled with the number six on it. He began walking towards it where a girl was currently sat. She appeared to be deep in thought with headphones covering her ears and typing quickly on her laptop.

"Excuse me," Cregan starts as he approaches "I'm looking for Y/n, I'm here for tutoring" He states plainly watching as you take off your headphones, smile, and stand up extending your hand towards him,

"You must be Cregan. Nice to meet you I'm Y/n" You say as he takes your outstretched hand shaking it and giving you a tight lipped smile. You sit once again moving your laptop to the side and putting your headphones away "Twice a week for two hours is our schedule right?" You ask and Cregan nods his head with a sigh. He could think of approximately a hundred other places he would rather be than here. You weren’t an idiot and you could definitely pick up that vibe from him. You also knew who he was, one of your friends had a boyfriend on the hockey team so you had seen him around. And the only time athletes came into the tutoring center was when they were about to be academically ineligible to play, so you knew why he was here. Determined to make the best out of the current situation you smile and ask, "What do you want to start with? It can be anything you might be having trouble with," You ask while watching him slowly take out a laptop and notebook. He sighs again turning it on,

"I guess my calc class? That and my writing class are probably my worst grades right now," He says as he shows you what he is learning and you begin to explain it to him.

And that is how it goes between the two of you. Cregan always shows up on time, polite despite being disinterested, and your conversations revolve solely around academics. Not that it bothered you too much. He was never rude but you could tell when your words were going in one ear and out the other. You were getting paid regardless, and he if wanted to flunk out of school despite your help that was his business. You sometimes thought in different circumstances you may try your luck with him. Because despite his indifference, there was no denying how attractive he was. Those stormy grey eyes that only got prettier as the weather got colder, chestnut locks that he sometimes likes to put in a bun at the base of his neck, and a tall lean build he often hid beneath hoodies and sweats but you could still make out. Contrary to his teammates you hadn’t heard much about him sleeping around, but you had to assume a man on his level got his fair share. It was week three and you were sat next to him at the tutoring center trying to help him work through a question while these thoughts floated around the back of your head. In the middle of explaining he cut you off going,

"Wait I think I get this. All I have to do is," He starts and works out the rest of the problem on his own. You laugh slightly in disbelief. Maybe beneath acting like he was too cool for this, he was actually paying attention and learning. You nodded your head as you double-checked his work,

"Wow exactly. Good job," You say smiling proudly and looking at him. For the first time, he returns the smile giving you a genuine one as he inputs the answer in his computer. You notice a notification fall across his screen as he does so,

"Oh shit my essay was graded," He says and you watch him quickly click around so he could pull the grade up.

"The one we worked on last week?" You question and watch as he nods in response. The tab loads and you watch him scroll down and the grade on the screen reads, 74. You watch him visibly deflate as he sees the grade. Despite having to force it out of him you knew he put his all into that paper. You also knew it was the first assignment he was proud of and you did not like the cold and sad feeling that ran through you seeing how disappointed he was. You put what you hoped was a comforting hand on his shoulder while he looked at you. "Well, it’s not completely terrible. It’s around the class average so at least you know it isn’t just you. What have you been getting on essays this semester?" You ask and he shrugs

"Honestly? This is the first one I've submitted in a while" He says sheepishly a small smile pulling at his lips and you sigh trying to contain your own smile.

"Well, then this a great starting place. Don’t be disappointed. I’ll have you producing A-plus essays in no time,” You say and at this, he scoffs and then rolls his eyes.

"I appreciate the confidence, and you’re a pretty good teacher, but I'm not an A student. I live more in the low to mid C range," He states and you proceed to pinch him making Cregan flinch away from you rubbing his shoulder.

"With that shitty attitude, I can see why. You just said I’m a good teacher, therefore I’m gonna get you to an A, at the very least a B-” You say confidently staring him down. He leans back in his seat feeling hot under your intense gaze.

"Alright, alright. I’m just letting you know it won’t be an easy feat,” He says and you shake your head.

“To this day I have yet to turn down a good challenge,” You say smirking and open up the assignment to see the comments his teacher left.

You considered that day to be the turning point in your dynamic. From that day on Cregan began to open up considerably. He was more attentive during your sessions and you could see how much he was progressing in all his classes. He started arriving earlier and earlier spending the time before your session talking about anything but school. You learned he had a half sister and he lived up north so he grew up playing hockey. The more you got to know him the more you began to like him which was doing terrible things to your body. You found yourself growing increasingly nervous in his presence. Every time he laughed or teased you, a swarm of butterflies seemed to take flight in your stomach. Just the sight of him was enough to send your heart racing. Previously when you would see him around campus he pretended he didn’t see you and increased his pace. Now he waved and if he wasn’t on his way somewhere, stopped to talk to you. You had no idea what these new feelings would mean for you going forward. Your friends told you that you should say something but the last thing you wanted is for the feelings to be unreciprocated. He would probably get a new tutor and above all else, you were incredibly proud of his progress and wanted to continue to watch him grow. It had been six weeks since you started tutoring Cregan and the two of you exchanged numbers in case he had questions when you weren’t together. And occasionally he sent you a tik tok or two. You were sitting in the library working on homework when you got his text,

Cregan: Y/n

Cregan: Wya?

You: Main library… why?

Cregan: Second floor in the quiet spot in the back?

You: Yea why what’s up?

Cregan: Okay stay there I’m coming rn

Cregan: Gotta show you something urgently

His last text had you in a cold sweat. What the hell could he possibly have to show you. The thoughts ran rampant in your head. Above all else you hoped he was okay because of the urgency of his text messages. You did your best to refocus on your work but couldn’t help but nervously pick at your nails until you saw him walking down one of the rows of shelves. You stood up as he walked towards you, his steps quick and smile wide. “What is up with you?” You ask confused as he gets close enough and pulls a paper out to show you. When he gets close enough you take it out of his hands and look it over realizing it’s his last math test. At the top circled in red reads, 92.

“Holy shit a 92?!” You say loudly and then remember where you were as he nods his head picking you up easily and spinning you in a circle. You gasp laughing while he spins you around. “Cregan put me down oh my god,” You say in between laughs as he brings you back to the ground softly a big smile on his face.

“This is all because of you. I could have never done this without you,” He sates and you shake your head,

“Absolutely not, I may have pushed you in the right direction but you put the hard work in. I’m so proud of you. I told you I’d make you an A+ student now let’s get that writing grade up,” You say with a smile and comfortable silence falls over the two of you as Cregan admires you. He had always thought you were pretty, but now it was as if the world had sharpened into focus, and he was truly seeing you for the first time. You had a blush on that made your cheeks look adorable, your smile was bright enough to illuminate the room, and your lips looked soft and so kissable. About two minutes go bye before he realizes he has been staring at you for longer than socially acceptable.

“Well I have to get practice, it’s at six, but I wanted to show you my grade first. I knew you’d be proud,” He said and you smiled back at him and then quickly checked your watch the time reading 5:55.

“Cregan you have five minutes and the rink is on the other side of campus,” You say and he nods his head in understanding and shrugs.

“Yeah I know. I still wanted to show you.” He says and you feel your face heat up at his admission. “Oh and I wanted to invite you… and your friends to the hockey house this Saturday. We have off so we’re throwing if you’d like to come. I would personally like you to be there. We can celebrate our big achievement,” He says hopefully trying to gauge your reaction.

“Well if you personally want me there, and I do love celebrating accomplishments. I think I’ll see you there,” You smirk looking at him and watch as he fist pumps the air and starts backing up to leave.

“Awesome. It starts at 10 I’ll see you there,” He says and you wave and watch as he runs out of the library. He ended up being twenty minutes late to practice and did sprints for every minute he missed. It didn’t matter though because you were coming to his party Saturday.

“Y/n you look great c’mon…. It’s already 11,” your roommate says standing at the door with your two other friends you were going out with. You sigh playing with your hair one more time nervously and double checking yourslef in the mirror before you walk over to them and you guys begin the trek from the dorms to hockey house.

“Yeah y/n you look hot I’m sure Cregan will be alllll over you when he sees you” your friend teases running her hands over you while you push her away and everyone laughs.

“Oh shut up all of you let’s just get there it’s cold,” You say wrapping your arms around yourself. Your jeans did the work of keeping your legs warm but the shirt, which you could barely call a top with how little material it was, had you freezing in the January air. The hockey house was in sight with people hanging outside and music blasting out of it. You walk inside with no problems and are immediately greeted by the hot, humid environment. Your friends smile at you, they loved a good party and you smiled back. It has been a while since you went out and you were thankful for the reprieve for how crazy school had been. You guys grab some juice and make your way back to the dancing area. You see Cregan’s friend Jace behind the DJ stand as you and your friends get lost in the music.

After a while your roommate leans over to whisper in your ear so you could hear her “Where is Cregan? I haven’t seen him,” She says and you look around curiously. Between the pregame and the jungle juice you had a nice buzz going as a smile took over your face.

“I’m gonna go get some more juice and look for him I’ll be back,” You say as she nods and goes back to dancing. You find the kitchen to refill your cup and hopefully find Cregan. You walk into the space and look around the people in the room when your cup falls out of your hand. Tears burn at your waterline as you see Cregan and a girl pressed against the counter. Her arms are wrapped securely around his neck while his hands rest on her hips. You clench your fists tightly trying to prevent yourself from crying as you storm away to find your friends.

Cregan pushes the girl away as she looks at him confused while he shakes his head “Sorry I’m not really into this. I’m looking for someone,” He says walking away and going back into the main room looking for you. You find your roommate whispering in her ear,

“I’m ready to go. I need to leave,” You say and she looks at you confused but the glossy nature of your eyes has her nodding her head and taking your hand. Your two other friends stay as you two make your way back to the dorm and you explain what you saw.

Despite being able to see over most of the people there it doesn’t help Cregan find you. It was almost midnight, you should have been here by now. He goes up to the DJ stand to ask Jace,

“Did you see Y/n tonight?” He asks and Jace looks out at the crowd where you once were and sees only the two other girls you came with.

“She was here with those girls over there but it looks like she’s gone,” Jace says going back to spinning and Cregan deflates. It looks out at the crowd defeated before he pulls out his phone text you.

Cregan: Hey, you still coming tonight?

He waits and waits for a resposne but nothing. You see his text and choose to ignore it. When you don’t answer he finds it hard to find fun in this party deciding to call it early. You don’t answer any of Cregan’s texts all weekend and Sunday you send him a text

You: No sessions this week.

Cregan reads the text waiting for an explantion that never comes.

Cregan: Okay… is everything okay?

You: Yup. Not feeling the best

Cregan: Oh ok. Feel better 🙂

Cregan once again waits for a response that never comes. During the week he sends you a few tiktoks that remind him of you, and a couple questions about his class work. However, every one is left on delivered. Whatever bug you caught must have got you good. After practice Friday Cregan wanted to stop by to check up on you but suddenly realized he had no clue where you lived. Remembering Benjicot’s girlfriend was a friend of yours, he asked him to ask her for your building information. In the meantime, he went to the store to grab your favorite snacks, candies, and then employed the help of his sister to find out what else would make a sick girl feel better. By the time he gets back to his car, Ben has sent him your info which makes him smile. A short drive later Cregan finds himself standing before your door and suddenly paralyzed by nerves. What was he doing here? Sure you two had gotten closer in the last few weeks, but that didn’t mean you wanted to see him. You also hadn’t responded to him all week, maybe there was a good reason behind this. Maybe what you had was extremely contagious and he was compromising himself. This had to be one of his stupidest ideas yet. All of a sudden the plastic bag in his hand felt like a ton of bricks. But this whole week he’d missed you in a way he didn’t think possible. Without realizing it, you had gently woven yourself into Cregan's heart, becoming someone he cherished more than he ever thought possible. Before he had a chance to talk himself out of this anymore, your door opened and your roommate stood before him. She gulped before yelling over her shoulder,

“Y/n! Someone’s here for you!” She fixes the bag on her shoulder before walking by him “Good luck,” She says walking away. Cregan looks at her confused then back through the door watching as you walk out your room. You didn’t look sick, maybe a little bit sad, but still gorgeous in his eyes. The door was beginning to close so Cregan stepped inside despite not being entirely invited in. He smiles as you get closer holding up the bag but before he can speak you hold up a hand cutting him off,

“Why the hell are you here? I told you no sessions this week. Did your coach not get the email I sent him?” You ask as he looks at you confused.

“Yes I know and yes he did but you said you were sick and you weren’t answering your texts. I figured you were really sick and I wanted to come check up on you and make sure you were okay. You seem fine and well I brought your favorite snacks,” He says trying his luck again holding up the bag with a smile but getting nothing but a glare back from you.

“You really shouldn’t have. Like really shouldn’t have. You can take yourself, and your bag, and get the hell outta here,” You say and Cregan is now completely confused. You have never been this brash with him, even when he was sort of a dick at the beginning of your tutoring sessions. He drops his arm in defeat and tilts his head while looking at you,

“Y/n what is going on? I’m starting to get the sense there is something more going on here,” Cregan says stepping closer to you. You laugh dryly looking at him,

“No shit. I know you were pretty dumb but you have to be smarter by now,” You say and watch as Cregan takes a step back and you watch hurt immediately fill his eyes. Now you feel your heart wrench. You should not have said that. That cold feeling wraps around your spine the same way it did all those weeks ago at seeing the sad look in Cregan’s eyes. Despite how much you might be hurting that was a blow too low and you knew deep down you didn’t mean it. You pinch the bridge of your nose taking a deep breath “I’m sorry Cregan. That was- fucked up. You aren’t dumb I promise I’m just. I don’t want to speak to you,” You say looking at him again as he rests the bag on your coffee table.

“Okay… Can I ask where this is coming from or are you going to call me dumb again?” He asks and you sigh suddenly feeling like the one that’s the dick. You cross your arms across your chest and let yourself speak without thinking,

“Maybe you should ask the girl whose tongue you had down your throat. I’m sure she has all the answers you’re looking for,” You say snarkily while rolling your eyes at the image. Cregan feels his eye twitch because since the door opened he has only gotten more confused. He closes his eyes so he can think hard about what you’re talking about and then remembers on Saturday there was this random girl that kissed him. But he doesn’t know how you could have seen that because it lasted no more than thirty seconds. He did not want to kiss her, maybe you but you left before he could find you.

“That random girl from the party? She kissed me first and it didn’t last very long. Why would you even care about it?” Cregan asks the big picture to all of this still lost to him. Y/n puts her head in her hands laughing before looking at him once again,

“You cannot be serious right now. You must be joking. Like this is some big prank right?” You ask as Cregan shakes his head no. “I like you stupid. Holy shit I fucking like you. A lot more than I should and I know this is what I get for liking an athlete and especially one of you hockey guys. All you do is play girls and break hearts and that’s what I get for liking you. Fucking stupid I am to think you would like me back. You’re right I don’t know why I would care about you kissing some random girl all I am to you is a means to an end. On that note you know how inappropriate this is because I literally tutor you so-” you are cut off by Cregan pressing a searing kiss to your lips. His large hand grips your hip while the other cups your face. After about a minute he pulls away to look at you.

“Sorry, you were rambling. Y/n I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I know the reputation of the guys on my team. I’m here to tell you I’m not like them. At the moment that probably isn’t believable, but I promise I’ll do whatever it takes to prove you otherwise. I’m not here to break your heart, I don’t do that. Especially to a woman like you. You are truly one of a kind. I kissed her, but it ended almost as quickly as it began—because at that moment, I knew she wasn’t the one my heart truly longed for. That day in the library I should have told you this, but I was scared. I’m not scared now though. I don’t like you being mad at me, at all. Whatever by laws we are breaking by being together, fuck it. You are worth indefinite academic probabtion. I don’t wanna speak for you but I would like to see where this goes. Me and you. A relationship outside of you being my teacher.” He says with a smile at the end as you look at him smiling and then slap him softly which takes him by shock.

“If I ever, ever catch you kissing another girl I’m cutting your dick off and I’m not fucking playing.” you say and Cregan thinks about laughing but your glare levels him and he nods his head quickly. Now it is your turn to smile and pull him to press another one of those searing kisses to your lips. It was everything you imagined it to be and more. You pull away to catch your breath and hold him close, “I hope you know this doesn’t mean I’m letting up on you at all,” You say and Cregan smile reflects yours.

“I expected nothing less. I hope you know this means I will be accepting kisses as rewards for good grades. And maybe a little more later on.” he whispers pinching your butt and making you giggle before pressing his lips against yours one more time.

#cregan x y/n #cregan stark fanfic #cregan x reader #cregan stark #hotd cregan #cregan fanfiction #hotd #hotd fanfic #tom taylor #cregan stark x you #modern!cregan stark #modern!cregan #icehockey!cregan #cregan x black!reader

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little-diable · 28 days ago

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The Agreement - Rafe Cameron (smut)

So, this is a new one. But I am so deep down the Rafe and Drew rabbit hole, I just had to write something. This has potentional for more parts, but I will settle on that once I get your reactions on this part 1. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader is new to the area, but it didn't taken long for Sarah's and her ways to cross. But life in the area is expensive, so the reader is in desperate need for someone to support her, perhaps Rafe Cameron, the guy everybody warned her about, is the right guy to help her out. But Rafe Cameron isn't a guy with a soft heart, the devil doesn't make one sided deals.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, oral (f), sex with a stranger somewhat, sex in an unfamiliar room, spitting, slight choking, degrading, talks about the reader working as a sugar baby

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x fem!reader (3.1k words)

I LIVE for this gif. Jesus.

“Honestly, I am so ready to marry rich and forget about all these payments. Who can even afford to pay for all these things?” A groan left (y/n), head rolling back while she pressed herself further against the mattress of her bed. For a moment she was met with silence, waiting for Sarah to reply, but her friend kept quiet, seemingly deep in thought.

“Well, maybe it’s time we finally find you someone good. I bet you’d easily find someone fitting at the Country Club.” (Y/n) had to fight against the urge to roll her eyes, Sarah was all too aware of her distaste for all these rich people who only cared about themselves. She was still relatively new to the area but had instantly picked up on the struggles between the pogues and kooks, fights (y/n) desperately wanted to stay away from.

“Thank you, but I’d rather sell my soul than step a foot into that place.” Sarah’s giggles forced a smile to widen on (y/n)’s lips, knowing that her new friend wouldn’t back down from this discussion.

“Oh c’mon, live a little. But you could also just try to mingle at a party, I guess.” It took (y/n) a moment to think through the idea, especially since she knew she’d feel by far more comfortable at a party rather than at the country club. The hum leaving her drew another giggle from Sarah, already excited about whatever (y/n) may stumble upon.

“I guess I could but only if you join me to figure out if there are any parties worth joining.” She had interacted quite a lot with Sarah Cameron so far, a friendly face she had crossed paths with every now and then when she had first moved here. Something seemed to connect the two of them, something (y/n) couldn’t pinpoint yet but was insanely grateful for nevertheless.

“Absolutely I’ll text you in a few!”

…

She should have stayed at home, away from all these unfamiliar faces, the alcohol which would undoubtedly leave her massively hungover, and the horrible music she couldn’t endure much longer. So far she still hadn’t crossed paths with Sarah, clinging to the promise that she’d eventually show up with some friends in tow - people (y/n) could click with, according to Sarah at least.

The distaste clung to her face as (y/n) pushed through the crowd of sweaty bodies, trying to stay away from those who looked at her for a few seconds too long. Her feet carried her towards the kitchen, set on pouring herself another drink to at least endure another hour of this party.

With her eyes set on the open cabinet, (y/n) tried to reach for one of the almost empty bottles, weight shifted onto her toes to grasp it - though miserably failing. The exhausted huff clawing through her was swallowed by the sound of a raspy laugh filling the kitchen, forcing her eyes to find a pair of bright ones.

“C’mon, you almost had it, don’t stop the show now.” The smirk clinging to his lips left her scowling, instantly recognising him, Rafe Cameron, Sarah’s brother. Even though (y/n) hadn’t been around for long, she had picked up on numerous warnings, telling her to stay away from the guy who was followed around by trouble.

“Fuck off.” Her words made him laugh again, letting the sound ring in her ears while he pushed himself closer. Rafe’s cologne wrapped itself around her, making her heavily swallow the second she felt his front pressed against her back. With one hand finding her waist, he held her close while reaching for the bottle she had tried to grasp. Wordlessly he poured her some of the liquid, letting go of her seconds later, but she stayed quiet, not saying a single word to the smirking guy.

“Where’s my thank you? Or is cursing the only thing you can do?” Rafe leaned against the kitchen island, arms crossed in front of his chest. Her eyes couldn’t help but find his bulging muscles, hating that he was that handsome while she had promised others she’d stay away from him.

“I don’t want to further inflate your ego, Cameron.” (Y/n) tried to push past Rafe, though without any luck. His bright eyes wandered over her features, grinning down on the frowning girl. His hands kept holding onto her, settling on her waist as if they had crossed paths numerous times before, more familiar with one another than they let on.

“I can see why you haven’t found many new friends so far, (y/n).” A scoff left her as she tried to push him away, though without any luck. Anger began to bubble deep inside of her, wondering how she could get rid of the devilish handsome guy. But Rafe seemed all too comfortable with their closeness, looking at her like a predator ready to snap, already high on her blood he’d feast from any second now. “What’s your problem with me, huh?” “I have no problem with you, Rafe. Let me go.” He clicked his tongue before letting it run along his lower lip, a motion she couldn’t help but stare at, eyes following his every movement.

“What did my sister tell you about me?” His thumb began to move, softly stroking along the silver of skin her top showed off. Goosebumps covered her arms, something (y/n) could only curse at, hating her body for feeling that drawn towards him. Sarah had told her all those gruesome stories about him, a psychotic guy she should desperately try to stay away from – and yet something intrigued (y/n), something she couldn’t shake.

“Drugs, guns, whoring around, the list is long, and I really don’t want to catch anything from you.” She shot him a sickly sweet smile before finally pulling herself free. Without giving Rafe the chance to stop her, (y/n) managed to disappear from his sight, finding shelter in another spot of the mansion. Her heart was racing in her chest, beating faster than probably ever before.

Sarah’s words kept hallowing in her mind, sharply reminding her of the bad news following Rafe Cameron around, words that began to lose their importance when her eyes were drawn back to his bright ones. They held contact as she drowned her drink in one go, still feeling his hands on her body as if he had burned his touch into her skin. Her breath got hitched in her chest as Rafe began to move, seemingly set on speaking to her again – and yet he didn’t get far, forced to watch his sister find (y/n) first, pulling her outside.

“I was looking for you, I want to introduce you to some people.” Sarah clung to (y/n)’s side as she led her to the pool area, introducing her to people whose names she didn’t pick up on, still thinking of Rafe. Sarah’s words from this morning reached her again, overthinking their plan of (y/n) finding a guy to keep around at a party like this, a plan she had to scoff at now.

“Sarah told us you’re currently working as a surf instructor around here, would you want to go surfing with us tomorrow morning?” A blonde guy smiled at her, forcing her to focus for a second. The cap he wore only showed off a few of his strands, enough for her to pick up on how cute he looked. She was close to denying, wanting to spend the morning sleeping in, but the way Sarah squeezed her wrist forced a soft “Sure” out of (y/n).

She didn’t listen to the other things the group shared, feeling a pair of eyes on her. Slowly, (y/n) let her gaze wander, finding Rafe looking at her from one of the windows. He raised his brows in an almost mocking manner, taking a sip of his drink as if he was daring her to find her way back to him. She rolled her eyes at him, and yet she stepped away from Sarah a moment later, murmuring something about having to find the bathroom.

Rafe was back at her side the second she stepped into the house, pulled through the room by the hand finding hers. The loud music momentarily managed to drown out her racing thoughts, thoughts that were completely silenced the second she found herself pushed into a dark room, front pressed against Rafe’s.

“Is this one of your famous tactics? Pulling girls you don’t know into dark ro-,” she didn’t get the chance to finish her sentence, interrupted by the feeling of Rafe’s lips finding hers. Even though her first instinct was to push him away, she didn’t find the want to do it, instead (y/n) chased his lips, swallowing the raspy chuckle leaving Rafe.

She was all too aware of the way Rafe’s eyes had followed her around for the past weeks, trying to find the right moment to speak to her whenever he was at the beach with his friends or when she met friends near the club. Late at night he’d stroke his cock to the thought of her, painting the screen of his phone white while looking at her pictures, only further fuelling his obsession with her. Something about (y/n) stuck to Rafe, perhaps it was the fact that she was all too oblivious to the struggles they all had faced for the past months, perhaps it was the fact that she didn’t seem to give a shit about him, whatever it was, he needed to get his hands on her.

Without breaking the kiss, Rafe led her to the bed, plopping down on it with her falling into his lap. Their tongues got tangled, brushing together while his warm hands found their way underneath her shirt, feeling her tremble in his grasp. His name rolled off her tongue as (y/n) needed a second to breathe, high on the feeling of him kissing his way down her throat.

Her mind screamed at her, asking her what the hell she was doing, and yet her body didn’t seem to care. Rafe Cameron had pulled her into his trap, unable to rip herself free while slowly letting him in. She didn’t protest as he pulled her shirt over her head, didn’t protest as his lips found her right nipple, softly biting and sucking on the soft skin before finding the other.

“Fuck, we shouldn’t do this.” For a second he froze at her slightly panicked words, waiting for her to say something else, to push him away. But (y/n) didn’t find the strength to pull herself free, tugging on his golden strands to reconnect their lips, allowing him to shift them around to press (y/n) against the mattress. It felt as if her body was on fire, set ablaze by his touch, by the way he towered over her and looked at her as if she was the prettiest sight he had ever set his eyes on.

“Breathe, sweetheart, let me do this.” Rafe kissed his way down her stomach, pulling her shorts and soaked panties down her legs to settle between her thighs. The moan that left him the second he brushed his tongue through her slit made her arch her back, pushing herself further against his mouth. Rafe’s eyes were set on her pleasure-drunken features, watching her get lost in the sensation.

“Fuck, Rafe.” (Y/n) squeezed her eyes shut, hands finding his hair to hold him close. It had been a while since she had last been with someone, no longer used to feeling this alive. His thumb circled her pulsing bundle, tongue slowly fucking into her tightness to push her further towards the edge. No longer was her mind racing, no longer did (y/n) find herself overthinking this situation, solemnly focused on Rafe’s skilled touch.

“Look at you, pretty girl, at the mercy of a guy you claim not to like.” It was clear that he enjoyed this all too much, smirking up at (y/n) who couldn’t reply to his teasing words. She was desperate to cum, to let go with his name rolling off her tongue like a prayer spoken in a need of guidance.

He put his mouth back on her heat, sucking on her clit while he pushed two of his long fingers into her, fucking her with his fingers curled against her swollen spot. Another moan clawed its way out of (y/n), reverberating through the dark room, a sound so sweet Rafe couldn’t help but groan against her skin. The sound was enough to push her over the edge, cumming on his tongue with a call of his name.

Rafe’s fingers fucked her through her high, enjoying the sight of her trembling body, watching her fall apart with his bright eyes that had slowly adjusted to the darkness. Only when she loosened her grip on his hair did Rafe move up her body again, pressing a kiss to her slightly swollen lips which allowed (y/n) to taste herself on his tongue.

“Will you let me fuck you, (y/n)?” She was spaced out, and yet her mind was still clear enough to pick up on his words. A moan left her before she could stop the sound from making it past her lips, set on the same goal as Rafe. His ringed fingers rested on her throat, keeping a tight grasp on her, “Gonna need you to speak up, use your words.”

“Fuck me, Rafe, please.” It was all he needed to hear, momentarily letting go of her to pull his shirt over his head, to free his hard cock from the confines of his trousers, and to pull a condom down his length. She forced herself up on her forearms, resting her weight on them to watch him tower over her. Their eyes held contact as Rafe pushed into her, letting his cock spread her tight walls.

For a second, neither of them moved, allowing their bodies to adjust before Rafe began to fuck her with a faster growing rythm. With one hand resting on the pillow next to her head, he kept himself balanced while the other found its way back to her throat. She stared up at him, fully at his mercy as if the devil himself was fucking her, forcing her to accept that she had just gambled with her soul and lost it to him.

His thrusts were ferocious, hips meeting hers with every movement, drawing sinful sounds from the both of them. Rafe’s thumb tapped against her lip, forcing (y/n) to open her mouth – seemingly understanding what he was about to do. He stared down at her as he spat onto her tongue, making her swallow his saliva without protesting once, finding the way he was claiming her too hot to fight against it.

“I should have fucked that tight cunt of yours the first time I laid my eyes on you.” Rafe’s rasped out words left her gasping, eyes rolling back into her head for a second. His words had an instant effect on (y/n), letting her stuttering breaths break out of her as if she hadn’t been allowed to inhale any air for the past minutes. “Such a pathetic little slut, letting the guy others warned you about fuck you. But you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“I am, fuck, you’re so good at this, Rafe.” She no longer cared about his way too big ego, didn’t care about how desperate she sounded, solemnly focused on her second nearing orgasm. One of her hands found her pulsing bundle, circling it while her free hand moved up his naked back, feeling his muscles tense beneath it.

“Beg for it, baby, let me hear how desperate you are to cum on my cock.” Another moan left her, and another as his thrusts met the spot that made her choke. It took (y/n) a second to find her voice, blabbering a few incoherent begging words before finding her strength.

“Please, let me cum, fuck, I need it, Rafe.” He chuckled against her lips, once again picking up his speed before a raspy “Cum” found its way to her. She choked on her moans, sobbing his name while he followed her down the edge seconds later, moaning into their kiss.

Heavy breaths left them both, clinging to one another without speaking for a moment or two. Only slowly did he let go of her, pulling away to throw the condom into the trash. (Y/n) watched him move around, redressing while he seemed deep in thought, no longer wearing that arrogant smirk she secretly loved.

“I heard what you talked about with Sarah this morning.” Rafe had his eyes focused on her, eyebrows furrowed as if he struggled to find the right words. She didn’t say anything at first, dressing herself before plopping back down on the bed. “About bills and payments and all that shit.”

“Mhm, what about it?” Her tone had something almost bored to it, not daring to let him in on the panic that slowly began to simmer inside of her. She shouldn’t care about what he was thinking of her, even though he had just fucked her better than any other guy she had been with so far.

“I have a proposition for you, an arrangement if you want. You need someone to help with your bills and I need someone I can trust by my side for all these galas and events I need to show up at, someone to fool partners with.” A humourless laugh left (y/n) at his words, not daring to believe the words Rafe had just spoken.

“I knew you were an asshole, but I don’t need you to fuck with me like that, Cameron.” She rose to her feet, set on fleeing from this room, but Rafe didn’t let her, hand snapping down on her wrist like it had back in the kitchen.

“It’s the truth, Sarah seems to like you for whatever reason, and even though her people skills are fucked, I fear she may be right with this one.” His words had a strange undertone to them, a desperation that made her halt for a second. (Y/n) let her eyes wander over his features, studying Rafe who stared at her with an unreadable expression.

“Do you really mean that? You’d pay me for making you, what? Look good at events? Would I be like a sugar baby?”

#Rafe Cameron smut #Rafe Cameron x reader #Rafe Cameron imagine #outer banks #obx #rafe cameron x you

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xtinyslip · 2 days ago

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from the moment that he had let her close enough to physically touch him, to reach for him. she hadn't been fully convinced since then that she was going to be able to let him walk out that door. not when she wasn't even aware of what she was sending him back too. if she thought for a moment that he wasn't going to make it where he was being held then ; her opinion of fuck whoever was doing this, they'd find a way out together would stand stronger than it already did. it took her a long time to be able to admit it but she was better with him than she was alone. "oh, but that's just me. i have that affect on everyone." it was a tease or an attempt at one which fell mostly flat because… she knew he wasn't alright and as long as she knew that? there would always be apart of her that wasn't alright either. however, when they were together there wasn't much that they couldn't solve and it had always been that way.

it was only once she felt like the room was steamed enough that she leaned across and turned the dial on the shower head to change the settings, to allow the water to leave in a more gentle manner. oh, she knew him and she by the fact that he'd winced on the sofa that it wasn't going to be a pleasant sight. cecilia was rather good at keeping her composure, her head already trying to switch to the doctor inside of her so that she could evaluate his condition properly. in this moment, she couldn't afford to be distracted by how she felt seeing him in this condition. her one give away was probably with how silent she was as she tilted her head, trying to get a proper look from under the water of the shower. "unless who ever is doing the looking? likes a bad boy… which i can say i do." she did smile slightly, attempting to joke back but completely for his sake and not her own. she didn't find this remotely amusing. her embrace was gentle as she leaned forward to gently press her forehead against his chest. not wanting to cause him any further hurt.

the one thing that did feel good was that she was able to be this close to him and feel like the moment was more private than it had been. especially with the shower curtain across. "you don't think i know you well enough by now to know how bad it was without having to look? but i needed to know for certain. i may have also wanted you all to myself." raising her eyebrow. "who is doing this to you? has it been assured that it will stop once i sign the papers? what happens if i let you walk out of here and away from me?" questions she needed answers too. cecilia had made sure to awkwardly move around the shower so she could check his back also. only touching certain areas that she really had too. she didn't want to hurt him but she had certain… supplies stashed here for will, she had every intention of at least trying to fix him up in ways that may not be obvious to someone looking from a non-medical background perspective. @fcdcdmcmories

HE HAD TO GO. HE KNEW THAT AND YET.. IT WAS AS IF TIME DIDN'T EXIST. when he was here, it was as if time wasn't even a thing and it was as if everything else faded and there was only them. as if there was no noose hanging around both of their NECKS. as if there was nothing bad about to HAPPEN. right? he could have lost himself in her as he had done a thousand times before, but.. he also know that he could not. not in the way that he wanted to. not in a way that would last, because.. right now, he knew what would happen and it made him sick. he pulled away, glancing at her and then at the bathroom. oh. of course. "of course i do. every single moment of it. I KNEW THEN THAT.. I WAS DONE FOR. THAT I WOULD GO WHERE YOU LEAD... FOR A TIME, AT LEAST." he added the last part because he knew how it would seem to everyone else that was listening in and how much of a problem it would be. but what did he mean? the first part. that he had caught what she was saying. would he go where she lead? always.

"for old times sake. it doesn't have to mean anything. it doesn't have to be anything. just.. goodbye." a nod and.. yes, he knew what this was. a team. they were a team, and for the first time ever since this had started, he didn't feel THAT afraid. did he? no. of course, he knew what he had to do to protect her, but.. right now? it was THEM. he took her hand, wincing immediately when the water hit him. it hurt. and.. yet, he almost didn't want to take it off. for her to see? but.. he removed it, slowly, looking down at the ground. his skin? it was almost like a map of different coloured bruises. PURPLE, RED, YELLOW, ALL OF IT. BRUISES, CUTS, STAB WOUNDS STILL HEALING.. ALL OF IT. not to mention that his shoulder still hurt and he was pretty damn sure his arm had been broken, huh? and the fact that he hadn't been eating properly for a month now? that showed. it did.

"really damages my good looks, huh?" he made a joke, looking down at his feet, shutting his eyes for a second. no, he hadn't wanted her to see this. NOT ANY OF IT. NO, BUT.. and yes, it would have been much easier if she had just signed the documents and moved on, but.. it was not their way, was it? never had been. never WOULD be. "i didn't.. i didn't want you to see this. how bad it is." / @xtinyslip

#cecilia ; convo #cecilia ; parker #tw: injury mention #cecilia slowly starting to back out of ; you can walk out of here and its fine #:L

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evilminji · 11 months ago

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You know what's my JAM?

Extremes being treated as the Serious Dangers they ARE, even when they aren't "oooh its a spooky Grey morality and BADness!" Extreme.

Like? No, people. ALL of them are bad. They are ALL face melting dangerous. The void may crush your soul, but look upon the Face Of GOD? Not gonna be having a fun time! Doesn't MATTER if he's a cool dude! Face melting!

We are creatures of BALANCE. Tiny, fragile, little motes of dust. That can only exsist in the careful, blended, dances of territories and powers that be. We squishy.

Ghosts? Less squishy.

Poor impulse control, too. Especially ones with Fenton genetics. ABSOLUTELY ones with Fenton genetics and a trauma based aversion to therapy. That one? Pretty hardy. Made pretty tough, what with being Fates third favorite chew toy. But? Still gets the Sads, you know? The slightly longer then just seasonal depression.

Would medicine and some therapy help? Oh like a dream!

If medicine WORKED on his Ectoplasmicly contaminated ass. And he TRUSTED therapists.

But... surely, Danny thinks, as he sits grossly in his Depression sweatpants and eats suspect pizza on the floor of his moldering shoebox of an apartment, there must be SOME way to address his Depression? He should... he should DO something about it. Take a break maybe. Look up some ghost doctors or something.

.....

Oooooooooor..... >.>

He could break out that OMENIOUS af, bound in suspect leather, Big Book Of Forbidden Knowledge(TM) that he got from Pariah's.... what, fourth? Fifth? Library? Fuck that Lair is huge. He's STILL cleaning it out and it's been over half a decade. He swears it spawns more floors just to mock him. Bastard. Don't know HOW a building can be a Bastard, but it sure found A WAY.

Anyway!

Book it is! *horrifying Eldritch light as he opens it* huh. Neat. Comes with its own visual effects. *another bite of suspect pizza* Funky.

And so! Danny, the depressed King Of The Zone... fucks of to go cheer himself up in the Fields Of Bliss(TM), an area of Absolute Bliss. Which! Sounds GREAT in theory, now don't it? Lovely even.

Remember that little comment about extremes?

You can ENTER those fields. But no one leaves. No one CAN. The deeper you go? The more doomed you become. Less will to do anything at all. Eat, talk, move. So much as think. Like ALL extreme "Goods", it sounds lovely, but the reality is no gentle little thing.

It's a glue trap.

But how could Danny have known? Honestly, who would have TAUGHT him? Textbooks can only go so far, after all. And placing blame will not rescue the young monarch.

I imagine it's one of his helpers that pieces together what's happened. Come for further clarification on WHERE exactly he wants certain statues moved. Only? Your Majesty? Your Majesty...? Where ever could he BE? Oh? He's left out some of his books. Well, I'll just assist by putting them away for-.....

Oh.

OH ANCIENTS, NO.

But! What can the poor man DO? Ghosts are Beings of Will, Emotion, and Obsession. Were it some sort of Holy Blade or Sentient Tree, you know, something INDIVIDUAL with a will they could FIGHT? Oh no problem. But an area of effect? Especially an EMOTIONAL area of effect!? Ooooooh, this is bad. The Zone can't AFFORD to lose ANOTHER King!

We JUST GOT THIS ONE!!!

Wait. He's heard that there's an organization for this! That loudly cursing fellow who got violently thrown back into the Zone. "Ruined his fun" and all that! Perfect! He'll just hire THEM!

Smashcut? To a nice, peaceful, everybody's screaming Justice League Meeting. John's cursing life, extremely hungover. Zatana still has three cracked ribs. Wonder Woman is enjoying the new sword she... liberated... mid battle. Truely stunning craftsmanship. When?

Knock Knock!

Heads swivel. There... is a glowing green... accountant? Dandy? Dandy accountant. With an equally radioactive day glow green Actual Pirate's Chest Of Treasures, floating next to him. In the void of space; Just beyond the glass. What, the, fuuuuuu-

He seems to be under the impression they are some sort of Heroic mercenaries. And has come to request the retrieve-

"NNNNNOPE! Pariah can SHOVE it!" Snarls a suddenly very awake John Constantine, sitting up straight for the first time in hours. The rest of Dark grimly nod in agreement. Let the fucker rot. It's a kinder fate then he deserves.

No, no, NO! King PHANTOM! Pariah's SUCCESSOR by right of combat! They are not, and were never, allied in any way!

Well, all right then. Road trip to save a young idiot then.

@the-witchhunter @hdgnj @hypewinter @lolottes @mutable-manifestation @nerdpoe

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #minji's writing

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opal-owl-flight · 8 months ago

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Quick lore question, did marie considering the idea of replacing 4 play into the insecurities she has later?

Absolutely.

I wanna preface this by saying one thing: Young 4 was a COMPLETELY different person before she got recruited by Marie. And Marie...responds to her accordingly.

Long read abt Hero2 events below!! Its. A lil messy sorry qisjke these are my notes

Young 4? A bitch.

Everything she ever wanted was given to her. Moved out of the highlands with an ego the size of a planet (and also bc she felt suffocated there), thinking she can make it in the big city.

...she struggled to make it alone. She had moved out bc her family was suffocating her with love, but now theyre not here, so now she feels homesick and underappreciated.

All that is expressed by her harsh, bitchy attitude. Shes gonna be mean bc no one has seen her for who she is. She'll show them!!

She finds her way around like this, and discovers that shes just as good at turf war here and at home. In fact, shes *so* good that she got the status of a rising star!

It aaalll just gets into her head. Shes "proven everyone wrong" now. Shes got the superiority complex and can back it up.

Marie...

...saw this. She was looking for a new agent to help find the missing zapfish. The second 4 heard this from her, she flexed her arms and...

"Look no further, your hero is RIGHT HERE!"

Marie at first adored the spunkiness of this new agent. Uuuntil 4 started thinking that shes better than her.

"Watch out, Agent Four!"

"You watch YOURSELF, grandma! Think Im a damn idiot to not see that coming? WAHA!"

Marie rolled up her sleeves after several stages full of her ignoring orders or sassing her out of nowhere.

Is that how shes gonna be? Fine.

When 4 finally trips and falls, hard, on a particularly difficult level, Marie pulls her to the side to fix her up and give her a lecture that tore her fucking ego to shreds.

She says something so fucking harsh like "That attitude will make SURE that you die sad and alone. I wonder how anyone puts up with you."

4s too hurt by her own failure to say anything back.

The reality of war finally gives her a reality check. Each victory is earned. its her life on the line. And the world.

She regains her spunk after saving the world.

------

Silly 4. She gets the job done but it takes a LOT of pushing in the mid-stages. Its like she got legitimately bored after the initial super easy ones, and thought the entire campaign a joke.

She went back to her turfing life topside between stages. And she takes a WHILE to come back to her missions -- usually late!! And then before she even goes in she just HAS to yak Marie's face off with what she was doing up there.

"Youre late."

"You shouldve SEEN ME, Marie!! I was carrying that Rainmaker round! I was-"

"Pray tell, Agent Four. How will you keep participating in turf with the Zapfish gone?"

"Whaat? Cmon. Nothing seems to be changing! Theres still power through the city!"

"The backup supply wont last forever, you know."

"Yeah yeah. Okay. Im here now. Wheres the next kettle?"

This attitude is from her high school days, clearly. She breezes by everything so fast that she can afford to do things last minute. It affects even this.

That, alongside her talking smack back to Marie, is what makes her snap at 4. Its what makes 4 stick to the mission fully starting late area 4 and area 5. (This is also around the time 4s life was threatened. God help me in those stupid platforming stages)

Post Hero2, 4 more or less does what 3 does. Shes the "replacement" til 3 comes back. (That cant be good for her confidence.)

At the same time, she has to deal with Callie and Marie talking out what the fuck Callie did with Octaria. "THEY SQUIDNAPPED GRAMPS!!!" and all. Why help them??? They get into squabbles where 4 was the unfortunate witness to. And peacemaker. It does NOT help that Callie for a while kept putting the glasses back on!!!

4 wishes so bad she had help of any sort. She feels 3 might be able to do something but what does she know?? Shes never met em!! She just imagines what the missing agent would do in that situation.

Callie...was also the person she got close to. Shes fun (unlike the stuck up Marie), shes empathic, she opened 4s eyes to the Octarian plight. It made her acceptance of 8 later much smoother.

Im not saying shes not close to Marie either, I bet they healed their relationship around this year too. Marie's sorry she tore 4s ego the way she did (even if deserved...). Marie's much more supportive of what 4s doing topside. Shes expressing her pride in the agent she found much more openly. (She brags abt her to Callie at times.)

The three of them heal together in that time. 4 sees them as older sisters Im p sure. Theyre both giving her tips for turfing and -- Marie even helps her with homework, HAH

And...while I say that 4 and Marie are in better terms, there are still days where Marie blows up on her. Lesser extent than before, but shes *worried* for her agent! (Its a similar plight 3 has.) In those times, its Callie who has her back. ("Hey! Its not like shes not trying!!" Callie understands how it is, and she also knows Marie best -- shes the one who makes 4 understand where Marie is coming from.)

#splatoon #splatoon fanart #agent 4 #marie cuttlefish #octo canyon #splatoon 2 #opal owl’s nest

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tinydefector · 4 months ago

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TINYDEFECTOR! DROP ANOTHER INSECTICON FIC OR WRITTEN WORK AND MY LIFE IS YOURS!

(If you have the time and energy of course. Take care of yourself and be safe!)

Y'all asked for Insecticons get ready for Arcee and Insecticon reader as this for Kinktober for today and tomorrow as a two part piece becuase I wanted my wife to get some action and she deserves a Rebelled Colony of Insecticons.

This actually really made me want to make an Insecticon Oc so....

Kinktober day 4 Insecticons

TFP Arcee x Insecticon reader

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: pheromones, hormones, fingering, mating.

@tf-kinktober2024

Day 3

Day 5

____________

Arcee is out on a stealth mission investigating an Insecticon disturbances. Her sensors were on high alert as she moved through the tunnels of the mines. a set of optics linger on the blue autobot as she slinks around the old mine. But they stay out of view of the Autobot, following her movements. "You're not a very sneaky Autobot" they call out.

With a quick scan of the area, Arcee tried to pinpoint the source of the voice blasters drawn. She knew that if this was a Decepticon trap, she had to be prepared to defend herself at a moment's notice.

As she continued to move cautiously through the dark tunnels, Arcee kept her optics sharp and her processor running at full speed, ready for whatever might come her way. She couldn't afford to let her guard down.

They move along the roof of the mine quickly, disappearing before she can see them. "Where's your Team blue?" They ask, slinking back behind more rocks as they move further down the mine. Arcee's circuits buzz with a mix of concern and determination as she hears the mysterious figure taunting her about the absence of her team.

She replies in a calm but firm voice, "My team is where they need to be, just like I am."

Despite the voice's attempts to unsettle her, Arcee focused on navigating the dark and treacherous mine. She couldn't let herself be distracted.

They move swiftly, body slamming her into one of the walls of the mine before pinning her down. Arcee's systems flared with alarm as she was suddenly ambushed and pinned down by the mysterious figure. Despite her best efforts to defend herself, she found herself overpowered and at the mercy of her assailant.

Bright green optics look down at her as their wings flicker making a low clicking noise. " You know better to sneak into places that aren't yours" they warn, in truth they didn't want to hurt her, but they couldn't say the same for others of the Rebelled hive.

Struggling against the force holding her down, Arcee tried to maintain her composure and assess her options. The warning from the figure only added to her unease, knowing that there were potentially more dangerous threats lurking in the shadows of the mine.

With a steely resolve in her voice, Arcee replied, "where's Arachnid, is she skulking around here" it came out more as a snarl as she spoke, Arcee's processors worked overtime.

They let out a soft vent. "The hive has moved on. Arachnid has taken them, few of us have separated, taking these old mines as our burrows. The others dont like intruders, they will rip you apart if they find you" they warn, Their wings flutter again slightly but they don't make another move to try and attack, just keep her pinned.

Another sound further down the mine makes their head snap towards the noise. Before tightening their holding her and moving swiftly with her pressed against their bulk. "Stay quiet" they chirp against her audial processor.

As they navigated the maze-like passages, Arcee remained on high alert, scanning for any signs of danger or potential threats. She knew that the Insecticons were formidable adversaries, and the one currently carrying her was a much larger one than she had dealt with before.

They drag her down into a rather tight burrow using their bulk to block out the view from any of the other Insecticons that move around. Arcee's spark pulsed with fear as she found herself dragged into the tight burrow, surrounded by the ominous sounds of the Insecticons communicating with each other. Despite the overwhelming odds against her.

Struggling against the figure holding her, Arcee fought back slightly, pushing against their bulk and trying to break free from their grasp. She knew that the Insecticons were dangerous adversaries, so she had to get out now. "Let me go!" Arcee growled.

"Stop or i'll let them have you" They nearly snarl against her shoulder. Their clawed Servos pull her snuggle against their frame. Despite the other Insecticons displeased noises no one had attacked her. Their wings seem to almost wrap around her. Its only when the sweet scent emitting from the Insecticons have her frame relax and nearly melt into the one holding her she realises something is amidst.

Feeling a wave of dizziness wash over her, Arcee's usual reserve and caution seemed to slip away as she found pulled closer to their frame. "What... What are you doing to me?" she murmured, her voice much softer even as she still struggles.

They let a heavy rumble leave their chest as they watch the other Insecticons slowly disappear. " You little femme walked yourself into a Rebelled Insecticons Colony in the midst of trying to find a queen. Your frame is reacting to our pheromones" They finally explain while pulling her closer so the others couldn't have the blue Autobot.

Arcee's systems buzzed with a mix of alarm and realisation about the situation she had unwittingly stumbled into. a shiver ran down her spinal struts, Struggling to push back against the effects of the pheromones clouding her sensors and processor.

Despite the closeness of the Insecticon and the overwhelming scent clouding her thoughts, little whines leave her as her frame shakes from the intensity of the hormones.

" the others, they would have you the moment i let you go" their antai move as they click and buzz softly. "They are watching, waiting for you to make a run for it" they move slightly keeping Arcee pinned against them.

The warning about the other Insecticons waiting to pounce on her if she tried to escape sent a chill through her circuits, reminding her of the precarious situation she was in.

"I-I won't make a run for it," she forced out, her voice strained with effort as she tried to resist the allure of the pheromones.

They click again this time softer as they slowly release her, moving and repositioning her in the burrow. Running their mandibles against the side of her neck cables as they slot themself against her frame. "We wish to mate little femme, that is why our pheromones are affecting you "

The admission about their intentions to mate sent a surge of alarm bells off in her processor. "I... I, I'm an Autobot," Arcee managed to stammer out, her voice barely above a whisper as she tried to push back against the overwhelming sensations threatening to overwhelm her.

" It hasn't stopped us before, why do you think the Decepticons and us were aligned for so long?One of theirs was once our Queen. We are a Rebelled Colony with no allies, little Femme we care not the alliance" they state, while pulling her further back into what looked like a rather soft little nest. Laying down with her gently grooming and tending to her as the effects take hold.

Lost in a haze of her systems pleading for more, for the con currently holding her to touch more of her plating. But the glowing optics of the others focusing on her sends cold dread through her frame. "Easy little Femme, I won't let them touch you unless you want them" they coo against her neck cables.

The realisation that the Autobots were in desperate need of allies, even if it meant forging a tenuous alliance with the Rebelled Colony, sent a shiver down her frame.

Despite her reservations and the full fledged effects of the pheromones clouding her judgement, Arcee found herself surprisingly talkative under the influence of the Insecticons touch. "We... we need allies," she murmured, her voice betraying a hint of vulnerability beneath her usual stoicism.

As the Insecticons gentle ministries continued. "And we need a Queen little femme" they mumble, the buzzing from their frame has her trying to pull them closer. They lean into her, servos moving down her hip plating to her valve cover, lightly tracing it, as their digits move down as it snaps open, they watch her every reaction as her body begins reacting to their pheromones. Keening softly as he moves against their servo.

Her voice trembling, Arcee managed to speak, her words tinged with a mix of uncertainty and curiosity. "I-I am not a Queen," she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur as she tried to process the Insecticons words.

Their digits slowly press into her valve, working her open softly, scissoring her open. "We can change that sweet Femme" they hum softly, mandibles tracing her face and cables. Their other arm lifts her other leg giving themself more space between her thighs, Breathing in the scent of her.

For an Insecticon they are rather gentle, even loving as they kiss her. She melts into each touch, optics blown wide as little moans and gasp leave her. A loud purr vibrates from their chest as they press closer to her. Digits tracing over her nodes and even running up her spike before plunging back into her valve.

_____________

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#transformers #transformers x reader #valveplug #transformers arcee #tfp arcee #arcee #arcee x reader #transformers prime #tfp #tfp x reader #insecticons #Insecticons transformers

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cpericardium · 6 months ago

Text

I too have questions about USAmerica, at least the areas I've seen and been to:

Why are the parking lots so big? Each one is the size of my country. There aren't even that many cars in them most of the time! It feels like their real purpose is to make me walk further to get to the Safeway.

Are traffic laws more like a suggestion? Often the walk sign will pop up and cars don't stop. Sometimes it's like they're waiting for the walk sign to go. I have a near-death experience half the time I cross the street.

Why aren't there surveillance cameras in the elevators? What if someone commits a crime in there?

Why do people roll down the car window, stick their elbow out and blast music so loud everyone on the street can hear it? Once I was on the pavement and multiple people were doing it as though in competition. or "mating season"

Why do the fire alarms go off so easily? One of my old roommates (Korean) said she heard US walls were made of combustible material which was why every time anyone cooked anything on our floor, alarms would start blaring. I've moved twice since and it's still like that.

Do trains just not work? When we were in Boston for wormcon, we stood on the train for 20 minutes and nothing happened so we just left. Is this normal? You pay for the train ticket and it might move or it might not? That doesn't seem... "ok"...

Why is it considered rude to flag down waitstaff when you need something? My understanding is that you must wait for them to come round to you, but that can take a really long time when you just need a new fork or something.

No trash cans?? No benches?? What do you do when you're outside besides wander around?

How come you can't know the true cost of whatever you're buying until you're paying for it? You can't know if you can afford it until you're at the counter and all the additional fees and taxes are applied?

#adventures in america

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goldenraeofsun · 6 months ago

Text

Paging Dr. Dad

Bruce wakes up to his phone ringing.

He clears his throat, swallowing past the lump of dread. “Go,” he says by way of greeting. No time for pleasantries at two in the morning.

“I just got a notification Steph is in the hospital,” Barbara says without preamble because they are actually very alike, not that Barbara would ever admit it. “Everyone’s on patrol except you, and I’m tied up with the Birds.”

“Her status?” Bruce asks as he gets up from bed, grimacing as his ankle boot bangs against the bed frame.

“Stable, according to her hospital intake form,” Barbara says, and some of his tension uncoils. “But,” she falters, “she shouldn’t be by herself. Not there.”

Bruce glances down at his flannel Superman pajamas Clark got him for Christmas partly as a joke. He’ll only admit it to Clark upon pain of death, but they are surprisingly comfortable and warm. He could wrestle them off over his boot and pull on a pair of sweatpants with even more difficulty, for what, his image? Stephanie is in the hospital, alone.

He forgoes his crutches – they’ll just slow him down – and clunks out of his bedroom. “I’m on my way,” he says.

“I think her com got knocked out during the fight,” Barbara adds, “so she has to be pretty bored by now.”

Despite himself, Bruce smiles. “Well, we can’t have that. I shudder to think of what a bored Stephanie Brown can get up to.”

“Why do you think I called you?” Barbara says, her voice wry. “Thanks, Bruce.”

“Of course.” Bruce grits his teeth as he painstakingly makes his way down to the entrance hall. “I’ll be there in thirty.”

“Twenty,” Barbara corrects. “I already sent a taxi to the Manor. Look, I’ve got to go. Give Steph a hug for me. I know you can. I know your arms are working just fine.”

Bruce says dryly, “Thanks for calling, Barbara.”

“See you at the next crisis.”

He hangs up and focuses on not tripping down the staircase and joining Stephanie in the hospital. After scribbling a note for Alfred still down in the Cave, he grabs his coat and heads out the door.

He waits for the taxi, hands shoved deep in his coat pockets, breath misting in the cold winter air. He hasn’t been further than the front lawn in a week, laid up with his broken ankle.

He thumbs his dark phone screen, lips pursed. He could call one of his sons for a full rundown of what went wrong and why Spoiler ended up in the hospital, but who knows if they could afford the distraction. If one of them could have been spared, they would be on their way to her, not Bruce.

* * *

An extra fifty to the cab driver, and fifteen minutes later, Bruce is rushing through the doors of Gotham General. He throws the tired receptionist at the ER a winning smile that once made Miss America herself swoon. “I’m here to see Stephanie Brown. She was admitted about a half hour ago.”

The receptionist taps a few keys with one hand as she lifts a truly massive thermos with the other one. “ID?”

Bruce fishes out his wallet and hands over his driver’s license. “Bruce Wayne.”

The receptionist doesn’t blink as pushes it back towards him, “You can go on back,” she says. “Next!”

Bruce hurries around the welcome station, scanning the people in the ER slumped over in chairs, their expressions a mix of boredom, consternation, and pain.

If Stephanie was badly hurt enough to be admitted to the hospital, she wouldn’t be able to sit up, so he starts on the curtained off areas along the left wall, where the beds are.

The first has an elderly lady spitting Spanish at a chastised-looking young man, so Bruce just mutters a low, “Lo siento,” and moves on.

The second has an unconscious teen surrounded by his parents. His mother pats his hair worryingly, while his father is bent over a rosary. Bruce passes them by without saying anything.

The third has Stephanie, just clad in her black nondescript black undersuit. Ice packs are shoved against her left side, and her left foot lays against the bed all wrong, the arch flat against the bed.

A doctor is talking to her in a low voice as he taps away on a tablet.

Her eyes widen as Bruce pulls the curtain back so he can edge inside.

The doctor looks up – Dr. Douglas Woods, according to the ID hanging off his lanyard. He’s young, his early thirties at most, and doesn’t yet have that haggard look of most of Gotham’s medical professionals. “I’m sorry, man,” he says to Bruce, “but you can’t be in here. We’re swamped tonight, but we’ll get to you as soon as –”

“He can stay,” Stephanie interrupts. “He’s family. He’s,” she throws Bruce an inscrutable look, pausing infinitesimally, “my dad. But most importantly, he’s wearing Superman pajamas. Do you have no pride, man?”

Bruce glares, his irritation spiking. This is what he gets for rushing to her side. “They were a gift.”

“From who? A novelty store BOGO sale?”

“From Clark,” Bruce says through gritted teeth.

Stephanie’s eyes dance, and Bruce’s rigid posture loses some of its tension. If she can sass him, she can’t be in too much pain. “That man must have balls of steel.” And then she winks.

“Stephanie.”

Dr. Woods coughs. “As I was saying, Steph, you got pretty roughed up.”

“Turns out I shouldn’t have tried to fight a speeding Subaru,” Stephanie drawls. “Not after I skip leg day.”

Bruce suppresses a pleased smile. A car accident is smart.

“Yeah, don’t do that again,” Dr. Woods says with a small smile. “Your hip is dislocated, and we’ll try to set that in a few minutes. If we can’t get it on the first try, we’ll put you under anesthesia and pop it back. Do you consent to that, if we have to?”

Stephanie’s gaze darts to Bruce, who nods. He has dislocated his hip before; from experience, it should get back in its socket as soon as possible.

“Yeah,” Stephanie says, subdued.

“We’re going to get you to radiology to get that wrist looked at,” Dr. Wood says, “but it might be a while. They’re backlogged after that explosion in Chinatown.”

“I bet,” Stephanie deadpans, and ice wouldn’t melt on her tongue.

Bruce’s gaze flicks up to the singed edges of her bangs.

“There’s not much we can do for your ribs,” Dr. Woods continues apologetically. “Just press the alert if your cold packs need replacing, and a nurse can help.”

“Thanks, doc,” Stephanie says as he gets up to leave.

“How long until radiology will be able to look at Stephanie’s case?” Bruce cuts in before Dr. Woods can move on.

He grimaces as he glances down at his watch. “An hour?”

Two hours, then.

As Dr. Woods pushes the curtain aside, Bruce asks loudly, “Are her ribs bruised, cracked, or broken?”

Stephanie shrinks down on her hospital bed, her expression darkening.

“Bruised, definitely,” Dr. Woods says. “But I wouldn’t rule out a few fractures from the impact. Regardless, treatment is the same.”

“What painkillers is she on?” Bruce presses.

“Just ibuprofen, but she’s also free to request aspirin from the nurse.” He frowns. “With her current injuries, I can’t prescribe her narcotics.”

“Will she need to be admitted overnight?”

Stephanie winces.

“It depends on that hip,” Dr. Woods says, clearly growing impatient at all the questions. “If we can’t set it without anesthesia, we’ll have to keep her, since it’s already,” he checks his watch, “three in the morning.” He more forcefully pulls the curtain back to leave. “I’ll stop by again soon.”

Once the curtain settles back in place, shielding Stephanie and Bruce from view, he turns back to find her glaring defiantly up at him, the fingers of her good hand tapping against the plastic bedding. “Well? Get on with it.”

Bruce frowns. “Get on with what?”

“The lecture.”

“What lecture?”

Stephanie huffs, “I don’t know. The You Took Unnecessary Risks lecture. The You’re Benched lecture. The You Fucked Up lecture. Take your pick.”

“I didn’t come here to lecture you,” Bruce says truthfully.

Stephanie makes a very skeptical noise in the back of her throat. “Then what are you doing here? Damian will report our run-in with the Ghost Dragons. Hopefully he’ll write in wherever he stashed my suit. Knowing him, the sewer, probably.” As Bruce just stares at her, her jaw takes on a distinctly mulish set. “Just get it over with, Bruce. My hip hurts, and I wanna pass out.”

“I didn’t come here to lecture you,” Bruce repeats.

Stephanie purses her lips.

“I,” Bruce swallows, and why the hell did he race here, if Stephanie would clearly rather be alone? “I came here to keep you company,” he says, deliberately keeping his voice detached.

Stephanie chokes on air.

He surges forward, his concern spiking. “Stephanie –”

“I’m fine,” she coughs. “Just surprised.”

“Barbara called me,” Bruce says by way of explanation as he sits down in the chair Dr. Woods vacated.

“And you, what, rushed to my sickbed?” Stephanie asks, her tone still skeptical. “At three in the morning? Just to – what, make sure I can make it through the big bad ER?”

“Yes,” Bruce says helplessly.

Stephanie cackles.

Bruce feels vaguely offended.

As her grin fades, she says, “I didn’t – I would never have – what I mean is,” she squares her shoulders, meeting his gaze squarely, “Thanks, for coming. You didn’t have to.”

He scoots the chair closer. “It’s nothing, Stephanie. And, yes, I did.”

“But–” Stephanie cuts herself off as a distinctive voice from the waiting room doesn’t so much as float in but barrel through.

“Where is Brown? Where is my father? I demand –”

“No way,” Stephanie breathes.

Bruce barely has time to brace himself before Damian shoves the curtain aside.

“There you are,” Damian says impatiently, but Bruce can read the concern in his youngest’s face clear as day, the pinched set to his mouth, the furrow between his brows, the way his eyes rove up and down Stephanie’s body, lingering on her ribs and hip.

“Hello, Damian,” Bruce says over the sound of rushing footsteps. “Dick,” he adds as his oldest skids to a stop behind Damian. “Where’s Tim?” Bruce asks because his family tends to travel in packs.

“Picking up Babs,” Dick says cheerfully. “Here, Dames, you forgot this.” He hands over a purple stuffed rabbit.

“I did no such thing,” Damian says, lifting his nose into the air. He makes no move to take it.

“Mm hm,” Dick hums, shaking his head. “This is for you,” he says, turning to Stephanie and tucking the purple rabbit against her good ribs. “Damian spotted it in the gift shop and thought you’d like it. He ran off while I was paying.”

Damian hisses, “You did not have to buy it, Richard.”

Dick chuckles, a broad grin spreading across his face. “Like I was going to steal from a hospital –”

“That’s not what I meant!”

Stephanie raises the rabbit to eye level. Casually, she asks, “What’s its name, Damian?”

Damian turns to her, his eyes wide. “I did not –”

Stephanie lowers the rabbit. “Seriously? You’re gonna lie to me when I’m wounded, suffering and in pain, could be dying –”

“… Antonia.”

Stephanie absorbs this for a long moment. “That’s a dumb name.”

Damian rears up. “It is not –”

Bruce settles back in his chair, content to listen to them bicker. He keeps his gaze trained on Stephanie, though, watching as the tension eases from her face the longer she goads Damian, distracting him from his worry.

As Damian and Dick get into an argument about Dick’s naming abilities – at least they keep their voices down as batarang, batcomputer, and batmobile get thrown down like gauntlets – Bruce leans in towards Stephanie. “If you’d like to pass out, now is the time to do it.”

“Roger,” Stephanie says, blinking heavy-lidded eyes. “You’ll take Antonia if I have to go to surgery, right?”

Bruce reaches over to rub one of Antonia’s soft ears between his thumb and forefinger. “Damian will probably guard her with his life.”

“And you?” she asks.

“To be honest, I’m far more concerned about you,” Bruce says. “You should get some sleep.”

With that, her eyes close, and Bruce settles in to wait.

#batfam #fanfic #batfam fanfic #stephanie brown & bruce wayne #stephanie brown #bruce wayne #stephanie brown is spoiler #bruce wayne is batman #fluff #bruce wayne is a good dad #rae writes fic

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jpitha · 1 year ago

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Between the Black and Gray 4

First / Previous / Next

At the docking ring, Fen and Ma-ren led Gord all the way down to the end. Past the regular passenger ships, past the scheduled freighters, past the bays for warships, past the semi permanent bays for residents to the last seven bays, thirty three though forty. Before they reached bay thirty three Gord could see the bulk of the Starjumper. It was easily five times larger than any ship here.

Walking past a simple barricade they stepped into an area of the docks that were not visited very often. The noise and bustle of the docks receded until Gord could only hear their footsteps and the thrum of the air handlers. Fen walked up to an airlock and gestured dramatically. "Here she is. Spyglass. She last moved when my Grandparents were young and Mom was a kid the last time she had power."

Gord walked up to the airlock. It was dark, with no lights, and no indicator over the door. a light layer of dust surrounded everything. "Oh, what happened hon? What did they do to you?" He whispered to the ship. He turned to Fen and Ma-ren "How do we open the airlock?"

"There's no power; we have to open it manually." Ma-ren shrugged. "We should be able to pump that lever there a few times and then the outer door will open."

Gord looked around and found the lever. It was worn and clearly well used. "What about shore power from the station?"

Fen laughed. "We can't afford those fees. Grandma says back when she was a kid they used to pay to run shore power during celebrations like weddings and funerals. These days though, nobody really cares anymore."

Gord stared at Fen and Ma-ren for a long while before turning back to the airlock and pumping the handle.

"Uh Gord?"

"Yes?"

"What's going on? You're acting like Spyglass is alive or something. Like, we left someone behind. If Spyglass was alive, we'd remember. Grandma would have mentioned it, Mom would have mentioned it, anyone would have mentioned it."

"There was a time when Spyglass was alive." Gord sighed. "She was a friend of mine. I'm worried for her. I want to view the logs and figure out what happened."

Fen blinked. "Gord, that doesn't make sense. If you were friends with Spyglass that would make you...."

Gord didn't meet her gaze. The airlock slowly opened as Gord worked the handle. After a moment it was wide enough for a person to enter. "Come on, let's see what's inside."

The inner airlock door was wide open. One the one hand, Gord was happy that he wouldn't have to pump the handle to manually open it, but having the airlock wide open was a bad sign. Gord took out two palm lights and handed one to Ma-ren and turned on the other.

Fen was surprised at how... cramped it was. She hadn't been inside Spyglass since she was a kid, but it always seemed to big when she was little. Now, she realized the halls were only a little taller than her and how small the rooms where. Gord started walking down the hall towards the command deck.

Ma-ren and Fen followed Gord. As soon as he was aboard, he seemed to know exactly where they were going. Occasionally he'd swing his light over some detail and nod, or look at something else and grunt, but he wasn't lost.

After a few minutes, they made it to the command deck. Now they were further into Spyglass than Fen or Ma-ren had ever been, and as evidenced by the floors, it had been a long time since anyone else was here. The floors were dusty and what few boot-prints there were were also covered by a layer of dust. Gord wiped away at a sign on the door. At the top, it said "Command Deck' in Colonic, but under it was another phrase in a different language.

"Gord, what's that under the sign in Colonic?"

Gord looked up. "Oh? Ah yeah, Spyglass was refit right after Colonic took over as the main language for the colony worlds. The bottom text is the same thing in Late Period English." He read the words out loud. The language was strange to Fen and Ma-ren, very staccato.

"You can speak it Gord? Are you a scholar?"

Gord chuckled. "I can, and I'm not. I don't need to be a scholar to speak my native language. Gord opened a panel on the side and stick his hand into the cavity and rummaged around. There was a click and he was able to slide the door open.

Fen and Ma-ren stepped in after Gord and gazed around. They could only see tiny parts at time from their small palm light, but the room was large, with many seats and was all oriented towards a large screen at the front. Gord sat in a seat in the middle and touched a screen on the arm. "Completely dead. I would have expected something, even if was just dim lights." He stood. "Come on ladies, I'll need your help."

"Why?" Fen was having a good time looking around the old command deck, and didn't want to leave just yet.

"We're going to restore power. At least to critical systems."

"What? How?" Ma-ren's fur poofed out and her tail twitched worriedly. "Everything is dead and cold."

"Well yeah, but it wasn't always this way, and so long as you haven't stolen parts-" He turned and looked at them "You haven't stolen parts, right?"

They shook their heads.

"Then we should be able to get her up and at least lit. Spyglass had 6 reactors back in the day. We only need one for lights and heat. We get her lit, we can check the core and figure out what happened.

Gord lead them back down the other end, down stairs and across halls, deep, deep within Spyglass. Fen was sure that nobody had been down here since after they docked. It was odd. She expected things to be... grimer than they were. Sure it was dark, and sure it was dusty, but things weren't leaking or broken, and there weren't any vermin about. It was quite different than the station.

They reached the Reactor Room, and Gord once again did his trick with the panel to open the doors. As soon as he stepped inside, he swung his light around the room and gasped.

"What? What is it?" Ma-ren walked in behind him and looked around. It was a long hall.

"The reactors! There are supposed to be six of them! There's only two left!" Sure enough, Fen and Ma-ren followed Gord as he walked down the hall, his boots clanging on the metal grating as they passed empty space after empty space, finally coming upon two huge, identical machines at the very back of the hall. Gord peered at them and tisked. "Well, so long as they're not both broken in the same way, I can get one going again." Without looking up he gestured at Fen and Ma-ren. "There's a tool kit over in the locker behind you. Please go fetch it. There should be some battery lights too, let's see if we can get a little more light on this.

"It took a few hours to get everything set up, and they were well past curfew before they were finished, but they had set up the lights and Gord had the reactor in more pieces than they thought possible. Gord knew where everything was, even things that he shouldn't know. He had told them that the medical ward was a few doors down and they were able to find some folding chairs to sit, and even some cots so they could take a nap. Gord never seemed to have to take a break. He didn't eat, didn't get tired, just continued to tinker. Fen and Ma-ren dozed on the cots while Gord worked.

Finally he sat back, and closed the panel. "Ladies? I think we're ready for ignition. It's made up of spares and most of the other reactor, so we'll never be able to run the Stardrive or the weapons, but we can at least have lights and heat and the computer.

"You fixed it?" Ma-ren yawned hugely.

"Not really. Just rigged it together. This old model reactor is very durable and resilient. I'm a little surprised the crew that brought you here wasn't able to keep it running. Everything needed was onboard."

Fen nodded. "Grandma mentioned that hardly anyone knew what to do or how to work the ship, there was a lot of guesswork and hoping involved."

Gord didn't reply. Instead he turned back towards the reactor. "I'm going to start it, watch out."

Before Fen and Ma-ren could ask what to watch out for Gord pressed the starter. There was a hum and a loud clack of relays, followed by a warbling hum that started slow and went faster and faster until there was a sound like a burst of static.

And then, with hardly any fanfare at all, the lights came up.

Before they could cheer, there was a cacophony of alarms and klaxons and sirens. Gord jumped at the noise, and then took off towards the command deck. Fen and Ma-ren hurried to catch up.

In addition to the alarm and siren sounds, there were voices warning things. They'd speak in two or three languages that Fen didn't recognize and then in oddly accented Colonic she heard "WARNING. WARNING. REACTORS OFFLINE. BACKUPS OFFLINE. HULL DAMAGE. WEAPON DAMAGE. STARDRIVE DAMAGE. SYSTEMS CRITICAL." and it would repeat.

They made it to the command deck and Gord was sitting in the middle seat, his fingers dancing over the pads until the alarms were silenced one by one. Sighing in relief, and continued to poke and prod at the pad. "I'm turning off running lights. They've been off for decades, no sense in telling station authorities that we have power now." Gord was speaking to them without looking up.

"So Gord, is Spyglass alive or not?"

"I don't know. She's not replying to my usual queries." He looked up at the room. "Hey Spyglass! You Up? It's Gord!"

Nothing.

"Come on, let's go check the core. Something's up."

They made their way deeper into the ship; deeper even than the reactors, until they reached a door that was almost completely hidden. There was no frame around this door, and no panel on the outside. There wasn't even a sign in Colonic. Just a small line of text in that angular Late Period English language. With the power on, Gord didn't have to rummage in the walls looking for an override. He approached the door and touched it with both his hands, palms in. There was a click and the door slid smoothy to the side.

This room was completely different than the others. It was barely more than a closet, bathed in a blue light. From the floor to the ceiling were racks and racks of electronics and half of it blinked and hummed. The other half was dark and silent, separated by a large black mechanism that was stuck haphazardly over things. When Gord saw the mechanism he said something in his old language that Fen and Ma-ren didn't understand, but the meaning was clear.

"Fuck."

"What?"

"It's a shackle." He gestured towards the black mechanism. "It's meant to lock down AIs, to prevent them from being intelligent. Spyglass is here, but she's trapped."

"Someone is...inside Spyglass?" Ma-ren's ears twitched.

"Gord shook his head. "No, she is Spyglass. The ship is her body."

"Oh no" Fen shuddered. "So is she aware of herself?"

Gord nodded. "Probably, yes."

"How long has she been like this?"

He peered at the mechanism without touching it. "This looks like late third Empire tech. Right around The War." He straightened up. "She's been locked down at least five hundred years."

Fen and Ma-ren looked at eachother. Five hundred years? "She's... going to be upset when we unlock her right?"

Gord turned to them and smiled thinly. "Ma-ren, I would like to take this moment to state how pleased I am that you assumed we're going to unlock her. To answer your question, she is going to be a mess. But, I have some skill here. I can help her."

Fen nodded. "Okay then, Gord. How do we free her?"

"Luckily" Gord turned back to the shackle "They were never meant to be hard to install and remove. We just have to enter the code." Gord touched a panel on the front and a keypad rolled out from behind.

"What's the code?"

Gord chuckled. "It's zero zero zero zero one."

Fen blinked. "You're kidding."

"I'm not. The Empire set up these shackles, but didn't trust that anyone could remember the code to remove them, so they hard coded it to something easy."

"But then anyone could have removed them."

"This is true, and wonder, Fen, why they didn't." Gord typed in the code and pressed the start key at the bottom.

The shackle lit up and started glowing green. After a moment, the racks of equipment behind it received power and started glowing like the others.

"That's it?" Ma-ren peered at the equipment.

"That's it." Gord looked around. "We should be able--"

Their conversation was interrupted by the PA crackling to life.

There was a piercing noise.

A woman was screaming.

#humans are deathworlders #humans are space orcs #sci fi writing #humans are space oddities #humans and aliens #jpitha #writing #humans and ai #humans are space capybaras #humans are space australians #Between the black and gray

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heyitschartic · 1 year ago

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Finally finished with the redone Undersiders as the Mall Cluster. Still cannibalized a lot of the secondaries from my previous attempt, but I'm happy with it. Entire thing is under the line cause I don't wanna clog people's pages.

Cluster Mechanic

Every night the group wakes up in the dream room. A rotating member of the cluster is given two tokens to hand out. Whoever is holding a token at the end of the dream gets an additional aspect of their primary unlocked.

Taylor

Trigger: Danny and Taylor made it out of Earth Bet as the world ended, but Annette didn't. Emma, after being attacked by a gang (potentially the Fallen) and saved by Sophia, turned on her. Bullied and abused, Taylor slowly began to fall out of society. Feeling less and less connected to others, feeling less and less like a person. Things came to a head when she's found by the Trio at the mall and locked inside a garbage room. As the flames grow closer and no one hears her cries for help, Taylor feels at her most trapped and alone, both metaphorically and literally. Trigger.

Primary: A master power with very rough control of bugs and a blink mover power that allows her to move between clumps of bugs roughly as big as she is.

Token Boost: When she teleports but before she reforms, she's spread throughout her swarm and gains a master power equivalent to Skitter. Feels at that moment however like she's trapped in darkness.

Sarah Secondary: A thinker power that allows her to understand potential angles of attack and a sixth sense of when they are coming as a slow building anxiety.

Alec Secondary: A master power that allows her to shout commands. Those who hear it feel their bodies moving without their control. Effects fade after a few seconds.

Brian secondary: Forms a cloud of inky blackness around herself. Affords weak brute powers, but mainly stranger capabilities, dampening noise and hiding her.

Rachel Secondary: Wet tinker power focused on modifying bats to increase sonic abilities, boost intelligence to follow simple commands.

Sarah

Trigger: After the end of the world, Sarah's family lost everything. While coping they found religion; the Fallen found them soon after. When her parents joined, her brother seemed to be the only one who managed to land on his feet. He made friends, formed connections, and kept their families standing while the rest of them felt like they were floundering. When he killed himself, it was a massive blow and the Fallen looked down on them for it. Pressure. Pressure from all angles to keep performing, to make up for it, and to do better. Sarah suffered the worst of it, including pressure from her parents that she should have done more, should have seen this coming. She picked up the slack and took his place at the mall attack. As she sees the fire rising and hears the screams of people inside, she realizes this is what her brother was trying to avoid so badly, he was willing to die to stop it. As the molotov slips from her fingers, she wonders what her brother would think of her now. Trigger.

Primary: A pre-cognitive zone thinker power, able to feel visceral sights/sounds of things to come in an area. However, this power is vaguer the further away from the event she is. Glimpses at a day, better understanding an hour away, perfect vision bare seconds before the event is happening.

Token Boost: Enhanced reactions and understanding during events, allowing for combat thinker capabilities.

Taylor Secondary: Blink mover ability dependent on damage. Transferring attacks on herself into a teleport that blasts out with force those she teleports near.

Alec Secondary: Master power to erode the will of someone, eliciting feelings of dread and despair after long enough. Power works through focused line of sight.

Brian secondary: Able to leak a smokescreen, thick and inky, from her pores. Loosely prehensile, can turn from a gas to liquid appendage that stings and numbs what it hits.

Rachel Secondary: Wet tinker power to modify sheep/goats with combat abilities, will act like guardians.

Alec

Trigger: Gold Morning upended many things, but Jean-Paul used it as his chance to finally escape the thumb of his father. Somewhere along the way, he met Olivia. They were inseparable ever since, moving place to place, though he always was looking over his shoulder for dear old dad. Not quite dating, never the right word, but together. In many ways, it felt like the first connection he ever had. Someone who drew things out of him that he thought were gone. Then the mall. They were separated in the rush and he spent his time looking for her. As he searches, half blinded and deafened by smoke and screams, he finally finds her body, trampled when the attack began. Trigger.

Primary: A single minion master. Forms a minion that resembles Olivia out of himself. She leaves with his emotions, putting him in a burnscar-esque emotional state. She's very swift and mobile, but weak to damage and Alec gets backlash from her breaking apart.

Token Boost: She radiates his emotions to others around her, intensly.

Taylor Secondary: Enters a mover state where he becomes faster and more agile while leaving behind a trail of harrying vermin.

Sarah Secondary: Thinker power to understand what others are thinking/feeling in an area. Surface level understanding without deeper insight.

Brian: Stranger power that gives him a sense when others are looking at him. Is able to blur the senses of one person of his choice, including powered sense.

Rachel: Wet tinker ability to modify birds with increased surveillance abilities, able to relay information.

Brian

Trigger: When GM happened, the Laborne siblings lost their parents. Reeling from the loss, but neither able to articulate it, they are forced to forge on. Brian takes the brunt of it, working construction jobs to try and make money. He doesn't have enough time to be with Aisha, to keep her in check, but as long as they're both safe, he's fine with that. They head to the mall on one of his free days to get her stuff for a new school year when the attack happens. Caught outside, they're ganged up by Fallen members and Brian is taken down by a blow to the back. He lies on the ground disoriented and unable to work up the strength or motivation to stand as he watches Aisha take her first few hits. Trigger.

Primary: Brian leaks a smoky mist he's able to form into a sword. The sword is weightless allowing for fast and continuous attacks, and hits with a force harder than it should.

Token Boost: The swords hits have the added effect of momentarily deafening and blinding who they hit.

Taylor Secondary: blink power to teleport around a set zone centered on his first teleport. Needs to move manually from first spot to change zone radius.

Sarah: A precog power focused on one person or thing to warn of incoming attacks. Allows for combat thinker-esque reactions to those warnings.

Alec: a single shot blaster power with good accuracy. Hits others with a sense of pacification. Emotion hits are cumulative, clouding judgement.

Rachel: Wet tinker abilities to modify offensive and defensive aspects of a single wolf.

Rachel

Trigger: A poor girl on the streets after the world ended, Rachel had to fight to keep what she had. Without a real connection to keep her safe though, she was one of thousands that slipped through the cracks. Like so many other people, she was found by the Fallen and press-ganged. Things were harder on her now because she didn't fit in. She was violent and could hold her own, sure, but she still couldn't connect to others, still couldn't quite understand them, and so she was pushed to the fringes of the group. She found herself caring for animals under Bamet, something she had proven good at. Things didn't get better and because of this position, she couldn't escape the stigma or try to improve with others. It comes to a head at the mall, when she see her dog Rollo get shot and go down. She rushes to save him and is pulled back by the hands of her compatriots. She in anger fights to break free, but can't shake so many and her pleas fall on deaf ears. Again, she can't even articulate or have them understand what she's trying to do. Trigger.

Primary: Wet tinker ability to modify dogs, granting some increased combat capability, but mainly making them more intelligent.

Token Boost: Able to make medication to grant temporary boosts beyond what her modifications can normally do.

Taylor Secondary: Master power to control a small group of rats. Power puts her in a dissociative state.

Sarah Secondary: Combat thinker power focusing on understanding her own body and movement with enhanced reflexes. Give vague feelings of intentions of others.

Alec secondary: Shaker power centered on herself. Those caught in the radius are forced into an emotion of Rachel's choosing.

Brian secondary: Striker power to imbue her strikes with mild smoke. Imparts an increased force (like a shove) and a cumulative disorientation/blindness.

#wormblr #undersiders cluster

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lunamaraproject · 11 months ago

Text

LUNAMARA: Fragments [6]

🦢

Felix is sure he once heard a philosopher say that only two things were certain: death and taxes. Having been embroiled in the political sphere quite against his will for the past 140 years of his life, he can say with certainty that not only is that true, but that people will occupy 90% of their time arguing about one or both topics when presented with the option to do so.

He doesn’t, technically, have to be here. He’s a mid-level bureaucrat at best, these days, and he worked hard to make himself less significant in the public eye, so he’s not obligated to turn up to public senate meetings. But Cas asked him, and Elsie– well, she didn’t ask, she’s too proud for that, but she also didn’t forbid him to come, which for a girl just a couple of decades past a century, means she desperately wants his company.

Cas plays his role as a guard very well. He looks imposing and cold in his gleaming armor, standing at attention with his spear in hand next to Elsie’s seat at the head of the long wooden table. His gaze is hard and constantly moving, sweeping over the irritated expressions of the senators in front of him. Behind them and further back, a much less organised gaggle of common people, those who are interested enough to take time out of their day to watch old fogies argue with a girl young enough to be their granddaughter.

The room is packed. He’s not sure what that says about their society, or whether the situation has simply gotten to a point where nobody can afford to be “disinterested in politics”.

“My Lady,” says a senator through his teeth, as Elsie inclines her head in his direction. “If the Queen’s government doesn’t disclose to its people the full details of the incident, I fail to see how we can maintain mutual trust!”

“You are expected to trust your Queen by her nature of being Queen, Senator Aurelius,” Elsennae replies. “And all the relevant details have already been disclosed to your office, and to the public.”

“And yet none of it pertains to exactly how long we have left running on our current power!” he snaps back, raising his voice and drawing a few shouts of agreement from the crowd. “The people need to know exactly how much is needed to keep their homes aloft. How else are we to live our lives?!”

Another senator slams her hand onto the table. “How long do we have until another cleaving event like this!?”

“If we don’t know, how are we going to evacuate people from the area in time?!”

“How long before Lunamara itself drops out of the sky!”

Elsennae raises her hands to calm her people, though it takes a few seconds before they quiet down. Felix feels his skin crawl with an unpleasant feeling. For some reason, it reminds him of the whistling of a mortar shell through the air.

“In the interest,” Elsennae says loudly and clearly. “Of the people of Lunamara not living their lives in anxiety and fear, we have chosen not to openly disclose the numerical values of the power needed to maintain current altitude. Regardless we ask for people to continue operating on minimum power at all times, and encourage those who feel ready to enter the Dream–”

Felix moves, but Cas moves faster, smacking the bolt of magic out of the air with his spear, and sending it careening into the nearby wall, where it explodes with enough force to knock multiple senators from their chairs. The crowd panics, as do the politicians, but Felix scrambles to Elsie’s side.

“Felix!” Cas barks, standing between the princess and the crowd. He’s looking for the offender, but in the chaos, it’s unlikely he’ll find them. If he does, Felix doesn’t envy them. “Get her out of here!”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Elsie’s still small enough to be picked up, which he does, sweeping her into his arms and escaping out of the side door. The palace is a maze, but he’s as familiar with it as he is with his own face, so he takes a winding route that would lose any pursuers that could somehow get past Cas. Again, unlikely, but he’s not made it this far without being careful.

Finally, he stops in a small side room. Closing the door, he seals the edge of it with crystal. Hardly the strongest, but better than nothing. Then he leans against it, sliding down until both he and Elsie are sat on the floor.

This room used to be for servants, he’s fairly sure. It hasn’t seen use in a century, and the dust is prevalent. Elsie would probably use that as an excuse later, for why her eyes are bloodshot and her throat sore. A princess ruling in the place of her sleeping mother can’t afford to look weak.

For now, here with him, she’s just a little girl crying in his arms, shoulders shaking with the weight of an entire crumbling city upon them.

If Felix can bear at least some of the weight for her, he’ll attend every farcical meeting until the end of time.

🌗

More from LUNAMARA:

Fragments: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9]

Comics: [Good Night] [Good Morning]

Art by Luka (http://nousanti.tumblr.com/) Story by Pidge (http://pidgestories.tumblr.com)

#lunamara #lunamara project #nousanti #pidgestories #cassius corvus #felix cygnus #princess elsennae

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littlejuicebox · 1 year ago

Text

Protect the flames from the wild winds

-----

Chapter number: Four

Themes: BG3, slow burn, original female character x astarion, dialogue heavy, mostly canon behavior, angst, gore

Masterlist: Click here.

Song inspiration: “Icarus" -- Bastille

Notes: Oof. Battle scenes are hard. I know this is a little shorter than the other chapters but wow it was a lot of moving parts to keep track of! Leave a comment if you have a suggestion or any feedback. :)

-----

The smell that confronted them outside the tent was vile; a swirling, dizzying aroma that was both metallic and saccharine. Astarion's stomach lurched as he broke through the tent, but he ignored the nauseating sensation, shifting his focus to towards the center of the campsite.

Bright rays of early morning sun assaulted their vision, a break in the gray clouds allowed the first rays of daylight to blaze into their shelter. The soil was caked in thick wads of mud and debris; it was clear last night's storm had done its fair share of damage. Deep pockets of water were spaced throughout the camp, and Astarion lamented the hostile terrain, which proved to be horrible for either travel or battle.

Karlach was positioned near the middle of their tents, her large fists bunched, no weapons on her person; Scratch was beside her, hackles raised, still emitting a rumbling warning to their intruder. A quick glance around the area revealed that a cautious Gale and Wyll were present, both hanging further back from the intruder, expressions laced with confusion and casting hands held at the ready. Lae'zel and Shadowheart were, notably, nowhere to be found.... a curiosity for another time. Just in front of the silver-haired elf stood Wren, her scimitar held low in her dominant hand.

Astarion gripped at the hilt of his own weapon as his scarlet eyes narrowed towards the stranger in their midst. What gall this man must have, to walk into a circle of unknown tents so brazenly.

"Ah... hello fellow wanderers. Forgive the aroma." The man stood, only a few paces between the tiefling and himself. His body was stock-still as he eyed the other party members. "And, apologies for the poor first impression." He added with a humorous smile flashed their way; his hands were lifted, fingers wriggling to show he wasn't holding a weapon.

"Enough with the apologies, mate! Who the hells are you and what do you want?" Karlach's enraged voice was an acute contrast to the good-natured tone she always favored with her campmates. Subconsciously, Astarion admired the full power of her intimidation and her innate ability to wield both sides of her nature -- a lion in a sheep's costume around her friends. Wren remained stoic as she expertly navigated herself around the sinkholes, focused on pushing herself closer to the center of camp. Her honey eyes kept flashing between the red woman and the burly, long-haired man; the vampire could feel the wheels turning inside the little bird's head... she was formulating a plan and running a million scenarios through her mind all at once.

"Gandrel. My name is Gandrel. And I swear I mean you no harm... I am simply passing through. I am need of assistance with my hunt and hoping to find aid from the hag of these bogs... if I can afford her blood price, that is."

The sharp chortle that exploded out of the ranger ripped Astarion's attention away from the stench-riddled man. Wren hissed, voice full to the brim with vitriol, "What a fool you must be... both to walk into our camp as if it belongs to you and to seek out a hag."

The ranger's scarred lip was curled into a sneer unlike anything Astarion had witnessed from her during their travels. He felt the fury and distaste radiating off of the half-elf as she spat out her words. Wren had quickly crossed the camp with expert footwork and she had positioned herself to face the intruder nearly head on. Karlach remained fixed in the same position, muscles coiled like springs, waiting for Wren's next move.

Gandrel nodded his agreement with a wry smile. He did not seem interested in taking on a group when he was so heavily outmatched. 'Smart man...' Astarion thought, head cocked as he watched the encounter play out.

The long-haired hunter rolled Wren’s insults off his shoulders and continued, calmly. "It is true. Hags are dangerous... and tricky. But I am afraid my trail has run dry and the task I have at hand is quite urgent... I am hunting a vampire spawn."

As the burly man revealed his target, the parasites in everyone's minds reared their bodies in unison, their offense soaring through the group in a domino effect. Gandrel takes the silence from the group as a signal to continue on with his explanation. “I am on strict orders to return him to Baldur's Gate and—AGH YOU BITCH!—“

The vampire's red eyes caught the glint of a blade just as a deafening howl of pain rang through the bog. To his surprise, Wren stood practically on her tip toes, holding the hilt of dagger in her non-dominant hand (where had she been hiding that?). The barbed edge of her blade was lodged soundly in the Gur's eye, and she twisted the hilt of her blade violently, grinding it further down into the depths of his socket. The brunette woman's scimitar simultaneously burred a hole into the man's abdomen with a sickening squelch.

Ribbons of red shot out of the intruder's newly opened orifices as he roared through his pain in a flurry of curses. Wren may have had the element of surprise, but it was quickly apparent that she was no match in physical strength or close-combat prowess when compared to the outsider. The large man tackled the ranger to ground with a crack — 'Her bones or his?' — and his mammoth hands drew desperately around her face.

The Gur's strength was enhanced by a potent mix of agony and adrenaline, exploding him into a fit of violent rage, Wren his only target. One thumb was lodged firmly in the brunette woman’s right eye socket with ease and the other giant paw held her chin in a vice-like grip. The burly male smashed Wren’s head haphazardly into the ground below, sprays of blood salting the earth; the blade that had taken purchase in his eye clattered to the ground. Wren still clung to her scimitar but was unable to wield it to her advantage while under the overpowering weight of the stranger.

Astarion shot forward with his dagger raised, but the mud-riddled terrain stuck to his legs and pulled him into an infuriatingly slow pace. He felt his anger ricochet through his body, cursing the bog and everything in it to the nine hells as he was forced to watch his female allies face the man’s wrath. The warlock and wizard anxiously studied the encounter, their keen eyes searching for an opening; both the spellcasters were painfully aware that they risked hitting one of their allies in such a close fight. For a brief moment, Gale's attention flicked to Astarion and he cast a longstrider spell towards the pale-elf, hoping to aid the rogue's advances. Day later, Astarion would reflect on the fact that it was the first time the wizard ever offered him a hand in battle.

The sturdy stranger landed a final, wrathful blow to Wren's face just as Karlach bulldozed into the Gur, knocking him prone. The female soldier straddled either side of the monster-hunter’s torso, pummeling him with her bare fists as she bellowed a war cry. Scratch lunged forward and grasped the stranger's forearm in his maw, ripping a chunk of flesh from limb.

The Gur grabbed Wren’s bloodied dagger from the ground and stabbed half-blindly at the dog; the blade sliced at the animal's maw and shocked it into retreat. Another swift strike to Karlach left the dagger securely fixed in the side of the tiefling's knee. That searing shock of pain halted the red woman’s onslaught just enough for Gandrel to toss Karlach aside and catapult himself back toward the brunette he'd marked as his quarry.

The ranger was back on her feet now, trails of blood leaking from her eye socket and the gaping wound near her temple. Her hair was caked with filth and crimson; she'd dropped the weapon she'd clung to moments ago. She was swaying, her vision blurred by the endless waterfall of blood coating her face. A sick, twisted smile spread across her mouth as she welcomed the Gur’s tackle, willingly crumpling like a ragdoll under his weight as he snapped his fingers around her neck.

Astarion finally made it to the center of camp, whispering a small prayer of thanks to the gods that never answered him for Gale's clever spellcasting. As the vampire readied his dagger to join the thrall, a burst of blue energy shot through the Gur, forcing a strangled scream from his bloodied mug. Wren echoed the outsider's cries, hands gripped around his beefy forearms. She was a conduit to the energy she’d summoned in her fury, and an overpowering crackle of electricity broke into buzzing fractals around the two.

The dense wetness of the swampland gave immense power to the lightening's current. A dome of jagged blue lines surrounded Wren and Gandrel; the electricity buzzed threateningly as it snapped its energy around the camp. Karlach made the mistake of reaching for the Gur and was punished with a jolt that knocked her prone. The Gur could no longer scream, now paralyzed in the half-elf woman’s grasp, but Wren was still hissing a groan of effort through clenched teeth. The ranger was exhausting all of her energy with the force of her spell, and all at once the azure streaks of lightening reverberated through the sky and dissipated. The Gur's body was still situated over her frame as her arms dropped with a squish into the bogland.

Astarion plunged the final few paces forward, using the opportunity to bury his dagger in the Gur’s throat as the outsider’s body shuddered with aftershock. An agile removal and snappy reinsertion of the blade, followed by a satisfying slice of flesh, and the vampire deftly severed the stranger’s jugular. Blood sprung forth in a foaming cascade of ruby, and the Gur choked out his final, strangled cry. The vampire shoved the threat’s limp body to the side in an effort to relieve Wren of the Gur’s weight. When Astarion turned to his companion, he nearly vomited the meal she'd given him last night up at sight of her. A pool of ichor and muddy water lay beneath her, brown and pink swirling in a filthy basin of water. The little bird appeared unconscious and unaware of the victory; her face full of burgundy, blue, and brown. Her right eye was imperceptible through the well of blood that sat in the socket; the left side of her face was caked crimson and swelling profusely.

“Get up, damn you!” The silver-haired elf gripped at Wren's shoulders. He shook her violently in his desperation to return her awareness to their plane of existence. The woman's head lolled sickeningly until Wyll’s hands grasped Astarion's arms and pried him, with much effort, away from Wren.

“Astarion! Stop! Get a hold of yourself, you’re going to hurt her.” Wyll shouted his plea. Astarion was clawing at the warlock’s insistent grasp, a string of empty threats escaping his mouth as he fought to make contact with Wren. Karlach and Gale both rushed to examine Wren while the pale elf hissed insults and threats through his fangs. The dam of panic seething inside burst without warning, and the rogue emitted a choked, agonizing cry. He continued to claw at the Blade of Frontiers, but Wyll remained steadfast.

"Please, Astarion." The warlock whispered, and finally, the vampire relented.

Shadowheart and Lae’zel tore through the treeline simultaneously, the unlikely pair making a dash for the heart of the group. Lae’zel holstered her blade when she realized the threat was neutralized, but quickly cast her gaze around the camp to assess if there were anyone coming to avenge the intruder. Shadowheart sank down in the muck and held her hands over the ranger, reverently reciting healing incantations.

Several painstaking minutes passed; everyone’s eyes were fixed on the limp body of their leader. Finally, Wren gasped a shuddering breath, and a blanket of relief covered the group. The little bird jolted in fear, reaching out to grasp whatever she could find. She desperately grabbed hold of Shadowheart’s wrist, fingers shaking. “Kol! Kol, I can’t see.” The confession was hushed with panic, the ranger's voice wavering at the end.

The entire group stood still, their relief sliding into unease as they watched the terror and pain overwhelm Wren. She was groaning, one hand clasped over her right eye. “Kol, gods dammit! Say something, I beg you!” She wailed in distress as tears began to stream from her left eye, narrowly escaping between bruised, bulged lids.

No one knew what to do in that moment but stand in a cloud of solemn silence and confusion. Mercifully, Gale mustered the courage to unleash a pink whisper of a spell upon the half-elf, knocking her into a slumber. She slumped against Shadowheart, and the group exchanged anxious glances, but no one dared to say a word... no one could think of what to say. After another breath of silence, Wyll released Astarion and moved to pick the ranger up. He carried her towards her tent, Shadowheart trailing closely behind and continuing her incantations.

Astarion remained on his knees in the mud for what felt like ages as he processed the entire battle. He stared at the blood Wren left behind, fingers dumbly grasping for where her schmitar lay beside him. The woman had been both captivating and terrifying in her uncharacteristic fit of rage. Up until this point, she was typically more inclined to stealth and tactical moves, attacking from the shadows or luring enemies to their death one by one. In most altercations, Karlach and Lae'zel had been in the forefront of the battle and Wren typically hung back, defending them with a well-placed arrow.

The vampire's head reeled. While she was terrifying in the center of battle rather than on the edges of it, her characteristic level-headedness tossed aside, she had been even more terrifying to Astarion in her panic. His gut rolled again as the flashes of her limp and bloodied body looped in his mind and he gagged, desperate to relieve the tormenting waves of nausea. Nothing came. Everyone rushed around him, tending to their own wounds or the wounds of their campmates, but the vampire couldn't make himself move.

Finally, Karlach came to him, offering a red hand to the pale elf. “Come on, soldier, let’s get you over to your tent. I think you just need to lay down for a bit.” She muttered, patting the elf's back with a strong but comforting hand as she hoisted him up. All Astarion could do was dumbly follow the tiefling woman as she walked him to his bed. Karlach was wincing as she bore weight on a still-tender knee and pushed him gently into the confines of his own tent... which he remembered he hadn’t even slept in the night prior. “Get some rest, mate. And then go check on your girl.” Karlach whispered, placing another small pat on the elf's back before she stumbled away.

'His girl? His… girl?' The sentence floated in the vampire’s head as he lay on his bedroll, too tired to move. His exhaustion from the restless night prior and the events of the morning forced the vampire into a trance. The words "his girl" echoed in his mind as he slept, the relentless chant lulling him through the merciful peace of sleep.

#astarion fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x original female character #astarion x tav #baulders gate 3 #baulders gate astarion #baulders gate tav #bg3 fanfic idea #bg3 fanfiction #slow burn #bg3 blogging #bg3 brainrot #bg3 ranger

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maria021015 · 7 months ago

Text

SPOILERS AHEAD FOR CHAPTER 54!

“Zay, can we talk? About what happened before?” Stiles asked her in a hushed voice as they walked out of the school towards the Jeep.

Zaida took in a shaky breath, her heart caving in on itself within her chest at the mere mention of what had happened. The image of her best friend and the boy she cared so much for, so close together, was burned behind her eyelids. Every time she blinked it was there, reminding her of her stupidity. Not enough. Not enough. Not enough.

“About what?” She feigned ignorance, walking faster so he couldn’t see the barely concealed pain on her face.

“Zaida, you…come on, you know what.” He hurried after her, stumbling over his words. All that was running through his head now was, how was he going to fix this?

“No actually, I have no clue what you’re talking about.” She insisted, clearing her throat when her voice came out far more hoarse than she would have liked.

She couldn’t understand why he would flirt with her when his heart still belonged to the redhead. Had she been imagining it? Had she been delusional this whole time? Had he done it on purpose to mess with her? But no, Stiles wasn’t like that. He’d given up on Lydia and had settled for her instead - for the girl who was always there. For the easy option. Then when Lydia had made her move, Zaida had just fallen away - not even a real competitor, just collateral damage. It was the only explanation that made sense. Anger crackled and burned within her, casting a dark soot over all the memories she cherished - all of the times she spent with Lydia and Stiles. They were corrupted now, only serving as a reminder of what might have been if she was enough.

But Zaida had never been enough. She wasn’t smart or athletic enough. Not enough to make a real difference in anything. Not like Xander, who was a powerhouse in both areas and had fought off Deucalion on his own to escape that night at the mall when she had failed. She wasn’t cautious enough. Not for Xander, who had always wanted her to be more careful. To be more selective. More cynical. To be a hunter as he was. To be like Allison. She wasn’t enough of anything for Stiles. Stiles wanted Lydia, and Zaida was nothing like Lydia. She was just there. Was that all she was? A placeholder for him?

“Please, Zaida, at least just let me explain-” Stiles begged her, desperate to clear the air.

“If you keep talking,” Zaida quickly interjected, her jaw clenching. She was spiralling and she knew it, but she couldn't afford to - they had more important matters to deal with. “I’m going to make an extra thick icicle with a really sharp tip, and I’m going to shove it, right up your-”

“Okay, okay! I’m shutting up!” He interrupted before she could finish her vulgar description, his face twisting at the thought of such a method of torture.

Zaida climbed into the passenger side of the Jeep, and when Stiles joined her in the driver’s seat his shoulders were sagging and his energy was flat. The emotions that echoed through his door in her were only a further admission of his guilt and Zaida didn’t want to feel it anymore. She thrust her blocks firmly into place, shutting him out completely as she turned her knees towards the car door, fixing her gaze out the window.

She wasn’t enough. Not enough. Never enough. She never would be.

“It has to be on a telluric current, or maybe even at the axis of two, or where they all intersect. We just know it's where Derek took Paige to die.” Stiles explained to the others as they peered at the marked map of Beacon Hills that was spread over one of the metal tables at the clinic.

“My dad and Gerard were there, once. But Gerard said it was years ago and he couldn't remember where it was...And, my dad obviously isn't here to tell us now.” Allison swallowed, her eyes bloodshot the only evidence that she had been crying.

“Yeah, mine either.” Stiles added morosely, finding it hard to focus when Zaida was on the other side of the room, her arms crossed over her chest as she refused to even look in his direction. From the looks exchanged between their friends, they all noticed the tension.

“Lydia’s heading back from the loft now. We thought Peter and Derek - or at least one of them - would remember how to get there but apparently not. Talia Hale took the memory from them somehow.” Zaida added, her hazel eyes simultaneously dull and simmering with quiet rage. The redhead had messaged her the information and Zaida hadn’t bothered replying with anything other than ‘meet at the clinic’.

“Then how do we find this place?” Issac chimed in from over Stiles’ shoulder.

“There might be another way…” Deaton looked apprehensive. “But it's dangerous. We're gonna need Scott.”

“Well Scott hasn’t been answering his messages.” Stiles revealed bitterly.

“The alphas are hunting your sister,” Zaida turned to the veterinarian. “Morrell was missing from her office, but it didn’t look like there’d been a struggle so I don’t think she was taken. I think she ran. Where would she go?”

“If she was running? She’d want to be in the one place where she’d have the advantage. The woods.” Deaton stated, retaining his serene demeanour.

“Then that’s where we’ll find Scott. Once we’re close enough I can track him down,” Zaida tapped on the side of her head, indicating she’d be able to sense him.

“There he is,” Zaida pointed out the approaching figure as sticks snapped beneath her boots.

“What are you guys doing here?” Scott questioned them, emerging from the brush. “I could hear you from a mile away!”

“That was kind of the point,” Zaida tilted her head at him. “We need your help to find the Nemeton.”

“How’d you guys find out?” His brows met together in curiosity.

“Lydia’s drawings.” Stiles answered. “You?”

“Morrell. None of the other Alphas know where it is, either.” Scott shared with a grimace.

“So, if this works, are you gonna tell them?” Stiles eyed his best friend warily. He didn't like the trust Scott seemed to be placing in them, especially considering Deucalion was after Zaida. In his mind, that was clearly a conflict of interest.

“I can't stop Jennifer without them.” Scott reasoned with a sigh, indirectly answering Stiles’ question.

“How about we concentrate on finding your parents first?” Deaton interjected before any of them could get carried away.

“What's the plan?” The werewolf asked.

“Essentially, you, Allison, and Stiles need to be surrogate sacrifices for your parents.” As the words left Deaton’s mouth Zaida’s head snapped towards him in alarm. He hadn’t mentioned that.

“We die for them?” Scott clarified with a stunned expression.

“But he can bring us back!” Stiles exclaimed, then turned to Deaton to double check. “...You can bring us back, right?”

“You remember the part where I said it was dangerous?” The man pursed his lips. “If it goes right, the three of you will be dead for a few seconds...But, there's something else you need to think about. This is a dangerous ritual for more reasons than one. You'll be giving power back to the Nemeton, a place that hasn't had power for a long time. This kind of power is like a magnet - it attracts the supernatural, the kind of things that a family like the Argents can fill a bestiary with. It will draw them here, like a beacon.”

“Doesn't sound worse than anything we've already seen…” Stiles shrugged, brushing it off.

“You'd be surprised at what you have yet to see.” Deaton warned, and Zaida’s stomach churned uncomfortably. She didn’t have a good feeling about this at all.

“Is that it?” Scott questioned, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“No. It'll also have an effect on the three of you. You won't be able to see it, but you'll feel it...every day, for the rest of your lives. It'll be a kind of...darkness around your heart, and permanent, like a scar.”

“...Like a tattoo.” Scott mumbled, rubbing the bands inked into his arm.

“At this point, we’re out of options. It’s either we do this, or our parents die.” Stiles reminded them all of what was at stake.

“I’m in,” The werewolf nodded decidedly.

“You’ll each need something that belonged to your parent - something important to them, but also something to connect you to them. Something that holds a lot of sentimental value.” Deaton advised them.

“We’ll meet back at the clinic when you guys are done.” Zaida instructed and returned the way they had come without another word. Deaton followed after her, leaving both of the boys behind to gather the required items.

“What’s wrong with her? Did something happen?” Scott asked Stiles once the girl was out of earshot, picking up on her chemosignals.

“Yeah, she walked in on me and Lydia and now she’s pissed and she’s refusing to talk about it.” Stiles let out a heavy sigh, frustrated with himself.

“You and Lydia?!” Scott repeated, his brown eyes widening.

“Nothing happened!” Stiles exclaimed insistently, his arms flailing about expressively. “Well, something…something almost happened, and that ‘almost something’ was what Zaida saw.”

“What do you mean something almost happened?” The beta was outraged. “I thought you were done with Lydia! Don’t you like Zaida now?”

“I am done with Lydia. If anything, whatever almost happened today just confirmed that I have zero feelings for her whatsoever. She grabbed my face and came really close like she was going to kiss me,” Stiles suddenly reached out and gripped Scott’s face, mimicking the redhead’s earlier actions. The werewolf looked mildly uncomfortable and very confused. “And at that point, I just felt nothing, and I knew that even if she wanted me, I don’t want her anymore. I just want Zaida, more than I’ve wanted anything.”

“Really? Even more than you used to want Lydia?” Scott questioned, still only inches away from his best friend’s face.

“Yes! Even more than the erasure of the absolute heresy that is the Star Wars sequels!” Stiles insisted, grip tightening on the werewolf’s face.

“Why are we still doing this?” Scott asked, referring to their close proximity.

“I don’t know. I honestly thought you’d push me away a long time ago.” The boy admitted and Scott slapped his hands away, stepping backwards.

“Bro, you’ve gotta fix this.” Scott urged his best friend, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I know! It would be a lot easier if she’d actually talk to me about it.” He huffed. “And right after things were finally starting to get somewhere too!”

“What do you mean?” The werewolf questioned, frowning once more on confusion.

“Last night, at the hospital, we kind of had a moment…” Stiles revealed, cheeks warming at the memory of it.

“A moment?” Scott repeated, a slow and amused smile spreading over his face.

“A moment! You know, like a vulnerable conversation - a moment! It was a moment!” Stiles snapped erratically, rolling his eyes. “Whatever, we were talking about the deep stuff, you know? And then- well, then I started flirting with her a bit. Just to test the waters, you know? And then…well, then she started flirting back and it was awesome.”

“And then you ruined it.” Scott nodded as he followed along.

“Yes, Scott, thank you for the reminder.” Stiles narrowed his eyes bitterly.

“She probably thought that the something that almost happened, did happen.” The werewolf continued.

“Yes, I am aware.” The boy scowled, not really needing to hear what he already knew.

“She probably thought that you were messing with her.” Scott added and at that Stiles froze.

“What? Where- Where’d you get that from?” He spluttered. Was that really what she thought? That he'd just been playing with her feelings?

“It’s what I would have assumed, if I were in her shoes.” Scott shrugged.

“But- that’s not true at all!” Stiles protested irritably. Also, since when did he go to Scott for girl advice? And since when was Scott’s girl advice actually good?

“But Zaida doesn’t know that!” The beta pointed out. Stiles opened his mouth to respond, but he really couldn’t draw together a solid argument against that. He ended up sealing his lips with a loud huff of annoyance.

“I’ll fix it, okay? But how are you going to fix this mess you’ve gotten yourself into? Joining the alpha pack? Seriously? How could you think that was a good idea?” Stiles shifted topics, putting his best friend on blast for abandoning them the night before. “You know, this pack is like the mafia - once you join, the only way you’re leaving is in a body bag.”

“I’ve got a plan, Stiles. You’ve just gotta trust me.” Scott assured him, promise behind his dark eyes.

“Yeah, that’s what Zaida said,” He muttered under his breath. Yet again, all things led him back to her.

“All right. What did you bring?” Deaton asked as Allison was the last of the group to arrive.

They all gathered around three giant metal tubs filled almost to the brim with ice, water and various Celtic herbs and flowers. Zaida, Isaac and Lydia had spent their time helping Deaton move all of the tables out of the way and prepare everything necessary for the ritual. They had done so in awkward and thick silence.

“Um, I got my dad's badge.” Stiles turned the warped metal over in his hand, the light glinting of the damaged surface. “Jennifer kind of crushed it in her hand, so I tried hammering it out a little bit. Still doesn't look right.”

“Well, it doesn't have to look good if it has meaning.” Deaton smiled faintly. The Sheriff had also been his friend.

“Is that an actual silver bullet?” Isaac asked as he caught sight of the small, shiny object between Allison’s gingers, stamped with the Argent family crest.

“My dad made it. It's kind of a ceremonial thing.” She explained its significance. “When one of us finishes learning all the skills to be a Hunter, we forge a silver bullet as a testament to the Code.”

“Scott?” Deaton prompted the werewolf to show them his item.

“My dad got my mom this watch when she first got hired at the hospital. She used to say it was the only thing in their marriage that ever worked.” He gazed down at the watch and not for the first time since meeting Scott’s dad, Zaida wondered what the history was there.

“Okay. The three of you will get in. Each of us will hold you under until you're essentially...well, dead.” Deaton prepared them for what was about to happen. “But, it's not just someone to hold you under - it needs to be someone who can pull you back, someone with a strong connection to you. A kind of emotional tether.”

Despite the situation, Zaida found her eyes drawn to Stiles as she recalled similar circumstances they had experienced together. Months ago, he had held her under until she had almost died. He had been the one to pull her back. He must have been remembering it too because their eyes locked, sending a jolt through both of them before Zaida quickly turned away.

As Zaida crossed the room, headed for Allison, Deaton stopped her by holding out his open hand. “Zaida…You go with Stiles.” He instructed and she froze.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. It should be Lydia - you said it needs to be a strong connection. An emotional tether.” Zaida muttered bitterly, lowering her eyes.

“Which is exactly why it needs to be you.” Deaton insisted sternly. “Lydia will go with Allison.”

This time Zaida wasn’t the only one who noticed the longing in Isaac’s eyes as he looked towards Allison. And what was even stranger, was Allison glanced at him as well. Scott tilted his head, eyebrows twitching downwards slightly in confusion, but he brushed it off rather quickly.

Zaida took in a deep breath as she moved over to stand behind Stiles as he peeled off his shoes and socks, forcing herself to push everything else aside and focus on the matter at hand. The stakes were high - this was literally life or death. Stiles' own words jumped to her mind - “I’m about to drown my best friend. I don’t know how I could ever be ready for that” . It was only now that she stood in his shoes that she understood what he’d meant. Climbing into the tub, Stiles clutched his father’s mangled badge in his hand. The boy gritted his teeth against the freezing temperature, but pushed through it, lowering himself to sit inside, his legs outstretched. Allison and Scott did the same on either side, gasping at the cold.

“By the way, if I don't make it back and you do, you should probably know something…” Stiles’ voice trembled along with his body as he turned to his best friend before he went under. “...Your dad's in town.”

Scott’s eyes widened for a moment, but he didn’t have time to ponder the information as Deaton moved into position behind him, setting a hand on each of his shoulders. Lydia and Zaida followed suit but the brunette hesitated for a moment, her hands hovering over the fabric of Stiles’ shirt before she forced herself to grip him. The boy’s chest heaved, taking in desperate and deep breaths as the panic set in. It struck Zaida through that chestnut door in her mind, almost blowing the lock off, but she barricaded it shut. She’d be no use as his tether if she somehow went under with him. Even once her blocks were firmly in place, she still felt anxiousness churning within her stomach, though this time it was indeed her own. She might never see him alive again. She might not be able to pull him out.

“It’ll work,” Stiles whispered, assuring her - or himself - as if he was able to read the thoughts in her mind. Would it work? It had only worked last time because of what Stiles meant to her. He’d made it clear that she didn’t matter to him in the same way, despite his pretty words that morning.

“On the count of three,” Deaton spoke serenely, and Zaida felt Stiles shudder beneath her grasp. “One, two…three.”

On the final word Zaida held her breath as if it was her that was going under, pushing downwards and watching Stiles squeeze his eyes shut and he slid beneath the icy surface with no resistance. For a few moments, he remained still and peaceful, bubbles of air escaping his lips and slowly rising to the surface. Then he began to thrash against her hold - they all did - fighting to come up for air. Zaida’s guts twisted with guilt as she held him down, her hand almost slipping off his shoulder as he twisted to get away. She knew he didn’t actually want to come up. She knew it was his survival instinct kicking in. However as it became easier to hold Stiles down - as his strength waned and he finally went completely motionless - Zaida still felt as though she had killed him. She didn’t realise she was crying until a single tear dripped from her chin, falling into the water below and causing the surface to ripple slightly.

As the seconds stretched into minutes it soon became clear that something had gone wrong. The three would not be waking up as quickly as Deaton had planned. Zaida couldn’t watch them like that, floating lifelessly below the water. Instead she wandered into another back room and busied herself with unpacking her friends' clothes from the bags they had brought, folding them neatly in a pile for if - no, for when - they would emerge from the freezing waters. At least then they would have something warm to change into. As she fiddled with the corners of a fluffy towel Deaton had provided, Lydia entered the back room. Zaida didn’t have to turn around to know it was her from the sound of her heels clacking against the tiled ground.

“Zay, I know you don’t want to talk about it,” The redhead began and Zaida’s jaw clenched.

“You’re right,” She spat through gritted teeth. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“But we need to.” Lydia insisted, moving to stand right behind her. “Please, just hear me out. Let me fix this. I need to fix this.”

“Lydia, right now I’m just trying really hard to hold it together long enough to deal with everything else going on.” She let out a stressed sigh.

“You don’t even have to speak, just listen!” Lydia pleaded with her, reaching out to touch her arm. As soon as her fingertips made contact, Zaida flinched away. “Zay, please. I am so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking, I just panicked!”

“You panicked so you grabbed his face and kissed him?” Zaida snorted, whipping around to face the girl with an expression that was a mix between outraged and sceptical. “Right, because that makes so much sense!”

“What? No, I didn’t kiss him!” Lydia shook her head, green eyes growing wide. Then she winced. “I was about to, but-”

“Oh, and that’s so much better?!” Zaida burst out in dry and humourless laughter and she whirled to face the girl.

“No, wait-” Lydia backtracked, desperate to explain herself.

“You know what, no. Just stop. I don’t understand why you would do this to me. I have gone above and beyond for this friendship. I stood aside and I gave you every opportunity to be with Stiles, because I didn’t want to get in the way of something that might make you happy - someone that might be good for you for a change!” The brunette exclaimed, and once she’d open the gates, everything came flooding out. “The thing is, if you had told me you wanted him I would have stepped back for you in a heartbeat. But you didn’t tell me anything, you went behind my back and I had to walk in on it and react like a complete and utter idiot! And it’s not even like you were oblivious - I told you how I feel about him! You know what he means to me, and you told me you didn’t see him in that way. You told me he wasn’t your type-”

“And he’s not my type! I don’t see him as anything more than a friend - if that!” Lydia interrupted in protest, her guilt eating away at her from the inside out. Zaida had never spoken to her like this, but that only meant the girl had never been this hurt. And Lydia had been the one to cause it.

“Then why would you do it?!” Zaida didn’t even register the fact that she was yelling now, allowing her frustrations to get the best of her.

“It wasn’t like that, Zay. He was having a panic attack and nothing I was trying was calming him down - in fact, I think I was just making it worse. I didn’t know what else to do, and I’d read somewhere that holding your breath can stop a panic attack. The only way I could think of to get him to hold his breath, was…well to do that.” The redhead couldn’t even bring herself to say it, she felt so awful. “But I just couldn’t go through with it, and I didn’t need to because just grabbing him was enough for him to freeze in shock long enough to stop panicking.”

Zaida’s inferno of anger lowered to a simmer as she registered what the redhead was telling her. Lydia hadn’t kissed Stiles, and the only reason why she had been going to do so was in a strange, last-ditch attempt to stop his panic attack. The realisation that she had completely blown up over something that now didn’t seem nearly as bad was embarrassing, to say the least. Her best friend hadn’t gone behind her back to seize an opportunity to kiss the boy she liked after all.

“I’m not going to lie to you, I’m still angry. There are so many other ways - better ways - to stop a panic attack than that.” Zaida took in a deep breath, trying to calm her temper. She knew she could be irrational, and she had a knack for jumping to conclusions and blowing her lid occasionally. She didn't want to turn this into something bigger than what it was. Lydia hadn't meant anything malicious by her actions.

“You two have this ability to understand exactly what the other needs and you calm each other down like it's easy. You only have to look at each other, or start counting and you ground one another. I’ve seen you do it! And I can’t do that. When I tell you nothing was working, I mean nothing was working. I know it was stupid and awful, and I hate myself for it, but I genuinely didn’t know what else to do.” The redhead promised. “I am so beyond sorry, Zay.”

“Look, I…I know that it’s not an easy thing to deal with - especially being someone who hasn’t had any experience with it whatsoever.” Zaida sucked in another stabilising breath, trying desperately to be the bigger person and look at the situation from an objective perspective, pushing her jealousy away. “Panic attacks suck, and the only reason why Stiles and I can calm each other down is because we both know what it’s like to have them. We have our strategies that we know work for us. I can see how you would have arrived at the place you did, and under different circumstances - like, had I known what was actually going on when I walked in - I wouldn’t have freaked out the way I did.”

“Your reaction was entirely valid,” Lydia reached out to squeeze her arm in support, and this time Zaida didn’t flinch away. “I should never have even considered it. The last thing that I wanted was to be that girl. The girl I was before - the girl that made out with Allison’s boyfriend to get back at her and Jackson. The girl that hurt her friends and didn’t care. I thought I was past that.”

“I know you’re not that girl anymore, Lyds.” Zaida let out a heavy sigh, releasing some of the lingering tension along with it. “It’s just, for the longest time all Stiles could see was you, and I found a way to be okay with that because I didn’t want to resent you for something that wasn’t even remotely your fault. But things started to change and then it was like he was seeing me for the first time, and it made me hope that maybe I had a chance. Walking in and seeing you two like that just shattered it all, and it felt like shit. I still feel like shit.”

“I never wanted to make you feel that way,” The redhead shook her head, disappointed with herself. “You are the last person I ever want to feel like that. You are my best friend, and I love you more than anyone in the world. I hate that I was the one to do that to you and if I could take it back, I would do it in a heartbeat.”

“But you can’t take it back.” Zaida swallowed thickly. “And now I know that Stiles and I are never going to happen.”

“What? Why not?! Zaida, haven’t you noticed the way he’s been looking at you? How he’s been making any excuse to touch you and compliment you? How protective he is over you? How he goes absolutely insane whenever Isaac is around you? Stiles likes you!” Lydia exclaimed, not understanding how the girl couldn’t see it when it was so obvious.

“Maybe he does do all of those things, but it doesn’t matter, because you’ve always been the one for him Lydia. Today has shown me that the moment he might get a chance with you, he would take it. Even if one day he does choose me, I will always be his second choice. And I'm not going to allow myself to be somebody’s back up.” Zaida shook her head definitively. “I want to mean more than that.”

It wasn’t the first time this had happened, and it happening again only solidified the fact that it wouldn’t be the last if Zaida let it. Stiles always went back to Lydia. If once was an accident, twice was a coincidence, and thrice was a pattern…that planted Stiles firmly past the pattern category. The boy would realise the redhead wasn’t interested and he would mope and Zaida would pick up the pieces, and after a while of him not showing any signs of still liking Lydia, she’d think that he’d moved on. Only for Lydia to show him the smallest bit of attention, sending him crawling back to her and leaving Zaida in the dust. Well she wasn’t okay with that anymore. Zaida wanted to matter to someone. She wanted dedication and loyalty and she wanted to be wanted. She wasn’t about to allow herself to settle for less than what she desired.

#teen wolf #teen wolf fanfic #stiles stilinski #teen wolf fanfiction #stiles #stiles x oc #teenwolf fanfiction #female oc #female original character #scott mccall #lydia martin

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