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cutesuki--bakugou · 5 years ago

Text

Anything

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Rough Sex (Vaginal), Rough Oral Sex (blow job, face fucking), Spanking / Whipping (with a drumstick), Obsessive Reader, Toxic / Power Imbalanced Relationship, Emotional Manipulation, Suggested Dubcon / Reluctant / Compliant Reader

Words: 10,418

Pairing: Drummer!Bakugou Katsuki x Superfan!Fem!Reader

Quirkless, Punk rock band AU

BTW, please blacklist the tag cutesuki-lemons if you do not want to see this content from my blog. I will no longer be tagging with specific keywords for this type of content.Thank you~

Due to the nature of this post, the characters are 18+

Tags: @lady-bakuhoe, @gallickingun, @mirakumiruku, @wakaoujisenhime, @sunnieskies02, @hisoknen

Art in banner by me.

This was incredibly frustrating. Finally, after years of admiring and being an incredibly dedicated fan, you were standing in front of your favorite punk rock band. They were just a few feet from you, so close that you could reach out and touch them. How badly you wanted their full and undivided attention was near suffocating, and yet, it was so difficult for you to find the courage to speak at all. You had given them your name after you had been brought backstage for the meet up, which was a perk of the insanely expensive VIP tickets you and your friends had purchased.

That’s all that you had been able to say. Your friend, however, was absolutely bursting with questions. You were very close to her, but damn, you wished that she would just stop talking long enough for someone else to get a word in. All day you had been brooding over what you wanted to ask, what you wanted to say to these men that had been such a huge part of your life for the last few years. Their music had inspired you, made you cry, pumped you up so much that you’d jump around your room and just jam out. But, more than that, they had saved you. You didn’t know how to explain it, or even how it happened in the first place, but you had truly begun to feel like their existence is what you lived for.

Was that unhealthy? Probably. But who could blame you? You loved every single one of them. All five men were like your best friends, and you felt so close to them from your time following them on social media and attending their concerts. You knew them like the back of your hand, from birthdays, to favorite food, drinks, hobbies, past or current girlfriends, and you had even found out their personal telephone numbers. Had you ever called them? No, of course not. That would be creepy.

Midoriya Izuku, the band leader and lead singer, was being the most engaging as far as answering questions. Unlike their punkish attire and aesthetic, he was like sunshine, incredibly friendly and soft with his curly green hair and freckled cheeks. He was adorable, able to make all the little fangirls scream and squeal with his grin and a cheeky wink.

Todoroki Shouto, lead guitar and backup singer, was the quiet pretty boy of the group, breaking hearts with his intense and piercing stare. That wasn’t to say he didn’t have a soft side to him, but more than anything, he was extremely dense, and his genuine confusion was what made him so desirable.

Kirishima Eijirou, second guitar, was another ray of sunshine amongst the black clothes and punk piercings. He loved to get the crowd riled up, his endless energy and cheery personality infectious. Out of everyone, he was the most openly friendly without a hint of shyness and treated everyone like he had known them forever.

Kaminari Denki, bass guitar, was the group idiot. He was nice, but often did and said things that could get the group into trouble or make a fool of himself in the public eye. Funny and playful, he could make anyone laugh, either from a joke or from just being a silly fool.

Although you adored them all, one of them had you in his grip, like your heart had been locked in a vice that grew tighter every time you saw him. The fifth member, Bakugou Katsuki, was your absolute dream man. Rough, arrogant, mean, and foul mouthed, he was the bands second in command, drummer, and backup singer for moments that required his deep and gruff voice. God, he was everything you ever wanted in a partner. Boyfriend. Husband. Whatever! You wanted him so badly that you dreamed about it constantly, picturing yourself in those strong arms or having those calloused hands on your body. Much to your misfortune, he was the most private on social media, so there was still a lot about him that you didn’t know.

That was one of his most attractive qualities to you. His mystery and his silence. What was he really like? Was he this grumpy and off putting with those close to him? Did he have a gentle side of any kind?

You wanted to know everything about him! But, standing here in front of the entire band, you were frozen, not able to make a squeak. Even your eyes were locked on the floor, unable to look up at them in fear that you would gawk a little too intensely. Or start crying. One of the two would happen, probably.

Your chance to interact with your heroes was slipping by with each moment, however, and you didn’t know if you’d ever get to have this chance again. What did you want to say? What questions had you thought about? You had a million of them, all you had to do was just say one. Something. Anything!

“Bakugou-!”

The name slipped from your lips in a sharp snap, which tapered off at the end with a tremble. Just as the sweet name left your lips, your eyes darted up, catching the confused and irritated crimson glare of the blonde drummer. At first, you were taken aback by his current appearance, still flushed and sweaty from the concert performance. His blonde spiked locks were wild and unruly, bangs stuck to the sweaty skin of his forehead and cheeks. He was so handsome, all messy and hot--

“U-uhm…” Your friend that stood beside you gave you a nudge in the side, though she was unable to pull your gaze away from Bakugou, who’s annoyed snarl made your heart begin to race. “[Name], I was about to ask something else…”

“What’d you want to say, you damn shitty extra.” Bakugou barked at you, ignoring your friends' whine at being interrupted. “Don’t just bark out my name and then stand there like a fucking moron.” That gruff and demanding voice was intoxicating, making you involuntarily clench your thighs together and clutch at the fabric of your skirt.

“I… I was wanting to know. Uhm,” Your eyes darted across his face and his chest as you tried to think of what you had been wanting to ask him. You couldn’t remember for the life of you, but as your gaze landed on the piercing he had on the bridge of his nose, a thought popped into your head and curiosity flourished instantly. “How many piercings do… do you have?”

Bakugou’s eyebrow cocked in initial confusion at the question, before returning to its usual furrowed position. “The fuck? That’s kind of personal, ain’t it?”

“I’ll tell you how many I have.” You weren’t sure if the teasing, flirtatious sound of your voice was purposeful or not, but just hearing yourself made the tips of your ears flush. “Five types… Nine piercings total. I bet you beat me on that, hm?”

“Tch, that’s fucking nothing, you little punk poser. I have nine types, thirteen total.” Bakugou shoved his hands into the pockets of his loose shorts, pulling the fabric down just enough to show the skin of his left hip and a peak of his boxers. One of the stated piercings gleamed in the light once exposed, and it took all your willpower to not hyper focus on it. “Not like you’ll ever know them all or see them.”

“I bet I could guess.” “You’d fucking fail, moron-”

“A-ah, let’s not!” Midoriya interrupted, giving a nervous laugh and a wave of his hand to pull your attention off Bakugou. “We’re not here to talk about such personal things, you know! Right, Kacchan?”

“I don’t give a fuck,” Bakugou shifted his weight from his right foot to his left, giving an annoyed click of his tongue. “I’m not in the mood for this bullshit.”

“Why?” You once again spoke without thinking. “Because you missed your cue during Collide?” The accusation immediately had Bakugou’s eyes widening in surprise before he scoffed, glaring crimson daggers at you.

“Well aren’t you just a fucking super fan.”

“I try to be.” Although you knew that he wasn’t kind to you, the fact that he noticed your extreme interest in the band made your cheeks flush, looking down at the ground between your black combat boots. The t-shirt you had paired with your skirt was your favorite that you owned of the bands merchandise, and just seeing it as you gaze down over your chest made your stomach bubble nervously. Was it really that obvious? Was it weird to him? Did he like it?

“Ah, well, anyway!” Your friend piped in again, taking a step closer to Midoriya with a sparkle in her eyes. “Deku! Please, tell us about your girlfriend!”

Midoriya instantly went into his flustered state of rubbing the back of his head, his stuttering and embarrassed gibberish cracking with his exhausted voice, leaving you once again off to the sidelines. With a small, quiet sigh, you fiddled with the hem of your skirt, more questions burning on the tip of your tongue. In your down casted vision, you saw Bakugou’s feet shift, and there wasn’t a second thought in your mind about looking up at him. Your gaze immediately locked with his, which was still a dark and threatening glare.

Your heart instantly skipped a beat, the heat in your cheeks growing hotter. Had he already been looking at you? Why was he glaring so intensely? You didn’t think that he would get upset with the mention of his mistake that you had pointed out, but perhaps he had gotten embarrassed? In truth, you hadn’t meant your statement to be argumentative in any way. You were more concerned about him. Messing up during a performance was a big deal, and though most people might not have noticed, you were curious if it was eating at him or if he just doesn’t care.

Then, he made a move that you didn’t expect. With a quiet click of his tongue, he began to make his way out of the room, only stopping at the door when Kirishima spoke up.

“Woah, man, where are you going?” The redhead interrupted Midoriya, who also looked at Bakugou curiously.

“I work a lot harder than all of you assholes during a show! I’m sick of fucking standing around, and these losers aren’t even interesting. I’ll be in my room.” Before anyone could stop him, the door slammed shut with his exit, and you turned your attention to Midoriya as he sighed.

“A-aha, I’m sorry about Kacchan! He’s uh… he doesn’t like meetups much.”

“That’s a shame…” You mumbled under your breath, already missing his presence. You could still feel that glare on you, so threatening and dangerous. This had been your chance to really make yourself stand out from the crowd and show him how genuinely interested you were in him, and you wasted it. You cared about him more than these other women that fawned over him like brainless zombies. You were perfect for him. You knew you were, without a doubt, and you wanted him.

It was true that the rest of the band members were close to your heart, that you admired all of them as your heroes. But Bakugou… You had just ruined your chance to talk with him and get to know him.

There wasn’t anything else you could do.

“Is there a bathroom I can use?” Your question once again popped out of your mouth during the middle of a conversation, though instead of stopping it, Kirishima smiled at you sweetly. His kind face and gentle touch to your arm to lead you away from the group so he could talk to you had your heart racing, almost too scared to take a step in fear that you’d trip with how distracted you were by his face.

“Yeah, babe. Go left down the hall, you’ll see it marked. Don’t get yourself into trouble, m’kay?”

B-babe? Aahh, why would he call me that? He’s too sweet for his own good. Cheeks flushing, you gave a small nod, thanking him quietly before heading out of the room, taking a final quick glance at the group behind you to catch Kirishima giving you a playful wave. Of course, by the time you stepped outside into the hallway, Bakugou had already vanished. Using what you had remembered of the route to get to this room from backstage, you hadn’t seen anything that was labeled as a changing room for any of the men. So, you went left down the hall as you had originally been instructed, glancing at each door you passed to see if there were any names scribbled on the dry erase board many of them sported.

Your heart nearly stopped when you finally saw it. Bakugou Katsuki, written in red marker with a shitty doodle of what looked to be a hand holding up the middle finger, along with the words “fuck off”. Before going in, you took a moment to press your ear up against the door, listening closely to see if there were any signs of life. There wasn’t a single sound or hint of movement, so gathering your courage and glancing up and down the hall for danger, you took hold of the doorknob, your heart beginning to race as it moved without resistance.

With a quiet click, the door opened, not making another sound as you cracked it just enough to look inside. The lights were on, and your suspicions that he hadn’t been inside were confirmed. Feeling a bit discouraged, you considered just going back to the room to finish off your time with the rest of the band. That would probably be enough to satisfy your longing for them, right? The others could be great company, and maybe Bakugou would come back before you left.

But, deep in your chest, you could feel the need to be with Bakugou alone to talk to him one on one. You wanted his attention more than anything, and you knew that there wasn’t going to be another chance for you to see him this close again any time soon. No, you couldn’t run away. You had already come too far to back out now. What’s the worst he could do? Kick you out? Call security to have you removed? Call you names? Press you up against the wall and threaten you?

Ah, well, maybe that wasn’t all that bad. You’d probably melt in his hands and collapse on the floor in a blushing puddle of tears if he so much as touched you.

Gathering your resolve, you pushed yourself on into the room, walking lightly and glancing this way and that to make sure he wasn’t just laying on some furniture or something to take a nap. Feeling confident that he wasn’t in the room, you shut the door behind you with a light click, taking a few timid steps into the room. Almost instantly, you were completely engulfed by the scent of his body spray, which you had only been faintly able to pick up while in the group. It was such a powerful scent, bold and intense, just like him. How quickly just the simple scent of him made your core burning hot was a bit staggering, feeling your knees already growing weak and your chest growing tight.

This is harder than I thought… Just from smelling him like this I feel like I’m going crazy. And he’s not even in here! I should leave before I get too distracted… But… This is his stuff!

Beginning to feel a bit overwhelmed being in the presence of Bakugou’s possessions, your teary gaze scanned the room methodically, surprised to see that the room was actually very well kept. With his brash personality, you more expected Bakugou’s personal space to be a wreck, but the only thing that was really out of place was a small pile of clothes tossed aside next to a suitcase. A desire to be close to Bakugou driving you, there wasn’t a moment of hesitation as you made your way towards it, squatting down. Right on top was the tank top he had just been wearing, still soaked with his sweat. It was the most recent thing that had touched his body. It still had his essence all over it. How could you just leave it there?

Picking it up, you brought the shirt up to your nose, inhaling deeply. It was absolutely delicious, your body quivering from the excitement and adrenaline beginning to pump through your veins. You were actually holding one of Bakugou’s sweaty shirts in your hands, one that he had just performed in! This was absolutely real. It wasn’t a dream!

Becoming overwhelmed with your feelings for him, you flopped back to sit on your butt, spreading your legs open. Since you were wearing fishnet hose with decently large holes, you had direct access to your already soaked pussy, the little lace thong easily moved aside. Now, all that existed to you was the scent wafting off his shirt and your fingers eagerly stroking your sex, alternating between stroking your clit and digging two of your fingers inside you. The cloth of the t-shirt pressed up against your lips and nose, you panted and moaned softly against it, imagining that you were right up against his chest, his fingers teasing your cunt.

You were so engrossed in your fantasy that you could even hear him taunting you, that deep growl of his voice in your ear.

“That’s right, babygirl. You like when I finger that slutty pussy, don’t you?”

“You’re so fucking wet, you little whore. Dripping all for me.”

“Getting horny just from the smell on my clothes? You dirty fuck.”

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

The sudden rattling boom of a familiar yell startled you out of your pleasant daydream, turning your moan into a squeal as you nearly jumped out of your skin. Spinning around, you were met with the wide-eyed shocked crimson glare of your dream man, who was standing halfway in the room, as if he had stopped in his tracks upon seeing you. All you could do was sit there in shock, still holding his shirt up to your face as your other hand tried to pull your skirt down between your legs, as if to hide your sin.

“I,” Stuttering, you tried to gather yourself, clenching your thighs together tightly. “I, uhm, Bakugou, it’s not- How’d you… get in?”

His shocked expression contorted into one of confusion, then into annoyance, his brows furrowed deeply as he startled at you. “Are you fucking kidding me? You didn’t lock the door, ya dumb cunt.” Walking the rest of the way inside, he slammed the door shut loudly behind him, startling you again enough to scurry back against the wall, your knees pulled up to your chest protectively. “What the fuck are you even questioning me for? You’re the horny bitch sitting on my floor sniffing my fucking clothes and touching yourself.” Without having to look back at the doorknob, Bakugou gave the little lock a twist, setting the latch firmly in place.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you could only stare at him, your eyes captivated by that fierce glare. How hot he made you only intensified now that he was back in your presence, and more than that, the asshole was even shirtless. His flawless muscular figure made your mouth feel dry, as if any and all liquid your body could produce was pooling between your legs. It was everything you could do not to start touching yourself again, clutching onto his shirt with both hands tightly. “I… I’m sorry. I just… I-”

“You’re just a damn psycho fan, aren’t ya?” Reaching up to give his hair a quick ruffle, Bakugou started making his way towards you, his ruined and ragged skater shoes squeaking against the smooth wooden floor. “I’m surprised you didn’t rip your shirt off during the fucking concert and throw your bra on stage.”

“I’m not stupid like those girls… I have dignity. And I don’t want a bunch of other people seeing my tits anyway.” Your voice lowered down to a meek whisper by the time he stood in front of you, both of his hands on his hips, as if he were about to scold you like an angry parent. With him so close, your eyes glanced over every inch of his bare torso, drinking in how absolutely flawless he was. What was even more enticing was the piercings he had so proudly boasted about not long ago, a pair of them placed on his collarbones, nipples, and hips.

“Tch, dignity?” Bakugou scoffed, a sly smirk crossing his lips. “‘Dignity’, the little slut says, as she sits on the floor in my dressing room fucking herself to the stench on my shirt. Pathetic.”

“What are… Are you going to kick me out?”

“There’s a lot that I could do to you,” Bakugou’s smirk turned wicked, his lips curling up to show his gums. “But how about you tell me what the fuck you were doing in here?”

“I just… I really wanted to get an autograph or picture with you. You’re my,” Your breath caught in your throat, not wanting to let it slip that he was your absolute dream man. “You’re my favorite band member.”

“Then what are you doing with my clothes?”

An intense burning suddenly rushed to your cheeks with a new round of embarrassment, and with it came the stinging sensation of tears building up in your eyes. What had you been doing? You had just wanted to talk to him more, to get to know him better, and just spend time with your hero. And yet, you had let yourself get completely overwhelmed by a burning desire for him, one that was just too strong to ignore in the moment of solitude with his possessions. You knew that you had a very intense crush on him, but that bad and that… gross? You had told yourself over and over that you weren’t like the desperate women who would do anything filthy to get his attention, yet here you were, sniffing his clothes and touching yourself.

“I… I don’t know what I was doing.” Your voice quivered as you avoided looking at him, trying to blink the tears away. “That was really gross of me. I had just… wanted to see you in private. I wasn’t getting a chance to talk to you, to any of you, and… I just wanted my chance.”

“You wanted your chance, eh?” Bakugou brought a hand up to his chin, rubbing it as if he were in thought, contemplating his options. “So much that you’d sneak into my room, to wait for me or try to corner me?”

Swallowing the lump that had grown in your throat, you coward down back against the wall, wishing that you could just shrink away in shame. Your impulses had completely ruined your chances. He had to think you were a total freak by now, he’d never want to even give you the time of day.

“Ya know,” Bakugou crossed his arms over his chest, taking a half step closer to you. His posture and presence over you was so aggressive and domineering that you couldn’t find it in yourself to move, only pulling your legs up tighter to your chest to try and get further away from him. “You talk all big, saying that you’re not like those other extras out there that’ll drop their pants in seconds for me. That you have ‘dignity’. But I don’t think that’s true. I think you’re just like those other sluts out there, a stupid whore that is driven by nothing but her cunt.”

You gave a small shake of your head, trying to ignore the throbbing between your legs and the swirling in your stomach from how he was treating you. You couldn’t believe it was turning you on so much. “No, I… That isn’t what I wanted.”

“I think it is. You’re disgusting. Nothing but a filthy super fan and a stalker. Why don’t you just admit it?”

“Because… It’s not true. I love you, but not… It’s not all like that.”

“If you loved me, you’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you?” The change in tone caught you off guard, his voice no longer accusatory and vicious. Instead, his growl was almost soothing, as if he were trying to calm your frantic thoughts of failure. “You’d do anything to stay in the same room as me. To just be able to fucking look at me or get a shitty autograph, hm?”

“I would… yes.” Your heart racing, you tried to blink away the tears still prickling in your eyes, but they were persistent. “But if you want me to leave, I’ll… do that, too. I shouldn’t have come here like this in the first place…”

“You regret it?” Bakugou moved his hands back to his hips, his fingers resting against the pristine shape of his hips with such rugged and confident posture. You were so conflicted on your feelings, and that question only made your throat grow tight. Did you regret it? All your actions up to this point had gotten you here, alone in his room with him, and no matter what the interaction was or may end up being, just getting to be here was a dream come true.

But what would you do? Would you really do anything he asked of you? Anything? In truth, you didn’t think that you had the courage and you would just annoy him until he kicked you out. What would he even want from you in the first place? You weren’t innocent enough to not have noticed the bulge beneath the zipper of his shorts, pressing up into the fabric. Was this entire situation, having you cowering on the floor in front of him like this, actually turning him on? Did he… like you, then? Was he attracted to you?

“I asked you a question.” Bakugou snapped when you didn’t answer him, leaning forward a bit to glower down at you with that typical snarl.

“I don’t… I don’t regret it. I just don’t want to upset you.”

“Aw, don’t want to upset me, eh?” With a click of his tongue, Bakugou’s snarl stretched into a smirk. “Poor little stalker, scared to upset me. Don’t worry, babygirl. Just do what I ask, and you won’t upset me.”

“Really? You’re not upset?”

“Not at all, babe. But you have to do what I say. You’ll do anything for me, won’t you?” The condescending growl of his voice was lost to you, only able to latch on to the pet names and hope of getting back on his good side.

“Yes.”

“Because you’re not like those other girls. You're my number one fan. Aren’t you?”

A new burning of heat and tears flared up, unable to stop the happy smile on your lips. “Yes. Yes! I am! I love you so much-”

“Get on your knees.”

Smile faltering, you were confused by the demand, looking up at Bakugou through your gathered tears. “What?”

“Get on your fucking knees.” Bakugou snapped again, the gleam in his glare almost… sinister. Still, there was something in you that begged for you to comply, and just like your impulses earlier, you couldn’t ignore it. Squeezing the fabric of his shirt tightly in your hands, you slowly shifted yourself up onto your knees as demanded, though the space between him and the wall was limited. Worried about your face being too close to his crotch, you sat back mostly on your legs, but he was quick to correct you.

“All the way up on your knees.”

Nibbling at your bottom lip, you pushed yourself up to be kneeling, your eyes glancing and looking everywhere but at the crotch of his baggy blank punk shorts, which reached his knees and ended in tattered fabric. The chains on both hips rattled lightly as he shifted his weight to his other foot, and that slight sound pulled your eyes to look at them, and thus at his crotch. At this angle, you could truly see how strained he was, the form of his cock clearly visible. The heat in your cheeks grew fiercer just thinking about what was just a few inches from your nose, and what was worse, the smell of him was overwhelming all your senses. He must have just recently reapplied his spray after sweating like mad for hours on end, but even his natural scent was enticing.

“What are you looking at, babe?”

Bakugou’s voice broke you out of your stupor, bringing you to look up at his face. “Nothing… Just, well…” Your voice tapered off, unable to find it within you to ask him. He obviously had a boner, but what the hell did that mean?

“Open your mouth. Keep those pretty eyes on my face.” His commands had grown softer, as if he were purring at you to keep you compliant. Opening your mouth as told, you peered up at him through your lashes, tilting your head back a little. The way his smirk grew had your skin tingling, but that isn’t what had all your attention. Your focus was on his hips, listening to the rustling of fabric and watching the movement of his arms through your peripheral vision. “Good girl. Now stick out your tongue. And don’t move.”

Slowly, your tongue lolled out, and the low groan he gave in satisfaction of your obedience had you opening your mouth wider. As you sat there waiting for him, you could feel the saliva beginning to dribble down your chin and along the length of your tongue, gathering in a slick pool before dripping off the tip of your tongue to the floor.

Suddenly, you felt a hard and hot presence slap against your tongue, making you squeak and recoil back. Though, before you could get far, your hair was in Bakugou’s fist, yanking you back up into position and peering up at him in shocked fear. He was visibly agitated, but his smirk was still wide, teeth bared.

“What do you think you’re doing, slut? I said don’t move. You told me you’d do anything I say.”

Trembling now, you pulled your gaze from his to look at his hips, pressing your lips together tightly as you gazed upon his erect cock. As he held it steady with his free hand, you couldn’t help but take in every detail, from the girth and length, the prominent veins and ridges, and the frenum barbell piercing nestled just under the blushing head. It was truly the most attractive cock you had ever seen in your life, and a fire began to rage in your core as you realized that was what had just hit your tongue.

Bakugou’s cock… He… He wants me to suck him off? What if I’m not good enough… I shouldn’t!

You could feel the heat of your essence beginning to dribble down your thighs, your poor excuse for underwear and hose completely soaked through. You could feel the throbbing all the way into your stomach, and it was impossible to deny that you were the horniest you had ever been. But this isn’t what you had expected or wanted to do. Was it?

“That’s what you said, isn’t it?” Bakugou pulled your head a bit closer, giving you a few rough smacks to the cheek with his impressive cock. “You would do anything for me.” With your lips still tightly closed, he ran the tip of his cock across them, smearing his precum along your skin. “So be a good girl and give my cock a little kiss. Be sweet, now.”

Although the demand was embarrassing, the pressure of his grip on your hair and his cock literally at your lips made you feel like you truly didn’t have a choice. He was in control of all of this. He could do anything he wanted. He could get you arrested, even. You had to do what he said, not only for your own benefit, but because you adored him. So, you placed a tender kiss right beneath the head, your eyes fluttering closed. Abandoning the t-shirt in your hands, you reached up to softly caress his cock, using your grip to move it up to give you more access to the underside. Your kisses were quite timid at first, but as one lingered against the underside of his shaft, the pulsing you could feel against your lips made your body ache.

Eventually, your kisses became more passionate, even giving light suckles and little kitten licks, teasing the piercing and the sensitive head. Hearing him groan with the attention pulled your eyes up to look at him, a bit surprised to see that his cheeks were quite flushed, and his smirk had faded. Was he really enjoying this?

Bracing himself against the wall with his free hand, Bakugou only further crushed you with his overwhelming presence and dominance, making you pause in worry. “Good girl. Now open your fucking mouth.”

The instant your lips parted wide enough, Bakugou simultaneously pulled your head and pressed his hips forward, shoving his cock into your mouth, the tip stopping at the back of your tongue. Squeaking and groaning in surprise of the forced entry, you clutched on tightly to his thighs, only just having noticed that his shorts had fallen around his feet. His boxers had simply been pushed down out of the way, but the elastic kept them up on his hips for now. You were unable to move, his grip on your hair too tight to pull back. He didn’t want you to do the work?

“That’s it, baby. Keep that mouth nice and open for my cock. You don’t gag easily do you?” You could hear the feigned concern in the question, and the only answer you could give is a furrow of your brow, new tears prickling in the corners of your eyes. “Oh well. Guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

It was then that Bakugou began to thrust his hips, fucking your mouth slow and shallow. You were actually surprised that he started out so cautious, but you could tell that the pleasure was beginning to grow quickly. “Fuck babe, you’re such a good little slut for me.” Ever so slightly, he began to thrust faster and deeper, until the tip of his cock was hitting against the back of your throat. You were lucky that you didn’t have a strong gag reflex, as you knew that anyone who did would have already puked all over him. But you could take it. You could take it for him, to let him have his way with you just to stay with him a little longer.

Though, you were finding that it was difficult, breathing in through your nose and trying to distract yourself from the burning in your jaw. Each thrust had your nose touching his pelvis and his balls slapping against your chin, which was coated in drool that dripped freely. It was so difficult to handle him, in fact, that you couldn’t stop the tears from running down your cheeks, only further displacing your already ruined makeup from crying earlier. You were a mess already, but the fire within you didn’t falter. If not for needing to grip onto his thighs to keep you balanced, you would be touching yourself again, the craving for your own pleasure just as suffocating as the dick in your throat.

Still, your struggles were worth it. You got to watch Bakugou’s expression, his brow no longer furrowed in anger but in pleasure, his eyes glazed over with the undying need for release. His face was flushed and sweat was already beginning to drip down along his skin, his body still affected by the intense performance he hadn’t finished not even an hour ago. The way his body moved, muscles tensing and rolling beneath your grip on his thighs. He was so gorgeous.

You had expected him to finish in your mouth, but after some time of fucking your throat raw, he stopped, holding the back of your head as he dug his cock as deep in as he could. You groaned and whined from the pressure, wishing desperately for relief while pushing on his thighs. With his own groan and hiss of pleasure, Bakugou pulled out of your mouth slowly, his smirk returning as he took in the sight of you. “You should see yourself. Filthy. Keep your tongue out.” When he finally removed himself completely, you took in a deep breath, gasping and panting to try and recover from the brutality you had to endure. Your tongue, however, stayed out as he demanded, allowing him to rub the underside of his tip against it.

“You’re fuckin’ hot, you know that? So fucking sexy. I bet you have a nice tight little pussy, too.” After a few rough slaps of his cock against your tongue, he took a step back, stepping out of his shorts as he did so as well as his shoes, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. “Stand the fuck up.”

Swallowing hard, you took the moment of getting to your feet to wipe your chin of the mess of liquids, but you didn’t get much time to steady yourself. Snatched by the arm, Bakugou dragged you over a few feet towards the couch, grabbing you once again by the hair and forcing you down over the armrest. The couch was quite tall, so with your upper body pressed into the cushions and your hips snuggly in place against the armrest, you could barely touch the floor with your tiptoes. It was another uncomfortable position, but you ignored the pressure on your belly as your ass was suddenly exposed to the cold air of the room, your skirt flipped up out of the way.

“Fuck you have a nice ass.” Gripping your backside with both hands firmly, Bakugou squeezed and spread you open, taking in the pleasant view. “What a fucking punk poser you are with these shitty fishnets. They don’t even do shit.” Digging his fingers into the holes along your crotch, he gave a rough yank, ripping the fabric open to give him easy access. “Holy fucking shit, you should see how wet you are, babygirl.”

You whimpered at the feeling of his thumb stroking along your sex, the slick that coated your skin giving him no resistance. You could feel it, all over your inner thighs and aching cunt, but now your favorite person in the entire world could see it, too. He could see how wet he made you, how getting tossed around by him made you feel.

I… I didn’t agree to all of this. I know it isn’t right. I didn’t want it to go this far, but… How can I stop him? Why would I stop him? He’s… I love him so much! I want him to touch me, even though I know I shouldn’t--

Your thoughts were cut off by your own gasp, your body tensing and legs bending at the knee involuntarily at the sudden pleasure that rocked through your body. You knew what it was, his tongue hot and eager against your clit as he ate you out. The sounds of him lapping at your cunt and grunting in delight at the taste of you had your mind spinning, the pleasure devouring your body. Not wanting to be heard by anyone outside, you moaned and gasped into the fabric of the couch cushion, digging your nails into it as you did everything you could to not writhe out of his grip.

You were so sensitive to his touch that you could feel everything, from his nails digging into your hips to the way his tongue piercing slid across your clit. It was as if he knew exactly how to use it to be able to drive you completely insane, the hard metal sending shocks of lightning through your body with each stroke and flick.

“Ba-Bakugou, ahh-!” You tugged and pulled at the couch cushion in your grip, digging the toes of your boots into the floor. “It’s too much! Wait--!”

“Too much? Don’t be such a fucking wimp. You’re my little slut, aren’t you? You can take anything I give you.” As he stood back up, you looked up at him over your shoulder, having to peek through your messy hair to see him. That wicked and excited smirk was back, and you were only able to watch as he gripped your ass in his hands, sliding his cock between your cheeks to coat himself in your essence. “And I know what you want me to give to you. You want my dick inside you, babygirl?”

Immediately, you stomach rolled nervously, eyes on the tip of his cock and the precum dribbling from it. You were on birth control, there wasn’t necessarily anything risky about that, but there was something else that pricked at the back of your mind. If you did this with him, then you knew that you could never settle for another man. You would want him forever, as you always had, but would you ever get a chance like this again? Would you ever even see him again after today?

It doesn’t matter… I’ll do it!

“Yes! Yes, Bakugou, I want you.” You were surprised as he leaned away from you for a moment, though what he was doing was quickly made clear as he came back into full view with a drumstick. The way that it was beaten and chipped told you that it was one he had used that performance, and the other was probably close by, set to be discarded or handed out to fans.

“And why do you want me?” Bakugou dug the stick into your hose, giving a sharp yank to further rip the delicate fabric and expose more of your ass to him fully. “Just because I’m your favorite of the band?”

“No!” You couldn’t help but become defensive. “I… I care about you more than that!” You bit down onto your bottom lip as he began to run the tip of the stick across your skin towards your cunt, mind racing with thoughts of what he was going to do with it. You could still feel and see his cock between your cheeks, hot and pulsing, and you were honestly surprised that he could hold out to tease you this long. Just seeing you like this, bent over and so submissive, was enough to keep him going long enough to torture you a bit.

“You love me? Even though I’ve slapped you, pulled your hair, and fucked your throat until you went hoarse? Even though I have your ass bent over the couch and haven’t given you any more than a few minutes of pleasure?” Suddenly, he brought the stick down hard onto your ass, making you yelp out and tremble beneath him. The pain was so good! You wanted that again, and you received it without having to ask, a moan slipping from your lips.

“Yes! I’ll love you no matter what you do to me! Always! I love it when you throw me around and use me like this! Please, use me more! I’m your little slut, Bakugou--” You were silenced as he leaned over you, his palm pressing into the side of your face and pushing the hair roughly away from obscuring your flushed and teary features. Now with your full attention, Bakugou smirked, narrowing his eyes at you.

“No, no, my pet. Call me by my name.”

The heat that rushed to your face made even his burning palms feel cool, trying to blink the tears away as they rushed down the side of your nose to soak into the couch. Was he being serious? He wanted you to call him by name… by his first name. Something that he never allowed anyone but those close to him to do, and you had seen him on more than one occasion snap at people when they did it. He was huge on respect and feeling dominant over others, so to him, his given name was sacred.

“Ka… Katsuki…” You couldn’t speak any louder than an airy whisper, though his reaction was enough to tell you that he enjoyed it. Smirk growing, Bakugou sat up from over your back, his fingers curling into your ruined hair as he began to rut his hips against you. His cock stroked slowly against your ass, his tip teasingly pressing into your cunt before slipping up back between your cheeks.

“Again.” The drumstick still in his free hand, he brought it down hard onto the already abused and welted cheek, right as your voice had begun to leave your lips.

“Ka-ah! Katsuki!” With another whack, your body instinctively tried to shift away from him, though all it did was off set his cock. His tip slipped into you, making you pause, both from the feeling and from the irritated growl that left his chest.

“What a naughty little bitch, trying to get me to fuck you before I say so.”

“N-no, it was just--”

“-- Well if you want it so fucking bad, I’ll give it to you!” Abandoning your hair and the drumstick, he gripped your hips tightly in both hands, sinking his cock into you with one quick snap of his hips. “I’ll show you who fucking owns you!”

You didn’t have time to think or respond as he began to fuck you, fast and hard. Already, the pleasure was overwhelming, rolling through your body like electricity. It was perfect, everything you had ever imagined and more. The way he filled you up to the absolute brim, not leaving a single inch of you untouched, had the coil in your core tightening so quickly that you couldn’t even think about how to restrain it. You were going to cum very quickly, and you had never wanted to so badly in your life.

“How does my cock feel inside you, slut?”

“G-good,” You struggled to choke out a response behind your moans, which squeaked with surprise as he picked up the pace. “It feels good!”

“You want to cum all over it, don’t you?”

“Yes!”

“Beg for it.”

At first, you couldn’t even comprehend what he was asking you, your mind growing hazy to everything but the pleasure. “I… please!” You reached back, clutching onto his hand tightly, digging your nails into his skin in hopes that it would keep him latched to you. “Please! Please let me cum, Katsuki! I want to cum all over your cock! I love it!”

When the pleasure stopped, all you could do was sit there in shock, the emptiness you felt as he pulled out of you making your stomach sink. Had you said the wrong thing? Before you could really ask him, you were grabbed by the elbows and lifted up off the couch, your body flipped so you were sitting on the armrest with your legs now loosely hooked around his hips. In the next moment, his strong arms were around your body, one hooked around your hips to pull them snug against his own while the other supported your upper body. What shocked you more than that was the fierceness of his lips against yours, kissing you with intense passion and aggressiveness that you couldn’t help but to give in.

Wrapping your arms around his torso, you moaned and gasped softly into the kiss, his hips once again rutting against yours to stroke his length against your clit. For a moment, things seemed to feel different than they had during this entire experience. It wasn’t as if he were using you anymore, doing everything entirely for his own benefit. Instead, his touch was attentive, caressing you and moving your body into position without force. Even the way he kissed you was quick to change, from dominating your mouth to a more tender sweetness. You didn’t ever want it to end, but you allowed it when he pulled away, gazing up into his piercing crimson gaze as he pressed his forehead against yours.

“I want to see that pretty face when you cum.” The growl against your lips was teetering on threatening, as if he were warning you to not even think about turning away or hiding your face in his shoulder. “I want to see how good my cock makes you feel, baby. So cum all over it like a good girl.” As he began to sink his cock into you slowly, you couldn’t control your reactions to it, Your eyes rolling back and fluttering closed as he bottomed out inside you, even biting down onto your bottom lip as you whined.

“Yes, Katsuki--” Your voice hitched as he began to thrust into you again, his cock reaching even deeper inside you that it had been before. “--Please watch my face… See how happy you make me!”

“That’s right, you slut. That’s because you belong to me, don’t you? You’d do anything for me.” As he fucked you, he relied on your grip on him to keep you up, both of his hands moving to grip your hips again. As the pleasure began to boil, you dug your nails into his back, your voice spiking as he became rougher with the added pain.

“Yes! Yes, anything! I’ll be your little slut forever, Katsuki! Just please don’t stop!” It was impossible to tear your eyes away from his even if you wanted to, but it was more than just the fact that they were intoxicating. He may have wanted to watch your face for the visual expressions of pleasure, but he didn’t realize that his demand to keep your eyes on him gave away more than he probably had expected to. There was no anger or frustration that you had seen before. Instead, he seemed absolutely overwhelmed with the pleasure himself, just as you were, and the flushing of his cheeks paired with his upwards furrowed brow gave him almost a… desperate look. Like he was pushing himself to make sure he was fucking you as well as he possibly could.

Was he feeling some self-consciousness about all of this, too? Or regret for pushing you to this, unwillingly at first? You didn’t know, and you knew in the end he wouldn’t tell you if you asked.

“Fucking hell, babygirl, your pussy is so fucking tight,” Bakugou pressed his forehead against yours again, wrapping his arms back around your waist to hold you closer, both to the edge of the armrest and his body. “You’re the best fuck I’ve had in months. I hope you’re ready for my cum all over that pretty face--”

“No!” You moved your arms to wrap around his neck instead, one hand pressing against the back of his head with fingers tangled in his hair. “Come inside me! Please, Katsuki, I want you to fill me up! It’s okay--” Your voice cracked with a cry of pleasure, your encouragement pushing him to fuck you harder and deeper.

“Then cum for me, bitch. Cum all over my cock.”

With that command, you couldn’t hold the coil still any longer. It shattered with his movements inside you, each rough hit of his tip against your cervix only prolonging your orgasm and sending wave after wave of harsh pleasure through your body. Trembling, you squeezed onto him tightly, clutching a fist full of his hair and kissing him roughly, moaning and sighing softly into the kiss as he didn’t give you a moment to breathe. Within moments after your climax, his thrusts became slower and erratic, before he was finally able to release.

Groaning and cursing against your lips, Bakugou kept his gaze locked with yours, not giving you any room to move or pull back as he came inside you. How hot it was coating your walls made you shiver, squeezing his hips with your thighs and pulling yourself in closer. It was an incredible high, and as you both came down from it together, you both loosened your grip on each other.

For a moment, you stayed connected, your head on his shoulder with your forehead pressed against his neck, able to feel his pulse against your skin and his chest heaving against yours. Had all of this really just happened? You were pressed up against your crush, his arms wrapped around you with one large hand stroking up and down your back softly. It was so strange compared to his aggressive demeanor just moments before. You knew that it should have made you happy, but instead, all it did was confuse you, and you felt a new wave of tears rush down your flushed cheeks.

Able to feel your tears run down his chest, Bakugou gave a click of his tongue, prying you off him with little pressure. In the same moment, he slipped his semi flaccid dick from within your still aching cunt, pulling his boxers back into place to cover himself. “Fucking crying again? Seriously?”

Steadying yourself on the armrest with your hands, you kept your gaze downcast, squeezing your legs together as you could feel his cum beginning to leak out. “I’m sorry, Bakugou, I just--”

“--Katsuki!”

His loud correction made you jump, looking up at his face in shock as he glowered down at you. His cheeks were still flushed red, but you were unsure if it was from the exertion of what you had just done or from something else. Reaching over, Bakugou wiped your cheeks roughly with his thumbs, before giving you a bump to the bottom of your chin, as if telling you to cheer up. “I already fucking told you, psycho fan. Katsuki.”

“Right. I… should I leave now?”

Unsure of what to do with yourself, you stared up at Bakugou expectantly, fiddling with the hem of your skirt. With another click of his tongue, Bakugou bent over and snatched the forgotten drum stick up off the floor, taking a few steps away towards the vanity that was neatly organized with what you assumed he wore during a performance. Picking up what looked like a marker, Bakugou wrote something on the thick end of the drumstick, before presenting it to you. “Here.”

Feeling your throat begin to close up as nerves began to take hold of you, it took you a moment to even find the courage to look at the stick, scared of what he might have written on it. Of course, it was probably just his autograph, which he had promised you at the beginning of all this. There wasn’t much time to look at it, though, before Bakugou huffed, shoving it against your chest and forcing you to grab it. “Take the damn thing!”

Body still feeling quite weak, you squeaked as you fell backwards onto the couch from his push, clutching the drumstick tightly. You could see the tips of Bakugou’s ears flush as he scoffed, pointing towards the door that led out into the hallway. It was… cute.

“Will you get out! Fuck, you’ve wasted enough of my time for now, go back to your friends!”

For now…?

Sitting up, you took a moment to fix your hair and wipe your face again, using the edge of your shirt to help you. “Do I look clean enough?”

“You look just as fucking hot as you did when I first walked in. Now you better fucking leave, and I expect you to do what I say.” Walking over towards his pile of laundry, Bakugou picked up the shirt he had caught you with, tossing it at you and hitting you in the face. “And take that shit with you! You like it so much; you can have it.”

Clutching both of your new prized possessions close to your chest, you hopped up like an excited child, smiling wide and squealing as you hopped towards the door. “Aahh, thank you, Katsuki! Thank you! I’m… sorry again for intruding…”

“Yeah, and I’m sorry for the welts on your ass. Now fuck off!” Bakugou barked again, trying to rush you out for whatever reason. Stepping outside, you couldn’t help but take a moment to lean back against the wall when the door shut, breathing heavily and blushing fiercely. In truth, you weren’t sure what to make of that entire endeavor, thrown into a confusing mix of shame, embarrassment, arousal, and longing. You shouldn’t have done that, and yet, you just didn’t want to leave his side.

“Got a little lost, didn’t ya, babe?”

The squeal that left your lips was quickly doused by the t-shirt in your hand, jumping and nearly slamming yourself back against the wall in shock of the unexpected voice. Standing across the hall was Kirishima, whose presence you were surprised you didn’t notice immediately. The mischievous smirk on his lips quickly widened into a pleasant grin, uncrossing his arms and pushing himself off the wall to stand up straight. Had he been waiting for you to come out?

“You skipped the bathroom, you know! It’s down that way. I decided to come look for you before we were forced to call security guards, but I guess Bakugou found you first.”

“A-ah, sorry! I… saw him go in his room and I just wanted an autograph.” Holding your treasures close to your chest, your stomach rolled nervously as Kirishima leaned in closer, his eyes locked on the visible part of the drumstick.

“Aahh, I get it! Bakugou can be kind of a jerk, I’m surprised! But uh… if you want to convince anyone else that you were just getting an autograph, you should really go to the bathroom. I’m sure Bakugou didn’t give you a mirror, but you look like you had a real good time.” You could hear the tone in his voice lower from friendly to flirtatious, and you quickly tried to fix your hair.

“H-he told me I looked fine!”

“To him you probably do. May I?” Still grinning with a friendly disposition, you glanced at both of Kirishima’s hands as he held them up in an offering of help, before nodding timidly. He began to run his rough fingers through your hair, fixing it back into a state of normalcy with a tender touch that was so opposite to what you had just experienced with Bakugou. “You’re cute. I can see why he was so into you right away.”

“That isn’t… normal for him?” Your eyes glanced over Kirishima’s exposed muscular arms and sides, the deep cut in the arms of his tank showing all the way to his hips. You thought you saw his smile turn sly out of the corner of your eye, but you couldn’t be sure.

“Nah sweetheart. Bakugou might be a lot of things, but he doesn’t go for random chicks.” Seemingly satisfied, Kirishima also used his thumbs to wipe your cheeks and under your eyes. “Such a messy thing.”

“Thank you, Kirishima… I’m… I’m really sorry for causing you trouble.” Your heartbeat grew heavier as the redhead in front of you didn’t step back, towering over you just as the blonde had. “I’ll go to the restroom and then... Back to the group.”

With a chuckle, Kirishima nodded, tapping the end of the drumstick a few times. “You do that! I’ll meet you back there, just going to have a few words with our drummer. Careful with this stuff, yeah? Someone might just try to take it.”

“I will…”

“Go on, then, scoot.” With a nudge, you were pushed forward down the hall gently, only taking a moment to look back at the pleasant smiling man behind you. He was so different from Bakugou and yet they were the closest friends in the band. You knew that Bakugou was going to tell him everything, and you could only hope that it was going to end up a positive conversation. You hated the thought of Kirishima spending the rest of the VIP visit looking at you in disgust, or even the possibility of him putting you down in front of everyone.

Flustered, you scurried down the hall into the bathroom, slipping into a stall. After pushing down what was left of your hoes and your drenched thong, you plopped to sit, relieving yourself as you held the t-shirt and drumstick close to your chest. Though, it dawned on you that you hadn’t even looked at what Bakugou had written on the stick, so growing curious, you held it with both hands and spun it slowly to look over every inch. The ridges, dents, and splints in the wood were marks of every beat Bakugou had played, a solid crack down the middle representing just how powerful he was.

In truth, you felt like that drumstick. You were always a splintered person, emotionally broken and splintered off from the world. And yet, Bakugou had touched you with his passion. But did that mean that you were truly broken now? Could you ever be used again by any other person, or would you snap into pieces the instant your heart tried to find its beat again?

Eyes tearing up, you tried to blink them away, carefully running your finger along the crack until it met with a smudge of black writing. Unlike what you expected, there was no autograph. Instead, the words “Call Me” were scribbled in the black ink, along with a series of numbers.

Is that… his cell phone number?! It’s different from what I had found… Those must have been fakes.

Reaching down into your boot, you pulled out your phone, having placed it there for safe keeping, though you were surprised it stayed in place the entire time in Bakugou’s room. Without an ounce of hesitation, you created his contact and started a message, sending it so quickly you didn’t even consider the consequences, though his words did ring in your ear loud enough to make you think he was right beside you.

“Now you better fucking leave, and I expect you to do what I say.”

He said to call him, but… texting is the same, right?

Me 10:45 pm: Katsuki?

Bakugou 10:47 pm: hey babygirl. ever been to an after party?

3K notes · View notes

smaidjor · 3 years ago

Text

and i pay for my place by the ring (Chapter 3)

Hey everyone and welcome to the third and likely final chapter of this saga! When I was writing this, I told my friends it might end up the shortest chapter.

Spoiler alert: it was not, in fact, the shortest chapter.

Anyways, thank you guys for sticking with me through this insane journey of angst writing! The story doesn't end here, but the fic does because I think I'm going to be switching how I write it a little bit. You'll see if I ever get the energy to write the continuation.

(Also, I've stopped putting AO3 links in the actual post because then it doesn't show up in the tag.)

Anyways, enjoy this chapter!

Chapter Title: to turn at last to paths that lead home

Chapter Wordcount: 4686

Content warnings: mentions of death, violence, blood, mild injury, religion, self-esteem issues. There is also something that could be considered similar to deadnaming, though the character is not necessarily trans, so read with caution if that could be triggering to you.

Actual fic under the cut:

That night, Scott dreams he’s a child again, playing amongst the peaks with Xornoth by his side. They laugh as they dart out of his reach, and he jumps over a rock to try and catch them.

“Too slow,” Xornoth snickers, and Scott glares at them.

“Someday I’ll be ten times as fast as you, and stronger too!”

They laugh again and tackle him into the grass, forceful enough to push him down but not enough to really hurt. “Alright, little bro.”

“You’re only older by seven minutes!”

“Seven minutes, more like seven times cooler than you!”

Scott reaches up and tickles them, grinning wickedly as they yelp and roll off him.

The scene shifts, and this time it’s a teenaged Xornoth laying on the hill beside him, staring up at the sky.

“Hey, Scott?”

“Yeah?”

“If anything ever happens to me-”

“It won’t,” Scott interrupts, heart in his throat. “Nothing’s going to happen to you.”

“It could-”

“No.”

They sigh. “Alright. But if it ever does, I need you to promise me one thing.”

“What is it?”

“I need you to promise that you’ll take care of Rivendell.”

Scott glares at them. “Rivendell hates me. Don’t ask-”

“Please. Scott, please just promise me this one thing.” Their face is deathly serious. “I don’t- nothing’s going to happen to me, but I need to know that Rivendell will be safe if anything does.”

"But-"

"Please, Scott. I know you would do brilliant at it, and I need the guarantee.

He sighs but ultimately gives in. “I wouldn't, but fine. I promise.”

Xornoth nods, seemingly satisfied. “You’re leaving tonight, right?”

“I am.”

“Then take this.” They roll over and press something into his hand. “You’ll need it.”

Scott looks down to see Vilya, the silver band gleaming in the sunlight. “Xor, you can’t give me this. This is-”

“I know perfectly well what it is, little bro.” He looks up to find them smiling sadly. “And I know you’ll need it. Now better wake up, your husband’s calling.”

“My wha-”

Scott’s plunged back into awareness to the sound of Jimmy calling his name.

“Scott? Please?” He sounds shaken, but it barely registers in Scott’s sleepy brain.

Scott rolls over and blinks his eyes open to see Jimmy watching him with concern. “Five more minutes, darling.”

“I think something’s wrong,” Jimmy says, urgent. “It feels wrong. Really wrong.”

That wakes Scott up, alright, the fear in his husband’s voice sending a spike of worry through him as he sits up. “What is it?”

“I don’t know. It’s alright, go back to sleep.”

“No, no, I trust your gut.” He trusts Jimmy more than anything else, really, which is why he gets up and out of bed. “Let’s go look, and if it’s nothing then I’ll sleep more, okay?”

Jimmy nods, hurrying after him. “I have a really terrible feeling, Scott. Be careful, please.”

“I should be telling that to you,” Scott teases.

“Hey, I’ve gotten more careful!”

Scott can’t help but laugh at how offended his husband sounds, but his mirth dies as quickly as it came. “You’re right, Jimmy. Something isn’t right.” It’s making the hairs on his arm stand up, a prickling unease similar to what he felt before the battle where Jimmy died.

“I know, it feels awful!”

“Mhm.” Scott grabs his favorite axe, glancing back at Jimmy one more time. “Stay behind me, just in case.”

He swings the door open. It takes a moment to spot what’s wrong, but once he does, his heart plummets; Xornoth is standing across the valley next to his enchanting tower, their face and body twisted with corruption but still unmistakably Scott’s sibling.

“That’s the demon!” Jimmy hisses. He sounds terrified, and Scott can’t blame him, much as it feels like a punch to the gut to know that his sibling is the one who’s been harassing his husband.

Scott grits his teeth. Protect Rivendell, that’s what he promised Xornoth all those years ago. “That?”

“Yes!”

“Right. Okay.” He takes a deep breath, trying to compose himself. “Jimmy, I need you to listen to exactly what I say right now. If I say get down, you get down. If I say run, you run and don’t look back no matter what you hear. Can you do that?”

Jimmy’s response comes a second later. “I trust you. If you say run, I’ll run.” The pure faith in the words is enough to make Scott’s throat close up for a moment, choked with sudden emotion at the level of trust Jimmy’s showing him even after everything that happened.

He shoves that feeling down. “Alright. Give me your engagement ring.”

“Wh-”

“Trust me. Please.” Scott’s nearly begging, voice cracking a bit on the last word. Jimmy must hear how weak he sounds, because he gives in without question, handing over Vilya.

Scott slides it onto his finger, hands trembling just a bit as he does. He remembers being given this ring, being just as terrified by how much Xornoth trusted him then as he is by how much Jimmy trusts him now. Ironic, really, that now he’ll be using this ring against the person who gave it to him to begin with. “Okay, Jimmy. I’m about to go out the front door, and when I do, I need you to go out the side door over there and run for the stables. When you get there, roll in the mud and then run for the village. Speed over stealth, corrupted elves track by smell and sound rather than sight.” He keeps the instructions quick and clear, praying that Jimmy’s not stubborn enough to disobey. He can’t lose Jimmy, he can’t.

Thank god, Jimmy nods.

Scott takes another deep breath, brain awhirl as he tries to figure out how he’s going to keep both Jimmy and Rivendell safe. “From there, I need you to track down an elf called Gilnar and tell them to lock down the kingdom and warn everyone of the danger.” After a moment's thought, he adds “I also need you to tell them that Lord Smajor orders them to protect you.” Gilnar’s trustworthy, they’ll look after Jimmy.

“What about you?” Jimmy asks. “Will you be okay?”

His heart aches at the concern, and it aches more when he opens his mouth to lie. “I will, I promise.” He doesn’t meet Jimmy’s eyes, knowing he’ll break if he does.

Thankfully, Jimmy says nothing about it, instead reaching for one of the spare swords. Good, good, he can protect himself.

“Ready?” Scott asks.

“Ready,” Jimmy confirms, though his voice trembles.

Scott shoves down the part of him that screams that this wasn’t supposed to be his responsibility, that he should just run while he can. He made a promise to his sibling all those years ago, and he’s going to keep it even if it’s now them that he has to defend Rivendell from.

He steps out the door.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Jimmy bolt for the stables, but the greater part of his attention is focused on Xornoth, still floating ominously across the valley.

“You do not belong here,” Scott calls out in Sindarin. It’s a challenge more than anything, practically asking them to come fight him.

He knows he’s messing with forces he doesn’t understand and cannot win against, knows it as surely as he knows his own name. Xornoth has always been faster and stronger, after all, ever since they were children.

And yet-

And yet he has to try regardless. After all, when they were children, Scott always tried to win anyways, even if it never worked. And now, the weight of an empire resting on his shoulders and his husband somewhere in the village behind him, the stakes are higher than just his pride. So he squares his shoulders and doesn’t back down as Xornoth appears in front of him with a ripple of smoke, a cruel smirk on their face.

“Well, well, well, dear brother. Never thought it’d come to this.”

“Neither did I,” Scott retorts.

They grin again. “I belong here just as much as you, you know.”

He raises his axe, gritting his teeth. “You did once, but not anymore.”

Xornoth laughs as they dart out of the way of his blows, tendrils of corruption curling around them and reaching for him. “I belong here more than you ever will.”

He stumbles back, trying to get out of their reach. “That’s not true either.”

“Oh, but it is. I thought you’d be too much of a coward to ever face me, you know. Spineless little Scott, running away from his problems like you ran away from our family.”

“We had no family left! It was just you and me!”

“And you left me to be consumed by my own greed and despair. The sibling you know died years ago and it’s all because you’re a coward.”

Scott flinches, barely bringing his axe up in time to block their next strike. “That’s not- that wasn't my fault! I didn't mean for that to happen."

“Do you really think that? Are you really foolish enough to think that you didn’t hurt me by leaving?” Xornoth’s grin is razor-sharp.

“You told me to leave if it would make me happier,” Scott cries, lapsing back into English without thinking about it.

“You shouldn’t have wanted to leave in the first place. No real elven ruler would want to leave the oldest sanctuary of the elves.”

They have him backing up again and again, barely holding them off. “I tried- I was-”

“Look at you, an elf speaking a human language,” Xornoth hisses. “How did you ever think you were going to be good enough for them? You’re never going to be the real king of Rivendell, Elinar.”

“Don’t- don’t call me that,” Scott pants.

“Elinar,” they taunt again. “Stupid, stupid Elinar. Weak, pathetic little Elinar.”

Scott stumbles backward, landing on his butt in the grass as Xornoth towers over him. His axe falls to the side, snatched by a tendril of corruption as they reach out, digging their claws into his shoulders and pushing him down. Scott’s helpless to do anything when those same tendrils reach for him, the smell of rot permeating the air. They hesitate for a moment, hovering above him, and then Xornoth grins sadistically and the corruption snatches him.

It hurts. It hurts more than any pain he’s ever felt. More than Etho’s arrow in his throat, more than Martyn’s arrow to the chest, more than Ren’s sword through his back. More than even waking up back in Rivendell. The corruption wraps itself around his throat and wrists, pinning him to the ground as his older sibling grins. Scott distantly registers that he’s screaming, writhing as he tries to get out of their hold, but everything’s fuzzy with his brain clouded by pain. He doesn’t want to die, not like this. Anything but this.

There’s a faint, familiar voice in the distance, though Scott can’t focus on what it’s saying through the haze of pain. It sounds comforting, though, and he clings to the noise like a lifeline.

All of the sudden, the pain stops and the corruption draws back slightly as Xornoth turns away.

“What did you say to me?” they hiss, in English this time.

“I said you’re ugly!” The same voice calls, and this time Scott recognizes it as Jimmy. Oh, god, Jimmy. “And you suck! Leave my husband alone!”

Xornoth loosens their hold on Scott’s shoulders, turning towards wherever Jimmy is, and Scott’s gets a rush of determination. He can’t let them hurt Jimmy.

Scott backhands them across the face, kicking his way free of their hold with strength he didn’t know he still had. They give a tiny yelp of surprise, a familiar sound, and he staggers to his feet.

This time, he doesn’t bother with the axe. Instead, he forces his will into Vilya, praying to any and every god that it will work for him. He doesn’t even believe in the elven gods any longer, and yet he’s still praying to Aeor, to Varda, to Manwe, to any deity out there that he’s enough of a true elvenking to make a ring of power bend to his will.

“You are not welcome here!” Scott shouts, and he feels the ancient strength of Vilya behind his words.

Xornoth hisses, staggering backwards. “Fine! Banish me, then, if you’re a true enough king to do it. Run back to your mortal lover, Elinar, and pray to all the gods that he doesn’t ever see how worthless you really are.”

He doesn’t flinch, though it’s a close thing. “Leave! Leave and never return!”

This time, Vilya pulses more strongly, and Xornoth is forced out of Rivendell with a hum of power.

Scott stumbles as that rush of power leaves him, collapsing to the ground. His entire body aches from the fight, but more than that, Xornoth’s last words are still ringing in his mind. Pray to all the gods that he doesn’t ever see how worthless you really are. They’re right. He knows they’re right, and that’s the worst part about it.

“Scott! Scott!” He can hear Jimmy call, and within a minute, Jimmy’s standing in front of him.

Scott looks up at his husband- his beautiful, brave husband who he’s never once deserved- his breathing ragged as he tries to reach out. “Jimmy,” He manages, a hoarse whisper.

Jimmy kneels by him, concern written across his face clear as day. “What’s wrong? Where- what’s hurt? I’ll fix it, I promise, I-” Scott grabs him and yanks him into a hug, hardly daring to believe he’s real.

“Oh,” Jimmy says, quiet, dumbstruck. He hugs Scott oh-so-gently, though his embrace isn’t enough to soothe Scott’s trembling. “It’s alright, Scott, we’re alright.”

“Jimmy,” Scott gasps. He needs his husband, needs him to be okay. “Jimmy, I can’t.”

“I-”

“I want it to be over.” It sounds so childish, but he’s so tired. “I don’t want elves or nations or politics. I just want you.”

“I know, I know,” Jimmy soothes.

‘Why does it have to be me? It wasn’t supposed to be! It wasn’t supposed to be me!” Scott wants to shout it, scream it to the world, because it’s not fair. He wasn’t supposed to be heir to Rivendell. He wasn’t supposed to have a ring of power. He wasn’t supposed to be forced to fight his own sibling. It’s not fair, but it happened anyways. It happened anyways, and that’s what breaks him, voice cracking as he begs for something, though he doesn’t even know what he wants at this point. Peace, maybe. Happiness. “I- please- shouldn’t have- Jimmy. Jimmy .”

He repeats Jimmy’s name over and over, searching for any small scrap of comfort as his sobs tear him to pieces, clutched in his husband’s arms on the grass. Jimmy’s so gentle with him, his embrace so kind as he presses soft kisses to Scott’s head and murmurs in a comforting tone, though Scott’s too far lost in his own head to hear any of what Jimmy says. His world narrows to warm arms around him, the texture of Jimmy’s shirt clutched between his fingers. Jimmy smells like dirt and swamp water- it’s the silliest thing to notice when Scott’s busy sobbing over having to fight his own sibling, but it’s easier to think about than anything else. It’s easier to think about Jimmy than anything else, really, easier to cling to the sound of his voice and his hand on Scott’s back than confront the way Scott’s grief is eating him alive.

Distantly, he can hear footsteps approaching. They’re too light to be anything but elven, not that that’s a surprise when they’re in the home of the elves. He can’t bring himself to lift his head and face them, not when his breath is still coming quick and ragged.

Gilnar’s first to speak, hesitant concen leaking into their words. “Uh, milord?”

Scott can feel Jimmy’s grip tighten protectively, can practically imagine his affronted look as he opens his mouth to snap back. “Give him a goddamn minute! He just fought a demon for all of you, let the man rest! I know you’re all elves and you’re all- all elegant and composed or whatever, but you can’t expect someone to be perfect! We’re all human, you know!” He winces a little, knowing the elves are going to tear Jimmy to shreds for that.

Indeed, one of his advisors speaks up, disdain clear in their tone. “You are human, Codfather. We are not. Lord Smajor knew the responsibilities and difficulties of ruling.”

It’s ever the way of elven royalty- their rulers cannot dare be flawed.

“He’s too young for this,” Someone else mutters. There’s as much pity in their tone as there is disdain, a strange mix of concern and derision.

“I- well I don’t think anyone could have expected a demon! And probably even less people’d be willing to fight one!” Jimmy’s voice rises with every sentence. Scott wants to tell him to spare the outrage- he’s not worth it. “Scott’s one of the bravest, kindest, smartest people I know, so lay off him, will you?”

“You know nothing of the affairs of elves,” his advisor sniffs, and Scott’s blood boils at how rude they’re being to Jimmy.

It’s that outrage that gives him the energy to raise his head, forcing his breathing to steady out. “It’s fine, Jimmy. They are correct, I do have responsibilities.” You shouldn’t be defending me, he doesn’t say. I’m not worth your outrage.

“They can’t expect you to be perfect,” Jimmy argues back.

Scott almost laughs, knowing full well that they can and should. Instead, though, he breaks free of Jimmy’s embrace and gets to his feet with far more effort than that should really take. “Gilnar, get the village out of lockdown and make sure people are aware of the threat of Xornoth. Celebear, search the library for any books on corruption of elves, and Lauriel, translate any you find that are not Sindarin into it. Elder council, I need research done on any rings of power that are strong enough to counteract Vilya to that degree, that will narrow down what Xornoth has.” His voice comes out hoarse, and he’s barely aware of what he’s saying, but he forces himself to carry on. “Now, the Codfather and I need to negotiate wool and fish trades,” Scott adds, the quickest excuse he can think of. He grabs Jimmy’s hand, dragging him away as quickly as he can manage, and ignores the stares that follow him.

They make it up the hill and into Scott’s house before Scott’s legs give out, sending him into a chair with an undignified thump. “Well, fuck me to the End and back.”

“Are they always like that?” Jimmy sounds more concerned than anything.

“Pretty much. Gilnar’s okay, just tough as shit, and so are Celebear and Lauriel, but...I wasn’t- well, I wasn’t meant to inherit Rivendell, and the Council of Elders takes every opportunity to remind me of that fact.” That’s just how it is- he doesn’t bother getting upset over it at this point. He’s always going to be second-best.

“Oh.” Jimmy hesitates, and then asks “Who’s Xornoth?”

Scott would be lying if he said he wasn’t terrified of Jimmy’s reaction, but he has nothing left to lose, so he laughs bitterly and answers honestly. “My twin, also known as the demon that’s been terrorizing you.”

“What?”

“My twin. My older sibling.” He gives another little laugh. “The person who was supposed to inherit the throne of the elves.” Who was better than Scott in every way.

“What?” Jimmy sounds shocked and confused, but not angry, not yet, so Scott elaborates.

“Let me start from the beginning. My parents were two elven monarchs, one of the Sindar, and one of the Noldor. With other bloodlines mixed in, but the Sindar and Noldor is the important bit since those two groups haven’t always gotten along. Somewhere around fifty-five years ago, they started trying for kids. What they didn’t expect was that Xornoth and I are identical twins, only the fifth set of elven twins ever recorded.” Old legend says that elven twins are only born in times of great conflict, and Scott can’t exactly say it's wrong.

“Whoa.”

“Mhm. Xornoth was- is- technically the older one, who was always set to inherit the throne of the elves and unite our divided people. They were compared to Elrond, wise and powerful leader of another land named Rivendell far in the past, and I was Elros, his twin. Impulsive, snarky, human.” Scott spits the word a bit like a curse, not because he hates humans, but because he hates himself and all the ways he’s too much like them. He closes his eyes against a fresh set of tears, blinking away the memory of Xornoth’s face when he left Rivendell. “Our parents died when we were both quite young, and we were brought up expecting Xornoth to take the throne as soon as they came of age. I spent my time hanging out with mortals, instead, getting involved in things like mcc and 3rd life.”

“Ohhh,” Jimmy says intelligently. It’s such a Jimmy way to react to something so serious, Scott might laugh if the mood were lighter.

“When I was the elven equivalent of seventeen or so, Xornoth gave me a ring. This ring, specifically.” Scott taps the ring that’s still resting on his middle finger, feeling it hum in return. “Vilya, an elven ring of power. They told me to leave Rivendell and not return.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t know at the time, but they were being corrupted by a ring of their own, not to mention their own desire for power.” Scott feels Jimmy take his hand, and looks up to see gentle concern written across his husband’s face. He has to blink again, turning away and forcing his voice to stay steady. “I returned after coming of age while away to find that Xornoth had fled and I was now the heir of Rivendell. Which absolutely no one wanted.”

“Why not? You’re amazing!” Jimmy protests. He sounds so very sincere about it, which makes it all the more heartbreaking how utterly wrong he is.

“Remember when I told you that I’m not a very elven elf? That. I’m too human for their tastes, spend too much of my time with humans.”

“Well, I think you’re wonderful.”

Scott squeezes his hand tight, letting a little of his fondness show. “Thank you, Jimmy. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Something like confusion flashes across Jimmy’s face, and then he opens his mouth again. “Wait. Scott?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Did you give me an elven ring of power for an engagement ring?”

Scott looks away again, his cheeks heating up. “….Maybe.”

“Me! You gave me, little old Jimmy Solidarity, an elven ring of power?” JImmy’s half-laughing, but the sentiment behind the words sounds real. Too real, Scott thinks; it’s as if Jimmy doesn’t know just how incredible he truly is.

“You’re the most precious thing in my life,” Scott tells him, and he means every word. “I gave you everything I could offer.”

It’s kind of adorable how quickly Jimmy flushes, his face going red and his voice rising an octave. “Stop that!”

“Stop what?” Scott asks- perfectly innocently, mind you.

“Saying that stuff and giving me that look, you know what I mean!” He definitely doesn’t. “That soft one that- that makes me all blushy and stuttery!” Jimmy adds, and Scott grins a little. Jimmy’s just too fun to fluster.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he denies, though he’s sure his smile is giving him away as less innocent than he claims.

“I’m trying to scold you for giving me a ring of power that’s super important, stop- stop flirting, for goodness sake!”

“You’re hot when you’re flustered, though.” Scott barely restrains a yawn from slipping into his voice, trying to wipe some of the blood off his face so it’ll stop getting in his eyes.

“Let me get that,” Jimmy offers. Scott’s too tired to protest his fussing, letting Jimmy dab at the cut with a wet rag and bandage it. Jimmy moves on to cleaning out smaller cuts and scrapes, then the bruises, handing Scott some ice to put on the largest ones. It’s sweet, really, how fussed he is over even the smallest injury. Scott doesn’t think he deserves Jimmy taking care of him this gently, but he can’t bring himself to push him away.

Even if it is a bit annoying that Jimmy’s making him do math to check if he has a concussion. “Ninety-two, ninety-one, I swear I’m fine, Jimmy,” Scott huffs, “Ninety, eighty-nine, eighty-eight, eighty-seven, I literally explained elven rings of power to you, eighty-six, eight-five, can I stop counting now?”

“No.”

“Jimmyyyyyyyy.” Scott must sound like a whiny child, but he’s tired.

“Just a bit more? For me?” Jimmy asks. And oh, that bastard, he’s giving Scott the face that Scott can’t ever say no to. Bastard. Absolute bastard. Scott won’t give in, he won’t.

That determination lasts all of ten seconds before Scott sighs and gives in. “Fine. Eighty-four, eighty-three, eighty-two…”

Jimmy makes him count all the way down to seventy and then multiply together thirteen and twelve, which Scott doesn’t hesitate to whine about

“I can’t believe my own husband made me do math.”

Jimmy’s laughter is worth every second of the math, actually, Scott decides as his husband bops him on the nose. “I’ll make breakfast to make up for it?”

“You better!” Scott tells him. He’s trying to sound affronted, but it just comes out fond, much to his exasperation.

Jimmy laughs again and sets about making pancake batter, which Scott doesn’t hesitate to steal bits of even when Jimmy scolds him for it. It’s peaceful, being able to lean back in his chair and laugh when his husband tries to scold him for flirting. The morning light streams in through his window, casting the side of Jimmy’s face in a golden glow, He looks so alive silhouetted like that, a grin splitting his face and bits of flour in his hair. Scott’s breath catches for a minute just looking at him, the familiar ache in his chest returning, though there’s nothing truly tragic about the scene before him.

He shakes that off when Jimmy offers him the first pancake, shoving thoughts of the future aside. For now, he’ll drink hot chocolate in a sunlit kitchen and pretend his hands don’t tremble just enough to nearly spill it. He’s not going to think about the cuts and bruises scattered across his body, not when Jimmy is looking at him like that, with such utter adoration that Scott can barely believe his luck. How did he get a husband so sweet and warm when he’s as bitterly cold as a Rivendell winter? But whether he deserves it or not, Jimmy’s right there laughing along with him, and Scott can’t find it in himself to be unhappy about it.

This won’t last, he thinks as he watches Jimmy try to fit an entire pancake in his mouth just to see if he can. If Jimmy doesn’t die to his own idiocy or the cruel will of Xornoth, time will take him from Scott as surely as the stars shine above Rivendell. Scott is not Luthien or Idril or Arwen, the elven royals lucky enough to spend the rest of eternity with their mortal husbands; Jimmy will die, likely sooner rather than later, and Scott will be alone with the cold weight of a crown to bear and no sunshine to warm him.

This won’t last, but Scott says nothing of it, sipping his hot chocolate and smiling a little sadly into the mug as Jimmy rambles about different types of fish and their personalities. And if his hands are still cold, and he can’t stop a small shiver? Well, Rivendell has always been a cold empire, hasn’t it?

#scott smajor #jimmy solidarity #elf ocs #empires smp #flower husbands

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ajbwasntwriting · 4 years ago

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Daughter!Reader X Negan, Reader x Daryl: Chapter 8. Civil Unrest

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For all intents and purposes this is filler so the next chapter will be up in the next few minutes

I’ll only post more chapters if previous chapters get a good reaction so if you enjoy this please heart it, reblog it, and/or reply to it. Interaction inspires.

if you wish to be added to the tag list please dm me. All chapters can be found under the tag AJ’s Negan’s Daughter AU

In a few days you were up on your feet, your need to survive driving your fast recovery. As soon as you could sit up without nearly fainting and you could bend your fingers without much pain you started taking patients. Mainly burns and cuts. You kept your head down while working, adding to your intimidating reputation. They didn’t realise you were just trying to conceal yourself while looking for familiar faces. You rarely left the medical bay, even when it was icy cold.

Carol checked on you regularly, seemingly incredibly concerned for you. It almost pained you to suspect her to be out to get you. Luckily she seemed convinced that because you had been alone for so long that you’d take a long time getting used to the walls. Maybe she figured out that you were just biding time for leaving again.

“Are you okay?” Laura pulled you from your thoughts. You looked up suddenly, nodded, and went back to your reading. All these patient profiles from the previous physician were thorough. “Why would Emmett be this detailed with extremely basic medical care” you tought, then again he was a captive here just as much as you were. He probably had nothing better to do. “Are you sure? You look so serious.” She continued. You looked up to her. She was lying on one of the beds chewing on a piece of hard plastic. Having to keep a watch on ‘The New Doc’ would’ve been extremely boring.

“Just a lot of reading” you sat up and stretched your arms, not realising how long you had sat hunched over the hand-written pages. “Doctors have horrible handwriting and this guy sure likes to drag his point out”

“How bad is it?” She asked. You lifted the profile of another patient and followed along with your finger.

“The left Thenar has suffered tremendous infliction resulting in the loss of elasticity and possible avulsion of the tissue” You read aloud in a dramatic voice

“What?” Laura said, taking the plastic out of her mouth for a moment

“He pulled the muscle in his thumb, possibly tearing it” you flopped the paper down, rubbing your forehead.

“And all those pages are full of that shit” Laura pressed. You sighed with a nod.

“I never thought I’d be grateful to have done AP english.” you sighed

“Okay smart ass no need to show off” Laura chuckled, chewing on the plastic again.

“Please,” you sat back in the chair “My old man made me do it. ‘You already speak english so it should be a breeze’ he said”

“Those kind of parents?”

“You’re familiar?”

“Yep” Laura sat up, hunching over her now crossed legs. “My dad was a lawyer. Mom was an accountant. They kept pushing me to over achieve”

“Bet they weren’t happy with that” you spoke, pointing to your neck to reference Laura’s tattoo. Her hand went over it instinctively.

“I had already skipped town with my boyfriend before I got this.” She laughed. The smile melted away as she slowly stroked her neck. “Hadn’t seen them since. Probably dead.”

The room got a lot more quiet. It was crazy to think you both were so close in age but had gone through so much hell in the same world. But Laura was a saviour. You were Negan’s kid. If you were to be friends it would have to be at an arm’s reach.

The momentum changed when Carol arrived in, holding a small tray with cookies on them. The smell told you they were fresh. Your heart wanted to tell her to get out, but those cookies smelled too damn good.

“How’s the hard work going ladies.” she spoke with a cheery voice, setting the tray down in front of you. You were on it instantly. You took a cookie with you as you limped over to lock the door to the medical bay. “Any news?” Carol whispered

Carol had asked you and Laura to investigate the uprising of Negan supporters in the Sanctuary. Well, mainly Laura since she would know more people in Carol’s eyes. The payment, cookies. Though Laura would probably do it for free. She enjoyed the new peace that came with being aligned with the other settlements.

“Just the usual hot-heads” Laura sighed. You limped back to your chair.

“They like to complain to me.” you gently sat down. You’d only been back walking without the full splint for a couple days now but the clunky half splint on your lower leg wasn’t exactly walker friendly. “‘You should’ve seen how great we were when Negan was running the place’ and other shit”

“What do you think of it?” Carol asks you seriously. You suck the sugar off your fingers happily.

“He mustn’t have been that good if he’s not in charge anymore.”

They had their little meeting then as Carol was leaving you piped up,

“How’s the bridge team?”

“No.” Carol retorted quickly as if speaking to a child. “You are not going out there how many times do I have to tell you.”

“I could help-”

“You’re needed here Y/N” she spoke firmly.

“Yes, mom.” you groaned from your chair, earning a laugh from Laura. Carol left quickly.

“Why do you wanna join the bridge team so badly?” Laura asked through a mouthful of cookie.

“I miss the fresh air, I guess” and there’s more chances to get away from you all.

That evening you were restless. Normally it was the pain that kept you up late but it also exhausted you. You got out of the medical bed you’d claimed as your own, one of three that outfitted the med bay. You limped your way out of the medbay, not bothered if you woke Laura. The bathroom was down the hall so she would just assume you had to pee, especially since you had taken the torch dedicated to midnight bathroom visits. Being the medic gave you the luxury of a torch instead of matches and a candle.

It hurt to climb up so many stairs, with both your wounds and the cold seeping into your skin, but you’d be tired by the time you came back down anyway. You walked onto what used to be Negan’s floor. Your ‘family’s’ floor. You’d wanted to see it for a while now, out of curiosity more than anything else.

You first went to your father’s room. Pushing the door open you felt a burst of cold air whip around you viciously. The room has been stripped of its furnishings, right down to the carpets. Taken away to be burned most likely. The windows were shattered, the bullet holes in the ceiling giving away the method. It was so completely devoid of any sign of human life one would say it always had been. You closed the door and continued onto the parlour where the wives would spend their day. This room didn’t have windows but the room was still completely void of any of the glamour that once adorned it. The only remnants was the wall paper which was peeling off due to the damp.

The image of the forgotten rooms didn’t stir emotion in the way you thought they would. You imagined getting overwhelmed with emotion, but you felt nothing. No that wasn’t right, you felt a loss. Not a loss of the grandeur you had gotten to enjoy in captivity, not a loss of the fake smiles from your many ‘mothers’. You felt a loss of your father. You mourned the man you had called your father, and the idea that all that was left of the memory of him were these halls where cowards bowed to him. You felt an overwhelming realisation that the man you called ‘Pops’ had died long before ‘Negan’ formed.

Your final destination was your room. You figured it would also be empty but your room was a bit away, down the end of a hall few knew how to get too. You’d had more roaches as visitors than people. Your father had chosen it for you so the ‘common nobodies’ wouldn’t see you easily, another measure to keep you safe.

It also worked the other way as you round the corner and see a light coming from what used to be your room. The hall was lined with offices and storage rooms you knew you could dive into if someone appeared so you turned off your light and walked down the hall gingerly on your feet. You were now only a couple feet away from the door when you heard voices coming from the end of the hall, from what used to be your room.

“I still can’t believe they put this bitch here to keep an eye on us. That fucking redneck was an ass but atleast he didn’t pretend to be all fucking nice”

“It’s probably a play to get us to relax. They’ve got us locked in this factory and don’t give us nearly enough food, and they won’t let us go to the other settlements”

“We’re prisoners. They said they only wanted to lock up Negan but now we’re all starving.”

“Enough of your bitching.”

They went on to talk about how many people were on their side and their efforts to get weapons. They clearly had no idea you were listening. After all, what kind of idiot is gonna climb up over ten floors for no reason. Other than sentiment perhaps. It sounded like there were about four people in the room, but they spoke like they had a few under their influence. They were looking for weapons and a means to get back at ‘Rick and his posse’.

“We’ll bring them that bitch Carol’s head on a spike for them.”

“What about the bridge? We got people working there for food.”

“And then what? They’re just gonna keep extorting us for slave labour or let us starve.”

You were so drawn in by their words that the door opening startled you. You charged from your spot into an open room, a storage closet of a sort. You knew it was too risky to close the door so you stood against the wall next to the door. They walked along the hall bantering loudly. You sidestepped deeper into the room, knocking something with your foot making a loud metal sound. The voices stopped and you instantly froze, holding your breath like your life depended on it. A light shun into the closet, then the other way.

“Probably just a rat” one of the voices spoke. “We can set some traps and stew it for dinner”.

They continued down the hall, their steps growing faint a minute or so later. The adrenaline began to subside and the pain from the recent strain on your leg made itself very apparent. You stepped out of the closet and walked down the hall to your old room. Maybe they left some evidence you could use to barter for your freedom.

You opened the door to your room, only illuminated by the moonlight coming from the window. Unlike the other rooms, your room hadn’t been completely ransacked. The mattress had been taken off the frame but the metal skeleton remained as well as the rug under your bed. Other than that it appeared empty. You turned on your torch to get a better view.

On your bed frame lay what had to be near a hundred dead wild flowers. Your breath caught in your throat at the site. You moved and sat on the bed frame, the metal sending a chill up your body. You placed a hand on the dry stems and something hit the ground with a thump. You moved to look under the bed as quick as you could, reaching under the bed you cut yourself on something sharp. You moved your torch on it and grabbed it again, this time from a less dangerous end.

Under the bed you pulled out the knife that had your name engraved on it. The metal shun bright in the light as if lovingly polished until it’s inevitable abandonment. You hadn’t realized you had begun to cry until a tear fell onto the blade and began to fill the engraving.

~Tag List~

@bodeckersbitch @lauren-novak @aestthete

#AJ's Negan's Daughter AU #twd negan #negan fic #negan twd #negan the walking dead #the walking dead negan #negan x daughter reader #daughter reader #daughter x negan #daughter reader x negan #twd daryl #daryl dixon #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x reader #twd carol #carol peletier #the walking dead carol #twd laura

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stanknotstark · 4 years ago

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Astral Pt. 10 (Loki x Reader)

So im out eating right now so ill add the link to the last part in an hour and stuff also I did not beta read this part and apologize if I need to change something later on but I want to try and keep up with posting at 5:30 so im releasing it 🤗

Alright we finally have some actions and many open ended questions that I’ve got to close up BUT we also experience one of our main villains warriors. If you read the comics you’ll immediately know who the main villain is (Or Google it but I suggest not doing that if you want to be surprised :p)

You knew having peace and hanging out with your team and Loki would only last for so long, but you were still saddened when it came time to finally work.

You’re all on the top most floor of the Avenger’s tower, the War Room as Tony called it (sounds a bit over dramatic but it was Tony so...). Fury is there in hologram mode, sitting in the middle of a large custom made table that had the Avengers logo engraved into the middle of the dark oak.

“What kind of readings are we talking about?” Stark asks Fury.

Fury’s hand comes up and swipes at something invisible on his end and it translates to Stark’s theater size screens on the wall. It’s a bunch of graphs, statistics, and other jargon you can’t understand. You raise a brow when Tony and Bruce gasp and start talking in hushed tones to each other.

“Tony, make this english so everyone can understand what’s going on, please?” Steve asks.

Tony clears his throat and points to one of the graphs, “According to Fury’s collected data, Thor give Jane a big hug when you next see her, they’ve picked up on some form of energy spikes in the middle of Death Valley, Nevada. Like we’re talking colossal size spikes. ”

You look at Loki who sits up in his chair next to you and squints at the screens.

“I know what these ‘energy’,” Loki says energy like it’s disgusting, “readings are. It’s magic from another realm. Specifically, it’s time travel but...” Loki frowns and you watch as his eyes become almost fearful.

“Spit it out, Reindeer Games.” Tony says, sounding concerned at Loki’s fear.

“It’s time travel across an alternate timeline.”

Tony blinks. Bruce frowns and pushes his glasses up to the bridge of his nose. The entire room is silent.

“You wouldn’t happen to know who caused these readings would you?” Tony finally asks.

Loki, who has a neutral face now and the fear is gone from his eyes, shakes his head. “I can’t know for sure unless I can inspect the magic in person.”

Finally Fury speaks, you had almost forgot the director was even here. “Prepare a quin jet Stark, get Loki and whoever else you deem reliable to escort. We need to figure out who came for a visit and if they’re ally or enemy as soon as possible.”

Fury disappears from the table and Tony gets into worker mode immediately. He points to you, claiming you’re the close combat person, to Clint, who is your ranged fighter, and to Natasha who would be pilot and your extraction.

Things become a blur after that. You remember going to your room and jumping into your Shield issued attire (Stark had yet to make you your own suit), and meeting Loki at the roof where a quin jet readied for take off. Before you walked into the quin jet Loki stopped you, his hands holding your shoulders making you face him.

“I promise that I will let nothing harm you, you’re my first priority and if things get violent I will teleport us away to safety.”

You nod but give him a small smile, “I can handle myself but it’s good to know I’ve got someone watching my back.” You then push onto your toes and give Loki a peck and make your way to the quin jet.

The ride there is tense and quiet. Loki says he’s putting a spell on you that acts as a shield but doesn’t specify how it works.

Looking back you wish you would have asked how it worked.

Landing around 100 meters from the destination Clint, Loki and you leave the ship and begin your trek to the site.

“Holy fuck! If I could strip out of my skin I would.” You say to Loki and Clint. Death Valley’s temperature was a recorded 130 degrees today.

At your displeasure Loki slows till he’s next to you and puts an arm around your shoulders. You look at him questionably but gasp as his arm generates a coolness that at least stops your sweating. You make sure not to say anything so Clint, in front of you, doesn’t become jealous.

The trip to the site is very uneventful. Even reaching the site is uneventful. About 30 meters from the site you see nothing. Literally, it’s just desert, surrounded by high cliffs, for miles.

So you snoop, you walk around the site as Clint and Loki argue about whether the coordinates are correct.

“I swear, this is what Stark gave me so, if they’re wrong, blame him!” Clint says, exasperated.

“It can’t be wrong I can feel something pulling at my magic but-”

That’s when you run into an invisible wall and yelp as you fall backwards onto your butt.

“Found it!” You cheer as a space ship slowly appears, the colors changing and shifting from the point you hit till the whole thing is uncovered. At first glance the ship looks futuristic but once you overlook the whole thing with Clint keeping his distance, and Loki exploring with you, you realize it’s shaped as a sphinx.

Very fitting for the desert surrounding the ship.

“Work you magic.” You tell Loki and he does. You both congregate at the head of the ship/sphinx and he waves his hands over it, his green magic trailing out here and there to touch the ship. Loki himself mutters under his breath.

You keep your eyes on him but also keep vigilant about the area. You finally get an idea and close your eyes for a second, your magic leaving your body and passing through the ship. No life forms. When you open your eyes again Loki lifts a brow at you, still muttering.

“No life I can detect.” You tell him and he nods and focuses back on the ship.

You put a hand to your ear piece and tell Clint, “I don’t sense any life forms but I’d keep a close eye anyways.”

Clint gives you an acknowledgment.

Loki finally stops his magic and drops his hands to his sides, just as he looks at you and you hear Clint yell into your ear, you’re hit by a concussive blast. When you look up in shock you see one lone humanoid figure walking towards Loki, who although wasn’t in the way of the blast also got blasted back, curious you think. Loki had immediately gotten into a defensive stance after getting up from the blast, one hand on his back holds three daggers, the other hand put up in a manner meant to calm the figure.

You quickly get on your feet and stand next to Loki, your magic congregating at your balled fists.

“Listen, buddy, I don’t know who you think you are-” Loki hisses at you, trying to get you to stop antagonizing the being that is close enough to identify. He is tall, around 7 feet tall and is dressed in a skin tight tank and leggings that are a dark purple color, it looks like metal but it’s too flexible to actually be metal. His head is encased in a tight helmet that frames his face and covers his head from his forehead, up, in a way that makes you think he is bald underneath. You shiver as you look into his eyes, they glow white.

“Identify yourself.” The being says. Standing casually as if he didn’t attack you.

“I am Loki, Prince of Asgard, and you are?”

The being stands there silently. You huff. “I’m y/n, of Earth.”

The being stands still for a few seconds then gets into a fighting position.

“I am here to take y/n, anyone who stands in my way shall perish.”

Loki immediately grabs you and teleports you to Clint, you yell out angrily as he teleports back to the being and they start fighting. Loki throwing magic and daggers at the being. You gasp, the first ball of magic Loki throws at it makes a purple light encase the being, in a rippling effect, who then grows a bit. Hawkeye lets loose some arrows that explode on impact. It does nothing but make the man grow even more.

Loki also realizes what’s going on because he stops attacking the being. The being takes his chance and lunges at Loki. Loki isn’t fast enough and takes a blow to the head. You scream and begin running towards him as he lays in the dirt discombobulated. Clint tries to grab your arm but misses you just so.

In your ear you hear Clint tell Natasha to ready the jet. Before the being can get to Loki you throw yourself over his body. When he’s a few feet away you look at him with furious eyes.

“Stop!”

To your surprise the being stops mid step, considers your words, then stands in place. You frown but look at Loki who is watching with fascinated eyes, recovered from the hard hit he took. You watch as blood trails down the side of his face and out of his ear. He probably can’t hear out of his left ear.

Looking back up at the being you ask it, “Who sent you? What are you?”

The being stares at the two of you but answers, “I am Subject 52103 Growing Man, and my master sent me.”

You feel Loki tense under you and assume he knows who his master is.

“Tell your master to leave Earth alone, that if you or him show your faces here again, the Avengers will take you out without hesitation.”

The Growing Man nods and leaves in a flash of purple and black.

Letting out a tense breath you stand and help Loki up. Making your way back to the quin jet, you pick up Clint.

“Why does he want you?” Clint asks, looking at you.

You walk, holding Loki at your side, the hit from the Growing Man doing enough to leave him a bit disoriented and sluggish.

“I don’t know and I’m not quite sure I want to know.” You say. Loki stays conveniently quiet the entire walk to the quin jet. Clint doesn’t ask anything else either.

Pt. 9.1/Pt. 10/?

Tag list: @justfangirlthingies @emelieh99 @high-functioning-lokipath @loveableasshole

#astral pt.10 #astral #loki x reader #loki #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #reader insert #my writing #GUYS we're starting to get into the mystery here #why does the being want you #why can you command it #what the ever loving hecko is going on?!#:)#poor loki i had to hurt him a bit but it's ok you'll take care of him :p #he's a god he'll recover

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steve0discusses · 3 years ago

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Yugioh Season Zero: The Yo-yo Crimes of Jounouchi Pt 2

OK, last we left off, we were in a different Youtube video. This one I grabbed off of 2 different videos (you’ll see their watermark in the corner change) and it makes me appreciate the quality that our other episodes have been, honestly. A little bit of compression going on in these, just to give you even more of that nostalgic feel of watching a bootleg anime from the 90′s your brother got from his weird high school friend’s Napster account.

Because this is done with subtitles on, it takes more caps to cover it. Part of why I rewrite the dialogue in these recaps is to help abridge stuff, and so consider yourself warned...there’s a lot of caps in this one. For most of you, that’s probably not much of a problem. But I’m just letting you know because...I sure wasn’t expecting it to be over 40 caps for half an episode, and I’ll probably just type less to make up for that. (Tumblr keeps Erasing All My Words anyway, so this is for the best, but that’s a tech issue I already went into in another post.)

(read more under the cut)

So, to start off, Yugioh and co. walk up to a bar like a really weird version of a bar joke and are like “do you know where we can find the yo-yo gang?” And, much like a video game npc, the bartender was like “I know EXACTLY what you’re talking about, and I heard every part of their intimate conversation. Let me give you all the details, children.”

Hey, PS, there’s an entire Wikipedia entry about the bar joke. And that is wild. Apparently the first bar joke was from Ancient Sumeria, and Wikipedia was like “Here is the Sumerian joke, but we Do Not Get it. Please don’t try to get it.”

The joke being: "A dog walked into a tavern and said, 'I can't see a thing. I'll open this one'."

Damn. I can’t believe the Sumerians were onto meme humor before we ever invented memes. They were in the Galaxy brain over there in the land before time, holy crap. Depositing their memes knowing that 7,000 years later mankind would look at the world’s first joke and be like “I don’t get it!” while all the millennials and zoomers with our MB of nonsense memes on our phones are like “No. I get it.” Good on you Sumerians, that is freakin the best joke ever made. 7000 years to get to the punch line of confusing the hell out of all us. Bless.

They promptly tell Miho that everything was resolved and that she should go to bed and she was like “Cool!” and exited stage left. Bye, I guess. Anzu also went home, but she didn’t have to be tricked into doing it, she just went the hell to bed.

(PS, I just realized that if I want to write less...I should probably not look up Wikipedia articles about the world’s first ever bar joke. But y’all, habits die so freakin hard, and I just feel like it’s very pertinent to this Yugioh recap, although I know it’s really not.)

Yuugi and Honda decide to visit the warehouse and harass Jounouchi. In the context of the show, they’re going out of their way to pull their best friend out of society’s systemic downward pull of a life of crime and most likely turning into exactly like his Father. But, the way that it’s storyboarded makes it look a lot like these kids just show up out of the corner and this gang was like “Damn it, again? OMG small children, please leave us alone!”

Honda hands over the symbolism sash, to which Jounouchi symbolically says “Nyeh.”

And Honda didn’t take it very well.

After tending to his kidneys for a little while, Honda decided to go back at it again at the Krispy Cream and do some sort of insane parkour over this completely ordinary fence.

Ah, the very first instance of real duel law where you duel over a relationship. In later seasons duel law is invoked for things like Mai’s marriage and the right to date Tea (and then just kind of forgetting you ever won the right to date Tea twice). But to think the very first time was Honda dueling for the right of Jounouchi to be part of nerd gang because Jounouchi had fallen to the dark side yo-yo gang across the street run by some 40 year old man with blue hair.

How many times is Honda gonna fight with a broom? Like are they just magnetized to his location? where are they even coming from?

Freakin janitor powers over here, put him in a Final Fantasy style RPG. I want to see what his limit break would be.

Not like it matters, because Hirotani very quickly explains why these yo-yo’s are at all a threat.

Which honestly shouldn’t be...so lethal? Seems like the weight is all you need, not really the spikes. But it’s at least stronger than Honda’s janitor stuff.

Unfortunate for Honda that he just destroyed an antique.

So with lightning reflexes, Yuugi does what he does most:

The death yo-yo ricochets back and does this little itty bitty scrape to this guy’s face and he’s real bothered by it. Although it’s like...well dude, you’re a 50 year old high schooler, I don’t think people will notice the scrape compared to everything else falling apart in your life.

And so then the Yugioh Season Zero team was like “oh shoot is it time to torture Yuugi???” and they got hella excited.

Like I thought it was just Yuugi’s class that were a bunch of disturbing criminal disasters, but I guess it’s the whole city. Like...was Yuugi’s class the good school?

I mean, it can’t be, there’s no way...

but like...is there a good school in this universe? How does anyone survive till graduation? If you so much as disgrace a yo-yo, you will get the torture treatment that I sure did expect in Yakuza games, but not so much in Yugioh, tbh.

Just a reminder: This is the third time we’ve beat up Yuugi this episode. Within the first meeting of Yuugi and Hirotani, he beat the tar out of Yuugi within eye shot of Jounouchi. So like...Jounouchi was reallllllllllllllllly lax on that deal, right? Like...he took his toot sweet time to realize “yeah this just ain’t ever gonna happen.”

And then the yo-yo wars begin.

Just like Solid Snake crawling through the radiation chamber.

Hirotani throws his Fyper-yoyo, Jounouchi intercepts with his Eireboy, and Hirotani’s completely terrible yo-yo just flies off the string again because Hirotani should have just sticked to using his fists. No wonder they wanted to recruit Jounouchi so badly, their yo-yo game is so off.

We never get a door to darkness in this episode, dipping our enemies into mind horrors. Instead, we get home-alone style traps. But, this makes sense. Not only do the show makers have to make Yuugi avoid solving problems with magic in front of Jounouchi, they also have to make it Jounouchi’s choice to leave Hirotani behind. If Yuugi did it for him in like...some sort of duel law situation...then that sort of leaves out Jounouchi’s choice in the equation.

Not like this ever really comes up in later seasons, since who even follows through with duel law and marries Mai? But like, it does feel like Season Zero calls out the later Seasons a bit in this regard. Honda got beat up because he tried to win Jounouchi back by force (or game, I guess.) That was just another form of coercion on the heels of Hirotani’s. What Jounouchi actually needed was to make his own decision to leave.

...most other anime I’d be like “I’m sure that’s just a translation error” but not this one.

So Yuugi runs to the roof where Jounouchi will never see this.

My audible sigh reading this line about fight club roof.

These stupid gang members went into Yuugi’s native territory, not just a fight club roof, but on a warehouse? They were dead before they arrived.

This was like maybe 3 frames of animation in just rapid succession, it was pretty silly and good.

Reminder that like 4 minutes ago, Yuugi was about to get like executed on a meat hook.

Speaking of getting executed on a meathook:

Hope you like the idea of glass in your eyes, because this anime’s got it.

They chase Yuugi around, in a sequence that was done mostly to conserve frames, so you rarely saw the ground until this shot:

Lots of falling down this episode, but unlike Tea, who fell from a warehouse ceiling once and just kind of rubbed her ass after and was like “ah damn it.” these guys won’t come out of it virtually unscathed.

Also, Honda is here now:

Jumping off of his symbolic sash trapeze, he decides to do in Hirotani for good.

Hey so like...walk the dog is a fairly gentle walk that a yo-yo does slowly on the ground right?

Just pointing out how sensitive Hirotani’s fingies are.

And he...didn’t appear to be dead, so I don’t have to add to the bodycount...but it’s gonna be a real long road for recovery.

And now, with the gang back together Jounouchi is back at school knee deep in make up assignments he’ll probably completely ignore since we know that in a years time, these fools are going to be trapped on Pegasus’ island, and at that point school will be just that place you talk about when you try to remember why you’re friends with Bakura.

---hey aren’t those chairs attached to the desks?

Because...holy crap, Anzu.

Honestly this is what you see before you die, but I guess Jounouchi died off screen after the episode ended, so I don’t have to add him to the deathcount (again). RIP.

Alright! That took like...8 tries to get Tumblr to save this one, but it managed! (well...I guess “managed” isn’t the word you’d use for a typing program that takes 8 tries to save)

Next time, we’ll be back to S5, for an arc I’ve heard is kind of boring. We’ll see. If it truly is, I can condense episodes into fewer posts. Or maybe it’s a secret gem? I guess we shall see.

And if you just got here this is a link to read all the Season Zero recaps from the start:

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yuugi-muto/chrono

(there’s also a link to read all the Yugioh posts we wrote from the start in chrono order but straight up, this file won’t freakin save, and I just can’t even will myself to look up that link again. It’s on the home page of this blog on the right.)

#YGO #yugioh #yu gi oh #Yuugi Muto #Jounouchi #Honda #Anzu #Miho #yo yo gang #Hirotani #Yuugi and the gang do serious property damage

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senorarelojes · 3 years ago

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Pizzaverse artwork and ficlet: 'A Little Piece'

@maiyashu made this really cute and beautiful Instagram post of Pizzaverse Dave being silly and drawing little monsters/creatures on the notes he leaves for Alan and their kids around the house. Of course, Alan shows off his husband's work on Instagram. Under the artwork is an accompanying ficlet set in the future for the Pizzaverse timeline. Thank you dear Shu for your gorgeous (and funny) artwork! Happy Father's Day to the boys!

Title: A Little Piece Pairing: Dave/Alan Rating: General Tags: Pizzaverse, Kid Fic, Fluff

Dave was always amused whenever Alan teased him about being the one in their relationship who was more addicted to social media. It seemed they were both on an even keel; Alan posted more often, while Dave had a variety of accounts across various platforms that he’d lost interest in after the initial posting frenzy. They had their different addictions too: Dave liked the spontaneity of Twitter and TikTok, while Alan for some reason preferred Facebook and Reddit. But Instagram was their common vice, and most of their friend circle were on it as well.

Before fatherhood, Dave had imagined that his use of social media would dwindle because he simply wouldn’t have the time. But instead he’d found the opposite to be true: now he wanted to post about Alan, Paris and Stella all the time, and he didn’t even care if no one outside their family and a few chosen friends would find it cute.

Of course, both Dave and Alan took care to obscure the faces of their daughters. But the adorable things they did were up for grabs: Paris’ first steps, then followed by Stella’s in a few years. Their first stuffed toys. Their first drawings. Dave shamelessly spammed his IG feed with various pictures and videos, and refused to feel bad about it because Martin was doing the same with his kids, and so was Fletch, who seemed convinced that his daughter was a maths prodigy.

Of course, Dave posted pictures of Alan on his feed as well. Naturally his husband was usually included if it was a picture or video with one of the girls, such as Alan helping Paris with her homework or feeding Stella at dinnertime. But sometimes Dave saved a few precious shots he’d snuck on his phone, like Alan frowning at the computer in his tiny makeshift home studio, or stealing a rare moment after the girls had gone to bed to listen to one of the many records he owned. Those didn’t get as many likes and comments as anything Dave posted of the girls, but he didn’t care much.

In truth, Dave would have probably gone on like this if Alan hadn’t taken him aside one night and asked him why he’d stopped posting pictures of his art. “My art?” Dave echoed, genuinely surprised that Alan had been keeping track because Dave certainly hadn’t.

“Yeah, your paintings.” Alan gestured towards Dave’s most recent effort, which was a white cat posing regally by a candle. Even that had been painted more than a year ago, before Stella had come into their lives. “You don’t really post them anymore. Or paint much more, for that matter.”

Dave just kept staring at Alan in astonishment. When they had gotten married and subsequently made the decision to become parents via surrogacy, it had been pretty much an unspoken agreement between them that family and work would have higher priority. This meant their hobbies were naturally the first thing to be sacrificed for time, and Dave had been fine with that. They hadn’t touched the band in years, not since the last time everyone had performed at Martin’s wedding.

But now Dave realised that he missed painting with an ache like a phantom limb, like something that had always been a part of him was now oddly missing. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d picked up a paintbrush for the hell of it. Everything he’d designed or illustrated over the past year had solely been for work, and that thought pained him like a spike through his solar plexus.

In contrast, Alan - who had always been very driven and disciplined - seemed to have no problem reviving his interests in mixing and composing after Stella had started sleeping at more regular hours. So Dave didn't even have the excuse of fatherhood.

“You should pick it up again,” Alan told him with a gentle squeeze of his hand, before moving on to the topic of Father’s Day, which was coming up. Dave just nodded distractedly when Alan suggested ordering in brunch from a nice restaurant, still preoccupied with thoughts of Alan’s mind-blowing revelation.

After that conversation with Alan, Dave decided to try and carve out time for painting. Although that wasn’t always possible, he did want to show Alan he was trying, so he started with small gestures. If he left reminders and post-its for Alan around the house, he’d be sure to draw a funny cartoon to accompany his loopy handwriting, like a sentient postbox (to remind Alan to go to the post office) or a funny caricature of Martin and Fletch (to ask Alan if he wanted to have dinner and catch up with them).

Alan never really mentioned the little drawings beyond an amused eye-roll, but Dave knew Alan was never particularly verbose about his true sentiments anyway. Dave had learned to look towards Alan’s actions instead. Sure enough, Alan started taking pictures of Dave’s little drawings and posting them on Instagram with an accompanying dry and witty caption, along with the hashtag ‘#artisthusband’. To Dave’s surprise, it really took off among their friends and other family members, and Dave always had to fend off demands from his mum and Sue about more cute artwork everytime he called home.

Since Paris and Stella loved the drawings too, he started drawing little monsters for them on their paper lunch bags, which he would prepare for them before Alan would drop them off at daycare. It wasn’t long before Alan started posting these on Instagram too, and his comment section would get animated at times because Martin, Fletch, Paul, Daryl and the rest would start discussing which creature Dave had meant to draw. He didn’t have the heart to tell them he’d made them all up on the spot.

Having Alan’s support like this, even for his silly little drawings, was more fulfilling and touching than Dave had expected. So he’d really meant it when he said he was going to get art supplies, but more often than not Dave would get distracted and buy Elsa colouring books for the girls instead. Alan hadn’t said anything at all, but Dave knew how to read him pretty well by now. His husband was definitely planning something.

On the morning of Father’s Day, Dave was the first out of bed so he put in the order at the restaurant before going for a run in Hyde Park. His metabolism wasn’t what it used to be, and he’d gotten into the habit of eating off the girls’ plates whenever they couldn’t finish their food. Alan was a really good cook too, so Dave knew he had to fit in a run today if he was going to be feasting on french toast and eggs benedict for Father’s Day.

When he got home, he thought he spotted Alan in the study with a giggling Paris and Stella. “Hello, my loves,” he yelled out at the door, even more mystified when Alan quickly stepped out of the study with the girls, closing the door hurriedly behind them.

“The food’s just got delivered, I’ll set the table,” Alan told him with a too-bright smile. ‘You go shower first, yeah?”

Dave decided to let his suspicious behaviour go for now. “Alright, sure.” He loped over to where they were, giving Alan a brief kiss and a I’m-on-to-you squint before bending down to stretch his arms out to the girls. “Can I get a hug first?”

“Daddy’s stinky!” Paris protested laughingly, while an uncomprehending Stella just giggled along with her older sister.

Dave’s jaw dropped in mock outrage. “Stinky, am I? How about I make you stinky too, huh?” He pretended to chase a squealing Paris and Stella for a hug, laughing when they ran to hide behind an amused Alan’s legs.

“Just go shower, the food’s getting cold, you lunatic.” Alan shook his head at Dave with a grin before shepherding the girls to the dining area. Dave left him to it, washing up quickly so he could join his family for breakfast.

However, he wasn’t expecting to find Alan and the girls waiting for him outside the bedroom, all of them grinning innocently at him. “What’s going on?” a suspicious Dave asked.

Paris took his hand and tugged him to the study, Alan picking up Stella and following with her in his arms. When Paris pushed open the door, Dave stared in shock at the brand new easel waiting for him, along with the art supplies neatly piled on top of a blank canvas. He stepped forward, picking up the paints and brushes with trembling hands. Alan had gotten everything right, remembered every detail from when Dave used to paint before they’d gotten married and become fathers.

“I had to take a bit out of the holiday budget for this,” came Alan’s soft voice behind him. “But it’s worth it for me to delay our trip. I’d rather see you painting again.”

“We want more of Daddy’s paper monsters!” Paris declared gleefully, while Stella stared at all of them in bafflement.

“I--” Dave just couldn’t speak. His heart was so full, like it was going to overflow with joy and sentiment and his overwhelming love for his family. There were simply no words that could possibly encapsulate the emotions warring within him now, so instead he grabbed Alan and the girls to him in a tight hug, his breaths ragged and his eyes wet.

“Happy Father’s Day,” Alan said quietly, the smile evident in his voice even though Dave couldn’t quite see his face.

“You too, Al.” Dave pulled away to kiss him, then smothered his squealing girls with equal affection.

#dalan #pizzaverse #maiyashu #fanart

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bluerose5 · 3 years ago

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The Ghost of Paradise (Exile AU)

Chapter 2: By the Minute

Rating: M

Word Count: 3,796

Tags: Mass Effect: Andromeda, Scott Ryder, Reyes Vidal, Reyder, Pre-Relationship, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Exile, Flirting, Secrets, Complicated Relationships, Eventual Romance, Rivalry, Engineer/Mechanic Scott Ryder, Jealousy

[Read it here as well on ao3.]

“Our agents say that you were speaking with Reyes Vidal at Kralla’s,” Nola said. She didn’t even give Scott a chance to breathe. The second he was through their gates —which were still a work in progress— Scott was ambushed. “Do I even want to know what you have planned?”

Scott grinned at her.

“Why must I always have something planned?” Scott asked. “Reyes is a good friend. For all you know, we could have been catching up over drinks.”

“‘Could have’ doesn’t mean that you were.”

“Fair enough.”

As she fell into step at his side, Nola led him around while they spoke, appraising their growing community with pride.

“Scott, as governor of Paradise, should I not be made aware of any transactions that might affect us?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Tell me what I need to know then. Nothing more, nothing less.”

As if he could refuse her insistent prodding. Every time he left, he always forgot how relentless she could be upon his return, but only when it pertained to matters that could have both predictable and unforeseen effects in their future.

In a way, Scott was grateful to have someone with that type of dedication on their side. They’re going to need it.

“I swear, it wasn’t anything particularly groundbreaking,” Scott promised. “I gave him some seeds from our latest project in exchange for a long-ranged scanner modification. That’s it.”

“Hmm… A decent enough trade.”

“Glad to have your approval.”

Of course, it was too much to hope that she would leave it at that.

“What is it for?” Nola asked.

Scott knew from experience not to lie to her face.

He sighed. “I’m going to scout out some of the Remnant ruins nearby. See if I can get a read on their bots, or a turret if I’m lucky.”

She cocked her head to the side and considered that for a moment, lips pursed.

“Promise to be careful then. I know you would gladly give your life to protect any of these people, but we don’t need you to throw it away because of pure recklessness,” she reminded him. “If it comes down to an altercation, we would rather have you here than some lousy turret schematics. Besides—” She shrugged. “You would probably be the only one who could make sense of them anyways. You and that stupidly genius brain of yours.”

Scott scoffed, suddenly uncomfortable as he shifted in place.

“Got it from my parents, or so they say.”

Ellen and Alec Ryder. The woman who literally gave her life to perfect biotic implants and the man who created a whole new type of AI. Quite the legacy to live up to.

Good thing Scott wasn’t living his life based on their achievements. Andromeda was a whole different playing field compared to the Milky Way. The work he was doing with Paradise was incredible in its own right. At least, he liked to think so.

If he could change at least one person’s life for the better in Andromeda, then he considered that a success.

Based on the feedback he was receiving from the residents, he was doing a damn good job, and that was enough for him.

But Nola had a point.

People relied on Scott now. As much as he was willing to dive headfirst into danger, he needed to refrain from doing so.

“I’ll be careful,” he promised her. “If things start to go south, I’ll ping you and Nakamoto.”

“Thank you,” she said, breathing a sigh of relief.

Scott hated to worry her so, but there was that one other matter.

“If it’s any consolation to you,” Scott said, trying for a lighter tone yet failing, “Reyes offered to accompany me on the trip.”

Nola stopped short, and Scott skidded to a halt. She narrowed her eyes at him with a sneer curling at her lip.

“No, that is not of any consolation to me. Scott Ryder, you know how he is.”

“Charming and witty?” Scott tried for his best smile, but Nola wasn’t buying into that bullshit, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Flighty and untrustworthy, especially once his back is against the wall.” Then, she amended her statement, taking on a slightly accusatory tone. “That’s assuming you didn’t pay any of his ridiculous service fees.”

“Puh-lease.” Scott chuckled. “If anyone should be spending their credits, Reyes should be the one paying me for my company. I’m a treasure not many can afford.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Nola snorted, “but at least you know your worth.”

“They say that time is money, after all. I’ll make sure to charge him by the minute while we’re together.”

“Please do, and make sure to get a picture of his face once you show him that bill.”

Scott was only happy to see her smile again.

“Will do,” he said.

“While you’re at it, drop a few hints here and there that Paradise might be looking to contract out some exclusive deals with top-rate smugglers. Leave out the ‘top-rate’ part, of course. Can’t have that going to the poor man's head.”

“His ego is already insufferable enough without the compliments,” Scott agreed, “but isn’t the whole point of secrecy for you and I not to draw attention to our connections here?”

“A woman can dream though, can’t she?” Nola sighed.

“So much for Reyes being ‘untrustworthy.’”

Nola didn’t even hesitate, brushing off his attempt to use her words against her.

“Skill is skill, and we don’t exactly have the people or resources to be picky right now. Everything is a commodity on Kadara, even integrity. If he betrays us, we’ll deal with him, simple as that.”

Right.

Still, it was laughable to think that the Charlatan would take on a contract with some of his direct competitors.

Although, that sounds like exactly the type of stunt that Reyes would pull. More than likely, he’d have an ulterior motive for doing so, but Scott could see it happening.

Did he support the idea, though? Definitely not.

“I don’t know,” Scott muttered. “I couldn’t see Reyes limiting his business to one group, especially if we’re only starting to get our feet wet.”

“You would know how he operates better than I, but I suppose that attitude is understandable. Disappointing, but understandable.” Nola grumbled. “Well, if nothing else, tell him the least he could do is give you a discount.”

“Trust me, I’ve been working that angle for a while. No such luck.”

“Greedy bastard.”

As they finished up their routine patrol, they soon switched direction, heading towards Nakamoto's clinic to conclude their meeting. There, Paradise’s leaders convened. They reviewed the requests that their colonists posted on the message boards around the settlement. Together, they decided on what matters they could approve for certain and which ones would be placed on the docket for a community vote. After that, they moved on to logistics, including topics such as requisitions and inventory.

To draw the meeting to a close, Nola relayed their latest numbers for colonial development. Water production was steady. However, food stores would be struggling soon to keep up with the recent influx of residents, so security personnel and all of those who knew their way around a gun were strongly encouraged to increase hunting and foraging activities while out on patrols or while performing their daily tasks. A roster will be posted on the local message boards to look for volunteers who would like to fill a full-time hunter-gatherer role.

Hopefully, what few angaran scientists they had amongst their people would be able to process their first batch of nutrient paste after their next harvest. It wasn’t exactly the tastiest solution available, but it was a necessary one if they were to survive.

In terms of population, there was a rapid spike in enrollment when word spread that Paradise actually got shit done and held true to their promises, but they expected the effect to eventually plateau once people settled in. Angara enrollment was up at the moment, especially after Scott appointed Nola as governor, and they have even seen a few Initiative members join up, having made the journey all the way from the Nexus to be reunited with friends, family, and loved ones.

Scott asked that they spread word for people to be warm and welcoming. The request probably wasn’t necessary, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Their community would make no friends by tearing people apart, and they prided themselves on being close and tight-knit.

It was important that they not only claimed to be but that they acted like it as well, backing up their words with actions.

Security assignments were then posted. Patrols would have to be upped to make up for an increase that they were seeing with gang-related attacks. Once automated security measures were in place, they would revisit the matter in order to assess which sectors needed heightened security. Emergency drills would be held at the end of the week.

With all of their needs addressed, Nola called the meeting to a close.

Once the meeting was adjourned, Scott approached Nola and their Head of Security, requesting a full census to be done within a day's time. Scott needed names, numbers, faces. Each citizen’s profile needed to be updated within their database.

If Scott was going to make an effective defense matrix for the colony, then he would prefer to program an IFF system that only a select few could remotely activate. For the system to work as intended, all of the colonists' photo IDs and biometric profiles would need to be kept current and constantly updated in real-time.

Nola promised to see to it that Scott got what he needed, shooing him off.

Apparently, he was hovering, but Scott could take a hint. He could tell when he was no longer needed, and he knew that Nola worked best when he wasn’t constantly worrying after her like a mother hen.

Departing from the settlement, Scott cloaked himself the second he went beyond the boundaries of their walls.

He was almost halfway back to Port when he received a message from Reyes. Figuring that he was in the clear, Scott made sure that the coast was clear before deactivating his cloak.

Pulling up his omni-tool’s interface, Scott opened the message. Along with it, there was a set of coordinates, sent from Reyes’s location.

R: Think I’m ready to cash in on those shuttle repairs. Wouldn’t mind the company right about now.

Scott’s fingers hovered above the holographic keys, contemplating his next move before deciding to hell with it.

S: Miss me that much?

R: Am I that obvious?

He didn’t even give Scott a chance to reply before he sent another message.

R: If it’s still in question though, let me put it bluntly.

R: I want to see you.

Scott pursed his lips, cursing his stupid heart for racing in response.

S: Give me a few. I’ll be there.

R: I’ll be looking forward to it.

Before he could embarrass himself, Scott closed out his messages. He quickly made his way to Port, grabbing his bag of tools and gear before venturing back out into the badlands.

From there, Scott followed the coordinates to a cliff, overlooking a nearby valley. The sun was slowly but surely sinking down over the horizon, lightning up the sky in array of pinks and oranges and reds.

Reyes was already waiting for him by the time he arrived, the shuttle powered down for the moment.

However, the second Scott noticed that Reyes was facing away from him, he instantly slowed his walk to a crawl. He bent his knees into a slight crouch and shifted his weight with each step, toe to heel as he snuck his way up behind him.

“You look like you’re waiting for someone.”

Scott delighted in watching him him jump in shock, only to have a blade at his throat in the blink of an eye.

As soon as Reyes realized who it was, all the blood drained from his face.

“S–Scott!”

Hands raised in surrender, Scott raised an eyebrow at him incredulously.

“You know, I was kind of expecting a warmer welcome,” he admitted, careful of the firaan's sharp edge. Keema must have given it to him. “Have to say, though, would it be weird if I was a little turned on right now?”

Reyes scoffed.

Trailing the blade along the outline of his throat, Scott swallowed thickly when he eventually felt its pointed tip press underneath his chin. Reyes tilted it up, and Scott followed, lest he risk being cut.

Their eyes met, and Reyes smirked.

Bastard was toying with him.

Retracting his knife, Reyes sheathed the firaan while Scott tried to catch his breath. The goosebumps left behind in the dagger's wake soon receded, yet a warm heat lingered.

“Tsk.” Reyes huffed at him. “Ryder—”

Uh-oh, back to last name basis. From experience, that meant trouble.

“You know better than to sneak up on me!” Reyes scolded.

“I do,” Scott said, not even afraid to acknowledge it, “but I love getting a rise out of you.”

“What if I would have hurt you?”

“But you didn’t.”

Scowling, Reyes placed his hands on his hips. Shaking his head, he pinched at the bridge of his nose.

“Scott, what the hell am I going to do with you?” he asked, releasing his nose, half-fond and half-frustrated.

“I’m sure we could think of something.”

Reyes hummed in agreement, watching Scott approach the shuttle with his bag tossed over his shoulder. He dropped it to the ground, then immediately got to work.

Watching him closely, Reyes leaned against the side of his shuttle with a thoughtful look.

“Maybe I could take you on a date?”

While Reyes tried to sound confident, his attempt ultimately failed. Instead of forming the words into a bold offer, they fell flat, sounding more like an uncertain question.

Scott stopped what he was doing. He spared Reyes a brief glance, only to return his attention to the task at hand, hiding his flushed face.

“Wouldn’t Zia disapprove?” Scott asked, being rougher than necessary as he practically took apart the control panel.

Envy curled inside him, spreading like an infection through his bloodstream. There was a sharp squeeze around his heart as it was encased in the feeling.

Reyes called him out on it, way too perceptive for his own good.

“Ryder, are you jealous?” Reyes chuckled.

Scott glared, causing him to throw his hands up in surrender.

“Just asking.”

“And if I am?” Scott retorted.

“Then I’d have to put your mind at ease.”

“It’s really none of my busin—”

Reyes closed the distance between them. Reaching out, he cupped Scott’s cheek, brushing his thumb along his bottom lip. Weak as he was, Scott leaned into his touch for a split second. His eyes threatened to flutter closed, but he had to remain firm about this one matter, if nothing else.

As he started to pull away, Reyes said, “There is nothing going on between Zia and I.” Scott froze into place. “We went out for drinks a few times, nothing more.”

“You swear?” Scott asked, narrowing his eyes.

“I swear.” His voice grew heated, impassioned. “I might be a bad man when it comes to many things, but I wouldn’t ever lie about that to you.”

Scott considered that before replying, “Well, like I said—” He cleared his throat, eyes averted. “ It’s not really any of my business, so I don’t know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pried.”

He trailed off, uncertain why he was acting that way.

Reyes furrowed his brow.

“No need to be sorry. If you had crossed a line, then I would have said so.”

“Even then, you’re not mine. Your relationships are your own.”

“I could be.”

Scott regarded him skeptically.

“Could be what?”

“Yours,” Reyes answered instantly, staring intently at Scott. “Just say the word.”

If only they weren’t both keeping secrets from each other at the moment, then Scott might take him up on that.

Turns out, being with the Charlatan would be a huge conflict of interests. Who could’ve guessed?

Silence settled between them. It was as if the whole world was awaiting Scott’s answer with bated breath. Time itself seemed to stand still in anticipation.

“I—” He struggled to find the right words. “Give me time.”

That’s all he could ask.

Reyes’s hopeful expression fell, and that alone felt like a stab to the chest. Scott's breathing trembled a little, as if it was becoming difficult to continue drawing in one breath after another.

God, he didn’t want to hurt him, but neither of them could really afford to rush into things half-cocked.

Scott copied his earlier gesture, reaching out to cup Reyes’s cheek. The change was almost instantaneous, how the tension drained away, only for Reyes to melt into Scott’s touch. He leaned into his hand, starved for affection.

Scott swallowed thickly, unable to pull away, let alone take his eyes off of him for even a second.

“All I ask is that you give me time,” Scott repeated. “That’s not a ‘no.’ I just need to think a few things over, iron out a few details.”

Reyes listened, then agreed.

“Alright.” He pulled away with a small, private smile. “As if I could deny anyone such a reasonable request, especially you.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Returning his attention to the shuttle, Scott got back to work. After all, he didn’t want to neglect the poor bird, and it appeared that the shuttle was in desperate need of a little TLC.

His diagnostics only confirmed his suspicions.

When a couple of sparks resulted from his prodding, Scott chastised Reyes for mistreating their baby. Reyes grew defensive, both of them falling back to old habits as they bickered.

This was the type of work that Scott did on the Nexus after he got sidelined and shafted. Systems repairs, shuttle repairs, routine maintenance… That sorta thing.

It was how he met Reyes to begin with. Few pilots had the energy to hang around and talk shop with Scott while he worked, especially since a lot of them had only recently returned from failed colonization efforts. Understandably, most people didn’t want to entertain idle conversation after watching their friends die out in the field.

That was fine by Scott, but Reyes had always gone out of his way —even then— to make sure that Scott had anything and everything that he needed.

They might have taken his shuttle out on a few joyrides together, gotten in trouble for wasting fuel, but Scott wouldn’t trade that time they spent together for anything in the galaxy.

Even now, it felt natural to settle back into their old routine. While Scott worked, Reyes watched, and they talked about anything and everything.

Time passed, and Scott only got deeper into the repairs and modifications. Despite the setting sun, he still broke a sweat, a light sheen glistening upon his skin.

Eventually, he had to take off his shirt, leaving him in a plain tank top that quickly got dirty along with his hands.

Swiping at the perspiration beading at his hairline, Scott grunted as he came to a stopping point for now. He reached for his bag, but what he was seeking wasn’t there.

“Shit.”

Turning towards Reyes, Scott huffed at him.

The bastard wasn’t even trying to hide his staring. Face flushed, he was biting teasingly at his bottom lip, brown eyes dark as he watched Scott through a hooded gaze.

Getting to his feet, Scott crossed his arms over his chest.

“See something you like?”

“Definitely.”

“You’re shameless.” Scott shook his head in disbelief, tsking under his breath. “You’re just as bad as that one time when Gil Brodie asked for a ‘second opinion’ on some fix he made. Turns out, I ended up doing almost all of the work while he sat back and watched.”

“Smart man,” Reyes noted, giving Scott a thorough once-over. “This Gil must have great tastes.”

Scott snorted.

“Flattery will get you nowhere. If you really want to make me happy, then you would grab your water bottle for me.”

“Did you forget yours?” Reyes asked, slightly concerned. After all, being caught out in the badlands without water was just asking for dehydration or heat stroke.

Nevertheless, he got the bottle for him. Scott placed his hands over Reyes’s, shrugging with a flustered blush.

“Yeah,” Scott sighed. “I thought I had packed it! I don’t know where it could’ve wandered off to.”

“Perhaps you were in a bit of a rush to get here,” Reyes said, trailing off suggestively.

Scott figured that he would allow that.

“Perhaps,” he agreed, “but what else do I keep you around for, if not the water? You wouldn’t want the guy repairing your shuttle to get dehydrated, right?” Scott smirked. “I could get delirious, and it would be very unfortunate if I just so happened to forget to install an essential component.”

Reyes gasped dramatically, relinquishing the water to Scott, who was quick to take a swig.

“You always have to watch out for the pretty ones,” Reyes grumbled. “Always causing trouble, keeping secrets…”

There it was again. That sense of knowing , that sense that both of them were holding something back. It was left unsaid. Neither confronted the other about it, but they knew that the secrets were there.

Before the sudden lag in conversation could get too awkward, Scott took another swig of water and asked, “So, you think I’m pretty?”

Reyes chuckled, glad for the change of subject.

“Kian seems to think so,” he muttered. Leave it to him to avoid the question. “He keeps asking when you’re going to start working for him at Tartarus.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“As a dancer?” He had to make sure he was hearing right.

“Yep.”

“Could you imagine?” Scott scoffed. “Me, shaking my ass for money? A tempting offer. It would probably be more profitable than the odd jobs I take on here and there, but I think I’m fine where I’m at.”

“Damn,” Reyes sighed, “what a shame.”

Scott raised an eyebrow in his direction.

“You saying you would have come to watch me?”

“Not only that, but I would have paid to watch you,” Reyes said, “especially if I could have gotten a private show out of it.”

Scott tried to imagine it, grinning in spite of himself.

“What’s so funny?” Reyes wondered.

“Nothing, nothing,” Scott said, brushing off his concern. “That just made me remember a thought that I had earlier.”

“What about?”

“Oh, you know.” Scott gestured vaguely. “Just that I should start charging you a fee for when we spend time together.”

Reyes winked at him.

“It would be worth every credit.”

#mass effect #mass effect andromeda #scott ryder #reyes vidal #reyder #mreyder #my writing #my fanfic #scott ryder x reyes vidal #exile au #hopefully tumblr doesn't screw with the order of my paragraphs again :/

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hinatas-sunshine · 4 years ago

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Synopsis: The first time you said I love you or they said I love you

Genre: Major fluff, some angst

A/N: Major thanks to everyone who read my first one you can find my more of my writing in my masterlist in my pinned post! Thanks for all the love! Thank you to @kageyama-kyoko for the character recommendations! Kithes 🥺❤️

Tendou:

• Your relationship was a rollercoaster

• You two always found some new adventure to go on and you explored any place that came to mind

“There’s a shut down McDonald’s two hours away with an abandoned playground.”

“Let’s go!”

• An I love you would be thrown in a lot of the time by you but for him... it was a little more complicated

• He loves you! Of course he does! But that also seemed to be the problem

• He was scared you’d lose feelings and give into what people think of him

• This was unknown to you, but you respected his lack of I love you’s because you know he cares regardless of words

• He took trains after trains to go with you anywhere because he was with you

• He actually enjoyed spending time with you, he would adventure any place with you, he’d share any ice cream, he’d do anything if you asked

• So his presence and respect for you were all you needed

• Your I love you’s were always appreciated and he would definitely kiss you Everytime you said it, and you were okay with that

• One night he opened up, standing in the middle of an abandoned water park

• He was nervous and you could tell but you reassured him that you’re all ears

“I’m scared.”

“We could always leave Tendou..”

“Not of the water park.”

• He looked at you and smiled softly

• He felt silly to even think this but he needed some reassurance

“I’m scared you’ll leave.”

• You knew automatically what he was talking about and you stepped towards him wrapping your arms around his torso

• You knew he needed some reassurance and you would always give it to him, without hesitation. You know what he’s been through was too much and maybe you understood maybe you didn’t, but you’d always be there to assure him that you aren’t going anywhere

• You knew the love you gave him was enough but you started to doubt yourself a little, it was hard not to; either way you looked up at him

“I’m never leaving, not even you push me down this slide.”

• He laughed and kissed your forehead

“I love you but is this a sign you want me to push you down the slide?”

• You nodded tearing up

“I love you too and yes.”

• And off you two went sliding down into the night ✨

“I think I scraped my ass.”

“Tendou I didn’t wanna know that.”

“Excuse me for bothering you with my pAIN?”

Kageyama:

• Kageyama wasn’t a vocal person about his feelings

• You think he loves you? But you made a deal with yourself and Hinata

“Hinata he has to say I love you first.”

“Period!”

• But obviously he wouldn’t know that, so this made things a little difficult, he was confused as to why you were being so affectionate

“Kags I brought you some milk!”

“Kags nice set!”

“You look cute today Kags!”

• He was creeped out ✨ don’t get him wrong he loved that you were complimenting him but you just were never like this as friends

• He went to ask Hinata about it but Hinata refused to say anything

“Maybe she thinks you don’t LOVE HER.”

“No I don’t think that’s it.”

• Everyone: F in the chat for Kageyama homeboy gonna be single

• You were walking from the vending machine, holding your own drinkto your chest, you slowly took sips from it as you enjoyed it’s familiar taste

• You slowly walked up the stairs of the school and sat down by a window and looked outside at the pink blossoming trees

• You heard running down the hallway and saw your boyfriend speeding towards you

“Y/n! Y/n I love you!”

• You dropped your drink and looked at your boyfriend who was now slowing down and resting his hands on his knees catching his breath

• some other student looked out their doors to see what all the yelling was about during their lunch hour

• you looked at your boyfriend once again and sat in your legs peering up at him

“Tobio-kun... are you okay?”

• He shook his head

“I don’t want to lose you, never. I won’t ever let myself lose you.”

“Who said you’d lose me?”

“I heard that- If I didn’t tell you soon enough you’d leave me. I don’t want that.”

• Your eyes watered at your boyfriends words, your boyfriend who never spoke about anything but volleyball, who never spoke about how he feels

“I love you too Tobio-Kun.”

• Hinata cheering in the background like the nosey boy he is

“But you wouldn’t lose me just because you didn’t say I love you.”

• He looked at you eyes wide and looked around seeing people watching you two, his face red he held up one finger to signal him saying “one minute”

• He sprinted towards Hinata

“Tobio-Kun stop running you’ll fall!”

• slowed down and Hinata ran turning a corner only for your boyfriends speed to pick up and start chasing the tangerine boy down the hall yelling he’s going to kill him

“Idiots”

Tsukki: *pats your back* welcome to the club

Konoha:

• You had been dating for a year and everything was perfect

• Well in your eyes

• Your boyfriend was perfect, he said the right things, did the right things, he took you to the best places, he even brought you anything you indirectly asked for

• And you did the same, you showered him in affection, hyped him up for games, you rubbed his shoulders when he was stressed, and you always made him the best food

• Everything was just normal and calm in your relationship, and you rarely argued or disagreed because you were just so both okay with figuring stuff out together

• Until Konoha had realized you never said I love you back and this upset him

• He asked his team for advice big mistake on his part it only worsened everything

“It means she doesn’t love you.”

“Bokuto-San no.”

• Your boyfriends behavior began to change and you noticed but you thought you would just put in more effort to make him happy

• You made him a Bento for practice, you held his hand and gave him words of appreciation, you even made his favorite dessert for him

• it didn’t work. He was upset and he started ditching you for volleyball practice

• This upset you but again, you just made more efforts to make him happy

• When you finally snapped you approached him, a full blown argument coming out of the both of you

“I’m not the one who ditches their s/o!”

“I’m not the one who refuses to say I love you to their boyfriend!”

• And with that he left you standing there alone

• You two spent a few days on zero speaking terms and it gave you both time to think, only question was who was going to approach first?

• You noticed the weather become more gloomy and took your umbrella out walking through the rain

• I don’t have to say I love you to prove to him that I do, but maybe it is time

“I love you y/n.”

• You turned to see your soaked boyfriend standing in front of you

“You don’t have to say it back but I love you, and these past few days have been hell for me because I realized you do love me and you prove that everyday with your actions. I understand now and I’m sorry I didn’t before, I let other people convince me you didn’t just over some still three words-“

“I love you too Konoha.”

• He sighed in relief and smiled at you, you smiled back fiddling with your umbrella before walking over to him to hold over the both of you

• He held onto it and squeezed your hand gently

“You forgive me?”

“I never said that pretty boy, why should I?”

• He laughed lightly and pressed a kiss to your lips before pulling away and shaking his wet hair on you

“Your a dog Konoha!”

• he chuckled at your words and placed another kiss on your lips

“Do you forgive me yet?”

“I do.”

• He smiled and began walking you home hand in hand, cracking jokes with one another and talking about everything that was happening in your lives the past few days

“Bokuto tried to cheer me up by drawing a volleyball with your face on it for me to spike.”

• Your mouth dropped open as you quickly texted Bokuto a rather mean message

Bokuto: y/n PLEASE FORGIVE ME! HE HIT ME WITH IT AFTER AND CRIED INTO IT ANYWAYS! KONOHA YOU SNITCH!!! 😭😭😭

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realityhelixcreates · 4 years ago

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Lasabrjotr Chapter 78: The Great Provider

Chapters: 78/?

Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: pg 13

Relationships: Loki x Reader

Characters: Loki (Marvel),Thor(Marvel) Wanda Maximoff, vision, Bruce Banner

Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), Party Time, Alarr Is A Little Bitch Now And Forever, Seriously Bull Cults Are Super Old, And Super Important

Summary: You face the bull.

“There's a lot of people looking at me.” Your father whispered to you, fiddling nervously with a crumbling slice of dark buttered bread. “Your asshole beau got me good this time.”

Seated on the other side of you, Loki sighed. Of course he could hear, even with the din of the First Feast all around. You shook pepper onto a peeled, boiled egg.

“It wasn't planned like that.” You whispered back. “All of the humans are seated on this side, me included. The planners just thought you should be next to me.”

On the one hand, you were glad your father was acknowledging your relationship without major pushback. On the other hand, insulting a prince within earshot of that prince, and many of his vassals, was probably not such a good idea.

“I mean, I can ask them to change the seating order. Put you down at the farthest table, with a bunch of Asgardians you've never met.”

He shuddered. “You wouldn't. My own daughter wouldn't do that to me, her poor old father, who has so few years left to him. You wouldn't show such cruelty to a vulnerable old man.”

“Yeah, yeah, you've got one foot in the grave already. You could fall over dead any minute now. You're practically dust.”

“Well, that might be going a little far.” he huffed. “I've still got some vinegar in me.”

“You even talk like an old man.” you teased. “Besides, you don't get to pull the Old Man Card, and then complain because I play along. Make up your mind.”

You passed him a serving bowl full of bilberry porridge, and he dipped some out. One thing your father was always willing to do, was try new food.

“Speaking of, what counts as 'old' to these folks?” he asked. “You've been saying some stuff about that, but it seems unbelievable.”

“You gotta start believing this stuff, Dad.” you chided.” It's all real. I know it's hard. My head has been swimming for months. But it gets easier to accept the more you learn. Anyway, for an Asgardian, about five thousand puts someone firmly into the 'elderly' category, but for an Aesir, like the king, or Saga, or Loki, the sky is the limit. I can count the number of kings Asgard has had in it's whole history on one hand. They just live that long.”

“Five thousand? Damn. That's...That's like, pyramid building times, isn't it? Say...did they...?”

“No, they didn't build the pyramids. I already asked. And even if aliens did build them, it wouldn't have been Asgardians” you pointed out. “They would have been in the north, making, I dunno, runestones? Longships? Something like that. The people in the north never really did the large-scale monument building like they did in Egypt. But Asgardians sure did. You saw the paintings of the old palace?”

That thing that looked like a pipe organ? Yeah.”

“So, if they were building our monuments, they'd have looked like that, wouldn't they?”

“Okay, but what if it was different aliens? We know there's more than one kind of alien.” he pointed out.

“Yeah, but...I never found out if the other gods of the world were aliens or not. But even if they were, I'm pretty sure the pyramids were built by humans, even if they were built for their gods.”

“They were.” Loki interrupted. “But they also made for interesting sight-seeing expeditions for many peoples across Yggdrasil, so yes, aliens visited Earth quite often in your distant past.”

Your father clammed up and glared. After a few awkward moments, Loki turned back to his plate, passing along a crumbly cheese that turned out to be similar to feta. You added some to your grain salad.

Just get through dinner, you thought to yourself. Why did the men in your life always have to be so difficult?

Time was left between courses for the making of toasts, and there was a lot of back and forth-between the Icelandic dignitaries praising the Asgardians for being such gracious hosts, and the Asgardians praising them for hosting all of Asgard in the first place. There were toasts for the Avengers in attendance, though they were somewhat subdued; the Maximoff girl was still a fairly controversial figure, Dr. Banner continued to be visibly uncomfortable with the attention, and the Vision was simply not as well known. But they were dutifully honored nonetheless, and then the humans of Trolerkaerhalla turned their adoration on you.

'The People's Seidkona', they called you. 'The bridge', and 'the Huldra shield'. Even 'the Sapphire Brand', a kenning Loki had invented for you, which made you wonder what he had been discussing with his worshipers when he was out working on the longhouses.

The dessert course was mixed dried fruit, cooked down into a compote and served over bread.

It was also the last course before the slaughter of the bull, for tomorrow's Second Feast.

You'd told Tara and your father about it, to mixed reactions. Tara was repulsed, but your father, who presumably saw more dead animals along the side of the road than you would be comfortable with, seemed to take it in stride.

“Someone has to do it.” he'd said, “They gotta get to the plate somehow. Sucks, I know. There's no way out of it?”

“It's tradition.” you'd sullenly explained. “And it's really old. Like, Proto-Indo-European old. Back when kings used to be worshiped and held responsible for everything. If the crops failed, they sacrificed him. So it was in a ruler's best interests to make sure his people were provided for. I think, eventually, the bull became a stand-in for the king. I don't know if the Asgardians influenced us in this case, or if it was the other way around, but there's a whole deep layer cake of symbolism involved, and I really do have to participate.”

The bull and the ruler. Symbols of power, fertility, plenty, and prosperity. It was poetic, in an ancient, rustic kind of way.

You had thought that you had it all together, but when you heard the bellowing sound of the bull somewhere close, and your heart clenched in your chest.

Suddenly dessert didn't taste so good.

******

There had been an arena built between tables for the bull to be driven into, with a raised platform that you were currently perched on, holding a goad with a trail of ribbons at the end. You would be enticing the bull towards you with the movement of the ribbons, and once it was within range, Loki would strike.

Then the beast would be butchered on the spot, to prepare for the next nights festivities. It would be very educational.

The human guests had been informed of what was about to happen, and of course, the Asgardians already knew, but they still cheered you on anyway. Skaldic students picked up a slow drum beat, that pulsed like a heart.

How many thousands of years worth of rulers and seidkonas doing this? Odin and Frigga had done it. Bor and Bestla had done it. Buri and Audhumla had not-the holiday hadn't been declared until after Buri's passing. But one had to assume that they all gazed out from Valhalla, within it's great black hole, and saw what their descendants were doing. Presumably, Buri could now see that two people who had no true relation to him, were now the ones honoring him. How would he feel about that?

The bull bellowed behind the gates, the sound echoing and distorting strangely. Loki lurked next to the platform, waiting. This wasn't going to be like a matador facing down an angry beast. This was going to be an ambush.

The gates slowly begin to open, and your adrenaline spiked into the sky.

Here it comes, here it comes, here it comes

The bull entered the arena and you froze in shock, almost completely forgetting what you were supposed to be doing.

The bull was...wrong. It was completely still, standing on a board on wheels. It did not walk into the area, but was pushed. It's head was oddly textured, almost shiny, and strangely shaped. It bellowed again, weird and distorted, but did not open it's mouth.

Its strangeness blended into your anxiety, becoming a potent cocktail of revulsion and dread. Loki patted the platform next to you, and you started, jerking your ribbons to and fro. The bull bellowed one more time before Loki strode up to it, and, with one smooth and elegant swing, beheaded it.

There was no blood. The wound was hollow, and the head sprouted the legs of a child as soon as it hit the ground, running around and mooing irreverently to the amusement and obvious confusion of the audience.

It was fake. It was a fake bull. Loki had mentioned to you that you need not worry because he had taken care of her bull problem, but hadn't had time to elaborate before you'd had to scramble up the platform. You would have never guessed he meant this.

With a flourish, Loki whipped the tanned hide off the bull, revealing a hollow armature beneath, within which was an ice-covered table, piled up with cuts of meat, bowls of organs, piles of stew bones, and a bucket of blood. The bull reduced down to its edible parts, all ready for tomorrow's feast.

The drums stopped abruptly, the child who had been hiding in the paper-mache bulls head discarded it to the side and ran off into the cheering crowd, as people came forward to carry away the bits of bull.

Loki draped the bull's hide over his shoulders and helped you down from the platform.

“Did I not tell you?” he said smugly. “I took care of it for you. Truly, the symbolism is the most important part, and this speeds the process along so that we may get to the dancing all the sooner!”

“That was freaky as hell!” you scolded. “You shoulda told me it was gonna be a fake! I spent that whole time all bent out of shape because of it, ugh, what a lot of wasted sleep!”

“In my defense, I didn't find out that you were troubled about it until yesterday. I had only a limited time to come up with something.”

“And you decided to stuff a kid in a fake bull's head? That's what you came up with?”

“That's Beli's youngest great-great-great-grandson, and he volunteered! My dear, what's wrong? I thought you would prefer it this way?”

“I do!” you huffed, irritated. “But I need you to start telling me when you do things like this! How am I gonna do my job if you already make all the decisions by yourself? Stop trying to surprise me all the time. I froze out there because of it! What did that look like to everybody else, huh?”

“I think they were too captivated by the bull to take notice...” he didn't sound so sure. “But yes, you are right, of course. It is a bad habit. I will be better.”

Somewhat mollified, you took his arm and allowed him to lead you to the dances.

*******

“It's an insult!” Alarr raged. “He reduces our history to mere spectacle!”

“It may have been for convenience.” his wife pointed out. “Our Midgardian guests need more frequent rest. It wouldn't do for his Highness' little seidkona to collapse from exhaustion.”

“Do not call her that!” he snapped. “She doesn't deserve the title! What part of her is a seidkona? The part that graces Loki's bed? Or the part that gets into cat fights with her betters? This is exactly what I am talking about though! The Midgardians are weak, but we are the ones expected to lower ourselves to their level? If they cannot keep up, they shouldn't be here! The prince is a fool, and the Allfather merely enables him. Together, they will reduce us to infants.”

“Watch your tone with me, Alarr. I tire of your temper.”

“And I tire of watching our culture and people be diminished for easier consumption by outsiders. When does it end? If even our holy days aren't exempt from foreign influence, then what part of us can we really expect to keep? How much can we be diluted, and still remain Asgard?”

“Alarr, this obsession has already cost you dearly. And not just you, the whole family has been impacted by it. You are so preoccupied with everything you're afraid we're going to lose, that you don't see the harm that you are doing to us yourself! Now you may sit here and let your rage rob you of your Buridag, but I'm going back out there to enjoy myself! Stars know, I've had precious few chances to do so lately!”

She stormed out, leaving him behind to seethe.

�� ******

“That was so weird.” Todd said. “I thought it was going to be a real cow.”

“I'm glad it wasn't!” another camper exclaimed.

“Yeah, me too, but why did they go through all that rigmarole about what was going to happen, explaining the whole thing, telling us not to fear, and then wheel out a meat-filled piñata instead? Did they think we were gonna think it was real? Like, are we toddlers to them?”

“Maybe? They're all hundreds of years old, aren't they? Even the kids.”

“Yeah, I guess so. I feel like that's a problem though. I mean, think of the advantages they have over all the rest of us! I can't help but feel like they will eventually have a disproportionate amount of global influence, just because of the monumental projects that they can put together with that longevity. And like, I know the longhouse squad might not mind having alien overlords, but I'm sure not excited about it.”

“Global superpowers rise and fall. That's just history.” another camper said. “Are you sure you aren't just worried that yours might be overshadowed?”

“No need to be rude.” Todd chided. “People were rightly worried about super powered individuals before these guys even showed up. I mean, look at what happened to Sokovia! When I was a kid, that kind of thing was unthinkable! Now we've gotta worry about nukes, and terrorists, and school shootings, and climate change, and now alien invaders and supermen on top of all that? It's no wonder people are so worried. Did you know these people haven't even signed the Accords? What do you think that says about them?”

“Hey, I'm not disagreeing, man. I'm skeptical too. But they're refugees all the same, and it's only been a couple years. I figure they're just trying to get adjusted before they go committing themselves to anything big, you know?”

“And that's fair for the average Asgardian. As far as we know, they didn't do anything wrong. But Thor...you know, as much as I like him, he's been involved in some pretty destructive events. And the least, I mean, the very least he could have done to show some kind of good faith with Earth, would be to turn his brother over to some kind of justice. But he hasn't; he's just let Loki flaunt every authority. The man committed a felony, he kidnapped my girlfriend, and...nothing! He's not allowed on United States soil, but he did it anyway, and nothing has been done. I can't help but be resentful, who wouldn't be?”

“I know what you mean, but then why did you come to this shindig, anyway?”

Todd shrugged. “I just wanted to see that she was okay, you know? We weren't perfect, but we really had something, and I just want to make sure she's okay. She didn't look okay, up there with that fake bull, and I don't like it. I know her; she's kinda delicate. All this is gonna be too much for her.”

“You have a lot to say.” interrupted an unfamiliar, accented voice. The little knot of campers jerked to attention. A young man stood nearby, arms crossed, glaring.

“Uh, yeah...” Todd said. “To my friends. Who are you?”

“Fritjof.” the stranger said shortly.

“That's the mutant.” one of the campers whispered urgently. “We saw him out in that fight, remember? He throws fire!”

“Oh.” Todd held his hands up in front of him. “Hey man, we don't have any beef with you. No need to lose our tempers or anything...”

Fritjof snorted. “Somehow, I doubt this.” he sneered.

“Frit!” A woman cried, then rattled off a quick sentence Todd could not understand. Fritjofs intimidating stance softened, and he answered back.

“I'm going to dance now.” He told Todd. “Be a more gracious guest.”

Several of the campers let out the breaths they'd been holding, as he left.

“What a freak.” One of them muttered.

“Don't know what his problem is, but I think he could use a class on minding his own business.” Todd said.

“So, you wanna go dance?”

“Not really, but I suppose it couldn't hurt to go see what it's like.”

******

The dancing was energized and frenetic; stomping, clapping, twirling, leaping. It was full of laughter and celebration, messy and unchecked. The commoner's dances were danced by all, and you had thrown yourself into them with relish. From arm to arm you passed, jumping and shouting in time with everyone else.

You danced, and spun, and bounced, finally ending up panting back in Loki's arms.

“Come, sit with me.” he said. “You need a breather.”

He sat you down in one of the covered seats, wrapped you in his cloak for extra warmth, and pressed a cup of hot cider into your hands. The community continued to dance, some breaking off to rest, some jumping back in. You simply watched, sipping your cider as Loki twirled Sjofn, Thor kicked with Wanda, and a very tall Asgardian lady tried to entice an increasingly uncomfortable looking Dr. Banner. Even Gloa seemed to be having a good time, though you noticed Alarr was nowhere to be seen. Andsvarr, however, was dancing for all he was worth, and rarely let Saldis out of his grasp. It was cute, but not as cute as Tara, slightly drunk off buttered rum, flirting openly with several very confused Asgardians, or your father, trying hard to avoid Dr. Banner's fate.

Loki whirled his way back to your side, and plopped down next to you, but must have noticed you were fading.

“It has certainly been a long day, hasn't it?” he asked. “Would you prefer to return to our rooms?”

“Yeah. As much as I'd like to stick around, I'd really need some sleep.” you admitted. “Gotta be up bright and early tomorrow too.”

“Then shall we?” He offered his arm, and somehow the two of you slipped away without much notice.

“Are you going back out?” you asked, as he tucked you comfortably into his bed.

“Yes, for a little while longer. It's best that my brother and I be seen out among the people for as long as possible. I'll be back later. Sleep soundly, my dear.”

The rigors of the day caught up to you quickly, and you had no inkling of how much time had passed when you finally felt him slip into bed next to you, smelling of sweet crystal mead.

#lasabrjotr #loki (marvel)#loki x reader

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40sbarnes · 4 years ago

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Medici: Spymasters of Florence

Chapter 11: Business Trip

hey guys!! Thanks so so much for the patience with this chapter. I’m back to regular posting now so new chapter on Sunday! Hope you all enjoy this one until then <3

Pairings; Lorenzo x reader, (platonic¿) francesco x reader

tag list!!; @brynthebulldozer @mythicalamphitrite @nana035 @valravnsraven @hannahhistorian92 @not-thatweird @isaac-lahey-is-bae @angrygardendeer (comment to be added!)

The sun had long been risen before you woke the next day. Your dreams had become less and less creative and were just recurring, altering worries of the situation you'd found yourself in. You stopped paying attention to them, letting them slip from your thoughts the moment you lifted your head from your pillow.

Your stomach grumbled as you got dressed, you were trying your best to save your gold, you weren't quite as set on leaving after your talk with Lorenzo but it still seemed the most favourable option, as well as the most expensive. You couldn't afford to silence your stomach, but you were hungry, and there was always a stall owner who wasn't paying enough attention. You slid your cloak over your shoulders, before heading to the door to refine your particular skill set.

Your plans of thefts were quickly changed at the sound of a knock on your door. Carefully, you opened the door, seeing a basket sitting on your doorstep. Suspicious, you nudged it with your foot, the contents were wrapped in cloth. You glanced around, seeing no trace of whoever left it there. Your curiosity got the best of you, and you scooped it up, bringing it into your home before closing your door once again. You set it down on the table, picking up the first item, sliding the loose cloth around it off. A loaf of bread. Who sent this? God himself? The fresh scent wafted through the air of your dull room. You picked off a piece and hungrily scoffed it down, easing your stomach slightly. It was delicious, you'd never quite had the likes of it before. You took a few more nibbles before you moved on to the rest of the basket.

A small jar of preserve, presumably to accompany the bread you'd already ripped into. You moved it aside, lifting up the last of the contents, which was also the largest. The item was soft, the cloth delicately wrapped around it tied with a thin string to keep it in place. You unravelled it quickly, shedding the cloth to reveal what it was hiding. You chuckled, realising who the basket had been from. You held the soft linen sheets up to your cheek, deciding Lorenzo wasn't all that bad after all.

A small slip fell out of the sheets onto the floor. You left them back into the basket to retrieve the note. 'We need to talk immediately.'

You furrowed your brows, you had agreed to talk already, why the sudden rush? You didn't have time to question it apparently, and instead headed back towards your door, doing what you were paid to do.

—-

Lorenzo's window was cracked already, you'd like to imagine especially for you. You slid in with ease, feeling much stronger after your rest.

"Y/n," he greeted you, standing up from his chair.

"Is everything alright?" You questioned, worried by the urgency of the note.

"For now," he nodded, although his words didn't bring you any comfort, "Pazzi has gained Soderini’s favour, I don't know how, but..." You didn't speak, instead waited for him to continue. "I have gained Orsini's, thanks to your doing, Jacopo can send all the messengers he wishes now and it will not amount to anything, but I had been counting on Soderini to push us forward. I don't know what Pazzi has on him, but he isn't being swayed, so I'm going to try and convince Vitelli."

"Vitelli? I assumed he was a given Pazzi vote," you didn't know much on the matter but from hearing Pazzi speak, at least, it had always appeared that way.

"Nothing is a given in this world, Bellondini. I'm sure Jacopo believes that you are a given loyal spy," Lorenzo's smirk seemed more of a mockery than anything else. It soon slipped from his cheeks as he focused back on the business at hand. "I have to at least try and gain Vitelli’s favour. Or else I'm practically throwing in the towel now."

"That is fair," your eyes surveyed Lorenzo's, "so why did you call on me?"

"Well, I have to leave as soon as I can, he is away in Venice for his first grandsons birth," he explained, "and I thought it best to notice you of my sudden departure," you nodded, still not quite understanding why this couldn't of been said in the note. "And also, I was wondering if you'd consider accompanying me?" You were taken aback by his words, and your face showed it.

"It won't be an easy task to sway Vitelli’s vote, and I imagine someone of your expertise will be of great assistance. You might overhear some information that could help him change his mind," he continued his proposal.

"Lorenzo..." you began, not entirely sure how you felt about the offer.

"I understand if you still need rest, and I am not asking this as a favour, I will pay you handsomely for the trip," you could do with the extra coin... "Also, most of it would be resting in itself, enjoying the finer luxuries of this life for a few days. It might even do you some good," he smiled, you didn't mimic him.

"A few days? Lorenzo this is asking a lot more than a simple lift or eavesdrop," you shook your head, almost repulsed at the thought of leaving town with him.

"I'm well aware. I'm also aware that you have already done far more for me than needed, but this could be the tipping point for the election." The passion was not hidden from his voice.

"I can't just up and leave at the drop of a hat, what about Pazzi? And my life doesn't simply revolve around you t-" you couldn't even explain why you were angry, you simply were.

"I've never known you to complicate saying no, y/n," Lorenzo sighed, returning to a colder exterior as he cut you off. "I don't need you, just thought it might be nice for you to have a little time away," he huffed.

"You don't-" you didn't bother finishing your sentence, although Lorenzo stood there waiting. "Well thank you. But I'm perfectly fine," you were offended at the insinuation of his words, and how true they were.

"Whatever you say," his eyes disagreed with his mouth, clearly just going for your nerves, "I have business to attend to now, but I will leaving shortly after. The offer still stands."

You shook your head, not falling for it. "Enjoy your trip, Lorenzo," and you left before he could annoy you any further.

—-

The Pazzi palazzo seemed ever more daunting every time you went, your anxiety spiking down your spine at the looming cloud of being found out. When Francesco's smooth voice floated throughout the marble walls you wondered if you deserved what was bound to come. He had been your only confidant all these years, and you had turned around and betrayed him.

Jacopo's booming yells soon echoed around you, and you were reminded why the guilt of being a double spy had failed to fully consume you. His cold cries at his own blood were enough to assure you that all of this hadn't been in vain, that a Florence under his rule was not one you would have enjoyed seeing, that you would probably have had to flee your home anyways. You didn't need to have your keen senses to recognise his shouts were coming from his office, and that he was upset over the missing spy. Wonder where he could have gone?

Jacopo's yelling grew louder and louder until a piercing roar finished his rant. "Get out of my sight!" The silence that followed felt much louder than any noise Jacopo could create.

After a beat dropped, footsteps echoed across the tiles. A stressed Francesco appeared in your line of sight, his eyes focused on his own feet. He paused for a moment when he noticed you were there, your eyes meeting for a moment. You couldn't help but shoot him a smile, trying to offer any comfort you could. He didn't offer you the same comfort, his eyes fluttered closed, blinking at they shifted back to their original position, as their owner left you standing alone. You had seen Francesco upset many a time, never had he blatantly ignored you in such a way. You weren't given much time to dwell on it, as Jacopo appeared in the doorway of his office, calling you in.

You felt like a lamb being sent for slaughter, that someway, somehow he'd know what you had done. You didn't let your worries show.

"The other night I sent a man to Orsini's residence with a message. He has yet to return," Pazzi's anger had all but faded as he spoke to you calmly, as if he was informing you of his dinner last night. You nodded for him to continue. "As you are aware, the vote is growing closer. And young Medici seems to be more capable than first imagined. Orsini's vote would mean a great deal to me. It is vital he receives the message." You continued your silence as Jacopo leaned to the side to open the top drawer of his desk, sliding out a piece of parchment, too familiar for your liking.

He stretched his arm out over the desk, allowing you to take the note from in between his forefingers. You keep your face poised as your heart rate sped up, remembering the lengths you took to procure the message the first time around. You move to stand up, ready to complete the task, but Jacopo raises a finger to stop you. "Be very, very, careful, Bellondini. This must reach Orsini today. Do not let anyone see you, including the wretched man himself."

"Yes, Messer," you bow your head, deciding now was not a time more many words.

"Then go," he waved his hand to the door, "return the minute it is done. You shall receive your payment then."

You nodded one last time before finally exiting the Pazzi home, message tucked safely away under your cloak. You couldn't help but be reminded that this was the same journey that poor man had taken not days before. It was daytime now of course, the sun and the citizens roaming the streets allowing you some peace of mind, an assumption of your own safety. Although you couldn't stop yourself from glancing over your shoulder to the rooftops, as if to see yourself staring back at you, waiting to strike. You tried to push your mind from the subject but it wasn't as simple a task as you'd hoped. The parallels between you and your victim were painstakingly obvious, and your guilt was quickly returning. If someone were to lift the note from you now surely you'd fight back, fear of Pazzi was not something to undermine. You couldn't truly blame the man, but it would be much easier if you could.

Amidst all your worrying, you reached the Orsini home. It had seemed to have made your journey quicker, or perhaps it was just a result of taking the path already. You forced yourself to focus on the task at hand, hood up as you slipped around the walls until you spotted the servant entrance, eyeing out your target. A young man caught your interest, and you neared him, head hung low so your face was covered. "Take this to Orsini. He'll want to see it." You grumbled as you spoke, in an attempt to hide your voice, pushing the message into his hands.

"B-but, I-" you almost felt pitiful, his voice cracking as he took in his situation.

"No buts," you moved your cloak aside slightly, allowing your blade to catch a glint from the sun, "move along. Now." It felt strange, you were more than used to threatening people, but now knowing your threats held such a weight, it was different. You almost enjoyed the power, watching as the servant scurried off with the note, but you caught yourself.

Before heading back to the Pazzi's you continued your way around the building, glancing around to ensure no one was watching as you searched for the right room. Eventually, your eyes landed on Orsini himself, sitting on his comically large chair, the note already having reached him. It sat in his hand, his eyes burning a hole through the parchment as they scanned the words scrawled across it. Once he had finished he scoffed, tossing it into the fire behind him. Lorenzo had certainly taken care of that, so. Orsini dismissed the servant who was knelt at his feet, and you took it as your sign to leave as well.

You were smug, what you had done had actually meant something, it wasn't all in vain, it had helped Lorenzo, which you were realizing wasn't a thing as terrible as you had previously believed. But as you retraced your steps to the Pazzi's, you remembered running down the same street before, from your attacker. You past the alleyway you took in hopes of a shortcut, just to be cut off, almost dying in the process. Your breaths became more staggered as you tried to focus on something, anything else. Your mind automatically wandered to Lorenzo, and his offer. Maybe a few days away from all this wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. It would at the very least provide you with days of food, meaning you would be well fed and saving your own coin. You decided you would at least try, considering he may have already left.

Picking up your pace, you arrived back at the Pazzi's, the doorman having your pouch of coins ready, bidding you farewell before he left to inform Jacopo of your success. You were grateful for any instance in which you didn't have to deal with the man in charge yourself. You secured your payment, before rushing off back to the Medici home, hoping against the odds that Lorenzo's business had kept him just as long as yours had.

The Medici walls were soon in your sight, causing you to move even faster. You maneuvered your way around to Lorenzo's window, it was practically second nature at this point, to see the window still cracked open an inch. You slipped through after widening it, to an empty room. You let out a breath, you had gotten your hopes up, of course he'd left already.

Disappointed, you glanced around, not knowing quite what to do with yourself, until you heard bustling coming from outside his door. You moved closer, listening as well as you could through the thick wood. It was all muffles, but you recognised that tone in an instant. Lorenzo hadn't left yet. You cracked open his door ever so slightly to be able to hear him saying his farewells to Lucrezia, bidding her son a safe journey.

You closed the door, swiftly moving across his room to slide back out his window, ignoring your quickened breaths. You gently fell to the ground, before making your way around to the entrance, seeing no one around. Lorenzo emerged after a moment, saddled on a horse. He lifted the reigns, ready to depart, until you stepped forward so he could see you.

"Does the offer still stand?" the question fell from your lips, which were curled into a grin.

Lorenzo let out a light laugh, smiling back at you, before he outstretched his hand to help you up. "Come on, then.”

#there will be actually lorenzo x reader next chapter i swear #daniel sharman #daniel sharman x reader #lorenzo de medici #lorenzo de medici x reader #medici #medici fic #medici: masters of florence #medici: spymasters of florence #francesco pazzi x reader #francesco x reader

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justauthoring · 5 years ago

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No Reason To (35/50)

Prompt: “And I guess… when it comes down to it, I trust you.”

It has come to my attention that by adding links to my posts, it stops that post from being seen in the tags tagged. So, sadly, I will no longer be able to tag previous parts of NRT on new chapters. BUT all part can be found easily on my “No Reason To Series MasterList!”

A/N: So, here it is ladies and gents. Finally the thirty-fifth chapter to NRT. And what better way to kick it off with a chapter OVER TEN THOUSAND WORDS LONG???

I’m literally gonna be so bummed out if this barely gets any attention, but i’m trying to prepare myself for it. Anyways, I have to admit, it was hard given that it’s been so long since I wrote for this series and i’d forgotten A LOT of things but I found my mojo and my inspo and because of came the longest chapter to date. So, please, enjoy!

However, the more comments and response I receiver from chapters will inspire me to write more frequently. It was one of the reasons why I took such a long break – because it felt like no one cared about this series anymore. So, i’m hoping that people still do.

Send me a little comment in the ask section or leave it below on what you thought of this chapter. As usual, I hope you all enjoyed!

AGAIN, remember if you’d like me to continue this series, just leave a little comment or an ask letting me know. I will NOT continue the series if no one wants me to.

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Pairing: Stiles x McCall!Reader

Based off of: Teen Wolf 05x08, 05x09 & 05x10

“Stiles?”

“Y/N, thank God--!”

An immediate bout of relief floods you at the sound of Stiles’ voice, pulling your hand away from your mouth to stop the way you’d nervously been chewing at your nails and glancing around aimlessly. Your heart is still pounding erratically against your chest, frightened from all that had happened in less then twenty-four hours.

You can’t get the image of Scott shoving a sword through your stomach out of your mind. Even if it had been... well, you still weren’t sure what it was; a hallucination of some sort. Something. But even if it hadn’t been real, you couldn’t seem to calm down.

And right now, all you wanted to do was see Stiles.

“I just got a dispatch, they’ve taken--”

“Kira into custody,” you cut in, nodding to yourself. “Kira called Scott, he’s on his way to check up on her now.”

You hear, though through static, Stiles’ let out a breath of relief at your words. And silence seems to hang in the air afterwards, because while Stiles’ breath of relief is justified, you can’t seem to feel the same. Everything had gone to absolute shit so quickly.

“Y/N?”

Letting your eyes fall shut, you’re thankful that even through a cellphone, Stiles just seems to know. Just know something’s wrong. Because truth be told you weren’t exactly sure how you were supposed to tell him that Scott’s plan had gone anything but well and now, Liam and Hayden were God knows where and there was absolutely no way to track them because there was no scent to track.

“Liam and Hayden, they, um... the Dread Doctor’s got them,” you breathe, voice shaky. “The plan failed. They tricked us, all of us, and now... now they’re gone and Scott and Malia can’t find them because there’s no scent to track.”

The silence echoes for a while longer. You can hear Stiles’ breath spike as you explain, as the weight of everything, the entire situation, seems to dawn on the both of you. And neither of you are sure what to say.

All Stiles’ manages is an echoed; “Jesus...”

Swallowing thickly, you bite your lip, forcing back your tears. It was time to gather yourself. Now wasn’t the time to be acting like this; afraid. Liam and Hayden needed you, and the first ridiculous plan is what got them in trouble in the first place. You refused to fail them again.

“Scott told me to call you,” you speak up, trying your best to steel your voice. “He wants everyone to meet at our place. Come up with a plan.”

“Okay,” Stiles echoes and you can imagine him nodding. “Okay, um, okay. I’ll be there. And I’ll... I’ll bring Theo.”

You hum your agreement; “we need all the help we can get.” Then, pausing just a moment more, you add; “i’ll meet you there?”

“Yeah, yeah, i’ll meet you there.”

You move to hang up, but then Stiles’ calls out for you once more, eliciting a light hum from your lips as you press your phone up against your ear. “Yeah?” You respond lightly, playing with the hem of your shirt. “What’s up?”

“I love you.”

Blinking at his words, you for some reason realize that out of everything that wasn’t what you’d expected Stiles’ to say. You can’t make sense of why the thought wouldn’t cross your mind. But, his words help ease you, even just a little, and you feel your lips curl into a soft smile, glancing down at your feet.

“I love you too, Stiles.”

You turn at the sound of your front door opening, eyes falling on your brother.

He walks in with determination, never faltering in his step, even as Stiles calls out; “hey, is Kira okay?” Your brother just simply ignores him, walking past you, Malia, Stiles and Theo without even as much as blinking a glance towards you all.

Your brows furrow at him, watching as he makes his way to the stairs.

“Scott?” Theo calls, puzzled.

Meeting Stiles’ eyes, you shrug at the look he sends you, the first one to follow after your brother and rush up the stairs. It’s clear he’s headed to where Lydia and Mason are helping Corey get started with reading the book. And your chest tightens with worry on what you fear he’s planning on doing.

Your thoughts are only confirmed when you find Scott digging his nails into the back of Corey’s neck, eyes glowing a bright red.

“Don’t get too close,” Lydia warns.

You shuffle forward when you feel Theo rush up behind you, stepping closer to Stiles to give the former room to catch in on what’s happening. As you glance back at him, you notice the way his brows furrow in confusion, turning to you. “What’s he doing?”

“Tapping into Corey’s memories,” you explain, turning to your brother with a frown. “It’s usually something only Alpha’s do.”

Theo walks past you, until he’s directly behind Scott. Your eyes narrow slightly, just a little, at the look in his face as he regards what your brothers doing. There’s interest in his gaze and he almost seems fascinated by what Scott’s doing, but it’s the question that leaves his lips that concerns you, just a little. “Is it as dangerous as it looks?”

“Probably more,” Stiles sighs.

“Does anyone know if it’s working?”

Mason’s question is left unanswered.

But the silence only lasts so long before Scott lets out a gasp, and a bout of panic floods you. With wide eyes, you watch as Scott yanks his hand back, stumbling back on his own feet. Stiles’ rushes forward, so do you, helping catch Scott before he falls back as Corey rushes up to his feet, Lydia helping him similarly as you and Stiles help Scott.

“Is he okay?” Scott rasps, leaning against the dresser in his room, short breathed.

“What the hell did you do to me?” Corey asks, voice pitched in panic. Glancing back at him, you frown as he touches the back of his neck, clearly distraught with everything that had happened.

Scott braces himself, gripping the edge of the dresser and breathing out; “you’ll be all right.”

Lips parting, you turn to Scott in surprise.

“There’s blood,” Corey whimpers.

“You’ll heal.”

“Hey, Scott--” You move forward, to reach for Scott, but he slaps your hand away, turning to you with narrowed eyes.

“He’ll be fine!” He bellows, dismissing you and anything else you’d been about to say. You take a step back at his outburst, trying to hide the hurt on your face as you meet Lydia’s gaze before glancing down at your feet. “Listen...” Scott pants, “I think it worked. I saw something.” Grabbing a sketch pad from his dressed, Scott continues to explain himself whilst mapping it out. “There were tunnels. Pipes along the walls. There were these huge blue pipes at the entrance. Two on both sides.”

Shuffling forward, Stiles’ glances over Scott’s shoulders; “I know this,” he mumbles, shaking his head. “I’ve seen this before.”

“Where?” You question, pulling Stiles’ eyes on you.

“It’s one of the tunnels I used to skateboard in,” Stiles explains, nodding. Then, he turns to Scott. “Remember, my dad caught me one time and told me to never go back?”

“It’s the water treatment plant,” Lydia identifies.

“That’s where they are,” Scott breathes, “that’s where we’ll find Liam and Hayden.”

“Scott. Scott! Just slow down and think for a minute, Mason shouldn’t be going.”

“Liam’s my best friend,” Mason instantly argues, stepping past Stiles and crossing the distance over to Scott without a moments of hesitation. “I’m going.”

“Oh,” Stiles scoffs, “did you suddenly get super wolf powers? I wasn’t aware of that development.”

Swallowing thickly, you glance at Scott before turning to Stiles, biting your lip.

“Well,” Scott shrugs, gesturing to Mason, “if you’re not going, I could use the help.”

“No, I’m coming,” Stiles huffs, “just as soon as I talk to my dad. They’re moving the body and he wants to make sure that this time no one steals it.”

“How’s he gonna do that?”

“I don’t know. But whoever took the last one was strong enough to flip my Jeep.”

Glancing amongst everyone, you shrug; “we can bring Theo,” you suggest, gesturing before yourself. Theo meets your eyes in surprise at your suggestion, before turning to Scott who waits patiently for him to agree.

“Maybe I better stay here,” Theo shrugs, shaking his head. “You know, in case the Doctors decide to make a house call for Corey.”

“Scott,” Lydia calls, “Stiles is right. We need to slow down and think.”

“I am thinking... about how Liam and Hayden could already be dead.”

Lydia’s eyes widen and she says, quickly, with no hesitation; “you could’ve hurt him, Scott.” And her words hang in the air because no one can deny that what she says is true. And that what Scott had done was way out of line. “Really hurt him.”

Shaking his head, Scott shuffles back; “I have to find Liam.” And then he turns, moving towards the door. Malia and Mason are quick to follow after him but before you can do the same, Stiles steps towards you, reaching out for you.

“Hey, text me. For anything.”

You nod without hesitation; “got it.”

“Anything at all, okay?”

Just about to turn out the door, few steps behind the rest, you nod once, this time rushed. “Of course!”

You keep close behind Scott, your gaze concentrated on anything and everything that could be a hint to where Liam and Hayden are.

You don’t have the advantage of scent-tracking like Scott or Malia, but it’s clear it might not be doing as much help anyway if the looks on Scott and Malia’s faces are anything to go by. You feel like you’re in a maze, taking turns left and right but having no idea where you’re actually headed.

It’s the blind leading the blind.

Pausing next to Malia, you catch her gaze before she looks out before herself; “Liam!” She calls, and her voice echoes amongst the tunnels, but there’s no response.

“I have a feeling this is gonna take a while.”

“Liam! Hayden!”

Brows furrowed, you shake your head at the once again lack of response. All you can hear is the echoing calls from the rest, but not from Liam or Hayden as you take random lefts and rights that never seem to lead to anything.

Taking another left, your heart leaps for the millionth time in hope that you’ll manage to find something, anything, that can be a clue. But of course, your hope is misplaced and lost the second you realize there’s nothing more special about this hallway then the rest. However, you do catch sight of Scott, Malia and Mason that have already regrouped, probably from stumbling into each other, as their gazes fall on you.

Sighing, your shoulders drop as you make your way over to them; “it feels like we’re running around in circles.”

Scott nods, “we need to make sure we’re not covering the same area.” He pants, breath laboured. Your brows furrowed when you notice the rasp to his breath, and it’s a sound you’ve heard many times however not in a long time.

“Scott,” you call, concerned. Taking a step towards him, you set your hand on his shoulder, glancing around at the rest.

Mason meets your eyes with a nod; “he needs his inhaler,” then, turning to your brother, he gestures; “right--?”

“Shh!” Scott cuts in, not letting any of you speak again as he tilts his head, shrugging your hand off of him. You let your hand fall by your side with parted lips, eyes narrowed as you hold your breath in anticipation. “I hear something,” he continues, breath still heavy.

“It’s just the lights, isn’t it?”

Scott shakes his head, eyes narrowing in concentration. However, he doesn’t explain anything to the three of you, shrugging off any questioning looks and choosing to ignore them as he steps forward. “Come on, this way.”

Pressing a hand against your chest, you lean forward, trying to ignore the burn that settles right in the middle.

“I’m telling you guys,” Mason breathes, shaking his head as he turns to face you. “We’ve been down this one before.”

“We’ve been down every one!” You argue, unable to stop the pitch in your voice as you meet your brother’s gaze. With distraught and panic, you feel your determination fading as you huff; “we’re getting no where.”

Scott pauses at your words, silent for a moment before he huffs; “what the hell are we doing? We’re running up and down this place. Up and down tunnels.” The burn in your chest seems to fade to the back of your mind when you register the wild panic in Scott’s eyes, slowly straightening out as he gestures around himself in frustration and loss. “And there’s no way... there’s no way that we’re gonna find...” His breath starts to labour again, wheezing.

“Scott,” Malia calls, “you need your inhaler.”

He just shakes his head.

“Scott, this isn’t a joke,” you snap, your voice thick with worry. “Use it. Use your inhaler.”

He falls to his knees, his legs giving out from beneath him as a spike of panic floods you. Crouching down before him, you ignore his arguing and the way he tries to fight off your hands, reaching into the pocket of his jacket and pulling out his inhale. Pressing it against his lips, you nod with encouragement as you press down on the top, him taking in a deep inhale. With that, you pull back, hovering next to him and watching carefully.

Your chest eases when he lets out a eased, full breath.

He meets your eyes, just briefly, before glancing down at his feet. “This is all my fault.” You glance up at the rest at his words, for once, not sure what to say to reassure your own twin. “We’re never going to find them. It’s my fault.”

“Scott,” Mason calls, and your eyes fall on his hand, the way he holds it out towards your brother, palm up and inviting. You lean back as Scott slowly turns to him, turning to Malia who helps pull you up to your feet once more. But never once do you look away from Scott.

He glances up at Mason in confusion, to which he just nods.

And slowly, Scott sets his hand in Mason’s own, letting him pull him up to his feet.

“We should keep looking,” Mason reassures, “we should keep trying.”

When Scott turns to you, you don’t hesitate to nod, smiling softly.

A genuine smile falls on your lips at the sight of Liam and Hayden, safe, sat together on the couch. All that mattered to you was that they were safe.

It didn’t matter to you that in the end, you, Mason, Malia and Scott hadn’t been the ones to save them. And you were more than thankful that Theo had, that he was able to figure out something you all couldn’t and get to them before something worse than what had happened did. And in the end, you know that you had tried your best.

Your smile brightens as Lydia steps forward, draping a blanket over the pair that sleep a, you think, well deserved sleep on the couch.

Then, out of the corner of your eye, you notice a figure approach you, pulling your eyes on Theo who makes his way over to you. You step towards him with ease, accepting his embrace as he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you close.

However, as your head falls into the crook of his shoulder, you finally catch a good look at Scott. And the look on his face.

The way he watches on, the way he glances at the back of Theo with some sort of distant, jealous look. Or rather not jealous, not completely at least. He almost looks afraid. But you couldn’t understand why; not when Liam and Hayden were sleeping peacefully and safely directly next to him.

Biting your lip, you frown.

“I said I don’t wanna talk about it, Stiles.”

“Yeah, I know.” Stiles huffs, rushing to catch up with you after you’d let the doors to the school practically slam shut in his face. Glancing around him at the few pairs of eyes you’d manage to catch the attention of do to your outburst, Stiles’ inhales sharply, shaking his head. “Just slow down. Let me talk to you, please.”

Catching you by the arm, Stiles’ halts your steps, pulling you back and spinning you around so you’re facing him. You let him do so, surprising Stiles when you don’t fight against his grip. Instead, you simply cross your arms over your chest, letting him guide you away from the middle of the hallway and towards the side, tucked into a corner where less eyes and ears can pray on your conversation.

Easing his grip a little bit, so it’s a little less forceful, Stiles’ shakes his head down at you, his eyes pleading with you. “You woke up screaming, Y/N.”

“Yeah,” you huff, avoiding Stiles’ gaze as you turn your head to the side, jaw clenched. “And it wasn’t the first time I ever had, nor do I think it’ll be the last time.” Pausing, you shake your head, meeting Stiles’ gaze with certainty and without fault; “i’m fine, Stiles.”

“No,” he argues, adamantly shaking his head. He steps towards you when you move to walk off, hastily moving to block and holding his hand towards you. When you glare up at him, he simply just shakes his head, desperation in his gaze. “No, it was different. There was something different about it this time.”

Your lips part to respond, but find yourself unable to.

Stiles takes your moment of silence as agreement to continue; “in fact, something’s been off about you for a while.” Then, Stiles’ falters, just a little, and his shoulders fall as his gaze softens. You bite your lip as he reaches forward, the tips of his fingers softly brushing underneath your eyes. “You don’t sleep. And when you do, you wake up screaming. And don’t lie to me, because I see the bags under your eyes.”

Licking your lips, your eyes flicker downwards, swallowing thickly. “Stiles...--”

“I’m worried,” he breathes, voice a mere whisper. “Really worried.”

You want to tell him. You really do. Because the truth is you’ve never hidden anything from Stiles -- or Scott for that matter -- before. It felt natural to just tell him everything, and yet, when your lips part to do so, you halt. You don’t really know what this is. You’re just as, probably even more, confused about what’s happening to you and your powers as he is. As everyone is.

You don’t know why your nightmares have gotten worse, spiking like they used to when you were younger or when you were first discovering your powers. And you certainly don’t know why they’re ten times worse then they’d ever been before. You don’t why you seem to have no control over your powers, them spiking out of control at random moments that it makes you afraid to do anything in fear you’ll hurt someone.

Hurt someone again.

Waking up screaming, out of your mind, and then proceeding to finally wake up, completely, only to notice that you’d somehow managed to set Stiles’ comforters on fire... well, it left you terrified. More than that. You were absolutely petrified; embarrassed because you’d had absolutely no control of what you were doing and you could’ve really hurt Stiles if he hadn’t caught on to what was happening in time.

Really hurt him.

And hearing Stiles go on about how worried he is, how he just wants to help, for some awful reason just makes you more angry. Makes you want to keep your mouth shut and not tell him anything because why the hell was he so concerned about you when you could’ve hurt him -- maybe even killed him?

Everything was just seeming to pile on top of the other. While Liam and Hayden were safe, nothing had been resolved about the Dread Doctors. You were still just as lost and confused about it all and at this point, everyone was just waiting for the next attack; in whatever way it came. Everyone was different, distant. You hadn’t had a proper conversation with really any of them in a long time.

Not even your own brother.

And when around Stiles, you just found yourself constantly aggravated and you don’t know why. Because he hasn’t done anything. Absolutely nothing. He was just concerned for you, like you would be for him if the roles were reversed.

It didn’t help that you didn’t know anything either.

“I don’t know.” You say bluntly, voice soft but distant.

Stiles blinks, “what?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“Yeah, I don’t know, Stiles,” you huff, glaring up at him as you shake your head. “I don’t know anything. I don’t know why this is happening or-or why it’s happening now. I don’t know if it’ll get worse or when it’ll get better. I don’t know anything.”

Your breath hitches as you finish your rant, swallowing thickly as Stiles just stares down at you, clearly at a lost on what to say.

“You don’t know,” he repeats slowly, nodding to himself. “That’s it? You don’t know.”

Narrowing your eyes, you shrug; “yeah, that’s it.”

“You’re hiding something,” Stiles deduces, shaking his head at you as if that was the only logical answer. “I can tell. There’s something you’re not telling me.”

Brows furrowing, you scoff. What the hell did he know? How did he know you were hiding something? And what right did he have to accuse of that when he’s been hiding something for days himself.

“Well then,” you snap, leaning back as you cross your arms over your chest. Stiles watches with a frown, but you simply quirk a brow at him; “that’s quite funny given that you’ve been doing the exact same thing for days.”

Stiles’ face falls, and his eyes widen, even for just a second as he shuffles on his feet. A cough slips past his lips and the heavy, narrowed gaze you hold on him only adds to his sudden growing nerves. “I’m not hiding anything.”

“You’ve never been good at lying, Stiles.”

“I’m not,” he argues, just a tad bit too quickly. “I’m not lying, nor am I hiding anything.”

“You say something’s been off with me, that i’m not telling you everything and you’re concerned,” you ramble, taking a step towards Stiles’ with an accusatory point at his chest. “But you’ve been distant and off yourself. It’s like you’re constantly afraid of something, and I don’t know what it is but don’t you dare accuse me of hiding something when you’re doing the exact same thing.”

Stiles’ face tightens and his expression shifts from the soft, concerned way it’d been before, to a distant, masked one. “This wasn’t about me,” he dismisses with a shake of his head. “I’m not the one who woke up and nearly set the both of us on fire.”

“And I said I was sorry!”

“And you don’t know how you did it?”

“No!” You snap, forgetting yourself and the fact that you’re in the middle of the hallway. Cringing at the attention you receive from a few students walking by, you force yourself to lower your voice, trying to calm yourself. “I don’t, okay? I don’t know anything, like I never do. You don’t think i’m scared? Out of my mind? And yet you continue to interrogate me and I can’t handle--”

“Woah, Y/N,” Stiles cuts in, voice pitch in panic. “Your eyes--!”

Blinking, you pause; “what are you...”

“Your eyes, they’re glowing. You’re... You’re glowing...”

Glancing down at your hands, you swallow thickly, finally noticing the way your powers have surged amongst your panic. You hadn’t even noticed, blinded by your own anger as you forgot yourself. Meeting Stiles’ eyes with your own panic ones, you try to calm yourself down but find that you can’t. You just won’t calm.

Then, you seem to take notice of your shortened breath and the way your skin has grown clammy. It’s happening again. You’re--

“Y/N?”

Blinking, your head snaps behind you at the sound of a different voice. And despite everything, relief floods you when you meet Theo’s eyes who had slowly been approaching, more in hesitation then anything. However, when he seems to catch sight of what’s happening, he doesn’t waste any time in rushing over to you, taking you by your arms and pulling you into the nearest empty classroom and away from prying eyes.

Stiles’ follows aimlessly behind.

“Remember what we talked about, Y/N? You’ve got to breathe,” Theo directs, voice soft and gentle. He continues to gently nudge you back, until he pulls out a chair for you and lets you fall back. Not having to stand on your own wobbly legs helps you and you’re able to focus in on Theo as he moves to breathe with you. “Breathe with me, Y/N. Just breathe with me.”

You do. You breathe in as he does and holds it until he exhales. And slowly, by the second, you feel your heart calm and the pounding in your head ease as you gather yourself, Gather your bearings.

When it’s settled enough for you to think and speak coherently, your head falls into your hands, letting out a shaky breath. “It’s getting worse,” you whimper, oblivious to the way Theo still keeps you close and a steady hand on your arm to calm you. Pulling your head away from your hands, you turn to Theo with a watery gaze before meeting Stiles’ eyes whose stands a little bit in front of you, lost.

“It’s okay, Y/N. We just have to--”

“I nearly set Stiles on fire this morning, Theo,” you mumble, turning to the boy with a frown. “I mean, I could’ve really hurt him.”

Theo glances back at Stiles, as if for confirmation on what you’ve said.

“It’s true,” Stiles nods, voice quieter then usual. “How’d you, um, how’d you know how to do that? Calm Y/N down like that?”

“Theo’s been helping me,” you mumble, rubbing at your face. “With my powers.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Theo nods, standing up but still sticking close to you. “She just needs a little bit of guidance.”

Stiles nods, slowly, his lips pursing. “It’s amazing how you seem to just know how to help her,” he comments, his suspicion of it all very clear in his tone. “How’d you even know, huh? You just happened to come at the right moment.”

Theo’s lips part, shaking his head; “Stiles--”

“Oh, come off it, Stiles.” You snap, tired of his accusatory attitude. He hadn’t stopped being like that since you walked through the front doors of the school this morning and right now, you couldn’t deal with it.

However, it’s clear both Theo and especially Stiles, are surprised by your tone.

“Seriously,” you huff, pushing yourself up to your feet and ignoring Theo who tries to get you to sit back down. “If he hadn’t come, you could’ve gotten hurt, again. So maybe we should be thanking him. In fact,” turning to Theo, you soften your gaze, nodding at him; “thank you, Theo.”

“Yeah,” Theo mumbles, clearly uncomfortable, “it’s... it’s no problem.”

“Y/N,” Stiles calls, disbelief in his eyes. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously,” you roll your eyes, pushing yourself away from the desk and moving to take a step forward.

Theo is quick to rush forward. “Woah, here, Y/N, let me help you.”

“No, I’ve got it,” Stiles’ cuts in, beating Theo to the punch and slipping his hand in your own. You don’t bother fighting his grip, instead using his support as a means to gather the rest of your strength and will. “I can walk my girlfriend to class, thank you.”

Stepping back, Theo holds up his hand in surrender.

“My God, Stiles,” you sigh, “just... let’s go.”

You glance back at Theo once more, offering a small wave before you’re completely out of the class and he’s no longer in your peripheral. There’s an echo of silence that hangs over both you and Stiles, his grip easing on you now that Theo is no longer there.

“Y/N--”

“It’s fine, Stiles,” you cut in, interrupting him before he can say anything. “I just want to go to class. We’re already late enough as it is.”

You ended up going home.

You felt pathetic doing so but you just couldn’t stand another minute of sitting in class and pretending everything was fine. And you found yourself snapping at people quite easily, getting yourself into more trouble then usual.

Being afraid of losing control and hurting people didn’t help either.

Besides, Stiles and you didn’t really talk after your conversation in the morning. And you couldn’t find Lydia anywhere, nor your brother or Theo. Malia had simply brushed past you when you’d walked past her so it didn’t really feel like anyone would miss you if skipped out on one day anyway.

And for the most part you’d enjoyed it. Getting to just be by yourself was nice enough, even if you’d let your thoughts get to you a little bit too much. You’d distracted yourself by calling Isaac, and it was nice given that you hadn’t been able to talk to him in a while. You heard all about how his fancy new life was going and he sounded genuinely happy, like he always did when you called him. It was a nice contrast to the gloom that seemed to be hanging over you and everyone else’s heads recently.

You lied when he asked how you were doing. You pretended like everything was fine and he seemed to believe you for the most part.

And he’d kept you distracted. Reminded you of simpler times. It was nice.

But then you’d gotten a text from Theo, saying that you needed to get to the vet instantly. You hadn’t bothered on asking why and you appreciated, that despite everything, despite him seeing how stable your powers were probably more than anyone else, he still trusted you enough to make sure to keep you in the loop. You couldn’t handle being kept out of things like Scott and Stiles had that one time.

So you raced over immediately, taking no more then twenty minutes to get there. And the second you did, your heart fell with panic when you saw just exactly what was wrong.

“What happened?” You ask with worry, racing over to where Liam is sat with Hayden in his arms. Her face is scrunched up in distress and it’s clear she’s in pain if the whimpers that leave her lips every few seconds are anything to go by. Her skin is pale, worryingly so, and as you flicker your eyes upwards towards Liam, he stares back at you with absolute terror.

“The Dread Doctors came for her,” Theo explains, pulling your eyes on him as he settles a few inches behind you. Slowly pushing yourself up to your feet, you send one last worried glance at the pair before making your way over to Theo, crossing your arms over your chest. “Scott and I got there as soon as possible. I tried to find you but...”

“Yeah, I, uh... sorry, I just had to get away.” You frown, biting your lip as guilt floods you. If you had known so much would happen on your one day away, you wouldn’t have left. But then again, you maybe should’ve expected it. It was, after all, the life you now lived. “I’m not sure what help I would’ve been though.”

“Don’t say that,” Theo argues without hesitation, “and you shouldn’t be afraid to use your powers.”

Cheeks warming, even if only faintly at Theo’s words, you advert your gaze from his own, opting to glance around in search of your brother only then realizing you haven’t seen him since you’d walked in. In fact, as you look around Deaton’s animal clinic, you realize, he isn’t there at all.

“Where’s Scott?” You question, curious and a little worried. Pushing yourself up and off the lab bench you’d been leaning on, you turn to Theo with furrowed brows.

“Outside,” he explains with ease, “talking to Stiles.”‘

Stiles... You should probably talk to Stiles too.

“Oh,” you mumble, making your way towards the back door. “I should probably--”

Theo’s hand wraps around your wrist, halting your movement completely before giving a small tug, trying to pull you back in his direction. You glance over at him in bewilderment, eyes narrowing in confusion as your eyes flicker from the tight grip he holds on your wrist to his eyes which stare carefully and deeply into your own.

“I wouldn’t recommend that.”

“What?” You question, baffled. “Theo--”

“Just... there’s something I have to tell you.” Theo cuts in gently, sending a small nod towards Liam and Hayden, clearly signaling that he doesn’t want to say it front of the two. You wait a moment before nodding, letting him pull you off from the two and tucking the two of you into a corner. You don’t miss the way Theo inches closer, probably more closer than appropriate, towards you, lowering his voice to a hushed whisper as he hesitates.

“I’m not really sure how to say this.”

“Well you’re the one who told me you have to tell me something,” you huff, shaking your head at him. “Just tell me, Theo.”

Swallowing thickly, Theo inhales sharply. “It has to do with Stiles.”

“Stiles?” You ask, voice pitching in concern and worry. “Is something wrong? Did something--”

You inch towards the door once more, worry clouding your judgement before Theo pulls you back again, this time, his hand falls on your arm and he leaves it there. You turn to him with narrowed eyes, shaking your head as you try to make sense of what he’s trying to say.

“Stiles’ is fine,” Theo dismisses, shaking his head. “At least, physically.”

“I... What the hell are you going on about, Theo?”

“Y/N, Stiles...” And he pauses, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as if he’s trying to prepare himself for something. Well, nothing could’ve prepared you for the words he says next. “Stiles killed Donovan.”

And you pause, not really sure how to respond to that. Your first instinct is to just laugh, outright deny whatever lie Theo is trying to spit out right now. But you don’t. You can’t seem to force any other words but a strangled and choked; “what?” out of your lips as you shake your head adamantly at the accusation, at a lost.

“Donovan went after Stiles in the library.” Theo explains, voice eerily quiet. “You know his shoulder? You know it’s hurt?” You nod, numb, your mind trying to remember what excuse Stiles had come up with to explain why his shoulder had hurt but drawing a blank. Had he even given one?

But the truth was, he had. However not without simply brushing off your concern and then you’d reached out for him, touched his shoulder and--

Darkness. Fear. Terror. Regret. Guilt.

Guilt.

“I just saw the end of it. That’s it, but... but...” Stammering over his own words, Theo shakes his head, his grip tightening on you ever so slightly. “Stiles had hit him with this-this wrench and he just... he wouldn’t stop. He just kept hitting him. And he wouldn’t stop.”

Lips parting, you let out a shaky breath; “that... doesn’t sound like Stiles.”

“I know,” Theo breathes, voice pitching, his words hanging in the air for a moment. “I couldn’t stop him. I tried to. I shouldn’t be telling you this, I-I know that but I didn’t want you to go out there and--”

“Scott knows?”

Theo nods; “yeah. I... I told him.”

He told the both of us?

Glancing over your shoulder at the back doors, you swallow thickly. Something... Something doesn’t feel right. Something feels wrong.

Your lips part and you move to say something, but nothing make sense. Theo’s story doesn’t make sense and... and you know that. You know that. So why are you so confused? Why does your heart feel as if it’s going to break?

Stiles had been hiding something. You’d said it yourself earlier this morning.

There had been something off about him for a long time.

But to bash a man’s head in?

“Y/N, i’m... i’m sorry.” Theo’s voice quivers, shaky and breathless as he takes a step towards you. “I’ve just never seen someone so... so angry.”

And for a long while you’re silent. You don’t even have the courage to properly look at Theo in the eyes. You just stand there, feeling numb, feeling heart broken and confused and everything in between. And you don’t say anything because you can’t. Nothing... Nothing feels right.

But you know Stiles. You’ve known Stiles for years and you know he’s not a violent person. He never has been, whether someone he cared about was in danger or not. Stiles was not a violent person, you know that, and for him to have bashed a boys head in... well, that just seemed impossible.

“No,” you whisper, eyes narrowing as you slowly begin to shake your head. “No, that’s... you’re wrong. That’s not--”

“Y/N,” Theo calls, moving to pull you back towards him, “I know what I saw.”

You yank yourself from his grasp, meeting his eyes with absolute disbelief. He looks at you stunned, as if that was the absolute last thing he’d expected you to do. But it felt right for you to react this way and it rubbed you the wrong way that Theo seemed so quick to judge Stiles and think he’d actually be able to make you believe a story like that.

It was impossible.

Stiles and you might not be getting along the best recently, you may feel more distant from him then ever, but you knew you loved him. And you knew who he was. You know that the boy you’d fallen in love when you were just a little girl who’d protected you from your father, who’d never failed to make you laugh at his silly ways. Who’d hold you when things got to be too much, who never stopped believing in you and who always gave you hope, even in the toughest of times, was not capable of a story like that.

“You’re lying,” you sob, taking a step back from Theo. “There’s... There’s no--”

You turn, moving to race out and find Stiles and talk to him and ask him, plead with him to tell you what you know you already know. But the second you turn, Scott walks through the door and you end up crashing into him instead. However, your eyes catch sight of Stiles’ just before the door falls shut, standing there, looking heart broken, and without even regarding Scott, you move to catch him before he leaves.

“No, Y/N, wait, Stiles--”

“You believe him?” You screech, glaring up at Scott as you point back at Theo whose lips have parted in absolute shock. “You believe him over Stiles?”

“Y/N, he practically told me that he killed Donovan.”

Your shoulders fall, left speechless for a minute, before you whimper out; “like that?”

Because bashing a mans head in seemed worse then just simply killing a man out of self defense.

Scott doesn’t reply.

Scoffing, you move to step forward, but Scott holds you back, muttering about it not being safe. You just ignore him -- because how could Stiles not be safe --fighting his grip wildly and thanking, silently, when Hayden lets out a cry of pain. It’s selfish, you know, but it catches Scott’s attention and Theo’s too, which allows you to rush out the door like you’d intended.

You catch Stiles just as he’s stepping into his jeep.

“Stiles!”

You fall to a stop just before him, two or so feet away from him. Stiles’ seems stunned at the sight of you, and there’s an echo of silence that hangs in the air as he slowly steps back from his jeep, gently shutting the door. Even though rain pours over both of you, you can tell he’s crying, and you know he can tell the same on you.

Neither of you know what to say. Stiles looks like he wants to say something but looks afraid, petrified even. So you speak up first.

“Did... Did you?”

Stiles shuffles on his feet, glancing downwards before swallowing thickly; “do you think I did?”

No. No, I don’t. You want to scream, but something holds you back. Not in that way.

Stiles steps forward at your silence; “do... do you believe me?”

Yes, without a doubt.

Instead, all you can manage is a shaky; “I don’t know.”

Stiles doesn’t do anything. He doesn’t plead with you to, he doesn’t try to defend himself, he doesn’t scoff or anything. He just stands there, for a minute, before taking a step back, moving towards his jeep and pulling open the door. Your body itches, flinching to run after him as he slips into the drivers seat and turns on the engine, the lights blinding you.

And you want to, needing to do something as he begins to pull away.

But you don’t.

You don’t know why.

“Stiles!”

He halts, hesitating by the front of the police station. He obviously hadn’t expected for you to be there.

Falling to a stop behind him, you hesitate, breath heavy and laboured. Your heart is pounding erratically against your chest and it feels as if you might collapse right then and there. But... But you needed to say this. You needed Stiles to know.

“I believe you.”

Turning, Stiles glances back at you, lips left parted. He doesn’t step towards you, doesn’t say anything; he stays rooted exactly where he is, refusing to do anything else.

“I believe you, Stiles.”

“Then, last night...--”

“I was confused, I... I’ve been confused, Stiles.” Your breath quivers, shaking with desperation as you take a small step forward. You want to reach out for Stiles, but you don’t know where you stand. You don’t understand anything. It seems to be the only thing you can properly actually understand right now. “And last night I was, I... It doesn’t matter. What matters is I believe you, of course I believe you.”

You take another step forward, this time actually reaching out for him but he pulls away before you can touch him, moving away from your touch.

Your hand hangs in the air, helpless.

“You don’t even know what happened,” Stiles reminds.

“Doesn’t matter,” you whimper, feeling your eyes water. “Whatever it is, I trust you. I believe you.”

Stiles doesn’t say anything.

Silence echoing, you glance to your left, swallowing thickly. “You’re going to tell your dad?”

Nodding, Stiles murmurs his response.

“I saw Malia pulling out, she... she, um, drive you here?”

“...Yeah. Yeah, she did.”

Lowering your gaze to your feet, you fiddle with your fingers, swallowing thickly. “You could’ve asked me. I... I could’ve helped you.”

“Drive me to the police station or cover up a murder?”

Inhaling deeply, you shake your head. “Why didn’t you tell me, Stiles?”

“Same reason you won’t tell me the truth either.”

Scoffing, you wipe at your eyes, trying to fight away and hide the tears that stream down your cheeks without fault. It’s obvious Stiles’ sees them, how can he not? And it hurts he does nothing to stop them. That the two of you are in a situation where we can’t.

“You want me to tell you? Tell you the truth?” Throwing your hands up beside you, you cross the distance until you’re directly in front of Stiles’, never wavering your gaze away from your own. “The truth is, I really don’t know what’s going on with me. I have no clue. And i’m scared. More than that; i’m petrified because I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t know anything... everything’s so messed up right now and I can’t help. I can’t do anything. And I want to help you, but I don’t know how.”

Stiles stares back at you, taking in your words as they echo amongst the silence. You wait for him to say something back, begging him, albeit silently, to say something. To say he understands, to accept your apology for doubting him, even if it had only been for a second, last night. To pull you into his arms and hold you tight and just never let go because right now, all you wanted above everything else, was him.

But he doesn’t. Doesn’t do any of those things.

Instead, he takes a small step back, small, just a shuffle and you feel your heart plummet as he simply just shakes his head at you.

“I’m gonna go talk to my dad.” He mumbles, voice oddly quiet. “I just gotta go talk to my dad.”

And then, like he had last night, he turns, pulling open the door and walking into the police station without another word. You let him, not able to find any fight within you to stop him, as you feel your heart shatter. And you watch him, until you can no longer see him, and you’re just left there.

Lost.

“You know, this really isn’t how I anticipated it all going down.”

Meeting Theo’s eyes, you scoff; “what the hell are you talking about?”

Theo just smirks, stood across from you. There’s a glint in his gaze, and suddenly, something wells in you. Something you’ve felt before. Something that maybe you’d felt this entire time, but just ignored. Couldn’t really sense but... it’s the same thing you’d felt when Stiles had been possessed by the nogitsune.

A witches instinct...

Suddenly, your chest tightens with worry.

“You know, out of everyone, I thought you’d be the first one to figure me out.” Theo continues, not at all threatened or concerned by this new knowledge that’s come to you. It only sickens you with worry more. Because if he was so unconcerned with you finding out the truth, that meant he’d already done something. Or was in the process of doing something.

“What did you do?” You hiss, clenching your jaw and narrowing your eyes at the boy. “Where’s Liam? Hayden? Scott?”

“Liam and Hayden are fine, for now,” Theo dismisses with a roll of his eyes. “It’s Scott you should be concerned about.”

Anger flooding you, you rush forward, but the second you move to do so, your vision turns blurry and your head feels heavy. The familiar pang in your forehead returns and while the anger still hangs around, nestles in the bit of your stomach, you find you no longer have the strength to do anything about it.

Actually, it hits harder then you’re sure it ever has and you find your knees collapse beneath you, falling to the ground with a thud as you let out a cry of pain.

“It’s a shame really,” Theo continues, crouching before you and brushing back a strand of loose hair. You let out a growl as he does so which only elicits a laugh from Theo as he shakes his head at you. “I had hoped to have you fully with me when this all came to be.”

“With you,” you repeat, slowly, unsure, your eyes scrunching shut as another painful pang echoes through your head. “What the hell are you talking about? Where’s Scott? What... What did you do to him?”

“I came for a pack, Y/N. And I intend to have one. Scott’s just not apart of it.”

You move to lash out at him, push him back, do something but you can feel your heart pounding against your chest and the second you move to do anything, you find you have no strength in you to actually do it. The pounding in your head gets worst and your vision turns blurry, your hands shake as you clutch at yourself desperately, trying to keep yourself upright. And every bit of struggle that leaves your body only causes Theo to laugh at your pitiful attempt.

“You’re your own worst enemy, Y/N.”

Hissing, you bite back the cry that threatens to leave your lips. “Fuck off.”

“There’s so much power inside of you, just waiting to be released, but you won’t let it. You’re too afraid to.”

Eyes falling shut, you can’t stop, not this time, the cry that leaves your lips, letting out a whimper. “Stiles was right,” you breathe, chest caving in as a convulsion racks your body, unable to stop Theo as he grabs a hold of you, hauling you up to your feet. And even if you hate it, even if disgust burns deep inside of you, you have no strength to fight Theo as he picks you up, carrying you somewhere.

Your head simply lulls, staring at the concrete ground in disbelief. “Stiles was right.”

“Don’t worry, Y/N,” Theo mumbles, his words an echoing mumble in your own head. “Once Scott is dead and i’m the alpha, i’ll help you get control over your full powers. Just like a promise. You’ll be unstoppable, just the way I want you.”

You feel your back hit something and as you blink upwards, a cry leaving your lips, you realize you’re staring at the ceiling of a car. A ceiling you recognize. Theo’s truck. You’re in Theo’s truck.

You feel him grab your feet, pushing them upwards until they’re positioned on the end of the car seat. When you feel the uncomfortable sensation of rope around your ankles, you move, whimpering as you try to sit up and stop him, but your head pounds and every movement makes you lose proper sight of everything more.

So, you end up just falling back, completely and utterly vulnerable.

“Where... Where are you taking me?”

“No where,” Theo shrugs, “I just have to keep you away until it’s all finished.”

You blink, swallowing thickly, as a single tear slips past you and rolls down your cheek. You felt like a fool, an absolute idiot. You’d fallen for Theo’s good guy act so quickly, so... easily. You’d been charmed by him and his smile and it’d even made you lose sight of what was important -- your friends and family. It had made you doubt Stiles...

You were such an idiot. “

“I just need you know Y/N, that I truly did come back for you. You maybe more than anyone else.”

Face scrunching in distress, hating how helpless you are, you let out a cry.

The pounding gets worst and your breath becomes laboured, getting trapped at the back of your throat as your eyes suddenly become heavy. The idea of just falling asleep and waking up and this all being just some sort of nightmare is all too tempting to ignore that when Theo pulls you forward, with the intent to tie your wrists, you barely even realize, your vision fading to black.

“--I never lied about why I came to Beacon Hills.”

Blinking slowly, you let out a groan, moving to sit up before you realize something feels wrong. Your vision clears as you register the car ceiling before you, the distant ache in your head, as memories resurface. As you sit up, trying to gather where you are and your bearings, your suspicions of what happened are only confirmed when you see the roped wrapped tightly around your wrists.

And you realize you’re also no longer sat on the backseat of the truck and rather on the floor, tucked tightly in between the back of the front seats and the backseat themselves.

“I’m here for a pack.”

Breath halting, you swallow thickly at the familiar sound of Theo’s voice. He’s clearly talking to someone, but... who?

“I came for the werecoyote,” Theo continues, “the one whose first instinct is to kill. I came for the Banshee, the girl surrounded by death. I came for the dark Kitsune, the Beta with anger issues... I came for Void Stiles. That’s the pack I want.” Then, pausing, Theo continues, “and I came for the witch, whose power is the greatest amongst all of you but just doesn’t know it yet.”

Swallowing thickly, your heart plummets at the mention of yourself.

“Unfortunately, it doesn’t include Scott.”

Scott... Scott was in danger.

“Your heartbeat’s rising, Stiles.”

Stiles? Stiles was here?

Pushing yourself up, best to your ability, you try to maneuver, despite the lack of use of your limbs, to glance out the window trying to catch sight of either of them.

You can’t.

“It’s not because you’re afraid. Nogitsune is gone, but you’ve still got more blood on your hands than any of us.”

There’s an echo of silence, then; “i’m about to get more.”

You halt when you hear footsteps, nearing footsteps that sound like they’re getting closer to the truck. Glancing around you, best you can, your eyes widen when you see the familiar head of Theo, back turned to you, and the faintest glimpse of Stiles directly in front of him.

When Theo turns towards the truck, you duck quickly, hoping not to have been caught.

Your worry fades when you hear him say; “i’ll tell you where your dad is, if you promise not to help Scott.”

Without hesitation, there’s a thud, and one glance back out the window, you just manage to catch sight of Stiles’ swinging his arm towards Theo, the latter stumbling back in response. But he doesn’t seem all that effected if the laugh that leaves is lips is anything to go by.

“There he is!” Theo cheers, “that’s Void Stiles. It felt good, didn’t it?”

You watch Stiles’ land one more punch on Theo, this time, sending him to the ground.

Using this to your advantage, you lean forward, enough to bring your wrists to your lips, biting at the rope in an attempt to free yourself. You still listen closely, your heart still pounding against your chest erratically. But the fact that you no longer feel as if you’re going to pass out, like you’d felt before, you use to your advantage. You didn’t know when it will happen again.

“We won’t tell Scott though,” Theo pants, voice wavering, “cause you can’t lose your best friend, right? Even though we both knew you never needed him. Or--! What about Y/N? Should we tell Y/N?” Halting, just for a moment, your breath stops short, fearing Theo’s next words. “What if she saw this all? How do you think she would react--?”

Stiles’ lunges forward, you can tell because you can no longer see him. But Theo’s words worry you -- did he know you were awake?

Inhaling sharply, you push the thought aside, moving to untie yourself once more.

“You hate me now, but you’ll get it eventually,” Theo pants, “this is the hard part. Cause you can’t help Scott and save your dad’s life. You’ve still got time, Stiles. You’ve still got time.”

You know, even though it’ll kill him, who Stiles’ will go for.

So you quicken your pace, best you can, trying to rip the rope around your wrists as fast as you can. Digging your teeth into the rope and ignoring the disgusting taste. Your heart leaps with hope when you manages to get a good grip, enough to loosen the tightness and wiggle your wrists. As silence echoes outside the truck, and then a set of footsteps grow quieter, you manage to free one wrist, and then the other.

A bout of panic floods your chest and pain and you know instantly, even if you somehow hadn’t felt it before, that it’s Scott. And you need to hurry.

But then, another set of footsteps follow, and your chest tightens with worry, scared that Theo will catch you. Because for some reason, even if deep down you know you can protect yourself, Theo scares you. However, he doesn’t check on you, he simply opens the door to the drivers seat and you’re quick to position yourself in a way he can’t see your now free wrists.

You stay quiet, eerily so, listening to him turn on the engine and speed off, God knows where.

“Let go--!”

“Come on!”

Huffing, a hiss of pain leaves your lips as Theo pulls painfully on your hair, tugging you through the hallways through the school with a quick and determined step. Your feet shuffle beneath you uselessly, trying to catch your bearing but ultimately failing each time you do.

The grip on your hair hurts but you find yourself, stupidly, too stupid to do anything about it. And the pain that floods your entire body, due to Scott and whatever’s happen to him, isn’t helping either because every movement, every pull and twist Theo moves on you sends your whole being into a blinding pain.

It takes you a second, as Theo takes a sharp turn, that he’s pulling you into the library. Nor do you hear the two other voices until Theo cuts in, voice sharp; “bad timing.” And he lets go of you, letting you fall to the floor with a thud as he races forward, stopping directly in front of Scott and Mason.

“I mean, seriously. You couldn’t have waited five minutes?”

He grabs a hold of Mason, tossing him and knocking him out with one simple movement before zoning in on your brother.

“I should’ve stayed,” Theo hisses, angry as he glances down at his claws, “I should’ve made sure.”

Barely able to stand on his own feet, Scott mumbles; “because now you have to kill me yourself.”

“They’re still mine. She’s,” he turns, pointing a sharp finger at you. Your breath halts as you meet your brothers tired and defeated gaze. “Still mine. Maybe not yet, but they’ll come around.”

Shaking his head, Scott simply says; “not for you.”

And you see it, before it happens. Feel the anger that floods Theo, but it feels like all you can do is watch as he suddenly lunges forward, digging his claws directly into Scott’s stomach. A cry leaves your lips in response, tearing past your lips and bouncing off the walls of the library as Scott’s eyes glows red in response to the pain and you feel it well deep within your own stomach. You feel every bit of pain he does, only, you won’t die because of it.

“They’re not like you,” Scott pants, and you call out for him weakly, pushing yourself up. “They never will be.”

“Because i’m a Chimera? Because i’m not a real werewolf?”

“Because you’re barely even human.”

But you get to your feet a second too late. Because the second you’re steady, Theo is already digging his claws further into Scott, knocking him back until he falls against the steps, a groan leaving his lips in response. And you don’t hear the cry that leaves your lips as you watch your brothers eyes lull shut and his head tip to the side, his skin growing pale and the red of his eyes fading.

And that feeling, the one you’d felt back at the hospital when Scott had died a first time, floods you again. The feeling of emptiness and pain because Scott was dying, or... was already dead and you’d just stood there and done nothing cause you were too afraid. Because you were afraid to use your powers. Because you were too much of a coward to do anything.

It’s that, mixed with everything else, that causes you to just... let go.

A scream tears past your lips, and you don’t see it, but your eyes glow purple, as a wave of it pulsates around you. Your powers bursts through you, completely and powerfully, directed at Theo only as he’s sent flying back and into one of the shelves of books, landing with a crash. Everything seems to slow as it happens, as everything you’ve been holding back just breaks free.

But the feeling of ease that washes you doesn’t last long, not even a second, as you rush towards Scott, your brother, your twin brother, dead...

“No!” You sob, voice cracking, eyes watering as you fall next to him. “No, no, no... Please, God, no... Scott... No, you can’t. I can’t do this...” Pulling at his hands, at his jacket, your hands shake before you as you observe the blood now coating your hands completely.

Scott’s blood.

You shove at him desperate for him to come back.

“Y/N...” Mason calls, hesitant, voice light, unsure. “Y/N...”

“This is all my fault, this is... I could’ve... I could’ve done something....” Eyes flickering from Scott, to Mason’s own, your breath comes out in short rasps, trying to find the words but all that leaves your lips is incoherent mumbles of distress as that feeling of emptiness won’t leave you.

It just won’t leave.

You don’t register falling into Mason’s arms, or the fact that fifteen minutes pass before your mother even arrives. You don’t even notice her come in, not properly, not completely, distressed and upset as the tears just keep falling from your eyes and the emptiness hovers.

Is this how it will always feel now?

But then, you hear Mason trying to tell your mother that trying to bring Scott back was hopeless... that it’s been fifteen minutes since his heart last beat and that it was impossible... And the words seem to hit, seem to register within you as your eyes finally seem to properly zone in on your mother. You’re pulling back from Mason’s grasp and reaching out for your mother with slow, lethargic movements.

“Mom... he... you can’t...”

But the words don’t come out because you don’t want them to be true.

And she doesn’t stop, even when you try to reach out for her. She just continues to give him compression's, going on that Scott can’t die like this and that he’s an Alpha and...--

But then she pulls back, hitting Scott hard directly in the middle of his chest and suddenly, the emptiness just... goes away.

Then your ears hurt and you realize Scott is roaring, loudly, and it’s pounding your ears so badly that you have to press your palms against them to stop the pain. Stop the pounding.

“You still have me, you know?”

Blinking, Scott slowly glances up, catching your eyes from where you’re stood at his doorway. He doesn’t say anything, simply staring at you with a defeated look. And the truth is, you stare back at him with a similar one.

But, you need him to know.

“You’ll always have me.”

And while Scott doesn’t smile, because, how could he? And he doesn’t say anything either. You know, you just do, that he appreciates your words. Appreciates the reassurance. And there’s an understanding between the two of you as he nods, and you hold his gaze just a little while longer to make sure before walking off, heart heavy.

Part 36?

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extremelyblackandwhite · 4 years ago

Text

the unseen one - 23

Pairing: Hades!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: none

A/N: i do realise i took rather long to post this but i’ve been having the biggest writers block to exist. hope you enjoy xx

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Y/N was awoken from her sleep by whisper like sounds. She lifted her hair from his chest, fist coming to rub the sleep off her eyes as her feet touched the cold ground. Slowly, she turned her face, a second instinct telling her to call James but as he saw him peacefully sleeping between the black sheets, she decided to woman up and go down the stairs to try and find the source of quiet yet very annoying noise.

As she went down the stairs, the mumbling became louder and harder to ignore. It eventually led her to a small black door just shy from the dinning room, hidden as if entrance was forbidden. She took steps towards the door, the mumbling growing intense and loud. Y/N scrunched her face at the mumbling, not able to make out was it was telling her and as she went to grab the silver handle of the door, it mysteriously opened up. Had she not been in the underworld, it would’ve scared her.

She pushed the door open, peeking inside to see a dimly light room with various glassed types of beautiful jewellery. Her eyes widened as she saw jewels of myths her dad used to rave about and precious stones all caged in glass. However, what caught her attention was a gold spiked halo like headband with various white roses at the base. Unlike all the other pieces, it was not shielded by glass, instead the pieces were shattered on the ground. She should’ve probably wondered why it was broken but she was entranced by the object and without even noticing it she had grabbed it.

Y/N turned to the mirror, hands holding the halo in head and by second nature, she placed it on top of her bed hair, admiring the look in the mirror. She was in a trance as she observed her reflection in the mirror. Her trance was interrupted by Bucky calling her name. Quickly, she placed the halo back on its place, rushing out of the room and closing the door behind her as she saw James turn the corner. His worried look softened as he reached to pull her into an embrace, kissing the top of her head.

- Good morning, sunflower. - he relished onto the soft smell of her hair and how her fingers lightly traced his chest, caging him in some sort of Eden he wished he never had to wake up from. - What are you doing up from bed?

- Couldn’t sleep anymore. - she peaked her eyes up from his chest where she had her head laid to his serene face. Y/N always enjoyed seeing James after he woke up with his normality tamed hair all over the place and curling at his scalp. It were moments like these that almost made her believe they were a normal couple. - I’m sorry I woke you up.

- You didn’t. I probably overslept anyway. - he probably meant the fact that it was late in the afternoon but she was still lost in her love haze, slightly moving from side to side in his side. - I should probably return to my duties before we head to Eros’ and Psyche’s.

- You sure you can’t stay? - she fluttered her lashes at him, hoping that would suffice in making him staying with her for the rest of the day.

- I would love to, sunflower. However, I do have some work to go back to, specially with the Spring Festival coming around.

- Is there nothing I could do to persuade you? - she drew helpless imaginary circles onto his chest, the innocent smile stretching onto her lips. - I’m sure there is something I could do.

- Stop being a minx. - he kissed the top of her head, breaking up their embrace to go clothe himself and return to his duties. That wasn’t something he did with ease as Y/N took it upon herself by quickly listing the reasons why he should not leave her, a mortal, alone in the underworld, a place for dead things. Bucky however managed to argue back all her reasons leaving her by her lonesome with nothing to do.

It was no surprise that Y/N felt slightly uncomfortable in Bucky’s home. Not that it was dark or stuck in the middle of the underworld, it was just that it was his home and she somehow felt detached from those who belonged inside it. No matter how many times she forgot he was a god, he was still a god, one of the three primary gods ruling over three earthly domains at that. She took herself to walking around, waiting for him to return as there was nothing much she could do. It wasn’t like she could return to Hecate’s grounds or go around in the Underworld like a subverted little red riding hood.

After a few minutes, she bothered herself into convincing that it was a good idea to leave and go for a walk by the river. The meadows were a weird place, sometimes all she could hear was moaning and wailing while other times all she could hear was silent and somehow silent was worse. She didn’t know how James managed to do it, how he managed to live surrounded by such unhappiness when the Elysium was just around the river bend. Mostly stuck in her own inner thoughts, she didn’t notice the lady in front of her drop a basket, its contents spilling at hitting her feet which woke her up from her thoughts.

She immediately dropped to collect what looked like thin gold like strands as the woman came rushing in.

- Careful, your Highness. - she said removing the strands from her hands. Y/N scrunched her face in confusion at the title, she surely had her confused with someone else. - We don’t want any dead mortals today, do we?

- Surely not.

- You know, I’ve been wondering when you were gonna show up, my Lady. You’re late.

- I’m sorry, you must have me confused for someone else. I ...

- My Lady, I am never wrong. - she stuffed the gold strands in her basket, a smirk on her lips as she left Y/N there to wonder why wouldn’t someone in the Underworld talk like a regular person.

Y/N shrugged, deciding it would be better to return to Bucky’s place before someone confused her for someone else. Happily to her, James was locked in his study which meant it shouldn’t be too long for him to either bore or anger himself with work and came back to her. In the mean time, she decided to prepare a basket of fruit to bring to the dinner and prepare herself in one of the gowns James had found stashed away in the attic.

- Everyone I work with is a fucking idiot. - she head him bang the door against his hinges, showing up in the kitchen like a mad bull. As he took in the sight of his lover in her pale green dress, hair pushed away by various golden pins and hands carefully chopping various foods, his anger decreased, not wanting her to see that side of him. - Why are you chopping fruit?

- It’s rude to show up empty handed to a dinner.

- So you’re certain we shouldn’t bail and do some of that persuasion you were speaking off a few hours ago?

- James, I am not gonna let Psyche alone in a dinner full of born gods.

- Technically she is a goddess too, sunflower. You don’t need to take it upon yourself to protect all the mortals you meet.

- If I can, I will.

tag list: @philogrobizedvee @keithseabrook27 @inlovewith319 @nwbstan

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan/you #sebastian stan/reader #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan drabble #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky/reader #bucky/you #bucky imagine #bucky drabble #james buchanan barnes

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innittowinit · 4 years ago

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Clair de Lune, L. 32

Summary:

Tommy has a nightmare about Wilbur's death and Ghostbur comforts him

YOOO just to be clear this is an AU that was created before cannon ghostbur and schlatt so all you need to know for this fic is that Wilbur is a ghost that haunts the sleepy bois, he's from the 1700's or something and he was murdered.

Not tagged MCD as a warning because Wil is technically still a character but his death is described a bit so stay safe!

Word count: 1536

Google doc with more info on this au

AO3

The air was bitter and cold, cracks in the walls seethed with a breeze that never seemed to go away, it helped in the summer months when the homes felt like a sauna but on a late December evening like tonight, all it did was remind the townsfolk that they weren’t nearly as wealthy as those who wouldn’t be worrying about this.

After having served his time, on account of slandering a wealthy businessman in a song, he had made the decision to invite the gentleman over to have dinner and hopefully reconcile. Bad blood was never a good thing to have with someone, especially not the rich, and even if the intent was not to suddenly become good friends, Wilbur still felt it was important to be civil with him. While the point of his song had been to humour the situation, he still recognised that it had offended the man to the point of wanting legal action to be made.

Unfortunately Wil had been the only one to feel this way.

He had placed down his own food first before going back to the kitchen to get the gentleman’s meal. In hindsight this had been a horrible decision, giving an easy way for him to spike his food with no witnesses at all. That had definitely been easier than planned, perhaps Wil was just too trusting. He had just assumed that now that he had been punished all resentment had faded into what was a potential reconciliation.

The poison hadn’t taken long to fall into place, half way through the dinner Wil would start coughing, only for that to turn into long, breathless gasp, until eventually he was left scraping at his neck trying to grasp for some air as if it were a privilege.

The man watched with humour as Wil suffered, tears streaming down his face as he focused every inch of his energy into his breathing, not fully able to comprehend what was happening until a knife was pressed against his neck, blade cold and sharp as a swift swipe let out all the pressure in his body and left him to fall to the floor.

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

Tommy swung up in bed, arms flailing around the blankets, as if he was searching for physical evidence that Wilbur was okay. Heart pounding and sweat glazing his forehead, he spun his head around the room, as if he was scanning for either Wilbur or the scumbag who had killed him. Knowing Wil was a ghost hurt. Even though they could still communicate through a range of media, even though he could still physically hug him if he possessed someone, it wasn’t the same. He knew Wilbur had been hurt and that just didn’t feel right. He didn’t want to accept that the Ghost who they had lovingly welcomed into the family was hurt by someone, he loved him too much to really accept that as a reality.

It took a solid ten minutes before he calmed down from his frenzy, left just to breathe heavily, rested against the bed frame as if he had just run a marathon.

Despite the fact that he had never known Wilbur in life, since he had learned of his tragic demise, he hadn’t been able to get the horrible thoughts out of his mind, it was like a curse. Wilbur was like a big brother to him, even if he wasn’t exactly alive they could speak easily through spirit boxes and voice recorders and when he was too tired to try and manipulate radio waves, he would sometimes knock things off of counters and shelves to make his presence known.

Learning guitar from a ghost had been surprisingly easy, he had a video tutorial of some song playing and every now and then Wil would pause the video to talk through the spirit box, sometimes giving tips and other times just straight up teasing Tommy for being bad at playing the guitar.

Wiping his teary eyes, trying to remind himself that even though Wilbur was dead, even though he had gone through something bad, he was still there (Not even in those ‘he’s with us in spirit’ facebook post kind of ways, Wilbur had been haunting them, he was quite literally still around) he reached for the spirit box, switching it on and leaning back in his bed as relief washed over him.

There was something about knowing that Wil could freely talk through that, that comforted him. It reminded him that Wil was okay, he had been poisoned, he had been stabbed, but he was okay.

“Wilbur?” he muttered, rubbing his eyes, waiting for the ghost to make his presence known.

Every now and then Wil would go off to mess with Minx or the lunch club, during the night, paired with Schlatt of course, Tommy hoped to God that tonight wasn’t one of those nights.

“Nightmare?” The box spoke back at him, he nodded.

It was hard to talk to the spirit box sometimes, Wil could only talk in a couple words with that, that’s why they had started the family tradition of Wilbur possessing one of them each Friday so they could have some actual time with him instead of mainly one sided conversations.

Today wasn’t a Friday but Tommy wished it was.

“Techno.. Techno won't mind if you use his body.. You can still take control when he’s sleeping right? I just need to hear you talk for real..”

By now, Tommy was sitting upright in his bed, knees pulled up into his chest. They’d been through this exact situation so many time’s that Tommy had even set up a mirror near his bed since sometimes Wilbur showed up in them, He wasn’t showing up today though.

“Yeah. Wait.”

As always, the spirit box was choppy and left room for interpretation as Tommy nodded and tried to think about anything other than the frightening thoughts of death in his head. Tomorrow was a Week-day, that’s why he’d chosen Techno, he would no doubt be pissed that he had missed a chunk of sleep but being sleepy at school had far fewer consequences than being sleepy at work, which would happen if Tommy asked Wil to possess Phil.

After a while of Tommy staring at his ceiling, ‘Techno’ peeked his head into the door and walked over to Tommy’s bed, sitting down next to him.

“It’s Wilbur, you know that right?” Wil smiled, Techno’s glasses -which Wil still needed to wear while possessing him- glinting against the moonlight.

Nodding, Tommy leant his head onto Wilbur’s shoulder, hands wrapping around him and squeezing with as much force as he could muster.

“I shouldn’t miss you this much. I didn’t even know you. Wil, it must have hurt so much”

Wilbur just nodded and stroked his hair as he whispered reassurances and kind words, there was no certain way to fix this, the fact of the matter that Wilbur had died and he probably shouldn’t have let a 16 year old know the fully gruesome details of his death but that being said it was all readily available online and sure enough he would have eventually found out anyway. Wilbur much preferred being the one to tell him himself rather than him reading a blog post made by a teenager that was probably way too into true crime to accurately report what happened.

He supposed what attracted those kinds of people was that he had led a fairly eccentric life, only to be killed and the killer to never be caught.

Wil had always thought his killer to be obvious but the justice system had not been very good in those days, in many ways it still wasn’t very good.

“It did hurt Tommy. I was so scared that was going to be the end of everything but y’know what? If I hadn’t died like that, I might not have ever met you or Phil or Techno. If I had died up in some other city, since I did like to travel a lot, I might have never thought to mess with you guys. If that hadn’t happened I wouldn’t have the family I have now”

“But you hur-”

“That was hundreds of years ago Toms, I hardly remember it”

Liar. He thought about it every time he saw people using cleaning chemicals or cooking with knives.

“Tommy you’re a good kid. You’re empathetic, that’s really good, but you can only die once and that’s never going to happen to me again, okay?”

Tommy nodded into his chest

“Do you wanna watch that movie you like? I know I can’t really fix how you feel about what happened but sometimes a distraction helps” “Up’s good. Let’s watch Up”

Ironically, Tommy had fallen asleep right after the wife died but Wil hoped that would give him some closure since it was a very nice film. Not wanting to wake the boy, after him already having such a rough night, he didn’t bother taking Techno back to his own room, leaving his body to sleep next to Tommy as he watched the rest of the movie alone.

-----

“Why the fuck am I in your bed?”

“...I had a nightmare?”

#wilbur soot #ghostbur #fanfic #tommyinnit #hurt/ comfort #nightmares

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austarus · 5 years ago

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Harry Wells x Reader Crisis of Infinite Wells (Part 1 of 5)

**A/N: The picture/edit/gif does not belong to me. It belongs to @moonymartell.

Word Count: 2177

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

***After finally getting caught up this week, I just have to say it’s been a roller-coaster of feels that I’ve been riding from the beginning all the way to episode 15. I refuse to believe we can’t get Harry back! Or that the multiverse is gone! And… I’ll just let my fic speak for what’s been on my mind for the past couple days. Hopefully, the writers are going to treat Harrison Wells kindly and stop breaking our hearts every so often. Tired of it and how they write off certain things with no legit explanation or just being plain forgetful. Sorry about the little rant, but this needed to be down. Comment down below if ya’ll think the content makes sense and if I should be a CW writer lol! Also please remember to reblog fics, that way more people able to see them and it gives us support too!! We are also content creators!

You fidgeted with your hands, playing with the ring on your finger. You were leaning back against the monitor close to the center of the cortex that had faced the main monitors. You nibbled on your bottom lip every so often as you waited for everyone to show up. Your brain mulled through what’s logically left, the crazy theory you had come up with in the middle of the night as your mind oddly recounted moments with team flash through the years. I really hope they don’t think I’m insane for this. You attempted to calm your nerves, and it worked for a few moments, but it only spiked when several sounds of footsteps made their way to your ears. Looking up, you gave everyone a smile as they shuffled into the Cortex.

“Hey,” you made a little wave gesture to everyone. You took in a little breath.

“Hey, we got your call. Did something happen?” Barry furrowed his eyebrows in question as he walked in. Standing with his hands in his pockets, the Scarlet Speedster stood beside Iris, who automatically took her place at the main monitor.

“Is it about Eva?” Iris asked right after Barry, running her hands on the desk. Cisco took the spot beside Iris, chewing on a Twizzler with a bag in hand, Kamila stole one from him when he wasn’t looking. Ralph strolled in with Frost, he probably was giving her another life guidance lesson earlier, who only raised his eyebrows when Nash strode in after everyone.

You opened your mouth to answer, but got cut off by Ralph, “You invited Indiana too?”

“I’m as clueless as you are, for once, stretchy,” Nash piqued up, rolls his eyes at the Elongated Man. All eyes were back on you.

“I’m calling a Flash meeting and no, nothing happened. Nothing about Eva either. But…” You licked your lips and pocketed your hands into your jeans. “I, for some reason, came up with this crazy idea and I don’t know if it’s going to work.” You pushed off the monitor and walked around to stand behind it, as if hoping it can be a little barrier. “But maybe if I run it through you guys it’ll make some sense because something’s not right.”

“No kidding,” Cisco inserted with a little scoff, but you knew he didn’t mean to be rude, “ever since post-Crisis, nothing’s been right.” He made eye contact with Nash, who only gave him a look and crossed his arms. “No offence, Indy.”

“Stop calling me that!” Nash protested.

“Guys,” Barry caught Cisco and Nash’s attention, shaking his head at them. “Let her finish.” The speedster turned back to you, “Please.”

Taking in another breath, you crossed your arms and glanced down, collecting your thoughts before looking back up at them. Each and every one of them. They can tell you’re nervous and honestly, yes, the silence is killing you momentarily. But it’s now or never.

“I think,” you started, “I know how to bring the boys back.”

“The… boys?” Cisco asked. Barry tilted his head while Iris looked interested yet confused.

“Very specific,” Frost did not look amused. Ralph did that little confused nose crinkle. “Not gonna lie, but all the boys are here. In this room. Unless you’re talking about the Backstreet Boys, in which case I would understand.”Everyone looked back at Frost, “What? Their songs are good.”

“I’m talking about Harry.” The atmosphere in the room suddenly shifted, all attention back to you. Your eyes weaved from each of them, gauging their reactions, especially Nash’s. “Sherloque. All the other Wells. Don’t you- Don’t you guys feel that something’s off?”

“(Y/N), listen-”

“No, Barry, please let me finish. Let me explain.” You licked your lips. “Don’t you guys find it weird that Nash is the only one with all his doppelganger’s psyches in his mind? We have doppelgangers too. Why isn’t Echo in Cisco’s head? Earth 2 Barry and Iris in our Barry and Iris’ heads? How come it’s just Nash?”

None of them could answer you. Nash, himself looked lost, but had glanced off to the side.

“Even Eobard was in his head and he wasn’t a Wells, just in a Wells’ body- Besides the point- No, I think this is a clue,” You continued with determination laced onto your features, standing up straight and exuding confidence. “A clue that The Monitor left behind. For us. A clue that can help us find all the earths, all our friends. And this is where my theoretical, but probably not, theory comes in. Iris, you’ve seen Eva control the Mirror Dimension, her “Mirror World” as we call it. Kamila experienced it firsthand.” Both ladies nodded in agreement. “What if all the other earths are hidden in dimensions like the Mirror Dimension? Scattered in different parts of the city, maybe even throughout all of earth. What if Jesse and Harry and Jay are just hidden in a pocket dimension? Yes, post-Crisis erased the possibility of the multi-verse existing, but that doesn’t include multi-dimensions.”

Cisco’s eyes lit up, walking around the main computer monitor and a bit closer to the center of the Cortex. “You’re talking about-”

“Dimensional Manipulation,” You and Cisco said simultaneously. A smile crossed your lips as you saw the gears in his head turning. Barry’s eyes also light up, his speedster brain in overdrive. Everyone else snuck peeks at each other, except Nash, who’s eyes only narrowed slightly.

“Like Edwin Gauss, Folded Man, the bus meta that DeVoe was after that could-”

“Open up dimensions and close them.” You finished with Barry. You let out a shaky breath, seeing realization dawn on all of them. You were beginning to feel giddy, things were making sense.

“Oh my god,” Iris whispered, running hand through her hair before resting it on her right arm. “But this is all theoretical, right?” She looked to Barry and Cisco before locking her gaze back onto you. “I mean we- we haven’t done anything involving dimensions?”

You shrugged your shoulders and walked a few steps towards the group, “We’ve done the impossible. Proven the theoretical, multiple times. Barry, you allowed your cells to quickly regenerate Ralph’s when you did a blood transfusion after Ramsey had attacked him. We have metas running around the city with theoretical powers, with our dashing hero in his red onesie-”

“-Hey, it’s not a onesie!-”

“-With superspeed. How many times are we going to let the word “theoretical” discourage us?” You pursed your lips. Barry nodded as you had spoken, everything making sense. Something is off. Frost and Cisco glanced at one another, agreeing that they’ve crossed the line of what’s possible and impossible before. “What’s once more Team Flash?” A smile played on your lips as you dared to say that.

Nash cleared his throat, your eyes locked onto his and you noticed a little glint within his blue irises. “So, you mean to tell me- tell us, that I can have my mind to myself again? The guys- I won’t have to see them or hear them?”

“I think so,” you folded your arms, “I know I’m just the team medic, but I really think I have a good idea on how to go about this. And what things to use- I just… I just wanted to run my theory by you guys. Especially Barry and Cisco, maybe we can tag Chester along to help. You three are the main tech guys here so…”

“What about me?” Nash raised an eyebrow at you along with a hand, to which he pointed to himself, and you inwardly cursed knowing that stubborn Wells trait was gonna show up anytime soon. “I can-”

“Are you requiring a bargain out of this too?” You smirked at him, jokingly. That shut the multiversal explorer up. You just looked at him as he let out a few words in a stutter. “You can help. One because if I told you not to, you were going to do it anyway.” Nash just sheepishly smiled and nodded to himself, because he knew he was anyway. “Two, you’re just as stubborn as all the other Wells men I’ve met. I just want you to not physically or mentally strain and/or harm yourself, doctor’s order.” Nash made a face knowing that statement followed with a “because”. “I’m not going to lie to you, I don’t if what we end up doing physically or mentally taxes your body, but I do have a backup plan since this is my area of general expertise.”

Nash seemed satisfied by your answer and smirked to himself, eyes looking off to the side before focusing back to you and the group. I wonder if Harry can hear me. Harry, I’m coming for you.

“Okay so,” Cisco started up, finishing a twizzler and walking over to stand beside you, “we’re going to find all these earths which could or could not be hidden in said pocket dimensions, yank out each Wells from Dusty’s head over here, meanwhile being able to catalog everything and being on the lookout for Eva and her two-face mirror clones. Do you have any idea how many earths there were? How many Wells there are in Nash’s head? Hell, how are we even going to manipulate dimensions-multiple dimensions-if we don’t have any leads?”

You snapped your fingers at him, “Well, here’s where the fun starts for our resident genius mechanical engineer.” Cisco smiled at your words. You walked around the main Cortex monitors, pulling up data and schematics, everyone crowds around you. “I’m thinking that there has to be some sort of fluctuation in this new world, whether it’s on the level of varying frequencies or on a subatomic-molecular level that’s distinct, but not too expansive that a person from Earth Prime can just find themselves in an alternate dimension.”

You took a drink of your water bottle as Cisco looked at the satellite schematics, nodding his head, “It’s possible, I may have to go over some algorithms and adjust them according to what we find. But nothing’s set in stone just yet until a trial is done.”

“What about hijacking Nash’s head?” Frost speaks up, pointing a thumb back to the geological myth-buster. “How are we going to do that?”

“Wait, back up. Does this mean that you guys are all on board with this?” You asked, taking a step back and looking at them all. You thought you’d have to do more to persuade them with everything going on.

“Well, yeah.” Barry shrugs, “It’s worth a shot and until we can find a legitimate reason not to, we can always try. Plus, no matter what happens, Harrison Wells is an essential part of the team. Especially Harry and Sherloque. So, what you got for us?”

You smiled widely to yourself, hope swelling inside your heart. “We’re going to need a couple of things that we’ve used the past couple of years. First, the MAD 2.0. I’m going to use that to enter Nash’s mind to find Harry and Sherloque, hopefully run this entire shebang all by them. A fresh set of eyes to see if there’s any holes we could fill.” Running a hand through you hair, you continued, “We’ve literally got a wells of information in Nash’s head, we could also use that to pinpoint how to get back at Eva.” Everyone, especially Iris and Kamila were more than satisfied by that idea. Eva’s Mirrorverse and Joseph’s Blackhole organization have been wreaking havoc since the post-Crisis events, harming more people than any other regular meta. “Second, we’re going to have to bring out the Mindscape device and Harry’s Cerebral Inhibitor. I think if we hook them up together, we’d be able to create a bridge from Nash’s mindscape to another Wells’.”

“But how are we going to separate them from my neural wavelengths?” Nash asked the million-dollar question.

“That’s where your Neural Splicer comes in! We connect that up to the Cerebral Inhibitor, which could allow us to simultaneously return each Wells to their respective bodies without going back and forth for every individual mindscape. Effectively separate their psyches from Nash without harming him. We’d just need to make sure everything is calibrated correctly.”

“And then I can have my mind to myself, finish going on my adventures.”

“No more voices, no more hallucinations.” You put your hands together. “The last thing we’d need is a dimensional extrapolator-”

“-Which won’t be possible unless we find a dimension and analyze its coordinates to create safe passage between our friends and our earth dimension.” Cisco adds glancing to Barry, who only rubbed the side of his face. It was a lot to take in, it took a while for your mind to wrap around every detail, every idea in order to fully make sure you knew what you were proposing.”

“So, what do we think?” Your eyes darted to each and every one of them. They looked to each other then to Nash, back to each other.

“When do we start?” Barry grins at you who’s currently leaning against the railing, seemingly speaking on behalf of the team as they nod at each other with confidence and determination.

#harrison wells x reader #harry wells x reader #harry wells imagine #nash wells #The Flash #the flash imagines #the flash fanfiction #post-crisis #harrison wells #harrison wells fanfiction #harrison wells imagines #earth-2 Harrison Wells X reader #team flash x reader #team flash #team flash imagine #DCTV #harry wells

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