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sundrop-writes · 3 months ago

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Blood In The Water

Void!Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader

Beg me for mercy - admit you were toxic.

Now I am the violence, I am the sickness.

Won’t accept your silence - beg me for forgiveness.

We’ll never get free, lamb to the slaughter.

What you gon do when there’s Blood In The Water?

Summary:

Being Stiles's best friend, you are incredibly worried about him when you figure out that he is quite literally not himself - and that the thing currently occupying his body could be destroying it in the process. When you approach him to show this concern, Void takes a particular interest in you. He's not capable of love, or even fondness, but he likes you.

And he likes the way your fear spikes when you talk about Stiles. So he makes you a deal - he'll agree to take care of this fleshy, mortal host, in exchange for something more precious, more rare, and more delicious than the meal you have brought for Stiles.

He wants your pain. He wants your tears.

Void!Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader. Pining Best Friends. Extreme Emotional Angst, Hurt No Comfort. Set during Season 3 (with flashbacks to Season 1, Episode 11).

Word Count: 11,700

Teen Wolf Masterlist | AO3 Link

Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: as it says above - this is pure angst, hurt NO COMFORT, please heed that warning, if this is not something you are into, please leave now; this is set during Season 3, but not during any particular episode; I guess I need to put warnings for demon possession and identity theft (even though for the entirety of the fic, the reader does know that Stiles is not himself on the basis of knowing him so well, and she is talking to Void ernestly); this fic is about Void and the Reader interacting and discussing the relationship and feelings between Stiles and the Reader; the reader and Stiles have had mutual romantic feelings for each other for a long time but never acted on them, and at the point when the fic begins, their relationship is described as long-term best friends; the reader uses she/her pronouns and is mentioned to wear a dress and high heels to the winter formal dance; the reader's race, hair colour, size or looks in general are not described in any way (Void does call the reader 'little' but it is meant to be emotionally condescending, rather than a description of her size); this fic DOES use Y/N (proudly so); mentions of Stiles not eating/being starved because Void refuses to participate in 'human pleasures' (and he considers food to be one of those); Void is a demon who is fed by pain and he enjoys the Reader's fear, sadness, embarrassment, emotional pain, and other negative emotions, and he can feel those emotions in the air as she experiences them, so he is encouraged to do and say things that prompt negative reactions from her; Void calls the reader 'sweet thing' and 'darling' and 'little girl'; passing mention of Stiles watching porn (but the general tone of this fic is not sexual); Void compares the reader to Stiles's 'mommy' (because she is the only one who has ever given him soft, 'maternal' comfort and understanding) - but it's not a Mommy kink thing (or maybe it is for Stiles, you don't know that); mentions of eating diary and meat being 'cruel' (but I am not a vegan, it's just Void commenting on the way humans do things); the reader considers cutting herself with a knife to 'feed' Void her physical pain (but Void wants emotional pain instead); Void asks the reader to relive a painful memory by telling him about it, therefore feeding him with her emotional pain; Void threatens the reader with physical harm and even murder (to make her more fearful, and to taunt Stiles, who is forced to witness all of this); there is flashbacks to the winter formal episode in S1; mentions of the reader being jealous because Stiles took Lydia to the dance (and the reader hates the jealousy it evokes in her because she doesn't want to pit herself against Lydia and she wants to be happy for Stiles); mentions of Lydia being attacked by Peter Hale (as is canon); mentions of alcohol - the reader takes one sip of alcohol but does not get drunk during the fic; mentions of drunk driving (the reader drives after that sip of alcohol and questions if this 'counts' as drunk driving, and other people are accused of driving drunk, but in this fic, drunk driving is not actually the cause of any accidents); Stiles gets into a life-threatening car accident - mentions of blood and grievous bodily injury; mentions of Stiles needing surgery due to the car accident; mentions of blood; graphic descriptions of a character being stabbed. I believe that's it?

A/N: I have a lot to say here, so strap in. First of all, you're probably wondering why you're seeing this now. That is because I have been going through a very bad patch of mental illness (fuelled by multiple things, including the state of my physical illness) and when that happens to me, I become like a big spinning top of agitation and bad energy. And I feel the need to work on a project to avoid bad practices like self harm. And after a lot of whirling around and only working on certain projects for a few minutes at a time, I was cleaning out my files just to keep my mind occupied, and I came across the pictures I had saved to make the moodboard for this fic and I was like 'I can't delete those yet because I wanna use those to make the fic cover'. So I decided to make the fic cover, and it spiralled into me editing the whole fic just to keep my agitated upset mind busy and focused on something other than the fact that I am upset. So - good for you guys. You get a new fic. As for the actual content of this fic - I wanted to mark it as both Void x Reader and Stiles x Reader, but I figured that wouldn't make sense to most people. Because this is about Stiles and the Reader having mutual crushes on each other for a long time, and Void enjoying the embarrassment of taunting them about it, as well as the pain that comes from their pining and the potential of hurting the other and forcing them to watch. And Void does take a kind of 'liking' to the Reader, but because he's a demon, it's not necessarily romantic? Idk. I just have a lot of fun writing demon characters as complete bastards (I will never get people who write characters like Void, Anti, Dark as secret softies - like please, write a villain as a villain. It's more fun that way). So please - enjoy my take on this awful bastard. I had a lot of fun writing it. (Also I would like to note that I wrote this before I saw the end of 3A so I thought the 'crashing the Jeep' thing was a totally organic idea on my part lmao.)

...

“Stiles hasn’t eaten in days.”

You stated it very matter-of-factly, rather than asking if he had eaten or theorizing about it. It was something that you knew concretely.

Usually, Stiles was someone who was very passionate about food. He complained about missing lunch and hated being rushed to eat rather than getting to enjoy his food if you were nagging him about being late and had somewhere to be.

The only time you had ever seen him miss meals was when he got particularly sucked into his reading and researching. And usually, when his concentration finally broke, he would whine about his stomach hurting and only remember why when the smell of curly fries came under his nose because you had put the bag in front of him.

But even in that case, he had never missed more than a single meal.

You had never seen him go days without touching a single bit of food - without so much as mentioning something greasy he was craving or talking about a destination take-out spot that the two of you needed to go to on the weekend.

You had to guess that it was around the time that He had taken control. Or at least, around about when He had stopped caring to pretend to be human. When He had stopped putting up a front.

“Observant little thing, aren’t you?” He titled his head in that way that was so distinctly un-Stiles, giving you a small smirk as his words penetrated you with that utterly mocking tone.

It was strange, staring at the face of your long-time best friend and referring to him in the third person. Starting to think about him as though he wasn’t even there when you were staring right at him. Though it had only been a few days, you had long since given up the hope that you were talking to Stiles. You knew that this was someone else - something else entirely.

You were still clinging onto the hope that you could get Stiles through this and he wouldn’t be entirely damaged beyond recognition on the other side.

Hence, why you were trying to feed him now.

It had been at least four days since you had seen him take a single bite of food, and you had been carefully observing him the entire time. So you had arrived at his place today with an armful of Stiles’s favorite foods. You felt lucky to catch him alone while the others were out chasing leads - or perhaps, unlucky. Perhaps he would have eaten in front of them just to prove that he was still himself. But you were hoping to tempt him with the smell, at the very least.

Surely, he had to be hungry?

Laid out on the table in front of you was a variety of things - all kinds of things you knew would have had Stiles gorging himself in minutes. A disgustingly large and greasy double cheeseburger with curly fries and a strawberry milkshake, an extra large supreme meat lover’s pizza, an entire pack of Honey Buns, and a grocery store birthday cake - chocolate with vanilla icing. All of which elicited oddly painful memories for you, now that your best friend was being held hostage by a thousand year old demon.

Everything from movie nights where the two of you would share a pizza and argue about what kind of toppings to get, to the times that the two of you would buy a birthday cake like this and eat it in his Jeep with no such occasion for it - just because you wanted to celebrate life and didn’t want to need a reason for such a treat. Nights when balancing it between your laps and eating with plastic forks was all the joy in the world that you needed.

Nights before your life became so hellishly complicated.

“Let me guess… you’re trying to tempt me?” He posed, moving his finger across the icing of the birthday cake, and then looking at the white glob on his finger with intense disgust before moving to wipe it off on a napkin.

Of course, he wouldn’t even consider eating that small amount. He was taunting you. He knew that at this current moment, it was your greatest desire to see your friend eat - to know that even though you were entirely powerless against such a complicated and mysterious demonic force, you could do this one small thing in your power to take care of him.

You couldn’t save Stiles, but you wanted to care for him - just for a moment. You wanted to make a difference - even if it was as small as a grain of sand in an hour-glass. You thought it would help.

“Even you have to eat, don’t you?” You returned with a question. “You can’t risk your host dying, right?”

It was something you had wondered.

You hadn’t seen him drinking water either, and you didn’t think that he had slept at all. As far as you knew, he hadn’t attended to any of Stiles’s human needs. But according to the sallow, almost gray nature of his skin and the dark bags under his eyes - he wasn’t exactly in perfect health right now. So perhaps he did run the risk of actually killing Stiles altogether because he didn’t know how to take care of a human host.

Void smirked as he felt that flash of fear - the utter terror that overcame you at the thought of Stiles dying from neglect.

“Need I remind you, sweet thing?”

He started, the nickname causing a shiver of creepiness down your skin, like the feeling of walking into a spiderweb.

“I don’t eat the same deep-fried, fat filled crap that he does.” He looked across the table with disdain coating his features once again. “I feed upon the suffering of others.”

These words caused a wicked chill down your spine.

It was something that Scott had warned you of, but you hadn’t actually considered what it truly meant.

“So by depriving Stiles of his worldly pleasures - his music, his laughter, his pornography - which he watches far too much of, by the way.” Void let out a devious chuckle at this, and you didn’t even have time to think about the implications of this before he continued. “And especially by depriving him of food and sleep, I get to feed off his precious suffering.”

It was a terrible paradox. Void thrived while Stiles withered.

“And as of late, I have been so deliciously full.”

A lump formed in your throat - if you knew any words apt for this situation, you wouldn’t have been able to get them out anyway. Void’s smirk grew wider. Indulging in your suffering, in your fear for your best friend, your horror at these realizations - Void continued.

“But - among all those things, you know what he misses most of all?”

He posed, talking slowly, his voice calculated, mocking you with another head tilt. It was as though he was looking down upon you even though he was sitting in a chair at the kitchen table and you were standing across from him on the other side of the room.

You choked on a miserable syllable - no words came out. Part of you wanted to know the answer very badly, and part of you wanted him to shut up. You simply shook your head in reply.

“He misses you.”

Void whispered these words as though it was a precious secret. And then - he let out a grand cackle of a laugh, bordering on a howl as he continued to mock you.

Your insides shook, and you became foggy with confusion - how did Stiles miss you more than he missed food or water or sleep? How did he ‘miss you’ so much when you were standing right here in front of him? Did the presence of this horrid being keep Stiles from seeing you or hearing you? Was he trapped so terribly inside his own body?

Was this like a coma for him? Would he not remember any of this when it was over?

You could only hope that was the case.

“He begs and pleads every time I won’t let him touch you.” Void grinned, letting out another laugh - clearly pleased by the idea of Stiles’s misery. “He is so damn desperate to hold you. It’s hilarious, really. Especially because - at the same time, he’s terrified of what I’ll do if I get too close.”

These words put a terrible knot in your stomach.

You could only imagine how terrible it was for Stiles - he was a naturally touchy person, and now, someone else was controlling his body, keeping him from participating in the physical affection that he craved. Threatening to put his loved ones in danger if he did get the love that he desperately craved.

You didn’t want to know what Void would do if you walked across the room to hug Stiles. But at the same time, it made you yearn to hold him, to squeeze him tight, to give him the comfort he was clearly so badly in need of. Especially now that you knew his consciousness was still in there, alert and alive, fighting to get out.

“He’s so pathetic.” Void remarked softly. “He misses his Mommy, and… well, you’re the only one who ever treated him like a Mommy would. Isn’t that right?”

This sentiment confused you entirely.

You stared at him, gape-jawed, waiting for an explanation, and luckily - he did give you one.

“You held him close, and kissed his boo-boos. You… you were the only one who told him he was good enough when he never fucking was.”

You instantly wanted to argue this point, but you were more caught up on the overarching metaphor that Void was making.

All of the individual points were true. You had done all of those things for Stiles. But you didn’t see how that made you Stiles’s Mommy. It just made you a good friend.

“My Stiles is good enough.” You argued weakly, finally finding your words. “He’s a good person, and you can’t change that about him. He’s still in there. And he’s still going to be a good person after all this.”

Void tutted his tongue, giving another mocking smirk.

“Still at it.” He laughed. “You’re relentless, aren’t you?”

You didn’t care to respond to that.

“Beautifully relentless.” Void sighed, sounding almost dreamy as he said this. He sounded as if he admired this quality in you.

Which he did. But he admired this about you for one specific reason.

“See… that’s what makes the fear so fucking delicous.” He continued on, explaining. “When someone so bright, so full of hope finally gives up. When their spirit finally breaks. It permeates the air better than the smell of a rotting corpse - and it’s so fucking beautiful.”

You chose not to respond to this - baffled by his words, and slightly frightened.

Instead, you wondered something else.

“What happens if Stiles doesn’t eat?” You asked. “You said that you’re full, but he’s still human. It’s still a human body. A body that you’re currently living in.”

Void clapped his hands together a few times, slowly, giving you dry, sarcastic applause for your cleverness.

“Good question. Clever little girl.” He congratulated you, causing another wave of ‘ick’ to roll through you at his condescending tone. “He is my host, but currently, I rule all. I give him strength, I eliminate all his weaknesses. I turn his pathetic human form into the ultimate weapon. With me inhabiting his body, he does not need to eat, sleep, or drink. He does not need such tiny fallacies as comfort.”

“And what happens when you leave?” You posed.

“If I choose to leave.” Void smirked at you.

“When.” You ground out sharply, arguing, feeling braver the longer that you stood there and talked to him.

To you, he wasn’t all that scary.

Scott had warned you that Void was clever - that he would manipulate you and try to hurt you. But thus far, you hadn’t seen the route to any tricks. He seemed very straight-forward and honest. He seemed very plainly painted in his cruelty.

“If I choose to leave this host and move onto another, then… I suppose that he’ll collapse.” Void shrugged, speaking about it as if it were no more interesting to him than a fly in his peripheral. “Without my strength keeping him alive, all the exhaustion, all the hunger, all the thirst - it will hit him, all at once. He may even die from the shock alone. His body will be too weak and fragile to handle it.”

A surge of terrible anger flooded you. Perhaps it was fueled by fear, but either way, it drove you to smack your hand down onto the table, nearly smashing the birthday cake before you screamed out, finally lashing out on him.

“Motherfucker!” You called Void the first cruel name that came to mind, and he didn’t give any indication of reaction at your throat scraping volume. “You stupid bastard! You are gonna get out and give Stiles his body back, and when you do, you’re gonna return it in good fucking condition! You understand me?”

Void simply smirked, seeming entirely amused by your outburst.

Of course, he wasn’t scared of you - a powerless human. You had nothing to threaten him with. Even if you had the powers of a werewolf, he still wouldn’t fear you.

“There’s that spunk he’s always talking about.” Void said, an odd kind of fondness peeking through his voice that didn’t suit him. “You know, it’s almost… cute. I’m starting to understand why he likes you so much.”

You only became more pissed off at being called ‘cute’ when you were so boiling angry. It was entirely aggravating - someone being so condescending toward your rage.

Then, it hit you that the ‘he’ Void spoke about had to be Stiles. Did the two of them have conversations? Why would Stiles bother to praise you to a thousand year old demon?

It caused more of your affection for Stiles to bubble up inside you, and you hated it.

“Look, darling, because I like you, I’ll make you a deal,” Void posed, giving you yet another pet name that made you feel oddly disgusted.

Stiles had called you plenty of friendly nicknames before - he had even called you ‘babe’ jokingly, on occasion. But ‘darling’ had never spilled from his lips toward you. It was just another horrible reminder that he was so terribly not himself. That the thing wearing his face, puppeting him around was not Stiles.

“What deal?” You replied.

It was best to move on and start thinking of ways to take care of Stiles - ways to get him out of this mess.

“I’ll eat something for Stiles if you do something for me in return.”

You knew that he kept his wording purposefully vague. And you knew that this was likely what Scott had talked about - his intention to trick you. But Void had you right where he wanted you - desperate, fearful. He was manipulating you using emotions that he didn’t have.

“What do you want from me?” You dared to ask.

He smirked.

“I’ll tell you after Stiles has been fed.”

You took a moment to consider it, knowing that it was likely a terrible idea to agree to anything when it came to him. But he had you backed into a corner. He knew that he could get you to do anything while holding the culpability of Stiles’s wellbeing over your head.

“Oh no,” Void said, using an oddly soft, pained tone that varied so much from the emotionless, mocking tone he had been using before. He gripped at Stiles’s stomach, and let out a groan of pain that you knew had to be fake, as he professed before that he made Stiles’s body strong and invincible. “He’s begging for you to help him! You’re right, he hasn’t eaten in days, and he’s really feeling it now! It’s killing him!”

He was using your empathy to manipulate you.

“Stop it.” You protested, and it came out much weaker than you had intended - sounding much more like a plea than an order.

He clutched his stomach tighter, and then, he looked up at you with the saddest water eyes you had ever seen - for a moment, a single breath of a moment - you saw Stiles, your Stiles break through.

“Please, Y/N.” He said, crying out your name breathlessly. “Please, I’m so hungry.”

“Fine, fine!” You cried in return, barely realizing how close to tears you were, seeing Stiles beaten down, weak, begging for you to help him. “Fine, you’ve got a deal!”

In a moment of weakness, rushing to help Stiles, you reached out your hand to shake on it, signifying your promise - and in an instant, Void’s face shifted from that soft, vulnerable boy you knew back to that horrible demon, glaring at you as he reached out and grabbed your hand. You knew that many stories cautioned against making a deal with the devil, and you supposed that making a deal with Nogistune was just as bad.

But it was done now. All you could do was hope that Stiles would benefit from this.

A short while later, he had scoffed down a very large piece of cake and was halfway done with the cheeseburger, with you intently watching the whole time to make sure that there were no tricks involved on his part. You thought that the meal would mostly be silent, but he finally spoke up again, looking a bit less intimidating with some remnants of the meal smeared across his face.

“You know, one thing I can credit humans for…” He said, swallowing before he picked up one of the fries. “Their talent for cruelty. Grinding up an animal, frying it in its own melted fat and then covering it in the stolen milk meant to suckle its babes - that is something I can admire.”

“I’m sure vegans would love you.” You mumbled quietly, to yourself, not entirely sure if he could hear you.

“You should join me.” He remarked after another bite - motioning toward the table full of food. “It’s more polite than standing over me like a statue, gawking at me the whole time.”

You knew that with him holding Stiles hostage, you were in no position to refuse him. So you played right into his demands, pulling out the chair across from him without a word and flipping open the pizza box to grab a slice. You began eating in silence, and naturally - Void continued speaking.

“This is almost like one of those little dates that you used to have with him, isn’t it?” He spoke quietly, mocking you once again. “At least, that’s what Stiles called them. Dates. He was deluded enough to believe that if he didn’t speak it aloud, his affection for you would simply be known.”

This punched you in the gut, and you bit your tongue as you took your first bite of pizza. You sputtered with shock and Void continued to look amused. You never thought it was true. Scott always said that Stiles had feelings for you, and Lydia said so too - but you thought they were just theorizing.

You had never, ever thought that your best friend and long time crush - the person you were in love with - would ever feel the same way about you.

And you had to find out from a fucking demon.

You remained silent, busying your mouth with eating as you tried to process the shocking news.

“But we both really know what it was, huh? He was so pathetic… he didn’t want to be rejected by you, so he never even asked. He was never brave enough. Always so pitiful, and small. Your boy is just a coward.”

Again, you didn’t say anything. Not playing into his game - unaware of the fact that he could feel your annoyance in the air. He didn’t need you to voice your emotions in order to gain satisfaction from mocking Stiles in your presence.

So of course, he kept on going.

“But not as pathetic as he is right now. Sweet and pathetic, begging for your life. Begging for me to spare you. It’s almost like a song. He keeps on telling me to stay away from you as if he has any power over this.”

“Just shut up and eat.” You told him, sharp and even.

He nodded and continued, seemingly content with the deal you had made - for now.

And he finished the burger and fries, and two of the Honey Buns before scrunched up the wrapper on the last one, and then wiped his face with an utterly contented smile. Then he said:

“Now, time for what I want.”

You wiped off your face and hands with a napkin, done with your pizza - not having much of an appetite anyway with the situation at hand. There was a flash of worry in your mind. Wondering if he might ask you to kill someone for his benefit because they wouldn’t be expecting it to come from you. Or perhaps he might even ask for something sexual -

He let out a bright chuckle - almost as if reading your mind and highly amused by your thoughts.

“No, no. Don’t worry, darling. Nothing like that.” He told you. “I feed off of suffering. Precious pain. Anxiety, heartache, fear. Now it’s time for me to eat.”

You thought he might say something like that. And you had come prepared with that in mind - prepared to give up anything to get Stiles back.

You reached into the pocket of your jeans, pulling out a small pocket knife. It was one that Scott had given you shortly after you found out that he had become a werewolf. He had never wanted to hurt you, so - it was silver plated steel, and he had Stiles burn Wolfsbane smoke over the blade to poison it - just in case you ever needed a weapon against one of his kind. It would be useless against Void, and the Wolfsbane wouldn’t poison a human like you.

But the blade was more than sharp enough to cut you. It would hurt you. It would provide the pain that Void desired.

You shoved your sleeve up to your elbow and poised the blade at your skin, but Void reached out, stopping you.

For a heart-stopping moment, you thought that somehow, Stiles had regained control.

But when your eyes flickered up to his face, you saw nothing but Void’s dark amusement lingering in those eyes. This left you confused as he took the knife from your limp grip.

“As amusing as that would be, sweet thing, it’s rather… boring.” He declared tiredly. “I had something else in mind.”

Your throat dried up, and you didn’t even realize that you were trembling as you stared him down with terrible, anxious anticipation, waiting to see what he had in store for you.

Void licked his lips, practically lapping up the delicious, sweet taste of your fear.

He pocketed the knife and walked around the table toward you. You resisted the urge to get up and run away as he bracketed so close to your side, leaning on the table and tucking his face close to your cheek. Being this close to him, as close as you had been to Stiles since he had been taken hostage - you could almost be tricked by the faint smell of the familiar body wash coming off his skin, by the warmth that you knew to be so human.

But this wasn’t Stiles. A thought that only made it all feel so much worse.

It caused you to hold back tears.

“No, no, darling.” He whispered against your cheek, causing your throat to clench up again. “If I wanted your pain, I could have it. I could take it.”

Fuck. What had you gotten yourself into?

You held back a fearful whimper, and Void joyfully continued.

“I could smack you, punch you, make you bleed.”

He went on - the confidence of his words causing your trembling to become more apparent as your heart pounded in your chest. You considered running, but that would mean abandoning Stiles. You came here to check on him - to fight for him. You couldn’t chicken out now.

“I could take your pathetic little knife and stab you, over and over again while Stiles screams and begs for mercy. I do love it when he begs for your life - he’s so much more desperate when it comes to you.”

Dear god. Would he actually kill you just to force Stiles to watch? Did Stiles have to be conscious for something like that?

Would he force Stiles to live for the rest of his life with the guilt of not being able to stop your murder? With him in control, would Stiles even live that much longer?

“But no. That’s not the game I want to play. Not right now, at least.”

You hated that he likely saw the breath of relief as it flexed from your chest.

“What -what do you want, then?” You asked, your throat still clenched by fear, making your words come out choked and weak.

He put a hand on your cheek - one that felt all too familiar. The hand you had held while walking to class, or cuddling on the couch. The hand that dismissively waved in front of your face when you told him that he had come up with another horrible idea. Void turned your face toward him, and you were then up close and personal with the horrible sight of a pain-fueled demon wearing your sweet best friend’s face.

“I want your tears.”

Of course. Emotional pain, rather than physical. You would dare to say that it would be even more potent.

Good thing you were already so close to crying.

You would just have to spend a few more minutes thinking about Stiles trapped in there, helpless-

“Tell me about the accident.” He declared, smirking, finding the whole ordeal very satisfying.

“No.” You immediately replied.

It was too painful. You couldn’t even think about it, it was too much-

“No?!” He screamed in your ear, causing you to flinch. “Nobody tells me ‘no’! You promised me something, you stupid little bitch. Now hold up your end of the deal.”

Sadly, he was right. You had made a deal with him - and if this was part of carrying it out… you would have preferred the pocket knife.

Even just thinking about that night - the blood, the twisted metal, the terror you had felt. The anxiety, the waiting. It had all been so horrible. It had been hell. A worse hell than a dinner date with a demon who was wearing your best friend as a human skin suit.

Already, Void felt a deep satisfaction as those emotions began to permeate the air around the two of you. To him, it was the most beautiful kind of poison. He took a deep whiff, and then leaned in close again, running his nose along your hairline to sniff you.

You shrugged away from the touch, but didn’t have far to go without falling off your chair completely. You were happy when he pulled away again - feeling used and wishing for nothing more than Stiles’s comforting touch and assuring words.

“Perfect.” He mumbled quietly to himself. “You know, Stiles hardly remembers any of it. The night is almost completely blank in his mind.”

You didn’t know that. After the hospital, the two of you had never bothered to talk about it in order to compare stories. Like you always did, the two of you just moved on. You looked forward to brighter days, thankful that your friendship was still intact.

“But I know that you remember everything. Every. Single. Last. Detail.” Void said, giving another terrible laugh.

He grabbed onto the back of your chair, and using a strength that you knew didn’t belong to Stiles, he roughly tugged on it, forcing it away from the table and spinning you to face him. He came back around to stand in front of you - now, he would be the one standing to loom over you, watching you while you provided him with a delicious meal.

“So, come on,” He prodded. “I want to hear the whole story. And you better not leave anything out.”

He stood there in complete satisfaction, his arms crossed as he grinned down at you with a devilish smile.

You took a deep breath, fidgeting with your fingers for a moment. You gathered your courage, and then you began to speak.

This is for Stiles, you assured yourself. For Stiles.

“Well, it was the night of the winter formal.” You started off. “And when I saw Stiles screech out of the parking lot in his Jeep at top speed-”

“No, no.” Void shook his head, cutting you off. “I said start at the beginning.” He scolded you sharply. “That’s not the beginning, is it? I want all the details. Go back to the beginning of the night.”

“Are you serious?”

At first, you were utterly confused. He asked you to tell him about the accident. What did a high school dance have to do with a car accident?

“Of course, darling.” He smirked at you.

Then, it hit you. He didn’t just want the gorey details. He wanted every ounce of your suffering. He wanted Stiles to suffer too. Especially if he said that Stiles didn’t remember it. He wanted you to recount the entire night to Stiles from your perspective. It was why he had brought up Stiles’s ‘affection’ for you.

He wanted both of you to suffer in the misery that you had been in love with each other for so long and not been together. The stupidity that you were both blind idiots who kept each other from happiness the whole time.

So you took a breath, and you told your story how he wanted to hear it, starting from the beginning of the night.

…

You were utterly miserable.

It was one of the biggest dances of the year (well, aside from Prom and Homecoming…) and you didn’t have a date. You had spent a huge chunk of money, your savings from a crappy minimum wage job waiting tables, on a gorgeous dress and shoes, hoping that Stiles would ask you to the dance. But he was going with Lydia.

You guessed that you had to be happy for him. He had been crushing on her since the third grade, and he was finally going on a date with her. A good best friend would be happy for him.

But naturally, you were still trying to look your absolute best, maybe, selfishly, in the hope that he would see you from across the room and realize that he had made the wrong choice. Lydia was an amazing, sweet girl - and you genuinely hated the type of jealousy that this was making you feel.

You knew that logically, you had no claim over Stiles. He was just your friend, and he was more than free to go on dates with other girls. It was downright toxic of you to not ask him to the dance and then get upset when he happily went with someone else as his date.

But you tried not to think about that as you put the finishing touches on your look. You had gone all out with your best hair and make-up to compliment your expensive crystal blue satin dress. Whether it was to make yourself feel better or to try and capture Stiles’s attention - you still weren’t entirely sure.

“Lip-gloss?” Allison appeared behind you, holding a hand out, looking for the aforementioned product.

You handed it to her and she leaned down, looking into the mirror of your vanity while applying it. She had told you that getting ready at her own house would have simply been ‘too weird’ because she was fighting with her family, and she wanted some calm down time. So she had asked to get ready with you, with the offer that Jackson could give you both a ride from there.

“Look, I’m sorry.” She said, feeling too awkward in the silence as you applied your mascara, focusing on your work and not looking at her in the mirror. She knelt down beside you, guilt written across her face. “If I had known that you liked Stiles, I wouldn’t have set him up with Lydia.”

“It’s not a big deal.” You remarked. “Like you said, you didn’t know.” After a moment, you added on: “It’s kind of… good. Like a relief. I almost feel like it’s less pressure.” You shrugged. “I can just go and have fun without worrying about impressing him.”

You had been lying to yourself. You absolutely hated it with every fiber of your being. You didn’t want to be angry with Allison, but you knew that she was better friends with Lydia than she was with you. That’s why she hadn’t known about your feelings for Stiles before now. When she had asked why you seemed so upset about the news that the two were going to the dance together, you told her, and she explained with a sour, sad face that she had set them up.

You hated it, but you couldn’t help thinking that this was the first step to Stiles and Lydia becoming a thing - the first act in them dating for long months while you resented Lydia for stealing something you once saw as yours.

And you hated yourself for being that kind of person.

Allison chuckled at this.

“Yeah… Well, Scott’s not going at all, so none of us get to go with the person we want to be with.” She said in a deeply sad tone, obviously aching from her own problems.

…

“It’s a shame, isn’t it?” Void commented, drawing you from the memory. “A pretty girl spends too much money on a dress, trying to impress some moron who won’t even notice it.”

He was mocking Stiles again.

“And then you had to see him with her.”

You nodded.

You could picture it so perfectly in your mind. Getting out of Jackson’s car and seeing Stiles rush to open the door for her - the way he smiled at her, the way he looked at her like she held the world on the edges of her lips. You wanted nothing more than for him to look at you like that. Her perfect ‘strawberry blonde’ hair fluttering in the wind as they walked arm-in-arm across the parking lot.

It caused the most awful aching pain in your chest that you had ever felt. You didn’t truly know how precious Stiles was to you until you saw him with someone else.

You knew Jackson was aching too, for much the same reason. And when he had offered you a swig of his drink, you took it. But it wore off too soon for your tastes and you didn’t have more. So for the better part of the night, you were forced to feel your pain while his was drowned out by the booze.

“Tell me. Tell me how it made you feel.” Void egged you on, wanting you to say it out loud even though your pain was all too palpable in the air.

“Like I was dying inside,” You answered, your throat tight but - still no tears yet. “Like all good had drained from the world. Like I had lost the most precious thing in my life and I would have to sit at the sidelines watching a perfect story play out when I was supposed to be a part of it.”

Void took a deep breath, sniffing the air again. And then he chuckled.

“Your pathetic teenage angst is… so amusing.” He grinned at you, crossing his arms over his chest. “Do tell me more.”

You had no clue that somewhere inside of there, Stiles was hit with his own wave of intense sadness - something else for Void to feed off of. He had no clue that you had been in love with him for so long. He had no clue how many opportunities he had missed out on to tell you about his feelings - how long he could have been happily dating you.

He hated how much time the two of you had missed out on.

Void sat contently between Stiles’s complicit misery and your renewed angst as you continued the story.

…

You had moped around all night.

You thought perhaps the only person more miserable than you at that dance was Scott - stuck hiding in the shadows, forced to watch Allison dance with Jackson while pretending he wasn’t even there.

But eventually, he too got his way after making a huge scene that even stopped the band for a moment - and left Coach feeling embarrassed when everyone thought that he went off on a homophobic screaming tirade because Scott was dancing with Danny. Good thing Beacon Hills was pretty progressive.

After spending all night on the bleachers on the verge of tears, you decided to leave to get yourself a chocolate bar from the vending machine - nothing goes better with sorrow than chocolate, right? Well, perhaps Jackson had a point in pairing his sorrow with liquor. But you weren’t at that point yet.

You were considering just calling it a night altogether. But you saw Stiles standing by himself, sans Lydia, and you figured it was a good time to make your move, if you were going to make one.

You wandered over to him shyly.

You had been feeling so down about yourself, you didn’t notice the way his eyes traced over every inch of you with awe - the way his lips parted with slight shock and wonder at how beautiful you looked that night.

Just as he was about to tell you so, you spoke up.

“So… where’s Lydia?” You asked.

“Oh, uh - she went to go find Jackson.” He said, disappointment seeping through every single inch of his voice.

“Naturally.” You replied.

You wanted to rant and scream about how she wasn’t good enough for him if she was going to ditch him for a guy who supposedly didn’t even want her anymore.

Your eyes strayed over to Allison and Scott on the dance floor, looking at each other with nothing but affection - clearly, only thinking of the other person, so caught up in their own little bubble. She didn’t care that Jackson had ditched her. A small flare of jealousy went through you.

You wished that could be you and Stiles.

“Do you wanna dance?” You asked Stiles, hoping that you could have your moment, even if it meant stealing him away from Lydia (when she clearly didn’t care).

He gave you a shy grin. “Okay.”

You grabbed his hand and led him out to the dance floor, and his hands found a natural place on your hips while you softly draped your arms around his neck. The two of you swayed to the slow music for a moment before you spoke again.

“This is nice.” You commented, smiling.

Though it had felt impossible only an hour ago, you actually felt happiness creeping in. Standing there underneath the coloured lights, dancing with the one person you had wanted the whole time. It was nice. There was still a lick of mourning lingering in your chest. You knew that Stiles still only viewed you as a friend, and you weren’t sure if you could ever gather that courage to take the leap and tell him about how you truly felt. As much as you wanted to just pull him close and kiss him.

“You know, you were the one person I actually wanted to dance with tonight.” You continued on. “And-” You cut yourself off with a sigh, not wanting to sound too vulnerable.

“Yeah.” Stiles replied - though he sounded oddly distant and thoughtless.

When you looked at his face again, you realized that he was staring at something over your shoulder, and you craned your neck to see that he was gawking at his watch.

“Ugh, really?” You scoffed, pushing him away. “Is dancing with me so awful that you feel the need to time it?”

“No.” He shook his head furiously, hating what you were accusing him of. “That’s not - look, Lydia’s been gone for over ten minutes! I’m worried.”

You shook your head, sighing deeply in defeat. Of course he was still thinking about her.

“Did you ever consider that maybe she found Jackson? That maybe they’re off somewhere making out? That she just ditched you because she doesn’t give a shit about you?” You argued, full of pain, your voice raising in volume to the point where you attracted stares from others on the dancefloor.

A look of pure pain streaked across Stiles’s face at your words.

“Whatever.” Stiles shrugged. “I’m going to find her. Because I actually care about her. And because I trust my gut.” He sharply bumped your shoulder as he passed, leaving you feeling more rejected and horrible than ever.

You turned and fled from the room, scurrying away from the many eyes on you once you realized that people were still staring.

…

“His gut.” Void chuckled. “He always did have good instincts, didn’t he?”

He did. Stiles had amazing instincts.

Because you had been assuming the worst - believing that Lydia had ditched Stiles to go and make-out with Jackson, when in reality, she had been bleeding to death on the lacrosse field. Stiles had been more than right to go looking for her.

Given, that was before you even knew about the existence of werewolves and all the other bullshit that ran ramped in Beacon Hills. But it didn’t make you feel like any less of a horrible person when you found out.

“Did you ever consider what a selfish bitch you are?”

Void continued on when you didn’t speak, seamlessly picking up with his mocking. Of course, he knew all the weak spots to hit. He could feel right where you were soft and vulnerable - right where you flexed with hurt under his taunts.

“Whining about not getting to dance with some dork while an innocent girl was bleeding to death? Talk about priorities.”

“I didn’t know.” You replied, your voice stiff.

You knew it was a poor excuse. You knew that ultimately, you were selfish. You should have gone with Stiles to look for Lydia. You should have helped.

Distantly, caged up inside of Void - Stiles was eternally thankful about that argument. He was thankful that you had been distanced from all of it, kept away from Peter Hale’s hungry claws. He would have gone insane, having you and Lydia in hospital beds, side by side, not knowing what the fate of either of you would be.

“Yeah, you can just keep telling yourself that same bullshit, sweetheart.” Void said, his voice a low whisper. “But we both know what you are. Maybe in reality, you’re not that much different from someone like me.”

Maybe that realization hurt more than anything.

Maybe that was his intention - to hit you with a truth that would wound you.

“You know… he still thinks about you in that dress.” Void spoke quietly again, carefully, painstakingly choosing each word. “How… beautiful you looked. His perfect rare crystal.”

He put emphasis on each word in a way that sent chills down your spine. His sharp gaze coming from Stiles’s honey whiskey eyes felt infinitely darker, and rather than feeling treasured as something good, something valuable like you usually did when Stiles looked at you - you felt filthy. You felt a sense of fear, knowing that Void would use Stiles precious appreciation of you to hurt him. To hurt both of you.

“That was the night he knew for certain that he was in love with you.” Void let out another laugh - dark and low. “The night he knew that he loved you more than he ever loved Lydia. She was laying in front of him dying, and still - all he could think about was protecting you. Protecting you from the threat.”

Your throat clenched up, and anything you were going to say was lost.

“I guess he’s selfish too, isn’t he?” Void posed. “You two are perfect for each other, I suppose.”

Then, he put on a weak, small, wobbling voice, and began to mock the unique, crippling fear that Stiles had experienced that night.

“Where’s Y/N? I need to find her. I need to protect her. Is she next?”

Nausea tightened in your stomach.

A unique tightness clutched at your chest.

Stiles had known he was in love with you that night.

He had been trying to protect you.

Is that why he had fled from the dance so suddenly?

“Ask me the question.” Void grinned, entirely excited now that you had put it together, made the realization. “Come on, ask me the question. We both know you want to.”

“Why are you doing this?” You choked out.

This was not the question he wanted.

But still, he indulged you.

“I told you.” He said firmly. “I like pain.”

He took a step forward then, leaning down, bracketing his hands by your hips on the wooden kitchen chair’s seat, his face tight in your personal space once again.

“Now… ask me the question.”

You took a shallow breath.

You hated how intimidating he was. You hated knowing that if it had actually been Stiles who was this close to you, it would have given you butterflies or even turned you on, but instead - you felt anxiety having him this close.

You couldn’t help but to give him what he wanted.

“What really happened that night?” You whimpered out, terrified of that answer. “Why did Stiles leave the dance?”

Void grinned.

“What a brilliant question. You are such a clever girl.”

…

All of it happened so fast.

Stiles spotted Lydia from afar - her red hair very distinctive. Then he saw it - a humanoid shape transforming into a big, black beast. Razor sharp teeth and claws.

He begged for her life, and he had been given one chance to spare her - a single call to Jackson. Luckily, the asshole picked up. (It was the one time in Stiles’s life that he had ever been thankful for Jackson’s existence.)

And then, he was being kidnapped, forced into his own car and being forced to drive to God knows where.

Of course, he was far too busy with the panic of it all, and he didn’t notice you.

He didn’t notice you - stumbling into the parking lot, looking for him in order to apologize for what you had said. He didn’t notice you watching with suspicion and confusion as his Jeep pulled out of the parking lot at top speed. He didn’t notice you going into your purse for your phone, looking to call his dad, considering making a report to him about it - only to find Jackson’s keys in your purse from earlier that night. Because when you had spotted him still drinking more than an hour into the dance, so sloshed that he could barely stand, you had demanded his keys from him, telling him that you wouldn’t let him drink and drive.

Stiles hadn’t noticed you getting into Jackson’s car and stealing it in order to trail behind him to see where he was going - just in time to miss Jackson running through the parking lot screaming for help with Lydia’s limp body in his arms.

Stiles was too busy with panic and anxiety to notice any of that, far too busy wondering if he was going to get out of this alive. And now, he was driving down a deserted backroad with Peter Hale in his passenger’s seat, who was making entirely sexist remarks about how Lydia would end up ripping his throat out ‘twice a month’ if she survived The Bite.

“You know, you didn’t have to protect her from it.” Peter droned on, increasing Stiles’s anxiety and annoyance. “It’s going to make her whole life better. She’ll thank me for it when she’s ready.”

“You should have just left her out of this.” Stiles bit back. “Lydia is a good girl. She doesn’t deserve any of this.” He huffed. “If she dies, I swear to god, I’ll-”

“You’ll what?”

Peter chuckled, grinning, seeming amused by Stiles’s vague, likely unbackable threats. Stiles ground his teeth, not responding - hating that they both knew he wouldn’t be able to follow through on anything he threatened. Not when Peter could kill him with one clean swipe of his claws.

“You’re protective. I do admire that in a man.” He paused, thinking. “Though, I suppose… you’re not quite a man, are you? At least not yet.”

Stiles bit his tongue, not wanting to make any further threats that he couldn’t live up to. He had seen what Peter could do, and unfortunately - he knew that he didn’t have the physical force to fight against him.

So what the hell could he do?

That was the question that made Stiles’s mind tink on anxiously, convincing him further that he just might end up dead tonight.

“What about your other pretty friend?” Peter wondered aloud, changing the subject suddenly in a way that confused Stiles. “Are you just as protective of her?”

“What? Are you talking about Y/N?” Stiles’s heart began pumping even more viciously with anxiety, absolutely terrified that you were on Peter’s radar.

He hated that he knew Peter could hear it - that spike in his heart rate that indicated his fear, his weakness.

“The one in the blue dress.” Peter told him, seeming almost disinterested in the conversation as he picked at his nails. Stiles’s heart thumped harder in affirmation, and Peter continued. “She wears that lovely vanilla perfume-”

“Leave her out of this!” Stiles screamed at the top of his lungs, rage overtaking him so suddenly that he almost swerved off the road - Peter reached over and corrected this, rolling his eyes at the outburst.

Stiles clenched his jaw tightly and looked ahead at the road, fuming.

(Driving behind him in Jackson’s car, you wondered why his driving was suddenly so erratic.)

“You leave her the hell alone.” Stiles huffed, praying that there was some finality to his words.

“That would be a little difficult, considering that she’s been following us for half a mile.” Peter grinned. “I am going to have to speak to her about this whole matter when we arrive.”

Stiles thought that Peter was bluffing - trying to use you as leverage to get him to co-operate, just as he had done with Lydia. But when he squinted into the rearview mirror, he saw… Jackson’s car? And a flash of blue in the driver’s seat that must have been your dress.

Fuck.

He was so screwed.

“What do you mean ‘speak to her’?” Stiles questioned, entirely panicked.

“Well, we can’t have her running back to the Argents to warn them.” Peter smirked. “Perhaps, I can convince her how beneficial the Bite would be to her-”

“No!”

Stiles screamed, his voice filling up the entire cab of the Jeep with the might of his protection toward you.��

“Enough! Okay? Enough. You can do whatever you want with me - I’ll do whatever you want, I swear. And then you can kill me when you’re done with me so I won’t blab.” His voice tightened up around these words, slightly frightened to resign himself to this fate, but he was willing to do whatever it would take to protect you. “Just leave her the hell alone.”

“And if I don’t?” Peter asked, taunting, clearly enjoying the emotional reaction prompted from Stiles trying to protect you. “What can you possibly do about it?”

Think. Stiles wanted to bang his head against the steering wheel. Think, think, think, Stiles! You’re supposed to be the clever one.

An idea popped into his head.

It wasn’t clever. It wasn’t good. But it was the only idea that he had.

And when he took one last glance in the rearview mirror and realized that you were about twenty feet back - more than enough to hit the brakes in time - he resigned himself to it.

He put his seatbelt on, and then - he harshly turned the wheel toward the nearest tree and - he gunned it.

…

The crash shocked you.

You slammed on the brakes as quickly as you could, and came to a stop a few feet behind the tree that Stiles had rammed into. You stumbled out of the driver’s side door in shock, tears in your eyes as you wandered toward the Jeep - which was now nothing more than a heap of twisted metal, smoking, the horn blaring loudly where it was crumbled against the tree.

“Stiles?” You called out, praying that he would answer you. “Stiles?”

You slowly came around the car, finally able to get a good view of him through the smashed driver’s side window.

He was entirely still, collapsed against the air-bag that had emerged from the steering wheel, blood smeared all over the white material. So much blood. It painted the smashed front windshield, dripped through his shirt. He was so still. He wasn’t moving. He-

“Stiles?”

When he didn’t respond, you let out a loud sob.

“Stiles? Come on - you - you have to-!” You couldn’t contain another sob as it tore through you, making you utterly breathless.

You had been so distraught that you didn’t notice the passenger side door was wide open, even though there was not a single trace that anybody had been sitting there. Even if you had noticed, you likely would have chalked it up to the door being flung open from the force of the crash.

Your ears were pounding with blood from the shock and you didn’t even notice the wolf-like howls echoing into the night above you.

…

“I thought he was dead.”

Your body couldn’t contain another sob when you got to this part in the story - finally providing Void with the tears he so desired.

As you went over the horrors of that night in your mind, they now poured freely down your face. Your pain was made even worse with the stunning realization: Stiles had done it all to protect you. Put himself in danger, gone through so much pain - all to protect you.

Void smiled at you - a terrible, haunting grin that he mocked you while wearing the face of the man you loved the most.

“So beautiful.” He hummed, reaching out and wiping your tears - not to comfort you, of course. He gathered the wetness on his fingers and brought it to his lips, licking it. At this, he gave a satisfied sound. “So much pain.”

“Are we done now?” You asked, wanting to be alone to wallow in your pain.

Truthfully - you wanted nothing more than the comfort of Stiles. You wanted him to hold you and tell you that everything would be okay in the soothing way that he always did. You wondered if hugging Void would feel the same. You wondered if you could close your eyes and pretend, even for a moment.

“No.” He told you, enjoying the extra little bit of anguish he could wring from you by telling you this. “Because that wasn’t the worst part, was it?”

…

“Look, Noah, it’s probably nothing.” Melissa said firmly, doing her best to try and soothe the fellow parent. Sheriff Stilinski had already been at the hospital to take a report on what had happened to Lydia when something else came over the radio - a car accident report about a crash involving a blue Jeep. “Stiles isn’t the only person in this town who drives a-”

Before she could even get the words out, the paramedics came bursting into the ambulance bay, wheeling in a bloodied, unconscious Stiles on a stretcher with you walking beside them, holding his hand.

“My boy.” The Sheriff sobbed, rushing to reach them.

Melissa knew that the doctors would likely need to get him up to the ER with the kind of condition that he was in, so she moved to escort you and the Sheriff to the waiting room. She wrapped an arm around your shoulder, and you refused to be pulled away - you refused to let go of his hand.

“He needs me.” You bawled, tears still steadily streaming down your face. “He needs me!”

“Let them work, sweetie, just-” Melissa argued gently, trying to be understanding about the kind of shock you were in.

“He needs me! He needs me!”

She held you back, tearing your grip off of Stiles so that he could be escorted to the ER. Melissa began to cradle you comfortingly, rubbing a hand on your shoulder.

There was only a short moment of silence before-

“What the hell happened?” The Sheriff turned to you, barking the words loudly, obviously yearning for answers about how Stiles had gotten hurt.

“I - I don’t know.” You answered meekly, feeling intimidated by him.

“Was he drinking? Were you two partying?” He screamed, getting closer into your space.

Quickly, Melissa stepped between the two of you, putting a hand on Sheriff Stilinski’s chest to keep him at bay.

“Noah, stop it-”

“Was he drinking?” He pressed, forcing the words out slower, as though you were too dumb to understand.

“What? No!” You quickly replied. “Stiles doesn’t drink!”

(That had been a lie. You had seen him drink a few times at parties. But you knew that he was a firm proponent of designated sober drivers because of how many accident reports his father had filed from drunk drivers that involved death.)

“Even if he was, I would never let him drive! Stiles would never let anybody drink and drive because that’s what you taught him!”

You felt a slight bit of guilt, knowing that you had sipped on Jackson’s bottle and gotten behind the wheel. You wondered if that one single sip made you guilty of the crime that Stiles was so very much against.

Before you could dwell on it too much, you continued.

“I took Jackon’s keys from him to keep him from drunk driving! That’s how I followed Stiles in the first place.”

“You used my car?” Jackson appeared behind you suddenly, taking on an accusatory tone.

Everyone ignored him.

“Well? Where was he going? What was he doing? How the hell did this happen?”

“I. Don’t. Know.” You ground out slowly. “It’s not like it was my fault!”

…

Void let out another astrid laugh.

“Oh, but it was.” He grinned. “It was all your fault. How did it feel lying to a police officer about the fact that you almost killed his son?”

“I wasn’t lying.” You replied, your throat gripped by tears. “I didn’t know.”

You were glad that you hadn’t known the truth at the time. You weren’t sure if you could have faced the Sheriff, knowing that Stiles’s near death experience had been all your fault.

“Would you look the Sheriff in the eyes and tell him that now?” Void asked. “Or would you apologize? Tell him that it’s all your fault that stupid, infatuated Stiles crashed his car into a tree trying to save you?”

“I-” You choked out, truly unsure what to say. “I don’t know.”

“Would you have taken his place?” Void snipped, quick to berate you with more questions.

“What?” You parroted back, slightly confused.

“Would you have taken his place?” He repeated. “You - caught up in that heap of twisted metal, carted off to the hospital to be poked and prodded by doctors, cut up, barely alive? Him - crying at your bedside like a pathetic idiot?”

You had never considered it. You didn’t think it was wise to dwell on the past or mull-over hypotheticals like that. But truthfully - you thought that what had happened to you was worse. You thought that Stiles got the better end of it, sleeping through most of it while you had to steep in your pain.

“Y-yes.” You said, hesitating slightly, feeling as though this was the proper, kind answer - saying that you would have taken the physical pain for him - that you would have laid in the bed and taken all of it in his place if you could have.

“Uh-oh.” Void said, shaking his head. “Nobody likes a liar, Y/N.”

How he knew that you were lying, you had no clue.

But you were eager to move on from it before he prodded you about it any further. So you quickly moved on with your story.

“And then, there was the waiting.” You told him. “We had to wait hours for him to come out of surgery, wondering if he was going to live. And then I waited for weeks by his bedside, wondering if he was ever going to wake up.”

You swallowed around a painful knot in your throat as you remembered it.

“So perfectly pathetic, isn’t it?” Void commented. “The way that you showed up to that hospital every single day - spent nights sleeping beside him in an uncomfortable plastic chair, just waiting… every single day waiting to see if he was going to wake up. Or rather - seeing if he was going to finally slip away. Waiting to see if he was finally going to die.”

You let out more tears and Void sniffed the air again, taking a deep breath, enjoying the depth of your pain.

“I wish I could have been there.” He remarked. “Every single day, you mourned over him. You cried for him. What a waste of sweet suffering.”

He let out another laugh. You go do nothing more but sit there and let him mock you, let him indulge in the suffering that you had promised him.

“You showed up every single day and he didn’t even know it. You talked to him, read to him, played him music… not even knowing if he could hear you. Thinking that he could hear you, but just… hinging it all on that tiny ray of hope.”

You thought for certain that Void would confirm then and there that Stiles had never heard you when he had been comatose, because before he had said that your hope being broken was ‘delicious’.

But what he did next hurt so much more.

Because of course, he knew the worst, most perfect ways to hurt you.

“You read him The Velveteen Rabbit… because he said that his Mommy used to read it to him.”

Void said, mocking deep in his voice. And then, he put on a shrill impression of you as he spoke again - repeating word for word what you had said to Stiles when you had been at his bedside. Private words that had been meant only for Stiles.

“‘Stiles, you have to wake up. You have to wake up so we can be together again. Look, I know I messed up before, but… I really like you. I might even love you. Fuck it - I do love you. I’m in love with you, and you - you have to wake up so that I can spend the rest of my life loving you.’”

He burst into laughter with these last words, cutting right through you.

“Well, newsflash!” He screamed, startling you with his sudden volume, shaking you. “Stiles isn’t going to wake up this time. He’s never coming back again. You’re going to spend the rest of your life alone.”

“He will.” You said weakly, knowing how defeated you sounded. “He’ll come back. He’ll come back to me, I know it.”

You and Void both knew that you were trying to convince yourself with these words.

Void pulled up his shirt, showing off the long, jagged scar in the middle of Stiles’s stomach - the scar he had from the accident.

“See this? This is his human weakness.” Void stated. “I came along and I made him into something so much better. I made him strong. I made him-”

“You ruined him!” You screamed, finally standing from your chair, hyper charged with your own rage now. “You took away everything that made him good - his sweetness, his kindness, his empathy. You-”

“No, sweetheart.” Void grabbed your face, shutting you up and causing sharp shocks of pain across your head as he roughly jostled you. “Those things have always been his downfall. His stupid kindness and empathy caused him to crash himself into a fucking tree tyring to protect you. You - a dumb bitch who is still willing to put herself this close to a demon who could gut her in a second without a single care.”

You held your breath. You waited for him to do something more - to truly attempt to harm you.

And then, after a paralyzing second of staring into those dead eyes - he let you go again. You took a step back. You should have run - you should have run, and run, until you found Scott or someone else. But he was right. You were a dumb bitch. Even now, you couldn’t abandon Stiles.

“You know, it’s even the same thing right now.” Void grinned. “The minute he gets back the slightest bit of control, he keeps trying to crash the damn car. He keeps trying to protect you!”

He burst into laughter again, and your insides shook with fear.

You knew that Stiles ‘crashing the car’ this time would only end with him dying. And you weren’t sure which was worse - him living in there, trapped and tortured while a demon controlled his body - or him killing himself to end all potential harm that Void could do to you and anybody else.

“Even now, he’s begging me to shove this pathetic little knife into his neck,” He said, taking your knife out of his pocket and raising it up to his jugular. “Just so that there won’t be a single chance of me hurting you.”

Your chest jumped.

Upon instinct, you stepped forward and grabbed his wrist, attempting to pull the knife back - but of course, Void was much stronger than you, and his grip didn’t budge. Not even a slight bit.

Your heart raced as you began to panic.

“Please, don’t-” You muttered out, knowing that begging was likely your only course of action, whether Void or Stiles was the one in control.

He grinned. “What are you going to do to stop me?”

You had an idea. A terrible one.

You leaned in, sealing your lips onto his - feeling chapped skin against yours and for a moment thinking that you had a one-way ticket to getting stabbed. But then, you felt the stiff, tense form underneath you soften up. You felt a gentle sigh, a sigh of relief leave Stiles’s lips as he pressed back, pushing into the kiss as though he had been yearning for this for centuries.

The hand holding the knife to his neck shook - sharp spasms going through the muscles as he battled with himself. And after a moment, he dropped the object to the floor with a quiet clatter. Then, he brought that hand to smooth across your back in a gentle, comforting way that could have only been Stiles.

You pulled away from the kiss after a moment, and when you looked into his eyes, you knew for certain that it was him. The softness, the sadness, the apologetic mourning.

“Y/N-” He croaked out, releasing a few years of his own.

“Hang in there, my love.” You told him, reaching up to gently grasp at his cheek.

And then, just like the sun peeking through on a cloudy day - he was gone.

Void’s horrible grin took over once again, and all the life dropped out of those eyes.

“You truly are pathetic.” He said, giving another horrible laugh.

Perhaps he was trying to convince you that Stiles had never been there, that it had only been a trick, but - you knew what you saw.

Void hated it.

It was something that he absolutely hated to admit, but you gave Stiles strength. You were likely the only person in town, likely the only thing on earth that could have given him - a weak, stupid, pathetic human, the strength to overpower the epic thousand year old demon that had taken control.

In that moment, in an instant, he decided that you had to be eliminated.

Void didn’t hesitate to reach down and pick up the knife.

“No-” You gasped out.

Before you could blink, he grabbed your shoulder, shoved you against a nearby wall, and plunged the small blade into your stomach. He didn’t stop just once - he stabbed you again, and again, and again - creating a flurry of blood and mashing flesh that caused you to gasp from the pain and sheer shock that overtook your body.

It didn’t hurt as much as you expected it to. It was like a simple pinprick - nothing more painful than a needle piercing your skin for a routine blood sample. But when you felt the intense hot waves of blood pouring out, soaking your clothes - you knew that it was bad. You were already shaking from the shock and you knew that him pressing against you was the only thing still holding you up.

Void took a tight hold of your face, both your cheeks in one blood-coated hand, and pressed his forehead tightly into yours.

“Look at her.” He growled out, his voice as sharp and frightening as ever. “Look at her. Look at her while she’s dying.”

You knew in an instant that he wasn’t talking to you.

“Look at what you’ve done, Stiles!” He screeched, his voice harsh, almost distorted. “All that begging… all that begging - all for nothing!”

“It’s okay.” You huffed out, reaching up, your hand surprisingly bloody, trying to touch his cheek in comfort. “It-it’s okay.”

You were determined to survive this. Or - at the very least - you didn’t want Stiles living with the guilt if you didn’t.

“Stiles-”

Void wouldn’t stand for it. This comfort.

He quickly stamped out this truth with a few more quick, violent jabs of the knife into your gut, forcing Stiles to watch as he violently eviscerated you.

Then, he tossed the knife aside and let you slump to the floor before he walked away.

He left you for dead, all too pleased with how utterly the sight of you bloodied and limp tortured Stiles.

He left you there, not knowing that he left you with just enough determination - just enough life left you to drag your shaking body to the phone and get a bloody hand wrapped around it.

...

Please keep in mind, this is a oneshot, so there will not be a sequel or a 'Part 2'. If you enjoyed this fic, please consider reblogging it to show your appreciation, commenting on this fic, or you can take a look at my Teen Wolf Masterlist for more of my fics from this fandom.

However, please do not comment on this fic asking for a sequel or asking for more - I generally consider that stressful and impolite. If you are going to comment, please comment about the body of work that has been written.

Because I ended the fic the way I did, I do have some ideas for a potential sequel, but it's not something that I am rushing to write, and it's not something that will be on my schedule anytime soon. If you would like to, you can come into my inbox and chat about my ideas for the potential sequel - but right now they are just ideas and they will stay that way for a long time before becoming a full realised story (if they ever become one). I hope you enjoyed this fic as the capsule story oneshot that I always intended for it to be, and that you enjoy my other works if you do check them out.

#sundrop writes #teen wolf fanfiction #void!stiles x reader #void!stiles #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinksi fanfiction #stiles x reader #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski x reader #teen wolf #teen wolf x y/n #teen wolf x reader

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celestiamour · 4 months ago

Text

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ pocket powerhouse ]❜

━━━ .°˖✧ requested by @klerns-birdie ˚₊ ⊹

ft. logan howlett x f! reader x wade wilson — xmen, marvel

╰₊✧ entering the void with their tiny, mighty companion┊1.4k words

setting: deadpool & wolverine (2024) worst! logan contains: canon typical blood & violence (and murder lol), reader is described as short & cute, super strength mutation, reader is the one who kills sabertooth in this one, fourth-wall break

➤ author's note: this was funnier in my head

they had you surrounded on all fronts, some standing before you and others on armored vehicles, holding their weapons and fists up ready to strike at any moment. if they didn’t clearly have bad intentions, then you would have been flattered at this little welcome party gathering together after only a few minutes of being sent into the void. they probably heard the ruckus wade and logan were making since they simply couldn’t keep their hands off of each other.

meaning, they couldn’t stop beating each other up and using any means necessary to shed blood or break bones despite it all being healed within the span of seconds.

you find the only successful way to get them to stop trying to kill each other is by threatening to kill them first, throwing a punch into the ground to destroy it under you as a means to grab their attention while shouting that you’ll decapitate them if they continue.

they listen to you most of the time and drop the mini battles, not because they believe you would actually do it, but because they believe they are humoring you by doing so (and because they know to sit down and shut up when a pretty woman tells them to). with super-strength as your mutation, you could do it with ease, they know you can— it’s just so difficult to think that such a cute little thing who pouts when ignored and is frequently used as an armrest due to short stature would ever do anything of the sort. you still have yet to act on your warnings, only depending on bloodlust-filled glares to settle them down much like a teacher waiting for her noisy class to be quiet.

logan thinks you all bark and no bite, wade compares you to an angry bunny, it’s safe to say they take what you say with a grain of salt, exchanging amused looks and admiring how cute you are when yelling profanities and gory details of how you’re going to maim them. (blah, blah, blah, proper name, place name— backstory stuff)

the three of you cringed at the failure of johnny storm, grimacing when his balls probably got crushed on a metal pole and every time he hit his head before getting captured. his end goal was clearly to escape, but you didn’t quite know how he was planning to get there when he set himself alight and started flying.

“i know you!” a large man with flowing blonde hair jumped off the tank, landing with a heavy thud on the compacted sand.

“oh my god, that’s sabertooth, peanut’s brother,” wade explained.

“brother? they don’t really look anything alike aside from being… uh… feral?”

“well you see, apparently there are some discrepancies about that. the author isn’t sure about anything because her bitch-ass still hasn’t watched any of the x-men movies or done her research. something about ‘being too busy with real life,’ can you believe that?”

“okay, you lost me when you started talking about ‘an author,’ but lay off her!”

sabertooth growled at logan, “ready to die?”

“hey, don’t threaten him! i don’t care if he’s your brother, he’s my friend!” you interrupted, walking up to him, acting nonchalantly like he was a teddy bear when he was truly a grizzly. he was much taller than you too, towering over you and leaving you in his shadow.

“get outta my way, girlie” he barked, extending his claws, prepared to sink them into your flesh. “you’re lucky you’re cute, or else i already would have killed you.”

“aww, thank you! but i can’t accept compliments from someone who wants to kill my friend, so to that, i say ‘fuck off!’”

before he could let out a roar about how you should know who you’re talking to or swipe his claws at your face, you lifted your hand and slapped him across the face. it was much like a dramatic slap from television shows where the girl finds out her boyfriend is cheating on her or something, except his head went flying off into the distance and sprayed blood everywhere. it happened so quickly that his body stood there for a second before flopping over.

“oh my god!” wade exclaimed, cupping his face in his hands from surprise before excitedly clapping them together, “oh my god, that’s my girl— that’s our girl! see, that’s what happens when you enlist a y/n on your team, i told you that it was a good idea to take her with us!” he picked up the decapitated head and waved his arms around, paying no mind to the dripping red iron spilling on his costume, “you bitches saw that? she’s cute ‘n tiny but mighty, and she’ll absolutely fuck you up!”

the victory was short-lived as they took advantage of logan’s adamantium skeleton and other large pieces to scrap to trap all of you to a magnet. normally, this would be a breeze for you to get yourself out of, but you got hit in the head and quickly fell unconscious for them to ship you all away to cassandra.

when you finally woke up, you’re tied back-to-back with johnny and find your two companions in a similar position. “are you guys okay?”

“they’re asleep, but i’m okay,” logan answered, voice uncharacteristically amiable. despite being just as annoying as deadpool, he liked you a whole lot more and never spoke to you as roughly as he did to him. you were sweeter, more empathetic and understanding that he needed his own space, and, he isn’t going to lie, very easy on the eyes. “and you?”

“i’m okay! my head really hurts though…” you winced and shook your head a few times, trying to get the pounding sensation out. “god, this place is crazy. first we get teleported to this junkyard and then—”

“did you really mean what you said back there?”

“what did i say?”

“well… you…” god, he felt stupid, he was about to back out and say ‘nevermind,’ but he knows that you wouldn’t have let him go so easily. “you said that i was your friend…”

“yeah! you are! i mean, i killed your brother for you even though you could have done it yourself, putting myself in danger just so that you didn’t have to— you better consider me a friend too!”

he should tell you that you shouldn’t call him that nor think of him that way since nothing good ever comes out associating with him, but he can’t bring himself to say the words he’s routinely told others to successfully push them away. something about the look in your eyes, the way they sparkled when you looked at him. something about your smile, toothy and full of hope for the future to make up for his lack of. something about you makes him keep his mouth shut.

instead, he looks away, muttering a quiet word of thanks.

you tilt your head in slight confusion, not understanding the depth of your statement yet and how it managed to pull a word of gratitude out of a man who was in a constant state of irritation, but it made you irrationally happy and giddy inside.

wade was murmuring a few unintelligible sentences before coming to, and despite wearing a mask that covered his entire face, you could envision the mild look of disgust behind the leather as clear as day. “ew, why are you smiling like that??” he took a glance at you and then back at him, repeating the process a few times. “what the fuck? you guys can’t have a love story and leave me out of it! i’m the reason you two even met—” he finally seemed to process the situation from the close proximity with logan, looking him in the eyes through the white fabric of his mask and trying to find a way to loosen it to no avail. “how long have i been asleep?”

“not all of you was asleep.”

johnny seemed to wake up as well, beginning to tell a whole bunch of exposition about this place you were trapped in, something about a monster that would swallow you up and a “her” who runs this entire place. he laughed at the notion of evading this woman’s grasp, but wade thought otherwise.

“nah, we can take her! i have a pocket powerhouse and the wolverine on my side, i’m not scared of anything!”

no one quite believes him, but it’s nice to see that your optimism has rubbed off on him.

#📜. her works #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #wade wilson #wade wilson x reader #wolverine #wolverine x reader #deadpool #deadpool x reader #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool 3 #marvel #marvel x reader #x men #x men x reader

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hijackalx · 9 months ago

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Headcanon thingy, but how would the companions + Gortash react to their lover taking a blow meant for them? (Sweetheart survives, but they'll definitely need some time to recover)

this post would get realllyyyy long if i did all the companions so i did the male companions + gortash, but let me know if u want me to do a separate one for the female companions too 💗💗

GN!reader, small mentions of violence

GORTASH

he’d prefer for you steer clear of any conflict— he considers it beneath you to get your hands dirty— but he doesn’t like to argue. he imagines one of these times you’ll learn your lesson, meaning he’s fully expecting you to come crawling back after a good whooping while promising to never do it again

when he’s approached by an angry subordinate, shaking their fist and yelling profanities at him, he easily maintains composure— he knows his steel watch could reduce anyone to a skid mark on the earth with a simple command. his scrappy sidekick however…………… 👹

he’s only slightly embarrassed when you jump in front of the aggressor, telling them off for their disrespect. suddenly their anger is directed towards you, resulting in a nasty pop to the face that sends you onto the floor. his eyes widen at the sight of you injured for his sake, and with one sharp inhale, he orders his steel watch to destroy your attacker. (and their family. and their friends. and their acquaintances)

he stays at your side while you get bandaged up, threatening the healer’s life every time you wince. he asks what you learned from this experience, hopeful. you think “i need a thicker skull” probably wasn’t the right answer, seeing as his immediate response is “🗿” LMAO

WYLL

he loves to be the one who swoops in and saves you. it really gives him that “heroic” feeling (even if you have to pretend to be his damsel in distress). you guys are always giving your enemies the ick 😹😹

this all goes to his head though, and he can get a little too cocky— like when he jumps in to take on too many enemies at once, and is clearly having a hard time defending you both. he tries to maintain his heroic persona, but you can’t help noticing how you two are getting backed into a corner

while he’s distracted and putting on a show of chivalry, you see an enemy going straight for his blind spot. it’s too late to retaliate, but you do have enough time to jump out in front of the attack. he watches you fall to the ground in pain, HORRIFIED by the fact that he failed to protect you. he forgets his knightly act in a fit of desperation, fighting as dirty as he needs to so you two have the opportunity to scamper away

he criticizes himself SO badly over your injuries. the hit may have broke your face but his failure broke his soul... 💔 LMFAO. he vows to you that it’ll never happen again, and that he’ll be more vigilant than ever from then on out— cue his extremely rigorous and inspirational training montage

GALE

he usually stays toward the rear during battle, using long range magic attacks while you take care of things in the front. he’s not adept at wearing armor and his robes don’t offer much protection— it’s just smarter this way

now imagine how his feeble wizard bones begin to quake when an enemy sneaks past you and sprints his way with a melee attack LMFAO. he’s a planner, not an improviser, so his brain races a million miles a minute trying to think of which spell to use. he needs to cast something powerful, but your close proximity makes him hesitate

you notice his stutter and quickly reach out to off the enemy. unfortunately, this results in you turning your back to another and opening yourself up to a sneak attack. you’re hit hard, and it takes you out of the fight. luckily, the last enemy has 1 HP, so he can easily finish them off with a hasty bop on the head from his staff 💥

afterwards, he’s STRICKEN with worry, cradling your face and trying to get you to speak to him clearly. once he realizes that your injury is healable, you get whiplash from how fast he switches back and forth between admiration and concern. “that was absolutely amazing! 🤩 ” “I THOUGHT YOU DIED!!! 😵”

ASTARION

you guys are super playful in battle. seeing who can kill the most enemies, doing fun combos together, trash talking (it’s giving legolas and gimli). fights with him on your team are rarely serious

he’s quick and alert, so he’s an expert at dodging attacks— it just so happens that you’re standing behind him one of these times, and you end up taking the full force of the blow in his place. he’s used to teasing you for your misfortunes in battle, so his first instinct is to point and laugh 😭

when you don’t get up and give him a bloodstained grin, he realizes something is seriously wrong. a wave of panic washes over him, and the last thing he remembers is switching into feral vampire mode to get you two out of there safely— i’m talking ripping out throats with his teeth 👹

you’re immediately scolded once you come to; “imagine how bad that could’ve been!”, and “you scared me half to death!”— a.k.a he feels SO BAD for letting this happen LMAO, and he 100% blames himself for not knowing you were behind him. he admits it was his fault after you promise to be more careful, and he promises that he will be too (with a little leg room for fun, of course)

#I LOVED WRITING THESE SO MUCH OMG #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate headcanon #astarion #enver gortash #wyll ravengard #gale dekarios #astarion x reader #enver gortash x reader #wyll ravengard x reader #gale dekarios x reader #x reader #my headcanons #asks

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early20sfailingplenty · 11 months ago

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Lowkey, I want to see Vincent go insane because his s/o got hurt by a tourist. It’s just something about scary men who get pissed that their partner gets hurt and stops at nothing but get revenge is so 🥰🥰

I love the thought of this!

TW; canon-typical violence, discussion of canon events, dehumanisation of Dalton and Wade (canon-compliant), Bo pukes (unrelated to canon events - I'm not that strong lmfao)

I've always thought that Dalton and Wade got especially brutal deaths because of one simple fact: they messed around in Vincent's House of Wax. It's his domain, it's clear as crystal; it's his hunting ground, it's where he prepares and then displays the best of his trophies.

The House of Wax is his; Wade feigning to burn one of the sculptures was a genuinely asshole move (seriously, who the fuck sees someone else's hard work and starts melting it? Fucking ass) and earned him a place in the House of Wax; he mocked Vincent's work, so Vincent turned him into the very thing as a petty revenge.

Dalton, for his part, destroyed Vincent's latest project, tore the face off of his still cooling artwork and I don't know about you, but if I spend hours making something and then someone deliberately started messing with it, I'd be more than slightly murderous too.

(Though, in Dalton's defence, if I looked up and saw Vincent looming over me like that, I'd lose my head and squirt all over the floor too - I get it, dude).

All this to say... Vincent went apeshit on these two kids because they messed around in his domain. He's possessive, obsessive, deeply passionate and always in control of what he's doing. When Vincent puts his mind to something, he is ruthless and there's absolutely no stopping him.

So now imagine what he'd do, the acts of sheer depravity he'd perform, if his beloved got harmed? He'd be so vicious, so genuinely unhinged, that when Bo later sees what happened to the people he sent Vincent's way, the remains of the bodies would have him stomping outside to throw up in Lester's rose bushes, and even Lester would have to literally scrape them up off the floor with whatever gardening implement he can find. A shovel, maybe. A bucket of water to sluice them away would also work.

There's roadkill, there's roadkill, and then there's... whatever the fuck Vincent did to these people.

There's blood dripping off his twin blades, his overalls are caked in it, he's squelching somewhat in his worn boots as he walks, there's viscera splattered across the wax floor, and somehow there's blood on the ceiling... you know not to ask. But Bo's an interesting shade of porcelain you've never seen before, and even Lester can hardly bear to look.

And you? You're off to the side nursing your injury; nothing life-threatening, and later on you'll be joking with Bo, "'tis but a scratch", but Vincent's reaction has you feeling more than a little loved. Safe, protected, cherished, by the most relentless and brutal of the three Sinclair brothers.

#slasher x reader #vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair x reader #house of wax #house of wax 2005 #house of wax x reader #house of wax 2005 x reader

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lightbluetown · 1 year ago

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i saw some people say ed and zheng are master strategists while stede is just some guy with ridiculous luck, but i think that's unfair. sure stede's ideas are insane, but they fit the looney tunes ass universe of ofmd perfectly. they're mostly well-thought-out, well-executed and they showcase stede's strengths and growth! so allow me to talk about them:

1- ghost of the forest - 1x02

a fuckery™ before stede even knows what a fuckery™ is! this is amateurish and stupid in every way. he's not even threatening izzy with a real dagger-- that's a letter opener. does izzy actually believe that stede has a huge crew hiding behind the bushes? doubt it! but this weird little act is enough to establish stede as a (ridiculous) pirate figure to the legendary izzy hands and to accomplish his goal of taking a hostage back

2- lighthouse - 1x04

imagine coming up with the exact same idea at the exact same time as the most brilliant tactician of the seven seas! we don't know who came up with which parts of the plan (honestly it was probably mostly ed) but this is still bloody impressive

3- stark revelations - 1x05

stede's first big success! he uses his knowledge of the aristocratic world to get a shipful of rich assholes to destroy each other, but he's also showcasing what sets him apart from them: this plan only comes to fruition because stede talks to frenchie, olu and abshir as equals. as people he can learn from, as sources of inspiration

4- duel with izzy - 1x06

this one was absolutely unhinged, but its success was far from dumb luck. only stede could think of using a brazillian cherry wood mast and ed's weird stabbing lesson to win a duel, and that's what makes this plan so undeniably stede and brilliant

5- faking his death - 1x10

i love that he just had to "die" in the most dramatic way possible. a heroic fight (tiger), a realistic accident (carriage) and the most cartoony death in the book (piano)... not only is his triple-death able to convince everyone in barbados that he's dead for good, it also allows him to have closure with his family. it's filled with stede's ridiculous unique flair, but it's designed to be a fuckery™ through and through. ed would be SO proud

6- stealing jackie's indigo dye - 2x01

quick little stealth mission. did ricky manipulate stede into trying this out? sure. did ricky also ruin it? absolutely. but it was working until then! the swede isn't part of stede's crew at this point, but his respect for stede is what gets him to cooperate and risk his relationship with his beautiful wife. also, it's thanks to his love for fine things that stede immediately recognizes the value of "blue dirt"

7- prison break - 2x03

in my eyes no scene depicts stede's growth better than this one. knocking zheng's entire crew out with tea is the most stede thing out there, and this plan uses the cherry wood mast as well! this plan relies on stede's (unrealistic) tea knowledge, overly-fancy ship and ability to coordinate his crew. what makes it breathtaking is that he secretly sets this plan into motion while actively mourning the "death" of the love of his life. he's putting his life on the line to rescue ed's "killers" because he's emotionally mature enough to look at things from their perspective and forgive them

8- inciting a mutiny - 2x06

yet another brilliant plan that could only be executed by stede. this entire episode revolves around his idea of "turning poison into positivity" and here he, well, fights poison with positivity. stede captains his pirates with respect and care (best he can) which just so happens to be the opposite of ned. he exploits this and gently gets ned's crew to turn on him. he singlehandedly saves himself and his entire crew from a notorious pirate! oh he also literally invents walking the plank right after this

9- "it's only suicide if we die" - 2x08

okay, yes, this one didn't go that well (sorry iz). but it's not like ed, zheng or anyone else had any other ideas! stede's weird suicide mission, for the most part, worked. they needed to get through british soldiers to reach their ship and they did exactly that. if only they'd remembered to check if ricky had his gun... oh well, you live and you learn

sure, ed and zheng are legends and stede is a silly newbie with wild luck. but he's also quick-witted, creative, confident and brave! he's a damn good captain and he deserves to be recognized as a good strategist!

#ofmd #our flag means death #stede bonnet #ofmd meta #i love my boy so much i will not let anyone disrespect him thank u #🏴‍☠️

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sylusjinwoon · 8 months ago

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{ 174 }

lover is a day.

jinwoo sung x fem.reader

{ time changed, we're different | but my mind still says redundant things | can i not think? | will you love this part of me? | my lover is a day i can't forget… }

there were many different sides to sung jinwoo that he kept hidden from you, his lover.

things may have seemed perfect and happy for him on the surface, with him putting on a façade that he enjoyed his newly obtained powers and was grateful for the system’s presence in his life.

in the world’s eye, he was a celebrity; a hero meant to be worshipped as he takes on various gates for the sake of protecting others-

yet no one would ever know that deep down, he was still the scared and helpless e-rank hunter who lacked the confidence to truly shoulder such burdens. memories of his beaten and bruised body would resurface at the most inopportune times during one of his many raids, making his movements falter for the slightest moment before he wills himself to bury such self-deprecating thoughts, forcing himself to keep fighting.

never once had jinwoo been given the chance to cry and let out his emotions, yet still, he didn’t wish to burden those he loved with his anxieties.

and of course, you were none the wiser.

being a healer who stood by his side during a handful of missions, he had developed a fascination and fondness with you back when you worked as his healer during some low-level raids. he recalls developing the biggest crush on you, yet never once did he try to act on his feelings for you.

his own lack of confidence made him avoid ever speaking to you, forcing the usual, pre-awakened jinwoo to simply admire you from afar. only with his reawakened self (made stronger and more desirable due to the system) was what pushes jinwoo’s confidence in the right direction as he immediately sought your presence and asked you out.

from your shocked expression, it was clear that you didn’t recognize him (making jinwoo feel grateful for that fact) as you happily accepted his invite to dinner. it took all of the willpower jinwoo had to stop himself from grinning like a fool during the entire date, playing the role of the perfect gentleman that solely sought to woo you with his charms-

and after that first date, the rest was history.

jinwoo uses his feelings of love and adoration for you to hide his own anxieties and push back his true self to the furthest corners of his mind. never once did he want you to realize who he truly was, for he was certain that if you ever knew the truth of his identity-

then you would reject him.

not only was he keeping up his persona as being the world’s strongest for the mere public eye, but for you as well.

regardless of how hard it was to not tell you of his anxieties and how they manifested into panic attacks that would last for hours upon end-

he would not burden the one he loved the most with such meddlesome emotions.

ah… but… jinwoo should have realized that it was far too dangerous to keep his every emotion locked within the depths of his heart.

jinwoo was always too weak to shoulder the burden on his own-

he should have seen his breaking point coming from a mile away.

on this particularly night, jinwoo opens his eyes with a gasp. a sharp pain felt against his chest awakens him with a start, his mind replaying the memory of the double dungeons plaguing his mind. jinwoo swore he could still feel the large claymore piercing through his chest and cutting through his heart like butter. a sob threatens to wrack through his body, but he manages to bite down on his hand, choking back the sound as he watches your peaceful form still in a deep sleep.

jinwoo practically crawls out of bed, making a run for the restroom as he dry heaved into the toilet, tasting the bitterness of the bile settled in his throat. tears fell down his eyes while his whole body trembles in response, the vertigo, nausea, and pounding headache mixing together into an almost deadly cocktail that nearly destroys him.

you’re pathetic.

can you truly be the s-rank hunter that the world looks up to?

nothing about you has changed!

even if you level up, you’re still weakweakweakweak-

“jinwoo.”

like a beam of light, his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of your kind voice calling out to him. you press a kiss against his broad back and gently help him back up to his feet.

still in a bit of a haze, he watches you flush the toilet before returning to his side, your expression never once filled with disgust or shame for him. he softly calls out your name, but could do little than follow you back into the room.

you gently coax him into getting back into bed, spreading out the covers for him. as if his body was running on autopilot, he gets into bed without a single sound of protest. only when he was laid comfortably back against the plush pillows did you tuck him in.

“i’ll get you an ice cold glass of water, so you just wait for me, okay?”

“okay…” jinwoo whispers back to you, eyes filled with his unspoken words of love and devotion to you. you smile and press one more kiss against his forehead before heading out into the kitchen.

you were gone for a mere second when jinwoo became restless. the hunter’s legs itched with the desire to follow you; to somehow latch on to your comforting presence as he felt his heart began to race in a bit of a panicked manner. before he could even jump out of bed to join you, you returned to him with a tall glass of water.

you help him sit up and place the cold glass against his parted lips, watching as he eagerly drank the refreshing beverage with a loving smile. jinwoo ends up draining the glass within seconds, making you giggle as you place the emptied glass on the nightstand before returning to your side of the bed.

instead of going back to sleep like jinwoo expected you to, you end up scooting your body closer to him, wrapping your arms around his larger frame. with a hum of his name, you place jinwoo’s face directly against your chest all while drawing comforting circles against his back.

“you don’t have to tell me everything if you’re not ready… i just needed to come clean to you so that you won’t suffer in silence anymore.”

“hm��? sarang, what do you mean?”

you remain quiet for a few beats, pressing a kiss against his hair before admitting to him. “i remember you, back when you were still the weakest in the world.”

your confession makes jinwoo stiffen in response, but you immediately calmed him down by pressing yet another lingering kiss against his forehead.

“this doesn’t change my feelings for you… in fact, i felt a bit hurt that you would hide such a thing from me.”

jinwoo felt the tears dot his vision, shakily telling you, “i-i’m sorry, so so sorry…!”

you shake your head and gently place a kiss against his cheek, “no no no, don’t apologize. it’s just… i’m so upset that i never called you out on this sooner. i made you feel like you couldn’t tell me anything; i made you feel like i could only love you only if you maintained a certain personality with conditions you believed i had for you.”

he was taken aback by the sincerity of your words, finally meeting your gaze with an expression of hope. your eyes were shining with unshed tears as you rested your head against his, “i’m sorry. i didn’t wish to come off that way. i was just hoping to get closer to you; close enough so that you could trust me and tell me yourself-“

jinwoo couldn’t stand the thought of you taking the blame for his own insecurities, making him shake his head as he leaned in to press a kiss against your lips. “oh no, my love… you are my heart and soul; you had nothing to do with this. it was my own insecurities and decision that lead me to… to keeping everything bottled up.”

you give him a tearful smile, giving him another kiss before murmuring against his lips, “but it was my fault for waiting for so long… and i never wish for you to face your demons all by yourself ever again.”

jinwoo’s breath hitches in response to your words, and he allows you to carefully lay him back in bed with you. your hands were pressed against his chest in a comforting manner, and you lean in to press a kiss against his beating heart before cuddling closer to him with your arms wrapped around his back.

silence was felt permeating at the air for several seconds before jinwoo finally spoke in hushed tones. “i feel like i haven’t changed at all.”

you keep quiet, simply tightening your arms around him, silently beckoning him to continue.

“even with my newly obtained strength… i know i’m not the strongest… and that terrifies me… you don’t know how afraid i am of losing those that mean the most to me… of losing my mom and little sister- of losing you.”

jinwoo lets out a shaky breath, somehow feeling his heart become the tiniest bit lighter once he let out all his anxious thoughts to you. “but… admitting this fear to you right here and right now, i realize that i am now filled with a newfound determination to become stronger. i… despite how anxious i still feel… just… just feeling your warmth surrounding me makes me feel like i can do anything. that despite how i’m still the same sung jinwoo on the inside-

that doesn’t mean i can’t become stronger to continue to protect those that matter the most to me.”

you give him a loving smile, pressing another kiss against his forehead. “and you can count on me to be with you every step of the way.”

jinwoo was finally able to laugh again, feeling his dark thoughts disappear into thin air, meeting your gaze as he leans up to properly kiss you. knowing that he felt much better now, you ease jinwoo back into bed, giggling when you heard him let out a yawn before hiding his face within your chest.

“goodnight, my beloved jinwoo.”

“goodnight… to you, the absolute love of my life.”

feeling a newfound strength beginning to grow from within him, jinwoo was finally able to fall into a peaceful slumber void of any nightmares and dark memories…

a.n. - the webcomic doesn’t do a good job showing the lingering anxieties jinwoo must still have, and i wanted to explore that side of him and write a comfort fic for him 🥹 he needs someone like the reader to keep him grounded; to keep as a reminder that he is always loved and doesn’t have to shoulder the burden on his own.

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

#sung jinwoo x reader #jinwoo sung x reader #sung jinwoo x you #jinwoo sung x you #solo leveling x reader #sung jinwoo has always been good at hiding his anxieties for the sake of his loved ones #in this essay i will….#.stories

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aphroditelovesu · 1 year ago

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Maybe Yan!Alicent and Yan!Criston. I think a romantic dynamic would be interesting

❝ 🐉 — lady l: Someone stop me because I'm writing hcs after hcs lmao! Anyway, I made these hcs in honor of our Green Queen and our Ser Cole, I hope you like them! 💚💚

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, mention of death, polygamous relationship.

❝🐉pairing: yandere!alicent hightower x gn!reader x yandere!criston cole.

You had caught Alicent's attention a long time ago, when she still fondly remembered the time she was friend with Princess Rhaenyra. She never acted on it, however, always in the shadows observing your interactions with others.

You could read the jealousy, the pure envy in the Queen's brown eyes when she saw you close to someone else. She hated it, she hated them and she hated herself more for wanting you. She was well aware of what she felt but never wanted to confront them. She was afraid.

But she was more afraid of being away from you, of you being separated from her. Alicent didn't have an active participation in your life, but she was tired of seeing you giving attention to those who didn't deserve it, to those who weren't worthy of you. So she decided to act.

Criston followed Alicent's orders blindly, she was his Queen and he had sworn to her. Whatever she asked, he would do without hesitation. And this was no different when he came to you, after being ordered by her.

Cole didn't know exactly why Alicent was so interested in you, but he knew it had nothing to do with him. It was her choice and he would just obey. However, it was only after he contacted you, and spoke to you that he finally understood.

Alicent was the most controlling, imposing her desires and expectations on you. You should be like her, modest and devout. She knew it was wrong to fall in love and even more so to get involved with you, but she didn't care. For the first time in her life, she would be doing something for herself and not for others.

Criston also had his morals and his honor, although less than Alicent. He fell in love quickly and wasn't shy about showing it. He was in love, he wanted to be loved by you. He needed you. Cole is more liberal in his obsession, giving you more freedom.

Once they both realize that they are interested in you, things will get interesting. Normally, they would never agree to share you, but it was with each other, with whom they had a strong and close bond.

They are incredibly possessive, overprotective, and petty in their obsession. They agreed to share you because they knew there would be no one else but them for you. No one who was worthy of you, at least.

Alicent adored you, she loved dressing you in shades of green, combing your hair, and telling you how much she loved you. She was deeply in love with you and you were a breath of fresh air for the Queen after a long day at the council. There was no place she preferred more than your arms.

Criston worships the ground you walk on, always watching your every move like an eagle. His eyes never leaving you and yearning for you with every passing second. He couldn't live without you anymore, not when you were his air.

They protect you fiercely, especially Criston. Anyone who looks or breathes in your direction will be eliminated from the Earth. No one, absolutely no one, can think of hurting you. They are ready to destroy anyone.

You are unconditionally spoiled by them, especially Alicent. She loves showering you with clothes (mostly in green tones), jewelry, shoes and anything else that money can buy. Criston is more modest, but he also spoils you a lot.

They are willing to go against anyone who might threaten you or cause you discomfort. Alicent likes to hold you, brush your shoulders against yours shyly while she admires you. Criston watches you from afar, looking at you with love, and likes to hold your hands.

You can't leave them, not after everything they've done to make sure you stay with them. Any marriage proposals will be quickly shot down and Criston is more than willing to beat any potential suitor to death. And Alicent will support his actions.

There's no escaping them, especially once the Dance of the Dragons begins. You will be under lock and key in the Red Keep. They can't risk losing you. They love you too much so that's why they can't let you go.

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crowleysgirl56 · 4 months ago

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The vast majority of people who work on a show are paid upfront for their labour

They don't get paid dependent on how successful a show is

They also don't do work that doesn't get paid- if they are working on a show that gets cancelled, they get paid for the work they did

All this 'stream GO for the hard workers behind the scenes' is bullshit

They work for companies are will be put on different projects

Just be honest that you want more GO (despite the message that it sends to studios- that audiences are ok with abusers! Just turn a blind eye to them! Yes that gives them more power but who cares because people will watch and make them money!)

Don't pretend your doing this for moral reasons

(And acting like you're doing this for Terry- for all we know he might want his work with an abuser completely destroyed- it's stupid to assume he'd want the series to be continued)

Like say this shit with your chest, you know?

Oh boy, ok. Gonna take a minute to answer this.

Firstly, I and a lot of the fandom, are heartbroken over what NG has done. Because we were duped into thinking he was a decent person. From the things that he wrote to the things that he said we thought that he was good person. And it is horrible that there are people out there suffering because yet another rich powerful white man decided he had the right to take advantage of them.

You seem rather angry and if that anger stems because you have experienced something similar yourself then I hope you have love and support around you so that you can heel.

If you want to talk about money, let me remind you that NG has already been paid for season 3. He will continue to get royalties, and thanks to the writers strike last year, he will now get more money for those royalties than before. If S3 doesn’t go ahead then hundreds of people will lose their jobs. Will they get other jobs? Sure, maybe. But any loss of job in this current economic climate is terrible and stressful (and I’m not talking about DT or MS here. They’ll get more work).

I don’t know if you understand how hyper fixation in neurodiversity works, but this is extremely painful for some people and takes a lot of time and energy and therapy to get over when a hyper fixation is threatened or taken away. Some people, like myself, need closure for things otherwise we can find it extremely difficult to move on emotionally. This obviously does not compare to someone trying to survive after SA, but emotional diversity can be extremely debilitating as well. They are apples and oranges to compare, but you can’t invalidate one person’s pain because you think another person’s pain is worth more.

As for the show itself, there is so little queer representation in media. There is a lot more nowadays compared to a decade ago, or even 5 years ago, but the little representation we have is so extremely important. Do you know how many people have found a truth to themselves thanks to GO? How many people discovered something about themselves that finally gives them answer to how they feel? How at the age of 40 I finally realised that I’m asexual and NOT BROKEN. That’s fucking important.

And this. ALL of this is why everyone, including me, are so fucking angry with NG. Because he has left us emotionally devastated. He has not just physically hurt these women. He has emotionally hurt hundreds of thousands of people. He is a stain.

I have spoken before when this all first happened about how I was angry that my one teeny tiny corner of the internet that made me happy was on fire. I left for a bit. I came back. I want to continue to interact with like minded people who love this fandom. I won’t stop that.

And frankly, and here’s the last I’ll say on this, the world is on fire. It is filled with a lot of fucking awful shit right now. I have suffered a very deep depression of late where some nights after I put the kids to bed I just stare and cry. You don’t know that about me because I don’t say those kinds of things on the internet, because our internet personas are facades. They’re not real. They’re not true life. I’m a real person and I’m aching inside about so many things. And these kinds of messages are just breaking me further. Seriously, when you send stuff like this do you even consider that?! So when I decide to hold onto one of the last bastions of entertainment that brings me joy, I’m not going to be guilted into dropping it because someone involved happens to be a monster. Because let me tell you if we did that every time someone turned out to be horrible, then we would never watch or enjoy anything ever again. EVERYTHING you watch or listen to or enjoy or like or cared about is connected to someone who is horrible or produced by a gigantic evil corporation (Nestle, Disney, Microsoft, Facebook, Google just to name a few). Every. Single. Thing. It’s the clothing you wear, the electronics you buy, the food you eat, the furniture in your house, and ALL the entertainment you consume. So if you gave up everything for some moral stance, then you would literally have nothing left.

Dropping Good Omens does nothing. It sends no message to anyone because the next really fucking awful person is about to produce the next big thing you might happen to love and care about. So what’s the point?

Let me have Good Omens. You don’t like that, then you can block me. That’s what the button is there for. You don’t need to send anonymous hateful messages. And if you want me to “say this shit with my chest” maybe you can send me an ask with the Anonymous off. So I can see your chest too.

I’m turning off anonymous asks now. Considering the only asks I’ve ever received is abusive shit telling me to kill myself or saying David Tennant is a paedophile or just telling me I’m a horrible person for supporting NG (when I’ve already stated before that I don’t anymore).

Sorry for those who’ve managed to get to the end here. Thanks for reading if you have, sorry it was so long. I hope you aren’t receiving the same type of messages. If Anonymous has read this far, I don’t know, maybe think twice before being horrible to random people on the internet?

#good omens #Neil Gaiman #Neil Gaiman ruined everything #neil gaiman allegations #seriously he fucking ruined the one thing that was giving me joy right now and I hate him for that #good omens fandom

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hotdaemondtargaryen · 5 months ago

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EWAN MITCHELL INTERVIEWED BY THE INVERSE MAGAZINE.

HOW HAS AEMOND CHANGED OVER SEASON TWO?

"For the first four episodes, you see Aemond operating from the peripheries."

"You see him and Criston Cole during their Shadow Council scenes trying to manipulate the Council table to the way they want to run things."

"Aemond is waiting for his moment to strike."

"At the end of Episode 4 — at the Battle of Rook’s Rest — he seizes his opportunity to take two dragons out with one stone."

"It's only until the “Red Sowing” in Episode 7, where Rhaenyra enlists and raises new dragon riders, that Aemond’s power is threatened."

"You're going to see a more desperate side to Aemond."

"And a desperate Aemond is a dangerous one because he might overcompensate."

"He might be a little more irrational than the composed stoic face that he's had before."

"In Episode 8, he's outgunned and he's outraged."

"The Blacks have seven dragons, the Greens have three."

"We have Vhagar, we have Dreamfyre, and we have Daeron’s dragon Tessarion, who's just taken wing."

"Aemond very much wants to win the war."

DO YOU CONSIDER AEMOND THE VILLAIN OF HOUSE OF THE DRAGON?

"It's very easy to make that assumption and judgment just because of the way that he looks."

"His Targaryen blacks, the long hair, the eye patch — it screams villain, but it depends on what side you're on."

"He's the guy who is prepared to do the necessary evil."

"He wants to be seen as a war hero."

"He knows he can be loved, but he knows he can achieve more if he's willing to be feared."

"He's done a lot of bad stuff to support the theory that he is the villain of the show."

"That's one of the most satisfying things for me is decoding his DNA and discovering that he isn't just that two-dimensional villain."

CAN YOU ONCE AND FOR ALL SET THE RECORD STRAIGHT ABOUT THE BATTLE OF ROOK'S REST? WERE AEMOND'S ACTIONS PURPOSEFUL? WAS THAT COLLATERAL DAMAGE OR DID HE JUST TAKE AN OPPORTUNITY TO SEIZE THE POWER?

"I think it could be all three of those things."

"It could be that Aemond did, in fact, see an opportunity to take two dragons off the board with one stone, or was Aegon just in the way?"

"Aegon was never part of the original plan for the battle."

"But with everything that Aegon did and the ringleader status he inhabited in Aemond's childhood, there's an awful lot of evidence to support that."

"What Aemond did was intentional, but whether or not it was premeditated is another thing."

SO WHEN YOU WERE ACTING ALONGSIDE AEGON IN THE LATER EPISODES WHEN THERE'S A CONFRONTATION AT HIS SICK BED, THAT WAS WITH THE KKOWLEDGE OF MALICIOUS INTENT?

"I think so."

"Their relationship is so multifaceted."

"There's a hatred for his brother, but also a certain love that he always craved from him."

"Aegon was supposed to be his big brother."

"He was supposed to look out for him."

"He just never did."

"I thought there was something really fascinating in the fact that Aemond left that marble marker on Aegon’s chest."

"Maybe he left it there for him in a way to say, “The chair's there for you when the war is finished,” or he might've just been pressing the stone marker into his chest to make him hurt that little bit more."

IN EPISODE 8, WE FIRST SEE AEMOND AFTER HE RAZES THE ENTIRETY OF SHARP POINT BECAUSE HE'S MAD ABOUT RHAENYRA'S NEW DRAGON FORCES. WHAT IS GOING THROUGH HIS MIND?

"It's a spur-of-the-moment retaliation."

"He has to overcompensate for this newfound knowledge that Rhaenyra has raised new dragonriders against him and changed the tide of the war."

"Sharp Point, from what I understand of the geography of Westeros, is actually very closely connected to The Gullet."

"Aemond feels like it's justified."

"He's destroying a bit of the Gullet and destroying the blockade that Rhaenyra set up at the beginning of Season 2."

"But ultimately, what he does is atrocious."

WE NEXT SEE HIM TALKING ABOUT THE SMALLFOLK HAVING TO SACRIFICE FOR THE WAR EFFORT. WHAT IS AEMOND SACRIFICING?

It goes back to that moment when Helaena's by the throne Aemond's just gazing up at it and Helaena says, “Was it worth the price?”

"Ultimately, what he sacrificed is his humanity."

"It's that theme that is so prevalent throughout our series: whether love trumps duty or duty trumps love."

"In Aemond's eye, love is a weakness."

WE SEE HIM CONFRONT ALICENT IN THIS EPISODE AND BASICALLY ACCUSE HER OF HAVING TOO MUCH COMPASSION. DOES AEMOND SEE HER AS AN ENEMY? IS THERE ANY AFFECTION REMAINING?

"I think there is."

"One of the main motivations I've played from the beginning of Season 2 was this idea that he wants his mum."

I think he's heartbroken when he says, “Would you not have us prevail?” and she says, “Not like this.”

"That's not part of Aemond's vision."

When he sent Alicent away in Episode 6, he said, “Look, let me deal with the war.”

"You just wait by the margins and then when I've won this war, we can pick up and work on our relationship."

"But the fact that she rebukes him at that moment in Episode 8, he's heartbroken."

"It's horrible for Aemond to comprehend that his mom isn't on his side."

SPEAKING OF WOMEN IN AEMOND'S LIFE, HELAENA GOES TO AEMOND AND ACCUSES HIM OF BURNING AEGON PURPOSEFULLY AND HINTS AT AEMOND'S DEATH. IS HE SHAKEN BY THAT?

"He's definitely shaken."

In an act of desperation, he goes to his sister and says, “Look, you and me, we need to ride out. We need to go to the Riverlands. We need to take out Daemon and destroy all of the influence that he has with the houses of the Riverlands.”

"Aemond is ultimately rebuked by both Alicent and Helaena."

"He's always had this very singular vision of how everything was going to go down."

"But when that starts to get challenged, when he recognizes that Alicent and Helaena aren't on his side, and then when Helaena comes out with this prophecy."

I think a part of him definitely thinks, “Oh no, my sister could be right.”

WHAT CAN WE EXPECT FROM AEMOND IN SEASON 3?

"I think you're going to see someone who's a lot more desperate and a lot more erratic."

"Targaryens were always considered closer to gods than men."

"And what Rhaenyra does at the end of Episode 7 very much challenges and questions the belief that you have to be a legitimate Targaryen to ride a dragon."

"And although their heritage from what we've heard sounds pretty legit, the rest of Westeros doesn’t see that."

"As Aemond says at the end of Episode 8 in that confrontation with his mother and his sister, the people of Westeros ultimately see commonfolk made into dragon lords."

"It very much paints a large target not only on Aemond's back but also on the back of all the Targaryens."

"It compromises their god-like status in a sense."

"And Aemond is definitely going to retaliate."

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mallyreallylikesjinx · 10 days ago

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Nahh bro, the way Jinx acted like a kicked puppy when her darling is from another world?? Perfection.

I cant help but find it funny tbh. Imagine this:

Jinx:*finally thinks she made her lover no longer want to get home

Darling:"hey so umm...I found a portal that can take me back soo...gtg"

Jinx:"hey so umm...yeah no."

NO OMG YOUR MIND ANON

TW: Gun violence, yandere themes, possessive behaivour

The slightly annoying whir of power drill echoed through one of The Academy's private labs was the only thing that was keeping you going.

There wasn't much more to finish. You were going to get home. Even if you had to threaten Jayce with another one of Jinx's guns again.

You didn't exactly know when you became so proficient at this whole inventing thing. Jayce is a good mentor, you think. You hope the whole Viktor thing goes well.

You add the last screw into the last hole, and like that the portal is finished. Well almost.

You glance at the glowing blue orb placed far away from your messy workspace. Jayce's words run through your head, "Be careful. It's extremely volatile." You shook it off when he first said it. It's just a ball. They had those on Earth.

You got a lot more careful after seeing Jinx blow some poor guy's brains out with a hextech powered gun.

You take a deep, deep breath. This either works, or kills you. After all this, you're willing to take the chance.

Inserting the Hexgem, you pray.

The crackle the small thing lets out as it snaps in place is alarming, to say the least. Everything is going quick now. A whir of something that isn't a power drill. A snap of something that isn't the Hexgem. More sounds. Loud sounds.

ZAP.

"Woah..." You reach out to touch the blue-ish fog, your hand dissapears. You did it. Maybe you should sell your idea when you're back on earth.

Pulling your hand back you take in your surroundings for the last time. It's now or never. You're coming home.

The next part all happened so suddenly.

"What. Is. That." You gawk at the bullet in the wall, that was a bit too close to your portal and then Jinx blowing wispy smoke of her gun, she's trying to look put together. It's failing miserably.

"You-my-" You stutter out, you desperately need a minute to gather your thoughts, "It's a portal, I'm leaving Jinx."

She sneers, "I know what it is." She looks like she wants to explode the Academy. For the second time.

She carefully removes the Hexgem before loading it into her gun.

And with one small, disdainful glance, she pushes it over and you watch as your weeks and weeks of work is destroyed, "Oops. Clumsy me." Is all Jinx says.

It hits you right then and there that you're not getting home, you have a big blue and pink chain around your ankle that will never let go.

Jinx thinks nothing of it, she's had her inventions ruined before, you'll get over it. She'll make you get over it.

#I shouldve been working on long thing but i hate jayce now because i feel like i write him ooc #i guess you guys can judge that when i finally post the long one #this is just a quick fic idk why i went so hard on adjectives in the ending bit and #WE WSIH YOU A MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY NEW YEARRRR #yandere jinx #yandere jinx x reader #jinx #arcane #yandere arcane

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raileurta · 3 months ago

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I saw these amazing fan art of sparkling bulkhead. It got me feeling inspired so take this au based off of it.

The autobots and the humans come across a relic of some sort, when Bulkhead goes to pick it up a mist of light blue is released into the air. The other autobots are far enough away from him to not get hit themselves. When the fog clears it's revealed that the wrecker had been turned into a sparkling! Miko immediately is like "this is my child now and if anything were to happen to him I'll kill everyone in this room then myself."

She turns out to be a good temporary carrier to the autobot's surprise. Miko has taken care of babies before and in all honesty transformer children are heaven compared to human ones in her opinion.

This statement prompted Ratchet to look into human sparklings and was very horrified but also extremely confused. Why, why in all of Primus would a species willingly continue to reproduce when their children are like that?!? He now truly understands the whole "motherhood is the hardest job" saying he heard from some humans.

Thankfully for transformers sparklings are extremely easy to take care of. Provide some energon, make sure nothing hurts them, and they're essentially good.

Miko of course says idgaf then goes all out. She's reading bulkhead stories, spoon feeding him, giving baths with a waxing finish, tons of affection, making him the comfiest nest, all of it! Bulkhead is a very happy spoiled little guy.

Of course something eventually has to go wrong. Miko has restrained herself from sneaking through the ground bridge for bulkhead's sake but one time she just couldn't resist it. She grabs the apex armor and runs through it. Being a baby bulk follows after her.... you can probably see where this is going.

The autobots are kicking ass as usual when they all hear a shrill shriek. Pan over to a group of vehicons with the leader holding bulkhead. They use him as hostage threatening to kill him; to emphasize their point they cut one of the little mech's cheeks.

Miko goes absolutely insane. She's acting like a feral animal and is doing things that would even make bayverse Optimus clutch his pearls. By the time Miko is done bots have thrown up, some passed out, and Megatron is metaphorically shitting himself. Obviously he calls a retreat because fuck that in all honesty. He can destroy Optimus another day.

Miko is already pretty protective of Bulkhead/her family so I imagine if you touched her "baby" she go full on psycho mama bear mode.

Following Miko's slaughter the autobots at home base obviously want to know wtf just happened. She just explains how she was protecting "her child" and any decent human mother would do the same. This prompts another look into humans but more specifically mothers. They see all the stories of human carriers pulling off seemingly physics-defining things to protect their children. It's a real eye opener for them.

After this Bulkhead is still a sparkling for a few more days but everything is pretty peaceful. He gets turned back and while she'll miss baby bulkhead Miko is glad to have her friend back.

#you can use this for a fic if you want #(please please please)#transformers #tfp miko #miko nakadai #bulkhead #transformers: prime #miko & bulkhead #🎶 a single mom who works two jobs 🎶#autobots #tfp megatron #megatron #sparkling #humans are space orcs #fanfic prompt

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hueseok · 3 months ago

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( 01. ) GOOD GRACES.

kim seokjin doesn’t believe in luck. he’s someone who knows that in order to have good things coming your way, you have to work damn hard for it. however, that might not be the case when it comes to bad luck, because after a video of him goes viral wherein it looks like he’s screaming at someone’s grandma, he begins thinking maybe luck does exist—and it just so happens that he’s now being subjected to a lot of unluckiness.

he’s being cancelled. his career is getting destroyed. his manager is forcing him to take a hiatus. and on top of that, as if things could not get worse, the only hope he has on redeeming everything he worked hard on depends on you, the director’s daughter of the theater show that could propel him back to where he used to be.

that should have been a piece of cake. if only you weren’t his ex who he dumped via phone call and got threatened by to never show his face to ever again...

pairing: seokjin x reader

word count: 4.2k

rating: NC-17

content: fluff, light angst, humor, exes to enemies to friends to lovers au | ft. theater actor!seokjin + himbo energy!seokjin lmao, podcaster!reader + nepo baby!reader

warning/s: lots of swearing | lots of internal monologue by seokjin? lmao

[ chapter index. ]

EPISODE 01. there are worse things i could do !

seokjin never thought that the downfall of his career would happen because of a misconstrued video of him going viral where he was apparently yelling at a poor old lady in a grocery store.

but here he is, getting canceled on twitter and being informed by his manager that he was taken off the projects he was scheduled to do for the upcoming year, the brands who were once so keen on getting him on board suddenly backtracking and terminating the previously signed deals that were already discussed.

regardless of how he tried convincing yikyung, the said manager, that he wasn’t actually fighting the woman who was probably the same age as his grandmother on that short clip—and that all of this was just a stupid a misunderstanding, he’s told it’s too late. the public already made up their mind; they all hated him, and there were several gossip blogs publishing articles that had ‘receipts’ of his apparent bad and diva behavior over the span of his career.

“look, namjoon and I are working on it,” yikyung says, explaining that the PR and legal team are already in the midst of taking care of the whole problem. “but for the meantime, the best you can do is lay low for a while, buddy.”

“what?” seokjin exclaims. “are you saying—”

“you’ll be going on a hiatus.”

“hiatus,” he repeats, enunciating every syllable like he heard it wrong. he feels like he’s going to vomit, the whole room he’s in right now spinning before his eyes.

“yes. hiatus.”

god, seokjin hates that word. he’s been working his ass off since he knew how to act and sing and was the absolute fucking best at it. and now they’re putting him on a hiatus? it’s ridiculous. it’s unfair! he isn’t in some kind of boyband or anything, but he’s pretty sure that they use that term to sugarcoat the fact that the members are quitting the industry or going solo which doesn’t make sense for him so the former category is probably more applicable to his situation at the moment and—

“it’s temporary,” yikyung continues speaking, as if reading what’s going in his mind. “at most, it’ll be a year.”

that still doesn’t calm seokjin down. “you’re benching me for a year?”

“at most.”

“does it really have to be that long?”

“yeah, if we see that it’s necessary enough.”

“i don’t think a year is necessary.”

“we don’t know that yet.”

“but if you keep me away from the public that long… it's going to kill my career!”

yikyung gives him a pitiful look. “it's already dead, jin. let’s be real here.”

he gasps, genuinely offended that his manager would say such a thing. “take that back.”

“look, i’m not happy with this either,” yikyung says, “but the public needs to forget that video. It’s what everybody is talking about, it’s what every director or sponsor that’s asking us about too—nobody would want to associate themselves with your name anyway while the story’s fresh, so this hiatus won’t kill it. doing this hiatus will just induce your career into a coma. you’ll be like sleeping beauty.”

“then who’ll be the fucking prince?”

“a mindblowing project that’ll remind people that you’re the best leading man in the theater world.”

seokjin lets that sink in.

just days ago, he was being blasted with offers to do commercials and new productions due to the successful run of chicago where he portrayed billy flynn. A lot of columns praised his versatility, saying that despite reservations on how he was going to perform, he nailed the part and captured the audience’s hearts with how he made that character his own. it was the biggest ego boost he had in a while considering he was so passionate in bringing billy flynn to life and pulling off the long note he had in we both reached for the gun—now though? all the happiness that he felt before? all the acclaim he reckoned could last him a good few months to stay motivated in doing this? it’s being buried to the ground; he feels as if everything is crashing down and every good thing in his life is fading away.

guess it’s true that being too happy can cause too much sadness after.

“a year goes by so fast, you know,” yikyung tells him. “keep yourself busy. pursue other hobbies. the next time i’ll call you, i’ll make sure it’s about an offer that’ll jolt your career awake again.”

and so with no other choice, really… that’s what seokjin did.

he decides to follow yikyung’s advice and take a train back to his hometown with the plan to help his aunt run the small grocery business she had, residing there until circumstances appear better for him. he figures this break might be better than he thinks, taking into account the fact that he’s been working nonstop since he began landing solid roles years ago. maybe a restart is what he needs; maybe he can use this as an excuse to do other stuff and pursue other hobbies like he was suggested to do.

in the first month of his forced hiatus, he becomes some kind of apprentice at his aunt’s mentioned grocery store. he meets taehyung, a young man who looks way too handsome to be only arranging packed and canned goods in the aisles of the shop as another helper of his aunt; taehyung also apparently recognizes him, asking if he’s that “theater star harassing an old lady” he kept on seeing on tiktok which seokjin’s always quick to correct. taehyung never looks convinced though, regardless of how much seokjin explains, but he at least doesn’t treat him shit for some groundless scandal.

then in his second month, he begins to try pottery. there are classes for it in the same town, a 10-minute drive away and the instructor happens to be a family friend. however, after five sessions, he realizes that he’s horrible at the task and can’t produce anything that’s worth selling or admiring even. that doesn’t mean he doesn’t enjoy it though, ‘cause he does, and he still attends each class or goes on his own for the following months to use this activity as catharsis.

for the third month, he starts painting; on the fourth, he volunteers to walk the golden retriever that an elderly couple neighbor has; when the fifth month comes, he begins jogging around the area, continuing that until the sixth and seventh as he progresses to running—and then on the eight month, while he’s tending to the crops he’s growing at his aunt’s backyard, he finally gets the call from yikyung that he always pretends not to care about.

hurriedly taking off his gloves that are covered with mud, he picks up his phone from the table and answers his agent’s call. “please tell me you have something,” is what he says, not even concealing the desperation in his voice.

“i have something,” yikyung confirms, sounding excited.

“holy fuck,” he whispers to himself. he’s pacing around now, thrilled and anxious, praying to the gods of every religion that this will be a good offer. “what is it? tell me quickly.”

“they’re doing grease,” he says and seokjin does an impromptu super mario impression, just jumping all over the place because of the mention of the famous musical, the kind of musical that he knows would definitely benefit him if he wants to be within everybody’s radar again. “they already have a sandy young—it’s the producer’s niece—so now all they’re looking for is the rest of the cast. I already got you an audition for danny zuko and it’s two weeks from now.”

“god, i fucking love you, yikyung.”

“i’m amazing, aren’t I?”

“the best. you’re a goddamn gift from above.”

“and it hasn’t even been a year,” yikyung proudly points out. “you’ll be absolutely back on your feet after this project. your scandal has died down, anyway. not a lot are talking about it, and some of your fans are getting better at defending you, sharing encounter stories of their own to support the claim that you aren’t a dick who has a fetish in getting into a bickering war with an old woman.”

seokjin rolls his eyes. “never describe it that way to me again.”

yikyung chuckles. “i’ll hire a cleaning lady to clean your apartment here in the city maybe this weekend. when do you think you’ll arrive?”

“some time after the weekend. i’ll have to take care of a few things before i go.”

“like what?”

“well, believe it or not, i actually made some friends here.”

“damn. i told you this hiatus was going to be good for you.”

“yeah, you are right about that. i think it was healing for some reason. aside from the first weeks of me being depressed as fuck.”

“so, what does that mean? does this mean that you think you’ll nail the audition?”

seokjin grins. he isn’t cocky for nothing. even though it was advised to him before to lower it down a bit so that he wouldn’t come across as a complete ass, he knows he’s great at this pursuit of his. he’s charming, he has an amazing voice, and he can pull off any choreography instructed to him regardless of his initial lack of dancing abilities. being a hard worker makes you that way, and it’s what seokjin thinks will always help him in every endeavor he runs after.

“you bet, i will.”

“how’s your voice? your joints? do you need to warm up?”

“i’ve been singing for the community here every tuesday and thursday. i also haven’t been physically inactive like you think i am. i’ve been exercising regularly, improving my stamina and all that shit.”

yikyung doesn’t answer for a few seconds, a silence that seokjin translates into his manager being impressed that he hasn’t let go of himself despite the circumstances.

after a few more clarifications and reminders, the call ends and seokjin flops down on the wooden chair close to him, this goofy and giddy smile erupting on his face. it doesn’t occur to him until this moment that he’s been wishing for a miracle like this to come along because he’s been missing performing on stage like he used to do during shows and even when he’s in dance studios for the rehearsals. yeah, having a reason to take a break was nice too as he expressed, but nothing beats doing what he loves to do.

and playing danny zuko? wow, talk about a huge upgrade from being mandated by his management to disappear from the public to potentially being cast as one of john travolta’s famous roles. of course, the challenge with this is that he has to make sure that he actually gets the role, which he’s optimistic that he’ll be fine with.

his reputation may be questionable once he comes back, but there’s no denying that if there’s anyone who can emanate an arrogant greaser who cares too much about his image—it’s him.

****

seokjin’s aunt was devastated when she discovered that he’s leaving. she tried to persuade him to stay longer (if not for her, for the plants and the grocery store—and maybe the crowd of people he would sing for whenever there was an occasion in the neighborhood). however, regardless of her insistence, seokjin cannot be budged; he’s been waiting far too long for this to have second thoughts about it, to be swayed from this provincial life he has come to love and genuinely enjoy.

“are you coming back?” taehyung asked him when the news of seokjin’s immediate departure got to him too. “because if you aren’t, can I have your bike?”

seokjin rolled his eyes. over the course of his stay, taehyung has become some sort of little brother he never had. “i’m coming back. just to visit though,” he said. “so you can have my bike.”

on the weekend before he left, he spent time with the people he befriended. he arranged a bingo session with the elderly; he ran laps with that golden retriever he took on walks every morning; he did his last piece of pottery with the instructor he also became friends with; then, on his very last night, he shared a few drinks with his aunt and taehyung, promising them that if he gets the part, they’ll have front row tickets to the show.

if not, he’ll jump off the bridge because he doesn’t think he has a face to show to anyone anymore.

he earned a slap on the arm by his aunt with that one.

everything went smoothly when he came back to his old apartment the following morning, freshly cleaned like yikyung promised. nonetheless, seokjin felt it was necessary to check every nook and cranny of the place to verify that, even going as far as examining the decorations, memorabilia, and picture frames he had on display, his finger being swiped on the most random areas to make sure that every corner was polished. nobody lived here for eight months in his defense, and he really could catch a bad case of allergic rhinitis in the case yikyung was lying. he couldn’t have that. he had his voice to take care of; there shouldn’t be snot or phlegm getting in the way of the full prowess of his vocals.

for the next few days leading up to the audition, he did everything he can to assure that he’ll be in his best state when his time to shine comes. he practiced the song sandy, a solo piece sung by danny zuko, and rehearsed the lines for the scene where danny and sandy first meet again at rydell high.

in those hours he spent talking to himself, warming up his voice, making sure that he shaped his words right and exuded the energy of the greaser he’s aiming to play, he started thinking again that he seriously got a huge chance in landing this role. he’s superb at acting; he’s certain that he has the voice needed for this part; and not to mention that he’s got the looks for it, alright. his handsomeness is certainly one of the aspects that makes him so marketable as an actor.

plus, he manages to get a positive outlook regarding this because yikyung has been great in encouraging him, sending him inspirational quotes that sometimes were borderline annoying because it had nothing to do with his situation but still touching in a way.

like right now, as seokjin waits in the holding room of the theater for the audition, he receives a message from his manager with a GIF of a maneki-neko with an oversized arm and the quote by dr. seuss saying, “you have brains in your head. you have feet in your shoes. you can steer yourself any direction you choose. you're on your own. and you know what you know. and you are the guy who'll decide where to go”.

it is a little aligned to what he’s going through right now but seokjin can’t help but still grimace in distaste.

“kim seokjin?” the casting assistant calls, and he snaps his head up from the screen of his phone to peer at the person who called him.

he stands, gaining the attention of the casting assistant. “here.”

“great. follow me please.” she smiles and begins walking to where the stage is without checking whether seokjin followed her or not.

he does, as quickly as possible, thankful because he can finally get away from that enclosed space with fellow auditionees who were either gaping at him or chatting him up, asking about the hiatus he did. he’s smart enough not to give any specific details, instead saying the standard “mental health break” or “sabbatical leave” that they seemed to buy.

walking across the stage, his eyes squint a bit at the spotlight directed to him. then, stopping at the center, he averts his gaze to the two people who are sitting on the front row seats. hyunbin park the director and seungjoon ahn the producer. they both appear serious, like they’re bored, or like they’ve been unimpressed by the roster of auditionees they’ve been having so far.

it creates a spark of hope for seokjin who’s confident that he might just be the person that’ll blow their minds for today. even though this is his first time performing in front of a professional again, he’s learned over the years to trust his skills more, and he knows that he’s definitely adept for the tryout happening at the moment.

“kim seokjin, isn’t it?” mr. Park says. he’s the more intimidating one out of the pair. he’s famous for having directed a lot of shows that got to win several trophies in every award giving body that catered to the theater industry. aside from this production being an anticipated project of his, he’s scheduled to direct a movie with a star-studded cast.

seokjin nods. “yes, that’s me.”

“wait a minute, i know you,” says mr. ahn, an index finger pointed towards him. this man doesn’t look that much older than seokjin. give or take about only five years his senior. “i’ve seen you somewhere. where have i seen you?”

seokjin swallows hard. fuck, fuck, fuck. kill me now. bury me in the ground. shit. i hope he doesn’t realize that i'm—

“ah! i remember.” mr. ahn laughs, turning to mr. park. “isn’t he the guy who played corny collins three years ago or something?”

a huge breath of relief escapes seokjin.

mr. park nods unsurely. “yeah, I think so. did you play corny collins, son?” he asks.

“i did.”

their faces significantly brightened.

“well, i’m looking forward to your audition, seokjin,” mr. ahn says. “i watched the media preview of hairspray back then. i was a great friend of jiyong.”

jiyong was the director of the said show.

“you may begin,” mr. park adds, gesturing for him to go ahead before readjusting the glasses he’s wearing. “break a leg.”

seokjin flashes a dazzling smile and begins.

****

yikyung: how was it? yikyung: the audition should be over by now. yikyung: tell me how you did! yikyung: i’ll be like this for the whole day until you reply. yikyung:

seokjin: do you think sending gifs is cool? seokjin: bc it’s not

yikyung: you didn’t answer my question?

seokjin can’t stop grinning. he’s had this grin since he finished the audition and walked out to the lobby, his mind replaying the events that took place during his performance and the reactions of the director and producer after he was done.

even though the two didn’t make their verdict apparent, seokjin had a feeling that he was going to get cast in this show for the reason that as soon as he finished belting the last line of the song sandy, mr. park and mr. ahn shared a look with one another, their eyebrows raising in what comes across like understanding.

now, quick disclaimer, seokjin doesn’t read minds, but he’s pretty sure that that’s a good sign. he’s done his fair share of auditions and seeing an interaction like that from people who are in charge of casting always raises the chances that he’ll end up in the project. it’s a really big tell from what he thinks—and it’s what’s prompting him to almost skip like a little girl while walking to the café nearby where he’s planning to treat himself with the mouthwatering strawberry cream croissant he saw on their display earlier, nothing in his mind other than fantasies of receiving a call as soon as he gets home confirming he got the part.

maybe i should start incorporating black leather jackets into my wardrobe more… it is what danny zuko wears half of the time in the film and since i’ll be danny zuko, it can be some kind of way i’ll be able to internalize the character and be fucking amazing in this…

clearly, doing an inner monologue isn’t advisable when you’re walking along a busy street filled with people who are obviously in a rush to get to where they’re going.

because as he continues marching forward, taking a quick turn to the café he’s aiming to go to, his thoughts everywhere aside from the path he’s strolling on—his arm bumps against someone’s shoulder, ceasing his daydreaming and causing him to glance back, about to utter a quick apology if it wasn’t for the sight that greets him when he does.

he wrinkles his forehead, gazing at you.

there’s no doubt in his mind that it really is you who he’s looking at, but due to the fact that it’s been approximately 9 years since you last saw each other, seokjin asks himself whether this is legit or is his imagination taking a sinister route and letting him imagine how it would be like to meet the person he doesn’t want to see on a perfect day.

“well, shit,” you say, staring at him with the same surprised yet puzzled expression. your features look more mature, your hair is styled in a different way, your choice of clothes is more sophisticated—yet despite the subtle changes, you’re still as attractive as you were when he last got to see you. he might even dare to think that your attractiveness leveled up as well. “i’ll be damned. it’s you.”

seokjin feels his throat closing up, reality sinking in that you’re really here in front of him. “____?”

“i’m flattered that you remember.” you chuckle. “or that you’re not pretending to have amnesia to escape this conversation at least.”

to be fair, if it registered to him a few seconds earlier on who you are, he might have done exactly that.

but of course he doesn’t admit it. his ears just turn red while he utters a lie. “that’d be silly. it’s not like you’d believe me if i said that.”

“touché. but i still reckon you’d do it. you are an actor.” a smirk makes its way to your lips. “how’s that going, by the way? last time i heard, you’re being murdered on twitter and being called a world class asshole.”

he winces slightly. “that’s an exaggeration.”

“i don’t think so. you are on hiatus because of it, aren’t you?”

“not anymore.”

“oh?”

“you seem disappointed,” he retorts. “then again, i wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve been praying for my downfall ever since you-know-what happened.”

“you-know-what? do you mean when you dumped me?” you explicitly say, not even missing a beat after he was done speaking.

yes, you’re an ex-girlfriend. sadly, an ex-girlfriend he knows he didn’t treat well because of what you just reminded him of.

he presses his lips together, gathering all the confidence he has left. “yes. i do mean that. and i am sorry about it. truly.”

“you dumped me over the phone.”

“i’m aware of that too.”

“you didn’t explain why you wanted to break up.”

a pause. “yes, i didn’t.”

“and just because we coincidentally met again after so many years, you finally apologize?”

“that’s about right.”

“it doesn’t sound very sincere to me.”

he widens his eyes, surprised that you’re not letting this go as easily as he thought you would. from what he remembers, you’re the type of person who doesn’t hold grudges; you’re the type of person that everybody would say was genuinely good. in fact, it’s what he was mad about years back when you were still together—how you often let other people take advantage of your kindness, often putting you in a position of being a doormat or an emotional punching bag.

but that’s almost a decade ago. he feels bad that he’s not sure whether to be proud of you or to be a bit frustrated that he’s on the receiving end of this.

“anyways,” you add after the excruciating awkward silence, “as much as i want to give you a piece of my mind, i have to go. i’d say it was nice seeing you and that we should catch up sometime, jin, but that would be a lie.”

seokjin’s supposed to let you go despite his conscience eating him up. he’s not entirely stupid, it’s apparent that it’s better not to reopen healed wounds, and judging from the manner you spoke to him, you don’t want to give him an opening to enter your life again.

but then your phone rings, which you’re holding on one hand while the other holds a paper bag from the coffeeshop. And then, seokjin sees it—sees mr. park’s face on the screen with a caller ID named ‘dad’, that he can’t prevent himself from staying still and allowing you to leave without explaining what he’s witnessing right now.

“wait,” he holds your elbow as you’re trying to walk past him, “your dad isn’t mr. park, is he? i know your dad. He’s not hyunbin park.”

you blink at him, confused at the random question, however a wave of understanding swiftly washes over you. he watches you grin all of the sudden, eyes twinkling in amusement. he’s familiar with that expression, and it’s scaring him to death because he now has a pretty good idea on what your answer is going to be.

“you’re here in the city because of an audition,” you state, tone so sure that it makes him sweat. “don’t tell me… You’re auditioning for grease?”

he doesn’t tell you he’s auditioning for grease.

your grin widens even further, your next sentence inducing a sensation that might be a heart attack.

“then you’ve met dad. he is hyunbin park, the director.”

fuckity fuck fUCK FUCK!

note. AHHH first chapter is out! i hope y’all like this because i’m happy with how this turned out hehe. this drabble series will only have 10 episodes and i’m gonna pray that i get to finish this before the year 2024 ends 😭

gentle reminder: this author loves feedback! let her know your thoughts if you enjoyed reading this fic and you’ll add 100+ points in her writing motivation meter ♡

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yes-i-write-fanfiction · 1 month ago

Note

If it's okay, can I request for a one-shot of the TFA X ROTTMNT crossover AU about Splinter and Megatron reuniting please?

Like at one point in the AU an ennemie common to both Autobots and Decepticons is making attacks to invade both factions and this result to the classic "Autobots/Decepticons alliance scenario" with the ROTTMNT gang(the turtles, Splinter, April and Draxum) being the neutral faction acting as mediators between the two factions.

This lead to Splinter and Megatron officially reuniting, everyone to find out that Splinter had made Megatron his sons's godfather, the Cybertronians, Megatron incluses, to finally learn what a godfather is(maybe they have a Cybertronian equivalent but is called differently) and everyone reacting to the revelation!

Getting autobots and decepticons work side by side was like pulling teeth. Even with the quintessons breathing down their collective necks, threatening to destroy them all, they couldn't let go of old grudges. Splinter supposed that was the downside of living as long as they did, it just made the past so hard to let go off. Why forgive and forget when you can spend millennia hating someone and still have majority of your life left?

He wasn't even trying to make them like each other. Splinter wasn't going to waste his time mending the damage caused by a million year old civil war, they did not have that much time, but was it really too much to ask for for these bots to at least pretend to act civil with each other? Five minutes without anyone bickering, that was all he asked for! But noooooo! The moment he looked away, the very second he relaxed and thought that maybe they could get somewhere and achieve something, they would start arguing about the smallest things!

"Don't touch me."

"Stay on your side of the room."

"Get your own fuel."

"Stop looking at me!"

"You're venting to loud!"

It made him want to throw himself into a smelter furnace, feet first. Seriously, it was like looking after a bunch of children! And Splinter would know, he had raised four of them all on his own! At least his kids had been easy enough to distract with movies and games. There was no distracting these gigantic toddlers from throwing their temper tantrums.

These babies also just happened to be giant alien robots with inbuilt weaponry.

Splinter supposed he was lucky, in a sense. Last time he had found himself in a cybertronian body, he had been all on his own. He had been forced to figure out most of that stuff on his own. Some stuff had been easy, like walking. Transforming for the first time had been weird. He had gotten stuck halfway and it had taken him two hours to get himself unstuck. At least this time, he had his family with him.

Yeah, sure, it certainly made him more anxious, as he now had to worry about their safety, but it brought him comfort to have them around, to hear them chatter and joke around like usual. It brought with it a sense of normalcy. It also helped that they also worked hard to keep the autobots and decepticons from killing one another. Hell, even Draxum was a massive help. The yokai-turned-cybertronian had this way of demanding respect from decepticons that they appeared familiar and receptive to.

As much as he loathed to admit it, Splinter envied them somewhat in that regard. His cybertronian form had changed, now matching his mutated body, and his short and stocky frame made it too easy for both sides to disregard him.

Splinter didn't exactly strike the intimidating figure he once had, with no one on Cybertron being able to recognize him and ouch, didn't that sting, knowing that he had lost even that, that in whatever body he found himself in, he was unrecognizable.

Whenever he introduced himself as Splinter, bots would roll their optics and scoff, finding it humorous that he had the same designation as the old legend. THAT Splinter had been tall, lean and exuded an aura of confidence. This version? He was a joke in comparison.

"So pathetic it was almost funny." That's what one bot had said, when they had thought he wouldn't hear them. Unable to disagree with them, Splinter hadn't said anything.

He had also yet to tell anyone in the family about his past experience on Cybertron. Partly because of embarrassment. Ok, mostly because of embarrassment. Embarrassment and shame. But he knew that they had all started to suspect something. Splinter hadn't been very careful, sometimes saying things that betrayed that he knew more about cybertronian culture than he should. A mistake on his part.

In fact, Splinter was pretty confident that Purple had already figured most of it out though. The boy had been so excited upon their shared transformations and done a deep dive into everything about Cybertron and its history. No doubt that he had found some mentions about this mysterious 'Splinter' that suddenly appeared and then went missing years ago. Probably noticed the similarities in appearance to how he had looked as Lou Jitsu. Really, Splinter shouldn't have used the same name. Another mistake on his part. Purple had been giving him these looks, observing his reactions to various places and bots and it all spoke to the fact that he was at least very suspicious that this 'Splinter' and his old man was the same person.

Still, he had yet to confront him about it so Splinter was not going to say anything unless prompted. Avoiding the problem until it was no longer possible, that was his style. Most likely, Purple would not say anything until he knew everything, the how and the why's and then he would reveal it all to his brothers with that overdramatic flair of his. Oh, Splinter just knew Purple was going to be so smug about it once he confirmed his suspicions. That boy loved being right. It was a trait he had surely inherited from his dear old father.

Splinter drummed his fingers against the flat surface of the table, anxious and impatient. He had been asked to serve as a mediator when the leaders of the two factions spoke and negotiated the continued ceasefire. Apparently, the threat of mutual annihilation was not enough to put their egos aside and they both needed some persuasion. Someone from the outside that could look them in the eyes and tell them they were acting like idiots. So of course Splinter had been chosen for this.

Frankly, he was nervous. He had heard lots about this "Megatron" and "Ultra Magnus". The way people spoke about it, it didn't really make him feel confident. From what he had gathered, they were both brilliant leaders. Intelligent. Charismatic. Stubborn. And apparently, they hated each other. The chance of them willingly agreeing to cooperating, even under the threat of the quintessons, were slim.

But Splinter had refused to let one of his sons handle this, nor April or even Draxum. In case anything happened, in case a fight broke out, he didn't want his family to get caught in the crossfire (and ugh, it hurt to think of Draxum as family).

So far, only Ultra Magnus had yet to show up. He had appeared precisely on time, not a minute earlier or later, had taken one look around the room for Megatron, grunted, and then taken a seat on the far end of the table. He had barely even acknowledged Splinter, choosing instead to go over the datapads he had brought with him. Which, alright, fine, Splinter could deal with that. Totally. No problem.

It was a problem. It took 10 minutes for Megatron to show up to the meeting. 10 long, awkward minutes of silence. Somehow, Ultra Magnus managed to feel oppressive and judgmental when he wasn't saying anything. It made Splinter shift in his seat, tap his fingers against the table with increasing fervor. After three minutes, he broke and tried to start a conversation with the Magnus. You know, to break the tension. He had started talking... only to be met with silence. Magnus hadn't even looked up from his datapads. The only reaction had been a slight twitch of his left optic. And now that he had started talking, Splinter just hadn't been able to stop. It was as if a flood had been unleashed.

So how about the weather? Did your fuel taste weird this morning or was it just mine? Must be hard running both an army and a planet. Are you a morning person or a night owl? I am more of a night person myself. Huh, they really should change that light. Is it hot in here or is it just me.

It was frankly a relief when Megatron arrived. Ten minutes late, sure, but at this point, Splinter wasn't going to complain. He was pretty sure that if he continued to talk for even a second more that he would accidentally spill the beans on everything. That's why, when the door hissed open, he looked up at the towering figure with a thankful gaze.

And, huh. Huh. Megatron certainly was all that the rumors had made him out to be. Tall, broad shoulders, intimidating. He carried himself like he owned the place. But there was something more. Something that made Splinter pause and zero in on the mech. There was something... familiar about him.

He didn't have the chance to think about it any further than that. The moment Megatron stepped into the room, Magnus' optics snapped up and bore into him with an intense glare. "You're late" the autobot leader noted with no small amount of disdain. Already off to a good start then, Splinter thought.

Megatron, unmoved by the Magnus' tone, merely shrugged as he took his own seat on the opposite end of the table. "Some of us have things to do, Ultra. Armies to command, societies to run. Things like that."

If Splinter had thought Megatron looked familiar, the voice had ten times the effect. In the back of his mind, a thought was forming. An idea. Things were connecting but he couldn't yet see the full picture.

Ultra Magnus scoffed. "Oh yes, your "army". Tell me, how many days since the last attempted coup? Let me guess, your second in command, again? He got the best of you once, I'm sure he's eager to repeat the experience."

"Starscream" Megatron said with a sneer, "is none of your concern. Besides, I wouldn't be so quick to judge. After all, didn't the head of your Intelligence Division turn out to be one of my agents?" His sneer turned into a wicked smirk. "How shameful, Ultra, to promote a spy to such a high rank. Is age finally catching up to you? Going senile, perhaps?"

Splinter could hear the way the datapad cracked in Magnus' servos. "If I remember correctly" he started, voice cold, "you are not that much younger than I am. Are you perhaps speaking from experience? Projecting, maybe?"

"Hah!" Megatron banged his fists on the table and barked out a mocking laugh. He leaned forward in his seat. "You amuse me, Ultra! Is this how you entertain your high command? No wonder they are so eager to work for you, with you in charge, every day is a circus!"

"Oh I'll show you something funny alright-"

Before the two leaders could lunge across the table to throttle one another, Splinter stood up in his chair. "Ok, that's enough!" He waved his hands around like he was fighting an invisible enemy. "I feel like we got off on the wrong foot, eh, pede, here. Why don't we start over? Like civilized people." When it didn't look like either Megatron or Ultra Magnus was going to reach for a weapon, Splinter sighed and sat down once more. "Ok. Ok, ok, ok." He massaged the space between his optics. "We are here for a reason. The quintessons. They want all of us gone. Autobots, decepticons, don't matter. That is bad. We don't want that. So, we collaborate."

Megatron crossed his arms in front of his chest and scoffed. "And why should we trust the autobots?" He glanced briefly at Magnus before looking back at Splinter, optics squinted. "The moment the quintessons are defeated, they will turn on us."

"I could say the same thing" Magnus interjected. "The decepticons have never been the picture of loyalty. Always so eager to turn on each other. How can we be so sure that you just won't turn your weapons on the autobots the moment you get the chance?"

Splinter saw the way Megatron's expression darkened and so he interjected before the warlord had a chance. "Because neither of you can do it on your own." The two leaders looked at him and Splinter knew he had their full attention. Ok, time to use that old charm of his. And maybe reuse a couple of old movie lines. "The quintessons have us outnumbered. They are not afraid to throw soldiers at us until they've broken us down. That's why, our retaliation has to be swift, decisive. And that that only be achieved by working together. Divided, you may be strong but together, you are unbeatable."

For the first time since Magnus entered the room, he looked at Splinter as if he was actually seeing him. Meanwhile, Megatron was giving him a weird look but eh, it didn't look as if Splinter's pep talk had driven him to consider murder so that was a plus his his book.

Ultra Magnus nodded. "Your words are logical and, I must admit, convincing. As much as I may dislike it, collaboration is needed to ensure victory."

"Nice!" Splinter pumped his fist. "Together, we will beat the quintessons and emerge victorious! The Hamatos will fight again!"

Megatron blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice. Then he stood up with such force that his chair clattered to the floor. Ultra Magnus, triggered by the sudden reaction, similarly stood up, preparing himself for combat. But Megatron didn't attack. Instead he planted one hand on the table and pointed the other right at Splinter, optics wide with disbelief and mouth hanging open. It was an expression Splinter immediatel recognized. "SPLINTER!?"

Splinter pointed a finger right back at Megatron. "D-16!?"

Megatron's face split into a wide smile and he immediately swooped Splinter up in his arms. "Old friend! I never thought I would see you again! I searched for so long but never found a single sign of you so I thought- What happened? Where did you go? Why do you look like this?" He placed his old friend on the table so they could be of more of a similar height.

"I promise to explain everything, Dee," said Splinter, and he truly meant it. D-16 had been his best friend when he had arrived on Cybertron all those years ago and he had never quite forgiven himself for leaving without a word, even if he had no choice in the matter. "And I have so much to tell you! And people I want you to meet! My boys-"

Dee, well, Megatron, tilted his head to the side. "Your boys?"

Splinter puffed up his chest with pride. "Yes! You see, I have taken on the great challenge of fathering, eh, mentoring, four bots!" Megatron's face went a bit slack.

"You? A mentor? I mean, I know you trained Yoketron but that was-"

Waving away his concern and disbelief, Splinter continued. "Eh, that was long ago! This is different! These aren't just my students, they are my family, and you know how much family means to me, Dee." A light suddenly popped in his head. "That's right! My sons will finally get to meet their godfather!"

Megatron's optics sparkled. "Godfather? I know that term. Heard it on Earth." He smiled warmly. "I am honored, my friend, that you would give me that honor. I look forward to meeting your sons."

Splinter smiled. He had never thought he would get to meet Dee again, especially after learning that millions of years had passed since he had left Cybertron and that an entire civil war had happened. The chance of his kind, sweet friend had made it through... He hadn't dared hope. But apparently Dee had done quite well for himself! Leader of an entire army, now that was something. Splinter was quite sure that Dee had his own stories to tell.

The sound of something heavy being dropped on the ground made Splinter turn around, just to see Ultra Magnus standing there, on the other side of the table, his hammer on the floor and looking just like Orange when it was pizza night.

"You- How- Splinter- I don't-" the Magnus stuttered. His optics grew just a fraction wider. "YOU'RE SPLINTER!"

Huh, ok, so maybe Splinter had to explain things to more than just one bot.

#transformers imagine #transformers animated #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #splinter #ultra magnus #megatron #crossover #AU #tfa/rottmnt crossover au

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