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senju-sekhmet · 4 years ago

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The Leash (Part 3)

Summary: Your rescue was supposed to be as smooth as these missions can be. However very quickly, Tobirama faces off against an enemy that has no form, color or smell - and time is running short, very fast. Unless he figures out what truly holds you hostage, your life will be lost. Warnings (for the finished work): Blood, illness, descriptions of heavy injuries and graphic violence, torture (both depicted and implied), needles, morally grey territory, human experimentation, panic attacks, character death ~7000 words (this chapter, finished work: 80.000) Previous: Part 1; Part 2 Read on AO3! Disclaimer below the cut!

DISCLAIMER! -i reckon I don’t need the paste it again... but in short: this is a purely self-indulgent work which contains a lot of my own headcanons and whatnot. It’ll get darker! And more dramatic. But this chapter is a little bit different, reader gets some pov, though i should say in this fic- it’s.. divided, ahah. thank you so much for reading!! Your world was on fire. Every fiber of your body had burned up as your muscles were cramping. Desperately, you had been straining to free yourself of this somehow , alleviate the pain somehow , but everything just hurt . Both dull and sharp at the same time; either you were being restrained or your muscles wouldn’t obey - but you couldn’t move much. Your head was swimming with a sharp headache that made focusing on anything besides the internal turmoil impossible, and while this certainly was not the worst pain you had experienced by far, it was vexing in its own ways. It felt like splitting open from the inside, slowly; every muscle, every fiber, every single thing that made you was being spliced open, set on fire and was burning, burning, burning. You weren’t even sure how this had started - you merely remembered being rescued. Tobirama had been carrying you out of the dreaded cell you were sure you’d die in. You had been zoning out frequently then, but that hadn’t surprised you. It was just normal for you - first came the torture, then the crushing exhaustion. Actually you were pretty sure he had taken you to the hospital. At least you thought so. You were supposed to be safe, now. So what was happening to you? Had the rescue failed? Did the Stone get you back? Was this a new form of torture? What was Tobirama doing? You didn’t know how much time had passed nor where you actually were now - all you knew was this horrid sensation of burning out from the inside and your inability to escape it. Trapped. As per usual. Very distantly, you thought you heard a familiar voice speak to you - he sounded anguished. Sorrowful. Instinctively, you wanted to console him and his obvious regret. You wouldn’t break now. Frankly, you had endured worse. This, you just… would adapt to, too. Then, you felt your head - at least you thought it was your head - being seized by yet another vice grip. You whimpered. This wasn’t boding well for you. Panic started to flare, but it was hard to feel anything despite the inside burn that ate you alive.

Something reached for your jaw, pressing down and forward behind the joint so hard you knew what this was about: they were forcing your mouth open. The procedure was frightfully familiar by now.

They wanted to drug you again.

Hysteria was rushing through your veins so fast, for a moment it eclipsed everything else.

Peripherally, a deep voice spoke again. To you, maybe. You didn’t know. You’d never beg for mercy. But you desperately wished they’d just stop. You wanted to scream back. Whether or not a sound came out you didn't know.

So it wasn’t over, yet - and you were horribly aware of all that would follow: excruciating pain until you’d pass out, until your voice had broken completely and no sound could come out anymore - and merciless assaults on your mind you absolutely must keep guarded for the sake of everyone at home. It was violating.

Your stomach roiled. Tears flowed.

You were supposed to be safe.

The heavy liquid began to coat your tongue. You wanted to spit it back at them. They were too fast. Whoever held your jaw expertly shut your mouth closed and applied pressure to your airway so that it was near impossible to do so much as utter a single peep.

Swallow, or suffocate. Well, with the way your head was wrenched back, the substance was dripping down your pharynx already anyway.

Under tears, you swallowed.

Instantly, the pressure was gone from your neck, jaw and head.

You stilled. Whatever had been fuelling the fire that had been burning you out died out rapidly. You took a few, even breaths.

It wouldn’t last, of course. As usual, it started with your head swimming - an innocent, lighthearted feeling. Tipsy, even. Then everything intensified. As if someone turned every single sensation of your body to maximum.

It hit you all at once.

You were sure you heard a drop falling from a sink in the room you were in. There had been no sink in the torture room. But you were already lying on the table. No restraints though. Weird. Instead, two people were fixating your body on it with their bare hands, you realised. It hurt. Your whole body hurt. It always hurts. Every single injury they had inflicted upon you echoed through you. These people were pressing down on them. They might as well be driving the knives, saws and drills again through you. That was how intense it felt. Their grip started to loosen up. Had they read your mind? Low rustle of cloth being worn. Someone’s breath, not far away from your face. The scent. Familiar.

Your eyes flew wide open.

The light above was blazing down on you. You were sure it’d signe your skin off with how intense it felt.

You drew ragged breaths.

Your gaze fell on the man’s face whose breaths had been above you.

Recognition hit you like a punch in the gut.

Tobirama.

His expression was shadowed by the way too damn bright light in the ceiling.

Nothing made sense anymore. He shouldn’t be here when it was so obvious all this - all this was the start of yet another session of indescribable agony.

Your hands gripped the edges of the table. It felt like your skin had been peeled off when they did. Bile rose in your throat.

“Y/n,” Tobirama uttered. His voice was - different. Haunted. Wrought with a kind of worry not to be put in words only. And loud. It all was so loud.

You groaned and began to heave your chest off of the table, surprised nobody slammed you back down.

Your breaths came shorter now, more shallow. Your wild eyes darted around the room to take in your surroundings. This wasn’t the terrible room you usually came to when they had forced something down your throat. There were cabinets in here whose contents you already could guess nonetheless - by your feet, someone you didn’t know.

A window? There were no windows underground.

Your heartbeat hammered so hard in your chest, you thought it’d jump out any second, now. The aches in your body were intensifying. Swelling. The noises became louder. You heard the blood flowing through your skull.

This must be a genjutsu of some kind then, no? That was the only explanation. The Stone shinobi were trying a new angle to make you writhe, whimper. To break you. You groaned, a hand meeting your face. The sensation of your own skin on your face felt alien. Like your nails were clawing at your bare muscle tissue.

“What are you waiting for?”, you spat, your voice still broken. It always was. And way too loud in your own ears. Your hand slapped back down on the table. You whimpered for the pain that caused you.

The illusion of Tobirama knitted its eyebrows. Did it look uncertain?

The colors of the room were looking way too vibrant now. Blurring. Each of your past wounds now was searing through your flesh. You trembled.

It wouldn't be long, now. You groaned.

You looked down on yourself and found nothing but a gown on you. Did the thing just move on its own? Was there… was there blood on you?

Had they begun to torture you already?

Your breath came quicker and more shallow now.

“What’ll it be? Sawing my ribs up again?”, you continued, sneering now. Except the tremor made your voice shaky. Hardly arrogant. You’d pay so much for this kind of defiance later. Their loss for not subduing you better. “Or maybe you’ll cut open my arms and legs again? Drill a hole into my bones? Go ahead, you fucking cowards, I won’t break.”

The one looking like Tobirama hung his head low now. His breaths came ragged, his shoulders were heaving each time he took one. When he looked back up, you balked for a moment at how agonized his gaze was. “This isn’t a genjutsu, Y/n,” he began slowly. His deep voice was supposed to be soothing. But there was an undercurrent in it - a slight shake to his timbre you had never heard before. Hah, you wouldn’t fall for that. “We saved you, remember?” He released a hand that was gripping the table to make a familiar sign and mumbled: “Release.”

Nothing happened.

You threw your head back in a bitter laugh. "As if I wouldn't know what comes next by now." Everything in the room was morphing. Forms were twisting. Your legs looked broken - no, they were broken by how it all hurt. There was blood on your skin. Gushing wounds that littered your body - it was all breaking up. You were splitting up. "You've already started," you wheezed, giving in to the tremor that shook you and slumping back onto the table.

"Nobody is going to hurt you," the voice that belonged to the Tobirama-illusion spoke - the voice that damn sounded like him, albeit still anguished like you've never heard him before. The jitter had gotten worse. It was… desperation?

A hand touched your shoulder.

You shrieked from the sheer agony that caused you. You were sure they were driving a metal pole through your joint - "No!", you shouted frantically.

You twisted to the side, recoiling from the sensation and ignoring how this must mess up your horribly disfigured limbs.

"Y/n!", another voice was heard. It was familiar, from behind you. You didn't care to look back who it was. "Should we-"

"Wait!"

They were all so fucking loud. If nobody was going to stop you, then -

You rolled to the side to where you knew the table would end, eyes widening at how high up it was. You'd break your legs if you went down there-

Whatever.

In a fluid motion, you were on your feet. At the same time, you heard the voice that sounded like Tobirama's call out: "Y/n, no!" - another hand wanted to seize your arm, probably saw it off-

Blackness framed your vision as your shaking legs tried to support your body's weight. It was painful. So damn painful. You wheezed at the agony past clenched teeth. There were bony splinters sticking out of your skin. Blood trickled down your skin. Your wheeze became a holler of anguish. "Fuck," you stuttered, grasping for the edge of the damn table as your abused appendages gave in and you slowly sunk to the floor.

Within a second, Tobirama was in front of you. You could barely make out his form anymore, everything was becoming a distorted mess and your mind was overrun by sensations. You couldn't tell what part of yourself didn't hurt at this point, you didn't even know how you were sitting on the floor now. Only that you were. Probably.

"Y/n," his voice was panicked now. At least it was supposed to sound like that. You closed your eyes. At this point, all you saw was just frightening. "We're at home, you're safe and whatever is going on - it's not real."

These words alone were enough to drive you over the edge. Your abused voice became wrecked by laughter, a horribly disfigured sound even in your own sound simply for how off it sounded. "Yeah? Then why the fuck am I feeling like this?" You opened your eyes. The world was an inhomogeneous mass of colors, moving blotches. The Tobirama-illusion was just a black patch of something in front of you with a voice that sounded way too much like his own. "You fucking drugged me!", your voice rose to a shrill screech that hurt your eardrums so much you thought they'd rip. Not that you'd care.

You heard a perfectly anguished whimper. "I'm so sorry," the voice whispered, again filled with more agony than you ever heard from him before. It made you balk for a moment. "Forgive me, Y/n - please, forgive me. We had to."

A shudder ran through you. You closed your eyes again.

This was too much. All of this.

"You were dying, Y/n," Tobirama's tormented voice reached you again, persistent. Insistent. "We had no choice." Who was he trying to convince?

You stilled completely.

It obviously had to be a nightmare- a genjutsu- anything- "Tobirama would never…", you croaked, voice breaking with despair.

You heard a sharp inhale.

"Y/n," he sounded closer now, his voice almost as broken as yours. "Forgive me. Tell me what to do."

Your heart hammered frantically again and your hands rose to your ears to cover them. You were bursting with everything - the excruciating pain, the overtuned senses, how real Tobirama's voice sounded, not knowing what was real-

Sobs were starting to wreck your body before you knew it.

A hand touched your arm.

You hissed, eyes flying open, swatting it away - but you didn't see anything besides a mush of colors. "Don't fucking touch me!" Your voice was a shrill screech.

He made a sound as though someone punched all the air out of his lungs - a low huff, cutting off quickly but so pained, it felt like someone stabbed his heart. Yours, too. It was hard to register between everything.

You started to scramble away from your current position - blindly, you navigated on your hands and knees. It was like dragging yourself over glass shards. It sure felt like those were digging themselves into your bleeding skin. You pathetically sobbed in pain.

"Tobirama-", the other voice started.

"Don't, Hashirama," he was quick to reply, firm but still anguished.

That anguish in his voice. It was so real.

Frankly it was about the only thing you were willing to believe in.

You must have reached a wall when your head bumped into something. Perhaps a cabinet. You didn't care. You curled up there, tucking your knees to your body and hiding your face. A rocking motion settled in, subconsciously.

"He'd never do this," you muttered. Over and over again.

_________

Tobirama was reeling.

The last time he had felt his very world shaking like this was when they had brought his brother's mangled corpse into the Senju compound.

Everything he had just seen - heard-

Damn, what had he done to you?

Ever since rescuing you, it all had been a series of failures, culminating in this: your haggard form pressed against a wall, whispering to yourself and rocking back and forth in what Tobirama knew was stereotypical behaviour meant to soothe yourself. He had seen this before in victims of torture.

The way you had recoiled from him might as well have been a very physical blow from a weapon.

But your words - your words, they had shattered his heart in a way only you could have. Your abused voice, your wide-eyed, near insane gaze: Tobirama would never.

He had.

He damn had.

He felt he had no right being here anymore - near you. How could he, when he had failed you, over and over again? Not to mention what you had been going through - at the very least, the 'leash' had altered your perception of reality in ways that made you feel pain. Hell, who knew - maybe it had caused you pain. But to see you, your strong and dignified presence so broken down - broken into nothing but a husk of yourself - it made him shudder to guess at what was going on inside you. The ache of his own heart was driving him insane - as was his sheer, mad desire to protect you - he couldn’t, he simply couldn’t, instead he had done this to you.

Slowly, he started to question if he actually truly could protect you - ensure your wellbeing, make you heal.

He'd go with no right now.

Yet what was the alternative? Giving up - giving up was not an option. Never. Especially not with you. Humbly he’d accept all the anguish his heart suffered from his moment, the crushing guilt from his actions against you - necessary ones, but cruel altogether.

No, he'd never forgive himself.

He could only hope you would.

He blinked at his palms, laying on his thighs after he had sunken to his knees, shoulders slumped. A hand rested on his shoulder. Hashirama's.

"Tobirama," he began slowly, lowering himself to eye-level with him.

Tobirama couldn't help but narrow his eyes to slits. Hashirama had been the one to press for giving you the damn drug-

And he felt guilty right after. Tobirama had allowed it. Shifting blame was the act of a coward.

Besides, Hashirama had been right. Though you certainly were in a deplorable state now, the life-threat seemed to have passed.

Moments of silence passed. Duly he noted the nurse had left the room. Maybe Hashirama had sent her away. Tobirama didn't care anymore.

"Looks like we saved her." Tobirama's baritone voice was caustic.

Hashirama sighed. "We're going to find an antidote. This is temporary, remember?"

Time to pick himself up again and focus on finally solving a problem for once.

This was a new enemy you were up against he needed to figure out and then defeat.

Tobirama sucked in a sharp breath, gaze snapping back at you. Of course. The clock was just reset. But ticking again. "Twelve hours until we have to make her go through all this again. At most." His voice was a hiss with how hard his teeth were pressed together. His jaw hurt.

Tobirama rose to his feet then, his gaze never leaving you. Your sight pained him, but he'd take it - he deserved this. His arms crossed in front of his chest. The mind had begun to race again. "She was different when we found her in the hideout," he began, tongue clicking in thought.

Hashirama followed suit, also considering you with a sympathetic gaze. He nodded.

Tobirama rubbed a hand over his face. "Based on what we witnessed now, it seems after indigestion, this 'leash' has an… immediate effect," his voice became raspy. Frail. He had to take a pause. Then, "Followed by a phase of exhaustion. After which withdrawal sets in."

"It would seem so," Hashirama agreed, humming in ponder himself. The noise annoyed Tobirama.

"Can't you think quietly?", he snapped.

"Tobirama…"

He all but ignored his brother's reply.

"We must synthesise more of this drug firstly," Tobirama darkly ascertained right after, "A cure seems unlikely on such a tight schedule. Focusing our efforts is key; otherwise we'll run out of time." He felt physically unable to phrase the outcome any other way.

Both brothers knew, though.

"In doing so, finding an antidote will become easier anyhow," Hashirama added thoughtfully, sparing Tobirama from voicing what hung in the air. That much was certain. They'd have to understand how this drug was made up before finding ways to counter it.

You were still huddled up at the wall, unintelligibly mumbling while a fine tremor shook your body. If only there were a way to alleviate your torment. Tobirama knew better than to approach you again.

"Is there nothing we can do for her?", he asked, half to himself, half to his brother - the pain was becoming him again with how hushed that had come out. "She can't stay like this." This was beneath your dignity.

Hashirama hummed in ponder again. "We could put her to sleep, I suppose," he finally suggested, but the hesitation was obvious in his voice. "At this point I'm not sure how anything is going to affect her, though."

Tobirama couldn't help but crack a cynical chuckle. Of course it'd come down to that. "Restrain her again and take away what freedom she has, you mean." He absolutely loathed that his choices were restricted between inflicting more torment on you or simply taking you out - confining you to your own mind, really.

When would he finally do something to heal you?

He took a step closer towards you.

"Tobirama, let me do it," Hashirama interjected, readily taking a step towards you, too.

"No." Tobirama cut him off sharply. This was his duty. His burden to bear. He wouldn't run away from it or hide behind his brother.

Hashirama sighed, but knew better than to try and stop Tobirama.

Slowly, Tobirama enclosed you and crouched down right in front of you. At this proximity, he could make out your whispers: "He wouldn't do that. It's a trick. It's all a trick. Tobirama would never do this to me." Over and over. He drew in a slow breath if just to help him deal with the fresh agony that washed over him, hearing this again. Knowing what he'd do next made it no easier.

Briefly, he contemplated to try and get through to you again to announce his intention, but he doubted there would be much use in that - you’d been delusional before, adverse to touch and if he’d do so much as hint at forcing you to sleep, you most likely wouldn’t take it kindly. The cynicism of the situation was cutting, really.

He'd just do this as fast as he could.

Channeling chakra of his own for a moment, his hand shot out and seized the back of your neck within the blink of an eye.

You shrieked, half in surprise, half in pain - your head shot up, eyes wide and the gaze nothing short of crazed. "Get away from me!", you wrenched out, tears forming.

Tobirama's lips formed a thin line, his chakra then grazing over your network in preparation of what he'd do next: sending a strong pulse to your brain; specifically the regions that controlled awareness and consciousness. However he balked when he felt you - really felt you: your chakra network was near mute. The flow of chakra within you was so slow, it might as well have been stopped. He could feel how it tried to repel his own pelting over yours, but no more than that happened. The response was lazy - frozen, almost.

Your hands had seized his forearm then and were trying to pry it off, shrieks mingling between desperate sobs. "Stop it!", you yelled, over and over. But your attempts were feeble at best and the weeks of imprisonment had stolen near all of your strength. You were in no shape to remove Tobirama's iron grip on your neck, which he reinforced lest your assault would impede on his examination - though sadly once more he had to come to grips with this shadow of your former self. It hurt - it just hurt.

Tobirama then took a deep breath, cursing when he exhaled it.

There was an opportunity in this, right now.

He hated himself for the way too logical thought he just had - but he wouldn't pass up the option that just offered itself to him now. Even if going through with it felt like yet another atrocity he’d commit; darkly he realised he’d been setting one new record after the other ever since you had been taken. This, this would be his next feat.

"Y/n," he began, his baritone voice low again, "I promise, I won't rest until I've freed you from this and healed you." His voice shook from sincerity and anguish alike - a broken sound that was testament to the turmoil and yet so quiet again, reserved for your ears only. His heart wanted to jump out of his chest. "Forgive me for all I have to do for that though, I never want to hurt you," he continued. But it seems I will have to, at least indirectly.

You continued to claw weakly at his arm. He held your frightened gaze. How much of all this reached you, he didn't know. Perhaps he could tell you later again. But it helped a little with what he did next.

His free hand seized your thin wrists effortlessly to pry them off his forearm to no hamper his focus. Your wails increased in protest, you pleaded for him to stop desperately, under tears. "Don't do this," you whimpered, over and over again.

His grip on both your wrists and the back of your neck was unrelenting.

It tore at his heart in ways only you could. "Forgive me," he muttered again before closing his eyes to focus on you again - your muted chakra network.

And more importantly, your body itself - to examine the effects of the drug on you, as of right now. It was cruel - he extended your suffering, he hated himself for it, but there was no other way if he wanted to understand what was happening. You, on the other hand, vehemently protested the examination he was giving you; such a procedure did not hurt the slightest - it should not. Therefore he could only guess that right now, it must cause you immense discomfort, but he continued anyway. He had to. Distantly, he felt your body shift, - maybe your legs kicking out, against him? - he all took it humbly and with no more than a huff. He deserved it and then some.

However no matter how hard he looked, he couldn't find a trace of bodily harm inside of you, besides what he already knew of. His focus shifted to your brain then -

He understood.

For all your chakra network lacked, your brain made up. The firework of nerves of each of your sensory cortices was a light that was too bright for Tobirama to investigate further - but if he were to guess, the 'leash' was responsible for this kind of overclocking. Everything made a lot more sense then: your pained reactions, your inaccessibility to logic. To put it plainly, they had taken every single sense and turned it up infinitely. Tobirama wouldn't be surprised if you could hear his own heartbeat right now. Quite possibly you had also been suffering from hallucinations as the unfed mind would begin to devour itself.

It was the perfect outlet for torture. Especially if the goal was to break the mind. Susceptible to everything it was exposed to.

Especially pain.

Tobirama felt the white-hot rage burn in his veins again.

And yet you had withstood.

He quickly understood why. The longer he examined your brain, the more your resistance grew - and he hadn't even done as much as gauge your mental defenses, much less prod at them - this was just a physical examination. But your otherwise mute chakra had begun to swirl, to gather - and while it certainly lacked the strength to repel him, it began to coat you like a defensive mantle. The connection was withering.

Enough, he decided.

With no small amount of sorrow he let his chakra pelt yours in a familiar, soothing way - a feeble attempt to calm you down if just by trying to make you recall the many times you two had done this.

Convince you it was really him, he, would do just about anything to protect you.

Maybe, just maybe you stilled for a moment.

Then, he let his chakra smother the part of your brain that was responsible for your consciousness. Gently, quickly.

Humanely.

You stilled completely, your fight stilled.

Tobirama opened his eyes.

You were sacked against the wall, head hanging down, feet no more pressed against him.

He felt forlorn, spent. It was all too much.

He didn't even know how to name what was going on inside of him exactly anymore, it was all a garbled mass of sorrow, heartache, guilt and protectiveness.

He pulled you closer slowly to gather your gaunt form in his arms again. The hand that was on your neck snuck around to lock around your shoulders and the other freed your wrists and reached under your legs. Momentarily, he simply pressed his face to your hair and breathed in your familiar scent. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, wetness budding in his eyes again, though no tears would fall anymore. "I'll protect you." He simply was spent.

Then, he rose to his feet and turned towards Hashirama, who had arched up both eyebrows questioningly. The length of Tobirama's endeavour had not escaped him.

"I examined her to ascertain the effects of the drug," Tobirama confessed readily, dejectedly. His head spun, his heart ached so much again he wondered about how it still pumped blood evenly. That particular muscle had hurt so much lately it was a miracle it still worked as it did.

"I see," Hashirama replied, gently. "What did you find?"

"Let's take her to a room first. She'll be staying here longer, it would seem." Tobirama didn't want to speak more yet. He needed to regain his composure again before he'd explain. Besides, he still had to process all that just happened.

Hashirama nodded and motioned for Tobirama to follow him.

He tightened his grip around your far too light body and followed him, looking down just once - your face looked more peaceful now than it had in hours. That, at least, was a relief. Although he still had wished it wouldn’t have happened this way. The wards were located on the second floor. Tobirama didn't look left or right at any curious faces - they knew better than to stare at you. Eventually they reached an empty room in one of them, Tobirama carefully placed you on the bed and draped the blanket over you. Then, he sat down on the bed, extending a hand to ghost over the side of your face in an utterly tender way.

He took a deep breath before rising up again and meeting his brother's expectant glance.

"This drug," he began slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers, "It has a psychotropic component. All of her senses were extremely heightened." He crossed his arms. “It’s no surprise she was delusional.”

Hashirama himself moved into the room to stand beside Tobirama, but glanced down at you. His forehead wrinkled in a sorrowful motion. "I see. That would… make sense, indeed."

Tobirama could only give an affirmative click of his tongue to that. Cruel sense, indeed. He then ventured to explain in more detail the findings of his examination, as neutral as possible.

The truth was, the exhaustion was taking its toll on him by now. He couldn't remember how long it's been since he slept - he still didn't feel tired. But he was lightheaded and his concentration was faltering. Telltale signs, he knew.

No good. He still had work to do. Less than twelve hours until you needed the next dose. He needed to start on analysing that drug-

"Tobirama." Hashirama cut in. His warm gaze was on Tobirama now.

"What?", he replied, irritated.

"Go to sleep. You've been awake for more than thirty-six hours. We can't do more now." Sternness was leaking into his tone.

Tobirama gave an exasperated sigh. "Nonsense. I'm fine. We need to start working on analysing the contents and workings of this 'leash'."

Hashirama huffed. "We certainly do. But we will do that much better with some sleep."

"Then go. I'll start," Tobirama's eyelids narrowed to tiny slits, his tone became more icy.

Hashirama wouldn’t be fazed this time. "Go home, Tobirama. Don't make me throw you out." He made a meaningful pause. "Because I will."

"Anija!", he was practically growling now. To think his brother actually had the gall to-

Hashirama was unwavering. He really was serious about this.

Both were staring at each other in a silence that was so high-strung, only the faint sounds of your breaths echoed through the room. Another moment passed, then Tobirama huffed in a way that was nothing short of very annoyed.

"I want to be notified the moment she wakes up," he commanded immediately, leaving no question about what might happen if he was not. If he was to follow orders , then he had some demands too.

"Of course. I'll ask Mito," Hashirama found a much more agreeable tone. Throwing his wife's name into the mix was a smart move of course, but it calmed Tobirama only so much.

He should be here.

He reached inside his pocket to retrieve a piece of parchment. A second later, the distinct smell of burnt paper was in the air. He placed the branded item on the nightstand next to your head. With another sorrowful glance, he considered your gaunt form, still perfectly still and asleep. The next moment, he was in his own home. If he hesitated a moment longer, he'd have stayed by your side most likely - his mind was heavy, his heart torn but his brother was right. He was spent, exhausted and this had been a trip into a hell, back again, and then right back into the next hell.

It still took quite some time before sleep claimed him. His mind wouldn't stop to process the information he had gained today and begin to plan his next moves meticulously.

Truth be told, everything was just too quiet here.

Forlorn.

_______

When next you came to, the familiar powerlessness had you in its vice grip. But you had expected that. It always was like that after… after they had done everything to you.

The blanket over your body felt leaden. You didn't complain. Wait - blanket?

Other than the crushing exhaustion, you weren't too bad off. What disturbed you more was the fact you did, in fact, recognize your surroundings: the Konoha hospital.

Which put everything that just happened in a different light.

Your gaze shot left and right frantically to be certain this really was what you believed it to be.

The memory of what must have been a few hours ago was vivid. Way too vivid, in fact. A nightmarish trip you remembered most things of, even though your perception of it had been very jangled, to put it mildly. The voices and persons you misconceived.

The things you had said.

What Tobirama's voice - no, Tobirama - had said-

What he had done. A lump formed in your throat. No, what he had been forced to do. He'd never- You groaned and dragged a hand over your face, happy the sensation felt… normal. But the tiny bit of comfort you had found was blown away. The predicament you found yourself made you uneasy. In fact, you had to fight down the panic budding - The door swung open. A smiling, red-haired woman entered. "Mito," your raspy voice whispered. Her fine eyebrows rose up. "You're awake," a small smile formed on her lips. "Good. There's someone waiting for you." She walked closer to your bedside. Your eyes followed her as she picked a piece of parchment up from the nightstand - and you recognised the seal on it immediately. Your heart skipped a little. "Is Tobirama here?" She chuckled and her smile turned distinctively finer. "Something tells me he will be in a heartbeat." You ducked a little, daring to utter a chuckle of your own. When was the last time you had done that? She winked and turned to leave the room. Instantly, you felt wishing her back. Being alone turned your focus back to yourself - all that just happened - what might happen again? Your breath came shorter. What exactly was going to happen now? Weren't you going to be safe now? Just a few hours ago- Your heart was hammering inside your chest now. With a low groan, you heaved your chest off the bed and sat up. Your abused body protested, but you ignored the aches that pinched and burned through you, echoes of everything the Stone shinobi had done to you. Your eyes were becoming awfully wet- A baritone voice pulled you out of your downward spiral. "Y/n." Your gaze shot up. In the door stood Tobirama, dressed in his black long-sleeved shirt and pants - huffing a little. His scarlet gaze was intense - he was gauging your reaction. When he recognised how laboured your breathing was however and the glint in your eyes, his forehead wrinkled in a worried frown. "What's wrong, Y/n?" He took a step closer. Was he being … cautious? "Are you in pain?" His voice was as firm as ever, but you could tell he was making an effort to be soft. You sobbed. "Tobirama…", your voice was somehow even more frail than before, but shook your head. You beckoned him closer with a wave of your hand, a lead he gladly took. In an instant, he was by your side, sitting carefully down on the side of the bed, giving your blanketed body a quick once over. "Tell me what's wrong, please," he inquired then, now more smooth than before. His hand reached for your shoulder to press you gently back onto the bed. You didn't resist - not that you could, anyway. You shook your head then slightly in regards to his question, already feeling your breathing even out. Your hand reached for his, which again he eagerly took in both of his. With a warm smile you felt his chakra grazing over yours and your network slowly - mingling with yours. You wanted to respond in kind, but you knew your response was too sluggish - your chakra felt drugged still. It had been since your capture. Unsurprisingly, Tobirama wouldn't let go of the issue with a shake of your head. "You were crying, Y/n." His voice was still tender, but there was a certain kind of firmness in it still. You had to smile weakly. Only Tobirama could care for you and still make everything a command. "I think I have a lot of things to cry about." But you were nothing if not known for your sharp tongue. Tobirama visibly flinched. For a moment, you felt bad - perhaps that comment had been too sharp. He closed his eyes momentarily. When he opened them again, he was gazing on the floor, still holding your hand tightly. A thumb began stroking over your skin. "You are right of course," his voice bore a fragment of the anguish you recalled it had born before. "What happened, Tobirama?", you finally asked, gently. He took a deep breath. "You started to deorientate, slowly, after we had rescued you. You were tired first - but then, that turned into somnolence. Not long after, you started to tremble and developed a fever." His voice was sounding neutral, but you could tell there was a low jitter in his baritone voice. "Hashirama and I examined you and we found your chakra network was being disrupted by something - your body had started to repel it. The more it did so, the more you were harming yourself. I … found out it was the effect of the drug the Stone had given you. Or rather, the beginning lack thereof." He frowned, then. "Parts of this drug, anyway." You were silent. It didn't take a genius to figure out how the rest had come to happen, then. A chilling sensation befell you. "They had forced something down my throat frequently," you supplied when Tobirama didn't continue directly. "I didn't realise… at some point, it'd become a necessity." How, anyhow? They always used it to torture you. His grip on your hand became tighter, the brush of his chakra a bit warmer. "We were forced to give you the drug again." He paused, and took a deep breath. "Forgive me, Y/n," he finally gazed back at you. His eyebrows were pulled together in what could only be described as a sorrowful expression, oddly vulnerable. And yet - this being Tobirama - he still carried this air of dignity around him. You gasped - you hadn't forgotten the promise he had made during your delirium. But to hear it from him again, now - it hit differently. Tobirama was a serious man. But the sincerity his voice carried now - the unspoken plea for forgiveness, the guilt - it hurt you. "You had to, Tobirama," you whispered, letting your free hand rub over his exposed forearms to try and alleviate him from his sorrow, to absolve him from his guilt. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking deep breaths. When he opened them again, the sorrow was not yet gone. "We've got no antidote yet, Y/n." A shiver ran down your spine. You gulped. You knew you wouldn't like what he'd say next. "Until we do…", he began slowly, visibly struggling to find the right words. The gentle words, maybe. Tobirama was not a man of gentle words. "You're going to have to take this drug, regularly." The statement hit you like a punch into the gut. Your blood in your veins froze. You closed your eyes which had already begun to burn up already. All of this was supposed to be over now. Except it wasn't. Regularly, you'd be forced to undergo horror trips under the effects of that damn drug. If you didn't, you'd die. You clenched your teeth as you tried to bite back a sob. It was unfair. Well, life was unfair. The weight on the side of your bed shifted. You peeked a bloodshot eye open to find Tobirama now was facing you. His lips were turned down - he looked helpless. You whimpered miserably. "Y/n," he uttered, his voice reveal the hint of a tremor, too. You grasped more tightly at his forearm to pull yourself up with it, groaning lowly with the pain that movement. You felt Tobirama stiffen at first and actually were sure he was sure to shut you down since he'd never stand for you doing anything that hurt yourself - but when you had flung your bony arm around his neck, his eyes widened slightly. Quickly, his hands released yours to hug around your haggard body and pull it close to his. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in deeply. The sobs still came through, though. A hand rubbed gently over your back, soothingly. "Y/n," he whispered again, your name haunted by anguish. "I don't want to, Tobirama," you breathed against his skin, fisting the fabric of his black shirt with one hand and his silvery hair with the other. "I know," he sighed. "You must." There was no question in his tone, only sorrowful recognition. "If not, the withdrawal will kill you, Y/n." His grip around you became firmer. More desperate. The hand around your shoulder moved to your hair to stroke it gently. "How long… until the next dose?", you asked, dreading the answer already. He sighed. "About four hours. I'm not sure yet when the withdrawal symptoms will set in again." You could only give a whimper in response. He rubbed over your back firmly. "I won't rest until I've got the antidote, Y/n," he continued, the vigour returning to his voice - the tremble, gone. Do not get between Tobirama Senju and his objectives. It reassured you. To know he was the one on this - your face turned slightly to breathe up his neck first, then peck his cheek. "I love you, Tobirama." His response was prompt. He leaned back slightly just to gaze at your face - the determination inside was near tangible. Then, he leaned forward to press his lips against yours, desperate, almost. "I love you too." It wouldn't alleviate the fear of when the next dose came around, no. But you dared to hope now.

#tobirama #tobirama senju #tobirama x reader #tobirama senju x reader #sekhmet writes #senju tobirama #senju tobirama x reader

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bigskydreaming · 3 years ago

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“I was human once. Where were you then?” I pretty thoroughly abandoned Teen Wolf after season 4, and even before then, I didn’t engage with the fandom much, but the voice that you give Scott is enough to keep me with one toe dipped in the pond. He’s funny and clever and kind. Even years since I’ve read anything else in TW, WTWTA continues to be a favourite. Do you feel like talking about where you were planning to go with it? I’ve seen you talk about Lightning Crashes plenty, but not WTWTA.

Thank you so much for this ask! Not gonna lie, Lightning Crashes consumes most of my remaining Teen Wolf attention just because its so freaking big and I've got so much written for it over the years that like, I will riot against myself if I don't finish it because like ugh I didn't write all that just to have it sit unread in my own damn files forever, y'know? So like, while I would love to return to Where Wild Things Are someday I'm not trying to make any claims about that one until LC is off my back. Tbh, I'm trying not to make any claims about fanfic or deadlines until I'm fully recovered from my surgery and whatnot because like......my day to day life is just not reliable and I hate not being able to keep my word on stuff.

BUT. That all said, I do still have a lot of fondness for WWTA and plenty of thoughts about it and willingness to talk about where it was headed for anyone who prefers to just hear about that on the assumption it won't ever really get returned to, cuz like, you are Valid.

And I actually have a lot of fondness for that part you quoted in particular, like, I've heard a lot of good things from people about that whole interaction being a standout for them, and its a personal fave because it pretty succintly got to the heart of some of my biggest issues with Teen Wolf's portrayal of hunters and specifically their ideology and self-justifications.

Anyway, some basics about where that fic was going below the cut, and I'm happy to go into more detail or provide snippets or excerpts from future parts as well.

So the very next chapter after what was posted is actually another Scott POV, and it has Peter showing up to his house at night while his mom's at work, Cora with her uncle as well, and 'summoning' Scott to be by his side as well while Peter goes to meet with another Alpha in a rival pack's territory. (Said Alpha being Ennis, in this case).

This chapter's actually a pretty interesting one IMO because I used it to play around with a personal headcanon I have for chemo-signals. There's actually been a fair amount of theorizing in the scientific (and pseudo scientific, lol) communities about what it might be like if humans could pick up on and interpret chemo-signals, because the science suggests that actually we DO.....just at such a tiny magnification so as to make it impossible to get any like, usable data from what little our noses do pick up.

But a popular theory is that picking up on chemo-signals would produce a physiological like, 'mirroring' of what's being picked up on, like....okay, so there's this thing in a lot of evolutionary traits that are linked to survival mechanisms. Where like, the body in the act of receiving various signals from another being about something being dangerous or threatening or to be avoided, it'll essentially mimic the very signs of distress or warning in the person or creature its picking up those signals from. Its kinda part of an automatic feedback loop, like going through a version of the same reaction a person is seeing in others is part of the body and brain's interpretative process, taking in certain stimuli and then processing it in ways that end up with the brain consciously cluing in that what its seeing is that it should be wary of danger.

I'm explaining it badly, but the basic idea is like.....you know that almost instinctive flinch of horror or fear you get almost in like....sympathy, when you see someone else in obvious distress or terror....even before or without seeing or experiencing whatever it is that's making them so distressed/afraid yourself? That's an example of what I'm talking about here. One creature or person transmits various signals - be they visual by way of stance or expression, or scent, or auditory like screams - and surrounding 'pack creatures' or basically any nearby beings likely to be part of that initial being's pack or herd or community.....they pick up these signals and the message of warning or whatever being conveyed via those signals....and in the process of translating that into some kind of actionable instinct, they ALREADY replicate and thus partially pass on those very same signals themselves.

So the thing about scents that we give off even as humans, is that there's actually a LOT of data and signals encoded into these scents or the various things our bodies produce in association with these scents, like sweat. Even though we can't discern these scents to any degree that allows us to meaningfully interpret the data encoded in them, because we didn't ever end up evolving down the evolutionary path that might have resulted in us being able to smell to that degree....like, the information is still THERE, packed into those scents and odor-producing body by-products.

And that has a lot to do with why we react the way we often do to smelling someone's sweat even to the degree that we DO pick it up.....because think of what bodily reactions tend to produce sweat. Its not just physical exertions, its also in a response to nervousness or discomfort or disgust or outright danger, etc.....and our instinctive responses to scenting the sweat someone produces is often to like....mirror those very same emotions. Just to a much more minor degree than if we were able to smell to the same degree that like, we can see.....and thus pick apart single scents and interpret the various distinct elements and emotions packed INTO those, much like how our eyes are evolved to pick apart visuals and interpret specific details about shapes we see in front of us and give a lot more nuance and specificity to what our eyes are picking up on.

So the theory is that if we WERE able to smell to this keen degree....we would be able to tell a LOT about people's emotional state just from the physiological byproducts they produce in various emotional states.....BUT there'd be a trade-off. We would also be prone to the same tendency to unconsciously mimic the signals we were picking up on.....so our own scent glands, our own expressions, would be likely to 'pass on' the indications of fear or arousal or anxiety that we're smelling.

What intrigued me about this idea, in terms of werewolves who are stated to be able to pick up and interpret chemo-signals......is that it carries with it the implication that actually, most werewolves - at least those in packs - would have EXCELLENT self-control, in contrast to what most hunters believe about werewolves and their lack thereof.

Because think about it......if werewolves are constantly being bombarded with the chemo-signals of those around them, and interpreting these smells and the signals contained within them with the same matter of fact ease most of us translate the visual signals our eyes convey to us......in actuality, werewolves would need to have exceptional control over their own reactions to external stimuli.......or else they'd constantly stand out by having facial expressions and stance cues that seem to change radically with seemingly very little reason for them to do so as far as normal humans around them can tell. And at the same time, the facial reactions they might instinctively flash to in response to picking up say, stark terror from someone who was trying their best to hide that VISUALLY due to the presence of someone they were afraid of like an abuser....the fact that werewolves seemed to often be reacting to things they were picking up on in ways that seemed completely contrary to what visual or auditory cues were evident to everyone else....this would also make them stand out even in a crowd.

So to my mind, the extent to which werewolves were shown deciphering information via chemo-signals on the show suggests that actually, werewolf packs would place a huge focus on teaching their children and their new bitten members both the importance of having firm self-control over their own reactions and emotional state - in order to counter their own instinctive tendencies upon smelling things like strong fear or arousal or anxiety in others - as well as the HOW of doing just that.

Which in turn would lead to the idea that its the LACK of a pack - and the grounding knowledge and presence of other experienced werewolves - which most often results in the existence of the 'out of control' omega werewolves that hunters use to justify the necessity of their existence.

Think how bewildering it would be to constantly be bombarded with signals and cues that suggest that the people around you are at any given moment in heightened states of panic and distress and discomfort. How much that would shred your own self-control if you weren't extremely practiced - and aided - in keeping a clear awareness of your OWN emotional state and feelings at all times, so you don't get swept away by the tide of emotional information you're picking up on all sides. I imagine it wouldn't be that much different walking down the hall of a school picking up the scent chemo-signals of a hundred teenagers in the throes of puberty, hormonal changes, and constant stress and intense feelings.....than say, if you or I were to walk down that same hall and instead of just seeing and hearing a hundred teenagers laughing and talking and going about their day, we saw and heard every one of those teenagers acting out visual and auditory cues of extreme intensity on all sides, from some of them screaming for dozens of different reasons to others being clear images of someone in pain or outright terror, etc.

Its a lot. Its easy to imagine that omega werewolves would not actually be any less 'capable' than any other werewolf, they're not wild or feral because they're lesser or whatever.....its simply for whatever reason, they never were taught the lesson of just how important it is to learn how to not just interpret scent cues, but block them out when necessary or at the very least maintain a conscious awareness of how to keep your own sense of self prioritized in your brain over just....instinctively reacting to everything being flung at you information wise.

Anyway. So a big component of what's to come there is how this might impact the world of Teen Wolf if explored in depth.....

Because on the one hand, this information would be the EXACT thing needed to really put things into clarity re: hunters and werewolves. The reality that actually, most werewolves are exceptional at self-control....that when they're a danger to others, its usually because they're that way with INTENT like Deucalion or Ennis. That most werewolves aren't the inches-from-being-mindless timebombs that hunters stress are the real reason for why they exist. The omegas are actually the odd ones out, and their lack of self-control is something that can actually be mitigated by integration into existing packs or just more avenues for educating themselves on what they are now and what differences that makes in their lives and just their very approaches to life.

But on the other hand, this information is exactly what werewolves like Scott CAN'T inform hunters of en masse.....because of the existence of hunters like Gerard and Kate who actually don't CARE about the code and the idea of just existing to protect humanity from the out of control dangerous 'monsters'....but rather just want to kill werewolves for other reasons. Because hunters who were fully in the know as to how much control the average werewolf has over their emotional state....as well as WHY its so important for them to learn and practice such exceptional self-control......because of how VULNERABLE to reacting to the emotional states of others werewolves are......they would no doubt be able to weaponize this against werewolves. After all, even exceptional self control is bound to waver if say, in the presence of large numbers of humans who are being deliberately influenced to give off certain scent cues in mass quantities......just so hunters can pick out at a distance who seems to be reacting to things none of the humans present seem to be aware of, etc.

So things like this are meant to become central to Scott and Allison's burgeoning relationship and the everpresent question they each have for how much they can really trust the other - and trust the other WITH - no matter how much they want to. Even as Scott starts to fall for Allison and believe the best of her, he's very aware of her still existant ties to her family, her own 'pack' - and despite being in possession of so much knowledge about werewolves that could most likely open Allison's eyes even further to how inaccurate most of the information she and others like her father are working off of is......Scott's equally keenly aware that giving her that information COULD still backfire and put his own pack in danger if it for whatever reason doesn't end up being enough to fully bring her over to his side.

Basically the big theme of the story has always been about who can you trust, even when you really WANT to trust them, because even people with similar moralities can have conflicting priorities and its not always enough to just be on the same page in one of those respects.

Anyway, the next chapter is big on introducing the importance of chemo-signals as Peter drives to his meeting with Ennis and tells Cora and Scott to settle between themselves who will accompany him inside (a clear position of prominence relevant to the ongoing power struggle between Cora and Scott for influence among their packmates). And most of that happens by way of the two of them 'scent-talking' to each other in the backseat. Because a side-effect of the idea that smelling chemo-signals prompts certain facial cues in response, as well as exceptional control over their own emotions and thus accompanying physiological cues, means that its possible for werewolves to have very involved silent discussions just by deliberately invoking various scents for the other, etc.

Cora of course wins that mini-battle between them, by way of the leverage she has over Scott now that she knows he's able to lie to Peter without betraying it with his scent or his heartbeat. Peter would never risk having someone capable of lying to him with no sign, so that's as good of a death sentence if he finds out. But at the same time, its something Cora knows she can't milk for too long, because the longer SHE has the information that Scott is capable of that, the less effective it becomes as leverage.....since hiding that from Peter could massively backfire and put her at risk too, meaning there's only so long she can use it as leverage against Scott before it becomes a case of mutually assured destruction and he says 'go ahead, tell Peter, and once he finds out how long you've kept that from him see what position that leaves you in.'

So Cora knows this information is best used sooner rather than later, so she leverages it off the bat, to get Scott to cave on this one and so she's the one to accompany Peter to his top secret meeting with Ennis and learn whatever they're talking about and what the basis of this alliance they seem to have formed is. Also, Peter comes out of the meeting carrying a mysterious box he got from Ennis, that seems to have been his goal all along, and has Cora troubled, but unwilling to divulge any information about what it might be.

Scott however gets something out of the meeting too, because even while left outside, he discovers some key information.....Ennis' pack includes Jiang and Tierney, two members of Brett's old pack that he thought were dead. Ennis had 'taken them in' though they really didn't have a ton of choice in the matter and were less than thrilled about it....which gives Scott the start of an actual plan. Which thickens once he learns Brett's sister Lorilee is alive as well, and a member of Kali's pack, along with refugees from another wiped out pack, the Primals.

Essentially, where this is all building towards is over time, Scott starts reaching out to the exploited and miserable teens stuck at the bottom of abusive packs they never asked to be a part of but are afraid to leave....and begins building an alliance of teens across multiple local packs. None of them are strong enough to overthrow their own Alphas on their own, but together, they could be strong enough to overthrow a single Alpha, and then consolidate as a pack of their own behind a single teen Alpha.

Of course, problem is Cora figures this out eventually as well, and begins building her own rival alliance among teens from Kali's pack and others, and it essentially becomes a race to get an alliance strong enough to topple Peter built first, before the other can make their move.

On Allison's side of things, she begins mentoring the younger teens that Scott picked out as being eyed by his Alpha as potential recruits. This involves teaching them archery at her house one weekend, only to then discover from Gerard's conversation with her parents that hunters recovered the arrow Allison had shot through Isaac's shoulder way back in the first chapter. They found blood on it, and are planning to use it to see if the person that blood belongs to is in the system at all. Which Isaac is, due to being in the foster care system, even if only nominally.

Feeling complicit and not ready to trust the werewolves yet but not willing to feel personally responsible for the death of someone she goes to school with, Allison alerts Scott to the danger. Which in turn leads to the pack under Peter's orders, like, breaking into the facility where the arrow and blood are being analyzed and destroy the sample before it can trace back to Isaac and from there, the rest of them by association.

Problem is, its Matt's first official 'outing' on a werewolf mission and he decides to revel in his newfound power by killing a guard. Welcome to Team Blue Eyes, Mattie. That didn't take long. Not that anyone is surprised, but Scott is a bit screwed by it. Because now Allison is furious and retreating from their slowly building alliance/relationship because she feels guilty that her information led to someone getting killed by a werewolf and thinks she never should have shared her intel even though Scott tries to stress that he had no control over Matt and could do nothing to stop it.

So that kinda puts a roadblock in the Scallison that takes time to work past, though it will of course get worked past.

Meanwhile elsewhere, Peter's plans for turning more freshmen are delayed when Cora and Scott both feel pressed to alert him of a surprising development at Beacon Hills High before the other tells Peter first. Suddenly there are two new werewolves at school - albeit very nervous, scared and confused werewolves - and they aren't transfer students. Someone turned two of their classmates, Tracy and Josh, and that someone was NOT Peter. So now Peter is outraged because someone is turning people in his territory which is a clear challenge from another Alpha, and he wants to know who. Which leads to Erica and Boyd being assigned to tail the new wolves and see who they lead back to.....as well as both Scott and Cora, by now accelerating their efforts to build up support for their positions both inside and outside of the pack, like both of them now make plays to get Erica and Boyd from the No Man's Land they've been residing in, and get them to finally pick a side between the two rivals for Peter's Alpha crown. With the information they glean from following the two new surprise werewolves being vital to both Scott and Cora's plans.

The Alpha in question turns out to be Deucalion, who is back in the area after years away where he seemed uninterested in werewolf politics, but now seems to be intent on building up a new pack for himself across multiple Alphas' territories in earnest.

Meanwhile meanwhile, Scott has started to worry about where Theo's loyalties actually lie, as Boyd informs him that part of what's kept him from throwing in with Scott is Boyd keeps his nose to the ground to stay very informed on what's what and keep abreast of what everyone else is doing at all times - Boyd is very big on the idea that knowledge and thus information is power - so Boyd has been paying more attention to Theo than even Scott has lately, given how much Scott's got going on at the moment. And Theo's been making some moves of his own that have Boyd distrustful of just how much Scott ACTUALLY has his loyalty, and thus Boyd is wary of hitching his wagon to the prospective Alpha who is perhaps not as well or thoroughly supported as he thinks he is, or is counting on being.

So Theo being Theo will complicate matters considerably. Note that I don't go with unnecessarily evil Theo ever, as that's boring, but I always fuck with absolutely and necessarily self-interested and amoral Theo because that's anti-boring. So Theo's not out to screw Scott just to screw him (well not THAT way at least), but Theo is big on covering his bases and he's contemplating making his own bid for power because he's not sure he trusts that Scott can pull this off and Cora's not an option given that he HAS until now been Team Scott in all visible ways, so he's seeking....other options. Just so he can have the most possible options and vet them thoroughly before deciding on a course of action, naturally.

The big tipping point to all of this will come when someone betrays Scott to some hunters and leads to him being captured and identified as a werewolf by some hunters loosely affiliated with Allison's family.....and Allison makes her choice here for good and risks everything to rescue Scott which might involve someone dying. Not a main character. But uh, there definitely is some dying and it makes Allison and Scott both feel things like guilt, regret, self-recrimination and also "I did what I did and that's that about that" with only like 60% of that being bravado to cover up omg I have no idea what I'm even doing anymore.

In order to find somewhere for Scott to recuperate that is not her house, because lol duh, and is not Scott's house, because Peter lol duh, a desperate Allison ends up looping in Lydia, Danny, Jackson and Stiles, and enlisting their help in hiding Scott at Lydia's lakehouse until he recovers. This leads to them all finally being in the know and uncomfortably allying with Isaac and some other werewolf members of Team Scott, who are of course furious at the betrayal of any werewolf giving up one of their own to hunters, let alone Scott.....which leads to the twins making a surprise shift in allegiance, because they think Cora was behind the hunters finding out and that's too far for them. It was NOT in fact Cora, but it might have been someone ON Team Cora who thought they were doing what Cora would have wanted them to do. And by might have I mean definitely and also they were Not Correct in their assumptions about what Cora would want. She and Scott are rivals and she's an antagonist here but she's not evil or even as bloodthirsty as she pretends to be for appearances, but she like Theo is looking out for number one and what she believes is best for what remains of a Hale pack, any Hale pack.

Other stuff happens, Liam does get turned, Mason gets his druidic knowledge on because that's a Trope that no Kalen story will ever be without, and the ultimate showdown between teens and asshole adult werewolves will end with Scott True Alpha level-upping but Peter definitely will still die as will several other Alphas and Scott is not the only teen who ends up an Alpha at the end of things though each teen Alpha will for now go their own way with their own pack made up of kids from the two teen wolf alliances. There will be confrontations with the hunters before the end too, beyond just rescuing Scott from the NPC hunters who are destined for Demiseville, population them, but the hunters will not be 'totally defeated' in as much as that's even a possibility, and the story was always meant to end with the McCall pack and some human allies taking to the road to find somewhere else to establish a territory and build their strength (and graduate high school) before making a full stand against hunters.

Backstory is meant to be filled in all the way through, with a focus on Scott and Derek's not-at-all-like-canon relationship as for the first year or so after Scott was turned, Derek was still around and did his best to help guide and teach Scott while acting as a buffer against his uncle which Scott greatly appreciated and his thoughts of 'fuck you Derek' should be taken as unreliable narration and mostly just cynical humor cuz he misses him. With said backstory reveals culminating in the eventual shocker of how Derek died (surprise, it was Peter in the parlor with the backstabbing and also candlestick), Cora finding out, cue Cora Not Being Very Pleased With Uncle Peter At The Moment, Actually, and like....other shenanigans are had.

Also also there may be a road trip involved at the veeeeeery end, that involves the mysterious box Peter traded something to Ennis for, which may or may not be magic and resurrection-oriented, but also definitely is both those things and aimed at a grand finale of teen Derek rising from mystical waters being like "who the fuck are you" at Scott who smiles and says "we're brothers."

And that's what you missed on Glee.

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t-dartagnan · 5 years ago

Text

beasts of prey | 1/1, 2,105 words

there are five things bautista learns about the warden.

[pre-greenwarden, a different take on bautista]

relationships: pre warden/marc bautista

characters: nb!warden (saren pendragon, goes by they/them), m!bautista

tags&tw: mental illness, nightmares, panic attacks, self-harm, description of injury, unhealthy coping mechanisms, lowercase, bautista POV

the first thing you learn about pendragon is that they’re frustrating.

frustrating in a way that gets on your nerves, that makes you uneasy, that makes you angry. it’s not a fleeting thought, and that’s what bothers you the most; it’s a constant presence, the anger that simmers under your skin and crawls up your throat when they drawl yet another dry teasing, when they make your work harder than it strictly needs to be. they’re not cooperative, don’t even try to be ― they’re made of sharp words and ruthless wit, an unrelenting need to push back even when they have absolutely no reason to do so, no reason to argue, to press, to hurt.

that’s what they’re trying to do, isn’t it? to hurt? what for, is the answer you’ll never get. why. because this isn’t normal, is it? this isn’t common. you’ve dealt with people who were hard to please, before, you’ve dealt with entitled assholes and whatnot ― but there’s something different here, something you can’t pinpoint, something you don’t understand.

you don’t know what it is, and, in a certain way, you don’t even want to.

the second thing you learn about pendragon is that they’re terrifyingly good at what they do.

you’ve worked with people who were good at what they did, of course you did ― people have strengths and weakness that oftentimes balance each other out, and it’s not hard to find some resemblance of harmony. problem is: nothing is ever easy when pendragon’s around, and you had been naive to think this would be like any other interaction.

they know where things are ― where to look, which direction to take, what to uncover. you’re not enough of a fool to ignore the way they always go directly over wherever it is that the fresh clues are, the reminders, the path ― guided by an invisible hand or pulled towards it, you muse you’ll never know.

[they’ll never trust you enough to share, and you convince yourself you’re okay with that.

you aren’t.]

the third thing you learn about pendragon is that they have a shitty sleeping schedule.

it’s not really surprising, if you consider the bigger picture ― there are certain things you see (certain things you do) that make your stomach lurch, your thoughts scatter, things that there are parts of you that wish you had forgotten. still. still. you push that back, like you do with everything else that bothers you ― you push through and move on, because there’s not a single reason to mull it over more than you need to.

pendragon doesn’t.

it takes you a while to notice, because it’s not the kind of thing you usually pay attention to ― by the time you retire for the night, pendragon’s usually off doing... whatever it is that they do when they’re not picking fights with you or stress smoking in places they shouldn’t. they’re not the type to stick by idly when they have no reason to, unless they’re looking for a way to pick a fight or trying to annoy you into an argument, and you’re not too fond of the idea of trying to entertain their quirks, either.

in retrospect, perhaps you should’ve paid more attention.

[you didn’t want to, is the truth. you didn’t want to reach out, to try and understand, you didn’t want to know. pendragon is insufferable at their best, and there was nothing you had wanted more than to not be forced into interacting with them.]

you realize your mistake when the first nightmare comes.

it’s ugly, is the thing ― the way they scream and trash and kick and fight you when you come, the terror in their eyes, the horror. you hadn’t known a creature such as pendragon could even fear, when they have never as much as flinched when faced with the things you face on an almost daily basis, and it’s not the kind of thing you wish to see again anytime soon.

it takes a while to make them stop trying to punch you away, and you still come out with a bloodied mouth and a split lip ― it aches like hell, but it doesn’t come close to the worst you’ve ever had. you try not to push, then ― deals with it the same way you saw a lady deal with a scared cat, once, tentatively soothing words and an even voice. you don’t know what to say, have no idea if it’s even working, but it doesn’t seem to matter ― pendragon’s eyes fix on a spot behind your shoulder, and their breath evens for long enough that you don’t have to worry about them hyperventilating anymore.

it's not ― good. it’s not good, you doubt it’ll ever be, but it’s better than before. you don’t try do get close, you know you won’t be welcome, but leaving sounds as wrong as touching pendragon does at the moment, so you do neither.

(you weren’t taught how to deal with this, were you?)

“stay.”

it’s not a question, but it doesn’t sound like a demand, either. pendragon’s eyes have found yours, though, and it’s the first time you realize how blue they are. not terrified, anymore, but there’s not much else to it, either ― icy and hollow, just like everything pendragon says.

you nod, just once, and, just like that, their eyes slip away again, back to the spot behind your shoulder.

(were it any other moment, in any other situation, you would’ve been angry, wouldn’t you? you would’ve lashed out. you would’ve relented to all the bitterness that crawls under your skin, searching for cracks to peek through, to peel alway scabs and reopen wounds you had sworn being healed. you don’t, this time. you sit in front of them, your back straight, your hands resting on your knees. you wait, and count the minutes on your head. you taste the blood on your mouth, the headache building behind your eyelids. saren doesn’t move for a long, long time. you stay.)

when they move, you want to do the same. wobbly legs and blueish lips, they’re the perfect image of someone who’s about to crash ― but you don’t reach out, still, you hold your hands in closed fists against your sides when you follow them to the bathroom. pendragon doesn’t seem to notice, doesn’t seem aware of your presence, even though they have told you to stay ― there’s something mechanical about the way they do this, the unsteady legs, the hunched shoulders, the shaky hands that turn on the shower.

had they started to take off their clothes, you’d slip away unnoticed, easily enough ― but they don’t.

the sound of running water seems to calm pendragon down, but color has yet to return to their face, and you’re not entirely sure reaching out right now is a good idea. you don’t, then, careful, and you watch as pendragon slids against the bathroom tiles until they’re on the floor, water pooling around them, soaking through their clothes, clinging to their frame.

a thin frame, you realize. unhealthily thin ― the protruding shoulder bones, the sunken cheeks, when was the last time they ate? you don’t ask, but anger rises the way it always does, and the taste it leaves on your mouth to add to the blood is sour. this is not your fight to have, is it? and even if it were. even if it were. pendragon clings to their knees, presses them against their chest, bony fingers littered by purple and blue bruises you don’t remember seeing before, and you know that, if you even try to push, they’ll break.

you don’t. they don’t say a thing, after that, and you weren’t expecting them to.

you stay.

the fourth thing you learn about pendragon is something you’d rather have not known.

you find them in the bathtub, bloody water up to the middle of their chest, cigarette burns littered across their arms ― clawed bruises on their throat, dark circles under their eyes that speak of one too many sleepless nights, a dazed expression that tells you they’re too caught up in their own mind to realize you’re in the same room as them.

your reaction, unsurprisingly, is not good.

[you avoid thinking about it, later. you avoid thinking about the possiblity that you might have been wrong reacting so strongly. you avoid the entire thing altogether ― except the way the color of the bruises across pendragon’s skin is imprinted on your mind, the self-inflicted wounds, the way they had flinched away from you when you started screaming, until they picked themselves back up again and slammed their walls right back in place. you don’t think about it ― except for all the moments you do.]

“you don’t know shit!” if pendragon were a violent person, you know, this is the moment they’d start swinging fists ― but they are not, so they don’t. doesn’t mean they don’t want to. “get the hell away from me!”

and maybe you should, alright? maybe you should. but you don’t, won’t, can’t. you blink and behind your eyelids you see fingers clinging to exposed collarbones, the angry marks running down pendragon’s throat. bloodied fingers, cracked nails, raw knuckles. bloodied collarbones, blooming blue purple bruises all the way to their jaw, icy blue eyes full of anger. bile rises up your throat.

you step closer, and pendragon’s eyes flash to you like a beast that’s got the prey.

“leave.” they say, and their voice cracks at the end. “just ― fucking leave, will you?”

you don’t want to, but you do. you step back once. then twice. then again ― until you’re at a distance where you’re not gone, but at least pendragon doesn’t look like a cornered animal anymore, until they don’t look like they’re ready to either fight or flee if they deem necessary. the bitter taste’s still on your mouth, and, this time, it’s not from anger.

[there’s a part of you that wishes it was. is this what it feels like ― failure? you don’t know. you’re not keen on finding out, either.]

the fifth thing you learn about pendragon is not something you can put into words.

most people have a kind of feeling attached to them ― the kind of thing that rises at the back of your mind, a nudging sensation that steers you away from trouble when you need it to, the instinctual urge that pulls and tugs and grows if you ever consider ignoring it.

most people never get past the first flash of red on your head ― even less manage to slip away unnoticed. pendragon’s always been weird, not quite a pleasant presence, but not strange enough to put you off. not until you pay enough attention, at least. not until they pay enough attention.

it's something that comes after you start watching them, you notice ― they start watching back, and you’d be lying if you said that, alone, isn’t unnerving.

not a red sign, but close enough to one that you’re not strictly comfortable around them anymore; not that you ever were in the first place, but that was because they were being annoying, not because they made you feel threatened.

they do, now― their eyes never leave yours, a predator ready to pounce, and there’s a visceral part of you that twists and coils over itself, demanding you to flee. pendragon watches you back the same way a cat does to mice, the hungry silence that tells you that the moment you put your guard down you’re a goner.

red flashes, all of them. the instinctual urge to step back, to retreat, the knowledge that rings wrong wrong wrong all the way down to the pitch of your stomach. saren pendragon is a beast trapped in human flesh, sharp edges and bloodied mouth ― bared teeth that speak wordless warnings of violence and rage, a string wrung so tightly it’s constantly a step away from snapping.

there’s a part of you that almost wishes you’d pull that string until it does ― that wishes you’d tug until it snaps and the broken parts come undone in a bloodied mess, a dreadful sight, sharp edges splintered to an unrecognizable wreck.

[that’s the part you ignore, the part you shove down until it’s almost gone, just a faint shadow that peeks at the corners of your mind, lurking, waiting, hungry.]

after meeting pendragon, this is what you learn about yourself: saren isn’t the only beast you have to be watchful for.

#greenwarden #marc bautista #fan warden #saren pendragon #fanfiction #thekla plays writer #mine #lowercase #i hate tumblr formatting #wtf is this #let me use my indents #i nEED my indents #you can pry italic from my cold dead hands

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firewoodfigs · 4 years ago

Note

For the WIP asks, could I pls know a lil bit more about the next few chapters of memento amare :,,,) I CRAVE (but also understand you're a superbusy superstar so I will await as patiently as I can!!!!)

heLLO you flatter me too much the only thing I am rn is a broke college student living on maccas and caffeine HAHAHAHA xD here’s a toast to us both!!! 🤠 but YES of course for you anything <3 and since you asked for the “next few chapters”... HERE WE GO

[POSSIBLE SPOILERS!! I tried to be all vague and whatnot, but vagueness is subjective and I’m half-asleep LOL]

For the next chapter, we’re gonna slide right back into the angst business, albeit with a few sprinkles of poorly-timed humour here and there and more snark. I suppose there’s also gonna be a wee bit of character / relationship analysis - a bit less action, but I kind of wanted to build up Roy & Riza’s relationship a little, and as [spoiler alert?] I hinted to in chapter 7, Ed’s gonna make another appearance, to Roy’s dismay and to Riza’s... uh... I’ll drop a little something here, if it helps xD

Amongst the three of them whom Riza had gotten reacquainted with - him, Rebecca and Edward - Mustang liked to think that he was the most skilled at concealing his emotions. Years of politicking around with sycophantic sleaze bags had certainly taught him how to keep his enemies close and his cards closer. Rebecca was naturally expressive, but she was also military, so she came a close second. But Edward… where did he even begin? The kid was exactly the kind of moron who’d go around proclaiming that he didn’t give a rat’s ass about anything or anyone, and then proceed to wear his entire heart on his sleeve. (Mustang sincerely hoped that becoming a professional poker player wasn’t in his list of alternative career options. He’d go bankrupt in a day.)

And Riza, ever perceptive, clearly hadn’t missed the haunted look in his wide, golden eyes.

One of the things I really enjoyed about FMA was also how every character had a vital role to play in the story. I hope to achieve that in memento amare as well, but it’s tough because I’m severely lacking Arakawa’s native genius 😂 even though the story is predominantly about Roy and Riza, I think Roy is smart enough to know that he can’t handle everything on his own (and tbh, he has a ton to deal with - inter alia, trying to reconstruct Ishval, dealing with the citizens’ rising suspicion and dimming faith in the government, the loss of his precious Lieutenant). A good leader knows when to delegate the work, or so I’ve been told 😆

SO [another possible spoiler] a dilemma I’ve been facing is whether to write from Ed’s POV to introduce another character in chapter 7. There are a few reasons why I was thinking of doing so, including but not limited to: (i) Ed’s natural guilt complex means that he must feel like crap over what happened to Riza too (in a sense, this sorta alludes to the summary - the ‘price’ she pays also refers to the relationships and the people around her who are suffering as a result) (ii) comparing the implications of the Promised Day on the city vs the countryside (iii) drawing similarities between two characters approx. 10 chapters or so down the road... hahaHAHA

For chapter 9, we’re gonna see (hopefully) a shift in Roy & Riza’s relationship, and also them vibin’, or not really, at their respective jobs 😆 I’m quite excited to write this chapter because of the impending hurt/comfort, and also the juxtapositions in the nature of their work? I can’t say too much, but I think it’ll be interesting to consider how Roy, despite working for an incumbent Fuhrer who knows and favours him, still has a limited sense of agency sans what he aspires to achieve because he’s working in a military institution, for a stratocratic government after all.

My personal head canon is also this: that Grumman was lucky enough to escape the Ishval extermination, and therefore would probably not be as invested in rebuilding Ishval or decentralising power to the people. So I reckon their ideologies would probably diverge at some points, but maybe they’ll agree to disagree?? We’ll see xD

[another possible spoiler]

Their ideologies converged insofar as a democracy was involved, but the divergence lay in their notion of power. Mustang knew that Grumman didn’t believe in a complete decentralisation of power. He wasn’t willing, nor was he about to relinquish all of his power and leave it in the citizens’ clammy, suspicious hands.

I don’t have a fixed outline for chapter 9 yet, though, so I might also just scrap the part about their jobs and focus more on their relationship for the time being :”)

“You have nothing to apologise for,” he reassured. “None of this is your fault.”

I’m sorry this turned out to be such a ridiculously long response, but THANKS FOR THE ASK and for giving me a chance to ramble on about all my random thoughts that I’m too tired to put into proper writing atm 😂 ILY FRIEND!! Hope your week is off to a good start!! <3

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lady-olive-oil · 5 years ago

Text

Work Out: Chapter 7

A word: I told yall i was coming in with the feels this weekend!! Here is the next installment of Work Out.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3,313 {WOOOO}

Tag Squad (permanent): @honeychicana || @designerwriterchic || @crushed-pink-petals || @maddiestundentwritergaines || @dc41896 || @themyscxiras || @titty-teetee || @fumbling-fanfics || @ljstraightnochaser || @mimigemrose || @madamslayyy || @amelatonin || @screamingdrago || @breddiefrooks || @ellixthea

______________

Graduation day was approaching. The stress was high and I was ready to get this shit over with. A vacation was really needed and it wasn’t coming fast enough.

The upcoming divorce finalization; trying to finish up the album on time, lunch with the parents soon and visiting my daughters grave. I haven’t bright anyone to her grave, besides my friends, because I never thought anyone was worth it seeing someone near and dear to me be gone.

When I lost my daughter, my whole world turned upside down: my marriage was in turmoil and I lost myself. I’m thankful for the new beginnings I’ve been receiving but, I can’t help but wonder what it would’ve been like to be a mother. The upcoming weekend was one to focus on and I wasn’t about to fail now. My baby girl Delaney wouldn’t want that for her mama.

Destiny and Cynthia we’re setting up the community pool area for my party, which is being combined with my birthday for a convenience for everyone. Seeing all my friends and family together in one spot, meant the world to me. Florian was the icing on the cake to my never ending endeavors.

Being his girl, his queen, meant everything and even more so. He’s been there through it all and I’m just blessed to have him in my life. Seeing wall in with his friends, and my cake, pulled me from my trance.

Roxie leaned in close to my ear. “Girl, there goes your future baby daddy.”

“Rox come on now, you know I need a ring first. But I do like the idea of having his kids though.” All the kekeing that went down was seized by a very happy giant.

“Ladies, what’s with all the laughter? Did I miss something?” Feeling a strong presence behind me, I leaned back against Florian with a gentle smile.

“No not really. Just chatting with my good friend Roxie, you know girl talk.” With a slight shrug, I laced my fingers with his. Feeling in complete bliss with the man I love.

Chuckling gently, whilst placing a kiss upon my head he held me close.“Mhm. Well the guys want to meet you formally, if Roxie doesn’t mind.”

Roxie shook her head with a smile, before heading to the present table. “G’head you two. Don’t get pregnant now.”

“She’s a mess. But anyway, so I get to meet the boys for the first time? Whose all here?” I was curious yet nervous at the same time.

“She is, but hey getting pregnant wouldn’t be so bad would it? The guys are harmless.”

I had to stop him, before we continued. Looking up at him with sweet hopeful eyes, I didn’t know what to think.

“Before we go talk to them, you want to have kids with me? We haven’t talked about it but I’ve always wondered, what if.”

It was his turn to become nervous. His cheeks were reddened a bit, he scratched the back of his head and chuckled softly. “I do want kids with you, Gege. I just didn’t know how to ask.”

“We can always try, I'm down for trying. There isn’t anyone else in this world I would rather have kids with, than you.” Pressing a soft kiss to his lips, I felt him smile against mine.

Nuzzling our noses together, we continued our walk towards the firepit that held a hookah. “And I you, draga. We can talk about all this later tonight after the party. Ok? I really want you to meet the guys.”

“Let’s do it.”

The vibes of the party were flowing nicely: the drinks were flowing, the music was pumping and everyone was in good spirits. Leon, Sandro and Masias have been Florian’s best friends for years. Getting their approval of me was important, as my friends impression on Florian.

Over the course of the conversation, I noticed the boys had switched to their native tongue which was German. The only person in the circle that was formed that knew I was fluent in German, was Flo. I was in tune with the whole conversation, and then some.

Leon spoke first. “Es sieht so aus, als hätte Florian eine Königin gefunden.”

“er tat es sicher. Ich bin auch stolz auf ihn, das letzte Mädchen, mit dem er sich verabredet hat, war nicht so toll.” Sandro nodded in agreement, clinking his beer bottle with Leon’s.

“sie ist auch hübsch klug, brachte ihr eigenes Ding in Schwung. Ganze neun Meter hat er Glück.” Masias smiled over at Florian and I. I snuggled deeper into his side and felt at home and secure.

“Well thank you boys for your kind words and sentiments. I’m gonna get me some cake.” Placing a kiss upon my man's cheek, I saw the shocked expressions of his friends. I made my way towards the cake table, where I was greeted by my parents and siblings.

I could hear Florian’s booming voice, in the distance, erupting in laughter. “Did I mention that she’s fluent in German?”

“That would've been helpful in the beginning.” Masias playfully hit his best friends arm.

“Mom, dad. I’ve missed you guys call thanks for coming.” Hugging them both I teared up a little, realizing that my parents have done so much to make sure I was okay and in the right mindset. This battle with Jake, has caused me to go to the hospital with heart problems.

“3rd graffiti on, but second tuition I don’t have to pay for? Of course I’m coming.” My dad, always had jokes when it came to his kids.

My mom, to everyone Mama Sasha or Mama Shaw, kissed my head and held me close. “Pumpkin, you know we wouldn’t miss your big week. This was all done by your strength; determination and hardwork. For that we’re proud of you.”

“Thanks it means a lot to me that y’all are here. Where’s Donny, Luca and Leilani?”

“Right here!” The twins ran up to me and crushed me in a big bear hug, while Donny strayed behind while limping.

“Don, why you limping? Football?” Arching a brow, I smirked teasingly.

“Yeah I rolled it, while playing. I’m out for a bit, but I couldn’t miss your celebration week.”

“Well I’m glad you’re here. All of you, because this week I want y’all to have lunch with Florian and I. His parents are here too.

“We can do that. Private setting just us as a family, I like it. You know his mother and I talk a lot, I love her already.” Normally most people wouldn’t get past hello with my mom, so for her and Florca to even have weekly conversations is a plus for me and Florian.

“It’ll will be fun. I think we can have it in my house, on the patio since it’s bigger than my dining room.” Relaxing with my parents and siblings by the other fire pit, I glanced over at Florian a few times and blew him a kiss. I love that man more than anything, and we make each other better.

Florian’s POV

Winking back at Geneva, I felt my heart flutter every time she glanced at me. She has changed my life around even more so, and we build each other up. We’re each other’s rock and I couldn't have asked for a better partner in life.

Focusing back on the guys, I couldn’t help by chuckle. “I know I avoid I’ve told y’all she knew German, but what’s the point of spoiling the surprise?” Taking a sip of my beer, I could feel the guys eyeing me left and right. I could not fathom it at all with my laughter surfacing.

Glancing over at my lady once more, I couldn’t help but smile at how happy she is. I put that smile on her face: I’m the only that’s making her giggle every few glances she takes at me and I’m the reason she wakes up feeling safe and secure every morning.

We’ve had our moments where we have a small arguments here and there. But nothing too drastic, luckily we don’t go to bed angry.

The other night however we had a fight, more like a small discussion about Jake, and it didn’t go over too well. It keeps poking his nose in our business where he doesn’t belong, sending subliminal messages to Geneva about needing to leave me because I’m not good enough for her and her standards.

I had the right mind to go find him and beat his scrawny ass, but I held back for the time being because I saw him with Mandy out and about a few days ago. But no child in sight, that she so called had. Needless to say, what you put out in the universe is what you get back. Karma is going to bite them in the ass, and I want a front row seat.

As the months went on, I’ve gotten accustomed to Geneva’s neighbors, as they have with me. Mrs. Patterson from down the street, who loves when I come by to help with her groceries at whatnot. Then there was Donna and Apollo Valentine, who always enjoyed having Geneva and over for dinner. Speaking of the Valentines’, they had just arrived with a giddy gif the lady of the hour and a strange bouquet of flowers in a grey frosted glass vase.

I had to excuse myself from the guys, to greet the newly arrived guests. “Donna, Apollo. So nice of you to come by.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Florian. You and the guys did an amazing job decorating the place for Geneva. Speaking of which, where is- awe there she is!” Donna and Geneva had embraced one another in hug, and happy tears were shed.

Letting the women catch up, I had asked Apollo about the flowers. Not that Geneva didn’t deserve them, she deserves the world, but why were they in a vase?

“I saw some fella place them on the porch, a few hours after you two left the condo for the party.” He began. “He looked suspicious, yet familiar.”

“About this tall; tapered fade, face looks like he could mess up someone’s life? And did he by chance have a blonde with him, that looks like she has too many injections in her face?” I arched a brow, causing Apollo to chuckle at my use of words.

“Yeah that sounds about right. They just sat the vase on the porch and ducked out.” The further he explained, the more aware I became of the flowers.

Graciously taking the flowers, I went into protective mode. “Thanks for letting me know, I’ll have to tell Geneva before she gets a hold of them.”

“Anytime.” Heading back to his wife, I made my way towards Gege. As soon as she saw the flowers, her eyes lit up.

“Flo, you didn’t have to get me more flowers. I love the red daisies and sunflowers you gave me.”

“These aren’t from me, draga.” As soon I told, he face fell. Who else would give her geraniums? The type of flowers she’s allergic to.

The closer she got, the quicker her facial expression changed. “Florian why do you have-” the sneezing began, causing a sneeze attack. “Geraniums?”

Covering her nose, she read the card as best as she could with her watery eyes. I had to get these away from her. “From your first love? Ah hell. Toss em, please.”

Doing exactly that, I also ran inside the house to get her medicine. What kind of sadistic asshole, would give their ex flowers that they’re allergic to? I swear I’m going to kill him myself. I’m tired of these games he’s doing to cause a rift between Geneva and I.

“Thank you love.” She took the allergy pills, with a swig of water, I was in deep thought a hit what could’ve happened to her if I didn’t think fast.

“Just so you know, I’m going to murder him if hurts you again. Let alone come near you.” Holding her close to me, I swayed her to the rhythm of the music.

“Florian. Don’t engage in his antics, please. I don’t need any more stress built on me.”

“Geneva I have to protect you from him. Who knows what he’ll do next, because-”

She gave me a stern look, filled with rage “Florian, I said no. Now go enjoy yourself with the guys, I’m done having this conversation. Ok?”

As she walked away, I felt defeated. I didn’t want her to be distraught with me, but I wanted her to understand that Jake can’t come near her and I was going to make sure of it. I guess it would have to be dealt with another time, maybe sooner than later.

-Geneva’s POV, 2 hours later-

After cleaning up; giving everyone love and hugs, enjoying everyone’s company and time, and just loving the vibes everyone gave off, it felt great to finally relax. Nothing but positivity, it was just what I needed and deserved after all the bullshit I’ve been through.

Jake was becoming more and more belligerent, as time went on. On top of that with the divorce being finalized soon, I have to deal with an overgrown Romanian child who doesn't want to listen at all.

I hated it when we fought. It brought the mood down for the rest of the night, and I didn’t want to go to bed distraught with him. I love him for god's sake, I’m in love with Florian and nothing will ever change that.

Hearing the TV boom through the halls, I knew he was in the living room watching a game. As I walked to the living room, I placed my hands on his shoulders, massaging gently. I had one of his blue hoodies and a pair of shorts.

“Can we talk?” My tone was soft, airy even. He nodded softly, holding my hand as I walked around the couch and sat on his lap.

Nuzzling into my neck, he sighed. “Geneva, I want to apologize for how I acted earlier.”

I kissed him tenderly, before gently rubbing the back of his head. “I want to apologize as well, my love. I shouldn’t have got upset with you earlier. I know we’re both going through a tough time, with this divorce and it’s taking a toll on not just me. More or so everyone around me, because I have a protective village.”

The look he gave, with his sweet baby blue eyes, was sincere and full of love. I snuggled deeper into his chest, taking in his warmth. He smelled of honey, pine and cinnamon. The aroma was comforting and intoxicating, like a campfire by a log cabin.

Even a heated blanket, draped over you after a long day freezing day. That new body wash I bought him, seemed to be his favorite. I dragged my nails through his beard, which he seemed to enjoy, by the sound he made. Looking like a cuddly grizzly bear, needing a good night's sleep.

“It has taken a toll on me as well, because I don’t want to see you upset and stressed out by it all. I just want this to be over, and I want to protect you to the best of my ability.” He rests his head against the back of the couch, keeping his gaze on me.

Reassuring him, I laced our fingers together and squeezed. “I know baby, I know. I just want you to know that I am capable of taking care of myself though. I’m a big girl.”

“And I respect that about you, and your drive. I can’t help but get in defense mode over people I love. Whatever happens to you; my friends, my family, my parents. I will stand by those who have always had my back and are wishing good things upon me. Negativity doesn’t fly with me.” He was being real and truthful. That’s what I loved most about him, along with his work ethic. He doesn’t half ass anything, unlike most people I know.

“I just want you to know that I will always be here no matter what happens. I want what’s best for you and I can’t wait for you to finally be mine.”

Holding his face in my hands, rubbing my thumbs against his flushed cheeks, “Baby, I’ve been yours. Regardless of my situation, I will always be your girl. Even after it’s all said and done, I wouldn't mind getting married to you.”

“Really? You would want to get married to me, after all this? After all the bullshit?” His tone was hushed: his nose was against mine, our breath was mingled as one. I chuckled gingerly, fully straddling his lap this time.

“Why does it sound hot when you say ‘bullshit’ like that?” I paused and saw a red velvet box. “Florian…”

How does one breath again? Because my breath was halted, by the presence of a ring in front of my face. It was my birthstone, a ruby red princess cut diamond. This man was always full of surprises.

“Now, now. This is just a step in the right direction, but I figured I’d do at least this. A princess cut gem, according to your mother and Leilani, for my princess. Happy birthday and congratulations on graduating, baby girl.” He slipped the ring on my left ring finger, even though I knew my friends would ask, and kissed my nose.

The ring was gorgeous. The intricate and vintage swirl design was perfect, around the stone that held it in place. Hugging him tight, and letting the tears fall where they lay, I have never felt happier in my life. “You asked my mom and sister for help? God you’re so fucking perfect, baby I love it and you, thank you.”

Placing kisses all on my face, he made me giggle.”I love you too. So much, that words can’t even begin to describe how much I love me some Genevieve.”

“And I love me some Florian. You’ve been so amazing with me lately, and I couldn’t have asked for a better partner in this dangerous game called life. This just makes us closer to a goal, that we will fulfill.”

Sealing the night off with a sweet kiss, we stayed snuggled against each other on the couch, just enjoying others company. Occasionally, I’d steal a kiss from him as he'd watch his game. Typical further wife things, ya know?

Finally graduating with my second degree, was going to be so rewarding with all the blood; sweat and tears, I’ve put into it. I have a much better positive force with me now, and I couldn’t be more blessed.

_______

Translations: loosely from google translate

German:

1) Es sieht so aus, als hätte Florian eine Königin gefunden.”

2) Er tat es sicher. Ich bin auch stolz auf ihn, das letzte Mädchen, mit dem er sich verabredet hat, war nicht so toll.

3) Sie ist auch hübsch klug, brachte ihr eigenes Ding in Schwung. Ganze neun Meter hat er Glück.

English:

1) looks like Floridan found himself a queen

2) He sure did. I’m proud of him too, the last girl he dated wasn’t all that great.

3) She’s pretty too. Smart, got her own thing going. Whole nine yards, he’s lucky.

#florian munteanu fanfic #florian munteanu x geneva shaw #florian munteanu #florian munteanu imagine #florian x geneva #geneva shaw #sevyn streeter #work out chapter 7

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