#nah . he was already overpowered last time we saw him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

reginarubie · 2 years ago

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Jon and Sansa do end up together, but— actually Jon's POV

Because I've heard by mistake a song and I was inspired, so fight me, this is how it went.

This also features a bit of everyone, a little snippet of Joffrey and Cersei as well... and well really, everyone. With a side dish of Arya being blunt as always, Jon and Robb friendship begging, the first time Jon and Sansa met and several other things.

Also... if you were wondering what that “something like that” Jon had said to Podrick last installment of the story... here you learn what that something has been.

Inspired by Surrender by Natalie Taylor, and also, can be found in my ao3 archive of prompts and ficlets (here).

Can we surrender? [Whenever you are ready]

Jon ~

He gazes at the roof, her warm body nestled against his, her head resting against his shoulder, her arms and legs wrapped around him, milky white and pale against the sheets.

His hand drifts from her shoulder to her waist and up again. The caress so featherlike she doesn’t even wake. He’s grateful for it.

He knows she’s had trouble sleeping.

The fact that her sleep is undisturbed when she lays beside him fills him with both pride and boundless love.

He lays there, feeling her breath against his neck, and her lashes brush against his skin. Her hands are warm, they keep at bay the chilling cold of the night.

He remembers perfectly the first time he saw Sansa.

Robb had always been the kid everyone wanted to be friends with, intelligent, of good family with a brilliant future ahead of him, with the right connection to pursue any dream he might ever have. Even at five Jon had been very aware of all the differences between them.

He was the son of a single mother, no father to speak of — his mother would not even speak his name and frankly, after one night she had admitted to him that his father had basically groomed her when she was a teenager and that his father had already a wife and children — his mother had to work double hours to just ensure that Jon’s clothes were of good quality and that his homework did not slack due him feeling different.

Even back then Jon had known Robb Stark was and would have everything Jon ever wanted. Still, he could not bear the boy any ill, he was older than him by half a year and he was just so… kind, when he wasn’t impersonating his own father and bossing people around.

He was fun to be around too.

In the beginning they had antagonized each other, but the Starks relentless kindness is something that wins them the heart of all those around them.

Jon had been six and Robb had been six and half and Jon was a little shit, okay?, he disliked the way most kids in his school paraded around their daddy’s money and often they would bully him because he had no daddy. No dad to come to his soccer practice and to cheer him on when his mom was working.

Jon was alone.

He was an easy victim, not that he staid that way for long. He had started throwing punches long before his mother learned of it, halfway through the first year of school.

Still, it was october and the cold was so intense that it didn’t snow, it just frosted the snow that had fallen the week before when the temperature had been warmer.

A couple of kids had stolen his lunch money — which fine, he would scrape something at home — but then they had started their usual mantra of how he should go tell daddy, oh, no you don’t have a father.

Little shits.

Jon had thrown the first punch when they had called him bastard and his mother a whore. And the second. Maybe even the third before they had overpowered him, kicked him in the tummy and left out of the classroom in the icy wind.

Bastard, they had called him.

Now Jon is old enough to know they weren’t aware of half the words they were using, still it had stung.

Robb Stark had been the one to found him, he had lent him his jacket — warm and furlined — and shared with him his homemade meal. Jon had bitched about that too. Called him names, but Robb had just smiled and shared his lunch with him.

“Your name is Jon, nah?” he had asked.

Jon had grunted some reply that Robb had miraculously understood and they had eaten together.

Jon had called him stupid, told him that he didn’t want his pity.

But, when Jon had finally manage to overpower the leader of the bullies in april of that year, and the others had ganged up on him, Robb had been there. One of his teeth had been knocked out and Jon still remembered Robb standing tall — taller than him — with his mouth bloody, grinning with a missing tooth and giving him the thumbs up.

He had become his brother in all but blood then.

Still, when Robb had brought him to Winterfell Manor Jon had been cautious. It had been lord Eddard Stark who had come to the principal that day when his mother had discovered of his problems at school and his punching tendencies.

He had been quiet, and seemed the kind of man who never raised his voice, but the face of disappointment he had bestowed on them when he had been told they had been the ones to throw the first punch had almost made Jon shrink down a size.

Even when Ned and Lyanna had learned of the bullying they had been very displeased Jon and Robb had resorted to throw punches instead of involving the adults, though Jon had gained a pat on the shoulder and the head by Ned Stark.

“What do I tell you, always?,” Lyanna had been berating and Jon had been reciting her usual teachings “Walk a mile to avoid a fight—”

“My father used to say something very similar,” Ned Stark had interjected “though he used to say, do not fight—” he said “but if you have to fight, win.”

Lyanna had been exasperated at that “That’s not what I meant at all—”

“No, but the bullies would not have stopped unless he showed them they are weaker than him,” he said “I don’t approve of you throwing punches, boys, so next time avoid it” he had mussed Jon’s hair up and watching him and Robb walk away, Robb waving at him excitedly and Jon had never missed a father more in his life.

And whilst Ned Stark had proved amiable, still, the matriarch of the Stark family was without any doubt not very impressed with Jon having somehow managed to get her son involved in some punch fight.

She had grounded Robb for five weeks, and coach had put them both on the bench for five matches.

“Hello Mrs. Stark”

The woman had been feeding a toddler who seemed to have no intention of ever eat, and kept spitting out everything the mother tried to get her to eat.

“So, you’re Jon—” she had greeted him “my son tells me you’re a good sort, try not to involve him in another fistfight and we’ll be alright, understood?”

“Yes, Ma’am”

“You can call me Catelyn, darling— are you…ARYA!”

And Mrs Stark was growing increasingly more frustrated with her, the toddler had lusterless brown hair and the grey eyes of her father and a toothy grin that reminded Jon of Robb’s bloodied one.

At one point Mrs Stark got up from her seat to lean against the counter, Jon and Robb had been doing homework.

“Mommy have you seen my pink sweater—?” Jon had not paid much attention to the voice, though Mrs Stark had turned to her eldest daughter, all ready for ballet practice and had sighed.

“Robb,” she had called “Help your sister lace up her shoes” she had commanded and Robb had mimicked her.

“What do we say?”

“Please, son of mine,” Catelyn Stark had sounded impressively annoyed by her son’s antics “help your sister lace up her shoes”

“I can do it alone, mommy!” said sister had chirped and Robb had shrugged as if to say to his mother see?, but Catelyn Stark’s glare was impressive — it still is — and Robb had jumped down the chair to collect his sisters shoes, whilst said sister sat, bouncing her legs on the chair Robb had just vacated.

Toddler Arya had been playing with her food.

Jon had stood up then, awkward to share the kitchen with a girl he barely knew. Sansa Stark, was her name, was Robb’s little sister, she had red hair held in a braided bun held by a dragonfly pin, she was wearing a stupidly frilly skirt and no shoes.

Her eyes were big and blue.

Very blue.

They were impressively blue.

To busy himself in any way possible he had found his way to toddler Arya, still playing with his food, and more out of boredom than any other reason he had taken up the spoon and tried to feed her. Imagine his surprise when Arya had eaten willingly and demanding more with her dirty, chubby hands.

“Wow,” little Sansa had commented “look at how well she behaves! You’re so good with her!”

Jon had blushed at that, though he was too embarrassed to speak and had not looked at her, not as Robb helped her lace up her shoes, nor as she demanded he carried her backpack for her to the car.

Though he had watched her leave.

Toddler Arya had babbled incoherently and Jon had felt almost accused, though he did not know of what.

Jon had watched her go, and as she had skipped the way to the gates she had turned around and smiled at him, the greenery of the courtyard making her look like some kind of fairytale princess.

***

For years, after that, Sansa had been at the periphery of his life, but never truly a central character of it. They run in different circles and Jon was okay with that, what more, your best friend’s sister is virtually untouchable, so…better off this way.

Still, Jon was almost always at Winterfell Manor, and often times overnight, especially when they had found out Lyanna’s cancer. Ned Stark had pulled several strings and in the end Lyanna had been transferred to Harrenhal Hospital, one of the best for this kind of things, and Jon had moved permanently, until Lyanna had recovered that is, in the Stark home.

Life was different with so many people around, Jon was used to it being just him and his mother, and all the chaos the Stark siblings brought around did not lessen her absence.

At times he was severely overwhelmed by the Starklings running around like little wildlings in the courtyard and he would rather stay cooped up inside watching some TV. It had been that way that Jon had developed an interested for the naturalistic documentaries no one wanted to watch.

That was until one day Sansa had left her alcove in her room — her very pink and white room — a book of some fantasy story in hand and had sat on the couch beside him.

Jon had been an inch to try and made her scurry out of what had become his safe place, but he couldn’t literally haunt away from her own home Sansa, so he had sat tight hoping the documentary might bore her enough to send her back to her daydreaming in her pink room.

Ew pink, looking back at it made Jon shake his head, especially considering the woman he is holding is wearing a soft pink nightgown, thank you very much.

When, after half an hour it had been clear she would not move, Jon had started to relax. Her presence seemed to sooth a bit the ache of his mother’s absence and it didn’t overwhelm him like the others did upon time; plus the noise of her turning the pages and her soft breathes kind of relaxed him too.

They had come closer to loose Lyanna that year and Jon had spent his first Christmas without his mother — it had happened again, on occasion, but lately they both had worked out a way to spend it together since after he had returned from the Nights Watch operative squadron — he had been so downtrodden that not even Robb’s easy smile could help him feel better, nor the several gifts he received.

“This is for you,” he remembers an eleven year old Sansa tell him handing to him a badly wrapped gift.

His wife is good at many things, but wrapping gifts is not her forte.

He had been so surprised she had gotten him a gift — he had not gotten her any — but he had been especially touched when the gift had turned out to be an hand-knit scarf with his favorite colors. The knit wasn’t perfect, but for Jon, to this day, it’s the most beautiful scarf in the world.

Thus his childish crush on his best-friend’s sister was born, even if he would not realize it for years, yet.

Though he made sure to always have ready a gift for Christmas and her birthday, a thoughtful gift, because she had the capacity of making him feel less alone.

By the time he had been seventeen and Sansa fifteen Jon had been completely aware of his terribly improper crush on her, though he was determined to wait it out and do nothing about it.

Na-ah he would not act on it, not even remotely even if her new boyfriend was terribly annoying — to his great frustration taller than both him and Robb despite being younger — and the perfect picture of the kind of prince from the stories Sansa so much loved.

No.

He would wait out the year, walk away, enlist for the Nights Watch and one day he’d return and his crush on her would have disappeared without him even noticing.

It had been a good plan — Jon sneers at the sheer idiocity of it now.

That was, until that night. Jon could still recall every single minute of it, from the moment he had been in his car with Alys Karstark trying not to let the idea of Sansa with Joffrey disturb him too much to the moment he had grabbed Sansa’s hand and gotten her out of that house.

It had been 9:27 PM, he remembers starkly and his phone had blared in his backpocket. Alys had been annoyed by him replying but seeing Sansa’ name flashing on the screen had put him on edge.

“Sansa?,” but no reply had come from the other side of the phone, only sobs. He still remembers the way Alys Karstark had redone the two upper buttons of her shirt and rolled her eyes.

When Sansa had not replied still he had added “Baby, speak to me, what it is?”

Alys had left in a huff then. But Sansa had not replied still, she had only said “Jon” and her voice had trembled the way it did when she contained the tears threatening to fall off her cheeks.

This is it, he remembers thinking, “Baby, I need you to tell me where you are. I’m coming to get you”

She had exhaled, Jon likes to think in relief then. She had not been able to tell him where she was, but his phone had pinged with her position.

Jon had just convinced his mother to lend him the car, and he was about to crash it in the attempt to get her fast enough.

The Lannister Villa had been a two hours drive from there, he didn’t even know why the Lannister had a fucking villa in the North, nor why they had transferred there with Ned Stark’s bestfriend last year, but he didn’t care. All he had cared about had been Sansa.

He had made it in twenty minutes, probably breaking every speed limit of the state, he didn’t care.

The Villa had been alight with noise and lights as Sansa had been invited to a party, he remembered watching her parade around in that stupid lilac dress all ready with her hair straightened and her lips plump and pink.

Fuck, and he had thought he had not paid attention to her.

Jon had parked the car with such a violence that the wheels had hissed against the cement, then he had hopped off it and slammed the door shut, some of the guests had noticed the broody teen, all black curls and stormy expression stride inside the backyard.

“Where is she?!” he had thundered to poor Myrcella, who to her credit is not as bad as the rest of her family.

But she had been scared, that much he remembers.

Her voice had been squeaky “Upstairs,” she had said “in my room, but Jon—” and Jon had not cared as to why she knew his name, the insipid girl had never spoke to him once “my mother is there with her, you don’t have to worry—”

That had been reason enough to worry.

Jon had taken the stairs two by two and in the end he had found Cersei Lannister trying to open the door to the bathroom directly connected to Myrcella’ room.

“Who are you?!” she had demanded “what are you doing in my home? Thief! I’ll have you arrested for this!”

Jon had shouldered past her and her yelling and had leaned against the door

“Sans?” he had called, but Sansa had been letting the water run, possibly to drain out all the noises Cersei Lannister kept making.

When Cersei Lannister made to grab him Jon had, had enough and simply… broke down the door?

Jon had been doing boxe, he knew he was strong, still up to today he believes it had been adrenaline more than strength that helped him slam the door open.

Sansa had been sitting on the tub, the water running and her face tear-striken, but that had not been what had sent him spiraling, no what did it, had been her bruising cheek and eye, her busted lip.

Jon wanted to kiss those lips.

Joffrey had no business even being close to them and he abused them that way? Abused her that way?, the girl Jon wanted? The girl Jon loved?

He had knelt before her and had put his hand on her thigh, she had shivered.

“You’re ice cold, baby—” and yeah, after he would have realized he had called her baby several times that evening, thankfully she was too out of it to connect the dots, he had wrapped her in his jeans jacket and had helped her up.

Though the moment he had seen Joffrey sneering at them and demanding he unhanded his girlfriend Jon had snapped.

To this day Jon cannot say how many times he punched him, the first moment of lucidity he had was when Sansa had called out, breathy and trembling his name.

That had stilled him.

He had turned in rage to look at her, and seeing her narrow shoulders wrapped in his jacket all fury had evaporated as if made of nothing but thin air.

Fuck, I’m in love with her.

He had stood up then, leaving Joffrey bloody on the carpet, before the eyes of everyone, Robert Baratheon included. He had taken Sansa’s hand then.

“You wanted to file a compliant, Mrs Baratheon,” he commented darkly “please do, I’ll happily meet your scumbag of a son in court for assault once he has faced the charges we will file against him” all in all, he thought that Catelyn Stark would be pretty proud of his speech.

Sansa had not let go of his hand, not even to let him drive and Jon had not let her go either, not until they had been inside Winterfell Manor and Sansa had fallen into her mother’s worried embrace.

Feel my white flag,

my love where are you—?

Jon had had another run in with Joffrey, at school. He and Robb had made sure he pressed no charges and that he knew that no one touched Sansa and walked away unscathed.

It had been the first time Sansa had tended to his bruised knuckles. It had not been the last.

He had toyed with the idea of asking her to be his date to prom, maybe that would put a smile to her beautiful face, but in the end he had chickened out of it. And in the end the time for his enlistment had come and Jon had been saying goodbye to the Starks and his mother.

“You’ll be careful?”

“Stop nagging him, Sans!” Robb complained “you’re worse than his mother is, no offense meant, Ms Snow!”

Jon had wanted to take her hand then. He had been too chicken to do that too.

“I promise, Sansa” he had told her gently “and you’ll keep doing the therapy like you promised?”

“I said I would, and I will” Sansa had nodded to him and Jon had known he had to walk away at one point.

To turn his back to her.

Foolish idiot he had been.

And, in the rear mirror he had seen his mother and Sansa watching him go, they had been his focal point, though Arya and Bran and Rickon and Robb had been there as well.

Stupid boy.

***

Surprisingly Sansa kept in touch during his first years at Castle Black and even came around, once or twice.

That was how she had met his comrade, Waymar Royce. The lucky bastard, who had the chance Jon had butchered in its crib when he had become Robb’ best friend, but at least Waymar treated her right.

For a time.

And Jon had found his own dimension with the brotherhood, and surprisingly with the wildlings as well.

Ygritte had been a lapse in judgment, he had known from the beginning that they wanted different things, that they looked at life differently, but then she had laughed so easy and then she had sung before the fire and Jon had been done for.

She had been a passionate lover, she is a passionate woman. Too harsh, and she made fun of every softness she ever saw in him.

I’d like to see you in a silk dress — no, she’d look more like Sansa despite not being half as beautiful.

The thought had comforted him in the beginning.

Like those frilly silk dresses you southerners wear?, no thank you. She had replied harshly, or you’d like too that I’d scream ‘Oh, a spider! Jon Snow, save me!’

Sansa was not afraid of spiders, and he disliked Ygritte generalization that all women who wore silks were somewhat fragiler than her.

It had been Sansa who had found Ned after his motorcycle accident, she had been the one to call the ambulance and ride with him to the hospital and offer the first help she could, she had seen her father almost being decapitated by the motorcycle he had been riding, and had seen him almost loose a leg.

There was nothing weak in Sansa.

So that I could tear if off ye, he had said, between gritted teeth, knowing he had imagined Sansa in her stupidly flawless dress at one of the many charities dinners and how she’d look if he tore it off her.

But Ygritte had not understood. Or perhaps she had understood way too well. She had followed Jon to Castle Black with her cousin Gilly and his sworn brother Sam, and Sansa and Arya had been there.

He had lost track of time during his stay beyond the Wall and when he had returned he had found out it was around Arya’s sixteenth birthday and with her new car she and Sansa had drove to Castle Black to surprise him.

Jon had been touched, Ygritte less so. Especially when she had noticed the wistful way Jon had looked at Sansa and Waymar. He had never considered Ygritte especially perceptive, but she had caught on, on his crush on Sansa pretty quick.

Their breakup had been explosive, she had even punched him in the face and had threatened him with Jon’s own service gun. Thankfully she didn’t fire, but Jon had no doubt that if lord Commander Mormont had not intervened when he did, she would have done something drastic for both of them.

He had only been thankful that word of exactly why they had broke up never got to Waymar or worse, Sansa. She’d never forgive herself, she’d probably trek to Ygritte’s hut only to convince her that she was wrong.

Waymar had seemed blissfully ignorant and that meant Sansa was too. Now, Arya…that was all another story, it had gotten to the point that when they had went out to properly celebrate her birthday and the boy she had a crush on had come with his new girlfriend Arya had moped and found him at the bar.

“Is this how you feel when you see her with beautiful-hair?” she had asked sitting on the stool beside his and frowning at that Gendry-fella.

Jon had almost spat all the beer he had in his mouth “I beg your pardon?”

“Look, you can fool Robb,” Arya had told him, mighty unimpressed, “you can fool her and Gods be good, you can fool even yourself, but you cannot fool me”

Jon had found no words to deny it then “Aye,” he had replied at her original question then and Arya had sighed “It bloody sucks doesn’t it?”

Jon had shrugged.

Silence had ensued as Sansa, social butterfly that she was managed to politely flip Gendry and his new girlfriend the bird.

“You know, I kinda hate her at times,” Arya had confided to him “but, not really. She’s annoying, like really annoying, but I kind of see where you come from”

It had been as close to a blessing he had gotten from the Starks about his crush on Sansa.

“Does it ever stop?” Arya had asked after a long while, and Jon had been already halfway his next pint.

“Don’t know what to tell you,” he had replied “It hasn’t stopped yet, for me”

“How do you manage not to punch him in the gut?,” Arya had demanded, when Waymar had swept Sansa in for the kiss of the century “I’m not even half in love with Gendry as you are with her, and I still want to tear all of Ly-lah stupidly pretty hair from her skull”

“He makes her happy,” he had mumbled, as if explained everything, no matter the way his heart kept breaking.

It had begun with Waymar stumbling over his words to ask Sansa out to dinner.

It had ended with their breakup.

Jon and Waymar had shared a silent pint over it, then Jon had walked away.

In a couple of years Jon had stepped down from his operative days and he had met Val.

His whole relationship with Val still broke his heart a little to think of. Val had not deserved to be the second choice and honestly Jon had believed to have outgrown, outlasted his crush on Sansa.

And on it had went, for almost a year and half. During one of his visits to Winter Town Sansa had basically dragged him away from the raucous Winterfell mason and had taken him with her to the elderly home she often visited.

There had been Podrick, the one she had confided to him, she had, had a crush on almost three months prior. Not even Robb had, had anything against him, which made hives rise upon his arms.

But seeing her so enamored by him? Jon could hardly take it, but it wasn’t easy telling Sansa Stark no. Usually his wife would anyway get her way and you’d end up feeling like shit because you had tried to deny her, her wish. It always backfires, in his experience. Never get her to use her puppy eyes on you, and never have her so much in a strife she’ll use that sharp tongue of hers to make so much sense you wonder why you are even trying to tell her no.

“Sansa I don’t know if that’s—”

“Hello everyone!,” her grip on his hand, had been like a tether, and Jon had followed it like he no choice and chance “Stop being so shy! — I hope you don’t mind, I brought a friend over!”

Jon had entered everyone’s field of vision then, and Podrick Payne had been there, in the first line, gazing at Sansa and then at their clasped hands. Jon had let got of her hand then, discreetly, even thought every fiber of his being had told him to hold on tight and face straight on this boy who thought he had any business trying to get his Sansa to fall in love with him.

“Stop manhandling me,” he had told her stiffly, but Sansa had just rolled her eyes.

“Then stop being so stubborn. Jon, this is my friend Podrick, the one I told you about. Pod this is Jon”

Jon had felt his whole world crumble to dust and re-settle itself as the boy, with a taurine neck and honest eyes suddenly looking quite uncertain, Jon had schooled his expression — conceal don’t feel — and had offered him his hand. Jon might never be Sansa’s other half, but he would vet anyone who thought of even coming close to her.

“Pleased to meet you,” he had said “I am sorry Sansa sprang me on you all” he had added politely looking pointedly at Brienne.

He thinks of Val for a moment, wondering how she’d like this place, she laments that the elderly of the Free Folk are not supported enough by the Realm which has recluded them in the reserve of Beyond the Wall.

Sansa had urged him to join her and he had followed suit, and he had discovered some unadulterated sense of peace in joining her and speaking to the old ladies and gentlemen, speaking to them about his time with the Free Folk.

“Oh,” a woman had asked “you’ve seen many wildlings?”

“I did ma’am, thought they prefer to be called Free Folk, they’re not so different from us, after all. They’re very loud” he had added thinking back on Ygritte. His face must’ve had shown his distress because Sansa’s hand had come atop his on his lap.

He had raised his gaze and smiled up at her, knowing she could read him so well at times it was a wonder she had never learned of his crush on her, but thankful nonetheless, and a beautiful shade of pink had colored her cheek making her look even more lovely as she beamed at him “Jon,” she had said “is considered a Free Folk friend,” she had told them “they trust him”

And for a moment Jon had felt the most special man in the wide world.

He had cornered Podrick some time after that, taking a brief breath from it all, and had confronted him about his crush on her, indirectly.

“I like her as well,” he had admitted and Jon had smiled at that.

“I know,” he had said twisting around and looking at her, smiling and listening to everyone, making them feel heard and understood, asking after their children and grandchildren. Remembering little nothings they must’ve told her another time as easy as she can recall the date of the War of Five Kings or declame the names of all princess and ladies and heroes and knights from the songs.

To everyone’ detriment.

“Dance with me!” it had not been the first time Sansa wrestled him in dancing with her, and despite being a terrible dancer Jon indulges her, though soon enough they’re just swaying at a tempo not that of the music and Jon had ended up hoisting her up his chest and twirling her around like he had done when she had been a girl with a frilly ballet skirt and lucid ballerinas at her feet.

And Sansa had laughed and Jon had let her kiss his cheek. He had went to sleep smiling that night, after they had video called, because Sansa was a fan of video calling above texting or calling.

Then for months Sansa had been a near permanent fixture near him beyond the Wall as they helped the Free Folk making their voice heard across the country and to the Senate and the king. Still he had walked around blessedly ignorant of how much beneath the surface his love for her had been brimming.

It had taken Sansa and Val being abducted for his instincts to kick in once again and prove to him that he was most certainly not over her.

Can we, can we surrender?

Jon could not recall being so scared, not even when she had called to him that one time with Joff. Jon knew he could take on Joff.

He had not slept, not eaten, the anxiousness eating at him at the very idea of Sansa and Val both in peril, and when finally he had found them…Sansa had, had blood on her face — someone had cut her cheek and she had turned her head to look away from the sheer violence of the fight that ensued to save them — and his entire body had deflated.

Can we, can we surrender?

Jon had kissed Val, feeling relief flooding his senses, as Sansa finally blinked up at him.

“Jon..?”

“It’s alright baby,” he had murmured against her forehead as he kissed her head reverently.

It had been his fault, Jon had been distracted by her presence again, by his duties and he had not seen the abduction coming “I’ve got you,” he had hoisted her up his chest and they had walked out of it.

They had, had a fight too, the day before they got abducted. Sansa had wanted to remain even as winter was starting to snow the wildling villages in, with the danger she’d have to spend the entirety of the season beyond the Wall. And Jon had been half an inch from bending her over the fucking table and kiss her silly until she just fucking stopped talking.

He had hovered like a dark shadow around her as the paramedic had looked over her injury and Sansa had been none too impressed with it.

“Jon stop looking at me like your pet has died,” Sansa had muttered exasperated “I promise I am fine,”

“If you just had listened to me nothing of this would’ve happened,” he had recriminated and Sansa had smiled sweetly at the paramedic who had finished with her and had started to try and look over his own excoriations.

“I can take it from here,” Sansa had dismissed the paramedic.

“But his—” the man had started to point out, but Sansa had gingerly took his cotton and disinfectant from his hands.

“I’ve got this, it’s not the first time I tend to his bruised knuckles, I promise”

“It’s not the first time I bruise them to protect you either,” Jon had quipped unhelpfully. Sansa’ glare had shut him up real quick.

“You’re so stupid,” Sansa had accused him “I know you were scared and now you’re taking that frustration out on me”

Maybe I should kiss you stupid, may it be that it’d make you listen to me for once.

“Sorry” but then the words had died on his tongue when Sansa had leaned close studying his eyes. There had been nothing sexual about it, and yet Jon had felt himself stir at her vicinity.

“Stu-pid!” she had said then, breaking the spell and leaning back, whacking him behind the head “you look like you haven’t slept in days, go to Val, and sleep”

And only at that point Jon had been reminded of his own girlfriend, and he had felt like the worst scum at the bottom of the earth. He had went to her, but he had been so ashamed, so fearful… that he had wanted to hide from the entirety of the world, the world that had always hung to a shrivel of his will to stay away from Sansa.

The same world that collapsed and imploded on himself with four simple words.

“YOU SAID HER NAME!” Val had only murmured it, but it had been as strong as if she had screamed.

Sansa had been so close too, that his first instinct had been to turn to her, to see if she had noticed the commotion, but blessedly she had been busy with the interviewer to care. Beautiful, brave and lovely, she was shining so bright that for a moment he had been blind to anything but her.

How, how had he ever thought to be over her?

Val’s heart had broke at that, he knew, and to this day Jon knows that, that broken heart is his cross to bear. He caused that.

His wife stirs gently beside him “Honey,” she mumbles half asleep “what time it is?”

Jon doesn’t let her twist in his hold “It’s early,” he tells her “get back to sleep”

His wife, bless her soul, has never liked being bossed around “Are you alright?” she asks, settling back against his chest and snuggling closer.

“I am” he promises.

When he and Val had broken up Jon had promised himself. Enough was enough, he either worked himself out of his love for Sansa or merely surrendered to the inevitable truth that he was forever meant to be in love with her. No matter the odds.

It had been during one of his visits to the local school of Mole Town that everything had changed.

The motion for the independence of the North and the Freedom of the Free Folk was being spoken about in Senate, he and Sansa had videocalled the morning, before he had begun his speech to the first class, and she had prep-talked to him, made sure he felt confident.

Then, out of the blue, Jon had turned as he had been explaining how the Free Folk claimed descent from the First Men and how they viewed and treated the land they considered their own, and she had been there, looking down and smiling at a little girl who had noticed her — the only one who had thus far — her red hair falling across her shoulders and framing her lovely face.

And Jon had known it.

Surrender it is.

“And you, miss Stark,” he had called, bringing his hands behind his back and smiling at her looking at him as if he were her math teacher hell-bent on calling her to the slate for a surprise exam “what can you tell us of the Free Folk?”

And all the children had turned and awed. Sansa, as all the Starks had been well known even back then, the natural heir to her lord father and as beautiful and elegant as Jenny of Oldstones must’ve been — or so, some claimed. He thought no matter how beautiful Jenny might’ve been, Sansa was bound to be twice as beautiful, though he supposed Duncan prince of Dragonflies would possibly debate against it.

He had smirked at her good-naturedly and Sansa had seemed to consider something, she cocked her head to the side and then she had spoken, weaving tale after tale of how strong and beautiful and spiritual the people Beyond the Wall were.

The children had been enchanted by it. And Jon too to be honest, he had no doubt Sansa would gain whatever she wanted from the Senate if they only let her speak publicly about it.

By the time the doorbell rang for the lunch the children didn’t want to leave her behind “I’ll be right behind you,” she had told a girl who had been brave enough to take her hand and start to tug “I just have to ask mr Snow a thing” she had said pointing at him with a wave of hand. Her voice hiding mirth but outlined almost stiffly.

“Oh, mr Snow” the girl had exclaimed “you’re in trouble, you are!” before skipping out of class with her friend trailing behind her.

As soon as the door closed behind them Jon neared to her, suddenly preoccupied. Was there a reason why she had sought him out?, something with Ned? Or Aunt Catelyn?

“Everything okay, Sans?” he had asked, unable to help himself and Sansa had looked completely downtrodden, which had made him cage in one her, he had not even realized he had done it until she had grabbed him by his blue shirt, inclined her head and pressed her lips across his.

It had been nothing but the brush of her lips against his, but Jon had felt his entire world and being flare up as he had looked down on her surprise coloring his features.

“So,” Sansa had commented, walking around him — still gaping like an idiot, but his brain had not been working yet, thank you very much — and making her way almost to the door “for tonight at dinner, the Queensgate pub or—”

Only then had Jon’ brain started to compute again “Yes” he had breathed, almost stumbling around his suddenly very ungraceful limbs to reach her “Yes”

Amusement had sparked in Sansa’s eyes “Yes to what..? You’ll have to be more specific—”

Jon had cupped her cheeks then and fucking kissed her, okay? He had smooched her silly like he had wanted for the better part of the last at least fifteen years, pressed his lips against her and finally tasted the heaven inside her lips.

Sansa had let him kiss her, but then she had wrapped her hands around his wrists and leaned back from his lips “I’m not joking,—” she had said “I’m deadly serious, which one do you..?—”

Jon had narrowed his eyes in fond annoyance then, pecking her lips “Baby,” he had drawled “I love you, I really do, but if you don’t shut up now I’ll really snog every coherent thought from this really pretty head of yours” and his hands had been across her waist and Sansa had arched a brow at him “until it’s all me and empty of all the rest”.

She had wrapped her arms around his shoulders, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck “You’re still talking? For sure you talk big for someone—”

Needless to say Jon had snogged her a good deal, also crumpling her beautiful skirt and shirt —oops, — before they had gone for lunch, and even then Jon had eaten more of her lunch than his, with all the kissing.

“You’re thinking something silly again” Sansa tells him, her eyes are closed, her smile distended and Jon kisses her lips.

“I am not”

“Yes, you are” she says, her voice sure “I know you.” she adds a for half a minute there's silence “Honey?”

“Yes, baby?”

“I know it’s difficult, since you’re silly,” she says “but your silliness is disrupting my beauty sleep”

“Oh,” Jon smirks as her hand starts to draw patterns across his lower abdomen “However will I make it up to you?”

Sansa’s beam is unrepentant then, and joyous, and what can Jon says? He loves this woman.

I surrender.

Fin

Here it is!, hope you enjoyed! As always sending all my love ~G.

#jonsa #jon/sansa #jon and sansa through each other exes' eyes #and their own #jonsa prompt #jonsa fanfiction #the hag's propmts

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submissivekillers · 4 years ago

Note

Yo yo yoooi! Can I please have a lost boys x vamp reader who’s like the very first vampire to be born and she comes and meets the boys cause she’s traveling across the world to visit all her “children” - so basically ancient ass vamp reader who looks 20 something meets the lost boys cause she’s meeting the rest of her kind

like what i do? support me on kofi

ngl i basically pictured reader as a pre-milfication lady d while writing this jhgfdsa. brainrot!! also mild max slander

length: 2.2k

If there is one rule you’ve managed to learn over the long years of your existence, it is this: humans will take any opportunity to make fools of themselves.

Santa Carla is no exception.

Even in the early morning before the hordes of hormone-addled humans descended on the beach, the air had been heavy with smoke and blood and sex, so strong it almost overpowered the scent of the sea even when you'd peeled off your sandals to wade in. In its own way, it's exhilarating; the anticipation had your old blood stirring, your excitement mounting as the sun dipped low and the crowds swelled. From the window of your little motel room, you'd had a wonderful view of the flood of humans that spilled onto the boardwalk, the vast majority of them young and already inebriated to some degree. Ripe for the picking.

It's not humans that you're hunting for tonight, though. At least, not yet.

At a leisurely pace, you wander the boardwalk, taking your time to enjoy the local color. You indulge in a vivid blue cloud of cotton candy, try a couple rides, win yourself a stuffed whale after breaking a few bottles and promptly gift it to the first kid you see. A belligerent twenty-something who stinks of beer tugs at the hem of your white dress as it swishes around your thighs and you break his wrist without a second thought, disappearing into the crowd long before his scream of pain is lost in the echo of blaring music and shrieks of sugar-fueled glee.

You're in line behind a gaggle of chattering teens at an ice cream stand when your nerves prickle, feeling the weight of eyes on the back of your neck. Without turning, you inhale, nose wrinkling as the acrid smell of old blood fills your nose. They absolutely reek of the stuff - it's so strong that you're a little surprised even the humans aren't picking up on it. But then again, maybe they just can't pick it out under the layers of weed and exhaust smoke.

The teens disperse, laden with several precarious cones of ice cream, and the bored woman behind the counter waves you up. You open your mouth, but there's an arm around your waist before you can say a word, a cool body pressed against your side. A ringed hand slaps a crumpled five-dollar bill on the counter, mismatched bracelets jingling with the motion.

"We got the lady's order tonight, Peggy," comes a voice from your other side. You glance over the top of your glasses (cheap, heart-shaped things rimmed in vivid pink, scavenged from last night's meal) and meet the gaze of a cherubic blond, his pale blue eyes calculating as he worries his thumbnail between his teeth.

The arm around your waist squeezes tighter. You turn your head, tilting your chin slightly so you can lock eyes with another pair of baby blues. They sparkle at you mischievously as your fellow vampire, bends to whisper in your ear, teased blond mane tickling your nose. "What can I get for you, baby girl?"

You make a show of considering your options, pouting faintly as you prop a hand under your chin. You slip your other hand around his waist, idly toying with the mesh of his ridiculous fishnet top and grinning when he shivers at the scrape of your painted nails. "Chocolate shake, I think," you murmur, looking up at him through your lashes. "Are you getting anything?"

Rocker boy shakes his head, tips you an exaggerated wink as he shoves the fiver towards the increasingly petrified-looking cashier. "Nah, all yours tonight."

"Sweet of you," you chirp, popping up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. He beams at you sunnily, shooting an excited glance at the cherub over the top of your head.

Peggy pushes your shake over the counter, lid only half-on in her haste to get the three of you away from her little stand. You manage to flash her a smile (aiming for sympathetic, but perhaps landing closer to smug) before you're pulled away, happily taking a sip of your drink as the cherub comes to walk at your side, trapping you between their bodies. You address the rocker first, catching the way his eyes dart down to catch you licking the ice cream from your lips. "You got a name?"

"You can call me Paul, baby," he purrs, then wiggles his brows at you suggestively. "Or daddy, if ya want."

You snort around the straw of your shake, unable to resist the grin that tugs at the corners of your mouth. It's definitely one of the more low-effort pickup lines you've ever heard, but something about him - the goofy little eyebrow waggle, the answering grin when you laugh at him like he knows exactly how ridiculous he is, his overall puppyish manner - manages to push it over the line from sleazy to charming. "You should be so lucky."

"I'd be the luckiest man in the world, I think," he flashing you a smile that's slower, more seductive than his cheesy grin - the kind of smile that would make any pretty young human a little more willing to spread their thighs.

It's perhaps more effective on you than you care to admit, but you ignore the lazy heat that curls down your spine, turning to bat your eyes at the cherub. "How 'bout you, handsome?"

"Marko," he says shortly. His face is young, but he's definitely the older one here - you can always tell by the eyes. "And you're on our turf."

"What, a girl can't take a little vacation in peace? I thought this was a free country," you huff in mock indignance.

Marko narrows his eyes at you. "Free country, maybe. Not free hunting grounds." He gnaws his thumbnail again, scanning you like he's trying to judge a threat - though it seems he can't help lingering for a long moment on the bare skin of your thighs. "Mind coming with us? David wants to meet you."

David. The name is familiar - Max's first, if you recall. From what you'd heard, he could be quite a territorial creature.

Paul, perhaps mistaking your thoughtfulness for unease, squeezes your shoulder reassuringly. "Hey, you're not in trouble. We just wanna make sure you're cool, you know?" His thumb draws steady circles over the arch of your shoulder blade. "This is our turf, but if you're not gonna cause any trouble, you'll be okay."

The expression on Marko's face makes you doubt Paul's optimism, but you play along, curling a hand around his bicep and leaning in. "But what if I like causing trouble?"

Paul grants you another sunny grin. "Then you can cause trouble with us," he murmurs against the shell of your ear. "I bet we could show you a good time."

Marko clears his throat, distracting you from your flirting, and you're suddenly aware of the scent of blood grown stronger - along with the pungent smell of motor oil. Looking ahead, you see a group of bikes before you, two more vampires leaning against their respective rides.

Both handsome, and you can tell they're both strong - but it's clear from a glance which one is the leader.

"Thanks for fetching our guest," the blond - David, you know instinctively - rumbles, his voice a warm, sardonic purr. He looks you up and down, the weight of his eyes like a physical thing. "Welcome to Santa Carla."

"Do you give all visitors a personal welcome?"

"Only the interesting ones." He smiles at you, the edge of a fang glinting in the light. "Come with us. There's someone you should meet."

You lift a brow. "Oh? And here I figured you were the one in charge around here?"

"I am, don't get it twisted," he shoots back lazily, pulling a battered pack of cigarettes from inside his duster. "But our sire wants to meet you."

"Ah, so you're the lead enforcer," you muse, nodding. David gives you a look caught between exasperation and amusement and takes point as you're herded after him. "And you?" You chirp, turning to the dark-haired boy who walks behind you.

He blinks languidly at you. "...Dwayne."

Strong and silent. You can appreciate that in a man.

You're lead to a video shop in the center of the boardwalk, fielding Paul's flirting, Marko's questions, and Dwayne's cautious stare as you go. David walks slightly ahead of the rest of you, puffing on a cigarette and occasionally glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

As you approach the door you hear Dwayne sniff, his rumble of "Maria's not here yet," barely audible even to your heightened senses.

"Good," David murmurs, pulling open the door with a merry chime of the little bell. He bows his head, making a sweeping gesture to usher you by. "After you."

Drifting inside, you're assaulted by flickering screens and lurid posters, a storm of color and noise. You run a fingertip down the spine of a videotape, but a whimper draws your attention. Bending at the waist, you catch sight of Max's hound hiding under a desk, watching you with ears pinned flat to his skull.

Shame, really. You found him rather cute, but the beast had always been terrified of you.

A familiar scent reaches your nose, and a familiar face follows soon after - though he's changed significantly since the last time you saw him. The trappings of the modern world suit him well, you have to admit; the thick glasses lend a sort of non-threatening charm to his face, which you suppose is the point.

"Thorn, what's gotten into"—he stops so quickly his shoes squeal against the floor, the friendly shopkeeper guise dropping in the space of a blink—You."

"Maxie." You greet, inclining your head. "You look... alive. In a manner of speaking, of course."

He steps between you and the hound, hands curled into tense fists at his sides. "What are you doing here?"

"Just sightseeing, really," you say soothingly, holding up your hands in surrender. "Figured the time was ripe to catch up with the world, see how all my little birds are doing. Carmilla sends her love, by the way."

"This is my territory," Max hisses through his teeth, eyes bleeding yellow. "You know you can't be here without prior notice, it's law—"

You sigh through your nose and snap your fingers. "Maximillian, kneel."

He falls to his knees hard enough that the tile cracks under his weight. You step closer, lifting his chin to meet his furious glare; he visibly strains against your order, a vein pulsing in his temple. You have no doubt that he would tear your throat out if given the chance.

But you've been alive entirely too long to let a little upstart like Max get the better of you.

"I'm not here to cause trouble," you say, calmly, but firm. "But I made the laws, Max. You would do well not to forget that."

He bares his teeth at you, face fully transformed to reveal the beast within. You look at him impassively for a moment, then sigh, turning on your heel and edging past a stunned Dwayne. "I'll meet you outside, boys."

You push through the door with more force than strictly necessary, the tinkle of the bell almost mocking your dampened mood. Disappointing. Max had always clashed with you, even if he lacked the nerve to do anything about it. You'd hoped that a few hundred years apart might have cooled his animosity towards you, but clearly that was too much to hope for.

You suck on your straw, making a face at the airy rattle you get instead of ice cream. All out of milkshake, and still so thirsty.

The bell jingles again, heralding the approach of Max's coven. "I apologize for not warning you," you say before any of them can speak, twirling your empty cup. "I did have a feeling Max would react badly to seeing me. He's always been a bit of a cunt when things don't go his way."

"How old are you?" Marko blurts.

"Don't you know it's rude to ask a lady's age?" You tut, waving a finger in mock-indignation. "Really. No manners at all."

David steps forward, eyes glittering in the neon lights. "You turned Max."

"No," you say, smiling to show off the long, curving points of your canines. "But I turned his sire. And I turned the sire before her, too."

Glances are exchanged. Dwayne and David hold each other's gaze for a long moment, then Dwayne breaks away to glance at Marko, murmuring something just quietly enough that you don't catch it. Paul smiles, curious and admiring, and when David looks back at you there's a cautious interest written in the lines of his face.

"Tell you what," you purr, looping your arms around David's neck. His gloved hands come to rest on your hips, leather creaking as he idly kneads the flesh hidden beneath soft cotton. "My throat's feeling a little dry. Why don't you boys take me for a drink, and then I’ll answer a few questions."

#the lost boys x reader #the lost boys imagine #horror imagines #sfw

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bibbawrites · 4 years ago

Text

Don’t Get Caught - Owen Joyner x Reader (16+)

Request: mischievous/playful/giggly sneaking around with Owen on set or evading Charlie in their apartment

Word Count: 3142 words

Summary: You are a makeup artist on set for Julie and The Phantoms and quickly began messing around with Owen, but the fear of potentially losing your job if anyone finds out has the two of you sneaking around and trying your best to not be caught aka 4 times you and Owen were almost caught messing around and one time you were

Warnings: Swearing, sexual references, implied oral sex, reference to m*sturbation

A/N: hi all! so this is my first attempt at a jatp related fic so hopefully i do okay, sorry for any mistakes, most of this was written and edited from 2am-6am because those are my motivation hours i also don’t usually write reader insert so fingers crossed i dont mess this up lol. i have a ton of requests to work through so keep an eye out for things coming soon (hopefully) also, to the person who requested this, sorry it took so long (my dumb ass deleted 90% of it and had to start again) i really hope i did your idea justice :)

1. Makeup Trailer

The first time you met Owen was on your first day on set. Kenny had dragged the cast in to meet you, and something about Owen drew you in and you just knew you had to get to know the beautiful blonde boy.

Luckily your chance came sooner than expected when you were working alone in the makeup trailer a few days later. The door opened and Owen came in, smiling brightly when he saw you.

“Hey, you’re Y/N, right?” He asked. You nodded.

“I am.” You replied and he grinned.

“I’m Owen. Nice to meet you, again.” He said awkwardly.

You giggled at his awkwardness.

“Nice to meet you again too. Sit down.” You gestured to the chair in front of you and he sat down. You got to work quickly, working in silence for a few minutes before Owen spoke up.

“So how long have you been doing makeup for? You look young.” He asked.

“I’ve been doing it professionally for 5 years now. I started working in my mum’s salon when I was 15, and when I graduated I did a course to get me this job.” You told him. He paused.

“So you’re 20?” He questioned, and you nodded.

“I am.”

“Cool, I’m 19.” He said, and you hummed in response, concentrating on making sure his face didn’t looked cakey.

“So are you from around here?” You shook your head.

“Nah I moved here from Quebec.” You said.

“Alone? Or with your family or... boyfriend?” Owen asked, the last part sounding slightly bitter.

“Yeah I came alone, my mum is too busy with her salon, and my siblings are still in school. And I don’t have a boyfriend.” You told him and he grinned slightly.

“Good to know.” He muttered quietly. You raised an eyebrow, not quite hearing him properly.

“Sorry?” You asked. He shook his head.

“Nothing.”

“Okay...” You trailed off, not believing him. “Well you’re all done.”

“Already?” He frowned slightly.

“Yep.” You smiled.

“Oh. Thanks.” He stood up, pausing slightly.

“Can I get your number?” He asked, somewhat hesitantly. Realisation dawned on you.

“So that’s why you asked about a boyfriend.” You said, eyebrow raised.

“Guilty.” He grinned cheekily.

“Give me your phone.” You held out your hand and he placed his phone in it, and you quickly added a new contact, typing in your number and texting yourself from his phone.

“There. I’ll text you pretty boy.” You said, handing him his phone back. He grinned.

“I’ll see you around Y/N.” He said, turning to leave for the hair trailer. You watched him leave with a smile on your face.

A week of texting and flirting later and you found yourself alone with Owen in the makeup trailer again.

“So what scenes are you filming today pretty boy?” You questioned as you began to apply his makeup.

“Why do you always call me pretty boy?” He asked, ignoring your question.

“Because you’re pretty? And a boy?” You said, pulling a face.

“Are you flirting with me?” He grinned, and you raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe.” You said. He bit his lip.

“So if I tried to kiss you you’d say?” He asked, and your heart skipped a beat.

“Eh why not?” You said it like it was nothing but inside you were freaking out.

“Y/N.” He groaned and you giggled.

“Just kidding.” You teased.

“So?” He asked again after a moment of silence. You rolled your eyes.

“Oh my god just kiss me you dork.” Owen didn’t even take a second to think about it, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into his lap, connecting your lips in a less than innocent kiss. Your lips fitted together perfectly, and he tasted faintly of blueberry and spearmint. After what felt like a lifetime he pulled away from you, leaving you panting and wanting more.

“Wow that was...” He was the first to speak, his voice breathy. You nodded.

“Yep.” You said simply. “I should probably...”

You stood up from his lap, and had barely stepped away when the door opened.

“Hey Y/N, one of my lashes came off and... oh...” Savannah’s voice came, the young actress pausing when she saw how close the two of you were.

“Hey Savannah.” You said with a smile. She returned your smile before glancing back at Owen.

“Sorry, did I interrupt something?” She asked. The two of you shook your heads.

“No, not at all.” You said.

“I was just leaving.” Owen added, standing up from his chair. Savannah raised an eyebrow.

“If you say so.” She replied as Owen left the trailer quickly. The door shut behind him and Savannah grinned at you.

“You like him.” She said, her tone teasing.

“No...” You denied. Savannah rolled her eyes.

“You so do Y/N. And I know Owen, he definitely likes you too.” She told you.

“If you say so.” You said, grabbing a new fake lash to fix the missing one.

Savannah grinned.

“Oh I know so. You’ll see.”

2. Julie’s Bedroom Set

“Come on Y/N, what’s the worst that could happen?” Owen had said as he dragged you through the filming lot towards the set of Julie’s bedroom. You had been heading off to grab some lunch when he had intercepted you and asked if you wanted to “hang”, which by this point you knew was code for hide somewhere and make out for a while. You had originally said no, but those darn puppy eyes had made you say yes before you even realised you were saying it.

“What if someone catches us?” You had questioned, but Owen silenced your worries with a blistering kiss that left you breathless.

“We’ll be fine.” He muttered as he pulled away. “Don’t stress.”

“Famous last words.” You muttered, allowing him to pull you back in and kiss you again. You ran your fingers through his hair, knowing that he would have to have it fixed up before his next scene anyways.

It had been a few weeks since that first kiss in the makeup trailer, and since then you had learnt the taste and feeling of Owen’s lips on yours, a feeling that was now so familiar to you that it felt like second nature.

You mindlessly kissed him back, thanking your past self for deciding to use your favourite chapstick flavour, choc mint, on him earlier that morning when you did his makeup for the day.

You pulled away to take a breath and he grinned at you.

“I’m glad we met.” He said. You blushed slightly.

“Me too.” You agreed.

He pulled you back in and kissed you again, this kiss more passionate than the last, and you shuffled closer to him, your lips never leaving his for a second. You could feel his hands resting on your waist, his tongue in your mouth, the scent of his cologne filling your nostrils.

Suddenly you heard a noise and you pulled away quickly, the fear of being caught overpowering your feelings for Owen.

“Someone’s coming.” You said quickly. Owen frowned.

“What?” He questioned.

“There’s someone coming.” You repeated and his expression changed to fear.

“Fuck, what do we do? Run?” He asked and you nodded.

“Yes.”

He grabbed your hands and pulled you up off the bed, linking your fingers together before dragging you off the set, the both of you giggling the whole way back to his trailer.

“It’s kinda fun, almost but not quite getting caught.” You admitted once the two of you were curled up on the couch in his trailer.

“It is.” He agreed. “But do you know what’s even more fun?”

“What?” You questioned.

“Making out with you.”

And if Owen went back to set with the taste of your orgasm on his tongue that was for only the two of you to know.

3. Owen and Charlie’s Living Room

You had just finished some finishing touches on Savannah’s makeup when Owen burst into the makeup trailer.

“You’re all done.” You told Savannah and she grinned.

“Thanks Y/N.” She stood up from the chair. “See you later. Bye Owen.”

She glanced between the two of you, before turning and giving you a quick wink as she left, leaving you and Owen alone in the trailer.

“So?” You spoke, beginning to pack up your brushes. “Why are you here?”

“Well you see, I’m finished for the day and I checked your schedule and you are too, and I was wondering if you wanted to come back to my place to watch a movie and chill or something.” Owen spoke, plopping himself into one of the chairs and spinning around.

"What about Charlie?” You asked, placing your brush bag into the large drawer of your makeup supplies.

“He’s filming the Perfect Harmony scene with Madi. We’d have the place to ourselves for at least a few hours.” You paused, considering his offer.

“Okay.” You replied simply. He cheered.

“Are you ready to go now?” He asked, standing up, and you nodded. He grinned slightly, pulling you in and kissing you softly.

“Hi, by the way.” He whispered once he pulled away. You rolled your eyes playfully.

“Let’s just go.”

You somehow managed to make it off set and back to the building where most of the cast and crew were living without anyone noticing the two of you together.

“What floor?” You asked as you hopped into the elevator.

“6.” He replied, and you pressed the button, riding in silence to his floor. He took your hand, pulling you towards the apartment he shared with Charlie, unlocking the front door and dragging you towards the couch.

“So you mentioned a movie?” You said once the two of you were settled. Owen nodded.

“I did, what do you wanna watch?” He asked.

“I actually have a better idea.” You grinned, climbing on top of him, straddling his waist.

“Oh I see.” He replied, grabbing your top and pulling you down to kiss you roughly.

It felt like no time had passed at all when suddenly the front door unlocked.

“Fuck.” You said, jumping off him quickly and settling onto the couch next to Owen, pretending as if you’d been there the whole time. Charlie entered the room, frowning slightly when he saw you sat on the couch.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” Charlie questioned, throwing his bag onto the chair.

“I.. Um...” You stumbled. “I was just leaving.”

You stood up quickly, thankful that the shoes you wore were slip on’s.

Charlie eyed Owen carefully as the door shut and Owen shrugged.

“Should I ask?” Charlie questioned. Owen shook his head.

“Nope.”

4. Owen’s Bedroom

After a couple of close calls on set and in the living room, the next time you came over you and Owen went straight to his room.

He laid down on his bed and you climbed on top of him, kissing him instantly.

“God you’re perfect.” He muttered, lips and tongues combining in a mess of passion and lust. Owen pulled at your shirt, tugging it over your head, and you did the same for him. His lips trailed down your neck, sucking gently to leave a mark.

The front door opened and Owen groaned.

“Shit, is that Charlie?” You asked. He nodded. “What do we do?”

“Uh... get in the closet.” He suggested and you giggled, grabbing onto your shirt so Charlie wouldn’t see it if he came in.

“Owen? You here?” Charlie called, and Owen dragged you into the closet, pulling the door shut behind you.

“Shh.” Owen whispered. You tried to hide your smile.

“I didn’t say anything.” You told him, and he rolled his eyes playfully. The door to Owen’s room opened and the two of you froze, bodies pressed together.

“God I hope that’s your phone pressed against my leg.” You whispered after a moment. Owen pulled a face in the darkness.

“Uh... no.” He replied, and you giggled awkwardly.

��Don’t laugh, this isn’t funny.” He whined.

“It is funny. We’re trapped in your closet waiting for Charlie to leave and you still manage to be turned on?” You questioned with a giggle

“I can’t help it when someone as attractive as you is pressed up against me. Plus you don’t have a shirt on so...” He trailed off.

“Oh yeah?” You pressed yourself against his body more forcefully. Owen groaned quietly.

“Fuck, stop it.” He muttered. You smirked.

“No.” You whispered, and Owen placed his hands on your waist.

“Y/N...” His voice was low, and just the sound of it sent flutters through your stomach.

“Owen...” You replied just as quietly. “Before you ask, I’m not gonna fuck you in a closet.”

“Why not?” He whined. You rolled your eyes.

“You shouldn’t even have to ask that question.”

The front door slammed shut and Owen let out a sigh of relief, pushing open the closet door. You stepped past him and made your way over to the bed, Pulling your shirt back on before sitting down to pull your shoes on.

“Wait where are you going?” He questioned, pouting.

“Back to set, I have a job to do, remember?” You reminded him, tying your laces on your left shoe before reaching for the right.

“Can’t you call in sick?” He tried. You raised an eyebrow.

“From my lunch break?” He shrugged.

“Food poisoning?”

“Owen.” You gave him a look and he groaned, flopping onto the bed.

“Fine. But what am I supposed to do about this?” He motioned towards his crotch. You stood up, grabbing your phone, and walked towards the door, pausing before you exited the room.

“You have a hand. Use it.” And with that, you left.

+1. Owen and Charlie’s Kitchen

It was a day off from filming so you decided to have a lazy day. It was almost lunch time when you woke up, and you would have slept longer if it wasn’t for your phone ringing obnoxiously from its spot on your nightstand.

You rolled over, grabbing the phone and answered without even checking the caller ID.

“Hello?” You spoke, voice full of sleep.

“Good morning, Charlie has gone for a hike, wanna come over?” Owen’s voice came through the phone.

“Sure, why not. Give me half an hour to have a shower and get changed.” You replied, already climbing out of bed. Owen cheered causing you to smile slightly.

“Awesome, I’ll see you in half an hour.” He said. “And don’t eat anything.”

“Okay.” You replied, and before you could even say goodbye he had hung up. You rolled your eyes, throwing your phone back onto the bed and grabbing a simple outfit of a crop t-shirt and shorts out of your wardrobe, before heading into the bathroom to get ready.

25 minutes later you were knocking on the door of Owen and Charlie’s apartment. The door opened, revealing a shirtless Owen, and you had to stop yourself from checking him out as he let you in.

“Any reason why I wasn’t allowed to eat?” You questioned, following him down the hall into the kitchen.

“Because, I thought we could make pancakes together.” He gestured to the pile of ingredients sitting on the counter.

“How domestic. Didn’t realise we had become a married couple.” You teased, and he blushed slightly.

“I just thought it would be fun.” He defended, and you placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“It will be. And delicious.” You agreed.

He grinned, grabbing the ingredients.

“Let’s get started then.”

Somehow you found yourself sitting on the counter, eating the batter while Owen cooked the pancakes.

“There!” Owen exclaimed, flipping the last pancake onto the plate he had gotten out. “All done.”

He turned to face you, his smile turning into a look of concentration.

“You have a little something...” He said, positioning himself between your legs. You paused, waiting for him to move. Slowly he lifted his hand, running his thumb along your bottom lip.

“Much better.” He muttered. The two of you were still, a stand off to see who would make the first move. You leaned in slowly, connecting your lips in a soft kiss.

It was as if the first brush of your lips opened the floodgates. Owen grabbed onto your thighs, dragging you forward, and you wrapped your legs around his waist, the pancakes long forgotten.

You tangled your hands through his hair, moaning slightly when you felt his hands on your ass, and he took that as an opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

You were so caught up in each other that you didn’t even hear the front door open.

“Hey Owen, I forgot my-” Charlie’s voice came, stopping abruptly as he took in the scene in front of him.

Owen stepped away from you quickly, but even if Charlie hadn’t seen you kissing, it was obvious what the two of you had been up to.

No one blinked. Finally, Owen broke the silence.

“You were meant to be hiking all day.” He said, somewhat defensively.

“I forgot my phone, so I came back for it. I figured you’d be on the couch where I left you. I didn’t realise you’d be...” He stopped, focusing his attention on you. “Hi Y/N.”

You waved awkwardly.

“So...” Charlie looked between you and Owen. “Am I pretending I didn’t see this, or...” He trailed off.

You and Owen shared a look before nodding.

“Just for now, at least.” You said, and Charlie nodded.

“Got it. Well, have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Oh, and if you have sex on the kitchen counter please clean it afterwards. I eat off that thing.” He winked at Owen and before either of you could respond he had left the room.

“Sorry about him.” Owen sighed slightly.

“You didn’t know he’d leave his phone. Besides, now we can hang out here together and not have to worry about Charlie walking in on something he doesn’t know about.” You replied, and Owen grinned, leaning in to kiss you again.

You had just started to find a rhythm in kissing again when a cleared throat broke you apart.

“Dude!” Owen exclaimed, glaring at Charlie who was leaning against the wall, grinning cheekily.

“Just wanted to say goodbye. And warn you that I’ll be back at 3, so make sure any... activities-” He winked suggestively. “Are done by then.”

“Get out.” Owen glared at him. Charlie grinned, turning to leave quickly.

“Bye Y/N!” He called back as he left.

“Bye.” You called, giggling slightly.

Owen rolled his eyes as the front door shut behind Charlie. Focusing his attention back on you he smiled slightly.

“Now where were we?” He questioned, pulling you back in and connecting your lips again.

And if you did end up having sex on the kitchen counter, Charlie would never have to know.

#owen joyner #owen patrick joyner #owen joyner smut #not really smut #more implied smut #julie and the phantoms #charlie gillespie #owen joyner x reader #reader insert

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writingsweetroll · 3 years ago

Text

Under the stars, We dance

Summary: Violet has a dance with Clementine in the night.

Words: 1533

“Vi?”

Violet reluctantly opened her eyes, she just wanted to rest. “Yes?” She quietly muttered. The room was so quiet that it didn’t matter how soft she whispered, Tenn could still hear her.

“You’ve been kind of quiet.” Tenn mentioned, going to sit by Violet that was laying on her bed. “Are you ok?”

Violet sat there for a moment, looking up at the glow-in-the dark stars that Minerva had placed over their bed. Tears filled her water line as she blinked, the overfilled liquid spilled. She silently cried. Tenn quivered his lip. He curled into a ball and layed next to Violet, they both cried silently, no more words said between the two as they grieved the twins death.

Now, Violet's room was covered in decorations that weren't Minerva’s, but Clementines. Filled to the brim with weird skulls or nostalgic items. And as she was sleepless in her night, because Clementine wasn’t by her side, and when she thought back to that moment, it didn’t hurt her. Minerva had no effect on her anymore, she had proven to be someone else, someone evil. And poor Tenn….she basically dragged him down with her into her psychotic world.

Still, the past was the past and she was forgetting it quite quickly, as Clementine and her got closer in their relationship. There were countless nights where now older AJ decided to just sleep in a different room, because the couple stood up all night, just talking. Their conversations were what Violet loved the most. Clementine was a book just ready to be opened, and when she opened up, Violet was basically listening to a world unlike her own, even though the world they lived in was the same. Clementine's life was completely different from hers. It was refreshing.

When she saw Clementine's scars, and how hurt she looked when she talked about them, Violet wanted to crawl inside her aura and just make her forget about it, kind of like an overpowered empath. Clementine felt the same. Violet’s world was a lot brighter than hers, yet Clementine still found a way to understand her pain. Violet’s home life wasn’t great back then. Especially compared to Clementine's life that consisted of two loving parents with stable jobs.

Violet sighed, turning on her side. It was the middle of the night, and Violet constantly scolded herself for getting too attached to Clementine, so attached that if she was not in the same bed as her, sleep wasn’t even considered. Clementine was on look-out, and it was hell for her as well. Winter was about to start. After about 4 winters with each other, the couple considered it their favorite season. These nights would prove to be the best cuddle sessions of all. Yet, here they were, apart from each other.

Violet grumbled, watching AJ from the other side of the room. He also had the same problem, so he was drawing to pass the time. Violet got out of bed. “Where are you going?” AJ asked. Violet glazed around the room, looking for an answer without it really being awkward. She didn’t know, but she was going to do something. Something that would pass the time.

“Out I guess.” She finally responded. “Louis is asleep. I already tried waking him up so we can play piano but he threw a pillow at me.”

“Uh--Ok?” Violet said, shrugging her shoulders. “Why?”

“Well I’d figure you try and hang out with him.”

“Nah.” Violet chuckled. “I know how deep into sleep he gets. The last thing you want to do is wake him up. You got it easy kid.” Violet shuddered at the memory of her trying to wake him up, that was the scariest glare she had gotten from anybody. Even Clementine.

“Ok...don’t go out of the school. It's dark out and Clem will worry.”

Violet smiled sweetly. “Of course buddy.”

---

Violet made random noises from her mouth as she roamed the halls, desperately trying to peel her body away from walking into the courtyard and pulling Clementine away from her duties. Reading the wall's profanities didn’t hold her mind captive and instead with a defeated mind, she walked out to the courtyard. Clementine bounced her leg, she was incredibly bored. An occasional walker popped up but that was that. She found herself watching the snow intently, sometimes trying to count how many flakes fell down...which was impossible but she was so bored she tried anyway. As her mind was burdened with literally nothing, a voice startled her. She jumped, turning defensively, it was Violet. “Sorry.” Violet smiled, climbing fully up the ladder and onto the platform. Clementine got up from the chair. She wobbled on her new peg leg, awkwardly laughing as she clung onto Violet for balance. “Hi.” Violet smiles cheekily.

Clementine smiled back, she kissed her sweetly. “Hi.” She replied. They held each other's hands, looking into each other's eyes. When they were alone, romance was basically the only thing they practiced together, not comfortable being romantic in public. “What are you doing up?”

Violet shrugged, “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Clementine sighed, she then hugged Violet tightly. “I missed you.”

“We’ve only been separated for like 3 hours.” Violet laughed. Although she was just teasing, Violet desperately missed her as well. She hugged Clementine back, embracing each other.

“How's your look-out duty been?” Violet asked as they let go of each other.

Clementine threw her arms in the air sarcastically, “Thrilling! I saw like 2 walkers, it was honestly like a movie!”

Violet chuckled. “Aw, man. You should have invited me.”

They both laughed, soon the laughter died down, and they calmly looked out to the forest. As they relaxed in silence, an awful memory seeped through her mind.

“The night will be over soon!” Minerva sang from the top of her lungs, Violet watched intently, observing how Minerva's nose scrunched whenever she hit a note too high, it made her giggle.

Minerva finished the song, earning a clap from Sophie and Violet. “Bravo!” Sophie yelled out. Minerva smiled, bowing.

“What about me? I was the backbone of this whole performance.” Louis fake pouted, letting his fingers glide over the ivories. “Who actually listens to the music? We want to hear the singer.” Violet smirked.

Sophie chuckled, immediately placing a hand over her mouth. Louis widened his eyes at her.

“Of all people, I would’ve never thought you would join in on making fun of me!”

They all laughed, and Minerva was about to leave. “Wait-” Violet got up from the ground. She grabbed Minerva's attention. “Maybe, you could sing one more time?”

Minerva raised a brow, but smiled none-the less. “Ok…”

As Minerva started to sing, Violet balled her clammy hands into fists, and breathed in deep. She made her way over to Minerva and grabbed her hands, attempting to dance with her. Minerva stopped singing, and she pushed Violet away. “Violet!”

Violet gulped at the aggressive tone, the room became thick in awkwardness as Louis stopped playing the piano slowly. “W-whats the problem?” Violet asked.

Minerva scoffed and stormed out of the room. Violet was quick to follow.

“Minnie!” Violet called out to her, Minerva sighed, stopping in her tracks and turning around. “What’s wrong--”

“That was embarrassing! What makes you think I wanna dance with you in front of others?!” Minerva ranted.

“W-well...I’m sorry. I just thought--”

“No. No Violet, why don’t you just stop thinking then? If you have such fucking stupid ideas…” And with that, Minerva walked out of the admin building, leaving Violet alone.

“What's wrong?” Clementine asked. “You could tell?”

Clementine pursed her lips, nodding. Violet sighed and rested along the railing, looking into the deep forest full of snow. “Sorry.” Violet finally said.

“Are you ok?”

“Yea…” Violet got off the railing, and walked over to Clementine. “Would you like to dance?” Clementine widened her eyes, taken aback by the question. “I guess...why not?”

Violet gulped, her heart warmed up. With a grin, she extended her hand to Clementine. Clementine took her hand, and they both started dancing. It wasn’t excitable dancing, but slow and steady. Especially since Clementine's peg leg was still unstable. It was still nice, and both of them rested along one another. “It’s a pretty night.” Clementine mentioned, looking up at the stars. “Cold.” Violet chuckled. “But, yea it's pretty.”

“Still not as pretty as you.” Clementine smiled, watching as Violet's pale cheeks turned into a dusty pink.

The two continued to dance in silence, taking comfort in their bodies radiating heat, combating the cold. “I love you.” Violet huffed out, letting her head rest on Clementine's shoulder. Clementine tilted her head, resting it on the side of Violets.

“I love you back.”

“Thank you for dancing with me.” Violet hugged her tighter, for some reason, that memory of Minerva still bit at her.

“Why wouldn’t I dance with you?” Clementine chuckled, unknowingly setting a warm feeling inside of Violet.

“You make me so happy.” Violet sighed. “I’m glad we found you.”

“I am too.” Clementine replied.

The two continued their dance, bathing in the stars.

#twdg #twd #violet #telltale the walking dead #violetine #fanfic #twdg fanfiction #violetine oneshot #oneshot

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gh0styyt0astyy · 3 years ago

Note

hm.. now i'm thinkin, right.. with your other two fics of deimos being an absolute little shit, what if either hank, sanford, or both got back at him for it... sanford getting involved would be a pretty big betrayal after helping him out with hank... (ps despite the fact that i did make it before i saw it i'm 99% sure i posted my drawing of dei and san ganging up on hank a couple hours after you posted the fic of them and i'm now unofficially half jokingly declaring it as fanart of that fic because good scenario PFDNKNDGKDJSF)

✨ [Karma’s a bitch] ✨

( HEY I HOPE U DONT MIND I MATCHED THIS UP W/ ANOTHER REQUEST THEY JUST WORKED TOO PERFECTLY TOGETHER )

———————————

⭐️ [Summary] — In which Deimos comes to understand the meaning of “your actions have consequences.” (Lee!Deimos and Ler!Sanford + Ler! Hank)

guess the dude cant take what he dishes out…

key:

deimos

hank

sanford

⭐️ [Warnings] — TICKLE FIC; MILD LANGUAGE; also hank accidentally gets kicked in the face; if you don’t like then please just scroll on T_T

⭐️ [Prompts:] no. 8 + 10 / hank and sanford get their revenge

✨ Enjoy ! ✨

—————————

If there was one thing that Deimos was good at; it was being an absolute little shit. (Minus his hacking, fighting and semi decent medical skills.) A cocky little shit who was way too good at all of this.

“All of this” being; tasering Hank in the ribs, suddenly grabbing Sanford’s sides and running away, sometimes getting both Hank and Sanford in one good day.

Hank was done with Deimos’ shit, and Sanford just wanted revenge. So that’s what would happen. Sanford was gonna get his revenge, and he knew Hank would want in on that too. (I mean, c’mon. Hank is ALL ABOUT revenge.)

“Hank,” Sanford walked up to the man, poking him in the back. Hank’s shoulders jumped as he turned around quickly, shoulders falling back down but remaining tense. “I want your help.”

Hank stood there quietly, staring at Sanford. It was always so hard to understand what Hank was thinking behind those goggles.

“What is it.” Hank said, tilting his head slightly; Sanford grinned widely before he looked around the place. He grabbed Hank’s wrist (electing to ignore the jolt in Hank’s body) and dragged him to a different room.

“I want revenge.”

Hank perked up.

“I wanna get back at Deimos. You in?”

Hank thought, silently staring at Sanford. (At least, Sanford would assume he was being stared at.) “…So…?”

“What’s your plan?”

Sanford pumped his fist in the air as he leaned up towards Hank.

“Deimos!” Sanford called from another room, causing the other to lift his head from the little tablet he held. “Yeah?” Deimos called back. “C’mere for a sec, will you?” Deimos furrowed his brow. “Uh, sure.” He set down the tablet and headed off towards Sanford’s voice.

“San?” Deimos called out, entering the room he had heard Sanford in. “Over here, Dei.”

It was their storage room. Where the three would usually drop their weapons and stuff for the day before they conked out. “Hey San. What’s up?” Sanford motioned Deimos over. “Come here, I need you to look at something.” Deimos walked over, crouching down next to Sanford. “I thought I saw something glowing in there.” Sanford said, pointing into the closet. Deimos raised an eyebrow before peeking in. Something glowing? “What color?”

“Not sure. Didn’t get a good look at it.”

“Hm.” Deimos hummed. And then he saw it— a dull red glow that shone in Deimos’ face. “What the hell?” The glow got brighter and brighter before—

“AGK! SHIT!”

Hank leapt out of the dark closet and tackled Deimos to the ground, wrestling with him for a moment before Hank overpowered him and kept him to the floor. “GOOD GOD! Holy shit, Hank! What the hell!?” Deimos struggled under Hank’s hold.

“That was easier than it should’ve been.” Was all that Hank said, looking up at Sanford. “Excuse me?” Deimos said, a small tone of offense in his voice as Sanford walked up to stand beside the two. He crouched down with a small smirk on his face, Deimos looked between Hank and Sanford. “What are you two planning?” He asked, suspicion lacing his voice.

“Deimos. You ever heard the saying, what was it… “Karma’s a bitch?” Hank asked.

“…Yeesss…?” Deimos answered, suspicion rising.

“How about the saying “your actions have consequences.”

“Yes Hank, I’ve heard these sayings before. Why are you—“

Suddenly it hit Deimos, the way Sanford sat at his head and took his wrists from Hank’s hands. The way Hank kept him on the floor. “Oh. Oh shit.” Deimos muttered.

“Yeaah. I’m sure you see where this is going.” Sanford said, holding both of Deimos’ wrists with one hand.

Deimos, honestly, was extremely nervous. But he huffed, refusing to show through his facade.

“I wonder how long you can go without laughing.” Hank mused, tilting his head again (in a way that looks threatening, but no harm was showing.)

“I can last longer than you did, Wimbleton.” Deimos said with a huff, flinching inwards on himself at a sudden jab at the spot where his shoulder met with his ribs. “You’re awfully cocky for someone who’s ticklish.” Sanford shot at him, tightening on Deimos wrists as he tugged. “Oh no, you aren’t going anywhere.”

“First of all, I am not ticklish. Second of all, you guys are just wasting your time.” Deimos said, brows furrowing. Hank just stared before looking at Sanford. (In all honesty, Hank had no clue what to do. He’d just follow Sanford’s lead.)

“You aren’t, huh?” Sanford said, poking at Deimos again. Sanford didn’t miss the way Deimos flinched inwards again and (seemingly) bit the inside of his cheek. “Nope. Unlike you two.” Deimos grinned. “Alright then, you cocky bastard.” Hank butted in, latching onto Deimos’ legs. “You obviously wouldn’t mind us doing this, then. Would you?”

Deimos blinked, before seemingly understanding the situation he was in. “Look okay— usually I’d let you two have at it but I- um— okay okAY LISTEN-“ Deimos’ voice raised an octave, nerves jumping in his throat.

This was gonna suck.

“…would an apology make you let me go?” Deimos tried, watching as Sanford and Hank passed each other glances. “No.” Hank said, Sanford just grinned.

“Okay, I’m done waiting. Hank? Y’ready?” Deimos sucked in a breath, nervously. Hank was the master of making people antsy with how long he took to answer. The goggled man nodded.

Deimos tried to prepare himself, but he let out an awkward squawk as Sanford tased and circled on Deimos’ ribs. “AHAHGK—!” He yelped, clamping his mouth shut. Hank kneaded and clawed Deimos’ hips and lower sides. Deimos looked determined to keep any laughter inside. He shook his head. “Noh- nope— I’m naha— I’m not ticklish!” “Bullshit!” Sanford said, tickling the other side of Deimos’ ribs; it earned him a small snort.

Hank didn’t relent from his spots, either. He kept one hand on Deimos’ hips and the other started tweaking the skin of his legs.

“bweAHA- SHIHIT!” Deimos yelped again, trying to move away from Hank’s hand. “Oh? What was thaaaaat, Dei-Dei?” Sanford drew out, earning a frustrated and embarrassed whine from Deimos. “Huh… that’s funny,” Hank said, looking at Sanford, then Deimos. “I thought you said you could last longer than me? You didn’t… lie, did you?”

“I think he lied about a lot of things.”

“I dihihihid nohohaHAHT!” Deimos suddenly squeaked, arching his back before flopping back down. Sanford was vibrating his fingers into his stomach. “waHAHAIT WAHIHIHIT! SHIHIHIT!” Deimos tugged his arms again, trying to release himself from Sanford’s grip. “Lehehet gohoho!” Deimos whined.

“That’s funny, I thought I had said the same thing!” Sanford hummed in thought. “But alas, you didn’t listen…”

“I—Ihihihi’m sahahohorry!” “Hm.” Hank hummed. “You know, laughter in an apology doesn’t make it sincere. I don’t think you are.”

“Cohohohome ohohohon! I dihihihdn’t meEAHAHN IHIHIT—!” Deimos kicked his legs, trying to get Hank’s hands off as he tried to move away from Sanford’s. “Remember when you did this to me?” Hank asked, clawing at Deimos’ hips and sometimes shooting up to his ribs.

Deimos pulled his elbows to his face as best he could, hiding the creeping blush. He squealed when Sanford pinched his stomach. “SAHAHAHANFOHOHORD YOU TRAHAHAHAHITOR!” Deimos belted out loud laughter as Sanford only grinned.

Slowly, the tickling sensations stopped on Deimos’ body, the man in question letting out shaky laughs and breathing. Deimos sucked in a sharp breath as he felt his shirt ride up. “Wait wahAHAHIT WAHAHAIT! Lehehet’s tahahalk about thihihihis!”

Sanford thought, and so did Hank. The two looked at each other before shaking their heads. “Nah.” Was all Sanford said before blowing a raspberry on Deimos’ stomach.

“OHOHOHOHOH SHIHIHIT- OH MY GOHOHOHOD!” Deimos let out, his body going limp while his legs frantically kicked.

It was all fun and games until—

*CRRRRK!*

Sanford and Deimos stopped immediately, after realizing that Hank had accidentally been booted in the face. His goggles having broken and fallen off. If Hank was in pain he sure didn’t show it.

“OHOHO SHIT! Hahahnk! Hahank I’m sorry!” Deimos gasped, sitting up after Sanford had let him go.

Hank laid there on his back for a minute before sitting up and touching his face, already warm with a bruise forming.

“Well. Shit.” Was all Hank said.

“Are you okay?” Deimos asked, Sanford sitting in between them. Hank nodded. It wasn’t the worst he had been through before.

“…Okay, well- I think we all got our revenge?” Sanford said.

With Hank’s new lack of goggles, it was a little easier to see he was, indeed, looking at the other two and thinking. He looked at Sanford with dull eyes and looked like he wanted to say something before standing up. “Sure.” He said, offering a hand to the other two men.

They both stood up, Deimos still giggling slightly. Sanford hit his shoulder lightly. “You liar…” He grinned as Hank picked up his goggles in the background.

#ghosty.replies #ghosty.keysmash #writing #sfw tickle fic #mc tickling #lee!deimos #ler!sanford #ler!hank #writing this made me ✨🥰 feel things 🥰✨ /pos #i have a lot of feelings for these funny little men and their friendship #maybe more if …. ya catch my drift 😏……

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soniaxdixon · 4 years ago

Text

New Series, pt. 1 - Until Now

A NEW SERIES Y’ALL. Okay, I’m so excited for this one. It’s a friends to lovers <3 I need help thinking of a title so let me know!!

Warnings: Swearing

y/n and Daryl grew up together before y/n left for college, not long after, the world ended and Daryl had already left their town. y/n finds Daryl at the bottom of the ravine on his search for Sophia. After bringing him back to his people, they welcome y/n with open arms allowing the romance between y/n and Daryl to flourish.

Word Count: 2120

You paced the woods trying to pick up on the trail of the deer you had been tracking, suddenly drawn from your thoughts by the sound of a horse and someone in pain. Without thinking, you ran towards the sound, stopping quickly as your body was almost thrown over the edge of a ravine.

“Shit” You mumbled as you tried to focus on the body that laid still down the bottom. You could see blood spilling around him and knew you had to be fast if you were going to help. You found your way down without too many injuries, a few cuts and bruises and a sprained ankle but nothing compared to this guy.

You walked closer, cautious as to if he was still alive or about to turn. Finally you were able to focus on his face. You threw yourself to the floor next to him.

“Holy shit, no fucking way. Daryl?” He didn’t respond as his body laid still. Your head flew to his chest to listen for a heart beat. You could hear one as well as feel the rise and fall of his chest. “Daryl wake up. It’s me. I need you to wake up. It’s y/n” You placed your head on his chest as he began to stir beneath you. Your head shot up as you looked down at his slowly opening eyes, they were as blue as you remembered.

“God first I’m seein’ Merle and now it’s you. How hard did I hit my damn head. Fuck.” He rubbed the back of his head and you chuckled, throwing your arms around him. His entire body went rigid at the contact. You were real.

————

Daryl lifted the last of your stuff into the back of your car. “Ya promise to call me every damn day that ya gone.”

“Yes sir. I promise. I’ll miss you D but I’ll be back by Christmas.”

“Yeah I know.”

You stood up on your toes and placed a small kiss on his cheek, turning on your heels quickly so Daryl couldn’t see the shade of red your cheeks now were but the colour of his cheeks matched yours.

“Back by Christmas.” You muttered, loud enough so he could hear.

“Ya better be.”

You and Daryl had grown up together. You did everything together, knew everything about each other, well almost everything. You never told him that you loved him. He never admitted his love for you. The fear of ruining the friendship the two of you had overpowered any ideas of a confession of love. The day you left for college was one of the hardest days of Daryl’s life, watching you drive away and towards a future quite possibly without him in it broke him that day.

You hadn’t even made it home before the world went to shit, you never got to reunite with Daryl.

Until now.

Here you were, crouched down at the bottom of a ravine, the reunion you hadn’t exactly dreamt of but wanted for so long. Daryl’s body was bruised and broken with a bolt through his left side. “Daryl, come on. I need you to sit up so we can figure out whatever is happening here.”

Daryl forced himself to sit up, his breathing was ragged as he clenched his teeth. His hands held where the bolt had pierced his side. You gently placed your hands over his to move them, he flinched at the contact and then hissed in pain at his sudden movement.

“I need you to let me see, we need to pull it out so we can bind it properly.”

Daryl moved his hands away carefully as his eyes focused on you. You were certainly a welcomed distraction. How did you even find him? You were even more beautiful than he remembered, the way the light reflected off the water and bounced off your eyes, giving off a certain light themselves, the ones that could ignite the fire in his chest so instantly. He wondered if-

His thoughts were interrupted by you ripping the bolt through his side and proceeding to shove a piece of ripped cloth over the wound to limit the amount of blood loss.

“MOTHER FUCKING SHIT BASTARD!” He yelled before his brain could even process what was happening.

“There, that was easy right? Please tell me you have a camp around here, I hope you do because you need stitches and fast.” You slipped your belt off and wrapped it around his waist securing the cloth and again, limiting the blood flow even more.

“Yeah, I’m stayin on a farm.”

You and Daryl managed to make it up the sides of the ravine and made your way towards the farm. Daryl Was stumbling along, barely able to walk but pushing himself nonetheless. You stumbled as quickly as you could with your ankle now swelling to twice its usual size. The farm was now in sight as you walked slowly behind Daryl, hobbling along at your own pace. Four men ran towards you and Daryl as you froze. Daryl was still slightly ahead of you when a man pointed a gun at his head.

“Third time ya pointed that thing at me. Ya gonna pull the trigger?” Daryl yelled.

At the sudden realisation that Daryl was not a walker, the attention was on you, the gun now aimed at your head.

“She’s with me.”

BANG

You closed your eyes, did they just shoot you? No, there was no pain. Your eyes opened to see Daryl now on the floor. The man who held the gun began yelling “NO!”

shit, shit, shit. You dove on the floor, checking where he was shot, the bullet grazed his head. Two of the men lifted Daryl up and began hurriedly walking towards the farm. Adrenaline pumped through you as your focus was now on a woman who ran towards the six of you.

“Oh my God, is he dead?” She asked.

“You the one that shot him?” Your focus quickly on her.

“I thought he was a walker.”

You walked up to the girl, your hand balled in a fist as your swung hard into her left cheek, sending her to the floor. “Fucking dumbass.” You limped away, towards the farmhouse as she remained on the floor, clutching her face.

An old man ran out of the house. “Take him up to the spare room, I’ll get my kit.”

Daryl’s surgery was quick, a few stitches and some pain killers. Then the attention was on you again as you sat on the bed next to Daryl. Close but not close enough to be touching.

“Thank you for saving him, my name is Rick Grimes.” Rick extended his hand to shake yours.

“Y/n y/l/n and it’s no problem. When I saw it was Daryl, there was no way I was leaving him there.”

“You know Daryl?”

“We grew up together” Daryl interrupted.

You smiled at him. “I left for college just before everything went to shit, by the time I made it home, Daryl was gone.”

Daryl looked solely at you know. “If I knew ya’d be comin’ back to town, I would have waited for ya.”

“Daryl, I saw the state of our town, you were right to leave as soon as you could.” Your hand brushed his slightly before he pulled his hand away and up to his mouth, succumbing to his habit of chewing on the skin around his thumb.

Rick stood up from his chair, “I’m gonna go and get you guys some food, I’ll send Hershel back to look at your ankle, y/n”

“Thanks, Rick.”

Rick left the room leaving you and Daryl in there alone. You looked at the archer who was already looking up at you sending shivers down your spine. You reached gently towards his head, pushing his hair away from his bandage that wrapped around where the girl had shot him.

“Heard ya hit Andrea pretty hard.” Daryl chuckled.

“Yeah, I don’t know what came over me, I just, seeing you hurt and knowing she was the one that did it…”

“I know what ya mean, It’s like, remember when Johnny broke up with ya, back in high school?”

“Oh my God, yes, I was heart broken.”

“Ya remember how he came to school a couple of days later, with a broken nose and he said it was a-”

“A snowboarding accident. Yeah I remember.”

“Well it wasn’t, I went to his house that night, hit him square in the face, broke his nose and busted his lip in one hit.”

“Oh my God, Daryl.” You both laughed “He was such an asshole to me, I don’t know why I liked him so much.”

“Me neither, ya deserved so much better.” Your eyes locked with his as your hand moved from his hair down to his cheek. The tips of his ears burned red as you leaned down ever so slightly. His eyes flicked between your eyes and your lips.

Rick walked in with two plates of food, startling both you and Daryl, sending you off the bed and onto your bad ankle. You yelped in pain before sitting back down on the bed, both yours and Daryl’s cheeks flushing red.

“I uh, what was happening?” A slight smirk on Rick’s face

“Nothing!” You and Daryl responded in unison.

“Uhh, alright then, here’s your food, Hershel will be here in a sec to check your ankle.” Rick looked between the two of you, the smirk on his face grew.

You and Daryl ate your dinner in silence, pausing half way through your meal when Hershel, the old man, walked in. He examined your ankle and you winced.

“It’s not broken, just sprained, should heal itself soon but you should keep it elevated for the next couple of days. Unfortunately this is our only spare bed as Carl is in our other one.”

Daryl looked between you and Hershel “S’ okay, I’ll head back to my tent tonight.”

“Daryl, no. I can sleep on the chair, I’ll use the bed as a foot rest. It’ll be the best sleep I’ve had in a while, trust me.”

“I’ll let the two of you figure it out. Just keep it elevated.” Hershel left the room, leaving you and Daryl alone again.

“Take the bed, I’ll take the chair.” Daryl said as he tried to push himself out of the bed but struggled.

“You can hardly move, you take the bed, I’ll take the chair.”

“Nah, not happenin”

“I mean, we could both take the bed. If you’re okay with that.”

Daryl froze at your words. “It’s either that or I take the chair, Daryl.”

“Nah, I’ll move over, hold up.” Daryl shifted his body as close to the edge of the bed as he could. You moved yourself from your sitting position to under the covers, lying next to Daryl, far enough apart that you weren’t touching. Daryl reached over and flicked the lamp off as you got comfortable and closed your eyes. Your attempt to stifle a yawn didn’t work as you let the comfort of the bed surround you.

“Thanks for saving me.” Daryl mumbled.

“You would have done the same for me.”

It was true, he would go to the ends of the earth for you, do anything you asked him to. After all this time, his feelings for you never changed. Neither yours for him. You both fell asleep with ease, by the middle of the night you were tangled in each others arms.

You woke up as the first light settled in the room, you were definitely not in the position you had fallen asleep in, no, now your body was pressed up against his body, his arm was draped around you. Your stomach flipped with emotions. If it were up to you, you would stay in this position for eternity but what if he didn’t feel the same way. Surely he didn’t, the way he flinched every time you touched. But what about the moment the two of you shared last night. You were pulled from your thoughts as you felt him stir behind you slightly. You carefully removed his arm and pushed yourself back to the edge of the bed before he woke up.

He was already awake. He woke before you but remained still with his arm wrapped around you like he had always dreamt of. But when he felt you push away from him, he closed his eyes quickly and pretended to be asleep. You obviously didn’t want him touching you. Maybe you didn’t feel the same way about him. But what about the moment you shared last night?

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon x you #you x daryl dixon #you x daryl #daryl x you #daryl dixon x reader series #daryl x reader #reader x daryl #twd #twd fic #twd series #twd fic series #twd fanfiction #the walking dead #the walking dead fic #the walking dead imagine

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onecanonlife · 4 years ago

Text

careful son (you got dreamer's plans)

Wilbur gasps back to life with mud between his fingers and rain in his eyes.

Wilbur was dead. Now, he is not. He can't say that he's particularly happy about it.

Unfortunately, the server is still as tumultuous as ever, even with Dream locked away, so it seems that his involvement in things isn't a matter of if, but when.

(Alternatively: the prodigal son returns, and a broken family finally begins to heal. If, that is, the egg doesn't get them all killed first.)

Chapter Word Count: 7,295

Chapter Warnings: swearing, injury, blood, aftermath of (temporary) character death, mild disassociation, slight s.uicidal ideation, references to past abuse

Chapter Summary: The emotional fallout is intense, but they don’t have time to stop and deal with it. Wilbur doesn’t particularly like where they decide to hole up, but beggars can’t be choosers.

(masterlist w/ ao3 links)

(first chapter) (previous chapter) (next chapter)

Chapter Twelve: nowhere to run

The sun is too bright in his eyes. Too bright, and wrong, somehow, that it should be shining like this. Should still be shining, after the loss they’ve just suffered, after watching his brother crumple to dust in front of him. But the sun hardly cares for things like that, so they all stumble out of the hole in the ground that serves as the entrance to the spider spawner and beyond, and the daylight surrounds them, unforgiving.

“Where do we go, what do we do,” Tubbo is chanting, and Ranboo is muttering under his breath, a continuous litany of, “I can’t believe he’s gone, I can’t believe that happened—” His own lips feel glued shut, his throat devoid of sound. His skin buzzes.

(the two images interpose: Techno hanging from the vine, head at an unnatural angle, Techno wavering on his feet, blood pouring from his throat, and there is a flash of light and there is ash all at once, as if the first caused the second, as if instead of healing him, shoving his soul back into a body clinging to life, the totem burned him up from the inside out, and unlike the phoenix there was no rebirth)

“We can’t stay here,” Puffy says. Her eyes are wide, and her hands are shaking, but her voice has the same determined cant to it as it always does. “We need somewhere to hole up.”

“And where is that supposed to be?” Sapnap demands. His breathing is unsteady. “Where the fuck are we supposed to go after that? Where isn’t the thing gonna be able to reach? With, with Dream being, being, what even was that? Why was he—how was he—?” He breaks off, sparks crackling at his fingertips, and his face is a mask of distress, of questions

(was he always like that and did I not see or did something happen to him did something make him like that is that my friend or is there something inside of him something behind his eyes that is not him at all and if that is the case how did I not notice how did I not notice how did I not save him)

that Wilbur feels he recognizes. Or would, if he let himself. If he let himself care.

His eyes drift over to Phil. Phil, who stands silently, blood dripping from his wings, a thousand old injuries reopened by thrashing thorns. Who stands with Tommy in his arms, Tommy, who is curled up as tightly as he can reasonably manage, his face tucked into Phil’s shirt. Trembling. Quiet.

(he will die and I will kill him, the Egg says, and I have already begun, and you cannot protect him, you do not have the strength, except by what I can grant you)

“Church Prime,” Puffy says. “It’s the only place that might be safe.”

“Who’s to say it would be?” Sapnap snaps. “You saw it in there! The vines have never moved like that before, and Prime knows what else it can do now. And maybe the Egg wouldn’t be able to get in, but who’s to say that would stop—” He cuts off again, face contorting.

His leg is beginning to hurt, now. All of him is, actually, now that his adrenaline is wearing thin, now that the horror is sinking in, but it’s concentrated in his leg in particular, and he looks down to see that his left pant leg is all but shredded, blood dripping down in steady streams and splattering on the grass by his feet. The vines got him worse than he thought, then, and he bites his lip against the sting.

He’s had worse, though. He’s had so much worse. This is practically nothing, and Puffy and Sapnap are still arguing, and Tubbo and Ranboo are huddled together, eyeing the vines around them with deep suspicion, unmoving as they are just yet, and Phil is silent, and he’s going to stay silent, because Wilbur recognizes all too well the strain in his eyes, the way he’s holding onto Tommy with a death grip.

(he’s watched two of his sons die, now, and Techno will be back, will still have two lives left, but that does not heal the hurt, does not assuage the pain of seeing your brother, your son, your family die in front of your eyes before you can lift a finger to stop it, and Phil’s eyes shine with a grief almost beyond what Wilbur can understand. except he understands all too well, in the end)

He’s had worse, and someone needs to step up.

(the old mantle settles across his shoulders, and if he closes his eyes it’s like nothing’s changed at all, and the sun sets on the city he is determined to give everything for, still standing, walls still strong)

“Boxed in like a fish,” he croaks, and Puffy and Sapnap turn to him as one. “That’s what we’ll be, if we go to Church Prime. Whether it protects us in the moment of not won’t matter once we run out of supplies. We need somewhere better situated. Somewhere we can defend, that might withstand a siege, if it comes to it.”

Puffy makes a frustrated gesture. “I’m open to suggestions,” she says. “The prison, maybe, if we have to? We could probably keep people out as easily as—ah, shit, Sam.” She pulls her communicator out and taps out a quick message, and then frowns. “It’s telling me it can’t go through. Why isn’t it going through? Sam had all three lives, he should be—”

“Admins can read private messages,” Phil murmurs. “Wouldn’t surprise me if Dream could fuck with the whole system, whatever the fuck he is.”

Wilbur reads between the lines. Techno, for the moment, is unreachable. He processes the information and moves on, refusing to let it get to him, refusing to let himself be overpowered by

(Techno’s unreachable Techno’s unreachable Techno’s respawned and he’s on his own and they can’t talk to him can’t get to him quickly and what if something went wrong what if something happened)

emotions.

“Sam will make his way to us,” he says. “I’m vetoing the prison. Like hell are we staying in there. Other thoughts?”

“What gives you vetoing power?” Sapnap asks.

“Somebody needs to make a decision,” he says, and it is with strength he doesn’t feel, confidence he is only pretending at, a force of command that comes from some unknown place, since he feels as though he is miles away from himself, “and I don’t see you coming up with anything. Either help or stop complaining.”

Sapnap’s face reddens, and he opens his mouth, to argue, no doubt, but then Ranboo breaks in with, “Foolish, maybe?” and hunches his shoulders when attention turns to him. “Sorry, it’s just, I’m pretty sure Foolish isn’t, um, a big fan of the Egg or anything, so maybe he could help?”

Wilbur has no idea who the fuck Foolish is.

“Nah, he’s too far out,” Tubbo says. “It’ll take ages to get to his place. And we need somewhere close, but not too close, so we still have a good place to fight back from, right, Wilbur? If we leave now, the Egg’ll just take over the whole SMP with nothing to stop it.”

“My thoughts exactly, Tubbo,” he says, and again, it is just like the old days, and they are standing atop the L’Manberg walls, and Tubbo has just said something particularly clever, and warmth and pride curl in him before he remembers where they are, what they’re doing. They need to decide, and soon. They’re just hanging around near the entrance, and sooner or later, someone’s going to come after them, whether they let them go at first or not. “Is there anyone else who has a good position, location-wise and resource-wise?”

“Wait,” Puffy says. “Eret’s castle.”

“Eret’s castle doesn’t have doors,” Sapnap says.

“No, but I stopped by earlier to see if they wanted to join us,” Puffy says. “They weren’t there, but the grounds were completely free of vines. And sure, there aren’t any doors, but between all of us, I’m sure we could make some. Eret’s got plenty of supplies, last I checked.”

Eret. The name evokes a wealth of associations, most of them unpleasant. His first instinct is to reject this idea like the last, to avoid placing their lives in the hands of one who has already betrayed him, who led them all into a death trap, who almost ended their revolution in one fell swoop. But Puffy has a point. Eret’s castle ticks all the right boxes: it’s defendable, well-supplied, and if there are no vines to clear, all the better. They’ll have to build doors, but between the lot of them, that’s easily manageable.

(a wealth of associations and many unpleasant but there is Eret offering them supplies offering their fragile rebellion help and they tried so dearly to redeem themself and he could not have seen that then wrapped in his own shadows as he was but perhaps he can see it now perhaps he can better appreciate it, give a little more benefit of the doubt, and if he is given a second chance after everything after committing the worst crime of all then who is he to deny them absolution?)

(another memory, more blurry: he is scared but stalwart as they go through the motions, and he does not want to die, is terrified of that endless void, but he knows that the server needs a leader and his living self must be that leader, and Eret is here, and Eret agrees, and Eret acts out their part, and Eret is trying so hard, and he cannot see their eyes behind their glasses but he imagines that if he could, he would see a fool’s hope in them)

“Eret, then,” he says. “We go to Eret.”

And no one disagrees. It’s strange. They have no reason to listen to him, really. They have far more reasons not to listen to him, more reasons to think that following his lead will end in disaster than otherwise. But Puffy nods, and Sapnap backs down, and Tubbo and Ranboo both look to him for direction like it’s the war and he’s in charge of child soldiers once again. Phil looks to him, too, but his expression is inscrutable, and only a slight tightness around his eyes shows that he’s in any pain at all.

So they go to Eret. Staggering through the grass, tripping over vines that still don’t move, thank Prime, and then along the Prime Path, and his leg hurts worse with every step, pain jolting up into his hip, it seems, and it’s not long before he’s walking with a limp. But they’re all hurt in some way, so he hides it as best he can. He can deal with it when they’re safely behind stone walls.

And then, Tommy says, “Put me down, I can walk.”

Wilbur glances over. Tommy’s face is still buried in Phil’s shirt.

“You sure, mate?” Phil asks softly.

“Yes, I’m fucking sure,” Tommy snaps, louder now, turning his face outward, pushing against Phil’s chest. His cheeks are flushed, his breaths coming short and fast, and he’s trying to pass it off as anger, and maybe part of it is. But Wilbur knows him better than to think that that’s all. Knows him better than to think that he would have let Phil carry him in the first place if he was alright.

“Okay, then,” Phil says, and swings Tommy down. Tommy wavers for a step, but slaps away Phil’s hand when he extends it, muttering a sharp, “Fuck off.”

And then they keep going. Tommy doesn’t say anything else. Wilbur keeps glancing at him, but he’s refusing to meet anyone’s gaze, even Tubbo’s. And—that’s another thing that’s going to have to wait. He wants nothing more than to stop now and make sure that Tommy’s going to be okay, but they don’t have time, and the general in him will not call for a halt until the retreat is over, until he is sure the enemy is not biting at their heels.

(retreating from Dream once again, and it is familiar and not, the same and not, and history runs in a circle, echoes and rhymes)

Eret’s courtyard is indeed free of vines, just as Puffy promised. Wilbur half-expects them to be nowhere in sight, based on what Puffy said, but they are standing right there, next to a skeletal horse they’re frantically saddling, and they’re checking their communicator every now and again, with the jerky motions of someone who doesn’t particularly want to but can’t make themself stop.

Then, suddenly, they look up at the sky. Wilbur follows their gaze to the flock of crows wheeling overhead, a dark mass of beating wings, each bird barely distinguishable from the others. All of them completely, eerily silent.

Eret stands there a moment. Just staring. Wilbur can’t tell what the look on their face is, but their shoulders are tense. And then, they look back down, and realize that the lot of them are there, stumbling in under the gate, and they visibly startle.

“Hey, Eret,” Puffy says, before they can get a word in. “Can we crash? And build some gates?”

“What,” Eret says. “What is—Puffy, what is going on? How did Dream manage to kill Sam and Technoblade? Is he—” They run a hand through their hair, and then start striding forward, their cape flaring out behind them. They haven’t said anything about him yet, haven’t reacted to his presence. “He’s out, isn’t he? I was going to come and see, but he’s out?”

“He’s out,” Puffy agrees. “We were kind of hoping you’d help us out on this one.”

“Of course,” they say quickly. “Of course, anything you—anything you need.” They’re rattled, clearly, more than Wilbur has ever seen them, perhaps. “I just—how did this happen? I thought the prison was secure, I thought—are you all okay?”

“Aside from the obvious?” Puffy says. “Yeah, we’re great. You haven’t been around much lately, I don’t know how much you know about the Egg and all of that, but that’s an issue too, along with Dream. And some other stuff that I’ve got no idea about, that we really just kind of need to all sit down and talk about.”

“The Egg? I’ve—I’ve heard of it, I think. I’ve been elsewhere for a while.” Their lips twist into a smile that isn’t quite a smile. “Doing a bit of soul-searching, you might say. Found more questions than answers, unfortunately. Alright. I can get you all whatever you need, you can absolutely stay here if that’s what you’d like, but what was that about gates?”

Right. This is taking too long.

Wilbur still feels a bit outside of his body as he steps forward, but that’s alright. He’s limping, but the pain is distant, and he can let his brain work on autopilot, let his mouth move on its own without regarding the consequences, without thinking too much about

(this is Eret and you know them and they betrayed you and you hurt them and now you’re back and here is a test here is a true test it shouldn’t matter how they react to you you shouldn’t care for their opinion but you do you know you do though you pretend you don’t pretend they’re nothing but a traitor to you but you are a traitor to yourself and you know that between the two of you you are the worse and here you both are and you only need one more and everyone will be back together again like the old days like the old days those good old days)

what happens next.

“Right, then,” he says, straightening his spine and stepping up to be visible just behind Puffy, to the side and a few feet back. Eret’s head whips toward him. “To summarize: the Egg is bad, Dream is also bad, they’re now working together, also with Bad, Techno is gone, we’re all in rough shape, a mind-controlling potentially demonic entity is likely to try to take over the server, and also, I’m here, despite my best efforts. Does that paint enough of a picture for you, or should I elaborate further?”

Eret stares at him. He stares back, doesn’t let himself fidget. He’s putting the general on display, and it has never felt more like a disguise, like yet another mask,

(and didn’t he tell Tommy he wasn’t going to do this anymore?)

but a familiar one, one that’s almost comfortable. He can force himself into the general’s shoes and worry about tactics and battles and numbers and strategy, and tuck the rest of himself away for when there’s time for it. Can think of this as just another alliance to be made, a debriefing to be held rather than

(Eret traitor friend ally enemy the place in your heart is curdled and sour and you do not know if you are capable of starting anew)

and his losses are statistics and cold facts rather than

(Techno’s eyes golden and glittering and then they go dim and pale red pale and staring the light in your brother’s eyes gone out and it is not the first time you have watched a brother die in front of you but Technoblade never dies is never supposed to die never to go to dust never and you cannot make sense of it cannot make sense of the world turned on its head)

“Wilbur?” Eret asks, after a very long moment, and he doesn’t understand why their voice breaks in the way that it does. “You’re—it’s you? Not Ghostbur?”

He spreads his arms, lifting an eyebrow.

“Do I look like Ghostbur to you?” he asks.

“No,” Eret answers right away. “No, that you do not. Um, has this been a thing, or…?” They trail off, and Wilbur can’t figure out exactly what their feelings are, but it’s too late to back down, even if he wanted to.

“For a bit,” he says. “Not for too long. Can we move on? We’ve got bigger issues to deal with at the moment.”

He means multiple things, with that. He means, there’s bigger things to worry about than why I’m here. He means, there’s bigger things to worry about than our history, and as so long as we’re on the same side for the moment, it can’t matter right now. He doesn’t know if Eret catches all of that, but whether they do or not, they nod, seeming to steady themself.

“Of course,” they say. “I—for the record, it is good to see you, Wilbur.” There is genuine relief in their voice, a tone that says they’re actually glad he’s here, more than glad, even, and he really doesn’t have time to unpack that at the moment. They need a plan, and fast, and they need some goddamn gates. And medical attention, probably. The cut on Puffy’s head looks nasty, and Phil’s wings are still dripping blood, and it’s difficult for Wilbur to look at them for too long,

(grief rises up guilt rises up crushing choking your father is grounded and it is your fault)

but it concerns him, how little Phil appears to care for their current state. So there’s that to handle, and it’s almost too much, almost. Almost too much for someone who has spent the majority of the time since he’s been brought back to life cringing away from meeting people, all the confidence he once displayed gone, shrinking, left in the void or in Pogtopia or on the podium from which he announced his own defeat, perhaps. But even still, he remembers how to be the general. He can hide in the general, present the general on the outside, be useful even while he thinks he might be on the verge of collapse, internally. He has been a general, and so he shall be again.

What comes first, then?

He pulls out his comm, scrolling through the messages. There are quite a few in the general chat from just after Sam’s death message, people from all over the server demanding to know what’s going on. His eyes drift over Techno’s, then, and he winces, but keeps reading. There are even more messages after that, capitalization usage increasing dramatically, and his eyes trace over familiar names, a pang in his heart. Niki. Fundy. Quackity. Several from Eret as well. Some from names he doesn’t recognize, like this Foolish person, and someone named Hannah.

But then, they all cut off. There have been none in the past half hour. Since they escaped from the Egg.

Out of curiosity, he taps out a few words: dream and egg have teamed, regrouping at eret’s. Upon hitting send, the screen goes fuzzy, giving him an error message he’s never seen before. So comms truly are down, then, and it’s probably just as well; Dream likely knows where they are, but if he doesn’t, there’s no reason to give him the information.

(and do these old allies old friends deserve to learn of your return from cold words on a screen do you not have the courage to face them yourself face your son your son you have not seen your son)

(the last time he spoke to Fundy, he disowned him. he doesn’t know if he still has a son)

(if he does not, he has no one to blame for himself, and perhaps that is why he is too cowardly to check)

“Right, then,” he says, looking back up. “Gates are the first priority. They might not do much against whatever the fuck that thing is, but it’s better than nothing. Eret, I assume you’d know the best way to go about it?”

Eret’s lips quirk into a slight smile, one that is, perhaps, slightly sardonic.

“It is my castle,” they agree. “The more hands I have, the quicker it will go, but I can get it done.”

“Anyone who’s not bleeding profusely, help them with that, then,” he says. “Anyone who is bleeding profusely—I assume you’ve got pots somewhere, Eret?” Eret nods, gesturing toward the inside. “Anyone who is bleeding profusely gets a pot. Once we’ve got that all covered, we’ll reconvene, come up with a plan for where to go from here. Everyone got that?”

He gets a few nods, and no one dissents, so he’ll take that as a yes. His gaze travels to the kids then, standing clumped together, and Tommy’s eyes are still shadowed, and Tubbo is shifting his weight between his feet, and Ranboo looks lost, awkward, and he wishes he didn’t have to ask anything more of them. But that’s not how wars work, and this has certainly turned into a war.

(child soldiers once again, and how history echoes)

“Tubbo, Ranboo, I want you on the gates as well,” he says, and tries to soften his tone at least a little bit, even if that’s all he can do. “And then afterward—Tubbo, I need you to go through with all of us exactly what you know about—what did you call them? Dreamons?”

Tubbo looks slightly miserable, but he nods. “Right,” he says. “I can try to ward the gates if you want. With, um, anti-demon stuff. I don’t know if it’ll work. I guess last time we didn’t manage to do much of anything at all.”

“Anti-what,” Eret says, but Wilbur shakes his head.

“We don’t have time for that. Tubbo will explain later. We—”

“The fuck am I supposed to do, then?” Tommy breaks in, crossing his arms. “You haven’t given me a job.” He glares, but it is so very obvious that it’s all a front, all a show, and Tommy’s expression dares him to challenge him, but Wilbur thinks that if he does, he just might break something in him. Tommy has always been so much more fragile than he presents himself as, so much more fragile than he likes to believe he is.

(despite it all, despite it all, he is only sixteen, only a child, a child grown old before his time but a child nonetheless, and now a child who watched his brother die for him, an estranged brother perhaps but still a brother, and Tommy has always cared so much and so deeply, no matter how much he pretends otherwise)

He hasn’t given Tommy a job, and he doesn’t really intend to, because Tommy, of all people, needs to sit the fuck down and rest for a moment. They all deserve a break, but in this moment, Tommy is the one who needs it most, and also the one least likely to accept as much.

If the general gives the order, Tommy will follow it, he knows that much,

(because he made his brother into a soldier he made his brother into a soldier and soldiers follow orders)

even if he’ll be angry at him for it, but Tommy angry with him is a sacrifice he’s willing to make. And perhaps directing his anger at him will help. Perhaps it would be better for Tommy to be angry with someone within reach rather than someone out of it.

(because Tommy is hurting, and the cause of that hurt is not here, and so perhaps if Wilbur offers himself he’ll feel better, will feel more in control, because Tommy needs control, because his abuser is out, is wandering free, and his abuser has killed their brother and told him that it is his fault)

But then, Phil breaks his silence.

“I’d like him to stick with me,” he says, with a smile that is obviously strained. “I’m not going to be able to reach everything myself.” He makes a vague gesture toward his wings, still dripping blood, and there is so much of it already drying on his feathers, sticky, tacky, almost blending in with the darkness of the feathers

(but stark against the grey-white of exposed bone)

“Why the actual shit—” Tommy starts.

“Good idea, Phil,” he cuts him off. “Tommy, help him with the wings, would you?”

“Why do I have to—”

“You too, Wil,” Phil says, and his mood sours immediately. “You think I don’t see that leg? C’mon, Eret, show us to the pots.”

When faced with that, he has no choice but to agree, really.

(he wouldn’t have ignored it. he wouldn’t have. He knows better than to leave a wound untreated in wartime. Even if something whispers at him that he deserves the pain, even if the bite of it brings him closer to reality. But his better sense knows: pain is not the penance that is asked of him, not a recompense that will do anyone any good)

**********

They meet again half an hour later in Eret’s throne room. Half an hour later, and his leg is bandaged and tender and no longer an open wound, and Tommy is frowning and refusing to meet anyone’s eyes, and the state of Phil’s wings is still bothersome, because he didn’t let either of them touch them beyond what was necessary,

(and he recollects countless nights spent running his fingers through soft, silken feathers as his father told him how to preen them, told him that it was a sign of trust, an activity that only family, only flock is allowed, and now Phil will no longer let them near him, will no longer even take care of them himself and it makes him sick to his stomach to think of what has been lost)

but they are no longer bleeding, and that has to be what matters.

The throne room is not the best location for this, he thinks. It feels awkward. But it’s a room big enough to fit everyone, which is the point, big enough to fit Puffy, presence looming and forehead now bandaged, to fit Sapnap, fidgety as he is, like a caged, snarling animal, all restless energy. Big enough for Tubbo, for Tommy, for Ranboo, for Phil, for Eret and for himself, and big enough that there is an obvious gap at Phil’s right side where someone else should be standing.

Eret eyes her throne, glances at everyone else in the room, and then seats herself at its base. It’s a pithy gesture, meaningless, but Wilbur has more important things to do than to call her out on it, even though the existence of the throne itself grates against him.

“Let’s call this meeting to order, then,” he says, and Eret frowns. Perhaps she doesn’t like that he’s calling the shots in her own

(ill-gotten, dearly kept)

castle, but tough. He’s brought out the general for all of their sakes, so the general is what they’re all going to get.

(it’s a mask again and masks crack but he can keep it up for long enough he can he can they need a leader so he will lead he will lead them)

(you were so good at compartmentalizing, once, go good at shoving it all away in boxes in dark shadowy corners never to be opened to gather dust and cobwebs and faded recollections but the boxes cracked and the demon’s escaped and Pandora was too weak to stop them and it all ended in a bang and he cannot tell if hope remains but that isn’t the point because the box is opened and once opened it is not so easily closed and you are putting on a show a lie and lies come back around again they always do and you should know better than to pretend at strength you do not have you will lead them to ruin again ruin and gunpowder smoke and what gives you the right)

“Yeah, alright,” Puffy says. “Can we start by talking about—whatever that was? What were you talking about, dreamons? What’s a dreamon?”

“That sounds like a made up word,” Tommy mutters.

“I wish it were made up,” Tubbo says, and he winces when all eyes turn to him. But a moment later, he straightens, setting his shoulders squarely, holding his head up high. “I’ll tell you all what I know. Even if that turns out to be not as much as I thought.” He pauses, clearly struggling for words.

“Start from the beginning,” he suggests, and Tubbo nods at him gratefully.

“Okay, right, the beginning,” he says. “In the very beginning, me and Fundy were messing around, and we found some old books. We went through them for a laugh, and we learned about these things called dreamons.”

“Wait, that’s what they’re actually called?” Tommy interjects. “Like, properly?”

Tubbo shrugs. “It’s what the books said,” he says. “We weren’t about to argue over names. Even if it did seem like a weird coincidence. But yeah, that’s what they’re called.” His voice falls into an odd cadence here, recitative, like he’s telling a story, and Wilbur crosses his arms, gripping at his elbows. “They come from the darkness of the void, lurking around the edges of a server’s code. Once they get in, their only goal is to cause chaos and destruction. They corrupt everything they touch, and they can possess people and turn them into their puppets. They have unknowable powers, because they’re a sickness, a rot, like an infection in the code of the server itself. It’s really, really difficult to get rid of them, but it can be done if you have the right tools. Or—” He blinks, stuttering a bit, his voice landing more naturally. “We thought so, anyway.”

“What does this have to do with Dream?” Sapnap asks, stopping his pacing, looking to Tubbo with an expression in his eyes that hurts to look at, a bit, wobbly and desperate and pinched, like he already knows the answer but hopes that he’s wrong, hopes as much as he is able, even though he knows it will be fruitless.

Wilbur has put the pieces together. As best he can, anyway. And Sapnap’s not a stupid man. He can see where this is leading.

“Dream got possessed.” Tubbo sighs, gaze drifting toward the floor. “It was a whole thing. Honestly, we were surprised nobody else noticed. But we—we performed an exorcism. And it was really scary, to be honest. But it worked. We could see it leave, all oozy and black and gross, and Dream was better afterward! He was! So we thought we got it out.”

“But it tricked you?” he asks.

“I don’t understand how it could have,” Tubbo replies. “It’s not—it’s not like the kind of possession that you see in a TV show, where the demon can pretend to be the person or something like that. It’s obvious. It’s too—it’s too wrong to blend in, if that makes sense. It made his voice go all funny and deep, and the way it moved—” He shudders, and then continues, miserably, “The way it moved, there’s no way you could mistake something like that for a human. That’s why we were so sure it worked. Because afterward, he seemed back to normal.”

Something about this doesn’t make sense.

“Tubbo,” he says, wheels spinning in his mind, “when was this?”

Tubbo blinks. “Manberg days,” he says. “Um, that’s why we never told you about it, I suppose.”

He barely bats an eye at the reference. It doesn’t make sense. Because he has sensed that wrongness, as Tubbo puts it, has been sensing it from the moment he set foot in that prison cell for the first time. On some level, he knew that something was deeply wrong, even if a demonic presence was the last thing he would have guessed. But if the whole thing happened during—during that time, and the signs of possession were as obvious as Tubbo says, he would have noticed, wouldn’t he? He had plenty of interactions with Dream during that time.

(unless his own shadows stretched long, stretched far enough to cover Dream’s, to cover the thing piloting him)

But no—his shadows were of his own making, not supernatural. If anything, his mindset should have made him more receptive to suspicious wrongness, not less. So what—

(Dream smiles, and you know what it’s like, to have something whispering in your head, he says, once you let something in, there’s no going back)

“Maybe the first bit was a fakeout,” Phil suggests, arms folded, head tilted. He’s perplexed, which is worrying; it’s rare to come across a being that Phil knows nothing about. “It made itself obvious to lure you in so it could slip under the radar. Faked leaving to put your guard down, maybe.”

It’s plausible. But somehow

(and Dream stands atop the Egg and he says, he says, I tried to fight at first, but it turns out it was right all along, and he says it he says it like it’s separate from him like there is not something else something other speaking from his mouth after all and he tried to fight it he tried to fight it and what does that mean)

“They’re the same,” he breathes, and doesn’t know what he means, not quite yet, “they’re the same, and the Egg controls people, and he was talking about fighting something, about giving in—”

He runs a hand through his hair. Shakes his head.

“Wil?” Phil asks.

“Oi, Wilbur,” Tommy says, almost at the same time. But he needs to—he needs to focus as the pieces click into place, faster than he can process, and he has a conclusion but not the words yet—

He holds up a hand.

“Tubbo,” he says, “you said it can corrupt things. What did you mean by that?”

“I dunno, really,” he says. “It talked about it in the books some, but it was all weird metaphorical language. Couldn’t really makes sense of it. We were more focused on the bits that told us how to get rid of them.”

(he says, you know what the void is like, and Tubbo says that they come from the void, and)

That’s alright. He’s not sure he needs a hard answer to that, because he thinks that if one were to describe the feeling of the corruption, it would be

(it is dark and it is peaceful and there is static at the edges eating away at what makes him himself eating at his soul at his sense of self and it is what he wants, to be nothing, and he does not imagine what it would feel like if it were not what he desired, if he tried to resist it, resist the void all-consuming, all-devouring, resist the void that takes all things into itself and is never satiated)

something familiar.

“Alright,” he says, and steeples his fingers together. “Let me paint a picture for you. Someone gets possessed. You exorcise the thing. But these things can corrupt, you say. So maybe you get rid of the thing itself. Maybe Dream’s pretty much back to normal. But maybe it leaves little bits of itself behind. Maybe he’s not possessed, but maybe that doesn’t matter so much anymore. Maybe it changed him regardless. Maybe it’s still changing him, even though it’s no longer there. Maybe a corruption took root, and there wasn’t any going back from it.” He tilts his head, closes his eyes. “Suppose that the Egg is the same type of thing. Something that forced its way through the cracks of the server, something that’s been smart about it, biding its time. The things that Dream was saying reminded me a lot of what the Egg was doing, you know? Manipulating people, making them into things they aren’t, or into their worst selves.”

He strings the words together as he goes. He’s not sure he’s getting his point across. He used to be so much better at this.

“Wait, so you’re saying you think he isn’t possessed?” Sapnap asks.

“I’m saying we don’t really know,” he answers. “Not unless we get it from him. But Tubbo’s the expert here, and if he says Dream’s not acting like he’s possessed, I believe him. But even if he’s not possessed outright, that doesn’t mean there’s no—influence, perhaps.” He keeps his eyes shut; the darkness on the back of his eyelids is a natural one, but he can almost pretend that it isn’t. That it is darker, deeper.

(void)

“He was right that I know what it’s like,” he says. “I’ve felt the Egg in my head. And I was in the void for—a long time. It felt like forever. I know what it feels like, and there’s some of it in him, I think. Him and the Egg both. They’re the same kind of wrong, the same kind of unbelonging. I’ve never been possessed by a demon before, but if it’s made up of void stuff, that’s the sort of thing that stays with you. Whispering.”

He opens his eyes. Everyone is staring at him, varying expressions of horror on their faces.

He goes back over his words. In retrospect, he can see how they probably came off sounding.

“Wil,” Phil says softly.

“I’m fine,” he says, not at all convincingly, he’s sure.

(once he starts thinking of the void of the peace and of the rest it’s hard to stop even though his desires are now tinged with red and he knows better than to listen but he cannot help himself)

“This is all speculation, anyway,” he continues. “Might not matter at all, in the end, what the particulars are. We just need a way to stop them. Can dreamons be killed, Tubbo?”

Tubbo takes a moment before replying. “I don’t think so,” he says. “Fundy might remember better. But I think the only thing in what we read was the exorcism.”

“Which doesn’t help us much if Dream’s not actually possessed,” Puffy says. “Unless it might work on the Egg? If the Egg’s a—a dreamon too?”

“Worth a shot if we can get to it again,” he says, “but I don’t like risking so much on a maybe.”

“The less we mess with forces beyond our understanding, the better,” Eret says suddenly. She frowns, pushing her sunglasses further up her face. “As I said earlier, I’ve been away a good bit recently, so I haven’t been tracking the Egg’s progress as much as perhaps I should have. But I did notice an increase in activity—well. It was shortly after we tried to resurrect you, Wilbur.” She inclines her head toward him. “I fear that in our efforts, we might have interfered with something we shouldn’t have interfered with. Weakened a barrier of some kind, between our existence and—something else.”

She speaks with a strange kind of gravity. But her words make an unfortunate kind of sense.

He doesn’t look at Phil.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Tommy states. “What the fuck does that even mean?”

“I’m with Tommy on this one. What are you talking about?” Sapnap adds.

“We’re getting off track,” he says, snapping his fingers. “We’re going about this wrong. We don’t have enough information, and we don’t have enough power. Those are our problems. How do we solve them?”

“The obvious would be to get the word out,” Puffy says. “Comms are down, but we can go by word of mouth if we have to. Kinda risky, with the amount of vines on this server, but the nether portal’s right across the way. No vines in the nether, I think.”

“I have lots of old books myself,” Phil chimes in, eyes skyward. “Might be something in there to help that I’ve read and forgotten about. And I’ve got another source of info I’ve barely begun to go through. Old shit I found. It might be worth a shot.” He looks back down. “We need to go get Techno anyway.” He says the last in a tone that brooks no argument, and Wilbur doesn’t try, even if it’s perhaps not the most tactically sound option.

(he wants Techno back too, wants to lay eyes on him, hold his wrist in his hand and count his heartbeats, each one a reassurance, because he knows what it is for a brother to die and come back but that has never made it easier)

“It’s better than nothing,” he says. “Alright, I’ve got a plan, then. Some of us go to the tundra, get Technoblade, and go through whatever books Phil has. Some stay here and fortify the defenses as best we can using what Tubbo can remember that he thinks might work, and a couple of us go around through the nether and tell as many people as possible what’s going on. Gather allies, resources anything else we might need.”

It’s not much of a plan. But based on just how outclassed they are, just how little they know, just how much exhaustion shows in their faces, it might be the best plan they’re going to get for now. To throw themselves back into a battle so soon would be folly.

It never sits well with him to bank so much on a hope, though, a mere possibility that things will go their way.

(but certainties were ripped out from under him the moment Dream killed the unkillable, the moment he saw his brother crumple to ash before his eyes)

“Great,” Puffy says, grimacing. “What could possibly go wrong with that?”

The silence that greets that statement serves perfectly well as a response.

He closes his eyes again. The darkness is no comfort.

#mcyt #dsmp #dream smp #dsmp fic #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #philza #tubbo #eret #ranboo #captain puffy #sapnap #alivebur #/rp #cat writes fic #long post #c!wilbur angst tag

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razorblade180 · 3 years ago

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Twin Snowflakes 27:Hill climbing preparations

Part 26 here!<-

Rehearsals were going well. With Darren out of mind and no further incidents, students had gotten back into a steady blow of progress. The band was a little shaky at first but Summer had learned that Nick had a point about her being a bit strict in the beginning. With that hurdle jumped, Summer felt comfortable enough to take a short break. Her feet swung from over the stage's edge like a kid on a swing while she took a moment to call Oscar. It had been a few days since their last check in date. The fact that he didn’t blow her fun up meant his own hands were full. Fortunately, two rings was all it took before his face popped up on her screen, covered in what was hopefully seawater.

“Hi Oscar! Ummm sea life treating you will? You look a little…”

“Wet? Sigh, I can’t believe I’m saying this but I miss the cold of the tundra. All the storms and aquatic grimm yanking me off the boat is getting annoying. Anyways, Penny told me you had a little scare recently? Everything okay?”

“Yes, I think.” Summer rubbed her face. “Well…as okay as things usually get. I do feel better than usual. I’ve gotten to perform quite a bit the last couple days.”

“Really? Did you take my advice by any chance?”

A guilty smile found its way on Summer’s face. She couldn’t help but chuckle. “Nah. I’ve just been singing a couple of covers and a few originals that anyone with a radio has heard. The lyrics in the journal are just that, in the journal. I actually wanted to talk to you about a trick Nick got me to try. You’ve actually mentioned it once before early on.”

“Is that so- woah!” Oscar yelped, nearly falling from the rock of the ship crashing through a wave. “Hehe. Sorry about that!”

“Everything okay over there? I can call later?”

“No it’s fine; just rough seas. That’s good though. Challenging waves and other harsh weather factors have been swelling for quite some time. You’re too young to remember this but Atlas was actually a bit warmer. Hot places were cooler and sailing wasn’t as wild.”

“I’ve heard about that in class. Don’t scientists think it might have something to do with magic being back?”

“Or the gods roaming through Remnant.” He smirked, confident about the latter theory. “Harsh conditions mean it’s difficult to press forward. As if the world itself is trying to keep things away. With a little luck, passing these hurdles are all the answers we need.”

Answers. Summer couldn’t begin to imagine having those. It was more terrifying than reliving if she had to be honest. She wouldn’t know what to do if the gods themselves didn’t know what to do. The only thing worse is them saying she couldn’t do anything.

“Let’s cross our fingers you aren’t on a boat for nothing. Speaking of Shiva, Nick talked me into entering my headspace willingly. I was even able to manifest a shovel in it!”

“A shovel?” Oscar quirked his head.

“Yeah it wasn’t the usual blue empty space. It waslake; the lake as a matter of fact. I chucked a shovel at Shiva and told her to start digging her grave.”

“Nick told you to do that!?”

“Weeeeeeell… he only told me to confront her with unwavering resolve in a way Veronica would. I’m pretty sure that meant being cut throat but I may have defaulted to cock intimidation. Pretty sure I stoked the flames of war. But it felt good!”

The cheerfulness in her tone was genuine. While manifesting and confrontation was something Oscar had tried to get her to do early on, there are ways to go about it. Headspace or not, poking at a beast was always risky. “I’m glad you’re feeling good, but exercise caution. I wouldn’t try that alone. There’s a lot we don’t know about that space. I doubt you can actually die there but if that really is your mind you're traversing then serious backlash might happen if things go wrong. Remember, Shiva has an edge. Don’t let her play you in your own head.”

“Believe me, that’s the last thing I want. I’ll be careful Oscar. Thanks for worrying about me. Couldn’t ask for a better therapist”

“I wouldn’t go that far. Ruby and your dad give some pretty solid motivational speeches.”

Hehe, don’t sell yourself short. I should probably get going. Good luck! Watch the gods tell you to perform an exorcism or drown me in sacred water.”

Oh if only it was that easy. “If she had any signs of a soul I would’ve tried that already. Take care Summer. Call me when you need me”

“You know I will.” She hung up and looked over at Nick. A few of the girls had taken the opportunity to strike up a conversation with him. In typical fashion, Nick just let them fawn in vain. “Geez, take a hint ladies.” She mumbled.

“Oh my gods! I wasn’t aware you could sing!”

“So talented!”

“Can you sing for my birthday!?”

All the back chatter and compliments made it hard to focus on one person. Nick did his best to calm them all, giving a faux laugh and smile. “Hehe, thanks. I can hold a note, I’m not as good as my sister, and I’m way too sheepish to sing at a birthday. Now we should probably get back to working maybe? Practice is almost-” his eyes caught the door entrance before he finished. Valerie had walked in.

As if by will, her head automatically turned to meet his eyes. Valerie couldn’t help but give some kind of disarming smile, giving a small wave that was quickly rejected when Nick went back talking to the people around him. Not even Valerie could deny that burn. She put her hand down before she felt anymore like an edit, walking over to Eliza to get what she had to do over with.

“Hey soldier.”

“Huh? Well look who finally decided to show! I expect more from a representative of this school.”

“Oh brother…” Val couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “I’m not even gonna pretend that I’m sorry like I usually do. Look, at least I did what was asked of me. Boiler is fixed for now and there should be no problem getting hot water when the big day arrives.”

“Keep a keen eye on it just in case. I don’t have any time to deal with tiny problems during the tournament.”

“Yeah you and everyone else in this room. Now if you excuse me.” Valerie pointed both thumbs back and tried backing up slowly.

“Hold on…”

“Uuugh. Yes? I got plenty of practice to work on. Make this quick.”

Eliza narrowed her eyes. “Wow, someone is more aggressive than usual. If that’s how you’re going to be then I’ll spare you the lecture. Just know you better be careful or I might pull the rug out from under you this year.”

“Hmph, bold words. You gotta make it to the top of the hill before challenging the ruler. Though you’re more than welcome to kick Nick around and take his spot for all I care. See ya. Just text me the meeting information. Got things to do.” Valerie turned around and headed off. On the way out she saw Summer staring at her with a raised eyebrow from afar. To make matters worse, the cheerleaders moved by the exit. Veronica being among them. Valerie was ready for some kind of sly comment but to her surprise Veronica briefly acknowledged her, nodded, and then went back to what she was doing.

Eliza looked at the time and figured everyone made enough progress for one day. “Alright everyone! You can all start wrapping things up. I’m sure all of you have things to-” the sound of everyone packing their belongings overpowered her voice. “Do.” She finished. At least she could trust everyone to clean up on time. “Nicholas, get your butt in gear.”

“Oh thank goodness!” Nick wasted no time squeezing his way through the girls that lingered around him. “Sorry! The VP calls! Let’s go Summer!”

“Right behind you.” She turned towards the band. “It would be a good idea for you all to practice a little longer. Not because you may or may not need it but because I’ll finally give you room to experiment. Just no funny ideas about adding drum solos.” Summer hopped off stage and headed off, quickly catching up to Nick, Eliza, and Veronica. “Well aren’t we an interesting looking bunch?”

“An idol, witch, heir, and fashion designer. This is the beginning of a bad joke I’d say.”

“Bold of you to call someone a witch when they’ve agreed to help you train.”

“Would you prefer magical girl, or maybe sorceress?” Nick nudged her.

“I prefer my name. However…sorceress is endearing, I suppose.”

“I could call you that while you teach me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” She said in a shrill voice. “I’m already regretting this.”

“Well while you two train to death, I’m finally going to get some real shut eye. I can hear my bed calling my name already.”

“Not so fast.” Veronica interjected. “Since we ended up being free at the same time and I have to work a little more diligently…”

Summer didn’t like where this was headed. “Veronica, my hot headed designer, I’m well aware of what it’s like to be a perfectionist. However, please don’t rope me into this.”

All three of them looked at her at once. “It’s your dress!”

“I know that! No need to remind me! I am tired though. It’s Monday, the weekend was crazy, and I just put in a full day of school with extra curricular activities. Allow me two hours at least!?”

“Ugh, ever the whiner. Fine but I don’t want to hear any complaints about design. Most would be thrilled to be heavily involved with their clothing.”

“Well consider this a show of good faith towards your skills.”

The four of them continued to talk all the way to the manor. Eliza tried to stay on important topics while Nick did his best to keep things casual. It never really worked out considering Summer's insistence to not help her dear brother and Veronica’s curiosity about events to come. It was only when the girl’s feline ears twitched by the gate did she begin to quiet down.

“Hmmm?” She stopped immediately.

“Huh? What’s wrong Vee-”

“ACHOO!!!” The girl yelled. The sneeze was so strong Veronica lifted off the ground slightly. “Phew…sorry about that.” She sniffled her loss and continued walking like nothing happened, leaving everyone confused. Veronica was the first to enter with everyone lagging a bit behind. Her eyes looked around until they spotted her mother, Blake, coming down the stairs in casual clothes and wet hair.

“Hey everyone! Finally home I see? And with a friend?”

“Uh classmate. I wouldn’t exac…ummm that’s not important. Hehe, I’m Eliza Marigold.” She stammered. It didn’t really dawn on her that she’d be meeting Mrs. Belladonna herself today. “You look lovely. Though…you look a little red? Are you sick?”

“Oh it’s nothing! Just umm got out of the shower is all.”

Veronica’s eyes narrowed. “Where’s ma?”

“Out back with Jaune.”

“Really?”

“One hundred perfect!” Blake said, unusually preppy. “Well I don’t keep you kids held up. I’ll be in the living room. Nick, Summer, I think your mother is in the garden.”

“Cool. She must be setting up the candle test already. Follow me Eliza.” Nick took her hand and guided her.

“Think I’ll get lost or something?”

“No, I just don’t need you judging every inch of this place until you find something to criticize.”

“……It’s too bright in here.” She heard Nick snicker at her attempt. “You suck.”

With those two out of the way it was time for Summer to mosey to her room. “Finally, nap time!”

“Don’t you wanna practice too?”

“What they’re doing is something I already know. Besides, Nick and I do most of our practices separate. He’ll get me when he needs me. Wake me up if you need anything.”

Veronica waited for the girl to get out of sight before giving her mom a look meant to inspire shame and embarrassment. “Really? We’ve been out all day ya know? You had plenty of time.”

Blake put her hand over Veronica’s face. “Shush your face. It happens sometimes. Thank you for the heads up.”

“Y’all are gross but that’s nothing new. I won’t mention it again if you could bring dinner up to my room. I’m gonna be spending quite some time in there.”

“Even across the world I guess some habits don’t change. Deal.”

xxxxx

In the garden, Weiss stood on the balcony with a cup of coffee. The sound of footsteps behind her caught her ear. She was more than a little surprised to learn that they belonged to not just Nick. “Eliza?”

“Mrs. Schnee. Thank you for allowing me in your home.” Eliza gave a curtsy.

“How’s your father?”

“Oh you know him, always up to something.”

Weiss wasn’t sure if that was good or bad considering his track record. “I see. Well make yourself comfortable. Nick, everything is already set up. Never would’ve thought this is how you’d try to get this done. Don’t push yourself.”

“Heh, push myself? Me?”

Weiss playfully rolled her eyes and left the balcony, ruffling Nick’s hair on the way out. Nick looked at Eliza confused. “You know you don’t have to be so formal around her, right?”

“Let’s not focus on my speech and pay attention to why we’re here. Anyways, how does this training work exactly?”

Nick walked to the railing to point at the fifteen candles spread throughout the garden. “The goal is to light all the candles at once without burning anything. It’s harder than it looks. It requires timing, speed, accuracy, and control above all.”

“Never took you for one who cares much for traditional methods of fighting. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you use your glyphs to manipulate the elements.”

“Yeah, because I suck. Summer on the other hand…” He hunched over in defeat. “Not so much.”

Eliza couldn’t help but scan the area multiple times. This couldn’t be all there was to it. Could it? The five candles in the actual hedge maze looked a little challenging, but Nick was…Nick! Despite her reservations about his attitude, he was smart and knew how to work.

“Do you increase the candle amount as you go?”

He nodded. “That’s the natural progression. Summer can do thirty without thinking much about it.”

“Meanwhile you can’t even do half that amount. You sure you’re the older twin?”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant.” He pouted. Nick grabbed his sword and got into his low stance.

“So I’m just supposed to observe you?”

“No. I’m going to need help with the fires too.”

That’s not something she wanted to hear. “Tsk, alright. But first, let me see if I’m able to do it. Wouldn’t be that good of a teacher if I couldn’t.”

She climbed on top of the railing to get a better look. She raised her right hand to the sky and took a breath. Five flames ignited her fingertips as she thought of the best approach. Moments later, Eliza launched all five with a downward swing, another five swing left, then the final five to the right. Each flame danced on the winds below them before finding their targets.

Amazed, Nick’s jaw dropped for a second before saying anything. “First try!?”

“Not exactly. You did say all at once so that may have been cheating. Let me try again.” She wrapped both arms around herself then swung them out, causing a gust of wind that blew out the candles.

Nick watched closely. Breathing, posture, line of sight; anything he could to gain knowledge. Eliza cuffed her hands together. A small flame flickered into existence and grew slowly until it was the size of a baseball. Eliza threw it over the garden underhanded. The moment it reached max height she pushed her hands downwards like if she closed a lid. This made the flame split apart into embers that fell quick enough to reach each candle. Nick couldn’t believe she was two for two.

“Seems I got the hang of it.” Eliza blew the candles out and hopped off the railing. “I’d do it while off the railing but I’m positive we know the results.”

“Yeah no kidding. While I’m lucky I picked the right person to help me, doing that so easily kinda stings. Not gonna lie. You really are a sorceress.”

“Tsk, flattery gets you nowhere. Assume your stance.” She ordered. Eliza kept a close eye on Nick. He opted to square his feet with his shoulders, a sturdy stance for sure. “So far so good.” His blade pointed up and outwards. A red glyph began to form at its tip, conjuring a ball of intense flame that was as big as a softball. Eliza’s eyes narrowed. She could not believe what she was watching. “You’ll miss.”

“Huh?” Nick said, trying to focus.

“If you shoot the fireball then you are going to miss.” Eliza channeled a silver orb in her palm that bursted into shimmering light. Nick’s glyph suddenly vanished and took the fireball along with it.

“Hey! Don’t just negate my semblance out of the blue! I didn’t even shoot it yet!”

Eliza wasn’t sure what she had expected from this training. It was clear now why a talented person like Nick was fumbling. Frankly, it was annoying. Down right inexcusable. Eliza folded both her arms. “You’re so idiotic in the strangest ways possible, you know that right? To think you’re stronger than me?”

Nick huffed. This wasn’t constructive at all. “You gonna actually help, or continue to insult me? If I knew how to do this on my own then I wouldn’t ask for help.”

Nick ran his hand through his tangled hair and let out a sigh. Eliza could tell he genuinely had no idea what was wrong. It kinda got to her. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be picking on you like that. You weren’t wrong to ask for help.”

“Normally I have an inkling of how to progress but I’m hitting a wall. All of this is just…”

“Too much?” Eliza leaned over and thumped his head. “Because it is. That’s exactly your problem. You are doing far too much at once. Why are you trying to do so many steps at the exact same time?”

“What do you mean at the exact same time? All I did was make a fireball.”

Eliza could feel her eye try to twitch. “Okay. I should’ve expected that from you. Guess I’ll teach by showing.” She stood beside Nick and made a flame. “See? Now this is as basic as it gets, just straight up fire. A fireball requires controlling the shape of the flame;maintaining its heat as well.” The flame swirled around itself to make just that.

“Okay? I’m following you so far.”

“If a fireball was all you were making then no big deal. However, I just saw you attempt to make a fireball that has to keep its shape, burn hot enough, long enough, and must be aimed at multiple targets at once. No mind can do all that on a dime. It’s simply too much.”

Nick watched Eliza move behind him, putting her arms right on top of his, guiding his movements as if she was holding his blade. Her chin rested on his shoulder to get a clear line of sight. Nick was no stranger to being led through an attack, but man was it weird to have Eliza this close!

“Ummm…”

“Bear with it and focus.” She uttered, trying not to yell in his ear. “Make a flame. Just a flame. Let it heat swell and dissipate in sync with my breathing.”

“Shouldn’t it be with my own?”

“Not when your heart is beating like a drum. To think Nicholas Schnee would lose composure from a girl touching him?”

“Can’t hear you, focusing.” He was trying anyway. Eventually he managed to slow his heartbeat. He could tell Eliza was taking deep breaths on purpose to help. In sync, he made another fire glyph as she ordered.

“Good, now make it as hot as you want, then make it into a ball.” The flame shaped into the size of a baseball this time. Eliza smiled. “See how easy it is to control the size after you’ve completed the previous steps? You’ll save dust this way.”

“What’s next?”

“Aiming. You already know where your targets are but you also aren’t in a rush. If you need time to make a shot then all you have to do is make the time.” Eliza raised Nick’s sword higher in the air. “Launch it into the air, confirm where you need the fire to hit, then guide the flames to it.”

Nick took a deep breath and launched the fireball ball in an arch over the garden. He waited for it to reach the middle and fall briefly before making it burst into smaller flames that hit the candles. Eliza finally let go so he could pump his fist into the air.

“Woohoo!”

“Don’t celebrate yet, but good job. A moving target would be harder but not impossible. Repetition will allow you to eventually group certain steps together without having to think about it. You’ll get used to making fireballs that are a certain size and speed as long as you allow yourself to process each step as you are now. I noticed you let the fireball fall. Why?”

“I always end up not lighting them all because the fire dies too quickly. I realized the flame wasn’t hot enough the moment I shot it, so I let it get closer to the candles before having to split it up. Good thing you told me to aim higher or I may not have noticed.

“He can process things like that but not realize breaking the steps up will make things easier? How does his brain work!?”

Another gust of wind blew the candles out. “I’m willing to help you further but I think it’s time you held up your end of this bargain.”

“Antsy, aren’t we? Fair enough.” Nick put his sword down and sat on the railing. “What I’m about to tell you is going to make your tournament life a hundred times simpler. This is your second King of The Hill. Remember the rules?”

“Of course I do.” She followed his lead and sat down as well. “All previous tournament and combat skills leading up to the tournament are calculated so they can rank you compared to the other contestants. In order to progress higher you must defeat the person directly above you in the rank to switch places. Those who win are rewarded a reprieve from being challenged immediately to decrease rematches, but the loser can be challenged by whoever is directly below them. Conversely, if you challenge a person and lose, then you have to wait a set period before trying again while defending your current spot. The entire tournament is on a time limit that tests endurance, strategy, and the skills you’ve used all year. The winner is whoever is ranked number one by the end; the king of the hill.”

“Correct! It’s pure chaos. However, you forgot an important thing. You’ve participated once and managed to get third, so that’s automatically where you start.”

Eliza’s eyes lit up. “That’s a rule!?”

“Yep. As long as you still participated in prior tournaments this year, which you have. Congratulations on skipping the taxing part. Now you’re in the grueling section. The only way you go up is through me and Valerie. A slip up could cause you to waste too much energy and that could drag you out of third if you lose or even win against me immediately, because if I get challenged and win, then I can challenge you again before you challenge Valerie or after you hypothetically lose to her. Let that sink in for a moment.”

Eliza could feel her heart drop to her stomach. If she were to beat Nick and lose to Valerie then at best she’s at a third of her strength for a rematch she doesn’t want. Beating Nick was a goal but she didn’t need to do it twice in a day! The worst part is she is at his mercy in this scenario; getting a reprieve only if he needs one. He could very well best her and then she’s even more tired defending third place.

“Is it sinking in? Third place is its own special hell. Let’s knock Valerie into it.” He smiled.

“And how do we manage that exactly?”

“By knocking me into it! I want to take a dive in our match. A good one. The two of us will put on a spectacle to show our might that ends with me losing. This will throw everyone off into thinking you are exceptionally strong and-”

“Are you saying I’m not!” She folded her arms.

Nick chuckled nervously. “Let me finish before you get upset. Yes, you're strong, but will think you’re stronger than me by a decent margin. This is where the mind games kick in because the two of us haven’t actually used that much energy, but the other contestants don’t know that.”

Eliza rubbed her chin. “You…want them to fight you?”

“Exactly. No one's gonna pass up the opportunity to get a leg up on me. You know that better than anyone. Unfortunately for them, I’ll actually be trying against them and I fully intend to go end them quickly. This does multiple things. It makes the gap between the top three look bigger, allows me to stir the lower ranks rotation, keeps you rested, and makes Valerie anxious because you will not immediately challenge her. We are going to burn time until it gets to a point that once she’s knocked out of first, getting back up will be nearly impossible.”

“I fail to see how that’s possible. If she’s rested-”

“That’s just it, she won’t be. You can challenge her freely and not worry about me for most of the tournament. Use the time to learn how to fight her then I’ll challenge you again and win, then immediately go fight her. You’ll briefly be back in third place but fourth place holders will be exhausted and think twice about challenging you, Eliza Marigold; the person who beat Nicholas Schnee.”

“You made a safety net for third”

“I made a safety net for you! I will beat Valerie so she’ll fall to second place and that’s where you jump in to knock her to third. By that point she’ll have to wait and losing twice in a row is gonna give people ideas. Even if she beats them it’ll be a race against the clock and you can challenge me to avoid fighting her if it comes down to that. Boom, guaranteed second place for you with a potential at first place.”

The plan was insane, daring, and yet clearly thought of. “This is…a lot. Not to mention not full proof. What if I actually don’t need you to weaken Valerie and can take first place for myself?”

“Then by all means take it. I’ll knock Valerie to third myself and then fight you. Careful though. If I win you’re stuck with her and plenty of time you have to stall.”

She didn’t like the sound of that. “What if I refuse this off altogether?”

“That’s fine. We’ll just all have to do our best.”

“Your entire plan hinges on you beating Valerie. What if-”

“I’ll win.” He deadpanned. “I can take her this year. No questions about it.”

He started giving that same exact look he did a few days ago. “Not that I’m not interested but this feels a little unlike you.”

“Is that bad? People are always saying I’m too soft around Valerie. This is a tournament and there’s no rules against teamwork. You in?”

He hopped down and extended his hand. Nick did his best to seem casual about all of this but it was clear to Eliza he was pretty frustrated at Valerie. It wasn’t her place to pry. If he was willing to go this far then she might as well keep an eye on the entire thing. A chance to progress, and a good event. As long as those two things happened without incident then she had no reason to object. Then there was the other problem. She already helped him train…Eliza shook his hand.

“Glad to do business with you. I guess it’s only fair now that I give you the choice to stop training me. Wouldn’t want this to feel like I’ve gained so much tangible progress while yours relies on-”

Eliza tossed him his sword. “Quit with the chivalrous act. If I don’t train you to my standards then I’m positive your plan is bound to fall apart. Helping you here can only benefit me, or did you already forget I could teach you a thousand ways to improve your glyphs and still even the playing field?” She made another silver orb.

Nick gulped. He actually did forget how big of a pain in the ass it was gonna be fighting her. Semblance training doesn’t mean much if you can’t use it. “Have I ever told you that you can be terrifying and comforting at the same time?”

“Nobility should be just that. It’s why people like your face so much whenever you look like you beat the crap out of somebody.”

“People like my face because I’m handsome!!!”

“Less chitchat. More candle lighting.”

Nick hunched over in defeat. Marigolds, what can you do with them?

#rwby #rwby au #nicholas schnee #summer schnee #oscar pine #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #eliza marigold #val valkyrie #rwby twin snowflakes

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fandom-necromancer · 4 years ago

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Getting lost together

This was prompted by a lovely anon! I hope you enjoy, this one is fluffy XD

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900

‘Nines, that was the last bag, come on! We’re going to be late!’ Gavin closed the trunk of his car and looked over to where Nines was standing right between the house and the car. ‘Tina will look after the cats alright, she loves the little beasts, don’t worry’, he tried to comfort him, opening the car door and leaning against it. ‘We’ll come back, and they are at least a kilo heavier’, he joked. Nines straightened his back, but avoided his eyes as he walked towards the car. ‘Hey, what’s wrong?’, the Detective asked softly. ‘I thought you looked forward to this.’ ‘I do!’, Nines quickly replied. ‘It’s just my first time leaving Detroit. I… I’m not sure what awaits me.’ ‘That’s what travelling is about’, Gavin explained and stepped past the door to take his hand. ‘Don’t worry. You will love it.’ ‘I hope so’, he mumbled far too insecure for a war machine and entered the car.

Gavin sat down too, leaning over to press a kiss to Nines’ cheek and start the engine afterwards. ‘Come on. Let’s go on a road trip!’ He handed Nines a case full of music CDs and gestured him to choose one. ‘Passenger decides the music’, he explained and started pulling out of their driveway. The android frowned at the disks, contemplating whether he should tell Gavin he could always just connect to the car and play whatever song he wanted. But he guessed this was part of the experience, so he pulled out one of them without researching band names or titles written on it. ‘Excellent choice’, Gavin cheered as the first heavy guitar riffs came up. Nines couldn’t really say something to that as he had no idea what else he could have picked, but seeing Gavin grin and drum his fingers on the steering wheel he found he didn’t really care if it made his human happy.

They drove through the streets and Nines traced their route with his GPS. He got increasingly worried as they made it onto the highway and finally left Detroit. ‘All good, love?’, Gavin asked, seeing the red flashing LED. ‘Yes, just… I lost connection to an android network.’ ‘That means?’, the man asked concerned. ‘My scans won’t be as effective anymore as I can only detect what I see. I can’t supplement it with information from the internet or databanks.’ ‘Should we turn around?’ Nines thought about it. It was their first vacation since the revolution as work had kept them busy with anti-android crimes, retaliations and the rising Red-Ice trades. He had looked forwards to it and still did. He would spend time with his human somewhere neither of them had been before, just the two of them. What about that wasn’t exciting? ‘No. It’s just weird loosing a function you never paid much attention to.’ ‘I can imagine’, Gavin hummed, unsure what to say. ‘I guess that at least makes us equal?’, Nines contemplated. ‘Neither of us knows Providence. It’s a new place for you and I have no way of acquiring more information than you could.’ ‘Heh, a full-on human experience, then?’ ‘You could say so.’

They drove down the road and the longer they were on their way, the less worried Nines became. If anything, partially loosing his scanning abilities made it even more interesting. He simply couldn’t know some things and others passed too fast to get even a little bit of information. ‘How do you live like this?’, Nines couldn’t help but ask as he could see buildings to his right that might have belonged to a town called Sweaburg, but could as well be something entirely else. ‘How do you live, seeing things and having no idea what something is?’ Gavin laughed. ‘Learning to ignore what isn’t important, I guess? I mean, do I have to know everything to survive. And it can make it all the more interesting if you do find out someday. You can always learn something new, even if you lived your whole life in just one city.’ Nines frowned and tried to understand. ‘I mean, isn’t it boring knowing everything? What about curiosity and the joy of discovery?’ The android had to nod to that. ‘That’s why I like our work this much. And I’m starting to like this new perspective, too.’

He found himself smiling as he watched the world pass by, details appearing and disappearing before his programs could even try to gather information. He had become a passive onlooker and it was a weirdly relaxing experience when at the same time his eyes darted from one fixing point to the next trying to take in everything at once. Gavin found he had a difficult time concentrating on the road when Nines sat in the passenger seat almost pressing his nose to the glass like a school child on their first but ride. Sometimes he wished he could take photos like the android could, just to remember this sight forever.

They had to stop for gas soon and Nines took over for the rest of the ten-hour ride. Gavin, understandably exhausted, had tried to stay awake, but when they were an hour away from their destination, he was peacefully sleeping leaned against the door. Only as Nines left the highway and had to stop at a red light, the man woke up again. ‘Oh, we’re already there?’, he asked and sat up. ‘Sorry, I’m just really tired.’ ‘Our hotel is just down the road. Then you can sleep properly.’ ‘Nah, I planned to go take a look at the city first!’ ‘Gavin, I doubt we will get anything else done. And it’s supposed to be a vacation.’ ‘Okay, I’ll take a short nap then and afterwards we go for a walk in the evening, but that’s the only compromise I’m willing to accept.’ Nines sighed. ‘Fine.’

They checked in to their hotel and went to their room to stow away their luggage. Gavin’s nap ended up being longer than expected and with an amused huff, Nines slipped under the blanket too to join his human in this unknown place.

Maybe it had been the night spent in stasis, but when Nines rose to see Gavin in the light of the rising sun in this foreign room, he could barely contain the happiness that he felt. No deadline, no case that had to be solved, no clear mission to follow. Just himself and Gavin in a city neither of them knew; time reset to a new schedule counting down the days of their vacation. It was almost… liberating.

He snuggled closer to Gavin and wallowed in his warmth. The human grinned and turned around, still sleepy but slowly waking up. ‘Morning, Nines.’ ‘Morning darling.’ Gavin buried his head in his shoulder. ‘Jeez, Nines, if you keep this up I’ll never leave the bed.’ ‘We can do that if you want’, the android murmured, kissing the top of his head. ‘Nah. Let’s get ready for breakfast and then go see the city. I have something special planned for tonight and you can’t research it! It will truly be a surprise.’ ‘I can still do normal research via the internet, Gavin. Just slower.’ ‘Don’t you dare’, Gavin laughed, pointing his finger at his nose, before standing up and getting ready for the day.

After leaving the hotel, they walked through the streets without any real plan in mind. Nines followed Gavin, who seemed to take random turns and stopped at random places. Watching the people around them and the different sorts of buildings, Nines was quickly feeling weirdly at home. In the afternoon they stopped at a park near the river and Gavin got himself something to eat at the many food carts around. They sat down at a bench right at the riverfront and enjoyed the sunny day. ‘This is perfect’, Nines couldn’t help but voice the content he felt at watching the water lazily pass by, a few ducks swimming on it. A few joggers passed them, faces without names for the first time in Nines’ short life. ‘Got over that lack of information?’, Gavin asked, mouth still half full of the hot dog. ‘I’m actually considering shutting off that program completely when not on the job’, he shrugged. ‘You were right it is more interesting to not know and wonder. If I really need to know something, I can always switch it on again.’ ‘Nice. Good to know it’s not too bad for you.’ Nines looked down on Gavin and put his arm around him. ‘It’s never around you.’ ‘Aw you damn romantic android. I would hate you if I didn’t love you.’ ‘Sure.’ Nines looked out over the river and cocked his head. ‘Gavin, what did you wanted to show me?’ ‘In the evening, love. Has to be dark for it. Patience.’

At least time passed quickly with the human around to guide him around town. As the sun set, they returned to a different part of the river. Nines frowned, as he saw several people blocking his view on the water. ‘Gavin, what-‘ ‘Shh, come on, follow me. I looked this up beforehand, there should be a good spot over here.’ Gavin took his hand and pushed through the crowd, not even thinking of apologising. Pulling Nines right to the front, the android was indeed blown-away. In all his preconstructions, he hadn’t expected this: Several bonfires were lit on the water and lit up the walls in soft orange and hot white yellow. Music played and the masses stood and watched as people tended to the fires and gondolas passed through the flames. ‘Gavin, what is this?’, he asked in surprise. ‘They call it Waterfire. A festival that began as art is now celebrated annually. ‘Thought it would be something fun to be part of. Do you like it?’ Nines couldn’t pull his eyes away from the reflections on the water, the thousands of people at the shore and the flickering fires cracking on the surface of the water. The smell of burning wood filled the air and managed to overpower the different smells from the food stands. ‘Gavin, I… I never experienced something similar. Can we… Does this stretch the whole river? Can we see all of it? Can we ride one of the gondolas? I… For how long did they celebrate this? Why-‘ Gavin’s loving smile made him stop, feeling awkward for asking so many questions and letting his excitement overwhelm him. But Gavin only rose to his toes and pulled Nines head down into a kiss. ‘For you? Everything.’

#detroit become human #dbh #Reed900 #RK900 #Gavin Reed #Me German: oh I can finally streetview these famous American highways!#Sees a two-lane street. Wow okay now I understand why Americans love Autobahn #How do you abolish your trains for cars and then drive a two-lane street cross country?#honestly I just want to travel so hard at the moment #Just forget the world and roadtrip #I wasn't on holiday even before corona and now I just haven't left the house and I wanna see stuff I haven't seen #I'm happy to commute again between uni and home but they piled up earth to both sides of the train track so now you almost never see stuff #I just wanna drive around and see friends again like holy shit when will this virus end #ramble end #fluffy Reed900 because we all need that

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duhragonball · 3 years ago

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[FIC] Luffa: The Legendary Super Saiyan (152/?)

Disclaimer: This story features characters and concepts based on Dragon Ball, which is a trademark of Bird Studio/Shueisha and Toei Animation. This is an unauthorized work, and no profit is being made on this work by me. This story is copyright of me. Download if you like, but please don’t archive it without my permission. Don’t be shy.

Continuity Note: This story takes place about 1000 years before 66 years after the events of Dragon Ball Z.

[24 December, Age 762. Namek.]

Luffa found herself back in the past, on the Planet Namek, during Frieza's invasion. She did not understand how the Scroll of Eternity worked, or how her Time Patrol missions could "fix" anomalies in the flow of time. What mattered now was that a mysterious enemy had altered the course of events on this date and place, and when Luffa had failed to correct the problem on her first try, she ended up switching bodies with the villainous Captain Ginyu. Somehow, the Scroll of Eternity had recalled her to the Time Vault, but the only way to complete the mission was to resume from the exact moment where she had left off. And because of the bodyswapping complication, Luffa would have to handle the matter personally.

Inhabiting Captain Ginyu's massive purple body was a deeply unsettling experience for Luffa. So was the sight of her own Saiyan body acting independently of her consciousness. Disillusioned as she was with the Saiyan species and culture, she still clung to her heritage as a refuge of self-esteem. Ginyu had ripped that away from her without even noticing he had done it. It had been a great relief to be recalled back to the Time Vault and made whole again. Returning to this nightmare was just as traumatic as it had been the first time. Luffa's only solace was that she was somewhat more prepared this time around.

She felt the weight of her new alien body, took note of the curious deadening of her sense of smell, and felt her own ki nearby, as Ginyu used her body to attack Goku. Then she saw Jeice and Guldo, ready to finish her off. Everything was happening just like before.

Only this time, Luffa laughed.

"Oi, what's so funny?" Jeice demanded. The red-skinned, white-haired alien was one of Captain Ginyu's squad of mercenaries. During her first go-round on this mission, Luffa had noticed that Jeice was familiar with Captain Ginyu's bodyswapping technique. Jeice had seen it used before, which meant that he must have known the last person Ginyu had used it on.

"You... fools! Luffa cackled. "You played right into my hands! I never dreamed you'd actually be stupid enough to use that trick again, but now that you have--! Well, that just makes this so much easier, doesn't it?"

The next moment would decide everything. Luffa's plan was mostly a hunch followed by a lot of improvisation. If she had miscalculated, then the entire house of cards would collapse. Jeice's reaction would tell the story. He blinked twice, his face blank as he seemed to process what she had just said.

Then he swallowed hard, and his lower lip shrank behind his upper. Luffa would have smiled anyway, in order to keep up appearances, but now she could grin much more genuinely.

"Y-you can't be--!" Jeice gasped, his throat suddenly dry with terror. "Not... him! It's impossible, ain't it? W-we left you for dead!"

"Did you actually think a Saiyan woman could fight like that?" Luffa went on. "Take a look at your captain over there. He's not doing so well, is he? He thought that a Saiyan body would give him an edge, but that little savage girl never would have beaten Recoome on her own. Without me, she's useless. As for me...? Well, now I'm back where I belong. So where does that leave you, Jeice?"

Jeice spared a moment to glance over to the fight between Son Goku and Ginyu-in-Luffa's-body. Goku had a clear advantage, and Ginyu seemed to be struggling for a chance to switch bodies again to even the odds.

"It's a trick!" Jeice protested. "Nah, you're puttin' me on, lady. I can tell you ain't him. It can't be. There... Well, there's no way!"

The sweat on his brow was enough for Luffa to know that she had him in the palm of her hand. She didn't need to convince Jeice; she just had to make him wonder long enough to stop fighting. As for Guldo, he had been acting strangely ever since her unknown enemy had enchanted him. His four eyes still glowed red, and a purple aura rose up from his bulbous green body, making him look like an evil frog. From then on, Guldo had been driven by his rage against Luffa, but he seemed to lack the will to speak or ask questions, and Luffa's bodyswap with Ginyu seemed to confuse him a little. The important thing was that Guldo was staying out of the conversation. Jeice would be a lot harder to fool if someone were around to talk sense into him.

"To be honest, Jeice, I'm not him," Luffa continued. "I used to be once, but not anymore, I suppose. You did leave me for dead, but I survived, and I swore I'd find Ginyu someday. Make you all pay for what you did to me. I can't switch bodies the way Ginyu does, Jeice. It's more like a possession. Or a merger. With each soul I take over, I lose a little more of myself in the process. And that Saiyan woman over there? Hah! And I thought I had anger issues. It's funny. Now that I'm back in my original body, it almost doesn't feel right anymore. It's just another vessel I've stolen. I guess after all I've been through, I'll never feel 'right' again. But that's a small price to pay for revenge. Yeah, a real bargain, as long as it gets me Ginyu's death."

She had concocted this half-story over a hot stove, working out just enough details to make it sound plausible. The hard part had been figuring out how to impersonate an alien warrior she knew nothing about, until she realized that she could use that to her advantage. Besides, if this didn't work, she would fail the mission and have to start over, so she could theoretically try again as many times as she needed, and tweak her approach each time. Luckily, Jeice was hooked on the first try.

The key was to look past her own fear of being trapped inside this purple man's body, and see the fear Captain Ginyu must have had for the purple man's body. It must have belonged to a powerful enemy. A being so powerful, that there was no other way for Ginyu to defeat him. And perhaps Ginyu could trade up whenever he was cornered, but Jeice could not. It wasn't important that Luffa didn't know the purple man's name, or what sort of powers he had. The body itself was a weapon. And now that Jeice was paralyzed with fear, Luffa had the chance she needed to figure out how to use it.

Her first target was Guldo. A simple ki blast from her eyes was enough to stun him, and that would put his psychic powers out of commission long enough to do what came next. And now that she didn't have to worry about any psionic hold on her movements, Luffa found that controlling the purple man's body wasn't all that difficult.

"Guldo!" Jeice cried. In the moment it took him to notice Guldo toppling backward and down to the ground below, Luffa was upon him.

"It must have been comforting, Jeice!" Luffa whispered into his ear as she grabbed him from behind and twisted his arm behind his own back. "All this time, knowing that you never had to worry about me, as long as your precious captain had control of my body. But he can't save you now, can he?"

"Y-you're wrong!" Jeice whined. "The Captain knows how to handle blokes like you! He always maims himself right before he does a body switch. Or hadn't y'noticed that hole in your chest? All that blue stuff leakin' outta you? That ain't soda, mate."

"I did notice," Luffa said. "It's kind of uncomfortable, actually, but I've had worse. Your boss must have wanted to injure me so I'd be too weak to put up a fight, but he couldn't do too much damage or he'd wind up killing himself before he could use his magic trick."

It was her-- the purple man's-- left pectoralis muscle that was wounded. A similar wound on her own body would have been devastating. Her left arm would be practically useless, to say nothing of potential damage to her ribs and the lung tissue underneath. And the blood loss alone would have been debilitating. For a Saiyan body-- and for several other humanoid anatomies-- this would have been an ideal place to sabotage. But in the purple man's body, the wound didn't seem to bother her much at all. It just hurt. It hurt a lot, but she didn't feel any weaker, and her left arm worked just fine. In fact, she almost wondered if the wound was healing itself.

She decided to demonstrate her good fortune by wrapping her left arm around Jeice's neck in a choke hold.

"You and Ginyu really don't know anything about me, huh?" she asked. "He wanted my body so badly, but he never bothered to study it, to learn how it works! So many secrets, Jeice. Let me share them with you."

This was exactly how she wanted it to work. She had already overpowered Jeice, but she still needed more time to master the purple man's body. And it suited her sense of justice that the purple man still carried the keys to victory within his body, long after his spirit had been removed. She struggled to gather more ki, mostly to intimidate Jeice further, but as she did this, she began to realize it was a lot easier than it had been in her own body.

"You're crazy!" Jeice pleaded as he gasped for breath. "Even if you kill me and the Captain, you still wouldn't stand a chance against Lord Frieza."

"You aren't listening Jeice," Luffa snarled. "I don't care about Lord Frieza, or these Saiyans, or even the Dragon Balls. I only came here for revenge. I'm not even sure where I go from here. I could take your ship and escape, or maybe Frieza will kill me before I get the chance. It doesn't matter anymore. As far as I'm concerned, I'm already dead. I died the day Ginyu stole my body and left me to rot. All that matters is that you Ginyu Force goons will precede me into hell..."

With a sudden burst of power, fueled by desperation, Jeice managed to break free of Luffa's grip. He might have attacked, but instead he screamed as loud as he could.

"Captain Ginyu! Heeellllp!"

By the time he realized that he needed to be fighting back, it was too late. He cut loose with a bombardment of ki energy, and Luffa was enveloped in a glowing vermilion fog of destructive power, but it wasn't enough. She emerged from the clouds of light and struck Jeice with a devastating punch to his jaw.

"He can't save you," Luffa taunted. "He can't even save himself."

By now, Luffa was not only satisfied with her own control over Ginyu's body, but with Ginyu's apparent difficulty in handling hers. She would have expected him to have beaten Son Goku, but instead Ginyu was still struggling. She doubted that switching bodies again would help him. His only chance now was to get help from his teammates, and so Luffa decided it was time to eliminate that option. She held up her hand and fired pointblank into Jeice's face. When the light of her attack faded, there was nothing left of him. Her Saiyan body would have caught the odor of burnt flesh and hair, but the purple man's inferior nose couldn’t pick it up, and so Luffa had to settle for her imagination of the aroma.

She smiled anyway.

"Jeice!"

Nearby, it seemed that Captain Ginyu had reached the same conclusion as Luffa. He needed help to defeat Son Goku, and he was running out of allies. Recoome and Burter's bodies had barely grown cold, and Jeice was the third to die, but Luffa didn't plan to stop there. She looked around for Guldo, but could find no trace of him. Under the influence of the unknown enemy's magic, it was unlikely that he would flee, but his strange powers did make him tough to find. And then, when she finally realized where Guldo had gone, she flew towards Ginyu as quickly as she could.

She didn't spot Guldo until she was much closer. He was taking cover on the ground, behind a large rock formation, but Luffa couldn't take the time to deal with him. Not while Goku suddenly found himself frozen in mid-air, unable to move, not while Ginyu, sensing the opportunity, raised his arms and began to glow. Under different circumstances, Luffa might have found it surreal to watch her own body glowing this way, but she couldn't afford to think about that, not until she was at last where she needed to be...

Directly between Ginyu and Goku, so that the body-changing technique would strike her instead of Ginyu's intended target.

The results were nearly instantaneous, though Luffa did notice a horrified look in her own eyes when Ginyu realized his technique was about to misfire. In the next moment, she was herself again, and Captain Ginyu floated between the two Saiyans, once more in the purple man's body.

"Wh-what's going on?!" Goku asked, his body still paralyzed by Guldo's power.

"No!" Ginyu shouted. "How can this be?!"

"I'll explain later, Kakarot," Luffa said, surprised by the sound of her own voice. She raised her fingers, and began charging her ki to attack. Everything felt so familiar, so right, although she still had only a fraction of her former strength. "First, I need to kill this bastard off before he gets any more bright ideas. Say, goodbye, Captain. I'll be sending Guldo to join y--"

But before she could attack, she found herself overcome by a wave of exhaustion. She had expected to find a certain level of ki in her own body, but what she hadn't considered was the damage her body had taken from Ginyu using it to fight Goku. For that matter, Luffa had also forgotten the damage she had sustained against Recoome and Guldo earlier in the mission. When the Time Patrol had recalled her to base on her first botched attempt, Chronoa had healed those wounds. But now that Luffa had returned to try again, it seemed that some of that damage was restored. It was no wonder that Ginyu had performed so poorly in Luffa's body. Even if he had known how to use it to its fullest, Goku was fresh.

Had Luffa been prepared for this fatigue, she might have still been able to gather the power needed to kill Captain Ginyu as she had planned. But she wasn't ready, and so she had gathered her ki much faster than she should have, and the result left her dazed and weakened. She began to sink to the ground, like a leaf falling from a tree. She had fully expected to finish the Ginyu Force off for good, but now it was all she could do to slow her descent.

Even before she reached the ground, Ginyu's laughter told her what would happen next. She tried to call out to Goku, to warn him of what would happen, but she knew there was nothing he could do. Guldo's power would keep him frozen in place until the deed was done.

At least history was back on course! This was what Luffa told herself as she tried to force herself to stay conscious. Galling as it was, Ginyu was supposed to switch bodies with Goku, and no one else, and supposedly, Goku and the others could resolve that problem themselves. The only trouble was that Guldo was still in the picture, and Luffa was reasonably sure Guldo was supposed to be dead by now.

"Game over, monkey."

She suddenly noticed Guldo looming over her, and before she could defend herself he kicked her with those stubby legs of his. His eyes still burned red, and his body still roiled with the purple aura of the enemy's magic. It seemed that he wasn't going to stop until Luffa was dead, which suited her just fine. If she could just keep Guldo occupied, then her mission could still succeed, and this would all be over.

It was getting easier to concentrate now, but she still wasn't sure if Guldo had gotten stronger, or if she was still weak. As she tumbled across the Namekian plains, her tattered yellow clothes staining blue from the alien grass, Guldo gave chase, punching and kicking her before she could ever come to a stop. In the distance, she could sense Goku and Ginyu leaving, no doubt heading back to Frieza's ship. Guldo could still interfere in their battle, and so she decided not to fight back. She wasn't sure if she was in any shape to defeat him, but she could definitely keep him occupied for a while longer.

"Miserable little savage!" Guldo growled. It seemed like all he could say now were these spiteful names and racial epithets. The enemy had amplified his hatred until there was nothing else for him to express. Luffa ignored his words as she covered her face to block his next strike.

She wasn't sure how to make sense of it. During these missions, her powers seemed to grow whenever someone hit her, but Goku had battered her senseless while Captain Ginyu had been in possession of her body, and she didn't seem to gain anything from it. And yet, Guldo's attacks seemed to be getting her fired up again.

"Saiyan germ!" Guldo screeched as he punted Luffa another few hundred meters. By now, she was fed up with stalling him, but she was having trouble keeping up with his movements. He seemed to blink in and out of existence for a moment, and she couldn't anticipate where he would be next.

"You're not like Chiaotzu at all," Luffa muttered as she flew high into the air. If she couldn't intercept his next kick, she could avoid him completely and see how he reacted. "When I fought him he was possessed like you are now, there was still a decent man underneath, clawing and scratching to get out. But you! You're just a pathetic wretch, and that dark energy just makes it that much more obvious."

He was gone. Luffa played a hunch and turned herself to face the sky, where she found Guldo preparing another psychic attack. She fired a ki blast, but he vanished again before it could connect.

"Golden Duster," Luffa grumbled. This technique was something she had developed long ago, useful for tracking stubborn targets who were better at hiding than fighting. The problem was that its range was limited. As the Legendary Super Saiyan, Luffa could have covered large swaths of the Namekian surface with it. In her present condition, the best she could do was to surround herself in a misty field of ki globules. Guldo would have to pass through it in order to attack her, and she would sense the disturbance in the field, even if she couldn't detect him directly.

Only, it didn't work the way she had planned. Guldo suddenly struck her, and she sensed the hole he had made in her defenses, but it all happened instantaneously. As she crashed into the Namekian turf, she wondered if Guldo had super-speed abilities, but that didn't make sense. Burter had claimed to be the fastest of the Ginyu Force, and she had managed to outrun him with little trouble. If Guldo was even faster, Luffa suspected that Burter wouldn't have had much to brag about. There had to be more to his secret than mere speed.

"Whatever this is, you can't keep it up for very long," Luffa said as she gathered herself up from the ground. "And it doesn't make you any stronger; it just gives you a free shot. Then you have to reset before you can do it again. So let's make the most of that time, shall we?"

She shot straight up into the air, flying as fast as she could. Luffa wasn't sure if Guldo's strange abilities would help him catch up, but she figured she couldn't go wrong by moving in one direction. As she ascended, she charged her ki and began firing wild shots down to the surface below. None of them would be strong enough to destroy Namek entirely, but the bombardment would scorch the land directly beneath her, and Guldo would have to attack or flee if he wanted to avoid taking a hit. And with the dark energy controlling his thoughts, Luffa was sure that Guldo wouldn't run away.

As expected, Guldo's pudgy green form came rising up to meet her, vanishing every few seconds and reappearing ever closer. Luffa continued firing ki blasts in her wake as she flew higher and higher. Without knowing what Guldo's power was, her only chance was to test it to find its limits. He continued to chase her into the air, following her no matter how high into the sky she climbed. And then, just when he was close enough to strike...

Guldo's fist reached Luffa's face, but she didn't even feel the impact. He had managed to blink ahead just enough to break through her defenses, but there was no force behind his punches. And then Guldo started gasping for breath.

"K-kill you!" he sputtered, as Luffa continued to back away. They were high enough in the air that the stars were visible in the green sky.

"So that's it," Luffa said. "Whatever you're doing, you have to hold your breath to make it work. And maybe you've got a good handle on it at sea level, but not when the air's thin and you need to move quickly."

She threw a kick, and he managed to hold his breath long enough to blink out of the way, but she was ready for him, and fired a ki blast when he reappeared. Then she grabbed him by the collar of his armor and punched him in the gut to make it even harder for him to breathe.

"It's almost like you can stop time. Is that it? I didn't even know that was a thing. If you weren't such a weakling, you might actually be pretty dangerous. No, you're not a weakling. You're a lot stronger than Nappa and Raditz were. The problem is you've got no ambition. Ginyu only keeps you around so you can help him use his own ability. No one's interested in using you for anything but support. It's pitiful, really. Such a waste of talent."

To his credit, Guldo continued to struggle, but he was powerless at this altitude.

"Even if you can stop time, or just immobilize me, it won't do you any good while I'm holding on to you like this," Luffa said. "Now let's just see what's in that pea brain of yours..."

She placed her free hand on his face, and found the texture of his skin revolting, like the rind of a rotten fruit. She hoped that Guldo had some memory of the one who had enchanted him, but instead she only found a torrent of rage and hatred, mostly aimed at Vegeta for insulting him, and at herself for humiliating him.

"You don't smell that bad," Luffa grumbled. "I knew Vegeta was a spoiled brat, but this is ridiculous. Wait..."

There was no recollection of Guldo falling under the enemy's spell. He had been alone on Frieza's ship when it happened, but Guldo did remember seeing the rest of Frieza's crew falling under the same spell, one by one, until the entire crew followed him into battle. And that was when Luffa finally realized...

"The enemy must still be here!" she gasped. "Near Frieza's ship!"

She killed Guldo as quickly as she could and reached out with her senses to find Goku and Vegeta's power signatures. They would be heading for Frieza's ship as well, and may have already arrived. And perhaps Captain Ginyu was a threat they could handle, but if the Time Patrol's mysterious enemy was still on Namek, still influencing other fighters, then she had badly miscalculated Guldo's purpose. Luffa had assumed the enemy had sent Guldo to neutralize her, but he was probably nothing more than a diversion.

After what seemed like an eternity, Luffa finally reached the ship, where she found Goku lying defeated on the ground, and the purple man's body battling desperately against Vegeta. Krillin and Gohan were there as well, and the seven Namekian Dragon Balls lay on a patch of upturned soil near the entrance ramp of the ship. She had been eager to join the fray, except she had no idea which of these fighters was Captain Ginyu. At last, she settled on checking Goku's body first, since he would be the easiest to avoid if he were Ginyu waiting for an opportunity.

"You've looked better, Kakarot," Luffa said as she alighted next to him.

"Heh. Dunno why you guys keep callin' me that name," Goku said.

Up close, Goku looked even worse than she had feared, but at least he had gotten his own body back, and he seemed to be in high spirits.

"Ginyu," she asked. "Which one is he?"

"He... he's in his own body again," Goku said. "But he's gonna try to switch with Vegeta, and Vegeta's got no idea--"

"Typical," Luffa scoffed. "If that royalist coward hadn't cut and run earlier, he'd know all about Ginyu's ability by now. Instead, he's completely fresh, and ready to walk right into a trap. Well, I'll just head up there and--"

"No, wait!" Goku pleaded. "You're hurt too! If you try to get between them now, you might only make things worse!"

"You've got a better idea?" Luffa demanded. As much as Vegeta disgusted her, she could at least understand him. Goku was difficult to read.

Mostly, she found him rather pathetic. Raised among Earthlings, Goku seemed to lack the killer instinct that defined Saiyans. He appeared to have plenty of courage, and his power had developed impressively over a short time, but there was still something missing about him, something she couldn't quite figure out. As Luffa waited for him to answer, she noticed him suddenly looking at a frog that had burrowed up from the ground beside him. Before she could ask, Goku grabbed the frog in his hand, and then tossed it into the air.

"What the hell are you d--?" Luffa started to ask. And then she saw Ginyu use his technique, and she got her answer.

Vegeta remained transfixed in midair, completely confused by what had just happened. Both the frog and the purple man fell to the ground. The purple man landed on his hands and feet, looked around with a blank expression, and croaked. Then he hopped away from the ship, passing Luffa and Goku without even noticing them.

"It worked!" Goku said with a stifled groan. Luffa suspected that throwing the frog had aggravated his injuries. Krillin and Gohan, also very confused, rushed to Goku's side, and helped him up.

"What happened to Ginyu?!" Vegeta demanded. He landed nearby, and glared in the direction the purple man had hopped away.

"Wrong way," Luffa replied. "If you want Ginyu, he's right over there." She pointed at the small blue frog that Goku had tossed into the air. The frog was trying to hop away to safety, but something about its movements seemed very unnatural, like it wasn't sure how to be a frog, and it was trying a little too hard.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding," Vegeta growled.

"You saw how he used Kakarot's body, idiot!" Luffa shouted. "Ginyu was going to do the same thing to you if Kakarot hadn't tossed that frog in the way."

"Then he's helpless," Vegeta said with a malicious smile. "Well that suits me just fine..."

"Don't be a fool!" Luffa warned him. "He's smaller now, but he might still have that bodyswapping power. If you're not careful, you'll be the one catching flies. Then again, those antennae would be an improvement for you, Vegeta... Go ahead and fight him, if you dare."

Vegeta crossed his arms and turned his back on Luffa and the frog. "Lucky for you, woman, I have more pressing business than listening to your feeble japes. I'll deal with you after I've settled with Kakarot..."

With that, he walked over to speak with the others. Luffa continued to watch the frog-Ginyu as he hopped away. After everything else she had endured, this felt anticlimactic. She was sure the enemy was still lurking somewhere nearby, and if Ginyu was still a potential threat, then they might use him to attack them once more. She considered killing the frog and the purple man's body, if only to eliminate any loose ends, but then she noticed the frog glancing to one side, as though something had caught Ginyu's attention.

Luffa sensed nothing in that direction. If there was a strong ki signature, it was carefully hidden. Curious, she stared into the distance, trying to find whatever Ginyu had seen. It occurred to her that Namekian frogs might have possessed keener senses than she understood. And then she spotted it: a pair of humanoid figures in the distance, watching from the top of a tall, narrow hill.

She looked back for a moment, and saw the others helping Goku into the spaceship. Satisfied that nothing would happen to them, Luffa took flight, heading directly for the hill.

When she arrived, there was no one in sight. Luffa had expected to find a spaceship, or a time machine, or some other vehicle or base. As she examined the terrain at the base of the hill, she heard footsteps, and suddenly, she could sense their ki.

A woman's voice made a bemused chuckle, and Luffa turned to find her stepping out from behind the hill.

"You're pretty sharp," the woman said. She had pale blue skin, and pointed ears. Luffa almost wondered if she was a different strain of Namekian, except all the Namekians she had met were bald, with two antennae on their foreheads. This woman had a head of white hair, and she was dressed head-to-toe in a skin-tight red-and-black costume. Something like a skirt flared out from the waist of her suit, and she held a spear in her left hand.

"It must have been you snooping around," the woman continued. "I hope you aren't thinking of interfering. That would be a mistake."

Luffa didn't understand. She had already interfered, hadn't she? This woman was the Time Patrol's enemy, wasn't she? The one who had tried to alter history, except Luffa had just set things right. It seemed like this woman had a completely different plan altogether. Could the changes in history simply be a means to an end?

"A costly mistake," added a man who now stepped out to join the woman. He appeared to be the male of the same species, whatever that species was. He was considerably taller than the woman, and his red-and-black costume included a white chestplate with a bronze bar that looped around the back of his neck.

"I will eliminate you here and now," he declared in a somber, dispassionate voice. His words were hostile, but he made them sound like a bored weather report. Luffa wondered if he was some sort of machine, but before she could ask, he began to raise his ki, and a large red aura flared up around him.

"Shall I proceed, Towa?" he asked, never taking his eyes off Luffa.

"Very eager today, aren't you, Mira?" Towa replied with a wry smile. "All right, I'll let you have your fun. Killing this Saiyan will make a decent test of your abilities."

Mira stepped towards Luffa with cold menace in his eyes. Luffa stood her ground, and smiled.

NEXT: Luffa vs. Mira

#dragon ball #fanfiction #lssjluffafic #luffa #jeice #guldo #captain ginyu #goku #vegeta #krillin #gohan #towa #mira #namek

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plasticflowering · 4 years ago

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A Unifying Theory of Loreography (Lore + Choreography)

(2/3/21) HELLO to all new folks finding this post! It is also now a YouTube Video, and I’m pretty happy with it so if you’d rather get your lore analysis visually please check it out!

Preface: I don’t think it’s just coincidence that we got full choreography for an intro called “Devil is in the detail”, and I’ve made it my mission since 반박불가 dropped to pull apart the threads that might link everything, lore-wise. This morning I believe I had an epiphany about it, so here are my thoughts.

If this flops I will feel my soul exiting my body so please validate me.

Notes: In forming this theory I mostly considered the events of the storyline MVs and teasers as well as the choreography, but a very important part of my epiphanies came when considering the post-MV stingers for TBONTB and 반박불가. It’s using these stingers that I feel like I can better understand the thesis statements in the choreo.

Part One: Now then, where were we?

At the end of TBONTB, the monarchs are approaching monumental, pitch-black gates made of skulls and desperate, reaching hands.

I can’t not interpret this as the gates of Tartarus, considering the Greek mythology in the canon lore already. Tartarus, however, is at the lowest depths of the underworld, and so my interpretation is that, while they reclaimed their souls from the necklace, they awoke physically in a realm beyond the underworld, and now have to make their way out of this psychological nightmare to breathe free the air, as it were. Through Tartarus, through Hell, this is not because I played 80 hours of Hades in the last three months but it might have a little to do with that. Stay with me. (Though if anyone is wondering, YES Leedo would be Zagreus, but that’s not why we’re here today)

Part Two: Devil is in the Detail

What an opening formation. The imagery is not 100% clear to me, but I feel as if this entire opening formation sequence is dual-wielding imagery of a crown (much like the killing part of TBONTB), but also the gates of Tartarus.

Look at this transition once Hwanwoong ascends to the top of the formation, and how the hands all come out, similar to the gates above. I’ll be damned if this is supposed to invoke anything else.

Rewinding a bit, this framing of Seoho being resuscitated and borne by their hands is stunning. Seoho’s journey in the TBONTB choreography merits its own post entirely, because there are a lot of moments that seem to be telling a story for him particularly, and this is just a continuation of that.

Ravn and Leedo being separated for the rap line part seems like an obvious utilitarian choice, and I agree that it is. However, before we prepare to dismiss all “pairings” as serving the progression of the song itself, I have another theory that ties together a lot of the inciting moments of choreo. I promise you this is going to sound like A Reach, but that’s just how my mind works and if you enjoy it I’m glad.

Leedo, Hwanwoong, and Xion are the monarchs who have absolved themselves by the events of 반박불가, and fully reclaimed their souls as well as their conscience. Seoho and Ravn, not so much. They have a lot of work to do to free their conscience - especially Seoho. Oh, lord, especially Seoho. Keonhee is an extremely interesting case, as he seems to have a foot firmly in both sides, More on that later.

For further paranoid conspiracy theorist proof of this, please note that their outfits in the choreography videos symbolically reflect this:

Light, Light, Light/Dark, Dark, Dark/Lightish, Light

If you need more convincing, may I point out that Leedo, Hwanwoong, and Xion are the only members who got those wonderful “all clothed in white” shots in the back half of the 반박불가 MV? I tried to make a gif, and I did make a gif, but Tumblr doesn’t want to post it in this text post.

(you rn)

The most interesting moments of loreography in DiitD are the following:

1. These lotus hands. Again, the imagery, I die!! Keonhee is coming into his own, his character is blooming, expanding his consciousness, going sicko mode with the realization that he has power in the underworld.

2. Directly following this, Seoho offers a hand to Keonhee and literally drags him down (again, the light/dark dichotomy of Keonhee), while the two good good boys Hwanwoong and Xion are back there just trying to maintain balance so they can get through this Hell/Tartarus thing.

3. Good ol’ ONEUS Summoning Circle, but wait this time I think it’s actually meaningful beyond the imagery. Seoho is at the center because he has the vocal line, yeah obviously, but he stays there much longer than is objectively necessary without a formation change. This isn’t common in ONEUS choreography. As much as they love their Summoning Circles, they tend to move on to other formations quickly. This one has meat on its bones, and I think what’s happening here, loreography wise, are the other monarchs banding together in an attempt to save Seoho from the darkness. But Seoho is powerfully dark, y’all, even going so far as to overpower them in the moment above.

4. This is flame imagery. Seoho has been engulfed in flames despite everyone’s best efforts.

5. At the last minute, he gets yeeted via backflip back into Hell/Tartarus

6. Keonhee takes the initiative in going back for him...

7. We’re back in Hell, that’s just great. Thanks, Seoho. You’re lucky we love you and your extremely disturbed conscience.

With this in mind, you can probably get way ahead of me, here.

Part Three: 반박불가

Perhaps not remarkably, the title track doesn’t have nearly as many loreography beats as DiitD. However, we know it’s part of the lore, and this was made abundantly clear simply with that opening move...

This is where we left off TBONTB, but not exactly. There is a slightly different formation of dancers here, which suggests it’s not picking up exactly where TBONTB left off, but rather that this is a cue to let casual fans know, explicitly: yes, this is a continuation of the TBONTB story.

Some moments don’t have choreography allusions, but they are loud in the MV, such as:

- “Youngjo, would you stop playing with flowers, our lead vocalist is going to Hell.” Ravn, who barely scraped out of Hell last time, ostensibly with Leedo’s help according to the rap line break in the choreography, has a rough time of it in the 반박불가 MV, but Hwanwoong isn’t going to let him fall back into toxic behaviors and lose himself to that psychological prison again. Hwanwoong drags Ravn back out of Hell, but not before Ravn successfully makes contact with Seoho. Obviously, Ravn would be the one to make contact, because Ravn’s still a little on edge about his own conscience and can easily backslide if he wants to. Who does he find down there? Seoho.

- Keonhee, who led the charge to return to Hell, is staying on task but seems to be the chief of operations to Hwanwoong’s chief of intelligence here, exercising his newfound sicko mode. Those two are certainly working hardest at keeping the servants of darkness in check down in the depths so they can make a quick break for it.

- Leedo’s actually having a grand time fighting his own demons - or rather, smirking at them and realizing that nah, he’s good. He can use his guilt and regret to motivate him towrd good things now.

- Xion is literally just above all of this and can move between Hell and Earth with ease, so he’s just waiting to see if he has to pull any Fallen God-Prince cards here to save his friends.

Now, for the key loregraphy moments. It’s obvious that 1Million was choreographing for a new direction in the ONEUS style, here, so it’s nearly bereft of the usual lyricism and formations, but they’re definitely there. Unsurprisingly they almost all deal with Seoho.

1. God, this moment whips. They’re all working to free Seoho and lock the gates behind them, with Keonhee giving Seoho one final push. That’s not a normal choreography move. That is storytelling and it sticks out like a beautiful sore thumb with an entire sonnet written on it.

2. With Seoho on lock, now Ravn may break out. He does so rather easily, but it’s not without Hwanwoong’s help. Please notice that Keonhee and Seoho are the two BEHIND him, and what that symbolizes.

3. This fucking bridge. It’s amazing with the loreography. First of all we have Keonhee, and the Summoning Circle is using the same imagery/texture that was formerly used to represent engulfing fire. Uh-oh.

4. Keonhee reaches out...

... but gets dragged under.

5. (excited football commentator voice) but who’s that on the outside making it to the surface, literally with the support of the other monarchs? IT’S SEOHO (cheers)!!

And Seoho finishes things out in the center, as well he should because he got us into this mess.

Part Four: What just happened to Keonhee

I’m so angry at this post-MV stinger. It took me forever to wrap my brain around what is being suggested here, because I thought “hey wait, the red lighting represents darkness/hell, doesn’t it?? DOESN’T IT?? RBW???? I thought we just GOT OUT OF HELL????

So I leave the final interpretation in everyone's individual hands, but the thought that occurred to me today was:

What if this entire scenario was a test of resolve and camaraderie, an illusion, a trick by the Devil (or that donger Helios, whatever). What if Keonhee was the only one who saw through this, and the only one who genuinely made it to Earth at the moment he appeared to have been dragged back to Hell? Because, as we know, Keonhee is a tactical genius, a monarch among the monarchs, and all his visual imagery in the MV suggested a sort of power cabal.

What if he realized that they weren’t all strong enough to face the challenge of breaking this cycle, so he schemed to leave them behind, but leave them safe in the illusion, while he struck out with the power of God and anime on his side.

I... I think Keonhee is about to go kill and dethrone a God, y’all.

#jfc this got long #fun fact the original draft of this had the title a SHORT analysis of etc.#hahahaha nope #v.analysis #v.devil analysis #oneus #no diggity #oneus lore #반박불가 #next up if I'm feeling especially energetic:#an analysis of lion heart and rewind and why they're also lore songs

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angelruel · 5 years ago

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Challenge

“for fucks sake, y/n can you please just do what you’re told for once”

author’s note: this is kinda toxic, sorry. also, pls be easy on me. this is my very first fic ever and could possibly be the last.

summary: Ruel snaps at you which causes you to challenge his authority in the relationship. ft. an aggressive and controlling boyfriend rool but in a non-toxic way haha. Just the big scorpio energy i know in my heart that boy has. Also I made up friends' names to keep his real homies out of this.

masterlist

Word Count: about 3k

It was pretty clear that shit was about to hit the fan. Everyone could feel the tension from the moment they stepped into the house. Ruel had warned you beforehand that two of his friends, Adam and Gabe, were on the outs at the moment and things were bound to blow up soon. However, no one expected it to go down at the Friendsgiving party that Adam and his girlfriend planned for everyone just before the holidays. Adam and his girlfriend… who used to be Gabe’s girlfriend… or at least that’s how he told it.

The party was going pretty well. You and Ruel cooked queso dip the night before to bring. It was cooked in a crockpot so there wasn’t much work being put in, but Ruel was still proud of your “first official meal prepared together.”

After walking in, you and Ruel soon separated to greet people and you headed towards the kitchen to set down the crockpot. You had already met most of his friends, so it was easy to start mingling with the girls that you saw in the kitchen. You weren’t far into your conversations when you received a text from Ruel simply saying “pay attention.” There was yelling coming from the living room, mostly guys saying “Okay, calm down,” or “Back up.” You all headed down there from the kitchen to see what was going on and were met with Gabe and Adam about to throw down in the middle of the living room. You found Ruel across the room and sat on the couch near where he was standing. He leaned down to you and rolls his eyes towards his friends.

“Pssh, what I tell ya?”

You laughed back, “Yeah but I thought we’d at least have 30 solid minutes before it went to hell.”

Ruel shook his head and whispered, “Not with these guys.”

Everyone was just crowded around the living room area listening to the drama unfold. It was clear that both Adam and Gabe had been drinking already, and Gabe held a beer in his hand as he continued to argue back and forth with his friend. Because they were both intoxicated, none of the conversations really made any sense. It didn’t take much to figure out the source of the problem, seeing as the girl they were arguing over was in the corner crying her eyes out. Once Gabe stepped closer to Adam and set his beer on the coffee table, all of the other guys got up and started moving towards them.

“Okay, you should go get in the car,” Ruel leaned over the couch arm and tried to hand his car keys to you.

You slightly swatted his hand away before replying “Nah, I’m good,” never taking your eyes off of the boys. Here’s the thing: when you were in the kitchen earlier, you received some tea on the situation that revealed maybe Gabe wasn’t exaggerating as much as everyone thought he was. Apparently, the main reason Adam’s girlfriend offered to host the Friendsgiving this year was to try and make everyone like her despite her past with Gabe. And Gabe was not holding back. He was exposing the homegirl repeatedly, confirming most of what you were told in the kitchen.

You probably shouldn’t have dismissed Ruel like that, but you couldn’t help yourself every now and then because deep down you kind of enjoyed when he got angry with you. The dominant persona that he took on was something so natural and passionate and always enchanted you as much as it startled you.

“Babe,” you could hear Ruel continuing to get your attention but you were too invested in what was going on. His tone that started off as gentle was now getting more aggressive as he had to keep repeating himself. Usually, you would let Ruel protect you in a situation like this. However, no one else was making any moves to leave the apartment at any time soon, so why should you have to be the only one to miss the fight?

In retrospect, Ruel was probably only trying to prevent you from getting hurt in the impending cross-fire between the two guys because you both knew that he would rain down hellfire and shut the whole party down if any of those drunk clowns touched you even if by accident. You knew that he was protective but he was just going to have to get over himself today.

Once Gabe put his beer down and took a step towards Adam, you felt a firm hand press down on your shoulder with keys in the palm.

“Y/N, go start the car. I’ll be over in a minute and we can go-”

You cut him off, “I’m good, I’ll just wait for you.” You could feel his eyes burning into the side of your face but you couldn’t care less. No one was paying attention to the back and forth between the two of you. The only thing people could focus on was the constant blows Gabe attempted to make towards Adam’s face which he missed each time. The rest of Ruel’s friends began to slowly gather around the two just in case things got too serious. He had previously mentioned to you that this conflict had been growing a huge wedge in between everyone and that if they started fighting, they were going to try and let them resolve this on their own. But it was getting too far. Ruel needed to join the guys in separating them, but he didn’t want to leave your side until you were out of the place. Apparently, Gabe had a tendency to swing on women when he got too upset. And he was clearly past the point of anger now.

“Y/N. Get. Out of here. Into the car, now.” You looked up to see his stern expression on his face. Who was he, your father?

“No, I’m enjoying this.”

After obviously being fed up with your protests, you felt his hand grab your arm firmly. He wasn’t hurting you, but the pressure of his hand against your arm was enough to let you know he wasn’t playing around.

Before you could get up, he whisper/yelled to you, “For fuck's sake, Y/N can you please just do what you’re told for once.” The hurt you were feeling was overpowered by the anger that boiled up inside of you.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” you spit out at him as you snatch your arm away. He had some nerve to speak to you like that in front of his fucking friends.

In reality, you usually stood up to him anytime he challenged you like this. It was no secret that Ruel had a temper when things didn’t go his way, but he’d only ever snapped on you like this once or twice before. Although it was a potentially dangerous situation, you could handle yourself and you surely didn’t need him talking to you like a child in front of everyone like that. You snatched the keys out of his hand and stormed out of the living room. It was obvious that Ruel didn’t care about your own feelings even though he made a point to not let anyone else hear what he whispered in your ear.

As you waited in the passenger seat of his car, you grew increasingly angry at your boyfriend. You thought about how unnecessary that comment was. In fact, you actually considered driving off and leaving his ass but immediately dismissed that thought because he was already frustrated enough at the situation and that would only add fuel to the fire. You tried to scroll through twitter to distract yourself from how upset you were feeling but doing so only paused your thoughts just for them to be resumed as soon as he appears outside of the building.

It took him about twenty minutes to return to the car and you could only assume it was because the boys actually did start fighting each other. After he got into the vehicle and started to drive the both of you back home, he broke the silence between the two of you.

“Geez, it’s so hard to calm Gabe down when he gets plastered like that.”

You didn’t respond and just continued to stare at your phone. You were still beyond pissed and Ruel could definitely feel the tension. He just sighed and brushed it off, ignoring your attitude by turning on some music and singing obnoxiously loud along to it. This nonchalant behavior only pisses you off more. Does he not feel the need to apologize for the way he spoke to you?

“Fuck, I left the crockpot. Was too caught up in the bullshit to realize. I’ll probably stop by over there tomorrow morning to get it.”

You still didn’t look up from your phone but this time you reply with a low “okay.”

“Well, do you wanna stop and get food before we make it back? I know you didn’t get to eat anything before the shit hit the fan.”

You quickly clap back to him with a short “I’m good.”

Ruel shook his head and you could see his jaw tense out the corner of your eye. You felt the car swerve to the side and you begin to feel equally as annoyed as you are anxious to see what he was about to do. He pulled over to the side of the road and put the car in park.

He wasted no time before saying, “okay,” as he pressed both of his hands onto the steering wheel.

“I get that you’re mad because I took that tone with you back there but I just didn’t want you to get hurt. You weren’t listening, and they were about to start fighting.”

“So I’m going to ask you again,” you finally looked up from your phone.

“What do you want to eat?”

You rolled your eyes and sighed because you desperately wanted the conversation to end, so you simply said “I’m good, Ruel. Let’s just go. Please.”

It took everything in you not to snap at him and say “I don’t need you to take care of me”, but you didn’t even want to argue with him at the moment.

The only thing you wanted was space from him, which he couldn’t possibly understand. In Ruel’s mind, he had to take care of you and protect you at all times. You usually viewed this as enduring and you knew he only meant well, but he’d taken it too far this time.

By now, you could tell that he was as annoyed with you as you were with him.

“Fine, but don’t ask for shit when we get home,” he spat out.

You thought “trust me, I won’t.” That last statement left a sour taste in your mouth mainly because he knew all too well that you’d cave in at some point in the night and want to go back out for food. The way he acted like he just knew you and was the boss of you only pissed you off more. Why couldn’t he just fucking apologize? Did he seriously not see anything wrong with the way he treated you back there?

Ruel made it seem like a challenge. You were gonna show him that he didn’t know you as well as he thought.

When you finally got back to his home, you rushed upstairs to take a shower and change into some different clothes. You walked out of the bathroom and into the bedroom to be greeted by a relaxed Ruel laid out on the bed barefoot and scrolling on his phone. He barely even lifted his head when you walked out in leggings and a t-shirt. It wasn’t until he saw you going into the closet to get a pair of shoes that he sat up and asked you what you were doing.

You respond matter-of-factly, “To get food,” in a much brighter tone than you had before as you dangled his car keys in front of him. He stood up to challenge you and said, “Stop playing, now.”

He still had a warning tone about him which set you off. Was he seriously still acting like a bitch? It was time to snap.

“No Ruel, why the fuck do you seriously think that you can tell me what to do and when to do it as if I can’t drive myself or protect my god damn self.”

He opened his mouth to reply but you continued before he could speak.

“Furthermore, I’m a grown-ass woman and you are not my dad. Plus, I’m older than you. Fuck outta here.”

You were beyond pissed at this point, but finally expressing yourself made you feel a little bit better. He stood up off of the bed, took two big steps towards you, and stood over you. He chuckled as he slipped the keys out of your hand.

“Yeah, but I am much bigger than you,” he simply stated, refusing to break eye contact with you even though you so desperately wanted him to. The fact that he was making a joke out of your anger made you want to fucking explode. You snapped your body away from him and began to look up rideshare deals on your phone so you could leave on your own terms.

“Okay well, I’m getting an uber.” He walked right behind you, keeping up with you perfectly and had the nerve to ask “Wait, why?”

“Because I want to leave. I’m sick of you and I don’t want to be here with you anymore, get it?” you snapped. Before you could open the door halfway, your body jumped as you saw his hand reach over and close the door.

Ruel got back in front of you, grabbed the bottom of your chin, and moved it slightly up so you could look him in the eyes.

“Okay, this was cute but now it needs to stop.”

You huffed because you simply didn’t give a fuck about his opinion anymore. You decided to go back to your silent treatment and wait for him to stop blocking the door so you could leave.

“You can be mad at me all you want. Go be mad downstairs or something. But please don’t leave this house. Especially not on your own.”

Once again, who the fuck was he talking to? As you felt the tears forming in your eyes, you instantly became grateful in your mind that his parents were both out of town at the time and weren’t home to witness the big argument that rose from you and Ruel. You should’ve known that he wouldn’t be crazy over the idea of you leaving without him but he didn’t give you much of a choice. He wasn’t listening to you, and when you got super upset you always had a tendency to run away before saying something that you might regret. You only wanted to leave to cool off and clear your mind and you knew that food would certainly shift your mood quickly. However, the fact that you’ve never been anywhere around Sydney on your own and you were only there to visit him probably prompted this response from him.

Nevertheless, he was still very wrong in this scenario.

“You know what? Fuck you, Ruel. I understand that you might have been frustrated with me but there was absolutely no need to talk to me like that. You made me feel like shit. I still feel like shit. Please, just let me leave before either of us makes things worse.” You finished your last sentence before your head dropped and you began to let out a soft cry.

Ruel’s face immediately softened up, and he pulled you in for a hug.

“Baby, I’m so sorry. I know that I shouldn’t have snapped on you like that, but I’d rather you be mad at me for a while than you getting hit by one of those drunk idiots.” He grabbed your chin again to look up at him. “I knew I had to say something drastic to get your attention, but I realize that there was probably a better way to handle that. Hey, I’m learning how to love you in ways that you need me to. I just love you so much, and for me, it sometimes means that I want to protect you.”

You pouted up at him in response. “Yeah, but I don’t need you to take care of me.”

He leaned down to give you a big, soft kiss. “Yes,” he leaned back down and gave you another puffy kiss again, “you do.”

He finally let your chin go and you didn’t try to make another attempt to leave him. He grabbed both of your hands and said, “Just let me take care of you, yeah? It makes me feel better.”

You pressed your head into his neck in response, knowing that being able to take care of you in person took a lot of stress off of him since you both were used to a long-distance setting. He wrapped his long arms around your figure and embraced you for a long time, your body remaining stiff before you realized that he was genuinely upset about hurting you.

“Okay, but I’m still hungry.”

He sighed into a hard laugh at your honesty, causing you both to have the first light moment between you two of the evening.

“Okay. I’ll order something.”

#ruel #oneruel #ruel van dijk #one ruel #rueledits #ruelvincentvandijk #ruel imagines #ruel imagine #one shot #ruel one shot #writers on tumblr #x reader #ruel x reader #ruel fic

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fuyupeach · 4 years ago

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In The Works // Ryuji Sakamoto x Reader - Chapter 9

(really) long time no see!! i hope you're all doing well and staying safe!! i'm doing my best trying to get through this fall semester, and playing among us with friends is really fun! i hope you all enjoy this chapter, it ends a little abruptly but i don't think it's a bad place to stop since i really wanted to update! hopefully the next chapter will be out soon! thank you all so much for the support!! <3

The air smells faintly of curry, coffee overpowering its scent as you walk into Le Blanc. Looking easily to the left you see Akira, Ann, and Ryuji seated at one of the many booths, each waving once they see you.

“Welcome.” An older unknown voice greets you, an old man with glasses and a beard behind the counter. “One of Akira’s friends?”

“Yes,” you reply, still facing him as you slide into the booth next to Ryuji. “It’s nice to meet you.” You supply an awkward smile.

“No need to be nervous around me,” Sojiro smiles, turning to wipe freshly washed cups down. “Do whatever you want as long as it doesn’t interfere with my business.”

“That’s Sojiro for ya.” Ryuji catches your attention, lowering his voice as he looks at Akira. “So, we’re obviously all here because.. you-know-what.”

A cat pops up from Akira’s bag, seemingly sneering at Ryuji before it...talked..

“How do we know we can trust her?” Oddly enough, the voice sounded quite familiar to one very annoying creature that looked like a cat all that time ago.

“Morgana?” Your face scrunches up. Great.. You roll your eyes. “I can promise your secret will be safe with me. And it’s not like you won’t see me almost everyday at school.”

“I trust her.” Akira speaks up, pushing Morgana back into his bag and from sight.

“Me too.” Ann nods. “We’ve known her for a while, can’t imagine not trusting her.” She motions between her and Ryuji. It was true and common knowledge to you, but the statement still gave you comfort.

“Meeting adjourned then.” Akira gives you a small smile. “Anyone want drinks?”

------

Much hadn’t changed, if you were being honest. It was easier to have more company around you than just Ryuji, your transportation routine aligning with everyone else’s. You’re standing next to Ann on the morning train to Shujin when you decide to bring up Kamoshida. You had talked to Ryuji, but you knew Ann was just as affected, even more so with Shiho leaving. You may not talk with Ann as much as you two had in the past, but you wanted to try and change that.

“How are you feeling?” You ask quietly. “With… I know it isn’t the best place to talk but we haven’t had many chances to talk alone. ” you gesture awkwardly with your hands, but Ann seems to understand just fine, a bit of a shadow crossing over her face.

“I…” She sighs, tugging at the end of one of her pigtails. “I’m getting by. It’s a little weird being able to walk down the halls and not worry about having to avoid that asshole. It irritates me that he has that impact on me, despite his apology.”

Your eyebrows furrow, but you stay silent, letting her know you’re listening as you stand next to her. You weren’t sure if she needed a hug, but maybe you could ask her later. For now, you just listen.

“I know Shiho leaving will be for the best, but I’ll still miss her. It’ll be a little different, but I just gotta tell myself that we’ll both be growing stronger in our own ways.” Ann finishes, looking back up at you with a small smile on her face. “Thanks for asking, ___. I appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem.” You smile back, reaching for her hand and giving it a small squeeze. “We may not have been able to talk much before, but I’m totally here for you. I’d love to be close like we were before.”

“Me too.” Ann squeezes your hand back. “We should totally go out to this crepe stand I LOVE. And if you want, I’d love some updates on the Ryuji situation.” She winks.

“Ann!” You whisper, slapping her arm gently, eyes darting over to an unsuspecting Ryuji a few feet away. Akira seems to have heard it though, a small smile tugging his lips upward, Morgana’s eyes poking out of his bag, full or mirth. Goddammit. Whatever. Despite your thoughts your heart still races.

That had been the beginning of your assistance with the phantom thieves, though nothing much had happened for a good while after Kamoshida. You had gotten closer with Akira and Ann, sometimes even Morgana on his good days (he was still on thin ice). You helped out however you could, getting drinks from the vending machines and convenience stores when you could for their trips to Mementos, being there during their meetings, keeping a low radar.

It wasn’t until one morning on the train to school that things had begun to pick up again.

You’re standing next to Ryuji as you both talk to Akira, waiting for Ann to show up, a yawn leaving your lips. You never were a morning person.

Ryuji yawns next to you, mumbling. “So sleepy… I ended up pullin’ an all-nighter once I realized today’s the last day of exams.”

“You? Staying up studying?” Morgana asks in disbelief.

“Nah, I gave up on the exam.” Ryuji states. “I was playin’ some games, then before I knew it, it was morning.”

“You’re failing for sure.” Akira adjusts his glasses.

“I tried to get him to study,” You sigh. “You’re lucky you have such a great friend that’ll let you study her notes on the way to class.” Ryuji smiles at you as Ann arrives, also yawning.

“Morning! ..Huh?” Ann looks behind her suddenly.

“What’s wrong?” Akira asks, taking the question right from your mouth.

“What, you see a groper or something?” Ryuji asks as well.

Ann turns back around to face you, twirling one of her pigtails. “No, that’s not it. It’s… nothing.”

You continue to be concerned, standing next to Ann as you all get on the train. Not long after you all get off at the designated station, Ann still subtly looking around her. Everything seems fine until she turns back around while you’re all on the escalator out, gasping.

“Oh my god, that guy got off! Isn’t this bad?”

“What guy?” you ask, immediately trying to spot who she was referring to.

Akira’s eyebrows furrow while Ryuji lets out another yawn next to you, lifting his arms. You try to ignore the flutter in your stomach as he seems closer than before.

“Hey! At least act like you care!” Ann pouts. Ryuji scratches his head as he sighs, moving up the escalator.

“Fine. Come on.” The three of you follow him.

You stick with Ann while Ryuji and Akira hide not too far, standing open in the city square. It doesn’t take long to hear footsteps that grow closer to you, keys subtly jingling with each step the guy took. You wait until it gets too close, turning around to see a pale hand reaching out to the both of you. Looking up, the guy is actually quite cute, dark blue hair almost completely covering one of his eyes. He would be if he wasn’t stalking your friend. Ryuji and Akira step in front of the both of your, intimidation on their faces. The boy tilts his head in confusion. Ryuji and Akira also glance him up and down, Ryuji turning to Ann with a doubtful expression.

“Hey, uh… Are you sure that’s him or are you just that self-conscious.” Ryuji asks.

“Urgh, I’m not that--” Ann starts before the stranger interrupts.

“Is there something you want?”

Ann pushes past Ryuji, you following a little bit behind. “That’s my line! You were the one stalking me!” She points.

“Stalking you..? That’s outrageous.”

“I know you’ve been following me! Ever since the train!”

“That’s because…”

And as if the situation couldn’t get any more comical, a black car pulls up, honking at you all. The backseat window rolls down, an old man in a green yukata laughing as he says this is where the stranger’s passion had led. What was going on…?

“I saw you both from the car… and I couldn’t help myself from chasing you.” The boy starts, turning his eyes to you as well. “I didn’t even notice the calls from sensei… But thank goodness I caught up to you.”

“Huh?” You couldn’t help but let out.

“OK…” Ann trails off.

“What?” Ryuji scratches his head again.

“You are the women I’ve been searching for all this time! Please, won’t you--”

“W-wait a minute, I--” Ann starts.

“Be the models for my next art piece?” The boy finishes.

All you can do is blink. This was already a tiring morning.

#ryuji sakamoto x reader #ryuji x reader #persona 5 x reader #peach writes

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