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postmoe · 5 months ago

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In the Next Moment:

Yandere/Alpha Gojo Satoru x Omega Reader

I can't even tell you how long ago I started this. I had no idea how to end it and I took away and added a bunch of things haha. Here is your alpha Gojo Satoru, here to save the day and take you for himself!

omegas are lesser creatures, familial abuse, self-deprecation, like your father in this is literal scum

What kind of God deals a life like this? Where status is given the moment you’re born. Where you can be cast away at birth and shoved into a home just for having the wrong scent. It used to be that families would wait until puberty before they knew what breed their child would be. Now? Now they have the technology to make accurate guesses. Not one hundred percent, but, accurate enough.

In your case, call it lucky or not, your family didn’t send you away to a home. Omega’s aren’t completely useless, and can fetch quite a high penny on the market. Every day you were reminded of your failures as their daughter, that being bred by them should have produced an alpha.

“This is all your fault,” your mother would say to your father, “Your cousin is an omega, it runs in your bloodline!”

“How was I supposed to know?! No one ever spoke of them I had no idea until we did the test!” He would shout back.

It’s a common argument you heard growing up. One that would seep into the marrow of your bones and claw its way into your dreams. Your fault. Your fault. Your fault. Even though they argued with each other, at the end of the day it came out to you being wrong. You were a curse.

Eventually, your mother left. Being an alpha with you in the home, it was irredeemable. She had not bonded with an omega like her DNA screamed, your father a Beta and those relationships were never to last if an Omega came into the picture. Just an example of the homewrecker in your genes.

He would drink and smoke on the couch all day and night. “We had such a happy family, such high hopes for you…” Another swig of the bottle in his hand, “It’s your job to take care of us now. Your mother did everything. Go make some money and bring it back home.”

Quivering, afraid to even speak in front of him, you had to ask, “B-But what if people find out I’m a- AH!”

You cower as the bottle smashes against the brick wall next to your head, glass and liquor breaking around while your father stands and screams, “You stupid bitch! Go get blockers, fuck! How hard is it to come up with things on your own? You’re so fucking pathetic, stupid fucking omega,” he continues to grumble as he storms past you, “Clean up this fucking mess.”

Of course, you’ve thought about running away, thought about life outside of your home. The realism of it is not pretty, though. You’ve seen how omegas are treated on the streets if they get caught, they’re not allowed in the city because their scent can be such a disturbance. You have to be really taken care of to live amongst others. If you weren’t so rare then it wouldn’t be an issue, but unfortunately omegas can’t be shared around to every alpha.

Getting blockers is probably the hardest job. Most doctors don’t want to sell them to you unless you have a good reason for being an omega, ie; rich spouse, breeding bitch, selling, etc. Anything on the black market is a gamble between being really good or really shit. Eventually, another omega you came across in passing had recommended a ‘hole in the wall’ doctor. They hide down an alleyway in the slums of the city but are open to helping omegas. When you went there it had ignited your fear and you started releasing poor, omega pheromones. Many, hungry looks your way were cast, though thankfully you made it out in one piece.

Now you were left to try and survive in the wild.

“Yo!” Your head shoots up from the stall oven, seeing a familiar head of white hair and blindfolded head.

Honestly, you were shocked, once people found out the ‘lovely’ attendant at the crepe stall was an omega, they generally never returned. “Ah,” you try not to gape at him, “You’re back. You didn’t come with your, um, students?”

It’s been a little over a year now that you’ve manned the crepe stall in a deserted park. You think that’s why your boss put you here, because not many people came by so business wasn’t that great; it also gave him a good excuse to berate you when you didn’t meet income quota. Earlier this week you were met with a unique set of customers, one of them being this man and then two younger boys and a girl to whom he introduced as his students – very proud of them. In that same interaction, whilst the students were enjoying each other’s crepes and you were making his, he had suddenly leaned in and inhaled a few times, sniffing you and grinning cheekily, “You’re an omega, aren’t ya?” It shocked you because you shouldn’t be smelling like anything right now, the sugary crepes usually enough to hide and scent that seems to waft from you. Now, he had returned alone, acting as if you were buddies, “My dear students are in a fierce battle! I have made some time to see my favourite crepe omega.”

His words were too loud, you had to look around in fear that maybe he was trying to let others know, trying to get you boycott. However, no one was there. Was he trying to bait you? Maybe you should just go along with it, “Did you really like them that much?”

He perked up, arms open in a welcoming stance, “Of course! The food, the chef, both are a delicious snack~.”

Flirting?! Definitely a joke.

Your shocked expression must’ve spoke volumes as he laughed at you, wiping a faux tear from his blindfolded eyes, “Don’t be so unsure of yourself. Surely a treat like you gets hit on all the time.”

“Are you hearing yourself,” you blurt out without thinking. How could he be so casual about this if he weren’t planning something sinister. All the memories of manipulation and abuse from strangers in your life come flooding back, your body subconsciously recoiling in on itself in defence. Your voice is meeker now, “Please, if you’re going to do something just get over with it.”

The man’s footsteps sound calm as he strides towards you, his hand reaching forward. You cringe in on yourself, awaiting a slap or a hit, only for your body to be taken over by surprise when he speaks, his index finger pointing towards the flat stove-surface of the kiosk, “Your crepe is burning.”

“Oh no!” You squeal, quickly going to flip it off the surface and onto a serviette. Tears start to collect in your eyes as you think of all the different ways you’ll be punished, “Shit shit shit. He’s going to know! He always knows and I can’t hide it, I’m screwed-“

Silence engulfs you as you watch, stunned, at the man who picks up the hot and charred crepe, worms out his tongue and opens his mouth, before scoffing it down in a single gulp. He pulls out a few bills and sets them on the kiosk counter, “Whew! In hindsight I should have put cream or something on it. Definitely not as good as the first one I had.” Honestly… What was his deal? He didn’t question your shocked expression, only smiling and reaching out his finger to wipe at a stray tear, using the kiosk to lean over and reach you, “Name’s Satoru. Or, well, Gojo is my last name and tends to be what others go by. For you, cutie, I’d rather be addressed by something more to heart. So, you free after this? I know a great restaurant near here.”

Your mouth opens and closes, gaping like a dehydrated fish. You didn’t need to look down to see his arms begin to sizzle on the pan, the sound and smell enough to alert you both. Ven so, you informed him with ghostly words, “Your arm is cooking.”

“Not gonna move it ‘til you say yes!”

… You couldn’t believe what your day has come to, “Okay.”

The restaurant he had decided to take you to was something way out of your budget, and just as you were about to voice your concerns for it, he quickly put his finger to your lips and spoke, “Shh, I know what you’re going to say and don’t worry. I’ve got us covered.”

Neither of you were particularly dressed for this place, he wearing a black uniform with the neck of it covering his chin, and you in your small, ripped (not by design) shorts and oversized t-shirt. Even with this, the waiter at the front smiled widely at Satoru, “Gojo-sama! What a pleasant surprise. Table for two?”

You were thankful that the waiter didn’t acknowledge you. No greeting yet no glare or scowl either. Satoru flicked his fingers into guns and pointed at him, “You betch’ya! One of those cosy, independent booths, please.”

“Of course, right this way.” The waiter lead you through the open area of the restaurant, many patrons idly enjoying their dinner with their loved ones by quiet candlelight, whilst the ones you walked slightly too close to were able to smell you and tell just what breed you were, some even trying to complain to their designated waiter. You just hung your head in shame until you got to the booth, following Satoru’s lead until you heard a door being slid shut.

Quickly, you turned to face him, seeing that he had shut you both in a secluded area with a table, the walls made of a deep coloured screen that didn’t quite go to the ceiling, yet provided all the privacy one could need in a place like this. “Don’t worry,” he says, walking around to pull out a chair for you, “The owner and I get along real well. I’ve helped them out a few times.”

He slides the seat in as you sit, and you still can’t get over the fact that he hasn’t done anything bad to you yet. This man has singlehandedly given you the most kindness you have received in your entire life. Perhaps he wants to break your heart in the end, at least you might get a free meal out of it. “I see… Are you a chef? Is that why your hair is up like that and you didn’t flinch when you got burnt?” You knew some chefs were godly in the kitchen and a little stove sizzle wouldn’t quit them.

Satoru laughed, bringing his hands up to act as a resting spot for his chin, “Nooo~ Not a chef, and my hair just sits this way with the blindfold.”

Which brings you on to your next question, “Why do you wear a blindfold? How can you navigate like that?”

His cheeky grin only widens, his hands now moving to sit flat on the table so he can lean forward and whisper, “Would you believe I have… Special powers?”

This made you quirk your eyebrow, now you were unintentionally leaning in as well, “Huh? Behind your blindfold?”

Satoru chuckled, leaning back again in his chair as he nonchalantly waves the discussion away in the air, “Ah, I don’t think you can handle this conversation just yet. Oh! I know, how about this,” he holds his hand up, five fingers pointing towards the sky. Using his other hand, brings down his thumb so he was only showing four fingers, “Four more dates and I’ll reveal my eyes to you.”

Another flustered expression overcame you. You hadn’t even finished this date – this is a date?! – and yet he was already planning more. Subconsciously, you tilt your head away from him, shoulders coming inwards as you mutter, “I don’t have anything to offer you, Satoru.”

“I just,” he falters, and for the first time he sounds a little unsure of how to say something. Easily, his motions fluid and controlled, like he knows exactly what he wants to do, he reaches for your upper arms and pulls them forward, sliding down the length of your arms until he can comfortably hold your hands, “I just need you to be there. That’s all I want.”

You swallow thickly, thinking it over. It wouldn’t hurt to see how tonight turned out, and even if you said no, he knows where you work. You suppose you can see where this takes you, until it falls flat like it should for an omega.

That night, you managed to tip toe back into your home, your father snoring on the couch. It was a miracle you weren’t berated, at least you had thought so until the morning.

Cooking breakfast for him, he had decided now was prime time to slam his fist into the archway of the room, making you flinch as he roared, “You stupid bitch, don’t think I didn’t notice you not home last night. Where the fuck were you?”

What to say… Could you lie? You’d have to lie, he would accuse you of trying to do something shady if you said you had a date. No omega would get a date, especially you, and so that would mean you were planning something bad. Or maybe it was your catastrophising thoughts that made you see it this way, a defence mechanism, if you will. “I was working late,” you tell him, quietly, “My boss is trying to extend the crepe business into later hours for couples on dates.”

To this, your father scoffs, planting his body at the table as he awaits his meal, “No couple would want an omega to serve them, you might try to make off with their mate.”

You really did try to hold your tongue, but maybe Satoru’s easy-going behaviour had mellowed you out a bit, “I just thought you might want the extra money.” It wasn’t a smart-ass comment, but no matter what you’d say he would take it as one.

This morning, he seemed to have had a bad hangover, as he could only growl out, “What was that, you runt? Know your place.”

Oh, how you desired to spit in his food. You gazed longingly at the bacon and eggs you were making, such a simple meal. Last night you had come home to see new pizza boxes laid around. Honestly, you felt a sort of betterment from that. You had dined like royalty, and he was stuck here eating shit from a sole. If only for last night, you were better than him.

…

“A curse?” You questioned, your wide eyes looking over your teacup. It was an authentic, British set, Satoru had taken you out to a little garden café on the other side of the city. It was amongst some of the historic temples around, the trees making you seem far away from the city and the food a kind of exquisite you had never been privy of knowing.

He grinned at you, the skin at the corner of his eyes crinkling from behind his dark glasses, “That’s right! Kind of like a ghost or a monster. They feast on collective, negative energy and such, I don’t want to bore you with the details.”

You tried to keep an open mind, “And you… Hunt them?”

“Yeah! See, now you’re getting it,” he grins, excitedly.

With a smile, you set your cup down and ask, “Are you an author, Satoru?”

He waved his hand dramatically in the air, “Oh, you flatterer, you. I’m not that creative, it’s just my job.”

As much as you wanted to believe him, you couldn’t help the creeping feeling that he was lying to you. Like, this was your third ‘date’ together and he still had yet to bully you or do something horrible. This wouldn’t be too far of a stretch to make you scared and freak out. Maybe he wants to laugh at the weak, little omega and her fear smell. Is that why you were in a crowded café?

“Hey, hey,” he reaches over, holding your hands in his, “I can sense you’re troubled but not for the reason I’d think. You still don’t trust me, do you, (Y/n)?”

Your mouth opens and closes, unsure how to word your thoughts. You were caught in a predicament you didn’t want to be in. Of course you still didn’t trust him, you couldn’t trust him after everything you’ve been through. Would he take such offense to that?

Satoru seems to take your shock as his answer, smiling sincerely at you, “I don’t blame you, it’s okay. That’s why we’re doing these dates! Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from now on.”

Flaming heat erupts on your cheeks, the feeling of his thumbs caressing your skin feeling like an iron, “How can you just say that? You don’t know me and I’m-“ you stop suddenly, looking around you to notice the faces of disgust, you really didn’t need to finish that sentence. Your blockers had grown thin, so now you were cutting them in half to try and spread it out since your doctor was on holiday. Unfortunately, they didn’t prevent the smell of your pheromones enough, it was painfully obvious everywhere you went.

“Ah, my darling omega, you truly are sweet,” he inhales, smiling contentedly, “Once you realise the world is your playground, nothing else matters. I could kill everyone here and take you away, and as long as no one can stop me – and trust me, they can’t -, anything is possible, and your dreams really can come true.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, his words always bordering on genuine and humour. Even with the knowledge of Satoru’s like to play, the undeniable dark truth of a true alpha manages to waft in the air.

Like a switch, he grins widely, all teeth and charisma, “That’s not saying I will, but it’s such a nice feeling, don’t you think?”

It’s quiet as his words sink in. You think about your life so far, how you couldn’t even get away with greeting someone without a knife to your throat and spitting words of how an omega doesn’t get to speak without their alpha allowing them to do so. As much as you’d like to punch them in the gut, you don’t think you’d really want to kill them, everyone growing under their own circumstance. Instead of getting into political debates, you think you don’t want anymore stares and judgement for today, deciding that even if Satoru is okay to talk to, you’re still uncomfortable, “I suppose so, it must be nice having such strength, and being able to see… Curses.”

The rest of the date was enjoyable, and he even answered some of your questions about the creatures he hunts. Apparently, omegas are prime suspects, easy to feast upon and no one questions when they go crazy, the second lot of victims being alphas that had an omega as a child. You’re honestly surprised you and your father haven’t been attacked yet if that’s the case.

Satoru drives you home and it’s relatively quiet in the car, the thrumming of the almost noiseless engine enough to fill the silence. You go back to what Satoru says during your date, and now you’re memorising the smells he emitted during your conversation. Before, it was hard to really tell since you were stressing, and the restaurant was full of blooming alphas and betas. However, now it was lingering through the car. He had spoken so easily about death and killing, like it was second nature to him next to breathing. Some curses were sentient, able to talk and think, and then there was the comment about killing everyone else in the restaurant, who were definitely not curses. He was happy, proud even, to have that kind of strength and show it off to you. Tonka bean and vetiver… Perhaps even an orange blossom. It was nice, even if the reason behind it was a little morbid, and you couldn’t help but close your eyes and indulge.

The scent got stronger, and suddenly you were startled by a low chuckle, your eyes flashing open to see you were leaning towards him. Satoru had slowed down in front of your house and turned the car off, his cheeks a flush in the dim light, “Having you relax around me like that feels so nice. I can’t tell you enough how happy you’ve just made me.”

You open your mouth immediately to say sorry, only to close it after a moment’s thought. He doesn’t smell like he’s trying to bully you or mad that you thought you could get so close to him without repercussions. How much longer can you hold out from someone who is being so kind to you?

“You don’t have to reply to that,” he tells you, saving you from thinking of an acceptable response. Satoru gets out first, hurrying to your side while you unbuckle yourself to let you out. You smile at him and let him take your hand, holding you close as he closes the door and pushes you against the car. A small gasp is pushed from you, surprised at his boldness. You’re lucky that this neighbourhood was relatively quiet, no one being awake at this hour to see you with anyone. “I really want to kiss you,” he says, face inching closer to you, “You have no idea how hard it was for me to hold back in the car.”

Your eyes shift in nervousness, hands coming to press to Satoru’s chest, “W-wait, s’too soon-“

“It’s fine,” he cuts, not letting you get another word out, smashing his lips to yours in a frenzied kiss. Your eyes dilate, his scent and taste making your heart jump with a certain anxiety – excitement – you’re letting your shoulders relax and clenching the front of his shirt as he takes the lead. Maybe… Maybe this isn’t so bad… His leg finds its way between the both of yours and gently grinds down, a small moan slipping from your mouth at the electric feeling. Next, he starts to slowly introduce his tongue to your mouth, the wet muscle a new sensation to you.

Suddenly, you’re hit with an overwhelming pain, your gut tightening and your eyes watering as you double over into his chest. Your body is hot, panting, you lean into him and can hardly hear anything. Satoru is speaking, saying something, ‘sorry’ and ‘test’ are two words you think you understand but you can’t focus on sounds. What does help you, though, is the gentle caress his hand brings to your head. He holds you tight, safe, his pheromones echoing security and comfort through your mind. You mumble into his clothes once you feel you’re able to talk again, “Wh-what was that? That hurt so much…”

Satoru hums, both hands coming to your face which he cradles and regards you with loving eyes, “Have you ever been in heat, (Y/n)?”

You sniffle, shaking your head, “No, I’ve taken suppressants since the day they found out what I was. It made puberty really difficult…”

Satoru’s lips curl into a frown, “I imagine it would. It seems your body jumped into overdrive, the stimulation from kissing alone too much for you.”

Your arms curled around yourself for some comfort, “My suppressants, they’re running low so I’ve been halving them to spread them out but they’re just making me feel sick.”

“When did you start halving them?” He asks, eyes now wide with worry.

“Uhm, I think about a few days ago? But I can’t get a hold of my doctor and it’s hard to find anyone that will willingly prescribe suppressants.” Your head falls into his chest, a feeling of defeat washing over you.

Satoru pets your head, quiet in thought before he says, “Why not just stop taking them?”

You have to laugh at that, tilting your head to look up at him, “You’re joking, right? Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m not,” he closes his eyes, burying his nose in your neck and holding you close, “You’ve got me now, I’ll look after you. Fuck, you smell so good.”

“Satoru-“ Your wrists are caught in his as he stares you down.

Or, at least that is what he appears to be doing. You’re stuck in his grasp as you wait for him to make his statement, which he does once your lips smacks shut, “You don’t need to hide who you are anymore. Just think about it, ‘kay?”

To get him off your back you give an exhale of defeat, rolling your eyes to the side and complying, “Fine. I’ll think about it. Cool?”

His charming grin is almost enough to even fool you into thinking it was okay to relinquish your omega self to him, “Cool.”

Things were not cool. Not long after getting inside, your father had waited to pounce once the car Satoru drove was out of sight. Your vision had waned with the punch he threw at you, your body colliding with the hallway wall. “Disgusting!” He had spat, literally, his saliva landing on your cheek and barely missing your eye. His foot was next to make contact, kicking you hard enough in the stomach that you threw up a little of your dinner, “You reek of a fucking omega! I see you whoring yourself out, slut. Tryna hide the money from me, eh?”

Another kick had you crying out, this one on your bicep and knocking you back to the ground. You wailed as he bent down and held your hair in a tight and painful grasp, “I’m not! I swear, I have no money!”

He ignored you, his breath badly stained with alcohol, however, you were certain even without the influence he wouldn’t hold back, “Tryna seduce me? Hm? Your own father? You fucking wretch. If you don’t stop that smell right now I swear to whatever fucking God is out there…”

You were bawling now, you could only assume your hormones were worse, your own senses dull to the smell of you. It hurt internally as well, your omega working overdrive as you try in vain to calm down so you didn’t have to endure the full impact of emitting such helpless hormones. It may not have worked the way you wanted it to, but, your father seemed to calm down with a sneer.

He threw your head to the floor and began walking away, “If you don’t get back on those fucking meds by tomorrow then I will kill you. I promise you that.”

You didn’t dare reply to that, thankful that he decided to walk away while you were still breathing tonight.

How fitting the weather is today, the clouds a dark grey and the skies pouring with rain. You had one umbrella with a hole between two of the spines but it was better than nothing. This morning you left the house with a bag packed and a small suitcase, only the essentials.

You were on a bus ride to the other side of town to see your doctor. If they weren’t going to pick up the phone then you’d have to arrive suddenly. If he didn’t have the suppressors then you weren’t going to go home, in fact, you weren’t entirely sure if you were going to go back anyway. Perhaps a life on the street was better than this. A woman’s shelter wouldn’t take you in for the fact that you were an omega, and an omega shelter had an 80% chance of being a front for something worse than illegal.

The bus stops where you need to be, the passengers loudly exclaiming that they’re happy you’re finally leaving. It doesn’t hurt so much today, you just have one thing on your mind.

‘Why not just kill yourself?’

You stop at the thought, in the middle of opening your umbrella, standing in the rain. It was a thought, right? Ending it was always a nice joke but holy shit that voice sounded like it was right by your ear and… genuine. You weren’t exactly scared, a little shocked, sure but, maybe you should bring that up with your doctor, too.

However, as you got closer and closer to the clinic, you began to think they weren’t open. Though there was the receptionist’s and the doctor’s cars outside, the curtains were drawn, the lights were off and the sign, once you got close enough to read, was saying ‘Closed’.

Your hand reaches to your heart as you feel it thumping hard in anxiety, your pheromones beginning to linger around you as a thick, steady aura. Thank goodness this place was off the city boarder, not many people around to subject you to bullying and hatred. You look back to the cars again, both of them parked neatly in the small lot. Even if it’s closed, you need to push past your nervousness and gently demand your medication. If you didn’t… Well, he knows just as well as you do.

You knock on the glass with a firm hit, calling out for good measure, “Dr. Kodoka, it’s me, (Y/n).”

Silence.

You knock again, if they don’t want to be disturbed then the earlier they open up to you the better. “Dr. Kodoka, please, I really need to talk to you. It’s an emergency,” you plead, hoping he could tell by the sound of your voice how desperate you were.

Your gut drops as more silence is your only response. You probably should have tried this first, grabbing the long handle of the door and trying to open it. No surprise, it’s locked. Perhaps there’s a back entrance? Oh, you feel so seedy scrounging around a doctor’s office.

Past the skip bins there’s a narrow entrance just wide enough for one person between the building and a wired fence. You’re not sure why the wired fence is even here, it’s not attached to anything and only separates a portion of the office from an open wheat field. Luck smiles upon you as you try this door, the entrance clicking open and allowing you to step into the darkness.

One deep breath before you call out has you positively gagging at the disgusting scent that assaults you nose and mouth. It’s unavoidable, the little bit of vomit that works its way up your throat is involuntarily spat out onto the linoleum floor. What. The. Fuck.

This has to be the worst experience you’ve ever been through, the tears in your eyes falling freely as you persevere through the smell. You know you need to call the police, you know something like this isn’t normal. However, if you do, and they find out you’re an omega here to purchase suppressants then there’s a good chance you’ll both be dead. It’s happened before, police getting trigger happy or beating up omegas and any allies. Of course, society doesn’t care. More filth off the streets.

There’s a sound towards the entrance, something being knocked over, as well as some sort of ‘sludging’ noise. Could it be one of them trying to get to the door? Someone must be alive! You quietly move towards the entrance, past the main office, the break room, and peak through the broken door of the reception. It’s horrendous.

All the gore has been maintained in this area. Limbs, a spine, half a head that has been poorly cut from the top of their skull through their chin- and that’s only the background. In the middle of it all, this giant, wrinkly, slug-like creature appears to be waking up. It has an amass of arms and hands over it’s back and sides, and one twitching on the tip of its tail. The stalks that would be its eyes slowly raise, turning in all directions as if looking around.

You fall against the door, your entire being freezing up in a shock mode. The thud of your body hitting the floor alerts it to you, and you notice now that instead of eyes, it was wearing the distraught faces of the doctor and receptionist. The receptionist still had one of her eyes hanging from their socket, whilst the doctor was completely eyeless, with only a couple of teeth and the tip of his tongue drooping from the gaping mouth.

It hones in on your position and starts charging at an alarming pace, the only thing you can do is scream your throat raw as your end nears. It’s too horrifying, too real to be a dream you can escape. The creature splits its mouth with human-like teeth in mismatched rows and thrashing hands over its body and you can’t look away from your demise.

You don’t blink, and because you don’t blink it’s hard to believe anything happened.

As fast as light itself, a man appears and slashes the slug in half, horizontally through its open mouth with a light so white there’s a tint of blue to it. The guttural scream it lets out is so closely related to a human’s that you are only filled with more fear. The man, who turns to give you a cocky wink and that you can now see is Satoru Gojo, makes a crude display of holding his index and middle finger in front of his face and slowly licking his digits with the flat of his tongue; before slicing the creature up into smaller pieces until it bursts into sprays of blood and nothingness.

Your hearing was skewed, you barely recognise his footsteps as he walks towards you and bends down to hold his hand out. You tell your mind to grab it, to accept his kindness after saving you but you’re caught in your own sense of dread and confusion as not a speck of blood is seen on Satoru or his white hair, or his devilish smile, or that black coat with the collar sticking around his neck.

Satoru’s smile softens and he’s sure you can’t hear him when speaks to you, “Ah, I see we’ll have to cut our deal short. That’s okay, we’re only one date off anyway.” He reaches for your hands, placing them both in one of his and stroking the backs with his thumb. He then slowly removes his blindfold and tilts your chin with his free hand to force you to meet his silvery gaze, “(Y/n), sweetheart, look at me. Everything is okay now.”

His eyes are so blue… White… Silver… They’re like crystals or diamonds or two pools of galaxies – they’re out of this world. His lashes are gorgeous too, and for some reason you feel a ping of jealousy amongst all this chaos because how can a man be so beautiful just by taking off his blindfold. Like a character taking off their glasses to reveal they were beautiful all along. Wait, what are these thoughts? In this horrible situation you suddenly feel like giggling.

Satoru chuckles, keeping your focus solely on him as he lifts you in his arms to carry you out. People in suits run past you but neither of you pay them no mind as he keeps talking, “What silly thoughts are going through that omega mind of yours?” You laugh incredulously, feeling your body fall heavier in his arms he adjusts you, “There it is, there’s that adrenaline leaving you. I gotcha, sweetheart.”

You’re sat on the back of an ambulance with a blanket around your shoulders and a bottle of water wedged between your legs. A few feet away is Satoru, talking to someone so casually you wouldn’t think he just killed a monster with his own hands; literally. You watch as he dismisses the person and walks back over to you with a smile, his blindfold back on and his hands coming from his pockets to bring you into a side embrace, “How are you feeling? That was quite an experience, huh?”

Trauma makes people react differently to things, so if this was his job then it makes sense he wouldn’t be so distressed. “I smell of decay,” you sigh, though you weren’t covered in filth you definitely had some stains. Even without the mess, the stale air in the clinic was enough to cling to you. You squeeze the blanket tighter around you, “How could something like this happen? They were generous people. Kind; caring.”

Satoru seemed to think for a moment, as if deciding what the best thing to say right now would be. Whether it was helpful or not, he opted for the truth, placing one of his large hands below your neck for comfort, “They were helping omegas, and regardless of their personality, a lot of stigma comes from there. Constant stress to keep a secret, harsh words from the few friends and family that know, it all adds up and creates the perfect scent for a curse to trail.”

“I remember you saying you that they are attracted to negative energy. So, rather than feeding off the energy itself they eat the humans?” You ask, though you already know the answer to that. You just can’t wrap your head around how this is even possible. You recall his eyes, how pretty they are beneath the blindfold, “Is that why your eyes are so striking, because you have the power to fight them?”

A laugh bubbles from his chest, his hand squeezing your back, “Sort of. Not everyone is like me, though. In fact, no one is like me.” He steps back, arms open wide and head tilted towards the sky, “I’m the most powerful sorcerer to exist! Killing that creature used nothing but a flick of my wrist.” When he looks back to you there is a strange, powerful feeling that emanates from him, even some of the detectives around you seem to tense, “Nothing can touch me. In turn, nothing will ever touch you.”

What he says should be something kind, words of protection and safety. However, as his gaze burns through the blindfold and into your own, you feel like your breath has been whisked away and your body is being pulled to the ground, trapping you in place for him. It only lets up when your phone begins to ring, and to get out of this awkward feeling of a situation you answer it, “Hello, this is (Y/n).”

The voice on the other side of the phone makes you almost vomit, your father sounding almost melancholic, “(Y/n)… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shouted like that. Come home.”

You’re at a loss for words. He wants you home? No, that’s a lie, you can’t understand what is going on with him. Something tickles your ear and you jump to see Satoru leaning close so he can listen to your conversation. He smiles at you and nods, whispering, “Say yes.”

Satoru saved you and promised to protect you. He wouldn’t be telling you to agree if you were going to get hurt, you’d like to believe. So, swallowing your hesitation you reply, “O-Okay, dad. I’ll come home.”

He breathes a huge sigh of relief, “Thank god, thank you, (Y/n). Thank you so much.”

You hang up and look to Satoru with worry, “Do you think he’s going to kill me?”

“Nah, I won’t let him,” Satoru says, confidently. You think you can trust him, especially since you watched him take down a strong monster, your angry alpha of a father would be no match for him. He sees you’re still worried, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand and his smile doing its best to calm you, “Let’s finish up here.”

By the time you two are at your house the sun was low in the sky. Satoru had parked down the street this time, the two of you walking slowly down footpath to avoid suspicion. You were already on edge, however, when Satoru told you he wanted you to go in alone, you froze up completely.

He just stood there, allowing you to process what he said. You started by shaking your head, grabbing onto his hand, “No. No, please, you said-“

“-I said I’d protect you and I will. I’m going to go around the back, you just walk up like everything is hunky-dory, ‘kay?”

With a squeeze of your shoulder, he skips around, his carefree attitude not exactly lifting your anxiety. One thing is for certain, though, and that’s that you’ve seen him kill the other curse before. You know he can do it. You trust him. Alpha status aside, if you have any friend in this world then it’s Satoru Gojo.

You take your time going up to the front door, hand trembling as you reach for the knob. It’s unlocked, the door creaking open ominously. You get a cold rush through your body, the inside at freezing temperatures. It’s unnatural, making you step back in shock and shivering in what you could only describe as unease.

But it’s okay, because Satoru is here. He said he would protect you and the prospect has you feeling your cheeks flush. He’s like… your alpha.

The inside is quiet, save for the humming of electricity coming from the fridge. You walk slowly in and look around, spying your father in lounge room on his recliner, hands intertwined as he leans forward. You don’t shut the door, feeling just a tad easier with the escape route.

It isn’t until you’re standing before him that a whistling of wind causes the door to slam shut on its own, the locks clicking in place unnaturally. Your confused look in that direction has him huffing a laugh. Your father doesn’t give you the courtesy of eye contact, “You know that on the day you were born, your mother and I were at our happiest?”

It’s an odd way to start a conversation, and though you were certain this was a trap of some kind, you don’t know what else to do except respond meekly, “I didn’t know that no.”

A humourless laugh accompanies the way he sits up, shoulders slumped, and eyes dazed behind you, “No, of course you don’t. We only told you once when you were just a newborn. Once you got your status in life, well… It was too shameful to ever bring up again. We were completely embarrassed we every felt that way about an omega.”

He’s not just staring off into nothing, you notice the way his eyes look specifically behind you. Is it Satoru, did he come inside? You turn your head, only to go rigid and fall back in fear. Not another one… Not another curse.

It was too tall for the ceiling, curving over like a hook with its head twisted to be partially upright. Tiny mouths were strewn over its face and down its neck, human teeth in all sorts of odd places like the lips and cheeks of the creature. The main mouth was skewed to the side and grinning openly down at you, and the eyes that are sunken, almost giving a hollow effect, were as dark as a black hole; though you knew instantly that it had its gaze locked on you. Four lanky arms reach from its shoulders, the body a crooked mass of black and its fingers twitching in all the wrong directions with painful cracks of possible bone.

The worst part that solidified its presence was when it spoke, his voice raspy and words barely tangible, “Dau…ght…er… Path..et..ic ome…gck.a. Delectabblle—dinn….eerrr.”

You jumped at the firm hands on your shoulders, keeping you in place as the curse limped forwards. Your father spoke in a neutral tone, “It appeared not long after your mother left. At first, I didn’t know what to make of it, who to contact or what to do. Eventually, I started nurturing it. It grew with every argument we had, relished in my anger and pain. I let it feed off me and now it wants more. Now it wants you. You’ll do this, right? It’s the only good thing you’re for, after all. It’ll save me, your family.”

Tears streamed down your face, head shaking as you shifted back. Even with the bit of adrenaline you were able to muster, you were no match for your father, forced to endure the visual of this creature’s fingers itching to get a hold of your flesh. You could only sob, no words coming out, not even to call for Satoru.

Thankfully, you didn’t have to. Your saviour appears once more, and as though the curse is nothing but a guy on the street, he places his hand on its back and gives a low whistle, “Low blow, dad. And here I was excited to finally meet my father-in-law.”

There’s a pressure now in the air, one that has you curling in on yourself, and causing the curse’s open smile to turn into a low hanging frown. Its head spins on its neck, trying to get a look at the man that has it. Your father is more concerned about the words Satoru spoke, though, the tips of his fingers digging painfully into your skin, “’Father-in-law’? You whore. I knew you were out selling yourself. Looks like even to the end, you’re nothing but an embarrassment. That’s all going to change, though. Now you and your boy toy can die together.”

Satoru laughs, and before you can even blink, he appears behind your father and grabs his wrist, easily shattering the bones and causing him to let go of you. You shift to the side, away from both him and the curse as he screams. Satoru tuts at him, waggling his finger nonchalantly in the air, “Parents should protect their children, not sacrifice them. Honestly…” His voice lowers into something almost sad, though you’re wondering if Gojo Satoru was actually privy to that emotion in the first place or if he was just a really good actor, “People like you disgust me.”

A bright light that radiates such an intense heat envelops the lounge room. Your arm comes up to cover your face, eyes squinting, all you can hear are the pained cries of your father and the garbled curse. It sends fear coursing through your body, even if Satoru is on your side, just what sort of power does he control? The carnage you expect to see once your eyes adjust isn’t anywhere. The light is gone, everyone else in the room is gone, thin burn marks are left where your father and the curse once was.

You jump at the hand on your shoulder, your saviour appearing once again out of nowhere. He smirks, acting a little flustered, “Sorry, are your eyes okay? I just wanted to show off a little bit.”

Again, he’s able to treat this like it’s any other menial task. You ask him, voice quiet, “Where are they?”

He tilts his head at you, a little pouty that your first concern was them and not the praise you should be heaping on your hero. He squeezes your shoulder, comfortingly, “What do you mean? They’re gone, does it really matter where?”

It takes a few goes on shaky legs, but, you’re able to stand and face him, “I’m just a little concerned what even happened. Watching you fight the other one, I couldn’t wrap my head around it, and now this- … Are they…?”

“Dead? Yes.”

You exhale at his blatant response. Is this something you should blame yourself for, the killing of your father and that… thing? Or is that just your life-long need to put any negative responsibility on you for merely being born an omega.

Satoru wraps his arm around you and leads you out of the lounge room to help your overclocked mind, "Here’s what would have happened if I didn’t do that: The curse would eat you, devour your father, and then go on a rampage hunting primarily other poor omegas. It’s happened before, baby. Besides,” he cups your face in his hands, making you look up at him, “He was a horrible man. No loss. Can you really say you loved him?”

The only love you had for your father was before your scent kicked in. After that, he was worse than a stranger to you. You fiddle with your fingers, abashedly looking away, “What happens now?”

“Now,” he excitedly jostles you, the smile on his face huge, “You come with me!”

Your eyebrows furrow, his goofy attitude somehow lessening the severity of the situation for you, “I can’t just do that.”

“Sure you can! Where else are you gonna go?” He questions, awaiting an answer he knows you won’t be able to think of. He takes your hands in his and gets down on one knee, “(Y/n), I know it hasn’t been very long, but when I say I’ve finally found the love of my life-“

Cheeks burning, you push away from him, trying to cover up his teasing laugh with your hands to your ears, “Stop! Stop stop stop stop stop. Fine, I’ll come along with you.” You don’t think you can ever get used to being flirted with, especially in the unique ways that Satoru comes up with.

He gives you a gentle push, “Go grab some valuables, baby. We’ll leave once you’re ready.”

Satoru watches as you move up the stairs, grumbling about the sudden use of ‘baby’ he’s started getting attached to. Hah, how he really does love you. His hand comes to the straining of his cock in his pants, palming the ache that’s been prevalent for a while now. Not long now, he can’t way to absolutely ruin you. An omega that’s never had a proper heat, and he gets to be your first toy, just as much as you are his. His luck truly is divine, if anyone deserves it, it’s definitely him.

#yandere gojo satoru x reader #yandere jjk #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader #abo #yandere satoru x reader #alpha x omega #yandere gojo x reader #yandere x reader #yandere alpha x omega #alpha satoru gojo #jjk x reader

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cipheress-to-k-pop · 7 days ago

Text

barista (t.d.)

Pairing: Tim Drake x Reader

Word Count: 6.2k

Summary: You have a big, fat crush on your regular—Gotham’s very own friendly neighborhood coffee addict, Tim Drake.

A/N: Please compliment me about the banner I worked very hard on it <3 Also Happy New Year!!!

Getting a job in food service was honestly the last thing you wanted to do. You had heard enough horror stories from your friends who had taken many summer jobs unlike you. They often complained of insufferable superiors, bad working hours, and even worse pay and even though their stories of annoying Karens were extremely entertaining, you didn't think you'd be any good at handling them yourself. Unless your boss was okay with you cussing them out.

So, when your parents brought up you getting a job, you had vehemently refused. It's not like you particularly needed the money, however, they made a good point about needing to gain experience and how you were practically a rotting pile of flesh since you had begun summer break.

You couldn't argue with their points, even you knew that you needed to get back into a routine and get some fresh air. However, a job as a barista was the last thing you wanted to do.

But when your parents mentioned that you'd be working at your aunt's cafe, you were quick to change your tune. You always had a blast with her, and she'd definitely pay you well, lest she face the rath of her older sister, your mother. Plus, she often claimed that you were her favourite niece, despite not having any other but you supposed it was the thought that counted. Plus, you'd make extra money that you could use for pretty much anything.

So, now adorned in an apron, you stood behind the counter and took orders. Your aunt oversaw the pastry making and baking while you were in charge of the register and making drinks.

The thing you liked the most about your aunt's cafe was that it was a rare find for many customers. The cafe was the perfect space for people to sit in the quiet and get some work done. There was rarely ever any rush unless a big party came, however even then you were never really spread thin. You suppose you should feel bad that your aunt wasn't getting much business but she more than made up for the lack of customers with her overpriced coffee and cakes. But you would never tell her that. Besides, she made most of her profits from custom cake orders.

That's not to say that you didn't get any customers, you had very many loyal regulars that were always polite and would always strike up a conversation with you. Most of them were residents from the high-rise building above the shop so they were usually pretty wealthy and thus knew how to tip well.

And of course, the most loyal customer of them all, Gotham’s very own coffee addict; Tim Drake.

You take back your previous statement; he was definitely the thing you liked the most about the cafe.

You would have been down bad if he had just been just good looking; with blue eyes that were unusually bright and clear, like as though God cut the fabric of the afternoon sky and the clear blue ocean and made his irises with them. His pale skin and dark hair definitely made them seem even brighter.

He was so good looking that your customer-service-smile had frozen onto your face when he first entered the cafe, barely hearing his order over the thumping of your heartbeat and your brains incessant chatter trying to tell you to pay attention to what he was saying. Eventually, you had to apologize and ask him to repeat his order in your stupor, giving the excuse that you were new even though you had been there for more than 2 weeks.

He just smiled politely and told you not to worry before fishing his wallet and paying for his drink, tipping 50%. He wasn't just gorgeous but also well-mannered and sweet. You were down so catastrophically, cataclysmically bad.

The next time he came in, you learnt his name by pretending you needed to write it down on the cup and he casually commented how you didn't really do that last time. You said it was because he had been the only one in the store last time even though there was only one additional customer there. And you all were aware that you didn't bother to ask for the other customer’s name.

Tim continued to come almost every morning for the next couple of weeks and once you learnt how to actually comprehend the words coming out of his mouth instead of just listening to angelic singing every time he looked at you, you realized he was actually very interesting.

He'd always strike up a conversation with you and sometimes you'd take your lunch break and sit with him at the table while you talked. He was hilarious and intelligent and creative and the more you talked with him the more your plain attraction turned into affection before you knew it.

"I see you like Red Robin." Tim commented casually, noticing the insignia pin that you had on your apron. You glanced at the enamel pin that you had bought from a bodega on an impulse out of instinct before nodding, "Yeah, he's my favourite amongst the bats."

"Oh really? How come? Most people really prefer Nightwing, like me."

You shrugged, "I dunno, I just feel like he doesn't get enough appreciation as compared to the others. Plus, he makes the papers the least often."

"So, what? You felt bad that no one pays attention to him?"

You shook your head, clutching the screen as you typed in his order that you had already memorized. A brown sugar shaken espresso that you had convinced him to try just once, and he had immediately been hooked onto. You obviously added a couple extra shots of espresso for his caffeine addicted self.

"On the contrary, the fact that he's not seen in the paper probably means that he's getting the job done quietly and efficiently. Or maybe not. But that's just my guess. He's not bad looking either."

Tim chuckled, passing you his card, "Don't let him hear you say that; he might just swoon at the compliment."

"Well, I haven't actually seen his face, so I can't say with full certainty."

Tim lingered by the counter while you made his coffee, speaking loudly due to the absence of customers at this time. You had once mentioned that this was your least busy time; you wondered if he visited during that time, so he'd get to talk to you for longer.

You shook your head, reminding yourself not to get a big head as you pulled a double shot of espresso, quickly adding it to the shaking glass with brown sugar.

"I bet I’m better looking."

You really hadn't meant to laugh as hard as you had; you just pictured Tim Drake, with his posh posture and Gotham elite personality, sniffing at Red Robin as he tried to critique and compare looks. You were fairly sure that Red Robin was a head taller than him as well. The more you thought about it, the harder you laughed.

When you finally managed to wipe the tears from your eyes, Tim was still standing at the counter with a star-struck expression, pink beginning to paint his porcelain skin in beautiful blooms. You bit your lip, smiling in apology. He must have been quite embarrassed at your boisterous laughter.

"S-Sorry, you caught me off-guard." You explained, still giving him a sheepish smile as you grabbed a napkin and straw for him. The red had made its way up to his ears and down his neck before disappearing underneath the hoodie he was wearing.

Great, you had a crush on the guy and just laughed at the thought of him being better looking compared to a guy you had never even seen before.

"It's fine, it was meant to be a joke, so I suppose I’m flattered."

"No, I was being mean, you're definitely better looking." You teased, "If I ever meet Red Robin, I’ll definitely let him know that."

"I’ll hold it to you." He joked, grabbing his drink.

Having a crush was way more physically taxing than you had remembered it being. Every time Tim was around you, your heart slammed so sharply against your ribcage you would get breathless, and your stomach would twist into so many knots you'd find your abdomen getting sore.

You'd grow visibly excited when it was around the time for him to enter the store, making sure everyone else's orders were fulfilled so that you could give him as much of your undivided attention.

After being hopelessly infatuated and pining for him for a while, you had thought that you had gotten used to the incessant butterflies flapping their fingers against the walls of your stomach. However, Tim continued to prove you wrong.

You had just finished wiping down the steam wand of the espresso machine, when the bell above the store door had jingled, telling you that you had a customer.

When your eyes landed on the man standing behind the register, you couldn't help but freeze, stomach squeezing so tightly you could feel your heart crawl up to your throat, stopping you from welcoming him inside.

Tim Drake was wearing a suit.

His hair was styled for the first time you had ever seen him; dark tresses neatly gelled away from his face aside for a couple strands that tickled his nose.

You clenched the cloth in your hands so tightly you could feel the rough fabric beginning to slightly burn your skin. A part of you wanted to collapse into a puddle on the floor, already knowing how weak your knees had gotten at the site of him adjusting his watch. Oh, you wanted to dissolve into a pile of warm syrup, and you bit your lips to hide a dopey, lovesick grin.

Another, more repressed part, wanted to grab his tie in a single fist and yank the handsome man toward you, climbing over the counter and kissing him all over until his white shirt was stained with your lip gloss, his immaculate hair was messed up by your fingers and his cologne had rubbed off on your skin instead. You forced that part of yourself into the corner because she seriously needed a time-out.

"Um, hey?"

This was the first time he had spoken, clearly noticing how you just stood awkward frozen in time. Oh god, his voice was so much more attractive than you remembered. This wasn't fair.

"H-Hi, where are you going off to so prim and proper?" You asked, pulling yourself together by pinching your thigh so painfully that you could feel a bruise beginning to form.

"Oh, I just have a meeting at work. I do most of the work from home, but I’m needed in the office today." He explained, handing you his card like clockwork and you nodded, stepping away so you could start making his drink.

"Wow, how adult." You mused, shaking the tumbler quickly before pouring it into his cup and handing it to him.

"You look good, by the way," His warm fingertips grazed against your own when you handed him the tissue and straw. You watched as a bashful smile grew on his face at your compliment, making your heart flutter like a feather floating through the wind, "Much better than Red Robin."

He rolled his eyes, small smile turning into a full-blown grin.

***

This was the first time since you had met Tim that he hadn't come to the bakery alone and thus it would be the first time in a very long time that you actually had to take the order instead of automatically input his drink order.

Unfortunately, it would also be the last time you would be taking his order. You were supposed to work at the coffee shop for the rest of the month, however you had gotten an opportunity from your professor to be a part of his research team for the next semester and he required you to begin early. Which meant that you would no longer have the time to work for your aunt.

You had yet to tell Tim, upset at the thought of not being able to see him every morning from now onwards.

You had thought long and hard about it last night after you had confirmed your participation on the research team; you didn't want it to be the last time that you spoke to Tim tomorrow, you wanted him in your life.

So, you came to the conclusion that you would finally confess to him. You didn't want to continue the pining and end up in the purgatory that is the friendzone so you figured it would be the least risky to admit your feelings to him on your last day there. If he said no, you'd no longer have to run into him again every morning. If anything, he might be relieved that his regular coffee runs wouldn't be awkward from now on.

However, there was one new detail that was going to make your plan more embarrassing—

"This is my older brother, Dick." Tim introduced and you nodded, recalling when he talked about his extremely big family. Also, there was no one in city who wasn't aware of the Gotham prince, Dick Grayson, the oldest son of billionaire Bruce Wayne. Your eyes flittered between the both of them; despite being adopted, they shared a striking resemblance to each other.

You gave him a kind smile, "It's nice to finally meet you, Tim talks about you a lot."

"Good things, I hope." He responded, ever the ray of sunshine and you found yourself turning toward him like a lone sunflower. You realized he had that effect on people, the other customers also were privy to his presence. It was almost like he had a halo shining on the top of his head. The term 'Prince of Gotham' was certainly well-earned.

"Those are state secrets." You joked, playfully winking at him and he gave you a good-natured grin.

"So, what will you be having today?"

Tim ordered his regular and Dick got a matcha along with a vegan cheese tart for 'Dami' who you assumed was Tim's youngest brother Damian.

Tim held his card out for you to pay for their drinks and you inhaled sharply, digging your heel into your other foot to strengthen your resolve.

It was now or never, (Y/N).

You shook your head, trying your best to remain nonchalant even though your stomach was taking a rollercoaster ride, and you pins began to prick at your toes from how hard you were stepping on it with your other foot.

"it's on the house."

Tim tried to protest but you shut him down, not even making any moves to try and take his card from him, only handing him his receipt with the order number on it.

"Don't let your boss find out you're handing out freebies to everyone." He teased, sliding his card back into his wallet and you dug your nails into your palm, trying not to chicken out in the last second.

"Actually, the freebies are only for the cute customers that the barista has a crush on." You replied smoothly, grabbing the filter for the espresso machine and not looking back at Tim, afraid of his reaction.

Oh god, was your voice shaking? You tried your best to remain collected on the outside even though on the inside your heart was erupting like a volcano, magma flowing through your veins and setting your entire body ablaze.

You spared a small glance at his older brother, embarrassed that he was here to witness this. A sizzling heat began to run up your neck and to your cheeks, fingers stiff as you tamped the coffee.

A chuckle brought you out of your stupor and your stomach sank. It wasn't the usual laugh that Tim had, instead a mirthless sound that made you look back up at him, only to find him staring at the receipt you had given him, now crumpled him in a tight fist.

"Glad I’m the exception then," He said through gritted teeth, "I’m gonna go."

He left without making so much as another glance at you and your cheeks coloured in humiliation when you had realized his brother had seen that whole interaction with an equal expression of shock and pity that made you quickly bite down on an ice cube to prevent any tears from lining your lashes.

You quickly made the drinks, reminding yourself that it was okay since you were never gonna see him again, keeping your customer service smile on until his brother had left the store and then some before you finally let it fall.

***

"Dude, what the hell is wrong with you?" Dick asked, placing Tim's coffee order on the console of the bat computer, already finished his matcha. The coffee had long been watered down; the ice had melted in the Gotham heat on his walk back home since Tim had just left him there at the coffee shop.

The younger brother ignored him, staring at the screen with a glare that began to get increasingly annoyed. When it became clear to him that Dick wasn't going to move from his side until he got an answer, Tim finally sighed "I’m sorry for ditching you at the coffee shop."

"Apology accepted but that's not what I meant. Why were you so mean to that poor girl? I mean if you didn't like her, you could've at least turned her down gently."

Tim scoffed, incredibly peeved, "Are you stupid? She was clearly asking you out! I've been going there for like 2 months now and she's never been so blushy and nervous before you walked in there with your stupid tall height and stupid big grin and stupid good looks!"

Dick's jaw dropped open; blue eyes wide with shock. Wasn't Timothy meant to be like the smartest and most logical one amongst them? As far as he knew he was also acknowledged by R’as Al Ghul himself as a remarkable detective. Hell, he had discovered the dark knight's secret identity when he was nine.

And yet—

"Are you fucking stupid? She wasn't asking me out! That cute little flirty compliment was clearly directed at you!"

Tim still looked upset, though Dick could clearly see that he was beginning to doubt his conclusions. Thank goodness, he didn't inherit Bruce’s or his brother's stubbornness.

"So, you like her but thought she was hitting on me, so you got all emo?" Dick deftly deduced, watching as an embarrassed rash spread across his pale skin, "Dude, you really hurt her feelings. I think she was about to cry when you walked out like that."

You had really tried to look like Tim's exit hadn't affected you and to an untrained eye it probably would've looked like that, but Dick noticed how you were chewing down on your bottom lip til it bled just to prevent from crying.

Tim's eyes now raised to him, now completely uncertain with a touch of guilt and Dick sighed.

He wasn't the son of the greatest detective for nothing, but it wouldn't take years of training to know what a lovesick boy looked like. He had found out that Tim had been visiting this particular coffee shop every day at the same time when he flat out refused to have Alfred’s French press in favour of driving across town to the penthouse, he'd sometimes sleep in just to get coffee.

Tim would never refuse Alfred’s French press unless he was unconscious. Or dead.

Which lead Dick to do some sleuthing.

Didn't take any effort to check his credit card statement and find out that he had been visiting this particular store every single day. Which is really the reason that Dick tagged along that day, to meet the girl who had so clearly captured his little brother's attention.

He was honestly giddy when he realized that you were shooting your shot right in front of him. Oh, he could see the wedding happening before his eyes already, where he would very obviously make his groomsman speech, telling the crowd how he had been there the day you finally became a couple.

But Tim merely crushed up the paper receipt in his hand before storming out and he was left alone in the coffee shop, having to watch as Tim's future wife kept her gaze anchored to the floor while she tried to make the coffee that she had just given them for free. He left a fifty in the tip jar right then.

This would not be the last time that his brother would do something stupid throughout the duration of your relationship. He supposed you might have dodged a bullet due to the misunderstanding but Dick was biased toward his brother and so he felt obligated to try and get you both together.

"Are you sure?"

Dick pinched the bridge of his nose, "Tim, she didn't even speak to me after you left because she was so upset that the guy she had a crush on brutally turned her down."

His eyes narrowed still, "Are you sure?"

This time Dick had had it. He grabbed Tim's ear, unaffected by his shouts of pain and curses at him as he dragged him toward the elevator, "Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne, you go back to that coffee shop, apologize for being a jackass and ask her out. And you better take her to a fancy ass restaurant on your first date to make up for this mess."

"Okay! Okay!" Tim conceded, finally ripping his brother's hand from his ear and he crossed his arms, "You know, this wouldn't have even happened if you hadn't been a nosy ass and followed me to the coffee shop."

"This wouldn't have happened if you weren't an idiot either."

***

Tim had been silent during the patrol and while he wasn't the most talkative, it was unlike him to be this quiet. They were already an hour into the patrol and batman had yet to hear this voice of his son over the comms, but he didn't ask about it. He'd inquire about his son's personal life after patrol when he was back to being his parent and not his partner.

Something was definitely off however, since even Nightwing was more on the quiet side of the spectrum that night, which was extremely out of the ordinary.

It all had to do with what happened right before patrol--

Tim really hoped that Jason wouldn't kill him for stealing one of his motorcycles that he left at the manor but honestly it was the fastest way for him to get to the coffee shop without getting stuck in Gotham traffic. And really if Jason didn't want anyone to be using his motorcycle, he really shouldn't have left it in the garage with the keys there for anybody to take. Hadn't he learnt his lesson after Damian had tried to take one of Bruce’s cars?

Even though there were still a couple of hours for closing time, when Tim entered the store, you were nowhere to be found. Hearing the bell, your aunt had answered from the kitchen instead, telling him that she'd be right there in a moment.

When she finally emerged, wiping her hands on her apron, she stopped, recognizing Tim as a regular but he could tell that she didn't really know anything about him or even his name, "What can I get you?"

He angled his neck, trying to see if someone was in the kitchen but when he couldn't spot anything he turned back to your aunt who waited patiently, "Um, is (Y/N) not here?"

"Ah," She shook her head, "Since it was her last day working here, I let her go early."

Oh, Tim really should've had his coffee today because the caffeine withdrawal was starting to make him hear things. He could've sworn he just heard your aunt say that it was your last day working at the coffee shop.

"Last day? What do you mean?"

Tim returned to the Batcave just in time for patrol, shoulders hunched over and a pitiful frown on his face that had answered Nightwing’s question before he could even ask how it went. He didn't say anything else, just walking over to the change rooms without so much as a glance to his father or younger brother.

Understandably, your aunt refused to give your phone number to Tim considering she had no idea of your relationship with him. If there was any relationship anymore. You clearly had every intention to not be in his life anymore if he had turned you down, explaining why you decided to confess on your last day.

He had asked your aunt to pass his number to you but there was no telling whether she actually would or if you would call him even if she did.

And in retrospect it would be fairly easy for him to find your number or address or which university you went to, but how was he meant to explain how he coincidentally managed to run into you before explaining the misunderstanding and confessing his feelings?

His mind was wracked with questions, and he continued to beat himself up for thinking that you had been flirting with Dick in the first place. If he hadn't been such an idiot, he could've avoided this whole mess and could've avoided upsetting you.

Now even if he managed to find you, there was always a possibility that his reaction managed to turn you off and change your mind.

"Woah Timmy isn't that the girl you like?"

Dick's voice cut across the unusual silence for that night, ringing in his ears so suddenly that for a second, he didn't even register what he had said.

However, when he did, it was almost comical the way his head lurched up like a meercat, spotting Nightwing’s figure a couple of buildings away and immediately grappling toward him, nearly throwing himself off the side of the terrace trying to spot you.

You stepped out of Gotham university, hands clutching a binder to your chest. Tim wasn't sure what had his heart beating faster—the sight of your frost-bitten nose, tinged red from the cold—or that you weren't alone.

You were laughing with a man who, much to Tim’s dismay, was undeniably good-looking and wearing a lab coat, which meant he was clearly smart and shared your interests and oh you both were going to get married, and he was going to be alone and coffeeless for the rest of his life.

"What are they saying?!" Tim leant over the edge of the roof like a right fool.

"This is beginning to get creepy, baby bird." Dick commented from behind him, but all Tim could tell him was to shut up because he couldn't hear just what had you giggling so animatedly.

"it's great that undergrads get a chance to be on a research team; I know it might not seem like much but it's gonna look great on your resume, (Y/N)."

You narrowed your eyes teasingly, "You're just saying that because you're relieved someone is gonna be doing the literature review and wash your empty beakers."

The junior assistant, a postgrad student was in charge of showing you around the lab and giving you a list of your responsibilities. Since it was short notice, you were going to have to learn the ropes quite quickly so as to look competent to the other professors.

He laughed, patting your shoulder and you could've sworn you heard a sound similar to a bird shrieking from above you, "You caught me there. But you'll get your name on your first research paper so that's there."

"I am but a modern-day Cinderella." You grinned, walking with him til he reached his car. He sat in the driver's seat, not yet closing the door when he called out for you just as you were beginning to walk away, "Are you sure you don't want a ride home?"

You smiled but shook your head, "No, thank you, maybe next time."

You watched him pull out of the parking space before driving away, wondering whether you should wait for the bus or just take a cab back home. The next bus wasn't for another 25 minutes, and you didn't want to wait around in the dark, however, a cab would be four times the amount you'd spend using the bus.

You suppose you could've called your father and asked him to pick you up from the university, but he had just gotten home from work, and you would hate to ask him to have to come and get you.

You sighed and muttered underneath your breath, "I should've just asked him to take me home." before beginning your trudge home. A part of you was scolding yourself for taking possibly the most dangerous route home but the other part reminded yourself that it was unlikely for anything to happen.

Besides, you had seen Nightwing patrol the area earlier that night and it was way too early for the bats to turn in for the night. With any luck, he was still roaming around here.

***

Looking back, taking a shortcut through an alleyway wasn't the smartest plan you had ever made. However, you were lucky enough because it seemed like the bats had been watching over you for the night; you didn't even have the chance to get mugged before Red Robin has scared off your potential attackers. You hadn't even noticed them creeping up behind you.

You simply stared at him, starstruck. It was the first time you had ever come into contact with the Gotham cryptids and you had least expected an encounter with the most elusive of them, Red Robin.

You had known he had black hair but through a screen it had really looked more like oily snakes that had further cemented your belief that they were demons.

But up close, his hair was soft and silky, he smelt of sweat and grime but with a slight tinge of cologne hidden underneath. You continued to stare at him, feeling like you could tattoo the sight of him onto your retinas.

"Um," You began, not sure how to even begin the conversation. Should you thank him for saving your life? Or apologize for being an inconvenience. Instead, you found yourself following his gaze to the lapel of your lab coat, only to find him staring at the Red Robin insignia pinned there. It was then you had been reminded of the same interaction with Tim Drake.

"Just so you know, you're way better looking than Tim Drake."

You were in slight awe of Red Robin and also still heartbroken over Tim Drake's scorn earlier that day, so you felt the need to settle the score with him even though it would clearly never make its way back to him.

Afterall what were the chances that the vigilante Red Robin knew the trust fund baby Tim Drake? They didn't exactly run in the same circles.

The masked man just stared at you in surprise, quite frozen after your declaration and honestly you couldn't blame him. He had just saved your life and instead of thanking him you began complimenting his good looks while at the same time insulting a completely random man, when really you had no business doing because you didn't really know what he looked like.

Though the more you stared at his face, finding your eyes drawing lines down the same jawline, cupid's bow, and nose bridge, you couldn't help but find similarities between the man you had just compared him to—

You physically shook the thought out of your head.

"Okay, then," You finished, finally turning around to walk away from him, having had enough of standing awkwardly in the middle of the alley, "Thank you agai—!"

"(Y/N), wait!" His gloved fingers clasped around your wrist, and you cut yourself off abruptly, staring up at him in surprise. It seemed his response had surprised him as well, considering the way he continued to stare at you. You couldn't really see his wide-eyed gaze due to the domino, but you could tell from the slight gap of his mouth and the raised brow.

Your lashes fluttered as you lowered your eyes to the hand still around your own, his voice echoing through your head. He had a modulator but this close to him it felt like you could hear the voice underneath it. His voice was crisper, cleaner and lighter underneath the automated depth, you could hear it just slightly through the syllables of your name.

You looked back at the whites of his mask, "How did you know my name?"

You weren't accusing him of anything, at least he didn't think so, not from your voice. You sounded genuinely curious and your eyes ping-ponged over his features, trying to find something. Then he noticed the ways they slightly narrowed before you whispered, "Tim?"

His jaw went slack, eyes going so comically wide now that you had just known you knocked the hammer right on the head. He took a step back, finally releasing your hand and you cupped your gaping mouth, in shock yourself.

"Wait seriously?! I was just guessing! Why on earth would you make it so obvious!" You chastised.

"I’m sorry, ok?! I didn't have any coffee today and so my brain isn't braining today!"

You crossed your arms over your chest, "And who's fault is that? You're the one who stormed out of the cafe after rejecting me—after I literally gave your drinks for free!"

Red Robin—Tim winced, rubbing the back of his neck as his gaze fluttered guiltily away from yours, "That was...not my best moment."

"Not your best moment? You acted like I spat on your whole family and condemned you to death!" Okay perhaps you were being a tad bit dramatic, but it had been an extremely long day, and you kept being presented with new information which was a lot to take.

You were just a girl, for god's sake!

"Ok, in my defense, I thought you were confessing to my brother—not me! So, if anything, I was upset that you might like my family a little too much!" He retaliated and you gaped at him, incredulous.

"You are just—wow, unbelievable." You finally breathed. Truthfully, you didn't know what to even do now, something told you that you weren't going to be able to walk home completely unharmed. Since you knew his identity, the worst that could happen was that one of his bat friends was hanging over you to put you out of your misery. Best case scenario, you'd sign an NDA and be on your merry way home.

"I’m sorry, (Y/N). This is all my fault, I was being an idiot earlier and I got insecure cuz I thought you were asking out my brother which stung cuz I’ve been crushing on you for like months now." He finally admitted, holding his gaze low.

If you hadn’t been deafened by the sound of your heart pounding wildly in your chest at his confession, you would’ve given him a hard time about how nervous he seemed—just as you had been before he so brutally turned you down.

"You like me?" Your question, simple as it was, still managed to make Tim's heartrate escalate.

"Yes—I mean, of course—How could I not?"

You blushed, a gleeful response already on the tip of your tongue. Well, you would have, if you hadn’t suddenly been shrouded in a bat-shaped shadow that had you instinctively pressing yourself closer to Tim.

"Oh, I’m so dead." Tim muttered under his breath the second he had caught the figure of his father standing atop a building, having heard everything over the comms.

Your eyes widened and you stepped closer to him, a hand tightening around the utility belt strapped to his chest. You had remembered the rumours of what had happened to the second robin.

Tim's attention was snapped back to you the second he heard your sharp intake of breath, "N-Not literally, really (Y/N). I’m probably just gonna get grounded."

That got you to loosen your grip with a relieved sigh, relaxing and letting go.

"Grounded? As in Red Robin is grounded. Or Tim Drake?"

"Probably Tim Drake, Red Robin is still needed in the field. Maybe both." He admitted with a wince, and you have him a gentle pat on the chest that was meant to be a kind of 'there, there'. He gave you a small smile, gloved fingers holding the hand to his chest.

"I suppose our first date will have to wait, huh?"

Tim would be lying if a part of him hadn't kind of expected you to rethink everything. I mean, he had been so mean to you when turning you down after jumping to wild conclusions at no fault of your own. Then there was also his secret that he had been stupid enough to reveal to you.

You didn't deserve this; you deserved much better.

Still these thoughts were extremely fleeting, easily overthrown by his feeling of giddiness and outright joy, a blinding grin taking over his face.

"I guess so. I'll make it up to you, though—Dinner's on me."

You scoffed, "It better be, I’m standing in an alley 15 minutes past curfew with the identity of one of the illusive bats all because you thought I had a thing for your brother."

If his cheeks weren't already bitten from the cold, you would have watched as they went aflame, "I was young and stupid."

"It was this morning!"

"I was eight hours younger."

***

Forever Taglist:

@simonsbluee

@notslaybabes

@superheroesaremyjam113263

@writers-whirlwind

DC Taglist:

@tchatso

@p--e--a--c--h--e--s

@sometimeseverythingsucks

@sokkas-honour

@unstable1902

@lostgirlheart

@missdisapear

@tadpole-san

@isawachickeninatree

@uxavity

@battlenix

@capricorn-stark

@evermoore580

@dumbbitchgalore

@fuckingjinkies

@some-lovely-day

@that-one-fangirl69

@eloriis

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bingwriterxo · 2 years ago

Text

sisters, sisters

pairing: tara carpenter x reader, sam carpenter x reader

summary: in which two people ask you out, and you make a decision

warnings: none

word count: 2800+

author's note: here she is! definitely more tara-centric, but that's ok!

Tara (8:43 pm): come over. now.

Mindy (8:44pm): u good T??

Chad (8:46pm): On our way

Tara (8:47pm): doors open

Tara (8:47pm): let urselves in

* * *

It was a madhouse in the Carpenter-Bailey apartment when Mindy and Chad arrived. There were pillows strewn all over the living room; plant pots had been knocked from their places on the back table, leaving scatters of dirt across the floor; the corkboard that usually hung next to the doorway to the kitchen was on the ground; and, to top it all off, Sam and Tara were arguing at the top of their lungs with a very stressed-looking Quinn in between them, her arms out to keep the sisters from jumping at one another.

“Thank god you guys are here!” Quinn said when she caught sight of the twins walking through the front door. “I don’t know what to do with them!”

Tara and Sam didn’t seem to hear the redhead--or chose to blatantly ignore her--as they continued their screaming match.

“She was my friend first, Sam!” Tara shouted.

“So?! That doesn’t mean you have dibs on her!” Sam yelled.

“Woah!” Mindy exclaimed, interrupting the two. They turned their sights on her, anger raging behind both of their eyes. Mindy would’ve been intimidated--scared, even--if she didn’t know that the two were harmless (unless, of course, she was wearing a black robe and a stupid Halloween mask). “First of all, you can't call dibs on anyone,” she said, like it should have been obvious to the sisters, which it should have. “Second, what the hell is going on here?”

Sam sighed, pressing the heel of her palm to her forehead. Tara clenched her jaw and balled her hands into fists; she was clearly the more aggravated of the two.

“Sam’s a bitch,” Tara seethed.

Before Sam could respond, Chad butted in. “Guys, come on. Why don’t we just sit down and have a nice, calm talk?” he suggested, gesturing toward the couch.

“Please,” Quinn agreed, falling into the armchair. “I can’t play mediator anymore.”

“Fine,” Tara huffed. She sat on the couch, tense, and crossed her arms over her chest as Sam did the same on the other end, and though she was more relaxed than Tara, she made sure to leave enough space between them that a large elephant could fit.

Mindy and Chad made their way to the center of the room, staring at the sisters. The air was thick with tension, and Mindy rolled her eyes when neither Sam nor Tara made the first move to speak.

“Okay,” Chad started, “so what’s wrong?”

“Didn’t I just say what’s wrong?” Tara snapped. “My sister’s a bitch.”

“T,” Mindy said sharply. “This is supposed to be nice and calm. No attitude.” She looked at Sam, hoping that she would be more cooperative considering the fact that she was older and, usually, the more reasonable of the two. “What’s going on?”

Sam inhaled deeply. “I tried to talk to Tara earlier, and she completely blew up at me.” She gestured around the room. “As you can tell.”

“Oh, that’s not fair!” Tara complained. “Tell them what you told me.”

“All I said was that I want to ask Y/N out on a date.” Sam shrugged. “I didn’t really think it would be a problem, but I know all of you guys are closer to her than I am, so I wanted to tell Tara before I did anything.”

Chad hummed, confused, and Mindy furrowed her eyebrows. “And, Tara, why is that a problem?” she asked.

Tara mumbled something beneath her breath, and everyone leaned closer as though it would help them hear her. She glared at the group, sighed, and then rushed out, “Because I want to ask Y/N out.”

Mindy’s jaw dropped, Chad’s eyes practically popped straight out of his head, Quinn made a noise akin to a surprised baby, and Sam let out a soft, “Oh.”

It was silent for a moment, and the tension somehow seemed to thicken. Tara fidgeted uncomfortably beneath the eyes of her friends, shifting where she sat and playing with the skin around her fingernails.

“It’s not that big of a deal guys,” she finally muttered after the silence became too much. It snapped everyone from their thoughts, and they all started talking at once.

“We just didn’t know--”

“I mean, I had no idea--”

“You never said anything--”

“I can’t believe I didn’t realize sooner--”

They spoke over one another until they realized that nothing they were saying was intelligible, and when they stopped, Mindy took the lead. She knelt down in front of Tara and took her hands in her own.

“You never told us you were into girls, T,” Mindy said.

Tara shrugged. “I just didn’t think I had to do the whole ‘coming out’ thing. I wanted to be able to bring a girl home, preferably Y/N”--she glared at Sam, who huffed--“and say, ‘This is my girlfriend’ and have that be it.”

Mindy nodded. “Okay. Fair enough. Then we won’t make this a big deal.” She stood. “But we still have the pressing issue to deal with.”

“I can’t believe you guys both like the same girl,” Quinn said, a teasing smirk on her lips. Everyone looked at her with narrowed eyes; she was not helping the situation. “What? This is fucking hilarious!”

Chad shook his head. “Anyway…” He inhaled deeply. “What’re we gonna do? You can’t both ask Y/N out. I think the girl would combust.”

Mindy snapped her fingers and pointed at her brother. “No, I think you’ve got an idea there.” She turned to the women on the couch. “You two should both ask Y/N out. She’ll only say yes to one of you, and this whole thing will be solved.”

“So, we both ask Y/N out…and she chooses?” Tara asked, unsure of the idea of even letting her sister have a chance.

Mindy tilted her head and shrugged. “Well, yeah. I mean, we can’t choose for her. Just…don’t do it at the same time, or on the same day. Chad’s right: she probably would combust if that happened.”

“What about the person she says no to?” Sam asked.

Quinn spoke up. “They’d have to suck it up and accept that Y/N doesn’t like them that way.” She shrugged. “This really is the best way to solve things.”

“What do you think?” Sam asked as she looked at Tara.

“I have a feeling you’ll ask her out even if I say no,” Tara said.

Sam shrugged. “Yeah, probably.”

Tara bit the inside of her cheek, unraveled her hands, and held one out. “Fine. We’ll both ask Y/N out. When you get rejected, you’ll forget you ever thought about her in a way other than friendship.”

Sam scoffed and rolled her eyes but still reached out to shake her sister’s hand. “Whoever gets rejected will forget they thought about Y/N in a romantic way.”

Tara hummed. “Deal.”

“Deal.”

“See?” Mindy said. “That wasn’t so hard!”

Chad fell onto the couch between the sisters. “So, how’re you guys gonna do it?”

* * *

“I just don’t know what to do, JJ,” you said with a sigh, falling back onto your bed. You held your phone above your face so that you could see your best friend on FaceTime. “I mean, she’s so funny, and she’s smart, and she really cares about me--I can tell.” You could feel your cheeks heat up at just the mention of her.

JJ furrowed her eyebrows. “So, what’s the problem? Ask her out, stupid.”

“I can’t.” You bit your bottom lip. “It would mess up…everything.”

“It would only mess things up if she says no, and from the way you talk about her, she’s not gonna say no.”

“No, you don’t get it. Even if she says yes, it would, like, destroy the friend group, and I don’t want to do that. I love these guys. Obviously, they don’t compare to you, but they’re pretty decent people otherwise.” You dragged your free hand down your face and groaned, your stomach dropping at the thought of losing the friends you had made at college. “I hate having feelings for people.”

She chuckled. “You just need to learn to not have feelings for people you’re friends with.”

“Wait until you meet her,” you said. She’s fucking perfect, you thought. “It’s easier said than done.”

“I still think you should do it.” JJ shrugged. “If these people are really your friends, they won’t let your guys’ relationship get in the way. They’ll be happy for you, probably, since you won’t be pining over her anymore.”

“I’m not pining over her!” She gave you an ‘are-you-sure-about-that?’ look. You rolled your eyes. “Okay, maybe I’m pining over her a little bit.” Her face didn’t change. “Okay! A lot!”

She smirked victoriously, and you sighed. “That’s what I thought.”

“I hate you, you know that?”

“You love me--”

JJ was interrupted by a sharp knock on the front door of your apartment. You sat up and furrowed your eyebrows, confused. No one’s coming over today, right?

“What is it?” JJ asked.

“Someone’s at the door.” You shrugged and glanced back at her. “Probably one of my roommates’ friends--” The knock came again, harder this time, and you groaned. “I should get that, I guess. I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Yeah. Talk later.”

You shuffled out of your bedroom and to the front door, peeking through the peep-hole. You couldn’t see much beside a head of brown hair and the tint of tan skin, and your heart sped up.

Is it…?

You whipped the door open, grinning from ear to ear, but your smile faltered as you saw who stood in the hallway.

Sam.

She looked up at you, smiling the way you were just seconds ago, her eyes shining with an emotion you couldn’t read. “Hey,” she said.

“Uh, hi,” you said, voice a little too high with disappointment. You cleared your throat. “What’s up?”

Sam shifted on her feet, tucked her hands into her jacket pockets, and swallowed hard. “Could I come in?” she asked.

You could tell she was a little nervous--she was never usually so fidgety--so you nodded and opened the door wider, gesturing for her to step inside. You shut the door behind her and spun around, watching her expectantly.

She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. She opened her mouth, like she was about to say something, and then closed it again. It was starting to make you anxious—seeing someone so confident and sure-of-herself suddenly reduced to nothing more than nerves. You were going to speak up, ask her what was wrong, but you didn’t get the chance as her question tumbled from her lips.

“Would you want to go on a date with me?”

Your eyes widened in shock, mouth falling agape as all of your limbs suddenly felt frozen. You watched as Sam began to shrink in on herself, and a pang of sorrow struck deep in your chest.

“I--I--” you stammered. You inhaled deeply and regained your thoughts. “Sam, I’m sorry if I ever gave you the wrong idea…but I don’t like you that way.” Her face fell, and you frowned, hating yourself for having to hurt her. “I’m sorry.”

She took a shaky breath and shook her head, eyes glancing down. “It’s fine.”

“Sam--” You reached out, wanting to offer her some sort of comfort, but it felt wrong if it were to come from you, since you were the reason she needed comforting in the first place.

“It’s okay, Y/N.” She looked at you again and tried to offer you a small smile. It fell flat. “Really, it is.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “I hope this doesn’t change anything between us. You’re a great friend, Sam, and I’d hate for that to be any different now.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. No, yeah, of course. Nothing’s gonna change.” She shifted again. “I should probably get going.”

“Okay.” You moved to open the door, then paused and looked at her again, anxiety hitting you like a train. “You sure we’re okay?” You didn’t want to lose her, not because of this.

Her features softened as she took you in, picking up on the turmoil coursing through you. “I promise. We’re fine.”

You sighed. “Okay.” You opened the door and watched as she started to leave. She was halfway down the hall when you called out to her. “You really promise?”

She turned around, chuckled softly, and offered you a smile. “I really promise.”

* * *

Even though Sam had double-promised that things were okay between the two of you, and had made good on that promise by inviting you over for dinner with the rest of the group later that same night (to which you had lied and claimed you were busy), you still found yourself wallowing in your bed for the next few days, the image of Sam’s upset-face burned into the backs of your eyelids. You hadn’t even been the one to be rejected, yet you still felt sorry for yourself--sorry that you had to hurt a friend, sorry that you couldn’t like her back, sorry that you had been wishing it was her sister.

You were in the midst of your new daily routine--watching TikToks for hours on end while tucked beneath the comfort of your favorite blanket (that Tara had gifted you for your birthday just a few weeks prior)--when Mindy’s face suddenly appeared on screen, her contact picture sticking its tongue out at you.

Your thumb hovered over the decline button, more than tempted to press it and let yourself fall back into the monotonous routine of scrolling, but the longer you stared at Mindy’s photo, the more you knew you couldn’t avoid her.

“Hey,” you croaked as you answered. Your voice was rough, your throat sore from not using it.

“And where the hell have you been?” Mindy asked quickly, her voice loud over your speaker. You cringed slightly at her words and tried to bury yourself deeper into your mattress.

“I’ve been, you know…around.”

She hummed. “Yeah, okay. Well, I thought I’d give you some sort of heads-up because Tara is on the way to your apartment right now.”

You shot up, holding the phone close to your ear. “What?! Why?!”

“That is a question I cannot answer!” she said.

“Mindy, what--”

Your phone clicked as she hung up.

Almost immediately, there were soft knocks against the front door of your apartment. You scrambled out of your bed, grabbing a pair of sweatpants and a random sweatshirt from the floor and throwing them on, not bothering to check if they matched.

“I’m coming!” you called out as you walked toward the front door, your head stuck in the armhole of your hoodie. Fucking hell, you thought. Pull yourself together. Once you could finally see again, you pulled the door open and inhaled sharply at the sight.

Tara stood in the hallway, a shy smile on her lips and a blush painting her cheeks, making her freckles stand out even more than usual. One of her arms was outstretched, and in her hand was a bouquet of flowers, waiting to be taken by you.

“Hi,” she said, and just her voice made your heart skip a beat.

“Hey.” You opened the door fully and she slipped inside.

She pushed the flowers further in your direction. “These are for you.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh!” You took them from her, your fingers brushing over her own as you did, and a jolt of electricity zipped up your arm. You tried to ignore it as you said, “Thanks, Tar.”

“Sure.” Her voice was shaking slightly; well, she was shaking slightly.

“Why did you--”

“I want to take you on a date,” she said suddenly and all at once, like she wouldn’t have been able to say the words unless they fell out of her mouth in a jumble.

Deja vu washed over you, sending a shiver down your spine, and all you could get out was a soft, “What?”

Tara tried again, her words slower and more calculated. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to take you on a date.”

You swallowed, your brain short circuiting, and, in your stupidity, asked, “What about Sam?”

She raised her eyebrows in surprise, unsure of how to respond. “Uh--” A beat of silence passed between you before she found something to say. “Sam’s okay with it. She doesn’t--she doesn’t mind.”

“Oh.” You nodded and glanced down at your feet, suddenly too aware of the way the seams of your socks were resting against your toes. A blush was forcing its way up to your ears in embarrassment. What about Sam?! you thought. You fucking idiot! Who says that? “Cool.” Jesus Christ.

Tara clicked her tongue. “Yeah.” She shoved her hands into her back pockets. “So, about that date, then?”

She was watching you with wide, hopeful eyes, and the softest of smiles, and, god, you just wanted to fall into her.

“Yeah,” you said, nodding. “Yeah. A date--that sounds good. That sounds really good.” Just shut up, me! You offered her your own smile, watching as she lit up with excitement and joy and--Would it be weird if I kissed her right now?

Tara bit her lip as she grinned, her dimples prominent. “No, I don’t think that would be weird.”

You paled. “Did I--Did I say that last bit out loud?”

She giggled and nodded. “Yeah. Kind of.”

“Oh.” You gulped. “But…it would be okay?”

“It would be more than okay.”

And then your lips were pressed against her, and she sighed into you, and neither of you thought about the flowers that were being squished between you.

bonus: jj <;3 (10:59pm): u done pining yet?

you (11:06pm): shut the fuck up.

#tara carpenter x reader #tara x reader #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter #melissa barrera x reader #melissa barrera #scream 6 #scream 5

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saibug1022 · 3 months ago

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No Longer You

Word Count: 2k Characters/Relationship(s): Asterin Nightbloom, Tyril Starfury, Tyril x MC, Mal Volari x MC, Aerin Valleros x MC, Mal Volari x Tyril Starfury Genre/Tags: Angst, Hurt no comfort (yet), aggressive parallels A/N: This miniseries is very heavily inspired by Epic the Musical and therefore the Odyssey. This part is inspired by, shockingly, the song No Longer You. The series should be three parts so stay tuned.

Part 2, Part 3

“How could we have left him?!” Imtura exclaimed.

“We didn’t leave him,” Nia said, seeming just as angry as the warrior. “She kept him there.”

“Who is ‘she’?” Mal asked, his grip on Tyril’s shoulder tightening.

Tyril sighed, looking up from where he’d been sitting on a large boulder with his head clutched in his hands. As soon as the light had faded and they realized Asterin wasn’t with them, the whole group had fallen into a panic. None of them seemed to express fear nor grief in the same way which only sent them into a downward spiral thanks to the chaos seeded among them.

Tyril had fallen back into the same methods and emotions he’d used when Asterin disappeared: desperation. His mind was already shuffling through every story, legend, and even rumor he’d ever heard. Unfortunately, only one fit the situation.

“’She’ is Asin,” Tyril answered. Nia and Aerin must have came to the same conclusion seeing as Nia stared firmly at the ground and Aerin crossed his arms. “A rarely spoken of goddess. Scholars have always been conflicted as to why, but she was sentenced to fall in love with any who arrived on her island, which is also its own realm. Those she falls in love with are trapped there until Nilfira decides to intervene. It could have been any of us, but Asterin must have been the one she fell in love with.”

“Maybe you didn’t notice but none of us can realmwalk,” Aerin pointed out. He glared at Tyril like it was his fault they were in this situation and Tyril barely resisted the urge to leave him in a ravine. “How are we supposed to get to him?”

“Even if we could realmwalk, it’s impossible to find Asin’s realm,” Tyril retorted.

“So what, he’s just trapped there?” Mal asked. Tyril put his hand over Mal’s. The other man was clearly holding back tears and Tyril was in the same sitution.

“No, no way, I refuse to accept that,” Imtura scoffed. “There’s nothing you can’t find as long as you look for it. There’s always a course to plot, we just need a map.”

“You can’t plot a course through realms,” Tyril said.

“She may be right,” Aerin realized.

“Really?” Imtura replied.

“Maybe we can’t plot a course, but we could if we knew where it was,” Aerin said. “There is one man who may be able to find it for us. The Seer of Andreas.”

“Speaking to the Seer of Andreas drives people insane,” Tyril argued.

“Unless you have the proper motivation,” Nia added. “Think about it. Every story where people survived speaking to the Seer they were motivated by something other than power: Agnarr the Red wanted to protect his clan, Lianna was there with another only to fulfill her oath and uphold her honor, Perin was there for duty, and Ambrose for love. We’d be there because we love Asterin, not for power or glory.”

“Would that be enough?” Aerin questioned.

“It has to be,” Tyril replied.

It was an awful plan. But it was no worse than some of the other plans they’d had, including charging into the Shadow Realm headfirst while missing a member of their party. That plan had resulted in saving Morella. Perhaps this one could save Asterin, a task infinitely more valuable.

“I need you to stop talking myths and start talking facts,” Imtura spoke up.

“The Seer of Andreas can see everything,” Nia explained. “He doesn’t just see the future he sees every possibility of the future and the past. Most people who talk to him are driven insane under the weight of what he says assuming he even speaks to them. But a few have survived.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Mal nodded and squeezed Tyril’s hand, standing up from the log. “Where is this Seer?”

“…another realm,” Nia admitted.

“So we’re back on the Realmwalking problem,” Imtura sighed. “Does anyone know where Valax went off to?”

“Actually,” Mal hesitated. Then he pulled a small cloth from his belt, that when unwrapped revealed a small vial of something red.

“Is that blood?” Tyril asked. He stood up to examine it closely and came to the conlusion Mal was indeed carrying around a vial of blood.

“It's Asterin's blood,” Mal clarified. Each of them stared at him in silence. “What? He gave it to me in case of an emergency!”

“He didn't tell me that,” Tyril said, looking at the vial over Mal's shoulder.

“Nor I,” Aerin agreed. “Why would neither of you say anything?”

“He made me swear to secrecy,” Mal explained.

“And thats the promise you keep?”

“Okay you know what you little sh-”

“Would you two stop bickering and focus?” Nia snapped. “Your jealousy issues come later, we need to find the Seer.”

“Can you use the blood to open a portal?” Imtura asked. Nia took the blood from Mal and clutched it in her hands like she could feel Asterin within it.

“I suppose we’ll find out,” Nia said

Not a day later their entire party spilled onto the ground of a cavernous temple. The entire inner chamber they’d fallen into was carved into the stone of whatever realm they were in. The ceiling was held up by stone columns, the stretches between them made of a white crystal that reminded Tyril of the archive in Undermount. There was not even a hint of light other than the teal fire in the braziers lining a walkway.

The walkway extended halfway over a pit so deep it seemed to be a void, a void with more turquoise light curling in tendrils, all arcing toward one figure. At the end was a figure partially obscured by shadow. He was tall but incredibly frail, wrapped in simple hooded robes.

“You made it after all,” The Seer hummed as they all scrambled to their feet. The seer turned around and Tyril felt a shiver run down his spine. It was an entirely involuntary reaction to something Tyril couldn’t quite name. Maybe it was how the Seer’s face was obscured by his hood, washing his face in shadows. It almost looked like he had no face, if not for his eyes glowing green. “I suppose I should welcome you to Andreas.”

This was it. If they failed here either Asterin would be lost or they’d be too mad to look for him.

“Great Seer,” Nia stepped to the front of the group and held out her hands in a gesture both placating and awed. “We humbly request your guidance, we desperately need help fin-”

“I know of whom you seek,” The Seer replied. Every word he spoke was completely flat and emotionless. It wasn’t apathetic, something more like tired. “I only wonder if you do.”

“What does that mean?” Imtura asked.

“This is not the first time your party has made it to Andreas in search of your friend,” The Seer told them. They all exchanged glances of varying confusion, alarm, and curiosity. “I only wonder which friend it is you seek.”

“Asterin?” The Seer continued. “Yet which version of Asterin? Asterin of Riverbend? Asterin Nightbloom? Asterin Volari? Asterin of the Great House Nightbloom? Asterin Starfury? Consort and Prince Asterin Valleros? Asterin, Avatar of the Dreadlord? Asterin of the Ash Empire?”

Each name felt like a punch to the gut. Many he could not pinpoint but of course he could a few. Asterin Volari. Asterin Starfury. Mal was breathless beside him and Tyril’s mind was spinning. Asterin Valleros. Aerin was wide eyed and conflicted. His eyes sparkled with hope and fear all at once. Avatar of the Dreadlord. Nia looked sick, Aerin along with her.

“Maybe it is not Asterin at all. Is it Raine? Aurelian? Va'or? Odette? Maiele? Myrdan? Aemyraithe?”

“Great Seer, we do not know these names,” Nia claimed.

“You do,” The Seer replied. “Though perhaps not you. Tell me then? Which name do you want to find?”

“Asterin,” Aerin said. His voice was tinged with desperation that for once aligned his interests with Tyril’s. Even Mal looked the same.

“Which Asterin?”

Each of them hesitated. Asterin used the name Asterin of Riverbend and Asterin Nightbloom interchangeably. The wrong name could lead them to man they didn’t know.

“You do not even know yourselves,” The Seer realized. “I cannot blame you. There are more Asterins than you could fathom.”

“Right, and you can see them all?” Mal snarked.

“I see everything, Mal Volari,” The Seer tilted his head. “I see your desperation, I see you recklessly offering your life to save your friends, I see Mal Starfury and Mal Nightbloom, I see how you look at Asterin, I see the light leave your mother’s eyes and I see your fear that one day you will be in that bed yourself with your loves standing over you with faces unchanged.”

Mal looked like he’d been slapped as his legs nearly gave out. Tyril found it difficult to breathe as he stared at him. Mal had spoken of his mother and how he’d sacrifice himself for Tyril and Asterin in a heartbeat. He’d even tried before. But the last piece was something Tyril had never even guessed.

“Mal…?” Tyril’s voice was barely a whisper but Mal still looked at him with an apology clearly on his lips.

“I see you Tyril Starfury,” The Seer continued. “I see blue turning to gray, I see you alone in a cold palace, I see you at a warm hearth with family by your side, I see your Dinvalir’s fear as she is frozen, I see you standing alone against the shadows, I see Tyril Volari, I see your Uluvalir screaming for you in chains, I see your dread as your failure strikes and cuts down those you love.”

His failure. Kaya. Alone and with family. Asterin tortured in that dungeon. Tyril had to tense his muscles to keep from shaking where he stood. He felt empty, as if his mind had fallen over the edge of the walkway and into the void.

“I see you, Aerin Valleros,” The Seer said. “I see how badly you wish to choose a name of your own, I see how you cling to your beloved, I see how badly you want to change but I see your fear you cannot, I see your eyes turning black, I see you standing over your silver haired elf with red staining your hands, I see your father’s grief, I see you watching a wedding you will never experience.”

For the first time in his life Tyril saw tears in Aerin’s eyes. He stumbled back but his knees still gave out, leaving him kneeling in defeat.

“I see Asterin Nightbloom cradling his brother in his arms,” The Seer warned. “I see his eyes turn black as he sits upon a throne of shadows, I see him scream as he lays waste to Morella, I see him burning with light from the inside out, I see him blessed in a home with the men he loves, I see a flaming sword in his chest, I see him bleeding on a dungeon floor, I see him on the edge of a cliff as a woman pleads with him to return.”

Tyril’s sword fell from his hand onto the stone. He absorbed every word but could not fathom any of it. Nearly every road for Asterin ends in tragedy. Why him? Asterin deserved to have everything he wanted and more. Not only had he saved the realms, but he saved the people around him. He brought light to shadows, literal and metaphorical. How could the Light not repay him in kind?

“I see every one of these worlds,” The Seer. “I will begin your journey by leading you to Asterin Nightbloom. But I will not tell you which path you are on. The world you live you must choose. Pray you choose correctly. Pray that at the end of the path, you are the same person who stepped onto it.”

#asterin nightbloom #tyril starfury #mal volari #aerin valleros #tyril x mc #mal x mc #aerin x mc #playchoices #choices #pixelberry #bolas #choices bolas #blades of light and shadow

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aceswritingcorner · 2 years ago

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Yandere Beginnings

Marc Spector hadn’t expected to see anyone during certain hours of the night. Let alone someone who seemingly walked through the night with ease. Coming back from missions given by Khonsu was never easy- nor was going to them and getting the crap beaten out of you but that’s what was signed up for. Yet- seeing the way you walked against the cracked cement sidewalk to just sit by the fountain that housed coins from lost wishes.

No. No- He shouldn’t be thinking of stuff like that.

He still had Layla- there was someone to go back to even if he was afraid of what the god would eventually do. But the way the pale light basked against your eyes, making them shine in such mystifying ways. No. He had someone…

Steven Grant wasn’t paying much attention when he first heard. 'I’m just saying, there’re supposed to be nine gods on the banner instead of seven-‘ You were right. The banners were wrong but he had never expected to hear it from someone else.

The bright smile you had offered him before buying the Tawaret plushie had nearly made his heart pause- he could swear his life on it. Maybe there was some way he could see you again…

Marc had been the one to see you again. Of course, it had to be him. Nothing tended to get past the Avatar of Khonshu much these days.

'Give me the body.' "What? No. In case you hadn’t noticed Marcy-Marc, we are on a bus where people can see.“ The words muttered under his breath as he sent a small look to his reflection.��'Just give me the dang body.' "Not a bloody chance in hell. Today’s my day-"

Words trailing off the tip of his tongue as his eyes gazed at the newest person on the bus. It was his favorite museum-goer.

'Steven don’t you even fucking think about it!-' Oh ho ho this was definitely going to be a talk for later.

Jake Lockley had never bothered to get involved in the petty fights and bickering between the other two. There was better things to do than argue over whatever those two pendejos did. Especially when things were life and death and he wasn’t about to let the god that loomed over their shoulder choose.

One of the targets got away from his range, the imbécil had to get killed. Not unless he felt like having the damned bird get angry again.

The scene he had ran into was never something he expected to see. Bloodied knuckles and clothes, chest heaving from the unwarranted fight, you were definitely something interesting.

"Bueno, jódeme. Eres divertido.” (Well fuck me. You are amusing.)

———-

Khonshu never held himself to the thought of holding an interest to someone. He was the fist of vengeance for crying out loud! He brought justice to those that did wrong with his Avatar! Not some silly little worm that feuded over mundane things that could easily be fixed or ignored.

The idiots had been fighting non-stop over who got to see whatever it was this time.

'PAY ATTENTION!'

He had appeared in the small loft apartment, having to crouch to fit properly. Staff tilted to avoid the slanted ceiling.

'THERE IS MUCH WORSE TO FOCUS ON THAN SOME MORTAL. I DO NOT WISH TO CARE ABOUT WHAT YOU WORMS ARE TRYING TO ARGUE ABOUT.’

“They know about you-” Marc spoke up, looking at the god as he sighed at the other two trying to switch in.

“Indeed they do and it is quite amazing as to how much information they know of Egyptian history,” Steven interjected promptly before Marc took control back.

“As I was saying. They know about you and apparently-"

"Can see you. Paloma.” Jake switched in, cracking the knuckles in his hand boredly. “The two pendejos finally figured it out and now they’re fighting about it.”

“THEY CAN DO WHAT? THAT SHOULD BE IMPOSSIBLE." Wind picked up, loose papers flying through the apartment.

No one but their chosen avatar should be capable of seeing him. This shouldn’t be possible. No worm could see him. This had to be the work of something else-

He had to keep his attention on this worm then.

#moon knight #steven grant #mark spector #jake lockley #khonshu #steven grant x y/n #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #mark spector x reader #mark spector x y/n #mark spector x you #jake lockely x reader #jake lockely x you #khonshu x reader #t.w yandere #yandere insinuations

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problematicbots · 3 months ago

Text

Snippet 6: The Gift card

Quick disclaimer: this snippet get very dark

Tigger warnings: dehumanization and death threats.

Longarms entered his office with Elita One’s journal in one servo. Instead of reading it, he lied to Alpha Trion and convinced him to let him have it. Now he doesn’t know what to do, so he decides to sit down at his desk and transform back into his true form, Shockwave, and contact Lord Megatron on his monitor on his desk.

After all, his great power leader would understand his situation, right? He trusted that the con leader would have better judgment than himself; Loangarm felt his spark skip a beat when Megatron’s faceplate appeared on the screen, looking as formidable as ever.

“Shockwave status report,” Codly spoke to the con leader, staring at him with those intimidating optics.

Longarms gulped a bit before responding to his lord. “ Lord Megatron I found a datapad that could be valuable to our cause however there's a problem “

Oh, scrap, why did he feel so nervous talking to Lord Megatron? He never had a problem before when talking to the con leader; however, something felt different now. Shockwave himself felt different.

“And what exactly is this problem?” questioned Megatron.

Shockwave, for a brief moment, paused for a second, almost hesitant to tell his leader his problem before finally speaking. “..it is not an official file..it’s private.. personal. Should I still put it to use?” explained Shockwave.

This seemed to irritate the con leader, who narrowed his optics at his leading spy in suspicion, wondering what had gotten into his hard drive to hesitant use possible useful information; it was so unlike the ruthless Shockwave he watched evolved over cycles.

“Shockwave don't tell you grown soft for the very same enemy that sent us away all those eons ago” questioned Megatron

This cut into Longarms spark deeply; how could he, out of the cons be growing soft for the Autobots? He was a true Decepticon from the spark… right?

“Of course not, lord Megaton. It's just that… I don't know, “ sighed Shockwave rubbing his helm with his sevros.

“What is there not to know?” Questioned Megatron “Whether private or not this information you found will be great of use would it not”

Shockwave couldn't argue with that point; it makes sense strategy-wise; it was only logical for him to expose Sentinel using Elita’s journal. However, it just felt wrong, which was weird since Shockwave always prided himself on logic and nothing else.

“I suppose so; however-” Shockwave was immediately cut off by Megatron before he could explain his point of view further.

“Come on, Shockwave, don't you want to save your people unless you want to disappoint us all by falling into the servos of Autobot propaganda?” Spoked Megatron.

“Illogical!” thought Shockwave to himself. He would never fall for their propaganda, right? He knew better than to fall for their lies. He knows to never doubt his leader or his motives.

However, on the other hand, spending so much time with the Autobots like going out for drinks with Cliffjump while casually talking, those times Blurr shared his enegon and watching their media caused something to shift within him as he remembered experiencing things he never got on the cons like the Autobots referring to him as a “friend “ and not a comrade.

Wait, no! This couldn't be happening. He was loyal to Megatron and the Decepticon name and would not slip into treachery. He was better than that, better than that scheming Starscream.

“Of course, I want to be of assistance, my Lord Megatron,” Shockwave yelped almost desperately. He was determined to make his leader proud, knowing that without him, he would be nothing. “I-I will do anything for our cause ”

"Then you’ll do what is necessary," replied Megaton before disappearing off the screen, leaving Shockwave alone with his thoughts. He took a deep breath before transforming back into his Longarms form with one thing in mind: to do anything for the Decepticons, no matter the cost as he placed Elita One’s journal on his desk.

____________________________________________________________________________

Over the past few days, Sentinel spent his time reading old Decepticon records from Koan, training with the twins, interrogating Starscream, visiting the Elita One memorial, and mostly sleeping. Although tiresome, learning all these facts about jets that he could never get out of his hard drive was at least some progress.

One day Jetfire and Jetstorm stood on the training grounds where Sentinel had instructed them to go. They were in awe of Sentinel's updates to the area. The observation deck where Usually, the council would watch from there, but it was empty due to an urgent meeting. Jazz was also gone, needing to catch up on some paperwork, and to Sentinel’s relief, Ironhide wasn't here to mock him again, although it was a bit strange not having anybody here.

As Sentinel approached, the twins prepared for their usual training session. However, Sentinel appeared less stern and more tired, yet determined this time.

"Alright, do you remember what we've covered?" asked Sentinel with a sigh, looking down at the twins, expecting them to have forgotten the lessons he had taught them over time.

"Lift, Weight, Drag, Thrust, and stay next close to you, right?" asked Jetfire and Jetstorm simultaneously, their optics following Sentinel's every move.

Sentinel widened his optics in surprise that the twins remembered his lessons. He froze for a second before shaking his head to regain his composure.

"Right... Now let's transform and..." Sentinel quickly cut himself off, realizing he was about to say "roll out" instead of "fly out" once again. "I mean, fly out," he said, despite having been a jet for a long time. He still wasn't used to saying that, and he knew he needed to improve that part.

Right on cue, the three mechs transformed into their vehicle mode before heading through the takeoff platform, with Sentinel in front and the twins right behind him. Once on the takeoff platform, Jetfire stared at the first goalpost with an excited look, while Jetstorm looked a bit more hesitant than his orange fiery brother.

"Sentinel, sir, weren't going to crush or wobble around this time, right?" asked Jetstorm, remembering their last failure sessions.

Usually, Sentinel would be so annoyed by a question like this, but spending so much time researching flying has worn him out, and he knew at this point he knew at that point that the whole drill sergeant thing never really helped, so he didn't even bother raising his voice and took another approach.

"Not on my watch, look, just remember what I taught, ok, and remember to keep your optics on the prize," Spoke Sentinel sternly yet in a weirdly encouraging way. "Now..let's go!"

With that, the three mechs took off from the ground towards the first goalpost, with Sentinel being the first one to pass through it. Passing through the next one.

Usually, Sentinel would be showing off and bragging about such feet. However, flying through this course at this point became as normal as driving on the ground. He did way too many times at the point to count that it has grown boring for him.

So, for once, he wasn't paying attention to himself; instead, he turned his attention to the twins, who he knew were still struggling, and to his surprise and slight delight, they were able to pass the first two goalposts perfectly fine without wobbling.

" Sentinel sir! We're doing it, we're flying" squealed Jetfire and Jetstorm each time they flew through a goalpost

Sentinel still couldn't believe they were doing it; the twins he had spent so much time training and teaching were flying without a single crash or wobble on site.

"Keep going, you two; we still have a course to finish!" reminded Sentinel as he tried his best to remain stern with his soldiers, although there was a clear undertone of pride he felt towards the twins at their accomplishment as he fought back a slight smile.

"Right, sir," exclaimed Jetfire and Jetstorm as they pressed through the next two goalposts with pure excitement.

Wanting a proper look at their success, Sentinel decided to quietly fall behind, letting the twin get in front without them noticing.

He watched them continue flying in somewhat awe as the twins managed to pass through the last goalposts before landing on the landing pad safely and transforming into their robot mode to give each other a high five.

"We did!" Jetfire and Jetstorm jumped up and down in excitement around the training course.

Sentinel hated to admit it, but he was extremely impressed by the twin's progress today. Sure, they were far from experts, and their speed could use some work but they had come so far from crashing into buildings or flying off course, so at least it was a good start. Now, he doesn't usually do this, but he decided to reward them. It was the least he could do.

So he landed on the ground transforming into his robot mode to approach the two twins with his arms crossed and raising his non-existence eyebrows.

"I hate to say this, but you two did a fairly decent job today, so huh..here, get yourself a treat" spoked Sentinel awkwardly as he pulled out a Maccadam gift card, dropping it in Jetfire's servo. "Just make to come back before closing hours"

Jetfire and Jetstorm both stare at the gift card in pure joy. “ Thank you, sir; we promised to be back in no time, " they both squeal before running in the distance, making Sentinel sign a bit.

Even without flying all and crushing over the place, these two always know how to give him a headache. Well, at least they won't cause any trouble while dining out, right?

_________________________________________________________________________

Jetfire with Jetstorm passes through a crowd before approaching the front of the entrance of Maccadam which was a dome shape building with glowing neon signs on top of it that simply said "a place for everyone"

Jetfire stared in awe at the shining sign while Jetstorm became wary of the glare of mechs and femmes in the streets, with each passerby whispering in judgment and disgust that Jetstorm unfortunately overheard.

"Look at those freaks"

"I heard they destroyed six buildings in a role into dust"

"Are they even real Autobots"

"I heard they murdered somebody "

"They should offline themselves "

"I bet they are Decepticon spies"

All these words hurt Jetstorm's spark. Sure, they accidentally damaged a building or two, but they never met to hurt anybody. All they wanted to do was help like any other helpful Autobots and exist without being trapped; this reminded him too much of his nightmare, saying there was no escape, and perhaps it was right all along.

Suddenly His brother's voice piped up in the middle of overhearing all these cruel words stabbing into his spark.

"Well, what are we waiting for? Let go on!" excited Jetfire, ready to run inside the building, when suddenly Jetstorm grabbed his arm.

"Waits are sure we're allowed in there?" Gulped Jetstorm nervously looking between the judgmental stares and at his brother.

Jetfire seemed not to notice all the whispers and glares from other bots, so the orange mech till his head in confusion at his brother, wondering why he looked so worried.

"What do you mean? The sign says for everyone, right?" asked Jetfire in genuine concern and sadness at his brother's worry, so he placed a servo on his shoulder. "Is there something wrong".

Jetstrom shifted his optics over the back to the streets, noticing two mechs in an alleyway pulling out their weapons and directly glaring at them, making Jetstorm quickly realize that they were safer inside than outside, yet he didn't want to tell his brother about this since he didn't want to worry him more.

"No... there's nothing wrong, let's just head inside, ok" sighed Jetstorm with a fake wide smile and laughed on his faceplate before gently his brother and himself quickly inside the doors of Maccadam before those alleyway mechs could think of attacking.

Once inside Maccadam the two stare at the interiors of the restaurant in amazement. The silver walls were shining bright as gold; there were multiple dining that surrounded a stage where a band was playing some smooth music as patrons drank their oils and ate some Energon.

In front of them was a podium with an orange femme hostess behind it, looking at the twin with a weird look on her face.

Jetfire, in pure excitement, runs up to the hostess, dropping the gift card on the podium while Jetstorm follows behind, keeping his distance and staying close to his brother.

"One table please," smiled Jetfire, watching the hostess analyze the gift card before looking back at the twins with a weird smile that set off Jetstorm’s suspicions as he quietly stepped closer to his brother to keep an optic on things.

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid you two aren't allowed to dine here," smiled the femme in a passive-aggressive tone.

Those words stabbed through their sparks like draggers. How could someone say so cruel with such a warm smile?

"Bu-but the sign outside says this is a place for everyone" uttered Jetfire not understanding why they were allowed in

The hostess's eyes twitched in annoyance, but her smile remained on her face. "Oh, my mistake. Allow me to get your menus," she said. With that, femme went under the podium for a few seconds, much to Jetstrom's unease. What was she plotting?

When the hostess came back up, she wasn't holding two menus in her servos; instead, there was a giant hose in her servos. Before either of the twins could react, she turned it on and sprayed a white liquid at them at full force, knocking them outside of the building, instantly without a fight.

To add insult to injury passersby on the streets began laughing at the twins's misfortune while the hostess herself went over to them with that fake smile still on her faceplate as she simply told the twin in a passive-aggressive tone "I'm afraid you don't belong here, so you " before turning her back on them and shutting the doors to Maccadam.

Jetstorm began crying on the ground while Jetfire was in a rage that they dared hurt his brother, he got up from the ground with a fire in his optics as he prepared to shoot fire at those who were mocking them.

"Why you-" However he was cut off by his brother grabbing his arm before he could shoot anyone

"Don't, it's not worth it," muttered Jetstorm, wiping off their tears as Jetfire reluctantly put away his blaster for the sake of his brother. "Let just go "

____________________________________________________________________________

Sentinel told the twins to come back before closing hours but although he didn't expect them to come back so soon with looks of disappointment on their faceplates and covered in white liquid from helm to aft.

“What the-wait a minute, why are you two covered in liquid?” asked Sentinel, squinting his optics at the twins and crossing his arms.

Jetfire and Jetstorm stare at each other for a moment before explaining everything to the prime quietly.

The next thing the twins knew Sentinel was marching over to Maccadam with smoke coming out of his pipes and once inside the restaurant Jetfire and Jetstorm watched in astonishment at their prime yelling at the hostess at full volume

“LISTEN I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU THINK YOU ARE BUT IF YOU DON'T LET MY SOLDIERS DINE HERE THEN I WILL TEAR THIS SORRY EXCUSE FOR A OIL HOUSE INTO DUST AND TURN IT INTO A SHOPPING MALL WHERE YOU SPENT THE REST OF YOUR SORRY AFT JOBLESS” shouted Sentinel as his slam his servos against the podium scaring the hostess to a shaking mess.

Sentinel’s threats seem to work since Jetfire and Jetstorm found themselves with Sentinel sitting at a fancy booth with all the oil they could drink, along with a perfect overview of the stage where the band was playing.

“Sentinel, Sir, that was amazing” squeals Jetfire, drinking some oil with a curly straw while Jetstorm taps his servo to the music in delight.

“Well Why thank you, just so you know nobody messes with my soldiers except for me “ spoked Sentinel sucking in the praise “After all that kind scrap-hole would claim this a “ place for everyone “ then kick two Autobots out it ridiculous”

Sentinel rolled his optics still not believing the hypothetically of this place memo and the nerve the hostess has to spray his soldiers out when they are just like any other paying customers.

“Oh, I know a place with a one-star review,” commented Jetfire while Jetstorm gave him a little quiet “oohhh” in the background.

Sentinel tried his best to hold himself back, laughing out loud at Jetfire’s comment

yet he couldn't resist since it was the funniest thing he ever heard all day so ag he ended up slamming on servo on the table and wheezing in laughter

“Ha, Just be lucky we aren't giving them zero stars,” giggled Sentinel, trying to remember his composure, yet kept failing every time.

Jetfire and Jetstorm stared at Sentinel in astonishment; they never had their prime laugh before; it was almost unbelievable yet they both wanted to see more of it so they came up with more jeers against Maccadam some making Sentinel raise his nonexistent eyebrow while others make him giggle throwing his jeers at Maccadam although soon throwing jeers at macadam become a casual conversation between the three.

“You know, despise this place, many flaws it does come with a few benefits,” spoked Sentinel, putting his arms behind his head. “Watch this”.

Sentinel kicked the bottom of the table, revealing a secret compartment of tiny shining enegon samples, which the twin graw at in wonder.

“How did you know that was there?” asked Jetstorm, and Jetfi's optics filled with admiration, watching Sentinel flick one of the samples into his glossa.

Sentinel paused for a second as he remembered the first time he came to this place way before he joined the elite guard and how he found out about this secret compartment when he accidentally kicked while sniffing in his seat. It was one of the less painful memories that he still remembers since it didn't have.. either. Optimus or Elita to remind him of the…incident..that he would rather not think about right, so he shifts his focus back to the twins.

“Let's just say I know a thing or two about this place and leave it at that,” shrugged Sentinel nonchalantly.

This seemed to satisfy Jetfire and Jetstorm's questions, and the twin went back to simply drinking their oil contentments until Jetstorm suddenly piped up.

“Sentinel sir, if you don't mind, but can we come here all the time with you? “ asked Jetstorm shyly.

Sentinel throughed for a moment. As much as he didn't want to admit it out loud, he did have somewhat of a good time with the twins here, and maybe, just maybe, he would consider taking them here a time or two if they kept doing decently enough in their training.

“I'll consider it,” responded Sentinel, leaning against his seat with his arms crossed while watching the twin finish their drinks.

Sentinel thought this would be the end of it, but little did he know that this wouldn't be the only time he would spend with the twins outside of training sessions. This was only the beginning of their bond.

#tw death threats #tw dehumanization #winged sentinel au #tfa fanfiction #tfa sentinel prime #transformers animated #transformers maccadam #tfa jetfire #tfa jetstorm #tfa jettwins #winged: act 1

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horizon-verizon · 3 months ago

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Hello, since we were on the topic of Jaehaera, Aegon III and Gaemon. Why do you think Aegon III became best friends with Gaemon, but couldn't stand to be around Jaehaera? Even Essie ''confessed'' that Gaemon was not Aegon II's son, I doubt many people bought it.

Also, the greens scrambled and presented theories that Jaehaera was the mother of Aegon's children (originally) but why the fuck would Aegon III name his firstborn son after Daeron the war criminal? Daeron despite his courtesy and looks, he was just the lesser evil of Aemond. Or how could they explain Jaehaera's daughter naming her son Daemon - after the man who traumatized her mother so?

They cannot accept that the greens' lost. The green stans in general are so... intresting. They hate HotD, but almost everything they love of their faves is HotD only creation, (biggest example is them loving s1e6/7 Alicent even if bookAlicent did not act like that) I sometimes wish they just adapted it as it was, with Alicent ''beefing'' with Rhaenyra, with the greens ALWAYS being the instigators and how pathetic Aegon, Aemond are. They even complain about the dreamer arc which was meant to make Helaena more intresting (even if was badly done)

I answer why he wasn't close to Jaehaera HERE...though I think this should be obvious, no offense.

Why Gaemon? Because Gaemon's parents are not like Jaehaera for the reasons in the post I link above AND Gaemon was the most available. Aegon had no one else who he be able to be intimate with and had an idea of what he went through, as Gaemon's own mother had also been killed/executed by Jaehaera's father Aegon II. Of course, he was also one of the only children around in a regency full of adults who see him as both too much a child and also a "job"; while Gaemon could have perceived Aegon as a king, he was younger than Aegon and thus have less of a real understanding of "king". So Gaemon likely treated him like a companion.

Alicent of s1 episode 6 & 7 def was the closest depiction in all the HotD episodes thus far of how bk!Alicent would act in that she would be hostile towards Rhaenyra, use disguised-barbed words against the elder Rhaenyra before others, and use underhanded tactics at every opportunity.

In the book, she is the one who first calls for any sort of corporal punishment or harm, for Aemond's lost eye. So her raging (verbally) at Rhaenyra--even at Viserys and demanding justice--and losing some composure is fairly canon compliant; it's possible that the book or the observers mitigated what she actually did and whatnot. However, it doesn't seem likely that she would have attacked Lucerys or Rhaenyra directly and physically. Not at this point, or at least convey her rage about Rhaenyra's supposed spoiledness for anyone to hear her. IDK, it could work if there hadn't been that attempt to dole out physical punishment herself, even if one argued she later did with Jaehaera....that was after she lost ALL her kids.

As for episode 6, Alicent being in the council didn't make sense and was not canon compliant. It didn't make sense bc Queen Consorts are never in council unless they are Visenya, Rhaenys, and Alysanne. The first two conquered Westeros alongside Aegon and beyond him and made laws/policies/whole institutions independently of him. Alysanne was someone Jaehaerys always trusted, grew up with, and at least was as interested in the Targaryen dynasty's advancement for its own sake instead of another house' sake, respected for her intellect more than we can say the same between Viserys and Alicent. HotD failed/refused to give a proper explanation as to how/why Alicent, a Queen Consort, and not just Otto--the Hand--was put on the council...esp since Otto didn't have to elevate Alicent into anything at all or encourage her into obedience. He could just tell her what happened at the council after said meetings, as men usually did or are wont to do in such systems. He'd think he was enforcing boundaries of what women should be or not be doing or at least keep up that illusion by keeping Alicent out.

But say IF either GRRM did have bk!Alicent in the council or show!Alicent's journey to become part of or able to be a part of council meetings was shown and justified in HotD. Again, the behavior shown on screen in epi 6 was pretty "accurate" or at least very believable/plausible.

#asoiaf asks to me #gaemon palehair's characterization #gameon palehair #jaehaera targaryen #jaehaera targaryen's characterization #fire and blood characters #aegon iii #aegon iii's characterization #aegon iii and jaehaera #aegon iii and gaemon #alicent hightower #alicent's characterization #book vs tv comparisons #fire and blood #asoiaf

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sonofcoulson · 3 months ago

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1970 Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. series 3

Episode 2

"Destiny":

Open on Azazel running, bamfing all over the place. Special forces are armed and in pursuit. It doesn't seem to matter where he bampfs to, someone is always there, or nearby, to intercept.

We cut to the S.H.I.E.L.D. team in their headquarters, tracking Azazel's movements and trying to coordinate teams. It seems like they are the ones pursuing him. But then on the third intercept, in Kazakhstan, they are almost beaten to it by another special forces team. They get in each other's way and Azazel is gone again. The two teams argue.

We cut to Val, who is livid. She wants to know how S.H.I.E.L.D. is one step ahead, how they are everywhere her teams are supposed to be. She is very suspicious of Irene as she is directing the manhunt with her (secretly) precognitive powers. She denies it but Val knows that Gyrich will have serious questions.

Azazel bampfs to location near his and Mystique's old apartment. Under his breath he wonders what made him come back here. He tries to clear his head for his next move when he spies…across the street…could it be? It's Mystique, gesturing for him to come over to a closed down store. He does and follows her inside without being spotted.

Mystique: Are you okay? Are you being chased?...Who's chasing you?...Azazel…

Listen, I know we're not together anymore but of course I'll help you…

Azazel: You can't. They keep showing up everywhere I go. I don't know how they know where I was going to. I don’t even know where I'm going to…

Wait, how did you know where I'd be?

M: …

A: Mystique?

M: …I have…a friend who can see into the future.

A: Does your friend work with a SWAT team? Because that would explain a lot.

M (not answering the question): I can get you out of here, but you're going to have to trust me.

A: And why should I do that?

M: I trusted you to take the baby somewhere safe, didn't I?

A: …Yes

M: …Where did you take it…?

A: Those armed goons could be here any minute…please.

M: …Okay. See that truck across the street?

A: Yeah.

M: Take us to the trailer.

*bampf*

A: Wow. There is a lot of gear in here. Is Magneto helping you out?

M: No. I don't work for him anymore.

A: Who do you work for?

M: Myself…

I can tell you who's chasing you…

A: Who?

M: If you tell me where you took the baby.

A: Your foresight friend can't tell you that?

M: If I knew where we were going before and I got caught then…

A: They might get it out of you.

M: Where did you take the baby?

A: You mean our baby? Jeez.

M: Answer the damn question Azazel.

A (hesitantly): …Germany.

M (overlapping dialogue): Germany!?/

A: Shit!/ I knew if you found out you'd be angry…but…

M: Why Germany? I mean Canada or maybe even Mexico, but…damn right/ I'm angry about that!

A: I/ just wanted to…

M: Germany is nearly 4000/ miles away! By air!

A: I just wanted/ to…

M: You think/ it will be easy to get on an aeroplane?

A: Good God! Let me finish…I wanted to make sure the he was someplace safe.

A: Where the sapiens wouldn't find him.

A: With people I could trust.

M: …It…

A: Mystique.

M: Not ‘him', it.

M: Unless I'm holding that baby in my arms I don't want to think of it as a person. No connection. It is an it.

A: Then why do you care where ‘it' is?

A: Irene?

M: Because I still want it in my arms!

…Irene says there's a 43% chance that we leave here and go to find the baby, you and me.

M: My…foresight friend.

A: Your friend…is a girl? Just when you had me thinking I had competition.

M: Oh grow up.

A: There are less complicated ways to ask a guy out you know.

M: Don't flatter yourself. This is not about us. This is about freedom and finding our child.

This dialogue is cut here with S.H.I.E.L.D. and Val's troops continuing the search, maps being looked at, the rival teams in Kazakhstan arguing etc. Towards the end of the sequence we see Val realise she hasn't seen Raven for a while. She approaches Irene, leans in and whispers in her ear, “Where is Raven Darkhölme?”.

Mystique leaves Azazel in the back as he is ‘too conspicuous’ in the front. She genuinely thinks about making a run for it, but Val has discovered the double cross and contacts her on a secure frequency, convincing her to come back for Irene. She says Irene is not strong like Mystique and the finger of suspicion is already pointing at her and she can't protect her from Gyrich.

Mystique reluctantly agrees to bring him in to protect Irene. Azazel gets the jitters and wants out but realises he can't bampf away, he just materialises in the same spot, he is trapped in the van. Mystique hedged her bets and brought a van designed by Forge to neutralise his power. He bangs on the truck for her to let him out.

Good girl says Val in her ear. She yanks out the earpiece but goes back to hq anyway, for Irene.

Meanwhile, Peggy is having a somewhat heated exchange with the President. Peggy is adamant that she must speak to the team that is targeting mutants as she believes there is a more humane way to deal with the issue. Nixon is adamant that there is no such team. That he has never approved any agency to carry out these actions. But he does recognise the rise of these ‘mutants’ as a threat.

Peggy is not fooled by any of this and reiterates her concern and reminds him that S.H.I.E.L.D. has a deal with the American government where they don't keep secrets from each other.

After she hangs up she asks Howard if he is ready to trace the President's next call. Howard and the others are worried what will happen if the President finds out his call was traced. Peggy just says, “Then make sure he never finds out”.

Nixon is rattled and calls Henry Peter Gyrich to tell him that S.H.I.E.L.D. are on to them.

Gyrich believes the team's next target could be useful in this situation. Sean Cassidy has been seen/heard approaching New Jersey. He believes Cassidy is making his way to Camp Lehigh. Gyrich actually sees this as an opportunity to solve three problems:

1. Confirm and expose Raven Darkhölme as a traitor

2. Capture Sean Cassidy and reduce the threat posed by him and Moira McTaggart.

3. Destroy S.H.I.E.L.D.

He prepares to tell the team their next target.

We cut to Peggy on the phone to Moira McTaggart the next day. Moira warns them Sean is coming. Their source has told them Freedom Force's next target was Angel Salvadore and he wanted to be involved with the counter operation (Angel was once his friend).

The team start to wonder what that noise is. Moira says, that'll be Sean, you hear him before you see him.

Sean Cassidy comes in and introduces himself. He says the information only came in last night and he got there as quick as he could. The team are impressed with his powers.

He tells them where Angel is expected to be and when Cooper's team are expected to strike. They prepare to head out.

Cut to Val's small team. A couple of undercover agents are reporting on Salvadore's movements.

As they are preparing to go Jacqui melts together the doors of the store Freedom Force was hiding in, forcing them to find another exit and buying time.

Meanwhile Sean has intercepted Angel and is trying to convince her to come with him. She is caught off guard and torn between flying off and listening to him. She stays and he tries to convince her a government agency is after her. She reminds him that is nothing new for her. He tells her they have Magneto and Azazel, that they are coming for any and all mutants. This gives her pause.

As they are talking the Freedom Force (FF) agents have found an alternative route and swarm to their location.

Cassidy takes out the first with a sonic scream. Angel takes out another with her hardening goo spit thing (that is totally stolen from Toad in the 2000 movie). The agents keep on coming. Brian appears, bends the barrel of an agent's gun and then uses that agent to take out a bunch of others.

Jacqui arrives and puts a protective ring of fire around the group, with the threat of expanding it if they are threatened further.

Above, two snipers are taking aim at Jacqui. They ask for confirmation on the shot.

Howard pulls up with Hank. Asks him if he's sure his contraption will work. ‘Oh it'll work’ says Hank, testily.

He exits the car, puts on the mk I helmet, jumps and shrinks. This propels him way up the fire escape. He reaches the top of the building in two leaps. ‘Well I'll be…’ admires Howard.

The first sniper goes to check the noise from the fire escape. As his partner receives the go ahead for the shot, the first sniper is seemingly beaten up by an invisible assailant. As the 2nd sniper radios through an incomprehensible message about an attack by the invisible man, Hank's suit fails and he appears, full size. Dumbfounded for a second, the sniper is just recovering his wits (and his weapon) when Hank just charges him, knocking them both off the roof. They battle on the way down.

Hank's suit finally releases the Pym Particles and he leaps safely from the falling sniper and lands within Jacqui's flame barrier and returns to full size. Everyone is surprised as Hank had kept his project secret from everyone.

The sniper lands on his Freedom Force Colleagues and they are given permission to shoot through the flames.

As they open fire, James Braddock pulls up in an unmarked S.H.I.E.L.D. van. They bundle in, Angel Salvadore and all, and speed away.

After evading the agents at the scene, they realise they are being followed by a black sedan on the highway. A window rolls down on the sedan and an FF agent fires.

Hank: Brian, open the doors.

Angel: Are you crazy? They're shooting at us!

H: I'm gonna stop them shooting.

James (Calling from the front): There's no need. Stark bullet-proofed it.

H: But what if they follow us to Camp Lehigh? What if they shoot out the tyres?

Jacqui: Dr. Pym, please! You'll be killed…

H (to Brian): Just…open the doors Falsworth! I know what I'm doing.

Brian obliges and Hank leaps out of the back of the van, shrinking as he does so.

The process fails halfway through and he smashes, full size, into the windscreen of the Sedan. His speed relative to theirs and his super secret Pym Tech suit protect him from serious injury.

Hank and the FF agents are dazed. They recover first and the shooter readies their pistol. Fortunately the suit tech works this time and he shrinks and enters the vehicle through the open window. While the agents wonder where he went, he operates the hood release causing it to catch the wind and flap up, obstructing their view. He catches sight of Howard speeding behind them to catch up and radios for him to pull up alongside.

As the FF Sedan crashes into a barrier, Pym leaps into the cabriolet. Howard swerves to avoid the crashing vehicle and the S.H.I.E.L.D. vehicles speed off to Camp Lehigh.

When the rescue team return to base, they start to celebrate and Sean is catching up with Angel.

Peggy upbraids them and tells them not to celebrate as she knows there will be consequences for what they have just done.

Back at FF headquarters, Val Cooper brings the ‘bad news’ of Salvadore’s escape to Gyrich. He is not upset, he simply smiles, points out that S.H.I.E.L.D. have ‘crossed the line’ and adds…

“Release the hounds…”

We flashback to Irene's psychology evaluation from a few weeks before.

Dr Darkhölme gets her to state her name and job title for her recording. They go through some details of her past, but not too deep yet.

Raven circles back to Irene's job.

Raven: You are in their foresight division.

Irene: Yes.

R: It's your job to predict what is going to happen before it happens.

I: Yes.

R: And you're usually correct. Is that right?

(*Irene nods*)

That's quite a skill.

I (after a pause): May we stop the recording for a moment.

R: Agent Cooper prefers that we get this all on tape.

I: I would like it to be private.

R: …

I: After you have heard it you may decide whether to put it on tape.

R: …Interview paused at 4:45pm.

(*stop the tape*)

What did you have to say that couldn't be on the recording Irene?

I: My predictions are not a skill.

R: No? What are they then?

I: …A gift…Like yours.

R (somewhat rattled): …What do you mean?...A gift from who?

I: I am a mutant. Like you.

R: …Did Cooper put you up to this?

I: No. Frau Cooper does not want us to know each other's secret.

That we are not the only one.

That we are both mutants, both being held here against our will.

R: How do I know Cooper's not listening right now?

I: She is not. No one is. The others trust you. Cooper trusts you.

R: Why should I trust you?

I: You will come to trust me because my precognitions are accurate…

My probabilities are accurate…

They will save lives…

Mutant lives…

I believe we will do this work together. I believe that it is our destiny.

R: Irene…I…I'm just trying to survive here.

I: Well…you have been tasked with capturing the other Brotherhood members, yes?

R: …Yes.

I: There is a 43% chance that when you find Azazel you will leave with him to find your child. I can give you the time to get away.

R: …You can do that? You can get me out of this. And get me to the baby.

I: Yes. The chance is only based on the path you choose. If you decide to leave with Azael then you will be successful.

R: And if I do leave? What happens to you and the others?

I: …Nothing is for certain. It all depends on the choices we make.

R: What about working together? Our ‘destiny’?

I: That is your decision to make.

*There is a loud knock on the door*

Guard (from the other side): Dr Darkhölme! Cooper says to wrap it up. You're needed in the command centre.

*A moment's silence…aaaaand scene.*

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greatatuintheworldturtle · 6 months ago

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Look I see everyone is scared about the assassination attempt, but the guy they have in custody is a registered Republican, I don't see the value in pretending this has some supercharged PR juice attached to it because that detail alone makes this really hard to pull for sympathy points with anyone outside of his base. Is his base gonna be charged up in November? Duh of course. They were always gonna. You think Republicans passed all those biased voting laws just to have their own voters sit in on election day? They've been foaming at the mouth all year long and were always gonna be. That's literally the Republicans whole strategy is keeping their base too angry and scared to think straight so really, what has changed? Where are all these new Trumpers supposed to come from, especially given WE ALREADY BEAT TRUMPS BASE ONCE, THEY DONT HAVE THE NUMBERS TO ELECT HIM ON THEIR OWN.

"well we need to get out the vote."

Yeah and lots of ppl are already doing that. Almost every other post on every social media I Interact with has a meme about either voting, Project 2025, or voting specifically to stop Project 2025. Unless we all decide to stop doing that collectively, I think we're doing alright.You can argue that more could be done but just shouting "Well we should do it MORE" without specific plans is kinda just, noise. Like, even if you're just going to spread word on social media, ppl are probably already doing as much as they can, cracking a whip on that process isn't as helpful as it FEELS. My point is, at the end of the day, you can't control anyone who isn't you, so if you feel MORE needs to be done, it's on YOU to decide what that looks like and make a plan. Social media is not your army.

"well we need to take this seriously"

And what would that look like? How much more seriously could we possibly take things? What world were you in last week that wasn't a clown show on top of a tire fire? Things have been serious since the Cheeto has been in office, how about we take a step back and ask ourselves if Having To Take Everything Seriously is just burning out our mental health unnecessarily. Some people are going to make light of this because they have to, and some people are gonna grieve because they have to. Both are valid.

#all the advice posts are wrong except mine #seriously you cant do shit if you panic yourself into a stroke #there's power in taking things humourously as well y'know #its why Nazis cant stand ridicule

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collecting-stories · 7 months ago

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Request: Josh Sanderson x fem!reader (platonic or not, your choice)

Plot: Watching Hocus Pocus with him, asking him if he’s a descendant of the Sanderson sisters

Okay so I actually have only seen Hocus Pocus once in my entire life and I hated it 😂😂 But I do love Josh Sanderson!

Hocus Pocus

To All the Boys I Loved Before Masterlist

"I can't believe you've never seen Hocus Pocus. It's a Halloween classic," Josh stressed, flicking through his Apple library to find the right film.

"I didn't say I haven't seen it, I said I didn't like it," you pointed out.

Your exact words, considering the favoritism Josh was displaying at the mention of the film, were probably a lot harsher. You hadn't just said you didn't like it, you had said it was your least favorite movie, possibly of all time. The fact that you still agreed to watch it now should have been proof of your declared love for your best-friend-turned-boyfriend.

"Which can only mean you hadn't seen it."

"But I have," you replied.

"Then you aren't remembering it correctly, it's iconic," he argued.

"I don't think iconography factors into a movie about three witches trying to kill a virgin or whatever," you replied.

The 'or whatever' basically signifies that you haven't seen it," Josh pointed out, "you just wanna hate on stuff other people like."

"That's very true but not the case here," you argued, snatching up your weighed dinosaur pillow to make room for Josh to sit next to you on the couch.

The coffee table had been laid out with popcorn, Doritos, three kinds of soda (coke, mountain dew, and orange crush) and candy salad. Movie dates were never actually at the movies, unless something action packed or superhero themed was premiering at midnight at your local theatre. Instead, movie dates were in his house, in the extra bedroom that his parents had designated as a den when you guys were kids. It used to contain a maze of hot wheels tracks and lego towers but over the years the toys had been replaced with an overstuffed couch, a flat screen TV, and every gaming console Josh could convince his parents to buy for him.

Before you started dating, when he was still sort of hung up on Margot (and of course prior to Margot when you were just best friends and there wasn't any crushes or dates or boyfriends or girlfriends to navigate), you hung out in the den all the time. It was like a permanent fort with walls and a ceiling. Josh caved when you suggested fairy lights strung up on the ceiling from the overhead light, he talked his mom into black out pillows and he took off the closet doors to turn that space into a small nook for reading when you were both still in middle school. Now you were seniors and talking about college and the future and making an entire apartment your own little den away from the real world someday.

Today, however, today you were watching Hocus Pocus and the door to the den had to stay ajar in case either of you tried anything (courtesy of the one time you had the door closed and his mom walked in on a fairly heated make-out session).

"Sanderson sisters?" you questioned, as Bette Midler and her sisters were expositioned.

"What?" Josh, completely engrossed in a movie that he could literally recite word for word, turned to look at you.

"The Sanderson sisters...should I be worried?" You teased, "any relation?"

"They're fictional witches."

"That's not an answer," you replied, nudging him, "you could like...grind my bones up into soup or something."

"I am not related to fictional witches...if I was you wouldn't have to worry," he assured, grabbing the dinosaur out of your hands and putting it on the other side of him.

"What's that supposed to mean?" You asked.

"Well, if you're paying attention then you'd know that only a virgin can light the candle and summon the Sandersons," he pointed out, "so it wouldn't be you."

"Wow," you drawled, trying to fight back a smile. "Well, you would know."

Josh offered a dopey smile to you, clearly pleased with himself, either for the joke or the sex (or both knowing Josh). When he leaned in, presumably to kiss you, you placed your hand on his chest to stop him from coming any closer to you.

"I'm trying to watch the movie."

"You are not watching this movie," he replied, matter of fact.

"I am too! I'm deeply invested in this movie," you insisted, laughing this time as you relaxed your hand, letting him lean in.

#josh sanderson x reader #josh sanderson imagine #josh sanderson fanfic #josh sanderson fic #to all the boys I loved before imagine #tatbilb imagine #to all the boys imagine

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teeth-cable · 2 years ago

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You everr realize that Vivziepop is completely bullshitting when it comes to ethnic casting because of Millie?

Like we are definitely getting imp human disguises for merch reasons so its definitely going to come up.

But like if Millie is black then her family should be played by black VAs but all of them are white VAs. Like I don't think Millie is adopted since she looks like a younger version of her mother.

The best course would then be making Millie white and no we can't use Erica being the original VA as evidence because that was always meant to be a temp casting.

But then this creates an issue in Helluva Boss having no fucking diversity like Vivziepop doesn't have to answer to corporate demands to make the ENTIRE CAST white. She can choose to add diversity.

If she makes Millie black that's also showcasing a huge issue in Helluva's lack of diversity in its main group of characters and Millie could come off as a token. Then you have the fact Morgana and Ed would come under fire for taking POC roles as well as Spindle allowing it unless Vivziepop retcons Millie as adopted or half siblings with Sallie.

Like Into The Spiderverse had half its human cast be POC and it answered to corporate demands. Then Across The Spiderverse without spoiling anything has a MAJORITY of the cast be POC.

Now you can argue Spiderverse is based off existing material unlike Helluva but those existing materials had put effort into adding POC in the first place. And guess what Spiderverse had consulted actual minorities when it came to development of the project.

Vivziepop is latina but she's white passing so she needs to consult people who don't pass to get a better understanding overall on things. Like I'm disconnected from my own culture but just because I'm part of it doesn't mean I have a full picture of it.

Vivziepop also isn't black, asian or indigenous so if she's telling stories that features them she needs to do research and consult people.

She actually consulted Morgana about Sallie May being trans thankfully but... I never hear any talk about other people she talks to which shows poor ass attempts. Like Morgana's insight is valid but she does not speak for all trans people and yes you aren't going to please everybody with representation but just consulting a SINGLE PERSON is insane. We also know Viv according to leaked screenshots has or had some form of transphobia so she absolutely needs to consult more people if she's trying to change and do better especially if she's writing about a trans character.

Like Morgana being a white transwoman will not have the same experience as a black transwoman for example. Like I know that from actively trying to learn about trans people.

Like there's a youtuber UnicornofWar who made a video about how the show RWBY is terrible at handling its racism allegory. Now Unicorn is white but actively went out of their way to consult multiple POC for the video and did a shit ton of research. Now I will say Unicorn in the past has said ignorant things about stuff like white washing (thinking its ok because of art style color pallets back then) in earlier videos but currently denounces that viewpoint (note: Unicorn as far as Im aware has never said anything with vile. I have to clarify so I don't misrepresent their person and people don't assume Unicorn like said a slur) and actually apologizes for their ignorance.

Has Vivziepop ever denounced her old views or behavior? Has she apologized for being ignorant in certain things? Is making a serious effort to change? Has Vivziepop researched throughly and listened to POC insights or concerns?

As far as I'm aware she hasn't.

I have noticed Viv's weird choices for Millie as a black character. I hate to say this but Millie is supposed to be token rep which to me is weird because nobody was pressuring Viv to add rep to her shows. I will say this even in a universe where Viv hired black VAs to voice Millie's family and did do properly research and consulted black people, Millie would still be considered token rep because she is the only the only main character in the show to not have an self-centered EP and has the least amount of screentime.

It makes me wonder if the reason why the IMPs don't have a canon human form yet is because Viv doesn't want to draw POC characters. She has shown she knows the importance of these disguises and they sell well on merch but the only characters who have canon human forms are Stolas and Loona, two white characters who arguably don't even need them. Blitzo is voiced by Brandon Roger who is a mixed Filipino (It's also canon Blitzo looks like Brandon Roger and Blitzo and Brandon Roger are intertwined together so it doesn't make sense for Blitzo to be white), Millie being a black woman, and Moxxie, despite what you might believe is a mixed Latino.

The POC rep we already have isn't good either. In Spring Broken, Verosika and her gang, who the majority are POCs, gets arrested and Verosika makes a joke about sucking police dicks to get out of jail. Having a POC character make a rape joke about police corruption unironically is not funny. Moxxie's mom is obviously supposed to be Latina, falls into the trope of nice POC women who get brutally abused and killed by their white husbands. This actually could have work and wouldn't be as tokenizing if 1. we got to learn about Moxxie's mom as a person and 2. her death wasn't solely use to be angst bait for a male character.

The Spiderverse crew actively puts effort and consulted with POC about characters from their culture. During the early stage of writing for Pavitr Prabhakar, the writing team struggled writing his character and called his VA, Karan Soni to help them write and consult on the character. Thanks to Karan Soni's contribution for Pavitr Prabhakar, he is beloved by desi people alike. Viv doesn't do that and probably will never. She has shown time and time again, she doesn't respect religions, using their symbols as an aesthetic and for monetary gain. Viv's designs for black and other POC characters are terrible, them alway never having POC features and looking racial ambiguous as hell and she ignored the criticism from black and POC people for these POC characters.

#꧁rambles꧂#helluva boss criticism #helluva critical #helluva boss critical #➥asks

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trouslinabone · 1 year ago

Text

What's the canon ending for Fallout New Vegas and Fallout 4?

I feel like Fallout 3's canon ending was obvious and I have little experience in Fallout and Fallout 2. Hence why I ask for only these two games.

But this is a question that people have been asking for as long as the games been out - or at least I assume people have. I think someone mentioned it? I don't know, it's been rotting my brain - and I think I have the answer!!

Fallout: New Vegas' canon ending is: House Ending

Fallout 4's canon ending is: Institute + Minutemen.

This is gonna be a long one, isn't it?

Look: I'll explain Fallout: New Vegas first - since it seems slightly less controversial.

The entire game happens because of Robert House - he's the reason you were saved. He's the reason you're in New Vegas to begin with. Hell, he's the reason there is a New Vegas. I feel like the game revolves around him more than any other faction. Well, of course, you can kill him insanely easily and fairly early on too. But what makes him canon over everything else?

Well, let's look at our other options first:

Caesar's Legion:

This one is never argued to be canon, but I feel like I should properly dismiss it. To put it simply - it's implied that the Legion would collapse in on itself, and unless Fallout 5 wants to take place directly after New Vegas, Caesar - the reason the Legion hasn't fallen apart - is close to dying of age. That's assuming Caesar living would be the canon one anyways, otherwise the Legion would devolve into a chaotic raider group and become another headache of the wasteland - far from the threat it once was.

Yes Man:

This one is also never argued to be canon, but for different reasons. This one puts you - the player - in charge of things. This sucks considering that it's a roleplaying game and everyone has a different character. Of course, we could say maybe someone took over Yes Man - or that Yes Man's assertiveness update made him able to say no to others. There, it could work - but I feel like it'd need to take place a lot further than the other games in the franchise for our player to not be a big deal in any sense of the word.

NCR:

The only actual candidate for the canon ending. This one has a lot going for it. NCR has been shown to be a canon ending before from what I do know of the original Fallout games, and NCR overall is a heavily featured faction. However, I do think this one also isn't it since they're slowly becoming a full country - and while they have many issues with supplies and body count - there's a point that if the Brotherhood of Steal is scared of the NCR, it's too much. And as they grow, they'll just get more and more powerful and it's less and less convincing on why they need a random survivor in Fallout 5 or whatever to help them dominate an area.

That's why I think Robert House - from narrative to meta reasons - is the canon ending. While the player is heavily featured in the House ending, it's not as bad and if the next game takes place in, say, the east coast, then there's a reason why they wouldn't be there compared to House's robots. Plus, despite the voice actor of House dying, Robert House is such an interesting character that I'd love to see more of.

Onto Fallout 4 :D

So, here's the really big controversial one - The Institue.

Now, before I even get into it - I'mma just come out and say it: I know I criticized Yes Man's route for having the player in a big role - And my main counterpoint is that if you have preset names for your characters, voice acting for your characters, set dialogue for their personality as well as a big emphasis in personality all together, as well as actual models that are supposed to be your character, then maybe it's not an RPG anymore.

Yeah, okay, so here's why I think what I think:

Like with House mentioned above - The Institute is heavily featured throughout the entire game - and more importantly, Shaun is too. Now, thanks to our character having a personality, we know that they're a grieving parent who's only care into the world is to find Shaun. Now, as funny as it is to shoot him the second he walks through the door, I doubt the sole survivor would. So, more than likely, they'll just be happy to be with Shaun again and do whatever he wants.

Now, I said "With Minutemen", and what I mean is that, for those who don't know, you can go all the way to clearing out the castle for the minutemen before you have to follow their questline to the end. This means that you can choose any faction you want and the Minutemen will have a giant presence over the Commonwealth. Now, I think this was rather because the Minutemen were not originally going to be an endgame faction but was changed later on during development, OR, it was intentional to technically have a "Two factions" ending.

As for why I think it's canon? Same reason as always. A lot of focus is placed on the Minutemen.

Now, I won't list why the other factions aren't canon, as unlike New Vegas, they all could be canon I guess. Railroad seems unlikely though since its questline is basically nothing but the Institute's questline again (wow, is this another faction that was changed later on to be an endgame faction-). I think we're all getting sick of the Brotherhood of Steel being a big role in these games. And Minutemen and Institute by themselves could be canon, but I feel like narratively and from more meta elements it's more likely both are.

These are my thoughts on the canon endings! Lemme know what you think!

#fallout #fallout: new vegas #fallout 4 #mr house #robert house #robert edwin house #yes man #ncr #new california republic #the legion #caesars legion #the institute #brotherhood of steel #minutemen #railroad #sole survivor

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warpfive · 2 years ago

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can I request malcolm reed with a medical officer S/O? ☄️

malcolm reed x doctor!reader

CW: gn!reader

malcolm doesn’t like going to sick bay. it’s nothing against you or phlox - their resident denobulan is strange but friendly and you…well, you’re you. malcolm would be hard-pressed to find an excuse not to see you if it weren’t for your occupation. he just doesn’t being poked and prodded and examined unless his life depends on it - and even then, he wants it to be over quickly.

in the beginning, malcolm had this fantasy that because he was dating you, he’d be somehow exempt from showing up for regular crew physicals. or at the very least, maybe he can get his physical from you…in private…in his quarters…

that’s not how it goes. malcolm is ordered into sickbay and you welcome him with a soft smile but direct him on the bed. he tries to give you a look, hoping you could maybe let him off the hook with a quick physical just so he could say he technically did it. but the only favor malcolm is given is a sweet laugh, and brush of his hand, and a scanner in his face.

before, in a crunch, malcolm would be able to work through an injury. if he focuses hard enough, he can usually ignore the pain until his work is done. that doesn’t really happen when he starts dating you. unless sick bay is swamped, you always seem to find malcolm right when he gets a scrape, or in the most serious instance, when he banged his head and was seeing double. (he didn’t seem too upset that there were two of you.)

on the other end of the spectrum, when malcolm gets sick, he only wants you to take care of him. again, nothing against phlox, but he prefers the way you press your cool hand against his burning forehead to phlox’s pet leech. he becomes a big baby when he’s sick, and while he puts up a front for the crew, he absolutely falls into bed and wants you to nurse him.

when he’s in a teasing mood, expect him to call you “doctor” in a flirty tone. of course, this is malcolm, so you really have to know him and get him to pick up on his flirting. he would teasingly call you “doctor” in front of other people and they would simply assume he was calling you by your title - but no, you picked up on the special way he says the syllables.

but when you two are alone, malcolm is absolutely embarrassing. calling you things like “doctor delightful” and insists he needs a full body check-up. you tell him to talk to phlox about it and he argues that it needs to be done as soon as possible. besides, he trusts you more than most people - though, once you tell him he really should go to sick bay for this problem or that, he quickly changes the subject.

malcolm is a great listener, so there’s been many occasions where he ends up sitting and listening as you ramble on about some problem you’re having in sick bay. he doesn’t really understand the medical talk (he was never very good at biology) but he does try his best to help. though, more often than not, malcolm helps you by just letting you ramble.

you’re a doctor. you’re not supposed to be biased for or against any one of your patients. so when the enterprise is attacked/disabled/etc and a lot of the crew start flooding in, malcolm is the one who sets you straight and reminds you that you can’t just treat him first and ignore those who need it most. he’s very good at being objective, though knowing you want to help him first will always affirm that you love him.

#star trek x reader #star trek headcanons #malcolm reed x reader #star trek enterprise x reader #im dumb and indecisive about how i wanna format these things so here's a gif even though none of my other posts have one

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fluentmoviequoter · 1 year ago

Note

absolutely obsessed w ur victor vale work omg! could you write a one-shot where the reader goes to visit him in jail and he hasnt seen her in so long... please and thank you!

Absolutely!! So glad to hear you're enjoying my Vic stories! Thank you for the great request; I hope this is what you wanted! Please enjoy and let me know what you think. (PS, sorry for the wait.) 🤍

Warnings: angst to fluff, spoilers for Vicious. 2.1k+ words

Worth the Trouble

Victor Vale is an enigma. One moment, he’s staring at someone with an intensity that can kill and the next, he’s on the verge of smiling at a stupid joke. When he reads his parents’ books, editing them as he goes, nothing can break his focus unless you lay your fingertips on his arm. For a man who claims to hate touch and is the epitome of “not a people person,” Victor Vale seems to have no problem with you.

“You study too much,” you groan.

Victor glances up from his textbook, shaking his head at the sight of you. You agreed to join him in the library for a study session, and he is studying while you are upside down in the chair next to him, flipping a battered paperback in your hands. It’s his favourite book, and he knows you stole it after weeks of asking to borrow it, but the smile on your face when you told him about how shocked you were at the climax made it worth the trouble. And, just maybe, part of him has always known that you are worth the trouble.

“And you don’t study enough,” Victor finally replies.

“Maybe I should study more. It’s the only time I ever get to see you. No wonder you’re so pale, there isn’t any sun in your medical books, is there?”

Victor hums, flipping the page.

“Why do you let me come with you?” you inquire, pulling yourself up to sit backwards. “You have to know I plan to distract you the whole time.”

“I- I like spending time with you, I suppose,” Victor admits quietly, his eyes down. “You’re the only person here, anywhere, really, that is willing to spend time with me just to be around me.”

“Well, good thing you’re okay with it, because I’m not going anywhere,” you respond, flipping in the chair to read over Victor’s shoulder. “What are you reviewing?”

Victor struggles to answer, still unused to people being so close to him, but he likes it. Too much.

✯✯✯✯✯

You tap your fingers on the table, checking the time every few seconds. Victor is a lot of things, but late isn’t one of them. Sighing, you gather your things and leave, determined to find him. After knocking, your eyes widen, and you suppress a scream when Eli opens the door. He glances down, following your gaze to his bloody shirt before pulling you inside.

“What happened?” you ask, looking around the trashed room. “Where’s Victor?”

“On his way to jail,” Eli says, sliding a knife back into its place. “He tried to kill me.”

“Vic wouldn’t do that,” you argue, looking at the holes in Eli’s shirt.

“Well, I guess he changed. He stabbed me. Or he tried to.”

Someone knocks on the door, and Eli talks to the detective through it. The man asks for his shirt to be input as evidence, and Eli slips a different blood-splattered shirt through the door, staying behind it. He lied.

“What really happened?” you demand. “If Victor did do this, then you had to have done something first.”

“I didn’t do a thing,” Eli answers, stepping toward you with dark eyes and pinched brows. “He tried to stab me, so I shot him in the chest.”

You gasp as you step back, trying to put room between yourself and Eli.

“Three times,” Eli adds with an innocent smile.

Victor had confided in you that Eli was never as innocent as he seemed. Never as… anything as he seemed to be more precise.

“If he tried to stab you, where are the marks? You can’t rip a shirt without leaving some kind of damage under,” you point out.

“I guess that’s for Victor to answer to. If he makes it, of course.”

You storm away from Eli and into Victor’s private area and find a few of his favourite things before shoving them into a bag. If Eli is so willing to kill Victor, you need to find and warn him, though he probably has an idea. Deep down, you know you’re trying to distract yourself from thinking about Victor bleeding out in an ambulance, handcuffed to a gurney.

“What are you planning to do?” Eli asks with a laugh, leaning against the door with his arms crossed. “Save him? You’re not a doctor, and you’re not a god.”

“I know that, Eli,” you snap, picking up Victor’s most recently edited book. “But I can bail him out.”

“Good luck with that,” Eli says as you walk by.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Eli ducks his chin, his face too close to yours as he looks into your eyes.

“You will never find him. Even if he survives, Victor Vale is as good as dead.”

“You’re wrong. You’re always wrong, Eli Cardale.”

Eli slaps the wall beside your head before someone knocks on the door.

“You better get that. The police may have more questions. You need the conviction, right?” you whisper.

Eli nods, watching you as he steps back. Once his back is to you, you rush back into Victor’s room and lock the door behind you. You know there are police at the front of the building, but the patch of grass outside his window is clear. So, you leave out of the window, planning to search every hospital and jail within a hundred miles. Finding Victor Vale is all that matters, and then you need to keep him as far from Eli as possible.

✯✯✯✯✯

Victor disappeared. Just like Eli said he would. You know that you should stop looking; it’s been a month, so if something had happened, you could find a record of it. Yet, there's no record of Victor Vale after enrolling at Lockland.

Letting go of Victor Vale isn’t easy. Something was happening before he left, something blooming between you, and now you will never know what that was or where it would have led.

Determined to never give up on Victor, you switch tactics. Eli is trackable, and the internet is accessible from anywhere.

✯✯✯✯✯

After witnessing Eli kill yet another super-powered individual, you’re tired. It’s been years, and though you wouldn’t know by looking at Eli, time has taken its toll. Collapsing onto a bed in a hotel room, you pull your laptop to sit in front of you.

The last tab you visited is still open: a copy of the medical textbook Victor was reading the last time you saw him. Sleepless nights have been devoted to reminding yourself of Victor. By this point, you are something of an expert on the topic Victor was studying that day in the library.

“You made everything look so easy, Vic,” you whisper to the diagram on the screen. “But you never told me how to find someone who doesn’t want to be found.”

You’ve considered the possibility that Victor disappeared because he wanted to or that he died but no one cared enough to post a death certificate for a no-name college student, but it doesn’t feel right. Your connection to Victor was different, and you remain confident that you would feel a difference if something had changed.

Opening a new tab, you navigate to the national prison database and log in to your paid account. Victor’s name auto-fills after millions of searches, and as the results load, you pull a pillow to your chest. You miss Victor, need him, and he feels a million miles away.

1 Result

You throw the pillow away and scramble to sit up, pulling the computer onto your lap as you open the result. The connection is weak, so in the long moments, while it loads, you are stranded between hope and fear.

General population, previously incarcerated in solitary confinement.

All the words begin blurring together, only ‘general population’ on your mind. Typing in the name of the prison, you get directions. You risk losing Eli, but the whole point of following him is to find Victor, and your mission is nearly complete.

The bag of Victor’s possessions you collected years ago is stowed in the large backpack you travel with, and it’s the only thing you’re concerned about taking with you. Leaving the hotel, you put Eli in your rearview (for now) and drive faster than you should toward your favourite person. You only hope he’s half as excited to see you or, at the very least, remembers you.

✯✯✯✯✯

Those feelings you developed for Victor at Lockland are still present in you. As you near the prison, with the sun rising and visiting hours quickly approaching, you grow nervous. Yes, you’re excited, and you feel that familiar blossoming feeling deep in your chest, but there’s an underlying worry that Victor changed, moved on from you, or won’t want to see you and be reminded of his former life.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Vale, you’ve got a visitor,” the guard says. “Hands.”

Victor looks at Mitch before replying, “Nice joke. The warden must love you at game night.”

Mitch snorts, similarly convinced that he’s kidding or it’s a trap. The second option seems more likely, but Mitch knows Victor can handle himself.

“I’m not kidding, Vale. She’s signed in and waiting. Let’s go.”

Victor’s brows furrow, but he lets the guard shackle him before leading him through the cell block and to the visiting area. Sitting in front of the bulletproof glass, he determines that this is a trick or he’s dreaming. Either way, he likes the view just a little too much.

“Hey,” you whisper as Victor raises his end of the phone. “I’ve missed you.”

At the sound of your voice, Victor knows this is real. You smile, and Victor struggles to reply, his eyes searching every inch of your face. You’ve both aged, of course, but you think Victor looks pretty much the same, and he knows you somehow managed to get more attractive since college. The look in his eyes is the reply you wanted: that he missed you too. Your smile grows at his attention, but you have a lot of talking to do in a short amount of time.

“I’m sorry,” Victor blurts out.

“For what? This wasn’t your fault Vic.”

“I never should have gone back to see Eli or called Angie that night. This whole mess is on me.”

“It’s on Eli, and you know it,” you argue. “And he’s still just as bad. Now he’s ruining other peoples’ lives the way he ruined ours.”

“Ours?”

“Do you think I liked walking into a room covered with your blood and getting threatened by Eli?” you tease.

Victor’s jaw tightens, and you rush to promise that he didn’t do anything to you, just tried to get you to stay away.

“It didn’t work, though, I’ve been following him for years. His god-complex got worse when he became a vigilante.”

Victor’s sharp inhale is the closest you’ve ever gotten to a laugh, and it brings your smile back.

“You know,” you begin quietly, “I thought that something was happening between us before you got arrested.”

“Happening? Like what?”

You shrug. “There were a lot of emotions. You were closer to me than anyone.”

“It was the same for me.”

You whisper above the receiver so he can’t hear you. “I was falling in love with you. Still am.”

You failed to consider how closely he watches you, though, and the corner of his mouth twitches up as he reads your lips. He remembers his plan of breaking out with Mitch, finding Eli and finishing this fight. His journey for vengeance should not involve you, but now that you’ve walked back into his life, he realizes how much he needs you.

“We can never be together, no matter how we felt in college,” he says, his voice steady and emotionless. Your face drops, but he continues, “I’m going to be in prison for the rest of my life, but you have a whole world. So, just stop visiting and don’t bother writing. It’s easier this way.”

Your chest feels tight, and you can’t form any words to respond, so you nod slowly. You halt your movements when Victor smiles. Victor smiles. A telltale sign that he is lying. Other people, witnesses, are around, so you follow through with his act.

“Okay,” you say. “I’m sorry. I- I hope everything works out for you. I guess, maybe, I’ll see you when I see you.”

You stand and leave, feeling Victor’s eyes on you until you turn the corner. If he wants you to stay close, you will. One thing is certain for you and Victor: you will see each other again, and after Eli is taken care of, you will never leave his side again.

Victor knows you’ll stay close. You’ve always been close to Victor, even when you were miles away.

#victor vale x reader #victor vale #vicious #vicious ve schwab #requests

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