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haadeswrites · 3 years

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Elysium

god this fic took forever i’m so sorry!! but hey, first fic on the new blog! <33 also y’all should really thank @iwaasfairy who listened to me complain about this fic for a solid month, she’s the reason it got finished

Cult leader Oikawa Tooru x female reader

tw: indoctrination, extremely dubious consent, blood, yandere themes, religious themes, minor character death, implied abuse & drug use, mild smut, nsfw

The island itself is breathtaking

Pristine beaches with gleaming white sand, vast swathes of lush, green rainforest and waterfalls that cascade into shimmering pools of crystal clear water. Untouched, undisturbed; a paradise. At least, that’s how Ryuji had described it.

Paradise, but only in the sense that a gingerbread cottage in the middle of the woods is paradise to a lost and hungry child.

He hadn’t been wrong. Bare feet sink into soft, white sand as you climb from the boat - the warmth just toeing the line between pleasant and burning. Gentle waves ebb and flow behind you, and there’s a light breeze that kisses your skin, the taste of seasalt carrying in the wind. Home, it seems to sing.

A laugh sounds somewhere in the distance, yet the only other figure on the beach is a man walking steadily towards you. He smiles when he sees you’ve noticed him; friendly, non-threatening. It’s a far cry from the swarming welcoming committee you’d been dreading, and you wonder if that’s somehow intentional as well.

As the boat pushes back out to sea he comes to a stop before you, “I’m Makki,” he says, pushing the fringe of his hair back and giving you a not-so-subtle once over. Whatever he sees must meet approval, because his grin only widens, “Welcome to the Commune.”

Ryuji wasn’t wrong; the island is a beautiful, deadly thing.

—

You’d never heard of the Commune before the phone call.

And maybe that shouldn’t be so surprising. You’ll be the first to admit you’re hardly an expert, but from what you do know, groups like the Commune – cults – don’t spring up out of thin air and start broadcasting their mistreatment and systematic abuse.

They’re not the kind of people that have sweet old ladies clutching their pearls and mothers shepherding their children away – at least, not in the beginning. Not entirely. They’re not out to recruit extremists to further their cause, they choose to prey on the vulnerable, the lost and the disillusioned. Those easily manipulated. You suspect that’s why when you google the Commune, all you find is a website for what essentially looks like a long term luxury wellness retreat.

‘The Commune is about healing and harmony, about returning to nature, supporting one another to forge a brighter, more holistic future together… a self-sufficient community living apart from technology and other evils of modern society.’

You fight the urge to roll your eyes as you scroll through. There’s a whisper of philosophical teachings woven throughout, a page dedicated to their founder, Oikawa Tooru – smiling handsomely in every single picture, because what would a burgeoning cult be without a charismatic leader – but there’s not enough.

So here you are, on an island hundreds of miles away from home living amongst strangers; because Ryuji wouldn’t have sounded so terrified if this was just some alternate, free-loving bunch of hippies.

And even with all that he’d told you, everything you thought you’d be prepared for, the Commune is like nothing you could’ve imagined.

Makki introduces you to Asuka, a woman only a few years older than yourself, dark haired and stunningly beautiful, and winks as he tells her to take you under her wing. She smiles brightly, eyes twinkling, and pulls you into a heartfelt hug – as if you’ve known each other your whole lives.

“We’re so glad you’re here!” she beams.

You’d like to hate her.

It feels like you're supposed to, sometimes; when she gets that dreamy look in her eyes and starts talking about Oikawa and the Commune and how lucky everyone here on the island is. Yet there’s something about her – the genuine warmth she emanates maybe, or the kindness in her eyes – that makes it difficult for you not to like her.

“You should come to the gathering tomorrow,” she hums idly one afternoon, maybe a week or so after your arrival. The two of you are sitting on the edge of the pier, legs dangling down into the water, tangled fishing nets to be repaired strewn between you.

“I always go,” you reply.

She laughs, fixing you with a knowing look, “And sit right at the very back, all but running off the moment we finish?”

And your traitorous heart skips a beat.

“It’s okay to take things slowly,” she says. “We understand that being a part of the Commune is a big change from the life you knew, and that not everybody is able to see what we see and embrace those changes.”

Asuka sets down the knot she’s working through and reaches for your hand, a gentle smile on her face, “But you shouldn’t be afraid. You’re meant to be here, I can feel it. You just need to stop fighting against it; surrender yourself to us, to the island, and everything’ll make sense, I promise.”

It’s dangerous territory. One wrong word could set off alarm bells, yet you can’t help pressing just a little.

“Do you ever miss it, then? Life outside the Commune?”

Your family. Friends. The life you left behind before you came here to be brainwashed like all of the others.

“Why would I?” she answers without missing a beat, and it’s hard to ignore the bitter flicker of disappointment you feel at her answer. “The island provides for us, we don’t have to spend our days selling off tiny pieces of ourselves just to make ends meet. It’s paradise here, and we have Oikawa to thank for that. Why would I ever want to go back?”

Silence falls between you as you struggle to think of something to say to salvage the situation. Yet Asuka isn’t even looking at you, instead staring out at the water with a strangely pensive expression.

“Did you know I was married once?” The words seemingly out of the blue, you can only shake your head. For a moment, she doesn’t reply, watching as the waves rise and crash offshore. And then;

“I was young, eighteen or so, fresh out of high school and he was a small town cop.” Her eyes flicker to yours, and your heart clenches at the sadness and pain echoing there. “I thought he was a good man, once upon a time.”

A chord strikes deep, your chest tightening involuntarily at her words. It’s not the same, of course it’s not the same, and yet…

No. You stop the errant thought in its tracks. Groups like the Commune prey on the vulnerable, you know this. People like Ryuji, like Asuka, like–

Her fingers squeeze around yours, pulling you back to the present. “Come to the gathering tomorrow. Listen to Oikawa, it’ll help.”

—

She doesn’t give you a choice in the matter – dragging you by the hand to sit right at the front of the gathered crowd that very night.

Oikawa’s handsomer up close; tall and dark haired with pretty eyes and long, sweeping lashes that frame delicate cheekbones, it’s not hard for you to see how a man like him has amassed such an impassioned following.

Once he starts actually speaking, however, you realise that his good looks and charming smile are just the tip of the iceberg. Oikawa’s utterly captivating as he preaches about the cycle of life and death and the paradise that awaits his faithful. Passionate and engaging, he speaks like he truly believes every word of the lies he’s spreading.

And Asuka, her friends, the others gathered, they eat up every word like it’s gospel truth, resounding cheers and thunderous applause deafening around you. In the midst of the rapturous din, Oikawa’s eyes flit to yours.

Slowly, he smiles – a dazzling grin that makes your stomach flip – and everything; Asuka, the noise, the others swarming around you, it all fades away.

For one electrifying heartbeat, you’re frozen in place. Just you and Oikawa, trapped in the pull of each other’s gaze.

—

You can’t forget the reason you came.

But it’s… difficult, in a way you struggle to understand. You only have one purpose for being here, one goal; find Ryuji and bring him home.

And yet, some days it’s like there’s a fog in your mind, and you have to focus to remember why you’re here at all. You catch yourself laughing with Asuka and her friends, the days passing by in a blur of endless, easy distractions.

It barely feels like work when you’re sitting under the shade of the trees, eating the fruits you’ve picked by hand – ripe and sweet, unlike anything you’ve ever tasted – diving off waterfalls into the crystalline water and meandering down the shore collecting seashells. Even when you are working, mending clothes or cooking with the others, it fills you with a sense of contentment you can’t quite explain.

Like you’re a part of something bigger. Like you’re doing something that matters.

Ryuji becomes a distant thought. A whisper in the back of your head, a niggling in your gut, easily brushed aside and ignored until there’s a moment of quiet. In the dead of night, the balmy summer night’s breeze kissing your bare skin, you lie awake, lost in memories of the last time you’d seen him.

Fists angrily pounding at your door, the yelling that gave way to sobs and the hoarse, desperate pleas that followed. Ryuji’s face; pupils blown wide and eyes rimmed in red, darting restlessly around as he held you too tight and begged–

Rolling over in bed, you gaze out your window at the star flecked sky, the shadows of the forest that lie at your doorstep, and wonder what it is that scares you more; that you’ve lost track of the days you’ve been here, and saving Ryuji is starting to feel like an afterthought, or that you could so easily forget all of it, find a place here in the Commune and be happy.

‘The island, it–it fucks with your head.’

Ryuji’d told you that, and you’d brushed it off as paranoia. You need to find him. Find him and get the hell outta dodge.

You can deal with the fallout later.

—

Kiyoshi.

He’d mentioned the name a few times amidst his rambling – a friend of his on the island. You’re annoyed with yourself for not thinking of it sooner, however much like Ryuji himself, trying to focus and remember the name is like wading through thick mud.

Once you do, though, finding him amongst the hundred and fifty or so inhabitants is the easy part.

There’s no strict division between genders within the Commune, however Kyoshi, despite his somewhat lean stature, is among the builders of the island and his path doesn’t often cross with yours.

From Asuka you find out that he’s been a part of the Commune for years now, before even she joined, and that he mostly sticks to himself, though you’ve seen him chatting quietly to a few of the other men, a perpetually angry looking blonde in particular.

It’s the last part that piques her interest, “Why’re you so curious, anyway?” she asks, her face lighting up as a sudden thought occurs. “Do you want me to introduce you two? To be honest, I didn’t think he’d be your type, if you’re interested, though…”

Cheeks aflame, you’re quick to shut her down. “No, no, nothing like that. I’ve just… seen him around and we’ve never really spoken, I guess.”

A lame excuse, though mercifully she lets the subject drop without too much prodding.

Therein, of course, lies the problem. Walking up to Kyoshi and casually trying to drop Ryuji into the conversation without raising red flags is risky, but what other options do you have? You’ve already spent too much time on this island.

Although, maybe Asuka has the right idea.

While you hadn’t been lying when you said you weren’t interested in Kyoshi in that way, nobody else knew that. Who would really look twice at the shy newbie striking up a conversation with the quiet, easygoing man? He wasn’t unattractive per se, and from the brief interactions you’d seen of him, he seemed kind enough.

You have enough patience (barely) to wait for dusk the following night. There’s a celebration, something about the full moon and a blessing on the island and the Commune– you hadn’t really been paying attention when Oikawa had spoken about it. Still, it’s too good an opportunity to pass up. With the fire pits crackling, and the dancing and music and the sweet honey wine flowing freely, nobody will be paying too much attention to what you’ll be doing. Hopefully, the alcohol will also serve to lower Kiyoshi’s guard, and perhaps if you’re really, really lucky, loosen his tongue as well.

Of course, you’re not banking on him telling you exactly where Ryu is or what happened to him– and that’s assuming he actually knows – but at this point you’ll take anything over the nothing you currently have. A tiny slip up, that’s all you’re asking for.

As the sun descends beyond the horizon, you play your role well, laughing and chatting amongst friends, sipping carefully at the cup of wine in your hand as you wait for an opening. And perhaps it’s your nerves working against you, but you find that it’s not just Kiyoshi your attention is drawn to.

Up on the shore, away from the rabble, Oikawa lounges back with a cup of the same honeyed wine you’re pretending to drink. For the most part he seems deep in conversation with Iwaizumi, his right hand, but every once in a while he glances up, letting his gaze roam over the crowd of his followers.

Every inch a king and his general.

And it would seem benevolent, if not for the strange smile he wears – the one that widens when his eyes catch yours.

Swallowing tightly, you force yourself not to dwell on it, to ignore the odd sensation curling in your gut and the way your skin prickles under his attention. Now is not the time to lose focus.

Pushing all thoughts of Oikawa aside, you subtly scan the beach once more, only to find that Kiyoshi’s moved, sitting now on a piece of old driftwood near the bonfire. Alone for the first time tonight.

Your legs are moving before the thought even fully registers.

“Do you mind if I sit?” you ask, gesturing to the empty space on the log beside him.

Kiyoshi smiles, the laugh lines at corners of his eyes crinkling pleasantly, and shakes his head, “Not at all.”

“Thanks.”

Taking another sip of your wine, you will your shoulders to relax, your racing pulse to slow. This has to seem natural, and so you force yourself to hold your tongue, let your head loll back and breathe deep, soaking it all in. You can hear the others in the distance, the music and the dancing, the happy laughter and shouts that beckon – you want to go join them. Even your blood seems to hum, a call of something other pulsing through your veins.

But you pay it no mind. There are more important things to worry about tonight.

Indeed, steel blue eyes have been appraising you curiously for a while now. “This is your first Lunar blessing, isn’t it?” Kiyoshi asks after a moment.

You nod, humming in agreement. Less than a month; you’ve been here less than a month. Is that a good thing?

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

A harmless enough question, and again you nod your head. “Yeah, it’s…” you pause, searching for words that won’t sound hollow. “It’s paradise. I feel like I need to pinch myself just to make sure it’s real.”

He smiles gently. “But?” he probes.

Grimly, you wonder whether Kiyoshi’s usually this perceptive, or if you’re just a really terrible actor. In a way, you suppose it really doesn’t make a difference; you’ve come too far to turn back now – at least not without raising suspicion.

So you lie with a truth, and pray that it works.

“I had a friend I was supposed to meet here,” you confess quietly, gazing not at him but the crackling flames of the bonfire, the burning embers carried off into the night. “He was the one who said I should come, but now I’m here and he’s not and every time I catch myself enjoying this–”

“You feel guilty,” he surmises, cutting you off. “Because he’s not here to enjoy it with you.”

Wordlessly, you nod – and maybe it isn’t so much of an act when your eyes begin to glisten, your smile wavering.

Kiyoshi’s silent for a moment, and you take another sip of the honey wine to hide your nerves. “You shouldn’t, you know,” he says eventually. “Feel guilty, I mean. You belong here, with the Commune. You’re happy here. Paradise… isn’t for everybody.”

He doesn’t say it to be cruel, more like he’s simply stating a fact, and somehow that makes it all the more unnerving. And it’s nothing you haven’t listened to Oikawa preach about time and time again. The Commune is for the devoted, the faithful – the lucky few – and you’ve never thought too hard about what he’d meant by that.

The Commune’s small, maybe a hundred and fifty or so people on the island. There’d been no initiation, no test of faith or trial period you’d had to pass when you arrived – at least, none that you’d been aware of. You simply stepped off the boat and they’d welcomed you with open arms.

An uneasy sensation settles into your gut, goosebumps prickling at your skin despite the heat of the midsummer night.

That… doesn’t make sense. It can’t. Absolute control’s too important in groups like this, they couldn’t just let anyone–

Kiyoshi speaks again, his calm voice pulling you from your thoughts. “What was his name?”

You blink at him slowly – stupidly. “Sorry?”

“Your friend,” he clarifies. “What was his name?”

“Oh, um- Ryuji.”

Kiyoshi’s brow furrows in thought for a moment, but he merely shakes his head, “Doesn’t ring a bell, but like I said, not everyone who arrives stays with us for long.”

He looks you right in the eye as he says it.

You don’t understand the cold, foreboding that seeps through your veins, because he’s lying. He has to be.

Ryuji was here. They were friends, Ryu’d told you that–

Why did you think this stupid plan would work anyway? That he’d tell you anything, much less the truth when this whole fucked up island is full of liars and those too indoctrinated to know the difference?

“You alright?” he asks when abruptly, you shoot to your feet beside him.

And it takes every ounce of willpower you have left to force an easy smile to your lips, raising your cup just a fraction, “Yeah, just gonna go get a refill. Thanks for the talk, Kiyoshi.”

Whether he notices that your wine’s barely touched or not, you don’t care – not as you turn on your heel without another word and head back up the beach.

Your head is pounding, your body trembling – you don’t hear the call of your name until a hand reaches out and grasps at your wrist, spinning you around.

Asuka greets you with a wide grin, Makki and a tall, broad shouldered man you think is called Mattsun standing either side of her – the former’s arm slung casually over her shoulder. “There you are! I’ve been looking for you,” she says. “Come on, we’re gonna go swimming, it’s so pretty out there!”

You glance out towards the ocean. Moonlight bathes the inky blue water, light shimmering off the rippling tide; some of the others are already out there, splashing amongst the waves.

“Clothing optional, of course,” Makki laughs, and Asuka tugs on your wrist once more.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun!”

But you shake your head, slowly pulling your hand from her grip, “I’m not feeling great, I think I’m gonna head back.”

Asuka frowns, concern marring her pretty features. “Are you okay? Do you need us to call Mizo–”

“No,” you say, cutting her off. Healer Mizoguchi is the last person you need to see right now. “I just– I just need to go lie down for a bit. You guys go have fun – enjoy the blessing, I’ll be fine.”

Makki and Asuka share a fleeting look, but it’s Mattsun who interjects before either one of them can speak, “I’ll walk you back, then.”

Your stomach churns. It doesn’t sound like a suggestion.

And the smart thing to do would be to accept his help; the walk from the beach to your villa isn’t far, and while you’re not as familiar with Mattsun as you are with Makki or Asuka, it’s not like he’s going to hurt you or anything, but–

“Really– you don’t need to, it’s fine,” you smile weakly, shuffling back as he reaches to offer you his arm. “Go swim, I’ll see you guys in the morning.”

Mattsun shrugs easily enough, falling back into line with the other two – yet there’s something in the way he grins and holds your gaze for a beat longer. A glimmer of amusement, as if there’s some joke you're not a part of. “I’ll hold you to it, sweetheart.”

The heat that floods your cheeks clashes uncomfortably with the cloying heaviness in your stomach, but somehow you manage to stutter out one last goodbye before turning back to scamper off in the direction of your room.

–But not to lie down.

There’s not a cloud in the sky, and the full moon’s bright. No need for a torch, not unless you decide to venture into the heart of the forest.

You’ve been a fool. Kiyoshi, Asuka, Makki, Mattsun; you can’t trust any of them to help you, even unwittingly. Ryuji’s here on the island – somewhere – and every second that slips away, every second that you allow yourself to forget puts him in further danger.

And so you cling to your discomfort, ground yourself in it. The prickling sensation at the back of your neck, the tightness in your chest as you slip past your villa, keeping low and quiet – they’re a reminder that there is something insidious here on the island, that you have to get out.

You and Ryuji.

He’s here. Away from the others, kept under lock and key as punishment, or maybe being forced to undergo whatever kind of glorified brainwashing they’ve got going on, but here. You need to be smart about this, because while you don’t intend to stop until you find him, tonight will be your best shot – while everyone’s distracted down on the beach.

For the first time in a long time, it feels like you have a clear head.

Creeping through the underbrush, you steer clear of the well trod pathways that lead towards habitation. You’ve been there, and to the docks, and the river.

If they’re still keeping him here (and they are, you refuse to entertain the possibility that it could be otherwise) then it’s not somewhere out in the open. A bird cries out in the distance shattering the calm of the night, and you flinch – but it only serves as another reminder that your time tonight is limited; you cannot afford to delay. You wrack your brain, trying to dredge up memories of the last few weeks, surely you must have seen something–

“Lost?”

The single word, spoken in a deep, gruff voice has your blood running cold.

Slowly, you turn.

Iwa stands behind you in the thicket, his face utterly impassive. Briefly, you contemplate whether it’s worth trying to bluff your way out of this, but Iwa’s eyes narrow, flashing in the dim light and you think better of it.

A sigh escapes you, your shoulders deflating. “Where is he– Ryuji?” you ask; a whisper rather than a demand.

Iwa’s expression gives nothing away. Did he know, or have you handed him the smoking gun of a crime that’d fallen through the cracks? Does it even matter anymore? You’re just–

You’re tired.

Exhausted. In the space of a few moments all of that shining determination and resolve; it fled, leaving a gaping hole in its wake. This has to end, you can’t keep fighting against them forever. You can’t keep drowning in this guilt, feeling torn every second that you spend here on this stupid island. You just want to find Ryuji and go home.

… Right?

A tense beat passes as Iwa appraises you, and then; “Come with me.”

The hand he places on your shoulder doesn’t give you much choice. His grip isn’t what you’d describe as gentle, yet he’s careful enough to make sure you don’t trip or stumble as he marches you north.

In the thick of the forest away from the beach, it’s eerily quiet. Every twig that snaps underfoot, every ragged breath you draw; it feels too loud. Out of place amongst the stillness of the midsummer night.

And isn’t it ironic, that for the first time since you set foot in this paradise, you feel like you’re trespassing?

A bead of sweat trickles down from your temple and your mind unwittingly drifts back to Mattsun and Makki. Are they still swimming with Asuka? Probably, you reason. It’s hard to pinpoint exactly how long it’s been since you left them on the beach, but surely no more than an hour.

And strangely, like water drawn from the depths of a well, an image comes to mind; the four of you standing in the waves, you perched atop Mattsun’s shoulders, screaming and giggling in delight as Asuka tries to knock you down again, two sets of eyes watching from the shore…

You should have stayed on the beach.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask,” he replies drily – humouring you, you suppose.

Your lips quirk upwards for the briefest of moments. “What happens on the Lunar blessing? Asuka, the others– no one told me what it was.”

Iwaizumi doesn’t answer you immediately, but you feel his fingers reflexively tighten on your shoulder. Likely it wasn’t the question he was expecting; surely there were others that you could have asked – but you don’t really want the answers to those.

If you’re being led like a lamb to proverbial slaughter, what good would it do you to know it?

And yet as the seconds pass and no answer seems forthcoming from your captor, you resign yourself to the fact that your curiosity will remain unsated. You don’t even know what prompted you to ask in the first place; knowing Oikawa it’s probably some grand, meaningless spectacle. Pretty, hollow words spoken only to–

A heavy sigh draws you from your thoughts, and you falter in your step, almost tripping over your own feet in the process. Iwa’s quick to right you, urging you forward with a less than gentle nudge. “Walk straight,” he grunts, yet it lacks any true heat. Anticipation flutters through your veins, and he mutters a soft curse behind you. “Fine. It… it’s an exchange.”

An exchange? What the hell was that supposed to mean? Your eyebrows draw together, mouth opening to press the matter, but Iwa beats you to the punch.

“You’ll find out for yourself soon enough, now shut up.”

You have no response to that, so you do.

—

The two of you walk in silence for what feels like hours. Eventually, the terrain becomes steeper, the worn path you’re treading twisting and winding, and you realise you must be close to the mountains at the heart of the island.

As your breath comes in heavy pants, your legs beginning to ache, you can’t help but be lost in the beauty of it all.

The flora’s different here, unlike any you’ve seen before. Flowers bursting from the bark of towering trees, blooms of vibrant hues; reds and purples and soft, baby pinks. Even the vines at your feet curl amongst pretty white buds that gleam invitingly under the moonlight. Your jaw falls open as you gaze around in wonderment.

You forget why you’re walking, where it is that you’re heading. Iwa’s grip relaxes as a quiet gasp escapes you, and he doesn’t stop you when you stray from the path to take a closer look. You can’t resist reaching out to touch the silken petals, leaning in to smell their perfume. Soft and light and sweet, your eyes flutter shut, a smile creeping across your visage.

It reminds you of home. Not your actual home – the rundown, tiny shoebox apartment you gave up before you came here – but something deeper.

Home, like the long summer days spent playing in your parents’ backyard. Home, like afternoons curled up by the window, watching the rain come down in sheets outside.

Home, like the comfort of arms wrapped around you; two hearts beating in sync.

“C’mon,” Iwa interrupts after a minute or so, his voice a touch less gruff. “We’re almost there.”

Dazed, you find yourself nodding, allowing him to guide you back to the path. This time, he doesn’t grab you by the shoulder, seemingly content enough to walk by your side.

True to his word, it’s only another few minutes before you see it; a wooden villa, four times the size of your own and far, far grander, set amongst a clearing of trees on the mountainside. Confused, your eyes flicker from the villa to Iwa and back again. Gossamer curtains billow lightly in the breeze, a warm, inviting glow spilling from the open windows. Surely this cannot be where he meant to lead you… and yet he merely stands at your side, arms folded across his broad chest, watching you expectantly.

“You gonna make me carry you up there?” he asks, not unkindly.

Swallowing tightly, you shake your head.

Another glance, and you catch a shadow lingering by the window. Your heart skips a beat, apprehension curling in your gut as you begin to walk, every step feels less steady than the last. You’re almost glad when Iwa takes you by the arm; if only so that you have something to focus on other than the growing tightness in your chest. The villa, with its pretty flowers and airy, elegant grandeur is far from the isolated cell you’d been afraid of, yet the uncertainty of what you’re walking into eats at you all the same.

Is this where they’ve been keeping Ryu, or has he brought you here for another reason?

Nothing, however, can prepare you for what you find inside. Warm light emanates from lanterns that bathe the room, and your eyes widen as you stare around you.

Strange, gold carvings inlaid with mother of pearl decorate the thick, woodens support beams, a pot of incense burns on a table overflowing with fresh fruit. There’s a jug of the same honeyed wine you’d drank earlier in the night and two cups set on an ornate stand nearby – just within arms reach of one of the chaise lounges.

Iwa affords you little time to gape, drawing you further in. Silken tapestries hang from the walls – you’re pulled along too quickly to truly take note, but the brief glimpses you get hint at a story; a divine being cast from his home, lost and wandering.

It tugs at something buried within you, and uncomfortable, you tear your eyes away.

The two of you reach a closed door at the end of the hall, and Iwa pulls you to a stop, knocking once.

“Come,” a familiar voice calls.

You stiffen, though perhaps you should have foreseen this outcome. Who else would Iwa bring you to but to him? Distantly, you register his grip relaxing, the sound of the door sweeping open and his voice at your ear.

“Go on.”

And it’s funny, you think, how two halves of yourself can be so at odds with each other. Because while your stomach twists itself into knots, goosebumps prickling at your skin, your legs stumble forward of their own accord.

Two steps forward, and your breath catches in your throat.

It’s a bedroom, that much you can deduce from the decor, but that’s not what captures your attention. Nor is it Oikawa, leaning against the bureau with a genial smile – at least not at first.

No. In place of a back wall, there’s open space, not so much as a panel of glass obstructing the view before you. And what a view it is; from this height you can see the sprawling forest below, the coastline dotted with bonfires and the moonlit ocean shimmering beyond. Where the floorboards end, there are steps, you realise as you unwittingly inch closer, leading to a cascading spring – likely fed from the waterfall you can hear rushing nearby.

How easy it would be to brush aside your worries, you think, to shed your clothes, slip into the cool, calm water and lose yourself entirely. Even amongst all you’ve seen and experienced on the island so far, this is incomparable.

“Stunning, isn’t it?” Oikawa murmurs, coming up behind you.

His voice startles you, yet when you turn, you find him not gazing out at the scenery but rather at you, that same strange, knowing smile curling at his lips.

“Some days, I admit, it’s hard to tear myself away,” he continues, unbothered by your stunned silence. “But even I can’t neglect my duties for too long.”

You swallow, tongue darting out to wet your lips. Confusion twists through you at the conversational tone, surely he hasn’t brought you here just to chat about the impressive views, yet there’s no hint of disapproval on his face, no indication that he’s anything less than pleased with you.

It’s unnerving to say the least, but you’ll play along with his game if that’s what Oikawa wants.

“Beautiful,” you say, though the words feel woefully inadequate even as you speak them.

He hums in agreement, something akin to pride flickers in his eyes at your assessment, “A labour of love, I suppose. But… everything you see here, everything I’ve built, it comes with a price. You understand that, don’t you?”

“I-I’m sorry?” you stutter.

“Paradise,” he elaborates, his smile widening. “There’s no give without take. Those people down there,” he nods down at the beach, the tiny, ant-like figures still milling about, “the lost, the beaten, the abused – I gave them what they so desperately sought; a sanctuary. A life without struggle, without suffering.” He pauses for a moment, reaching forward to take your hand. You almost flinch, almost skitter across the room to put as much distance between you as you can, but you don’t–

His palm is warm as it envelops yours, a pleasant heat that seems to spread through your veins, easing your tense muscles. There’s nothing to fear from him, you’re safe with Oikawa.

“Aren’t you happy here?”

Yes.

“What about the price?” you ask instead, though it takes more concentration than it should to force the words out.

Oikawa’s thumb sweeps along the back of your hand. “I never said it was your price to pay,” he soothes.

There’s something wrong with that sentence, but another sharp knock at the door draws your attention before you can think too hard about it. You turn out of instinct, barely aware of the way his hand tightens fractionally around your own.

A single finger at your jaw coaxes your attention back to him. “If you built a paradise, wouldn’t you give whatever necessary to ensure it flourished?”

Oikawa stares at you expectantly, deep brown eyes searching your face as he waits for an answer. Agreement would be the logical choice – the one he seems to want from you – but even as your lips part, the only sound that escapes is a breathless, confused noise.

When you were a kid, maybe six or seven, your parents took you to the beach one day and you waded too far out into the water. The waves were bigger than you expected; all it took was one mistimed jump and you were dragged under.

It wasn’t for long, probably only seconds, and ultimately you were fine – but you remember those few seconds so vividly. The feeling of helplessly tumbling through the water, fighting to break the surface but not knowing which way was up. Your lungs crying out for oxygen, the disorientation and dizziness, the panic.

It feels like that now – like the floor’s dropped out from beneath you and you’re just hurtling through empty air, desperately trying to slow yourself down with nothing to grab onto.

None of this makes any sense. Your emotions are shot to pieces, too many parts of yourself being pulled in different directions and you’re not sure which ones you can trust anymore. How can you be? Oikawa’s still holding your hand, smiling at you, and you just want everything to stop for a second so you can right yourself and breathe–

The door opens.

Iwaizumi appears in your field of vision, dragging a bound, hooded figure behind him. And because this is all some big, cosmic joke, you get your wish. Both of them, actually.

Time slows.

Even with a burlap sack pulled over his head, you recognise the man Iwa shoves to the floor and sneers at.

Hundreds of miles, weeks of uselessly traipsing around this fucking island, and finally–

Finally, you’ve found Ryu.

There should be relief. Fear, considering his current state, yes, but Ryuji’s here and he’s alive and as the hood is ripped off his head Oikawa squeezes your hand and the only thing you feel is… anger.

Not a heated flash that surges through your blood. It’s slow and seething, insipid. You look at him, locked in place as empty, pleading eyes meet yours and all you can think is that all of this – everything – is his fault.

“Asuka told you why she came to me, didn’t she?” Oikawa asks.

Your brow furrows, why–why is he asking you that now, how did he even–

He slips closer behind you, letting your hand go in favour of your shoulder, his spare dragging lightly along the bare skin of your arm. “She was lost, in so much pain. The physical wounds, they heal after a while,” his voice is right in your ear, a low murmur that sends a shiver rippling down your spine.

It isn’t an unpleasant feeling.

“But the scars inside, well… sometimes those fester.”

Gagged and bound, kneeling at your feet, Ryu doesn’t even try to make a sound.

He’s thinner than you remember. Face gaunt and bruised; there’s a half healed, mottled yellow one painted across the left side of his jaw, one eye purple and swollen. You glance at Iwa, standing stoically behind him, muscular arms folded across his chest. His work, you wonder, or others as well? You notice the tear tracks running down his face, catching the light of the lanterns, but it’s as if you’re seeing it all through a thick pane of glass. None of it reaches you, there’s nothing but that simmering, ugly feeling in your gut.

Oikawa hums, “I told you that Paradise wasn’t for everyone. It’s a haven, yes, but there are those who simply… don’t belong.”

His body’s so warm, pressed up against yours. Fingertips graze along your side, and this time you don’t bother biting back that tiny, breathless moan. Iwa briefly smirks at it, but there’s no embarrassment. Why should there be? Your eyes flit back to Ryu, bowed on the wooden floor.

Another memory resurfaces; A sharp crack and a ringing in your ears, Ryuji, eyes bloodshot and glazed, falling to his knees, clutching frantically at the leg of your pants as endless apologies spill from his lips.

It wasn’t him. It was never him.

“He hurt you,” Oikawa purrs. “He kept hurting you, I saw it.”

The words wash over you like waves breaking on the shore, but you find yourself nodding anyway. It was the truth, wasn’t it? A thousand tiny hurts, piled up on one another until you finally broke.

And you’d still come when he’d called.

Listened to him when he’d begged you not to hang up the phone.

“Iwa.”

The brunet moves towards a grand chest of drawers pushed up against the western wall. An ornate dagger sits atop, strange and beautiful; the blade isn’t steel or any metal you’ve seen before, but some kind of black stone, the handle intricately carved ivory. You hadn’t even noticed it before, Oikawa’s room filled to the brim with odd trinkets and treasures, but now that you have, it’s hard to tear your eyes away.

Iwa takes it and carries it over towards the two of you, holding it with the utmost care.

“Obsidian,” Oikawa informs you as he accepts the blade from his friend, bringing it in front of you both to show it off. “Pretty, isn’t it?” And while you can’t see his face, you can hear the smile in his tone.

He isn’t wrong though.

Ever so carefully you reach out, the soft pads of your fingertips running along the obsidian surface, surprisingly cool to the touch. The razor sharp edges – wavy and asymmetrical, leading to a tapered point – you’re careful to avoid, almost positive you’d draw blood with the slightest touch.

“Take it,” he urges, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear.

Obediently, you turn your hand over, your fingers wrapping around the hilt when he presses it against your palm. And as long fingers curl around yours, you idly wonder how old the dagger is – there’s not so much as a scratch on it, yet there’s something about the weapon in your hand that feels ancient. It thrums under your combined touch.

Oikawa jerks his chin at Iwa, and with a short nod and one last, lingering glance cast your way, the latter exits once again.

Leaving you and Oikawa alone with Ryuji.

“It’s almost time,” he remarks – though time for what, you’re not entirely sure. His lips press against your hair, his arm dropping from your shoulder to your waist, drawing you flush against him. “I know why you came to me, the lies that led you here.”

Both of you turn your attention back to Ryuji at that, the bound man now shaking with the force of his muffled sobs, snot dripping from his nose. That bitter resentment rears its ugly head again, soothed only by Oikawa’s pacifying hum, his thumb now rubbing slow circles at your side. “Shh, I’m not angry – none of that matters now. You’ve found a home here, no? You want to stay on the island with me.”

You swallow, nodding your head rapidly. The thought of having to leave now, of being forced out after everything you’ve seen and felt and experienced here, you– you can’t fathom it. You don’t want to.

Ryuji’d wrought so much damage, but even before he’d swept through your life… had you ever been happy? Were you ever truly accepted – or loved, for that matter?

You can’t go back to that life. You won’t; he’ll have to drag you kicking and screaming from the shore. The Commune is your home, this is where you belong. Here, with Oikawa.

“Good girl,” he croons, another kiss pressed to the crown of your head. You beam at the praise and Ryuji crumples a little further. “Death begets life, you understand now, don’t you?”

You glance at the obsidian dagger in your hand and then at Ryu, beaten and bruised, bowed in forced supplication before you, and nod.

His fingers tighten around yours, “Then do it.”

Leaning forward, you reach for Ryu, fingers lightly trailing down his ruined cheek, curling at his chin to coax his head upwards. He squeezes his eyes shut, pain and regret etched over every inch of his face, but he doesn’t fight you.

Baring his throat to your dagger, Ryuji’s pleas take the shape of your name.

Muffled, thanks to the gag, but unmistakable. And for one single moment, you falter.

This… this is wrong; for all his faults, and god knows there were plenty, Ryu didn’t des–

A wave of calm washes over you, allaying your fears, your doubts. Your breath leaves you in a heavy gust, taking with it the tension in your shoulders, and Oikawa’s voice, smooth and honeyed, reaches your ears once more, “Nothing comes without a price, doesn’t he deserve to be the one to pay it?”

With your hand still tucked inside of his, your arm moves with a will of its own; slashing with inhuman grace.

The dagger cuts deep, Ryuji’s eyes snapping open in shock as a spray of warm blood hits you both. He chokes – a horrid, wet, gurgling sound – wide, pleading eyes frantically shifting between you and Oikawa. Every beat of his failing heart sends fresh blood spurting from the gaping wound. It drenches his front, splatters across your dress, your face, crimson pooling at the wooden floorboards at his knees. His mouth falls open and shut, trying and failing to form coherent sounds and you just stand there and watch, the dagger hanging limply at your side.

It doesn’t take long; seconds at the most.

Ryuji’s slumps to the floor, his body finally growing still as the light fades from his eyes. There’s a beat of absolute silence, and then–

Oikawa shudders behind you, a strangled, drawn out moan leaving his lips. You try to turn, but his arms lock around you, every muscle tensing, his back arching. The dagger in your hand grows hot, burning the soft skin of your palm, but with his fingers still tightly entwined with yours you can only whimper and endure it.

With a hoarse, guttural roar, a pulse of pure energy surges through the room like a shockwave. Every cell in your body lights up, electrified, buzzing; a dizzying euphoria unlike any you’ve felt before coursing through your blood.

Across the island, voices cry out in delight, a symphony of life. The trees tremble and shake, invigorated and renewed, fresh buds bursting from the forest floor, blooming under the light of the full moon.

The harvests flourish, even the river swells in response to the call.

Death begets life, just as he promised.

And with every inch of your body alight and singing with pleasure, you can barely think much less protest (and why would you want to?) as Oikawa roughly yanks you around, hungry lips crashing against your own as his fingers pull and tear at your bloodstained dress. He wastes no time with foreplay, and you suspect only begrudgingly takes a moment to hoist you up against him and carry you to his bed.

There’s nothing gentle about the way he hauls your hips to his, sheathing his cock inside of your warm, tight cunt with one savage thrust, but you don’t care.

Not as you cling to him, fingernails raking along his shoulders as he presses your thighs further apart so he can fuck you deeper. It’s hard and rough and brutal, yet you moan for him all the same, his name a prayer swallowed up by feverish, claiming kisses.

Tonight, bathed in blood and the soft glow of moonlight, you offer your god everything.

—

“Look, look!”

A small hand tugs at your skirt, and you glance down to find a little girl with pretty, dark curls holding up a crown of woven flowers.

“Do you like it?” she asks.

Carefully, you take it from her, bringing it closer to examine. She watches you intently as you study it, lifting it this way and that to appraise her work, humming thoughtfully for good measure. “I think it’s beautiful work,” you tell her after a long enough pause, and you can’t help but smile at the way she lights up, preening under your praise. “Why don’t you go show your mama? I’m sure she’ll be very impressed.”

The girl nods rapidly, thanking you before skipping off in the direction of her parents. The sun’s hanging low in the sky, the fires already being readied for the night ahead. You’re not unaware of the watchful gaze that carefully monitors your every move, and the moves of anyone who ventures too close by. Soon enough, you’ll return home to the heart of the island – anticipation fluttering in your belly at the thought of what awaits you – but for now, you let your feet sink further into the sand, closing your eyes as you bask in the lingering warmth of the setting sun.

At least until the sound of your name being called draws you back to the present. Yet it’s not Iwaizumi approaching, but rather Makki, two strangers trailing along behind him.

“Thought I’d find you here,” he grins, throwing a casual arm over your shoulders. “This is Kaneo,” he gestures to the man, “and his wife Manaka. They arrived this morning, I’ve been showing ‘em round.”

You turn to the couple, smiling sweetly as you extend a hand, “Welcome to the Commune.”

#yandere haikyuu #yandere oikawa x reader #yandere oikawa tooru #yandere oikawa #yandere oikawa tooru x reader #cult au #tw: religious themes #tw: dubcon #tw: blood #tw: minor character death #tw: abuse #hades.dark #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru x reader

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thebadbatch · 3 years

Text

Thunder - Tech x Gn!Reader

Plot: Tech protects the reader from a storm that they're terrified of.

Warnings: Thunder, fear, descriptions of anxiety and a panic attack. Fluff accompanies it!

------------------

One, two, three.

You were currently lounging aboard the Havoc Marauder, swinging in the co-pilot seat as Tech lay beside you fiddling beneath the control panel. These were the afternoons you were used to, some of the batch scattered around the ship whilst others went out for supplies. You and Tech currently remain on the ship, occasionally handing him the necessary tools to complete his job.

"What's something you're scared of?" You aimlessly asked, spinning a little in the chair leaning back whilst occasionally gazing over in Tech's direction.

"Scared of?" He responded, placing his hand out for the next tool he required. Once you placed it into his hand and he began to work again, he spoke. "I suppose in any circumstance I'd be afraid of losing my brothers and you." Smiling lightly at his answer you cuddled back up on the chair humming at his response. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason, just a little bored and curious." He chuckled at your answer, finally completing his task and sitting up to face you.

"Well I think this is the most entertaining activity but each to their own interests I suppose." He stood and brushed his hands against one another to brush any dust off of them. "May I return the question?" Nodding softly you began to think,

"I get really scared of storms." He tilted his head, grabbing his datapad in his hands and returning to the seat before the main controls. "They're terrifying don't you think?" He shook his head, ensuring all the systems were online on the attack shuttle.

"No, I don't think that." You mustered a simple 'ah' as his blunt answer responded. "Only because I was created on a planet with constant storms, I grew used to it and to find comfort in them." He took a gentle breath in, examining your expression. "But I understand why many may be afraid of them, they're sudden and can spark anxiety."

Before you could reply, Hunter and Echo walked in with a crate of supplies, placing it down in the cockpit.

"Here we go, everything we need." With a smile you got out of the chair, giving each of them a warm hug before opening it.

"You boys go and relax, I've got this!" They nodded and both ruffled your hair as you carried the various supplies to their locations, sorting through them and finally reaching the fuel. Lifting it up, you turned to Tech who still remained seated in the pilot's chair. "Hey Tech? Should I fuel up now or keep it stored?" He moved to face your voice, gazing down at his data pad before moving to view the controls.

"The Marauder could do with some fuel now, this will do nicely." He paused as he stood, walking over to you. "I'll help you fuel it." Nodding you soon followed after him, walking down the ramp and allowing your eyes to roll over the scenery. Darker clouds rolled over the sky, the various loads of nature shaking against the wind that began to kick up the dust against the floor. "Okay, here. Place the fuel against this and it should do it manually." With a soft nod, you did as instructed and allowed the fuel to roll into the ship, fuelling its systems for the next chaotic missions to come.

"Thanks Tech!" You spoke as you removed the empty fuel canister with him shutting the area closed and checking his datapad with a satisfactory nod.

"Not a problem, we should return to the ship and signal for the others to return - it's getting rather dark." Once he activated his comm system, he spoke into it signalling for Crosshair and Wrecker to return to the ship - none of the bad batch had a clue what could happen on this planet as this was the first time you had all stopped here for supplies. He gently gestured toward the ship, a soft smile against his lips. "Come, let's get in." You followed his instructions and returned into the ship with Tech closely behind you as you put away the crate that you all had used. Crosshair and Wrecker had soon followed, Wrecker being the first to greet everybody and picking you up into a hug which you always adored. He was always so warm and kind, something you definitely needed a lot of the time. You were known to be anxious, Tech knew the details of your anxiety but it never got into your way of missions which was good. But even if it did, Tech assured you he would always be there to help which in all honesty gave you a great amount of comfort.

"Did you have fun?" You asked, exchanging stares with both Wrecker and Crosshair who walked into the cockpit after you. Wrecker laughed lightly and nodded, Crosshairs voice speaking instead of his own.

"Just some basic training while we can." He mumbled, offering you a gentle gaze before heading toward the bunks clearly already worn out. Wrecker ruffled your hair softly before moving in a similar direction, leaving you with Tech, Echo and Hunter. Yawning gently, you moved back toward the copilot seat and watched as the darkened clouds rolled overhead and covered what was left of the already darkening sky.

"Do you think it'll rain?" You questioned nobody in particular, watching the darkness of the clouds thicken made your chest grow tighter as you spoke.

"Looks that way, it's probably a storm." Echo replied, fiddling with something before looking at your worried gaze. "Don't worry, I'm sure it'll be fine." He offered you a small smile before gently pushing an overtired Hunter toward the bunks for some sleep. Tech ran his eyes over the system once again before ensuring that everything was off in preparation for whatever weather was about to occur.

"We better turn in for the night too then." His voice filled the empty air as he stood, beginning to walk to the bunks alongside you. "We will be collecting a mission tomorrow so ensure you get plenty of sleep, y/n." With a smile you arrived at your bunk and removed your armour so you were in your blacks with Tech doing the same.

"Alright, sweet dreams Tech!" Nodding gently he got into his bunk, switching off any lights that were left on via his datapad.

"Goodnight y/n." With that, the Havoc Marauder fell silent, everybody on board within a deep and calming slumber and everything was okay. Tomorrow would go just as you all planned it to go, simply and swiftly.

You were awakened suddenly by a loud boom and the ship violently shaking against the ground. Rain was hitting against the ship heavily and the room lit up when a clash of lightning filled the sky. The first impression you had in your half- awake state was that you were under attack, but as soon as you heard the rumble of thunder and clash of lightning accompanied with the heavy rain your suspicions were confirmed. It was a storm and you were absolutely terrified. Taking in a sharp breath, you hid beneath the covers that give you nightly comfort and protection from whatever your anxiety mustered up. Tears automatically welled in your eyes and your breathing seemed to escape you leaving your chest feeling tight as you gasped for air.

"Hey, is everything okay?" The blanket was softly removed from your face revealing Tech stood beside your bunk. Upon seeing your terrified self, he crouched down and sat you up so you could lean against him whilst he rubbed your back. "Breathe, Mesh'la." His gentle words helped ground you, but the louder rumble of the thunder reversed whatever good he did. "Breathe with me." His instructions were simple and clear, but everything felt like it was too much to face. He took a deep breath in which you were able to replicate though jaggedly and exhale. You both repeated these slow motions until you were finally in control of your own breathing again but the crying didn't subside. Ever so gently, Tech picked you up and held you in his arms with your blanket still wrapped around you. He had brought you both into the cockpit, sitting you upon his lap and hugging you closely as you both watched the storm unfold before you. Streaks of white lit up the sky along with the rain hammering against the window, dripping down to make various smudged patterns of mist.

"It's loud." You whispered against him softly, his hand gently rubbing your cheek in an act of comfort. His gaze was filled with softness when his eyes met your own, face filled with concern.

"I know cyar'ika, I know…" Tech's voice continued to soothe you but it didn't prevent you from jumping slightly in fear again as another bang filled the sky with thunder. "One, two, three." You watched as he counted, another bang following the numbers. Softly moving your eyes to gaze at him, you gently held onto his blacks as he continued. "One, two, three, four, five…" Another followed which made you gasp lightly, but his hand against your back soothed you almost immediately.

"W-what are you counting?" Your voice asked, hiding against him whilst gazing out of the window before you both. You watched a smile form against his face as his hand continued to rub soft circles against your back.

"You can count the storm to see how far away it is or how near." He paused for a moment allowing the rain to fill the new silence, "It's getting further away see?" Nodding softly you clung to your blanket and watched as the sky lit up, the fear from earlier growing less and less as time went by. "... Five, six, seven." Another clap of thunder was heard, but further away now - the ship no longer shaking whenever the clouds clashed among each other. A smile soon crept onto your face as you watched feeling safe within Tech's arms, the storm no longer causing your chest to tighten in fear. Yawning again you cuddled back up to Tech who happily held you into his arms, the rain starting to soothe you asleep again with your eyes fluttering shut.

"One, two, three..." You whispered, no thunder following it which made both of you smile. Tech drew in a gentle breath as you both watched the trees before the ship wave against the harsh wind.

"Sleep, Mesh'la - I will protect you." A soft hum from you was all it took to allow sleep to overtake your mind and body, Tech holding you and protecting you from the storm outside. Everything was alright, things were safe now.

Once morning had arrived, the storm had long gone as the sunshine took its place. The rest of the batch had wandered in and couldn't help but melt at the sight of you both huddled together in your blanket with Tech's protective hold of you. Opening your eyes you meet Techs awake and gentle ones, a sleepy smile soon on your face.

"Thank you for last night, you really helped me." His fingertips brushed some stray hairs away from your eyes, a chuckle leaving his lips.

"I love helping you, it wasn't a bother." You paused in thought for a brief moment before speaking,

"You remembered I don't like storms?" He nodded with a light smile as he gazed before him,

"Of course I did, I realized the storm coming may have affected your anxiety and I couldn't just leave you alone." He grinned as he faced you, "But it shouldn't be such a shock that I listened to you - I always listen to my Mesh'la." Standing, you moved to kiss his cheeks in thanks.

"Sure you do, Teccie." You couldn't help but laugh as he stood with you trying to defend himself before you spoke again, "I'm just teasing, you always listen to me - thank you." He smiled at your response as you both cleaned up the blankets to prepare for the day you all had ahead. Everything would run smoothly especially after such a lovely nights rest.

#The Bad Batch #Tbb #Clone Force 99 #The bald batch x Reader #Tech x reader #Starwars #Fanfiction #Fluff

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lozzypoz321 · 4 years

Text

Word count: 1235

A/N: someone requested this in a comment and I can’t remember who it was but here it is!!

Warnings: anxiety, mentions of abuse,

Steve Rogers daughter with fire powers headcanon

You had been made as an experiment.

Made in HYDRA. They’d given you fire powers to battle with

You had spent most of your childhood there

You had never known your father as a young childhood

Although you’d always had Bucky as a father figure

Whether he was under control or not, he never harmed you

Once Steve had found you one day in a base (after TWS) he had two different feelings

Part of him was happy he had a daughter

The other side of his brain was telling him to push you away so he didn’t mess up as a dad but he knew that wouldn’t help

And anyway, Bucky would personally beat him up if he even considered giving you up

Before long he found out you had powers

He didn’t find out straight away as you didn’t like using the fire

It was quite funny really, you were afraid of yourself and what you could do

But before long Loki, himself had helped you gain control and be comfortable with it

After that it turned into a game

The team knew you could do damage with it; you could light up the whole of New York if you wanted to

So it was safe to say they were on edge when you got angry

One time Sam had stolen your camera and erased all of its footage and your eyes started to glow red

Everyone was stood back in the furthest corner of the room, afraid you would set them aflame

All except Bucky

He knew you wouldn’t hurt anyone, he’d known you since a baby and everything you did was to try to help people. No matter whether they’ve caused you pain or not

So he knelt in front of you, his hand reached out close to yours as if asking for permission to touch you

And to everyone’s surprise, instead of killing someone, you burst into tears, reaching forward and bringing the soldier into a hug.

Sam felt bad after that for making you upset

Something else that scared the team was when you casually clicked your fingers, alighting a fire and then putting it out again, just casually.

They had a reason to be scared though.

Many times (on accident of course) you had lit people on fire by them just making you jump

It was a natural reaction.

You’d never been to school before so to say it was a relief when your dad said you could be homeschooled online was an understatement

It wasn’t that you didn’t know anything

No.

Tony and Bruce were there to teach you when you grew up in the tower

It was that other children were at schools and you thought they wouldn’t take kindly to someone who could turn them into a human torch with one click of a finger

The more you grew older the closer you grew to your father

He was there for you when you started to become distant from the hate you were receiving online

He was there when you struggled with training and started to give up on yourself

He was there when you had to stay in the towers hospital for two months after you’d accidentally burned yourself through your skin, nearly reaching the bone

He wasn’t, however there when Peter accidentally pushed you off the roof

You were very thankful that day that Tony’s suites were always on standby

Bucky and your dad were furious

Wanda had to literally put a protective bubble around the teenager to stop them both from launching at him

You were sure that they wouldn’t even think about actually doing it if they weren’t drunk on anger

The back of their minds was nagging them to think about what would’ve happened if the suite didn’t catch you.

If you weren’t here with them right now.

Neither of them wanted to even entertain the idea in their heads

Without failure, Fridays were the best days to be at the tower

Thor and Loki came back from Asgard to play board games with you

Peter spent the night there so everyone could play Wii after

And Sam brought over some of his homemade pancakes for everyone

You all ate them after the takeout though

Everybody always ended up in an abundance of blankets on the sofa though without even realising

Your dad loved to have Thursday dinners with just the two of you

Sometimes letting you alight the stove with your fire powers

You both tried to be as honest as you could with each other

Although sharing emotions wasn’t exactly your strong point

Especially when it came to being scared

One night the power had gone off, meaning most of the tower was technically useless

It also didn’t help when 30 minutes later it started thundering

Apparently, Thor couldn’t do anything about it

So there you were, alone in your bedroom shaking like a baby, as the thunder sounded from outside

You probably wouldn’t have been found if your dad hadn’t have come in to ask you to use your powers to cook the chicken on the stove as the power was out

But when he did, he instantly rushed over

Dropping the packet and kneeling in front of you

Tears stained your cheeks as he gently wiped them away with the pad of his thumb

He, or any other member of the team, didn’t know about your fear of thunder and lightning, so it was a surprise to him but he tried to mask it by being calm for you

“it’s okay, you’re safe doll”

Once you’d calmed down, he returned the food downstairs and instead grabbed some movies to drown out the noise from outside and some ice cream

You both watched Harry Potter films for the next couple hours, eating until the storm would blow over

Halfway through, Clint had come looking for the two of you

He didn’t expect to see you both wrapped up in blankets and snoring softly with Sirius Blacks voice sounding in the background

Nobody was better than you at monopoly

If there was a game (which was unlikely as they all knew what the outcome would be) then you would easily win

It also caused a lot of drama in the compound

“HOW DARE YOU!”

“WE ARE FAMILY. YOU CAN’T JUST PUT ME IN JAIL”

“ACTUALLY, I THINK I JUST DID.”

One time Thor actually threatened to bring thunder down on the tower if he didn’t get his house

That certainly shut you up

“Why are you guys so damn loud?” You asked with a groan

“Language (Y/N)” Bucky scolded making Steve narrow his eyes at him

“One time man”

When you first went on a mission, you were forced to go with your uncle Bucky and dad

They didn’t let you out of their sight the whole time

Which you supposed was fair enough since you were known to be accident prone

“(Y/N) stay behind Buck” your dad ordered in his captain voice as you all readied to bust into an experiment room

They were one of the most protective pair in the universe

But they were proud of how you grew up and handled being enhanced

Everyone was.

@marvel-ous-hobbit @snarky--starky @rae-is-typing @stargazingfangirl18 @canadianhufflepuffavenger @herecomesthewriterwitch @every-marveler-ever @hera-the-writer @lovers-in-japan-reign-of-love @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @xbongox @rooskaya-yelena @deephideoutmilkshake @kidney9-9 @js3639 @am3l1a-24 @bonkybarnes107 @ilovemarvel-andcats @vickcat (lined through are untaggable)

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gamerwoo · 4 years

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[Tales from the Pack] Seungkwan: Void (Part One)

Characters: Seungkwan x female reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, fantasy, a little angst, fluff

Word count: 3,379

Summary: Seungkwan can’t resist the urge to go searching for the banshee any longer, but his trip into the woods has him coming face-to-face with a strange girl who doesn’t seem to remember anything about where she came from or how she got where she is. The only things she knows are the things the voices in her head that Seungkwan doesn’t know about tell her. And that strange girl is you, his mate.

Next | Void Masterlist

“I’m sick of this! Which one of you keeps doing this?!” Jihoon demanded, looking around at the pack with a scowl on his face.

Another night, another clap of thunder booming over the shriek from the banshee in the forest that was starting to get closer again. While the banshee was definitely more frightening than the thunder that made the house shake and woke everyone up, the latter was what was pissing everybody off because they knew it had to be somebody in the pack. Everyone just wanted to know when they’d be able to control their power.

“The lightening or the screaming?” Jia wondered.

“We know what the screaming is,” Soonyoung sighed, “Can whoever it is just hurry up and get their power already? I wanna sleep.”

“Well it’s not me,” Joshua shrugged, folding his arms over his chest.

Fingers were pointed at each other, but nobody wanted to take the blame. Even if it meant getting a new power, the pack clearly didn’t really like said power, and would definitely give the werewolf dealing with it a hard time.

“Seokmin’s always loud, so it only makes sense he’d get a loud, annoying power,” Jeonghan sneered.

“Me?” Seokmin’s eyes went wide as the older wolf glared at him accusingly. “Seungkwan’s way louder!”

“Actually, Jun is,” Wonwoo said, rubbing one eye as he leaned against the doorway.

Just then, there was another scream. Everybody clamped their hands over their ears, some of the wolves even crumpling to the ground in pain at the high-pitched noise. Yeji scurried over to Jihoon with her ears flattened on her head as she buried her face in his back and whimpered.

“Holy fuck,” Jihoon groaned once the noise had died down, “that’s the worst noise I’ve ever heard in my life.”

“Hold on,” Jooyeon interrupted after she’d lifted her head and looked around, putting her hands up to signal the pack to be quiet. She stepped further into the hall, looking over to Seungkwan’s doorway – his empty doorway, “where’s Seungkwan?”

The members of the pack looked over to where he had been standing, but now was missing. Jihoon walked over and entered is room, but saw that nobody was there. Instead, he was met with a draft from Seungkwan’s open window.

“Seungkwan?” Jihoon called out the window, but there was just silence, and no sign of him outside. “Seungkwan!”

Seungkwan knew very well that the alphas wouldn’t want anyone going to look for the banshee, but his instincts were telling him to. He’d been ignoring those instincts every night, but he just had to go now. Everyone was distracted by the lightning and thunder so this was his only chance.

As soon as he was outside, he shifted to make sure he’d get away as fast as possible so that by the time anybody noticed him missing, he’d already be gone. The second scream was just lucky timing that gave him cover to leave. It hurt his ears immensely, but he had to sneak out while nobody could hear.

Despite the sudden lightning, there wasn’t any rain up until Seungkwan got deep into the forest. There was thunder grumbling somewhere far away as rain began to trickle from the sky in small drops, but the leaves still crunched under his paws as he ran toward where he had heard the noise.

As he ran further into the woods, he could smell…something. It was a smell that definitely drew him in. It almost smelled sweet; intoxicating, even. He followed it, wondering if that was where the noise was coming from. Even if it wasn’t, maybe he’d find something that could point him in the right direction.

It didn’t take long after picking up that scent to find you standing alone. You were wearing a long, tattered, dirty dress. You didn’t have shoes, your hair had leaves sticking out of it, and you were starting to get pretty wet from the rain that was picking up. You were facing away from him, but Seungkwan had already felt something just from looking at your back.

That intoxicating smell was coming from you, and he suddenly realized why it smelled so good as the rest of the world was blocked out around you: you were his mate – his mate that was lost in the woods for some reason. The question was why were you wandering around the forest at night – it wasn’t super late but it was still too dark for someone to be out here alone.

You heard a whisper in your head, ‘There’s something behind you.’

Slowly, you turned to see a large wolf behind you, it’s golden eyes following your every move. You gasped, falling to the ground in surprise. You scrambled backwards into a tree, your wide eyes never leaving the wolf in front of you.

‘I know him,’ the voice said, almost fondly.

That didn’t really make you feel any better, but it was all you had considering you were the only person out in the woods. This voice knowing this animal was your only hope at somehow staying safe. You had only recently started hearing this one voice – one of many – but this one was more prominent, and sounded too sweet to be malicious.

The wolf didn’t make any moves to attack you. Instead, it looked at you like a human would, which concerned you. He -- the voice said it was a he so you assumed that’s what the wolf was -- studied you, bowed his head, and slowly walked toward you. You couldn’t back up anymore, and you were too afraid to run because you knew it could easily catch you. So you sat as still as stone and kept your eyes on the wolf’s every move.

Slowly, it approached, until it laid at your feet. Your breath was held, waiting for its next move, but all it did was nudge your shin with its wet nose. Then it licked your knee – both of your legs were pulled to your chest in protection. Why was it acting friendly?

What happened next, you definitely didn’t expect, let alone that fact the wolf licked you: the mousy wolf shifted to a man right before your eyes. He had high cheek bones, light brown hair, and his eyes were the same gold as the wolf’s.

‘No, not a wolf,’ you corrected yourself, ‘a werewolf.’

“Don’t be afraid,” the man said softly, cocking his head to one side as he offered you a small smile. “My name’s Seungkwan; I promise, I won’t hurt you.”

You watched Seungkwan without saying anything, keeping your knees to your chest. You tried to not notice his extreme lack of clothes, focusing more on the voice you were hearing inside your head.

‘You can trust him,’ it told you softly.

‘How can I trust you?’ you quizzed, your eyebrows furrowing together.

You were too spaced out, focusing on the voice, that you didn’t even notice how cold you were. Your body was shaking, your teeth were chattering, and your lips were faintly tinted a blue-ish purple. Seungkwan frowned as he observed this.

You were pulled from your internal conversation when you felt a warm hand on your knee. You almost put your hands over his, wanting to get closer to the warmth out of instinct, but you resisted. Instead, you just looked at Seungkwan curiously, wondering how his body temperature was so warm when you were freezing out here. Then again, he did just shift from a giant animal to a man, so his temperature was the least of your worries.

“You’re shivering,” he noted quietly, the frown still on his face. “I can take you someplace warm if you’d like. Or I can bring you back home if you remember where it is.”

Slowly, you shook your head. Your voice was just above a whisper when you spoke, “I-I don’t remember how I got here…”

“Well, you should get out of the rain,” he chuckled softly.

It was then you noticed his hair was flat against his head, dripping with water. You hadn’t even noticed how quickly the rain had picked up, and how it was now pouring even through the thick forest.

“Let me help you,” Seungkwan’s voice was low and quiet as he held his other hand out to you. “You’ll freeze out here, or some wild animal will find you. I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

Between staying out in the forest and ensuring your death, or going with a strange man who was just a wolf a few minutes ago who may actually be telling the truth, your best bet was the strange man. You cautiously took his hand as he got to his feet, helping you up. He smiled, and you swore you heard a faint grumble in his chest – then again, it could’ve been the thunder.

“I’m going to shift back to a wolf,” he told you, “and I want you to climb on my back and hang on, okay?”

You nodded before you saw him shift back to the brown wolf from before. He laid down so it was easier for you to get on, so you straddled his back and gripped his fur at the scruff of his neck.

Seungkwan stood again before taking off back home, going slower than he had when he was going to find the banshee because he didn’t want you falling off. He was a bit disappointed he didn’t find the banshee because he wanted to ask her what her deal was, but he found his mate, which was better than anything he could’ve imagined.

Truthfully, Seungkwan was lonely. Seeing his brothers finding their mates made him a little depressed, and he wanted someone of his own he could hold and make happy as much as they’d make him happy. Finally, he would have that. You were going to fill that little space in his heart that he felt was missing.

You kept your face down so the rain wouldn’t pelt it, your eyes squeezing shut. Seungkwan’s fur was quickly becoming just as soaked as your clothes were, and the smell of wet dog became very prominent. Still, you held on with whatever strength you had left in your body.

It didn’t take very long for Seungkwan to reach the large house. He lowered his body so you could climb off, and then he shifted back to his normal self. You assumed you were at the backdoor of the house considering the large space and the gardens.

“We’ll have to be quiet or my pack will wake up,” he whispered, taking your hand in his and pulling you toward the door. “I don’t want you to get overwhelmed.”

“P-pack?” you stammered.

Seungkwan turned around, a finger pressed to his lips, “I promise I’ll explain after I get you inside, but you need to be quiet for now.”

You nodded, not wanting to cause more trouble for yourself.

Seungkwan grabbed what the pack called ‘the emergency shorts’ from by the backdoor. He tugged them on before leading you inside, keeping his movements completely silent. He knew a human wouldn’t be as stealthy as him, so he lifted you in his arms with minimal warning. You inhaled sharply out of surprise, but didn’t make any noise other than that, your arms wrapping around his neck in case he dropped you – that was definitely something you were afraid of.

He easily weaved through the dark house even though there was no light. Seungkwan saw perfectly even without any light, but you were completely lost. You didn’t know where you were until a light was turned on after a moment, and you saw you were in a bathroom. The door closed softly, and Seungkwan set you on your feet before going to the shower and turning it on.

“I’ll bring you a change of clothes,” he promised, going back to the door. “They’ll be a little big because they’re mine, but…they’re dry and clean.”

“Thank you,” you mumbled shyly.

“Of course,” he grinned a bright smile before leaving the bathroom to go get clothes.

Seungkwan went down the hall to his room to grab some clothes like promised. However, his room wasn’t empty like he left it. Jihoon was sitting on his bed, staring at the open window before his eyes shifted to the younger werewolf.

“Who did you bring home?” the alpha questioned.

“How did you–”

“I’ve been awake since Jooyeon realized you left,” Jihoon informed him, standing up and walking over to Seungkwan. “I heard you outside when you came back.”

“There was a girl in the woods, and…” Seungkwan trailed off, a smile taking over his face as he thought about you, “I imprinted on her.”

“Of course you did,” Jihoon sighed, shaking his head although he was laughing. “What’s her name?”

“I have no idea,” Seungkwan admitted, slipping passed the alpha to get clothes from the closet. “She’s in the shower right now – poor thing’s freezing.”

“Do you know how she got there?”

“She doesn’t even know. I don’t want to push her for information, though. She seems pretty afraid, but that’s expected.”

“You did shift in front of her,” Jihoon shrugged. “I don’t blame her for being scared. Just…keep an eye on her. We don’t need another Jooyeon situation.”

“She won’t run away, Hoon,” Seungkwan assured him, grabbing a shirt he was sure would be long on you since he wasn’t sure if his bottoms would fit you correctly. “She doesn’t know how to get home. I’ll see about somehow getting her into town to see if she remembers how to get home from there.”

Jihoon just nodded, going to exit Seungkwan’s room, “Good luck with that, Seungkwan. Go get back to your mate.”

“Not so loud,” the younger boy whined, going to bring the clothes to the bathroom. “I didn’t really explain…anything.”

“Considering how well the rest of you have explained imprinting to your mates,” Jihoon joked, rolling his eyes. “God, you’re all hopeless.”

“Speak for yourself,” Seungkwan shot back. “Yeji can back me up, too.”

As Jihoon disappeared back into his room with an amused chuckle, Seungkwan went straight to the bathroom, knocking softly twice before he entered. He was surprised to find you still in your clothes, but he understood when he saw you staring at yourself in the mirror, picking leaves out of your hair. He laughed softly, going behind you to help.

You let your hands drop to your sides as you studied Seungkwan in the mirror. His eyes were a warm gold that were somewhat comforting to look at, and the warmth his body emitted made you want to back up into him and use him as a human blanket.

“Seungkwan,” you spoke up, though your voice was soft, “what…are you?”

Seungkwan continued to untangle a leaf from your hair, and didn’t speak until he had dropped it in the sink, “In short: I’m a werewolf.”

“I didn’t know werewolves existed,” you admitted. “I thought werewolves were just scary stories.”

He scoffed, “I’m not that scary, am I?”

“Not really,” you decided with a sheepish smile. “I did think you were going to eat me, though.”

‘Well…’ Seungkwan tried to not smirk to himself.

“One of our alphas has a mate who thought we were going to eat her, too,” he chuckled, remembering the fight Jooyeon put up against the pack – specifically Seungcheol – for a long time. Thankfully, you didn’t seem to be that guarded. “She’s gotten used to us, though. She’s very comfortable here.”

“A…mate?” you repeated. “What’s that?”

He took the time to explain how imprinting worked, what a mate was, and every question you had about werewolves. He spent the time picking leaves out of your hair while he spoke and you took in information. Throughout his explanation, you could hear faint voices in the back of your head, but you chose to ignore them this time in favor of listening to Seungkwan. He cracked a few jokes to make you feel at ease, and you found yourself smiling a lot more, even as he excused himself to find some clean towels.

You stripped yourself of your sopping clothes, leaving them on the sink before getting in the shower. The hot water made the tips of your fingers and toes burn from how cold you were in contrast, but you enjoyed it. The water relaxed your tense muscles and warmed you quickly.

Seungkwan entered the bathroom again, leaving the towels on the short rack across from the sink before he took your clothes and left to put them in his laundry basket. He then went to make some tea before you got out of the shower so he could at least get something warm in you. Tomorrow, he’d make sure to feed you – well, he’d make sure that somebody who made food better than him fed you.

When he went back to the bathroom and knocked, you opened the door wearing the shirt Seungkwan had given you. He grumbled happily as he looked you over, loving that you were wearing his clothes.

“Feel any better?” he asked as he handed you the mug.

You let your hands wrap around the sides to warm them more, “Yes, thank you.”

“Are you tired?”

“A little.”

He had checked the time and it was almost 2am, so he was shocked you weren’t more tired than you seemed. He gestured with his head for you to follow before leading you down the hall. Your bare feet padded against the hardwood as you sipped your tea, sniffling because of your drippy nose. Seungkwan obviously heard and turned around, pulling his sleeve down to wipe your nose before he opened the door.

“You didn’t have to–”

“Ah, ah, ah,” he tisked, putting a finger to your lips, “don’t worry about it.”

You noticed Seungkwan was a bit more touchy, but you didn’t mind it. You were still a bit chilly, and Seungkwan’s heat was something you wanted to stay close to.

Seungkwan gestured for you to go into his room, so you did. He didn’t bother turning the light on since you were going to sleep anyway, but you could see his bed from the light that came in from the hallway. You went straight to the bed and sat down, still sipping the tea that was given to you.

Seungkwan closed the door, easily walking over to the nightstand and turning on a lamp. He sighed as he sat down beside you, one hand running through his hair, “We can’t really go into town, but I’ll find someone who can go with you to bring you home.”

You knew you couldn’t stay with the pack – Seungkwan was just a nice werewolf that had saved you from probably dying in the forest later – but you didn’t know how to tell him that you really didn’t remember how to get back. So instead, you just nodded, “Okay.”

“Do you want to sleep now?” he offered.

“I’m not terribly tired,” you shrugged, taking another sip of your drink.

“We can talk a bit more if you’d like.”

So you did. He told you about the pack, the mates, and a few of the things they were going through, like the half-cat girl that lived with them and the couple that had a baby together that he warned you might cry at any moment. He explained that some of the pack also couldn’t go into town anymore -- one of them being an alpha named Soonyoung who used to go into town at night for hookups before coming home. He also warned you about the sudden thunder that might wake you up, but he hoped not because it had already happened once earlier. This pack was certainly something, as Seungkwan had plenty of stories to tell you about.

Beside you, you could feel the warmth from Seungkwan’s body. He really was like some kind of space heater. You found yourself leaning into him until your head was resting on his shoulder, but he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he put an arm around you, resting his cheek against your head, and that was how you eventually fell asleep.

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lov3nerdstuff · 4 years

Text

How long is forever?

*Tom Hiddleston x reader*

Parts: Oneshot

Words: 4.2k

Genre: flufffff

Imagine: You catch Tom's interest at Comic Con

Request: by @my-mind-was-lostintranslation I rly hope this is something you will enjoy 💗 I just never end up writing requests the obvious way 😂

______________________________

You had been reluctant about agreeing to come along. Reluctant about the entire idea of going to Comic Con, about buying tickets for way too much money, about your somewhat-friends wanting to randomly crash with some people they would surely meet instead of getting an overpriced hotel, about your one friend making you wear this skimpy green Loki dress because she thought it would go along nicely with your tattoos and skin color. And still, some demon had planted the seed of hope in your brain and thus you found yourself coming along, hoping to meet the only person at this convention you actually found any interest in. Tom Hiddleston.

You were dressed as one of his characters after all, even if not entirely by choice. Sure, you had seen his movies and shows and enjoyed his acting quite the deal, but what truly fascinated you about him was his own person. His character and opinions, smart thoughts and deep questions. He just seemed like a person you would love to get to know, for surely he was more interesting than any of your other acquaintances (maybe even than the friends you were here with… it was more of a community of purpose than a real friendship after all). And listening to Tom's panel was probably the closest you would get to spending time with a kindred mind.

Unfortunately your friends were more the anime and manga kind of people, definitely more than you were at least, and thus you found yourself going to Tom's panel alone. You weren't one of those girls who would sell their soul to sit in the front, or to ask questions… no, you were content sitting in the middle of the room and just letting life happen around you.

As an artist yourself, you had originally been fairly interested in the artwork you would get to see here, but all too soon you had been severely disappointed by the few artists who had even bothered to come to a rather small con like this at all. That someone like Tom was present for the day bordered on a miracle, really, considering the size of the convention. Maybe he had been in the region for shooting whatever film he was currently working on?

As you sat in the middle of the audience room, waiting for the panel to start, you found yourself mesmerized by the lightning situation on stage. It hit the objects in such a way that they just begged you to be turned into art… and you didn't have anything else to do anyway. So, thinking that you maybe just should've gone to the museum instead of this convention, you dug a black pen out of your bag, along with a small blank paper notebook and started sketching with a content sigh.

Once the panel started, having someone else talk first before Tom would come on, you went on to also sketch the portrait of the panel's host and the first guest, for listening was just easier while drawing. And when finally the time had come, and Tom was greeted on stage with thundering applause, you found yourself smiling to yourself as you flipped the page of your notebook to start on a portrait finally worth drawing.

_______________

Tom was tired. Very tired indeed, as he had been urged to come to the convention impossibly early despite having spent most of the night traveling and doing interviews. And now he was to go out onto the stage and smile and chat with people while pretending not to fall asleep any minute. It had been easy enough to smile and say hi and bye in a sinus curve of repetition while signing pretty much whatever people had brought, but now he actually was supposed to talk some sense, and avoid spoilers, and preferably also do some subtle and appealing PR for his newest movie. However all he really wanted to do was to have a nice cup of tea and get some sleep. But this was work, and this wasn't even half as bad as his tired brain made it out to be. He liked talking to people, to fans and interviewers and host, after all and this surely would be fun.

So he really only had to fake a smile for the first three seconds as he walked onto stage, for he had to smile for real from then on. It was a smaller convention, but the room was packed nonetheless. He enjoyed the fact that he could actually see the audience for once, and not only a black pit of murmurs and occasional flashing lights. It made the whole thing way more pleasant, and as he shook hands with everyone and sat down, he actually felt comfortable and ready to have a nice chat.

He answered some questions about the movie he was working on, had a couple laughs with the host, and then some time to let his eyes wander through the audience while the other guest was being interviewed. It wasn't a habit, really, but he liked to count the number of character he recognized from people's costumes. It was a good way to check if his pop culture knowledge was severely lacking or only minorly lacking currently.

His eyes flew over the audience members quickly but intently, and he found himself smiling in excitement a couple times whenever he spotted someone dressed as Loki. But otherwise, the crowd wasn't unusual in any way, to his eyes… Until they fell upon a young woman in a green sleeveless dress, scribbling something into a journal. Her eyes moved from the stage to the book, back and forth, again and again, as her hand moved quicker than Tom could begin to follow. She had drawings, tattoos, on her shoulders and arms, but Tom couldn't really tell what they depicted nor if they were real or part of the costume. But he could tell that, as his eyes moved on over the audience, they were drawn back to her within seconds, again and again. He tried ignoring her, scanning the rest of the audience part by part, but it was of no use… his eyes would always revert back to the girl.

She was still drawing, or writing maybe… Tom couldn't tell. But the tiredness in his brain was washed away more and more the longer he watched her, inspecting both her actions and her appearance.

The dress probably was supposed to be a costume of some kind, but not a particularly good or detailed one… more of a jersey dress than a costume created with effort. Nothing that would cause his mind to cling onto her so much.

Suddenly every thought was stilled in the depth of his mind, as her eyes moved back to the stage and found his own. It had been merely accidental on both ends, he could tell by her surprised look, but now that their eyes had locked, Tom found himself unable to tear his gaze away. So did she, and they remained entirely focused on each other in complete stillness.

"Tom? You still with us, buddy?" The host's amused voice came crashing into Tom's muted mind and he almost jumped a little as his eyes left hers to look at his fellows on the stage. Gosh, he had completely forgotten that he was still very much on public display… no sleep wasn't too kind on his brain.

"I'm so sorry." Tom replied with an apologetic, breathless laugh. "What did you say again?"

For the next fifteen minutes, Tom answered the fans' questions. Ever so often, his eyes would flick back to the girl in the green dress for a mere second before coming back to the person he was actually speaking to. It wasn't very polite, he knew that, but he just couldn't stop himself, couldn't stop his mind from returning to her whenever chance allowed him. Unfortunately he didn't meet her eyes again, and the intriguing, time stopping experience from before remained a singularity.

Why couldn't she be asking him a question? Tom would've loved to speak to her, for whatever reason. Maybe just to hear her voice. Maybe to find out why he couldn't stop looking at her, wondering about her…

The questions that were asked, as usual, ranged from the boring things people could just have googled to the slightly more interesting things such as his favorite book quotes. But yet again, there was nothing all too interesting, nothing Tom really had to focus on too much. It was rare that people asked him things he actually needed to think about, but maybe that was due to the brief nature of the convention. Question, answer, next. In under a minute. Yes, maybe it was Tom himself who was too demanding in the things that would interest him. Still, he was grateful for everyone who bothered to come to his panel and to ask him a question, no matter how boring the question itself was. Just seeing the joy in people's faces when he answered them would be enough on most days to make him happy indeed.

But today, it wasn't enough. He found that while it did fill him with joy to see people being happy about his answers, he couldn't quite be content as long as he still hadn't spoken to the girl. At least hear her ask a question… since real conversation was so rare at con.

"I'm afraid we're running out of time." The host declared sadly, drawing Tom out of his thoughts. "That was the last question."

A loud round of disappointed 'ooh's from the audience made Tom smile ever so slightly, until his eyes met the girl's once more, causing his features to relax into neutral curiosity.

"Any last words, Tom?" The host asked dramatically, laughing at his own exaggeration.

"Actually…" Tom started, thinking that at least this once he would actually make use of him being a celebrity and thus having the ability to do a great deal of things that weren't planned and that would thereby cause chaos for other people. But he couldn't help it. "Actually, I would like to ask a question too."

"A question? To… to someone in the audience?" The host rose his eyebrows and Tom nodded, upon which the former continued. "Uhm, well, go ahead then. A question from Tom Hiddleston, everybody!"

People clapped and cheered for a moment and Tom turned in his chair to face the audience, to face the girl he was so keen on getting to know. Her eyes were back on the journal, jumping back back forth between the item in her lap and Tom on the stage.

"My question…" Tom started, heart picking up speed rapidly. What was he doing here…? Causing Luke problems, most likely. "My question is for the girl in the green dress who has been scribbling in her notebook for the entire duration of this panel. Twelfth row from the back, right in the middle."

The spotlight that had previously been fixed on the audience microphone moved over the crowd, until it halted right on the mysterious girl Tom meant to talk to. She looked up from her notebook immediately, looking around herself in mild panic first and then staring right back at Tom like a deer in the headlights.

Tom's stomach dropped, twisting in nervousness… he hadn't meant to make her uncomfortable, hadn't thought about putting her on display like that. Gosh, he really should've put more thought into this, he usually put way too much thought into everything… but now he had to follow through with it either way. What did he want to ask again…? Her eyes fixed on his had his heart skipping multiple beats and his mind fall silent for a moment… until he remembered that everyone was staring at him expectantly. He still hadn't come up with a question.

"Alright, my question for you is…" He paused very briefly, wondering how he could find out who she was with only one single question. But then again… maybe he only had to find out if getting to know her would be worth the trouble. "How long is forever?"

_______________

Murmuring erupted in the audience room around you, and your heart beat so fast that it almost jumped out of your ribcage. Was this really happening? Everyone was looking at you… some people were even filming the whole thing. And everyone was waiting for your answer. Great… How long was forever indeed? Right now, every moment that passed with Tom looking at you felt like an own eternity. That's when it clicked in your mind.

"Sometimes, just one second." You replied loud enough to be heard all the way to the front, actually pushing yourself to get over your nervousness. Easier said than done… you felt like fainting. Luckily you were sitting already, otherwise your knees just might have given in. And when Tom started smiling at you widely a second later, your insides turned into a mushy goo of nerves and excitement and tingles.

"Thank you." He said with the most adorable expression, and you bit your bottom lip to keep from grinning. Surely, you had noticed how he'd looked at you a couple times throughout the panel, but you had thought you'd imagined it. That he had looked at everyone that way.

But when your eyes had met, it had sent a bolt of liquid lightning through your veins, flooding your body with a new kind of excitement. Then he had gone on to say he meant to ask one single question to someone in the audience, and you had been sure it wouldn't be to you. Obviously you'd been wrong about that.

Almost in a haze, you observed how the host thanked Tom and the other guest for coming, before ushering both out of sight. The lights on stage went out, the ones in the audience room brightened, and people around you started to leave as if your heart hadn't just almost exploded.

Well, that certainly had been something. Didn't happen to you every day that people wanted to quote Alice in Wonderland with you, and even less that someone actually talked to you willingly, and still even less that this someone was a person you actually wanted to talk to as well. And yet even less that the person happened to be Tom Hiddleston. You closed your eyes for a moment to calm down.

Now that the adrenaline was slowly letting you breathe normally again, you flipped your notebook shut and stuffed it into your bag together with the pen, wondering why exactly he had asked YOU, out of all people, THIS question, out of all the things he could've asked. Your friends would never believe this.

Once you felt like you could actually walk again, you rose to your feet and made your way to the exit, only to be stopped by a hand on your shoulder.

With a frown you turned around, believing you might have lost something maybe, only to find a man in a suit standing in front of you. Your frown deepened.

"Excuse me, but you're the girl Tom asked that odd question, right?" He asked politely, withdrawing his hand from your shoulder the second you turned around.

"It wasn't an odd question, it was Alice's question to the white rabbit. But yeah, that was me." You replied before you could stop yourself from being a smartass, looking at the man curiously. He wore one of those badges that gave him access to the VIP and backstage areas… obviously he belonged to the staff. The suit alone was a poor indicator of that, after all… someone in a suit at Comic Con could also just be a man in black, or whatever incarnation of the doctor or anything really. His suit looked too expensive to be a costume though.

"Would you mind coming to the VIP area with me? Tom, that nut, begged me to do whatever it takes to get you over there and I really don't want to have him running around out here himself. Who knows what mischief he may cause..." The man sighed with a small smile and you felt your cheeks heating up. Tom wanted to talk to you. For real. What?!

"Uhm… Of course, I mean… sure?" You replied insecurely, and the man in the suit sighed in relief before walking ahead and motioning for you to follow. Three minutes later you had passed on into a different hall and ventured past a couple security guards, finally coming to an area that was completely closed off to the public. You felt only minorly nervous now, and mostly curious. Without a thousand people staring at you, it was way easier to think.

The man in the suit led you towards a group of people standing in a loose circle, talking and laughing. You actually recognized most of them from movies or TV shows as you quickly went over their faces, looking around until your eyes fell upon Tom. As he saw you approaching, his eyes lit up and he smiled in your direction.

"You owe me." The man in the suit said to Tom as you came to stand in front of him at last. "Don't do anything stupid."

"I would never!" Tom replied to him with a grin, upon which he rolled his eyes.

"I'm keeping an eye on you, Hiddleston." The man grinned back as he turned to leave again.

"That's what I'm paying you for!" Tom called after him, laughing and shaking his head to himself before finally looking at you with a small smile. "Hi."

"Hey." You replied, unable to keep from smiling yourself. "Did I answer correctly?"

"Oh, you did for sure. Don't worry."

"Good." You chuckled, looking to your feet for a second and then back at the man in front of you. Gosh, he really was too handsome for his own good.

"Am I making you nervous?" He asked reluctantly, giving you an almost concerned look.

"I'm not starstruck, if that's what you mean." You replied easily, actually not feeling nervous at all for once. "I'm just wondering why I'm here."

"Because I'm curious about you." Tom smiled, and you could swear that he was blushing a little bit. It looked rather adorable and your heart skipped a beat. "What's your name?"

"I'm Y/n." You replied lightly, taking in all the small details about him that you hadn't been able to see from the distance before.

"Y/n… that's a lovely name. I'm Tom."

"Yeah, I know." You laughed, biting your lip to keep from grinning too widely. Whether he was trying to make you relaxing by humor or if he really was just a dork, you found yourself to be comfortable with him.

"Of course you do…" He laughed too, looking down to the ground and shaking his head to himself. Oh, he was definitely blushing now, and it was freaking adorable.

"You observed me during the panel, didn't you?" You asked calmly, trying to ease his embarrassment a bit by changing the topic.

"I did indeed." He gave you an apologetic smile as he motioned for you to take a seat on the couch, before sitting down across from you. "I just couldn't help it."

"And here I was, thinking I'm making things up." You chuckled.

"What were you scribbling in that notebook the entire time? If you don't mind me asking..." He inquired curiously, eyes searching and finding yours. Somehow they held the power to stop time for you and leave you feeling completely mesmerized. Tom seemed to experience a similar thing, for he only kept looking at you while you looked back at him for a second bearing your own forever. Until someone dropped something on the concrete floor very loudly, making both of you jump.

"I… I was just sketching some random objects, some people…" You finally replied as you found your words again. "Nothing special."

"So you're an artist? Here at the convention?"

"Yes, and no. I am an artist, but not in a million years famous enough to be invited to con." You laughed, taking in the sincere interest in Tom's expression. It'd been such a long time since anybody had looked at you like that...

"May I take a look at today's work?" He asked with so much hope that there was no way you could've said no to him. Whatever it was he would ask of you.

So you handed him your journal, and he flipped the pages open at your bookmark. That would be the portrait you sketched of him.

"Wow, this is amazing…" He remarked, frowning as he focused entirely on the drawing for a moment. "You did this in, what, fifteen minutes?"

"Yup." You shrugged, feeling your cheeks heat up yet again. "I mean, you're too tempting not to draw."

Tom's eyes shot up from the page to meet yours as he pulled up one eyebrow and grinned at you, while you only now registered what you had said, closing your eyes and biting your lip in embarrassment.

"I just meant that with you as a sitter, every portrait would look good." You tried to make it sound right, only to find Tom still grinning at you in amusement.

"Every portrait that is painted with feeling is a portrait of the artist, not of the sitter. The sitter is merely the accident, the occasion. It is not he who is revealed by the painter; it is rather the painter who, on the coloured canvas, reveals himself." Tom spoke softly, and your skin tingled pleasantly at the warm depth of his voice.

"Oscar Wilde, nice." You smirked at him, causing his eyes to light up yet again.

"You enjoy literature?"

"Probably just as much as art."

"Literature is art though, wouldn't you say?"

"It is indeed." You replied softly, smiling. "Maybe that's why I enjoy it so much."

For the next hour, or maybe rather hours –who could tell how much time passed when so lost in each other's captivating presence?– you and Tom stayed sitting on that couch, ignoring everything and everyone outside of your conversation. Talking to him was so much more than you had ever imagined, so utterly intriguing and captivating… You had completely fallen for him before you knew.

"Y/n…" Tom started, velvety voice wrapping around your senses like liquid sin. "I…"

He was interrupted by an assistant stepping up to the couch hastily, letting Tom know that he needed to get to his signing table ASAP, being twenty minutes late already. Your heart fell upon those words, more than you would've assumed, as it meant that you would have to leave too. That the little time you had with Tom had come to an end. But you wouldn't be so foolish as to assume that any of this would lead to anything more than a nice memory.

With a sad smile you couldn't really brighten up, you rose to your feet, urging Tom to do the same.

"It was truly lovely meeting you, Tom. A dream." You said gently as you stood right in front of him, the assistant having left to be of use elsewhere.

"It is your dream. You decide where it goes from here." He replied in the same soft quiet, looking down at you in both affection and reluctance. "I'm afraid I find it rather impossible to part from you. What are we to do about that?"

"You will go your way and I will go mine… And by tonight you won't remember my name, my face or my words anyway. I'm one in a million, a passing star in an entire universe of equals." You smiled at him with a heavy heart, meaning your words to be encouraging rather than saddening. "While you, Tom, you contain multitudes all by yourself."

"I'm your equal, Y/n…" He protested lightly, frowning with an almost shy smile. "I want to be."

"You do?" Your eyes widened as gentle a shiver ran down your spine.

"Of course." His smile widened for a moment, and his eyes flicked down to the small gap between you very briefly before he looked back to your eyes and let his fingers brush gently against yours. The minimal touch left your skin ablaze in an instant, scorching liquid heat running wildly through your veins. Your breath hitched, and his smile widened even more. "I have to go to my signing now, or Luke will have my head. But I'm refusing to let you go, and I would be the luckiest man in all those multitudes if you would wait for me here. I'm gonna be all yours once I return."

With your stomach in pleasant coils, and your heart in his hands already, you didn't even need to think before nodding with the happiest smile. "I will be here. How long does the signing take?"

"Sometimes, just a second, my dear." He grinned at you, giving your hand a light squeeze before jogging off to where the man in the suit was waiting for him with a roll of his eyes and a smirk. And as you watched Tom leaving, winking at you once more before he was out of sight, you already couldn't wait for his return.

______________________________

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spookyspaghettisundae · 3 years

Text

What Was the Mountain, What Heralds the Calamity

Therapy had been tough in the months following the incident. Daily life had turned into a blur ever since.

Heidi stood in front of the mirror and only registered with delay what sound reached her ears. The hollow snap, a release of pressure around her waist, and the rattle of cheap imitation metal accompanying the flaccid flopping of a broken belt as it drooped from the loops on her pants.

Almost as if in a trance, it took her several moments to register that all the stress-eating and weight gain had caused her oldest and favorite belt to break. She held the buckle and studied how its prong had cleanly snapped in half because of material fatigue and the physical strain of her belly’s size increasing.

It was not like she really needed the belt anyway because her pants had gotten a bit too tight ever since she witnessed the murder-suicide at college. Heidi thought of Krissy for some reason.

Before long, she found herself in another haze: the distant droning radio hits looping the same one-hour track list of pop music in the background, while she explored the brightly lit maze of a cramped clothing store, shopping around for a new belt. She felt seen in an uncomfortable way and avoided eye contact with every single person that got even remotely near her.

Unless she needed to, she never went outside anymore.

Navigating the narrow aisles and beginning to feel nauseous from the cocktails of perfumed scents all tactically spread throughout the retail hellscape, she even tried to avoid physical closeness to any other of the shoppers.

This made it harder to get to wherever the hell the damned belts were in this store. Instead of locking eyes with other people, Heidi stared at a camera stuck overhead in a corner, observing how it slowly panned back and forth and a tiny red light on its blocky little body blinked rhythmically. Seeing her own tiny reflection in the camera lens made her feel uneasy, like she saw someone else in there.

Faceless mannequins wrapped in stylish garb loomed high above her everywhere, looking down on her like disapproving deities; divine idols of fashion that saw without eyes but judged her with cold and absolute cruelty.

The moment she heard familiar voices, she darted into an aisle she had no business in and kept her head down. With a sinking feeling, she wondered what she hated more: the bright and garish colors and neo-hippie designs of the articles that flanked her on both sides, or that she was so afraid of human contact that this was who she was now.

Alone and adrift in a sea of empty masks, engulfed in a suffocating fog of uncertainty and countless little fears.

“Do you think this’ll go better with my blue bolero jacket, or do the colors clash a bit too much? What do you think?” Krissy asked.

Heidi recognized her fellow college colleague’s voice through the white noise of store music, cash register beeps, and other voices softly blending. Somewhat sharp, regularly rising in tone as if to pose several questions before posing the actual question.

“I dunno, babe. You might wanna try the darker blue instead. You know, instead of such a radically different color?” Jacob asked back. Krissy’s boyfriend.

The aisles being what they were in this store, it was not like they offered ample opportunities to hide from prying eyes without ducking down in between them—the nature of such a temple of commerce lured everybody in to see its ample buffet of products, rendering its neon-colored reduced-price signs visible from every corner of the store.

Krissy clicked her tongue. Without even seeing her, Heidi could practically hear her shake her head for emphasis.

“Nah, because I’m really thinking of it going with my favorite jeans, and if it ends up all looking like different shades of blue, it kinda sucks,” Krissy said.

With little opportunity to hide without making herself look even more like a freak, Heidi kept her head down and did what she had been conditioning herself to do for months now: pretend like she did not exist and pray that nobody noticed.

Despite her best efforts, she gawked at Jacob’s face. His eyes stole a furtive glance at Heidi which made her stomach knot. Despite how clipped and short it was, and him focusing all his attention on Krissy, Heidi clearly glimpsed the flash of recognition in his eyes.

She wondered if he had stopped giving her adulterously flirtatious looks because of her bloated figure or because of the thousand-mile stare that haunted Heidi’s mien. The moment she sensed her thoughts drifting in that direction, she shook her head and chastised herself for thinking anything like that.

Heidi turned away and gained distance as quickly as she could without running, far away enough to not have to overhear those other two talking. She stifled a sigh of relief when she finally chanced upon a rack of belts in all sorts of shapes and sizes.

Taking less than a minute to scan the massive assortment, Heidi gazed upon one that really struck her fancy. Two big silver rings adorned the black leather belt and framed the buckle. It looked a bit pricey, but she was willing to pay extra if it was made of authentic metal and leather.

Disappointment followed when she realized it was a size too small.

In a seldom burst of defiance, she looked around. A store clerk was hovering nearby, busy sorting jackets by size on a ring-shaped stand.

Heidi dithered, owed to her mind going in circles and struggling to overcome the part of her that felt anxious in approaching and talking to a stranger. But the store employee was small and unassuming, which helped give Heidi that final push.

Instead of clearing her throat as she had envisioned to catch the girl’s attention, Heidi spoke up, “Uhm, excuse me?”

The shop assistant slowly turned and looked up at her. The nametag read “Jenn” and it only briefly distracted from vaguely disheveled hair and black rings of exhaustion under Jenn’s eyes.

“Hello,” Jenn said in a mousy little voice to match her appearance. “How can I help?”

Out of fear of breaking out in a cold sweat, Heidi embraced her newfound momentum and nodded. She held up the belt like a trophy and felt the blood rushing into her face as she spoke with much less vigor than she felt, “Do you have this in one size bigger?”

Jenn’s eyes went from belt to Heidi and back to the belt.

She said, “If there aren’t any out there, that's—”

The sentence died in Jenn’s mouth and she nodded. The faint semblance of a smile twitched around the corners of her lips, genuine and heartfelt.

“You know, I’ll check. We might have one,” she said. And with a sudden dash of melody to her voice, she added, “I’ll be right back!”

Jenn walked away with a bounce to her step.

Heidi hesitated, wondering if she should wait there or follow Jenn to wherever she was going. The thought that she could spare the girl the extra walk to get back to her drove Heidi to follow, several steps behind and struggling to keep pace. Jenn may have looked small and exhausted but hell, she was fast.

This brought them to a door bearing a label in big black letters emblazoned on its surface, reading:

EMPLOYEES ONLY

Keys jingled as Jenn pulled out a tangle of the little metal objects and unlocked the door. She stepped inside and paused, looking over her shoulder and noticing that Heidi had followed her. She gave her another smile, both feeble and warm.

“Please wait here, I’ll find it in no time. Or maybe not find it. Uhm, I hope I find it? Uh, you know what I mean,” she babbled at Heidi.

She radiated a disarming energy. It melted away the icy barrier of Heidi’s many fears. Seconds later, Heidi found it hard to believe that she had felt the pull of facial muscles she had not flexed in a while—she had returned a smile of her own at Jenn.

The girl disappeared into the eerie twilight of whatever storage lay beyond the threshold. Jenn had left the door ajar, giving Heidi ample time to absorb hints of the secret world behind it.

Contrasting the warm eggshell color of the floors in the store area, the concrete grounds of the back area looked coarse and slate-colored, radiating something cold and unforgiving. Racks of naked steel beams held up all sorts of things wrapped in layers of plastic or piles of cardboard boxes.

Although a cool light emanated from fluorescent tubes above the storage space, the ceilings in there were higher than in the store and it felt like some of them were off. One of the lights even occasionally flickered, lending the otherworld that Jenn had stepped into an almost eerie air that reminded Heidi of a cheesy horror movie.

Seconds flowed into minutes as she waited. She resisted the temptation to look around, felt a stronger need not to make any eye contact anymore. The warmth of smiles exchanged between her and Jenn already felt like it was a million miles away.

Just before any impatience could bubble up to the surface, a loud sound crashed in the storage space. Something big and heavy must have fallen, with a loud sloshing on the hells of the impact.

Heidi’s heart raced. Thundered. She wanted to check. Worried that something had happened to Jenn.

But that icy barrier of fears had fully frozen back into a solid shell, causing her heartbeat to shoot through the roof. Paralyzed, she dreaded the idea of looking like an idiot by calling out for Jenn, only to find out that everything was fine. Or to trespass beyond that ominous threshold of the ajar door and get into any trouble.

The door said it was for employees only, after all.

Then she remembered how she once walked towards danger. Towards the sound of gunshots. Towards whimpering. Towards that horrid scene that had wrought all the therapy of recent months.

Instead of impatience, cold dread bubbled to the surface. She did not want to remember the words of the phone call that followed the murder-suicide she had witnessed.

And then, something else bubbled up. Fiery, and searing. It sliced through the icy shell with something she had forgotten.

Something that felt like hope.

All she had done was witness. But now, perhaps, she could make a difference.

The cold sweat erupted from her pores, after several of her steps taking her through that door, pushing through, looking around for Jenn.

Two forces clashed in the thunder of her beating heart. The fire of courage and the ice of her dread. The need to do the right thing, and the fear of consequences.

Something like claustrophobia began to bear down on her as she paced through the narrow corridors of the storage shelves. While the ceilings were high, so were the racks and piles of boxes all around. Heidi had left one maze and entered another.

“Jenn?” she said. Timid, at first. Assertive on repeat, as she called out again, “Jenn?”

Something metal scraped against the concrete floors, grinding. It also sounded wet.

The moment she turned around, the shadows around her grew. The darkness engulfed her, and a tower fell. A mountain fell upon her. It was too fast for her to react, too sudden to realize what even was happening. Just enough time to know that one of those long metal shelves bent and toppled and fell, and piles of boxes came crashing down upon her.

She instinctively flailed about with her arms to fight herself free from being buried alive under a mountain of boxes, but as her eyes fluttered, nothing was the same anymore. Nothing was as it should be.

Distant and incredible, but all real. All too real. Terribly real.

A stinging smell of salt hung heavy in the air. The taste of rust clung to her tongue in a bitter film. The gray floors had made way to a different color of gray, blending into mist all around, shrouding the dark silhouette of a mountain in the distance.

Heidi’s hands were different. Thinner, not pudgy anymore.

Her body, everything. Like she had lost all the excess weight, and then some. And dressed differently. Dried blood stained her leg, and she had a bright orange life jacket hugging her upper body.

Heidi was no longer Heidi. She was now Krissy.

The world swayed and ocean waves lapped at the edges of an inflatable rubber raft. Jacob slumped where he sat, his head hanging down so far that his hair concealed his face, and his head bobbed up and down as he sat across from her in the raft. Like he was unconscious. Or sleeping.

But Heidi—no, Krissy—knew he was not sleeping.

He was also not Jacob anymore, even if he looked like him.

Even if he now raised his head, looking up until their eyes met, and dread welled up inside of her, making her stomach knot and cutting off air as she held her breath.

He stared. His eyes carried a cutting cold that rivaled the sea’s air. Something other than Jacob peered through them, piercing the darkness between the stars, and wriggling its way forth, like a worm burrowing through the void, trying to emerge into the light, to break through the glint of Krissy’s own horrified visage reflected in those orbs of lifeless jelly.

Like someone watching through a screen, displaying a camera feed.

Krissy hoped Jenn was okay and wanted to wake up. To become Heidi again.

But this was no dream.

And that was not Jacob.

“Who are you?” she croaked. The question landed on wings of a dehydrated rasp.

Jacob’s limbs twitched as the entity tried to move, but they were all long twisted in ways that had caused bones to break and muscles to snap, leaving him stranded in the boat and immobilized. His body shuddered and wiggled for a moment, suggesting that he might have lurched forward. Or lunged at her.

“I am Sorrowglade, a Sheen of the Interlocking Oil Walls. You look thirsty. You should drink,” came the words from Jacob’s chapped lips.

Sorrowglade nodded Jacob’s head towards a bottle of water within Krissy’s reach.

It rolled back and forth, courtesy of the ocean rocking their raft. The water in the bottle sloshed around, out of tact, and a violet tint permeated it. For whatever reason, she knew poison had tainted the liquid.

Tears welled up in Krissy’s eyes. She had no hopes of finding Jacob. Either he was long dead or Sorrowglade had absorbed him. The worries about a belt in a clothing store or any anxieties welling up now lay far behind her, even though they had troubled her mind mere moments ago.

Her head weighed a ton and she felt sick. That metallic taste reached far down her throat and a pain in her jaw flared up. The plane’s crash into the ocean had miraculously done almost nothing to her.

“We are the shining light that gleams from the cracks between the walls,” said Sorrowglade, still borrowing Jacob’s vocal cords. His eyes still dead, but awake, and wary.

Studying her features with curiosity. Like a fascinated child.

The lifeboat drifted closer towards the mountain. Panic budded in Krissy’s body, starting as a tingling in her digits and spreading everywhere else until it erupted into a nauseating dizziness, making the world spin around her.

“We are here to guard you from the jovial pudding of the laughing coin kings,” continued Sorrowglade. “From the false promises of freedom. From the lies that the stone walkers cloaked in hairless shadow utter.”

Krissy’s stomach churned. She fought against the urge to throw up while her hands pawed at the paddle nearby, gripping it tightly as she stared at Sorrowglade, expecting Jacob’s broken body to suddenly defy its injuries and jump at her like a hungry beast.

But Sorrowglade only stared at her from the helpless body of her boyfriend.

“They will devour if you let them near,” he said. No—they—they said. Speaking in one voice, but many who spoke at once, “We, on the other hand, we offer salvation.”

Krissy could barely see through the unsteady blur of tears as she pried her gaze from Jacob’s body, and she paddled with all her might. Tried to gain distance from that growing, looming shadow of a mountain. A distance that shrank far too quickly.

“We are golden light that shines upon true ways.”

Krissy forced herself not to sob when she realized the raft spun around. She doubled her efforts to alternate sides as she paddled, harder, with crushing despair taking root in every fiber of her body already wracked with panic.

“We have traveled from far to find you, and we are the conclusion that all your roads lead to.”

Silently, inwardly, Krissy pleaded for something to happen, to rip her out of this and bring her back to where she was. To be Heidi again, to find Jenn in the store, and go home with a new belt. But she was Krissy now, and her world had gone to hell.

“When you close your eyes, you taste us. When you taste the grit of dirt crunching between your teeth, you hear our arrival.”

Krissy paddled, and paddled, and paddled. Looking over her shoulder only turned her dizziness into something worse. The mountain grew larger by the second. Looming behind Jacob like a sinister and shadowy patron. Like the ocean waters carried the raft there no matter how hard she tried.

The metallic taste made way to something far more bitter and caustic and before she knew it, she retched and heaved as she vomited off the side of the boat. Chunks of lunch had gotten stuck in her hair and her mouth burned.

“Lay down your ten thousand nightmares. Abandon all the pain and the guilt,” Sorrowglade said in the same dull monotone, a mockery of Jacob’s pleasant voice as it delivered all these strange words.

Everything he said kept riding on the tone of an invitation. But all she could hear were secret threats.

At least the dizziness waned a little bit. And although her arms wobbled, she found new strength and paddled with all her might.

Doom emanated from that mountain. Slithering in between the scent of sea salt, something putrid and rotten reached her nostrils, almost made Krissy hurl again.

“Why embrace this suffering any longer? Why do some of you resist so?”

Krissy did her best to ignore Sorrowglade, but it was impossible not to listen. His voice kept cutting through the sloshing of ocean waves, infiltrating her ears and mind and thoughts, like tendrils snaking their way forth, smooth, and slow and steady and certain—

“I can make him whole again. I can end his suffering and restore your happiness.”

A gasp almost escaped her lips, but she fought back against it, even harder than she paddled. A part of her wanted to take Sorrowglade up on their offer, but she remembered the words from that call Heidi had taken from the dying man.

Not in a monotone, but a growl, she replied. She repeated those words from the mysterious call as she watched the life fade from the eyes of the man who had committed the murder-suicide at her college, “When the ascetic glimpses gold outside the gloom, he is blinded and strays from his path.”

Something grabbed at the paddle and because she had turned around halfway to face Not-Jacob and address this Sorrowglade, she never saw what yanked that paddle away from her, dragging it underwater and letting the darkness beneath the ocean surface swallow it whole.

Having reached the peaks of her panic, it made no difference anymore.

“These are not my final moments,” she finished. And despite her voice trembling, every syllable emerged with force, riding on waves of defiance.

Sorrowglade continued to stare at her through Jacob’s deadened eyes. They waited for more, but Krissy had said her part. Gave as little as possible, because she sensed how they did not understand one another, even if they spoke the same language and could comprehend the individual words.

“We may be delayed today,” said Sorrowglade. With no anger nor emotion. “The awakening comes eventually, like your sun always rises and always sets.”

The silhouette of the mountain moved. Not because of the boat’s steady rocking amidst the ocean waves, or Krissy’s sight being affected by that motion.

“A celestial body that you see in ways it is not, believe it behaves in ways that it does not.”

No. The mountain moved. Its shape changed as limbs parted from it. Monolithic and towering, one such limb reached out towards them, creeping closer and closer. A low baritone rumbling accompanied its arrival, like a nearing earthquake, heralding how the ocean waves turned more violent, now splashing higher and higher against the malleable sides of the raft.

Something oily and dark and glistening pierced the veil of mists and closed in quickly on Krissy.

As she screamed and clamped her eyes shut, the searing pain flared up in her every limb. Everything hurt.

A string of profanities, panting gasps, the sound of panic weighing heavily on Jenn’s voice as she apologized profusely, both to Heidi and to an imaginary mountain of oppression that haunted her every working moment.

Jenn helped remove the many heavy boxes under which Heidi had been buried alive, and Heidi groaned in pain.

Nothing serious. Nothing had harmed her. The pile of boxes had miraculously did nothing tangible to hurt her.

Krissy was not Krissy any longer, but Heidi again. Heidi hoisted herself up onto her side and her skin tingled as she felt Jenn’s wispy hands gently touching her while she tried to help her up onto her feet.

Trembling from the shock, Heidi’s knees buckled for a moment, but Jenn helped her stand up straight. They stumbled their way out of the sea of boxes and bags that now littered the narrow corridor of the storage space.

The mountain had almost gotten Krissy. Luckily, she was now Heidi.

“Oh my gosh,” Jenn whispered. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry!”

Heidi shook her head and took Jenn’s hands, grasping them firmly and giving them a shake for emphasis, not letting go.

“No, look, don’t worry about it. S'all good. I, uh, I shouldn’t have been here—uh, back here—to begin with. I was just gonna. I was just, uh—there was a sound, and I was just, I wanted to check on you,” Heidi finally said, struggling to find the right words and omit the deluge of wrong ones and not sound like she had lost her mind.

Trying not to talk about her time as Krissy, after a plane crash, talking to the Sorrowglade that had possessed her half-dead boyfriend’s body.

Because none of that made sense. She had turned into another person and back again.

And almost as if to confirm the sheer insanity of it all, the moment the two women emerged from the storage room into the warmer light of the clothing store, Heidi saw Krissy and Jacob standing in the aisles of the shop. Although well out of earshot to hear whatever they were talking about, Krissy’s animated movements suggested she was berating Jacob for some fashion faux pas he had just committed in commenting on her most recent choice in attire to try on.

Jenn’s continued apologies barely pierced the haze of Heidi’s mind, still drifting back to that gloomy ocean, that mist, and that mountain. Its oily, tentacle-shaped something that reached out—that almost reached her.

Almost touched her.

Its agent, Sorrowglade, having almost convinced her.

Almost.

Yet more harrowing things she could not speak of in therapy. For all of this was real.

All of this suggested the invasion of that cold thing, hailing from the darkness between the stars, from far away. From distant worlds, from devoured husks, reaching out and trying to find more connections here, in our world.

Heidi smiled at Jenn and assured her everything was fine. What a beautiful lie.

“Did you find the belt? In my size?” she interrupted the clerk.

Jenn’s eyes went wide, and she burst out laughing.

All the anxiety blown away; it was almost like old Heidi was back. The one from before the incident.

Almost.

In truth, she only wore a mask.

Deep down, she felt sick to her stomach. Wondered what she could do to prevent the coming calamity. Wondered if she could even do anything.

Nobody would believe her if she told them.

She struggled to believe it herself.

—Submitted by Wratts

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necrowriter · 4 years

Text

monday thing: april 20th (somewhere else? part one)

It was the summer between my sophomore year and junior year in college when I went and got myself lost between worlds.

I was on a road trip when it happened, which I'm given to understand is when this sort of thing happens most often. Not always on road trips specifically, that is--but during travels. When you're in-between leaving and arriving, that's when the roads that go Somewhere Else are just visible enough even to normal sort of people like me that you might catch a glimpse of one, just long enough to turn onto it by accident. By the time you realize it's not the road you meant to be taking, it's usually too late to turn around.

That's how the barista explained it to me, anyway.

All I could think to say in return was, "Oh."

And then, after a moment, "That sounds...metaphysical."

I didn't yet know how lost I was when I first entered this place. I thought I was just the normal kind of lost that you get when you find yourself in the middle of rural fuck-all several states away from anything you recognize, on a road with more weird little turn-offs and side-jogs than anybody could reasonably be expected to keep track of, and no cell service. I was miles from the last road sign that had meant anything to me and Wayz had long since given up on me.

That was all bad enough as it was, but as I stood with my car pulled over onto the grass and me leaning against the side, desperately hoping I could either pick up a shred of a signal or get someone to stop and give me directions, it started to rain.

It came on fast. I could have sworn it was a nice, clear afternoon not fifteen minutes ago, and then suddenly I could barely get back in the car in time to avoid getting soaked. For a few minutes the rain fell thunderously loud against the roof of the car, so hard you'd think it had a grudge against the ground. Then it began to let up just enough to become the kind of steady, rhythmic rain that can go on for hours.

That really tore it. A cloudburst I could have waited out, but I had an awful gloomy hunch that this rain wasn't moving on anytime soon. I didn't want to get any more lost than I already was, but I also didn't want to sit there until it got dark, either. I was hungry. I had to pee. And a lonesome country road at night is no place for anyone to be alone for too long.

Just as I was preparing to bang my head against the steering wheel in frustration, I saw the headlights of a truck coming up behind me.

I couldn't tell you exactly what the plan was as I started up the car--really, calling it a plan is much too generous. It was just some vague sort of thought that there was another person and maybe I could catch up to them and get some kind of useful information about where the hell I even was. At the very least they had to be going somewhere, so if I followed them long enough I'd get somewhere too.

Look. I never said it was a good idea.

But it was all I had, so I pulled back onto the road and followed the taillights like twin lighthouse beacons through the rain. And, looking back on it, that was probably when I got lost lost.

I kept a close eye on the truck as I drove, partly because I didn’t want to lose it but mostly because in all the rain it was really the only thing to look at. It was a big black thing, with a tarp tied over the bed. There was definitely a license plate, but even though I glanced at it more than once, I couldn’t tell you what the number was, or even what state it was from. I’d look at it and think “Oh, right—of course,” and then as soon as I looked away the knowledge slipped away again.

Probably I should have thought more about that at the time, but I was distracted, because after a few minutes the passenger side window rolled down and an enormous black dog stuck its head out. It lapped at the rain happily, then turned and looked back at me. Its eyes were so green I could see them even from over a truck-length away.

I caught myself shivering. I’m not scared of dogs. I like dogs. I’m the sort of person that will immediately be distracted from all else the moment a dog enters my vicinity—which accounts for the license plate thing somewhat. But something about this dog was...weird. Not frightening, exactly, or at least not outright so. But weird. If nothing else, I’d certainly never seen a dog with eyes like that.

The dog eventually shook itself and pulled its head back into the truck, but I kept an eye on the passenger window after that.

The rain poured on. An occasional glance at my phone, still laying in the passenger seat, told me it was moving on toward four o’clock when I saw lights in the distance. Not enough for a city, but surely enough for a town. My heart skipped. Was it possible this dumbass not-plan had worked out after all?

When the truck pulled off, I pulled off too, hoping it wouldn’t lead me astray. The road dipped and curved, then plunged through a lane of trees, branches tangling close together above us. I held my breath. And then, glory be, the trees fell away, and there were houses.

It was not much of a town. The houses were all quiet and still, with no sign of life. There were street signs, but I couldn’t make out what they said through the rain. But the truck led me on through one gray neighborhood after another until I suddenly, without being quite sure how it happened, found myself turning onto what looked like a main street. It was narrow and it felt like the buildings were leaning over me, but amid all the gray I saw lights pooling from windows.

That was where I found it. The coffee shop. Or at least, it looked like a coffee shop from the outside. Now, I’m not so sure.

Parking wasn’t a problem; there wasn’t a single other car on the street, aside from the black truck, which kept right on driving down the street, around a corner, and out of sight. I was relieved by that, since I’d been starting to worry whoever was driving it was going to stop and get out and demand to know what my problem was any time now.

Still, as I watched it drive off I said, “Thanks, man. Owe you one,” out loud. To nobody, and for no good reason. All I can say is it’d been a long day.

I found my jacket in the backseat and tugged it on awkwardly in the limited space, gathered up my satchel from the passenger seat, and splashed hurriedly through the rain toward the coffee shop. I figured I had enough money for coffee and a pastry or something, which I desperately needed right then, and if I could just get some wifi I could figure out where the heck I was, and how to get back to my actual route. For those few steps between the car and the door I was feeling more optimistic than I had all day.

But as soon as I stepped inside I felt my optimism curdle, because everybody inside immediately turned and stared at me.

I say everybody, but really, the place was pretty empty. There were two people behind the counter, one sitting at the counter, and one sitting at one of the tables. But even four people is a lot when they’re all looking at you like that. I was suddenly very aware that I was a stranger in this small rural town that I knew absolutely nothing about, and every one of those sets of eyes seemed to be saying you don’t belong here.

I thought about going back outside, but by then I really needed to pee. No one had actually done anything more than look so far, so I decided to take a chance that I could at least make it to the bathroom and back.

The eyes followed me as I rubbed my feet on the mat and slunk over to the counter.

“Um,” I said to the two baristas. “Bathroom?”

One of them was a middle-aged woman, tall and plump with strong-looking arms and silver threading through her brown hair. The other was a young man with several piercings, short platinum-blond hair, and a “he/him” pin on his apron. That put me more at ease. So did the kind smile the woman gave me as she gestured towards a doorway in the back wall and said, “Back there, second door on the left.”

I nodded at her gratefully and headed back. After the way the rest of the day had gone, I was a little concerned I’d manage to get lost on my way to the bathroom, but thankfully I was spared that last indignity. I came out feeling rather better, and settled awkwardly in one of the chairs in front of the counter and hung my satchel off the side.

“Can I get uh, just a black coffee,” I asked the woman, who was looking at me expectantly. “And...” I eyed the nearby glass case of pastries. “One of those chocolate chip muffins?”

She nodded to the other barista, who started making the coffee. The man sitting at the table had gone back to his laptop, but the man sitting down the counter from me was still looking at me. He was wearing a heavy coat—too heavy-looking for this weather, I would have said, even in the rain—and, I now realized, he appeared to be soaking wet. Water was slowly dripping into a puddle around his chair. I shifted uncomfortably.

“So um,” I said. “I’m afraid I’m lost.”

“You sure are,” the man down the counter said.

“Behave,” the older barista told him.

I watched her plate a muffin that I was now not entirely sure I wouldn’t be too nervous to eat. “Sorry but, could you tell me where I am?”

“You’re lost,” the man down the counter said, and grinned at me.

“Halfway to the afterlife,” the other barista said. “Might be dead yourself.”

“No,” the man sitting at the table said without looking away from his laptop. “Not one of mine.”

“You stop that, the pair of you,” the older barista said sternly. She put the plate down in front of me and smiled apologetically. “You’re in-between, I’m afraid. Muffin and coffee’s on the house. You’re going to need it.”

#fiction #monday thing #monday thing april 20

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yootaesowlwrites · 4 years

Text

Requested by; MICKSCHUMI

Request; I would like to request this one where the reader is Mick's teammate, and they act like rivals around each other. One night it's storming with rain and thunder on a race weekend (which she's afraid of) and she decides she doesn't want to be alone so she knocks on Mick's hotel room door. 😇😘

Prompts; A19- "Stay, Just for the night."

note; usually when I write for you, it's longer. So I should say I'm sorry if this is a little bit short, but I hope you like.

“I knew I could beat you.” Mara says with a smug smile on her face, Mick rolls his eyes. “Easily.”

“I had car trouble, that’s the only reason why you did better.” Mick says, Mara rolls her eyes at him.

“Sure, blame the car, just admit you were bad!” Mara says.

“Whatever.” Mick says. “Just wait until the race tomorrow, this was only qualifying.” Mick says.

“I can’t wait to beat you again tomorrow and then on Sunday.” Mara says, Mick walks away from her ignoring her comments. “Ignoring me won’t make me go away!” Mara says loudly, everybody in the Prema garage knew the about rivalry Mick and Mara had, some said it was unique and other’s only hoped that they wouldn’t take each other out on track but they wouldn’t trade the two drivers for anybody else, they were good and they were bringing in the points.

“Good job in Quali today, Mara.” One of her mechanics says, Mara gives them a smile.

“Thank you, and thank you for giving me such a beast.” Mara says before leaving the garage also, she looks up at the sky and saw dark clouds forming and heard thunder in the distance. “I hope it passes.” Mara mumbles to herself, By the time Mara arrived at the hotel the rain had started during down and the thunder had gotten closer, she runs into the hotel lobby when a lighting strike flashed over the sky. “Shit, shit, shit.” Mara mumbles to herself as she enters her hotel room, she quickly closed the curtains when she entered the room being very cautious when she did so, she changed out of her daily clothes and into some pyjamas flinching each time the thunder rumbled above and lighting lit up the room. “Nope!” She almost shouts while grabbing her phone and making a dash for her door, just across from her room she almost slammed on the door in a panic hoping somebody was in the room, the door opens.

“Wow, what? what’s going on? Mara? what’s happening?” Mick asks confused, he looks down the hallway and saw nobody else there. “What’s wrong?” He asks, a loud crack of thunder above them causes Mara to jump.

“I um… I didn’t know you were across from me?” Mara says.

“You’re in that room?” Mick asks pointing to the door behind her, she quickly nods her head. “What’s going on?” Mick asks, another sound of thunder makes Mara flinch. “You’re scared of the storm?” Mick asks, Mara nods her head.

“I’ll go try another room.” Mara says, they were rivals, sworn enemies, so why would Mick help her?

“Wait.” Mick says grabbing onto her wrist stopping her. “Stay. Just for the night.” Mick says, because he liked her… that’s why.

“You mean that?” Mara asks, Mick nods his head.

“Yeah, you’re my teammate and teammates help each other out sometimes.” Mick says while pulling her into his room.

“Thank you.” Mara whispers.

“I’ll take the couch and you can have the bed.” Mick says, loud thunder struck causing her to jump.

“Um… the bed is big enough, we’re both mature.” Mara quickly says.

“I just thought you’d want your own space?” Mick says in the form of a question.

“Any other night, but not tonight.” Mara says.

“You’re sure?” Mick asks, lightning lights up the room.

“Yep.” Mara says.

“Okay, okay.” Mick says and guides her to the bed, he could see how shaken she was with the storm raging on outside, they climb in bed and Mara almost immediately pulls the covers over her face, Mick wraps his arm around her pulling her closer to him trying to comfort her.

#f1 imagine #f2 imagines #f1 imagines #f2 imagine #mick schumacher imagine #mick schumacher imagines

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phaticserpent · 4 years

Text

Playing with Fire

(Demigod! Reader x Ultron)

CHAPTER FOUR

You stared at the scene before you, a run down ship with faded letters; Churchill. The sky was foggy but matching the color of the ground. Ultron had went ahead to cut the power line and you called him a ‘drama king.’ So now you were standing with the Maximoff twins. A bit unsure of what to do and you could see Pietro’s face was stumped as well, he could carry his sister but that would leave you outside. He resorted to carrying his sister then coming back out to carry you into the ship.

“You’re really light, are you sure you eat?” He asked. You scoffed and dismissed it. We waited until the power went out and heard the shouts of people to advance towards Ulysses’ office. You could make out the faint ‘click’ of a gun which urged Pietro to dash in there and disarm Ulysses. You followed in after Wanda, a bit tense from trying not to let your inner fangirl over stupid things appear.

“Oh yeah, The Enhanced. Strucker’s prizes pupils.” Ulysses chuckled. “And who are you?” He asked, directing his attention to you. You gave him no answer.

“You want a candy?” No one responded. “I was sorry to hear about Strucker. But then he knew what kind of world he was helping to create. Human life.” Still silence, you assumed Ulysses was getting a bit uneasy at the unending quiet.

“Is this your first time intimidating someone? I’m afraid.....I’m not that afraid.”

“Everybody’s afraid of something.” Wanda scoffed.

“Cuttlefish.” What? Cuttlefishes are cute. “Deep sea fish, they make lights. Disco lights.....whomp whomp whomp to hypnotize their prey and then, whoop! I saw a documentary, it was terrifying.” Pietro swooped in to grab a piece of candy and you felt the need to get one, but since no one else moved, you stayed where you were. Candyyyyy, your brain moaned.

“So, if you’re going to fiddle with my brain and make me see a giant cuttlefish. Then I know you don’t do business and I know you’re not in charge, and I only deal with the man in charge.” Ultron crashed through, kicking Ulysses out of the office. “Ah, ow fuck!”

“There is no man in charge.” Ultron leaned down. “Let’s talk business. I know about your supply of Vibranium.”

“Who are you? What’s Vibranium?”

“Don’t act dumb with me.” Ultron growled. “I’ll take all of it, for a reasonable price.” Ulysses stared at him, then his eyes shifted over to you and the twins.

“Alright, alright.” Ulysses and another led all of you down. It was a silent trip. Ulysses has his assistant pull a door and press a button, which revealed a cleaner and more brighter compartment. You peered around Ultron, as you had stayed behind him. Ulysses grabbed one of the cylindrical containers

“Upon this rock, I will build my church.” Ultron stated as Ulysses handed the container to him. “Vibranium.” You stared in awe at the metal before Ultron tossed it to Pietro.

“You know, it came with a great personal cost. It’s worth billions.” Ulysses claimed. Ultron chuckled and tilted his head back again.

“Now so are you. It’s all under your dummy holding? Finance is so weird. But I always say, keep your friends rich and your enemies rich and wait to find out which is which.”

“Stark.”

“What?”

“Tony Stark used to say that, to me. You’re one of his.”

“What? I’m not!” Ultron snarled as he grabbed Ulysses. Wanda held down Ulysses’ assistant who pulled out a gun, while you and Pietro stood to the side. You could set your hands on fire, but would that help? Probably not. “I’m not! You think I’m one of Stark’s puppet and hallowed men. I mean look at me! Do I look like Iron Man? Stark is nothing!” Ultron fumed in anger as he brought down his weapon that took off Ulysses’ arm. You were conflicted. Confused. Should you be concerned? Who is this Stark or Iron Man anyways?

“Oh, I am sorry.....ooh, I’m sure that’s gonna be okay. I’m sorry. It’s just that I don’t understand, don’t compare me, with Stark.” You let out a small gasp as Ultron kicked Ulysses down the stairs. Ultron’s eyes landed on you as his furrowed brows relaxed. “It’s a thing with me, Stark is a sickness!”

“Aw Junior, you’re going to break your old man’s heart.” A new voice interrupted. There, standing across from Ultron, was a group. A red and gold suit, which the voice emanated from, a tall and muscled man with blonde hair carrying a big hammer, which you assumed was Thor, and another man in a blue suit.

“If I have to.”

“Nobody has to break anything.” Thor piped in.

“Clearly you never made an Omelette.”

“He beat me by one second.” The Red Suit stated. Thor glanced at him in confusion.

“Who’s she?” The Blue Suit asked, pointing directly at you. Ultron turned to see who he was asking about. “I thought you were after the twins.....there wasn’t any other Enhanced.”

“Oh she’s not an Enhanced. Probably someone more powerful.” Ultron informed. Thor studied you, his head tilting.

“Wait, I recognize your aura. Your presence and power. You’re a demigod.” Thor finally realized. You put up your hands and shook them in a mocking ‘ta-da’ sort of manner.

“Ah this is funny, Mr. Stark. If what’s comfortable. Like old times.” Pietro stepped up.

“This was never my life.”

“You all can still walk away from this.” Blue Suit offered.

“Aw we will.” Wanda mocked.

“I know you suffered.”

“Ugh, Captain America.” The Blue Suit stared at Ultron with fear. “God’s righteous man. Pretending you can live without a war. I can’t physically throw up in my mouth.”

“If you believe in peace, then let us keep it.” Thor pleaded.

“I think you’re confusing peace with quiet.”

“Yuh-huh. What’s the Vibranium for?”

“I’m glad you asked that because I wanted to take this time to explain my evil plan.” Ultron scoffed as he lazily rolled his hands before dragging the Red Suit down. The minute Ultron fired, the Red Suit charged and so did the others. You have fought......somewhat. It was a necessity in Camp Half Blood. But these were older people. You didn’t know whether you could match their strength to yours. Ultron and Red Suits disappeared as Ultron’s sentries also attacked.

“So let me ask you this, why is a demigod working for Ultron?” Thor asked as he threw his hammer at you, in which you lazily dodged. It was a lazy throw. “I thought demigods knew what to fight for.”

“Look, I honeslty didn’t think it was going to escalate to this.”

“Oh so are you joining us now?”

“Not a chance.”

“Who’s your godly parent? I hope you’re not one of mine....” Thor sighed and you laughed.

“Hephaestus.”

“Ah, so no powers?”

“Wow, that’s a bit judgmental for assuming I have no power because my father doesn’t. Harsh.” You shook your head with disappointment before sending a roll of fire towards him. Thor let out a groan before dodging.

“I must say, that is quiet impressive.” Thor chuckled.

“Say that five seconds ago.”

“Haha, you are funny. If you weren’t working for the enemy, I would’ve brought you out for beer. You do drink?”

“Nope, sorry!” You exclaimed as you formed circular shapes of fire rolling towards him like a rogue snowball. Thor jumped out of the way and you could see him sweating from the intense heat. “C’mon Thor! Where’s your thunder?” There were the sound of guns firing, which caused you to duck. Thor smirked as he swung his hammer.

“I would love to give you a light show, but this place seems cramped. You know, we should head outside and I’ll show you.”

“Eh, I’ll decline.” You shrugged and watched as Thor took off. You joined Wanda and she nodded at you. You were still in a confused state.

“It’s time for some mind games.” Ultron said to Wanda. “[Y/N], give them some fireworks.”

“Oh, gladly.” You smirked as your rubbed your hands together. It would be hard to take down the Avengers without a proper form of distraction, that’s where you came in. Using all your strength, you let out a wave of inferno horses, chasing after them. You saw Blue Suit taken down, along with the woman who was called Black Widow. You also assumed Thor was taken down, as he stood around in complete daze. You stood idly by as sentries started unloading the Vibranium.

“This is going very well.” Ultron sounded surprised.

“You are smart.” You reminded. “An A.I.”

“Let’s go.” Another sentry picked you up, you were a bit shocked.

“What about Wanda and Pietro?”

“I have multiple sentries.” Ultron reminded. The sentry returned to normal before its lights turned blue. “Stark destroyed my body. I’m sending you the blueprints to make another one......I think we have enough sentries, thanks to your handy work. I’ll need backup bodies.”

“Okay.” You nodded. You were dropped off at the Hydra base and immediately started working on Ultron’s body. It was complicated. But you managed and maybe made some improvements to the metal. Sure it was Vibranium, but you wondered what would happen if you melted the Vibranium and mixed it with Celestial bronze. Celestial bronze can’t rust. Would it help? They won’t be pouring water over him.......I added some to the sentries cause he wanted them to be waterproof. I mean, celestial bronze isn’t waterproof, but it certainly protects the metal from corroding. Should I? Dad, some help? Please.

‘If your heart tells you to, then do it. Don’t use your brain too much.’ He advised and you went along with it. You added chunks of celestial bronze and Vibranium. You had been welding for a couple of minutes, it was almost completed, when you heard a loud clattering. You had stopped, the fire in your hand dying down.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” You called. One of the sentries that you created turned on. “Oh, good afternoon.”

“[Y/N] [L/N], daughter of Hephaestus, carrier of the Inferno, you are a long way from home.” The sentry spoke. It wasn’t Ultron.

“Who are you?”

“We are the eidolons, and we’ve come for your life!”

“Oh, that’s great!” Two more sentries woke up, their heads turning towards you. “Can I get some peace and quiet for just ONE DAY!?”

“You will never escape your fate. Or your heritage. You are a demigod! It is your nature to hide! To fight. To die......”

“Leave. Me. Alone. I built those machines, I know how to turn it off. I know every weakness.”

“Bah! Stalling won’t get you anywhere!” You bolted and the eidolons chased after you. Granted, they were slow, until they started powering up the thrusters. They cackled maniacally as they almost reached you before there was a loud blast. You stopped to see Ultron rush to you.

“Are you okay?”

“Your body, I didn’t finish it.” You gasped.

“Are you okay?”

“Um yeah, I’m fine.”

“What were those things?”

“Eidolons. They possess anything. I mean anything.”

“Goddamn.”

“Sorry, that’s three sentries down.”

“No no, at least you’re fine. Also, what other metal did you add to my body?”

“Oh, I.....I also added in celestial bronze. It’s a heavenly metal that doesn’t rust and in case if any monsters attacked you, it can easily suffocate them. It drains the monster’s powers.”

“Don’t you need that metal for your weapons?”

“Eh, we have enough.”

“Go get some rest, you’ve done a lot.”

“Ultron—“

“Rest. Or do I have to carry you to your room and tuck you in?”

“I mean, you don’t have to, but you could.” You grinned as Ultron rolled his eyes. “Okay, I’ll walk there myself......one problem, I forgot the room.” Ultron chuckled as he swept you off your feet, carrying you to your room.

A/N: Damn, this chapter is really long :O hope you enjoyed it!! I need some requests for chapter five? So if you want to drop some ideas in the inbox, that would be much appreciated! Thank you!

#ultron #ultron is hot #ultron/reader #ultron fic #ultron x reader #avengers age of ultron #age of ultron #playing with fire #phaticserpentfanfics #phaticserpent #chapter four #long reads #fanfiction

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jane-may · 4 years

Text

I will find you, anywhere you go

So! I joined a Good Omens Secret Santa event and the gift I am giving is a fanfic! I had a lot of fun writing this, so I hope my SS partner likes it! Hi @user-mania !! This one is for you :D

I’d like to give special thanks to my super fren @clownsxclowns who helped me out giving me tips on how to post stuff here, this is my first time posting any writing and she was mega helpful! Thanks Kat!!

Summary: The story takes place on the garden of Eden. This is the first time Aziraphale meets Crawley, but the demon remembers the angel from before his fall.

Pairing: Crawly/Aziraphale

Genre: Fluff/Angst (it is SAD and I’M SORRY)

Word Count: 2389.

Warnings: no warnings

//////

“How long til she notices?”

Crawly broke the silence that lingered, almost absolute if not for the roaring of thunder and raindrops hitting the foliage of the many trees nearby.

Aziraphale and Crawly, properly introduced a few minutes ago, were still overlooking the walls until they could not see Adam and Eve, who disappeared into the horizon.

Aziraphale was a bit lost in his thoughts and didn’t quite catch what the demon asked

“How long until what?”

Crawly, who was under the angel’s wing, shifted closer thinking Aziraphale could not hear him over the sounds of the consistent thunders.

“You know, how long until she notices they are gone? That they gave into temptation and all that”

“Oh. Well, I suppose soon. I guess we’ll have to just...wait for Her”

“Guess so”

Crawly knew he would have to report back to hell soon so he could be assigned to another task, but he didn’t want to. The reason being that he found Aziraphale, after being cast out for so long.

He knew for a while now that when an angel fell, the only thing they would forget was their name. It was part of the punishment, as so to make them long for everything they’ve lost because of their “rebellious ways”. But this wasn’t the worst part. The fallen angels were to be forgotten by everybody else. The only angels who would remember who they were before, were those assigned with the task of casting them away, usually higher authorities that worked on higher “departments” of heaven.

Aziraphale, being a principality, wasn’t allowed to attend when Crawly fell. Crawly told him about the mechanics so he even pondered if he should try to sneak into the ceremony, just so he could remember him later, but he couldn’t. He was too afraid of being caught and decided that it would hurt less if he couldn’t remember anyway. It was ineffable, he supposed. It was meant to be that way. Besides, an angel couldn’t do the wrong thing.

The duo was still standing at the wall until both decided to search for shelter. Aziraphale suggested a nearby tree but soon changed his mind as both found out that lightning could travel all the way down from the sky and hit the earth. And that what it did to the poor tree where it landed could easily discorporate both beings.

Crawly was quick to point out a cavern, a bit damp but deep enough to protect them. He instructed Aziraphale to stay a few steps away as he lit some logs using hellfire.

“Oh! Careful with that!” the angel exclaimed, startled by the specks of hellfire floating aimlessly in the air.

“You haven’t changed one bit now, have you?” the demon marveled under his breath, staring at the angel’s features that looked even more lovely when dimly lit by the small campfire he put up.

“I beg your pardon?”

Aziraphale looked puzzled. What did he mean? They’ve met what, an hour or so ago, did he hear him right? He approached the demon, a bit hesitant still, his fingers twitching. Should he be this close to a demon anyway?

“S’nothing. You look like you’re cold, took all the rain and stuff. Come closer, this is not enough hellfire to cause you harm.”

Crawly thought it would be better not to talk about the fall, not now. He needed to show that he could be trusted. All Aziraphale knew now is that he was a demon he met a few minutes ago, he had no reason to believe him if he brought up the subject.

“I’m fine, thank you! I don’t suppose we should be interacting though, not to be rude, it’s just...angel and demon, might cross the Almighty. Actually, I suppose I should try and find elsewhere to be, thank y-” he was heading towards the exit when another lightning struck, stopping him on his tracks and making him let out a startled gasp.

Crawly chuckled at the sound. “Well, it seems to me that the almighty wants you here.” he raised both eyebrows “besides, you gave me shelter out there, I don’t want to be owing you any favours.”

“Well...when you put it that way” he agreed, backing away from the entrance slowly.

The demon then stretched out his right wing invitingly, keeping his eyes on the fire. He found it very annoying that his eyes would change when his heart beat faster, but there was no way the angel would notice such a trivial detail. How would he notice the white of his eyes giving in to the yellow from time to time? It would surely take a while before it raised any questions.

Aziraphale sat down and let his head rest on the soft, pitch-black feathers. A couple of hours went by and the thunderstorm gave no indication of going away anytime soon.

All this time, the angel was staring at the hellfire, lost in his thoughts. This wasn’t anywhere near the picture heaven painted of what a demon would be like. Sure, he had funky eyes and transformed into a huge serpent, but being next to him didn’t feel endangering. He wasn’t dirty, rude or mean. Heavens, his scent was even pleasant! He started to wonder, there were so many questions rushing through his mind right now. Why did he fall? Why did he smell nice? Why didn’t he have fangs or a tail? Oh but those were too rude to ask. Or maybe he could try to ask nicely?

His train of thought came to a blunt stop when Crawly’s head bumped against his shoulder. He turned around and saw the demon yawn, pulling away

“M’ sorry. Bit tired.” The raindrops outside, the crackling of the fire, the distant thunders and the warmth coming off of both the angel and the campfire were all too cozy for the demon. He enjoyed sleeping, hell was too crowded anyway, it was practically impossible to find a silent spot there to nap undisturbed.

“You should rest. I will wake you when the storm has ceased, you can lay here for a while, I suppose” he then gestured to his lap swiftly and uncertain of why he was helping his not so menacing fiend.

Crawly just nodded, gave him a smile and carefully laid down, retracting his wings and resting his head on the angel’s lap. This wasn’t the first time for him, he remembered that feeling from way before his fall. The fact that Aziraphale suggested that he laid down gave him hope that maybe the angel would end up in love with him again. Maybe he would just repeat all those steps they took, eons prior to the Eden, maybe he should never tell him and just allow that to happen again.

A whole day passed, the storm was still going strong. Aziraphale was staring down at the demon, paying attention to many details. His snake tattoo was quite charming and his auburn hair seemed to shine even brighter under the copper lighting the hellfire cast above them.

Mindlessly, the angel started to trace the tattoo with his index finger, mimicking all the curves of the tiny snake. His skin was noticeably soft and instinctively the angel moved his hand to his hair, just to see if the locks were this soft too.

And oh, they were satin like. He continued to play with his hair for a couple of minutes and just as he started to doze off the rain stopped. He needed to wake Crawly up but he really didn’t want to.

Crawly shifted, his face now turned towards the angel’s body. Aziraphale quickly pulled his hand away from the hair, scared he might have woken him up. A principality shouldn’t be playing with a demon’s locks, big no no.

Crawly groaned at the loss of contact, seemingly annoyed. The angel smiled and slowly got back to stroking his hair. The curls looked magnificent and he even made a little braid out of some rebellious locks that wouldn’t stay in place. Prior to this cavern, he had a completely different view on demons, but every minute that passed only proved to him that at least this one, was deep down a nice one.

“Crawly?” he cleared his throat “Crawly, the rain stopped. I think I’ll head out and grab something to eat.”

Crawly rolled over, his head now facing upwards. He noticed the angel was a bit flushed and couldn’t help but smile at the sight. He sat up quickly, stretched his arms and yawned.

“Sure, go ahead” he rubbed his eyes, got up and helped Aziraphale up too. The pair walked out, side by side and were welcomed with quite the landscape. Dozens of fallen trees, chunks of soil that came up with them, broken branches and all sorts of fruits scattered around.

Crawly walked towards the mess, grabbed an apple from one of the branches laying on the floor. “Fancy a bite, angel?”

The angel’s eyes widened in disbelief “Don’t be absurd!! Absolutely not! Look at what happened and, look at what they-” he paused, gesturing vaguely with his hands “did!” his face was close to being as red as the apple Crawly held out. “I don’t even know y-”

He was interrupted by the demon shushing him “Are yo- are you insinuating that the apple did that?? Aziraphale, she was expecting already, you said it yourself! Furthermore, I would, at the bare minimum, take you to a spot of lunch before implying such a thing, I’ve got manners!!” he took a bite off the apple, making an obscenely loud crunch.

“And why do you think I would want to partake in such activ- wait a minute. How do you even know my name? I don’t remember introducing myself properly.”

Now he was very intrigued. He wanted answers and his frown wasn’t going away until he got them.

“I- um-ngk well” Crawly took another bite, buying his time to think.

Would he tell him? Would he rather try to get the angel to fall in love with him again? What if he didn’t though? Hell, did he even deserve his affection? He endangered his safety when they were both angels. Sure, he took the blame and fell alone to spare him, but it didn’t make him feel less guilty.

“I’ve been round, heard things. Snakin’ round and what not- you know what, forget that. You don’t need to eat it if you don’t want to. I must say it’s terribly sweet though but-” he fumbled around some leaves and found a pear.

“Here, you said you were hungry, have that then” he blurted out, offering the other fruit.

“Should I say thank you?” he took the pear and carefully cleaned it with his robe

“Nah” Crawly shrugged, tossing away the remains of his apple.

They walked around in silence as Aziraphale ate his pear, both assessing the damage caused by the thunderstorm until the angel muttered

“Did...did it hurt? You know, the fall” he kept his hands clasped together in front of him and his eyes looking down.

“Huh? Well, the pool of sulfur wasn’t very nice on the skin at first, but it made my wings much cooler I guess” he laughed off

“Pool of sulfur?” the angel stopped on his tracks, his voice heavy with concern. He didn’t know much about the fallen anymore. All he once knew he had learned from Crawly, who read some documents he really shouldn’t have and started talking about it, questioning if these methods were any good. Of course, those pieces of information were forgotten, along with the memory of who Crawly was before the fall.

“Oh. Yeah, how would you know...Aziraphale, what exactly do you know about fallen angels?” his heart sank. Seeing his angel concerned was too much, it reminded him of the day he decided to sneak into the highest of the head offices and read those files.

“Well,” he swallowed “They are angels who don’t trust the Almighty...and they also go against Her ineffable plan…”

Well, this wasn’t a lie. But it wasn’t everything. So, the demon insisted

“And what else do you know?”

“Um, there’s a, well, there’s a trial but not all angels are allowed to participate, and they decide whether or not they should banish the angel in question.”

Crawly nodded, expecting more from the angel

“It’s said that they are given a different name...but I’m unsure about that since I’ve never met an angel who went through that”

This hurt. The demon almost couldn’t hide the growing pain cutting through his chest, burning worse than the sulfur, hotter than hellfire.

This was exactly why Crawly, while still an angel, decided to go through the paperwork in the first place. He found it very suspicious that in all those years, nobody knew of any fallen angel. Sure, the archangels would always threaten everybody with the idea of falling, but was it even true? How could it be true if there wasn’t a single solid example, someone, anyone? He was sure back then that they were lying about fallen angels, maybe even about hell itself. What he found out was much worse, of course, and brought Crawley himself to this unfortunate fate. Identity stolen, forgotten.

“Oh, dove. Some of them have met you, I am sure of that”

Aziraphale was even more confused. “What do you mean?”

“Nevermind. Well, you are the first angel to actually talk to me. Granted we don’t know each other from before the fall, now you officially know a demon. Congrats, I guess.”

He lied. He couldn’t explain everything again, he had already fallen, the next would be Aziraphale. It already took a lot of convincing during the trial to prove Aziraphale didn’t help him spy on the files. Which of course, he did. He could never say no to Crawly and stayed out of the office ready to give him a signal should anybody walk up the empty halls.

He protected his angel then, and he would stay close by to protect him now. He didn’t care about whether or not Aziraphale would ever love him again, this was not about him anymore. He would protect his angel through the countless years ahead, and that would have to be enough.

#GoodOmensSecretSanta #ineffable husbands #good omens #aziraphale/crowley #crowley/aziraphale #aziraphale #crowley #fanfiction #my writing

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actuallylorelaigilmore · 4 years

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Lost In The Forest Of This Heart, Chapter 11: Time To Live, Time to Love

Lizzington, The Blacklist. Cross-posted on AO3. Important notes can also be found there.

Summary: Decisions, understanding, truth. She knows Red will fight her every step of the way, if those steps take her closer to him and further from some fantasy he has in his head about the life she should have. But this is worth the fight. Whether he realizes it or not, he is worth fighting for.

This is it, everybody. I finished my second-ever-on-AO3 fanfic, which I started FIVE YEARS AGO--because sometimes life hits you hard. And canon breaks your heart. And you need ADHD meds. It’s over 40,000 words long in the end, and I’m pretty proud of how it turned out. I like to think I’m a better writer now, which probably means you can watch my style evolve over the years if you read the whole thing. A short sequel will be up next, concluding my imagined series. Here’s to finishing the things we start. ⭐

They don’t speak again while Red drives toward the Wisconsin sunset. As they reach Appleton, the night sky flashes with lightning. Thunder covers any sound of their arrival; the sleeping neighborhood is unaware of them passing through the suburban streets. Liz feels like a ghost--tethered to nothing, mourning the past and the future at the same time.

Their silence is heavy and frustrated when they arrive at the safe house. It’s raining hard, sheets of water drenching them before Red opens the front door and ushers her in.

Liz stands dripping on a woven rug, taking in their new temporary home while he locks up. It’s full of dark wood and expensive art. She wants to get a closer look at the nearest painting--is that a Degas?--but stays put, afraid to track water over the polished floors.

“I’ll get you a towel,” Red says. His footsteps squeak as he strides away.

She doesn’t respond to his words, and he has no idea if she wants a towel, but Red needs to put some distance between them. Just a chance to breathe.

Last night, he was grateful she agreed to go along with the plan, even if he was also smart enough to be wary. But her behavior in the car--the arguing, the pushing, the demands--it was like she used to be. Like they used to be. He had hoped they were past that, after Lizzie got the answers she wanted.

Maybe she will always find more questions to ask. All the more reason to send her on her way.

But how is that supposed to work if she insists on staying? Digging her heels in, the more he tries to move things along? He doesn’t know how to lie to her, and he’s not sure she will accept anything less than the truth if he tries.

“Thanks,” she says when he comes back several minutes later. It couldn’t have taken him that long to find a towel, and she wonders what he was doing. Bracing for the next storm?

It’s not as though she likes being a hurricane. And Liz is prepared to do whatever he asks her to do, in the name of safety. She owes him that much, when all of this running is for her.

But whatever is happening tonight isn’t about safety. Not from the Cabal or the Task Force, that much is clear.

Reddington towels off his head and neck, removing his fogged glasses to dry them as well, while she watches. As soon as he put them back on, she smiles. She can’t help it--with the wire frames perched on his nose, he turns so easily from America’s Most Wanted into Someone’s Retired Accountant.

“What?” He’s blinking at her, all the more confused because she was glowering at him a moment ago.

“Nothing.” Liz shakes her head and lets the moment pass.

These are the pictures she’s holding on to, saving up, tucking away in her mind to make a sort of scrapbook out of. The man she loves: domestic and adorable and sweet. She has collected others too, times when he was surgically violent and stubborn and passionate. They all make up the portrait that Red has carved into her heart by accident.

She is his now, and as he stares at her, it occurs to Liz that he doesn’t know it.

Before he insists on sending them off in different directions, shouldn’t she tell him?

“Do you have things you need to do?” she asks. “Before Dembe arrives?”

“We have some time before he will,” he admitted. “He won’t even head in our direction until I alert him that we’re here.”

“You haven’t?”

“No, not yet. Just an extra precaution.”

Liz reaches out to grab his arm. “Don’t. Don’t tell him to come yet. Please.”

He frowns. “We can only stay tonight, Lizzie. This isn’t secure long-term, and Dembe is more than ready to--”

“I’m not saying I want to live here, Red. Just, wait an hour. For me.”

He’s watching her silently, waiting for her request to make sense, but it doesn’t seem like clarity will be forthcoming. Lizzie’s eyes are shining in the dim light of the hall, her fingers digging into his sleeve and his skin beneath it, and he has no idea why.

He can give her the hour. Maybe it’ll help.

“Of course. Why don’t you dry off and I’ll get us something to drink?”

After taking a second to compose herself, Liz follows him into the kitchen, her dark hair sticking up in the back. “Does this place have wine? Wine would be great.”

Red turns toward her, already uncorking a bottle, and grins. “Great minds, Lizzie. Just a moment.” His smile doesn’t meet his eyes, but Liz allows him to play the amiable host as though she can’t see that.

The soft pop precedes Red pouring a healthy amount into a glass for her, then for himself. He swirls the red wine and sniffs it. She raises her eyebrows at the display and gulps hers down like it’s water.

Tonight feels like a crossroads. Her last chance, for something--she isn’t sure what yet, but she is certain she needs courage.

“Let’s go sit down,” she says, once he has refilled her glass and topped off his own. If it concerns him, Red says nothing about her need for libation. He just nods and follows her out.

“We need to talk,” she tells him seriously, as soon as they’re seated. He chose one end of the couch, expecting her to take the other, but instead Liz sits in a chair at his side, their knees brushing while she speaks.

Red sighs. “Do we, really.” It’s always the same conversation at this point, going in circles. They’re calling it by different names and getting nowhere.

“Yes,” Liz says firmly. She shifts so that her knee is pressed into his, rather than just near it. That gets his attention.

“You agreed we could be partners, Red. That we’re in this together now.”

His back goes up, knowing her well enough to sense a trap. “I did. And we are. We’re equally at risk, both on the run, working together from different angles.”

“That!” Lizzie points a finger at him as he watches, bewildered. She isn’t drunk on half a glass of wine, but she seems less...poised than he is used to. “That right there. I don’t think it’s possible, okay? I don’t.”

“What, working together?”

“Doing it when we’re not together. That’s illogical. It’s ridiculous.”

Red takes offense at that. Maybe she is drunk.

“Whether you think it’s logical or not, Lizzie, it’s the plan.”

“And why is that? Why, Red? Just tell me.”

“I already told you--”

“You’ve told me nothing. Your words, they don’t add up. We’re in danger, except not really. We’ll be safer apart, except we’ll be reuniting frequently. You’ll be using yourself as a decoy, to distract no one from a path that isn’t being chased.”

She stands, tugging on her damp hair like it will center her somehow. “God, it doesn’t make sense--nothing about this does. I’ve tried to understand, but it’s like the puzzle is made up of two sets of pieces from different pictures. No matter what I do, I can make sense out of my half, but I can’t connect to yours.”

“Perhaps that’s for the best.”

“What about any of this is better?”

She is nearly shouting now, not out of anger but out of panic. He’s retreating, she can feel it, and she refuses to lose him. Over her dead body, Liz thinks desperately, walking away to take a deep breath.

“Do you just want me to go away? Is that it?”

She asks the question without turning back, afraid to be looking at him if he says yes. She doesn’t need to see the pity she can imagine coming with that admission, the guilt she so often inspires in him.

“Lizzie…’ Red understands that there is more than one way to end their new intimacy. This is not the way he wants it to go. He doesn’t wish to hurt her. He ruined her life, isn’t that enough?

“Sweetheart, no. Of course not. I thoroughly enjoy your company. I thought that was evident.”

When she turns back, she has her emotions under control--no small feat. She doesn’t cry. “Then why?”

“The most important thing to me has always been keeping you safe. Protecting you. That’s all I am trying to do. I don’t know how else to explain it,” he tells her, his shadowed eyes begging her not to press him further. “This is the best way that I know how to protect you.”

“And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“While you’re busy protecting me, what about you? If we’re partners, if we’re in this together, then let me ask you this: splitting up, you traveling alone while I go with Dembe...who will be protecting you?”

“I’ll have a driver, of course, just like you will. And we’ll both be armed. I’m not sure what your point is.”

He is starting to feel cornered, sitting there while she stares him down, that profiler mind of hers at work. Red leaves the couch and paces a few steps away.

“But is this plan the best way for you to stay safe? Is it a good idea for both of us?”

“What’s your point, Elizabeth?”

She takes a deep breath, and a big leap. She knows Red will fight her every step of the way, if those steps take her closer to him and further from some fantasy he has in his head about the life she should have. But this is worth the fight. Whether he realizes it or not, he is worth fighting for.

“My point is that I’m not going anywhere. We can protect each other. Look at me, Red.”

Her voice has that brisk, professional tone that she used to use on him in the beginning. He’s certain that it worked wonders on her peers at Quantico, but for some reason it reminds him of a kindergarten teacher--as though Lizzie is used to dealing with delicate male egos, and knows that managing them requires as much finesse as firmness.

It always makes him want to assure her that he already respects her. He doesn’t need to be charmed into it.

When Red’s eyes meet hers, she asks the million dollar question. “Is there any mission-related reason why you and I need to leave here in separate cars, living apart until our first meeting with the Cabal?”

Red slowly shakes his head no. He has to swallow before he adds the words, her gaze never leaving him. Giving him no relief.

“No, Lizzie. When you put it that way, there is not.”

Her eyes flicker, but a weight has been lifted, and her posture shows it. “Alright, then. I want to stay with you.”

Red begins preparing arguments before she’s done speaking--looking for the right words, building up extra barriers, sandbagging for a hurricane.

Lizzie meets his conflicted eyes with her own, determination and faith shining in the brilliant blue, and it’s all washed away even as he’s trying to cling to it. It’s just...gone. All there is, is her.

“You were right, that first week, Red. We do make a great team.”

Liz takes two steps toward him, while he remains rooted in place. Terrified to move forward, unwilling to move back. She is his siren song. Who is worth drowning for, if not her?

“Don’t we?” She doesn’t move any closer. She leaves the choice to him, the way he always has for her. Say the word, and I’ll go.

Red’s nod, his acquiescence–his surrender–is almost imperceptible. Such a tiny action, to change everything.

“Yeah,” he admits, his voice hoarse. “We do.”

****

Liz relaxes in the wake of the first battle she feels like she’s ever fairly won with him. She exhales. “Okay. So. Let’s be a team.”

Unable to find words, Red nods in agreement, watching her a bit like a deer in headlights. Giving up even that much control leaves him feeling unmoored. Where is he supposed to go from here? If he can’t control the course of the future, how can he expect to keep them alive?

It’s all connected, his feelings for her and his need to throw himself in front of any threat to her life and his ability to strategize to make sure that’s never a necessity. Unravel one thread, one grip he has on the situation, and it all unravels. It all falls apart--and he can’t fall apart.

With everything they’ve been through together, everything he’s done and she’s seen...that’s still something he’s proud to say he’s avoided. He’s come close to death but he’s never fallen to pieces in front of her.

It’s not much, but it’s something.

Liz interrupts his thoughts. "Thank you.”

“What are you thanking me for?”

“For being honest with me. I’m trying to do that, too.”

“How so?”

“Wanting to keep you safe is only part of why I don’t want us to split up,” she confesses, and his face goes blank.

Red doesn’t ask the follow up question. He looks too ashen for Liz to expect any response at all, so she forges on.

“I like this. Us. Our routine. I know there’s a future you want me to have, that you’re trying to give me, but I don’t know how to explain that I don’t...want it. I don’t want to pretend I can have my old life back, Red. I’d rather be happy with this one.”

Red shakes his head, in denial of her words and their implications. “You can’t be suggesting that the life you have now is satisfactory. All of this is temporary, Lizzie, a means to an end. After the Cabal--”

“After the Cabal, there will be other options. I understand that! But that means we’ll have more choices, not less. If you want me to have the freedom to choose my future, then I’m sorry if this is hard for you to accept...but you have to let me have that freedom even if you don’t approve of my decisions.”

“I never meant to imply otherwise.”

His insulted formality makes her lips twitch. Even so, Liz can see him looking for an escape from the feelings she’s trying to lay bare. She keeps her face as blank as she can, her tone matter of fact.

“I know what I want, Red. I’ve known for a while. And if it’s not possible, I can accept that. We’re not the same people we were two years ago...even two months ago. But there’s a difference between a desire that’s impossible, and one that’s within reach that scares you.”

Now he is not just pale. He’s frozen. He looks young--and so scared, just like Liz said, that her heart breaks for him.

Never do it again. She remembers red and blue lights flashing; a man who refused to be cared about and the girl who ached to love him.

Her instincts weren’t wrong then. They’re not wrong now. He’s afraid of her, of letting her in. She doesn’t want to hurt him.

She doesn’t want to keep secrets anymore, either.

Liz moves toward him, reaches for his hand. He’s about to reach back out of sheer reflex, until she speaks.

“Raymond.”

It stops him in place. It feels like it stops his heart.

“Why…why are you calling me that?” His given name is used by old friends and older enemies. By his family. Hearing it from her lips is incomprehensible.

“It’s your name.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“Well, you call me by my name, always have. Whether I wanted you to or not.” She smiles at him, remembering his jarring familiarity back then.

“Yes, but you’ve always called me Red, or Reddington. There’s no reason to change that now.” He can’t explain the panic that grips him.

Lizzie watches him with her brow furrowed. She doesn’t understand. That’s fine, he doesn’t either.

“Red is a persona,” she replies. “Raymond Reddington is a man. You’re more than your criminal past to me.” Now.

Liz sees the pain cross his face but doesn’t understand the sorrow that clearly weighs on him in response to her words.

“Sometimes,” he replies, his voice as low as she’s ever heard it, “the man becomes the persona, and the persona becomes the man. Eventually, it’s no longer so easy to tell them apart.”

He takes a step back. Defining the space between them, broadening the distance. She can see Red removing himself from the situation, from her, even as he prepares to speak again.

It’s like a curtain coming down over the part of him that most tugs at her: the human side he shows to almost no one. Liz has grown deeply attached to that part. She doesn’t want to let it go.

“Damn it, Red, don’t do that. Don’t try to deflect me with that wise advisor act. We’re both fugitives now. We’re both murderers. I’m trying to relate to you as a person. If you don’t want that, just tell me.”

Everything about him stills so perfectly that she isn’t sure he continues to breathe. For a long moment, silence fills the room.

“I don’t want that.”

He expects her tears, the frustrated ones that Liz is prone to when he isn’t who she wants him to be. Instead, she crosses the floor between them, pushes into his personal space. There is no disappointment in the way she looks at him, only banked fury.

“I thought you would never lie to me.”

She leaves the room, before he can. He stands alone with his confusion and guilt.

****

Red finds her in the solarium, staring up at the stars. He gave himself several minutes to think up a plan before going to find her.

His finely-honed skills are failing him tonight, because he has no plan but still felt compelled to seek her out. He can’t leave things between them on such a terrible note. He loves her too much to end it like this.

“I’m going to send for Dembe,” he tells Lizzie’s back when she doesn’t turn his way. “It shouldn’t take him long to reach us. A few hours.”

She spins around, eyes blazing. “You said you wouldn’t do that.”

“I said I would wait an hour,” he corrects her. “I thought…”

Red sags. “Well, it’s time, isn’t it?”

He takes a seat on a stone bench. Frowning, Liz crosses the room, examining his downcast face in the weak moonlight.

“Time for what, exactly? Red, I thought we were in agreement now that we wouldn’t split up.”

“That was before.”

“Before…” Liz lets out a noise halfway between a groan and a sigh. “You are the most frustrating--we had a conversation. An honest one. We talked. And now you think something’s changed? Well, guess what. You’re not getting rid of me that easily. I’m not going away just because I find you irritating.”

The problem, though he refuses to admit it out loud, is that he can’t figure out why she wants to stay.

“Frankly, Elizabeth,” he admits after a pause, “sometimes I find you irritating as well.”

That gets a grin out of her, even more baffling than her sincerity thus far. “Well, on that much we agree, I guess.”

“Hm.”

“By all means,” she adds with more cheer, “call Dembe. We could have him over for dinner.”

Red raises his eyebrows at that.

“But I’m not going anywhere with him unless you are, too.”

He taps the bench seat thoughtfully. “You really want to stay together?”

“Is that so hard to believe?” Liz stares at him. “After everything, is it that strange that I would want to be with you?”

Red flinches. She sees it this time, sees it fully and thinks that for once, maybe she understands. Maybe she has enough of the pieces to put the puzzle together.

Finally.

She closes the remaining distance between them and sits, able now to stare into his deep, conflicted eyes. “I want to stay with you. That is what I want. And the only reason we’re here right now is because when you were given the choice of being with me or looking out for yourself, you wanted to stay with me too.

“So if you think it’s time to move on--for you, not me--I'll be okay. But I’m done letting anyone else make my choices, Red. You kept me safe all these years so I could have my life back. I’m ready.”

He thinks he understands, and it’s a painful, glorious thing he sees in her eyes. A gift he can never accept, but one precious for even being offered.

“We will face the Cabal together, Lizzie,” he agrees, nodding over the thick feeling in his throat. “We’ll clear the way for your future. And then you’ll have it.”

His emphasis on the singular is unavoidable. She shakes her head.

“So will you, Red.” Break my heart now if you’re going to, she dares him with her eyes. Say the words. Tell me no. “I love you.”

Liz watches the way his mouth twists. He’s turning her declaration around like a problem to be worked out, a puzzle to be solved--but it’s his eyes that give away his feelings.

Shock. Hope. Terror. Devotion. She can finally read him, and the war within Red rages with no white flag in sight.

“You deserve better,” he manages to say, looking anywhere but at her.

“I deserve to be happy! And I’m happy with you. Don’t you get it?” She wants to grab hold of his shoulders and shake him.

It’s not as though Liz expects him to say it back--she doesn’t need him to. Since the day she first walked into the Post Office, all of Red’s actions have been one long love letter. Infuriating and misguided, but loving nonetheless.

She needs him to accept that it’s real for her, though. Despite all his damage, he has to be able to understand that, or he’ll keep trying to push her away.

“You’re happy now because everything is in flux,” Red argues. “It won’t be like this forever, Lizzie, I promise you that. And when you have a chance to settle, to process things...you’ll see that I’m just doing my best to protect you.”

“From who?” She snaps. And then, softer. The clean slice of a knife, right to the heart of it all. “From you?”

“Loving me is the most dangerous choice you could make.”

His tone is blunt. So often Red’s words feel chosen deliberately, with caution, but Liz knows this is different. He calls himself toxic the way he calls her lovable; as though both are simple truth. The sky is blue. He is hideous.

“First of all, that’s just inaccurate,” Liz replies. “I’ve made a lot of dangerous choices in my life. Shooting Connolly was much more dangerous than this, clearly, because we haven’t been able to stop running since. I mean, Red, loving Tom was more dangerous--he tried to kill me!”

That point makes him uncomfortable, but she keeps going, unwilling to cede any ground.

“Second of all, even if I agreed with you--which I don’t--it wouldn’t matter. This isn’t a choice I made. It’s just what is. Everything I’ve learned since we went on the run only reinforced how I feel, so you’re not going to succeed in talking me out of loving you. Red...all of the worst things that I used to believe about you aren’t true. All of the best things still are.”

“You don’t realize what you’re saying,” Red says. “You don’t know.”

His self-perception is so skewed. Liz is pretty sure she knows him better now than he knows himself sometimes.

He’s been paying penance for thirty years because an attempt to help a friend one night imploded in ways that were outside his control. As though losing his family and his whole life wasn’t punishment enough.

He’s only as much a villain as the world has required him to be–and since her parents died, he’s also been her own personal hero.

“I know you,” she says quietly. With utter certainty. “I know you, Red.”

They sit hip to hip, almost–but not quite–touching. He can feel her warmth stretch across the fraction of space between them. He tries desperately not to feel it, not to acknowledge it.

Not to bask in it, a cat finding a beam of sunlight in the afternoon.

When she takes his hand, he lets her. Red is braced for the feeling of her skin on his, the way the world will contract to just those points where his pulse leaps against hers through fingertips and wrists.

It has always been this way. He has learned to handle it.

Of course, Lizzie…his Lizzie…can never be handled. He tries to calm her and she takes a pen to his neck; he tries to protect her and she shoots a man for threatening him.

He should not be surprised when she lifts their entwined hands and kisses the back of his, but he is. He is stunned by the small intimacy, the casual affection.

Nothing between them is small or casual. It all holds meaning, secret codes in ordinary actions, and he lacks the keystone for this.

His control has been fraying since she learned the truth about her father; there isn’t much of it left. When her lips meet his skin, Red jerks just a little, tugging her hand with his. But she doesn’t react, doesn’t back away. She lowers their hands, still joined, and gives him no easy way to slip away.

She holds his slightly trembling hand, while his world continues to revolve. Around her.

She keeps him.

#the blacklist #lizzington #tbl #lizzington fic #lizzington fanfic #tbl fic #tbl fanfic #the blacklist fic #the blacklist fanfic #my fic #lost in the forest of this heart

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selemina · 4 years

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(Play with your npcs more! Tell me about your favorite npcS IN first casters and what makes you like them so much and what's most fun to play about them? :D)

... Oh my god you should not enable me so much, friend. XD There’s nothing I love more than to rent about universes and characters, be ready for an absolute WALL of text! XD

So first, let’s tackle Damien!

Damien is a street kid : he’s been growing up in the poor district. His parents are an unfortunate couple : abusing mother with a foul temper, spineless soft dad too afraid to defend himself, and a sister that eventually turned maniac and tried to kill their mom. As a result, for most of his life, Damien has been the only one keeping the house standing : standing up to his mother on the rare occasions that she came home, and trying to responsibilize his father despite the fact that he’s terrified of Damien. Because of his history of abuse victim, his father struggles to get close to him, flinching at the slightest raise in voice, and well... Damien is a passionate kid. He also has no problem beating up people he doesn’t like, like a young vigilante, to the point where people in the poor district know him by name... but more as a violent, rabid dog than as a noble crime-fighter. Damien’s fights are usually messy... His only friend is Alexia, that has befriended him one pastry at a time, until he would literally die for her. And then, after the magic started waking up, one day he just.... turned into a tiefling!

Since tieflings are new in this world (and look like devils), of course he couldn’t show himself, so instead they managed to make him a ring enchanted with an Alter Self spell that he can wear at work.

Why I like playing him : ever dreamed of charging a group of thugs from a dark alley and having them actually panick? :D No but more seriously, Damien is just learning to have more friends, and actually be wanted and included after having been alone most of his life. He’s also being teased without fear, and shown endless kindness, and he’s slowly opening up. Seeing him be begrudgingly positive and agressively supportive is a joy! :D He has yet to go absolutely feral but I’d love to see that! ;) Also it’s always fun to be able to play a character that can go from screaming to reluctant silence with just one donut being handed to him. XD

May I talk to you about Lord Peter of the Blackwoods? :3c

Originally from the other world, Mira, Peter is another unfortunate soul. Drafted for a war he had no stake in, he was left for dead on a battlefield. At the time, those bloodbaths were so prolific that vampires in the area were growing complacent and fat, so creating more was a luxury many afforded. He was turned and introduced to the delicately balanced and measured world of the children of the night along with a few others. But then, the war stopped... No more battlefield to scour for food. So his flight headed further inland, looking for more thralls and more food. Unfortunately, in the wake of the war, a terrible plague had found the nearby cities... and with horror, they discovered that it could jump to vampires. Around this time, he guided his weakening flight to a necromancer who promised to help... But soon enough, they realized said necromancer was actually experimenting on them during the day when they were out cold, looking for the secret to their immortality instead of finding a solution against the plague. Peter struck him down, and once again moved with his remaining brothers and sisters, further inland... After the vampire infestation from the war, hunters had multiplicated, and soon his entire flight was recorded and hunted down, vampires scattering in search of safety. Left alone, he holed up in an abandonned mansion deep in the Blackwoods, wanting for nothing more than to be left undisturbed. Taking the occasional suicidal people that came to find him in the hopes of ending their lives, and those looking for immortality, he gathered a small following of thralls to come visit him occasionaly for food, but that he insisted must have a normal life away from him most of the time. Eventually though, the thrall presence in the area alerted the hunters, and they rallied the nearby towns to go walk on the mansion, setting it ablaze, and killing Peter inside. While he should have gone back to his coffin to reform and recover, Peter... drifted, and woke up on Earth instead. Seeing this as an oportunity to start over and reclaim some of his lost humanity, he has made a very strict point to not harm anyone, not make any thralls or any other vampire. He kept Courtney from bleeding out after a robbery gone wrong, and has been found by the group and protected ever since, keeping a low profile.

Why I enjoy playing Peter : Suave motherfucker! A noble trying to stop his tendency to be extra, because he’s not in any vampiric court anymore. Very proper and crafty, he has repressed his power-play tendencies A LOT.. And recently got to stretch a bit and flexe on Dylan, and that was SO satisfying! XD He could demand attention and worship if he felt like it, and force people into serving him, but... First, he wants to change, truly wants to go back to being an equal to humans, and second... Ivan would backhand him and put him back in his place immediately. XD And he’s not ready for the emotional whiplash of being told to sit down by a man shorter than him. ;) Although I hope I can show soon how truly, deeply dangerous Peter can be...

Oh hey, speaking of people that got flexed on, it’s Special Agent Dylan Ross! :D

Dangerous organisations? Underground cults? Mafia? Organized crime? Those are Dylan’s usual scene. Get in, gather information, relay his finds with a precise plan of action, and let his general take care of taking the initiative and getting all of the glory for it. Dylan is the kind of man to light a cigarette while walking away from a building on fire. However... magic? ...Sure, why the fuck not, there are actual videos of a group of kids forcing a walking tree back into a forest, and others of a gigantic wolf and two pups in astreet, from multiple people. Reports of cult activity, too, that turns out to have been... actual animated scarecrows, that kidnapped people? Alright. Sure. ....And now people are growing horns. What the fuck is happening in this place? Put all of that shit on lockdown! Blame it... blame it on Covid-19, the medias won’t mind! (My players groaned at me when they heard about it being used as a plot point, it was great! XD contemporary world, after all!) And now, to investigate. Seems the local police, after a bit of pressure, admitted hiring... kids? Magic users, for things they couldn’t handle on their own. Following the trail, he went after a few of them, not fast enough as they skipped town... But not everybody went, so eventually he managed to get a hold of Alexia, and later Ivan. Expecting a LOT of bullshit and secrets, he found both to be fairly forthcoming with informations? Even helpful? Huh. that’s new in his line of work... A few tests and unethical trials later, he had to recognize he was unprepared for whatever THIS was... For fuck’s sake, the vampire he met put his entire backup team of highly trained soldiers to sleep before talking to him! And then read his entire health situation just from a drop of blood! And now his mind keeps coming back to him, again and again, it’s distracting. There’s also this Archeon guy, his best hope of finding a scientific way to measure magic, scolding him every time he’s a little abrasive. And now the well-behave Alexia revealed that she is linked to a “patron”, the founder of her school, trapped in the school’s statue? Yeah, sure! ....Until the statue animates and points it’s cane straight at his face! ....dylan might actually need help on this one.

Why I like to play Dylan : MY PLAYERS HATE HIM! XD He is a sassy, venomous, unpleasant man, with just enough humanity to keep people from truly doing anything about him. It’s really fun for me, who is usually a nice person, to be able to be unbashedly rude as a tired, sleep-deprived special agent in over his head! XD He is also a perceptive, crafty bastard : he threatened Alexia with an entire firing squad just to see what her immediate response would be, fight or flight! Everything he does is dangerous, and he can tell when people are bullshitting him from a mile away! And he fully knows that he’s a bastard, he owns up to it : someone has to be the bastard and get shit done. Might as well be an efficient bastard, and get on everybody’s nerves! And yet, he can listen to reason. He’s able to cooperate to get to his goal, listen to advices, and take good decisions. He is very fun to play! :D (Also I can hear the groans from my players when he shows up, voluntary or not, and I live for their visceral reactions. XD)

We’ve talked about Oni quite a bit already, but.. yeah, Oni. XD

Originaly from the north of France, his thunder demon ancestry came to him after the magic had started reappearing, showing that the event is not limited to the area around Paris... With his Ancestor pushing him to carve himself a place in the world, he went on to find “the strongest caster” and duel her one on one. Let me tell you, this whole session was incredible... XD It was the first time I was introducing a villain MEANT to be a villain and not to be reasoned with. Buuut, well... He got beat fair and square. XD Then failed to escape. Then was executed, and his body was melted and burried. ...Then later that night, Ivan came around with a diamound and resurrected him, because nobody wanted to actually be murderers. And that’s how Oni realized he had been messing with the wrong crowd : he was here to hurt, when they were here to KILL. Needless to say, that put him in his place, and gave him time to think. With his life dept to Ivan, he can’t really run away and try to rebuild himself ; his family has thrown him out after his fugue, and now he lives at the Standon household as an unofficial adopted son. XD He tries to be useful around the house, but wishes he had more reasons to fight... Why I love to play Oni : A RESURRECTED VILLAIN IN DND IS JUST SO UNEXPECTED! XD How does one cope with that? Oni is still struggling to find his place, but at least now he’s open to the idea of helping to defend the town instead of just running in head first and crushing everything on his path! I enjoy his ancestor’s code of honor : Essentially, BE BIG. Either make this territory yours and be feared and respected, or recognize those that defeated you and serve them with all your might. Sometimes, being the biggest around doesn’t mean killing : if you keep an army from assaulting a town just because you are sitting at it’s gate, it is also a victory! Be a force to be reckoned with, either for yourself if you’re strongest, or for those above you if you are not. Be invaluable, be reliable, be fearsome. Sucess is when men throw down their arms the moment they see you. Oni is trying to reach this level of strength... but he is also the only man alive to have been resurrected, when nobody else has. People more worthy than him could have been brought back, but no, this miracle fell on him. And he’s uncertain how to feel, having had such an impossible gift offered to him, a humbled nobody, of all people. The weight on his shoulders is heavier than one might know.

Oh hey it’s Master Kavoleg! :D

(seen here with his assistant and Earth-discoverer, Salin! :D) High level mage, high level mage, high lev- XD I LOVE Master Kavoleg! He’s a bit of a hermit, but always ready to help, curious, clever, his has very nice maners, he’s prone to throwing spells in the air when he’s frustrated at a bunch of bickering diplomats... His tower/library, the White Tower, is built right over a place of power, and is a hub for a lot of free wizards, students and experts, coming to do quiet research. Although business has been slow lately, it gives him the opportunity to meet the Earthlings and both learn and teach once more. As an influent person of interest, he is well placed to influence Mira’s approach to Earth in a favorable way, and to give advice on how to handle the surge of magic energy in the other world. People talk about him with reverance, and he is an approachable if imposing figure... as long as you’re not wasting his time.

Why I love to play Kavoleg : *slaps tiefling* “This Wizard can fit so many secrets! :D” I am SO excited to have the team discover a few of them, but... in due time. In due time. XD He is a soft, elegant man, with a certain disregard for people’s misplaced pride. He has a note of mischief to him (giving literal translations of places’ names to the Earthlings, underlining how SIMPLE they sound when not in the different languages, like they’re usually presented) that I love playing, and his relationship to Salin and his new assistant Elias is wonderful to play out! He is a tranquil force, powerful and wise but comfortable. He is very... Well, very comfortable for me to play! XD

And there we have it! :D I hope this was complete enough. There’s so much in there! XD

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thetravelerwrites · 5 years

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Shelter Forest Character Reference Guide

I saw some comments about people being confused as to who all the people were in the stories, so I made a handy-dandy reference guide from asks I got on tumblr. If there are any other things you'd like to know about the people in Shelter Forest, please don't hesitate to send me an ask!

Can I ask how many children Declan has? If possible with names and species? I think you already answer this question so if you don't want to write everything again can you links us the answer?

As of Thandur’s fic, Declan has ten who identify as his children (I.E. they think of him as their father) and three who identify as his wards (I.E. under his protection but they don’t see him as their parent), so thirteen altogether. They are as follows:

As of Thandur’s fic:

Declan - 68 (Male Bat Monster; Ryel’s Mate; Straight)

Ryel - 50 (Female Human; Declan’s Mate; Straight)

Feera (Gnoll) - 28 (Joined Family at age 7; Straight)

Kurra (Gnoll) - 28 (Joined Family at age 7; Gay)

Reed - 26 (Male Cervitaur Ward; Yala’s Husband; Joined Family at age 15; Bisexual)

Soraya - 25 (Female Bat; Caeli’s Mate; Joined Family at age 13 Mo.; Lesbian)

Yala - 23 (Female Human; Reed’s Wife; Joined Family at age 4; Bisexual)

Caeli - 21 (Fem-Intersex Human Ward; Recently Married Soraya; Pansexual)

Birch - 21 (Male Centaur; Joined Family at age 12 with Yew; Straight)

Cetzu - 19 (Male Reptilian Changling; Joined Family at age 3 Weeks; Pansexual)

Lymera - 18 (Female Faun; Joined Family at age 5; Straight)

Toklo - 17 (Masc-Intersex Adlet; Joined Family at age 4; Asexual)

Yew - 13 (Male Centaur; Joined Family at age 4 with Birch; Gay)

Sayo - 12 (Female Owl-Harpy Ward; Just Joined as of Rantha’s Fic; Lesbian)

Asahi - 5 (Male Kitsune; Joined Family at age 8 Mo.)

Declan also has a three month old granddaughter named Teya, whose parents are Reed and Yala. Yala is pregnant with their second child. Also, Rantha is 36 and his as yet unnamed wife is 22. They’re son, Ranji, is 6 month old.

For Declan’s clan, what everybody’s little fear?

Declan hates the dark. He always has a candle burning.

Ryel is afraid of spiders. She knows it’s silly, living in the forest, but she can’t help it.

Feera is scared of crowds.

Kurra hates cats.

Reed is terrified of bears.

Soraya is pretty fearless. The only thing she’s scared of is humans, specifically hunters.

Yala is a bit superstitious, and hates the number 13.

Caeli doesn’t like crows.

Birch gets spooked by rabbits pretty easily. He’s not necessarily scared of them, he’s just always startled by them.

Cetzu is afraid of faeries. He worries they’ll try to take him back to the otherworld.

Lymera is claustrophobic.

Toklo is afraid of heights.

Worms or other creepy crawlies squick Yew out.

Sayo is uncomfortable around males. She grew up in an all-female community. She gets over it as she gets older, though.

Asahi hates thunder. He is five, after all.

What’s their guilty pleasure?

Declan: He eats bugs. A LOT. Just cause it makes his wife’s face scrunch up. Also he likes how they taste.

Ryel: Ryel likes to take really long baths. Like, proper baths in a tub. She’d spend all day in one if she got her way.

Feera: There’s a place in the forest that catches light in such a way that it’s perfect for naps. Feera disappears for a few hours and naps there. He doesn’t tell anyone about it because he doesn’t want to share.

Kurra: Kurra just likes to eat. All day every day. He’s strictly a meat eater, but if he can get his hands on it, he’ll eat it.

Reed likes to dance. He doesn’t do it often, because he’s self conscious, but every once in a while, when he and Yala are alone, they dance together.

You already know Soraya’s, She goes to the beach and collects shells. Only Caeli knows about it.

Yala goes swimming naked in the middle of the night. Reed stands guard.

Caeli loves to climb trees. No reason, she just likes being up high. She and Soraya will race sometimes.

Birch likes to play pranks. Usually their harmless, but he’s not allowed to bring animals into the main house anymore.

Cetzu is a bit of a romantic. He fantasizes about getting married and carves wedding rings for potential spouses. He has a small collection of rings he’s made that he’s never showed anyone.

Lymera is a holy woman in training, but she’s also a faun and likes to cause mischief. She’s let the ceremonial temple birds free in the temple more than once.

Toklo has never been into a town before, but he has gone to the edges of some that border the forest and watched the people going about their day. He thinks the habits of normal people going about their normal lives is fascinating.

Yew likes birds. He has some that he’s trained to follow him around. If you hear twittering and chirping coming from nowhere, Yew’s probably nearby.

Sayo plays hide and seek without telling anyone. She likes to hide for hours at a time. Once she was perched on top of the house for two days and no one was able to find her.

Asahi doesn’t have a guilty pleasure. He’s a toddler. Same goes for Teya.

For the women of the farm, are they good at cooking? Do they enjoy it? What do others think of their cooking?

Ryel is okay at cooking. It wasn’t as hard before when it was just her and Declan, but once the kids started arriving, she had to up her game. She certainly doesn’t enjoy it.

Yala is good at and really enjoys baking, and though she’s good at cooking other food, she prefers baking.

It’s a good thing Caeli came along. Not only does she love to cook, she’s amazing at it. Yala and Ryel happily left that chore to her.

And even though you didn’t ask, Asahi helps.

Then who is the best cooker and/or baker in the clan?

Ready for a shock? It’s Kurra, one of the Gnoll boys. He cooks every once in a while, but he prefers hunting to cooking. His venison stews are to die for, though.

After I read Rantha's story I fell in love with his sweet personality, but I had the feeling he alone in the woods for a reason right? What happened to his family?

Rantha’s family were ring fighters, similar to bulls in matador fights, except the object is for the human and the minotaur to fight to the death. The minotaurs are paid handsomely when they win, treated like kings, but Rantha hated it.

After his first fight when he was only 13, during which he killed his opponent, he left and never came back. He found Declan but decided not to join the family, instead making his own way in the forest. He and Declan have been friends for years. He was the one who found Toklo being sold at auction and brought him to the farm.

I'm curious; if Rantha came from a place where humans and minotaurs fight, then they do know other creatures exist. But the village where Ryel use to live everyone acts like they don't know about their existence. Were they isolated from other places or they just hate other creatures? Can monster roam around freely or just in certain places?

Alrighty, we’re about to get into some deep lore here.

Almost all of my stories are connected, from the modern to the medieval. In Tumble’s story, it’s mentioned that there are “Established” non-human races, i.e. creatures that humans have known about for centuries and accept into society at large. There were nine in total:

Orcs

Man-Beasts (like werewolves or werebears; basically any being who start as humans and become something else)

Beastmen (including minotaurs, tabaxi, gnolls, lizardfolk, etc.; basically any being that is more beast than man)

Giant-Kin (like trolls and ogres)

Goblin-Kin (including bugbears and hobgoblins)

Demon-Kin (such as vampires and teiflings, and demons, of course),

Cattle-Kin, (such as centaurs, satyrs, and/or fauns; any being with human-like faces and hooved feet.)

Halfling-Folk (Including gnomes and dwarves)

The Fair Folk, otherwise known as the Fae. Elves are included in this subcategory.

Besides these well-known races, there were others who, after centuries in seclusion, decided to reveal themselves to humans, like Tumble’s people. Despite this, there are still a few who have chosen to remain in hiding, such as driders, like Jin, and certain demons, like Blue.

Back during the Shelter Forest story arc, the “Established” races were well known, though there was heavy discrimination against them, especially in smaller villages. There were, of course, human-only towns and villages who were hostile to non-human peoples, as in the case with Ryel and Caeli’s village.

Typically, you’d find non-humans either in large cities, where humans and non-humans coexisted, places like where Rantha first came from, or in closed communities for non-human people that were far recessed from the human populations. Animal-like peoples, like the rakshasa and Tumble’s people, the leporids, lived in these communities. Non-human, non-established creatures who live outside of these communities were often hunted like animals, as Reed was.

As stated before, even though there were “Established” races, there were also races no one had ever seen or heard about, like Declan. Declan and Soraya are not native to the continent in which they reside and are very rare. In fact, there are only 22 other creatures like them on the continent. Their kind come from a continent in the south and are hunted by adventurers and brought back to the northern continent when they are babies as living trophies.

Conversely, there were races that people have heard about but have rarely seen, like nagas and dragons, who were openly hostile to humans as well and have little to do with them. Even during the modern times, nagas and dragons are reluctant to interact with humans, but they aren‘t hidden.

I already know this is canon but I MUST ask. Declan and Soraya, have any of you ever eat a moth out of nowhere in the night????

Declan says: “Once, about a year after she came to stay with me, I startled Ryel by taking a moth off of the wall one evening while we were talking and munching on it. I didn’t understand why her face went all scrunchy like that so I asked her what was wrong. ‘You just ate a bug,’ she said. I laughed for a long time after that.”

Soraya says: “I’m not particular to moths; too fuzzy. But I do like grasshoppers and beetle grubs. Grasshoppers are plentiful during the summer, and grubs pop up around springtime under tree bark. I typically go on bug hunts by myself and bring a handful back for Papa. It’s probably the one eating habit that’s exclusive to the two of us.”

I need to ask Declan and Soraya; What's your favorite fruit/meal. Do you only eat fresh fruit or do you eat some other things as well? I know you can't eat meat but what about some seeds, cereals, bread or dairy products? What about food that has fruit flavors on it like; orange flavored biscuits or passion fruit mousse? Also, what about Jam? which one it's your favorite if you liked them :) (Sorry if this is too much to answer :3)

Declan says: “I adore bananas, but they’re hard to come by where we live. It’s far too cold to grown them here, even in the summer, so I settle for my second favorite, mangos. I do love seeds and nuts. We have almond and walnut trees growing on the farm, and sunflowers and pumpkins, and we eat the seeds from those. Our stomachs don’t process dairy very well, so Soraya and I tend to stay away from it, though the rest of the family doesn’t have that problem. As far as jam, I love all kinds, but Ryel stops me from licking the jar. She says it’s not dignified. As if I’ve ever been dignified. :)”

Soraya says: “I love apricots and figs the most. I help Mama make preserves and jam and dried fruit for the wintertime, when the fruit trees aren’t producing. We also make fruitcakes and preserve them in whiskey, so they last a really long time. We grow oats, but not wheat, so we don’t eat much bread unless she brings it from market, and even then, I can’t eat a lot of it. We make nutbars and nectar flower biscuits that keep for months, though, and those sustain us through winter. Most of the rest of the family are omnivores or carnivores, so they hunt in the winter to keep themselves fed, but Papa and I have specific diets, so we have to make things that will last us the whole winter long or we’d starve. Mama is really good about making and saving, and she keeps us all warm and fed.”

For Cetzu: Do they have a good memory? Short term or long term? Are they good with names? Or faces? What is their sleeping pattern like? Do they snore? What do they like to sleep on? A soft or hard mattress? What do they find funny? Do they have a good sense of humour? Are they funny themselves? How do they act when they’re happy? Do they sing? Dance? Hum? Or do they hide their emotions?

Cetzu has a memory like a steel trap. It’s likely his fae heritage. He remembers just about everything. Cetzu, being cold blooded, likes to be warm, so he, the gnoll boys, and Asahi sleep in a pile in a room the family calls the “boy’s den.” He’s not all that funny, but he does like to laugh. He thinks throwing the gnolls into the river is hilarious. He’s a friendly person, but he does keep his negative feelings to himself. He doesn‘t like to bother people. But it’s the opposite when he’s happy. He likes everyone to know when he’s happy. He does try to sing, but he’s a touch tone deaf.

I want to know! How did Cetzu learn to make all the stuff he does? Did he read it somewhere or have someone teaching nearby?

I think it’s part of his fae heritage, since he’s a changeling, but he’s just naturally gifted at it. He started out making simple things when he was a small boy, though, and practiced until he could carve very intricate carvings. He’s got an expert eye now.

Since Cetzu is part fae, he can't touch iron? Or is offensive to him to tell him ''thank you'' or receiving presents?

The iron thing, definitely. The farm uses steel as much as possible, and if they have to use iron, it’s kept in a safe place where he can’t accidentally touch it, sort of like allergy prevention. He also has a hang up about being invited into places: you can’t just tell him to go somewhere he hasn’t been before, he has to be invited there or he simply won’t go. He doesn’t mind politeness but he sees receiving presents as a debt to repay. Even though he struggles with the fae part of himself, he’s still bound by some of their laws.

What about a tail? Does Cetzu has a tail too? Can it grow back is one cuts it? (not that I want that for him, no! Poor thing T.T)

He does have a tail, but unfortunately, it will not grow back if cut off.

I forgot to ask, what about wings? Since he's part fae, but also I've heard of some Lizardfolks (not dragons) with wings.

Cetzu doesn’t have wings, no. He’s more like a big, black alligator that stands like a man. He’s buff as hell too.

I want to know, how little Sayo reacted when she saw so many men in the farm. Or did she already knew what men where :?

Up to that point, Sayo lived in a woman-only community. She hadn’t met any kind of male before being dropped off at the farm. She was terrified of them for the first year.

Does Asahi like shiny stuff? I've heard that harpies also like them? Did they both have a chest/corner/place where they collect shiny stuff or they have on of their own? or they compete for who has the biggest mountain of shiny stuff?

That’s what got Sayo to come out of her shell a little. Asahi wanted to make friends with her, but she was always aggressive and snapped at him, until he showed her his hoard of treasures. The two of them became friends then, and Sayo slowly started to open up to the rest of the family.

Both Asahi and Sayo collect shiny things, but while Asahi likes coins and bits of metal, Sayo prefers petrified amber and stones. Asahi buries his, and Sayo keeps her collection under her bed.

So to Asahi, Sayo is like his big sister? (I mean, obviously, they are Declan's and Ryel's children anyways) so he often follows her and she ''tries'' to keep him away of danger and getting dirty... again?

Yep. Sayo is actually the oldest of four daughters in her original clan, so she’s used to being responsible for younger children, but she’s never had a little brother before. Once she came along, she helped Ryel keep Asahi in line.

7 & 11 for Sayo please. Also, not in the ask but... which color are Sayo’s feathers?

Did they have lots of friends as a child? Did they keep any of their childhood friends into adulthood? Do they have any special diet requirements? Are they a vegetarian? Vegan? Have any allergies?

Sayo is based on a Barn Owl, so her feathers are gold and white. She’s a bird of prey, so definitely not vegan or vegetarian. She’s the only female on the farm that’s strictly meat and can’t eat vegetables or fruit. As far as childhood friends, she used to have a lot of them before her mom kicked her out of her coven. Now she not in contact with any of them.

I was thinking if Lymera uses Reed's antlers to make charms, could she use Sayo's feathers if they fall? Do harpies change their feathers from time to time? Maybe doing things like dream catchers???

Sayo does drop feathers and go through molts, but she finds the use of them in charms offensive to her culture.

Somehow I imagine Asahi wearing little bells for some reason, maybe on his tail or in his clothes? I just picture him with bells (like the ones in cat toys)

He has to have bells on. Ryel has to know where he is AT ALL TIMES. Otherwise he gets into everything.

I've always pictured Lymera wearing long and loose dresses for some reason. Maybe because I have this image of people working with talismans and stuff like that

Funnily enough, nudity isn’t taboo on the farm. Sayo, Soraya, and most of the boys never wear clothing. The humans do, but that’s conditioning. Lymera, being an acolyte priestess would typically wear robes and gowns of her station, but she does go nude from time to time.

Can Lymera play any instrument/sing?

Yes, she plays the harp, flute, and drum. She does sing as well. That’s actually where she was when Ryel found her; chained to a stage at an inn, singing for the patrons.

Since I'm a witch myself I want to ask Lymera what kind of stuff she does and what part of her studies to be a priestess she likes the most? Do you focus on healing magic or other types as well? What about divination like tarot card of a pendulum, do you work with crystals or herbs? Do you watch the stars or make amulets for protection? Sorry if this is too much I got a little excited! Hugs! 3 :D

Lymera says: “My primary focus is sacred ceremonies, like weddings, initiations, and funerals. When not doing those, I practice many types of divination and scrying, as well as some magical healing. Mother is a far better herbalist than me, though, and helps me with that subject. As an acolyte, I am required to study all aspects of the craft, but there are some that draw me more than others. When Reed’s antlers drop in the winter, Cetzu sculpts little amulets from them that I bless and give out as charms. Our family works together.”

Wow, I can’t wait to know more about Lymera. I’m just trying to imagine the whole “escape plan” to save her from that horrible place, sounds intriguing.

In Reed’s fic, I had explained it as Ryel seeing her and trying to buy her from the innkeeper, and when that didn’t work, she brought Declan back in the middle of the night to scare the bejeezus out of the innkeeper until she released Lymera. Declan’s a cuddly puppy most of the time, but he can be a big Papa Bear when he wants to be.

I think 11 would be an interesting one for Toklo, I mean we know he eats meat but, does he enjoys something else in the farm???

Toklo is definitely a meat eater, but he also eats onions whole and stares people down while he does it. He’s a weird kid.

Sorry if this is just me, but, what Toklo does in the farm? I believe there's always a lot of work in there so everyone must help somehow, right?

Toklo helps in the fields like everyone does. He’s also mostly a carnivore, so he also goes on weekly hunts with the other meat eaters of the family. Cleaning and gutting often falls to him. He’s learning currently how to tan leather from the hides.

Does Asker visit the farm alot and what does his wife usually do on the farm???

Asker doesn’t visit often. He’s very anti-social. He likes the family, but from a distance. His children visit more than he does, but that’s still sporadic. Laefa does carpentry work around the farm, building shelters and repairing the house and the barn, should there be damage.

Which character in the Declan Clan likes to knit????

Reed’s mate, Yala, knits a lot. She taught Caeli (Soraya’s mate) and both of the gnoll twins how to do it.

Are gnolls twins like fire and water? or they complement each other like PB and Jelly?

PB&J, honestly. They almost have that twin telepathy. But they do have marked differences in appearance and tastes.

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