#I don't know why the colours were looking so bad when saving
Text
Chapter Seventeen: Don't Forget Me
Gates Of Hell
Word Count: 9.2k
Warnings: mentions of death, violence, claustrophobia, lotsssssss of angst - i am the real monster, gun use,
steve is adorable as usual and y/n is... she needs help, my girl is going through it
[A/N: It's 3am and I thought it was a great time to rewrite the ending so if it's bad, that's why. In all seriousness, I am so thankful to everyone who has an insane amount of patience. I am currently on my last few months of uni so it's been hectic but I do still love writing this fic, I just haven't had time :( I hope the weeks of waiting were worth it?
To sum up this chapter... I have officially decided I am incapable of happiness... anyways, enjoy!]
Don't Forget Me
The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me.
Ever since those words slipped from your mouth, the realisation was striking the remaining tethers to your sanity.
The radio had cut out a while ago, leaving a long strand of frustrating static in the air. You couldn’t find yourself to care about that right now. Something wants you here. Why?
As it turns out, you weren’t the only one wondering.
“This monster is running around making gates, and following you? Why you?” Steve had attempted to reclaim the radio signal once it had blared incomprehensible static, but he had no such luck. Instead, he turned back to you, feeling sick at the haunted look on your face.
“I don’t know.” You say quietly, staring down at the damp map lying on the rocky floor in front of you.
“It doesn’t make sense.” Steve states, squinting at the small building your finger currently rested on.
“I’m aware of that.” You sigh, rubbing your temple.
“But you still think you’re the pattern we can’t quite figure out?”
“I don’t know, Steve!” You suddenly snap before the colour drains from your face. You didn't mean to do that. “Sorry. It’s just… it’s too specific to only be a coincidence. I just don’t know why.”
Steve slowly nods, cautious of the way you were tucking your hands into your sleeves, obviously trying to hide their uncontrollable shaking.
“Is it to do with the virus?” He asks, the question tasting like poison on his tongue.
The virus is almost covering you now, creeping up your jaw. You couldn’t hide it if you tried, and Steve had already seen it. Already the venom was influencing you more than you had expected.
“I don’t think so.” You shake your head, mindlessly flexing your fingers.
“Then what’s different?” He looks at you with a soft frown, a look you’ve seen more in the past few days. “If not the virus, what else could it possibly want with you?”
You start to shrug, conditioned to feel like you were in the dark. Since finding the others in the lab, it had become increasingly clear that you were an outsider to their heroic group. You weren’t there when El was first discovered, completely unaware that the small girl adopted into your family was a superhero in her own right. You didn’t fight a demogorgon, or protect the kids from danger, and you especially didn’t save the world.
But this wasn’t about them anymore. This was about you. Your connection. And with all you’ve been through in the last month, you’re the only one who could solve this mystery.
Your breath catches in your throat and Steve finds your eyes, questioning.
“The dust…”
The giant shadow of a monster you had seen before was looming over what used to be the police station. It didn’t have eyes, nor even a face, but you knew it was looking directly at you.
And you felt paralysed.
You watched as it held out an arm… or was it a leg? Whichever, it pointed at you, something fluttered around its shape. Some kind of dust. Black dust.
Everything in you told you to run, but you couldn’t move even if you wanted to. The dust approached closer, slithering along the ground like vines. And you stared, heart jumping into your throat…
Wisps of wind trailed past your ears, unheard from the heartbeat thrumming against your eardrums until it became louder. It wasn’t just wind… it was voices. Incomprehensible murmurs swirling around you.
Until it wasn’t so incomprehensible any more.
“Tell her”
“Dust?” Steve frowns, tensing his shoulders. “You mean the Mind Flayer?”
“That night the shapeshifter separated us.” You start nodding, absent-mindedly moving closer to him. “I remember escaping the arcade and then…”
“Then?” He prompts, a hushed tone to both of your voices despite the privacy of the rocky ledge.
“I saw the Mind Flayer.” You say and he feels a chill run down his spine. “It- I couldn’t move. And these, like, scary images were in my head before I had this really intense nightmare. The next thing I knew, you were there and I wasn’t stuck anymore.”
“You were in some kind of trance. It took me a while to get you out of it.” He recalls, nodding slowly. Even the memory made his stomach clench. “What did you see? The images?”
“Hawkins.” You lower your eyes, slumping back against the hard rock, “It was… it was like it was on fire. Nothing looked the same. There was this giant gap and-and so many monsters. People… bodies.”
“An apocalypse.” Steve finishes for you and you nod your head, eyes squeezed shut.
“If we don't stop whatever it is opening these gates, Hawkins is going to burn.”
Your words struck a chill down his spine, the fear in your eyes evident even as you try and avoid looking towards him. There was a scared determination in the way you started down at the map. It was almost as if Steve could feel the waves in your brain radiating with an idea.
That's cute, Steve thought as you bit your lip in concentration. Adoring you felt better than the dread of an apocalypse.
“I'm going to the motel.”
Steve’s head almost snapped off his neck in the miniscule amount of time it took him to react, staring at you like you were crazy. You are crazy.
“Are you crazy?!”
He expected some sort of retort, or an ounce of an amused grin on your lips. But you only nodded.
“We know this thing is there. If I can catch it, kill it, whatever, I can save whoever is left. This is my chance to stop it.”
You were being reasonable, offering a calm take on the situation with a decision you were ready to face. Steve, on the other hand, took your proclamation as an act of war.
“If you think for one second I’m gonna let you get yourself killed, you’re outta your mind.” He says with a stern face, prompting your brows to scrunch together.
“Funny, I don’t remember asking for your opinion.” You shot back and he shakes head in disbelief.
“Y/n, this isn’t just some fun little holiday where you can do whatever you want. You’re gonna walk into a literal death trap!” He didn’t mean to raise his voice, but the panic was already settling in and taking control.
“There is something there that’s been following me, following us! Don’t you want to figure it out? End all of this?!”
“Whatever it is has been managing to rip a gap between worlds with its mind! It’s mind, Y/n!” He stressed, expressing himself with his hands, “I don’t want to be on the receiving end of that and neither do you!”
“What does it matter? I’m dead either way!”
You can see him pale in front of you, sucking in a breath.
“Don’t say that.” He whispers out, a quiver in his bottom lip and you hate yourself. Why did you have to hurt the people you loved?
“It’s true, Steve. I’m already out of time.” You tilt your head, a clash of lightning above illuminating the veins that slithered along your jaw. “I want to find whatever it is poisoning our town and I want to destroy it before…”
“Before what? It spreads to other towns?” He frowns, running a hand through his hair. “It’s made it pretty clear it only wants Hawkins-”
“Before it gets you.” You finish, staring up at him. If you looked in his eyes any longer, you would see your reflection, a reminder of what he was scared to lose, but that you were willing to sacrifice.
“We know there’s a pattern. And now we know it’s me. And… and I don’t know why, but it wants me. This virus is barely hours away from reaching my brain and honestly now is the perfect time to finally figure all this shit out and face it.”
“And if you get killed?” His voice cracks and you bite your lip, pretending like you didn’t know the answer when all you could think about for the past three weeks was the inevitable.
“Like I said,” You gulp, forcing yourself to hold eye contact. “I’m already out of time.”
“What about your dad? Robin? All of those little shitheads who clearly adore you-”
“They don’t need me, Steve.”
“I do.”
“No you don’t.” You shake your head, tears pooling in your eyes. “You’ve been doing this shit long before I was ever in the picture. If anything, I’ve just ruined it-”
“Why do you do that?” He cuts you off, flickering between your eyes with a look of concern. “Act like you aren’t someone important, when you most definitely are.”
“Steve-”
“No, I wouldn’t have survived this thing without you here. Neither of us would have survived...”
When his voice trails off, you watch him scrunch his face and take a deep breath. He walks away from you, running a hand through his hair. He was thinking, struggling to make a decision. But he always did, and it was always the right one.
“You’re not going to listen to a word I say, are you?” He asks, glancing over his shoulder. You silently shake your head, seeing no reason to prolong this fight. “Fine.”
“Fine?” You repeat, unsure you heard him right.
“I can’t stop you.” He shrugs, sniffing back the emotions lingering at the back of his throat. If he couldn’t convince you, he would just have to make sure you knew you weren’t alone. “But I can help.”
“Wait, no-”
“What? You want me to just sit around on this rock wondering if my girlfriend’s gonna make it back alive or if that’s the last time I’ll ever see her?” Steve lets out a breathy laugh, clicking his tongue. “No, I’m going with you. We do this together or there’s no point doing it at all.”
A flash of surprise hits your face as Steve breathes heavy, not giving you another second to try and convince him to let you go. You had to understand that he couldn’t. He couldn’t let you go. No matter how many times he lived through that scenario in his head, replaying the scene as if you disappearing would leave his heart intact, he just couldn’t do it. Steve knew it was foolish to expect a different ending, but surely he was allowed to have hope.
Was it hope?
Or was it something he refused to see for what it truly was?
A delusion.
“If this thing is really opening the gates, why don’t we, like, make it open another one?”
Steve’s question hangs in the air when he shakes the thought away, realising the obvious answer before the last word even left his lips.
The ground coughed out a soft crunch beneath your footsteps, trailing beside Steve through the twisted crops of Merril’s farm. Even in the Upside Down, the field didn’t differ visually from the real thing. You remember when the crops started to degrade, Merrill grumbling about his neighbour poisoning them. The dispute had been entertaining to you. But now you knew the truth, it didn’t seem so funny anymore.
“Shit.” You curse under your breath as you trip over a vine, managing to regain your balance.
“What’s wrong?” Steve is by your side at an instant, brown eyes laced with worry scanning you.
“Nothing, just tripped.” You dismiss, frowning at the vine behind you. A shudder rolls down your back when you think you can see it moving, but the clash of lightning above was probably playing tricks with the light.
As you go to take another step, your vision blurs. You try and blink it away, rubbing at your eyes. There’s an unsettling rush of heat beneath your skin, scorching your nerves. It should be cause for panic. But you’ve been through this before. Your only fear was knowing you weren’t hiding it anymore.
“Woah, woah, woah.” Steve quickly grabs onto your shoulders and you blink as he catches you before gravity took you victim. You didn’t even realise you were falling. “Hey, you okay?”
No. Steve already knew that. How could you possibly be okay when the virus was slowly closing in on you?
“Just… give me a minute.” You catch your breath, trying every technique to stabilise your heart rate as you fall into a squatted position. You hated that this thing was slowing you down, and you hated being out in the open like this, knowing that because of you, the both of you were going to be in more danger than necessary.
Steve stands by your side, slowly sliding the bag from his shoulder to fish out his bat, hand wavering over the metal weapon resting below. No. That was for emergencies. This was just his paranoia setting in.
“Nice day, huh?” Steve offers when the silence became unbearable, making you laugh. He smiles. He loved making you laugh.
“I’ve seen worse.” You reply, standing back up and taking another breath, slow and easy. “Okay, I think I’m good.”
“You sure?”
“M-hm.” You nod, a small smile gracing your face as you adjusted your bag and found rhythm between your footsteps once again.
It was getting scarier, the time between your virus lapses decreasing more and more. You weren’t ready to turn into one of those things. No one could be.
How would I stop myself from killing?
Your eyes drift over to the boy next to you, his admirable determination guiding you both through the farm like it was his life’s mission.
What if you took his life?
You snap your head away, focusing on your breaths. One breath in. Hold. One breath out.
Will I have to watch myself murder innocent people?
One breath in. One breath out. One breath in-
“Y/n?”
Sometimes the dim light of the Upside Down was a blessing. The low exposure shielded you from seeing the way he looked at you; with concern, sadness, pity. You found it hard to be so vulnerable like this. You didn’t want anyone’s sympathy. You barely allowed yourself to be perceived unless it was for all the wrong reasons.
It was a stupid stupid habit to bear such hatred towards yourself for feeling. But this is how you been for years now. You weren’t sure how to be any other way.
“You’re suspiciously quiet.” Steve comments, attempting to lighten the dreary mood. “Not that I’m complaining. Finally, some peace.”
“Rude.” You reply almost instantly, unable to resist the smile pulling at your lips.
Steve hated how dark it was in the Upside Down. Without much light, he was unable to study your features in times like this, to watch the joy return to your eyes after weeks of torment.
But even in the dark, he knew exactly how much hurt you were hiding beneath that worn-out mask of yours.
“Seriously. What’s on your mind?” Steve asks you as he scrunches his face in disgust as the tip of his shoe brushes against the pile of inedible black mush that once was a pumpkin.
“Other than monsters, the apocalypse, and my general state of being?” You smirk at him, but he already sensed your hesitancy.
“Yeah, the important stuff.” He shrugs with a chuckle.
I’m scared if you don’t run away, I might hurt you.
You shake your head free of intruding thoughts, focusing on the ones that sparked unusual butterflies in your stomach.
“What? You want me to just sit around on this rock wondering if my girlfriend’s gonna make it back alive or if that’s the last time I’ll ever see her?” Steve lets out a breathy laugh, clicking his tongue. “No, I’m going with you. We do this together or there’s no point doing it at all.”
“Um, you said something earlier. Back at the quarry.” You force yourself to keep walking, trying to hide the smile in your voice.
“Like what?” He blinks innocently. A jolt of anxiety rushes through your brain.
Oh god, what if he didn’t mean it? He could have just gotten confused, or caught up in the intensity of it all and you were about to embarrass yourself for ever thinking differently.
As painful as it is, that option was probably the best one. Maybe then it’ll make it easier when the virus destroys you.
“You, um… you called me your… girlfriend.” You almost cringe trying to finish what you started.
Steve almost trips, looking like a deer in headlights.
“Oh. That.” Steve lets out a nervous laugh, running a hand through his hair. “I, uh… you know, it was just, uh…”
“Heat of the moment?” You offer quietly and he clears his throat.
“Yeah, right. Heat of the moment.”
“Yeah, of course. That’s- that’s what I thought it was.” You shake your head, wanting to move on from this subject as quickly as you could. “Just wanted to be sure.”
“Would it… would it be so bad if it wasn’t just the, uh, heat of the moment?” Steve suddenly asks.
You go quiet. Too quiet. And Steve clicks his tongue.
“Oh.”
“No, I didn’t mean-” You scrunch your eyes shut, footsteps slowing to a complete stop. “It just doesn’t feel right to say it.”
“Doesn’t it?”
Of course it does. Nothing has ever felt more right in my entire life, you want to scream, seal it in stained ink. But you had to look at the reality. You were going to die. You just wanted to make it as emotionally painless as you could.
“We’re not… we aren’t meant to be together, Steve.” You lie straight through your teeth, avoiding his eyes.
Steve scoffs, a hand on his hips as he looks at you in disbelief. “Yes, we are.”
“No. We’re not.” You say with a little more conviction, shaking your head. “This. Us. It’s not… how do we even know it’s real?”
When you avoided his eyes for a little too long, his hands find your face, cupping your cheeks to gently tilt your head to look at him. You just softly take them away, but he never lets go of your hands.
“If the gates hadn’t opened that day in detention… we never would have even looked at each other again.” You say, sadness coating your voice.
“But it did happen. And I’m looking at you right now. We got through it. Together.”
“We survived together. We- we relied on each other because we literally had no one else to.” You frown, shrugging it away as if your own words weren’t hurting you. “We went through literal hell and that’s what we bonded over. We don’t- How can you say this is real when we’ve been faking it all since day one? Let’s just be honest, it’s not gonna go any further so let’s save us both some time-”
“You’re doing it again.” He interrupts, his gaze on you unwavering.
“I’m not doing anything-”
“You’re pretending like you don’t care.”
You don’t respond.
“I care. A lot. Probably too much for it to just be a- a survival bond or whatever you said. And it’s definitely not fake.” He lets out a soft laugh, heart racing faster. “Actually… I’m pretty sure I’ve never felt something so real with someone before. It’s like- like breathing. You know? I can’t breathe without your stupid cute little face in my head or your annoying voice making me feel calm, or-or even this right here, your delusional belief that someone can’t possibly be in love with you which makes me want to just shake it out of you because it’s true, Y/n. It’s real. I’m in love with you, okay?”
Your mouth parts in silence, just looking at him, stunned. You were only trying to convince some excuses, to try and make it easier when it all inevitably ends. But you hadn’t really taken into account how much you both felt. And now everything was going to be so much harder.
“So, uh, yeah.” He clears his throat, releasing you from his hold and shrugging. “Just accept it.”
You both stand there for a moment, reliving his words. I’m in love with you. Steve doesn’t regret it, but he starts to feel nervous the longer you don’t say something.
“Can you… can you promise me something?”
Steve holds his breath. He knows what you’re going to ask. And he knows that no matter how many times he runs through that scenario in his head, he never pulls the trigger. He won’t take your-
“Don’t forget me.”
It wasn’t the promise he was expecting, brows furrowing with the intention of your words. He just wants to hold you, yell at you until you understood he couldn’t leave you behind, he wouldn’t let the virus take you. He’d find a cure, make one if he had to.
But he didn’t have time to figure out where to start because he was suddenly very aware you were both out in the open. And something was rustling the leaves, watching.
He quickly raises his bat, eyes focused. He can just make out a shadow, making him squint. Probably just another demodog, nothing he hadn’t dealt with before.
Except it’s taller. Almost… human?
And then he sees the glowing eyes, the gaping mouth. It was the screaming monster from the Radio Shack.
“Steve?” You frown once you catch it too, looking at him, waiting for his call.
“Once it screams, we run. Every monster and their mother is gonna hear it, and we need to get out of the open, fast.” He hisses between his teeth as he watches the creature weave its way through the trees, drawing closer.
“And lead them all straight to the motel?” You whisper back at him, and his face pales. There goes that plan.
“Shit.”
“What about that house?” You suddenly ask, tilting your head to your left. “The huge one on that hill? It’s the opposite direction from the motel and the closest thing-”
“Oh, god, no.” Steve breathes out, shaking his head with determination. “Remember what Robin called it? You do not enter a house called the murder house. Especially when you’re being chased by murderous flesh-eating monsters!”
“It’s pretty much our only choice right now.” You stress, the small hairs on your arm prickling the closer the creature gets. “We run through, slip out the back, and tail it to the motel before it’s-”
If Steve had any objections, you never heard them. All you heard was the terrifying scream rippling from the unhinged jaw of a ghostly woman.
“Run, run!” You yell, already feeling the effects of an ear-splitting pitch.
Steve immediately grabs your hand and you run, blindly trusting the boy you had assumed your enemy for 4 years of your life.
He wasn’t sure if you’d both be able to get inside in time, fully away of the hoard of monsters emerging from the shadows and chasing you down. It was a risky bet, this house. But you were right. It was the only option.
If Steve wasn’t so adamant on moving fast, he might have felt the soft tug of your arm as your body struggles to keep up, the stretch of the hill proving the laws of physics were never your friend. As long as your hand was in his, you were going to be fine.
The harsh creak of rotten floorboards as Steve barrelled into the room echoed menacingly in his ear. He quickly dropped your hand, pulling you behind him and making haste of tugging a tall and heavy cabinet down so it blocked the entrance. It wouldn’t hold forever, but it would give you both enough time to slip out unnoticed.
“That should keep them back, we gotta-”
Steve expected to find your hand as he reached back for you, but the space was bare. He spins around, stomach lurching when he finds you’re already sat against the wall, looking worse every second.
“No.” He drops to his knees and cups your head in his hands when you struggle to keep it up, swallowing his anxiety, “No, hey, sweetheart, hey. Look at me.”
Your weary eyes meet his and his breath hitches. The black veins were now creeping up your cheeks, spreading quicker in the past few hours than they ever had before.
A sudden chorus of thumping snapped his attention, the barricade against the front door almost shattering under the weight of its attackers. It wouldn’t hold much longer. He knew you weren’t in any state to run to the motel, and he had to think fast.
Steve loops his arm around you and pulls you to your feet, muttering a string of apologies as you wince. His eyes catch the bleeding moonlight from above, enticing an idea.
It felt like your whole body was on fire, any movement contracting your muscles to pain until you could nearly faint. But you had to try, you had to move. For him.
He could sense your determination as he moved you both up the staircase, your legs wobbling but making it to the top in a timely fashion. His admiration would have to come later. Right now, he needed you both safe.
The hallway was long and dusty, Steve’s eyes barely adjusting to the darkness. He’s unsure where to go next, a lengthy display of doors scattered either side of him as he helps you walk further into the house. Maybe there was another-
A giant crash echoed out in splintered waves, dread flooding his body.
They were here.
Picking the closest door, he drags you both inside and takes care to shut it as quietly as possible, knowing one loud sound could be the end. His nerves were on high alert, struggling to make the life-saving decisions his friends usually expected from him. But the stakes were different this time. There was no one to bail him out if he makes the wrong move, no Nancy or Jonathan to come save the day. It was just him, protecting you.
The door had apparently led to a bedroom, his eyes scanning for a chair or a dresser to block- No. No. That would just make more noise- But what if they got in?
Hide. You need to hide.
Pulling you close to him, he spots a large closet on the other side of the bedroom. That would have to do.
It omitted a soft creak, making him grimace. He carefully lowers you down, noting how you were forcing yourself to breathe in even intervals. You were fighting it as best as you could, and that was all he could ask for.
As he joins you, he manoeuvres you so you were situated between his legs, knowing this would be the only way to ensure you both fit in the small space. His bat is digging into his side as his arms are wrapped around you, his back pressed against the side of the closet as he watches the bedroom door through the crack of light, holding his breath.
He couldn’t hear anything, but that was the scary part. He had hoped to hear the creatures crash through the ground floor and somehow be tricked back outside, relieving his mind with the knowledge he made the right decision.
The space was becoming all too small, even with the door cracked open. And that’s when the fear came creeping in.
What if a demogorgon found you?
What if it tracks your scent, follows the trail up the staircase, opens the third door on the left?
What if it stalks into the room and starts listening closely, hearing his quickened breaths of panic?
What if the last thing Steve saw was the thing ripping open the closet doors, a set of giant claws caging you in, knowing there was no escape?
What if you both died in here?
He exhales a long breath, fading back into reality when he feels something gently squeeze his hand. Your hand. You had intertwined your fingers with his, head laying back against hisshoulder, sensing his anxiety.
Steve had known he was claustrophobic for a while now. As a little kid, he remembers when he and his friends would play in the woods, a hollowed tree trunk on the ground marking the final destination of their adventure. That was the first time he felt fear, he thinks, curled up halfway through the tight space as his shirt was caught on protruding bark. He remembers his friends laughing and leaving to go find his parents when it became all too serious, assuming they had abandoned him there.
The tunnels were far worse than his 7 year old self’s nightmares. When the demodogs came barrelling towards them, his sudden realisation that he would be dragged back into those tunnels and left for dead, he had never felt so hopeless. He couldn’t even fight, not really. He could only attempt to shield Dustin with his body, and pray they made his death quick.
He never really knew how to get himself out of these situations. His parents had enticed him out with harsh words and false promises, eventually dragging him out by his arms when his mind couldn’t stop imagining the tree collapsing in on him. The demodogs hadn’t attacked in the end, sparing them with pure luck and giving him no time to reflect on his darker thoughts, the kids needing him more than he needed closure from himself.
But one single touch of your hand changed everything. No words, no rush. Just a reminder he was still here. And you were here with him.
He felt your body tense the moment the floorboards out on the hallway creak, just quiet enough to let him know the creature was trying to be silent. Something was looking for you.
The virus had taken its toll on you, the past few minutes of your life flashing by in a blur. You don’t even remember climbing into the closet, waiting in suspenseful agony for a sign that the coast was clear. But all of a sudden, you had finally returned to reality, feeling Steve’s erratic heartbeat on your back.
You almost flinched when you heard something bang against the bedroom door. It was sudden, ricocheting an echo of vibration through the floor. And then it was complete and utter silence.
You must have been shaking because Steve holds you closer, forcing you to take a few quiet breaths. You’d be okay. It will be okay.
Another sharp crash blares out, but it’s further this time. Whatever it was outside of that door was leaving, finally. But that didn’t stop you both from sitting there for a little while longer, afraid to move from the safety of the wooden walls.
It was you who made the first move to leave, shifting in his arms and pointing to the door. You had caught your breath now, shaking away the virus’ side effects with strength Steve could only respect.
Steve pushes the closet door open and you are finally back on your feet, offering a hand to pull him up with you.
“That was close.” He breathes out with a nervous chuckle, running a hand through his hair. He retrieves his bat from the wardrobe and turns around to see you’re stood still with a guilty expression on your face.
“I’m so sorry.” You whisper out, shaking your head. “We could’ve- it’s my fault.”
“What? No.” He crosses the room and pulls you into a hug, one you definitely needed. “No, it’s not your fault. None of this is.”
After a moment, he pulls away, sucking in a breath. “Now let’s get the hell out of here because this place is giving me the creeps.”
You nodded to his words, shivering as you observed the room you stood in. It looked like a master bedroom, possibly decorated for a couple to reside in. Everything was either covered in dust or cobwebs, a pang of sadness hitting your chest.
You knew the rumours of this place; a man going crazy and killing his entire family, their ghosts now haunting the place ready to collect more victims. But right now, you didn’t feel haunted.
A family had died here, the home clearly decorated with care and love from the people who never got a chance to live in it. And it has just been left like this, to wither and rot away.
Steve poked his head out of the door and listened out, making sure you weren’t just walking into a trap. He did the same as he leaned over the banister, clocking the wide open front door, now adorned in malicious claw marks.
“Fastest route?” He asks as you join him at the back of the house, squinting into the horizon.
There were only two options; along the road and out in the open, or through the woods with little to no light. You tried to think back to when you originally thought of the plan, retracing your steps.
“I’m thinking, uh…” Your voice suddenly cuts off and you turn to stare at him, a hint of a smirk on your lips. Steve frowns. “Do I remember you calling me sweetheart earlier?”
Heat rushes to Steve’s cheeks. “What? No. That would be weird. I don’t have a pet name for you. Or any name, actually. Other than your actual name. Maybe ‘asshole’. Not- not sweetheart- right, we’re cutting through the woods this way.”
He marches off before he becomes any more of a mess than he already is, hearing your laughter as it trails behind him.
“So… where the hell is this mysterious gate maker gonna be?”
You were both stood in the parking lot of Motel 6, eyes scanning each room as if a source of light would illuminate the monster you were hunting. If your theory was right, and it was all originating from here… how long has it been right under your noses?
“Maybe it’s like the gates.” You offer, shrugging. “What did Dustin say? In the heart, or something. The middle.”
“I hope not.” Steve states and you turn to where he was suggesting.
The heart of the hotel wouldn’t be one of the rooms, nor the office. And you had a suspicion Steve had thought correctly.
The basement.
Staring down at those two daunting metal doors, you feel your skin prickle. You take a glance over your shoulder, frowning.
In all three weeks you’ve been down here, you’ve never encountered a single monster at the motel. It had been a last minute resort for safety, ensuring you weren’t followed, picking room 303 as if it mattered. You were pretty good at sneaking around the place, but you never realised how truly odd it was that no monster ever followed you.
Maybe that answer was waiting for you behind those basement doors.
“Wait,” Steve gently places a hand on your waist as you move towards it, staring down with brown eyes of deep concern. “Are we sure we really wanna do this?”
“There isn’t another choice.” You say, yet you were still hesitant as you walked up to the doors, forcing each step you took.
No locks, no obstacles. Just a pair of metallic blocks on hinges. That felt worse somehow.
“If I had a nickel for every time I had to go down into a cellar to look for a monster…” Steve sighs to himself, catching your curious look. “Uh, I’d only have, like, two. But still. That’s two more than I should have.”
You can only nod in agreement, your breath caught in your throat.
Are we sure we really wanna do this?
The unsatisfying creak of metal echoes across the parking lot, Steve letting out a low whistle as he stares down into darkness.
“I’m sure this won’t be creepy at all.” He comments, taking the first step down before you had the chance. You’ve noticed that about him, always the first to enter an unknown room. A protector.
Light bleeds through a small window on the other side of the cellar. There was more space than you were expecting, but the strangest part was the fact there was nothing in here. Like it had never been used to store anything.
“It’s empty.” You announce, stood dumbfounded in the middle of the room.
“Maybe the landlord kicked it out.” Steve shrugs, silently relieved. He catches your fallen expression and places a hand on your shoulder. “Look, we’ll find another way.”
And then the basement doors swing shut, the sound rattling through the dark cellar at an alarming pitch.
“Shit!”
Steve drops his bat and rushes back up the steps to push against the metal doors. Nothing. He drives his shoulder into it. It doesn’t budge.
“How is it locked?!” He grunts, giving it one last try before backing away, shaking his head. “There wasn’t any lock on it!”
Your stomach drops.
You both freeze, turning once again to the singular door at the end of the hallway, a snarl vibrating through the wood of it.
The door you had walked through swung itself closed with a loud bang.
Spinning around with no intention of being here any longer, you reach out and pull the handle towards you.
It didn’t budge.
You grab the other handle in your spare hand and pull harder, the doors rattling under your force, but never opening.
“Billy!” You yell, but he’s already pushing against the doors, eyes wide. “It’s locked! How is it locked?!”
“Shit!” He hisses, turning to ram his shoulder against it for extra strength, but he couldn’t keep it up forever.
It was all happening again.
You had just walked into another trap.
“It’s here.”
As soon as the words leave your mouth, Steve is on high alert, frantically looking around the basement. But it’s still empty.
“Nothing is here, Y/n.” He frowns.
“Not on this side.” You gasp when something suddenly echoes in your ear. You look at Steve, startled, but he doesn’t share the same expression.
“What?”
“You didn’t hear that?”
“Hear what?”
You start moving around, trying to find a spot to make the incomprehensible whispers clearer. Steve’s heart is pounding louder.
“It’s that voice again.” You mutter to yourself.
“Voice? Y/n, you’re scaring me.” Steve manages to catch you for a split second, and you meet his eyes. His face drops.
The veins were creeping up your face, laying just beneath your eyes. He places a hand on your forehead. You’re burning up.
“Y/n, you don’t look so good.”
“It has to be here.” You shake your head out of his hold, stepping back. “The map- it has to be here!”
And then you hear it again, the voice. Except, this time, it’s so much clearer.
“Tell her”
You suddenly stop, letting out a gasp and Steve’s anxiety is sky-rocketing. You were both trapped inside this basement with something he couldn’t see.
He tries the doors again, thumping his fist against it like it would dislodge something. Nothing. Glancing over his shoulder, he clocks the window. Maybe…
Steve sprints over, dropping the bag off his shoulder and onto the floor beside him as he fumbles around for some kind of latch. Something rattles and he smiles. Bingo.
“Hey, we can get out through the window. Wasn’t rocket science, but I’m still a genius.”
He turns back to look at you over his shoulder, smiling. You’re currently near the far corner, your back facing him. You don’t seem to have heard him, breathing in odd intervals as you stare down at your hands.
“Y/n.” He tries again, louder. Your head twitches. Steve releases the latch on the window, fear flooding his entire body.
That same familiar feeling starts twisting in his gut, the same he always had when something is really really wrong. He never ignored it, never wanted to, because it was always right. But he didn’t want to believe it this time.
He slowly steps away from the window, his eyes permanently glued to the back of your head, feeling like he couldn’t breathe.
Trying again, his voice cracks under the pressure of speaking your name like it would warp the vicious reality he was living in.
“Y/n?”
You snap your head to him, and the colour drains from his face.
“No…”
He lost you.
The world bled to grey as tears start trailing from his eyes, staring into yours. Except, they weren’t yours. They were darker, soulless. Black blood was dripping from your chin, staining your lips.
Lips he had once kissed.
Lips he would never kiss again.
“Don’t do this.” He begs, unable to find the force to speak louder than a whisper. “Y/n, please. It’s not- I can’t hurt you. You know I can’t hurt you. Y/n...”
You snarled at him this time, your mannerisms unnerving. It wasn’t you anymore.
His eyes slowly drift to his bat, making him clench his jaw. It was closer to you than it was to him. He wouldn’t be able to reach it in time.
But he knew he wasn’t completely defenceless. He just wasn’t sure if he had the strength to use it.
You suddenly lunge at him and he instinctively dives for his bag, rolling away from your attack in the last second. He unzips it, staring down. He couldn’t do this.
Snarls and hisses spit from your mouth as you scramble up from the floor, blinking rapidly as you search in the dark.
Click.
Your whole body snaps to him in one sharp movement.
With a shaking hand, he stares directly into your eyes.
“Y/n, please.” He sobs, “Please, you have to be in there.”
Not even the mournful pressure against his chest felt as heavy as the gun in his hand, tears rolling down his face.
It was your idea to take a pistol from the cabin, knowing you couldn’t use it unless it was in moments of emergency, afraid the rippling sound of the bullet would alert every monster in the town. You both swore you’d never have to use it.
And here he was, pointing it directly at your head.
“Steve?” Your small voice prickles his hearing and he moves his gaze from your hands to your eyes, darting between the pupils in silent study. “If I… if it-”
“No.” He immediately shakes his head and you could almost sob. For what felt like days, you’ve been trying to have this conversation with him, but he always shuts it down, pretending like it wasn’t needed.
“You need to listen-”
“I am not killing you.” He says with conviction, and he feels your fingers slip out of his reach. “That’s not happening, Y/n, you can’t expect me to-”
“And what then?” You cry, standing taller, making his head crane to look up at you as you wrap your arms around your torso. “You’re just gonna watch me turn into a monster and let me stay that way?!”
“This isn’t just some sort of favour you’re asking for!” He frowns, shaking his head. “You want me to kill you. To end your life!”
He knew this was coming. You knew this was coming. You’ve been trying to warn him for weeks now, pleading to him. And he never listened. He never wanted to.
Three weeks ago, Steve would have shot you in that school hallway if you had turned after the bite, the memory bitter but his heart still intact.
Three weeks later, Steve would rather shoot himself then live with the memory of putting a bullet between the eyes of the girl he was in love with.
It can’t end like this. It can’t.
“It’s me.” He tries again, hoping his voice could break you free from the virus. “It’s me. Steve. Remember?”
He should have known hope was never his friend.
A voice completely alien to you rips out a screech from your throat, and hell comes to bludgeon him with the worst it had to offer.
Steve watches in horror as the skin starts peeling from your face, tearing it into pieces like a flower and its petals.
Like a demogorgon.
It was too late. You weren’t coming back to him.
You run at him, sharp teeth bared, mind forever gone.
Steve’s eyes shut…
… and he pulls the trigger.
“STEVE!”
Your throat was sore from relentless screaming, sobbing with your entire chest.
Steve had rushed over to the window just after you heard that voice. You had turned your back on him, distracted by what you thought was a shadow hiding in the walls.
You heard him call your name. But when you turned around…
His eyes were rolled back, stood deathly still.
“Steve! Wake up!” You keep trying to shake him out of his trance, watching as a trail of red bleeds from his nose. “No! No, wake up! Steve!”
More and more whispers echo around you, building up until all you heard were the same repeated words.
“What do you want?!” You scream into the dark, cheeks stained with relentless tears. Steve was dying, and you couldn’t do anything about it.
In a desperate attempt for help, you crouch down by the window and start rifling through his bag, batting the gun to the side to grab the radio.
“Hello?! Is anyone there?! Please!!”
You cry out in frustration when all that responds is the piercing static.
“That won’t help you.”
The radio slips from your hand in shock, clattering against the concrete as your wide eyes fixate on the image in the corner.
Something was forming from the shadows, pulling together pieces of the dark like it was dust. Your body floods with ice. The basement had never been dark. You were just surrounded by the same black dust that haunted every single nightmare.
Your shaking hands swipe the bat from the ground and grip it tight, shielding Steve’s body with your own. You hear his breaths become shallower.
“You were never meant to find me.” It spoke in a dark voice, fading in and out like a weak connection.
A gasp slips from your mouth when the particles build its final form. A silhouette of a man, featureless yet distinctive. Of all the creations you had envisioned, you didn’t expect the monster to be so… human.
A man.
“What do you want?!” You yell at it, raising the bat like it would scare it away.
“I tried time and time again to get you to understand.” He spoke, drifting closer to you. “I gave you the future. Visions. A simple task.”
Something like a sob escapes Steve’s lips and you whip your head to him, feeling completely and utterly helpless. You weren’t going to defeat the monster like you said you would. And now you were going to watch him die, knowing you were the only reason he was down here with you.
“It was the only way to make sure you listened.”
You turn back to the monster, a scowl twisting onto your face.
“Let him go.” You warn, but you knew your threat was meaningless.
“You have no power here.” He states, and you could almost feel the shadow smiling at you with malicious intent. “I make the rules.”
Goosebumps return to their path along your skin, trailing up your arms and prickling at your neck, making you shiver.
“I will let him go… Once you carry out one important task.” He nods, closer once again. You shift your body protectively in front of Steve, holding your breath.
“What…” You blink away tears, feeling suffocated by his presence.
You understood why the other monsters were so afraid of the dark.
Your arms didn’t feel attached to your body when they suddenly start to lower themselves, a shadowed hand reaching for your face.
“Bring me the girl.”
You frown, shaking your head. Girl?
As if he heard your thoughts, he leans close to you, speaking one word.
“Eleven.”
“El?” You gasp, and he steps away from you, observing. “Why- what do you want with her?”
“Bring her to me, and I will let him go.” The figure doesn’t answer your question, tilting its head. “Once you leave this place, you’ll find her, and you’ll bring her to me. That is all I want.”
“And if I don’t?” You raise your chin, regaining the feeling in your arms.
He slowly raises his hand, pointing it to the boy behind you. At first, nothing happened. And then you watch in despair as Steve’s body starts to slowly lift from the ground, a strained yell of pain.
“Stop!” You beg, and the shadow obeys, Steve’s feet touching the ground.
One little action and it was so simple it was terrifying. If you don’t bring El to him, he’ll kill Steve.
This monster knew you. It had been following you around since the dust you encountered, observing the things that made you tick, the things you loved, hated, needed. He knew exactly what would make you listen to him.
He was the Voice that had been haunting you for weeks.
You look back at Steve, almost crying out when you notice he’s lost more blood in the time you’ve taken to decide. You couldn’t do that to El.
But you also couldn’t watch Steve die.
“Fine.” You sob, nodding. “Just let him go.”
“You’ll know where to find me”
And then the shadow is thrown back into the darkness, hitting a wall and sinking back into it, dispersing the dust in scattered patterns on the surface.
Steve gasps behind you, and you spin around to catch him as he stumbles forward.
“Steve!” You cry in relief, wrapping your arms around him as he struggles to catch his breath.
“Y/n?” He sounds surprised, almost sad, observing every little detail of you as if he couldn’t decide if you were real. “Wait, you’re… what happened?”
“I-”
You try to reply when a loud hum starts building behind you, your attention needed elsewhere.
The middle of the wall starts to burn away, splitting apart and blackening at the edges. The humming only became louder, a dark red hue casting your shadows.
The Voice was creating a gate. For you. To pawn your sister’s life for Steve’s. Once you stepped through it, you’d be signing a death warrant.
If you stepped through it.
“What the fuck is happening…” Steve blinks at the gate, aware of the tightened grip your hand had on his.
In his vision, he had shot you. He had committed the most unspeakable act he had time and time again refused. The worst part of it, was he thought it was real. He made that decision.
But it was all a lie, and you were here, holding his hand with a look on your face he couldn’t decipher.
“You have to go.” You say to him, your words hazy to his ears. He still wasn’t entirely sure he was back in reality, struggling to make sense of the walls around him. “Steve, listen to me. You have to go.”
“No.” He shakes his head, trying to focus. “What about… what about you?”
A booming chorus of thumps against metal suddenly arose from the basement doors. Your stomach dropped.
The creatures weren’t afraid of the dark anymore.
When the gate had spread into a human-sized portal, you start pushing Steve towards it. His sneakers were just touching the edge before he realised what was happening.
“Hey, hey! No!” He stops, and you’re not strong enough to overpower him.
“Steve, you have to go! They’re gonna break through any minute!” You cry, watching the ever-growing dents in the metal above the staircase. “Please, you have to go!”
“I’m not leaving you, Y/n!”
“It’s already too late.” You sob, wiping away your tears. Tears that felt hot, burning against your skin.
The skin littered with black veins.
“I’m gonna turn any minute now.” You place your hands on his cheeks, making sure he was listening to your every word. “And I don’t want my last memory to be crossing back into our home knowing I won’t make it 5 steps before the virus kills me. Okay? So, you’re gonna go through the gate and you’re not ever gonna look back. Please. Don’t come back for me.”
“I can’t-” He cries and you bring his forehead down to rest on yours, nodding.
“I know.” You whisper, leaning forward to leave a feather-light kiss on his lips.
His eyes are still closed when you pull back, studying him one last time.
“Which is why I’m sorry.”
Steve’s eyes snap open just in time to watch your hands find his chest and shove him as hard as you can, his body ripping through the gate faster than he can experience.
His back hits solid concrete, making him groan. It takes a second for him to blink away the dots in his vision, slowly sitting up. He can see your figure clearly, your sad eyes, the smile gracing your lips.
And then the gate starts to sew itself shut.
Steve scrambles to his feet, tugging at the dangling pieces of membrane to try and stop the process.
“Y/n!” He yells at you, the unwelcome fear striking his nerves when he hears a loud crash from the other side.
Judging by the look on your face, it was exactly what he thought it was.
“No! No! Y/n!”
The gate is getting smaller, but his screams are only getting louder, fingers desperately trying to pry it open like a set of doors. But it was useless.
He can just make out a rush of silhouettes, your retreating form.
And then he was clawing at a concrete wall, body shaking with the intensity of his tears.
“No, no, no, no!” He yells in rage, his fingers scraped and bloodied.
For the last three weeks, all he wanted was to be on the other side. And now he was here, without you, it felt worse than hell.
He barely heard the creak of metal doors open behind him, or even saw his shadow suddenly cast onto the space he lost you forever.
Steve didn’t notice anything until a voice calls out behind him, causing him to turn and squint against the beaming light.
“Steve?” Hopper frowns, squinting. “Steve.”
He rushes down those steps and drops the flashlight, both hands on the boy’s shoulders.
“Hey, kid, you alright?” He asks, but Steve can barely speak. “Kid, look at me.”
Steve looked at him, a torn and broken version of the boy Hopper had seen last. He can feel Hopper’s hands tighten, a look of horror clouding his eyes.
“Where’s Y/n?”
Don’t forget me, you had said to him. A bittersweet promise of a memory.
Steve wasn’t ready to make you a memory.
“She’s still back there.” He finally said, swallowing the bitter lie that was about to coat his tongue. “We got separated.”
He lowered his eyes, unable to look at him, trying to ignore the guilt eating away at his chest. It was cruel, to lie to a father so desperate to get his daughter back. But he was afraid the truth would show you were like your father in more ways than one.
Steve needed to do this. No matter the consequences.
“She wants us to find her.” He finally says, nodding. “She wants us to bring her back.”
To be continued...
[A/N: GOH will return for yet another installment! I'm separating the story into parts so I can trick my stupid brain that only gives me writers block into thinking it's only a short story. I honestly plan for this to last forever. Or at least until I run out of ideas lmao.]
taglist:
@toomanyfandomsimfanvergent . @sheisjoeschateau . @kthomps914 . @curled-hair-red-lips . @nix-rose .
@palmtreesx3 . @kryztalglear . @sattlersquarry . @hey-barnes-stole-a-jeep . @sadslasher13 .
@iliveonteaandbooks . @innercreationflower . @newyorkangelbaby . @totally-bogus-timelady
#stranger things#stranger things x reader#fanfic#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x fem reader#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington x you#apocalypse au
47 notes
·
View notes
Text
Key's Ending Fairy for Good & Great @MusicCore 230923
#Key#Kim Kibum#Good & Great#giffedbyme#dailyshinee#2023#solo: key#era: goodgreat#other: ending fairies#^_^#This took longer than expected#I don't know why the colours were looking so bad when saving
120 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚
miguel does everything he can to make you feel better after a civilian casualty steals your ‘sunshine’. —a fic featuring reluctantly adoring miguel and his sad spider-girl. pre across the spider-verse but contains spoilers. requested here. fem!reader, 4k
cw character death, violence, reactive depression
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
"Miguel," you say, your voice grained by the communicator in his ear, "this universe is almost the same as mine, right?"
Miguel stares down at a Doc Ock variant you're staking out, lying in wait for the anomalistic antagonist to make his first move. He's trying desperately to maintain his focus but you have a nice voice, and you ask him with a confidence that betrays your total faith in him. You haven't considered that he might not know.
Well, Miguel does know. He's not sure he should start this discussion and distract you, but he has trouble saying no to you in any capacity, so he does.
"I don't know every difference, but yeah, they're the same. Same geography, world leaders, roughly the same fast food chains." He bites his lip. He's at work, more than work —you're attempting to save an entire dimension, here— and he shouldn't feed the conversation anymore. But he knows you'll be interested in this. "Donuts aren't a thing, here."
"What?"
"They have donuts, but they aren't called donuts, and they're nowhere near as popular."
"This is a very strange way to flirt," Lyla says, her flickering hazed by a golden aura as she changes rapidly between laying on her front, legs kicking, and her back, as though she's in a therapist's daybed. She floats across his vision lazily.
"That's because I'm not," Miguel says.
"What?" you ask.
"Nothing. Talking to Lyla."
"How come Lyla doesn't talk to me?" you ask sweetly.
Miguel can see you in the distance, your simple black suit like an ink splodge against the blue grey glass of the skyscraper you're standing on. Anchored with a web and your body tensed, you're perfectly parallel to the ground below, as though you're standing on the windows.
"It's not that I don't want to," Lyla promises. "Miggy won't let me."
"That is not true."
Projections cover Miguel's vision, powered by his favourite lying intelligence. Movements are mapped in a bright marigold yellow, though the net turns red to signify potential danger, chance percentages bouncing up and down. Doc Ock raises an arm and it turns an eye-straining red. He sits down on a park bench and his body turns yellow again. It's a smart program, but it can't account for everything.
"Something isn't right."
You hum appreciatively. "It feels weird, how he's acting. Like he's two separate people."
Doc Ock glitches hard, the air around him fractured by colours in varying depths, like a tangible, physical screen tone. They've been coming faster. He doesn't have much time before he begins to tear apart, and that tearing will prompt panic. Panic will prompt anger.
"What should we do?" you ask.
Miguel doesn't know. He regrets asking you to come with him, not that you aren't capable. When you first joined the Spider Society you'd hadn't been Spider-Girl in your own universe for very long, and you weren't particularly proactive. You were kind-hearted but lackadaisical, and after worming your way into his life, a flower budding between concrete slabs it shouldn't have the power to crack, (he seriously doesn't know how it happened, only that you'd been bringing him things, carefully wrapped foods and trinkets you'd made, your bad conversation, and suddenly you were worrying about him and doting on him in the strange way that you do, suddenly, he was doing the same), you decided you wanted to help. You've trained hard on Spider-led courses at the Society, improving your overall fitness, your stamina, your technique, to become the fighter you are now. You can hold your own well.
Miguel knows what motivated you. You want to look after him. You'd all but admitted to it. And that's why Miguel wishes he asked someone else to come with him, because you'll put yourself in harm's way as he would for you, to protect.
"Why did you want to know if this universe was the same?" he asks, the nano of his suit morphing over his hands, claws growing long and minaciously sharp.
"Oh! Because, I used to have these favourite cookies called Butter Leaves, but they stopped making them in my dimension 'cos of the Whey disease. Even when it was better, loads of companies couldn't come back…"
You give him the entire history. He already knows it. He tries to listen to you with the attention you deserve anyway, only he's weighed the options, and taking down Doc Ock feels much more important than listening to your cravings.
"They were really thin and they had this sweet coating brushed over the top. You'd like them, I think." Miguel drops the last hundred feet to the ground, ignoring the jarring heat in his ankles at such a landing without having rolled into it. "If they were a little softer and had some sugar they'd taste just like polvorones, Miguel."
"You could say that about lots of things," Miguel argues, tone measured as not to alert bystanders nearby of his presence.
"This doesn't feel like a good idea," Lyla says. Standing now, alert.
Miguel toggles the communicator so you can't hear him.
He wonders if you'd even notice him speaking over the intensity of your excitement, "I know it's not professional but maybe we could go and look? After we beat the bad guy. They're more than worth it, I swear," you say hopefully.
"It's fine," he says to Lyla, throwing out a hand, shins braced and ready to burst into a tackle.
"It feels off, you both said it."
"It always feels off. He's in the wrong dimension, his presence caused a shift. The wrongness is unavoidable, like the body–"
"Rejecting an organ transplant," Lyla says. "I know. You say it constantly."
"If you know, why are you asking?" he asks, deadpan.
"Good to know your girlfriend can ask questions and I can't. You're a trailblazer for equality, O'Hara."
Not my girlfriend, he thinks, but he isn't sure how true that is. Miguel realigns his eyesight, the holographic netting that pinpoints anomalistic stress a menacing red where it maps Doc Ock's limbs. The colours are abrasive against the yellow-green leaves fluttering in the breeze to the grass below, trees like arms stretched toward one another standing behind the simple brown bench where Doc Ock murmurs drunken-sounding ravings.
Miguel's fangs slice through gum and lock into place. He tries not to salivate. The paralysing agent produced gives him a numb tongue.
Miguel attempts to work quickly. Approach the target. Lock the target in. Incapacitate. He rears back and takes a deep breath.
"Wait! Behind! Behind you, Miguel, there's something behind you!"
He twists backward without hesitation and swings his arm around a cold neck. He squeezes hard, hears a metallic crunch similar to a mortar and pestle, but the person in his chokehold isn't a person, it's a robot.
"Octobots!" Lyla shouts.
"HELPFUL!" Miguel shouts back, grunting as a robotic arm curves around his back, and then a second, a third.
The hills of his muscles strain against white-lacquered steel, a sweat breaking at the back of his neck as he groans, desperate to stop the octobot from crushing his arms to a powder. He can practically hear the creaking of his humerus.
Around him, civilians scatter, screaming for their lives as a small horde of octobots descends on the park. Doc Ock doesn't react to the chaos. He sits there muttering to himself as people run past him and his octobots play cat and mouse. Miguel finally snaps the arms off the robot holding him with a pissed grunt, punching the carcass of machinery away from him while you tuck and roll from a dive to the ground. In an impressive show of your improvement and coordination, you throw out a web as you roll and hit Doc Ock square in the face, a second binding his chest to the bench. You spring to your feet, shooting at bots one after another. You must take down six by the time he's gathered his bearings.
"On your left," Lyla says. Miguel smashes a bot at the apex of its white body and she laughs. "Nice. Behind."
Miguel falls into the fight as though it's a well-practised dance. With the stress maps locked on, quick-thinking, and Lyla's pointed direction, Miguel can decapitate or incapacitate each bot swiftly as long as they don't get a hold on him like the first one managed.
You're like Lyla in that a good skirmish seems to set you off —you're giggling, cheering, enjoying yourself much more than you should be. "This is just like that video game," you say, leaping onto a moving octobot and shooting webbing at the joints, gumming them up until they can't move. "With the girl and her super powered puppy, you know that one?"
"Of course I don't know that one." Miguel brings his claws down into the aluminium shell of an octobot as it swipes your legs from under you and tears it in two. It cracks like a halved apple, the gore of its inside sparking and smoking as it hits the ground in tandem with you. Your head whacks hard into the concrete pathing beneath. He doesn't have time to help you.
The arm of a bot races forward like a stinger. This one must be the head of the hive, the Queen bee so to speak, far more complicated than the others in the plating of her ivory bodice and chain-mail like shielding on her arms.
Miguel swears under his breath and vaults at it.
He pulls your droid feed up in his display, watches you writhe from one side and the other as your pained moans play in his ear. You clamber onto wobbly footing as Miguel descends, the screeching cry of metal while it's shorn apart beneath his hands not half as loud as your useless gasping —you're winded, likely concussed.
"Civilian entering range," Lyla says.
"What? Where?"
Lyla has your drone's camera spin on the spot to show Miguel the civilian stupid enough to enter an active fight zone. They aren't stupid at all, it figures, but unaware. A man in activewear jogs the beaten path with headphones in, eyes to the ground. He stops for a moment to look at his sports watch, and like the octobot can tell, it shakes Miguel like a bothersome flea and surges for him.
You're closest.
"Y/N!" Miguel shouts, knowing it's too late before he so much as closes his mouth. You turn, your head braced in your hand, breathing hard with pain. Miguel would take it back if he could.
You can't save the civilian, but you can watch him die.
—
People look at him like he's a ghost, sometimes. Wide-eyed, horrified, they move aside in the halls. They treat him how he feels on his worst days, like someone who should've died a long time ago. Today, things are different.
No less than three Peter Parker' have stopped to stare at him unabashedly. Nearly all make the same jokes, Late for a date?
He'd honestly prefer feeling like a ghost. He can't deal with their derision and he doesn't want to, ignoring their looks and their judgement as he treks to the elevator that's gonna drop him outside of the medbay. The only person he wouldn't mind poking fun at him is you.
You aren't in the mood.
Miguel doesn't acknowledge your prone form at first. He walks to your bedside table to deposit the bouquet he'd chosen, peonies for good health and strength, swapping old for new, changing the water in your small shared sink. He may orchestrate the Spider Society, but Miguel's special privileges can't reduce the extreme turnover rate of the medbay. You have curtains to partition the room for privacy, and you got the bed by the window, and that's as much as he could get you. You deserve better.
Miguel opens the window to drown out the smell of antiseptic. He stands in front of it, his shadow stretching over your twisted hip. You're not sleeping, you're resting. Doctor's orders.
Miguel wishes you'd deign to rest in your own bed, or his, but you're a little too catatonic for a safe discharge either way.
He sighs quietly. You likely hear it with your enhanced senses and still you remain an impassive lump under your blue hospital blanket.
"Good morning," he says, instead of the thousand other things he wants to say, that he's too much of a coward to ask. "Let's get up."
He doesn't give you any choice about it. Starting slow, Miguel rounds the bed to meet your eyes through your sluggish blinking. Perhaps you'd been more asleep than he thought.
Gentle, Miguel peels down your blankets enough to push his hands under your armpits. He pulls you up into a sitting position, and it —it breaks his heart. He's a monolith, he's hurting, he has years and years of loss and grief behind him and it doesn't matter, it finds him again. His heart breaks at your limblessness and your willingness to be positioned like a paper doll.
Miguel arranges the sad pillow behind you and puts the remote for the adjustable bed frame in your hand. The last time you'd been here in the medbay after a training exercise fractured your ulna, you'd spent pretty much the entire time messing around with your bed, even as they crafted your cast. It made for messy work. Miguel must've told you to quit it fifty times.
Your fingers curl around the remote.
Miguel perches on the mattress on one knee to fix the protective style your hair is in. Nothing serious, just smoothing the tiniest of stray hairs and making sure it's still comfortable. He strokes your temple absentmindedly, checking you over one feature at a time. Tired eyes, nose tip looking parched, your lips chapped. Frowning, he sits properly, and he pulls your big hospital bag from the bedside table, his hand falling to your wrist to say, Hey, I'm here, and I'm not going far.
He finds your smaller bag of toiletries and necessities and unzips it. He tries not to think about the last time he had to take care of someone like this as he cleans your face with a wet wipe, two fingers wrapped in the wipe and petting at your skin carefully. He notices the life returning to you inchingly, his touch a tether you're pulling on, so he prolongs his actions. He smooths moisturiser over your face extra slowly. If you asked why, he could say it's cold, but you don't ask.
Your face shiny in the sunshine filtering in through the wide windows, you almost look like yourself again.
"Are you hungry?"
You shake your head. An almost imperceptible gesture.
"This is why you don't feel well," he says. "You're not eating enough."
"That's not why," you say.
He aches to hear your voice. I know, he thinks, but doesn't say.
"Eat something," he says.
You shake your head again. He managed to bring you back and squash you back down in less than a minute. He really doesn't like himself, at that moment. Often, but especially now. He's failing you. He failed you with the octobots and he's failing you now.
Miguel refuses to fail someone he cares about again.
He takes the remote for your bed and lifts the top section so you can sit back comfortably. He shakes the blankets out over you, and he puts away your things. Hopeful, Miguel places new pyjamas and underwear with your shower caddy at the end of the bed and pulls a strict pose, hands crossed over his chest.
"I need to go. Shower, eat breakfast when it comes. Please."
You give him a look that might mean Yes but probably doesn't mean anything, laying down as much as the bed allows and turning your face from him toward the flowers. Miguel leaves, stopping a ways away to look back, and watches through the gap of your curtains as you reach out to touch the flowers he'd brought. Your pinky finger is less than an inch from the petals when your movement stutters, your hand falling back to your chest with a soft thud. You close your eyes.
When Miguel returns, he's thankful to find you've done as he told you. Showered, changed, a discarded breakfast tray at your feet. You've attempted the oatmeal and left the toast to go cold, congealed butter white against golden yellow.
Miguel swaps the tray for his bags. He's hoping you might be tempted to look while he's gone. He knows before you would've known the entire contents of the open bag by the time he'd left the room, but he returns having taken your tray to the rack and is sorely disappointed.
That's fine, he decides. You don't have to look. He doesn't mind laying things out for you.
First port of call: extra pillows. He pulls the plastic wrapped 'hotel pillows' up onto your sheet and tears the plastic. They pop out. He didn't think for pillow cases, so he slides them behind your hospital pillow and pushes you down by the shoulders, not cruel but not particularly gentle —you actually laugh at his handling. He bites back a smile.
"What, you got me presents?" you ask as he dumps a blanket onto your lap. It's one of those soft, shiny fleece ones patterned with those characters you love so much, the girl and her super powered puppy.
You rub your hands over it appreciatively and spread it out over your legs. "What's that mean?" he asks, pointing at the Chinese characters, '超級汪汪!'.
"Chāojí wāngwāng!" you cheer, an impression missing the majority of your usual pep. "Super woof. It's his level five power up. He yaps and Joyce gets her HP back."
Miguel pretends to know, like he'd forgotten, and you're reminding him. "Ah."
You're watching now, interested. He puts his back between you and the bag and you whine weakly, "Miguel."
"What? You think these are for you?"
"Please, I want to see."
He gives in like a cheap tent, passing you a packet of pearly beads for your bracelet making, skeins of variegated thread that change colours, a packet of pencils with frogs on the lids, a plushie. You don't know how to react and Miguel doesn't know what to say. He honestly doesn't want to say anything, vulnerability stopped being his thing a while ago, but he clears his throat. "Do you know what I look like in the middle of Miniso? Picture it."
Miniso being a Chinese home goods store lined floor to ceiling with plushies.
You laugh weirdly. Miguel knows it's guilt holding you back.
"One last thing." He sits down on the bed next to you, hands big enough to cover the box in its entirety. "You were wrong, by the way. Extremely wrong, these don't taste a thing like polvorones."
He passes you the box. You take it into steady hands, smiling widely, your thumb brushing up against the black cursive font. A box of butter leaves from one of your sister dimensions.
"I don't know if they'll taste like they did. Are they the same ones?"
You nod, loosing a breath between parted lips. "Same ones."
"If you don't eat them all, I won't get them for you again."
"That's so mean," you murmur. Miguel would apologise if he thought you meant it.
"That's how it is. Eat your cookies. I'll come back later to make sure you actually ate dinner."
He stands. You immediately grab him, cookies dropped in favour of braceleting his wrist in your warm fingers.
You look up at him through your lashes, a frown dampening your pretty features. At least, in his eyes.
"Please don't go," you say. Your eyebrows pinch together. It's even more heartbreaking than your catatonia, this pleading loneliness, like you think he won't stay.
"You have to talk to me," Miguel says. He softens at your chastised wince, sitting back down again. "Did you want a hug?" he asks.
It's an apology to offer it, though he should've asked you this morning, or yesterday, even the day before. You'd been inconsolable when it happened. Miguel's never seen you that way. Your sunshine shattered, your shoulders shaking under his hands as he led you away from the scene, he didn't hug you like he wanted to. It wouldn't have made a difference at the time. You couldn't speak. You could barely walk.
Seeing something like that happen leaves a mark, even if you've seen it before.
You sweep aside your gifts and twist your legs to climb onto your knees. Miguel hadn't realised how much you wanted to be close to him until you're bordering his lap, your arms sliding over his shoulders, your pyjamas soft and smelling of antiseptic under his nose. A switch flicks at your nearness. He pulls you into his lap and sandwiches you there, chest to chest, thankful for his stature because it means he can encapsulate you effortlessly. He can hide you from the world for a short while.
You choke him half to death.
"It's okay," he says, your back curved into the length of his forearm, leaning forward so you can take the weight off. "You're okay."
"I don't– it's not me. I'm not worried about me."
"It's over," he says. "What's done is done." Which isn't to say it isn't tragic, or that it didn't leave a permanent mark on the world. But you're punishing yourself for a crime you didn't commit.
"It's all my fault," you whisper, your cheek pressing to his shoulder, face hidden in the juncture of his neck.
He tilts his head toward you. "It's my fault. I jumped in. I wanted it to be quick."
"I let him…"
"You had a grade ii concussion, you didn't let anyone do anything. I'm lucky you didn't pass out right there. I'm lucky you had the ability to defend yourself, because I left you defenceless."
"No, you didn't, it–" You rub your cheek against his shoulder. "It happened really fast, you were making sure that bot didn't get me because I was stupid enough to leave myself open–"
"Stop it."
It's harsh enough to stop you in your tracks. Miguel sighs hard, hair blowing away from his face.
He lays down backward, skewiff on your bed, and pulls you with him in a secure but gentle hold. You make a quiet 'oof' as you go down. Apologetic yet again, Miguel rubs a line up and down your back, fingertips between your shoulders, palm flattening as he reaches the small of your back, your shirt inching up. He's sure you look foolish to anyone watching, but for once, he's past embarrassment.
"I don't want to hear you blaming yourself. It's not your fault."
You've twisted on your side on the mattress rather than crush his pelvis, though your chest remains pressed to his. You twist a strand of his dark hair around your finger. "Why did you bring me all this stuff?" you ask softly.
"To make you feel better."
"But why… do you… want that? Why does it matter that much, that you'd waste time going to get me things?"
"Why do you think?" he asks.
Your lips ghost the column of his throat. "Mm… 'cos you're nicer than you let on."
"Wrong."
You laugh again. He's more grateful than he'd ever say aloud.
"Because you care about me too much."
Too much is right. He feels like he's at the stern of the universe's most important ship. The universes, plural. That ship is heading square for an iceberg, for the precipice of a gargantuan whirlpool, and there's nothing Miguel can do but hand out buckets and veer sharply to the left, hoping it will be enough, knowing deep down that it won't be if something doesn't give soon. And he's lived a life, two lives, before he even met you. He's tired. He doesn't want to lose anyone else, and he hoped he could do that by never caring again.
What a stupid hope.
"I just want you to feel like yourself again," he admits.
"I really wanted to save him."
"You can't save everyone."
He knows better than most.
"I know," you say, no tears left to cry, voice impossibly small.
Miguel wraps his arms around you and doesn't let go for a long, long time.
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
thank you so much for reading, I really really hope you enjoyed! please think about reblogging if you liked it, I appreciate it <3
#miguel and spidergirl reader#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o’hara x you#miguel o’hara x y/n#miguel o’hara x fem!reader#miguel o’hara#miguel o’hara fanfiction#miguel o’hara fanfic#miguel o’hara fic#miguel o’hara drabble#miguel o’hara scenario#miguel o’hara blurb#miguel o’hara oneshot#spider-man: across the spider-verse#spider-man: across the spider-verse spoilers#spider-man: across the spider-verse fanfiction#across the spider-verse spoilers#across the spider verse spoilers#across the spiderverse spoilers#spiderman across the spider-verse spoilers#miguel ohara x reader#miguel ohara x you#miguel ohara x y/n#miguel ohara x fem!reader#miguel ohara#miguel ohara fanfiction#miguel ohara fanfic#miguel ohara fic#miguel ohara drabble#miguel ohara scenario
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
what i think on the whole making vessels thing the pale king did
first of all this is not about excusing pk, however the 'me exploding people who say pk is an asshole and throws kids in a pit with my mind' is very true, aside from the fact that it's literally not what happened, pk's character is all about a guy who was in a desperate situation without a good solution and saying that he's bad for what he did is missing the point. just like the colour scheme of his palace bro is morally grey.
there are things that i believe made his plan sound not as bad as it is before it's implementation, and some of my interpretation seems to differ to how it is more commonly seen (that i know of at least).
so what was the plan?
place eggs in he abyss and let the void animate their shells and voilà got some vessels.
why have the void?
well one reason is obvious - it's a natural enemy to the radiance of sorts, an opposite of light.
another one is the supposed belief that a creature of void does not feel or think. also yes the idea is that 100% of them are empty, that's the foundation it is on.
i believe that he has done some experimentation before making this plan(and possibly before the infection): he's the type to build and reasonably coming up with that shit requires familiarity with the void. so assuming that they would not feel pain or think could come from that, also not that insane for a god who gave bugs minds of their own to think that with walking examples of void constructs. so godly resilience and empty head, can't feel the pain he has to put it through and strong enough to contain another god.
why so many of them?
the reasoning for that is the same as why any creature has many kids: most of them not surviving for long. not just the climb, but just not even being born (which i think most of them just didn't) or dying right after (instability such as turning to liquid or crumbling shell).
the climb
so here's a thing i thought since playing the game years ago. the abyss memory is a dream and not quite literal.
you hit an egg with a dream nail, every time you've done that you go to a dream, i don't see why this is different besides it looking differently.
the real part being pk getting pv and fucking off. and climbing up in general i guess but you know that. i don't think the ghost was literally hanging on that ledge and literally falling off after some screenshake. it's a representation of ghost and/or every other vessel getting left behind and pv leaving. and getting charm about uniting the void right after plays more into it.
the climb in itself could be a way to see which ones are stable enough, could also be a culture thing as rotten eggs all around hallownest may suggest that they are a bit more like actual animals in regard to offspring. (don't forget that this is not human society we are talking about.)
the main fucked-up-and-feeling-guilty-about thing in this whole ordeal is letting the void consume thousands of your yet unborn children inside out and subsequently animating them with it or let radiance kill everyone and picking the first one. which is you know, sucks and is pretty fucked up and he did indeed feel guilty about it.
well that and then the whole hollow knight ordeal later but that's pretty straightforward.
does he realise that they are not empty? like yeah probably suspected it at the very least, but that's when you can't just drop everything you've done up to this point to save everyone. only thing that does is add more guilt and drama.
the things done and decisions made were not to be cruel or evil or whatever, we don't see what this place was like before the infection and for all we know he saw the future and still thought this was the best option. how fucked up would that be huh
#the pale king#hollow knight#i wrote this at the middle of the night and a row of my keys (and spacebar) occasionally doesn't work you have no idea how annoying that is#my art#? i mean there is some
250 notes
·
View notes
Text
Baking- Pedri
"I want to make a cake" I announced just to Pedri who was sat next to me
"Since when do you bake?" He questioned
"I mean I don't but that doesn't mean I can't I've baked before" I said
"What type of cake do you want to make?" He asked
"I was thinking just a regular sponge cake but I was going to decorate it to make it all pretty" I said
"Let's do it then" he said
"Wait you want to help me" I said
"Of course" he said pulling me up from the sofa
First I looked up a recipe and made a list of the things we needed so we could go and get them. We had some of the ingredients at home already but we needed some sugar and stuff to decorate the cake. Once we arrived at the store I was reminded why I always go without Pedri and that's because he's a nightmare, he wanted to go down every aisle and I had to remind him numerous times that he can't eat half the things in the store but eventually we made it to the baking aisle. The amount of different stuff in the aisle was overwhelming there was so many types of icing and they all came in every colour imaginable. While I was trying to take it all in and decide what would look good Pedri had made the decision for me and picked out a pale purple and blue icing. He then found some piping bags and nozzles which is definitely out of our skill range but it should be fun and at this point baking this cake is all about fun as it's definitely not going to taste good.
When we eventually had everything we needed Pedri took the basket from me and he paid which I tried to tell him not to do but there was no convincing him. When we made it back home he dropped everything off in the kitchen so we could get started but before he let me do anything he ran off upstairs which should take me by surprise but it just doesn't anymore. It wasn't long before he came back down holding two aprons which had clearly never been used as they must've been gag gifts probably from Fer. When he unfolded them all I could do was laugh one of them said warning hot stuff and the other had a picture of a man's abs on them. They were so cheesy but I kind of loved them, after some thinking Pedri gave me the hot stuff one which he said was because that's what I am but I know deep down it's because he wanted me to stare at him and I happily will oblige.
After he tied the apron for me we got out everything we needed and I pulled the recipe back up to find out how much we needed of each ingredient. I measured out the butter and sugar first then added the eggs before I mixed that together as that's what the recipe told me to do. As I was mixing I asked Pedri to measure out the flour to save some time and because he was just stood staring at me as I did everything. Stupidly I trusted him but I really shouldn't have he was doing well until a whole load of flour came out at once sending the amount way over what we needed and not an amount we could get away with just adding it was nearly double. He had to take some out and to start with he used a spoon but he picked the smallest spoon we have so of course he got bored and began to use his hands which thankfully he washed first. In hindsight I should've taken over before we got to this point but I didn't so instead I just watched as the countertops became covered in flour as well as Pedri.
It took just seconds for the entire kitchen including half the floor to be covered in flour. Pedri was covered too it was all over his apron, in his hair and on his face. I was so glad I had my phone, which was also dusted with flour, to take pictures of this moment. Pedri's parents and brother told me that he's not always the best in the kitchen although for as long as we've been together he's been fine but now I see what they mean. He graciously let me take some pictures of him so I can remember this moment and mock him for it for the foreseeable future although he was frowning in every single one I got. Once I was done laughing I started to feel a bit bad for him as he just wanted to help me bake and spend time with me and I'm just laughing at him.
Just as I was about to start dusting some of the flour off Pedri's look changed and instead of a pout he suddenly had a smirk on his face which is never a good thing. Next thing I knew he put his hands in the flour and started to run towards me. I ran away not wanting to meet the same dusty fate but Pedri is a faster runner than I am and he has better stamina than me so it wasn't long before I gave up and he caught me. He pulled me straight into a hug and then put his hands on my face so I too was looking a bit like a snowman. Once he let me go he pressed a quick kiss to my nose before also pressing one to my lips which made this whole situation a lot better. As I turned to head back to the kitchen I felt Pedri put his hands on my ass which I definitely should've seen coming as he can be such a child at times. We have a mirror by the front door so I went to look at what he'd done and there was two handprints right there which really stood out as I had black leggings on.
Pedri eventually made his way to join me in the kitchen and we finally added the flour and finished the mixture so it could go in the oven. Then we were faced with the daunting task of cleaning the mess that had only seemed to spread. First we washed up all of the utensils and the bowls we used as that was less daunting. Once that was done we had no choice but to face the explosion of flour that covered the kitchen. Pedri put some music on and grabbed the cleaning supplies; if I was mean I would make him clean it all himself but I'm not so I started mopping the floor while he cleaned the counter.
"You don't have to help this is my mess I can clean it" he said
"We're a team so we work together plus I suggested we make a cake so this is partly my fault" I said
"This is why you're the best girlfriend" he said kissing my cheek quickly
As soon as the kitchen was clean the timer went off and the cake was done and I can't lie it looked really good. Pedri wanted to decorate it straight away but I made him wait for the cake to cool first as otherwise the icing would just melt into a big mess. He's usually quite impatient but today he was happy to wait and just hold onto me as we continued to listen to music while waiting for the cake to cool down. Most people don't get to see the softer side of Pedri as they only see him when he's highly focused on the pitch or messing around in training but he really is a softie. He loves to just cuddle like this or on the sofa under the fluffiest blanket we have in the house and he's more affectionate than you would think he always likes to be close to me or touching me in some way whenever we aren't in public and I love that it's like I get to have this part of him all to myself.
His patience and calmness didn't last too much longer though as the excitement go too much for him and he grabbed the icing and the piping bags and started to get them ready after I told him what to do. He gave me the purple icing while he had the blue so I showed him a simple design and we worked together to create a great pattern around the outside. We really did a good job if I do say so myself especially for our first attempt. Pedri was so pleased with what we made that he took a picture and sent it to his parents to get their approval which was really sweet. He was so happy when his mum text back saying that it looked lovely but a seconds after I got a text from her asking how much chaos he had caused which made me laugh while Pedri started putting on his pouty face again so I kissed his lips and sneakily put some icing on his nose before running away so that he couldn't get be back.
#pedri x reader#pedri imagines#pedri gonzalez imagines#pedri imagine#pedri#football imagine#pedri gonzalez
72 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Demon Never Died - 2
Dazai X Reader
Synopsis: you are stuck in a room tied up with rapists outside and Dazai has agreed to surrender to save you . Will your kidnappers let you go or not ?
Your head hurt , your hands burned and your whole body felt light but heavy and jelly like “ where am i ?” you thought trying to open your eyes to be blinded by colourful yellow and white lights . Your realised your hands were cuffed with metal handcuffs your legs tied with a soft rope kind of material and you sat in the middle of a bed in a motel kind of room . “M..motel ?” you mumbled to hear a voice , you turned your head in fear to see a tiny computer screen near the door “ she woke up boss “Someone spoke but not to you . You just sat trying to listen but soon the voices became to muffled you could not make out much . Wriggling your hands in those cuffs only hurt you , your brain still fuzzy kept playing all the bad memories Dazai calling you , men breaking into your house. Teras were threatening to spill but not wanting to cry infront of your kidnappers you turned your back to them facing the bed you sobbed crying your lover's name again and again . Its not like you did not have a family, you were brought up by your mom and dad for the past 20 years of your life and when you turned 19 they had to go to the US . You wanted to stay in Japan and thus you did . Meeting Dazai as one of the works of Fukuzawa was accidental but the moment you saw him you knew he could make you fall and you did fall . But what surprised the whole detective agency was that he fell for you too. The director who was your uncle's closest friend had a one-on-one meeting with you asking if you were okay with this , cause everyone knew the dangers around him and anybody in the agency . Why even Dazai tell you ; yet you chose him” why?” “Don't know “ you said making the bandaged man look at you confused “ Bella, I have a lot of past also and that might not be nice for a girl like you “ he said again his playful tone gone it was more like someone trying to order you . Which you hated the most “Dazai , i am not a very normal person also so dont worry i dont care “ . Not convinced he spoke again “ Darling i might to fight , and even it wont happen but ther-” he got cut with you flicking his forehead “ kill, dont care .” you took a sip of your coffee and spoke “ Do you know one thing “ your voice clam and soft and for the first you were opening up to him no opening up to a human , you also had you share of past trauma. “ A female hurt would just want to get out of that place thats what society has taught us , run away , dont make any more mistakes “ his brown orbs stared at you as you proceeded “ but after calming dow. You have no idea how we fell , we would rather have that person who hurt us even killed “ you paused realising how dark you went but little did you know it was nothing compared to how drak he was “ i mean that does mean i want to kill and stuff but if you are with me i can be sure i won't be hurt or harmed so dont worry and even if I am hurt you are here again so comfort me, “ you said opening your arms for a hug . Dazai got into your arms “Bella you are stuck “ he said nuzzling into your neck “he..ehst..stop” you said feeling all weird “ why dear we are couple “ he said looking up at you . “Dazai… “ you cried but now dry on tears decided to stall and make time for him to come and find you “ i am not your gf for no reason “ you mumbled and turned back to face the camera “what to do ?”
Dazai went into the bathroom after watching the video “its been 10 mins go get him “ Ranpo said making the blonde trun at look at him “ let him clam down first “ he said raising his glass. Everyone quietly started at the laptop screen where it played of video of you trying to remove the rope on your leg , they all heard you and saw you and soon the screen changed “ get us Dazai we will let this girl go unharmed like nothing happened but he should come to us alone and with no weapons and he should be tied up “ . The voice that spoke through the black screen was annoying and horse Athushi was fuming and Koyo who has never showed much emotion was fighting back the urge to break the laptop in front of her” is there any ability users with you ?” Tanizaki asked frowning with anger. “We dont , trust we are just normal people who hate him send him to us “ they said once again and before Ranpo could talk “ i will come , one condition i will bring another girl with me , she is not an ability user but she will take y/n from there and i will surrender, “ Dazai said coming into the room . His face had the most unreadable expression. Before everyone could protest Fukuzawa spoke “ he has to go if he wants to save her “ . The other side gave out a horrendous laugh before telling them the location to meet .
This is how he looks when telling them he agrees to come to the location .
I am sorry guys 😭😭😭I seem to be dragging this longer than I thought .
I will end this in the next part and you guys can wait for a part 4 which will be lovely seggs .
#dazai smut#bsd dazai osamu#bsd dazai#bungou stray dogs dazai#dazai x reader#dazai x y/n#dazai x you#dazai osamu#dazai#dazai osamu smut#Dazai osamu smut#bungo stray dogs fanart#bungo stray dogs#bungou stray dogs smut#bungou stray dogs#bsd#bsd smut#bsd x you#bsd x y/n#bsd x reader#smut#bungo stray dogs smut
57 notes
·
View notes
Note
hi lovely! i have a fic idea! kaz brekker x reader where the prompt is
"take my hand"
"no"
"look im not trying to ask you to marry me, im trying to save your life"
take my hand and don't let go
Navigation┃Main Masterlist┃Requests
Pairing: Kaz Brekker x f!Reader
A/N: Found the beginning of this in my drafts and I literally do not remember starting it?? So I decided to scrap some stuff and rewrite this fic, because I actually really love this prompt for Kaz! I intended on making this into a rather light-hearted fic, but my poor writer's brain sees the name Kaz Brekker and immediately switches to angst, so sorry for that </3 It has a fluffy ending though, so don't be afraid. And, of course, thank you for the request, lovely <333
Summary: A job gone wrong forces the reader to do something she had tried to avoid: touching Kaz.
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, kinda Fluff???
Word Count: 2.6K
Warnings: Blood, explosion, Kaz Brekker isn't able to express his emotions properly, who could've guessed that?
“They still haven’t given us the signal, Kaz.” You pressed, anxiously watching the man in front of you fidget with his lock-picking tool as he tried to avoid your gaze as best as he could.
At first, the job seemed to be relatively manageable. Inej and Jesper would climb into the warehouse first, surveying the area and notifying you once everything was deemed safe. After that, Kaz and you would pick the lock, steal the blueprints you needed for your next big heist, and leave. It was something you had done countless times before - always getting out successfully - so no one was really worried about it when you went in.
However, the whole situation just didn’t sit right with you. Upon entering the supposedly abandoned building, you were immediately starting to get suspicious of how clean it was. It was far too well taken care of for a warehouse without any real occupants since the previous shareholders had gone ‘bankrupt’. And even though all of that definitely rubbed you the wrong way, Kaz proceeded to make his way through the dingy hallways in the direction of the vault. You didn’t even try to get him to reconsider, he wouldn’t have listened anyway.
By now, the two others should have already cleared the entirety of the premise, causing Kaz to become a bit restless. His fingers were itching to finally get all of this over with. The blueprints were crucial for his next plan, so you fully understood why he needed this mission to work. But it genuinely unnerved you that he was ready to throw caution to the wind just because your friends diverted from the original plan.
“What are you doing?” He leaned down just enough to access the lock without putting too much pressure on his bad leg. The weather had been terribly frigid over the last few weeks, and it was taking a toll on his agility. It pained you to watch him put himself through this without being able to offer him help, but you knew that he would be too stubborn to actually accept it.
“What does it look like? Interpretive dance?” He sneered, removing his leather gloves before getting to work. His alabaster hands clashed with the rich black colour of his coat, making them look almost translucent. You watched him as he reached for the tool, pausing briefly to prepare his mind for the coldness of the metal. With a huffed breath, he brought it up to the lock, cautiously manoeuvring the tip around inside the mechanism. You didn’t know why he had such a severe aversion to touch - one where he couldn’t even bear to be touched by cold materials or objects - but you were well aware that it had to have been something pretty traumatic for him to react this way, meaning that you wouldn’t pry.
“Inej and Jesper haven’t told us that everything is clear, you can’t just ignore your own orders!” You hissed, giving him an exasperated glare that could have just as well been a carbon copy of his own, whenever he had to deal with Jesper’s antics.
“My orders are the only orders I can disregard without a guilty conscience.”
“Oh please, you and having a guilty conscience? I thought you weren’t one for fairytal-” The sentence was harshly cut off by yells echoing from the corridor adjacent to the one you were in. You turned your head, whilst Kaz was still focused on picking the lock.
“Kaz! Y/N! Don’t!” Jesper yelled as he finally appeared in your line of sight. When he saw the situation you were in, his already frantic eyes grew even wider, a look of horror spreading all over his face.
“Jesper, what is-”
“Explosives!” The words didn’t even fully leave his mouth as the distinct click of the lock forced your eyes back towards Kaz. He only had time to shout for both of you to run before a deafening bang sounded from behind the door. Only Jesper was still able to follow his command. You were still wrapping your head around the situation when a sharp blow lifted you off your feet with brutal force.
Your body hit the concrete ground with a firm thud, rendering you unable to move for a few moments after the impact. Everything around you was spinning, and you felt as if you had just lost the majority of your ability to hear, but staying on the ground wasn’t an option. The distinct metallic smell of an explosive-induced fire travelled through the dust-filled air, as you forced yourself to sit up. You could barely make out the silhouettes and shapes of the objects around you as you watched the fire crawl out of the room. If you didn’t leave now, you would be the next thing to succumb to its wrath.
Kaz.
The thought shot into your mind like the top of an arrow hitting a bullseye. Your distorted sight and slight dizziness limited your ability to spot him greatly, but you wouldn’t leave him here to die.
A violent cough caught your attention, and you saw the hunched-over form of Kaz futilely trying to sit up. Since he had been so close to the epicentre of the explosion, the sheer power of the blow had thrown him right against the rough wall opposite the door. You could recognize scratches and bruises all over his face as his eyes hectically peered through the rubble around him.
“Kaz!” You called out, wobbly dashing towards him. His head snapped around to face you, an emotion akin to relief flashing over his features. He tried to push himself up, at least to get into a sitting position, but his whole body ached as he attempted to do so. It was only then that both of you noticed the torn-up fabric of his trousers revealing a deep gash on the side of his leg. His good leg. “This looks bad.”
“Go.” He let out a laboured breath, as he let his back rest against the wall.
“And leave you here to die? We both know I won’t do that.” You thankfully managed to spot his cane, bringing it over to him as quickly as you could. Kneeling down next to him, you tried to assess the damage with weary eyes.
“Y/N, that wasn’t a request. Go.” The harsh tone of his voice didn’t faze you anymore. He might be a stubborn bastard, but even he didn’t deserve to meet his end in a filthy burning warehouse.
“If you think that I’ll start listening to you know, you are greatly mistaken.”
“I won’t be able to walk.” He hissed in pain as he finally managed to sit up properly. If it had been anyone else but Kaz Brekker, you wouldn’t even have thought twice about pulling him to his feet and dragging him outside. But you couldn’t do that to him.
“Take my hand.” You hoisted yourself up to your feet again, stretching out your hand for him to take. This was risky, however, you needed to do something.
“No.” His lips were pressed into a thin line as he looked up at you, apprehension written all over his face.
“Kaz, for Saints’ sake! Look, I’m not trying to ask you to marry me, I’m trying to save your life!” This attempt at humour wasn’t much appreciated.
“I can’t.” His gaze wandered to his hands. His bare hands. He didn’t have his gloves. Shit, this only managed to get worse. You really didn’t want to do this.
“Listen, I can’t - and won’t - force you to do anything.” Your previously demanding voice grew a bit softer as you gave him one last chance. “I know that this is going to be really uncomfortable for you, but we have to leave. I’ll do whatever you tell me if that means that you’ll agree to let me help you.”
“Okay.” You watched the way his hand shook as he reached for yours. With a surprisingly tight grip, he held onto it, allowing you to pull him to his feet.
Immediately upon standing up, an intense pang of pain shot through his legs and he began to stumble forward, his body threatening to give in again. Your mind went into overdrive as you lunged forward, hastily putting an arm under his shoulder and letting him cling to yours.
His heart began to race when he realized the situation he was in. His bare hands had been on your bare hands and now there were only two layers of clothes separating your skin. You were close. Way too close for him to function properly. The rising waters mixed with the stinging ache rushing through his legs made him want to vomit.
“Kaz.” Your voice pulled him out of his stupor briefly, giving him enough distraction to keep him from pushing you away and having a panic attack right then and there. “We need to move. Please, tell me what to do.”
“Keep talking.” He shifted his weight to partially lean on his cane, reducing the pressure he had put on you. “Distract me.”
The cracking of the fire behind you made the urgency you felt prior to this return. You managed to give him a brief nod before carefully beginning to inch forward. One of your arms supported his back, while the other rested on his chest to keep him from falling forward. From where your hand was situated, you could basically feel his heart thud against his ribcage, his rapid breathing only underlining the panic brewing inside him.
“Do you remember that one week two months ago? When all of your heist plans went missing and you never figured out who took them, even after they returned the week after?” You had to distract him. You had to keep talking.
“Yes?”
“I hid them.” It was a stupid thing to bring up. It didn’t have any correlation to what was happening right now, but it seemed to get him to focus on something else than the current situation.
“What?” The words almost came out as a chuckle, but you weren’t sure whether that was because he genuinely found it entertaining, or because the absurdity of the situation beat him to it.
“You were ill. You had a fever.” Kaz almost froze when he heard that. It was true. He had been ill that week - probably one of the worst fevers he had since the plague. But he never told anyone. He even made sure to lock his window to stop Inej from suddenly appearing. Initially, he had intended to retreat into his office, and just continue to work on some upcoming heist plans. However, one day after breakfast, all of the plans were gone, and no one seemed to know a thing. Not even a thorough search through the Slat made them reappear. Eventually, he just decided to give you the week off for ‘recreational activities after an especially tiring heist’. Lo and behold, after his fever had set again, the plans returned to his desk again - neatly stacked and sorted. “I hid them so you could rest. I knew what you were trying to do, and I didn’t want you to overwork yourself just to keep anyone from being made aware that you can get sick too.”
Ask her why.
The questions bubbled inside his head. Why would you go out of your way to force him to rest? Why did you even care about his well-being enough to do something like that?
“Why?” He rasped out, becoming even more aware of the way his heart raged against its restraints.
“I suppose for the same reason why I’m not letting you stay here and die.” That statement was a bit too honest for your liking, and Kaz seemed to have picked up on it. However, before he could press the matter further, a sudden wave of nausea and vertigo overcame him. The waves had ultimately managed to pull him under.
And without being able to take another step, his legs buckled, the world around him fading into black. The only thing you could do was to hold onto him as he fell, only scarcely breaking the fall before his limp body hit the ground. He had fainted.
The next time he woke up he wasn’t in the warehouse anymore. He was at the Slat. In his own room. In his own bed. It seemed to be late - the darkness engulfing him was a pretty strong base for that thesis. The only source of light that had even allowed him to recognize where he was, came from somewhere beside him. He didn’t bother to look where it was coming from, nor did he have the energy to turn his head.
Every still-intact muscle screamed at him, but he felt a strong urge to sit up. His efforts were futile though. A hand quickly hovered above his chest, not touching him, but present enough to get him to abandon his task.
“Don’t.” Kaz could feel his entire body relax when he heard your voice. He had half-heartedly expected it to be Nina, or maybe even Jesper, there to scold him for being so foolish. Having you here was way preferable. “Don’t try to sit up. You need to rest. And if Nina sees that I allowed you to sit up, she’ll probably stop my heart. Or yours. Or both of our hearts if she’s feeling especially murderous.”
His head fell back on his pillow, angling it a little to the side to take a better look at you and also finding the lamp that just barely illuminated the corner of his room. You sat right next to his bed, some novel resting idly in your lap as you gave him a comforting smile. And even though he still felt as if he had been run over by a carriage going full speed, he couldn’t help the ghost of a smirk rush over his lips.
“What happened?” The question had been burning holes in his head since the bomb went off. He had a rough idea, but the details were rather blurry.
“It was a trap. Dime Lions. They paid our informant to lure us right into their trap. Apparently, Inej found a stack of letters in the not-so-abandoned office, but Jesper was too late to tell us.” You recited what they told you after dragging Kaz back to the Slat. You didn’t remember every single detail, but this amount of information would suffice for now.
“I should have waited.” Kaz groaned, regret flooding his mind as he remembered the events of the day prior. Had he only waited a little while longer…
“Hey,” You reached forward, resting your hand just mere inches away from his. “You couldn’t have known. We all made it out alive, so you have nothing to blame yourself for.”
“That doesn’t rectif-”
“Kaz.” He only sighed in response to your warning glare.
“Fine.”
“I think I should go down and tell Nina that you’re awake. She wanted to take another look at your leg once you’re conscious again.” You were just about to stand up when Kaz seized the hand close to his. His touch was featherlight, - not at all comparable to the tight grip he had on it a day earlier - but it was still there.
“I knew that it was you.” He croaked out, his eyes fixed on yours as if you were about to vanish once he averted them.
“That I was what?” You replied perplexed, your brain still trying to process the fact that he was willingly touching you right now.
“That you were the person who stole the heist plans. I didn’t know your reasoning, but I knew that it was you.”
“You knew? Why didn’t you say anything? If it had been Jesper, you would’ve ripped him to shreds?”
A pause.
He knew exactly why he didn’t confront you about it. He just couldn’t tell you. At least not yet.
“I suppose for the same reason I wanted you to leave the warehouse without me.” His hand gave yours a brief squeeze before eventually letting go. Even though he didn’t say it out loud, the knowing smile that began to settle on your face told him that you knew.
Taglist:
Grishaverse fics in general: @yesshewrites1 @dal-light
Kaz Brekker: @ell0ra-br3kk3r @juneberrie @writingmysanity @b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r @brekkers-desigirl @fall-writes
#kaz brekker imagine#kaz brekker x reader#kaz brekker#grishaverse#grishaverse x reader#six of crows x reader#six of crows
758 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hello, could I request an Anthony Lockwood x reader where they both act like they are dating (pet names, sleeping in the same bed after Bad missions, just doing small affectionate things) but nothing is confirmed and then kipps asks reader out and lockwood steps in. At home they had a heated argument & confession and maybe make out?
LABELS AREN'T MEANT FOR US (YET)
Lockwood and I never like to put labels. They make everything definitive and unopen for interpretation. Amirite or amirite?
"Leila, love, it's 9 am." Lockwood himself reached out to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear, making me giggle and slap his hand away. "So I take it you had a good sleep, then?"
"Just peachy, darling. You make me feel better after those bad missions." I grinned, and got a kiss on the forehead in return.
"Well, George may be making breakfast round about now, and you know how he is about timings."
"Oh, yes, the timings." I got out of bed, quickly combing my hair while he threw on the business clothes he wore that showed off his toned physique. The shirt did, and the jacket polished off the look.
"I swear, you two should be dating already." Lucy tutted. "Listen to fate, please."
"We don't put such labels on our relationship, Lucy, they're too definitive. Besides, Lockwood and I are friends." But I truly did want to be something more, yet I'd contradict my own words if I did. Oh, this world is too confusing.
"Exactly what Leilani said. Now, hop off to breakfast, we'll be down there in a minute." Lockwood cut in, saving me. I smiled at him, tucking the other strand of hair behind my ear and then twisted a strand of my raven-coloured hair around my finger and let it drop. "Absurd, isn't it?"
"Yeah."
George and Lucy kept pointing out things that set me and Lockwood apart from being normal couples. The way we look at each other, how we always work together, we light up in each others presence, the usual rom com malarkey. But we'd gotten into the habit of keeping our hands near each other, pinky fingers intertwined as if we'd float away if we'd let go. Nobody really knows why Lockwood and I are so close.
That is with the exception of the two concerned.
Long story long, Lockwood and I first made eye contact shortly after his parents died because he was put in the house next door. We'd go on playdates all the time, we trained together and even though he was a better fencing prodigy than I was, I supported him all the way. He was brilliant. Clever with his words as much as his brain, athletic yet packed with technique, the whole package. Then one fateful day he pitched the idea of an agency to me, and me being the reckless soul I was, I agreed, henceforth starting Lockwood and Co because it sounded better and cooler than Yaris and Co. I was there for him during the struggle of being orphaned at a young age and he was there for me when I lost mine to a car crash. We were as thick as thieves...
Even though every day I wanted to be more than that.
THAT VERY EVENING:
"Evening, Laila." Lockwood greeted, starting to write on the tablecloth.
"Hey, Lockwood. Figuring out the case of the Lipton Street wraith?"
"Yeah. I got a lot closer thanks to your clue."
“Yeah, what can I say, darling? I’m good at this stuff.”
“I know, love, that’s why I ask you.” Our fingers intertwined, looking at each other for a second. I felt truly safe with Lockwood. I couldn’t explain it, really. All I could say about it was that he was like my only vice when things went wrong, the one to hold me after a bad case or the person who’d just protect me anyway, acting as a shield between me and the dangers out to get me.
I remember the countless times he’d put himself in critical danger for me, jumping in front of an advancing ghost or distracting it when he had nowhere else to go. In that moment I felt it was the other way around, and I couldn’t help but rise to the occasion.
“I’m going out to meet Flo later, at around 6. We’re going over the details of me acting as her intermediary.” He told me, and I nodded in response. Flo was our good friend. She was an amazing person as well, so no wonder she became the only relic girl in the world.
“I’m going out with George at the same time. We’re grabbing pizza.” I informed, absentmindedly writing something down until I realised what it was.
I love you, Anthony Lockwood.
I covered it up urgently, awaiting his reply.
“Which pizza place are you going to?”
“Pizza Hut.”
“Enjoy your pizza.”
“Enjoy your time being an intermediary.”
“Why does that feel like you’re throwing intense shade on me?”
“No!”
“Come here, you little monkey!” I tried to run, but he grabbed me by the waist and pulled me into his chest, starting to tickle my sides.
“Please- no - Anthony - stop- please!” I giggled, breaking down into hysterical laughter in between words.
“Never!”
“I swear, if you two aren’t dating already, I am opening a court case.” George interrupted, holding a mop.
“Labels are definitive. Aka it’s not for us. Which means that we’re not dating.” We chorused in unison. It became habit for us, really. Barnes said it, Lucy said it, and now George did.
“But you obviously like each other.” He folded his arms, blinking. “Leila, your talent is touch, just touch one of his belongings, see his memories.” My sense was touch, and it’s the most dangerous talent, and for some reason mine extends beyond normal capabilities. If I want to, I can see someone’s memories, even if they’re living, by touching one of their belongings. But no. I respect boundaries.
“No. I wouldn’t do that to anyone, I’m not intrusive.”
“George, we don’t like each other. I love her like she’s my best friend, almost a sister, but nothing more.” We both went our separate ways, but what Lockwood said kind of hurt me.
His best friend. Almost a sister.
I guess that’s what I was to him.
“Anyway, I’m gonna have to cancel on the pizza. There’s some research I need to do. Is that ok, Leila?”
I nodded, fighting back the visible despair. “Yeah, sure. I’ll go on a walk myself.” I pulled on my jacket, clipping my rapier to my belt and leaving the house to go on a quick walk.
“Hey, Leilani Carson, isn’t it?” I turned to see Quill Kipps, standing there nervously.
“Yeah. What d’you want, Kipps?” I asked more with more hostility than I’d usually use to ask someone a question.
“I was in the area, and I saw you were lonely and could use some company. You know, just as someone to talk to.” I’d known Quill Kipps since a young age. And I knew as much as he could be rude and stuck up, he could be genuine. Perhaps he was just being genuine.
“Sure, I’d like that.” We started walking side by side together, and the first thing I heard nearly made me have a heart attack.
“I’m sorry for any anger I may have caused you ever since we met. It isn’t justified, especially if it’s how Tony and I had disagreements.” He looked solemn, and I knew that this was genuine, because it was clear. If Kipps could be anything, it’s a window. You can see through him clearly.
“I mean, you’re not the first person to dislike Lockwood. You just prove it every time you see him.” I shrugged. “He’s temperamental, so I don’t blame you. One second he thinks the world of you and the next you’re just a sister to him or he hates you with a burning passion.”
“Did he do that to you?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh… I’m really sorry. You don’t deserve to be treated like that.”
“Do I not?”
“No. You’re a good person-”
“There are lurkers on either side of us.” I warned, taking out my rapier and spare flares. Kipps did the same, both of us going back to back.
“Lucky we both came out here together, eh?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We’d finished off the lurkers, plus a couple of shadow phantoms, and Kipps offered to drop me home. I reached the door after a lengthy conversation about what we liked and our hobbies, how we ended up where we are, so I realised that he really wasn’t that bad. Kipps wasn’t as bad a person as Lockwood painted him to be.
“Thank you, Kipps, I really had a lot of fun today.” I smiled, standing on my tiptoes and pecking him on the cheek. Ascending up the steps, my hand was on the doorknob when Kipps called out again.
“Leila!” I turned around, bemused, “Would you fancy going out for a coffee tomorrow morning?”
I grinned, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Kipps, I-“
“Am not interested.” Lockwood had opened the door, standing there with his jaw ticked and physicality set in an intimidating way. “I’m dreadfully sorry, Kipps, but you’re not bagging my colleague for your private collection of gems. Terrible day to you.” He pulled me inside and shut the door, turning to me, livid. “What were you doing with Quill bloody Kipps?”
“Oh, I dunno, having fun? I was alone, he was alone, we were walking and talking together! We also had to fight off lurkers and shadow phantoms, so I’m glad he was with me!” I retorted, hanging up my jacket and putting my rapier back. “And what the hell was that for?! ‘Bagging my colleague’?! ‘Private collection of gems’?!”
“Kipps isn’t someone you should trust. He could be using you.”
“If Kipps is one thing you aren’t, Anthony bloody Lockwood, then it’s easy to read!” I yelled, storming into the living room with him after me. “He was genuinely interested in me, and I wanted to go out to have coffee with him!”
“You don’t know him like I know him!”
“I know him better than you know him!” I yelled, our voices rising. “Not everyone is who you think they are! Sometimes you don’t know them well enough to judge! You think Kipps is some stuck up idiot but he’s not, he’s just a person who you both severely dislike! You think I’m a sweet girl who’s your best friend, who will forever remain your colleague, but guess what?! I’m not sweet! I can be really salty if I want to and you do NOT want to see that side of me! And you, Anthony Lockwood, I don’t even know where to start! You think yourself a glorified hero but you’re just-“ I was cut off by Lockwood’s lips on mine, my breath cut off until he detached from me, tongue darting out to lick his lips quickly.
“Hopelessly in love with you. That’s what I am. And I know that you may think of me as so many things, but-“ I grabbed his tie, pulling him in again, his hands reacting in less than a second and resting on my waist. My arms wrapped against his neck, both of our lips moving fast in response to our adrenaline. I felt my back collide with the wall, my hand reaching down to undo his tie and chuck it aside while he quickly undid his shirt buttons, taking it off and laying me on the sofa, starting to press light kisses to my neck.
“Do you want to still go for coffee with Kipps?” He asked, grinning.
“Hell no. This is much better.”
274 notes
·
View notes
Text
In The End
Tom Holland x reader
Summary: You and Tom are triying to get to his parent's house for new year's.
Warnings: a little angsty but fluff in the end.
A/N: A little bit late but here you have a little imagine about new year's. Happy New Year Everybody. I hope you like it!
w/c: 1.5k +
"We promised we'd be with your parents for New Year's" you tear off your nail polish with your teeth. A horrible habit that pops up every time you feel anxious.
"And we will" Tom nods and looks out the train window at the white snow covering the once green pastures.
Just because it took a while doesn't mean you live far from Tom's parents' house. The problem was that you were at your parents' house and they do live a bit far away.
"The train is late and it's 9pm," you stress the obvious as your knee goes up and down rapidly.
You hated being late for the festivities. Especially because you didn't want to spend New Year's Eve on a train while Tom's family waited for you.
"Babe" Tom lets his hand rest on your leg so you stop moving it. "We'll be fine. There's not much travel left and we still have time. I've already warned them and they understand so don't worry."
"This wouldn't be happening if you hadn't left your shower until the last minute. Not to mention you couldn't find your shoes." You grumble still peeling off the polish.
"Uh uh." Your boyfriend shakes his head. "I know you. I know what you're doing and I'm not going along with it."
"And what am I doing according to you? Telling the truth?" You frown. "Because if you'd been ready earlier we wouldn't have missed a train only to wait for the next one only to find out it was late."
"You're looking for an argument because you're anxious. You're trying to find blame because your mind won't stop thinking about what would have been or what could have been." Chestnut carefully removes your hand from your mouth so you stop ruining your enamel.
You inhale deeply and look down at his hand in yours. It's true. Another of your many habits.
"Why do you know me so well?" You look him straight in the eye.
"Because I pay attention to detail and know how to save arguments" he kisses your hand and steals a faint smile.
"Thank you" you kiss his hand too and take a deep breath.
"Nothing to thank" he kisses your forehead on the table that separates them and takes your handbag. "You brought the nail polish, didn't you?" he asks as he reaches into it.
"Yep. It's right there" he nods and you watch him lick his lips as he searches.
"Bingo!" he smiles and places it on the table. "Lend me your hand, I'll fix what you ruined."
"You're a total prince charming," you hold out your hand and watch him paint two of your nails with concentration.
"I'm getting better and better at this, I should do this for a living," he adds mockingly.
"I won't deny that they look much better than the first time you did them." You nod.
"Hey, that wasn't so bad. Or was it?" He looks at you for a few seconds.
"You tried to clean the edges with your fingers and since you couldn't you did it with a t-shirt which by the way is now ruined" you laugh remembering him "plus you did it from the outside in, not from the front out." You laugh more.
"Well, maybe it was a bit of a disaster," he nods with a laugh and blows your nails.
You look at him in admiration. How could you have been so lucky in life that you ended up with someone like him?
"Thank you" you smile broadly as he puts a coat of glitter over the colour. "You always know how to calm me down.
"I do my best" he concentrates on coating your nails with product. "You've always done the same for me" he says matter-of-factly.
You're calmer and it's all thanks to him. The pre-occupation leaves your body as soon as he uses his magic on you.
You want to marry him. You want it more than anything but you don't want to rush it. He'll talk to you about it when he's ready.
The train stops at around 11:12 pm. That means you have less than an hour to get home to your parents. One unpleasant surprise is that there aren't many taxis available.
The drivers must be spending New Year's with their families, you think. You should have been with Tom's family a long time ago.
"Tom, we're not going to make it in time" you roll your suitcase along the tarmac while your boyfriend is on the lookout for a taxi and an Uber at the same time.
"We will, I know we will. Okay?" He walks through the cold streets with you by his side.
The sound of wheels on tarmac keeps you busy. At least you try to, it's too cold to think.
"Tom..." you sigh, looking at your watch. 11:23 pm
"My family's house isn't far, for now let's keep moving until a taxi or uber finds us" his gaze is on his phone and on the road every time he hears a car pass by.
As you walk, a car speeds by and, because it had rained earlier, the vehicle drives over a large puddle of water and splashes it on you and Tom.
"This has got to be a joke" you complain, totally soaked, sad and annoyed.
"You idiot!" Tom exclaims but the driver is too far away to hear.
"This isn't right" You're cold, tired, hungry and anxious. You are not a good combination.
"Maybe the universe is trying to tell us something. We should give up and find a hotel." Sighs Tom, tired enough as it is. Tom never gives up and yet he's doing it right now.
You can't let him. You know how much he wanted to be with his family for New Year's.
"No," you deny. "We've come this far" you take your hand. "Let's go to that bank, swap our coats for some dry ones while we've got our suitcases, and set a fare that no driver can refuse." You smile slightly. He's been your rock, now it's up to you to be his.
"You don't have to do this. I know you're tired and it was my fault in the first place" he sighs and lowers his head.
"That doesn't matter now, love. Come on, let's go. You'll see your family for New Year's even if we're a little late."
"Okay..." she murmurs and walks with you to that bench to change their coats. You place a £300 value in the app and wait for someone to take it. A New Year's miracle is what you both need right now.
A driver accepts as soon as you are about to give up and better keep walking. You both get into the car in the back and ask the driver to turn on the heater. Both your trousers are wet and your hair is a mess.
"Sorry about that" the hazel-eyed one takes your hand and tucks a damp strand of your hair behind your ear.
"It's okay. I'm sorry I was a little anxious," you kiss the tip of his nose making him smile.
"Don't apologise for that," he denies. "Anyone in your place would have left me" he inhales deeply.
"Well then, I'll never do that." You deny. "But next time we'll take the train a day earlier" you laugh.
"I'm totally fine with that," he kisses your forehead. Public kissing is not your thing.
The car arrives at around 11:55pm and you smile internally. 5 minutes early is much better than 5 minutes late. The man driving helps you unload your bags.
"I think they made a mistake with the price, it's only £11. The man adds.
"It wasn't a mistake." Tom denies and hands £500 to the guy who does his best not to cry. "Happy New Year" he smiles and so do you.
"Happy New Year" he utters with a lump in his throat. Apparently he needed the money urgently. That's why he was working in the New Year.
"I really love everything about you. Especially how you help the people around you" you take his hand and both enter the property, ring the doorbell and wait.
"Well, if I can help, you know I will." He leaves a heartfelt kiss on your lips before the door opens and his family lets the two of you in.
As everyone talks about how worried you and Tom were, you can only be thankful that you got home just in time.
The clock strikes midnight. You're both soaking wet and freezing cold but that doesn't stop him from grabbing you around the waist and kissing you as the new year begins.
"Happy New Year, darling." His face shows those perfect little wrinkles next to his eyes that you love so much.
"Happy New Year, Tommy," you smile and blush. His family took a few steps back to give you two some privacy but you know they saw the whole thing.
The important thing is that in the end, everything went well.
|°|°|°|°|
Tom Holland Tags: @raajali3 @fangirling-galore @rogertherabbitt @powerpuffluuvv @august-cardigan @itszulli @hallecarey1 @luvmarissaaa @xoxokiaraaxoxo @kaitieskidmore1 @lnmp89 @pure-a-tea @vixparker @army24--7 @spiderydreams00 @nani-2305 @mochimm @ietss @prancerrparkerr @hpsgirlrw @hollandweather
#tom holland#thomas stanley holland#tom holland smut#fanfic#tom holland writing#fanfics#fanfiction#spiderman#thomas holland#new year#tom holland x fem#tom holland x reader#tom holland fanfiction#tom holland and co#tom holland angst#tom holland and reader#tom holland fluff#tom holland fic#peter parker#fluff#angst with fluff
198 notes
·
View notes
Text
treasure: four
synopsis: when y/n gets whooshed into an alternate universe, an adventure: one with pirates and monsters and much, much more
pairing: ot8! pirate ateez x fem! reader (hongjoong / wooyoung focus towards end)
genre: pirate au!!
!!warnings(per chapter)!! - [bellow cut!] alcohol, drunk!teez, implied bullying (not actually) swearing, mentions of blood, mc is too nice for her own good, guns, knifes, jealous wooyo.
notes: finally a new chapter!! whoop whoop!!!
word count: 4.4k
tag list: @toxic-babexe , @sunnyhokyu
(if you wanna be added or removed to the taglist just lmk)
series masterlist
main masterlist
previous | next chapter
“so, you can fight. you know how to use a sword. So I'll cut to the chase. I was talking to my crew and given your situation with your family, and the fact I lost some of my crew today, I'm still against the idea of having a woman on board but my crew seems to like you. so, I'd like you to join us. and Second, I wanna thank you for saving my life. I could've been heavily injured or dead if it wasn't for you. don't get me wrong though, just cause I'm thanking you and asking ye to join my crew doesn't mean i like you nor trust you.” he stands making his way to the door, opening it and just before he leaves, he turns to you again.
“you've got till we dock to give me your answer, what'll you do? join the illusion or you can get off my ship the next time we dock” he says still cold before leaving out the door to let you ponder your decision.
what will you do...?
Join his crew?
join him after how rude he's been to you? after all his insults... and all his sexist comments about women and ships...
you couldn't deny the fact these thoughts made you not want to join his crew.
you just don't get him. How could he be so rude, cold, practically despising your presence one second and the next he saved you and helped you through a panic attack...
Does he have a split personality or something...
Despite these thoughts of the cold captain, the positives about joining the crew outweigh his bad points.
joining his crew could mean you can figure out how to get home!!... if you can get home that is.. and besides, you quite like the rest of his crew. they're nice and some are sweet. you can't just get up and leave them.
so, you make your way out of your room and up the stairs onto the main deck, there were still traces of blood from the fight
you really wonder what happened and why those people attacked...
“Y/n~~” you heard your name being called, turning your head towards the voice.
oh? It's Yunho...?
looking at him you notice that he too has a few injuries of his own, he has a few cuts on his face and arms and it looks like he's got a bit of a busted lip...
“Oh Yunho... hi”
He makes his way down the rigging and walks towards you.
“so…” he begins. ”i uh overheard the captain saying he wants you to join us to seonghwa earlier,” he said.
you slightly nod gazing out towards the water.
Yunho tilts his head in your direction.
“are you going to?” he asked
he raises his hands in defence
“I mean I'm not forcing you or anything but I think you should. We enjoy your company on the ship. and you're nice to be around, and… you might not know it yet but everyone in this ship is here because of a reason. So just think about it, okay?” he said and pats your shoulder. walking away to go elsewhere.
you stand and watch the waves a bit more, the sound of them crashing against the ship calming.
sighing you push yourself away from the side of the ship. and make my way inside.
...
standing In Front of the door your palms began to sweat and slightly shake as you raise your fist to knock on the door
you knock, its quiet for a minute before someone sighs
“Come in” a voice calls out.
opening the door you enter and the door swings shut behind you as if sealing your fate.
there he sits. map rolled out in front of him on the desk of a dark coloured bottle sitting on the corner.
he shakes his hand angrily through his red hair
“What” he spat out coldly. his eyes burning holes into me
you clasp yor hands together in hopes to get them to stop shaking.
“i- i have my answer” you voice hoping it was loud enough for him to hear.
he sighs out and rests his chin on his hand.
“And what is it?” he asked.
“I'd like to join,” you say more confidently.
He stands placing his hands on the table.
“Alright then. you may leave now” he said, still cold as he started to look over the map again.
“yes sir” you quietly said and turned for the door.
“Stop” you heard him call out. you turn to face him. He makes his way to the front of the desk.
“If you're gonna be a part of my crew you best learn to address me properly” he spoke.
you just stand. blinking at him.
“Seriously” he sighs out and crosses his arms over his chest.
“It's the captain. c a p t a i n. captainnnn.” He said drawing out the last captain.
oh.
“ah, yes c-captain sorry” you apologised
“good. don't apologise, just do it and get out and leave me be now” he spoke cold and proceeded to push you out the door.
you stand and turn back to face the now closed door that you were just shoved out. eyebrows furrowed and mouth slightly parted.
asshole.
...
“Land hoooo!”
and there indeed was the island, it didn't take long to sail towards it nor dock the ship. and Soon all of you were on deck. the captain giving out orders of who's to fetch what while on the island, you on the other hand didn't have a role.
you were to simply fetch yourself some clothes for you to wear. if you were a part of the crew then you'd need your own instead of borrowing. and the person who was tasked to go with you was seonghwa.
so here you were walking with seonghwa as you looked at and bought various shirts, pants and even a skirt for some reason. Now you were just browsing the vast amounts of stalls.
you walked past a stall showing different styles of corsets, now you weren't gonna lie a few did catch your eye but you couldn't possibly wear one of those besides how would you breathe?
“See something you like?”
you jumped and turned to the voice
seonghwa..
“yeah but I was just looking. I couldn't possibly get one” you told him.
he tilts his head
“Why not?” he gestures to the countless women around you both, every one of them wearing a corset of some type. “they're all wearing one,” he said.
you laugh and shake your head.
“I just wouldn't feel comfortable wearing one,” you said. a half lie. you wanted one that's true but at the same time you thought you wouldn't feel comfortable with the constriction of your lungs while trying to breathe wearing one.
he nods to your explanation
“Okay” he said. then you both start walking away from the stall
“Seonghwa~~~!!! Y/n~~~!!!” you and seonghwa stop at the sound of your names being called and you turn to where you heard them being called.
and there was wooyoung running towards you both, San and Yunho promptly running along after him.
Once he reaches you both. He flings his arms around both your necks pulling you both close to him.
“Hey you two!! Having fun? did you get some clothes for yerself y/n?” he asked, wide eyed looking at you.
Seonghwa shakes his arm off as San and Yunho catch up
“What’d you thinks in the bags woo?” he says to him waving the paper bag in his face.
“Okay, okay. Let's not argue. let's say we drop these bags back at the ship and~~” Yunho says pull you from wooyoung's grasp by your hands. pulling you close to him and wrapping his arm around your shoulder
“we all go get a drink at the tavern huh” he finishes looking between you all. biting his lip slightly.
no one answers. seonghwa seems to be thinking about yunho's suggestion while wooyoung's eyes linger on yunho's arm that's around you.
just as you're about to open your mouth San pipes in.
“sounds like a great idea! besides, we could all use a drink couldn't we?” he said.
everyone ends up agreeing and you all head back to the ship to drop off the bags and the things Yunho, wooyoung and san had bought. telling the others on the way about your plan to go to the tavern.
though you all forgot to do one very important thing...
...
Now here you all are sitting around a table in the bustling tavern, music slightly playing unheard over the countless men being loud and rowdy. you lightly sipping on our drink every so often. you didn't drink alcohol much.
while the others... well let's say they drank, and by drank you mean a lot.
you don't know how long you were there for, but the table slowly but surely started to fill up with empty pint cups. you were all sat listening to jongho tell a story. Most of the guys tried their best to listen but most were dazed and out of it. eyes hazed over. poor seonghwa looked as though his head would hit the table any minute.
jongho moving his arms ecstatically in his drunken state nearly hitting a poor guy walking past
“And there I was!! the criminal trapped right at the end, nearly had the sucker. THEN!! he socked me one and he would've gotten away but that's when i met the captain and-”
SLAM
jongho's story is interrupted by a heavily drunk wooyoung standing and slamming his hands on the table. He winces from the sting and staggers as he points his finger with his whole arm.
“I'll tell you something about the captain,” he says, his speech slurred from drunkenness. and goes on to tell his part.
you however being the only sober one notice something that everyone else doesn't in their drunken state of mind.
a familiar mop of red hair entering the tavern and scanning the place until his eye lands on you. you feel yourself sinking into yourself trying to hide and as he marches to your table you focus back on the group and current drunken story teller: wooyoung.
“now. don't get me wrong. I love our captain but.. he can be a real mean asshole sometimes. makes me wanna take my dagger and ram it up his a-” he pauses mid-sentence and is looking at you.
his eyebrows furrow
“what? what's with that face?” he asks his voice cracking at the start
and your eyes as well as the rest of the crews slightly shift to the furious red haired man standing behind him with his arms crossed
you forgot to tell the captain...
“what are you…” wooyoung begins and then follows your stare and everyone else's at the table and slowly oh so very slowly turns to face the captain
“Oh” he says.
the captain just stares at him, nose slightly flaring from anger.
wooyoung nervously smiles.
“hi hongjoong” he says
the captain or hongjoong raises his eyebrow.
“Excuse me?” he begins. His voice is laced with so much fury it makes you want to crawl into a hole and never come out.
He eyes all of you at the table.
“do.. do you all know how worried I've been!!?” he says, raising his voice as he slams his fist on the table as wooyoung did before only this time with more force as it tips over a few cups.
“I came out of my room to find my crew. My crew. gone. no one seemed to bother telling me. Hell you didn't even leave a note. I thought anything could've happened to you all. anything. I.. I thought you'd all been fucking captured or something!!” he yelled gaining the attention of other tavern goers. and the tavern goes slightly silent
hongjoong laughs out in anger
“but no.. you're all here..” he says a bit quieter looking at the table now. the others looking down in shame but you. you saw something on the captain's face..
“drinking.. laughing.. and making fun” he added.
sadness
That was what was on his face.
you could've sworn you heard him whisper out 'of me' at the end of his sentence.
He lets out a bit of a laugh
“Whatever” he said biting his lip and wiped his face,
“Just hurry and get back to the ship. It's late. and we start planning our journey to find the Cromer tomorrow” and he made his way to the tavern door before shouting
“What are you all looking at! mind your own damn business!!” and then he was out the door.
...
After the outburst, most of the crew seemingly now sober after the scare from Hongjoong. Everyone was trying to tidy the bar table. but you. you had questions so you pestered seonghwa for the answers which he gave most likely because though looking sober he was still pretty drunk.
you wanted to know about this Cromer thing the captain mentioned and all seonghwa said was it was the treasure they needed to find before it got into the wrong hands.
wrong hands. who could possibly be after this thing and if it's in the wrong hands then why are these people bad...?
but there it was. the beginning and plan of your first adventure...
you quickly leave the tavern, slightly shivering from the cool of the wind and make your way back to the ship.
only you don't get to the ship, you see hongjoong sitting on the beach watching the waves.
he sits, knees tucked up. his jacket discarded on the sand and his shirt's sleeves rolled up slightly.
carefully you tread your way towards him and settle on the sand beside him.
you stare at him. He makes no move to look at you and keeps his stare on the waves peacefully crashing in.
it's quiet for some time, nothing being spoken between the two of you. until it wasn't.
“What” falls past his lips ever as cold as always.
you suck in a breath about to answer him, but he speaks again.
“Why are you still sitting with me?” he says.
you're confused.
“after everything they were saying at the tavern.. I'm sure you agree with them” he says with a sniff.
he's... crying!!?
you softly smile to yourself.
“I think you've misunderstood, captain” you begin.
he side-glances at you confused.
“Your crew weren't bad mouthing you at all! they really care about you. In fact, they were telling me about how you saved them. how you saved each one of them and they're really grateful for you…” you finish
This only made the man cry more.
“hey hey” you say in a soothing tone and take his hands in yours and try to look at his face.
you gasp.
“y-you're bleeding!” you say. as you watch the blood seep out from underneath his eyepatch.
removing one of his hands from your hold he touches his face, and sure enough there's blood
he laughs slightly
“Oh. This just happens sometimes. it's nothing to worry about.” he tells you
nothing to worry about!!?
you stand and pull him to his feet
“What are you-” he begins but is cut off from you, starting to walk back to the ship and pull him into san's medic study.
you sit him down and search for some things. and once you find the things you turn back to him only to find more tears rolling down his cheeks.
“why” he says.
“Why are you being so nice to me when I've been a complete asshole to you…”
“well you are an asshole but I think you're more broken and kind than you let on captain” you explain to him as you wipe the slowly drying blood from his face
“hongjoong” he says.
you look at him.
“hmm”
“hongjoong. call me that” he says
you slowly nod.
“okay. well hongjoong. Does it need to be cleaned under your eyepatch?” you say as you reach for it. he grabs your wrist.
“it's okay i can do it.. thanks y/n.. y-you can go.” he says.
you stand and put a hand gently on his shoulder
“Are you sure?”
he just nods ever so slightly.
and with no other option if he's not comfortable, you leave the room.
...
A few days had passed since the moment you had with hongjoong on the beach and in Sans study and it was sort of safe to say he was slowly changing his way of acting towards you and now you were also back on the waves beginning the search for this treasure.
you were yet again leaning on the side of the ship watching the waves crashing on the wood, then a familiar mop of red hair pops in your peripheral vision.
turning to the side you see hongjoong also leaning on the side
he looks at you and smirks a little
“enjoying the view,” he asks.
you nod.
“yeah, i am it's so peaceful”
he smiles
“yeah it is. it's so freeing to me y'know?” he says, holding onto the side and leaning back as the wind blows through his hair.
he looks at you, only to find you looking back at him. His eyes looking conflicted in the next second.
“ah! yeah i was going to say. This voyage is most likely going to be dangerous. Now I know you can fight but you're missin a few points. I'd also like to train you up on using a gun and cutlass better if you're comfortable?” he says
your brows furrow
“you mean... you.. train me?” you ask to which he nods
“yeah.. if that's okay..” he adds
you agree
he claps his hands together once.
“Great training starts tomorrow, okay?” he said and began to walk towards seonghwa who was at the wheel.
so training with the captain. How fun. if only you knew.
not long after the captain left you, another crew member saunters over to you
wooyoung.
“so..” he begins
“training with the captain huh?” he asks
“y'must be dreading that. with the way he treats you” he added
wooyoung lets out a nervous laugh ”you could.. always train with me.. y'know?”
you smile.
“That's sweet of you Woo. Thank you. but…” you say as your gaze drifts from him to where the captain stands now at the wheel
“i'll have to get back to you on that one”
you miss the hurt that flashes on his face
“no, no. That's okay. I was just saying because of how rude he is to you but whatever” he says and walks away.
what. what just happened.
you stand still looking in the direction wooyoung left in. perplexed.
shaking the feelings away, you make your way to yeosang's study. knocking on the door and entered once you heard his quiet 'come in'
you find him at his desk looking at the large map
“hey” you say to which he says hi back. you watch as he makes markings and little notes which you assume is for hongjoong about this journey.
“so..” you begin. “where are we going anyway?” you ask him
He points to an island on the map.
“captain wants to go 'ere and thinks we'll find somethin useful there.. i disagree nothing but bandits there.” yeosang spoke his opinion.
“maybe he knows something.. maybe there is something there” you tell him.
yeosang looks at you and sighs
“perhaps but its awful dangerous”
dangerous.. so that's why he wants me trained up you thought
...
Wooyoung sits in his crow nest with yunho.
yunho looking with his spyglass actually doing the job of a lookout, while wooyoung... well his spyglass is long forgotten on the planks of the crows nest.
he sits with eyes fixated on you and the captain..
he watches as your cutlasses clang off each other and how hongjoong stops to adjust something about your stance or just giving pointers
he doesn't fail to take notice of hongjoong's smile on his face nor the one on yours.
he sits arms crossed, tongue poking his cheek as he lets out another sigh
yunho sighs too
“wooyoung. why not instead of sitting and sighing. you do your job?” he says as he chucks the spyglass at him.
wooyoung lets out a laugh
“technically I am Yun. I'm observing the crew” he says
yunho shakes his head and continues to look through his own spyglass out a the waters
Yunho's words fall short as wooyoung continues to glare daggers at the pair below on the deck.
...
“again!” hongjoong said as he took his position, you followed suit, sighing.
your whole body hurts. you've been doing this training for hours.. all day for the past 3 days. and let me tell you. hongjoong is not a lenient teacher. you definitely see why he's the captain.
your cutlasses clang against each other and yet again he disarms you.
“Y'know if this was a real battle you'd be dead” he says throwing his head back running his hand through his red hair. when doing so he catches a glimpse of something or rather someone.
he lets out a chuckle
“Oh wow. this is great” he mutters under his breath, a small smirk making its way onto his face.
you stand and pick up your cutlass, hongjoong smirks
“again”
the metal crashes against each other
The cutlass again slips from your hand and pain shoots through you as you land on your butt.
the captain laughs and his sword points at your throat
“dead.. again” he says
nope he's still an asshole
he holds out his hand for you to take it, you smack it away picking yourself up and your cutlass
“again” you say
hongjoong smirks again
“okay... determination i like it” he says and ready's himself
and the clanging of metal begins again
he's being cocky you thought, and it was then that you saw your chance
using your foot you slip it under his own making him fall on his own ass.
“YESS” you hear being shouted. your eyes immediately flicker about to see who it was. then your eyes go up to see yunho with his hand over wooyoung's mouth as he raises his hand in apology
you shake your head with a laugh and turn back to the captain who's still on the floor glaring up at wooyoung
you lean yourself on your sword and then extend your hand to the captain
“well now you're dead captain” you say teasingly
he takes you hand and lets out a “ha ha”
he was about to say something-
“captain! land ho!!” yunho shouts from the nest.
it was now that you took notice of your surroundings
There it was! an island with rainforest looking trees. very dense looking. you're brought out of observing by hongjoong explaining what was going to happen.
“alright crew. we'll camp on the beach for now and some of you will stay 'ere and guard the ship. I don't think we need to worry about the bandits right now as we're on the other side of the island and at first light we'll make our trek to find her” he says
and then the 9 of you plus a few extra pile into a few row boats after gathering some supplies and make the row towards the beach of the island.
after getting to shore you all set up camp. and got started making a stew
“y'know there's still a few hours of light left. how'd you feel about training with one of these?” hongjoong asked you holding a pistol “you don't have to. i'd just feel calmer if you knew how to at least get a shot with one”
you reluctantly agree to do more of this training.
so now here you were a little ways further down the beach with some empty glass bottles on some crates.
“you ever shot one of these?” he asks
you shake your head
“no.. we don't have guns back home or so to speak we're not allowed them” you say
“oh.. That's odd, nearly all towns and villages allow them here that I know of.. Right then.. well i'll show ye first then you can try okay?” he says and you nod.
and then hongjoong points the gun and bang! the glass shatters
you jump from the loud noise
he notices and places a hand briefly on your shoulder
“You okay?”
you nod and then he places the gun in your hand
“now you try” he says
and let's just say it's not going well. you've shot everywhere except the glass bottles. you've shot the sand, the crates, water even the tree just behind the crates
“y'know what” hongjoong says. ”I think I might have something that'll help you. i'll be back” he says as he makes his way back to the camp.
...
again wooyoung sits eyeing the both of you still huffing and puffing. only this time instead of it being yunho its poor jongho that's getting the sigh’s in his ear.
that is until jongho's had enough.
“Why don't you just go over there and help her hmm? instead of huffing over here? Yer giving me a headache” he asks him, ”Look the captain’s coming back here so you go help her instead of whining to everyone about the captain being the one to help her.” and with that jongho shoves the blonde in your direction down the beach.
“okay. i will just.. distract the captain for a bit will ya?” he says to jongho and then saunters his way down to you.
...
“Need some help?”
startled from the sudden voice you turn to face them
“oh wooyoung.. yes please hongjo- ah the captain just disappeared on me” you say.
he takes the gun from your hands and settles himself on the sand patting the space next to him
“i feel you can't use a gun properly unless you understand how it works” and then he began explaining the different parts of the weapon to you
by the time he finished explaining the sun was starting to set
“okay now show me how you shoot, so i can see what it is you're doing wrong” he says
so you take aim and again miss the glass.
he nods
“hmm i see, 'ere try this and take aim” he says and passes you a smaller pistol.
you take it and it feels much better in your small hands and then you aim for the bottles like he said
“you're also aiming too low.. try and aim just above the place you want to shoot” wooyoung spoke
he stands behind you almost flush. he gently touches your shoulders
“relax.. you're too tense you'll get hurt if you're too stiff”
breathing in and then out trying to calm yourself, your shoulders visibly relax.
“good” he says
his hands slide from your shoulders down your arm to your hands where he raises your aim
“okay.. hold it there” his hands glide back up your arm and fall to rest on your waist
“shoot” he orders
BANG
his hands on your waist steadied you from the recoil
the glass had shattered!!.
“better?” he whispered
you nod
“thank you” you turn to look at him his hands still on your waist
he was so close..
you saw how his eyes looked into yours, how he took in a shaky breath
“y/n I..” he whispered
you both were so close that your noses where almost touching, that you could almost ki-
a loud terrifying shriek comes from the forest.
wooyoung's quick to grab the pistol from you and aim it in the direction the noise came from
“w-what was that!?” you ask trying to steady your breathing
“the beast” hongjoong said eyes bore into you both.
a/n: hihi!! I don't normally do a/n's but I just wanna apologise for how long this chapter took to get published-
I'm very deeply sorry I've just been writing wips for other little au's, oneshots and series I wanna post for you all!! I also just had no motivation to write for the treasure series. I don't wanna get burned out. hence been writing some wips!! I hope you enjoyed this chapter though!! till next time!! <3
previous | next
#ateez x reader#ateez pirate au#ateez#ateez series#ateez fanfiction#hongjoong x reader#wooyoung x reader#starrywooyo#starrywooyo fics#starrywooyo treasure series
104 notes
·
View notes
Text
Liam Evans Main Story: Chapter 18
I do not own any of the Ikemen Series content being uploaded on this blog, everything belongs to CYBIRD. Please support them by playing their games and buying stories. Not 100% accurate, expect mistakes.
read this before interacting with my posts
The only sound that could be heard on that abandoned clock tower was their breathing.
Max, the father, had a facial expression filled with desire for control as he pointed a gun at his son.
However, to his son, Liam, that ugly expression looked painful.
Liam: OK. I’ll do everything as you wish.
The man standing in front of Liam wanted him to jump off on his own.
Liam: However—
Liam: I have one favour to ask of you.
Max: Anything except begging for your life.
Liam: … Haha, I know.
Liam: I want my dead body to disappear without a trace. Decapitate me or toss me into the ocean, I don't care how you do it.
The starry sky reflected in his rose coloured eyes.
The stars were shining brightly that night, like the ones he saw with Kate.
Liam: … Can I say a few things? Take it as I’m saying my last words.
Liam: My life is worthless. I’ve always thought that I’d be better off dead, just like you said.
Liam: Just by being alive, I had countless wrongdoings that hurt people. Therefore, it was best if I disappeared as soon as possible.
Liam: However, when Jacob saved my life…
Liam: His last words, “please live”, held me back.
Liam: That’s why I’ve been living my life so miserably and searching for a good reason to die.
Liam: … Weird, right? People die without warning, and yet here I am living this way because I want to die.
Liam: It was ridiculous, miserable… and I felt so guilty. I felt sorry for being alive.
Liam: Therefore, I decided that for as long as I was alive, I wanted to be the kind of person everyone wanted me to be…
Liam: I tried so hard not to be hated, not to hurt others, and not to ruin anything. I looked like a complete fool…
Liam: Because of that… I don’t hate the idea of dying.
Liam: I can finally end my life.
Liam: However.
Liam: I thought I would have no regrets, but… there's one thing that scares me.
His eyes narrowed into a gentle look that seemed to contain feelings of affection.
Liam: One day, I met a woman.
Liam: She looked very anxious… so I approached her because I wanted to make her smile.
Liam: However… now that I think of it, I said I was doing it for her sake, but the truth is that I did it for myself, isn't it?
Liam: I wanted to be someone who she needed, because it made me feel like I had a reason to live.
Liam: Our relationship started because of such selfish reasons… but she gave me so much.
Liam: Her every word, every glance, every move… all of it made me feel truly happy.
Liam: I especially liked the way she always belived in a tomorrow.
– Flashback Start –
Liam: Is your appetite back?
Kate: … Not really. But I don’t want the food to go to waste, and I have to at least eat something so I’m ready to face tomorrow.
Liam: … Tomorrow?
Kate: Even if today was a bad day, I want to keep going in hopes that tomorrow will be better. Therefore, I need strength to do that.
– Flashback End –
Liam: Whenever she was having a hard time, even if it was to the point of her being in tears, she always reached her hand out towards tomorrow. Her wise way of living was so moving.
– Flashback Start –
Kate: I want to help others to not be afraid of what tomorrow will bring them... by writing a story.
– Flashback End –
Liam: She was the kind of woman who had hopes for the tomorrows of not just herself, but everyone around her, including myself.
– Flashback Start –
Kate: The stars are beautiful tonight, so tomorrow's weather will definitely be clear… I’m looking forward to spending time with you tomorrow.
Liam: Tomorrow…
Liam: I’m part of your tomorrow too…?
– Flashback End –
Liam: Her existence was truly radiant. She made me feel like I could accomplish anything as long as I had her by my side.
Liam: I was definitely more in love with her than I deserved to be… I longed for her from the bottom of my heart.
Liam: She’s so kind hearted, she’ll feel hurt and cry for sure if she knows I’m dead. … That’s the only thing to avoid happening.
Liam: I should never be the reason why she’s unhappy.
Liam: I… I want all her tomorrows to be bright.
Max: You want me to dispose of your body so that the girl won’t find it. … A very audacious request.
Liam: I’m sorry I can’t be a good son till the end. But, please, I’m begging you!
An icy breeze hit his cheek, as if telling him that his life was at its end.
Liam: Come! It’s time to put an end to this life.
With a light foot, Liam stepped up and leaned his body out.
The stars looked beautiful that night.
And he was sure that the world would be much more beautiful if he disappeared.
He thought that death was something he had already accepted.
… And yet, what were those feelings surging in his heart that made him want to scream and cry?
Liam: Ah…
Liam: Ahh…
Liam: In my next life, I want to be someone who’s loved by everyone…
Liam: I want to be someone who will genuinely… make Kate smile…
Liam: I wonder if I’ll still be a nuisance to Kate even after I’m reborn…
Liam: … But… I wish that I’ll meet Kate again…
Liam: How strange … this is a thrilling situation that could satisfy my curiosity.
Liam: And yet I’m not the least bit excited…
…
We hopped off the carriage and looked up at the highest point of the clock tower.
Harrison: Roger. Can your hearing pick up his voice?
Roger: Yeah… I hear him.
Roger: He must be at the very top of this clock tower.
(... The belfry.)
Alfons: Hm. There are no buildings we can jump from to get to him, so it seems that we’ll have no other option but to climb up the stairs quietly.
The thought of having to climb the stairs to reach a place so high up that it looked like it was touching the sky, could've been enough to make me lose motivation.
But—
(... Liam’s life might be in danger even now as we speak.)
Kate: Let's hurry.
…
We ran up the spiral staircase towards Liam, who was at the belfry.
I had no idea how far up we’ve gotten, but I was already gasping for air.
Kate: Haa…
Roger: Oi, you don’t look so good. Are you alright, young lady…!
My knees were so pathetically weak that it was laughable, and I certainly didn’t look alright at all.
(But I can’t give up right now. Giving up is not an option.)
Kate: I’m alright. Let’s hurry, Roger.
Roger: … Haha. That must've been very unnecessary for me to say. Let’s work a little harder.
I was becoming even more breathless, but I didn't let that stop me.
(I need to reach Liam as soon as possible.)
(I need to hold Liam with these hands.)
(Faster, faster…)
The nearer I got to Liam, the more I felt the air of death surrounding him.
I was starting to notice it, but I just couldn't dive deeper into the core of that heart.
I recalled Liam telling me “make sure that nothing can harm what’s at the core of your heart”.
But the core of Liam’s heart must've been covered in wounds that bled continuously.
(Reaching out to try and touch it, is the same as touching his wounds directly.)
I was afraid that touching his wounds would worsen the pain.
(Therefore, I want to stay by Liam’s side and gradually get to know what those wounds are.)
(I hope that one day, we can share those wounds and sorrows.)
(However.)
I claimed to be doing it for Liam’s sake, but the truth was that it was only because I was afraid of hurting him.
At that moment, from the tower’s window, wind mercilessly blew against my face.
The cold made me imagine Liam falling over the edge of the tower.
(It's useless to regret anything.)
(— Regrets won't do anything to help Liam.)
(I need to force myself to ignore my fears.)
(I just want to reach out my hand to him.)
Harrison: *pant*... Kate, we’re almost at the belfry.
Kate: *pant* Y-Yeah…!
(... Please, please let us make it in time.)
I had never missed that sweet vanilla scent so much before.
His slightly quirky yet sweet voice, his rose coloured hair and eyes, I missed everything about Liam.
With every step I took, memories of the time I had spent with Liam came flashing clearly into my mind.
(... On the night we met, he helped to calm my anxiety.)
– Flashback Start –
Liam: Hey, Kate. You don't have to force a smile when you don’t want to.
Liam: Forcing a smile is an act of kindness towards the people around you, but you’re not being kind to yourself, you know?
…
(After that, Liam would always try to be there for me.)
Victor: Oh, Liam just negotiated with me about you becoming his personal fairytale writer.
Liam: — And Victor said OK to it.
…
(Whenever I felt uncomfortable in an unfamiliar place, he would be right there by my side, giving me his gentle encouragement.)
Liam: It’d be much easier to stop thinking about those things. And yet… you’re not the type to run away from your problems.
Liam: But I want to make you smile, that’s why I’m always pampering you.
I received more kindness from him than I could ever hold.
The last words Liam said to me that were so painfully kind resonated in my heart.
…
Liam: Therefore, you’ll be alright, Kate. I hope you’ll always be someone who believes in tomorrow.
– Flashback End –
(Hey, Liam.)
(You were lonely and afraid of what your tomorrow would bring you.)
(And yet, you still tried to protect my tomorrow…?)
He was always putting others before himself, always giving and never taking.
If I told Liam that, he would definitely deny it saying “it’s not real kindness”.
But, to me, all of that was true kindness and they’ve saved me so many times.
Whenever I received his kindness, I had a burning feeling in my heart.
Whether it was longing, sympathy, or the desire to protect… I couldn't put a name to it.
I wouldn't say that the time I spent with Liam was completely peaceful.
(But, at last, it was clear to me.)
(I… I’m fond of Liam.)
(So much that I don’t want to lose him no matter what.)
I knew that it was foolish and awful to only realise it at a time like that.
But—
(I don’t want to lose you.)
(I will never let you die.)
— Even if it’s painful for you.
Roger: We reached the belfry! All of you stay behind me.
Roger held the shotgun he was carrying on his back.
Roger: … Let’s go.
With Roger in the lead, we rushed out onto the belfry.
(T-That person is… Liam’s…)
And the person he’s pointing his gun at was—
Facing out of the belfry with his arms wide open, Liam was about to jump off.
Kate: … Liam.
Max: What are you people!
I sensed the gun’s muzzle being pointed at me, but I never took my eyes off Liam.
In the corner of my eye, I saw Roger and the others jump onto the man pointing his gun at me.
Still, I ran towards Liam.
(Wait, please, wait… don’t go)
Liam slowly threw himself off the edge and—
Kate: … Liam!
I fell to the ground with my hand outstretched, reaching out to Liam.
I instantly felt a force on my hand.
(... Ggh.)
His rose coloured eyes widened.
Liam: … K… Kate…
Liam: Why… why are you… here?
Liam: Stop! If you don’t let go, you'll also… ugh.
Kate: I don’t want to! I will never, NEVER, let go of you…!
My arm was getting cramped up.
Liam: W… Why…
Liam: Why… why are you doing this for me—
(I can’t tell him why…)
My vision shook and tears fell from my eyes.
Kate: Isn’t it obvious! I… I’m here to save you because you're someone who's precious to me!
Kate: I cherish you, and I want to protect you…
Kate: Because I love you…!
Liam: …
(... I’m sorry, Liam.)
(I can’t give up on you, even if it hurts…)
Kate: I’m begging you. Grab on tight…!
I yelled as loud as I could, trying not to let my voice be drowned out by the sounds of gunshots being fired wildly behind me.
But Liam never grabbed my hand.
(No… my hand…)
(I don’t want to, I don't…)
Kate: … Ue… uwaahh…
It wasn't the right time and place to cry, but I could no longer hold back my tears.
Kate: … Liam…
#ikemen villains#ikemen series#cybird ikemen#cybird otome#otome#ikevil main story#liam main story#niki translates
65 notes
·
View notes
Text
Defending "The Road to El Dorado" from a couple racist claims, or how I, being so cheeky, like to call it: Covering myself in sugar in order to attract some nasty little bugs🐞
For some reason, 2024 seems to be the year when I can't tolerate "The Road to El Dorado is packed with racism" discourse anymore. A couple days ago, I stumbled across a very colourful gifset which encapsulated perfectly all the objectively wrong arguments (save for half... one... one and a half... It depends) I've ever seen people give out to explain why they don't like the movie (@/neechees: If by some unlikely chance you're reading this, I wish we could have talked about it calmly. I'm a very open-minded person, unlike you seem to be). I've seen them SO many times that I think I hit my limit. Long story short, I got defensive, which I regret, shame on me, told the op they were wrong, as they are, op responded, and I got blocked before I could respond back. I honestly don't know why they blocked me after responding. I don't know if they sensed I know much more about the Aztec Conquest than they do, but well... Occam's razor.
After I calmed down, tried to reach to them because I genuinely wanted to talk about it, and failed, I decided I was going to break their post down as minutely as I could, even if just to get it off my shoulders and toss it into the void, and polished what I told one of the people who reblogged op's post saying they were right into this lengthy post. Purely because I love debating about movies I love. And boy, do I LOVE this movie.
Before starting, I'm letting you know that, as far as I know, I'm 100% white. And I'm also from Spain (Europe. Clarifying this for the Americans), which understandably gives me the advantage of having lived (and living) through the subtle remnants of the wretched Spanish Black Legend. Yet none of these two things stopped me from looking up historical papers, podcasts and documentaries (further than YouTube's video essays, I mean) so I could understand that this sort of... slander was indeed, part of that concept. I don't see how being of a particular race or ethnicity gives you the right to speak about recorded history as objective facts without doing your research and applying your critical thinking to it, either. Does op think that just because they're Native-American, as they say (just in case, can't believe anything you read on the internet these days), a person who has spent hours, days, months educating themselves about Hernán Cortés, poor Malinche and the Aztec Conquest from serious sources can't have more knowledge than them? Smh, op, smh. It does give you right over feelings, and obviously, your own experiences, though. Hope you still understand that factual knowledge is an entirely different thing.
That being said, at the end of the day, save for the very easy-to-check historical facts (which I will provide sources for if asked, although I believe you can very easily research it yourself), this is my opinion about why "The Road to El Dorado" is regarded as much more racist than it actually is. If you want to give me yours or respond to it, please, by all means, do it. Respectfully and with clear and valid reasons, of course. Otherwise, I'll have to ignore you. Understand that what you read below is the limit of my thinking and reading. Enjoy, or hate. Call me a racist. Send a WHITE meme my way. Up to you.
I'd link you to the post, but I don't feel like it. They blocked me, after all. You can search my blog for it. It's tagged as "neechees". And be sure to read their tags on the post as well, for context. Anyway, here go their "objective truths". Debunking time starts... now:
(EDIT: This is filled with edits. See how my opinion can change and I can clarify or rectify? Anyway, stating the obvious, but I believe Spanish colonization is bad. In any part of the world. I won't give you a single good aspect of it, except for that at least it was based on a different mindset than British colonization. Maybe there are fairly good aspects. After all, they say Romans gave us Spaniards roads and sewage systems. We'd have to take a look at an alternative reality where it didn't happen to make an objective claim. But, believe me, if it had been for me, I'd have pushed Cortés off the ship a good bunch of nautical miles before he reached what is now known as Veracruz, whatever good things he ended up doing. Bear that in mind.)
1. The cultures are mashed up in one city, that is true. But there is no explicit racist (implying prejudice, discrimination or antagonism, as I understand racism, or as racism is actually defined) motive behind it. I don't think it's done out of unthoughtfulness, either. I'm pretty sure it's just done to leave the place ambiguous, because (tell you more later), with Cortés involved and what went down with him historically, that place is much more meant to be Tenochtitlán than the legendary city of El Dorado. They didn't want to make that so explicit because this is a retelling, after all (tell you more later). I honestly don't see how anyone could think that the resulting city and culture are portrayed in a negative way. Sometimes, I'm not even sure these people were paying attention when watching the movie (if they ever did). In fact, if it weren't for the title of their post, I wouldn't even understand the point in this.
2. Oh boy, this is exactly what triggered me to say something instead of just putting it on my blog silently. This is how I know the op has ZERO knowledge about the historical event behind it, because they wouldn't say this is right if they did. There is no such thing as a (EDIT:) sufficiently collective "Spanish lie that Native-American (NA) people believed they were gods" (NEVER listen to a Spaniard who claims this. EDIT: Like López de Gómara. They're delulu), this has never had any kind of historical relevance (in the outcome and influence of history, I mean), and the NA people in the movie are not worshipping the white guys because they're white. The whole plot, arriving in a city and being mistaken for a god because your arrival coincided with an ancient premonition in such a precise way that it is fascinating, is exactly what happened to Cortés when he reached the capital of the Aztec Empire, Tenochtitlán. He was believed to be the reincarnation of Quetzalcóatl, and that's why he could enter the city peacefully and live in it for a short amount of time. The concept of the movie seems to be "What if this, instead of happening to a conquistador (in which is implicit the catholic element) who quickly said he was no god when he realised what was happening (because of the sin of idolatry), happened instead to two atheist looters who are ultimately good-hearted (NOT colonizers, because they didn't try to claim the land or control it) who weren't stopped by the fear to sin and took advantage of the situation?" That's it. The premonition happened to fall on a white man hundreds of years ago (who also came from the east, same place Quetzalcóatl left to and said he'd return from) and so does in the movie story because it mirrors real history, and, again, I fail to see the negative portrayal in all of this because it's certainly NOT because they're white. I think the op also took it salty that I said they had zero knowledge about "the very people they're trying to defend", which I still believe, but this is complex and I'll only explain this if asked. What I meant by that, on the surface, is that NA people also enslaved NA people. I seriously hope op doesn't think NA slavery is more acceptable if it comes from other NA people than white people. Who knows, at this point.
3. This is essentially right. It's the only thing I think is mostly right, actually. It's no problem for me, though. I love Chel, she's beautiful and aesthetically pleasing to me. But I can understand why it may put someone off. All good. However, I still wanna say that the Aila test is just a way of assessing indigenous women representation as positive and negative, and not the work in itself as problematic if it doesn't pass it. The Lord of the Rings doesn't pass the Bechdel test and I have never seen anyone calling it problematic because of that, nor do I need positive representation (I'm a woman. Sort of. It fluctuates) on it to enjoy it. Although I figure I'd feel the same if I were NA, I can't and won't speak for one. So I still give you that.
4.1. This is wrong in three ways. First, Tzekel-kan is not "demonized as evil". He is evil. He's not evil because he's NA, he is evil because he killed, he lied, and he abused his power. There are NA people in the movie who are kind and good (everyone but him, I believe), and then there's him. In every race and ethnicity, there are good, neutral and bad people. And people who are sometimes good, and sometimes bad. If all the NA people were painted in a morally white and good way, that special treatment would come off as positive discrimination to me. Why can't he be a sociopathic genocider AND indigenous at the same time without being considered as racist? Does that mean all indigenous people have to be/are morally white? If all the other NA characters were demonized, I'd understand it, but it's the opposite. Also, Tzekel-kan is loosely based off Moctezuma, the (redundant) emperor of an Empire who enslaved other NA people. And, surprise, just like Cortés, I don't think the guy was evil. I think this is probably another reason why they didn't want to make clear the specific culture. I could see the racism if they had tried to directly compare Tzekel-kan with Moctezuma, I would perfectly be able to see the claim that Moctezuma was a sociopathic genocider, and I'd recognise that as racist. But in this case, it's just loose inspiration. Not a parody.
4.2. There was NO genocide in the Spanish NA colonies. There was NO legal slavery, save for a few unfortunate loopholes (tell you more later). (EDIT: careful, I'm NOT defending his monumental fuck-ups or justifying him in any way, just so you know. In my opinion, he was a fair lot more bad than good, but not 100% bad. If you get me) Hernán Cortés did a lot of undeniably wrong things, but he did good things too. I don't think you can say he was a good person, no person who'd say that would be a friend of mine, but I don't think he was a 100% evil person. Just a person, sometimes good and sometimes bad. Still, when he was bad, he was bad. And what op said about that they didn't care enough about him to write his name properly, BOY how that ticked me off. People, for all you hold dear, you have to CARE to know about such important historical figures in order to understand the history behind them and the outcomes of their actions. Especially within such a sensitive topic. It's when stories like this are ignored or forgotten, that history tends to repeat itself. The fact that I care to spell Hernán Cortés well has not the respectful positive connotation they think, either. And despite what you may believe, we Spaniards do NOT think he did everything right and much less that he was a hero. I think some Mexicans think we all do, but I don't know why. Only the most idiotic "fachas" (ultraright people) do.
4.3. One, he was not enslaved (tell you more later). Two, well, since he tried to mass-murder the inhabitants of the city, I... I do reckon putting him away was a good ending. Jesus, he tried to purge the city of citizens HE deemed unworthy in the name of a divine power (=on a religious basis) with the clear intention to wipe them out. It's clearly stated more than once throughout the movie. If you didn't know, by objective definition, the name of that starts with 'G' and ends with 'ENOCIDE'. And when that failed, he actively tried to drive the colonizers to them. Only because of that, he was technically much more of a genocider than the historical Cortés ever was. Are his actions really justified just because he's indigenous? Doesn't he deserve a punishment just because of it? I see "slavery" (if it were. Since enslaving NA in Spanish colonies was illegal at the time, I'd say he was kidnapped, in the strict sense of the word. Bit funny to word it like that) as a punishment more than fitting for his crimes. I think you all should drill this into your head: ANY abusive leader involved in (I can't believe I'm going to say this, but socially unacceptable) murder deserves to be punished in some way independently of his race, ethnicity or religion. This is something I believe firmly, so you have very little room to debate with me on this one. Do try, if you want.
By the way, I LOVE Tzekel-kan to death. Just the way he is. A charismatic, fanatical, sociopathic fictional high priest who tried to cleanse his city in the name of his gods through murder and human sacrifice, a practice that the other NA inhabitants very obviously did NOT enjoy (well, that definitely rings a historical bell). If you hadn't noticed, or perhaps thought it was impossible, let me tell you this: you can actually love evil characters without justifying their actions. It's legal. 100%. Unlike slavery in NA Spanish colonies at the time.
5. I don't see exactly how spirituality is portrayed as evil. More specifically, I don't see how the movie's actual magic is considered Aztec spirituality. Not a fan nor a hater of Hazbin Hotel, but I've seen one of the demon characters around Twitter using literal voodoo in a very unthoughtfully wrong way. That's a big no-no, in my opinion. And I see a clear difference with this because there is nothing in the stone jaguar magic that single-handedly resembles what Aztec religion actually was. I'm not saying this can't be done in a wrong way with indigenous NA spirituality, nor that they didn't take elements from it (they did), I just think that with all the context behind the movie, here it's just magic that serves a plot function. Aesthetic Aztec/Maya patterns appear here and there, arguably because those are the "places" where it's geographically based (and because Tzekel-kan is loosely based off Moctezuma, who was the religious spiritual leader who received the Quetzalcóatl premonition), but at the end of the day, I don't think it's much more than the fantasy you typically find in a kids' movie. No specific religion was portrayed as evil, no specific gods were portrayed as evil, the magic in itself wasn't portrayed as evil. In the movie, it was black magic because Tzekel-kan, who was evil, used it for evil. Who says that a giant stone cat can ONLY serve evil purposes? I'd use it for good, personally. Maybe transportation. Maybe architecture. Decoration. Festivities. (CW: 26-year-old making a boomer joke) Maybe to instill cordial fear among my neighbours.
EDIT: I've been thinking about this these days and I realised that in the specific stone jaguar "spell", Tzekel-kan needs to toss his poor aide into the mix for it to "activate". That is much more evil than neutral, so maybe I can kind of see this point now. And human sacrifice was part of some of these religions, after all, so maybe it does point towards Aztec spirituality. Still, as it didn't come off as evil to me until I've THOROUGHLY thought about it, I feel like questioning things. Does the "spell" need a human body, or an animal body would have served? The "recipe" doesn't state anything. It's Tzekel-kan who pushes him in. Do ALL the "spells" need a body to "activate"? Maybe not. I feel like maybe I can give you a part of this argument. But still... Hmm. I don't know. We were stuck with an evil religious high priest, but that doesn't necessarily mean ONLY he could use magic. Nor that ALL the magic was evil. But yeah, alright. I can sort of see this now... a bit.
6. I can give you this... for the most part. Knowing it mirrors history, and that historically, it was white men who rid the NA people enslaved by the Aztec Empire (which I believe is what the people of El Dorado ended up portraying, somehow oppressed by Tzekel-kan's sacrifices) of the Aztec Empire (even if woefully just to take their place), I'm not sure it's so simple. I still don't fully see it as plain white saviour narrative with that background info. In any case, I think my mind can be changed about this with the right argumentation. Surely not by a person who has no knowledge about history. Sorry, op.
7.1. For my next trick, I'll blow your mind: Cortés was no big bad evil genocider. He wasn't a golden-hearted saint or saviour either. Frankly, I believe most people think he was similar to Christopher Columbus (of whom I don't know as much, but sounds pretty 100% evil to me with what I have) by default. I'm also very certain they watched the movie and took that version of him as a faithful representation, but in reality he was very different. He was short, he was slender, he was way more charismatic, way less solemn and serious, and he had the reputation of a womanizer. He committed atrocities, like torturing and murdering the last Huey Tlatoani for rumours (Jesus, the Cholula massacre), but he also treated most indigenous people with respect (when he wasn't pathologically obsessed with gold), he talked with Moctezuma as if he were his kin, he always tried to negotiate before grabbing his arms, he listened to and followed the advice of an indigenous woman (Malinche). And once he had done the deed, his reputation was sunk, he was stripped of most of his titles and compensation for what he had done (karma? Possibly), and he had practically no say in the new territories. He went there for the gold above all, and all the crimes he committed were in its name. But unlike Miguel and Tulio (this is the reason why they're not colonizers, only looters), he ALSO wanted to seize control of the land for the Spanish Empire. As an anti-colonialist Spaniard, I can't help boiling up in anger every time I see someone call Miguel and Tulio colonizers. They are NOT coloziners, just like we are NOT colonizers. Our country was, hundreds of years ago. The people who claimed that land as theirs and believed that gave them the right to exploit it for centuries were. And believe me, if we're still here and have descended from humble families for more than 5 centuries, none of our ancestors saw a single piece of gold.
7.2. This is part of a broader topic but Cortés acted in the name of the Spanish Empire, who, thanks to Queen Isabella the Catholic and the laws she passed, considered NA people as citizens of the Crown and therefore could not be enslaved (legally), not to mention genocided. Physically genocided, I mean, because the cultural genocide is undeniable. And still, while so many parts of so many different cultures disappeared, some things like the Maya and Nahua languages were kept. Even if little, that means something. I find some comfort in that, especially when you take a look at what happened to indigenous people in British colonies. In relation to this, there's this something that's been haunting Spain since a thousand years ago that gains relevance when talking about this, called the Spanish Black Legend. Basically anti-Spain propaganda coming from other European countries demonizing everything the country had done/does. It started out of rivalry and envy. Nowadays, it's hard to say. This is why Hernán Cortés is always seen as an evil genocider, but not other colonizers like Julius Caesar from the Roman Empire. It also makes my blood curdle because it sticks with us in the most annoying ways possible. While American people tend to think Spain is part of Latin America, European people tend to think we're dumb, don't know other languages apart from Spanish and only like partying, and our collective international sentiment, especially facing other Europeans, is often shame. Ashamed to say you're from Spain, because there's only so many "España mucho fiesta and siesta" a sane person can take from people who only come to your country to raise the living costs, drink, sunbathe and throw themselves off balconies to jump in hotel pools. Look "balconing" up. God I HATE British people. In any case, to wrap this up, this Black Legend is also why everyone believes the Spanish colonization was the same as the British colonization. By norm, the British predated, but the Spanish generated (in America, because the Spanish DID enslave African people), despite all the horrible things it did. Because it did them.
Lastly, and just because it was also part of op's response, I want to say that I have no opinion about what negative impact this movie could have in terms of being a version of the Colombian legend of El Dorado. I don't know anything about that. I don't understand it, either. If someone wants to explain to me in which specific ways making a movie like this about it could be harmful to anyone (not the legend in itself, I think you can see I know as much), please tell me so I can think critically about it and contrast it. But please, specify the harm and consequences so I can understand them.
Jesus, I'm tired, but I want to say you CAN dislike the movie. I don't give two floating specks of dust whether you do or don't. What I do care about is that most arguments people use to say so are wrong, or rather, lack historical knowledge to support them. Or rather, there is historical knowledge which flat-out cancels them out. There IS negative portrayal on the basis of unthoughtfulness (like Chel and the Aila test), but NEVER in a mean way. On the whole, it's not the unsalvageable blatantly racist skeleton that has to be kept in the closet under lock and key that some people think it is. And, by the way, I'm very curious about why I have yet to see the same discourse about Inca portrayal in "The Emperor's New Groove". Feel free to toss it my way in case it exists and it's just I haven't seen it yet.
If you've reached this point, congratulations. Here's a disturbing little fact about me as a reward: this whole fixation that I have started because in 2020 I had a dream about this Hernán Cortés and Tzekel-kan having sex.
#the road to el dorado#dreamworks#el dorado#racism#chel#tzekel kan#tzekel-kan#miguel and tulio#hernán cortés#neechees#tagging you as well in hopes to reach you. kinda growing fond of you#you go after my little meow meow who did nothing wrong#viva españa hostia#viva vigo. cagon tal#franco franco que tiene el culo blanco
19 notes
·
View notes
Text
I'm not weird.
paring ! bf!Niki x gn!Reader
genre ! angst-comfort
synposis ! people aren't nice with their words towards things they don't understand. after starting to feel ashamed about your interest towards kpop, niki comes to comfort you.
warnings ! crying, feeling ashamed, idk bro, swearing haven't proofread
w/c ! 0.8k
a/c ! totally not writing this because lately people have been making me feel ashamed of my liking towards kpop- totally not... too lazy to add a picture, might add one later
master list ! enha's master list
Lately my colourful world has faded into a black and white madness. Truly showed me what people’s words could do to my happiness. I wonder if I’ll be strong enough to hide a part of me that is so important, a part of me that has saved my life. I can’t hide what makes me me. But I’ll have to try. People made me ashamed of me, people made me ashamed of what makes me happy. Maybe this means I’ll never be happy again, or at least that I won’t show it.
I talk to my plushy about it. It listens to my rants and to my cries for help. I don’t have a person to talk about it tho, everyone seems to deem what I love as odd. Maybe only unalived things will be my saviour. I also talk to myself, to my imagination, they comfort me. “Am I weird?” I say to the nothingness. A person appears in front of me, it holds my shoulder. “No. No you aren’t. You can’t be, no.”
“Hey, are you okay?” The soft voice talks to me again, I open my eyes, they immediately start to water. “How did you know?” My voice trembles. He sits on my bed and caresses my hair, trying to stay calm. “Just had a feeling when you didn’t reply to any of my messages. You usually spam me 24/7 about any new kpop news,” Niki says with a frowned expression. I shrink down my bed. I’ve been avoiding talking about anything related to my special interests. It was hard, more when I didn’t know what to talk about outside them. My life revolved around my interests so, did my life just end? “Nothing interesting came out, sorry” I try to come up with an excuse. Niki raises an eyebrow at me. “I know damn well that’s not true, someone just confirmed that aespa is having a comeback soon. Also, today is vi’enx pre-debut album. I know how excited you were about it” I look down. “So confess, who the fuck said something that made you be this down that you haven’t even opened up Spotify to listen to Tricky house like you’ve been for the past weeks?”
Maybe I couldn’t escape this one. The more I tried to come up with an excuse, the more Niki looked at me waiting for an answer knowing what will be a lie and what will be not. “Some people commented about how weird my liking towards kpop is” I look into his eyes. His eyes are widened and he looks shocked at my answer. “Did they know you?” “Why does that matter?” He scoffed. “Well it’obvious. Anyone who knows you and knows about how happy kpop makes you shouldn’t talk shit about it” I look to the side. Oh. Niki lets out a breath trying to calm himself down. “Look. I’m not saying that if you don’t tell me their names right now I won’t go find them and make them regret their words. But that’s exactly what I’m saying.” He tries to joke. I smile a bit, for the first time in a while. “But meanwhile,” he continues, “let’s talk about why what they said is completely wrong. You shouldn’t feel bad, ashamed, or even disgusted by something that makes you feel happy. Did they say it was weird? Heck, I’m sure their interests are weird as well. Was it a football fan? Lord, I hate those people, they be criticizing people for being fans of things, and then they shout whenever their bias- I mean favourite player scores a goal. Also, it’s not weird. Why would it be weird to enjoy music, to enjoy something?” “They say it’s weird because of the idols, they don’t mind the music, just not my love for the people behind the music.” “Have they never loved an artist? Or a singer? Matter of a fact, have they ever had a friend? Because it doesn’t seem so. It seems they don’t understand the connection you can have with someone because of their craft.” I stand up from my laying position, sitting now in front of Niki. “It’s because of the fanfics, and the jokes about me loving them as if they were my partner” Niki gasped dramatically. “As if they were your partner for fuck's sake. Look at me, I’m the one dating you, right?” I nod. “And I don’t find it weird when you fangirl about how hot does Kang Taemoo or Namjoon look like, right?” “Well I don’t know about that, maybe you do-” “I don’t.” Niki cuts me. “I find it cute, because I know you love me in a completely different way you love them. It makes you happy, why wouldn’t I want you to be happy?”
We stay quiet for a few seconds. “You’re right” Niki’s eyes soften again at my broken voice. “It makes me happy, I shouldn’t let people make me feel ashamed of it.” He hugs me. “You’re right, you shouldn’t. And seriously, if someone makes you feel like that ever again, tell me. I’ll come and cuddle you while watching a show or a movie and we’ll talk trash about how locals don’t understand us.”
#✿•ᴗ•✿ lili posts!#niki#nishimura riki#riki#enhypen#enha#enha niki#enhypen niki#enhyypen scenarios#enhypen angst#enhypen fluff#enhypen imagines#enhypen oneshot#niki imagines#niki x reader#niki x yn#enhypen x reader#enhypen scenarios#enhypen ff#niki scenarios
111 notes
·
View notes
Text
Stranger Things S2 01
this is just me live blogging watching ST
none of my thoughts are v coherent enjoy <3
STARTING OFF REAL INTERESTING BUT REAL TALK when you have like a cool haircut how do you expect not to be found if u do a crime???? LIKE I LOVE YOUR MOHAWK AND I GET IT U DONT WANT TO COVER IT BC OBVIOUSLY BUT!!!!
this is NOT the focus obviously its about the fact theres other kids from the lab BUT AKSHDAKSJDKH
DUSTINNNN!!!!!!!!! I LOVE HIM SO MUCH IM SO GLAD WE'RE STARTING ON HIM KISS KISS KISS
not the reagan sign STOP STOP ITS BEEN 2 SECONDS I HATE TED THATS HIS NAME RIGHT FIGHT KILL DESTROY BITE BITE BITE BITE
also the boys have grown SO MUCH !!!!!!! i forget there was actual real time between when these were filmed KSJHD im so excited to see Will and his perpetual bowl cut
JOYCE MY MOM!!!!!!!!!! SHES SO PRETTY AND SO CONCERNED I JUST LOVE HER
THE CHIP EATING DUDE FUCKING !!!! REMINDS ME OF THAT FUCKER FROM MONSTER HOUSE???????
THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HE REMINDS ME OF THIS ASKJDHASKJHDKAJSH
Will is so tiny ..... and little? oh hes being teleported into the fucking upside down again baby boy im so fucking sorry also ilu but why would you just walk outside away from wher eyour friends WERE to look at the horrifying shit world you were trapped and almost died in ????? aSDKJH
Im gonna have to DM you on discord or something so i can properly save all the things you have to say about the timelines and how the Russian shit plays into that because was anyone calling El (im assuming he's referring to her) is Russian??? IK this is possibly the third (?) timeline we've seen (genuinely let me know if i can do that its ok if not i forget tumblr has Dms)
ALSO WHO IS THIS GUY IM CRYING HES!!! WHAT A PI??? WHO ARE YOU
NANCY AND STEVE ALSO BESTIES IM CRYING STEVE IS hes trying so hard are they dating my brain is so full of queer shit that im so deadset on platonic hetero relationships - i paused for one second and unpaused and they kissed SO THAT ANSWERS MY QUESTION
idk what relationships to pay more attention to bc the dynamic between Mike and El interests me the most because of how compulsory everything feels and how El is going to navigate a completetly new environment and how Mike will cope with that? (im assuming its not well)
OH is this the !!! the guy that i see people talk about all the time YEAHHH THE BLOND MULLET MAN AND MAX what the fuck is his name Billy??? He looks trans
CRYING AT CHECKING OUT H IS ASS GIRL WAHT ASS HES FLAT HE HAS NOTH ING AKDSHASKHDKAJSH and those jeans are supposed to be supporting cheeks
I love Mr Clark so much and everyone who looks bored in his class just doesnt GET IT
BUT ALSO MAX I GET IT QUEEN the boys all staring are so good I FORGET THEY GO AS THE GHOST BUSTERS FOR HALLOWEEN
JOYCE MY MOM WHO IS THIS GUY HES??? GOOFY AND SHES SO HAPPY ??? BOB !!! i have no initial bad opinions of him bc hes silly and goofy and he makes Joyce so happy and she deserves to be SO SOSOS OS HAPPY and nothing but happy
IF i have to endure another god damn Hopper flash back im gonna throw up and scream and cry and lose my mind and I won't recover and I'll never come back
Im in call while I watch this episode because i really wanted to get through while and actually use my brain bc i don't that often - but my roommates bird is sitting next to her mic and farting really really softly into it and its making me lose my fucking mind
CORN MAZES WHEN YOURE TALL LOOK SO EASY AND LESS SCARY WHENEVER IM IN A FUCKING CORN MAZE ITS TERRIFYING AND I CANT SEE SHIT BC IM LIKE 2 FEET TALL
NANCCYCYY AND JOHNANATHANANSDNSAKDJ BESTIES BESTIES BESTIES BEST FRIENDS IM MAKING THEM A FRIENDSHIP BRACELET ITS THEIR FAVORITE COLOURS AND THEY NEVER TAKE THEM OFF
ADN STEVE TOO!!! IM SORRY YOURE A THIRD WHEEL BUT its the start of season 2 how do we feel about polyam relationships between them where the audience for that point me in the correct direction
DUSTIN IS RIGHT ALSO I LOVE HIM i love his little hats - MAX IS ALSO RIGHT
God i feel so ba for Will like to be??? singled out like that especially in elementary school? hell.
WHERE ARE THEY GOING TOGETHER WHAT IS HAPPENING ISNT THIS THE LAB ??? ougHHH THAt needle sound was unecessary
REALLY starting to see how this might be a different timelinei have no idea how ???? Joyce would.... trust them??? UNLESS THIS IS A HOSPITAL no its not ho films ina fucking hospital like this
also theyre mentioning the upside down
I understand needing to go back to the only place that fully understands that it exists and you need a place to talk to someone and also monitor him physically without being dismissed as insane - but i dont understand how Joyce OR Hopper would trust the Lab again after everything happened??????
I'm glad that he's actually getting help, and im glad that Joyce and Hopper are there to make him feel safe and support him given everything but !!!!!
this iS THE. He has PTSD. when did they get the word to describe that akjhaskjdh NVM HE JUST SAID IT !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ALSO IS PRETENDING LIKE EVERYTHING IS NORMAL HELPFUL BC IT SURE THE FUCK IS N OT FOR ME ????????? also who is this DR hes kinder but "i need you to trust me" to JOYCE AFTER THE BRENNER SHIT ???
also them NOT MENTIONING IT WHEN THEY LEAVE BUT JOYCE UPSET ABOUT THE WHOLE "i need you to trust me" THING B UT NOT BRINIGN UP BRENNER??????
susususususus timeline shit anyway EM @ me tell me wahts up kiss kiss mwuah mwuah
OH they've upped their guinea pig game on entering the upside down and the gatelooks fucking uglier and uglier LOVE THE TORCH glad it works but no wonder the gate looks angry???
DUSTINNN I LOVE H IM I LOVE HIM SO MUCH
ough i have a feeling her older brother is gonna ..... trigger me a lil but we'll get through it
THEM BOTH HAVING A CRUSH ON HER!!!!!
If YouR fRiEnD jUmPs OfF a ClIfF 🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪
THEYRE GOING OVER TO HAVE DINNER WITH BARBS FAMILY STOP STOP STO PST OPST OPST IM GONNA CRY Oh they hired a P.I okay yeah the bald guy he..... HIS CARD STOPPPPP
realizing they defenitely can't tell her parent's what actually happened to her an di hate that im gonna oaufkahd girl im so sorry im so sorry im so osrry UPSET BC SHE AS A CHARACTER DID NOT DESERVE TO DIE I WISH THEY HADN'T DONE HER DIRTY LIKE THAT
all the photos of her would make me so ill to look at like god NANCYYY THE GUILT AND B LAME GIRLIEEEE
also Mike rebelling after experiencing that kind of trauma and losing Will and El even though Will came back he's not the same of corse he's struggling - calling it with the !!!! WALKIE TALKIEEEE girl i miss her too
YEAHHH ITS dustiNNNN BUT HE AKSHDKAJSH
DUSTINNN IM KAHSDKJH I LOVE HIM I LOVE HIM SO MUCH HES SO SILLY !!!!!!!!!!!!! HES THE SILLY IN MY HEART
HONESTLY props to him again for not like invesigating something that was probably gonna be HORRIBLE he'd survive a horror movie
JOYCEEEEE IN MY FAV SHIRT SHES SO KISS KISS KISS KISS
Johnathan is such a good brother bro BUT ALSO WILL IS SO RIGHT I GET IT I GET IT I UNDERSTAND TREATING IT LIKE ITS NORMAL MAKES IT WORSE !!!! SOMETHING HAPPENED PLEASE ACKNOWLEGE THAT and JOHANATHANNN HES THE FREAK AND A WEIRDO
STOPA SDADKSHJ iT S THAT WHY YOU DONT HAVE ANY FRINEDS SHUT UP STOP STOP /POS
BOB i love you so far and ik that being a step parent in these situation (even tho hes only dating Joyce its the same) is so hard especially when there are kids involved BUT YOURE DOING SUCH A GOOD JOB
AND THEYRE ALL WATCHING THE MOVIE TOGETHER AHHH
ew the phone the trigger GIRL YOU GOT THIS ITS OKAY ITS OKAY BUT ALSO THATS SUCH A HORRENDOUS RINGTONE WHAT THE FUCK
love me a tech who accidentally ignores the alarms going off (i couldnt hear the song playing it feels important - unintentially placing importance on all the music in this show now thank u em)
OohuaAHDAKJH OH WILL IS GONNA get ,,,,, yoinked back again isn't he ouguhadhAKHDJS interesting that it really only affects the *outside* like doors are now portals in a way ? i cant remember if it affected the inside of the arcade immediately or not
OH MIST LOOKING MOTHER FUCKER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Wood Waffle Hours !!!!!!!!!! OH NO CABIN HOURS??? IS SHE. IS SHE. BIG EYE BALL EMOJIS LET ME SEE MY GIRL LET ME SEE THE BABY GIRL !!!! this entire scene makes it seem like shes a fucking AKSJDHA freak ass creature
HER HAIRRRRR SHES SO CUTE STOPPPP HOPPERS LITTLE SMILE IM TEARING UP AND CRYING ACTUALLY LOOK AT THEM LOOK AT THEM LOOKA T THEM OUGHHAHAHHHHHHHH IM HEAVING
thank u for reading these were my thoughts
#bo posting#stranger things#live blogging#st#I DONT HAVE MUCH TO ADD HERE IT WAS JUST A GOOD EP#REALLY LOVED THE COLD OPEN TOO
33 notes
·
View notes
Text
The test of a vampire : A Beauty and the Beast re-telling Part Five
The test of a vampire : A Beauty and the Beast re-telling
Marcus dei Volturi x female OC
Caterina had tried to escape her servitude to Marcus of the Volturi, but failed. Marcus explains why he was so angry with her intrusion, but tries to make amends.
Chapter Five
The Compromise
oooooooooooooooooooo
Marcus walked over to the table and smiled down at his meager but heart-felt tribute to his lost mate. Indicating with his free hand at the bust, he said, "Caterina, this is Didyme, my wife. She was killed...many years ago. The garden, I've dedicated to her. I bring in one pink rose, her favourite colour, until it wilts, then I replace it." He looked at the human. "I was not expecting to see you here. No one comes in without my permission, and it upset me seeing you here. I never should have shouted like that at you. Accept my apology, please."
"I understand, Marcus," she responded. "She was very beautiful. How long were you together?"
"She was beautiful, inside and out. Didyme had the gift of making everyone around her happy. We were together for what felt like...hundreds of years." Marcus could not tell the human it was literally that long and longer.
Caterina looked up at Marcus, saying, "Please accept my apology for running away. I was frightened, but it was stupid of me, and you did save me, so I owe you that."
"Speak no more about any of it." Marcus smiled. "At least we have worked through our misunderstandings."
"You know, my father is a farmer, so I know how to cultivate the earth and make things grow. Would it be alright if I helped you in the garden some time? After I've done my other chores, of course. And I would not mind cleaning this room for you. At least I could sweep the floor and dust the furniture. For Didyme."
He thought a moment, deciding it would give them a chance to get to know one another. And he found her offer of caring for Didyme's room touching. "I thank you for that, and I would enjoy having you help me in the garden." He led her from the room, never having let go of her hand.
Later that afternoon, Marcus asked Felix to get Caterina and bring her to the garden. He had all the supplies needed already lying on the grass.
When Caterina arrived, she smiled her thanks to Felix and walked over to Marcus. "I'm here and ready to work. What can I do?"
"Well, my dear, let me show you the varieties of roses I have here. Some, I developed myself."
Caterina perused the rose bushes, marveling at their beauty and the fragrance of the blooms. And all of this was dedicated to a woman long dead. He must have loved her very much, she thought. It explained a lot. Some people never let go their grieving. Her father had mourned her mother for a long time too.
Together they worked the beds, turning over the dirt and trimming away the dead buds from the bushes. Once, when Marcus removed a caterpiller off a branch and showed it to Caterina, she shrieked, jumping back.
Marcus laughed, and asked her if she was afraid of the small creature.
"I don't like insects of any kind." When Marcus held it out to her to show her how harmless it was, she huffed and walked back several feet. "Please keep it away."
The tall man laughed with pleasure, since he rarely laughed prior to her arrival at the castle. He tossed it to the other aside of the yard, showing her his empty hands. "It's gone, Caterina. You have nothing to fear now."
"It's silly, I know. I just hate bugs," she shivered while saying it.
The pair enjoyed talking while working. Caterina actually laughed aloud at some of the stories he related to her, finding the tall man humorous. She leaned on her rake, watching him while he worked. Was he really so bad? He had saved her from those ruffians, and who knows how far they would have gone, had he not appeared. But how had he found her?
Once they were done with the gardening, Caterina helped Marcus return the tools to the supply room in an area of the castle she'd evert been before. She washed up at a sink there, then Marcus led her to the kitchen for supper.
"Won't you stay?" she asked him.
Marcus looked down at the young woman. He felt a warmth suffuse his body when he heard her question. Did she really want him to stay with her? "I never eat with the staff, but I will talk with you later. And Caterina, thank you for helping me today. I...enjoyed myself."
Caterina smiled at Marcus, watching him as he left. Then she joined the others for their evening meal.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
"I have a surprise for you."
"A surprise, for me?"
"Yes, Now I'm going to blindfold you, so do you trust me?"
"Yes, I trust you, Marcus." Caterina waited with anticipation when Marcus tied the length of black fabric around her eyes.
"Can you see anything, Caterina?"
"No, it's dark as night," she replied, reaching up to check the blindfold. She felt Marcus' cool hand take hold of hers, leading her to wherever he was taking her.
"Good. Don't try to walk too fast. Don't worry. I won't let you fall," he said reassuringly.
Caterina held Marcus' hand tightly. She had no desire to trip and embarrass herself. She heard the sound of an opening door. The air was slightly musty, causing her to wonder where he had brought her.
"This is for you," Marcus whispered in her ear. He removed the blindfold and let her see his surprise.
Caterina gasped. "Books! So many books! Marcus, where did you get all these books?" She moved among the shelves, her eyes perusing the vast collection. She would carefully remove one to slowly turn the pages, then seeing they were in a foreign language. She recognized if they were in French, Spanish, or Greek, but could not read the words.
"A lifetime of collecting," he said. "Some are in foreign languages you may not understand, but if there is something you'd like me to read to you, I would be happy to do that for you."
Caterina searched the shelves, looking for titles in Italian. Running her fingertips over the spines, she noticed some seemed very old volumes. Others looked like actual manuscripts. In one area, she saw a locked glass case enclosing what looked like actual scrolls, written on parchment. She marveled at the written word in all its forms she had come to love since she was a child.
"Well?" Marcus asked, a small smile on his face.
"I love it," she said, her eyes sparkling with excitment. They drew Marcus in, and he felt satisfaction knowing he'd done something that pleased Caterina. He left her while she ran from shelf to shelf, looking for something to read. She found several books in Italian and another in French she would ask Marcus to read for her.
Back in his rooms, Marcus had lit the fireplace in the ante-room. He never used it, and found the warmth of the flames strangely comforting. Caterina had asked him to read an older book to her that was about the English queen Elizabeth the First, written by a French courtier only a few years after she had died. She could read only the simple title. It wasn't very large, and she felt able they could finish it in two days.
Marcus wondered how she had come to have an interest in the woman who ruled England for nearly 45 years. Farmer's daughters didn't generally have such interests beyond their homes, and then the families they would later raise with their husbands. Marcus decided he would ask Caterina if she had any suitors for her hand. He had to know.
Hearing a knock on his door, Marcus answered it to see Demetri with Caterina. "Come in, dear."
She gave Demetri a smile, then entered the room, thanking Marcus for inviting her. "I am very interested in the book I indicated. To write about eye-witness events during that time, it just seems so exciting." She went over to the fireplace and sat in front of it, holding the book almost reverently. She handed it to Marcus, saying, "Here is the one I hoped you would read. It's in French. I kept three books I found that were written in Italian. They're in my room, if that's all right. I thought to read them before bed."
"Of course. Keep them as long as you wish." Marcus sat on the sofa, Caterina next to him. He began to read, sneaking a peek at her now and then. Her eyes betrayed her interest as she listened to the days at the English court told through the eyes of a French nobleman.
Marcus stopped reading when he noticed Caterina nodding off. "I believe it's your bedtime, young woman. We can contimue tomorrow evening." He set the book down, and helped her back to her room. By the time they reached it, Caterina was awake and able to ready for bed.
While Caterina was getting to know the man who held her life in his hands, Guiseppe had visited her home to find her absent. Her father told him she was working at the Palazzo dei Priori, a place rife with rumours of strange happenings.
The strapping man became angry. "How can you, her own father, allow her to go there, knowing the stories about missing tourists? Has anyone spoken with the people who live there? It's said they see no one. I will gather some of the townsfolk and retrieve her myself."
"No! Please do not interfere. I do not believe those stories, or I would not have allowed her to go. She will finish her time working there and be sent home soon. If you interfere..."
"Have you spoken with Caterina?" Guiseppe demanded.
Mario looked down at the floor. "Not since I dropped her off at the palazzo."
"There you are! I will go there and demand to see her."
"Please, Guiseppe, leave it alone. You may cause more harm than good."
The man who wanted Caterina for his wife reluctantly nodded. "Very well. For now, I'll wait. But if you hear anything from her, I want to know."
Guiseppe left, Mario closing the door behind him. The older man wondered himself, why had his daughter not called him.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
One day, Caterina was cleaning in Marcus's rooms, when he entered to pick up some documents Aro needed.
On seeing him, Caterina smiled and nodded. "Good day, Marcus. I hope you are well."
The Volturi master glanced at the woman, giving her a smile in return. "Thank you, Caterina. I won't be here long. I just needed to retrieve something." He went to his desk and found what he came for, and was about to leave, when Caterina blocked his way.
"Marcus, I have been here quite awhile, and I...I haven't talked to my father in so long, and I was wondering...please may I call him?"
Marcus thought for a moment. She had not asked this of him, so she must be worried. She had done her job well, and he found he enjoyed her company more and more. He had to wonder if Caterina was enjoying his company. "Very well. This afternoon, I will allow you to use the phone here, and...with me listening. Just to be sure."
Caterina smiled broadly. "Oh, thank you, Marcus. Of course I don't mind you listening. I have nothing to hide. I just need to know he's fine and eating, and doing well at market."
"I'll send Felix for you when I'm finished." Marcus saw the pure pleasure on her face. When she threw herself at him in an impulsive hug, he was taken aback, but the sudden warmth in his chest would not allow him to chastise her.
Once she had released him, Marcus quickly left the room, but the warmth stayed with him even after he had reached the throne room.
"Are you alright, brother?" Aro asked, seeing Marcus with a strange expression on his face.
"Yes, I'm fine. Here are the papers you needed," he said, walking to his chair. Sitting down, the vampire still felt her arms around him.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
Caterina had finished her work, and returned to her room to clean up and add some makeup. Not that she was trying to appear attractive to her employer...or was she? It didn't matter, she told herself. She was going to get to speak with her father today.
Felix brought her to Marcus' rooms and then winked at her before walking down the corridor. "Enjoy your conversation, Caterina."
Marcus smiled on seeing her, thinking there was something different about her. He handed Caterina his cell phone, showing her how to make a call. It wasn't something he used often. Unlike Aro, he had no one to call, but he was glad he had it now, if only to make Caterina happy and see her glowing smile.
Caterina thanked Marcus and dialed home. When she heard her father's voice, she cried excitedly. "Papa, it's me, Caterina!"
Marcus could hear what the older man was saying.
"Caterina, my daughter, how are you?" The old man was excited to finally hear his daughter.
I'm well, papa, do not worry. Marcus, the man I'm working for, has been very kind. You have no need to worry. I am eating well, and the work is not too hard. I've made a few friend among the staff. I wouldn't even mid being here if I were free to go home every night."
Hearing that was good news for Marcus, since it let him know she didn't hate being here.
"How are you, papa? Are you eating? And how is the market? Have you making enough money? I miss helping you."
"Child, I'm doing well, and I've sold all the produce I've been able to take. It's amazing! We will be doing well for some time."
Marcus smiled. He had made sure the old man's produce was bought for the staff's meals here at the castle and paying above market price.
"When will you be returning home, Caterina? If your work has been excellent, I would think it would be soon."
She looked over at Marcus who had his back to her, as if he were not listening. "I don't know, papa. It cannot be much longer. I should go now. Please take care of yourself. Good bye, papa. I love you very much."
"I love you, my dear Caterina. Thank your master for letting you call."
Caterina hit the 'end' button and disconnected the call. She handed the phone to Marcus. "Thank you, Marcus. Papa thanks you as well." Tears slid down her cheeks. "I had better go. Thank you again, Marcus." With that, she fled his rooms, and headed for her bedroom to have a good cry. It felt wonderful to hear his voice. At least her father was well and earning some money. She lay on her bed, wiping her face with her hands. Hopefully she would be able to use the phone again.
Marcus was pleased at the call. Caterina had spoken well of him, and her father was not pushing, demanding she be released. Unknown to him, Guiseppe was at his favourite birrerie, or the local pub, fomenting hatred among the pub's patrons. He worked hard to get men to agree to join him, invading the castle and retrieving Caterina, by force if necessary.
A/N : there will be one more chapter for this story. Hope you're enjoying it. And thanks to anyone reading it.
16 notes
·
View notes
Text
THE REMAINERS ( Ghost x Fem! Reader) Part 2
Hello everyone again, I'm here with the new chapter of the story that I wrote the beginning of yesterday. It's a pretty quiet chapter, I hope you enjoy it.
First of all, I want to say that I have never played COD before, everything here is fictitious, and English is not my native language; I write them by translating. So if I make mistakes, please forgive me. I hope you like the story.
Warning: Guns, harassment, kidnapping, military, psychological violence, lots of drama and tears
Warning 2: I named my main character "Serafina" and characterized her as a writer. But it doesn't have to suit you; you can put yourself in its place and adapt it to yourself. I just did it to keep the flow and integrity of the story.
Summary: You were married to Lieutenant Simon Riley for almost a year. You gave birth and had a baby girl. After the birth, there was a knock on the door of your house, you thought it was Simon, but there were four Russians in front of you. You were kidnapped and the Russian mafia asked for a trade. They wanted codes for the launch missiles in exchange for the life of you and your child. The trade was denied and you and your child fell into the hands of the Russian mafia. Simon didn't come to save you. What was going to happen to you and your little girl?
Part 2: Behind the Scenes
-----------Let's go back a bit, about a year ago.---------------
It's been about 6 months since you married Simon and you were a fresh 3 months pregnant! God, this was life's best gift to you. You lived in a small town on the English border. For your safety, it was essential to stay out of sight. Simon couldn't bear for anything to happen to you. And, of course, so are you. Ever since you met him, it's as if your soul goes with him whenever he goes on a mission, and when he returns home, your soul returns with him. These four walls had no taste without him. But now it was quite different; you smiled as you prepared to leave the house. You were on your way to find out the gender of your baby, and your heart almost burst out of excitement. You wished Simon was here, you thought. Now who knows what part of the world he was on? He'll be fine, you said to yourself. He's fine, I'm fine, and our baby is fine. You took off slowly. Inside your town was a small hospital a 15-minute walk away. You started walking slowly. Life seemed more vivid to you today. The colours were vibrant. The voices sounded like melodies to your ears.
Smiling, you entered the hospital and went up to the floor where your doctor was. Your doctor smiled when she saw you.
-Welcome Serafina!
+Hey, Hello Doctor
- I don't believe you forgot my name and I hope it's just excitement! let's lie down
You lay down smiling, you really forgot your doctor's name. You opened your belly and stared at your doctor's ultrasound machine. Your excitement was growing. It didn't matter the gender of the baby, it was your baby, but inside it was born that there would always be a girl, her father's daughter…
-How do you feel, Serafina! Do you think it's a boy or a girl?
+Ahhh!, I don't know why but it sounds like she's going to be a girl. A princess
-You're feeling right, mommy, a 3-month-old baby girl. It's pretty healthy.
You didn't know what to say. Tears of happiness started flowing, and you threw your head back and started laughing.
A princess
father's daughter
All of this must have been a miracle. It was as if you had come home from the doctor with your feet in the air. You were flying with happiness. You wanted to tell this news to Simon right away, but it wouldn't. You could only call him once he called you. You sighed deeply, pulled out your daughter's first ultrasound from your pocket and started looking. What should her name be? Simon was an Englishman, and you were a Spanish. You start to think of a common name.
Marry? Anna? Rose? No, those names were definitely too cliché.
Daphne? Yes, it looked beautiful.
Daphne Riley? It wasn't bad at all.
Lilibeth? That sure sounded great,
Antonella? Firstborn and flower? Why not
Lilibeth Antonella Riley ?My God, it was perfect. It was like a queen's name.
You wanted to say that to Simon right away. You were very curious about his reaction. But there was nothing you could do. You couldn't call him unless he called you.
Two days later, the phone rang in the evening. The only number calling you. You missed him so much. You opened it on the first ring
+Hey!
-Love
+God, Simon. I missed hearing your voice so much.
-I missed you too, darling. How's it going?
You missed him so much, breathing in his scent, sleeping on your chest. Tears began to flow slowly from your eyes
-Are you crying, my love? I can't stand it
+It's okay. I'm crying with happiness this time. I have very good news for you.
-What?
+I found out the gender of our baby. I have the ultrasound photo, and I'm looking at it right now. How small it is.
A few minutes of silence fell on the phone.
+simon?darling?
-Serafina, his voice was hoarse. He was trying to suppress herself.
+Do you wonder about the gender of the baby? Do you want to find out or get a surprise?
-tell me darling
+Simon
-Serafina
+Baby, our baby… will be a girl, Simon, she will be her father's little princess.
Simon felt his heart stop, a little girl, his father's daughter, his father's little princess.
All this couldn't be true. Simon began to think that he had died and gone to heaven. Was this all real?
You slowly broke the deep silence that had formed
+My love
-serafina
+are you there?
-I do not know.
+I thought of a name for him, do you want to hear it?
-more than anything
you smiled
+Lilibeth Antonella Riley
-Like a queen
+definitely! I thought that too. You gave a small laugh.
-Serafina, darling. I don't know what to say.
+But I know what to tell you, Lieutenant.
Lieutenant, dangerous word. Every time you said that word, Simon knew he'd hear a reprimand or reproach next.
+Is isn't it time to go back home now?
-You know it's out of my hands
+I know, but I need you here at home with me. There was a short silence, and you continued.
+ I can't do this alone, Simon. I can't hold her in my arms in that hospital alone. You need to be here. Her father has to be here.
Her father has to be here. Here is the striking sentence. It was already starting to echo in Simon's head.
-I'll be, darling. I'll be home as soon as possible. But now I have to turn it off, okay?
+promise me. Promise you'll come home.
-promise. I promise I will come
+we love you, Simon Riley
-I love you too.
And the call hang up sound. You sat back and took a deep breath.
He promised, he would come.
The days were passing rather slowly. You were happy with it, enjoying your pregnancy. You've got your computer in hand, it's time to get back to your readers. You were a full-time writer for a blog site. You were writing about places to visit and places to eat. It was fun, you loved your job. You've been on the road since 18, from the most populated cities in the world to the farthest corners, from Europe to Asia, you've been to almost everywhere. Isn't that how you met Simon already? You were in Mexico, you were going to go back to Spain, the land of your birth. You had been accepted to a PhD in Spanish at a Spanish university, and you should have celebrated it. How much did you drink that night? What was on your mind when you wrote Simon that napkin?
you smiled
There was nothing. You just wanted to write. You wanted him to take off that mask and kiss you, hold you in his muscular arms. You laughed when you thought of that night.
Yes, you wanted these, but what did you do when you saw him in front of you? You stumbled and fell to the ground. How embarrassing it was. You were stuck in your eyes as Simon slowly knelt down next to you. "I want to drown in these eyes." You thought you said it from your heart, but no, you said it out loud, too loud. Simon was grinning slightly from under his mask. And he extended his hand to you
-"Ghost" You didn't understand what he said at first, it wasn't Halloween time, was it?
+Casper? you had a big laugh and continued
+that cute one, cute ghost Casper
Simon was taken aback; no one dared to say such a thing to him. Simon felt anger and anger take over his body. How dare you? but you continued
+But, sir, I must inform you that I don't remember that little goddamn ghost dressed like that, it's that masculine, it's sexy. my god
You should have shut up, you really should have just shut up.
Simon felt the anger go through his body. You were just pretty much drunk and you probably wouldn't even remember it. Oh but you would remember. Simon tried to pick you up, but you didn't want to and you pulled him to you, so at least you thought he was, because he hadn't moved an inch. When you saw that it didn't move, you got angry and tried to pull more. Finally he gave up and leaned closer to her face. Simon had some things to accept. He knew you had been cutting him all night because he was cutting you too. A white complexion, auburn-brown hair with shining blonde strands between them, green eyes, the white dress you wear. Yes, he'd seen it all under those bar lights, and you didn't even realize he was looking at you. I guess it was pretty obvious why his nickname was the ghost. Your eyes were even more beautiful up close, they sparkled like emeralds, and your hair smelled like coffee. Simon was a tea person but not anymore. You were very close to his face.
-Ghost
-Ghostetttt mmmhhhh
-Do you want to be my ghost
and you paused and told him your number
-49 849…. Call me, ghost. Where and whenever you want. I am waiting you.
Then you stumbled slowly towards your friends. When you woke up at your friend's house in the morning, memories of last night were slowly starting to fill your mind. In the conversation you had with that man, you gave him your number. After thinking about the events, you decided that it was quite illogical, and the guy couldn't memorize your number instantly. He probably forgot your number that minute. That's what you thought and shrugged and continued with your day, but you were wrong. He was a ghost, and he wouldn't forget. Simon looked at the small card and napkin in his hand. He quickly wrote your number on the back of a business card after you left.
49 849 - Serafina v. Mexico, August 21.
Puffing, he put the card and napkin in his pocket. He was sure he wouldn't. You were just drunk and not serious, you wanted to have fun, right? Simon reasoned about this for a long time. This reckoning within him continued for 2 months just like this. He had just returned to base after a long and bloody mission. It had been cleaned and now lay in its rather uncomfortable bed. He took the card with the number from the nightstand, yes he always carried it with him, but he wasn't going to say it. In a moment of heedlessness, he dialed the number. The call rang for quite some time, but no one picked up the phone.
-Fuck
Simon angrily put the phone down on the nightstand and closed his eyes. The voices in his head were roaring. "We told you this was going to happen, Simon, what were you thinking? Did you think she wouldn't forget you? Stupid!" Simon covered his face with his hands and took a deep breath. This was going to be a pretty long night for him. Simon's sleep had always been light, he had to be cautious, and he had almost jumped out of bed when a text message sounded on his phone. Nobody knew about this phone, unless the terrorists he was fighting were texting for revenge. Which he didn't think would text them at six in the morning. He picked up the phone and looked at the message:
"Hi, I saw you called me last night. I tried to call you but I think your phone is not working properly and I hope this message reaches you. Anyway, please call or text me again later in the day."
I tried to call you,
she was back. Simon got up from the bed and slightly backed up. His fingers were running over the phone.
-Good Morning
+Good morning, hello, may I know who I'm talking to?
Simon grinned slightly.
-Ghost
At first, you didn't understand the incoming message. Ghost? Whoever was on the phone was making fun of you. You stopped when you were going to give him a big curse and thought of that night.
Masked man, those dark eyes, call me, ghost, I'll be waiting for you. Oh my god,
fuck it, fuck it, fuck it.
YOU THOUGHT IT TO BE A DREAM, YOU SAID HE CANNOT MEMORY YOUR NUMBER, BUT IT HAS REACHED YOU NOW.
You felt your heart was going to explode, you lost your ability to think logically from excitement. You thought this only happens in fairy tales. You stared blankly at the screen and tried to write something. As the minutes passed, Simon began to tense up and the voices in his head came back to life.
"She didn't know you idiot, you should have known this was going to happen. Disgrace"
He closed his eyes and tried to silence the voices in his head, and a text message cut off all that noise.
+Casper? and smile. Simon backed slightly
-not very cute. You had your back a little too
+I prefer this ghost.
And that's how it all started. You found out eight months later what he was doing, but it was okay. He was a soldier, not an outlaw. The only thing that worried you was his health problem. You were constantly thinking of bad scenarios, the ghost knew them and was trying to send text messages to tell you that he was okay. He wasn't supposed to do that, it was dangerous, but he could handle the danger. That's how everything went. It took him two months to call you, almost a year to tell you he loves you, and five years to propose to you. You were moving slowly, but it was okay. You were at peace. You looked at your computer screen, you started a blog, you started writing about the places you went and saw. You had followers and you were making some money too. Your husband would be home soon, and the birth of your baby was getting closer and closer. There was no apparent problem. Life was beautiful.
But life was not always beautiful, it was full of problems. You started writing, unaware of what was going to happen to you. If only you could look up for a second and see the men watching you, maybe if you'd let Simon know, he'd come to your rescue? Or maybe he would send someone?
Black Cadillac, this car was supposed to attract a lot of attention in a neighbourhood like this, but gradually night had fallen, and everyone was already home. Four men were sitting inside. four Russians
-Он внутри (She is inside)
-Когда мы получим его? (When will we get it?)
-Ничего страшного, если она беременна? Нам нужно найти другую жертву. (Is it okay if she's pregnant? We have to find another prey.)
And the eldest spoke: -Дети, дети… Он беззащитная газель, без стада, некуда бежать. Зачем нам пропускать такую охоту? мы просто подождем (Children, children … She is a defenceless gazelle, with no herd, nowhere to run. Why should we skip a hunt like this? We'll just wait)
-А если лейтенант придет, то пропустить его будет невозможно (What if the lieutenant comes, then it will be impossible to miss her)
The old bastard smiled confidently:
-Он не придет, Нико. (He won't come, Niko.)
The men did not say anything else and continued to watch the house.
Why didn't you come, Simon? What the hell were you in?
--------------------------More coming soon----------------------
#ghost headcanons#ghost cod#ghost mw2#cod ghost#ghost posts#ghost x reader#ghost fanfiction#simon ghost riley#ghost stories#ghost fanart#ghost fandom#ghost family#ghost fan#ghost x female reader#ghost x y/n#ghost x you#ghost x gn reader#cod x reader#cod mw22#cod#modern warfare 2#cod mw2#mw2#call of duty modern warfare 2#call of duty modern warfare#simon riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley smut#simon riley x you#simon riley x f!reader
81 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
gaiuswrites
levart emit
guiltyreverie
chaotic energy only
eut-russ24-blog
Arvie
angieteabrelaspuertas
Ven, te abro las puertas