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prettyboykatsuki · 3 years

Note

when you start writing for ushijima >>>>>>>>>>>>>

can you tell im begging?

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inevitable | u. wakatoshi

➳ tags ;; fluff n smut, getting together, first times together, unprotected sex, intentional lower case 18+

➳ wc ;; 1.9k (WHAT THE FUCK)

➳ a/n ;; ask n u shall recieve (i had rlly bad brainrot tn actually)

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if you had to describe ushijima wakatoshi in one word, you think the word you would chose is inevitable.

in·ev·i·ta·ble | /inˈevidəb(ə)l/ adjective certain to happen; unavoidable

of all the ways you could describe a person, it's probably not the best word. you could think of a laundry list of other ones to describe - really. hard-working, dependable, strong-willed, mindful, cautious. he's a lot of things and you think that's why he's so good at what he does. he's powerful but he he's brilliant at where he uses that power.

you would also use words like that to describe him, if you had too. if you had to give someone the run-down of wakatoshi - you could probably give them a whole speech about his accolades. he's probably the kindest person you know and he does that mostly on accident. he helps little old ladies carry groceries and lets your niece climb his arms like monkey bars with the most plain look on his face.

he's a lot of things - funny on accident, charming on purpose. but of all the things he is - to you, the thing he is most, is inevitable.

it's not hard for you to admit that you weren't exactly.. welcoming to ushijima when you first met him. you were a barista and he was well.. a big, pro-athlete who came to buy straight dark coffee every morning. after his work-outs (or what you figured was workouts since he always looked pretty sweaty) he bought himself precisely one pastry and a bottle of water and went about his day.

and it went like that for months. obviously you found him handsome - the way you could basically autopilot your shifts but completely broke down when he was there was evidence of that. he was tall, broad, handsome and nice. the kind of man who meets your grandmother, you think.

he always asked about you and you gave him short answers. too nervous to elaborate but he made you anyways, somehow and some way. and he comes back to you every week with details of your life you'd only mention in passing. he'd chuckle - a soft little smile at the way your eyes went wide. for someone so dense, he wasn't all that out of touch when it came to you. one morning your hands trembling just a little more than normal when you hand him back his change

(he tells you later he paid in cash just to see you stumble)

and he asks you with a plain look. observant.

"do i make you nervous?"

that's when you knew, really. you stood no chance against the all-consuming force that was and is ushijima wakatoshi. the subtlety and nuance in all of his actions left you worse for wear and any suspicions you had about how he might be treating you were to be confirmed much later down that line.

he's dense in the same way avocadoes are fruit. it's true, technically - but in a lot of ways and functionally it's just not the same. you think that the better word to use for him is selectively intelligent - like he doesn't bother thinking about anything that doesn't interest him for more than two minutes. but on the rare occasion it does interest him, i.e how you interest him - he becomes some kind of expert.

you've always been a little stubborn when it came to love. heartbreak does that to you - and you were overly cautious with ushijima. you let your heart walk on eggshells. you didn't let his gestures or touches or glances mean anything to you. you didn't let yourself be swayed by the smell of his cologne - sweet and woodsy on the back of your throat. not by the way he placed his hand on your lower back to walk past you on days off.

and when he took you out, to see the movies and stargaze, you told yourself it isn't a date. you tried your best really. because there is something really unbelievable about ushijima wakatoshi liking you - beyond the fact that he's some pro-athlete.

there's something about him that's a little unreal. not that he's perfect, but that all of his flaws make him more attractive. it almost bothers you but he doesn't seem to understand when you give him those lengthy explanations. hands making all types of gestures, flustered as he smiles. he doesn't take anything from your little lecture that day, just gives you a once over as he drives you home.

"oh, so you find me attractive?"

you didn't stand a chance. he was, and is, inevitable. everything about him has this powerful but subtlety all-consuming nature to him. you think the best way to think of it is like letting yourself float. the way you release the weigh in your body and inevitable give into letting it hold you. even if waves came - you'd probably stay in that state.

ushijima is like that. a constant presence and overwhelming force. you get swayed without even thinking. he could probably become president, if he really wanted. lucky for everyone else, he just wants to play volleyball. you think that it's a shame in equal parts that it's a gift but you digress.

the point is that you could never really be away from ushijima. and as hard as you tried to avoid the growing affection - you find that ushijima is always a few steps ahead. always reaching far beyond you with big, strong hands.

you try so hard, to avoid the inevitable. you do it with your whole soul. you're honestly just.. intimated. you've never felt something like him before - not once in your whole life. you're afraid of what'll happen when you succumb to the waves so you dodge the deep sea for weeks and weeks.

he found you after your shift one day after 3 weeks of dry texting and avoided phone calls. wearing a suit and a purple shirt and a nice watch, he has flowers too. and you're in.. a barista uniform with tousled everything and smudged mascara.

inevitable is really the only word. as you stop dead in your tracks, and as ushijima pulls you aside with the mostly gentlemanly smile. you kind of wanna cry when you look at him.

"i've waited a long time but i don't think i can much longer,"― he shifts a little. he almost looks nervous - it's the first time you've ever seen him look anything but overwhelmingly confident ― "i like you and i'd like to be with you,"

he doesn't really offer you much other than a confession and his hands. the frustrating thing is that he doesn't need to. it's the first time he's seen you cry but he handles you well, does it easily like he does everything else. like somehow he's just good at it, soothes you while you sob into his chest and melt into his presence and let yourself fall underwater.

in a probably not so surprising turn of events, you find that ushijima fucks with the same approach that he does most other things.

with careful consideration that seems effortlessly. it makes you feel a little hopeless that he feels good at everything. even at comforting you.

the first time you have sex, you take off his shirt for him. and he takes your hand and puts it up to his chest. gives you the most gentle look. his heart-beat is rapid.

"you make me .. nervous too. just so you know,"

the one thing about ushijima is that everything about him is big and wide and broad. he kisses you like he's trying to circle the solar system - there's a slowness to it. a vastness as he has you seated in his lap with his hands exploring up your body. his hands are everywhere. he's good with them. not too gentle but not too rough as the spread your thighs open.

he cups your pussy and it fits in his whole palm. his middle finger teases your slit as his kisses travel south, down your jaw and onto your neck. they latch onto your chest with a little breathless sigh - like he can't even breathe. it makes you clench when he talks to you - raspy.

"you're.... beautiful,"

he makes you shy. so shy as you lean forward a little and rock into his hand - a burning need nipping at you. and his eyes widen and his cock stiffens and his breath hitches and you think this is the first time you've caught him off-guard before. you wanna bask in it but you're too desperately so you latch onto his lips again.

ushijima does everything right. with knowledge in it. he kisses you and sucks on your tits and plays with your clit with this.. knowing. he likes seeing you fall apart he thinks. he likes how you get when he takes it much slower than he needs too - how he drags you through one orgasm to another with this lithe. he lets you lean over his shoulder when he fingers you - and his two fingers stretch you out like four of your own.

his cock is big. bigger than you think any person could ever take. you stare at it for a long while, gaping at it. your hands barely fit around it and that image burns itself into ushijimas brain like a permanent memory. your mouth falls open and your eyes look hazy and ushijima thinks that he's never wanted to be inside of something so bad before.

"it's so big," ― you whisper, hoarse ― "i-it won't fit,"

"i'll make it fit," ― is his only reply, kissing the crown of your head ― "sit tight,"

he does, by the way. make it fit. he makes it fit good - makes it stretch your pussy out but you don't feel like you'll break. there's a little pressure inside, and your clit swells with desire and blood - but it fits. and his eyes are glued to the way your cute little cunt seems to be swallowing him like it's nothing. it's enough to make him lose his mind.

"c-can i move?"

you nod and he does. slow at first. he draws the noise from you - a slow and soft moan leaving your lips as he drags his cock in and out of you. but it gets faster, goes much faster than you thought it could.

eventually he has you bouncing in his lap, on his cock, with such force that you feel like you can't breathe. it feels unbelievable, sets off a supernova in your gut like at any moment you could come undone. you feel like you're breaking and ushijima doesn't help, soft grunts and whispered affections.

"you're so beautiful," and "im so happy" that make you feel dizzy. you'd probably give him anything he asks for. he bounces you on his cock and lets his thumb just rest on your clit and you're so close you can almost taste it.

"cum for me," ― like he's begging ― "please,"

what choice do you have anyways? you cum on his cock with a silent scream, like your voice is tearing a blackhole into space and you shudder while he holds you in place. he finishes only seconds afterwards.

"did it feel good?"

you give him a wide-eyed look. he's dense at times. you don't know how to hate him for it so you just sigh and nod, cozying to him.

"y..yeah,"

he kisses your forehead, sweaty and tired.

"good,"

yeah. you were right.

you never had a single chance of winning against him.

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#WHY DID THIS GET SO LONG WHAT THE FUCK #return to sender #ushijima x reader #haikyuu x reader #prettyboy.thirsts #formal #writing tag #IM GONNA BE SICK HOW DID THIS EVEN HAPPEN #haikyuu smut #ushijima smut

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d0llpie · 3 years

Note

prompt 16 ;; in your req rules you said this was okay so i hope its fine :,) could i have oikawa, iwaizumi and tsukishima finding their s/o's fresh (or old if you prefer) sh scars? the way it ends should be fluff lol, im only asking because this would bring me comfort </3 either way i love your writing ur amazing<3

Self Harm Comfort

oikawa x reader, iwaizumi x reader, tsukkishima x reader

Warnings: self harm mention, blood mention, this topic is very triggering so please do not read if uncomfortable, i add tags that can be blacklisted for this topic !

a/n: hi love, i hope this brought you some comfort, my messages are always open, have a beautiful day <333

prompt: “i know i’m not what you signed up for”

wc: 1.9k

Oikawa

~ You hadn’t been dating Oikawa very long, he never questioned why you always wore long sleeves and honestly he didn’t think much of it

~ You were proud to say that you hadn’t self harmed since your relationship had begun, he was always doting and caring while also being fun and a distraction for you. You loved him with all your heart and knew he loved you too

~ You knew you couldn’t hide them from him forever but you didn’t realise he was coming over to surprise you, wanting to take you on a date

You’d been in your head all day, you couldn’t help it, your thoughts spiraled and you were back in that dark place you’d been so happy to be out of for so long. You hated that you resorted to this but coping this way became to familiar that before you knew it, you found yourself on the bathroom floor, blade in one hand and bloody tissues in the other. Tears were rolling down your cheeks but you stared blankly ahead of you, you didn’t feel any better, your thoughts turning to tooru, what would he think? This only made your tears come out faster, shame creeping up on you, your thoughts spiraling darker and deeper until you were stuck overthinking and rolling your sleeve higher.

You didn’t hear Oikawa open the door or walk towards the bathroom, you did hear his gasp in the door frame as he dropped to his knees in front of you, cradling you in his arms, wetting your shirt with his own tears. “Y/n, why didn’t you tell me? What happened? What are you doing?” you were too shocked to answer, scared that this was the end of your relationship and you’d be trapped again with your thoughts, alone. “i-“ you tried to speak but it came out in a choked sob and Oikawa shushed you, pulling you to sit on the edge of the bathtub while he fetched your med kit. He was silent cleaning your wounds, occasional sniffles let out which only make you overthink even more. Once he bandaged your arm you held his wrist still.

“Tooru i wanted to tell you, i hadn’t done this since before we started dating, i’ve been doing well i dont know what happened and i know i’m not what you signed up for, i’m sorry i’m really sorry it’s just-“ “you are exactly what i signed up for. I want you, all of you, i just wish you felt comfortable enough with me to tell me, this scares me y/n, i need you and i’m sorry that i was to ignorant to realise how you were feeling..” you cupped his cheek “no tooru baby you don’t need to apologise..” “you don’t need to either y/n, i’m going to help you, please tell me when you feel like this...i don’t know what to do but i’m not leaving. i’m staying right beside you okay?” you nodded, tearing up again and burying your face in his chest “why are you crying my love?” you lifted your head, pressing your lips against his slowly “i love you tooru, i’m s-“ “don’t you dare apologise, i love you too.” you giggled softly, sniffling before returning back to his chest.

“C’mon y/n, let’s watch your favourite movie and i’ll let you braid my hair to distract you hmm?” you smiled up at him, you both looked a mess, red puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks but you were there in each other’s arms, safe and in love.

Iwaizumi

~ Iwaizumis love language was touch, it reassured him to feel you against him and showed you how much he loved you when he would absentmindedly trace patterns on your skin

~ He always had to have some form of physical contact with you, holding pinkies in crowded spaces, holding your hips while talking to people

~ It shouldn’t have surprised you that he’d eventually feel them

He’d had a long day, the team wasn’t listening to him and all he wanted to do was come home and fall asleep on your chest while you played with his hair. He hated staying late training the team but he knew you were going to be there tonight, waiting for him to come home. It was so domestic, coming back to see you in his apartment, wearing one of his hoodies and a pair of his boxers, the thought kept him going throughout the day and drive home.

Iwa was coming come home late again so you decided to take a shower and head to bed, you got out of the shower, towel wrapped around your body as you made your way into the bedroom to grab one of iwas hoodies. Iwaizumi walked into the bedroom to see you in just a towel, he smiled at you and wrapped his arms around you, breathing in deeply. You froze underneath him, did he see? would he think you were weak? disgusting? you tried calming your breathing but Iwaizumi obviously noticed your state and stepped back, running his hands over your shoulders and down your arms “what’s wrong?” he froze when his arms reached your forearms, running his fingers over the raised flesh so he knew he wasn’t imagining it. Your breathing only sped up, your throat felt like it was constricting. “y/n...” he was angry, not at you, at himself. You’d been together for so long and he never realised? He used to find the fact that you only wore oversized hoodies adorable, seeing you drown in the material warmed his heart, now it made him sick. Did you not want him to see? Did you not trust him? Why didn’t he notice?

“Ouch Haji..” your squeak shook him out of his thoughts and he released your wrists, not realising how tight his grip was getting. He then noticed your wide eyes and shallow breaths and realised you were having a panic attack “y/n-shit. i’m so sorry here, breathe with me baby okay?” he held your hands and led your breathing until you calmed down. You changed into one of his shirts and some shorts before sitting next to him on the bed. “Baby, please tell me none of those are new.” he pulled you onto him so you were sitting on him “they aren’t, i was going to tell you i was just...ashamed? i’m not sure it’s complicated, i know i’m not what you signed up for..” he held your arm out gently, tracing the scars with his fingers before pressing your wrist against his lips. He kissed along each of your scars, mumbling how much he loved you while a few stray tears escaped his eyes.

“If you ever feel that way again, i want you to tell me first okay? I love you, you’re so strong and beautiful, you’re my home okay? i need you and i want you to be able to rely on me too.” you nodded before kissing him, smiling against his lips “thank you haji” you began playing with the hair at the nape of his neck and he nuzzled his face into your neck, picking you up and lying you down fully under the covers “you don’t have to hide them around me y’know” you hummed, playing with his hair, kissing his forehead as he peppered kisses along your jaw “goodnight haji”.

Tsukkishima

~ you don’t know what exactly led you to feeling this way again, but you were back to feeling numb, wanting more than anything to feel

~ although you knew better, you still made you way to the bathroom, blade in hand like you were on autopilot

~ you hadn’t told tsukkishima yet, too afraid of what he’d say, what he’d do. He was rarely serious as it was and you didn’t feel the need to burden him with this

Tsukkishima wasn’t dumb. He was smart, he noticed when you were uncomfortable in public and would take you out of there without you needing to express your discomfort. He noticed advertisements for that show you mentioned a few weeks ago on the back of a bus. He noticed the clothes you wore and how you fiddled with the edges of your sleeves. He noticed the empty look behind your eyes sometimes and the fake smiles you’d send his way when he asked if you were feeling okay. He hated it. He felt so powerless, he wasn’t certain but he was almost positive and he wanted to help you but he didn’t know how.

You weren’t answering your phone so Tsukki let himself inside, making his way up to your room only to see your phone on your bed but you nowhere to be found. He walked down the hallway and noticed the light on in the bathroom.

You looked up from the floor, hearing a knock on the bathroom door. “Yes? I’m in here.” your heart leapt into your throat when the door knob started rattling and you quickly sat against the door. “Y/N? move, what are you doing on the floor?” You froze at the sound of Keis voice “Kei? what are you doing here?” you tried to push harder against the door but he pushed it far enough to let himself into the bathroom. You had rolled your sleeves back down but he saw the bloodied blade on the counter. “Take off the jacket” you rolled your eyes “I’m not in the mood right now Kei” he moved towards you “y/n.” the sad tone in his voice made your lip quiver, he knew. You slowly took your jacket off and looked away from him as you started to tear up “i know i’m not what you signed up for but please-“”dumbass, why didn’t you tell me...” you looked up at him to find him staring at the cuts, you tried to speak but you couldn’t.

Tsukki moved to the medicine cabinet and took out some bandages and alcohol wipes, cleaning and dressing the wounds while you cried softly. “y/n, i’m not leaving okay? you don’t need to cry, i’m here.” you wrapped your arms around his neck and he hugged your waist, burying his nose in your hair. “Kei i’m sorry i didn’t tell you i just didn’t want you to break up with me..” “i’ve known for a while now, i’m not mad but i will be if you feel like this again and don’t tell me. I’m you boyfriend, you’re one of the few people i can stand and i’m not gonna have you thinking i don’t care okay?” you nodded at him, burying your face in his chest “i love you kei, i promise i’ll talk to you more..” he rubbed your back soothingly “good, dumbass. i love you too..”

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fluffyk97 · 2 years

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I just got a ridiculously fluffy idea:

After ep 52, Lloyd dragged himself out of the medical room (Zane fell asleep while monitoring him), and after grabbing one of his fluffy blankets, went to snuggle with the first sibling he could find... He was feeling lonely and cold and scared, and needed some protective sib company (he wanted to let Zane sleep too)

Hhhnnggnjg fuck-

Lloyd looked where Zane currently sat to watch over him, finding the nindroid fast asleep. The younger boy couldn't help but find it ironic how logically the one person out of their team fit for staying up without rest, ended up passing out anyway from the pure exhaustion this past month has been.

Lloyd sat up and moves to hang his legs over the bed as he gathered his favorite blanket that's always so soft, wrapping it around his shoulders before getting up. His legs trembled for a moment from both exhaustion and him feeling cold, the aftereffects of possession still wearing off.

However, despite feeling drained from it all, Lloyd couldn't find himself able to sleep as the Bounty made its way back to their teashop. The oh so brave Green Ninja desperately didn't want to be alone at this moment. Even if technically Zane was in the same room as him, he clearly saw that this whole event has taken its own toll on the Ice Ninja. So Zane deserved to at least be given some peace, even for a short while.

His feet padded against the hard floor as quietly as he could while he sneaked out of the room, wandering the halls for signs of any of the others that could be awake as well.

Lloyd spotted Nya passed out in her room, no doubt exhausting from using her newly discovered power so much earlier. Cole & Jay fell asleep on each other in the other room, a wave of guilt flowing over him as he was reminded of Cole's new form. Uncle Wu and his Mother talked im hushed voices down the hall, no doubt about what they should do next. Only once Lloyd found himself wandering up onto the deck did he find Kai.

The fire ninja leaned over the railing as the ship soared through the clouds on autopilot. A small flicker of flame lit up in one of his hands as he manipulated it, seeming to test how much of his power has returned and what he can do with it.

"What're you doing up hotshot?" Lloyd almost jumped at the sudden question as Kai glanced back to look at him. It saved him from questioning himself however whether he should leave Kai to his own or not, as Kai's expression held a small welcoming smile upon his face.

"I can ask you the same thing," Lloyd answered while stepping over to stand with the red ninja. He joined him with leaning over the railing while clutching the blanket around him, relieving his body just a little. The breeze of flight flowing past his face and through his hair, making him close his eyes and he took it in with open arms. Morro may have been possessing him as the Master of Wind, but the rush of the natural wind of flying was something Lloyd adored and could never be taken away.

"Oh you know, like you, couldn't really lay down and pass out like everyone else," Kai spoke to continue their conversation, putting the flame in his hand out, "too much on my mind right now..."

Lloyd frowned as he turned to look at Kai who stared out ahead. He pondered what thoughts were running through the other's head, although he had no doubts it was a lot just as he stated. Yet, Lloyd didn't push to question him as he turned to stare out into the sky with him. A moment of calm silence taking over.

"... Hey, got any room under there?"

"Huh?" Lloyd turns to look at Kai with a raised brow. The red ninja smiled back.

"Under your blanket, doofus. It's chilly."

Lloyd couldn't help but snort.

"You're the Master of Fire, aren't you like your own personal heater?"

"Hey, whole that's mostly true, I can still get cold. Besides, looks comfy."

"It was Cole's, so of course there's room."

"Are you implying something there with him?"

"Hey, I wouldn't dare to try and insult Cole's larger size."

"Relax, relax, I'm only joking. I know you wouldn't, but c'mon, move over then and share some room under there."

Lloyd rolls his eyes, but nonetheless he lifts one side of the blanket up for Kai to take. He watches the fire ninja grab ahold as he ducks under the soft fabric, purposely bumping his body next to Lloyd's so they're huddled close underneath.

Lloyd feels his smile stay plastered on his face as he feels Kai radiate warmth. Adding a nice balance between warm and cold with himself and the cold breeze soaring through the air.

The younger boy only felt safety and comfort in that moment, leaning his head onto his brother's shoulder.

"Thanks Kai..."

"Of course, Bud.."

#ninjago #ninjago headcannons #lloyd garmadon #kai smith #asks #bracedfangirl #You: *sends a cute fluffy cuddly headcanon that I do adore*#Me: oh stay up to 2:30 writing a small snippet for this concept you say?#I'm sorry I felt the need DSHHS

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shurisneakers · 3 years

Text

shut in [9]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: cursing, anxiety, ptsd, shooting

Word count: 2.8k

A/N: ok ok ok ok sam deserves the world and im mad that he’s not getting it

i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!!

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

He was gone.

10:00am

Time had begun to slip past you. Days where you were forced to wake up at 4am were just a dreary memory you didn’t want to revisit. The rough shoves in the morning to have you awake enough to be in training by 4:30am only fell into the category of things you had forgotten over the time you had stayed here.

Maybe sleep wasn’t a luxury you weren’t allowed to afford.

10:30am

By the time you step into the kitchen, the loose structure of the day you had ahead of you was forming. Maybe if you revisited the small makeshift shooting range you had set up for Sam and you to practice. A couple of old soup cans, a flat boulder for them to sit on and you were good to go. He had allowed you to use his giant board for knife throwing too, laughed when you asked for permission before saying it was for the both of you.

You made a sandwich for yourself, forcing it down your throat with water. Bread was starting to feel like cardboard and the jam just tasted like nothing. Peanut butter was even worse.

Losing appetite wasn’t an option, even though it had eroded a while ago. The best option was to just scarf it down with water.

11:00am

Sam isn’t in the house, you had deduced. A morning run or maybe just some fresh air.

You checked for the notes he sometimes left for you when he went out. Something along the lines of when he’d be back, or why he’d left, or where you could find him.

You looked on top of the fridge where he generally left them; someplace he knew you’d see. You didn’t find one.

You shrugged it off.

Something felt wrong about the arrangement of the kitchen but you couldn’t place a finger on what it was. All the chairs were in its place, trash appropriately in the bin, no bowls were left from soup day in the sink to wash.

The origami swan you had made still rested next to his paper airplane. Nothing seemed wrong or out of place.

You pushed yourself to shake off the nerves, to get dressed instead. The shooting range was waiting for you.

12:45pm

When you shoot for thirty and get all thirty, it tends to get a little boring. Not that you were complaining; if even one was off you’d spend the whole day trying to make up for it.

Violent hobbies weren’t ideal. They weren’t even hobbies per se. Just skills you needed to keep sharp if you wanted to survive.

You even shot at the targets that you had hung up on the trees. Dangerous and completely Sam’s idea. Said the wind made them act like moving targets. Nevermind the possibility of a ricochet.

The target board was empty too. Admittedly, knife throwing was a little harder to get used than shooting to but it still only took a few tries before you were hitting bullseye over and over again.

There just wasn’t anything to do. And you realised it had been this way for a while but you never noticed due to his lively chatter or how competitive it got with stupid games you were making up as you went.

1:00pm

You learned against the counter as you ate, eyeing the room, trying to figure out what you had misplaced. The air was cold, even more so after the shower, so you threw on an extra t-shirt to aid you.

You made a noise of disapproval when you couldn’t find what was wrong. A quick wash of your hands before you made your way to the TV, fully intending to doze off while watching Megamind for the fourth time.

You passed by the mini fridge on the way, noting how you needed to restock the ice cubes when you suddenly stopped in your path.

Your eyes peeled back to the small paper bowl Sam had crafted expertly that was still somehow managing to stick together. But that was what was wrong.

The keys were missing.

The fucking car keys and the pocket change you had taken from Pierce’s house were no longer there.

Your body moved on autopilot, dragging you towards the front door. You yanked it open, door creaking under the pressure you applied on it.

Your heart sank.

The car was gone.

1:20pm

You had all the possibilities listed out in front of you with the rest scratched out after you had rationalised it.

Someone had come in and taken the car, which wasn’t likely.

Sam had stepped out but hadn’t mentioned it to you. If he did, why would he need the car?

Someone had abducted Sam, which was absurd on paper but still left a twinge of uncertainty because you couldn’t definitively rule it out.

He had just left. Decided he was done and left.

You stared at the last option.

“Fuck,” you cursed.

You could feel his muscle shift as he looked at you.

“What’s wrong?”

You opened your mouth but shut it again. How do you explain it to him without sounding utterly ridiculous?

You wondered if it was that conversation.

He wouldn’t leave after you told him, would he?

You hesitated before shaking your head.

He’d come back. He would.

1:45pm

You had added a few more possibilities to the list but discarded it almost immediately.

You now found a place in front of the TV, watching but not registering what was said. Your fingers kept itself busy by playing with the hem of your shirt. You had thrown another one on since his jacket was missing with the rest of him. It had gotten colder.

The woman droned on about how much her husband loved the recipe she was making. It was Sam’s favourite segment, not because it was particularly fantastic or anything, but because it gave him forty five minutes of free content to trash talk.

Your eyes kept glancing up at the clock. Was it broken or was time much slower than you initially thought?

You almost felt like you were in a cognitive dysfunction; you couldn’t do anything other than while away time till you figured out what had gone wrong.

2:00pm

If you weren’t paying attention, you wouldn’t have heard the soft crunch of twigs. The whirring of the wheels as it turned gently only made you sit up straight, hands on the gun that rested on the couch beside you.

It came to a stop. The gun was fully in your grip now, TV turned off to determine what the noises were.

It was the most agonisingly slow minute you spent listening as the car opened and shut, muffled by the distance. You were near the door, using the adjoining wall as a hideaway.

The doorknob shook as someone tried to push their way in.

“Sam?” you called out cautiously against your better judgement, mentally cringing.

It took a second for his reply to return.

“Hey, sweetheart. Let me in, will you? Stupid door’s not opening.”

Of course it wouldn’t. It was fingerprint activated.

Relief flooded your system, letting yourself hold the gun with only one hand as you hastily made your way to open the door.

However, you paused. As much as you wanted to fling the door open blindly, you waited, hand on the knob.

“Is someone out there with you?”

“What?” he sounded confused. “No, it’s just me.”

You opened the door slightly, peeking out through the sliver of open space.

Sure enough, it was only him. The car was returned to the same spot that it was.

“Where were you?” You yanked the door open. You sounded way more aggressive than you planned to, you were sure. It didn’t matter though.

“Went to the store,” he said nonchalantly, stepping inside, and dropping the keys back where they were.

“What?”

He was so relaxed about it, like it was nothing. It only irked you further than you already were.

“Drove the car till the highway, walked into town and went to the store.” He set the bag down. “What’d you do all day?”

“You went to the town,” you emphasised. “To the fucking store.”

“Yeah, I figured you would be up by the time I came back.”

“You were gone for hours.” You crossed your arms over your chest, fighting the urge to yell. You could talk it out calmly. You didn’t have to snap

You hoped he had a good reason. You sincerely hoped, for his well being and security, that he risked his life to go to public space.

“We’re way further out than you think. Nearest dollar store’s almost the next fuckin’ state if you’re walking. Had to ditch the car because it’s a little too flashy, even for me.” He lifted up the bag next to him. “Got us some ramen. And juice. That’s all we had cash for anyway.”

You stare at him, mouth slightly agape.

“You could have been seen, Sam,” your tone was corrosive, the next best you could do instead of yelling. “For all we know, you could have been followed.”

“No one followed me. I made sure.”

That did nothing to alleviate the anxiety that was crawling into your head.

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered. “Fucking ridiculous.”

“Where are you going?” You ignored him, turning on your heel and walking to the bedroom. You didn’t care if it was his day that day. He could rot in the kitchen with his stupid ramen for all you cared.

You cursed as you slammed the door behind you, launching yourself onto the bed.

There was no denying you were relieved that he was still alive and here. But fuck him. Fucking dickhead.

Fucking juice.

You spent the next couple of hours feeling absolutely embarrassed for yourself. Why did you spend hours worrying if he was safe when he was out there, gallivanting in public for some stupid noodles?

Both of you could have been absolutely fucked if he wasn’t careful. He may have just jeopardised your entire set up.

But deep down, no matter how much it was annoying to acknowledge, you knew he wouldn’t have. He was smart, strategic.

Why would he do something like this?

How much you were worried scared you. There was no time where it had occurred that maybe you were in danger too. Every possibility you came up with only pushed the thought of him possibly in trouble further into your head.

But the more you spend time overthinking, the more you realised that him being in danger wasn’t the entire cause of your worry.

What if he didn’t come back? Why’d he come back?

He had the means to leave, the will to and clearly was able to go undetected for a while. He didn’t need to return, but he did.

And for what; to give you some food he bought from the dollar store.

He seemed excited about it too, before you had closed the door on his face and decided to spend the next few hours self-destructing.

Fucking ramen.

Maybe if you could just lie there until you decomposed, then you wouldn’t have to have a conversation with him about this. That’s what you would have done a couple of months ago.

But now the idea of communicating had been implanted and implemented several times before. It didn’t feel right to push it away, not when you’d come so far. A chance to heal.

You groaned, shoving a pillow onto your face before getting up grumpily.

Fuck this man and his stupid, healthy methods of coping.

___

You opened the door slowly, creeping into the hallway to assess what he was doing. It had been a few hours of silence in the house. He had given you space, not come knocking on the door to explain himself.

You took note of the kitchen. The table had been laid with two bowls of noodles covered with a plate along with a glass each of juice. It was domestic. Cute.

He was watching Die Hard but the volume was turned down low. If he was anything like you, he wouldn’t have been paying too much attention.

You cleared your throat awkwardly to grab his attention.

His neck craned to look at you, surprise flashing across his face for a second before he leapt up, turning off the TV in an instant.

“Y/N,” he stated as normally as he could.

“Samuel,” your tone was steady.

He scratched the back of his neck nervously. “Wasn’t sure if you were gonna show up.”

“Neither was I.” You looked at the table, gesturing towards it with your shoulder. “Watchu got there, Gordon Ramsey?”

Because screw him, but the longer you stood there staring at the bowl, you were starting to understand the lengths he went to to get something other than bread, peanut butter and soup. As much as the prospect of being petty thrilled you, you had survived on nothing but them for the past few weeks.

“Got a few packs of ramen and a gallon of juice from the store. Thought you- we deserve somethin’ nice.” You noticed his quick coverup but didn’t acknowledge it. “It’s not Michelin star worthy, but it’ll do.”

You nodded, avoiding looking at him.

“I-”

“Hey-”

Both of you started at the same time, only to be cut off by the other. You mentioned for him to continue.

“Listen, I’m sorry. I should have told you before I left,” You didn’t expect the sincerity that exuded from every word he let out and you found yourself unable to look away. “I’m not used to people worrying about where I go... but things are different now. I won’t do it again.”

You weren’t used to the feeling of lightness that accompanied an apology. Relief.

“Thank you,” you said breathily. His face noticeably brightened. “But why’d you come back?”

His small smile left as soon as it came, as his face fell into a frown. “What?”

“You could have just left. You had the car, the-” you stopped yourself from listing out reasons why he should have. “Why’d you come back?”

He looked completely confused.

“Because I wanted to,” he voiced. “Leaving you behind was never an option. I wouldn’t-”

He trailed off, eyes never leaving yours.

“You’re stuck with me,” he urged softly. “We’re a team.”

You lingered on him longer than you wanted to admit. He wasn’t lying, you had realised.

“Care to join me for dinner?” he asked, extending a hand to you.

You rolled your eyes but took it, feeling the heat creep up your neck. He smirked at you and fuck, he was frustratingly cute.

You understood. You totally understood when you nearly died at the first bite you took, vowing to never take food like this for granted again. It may have been the absolute bare minimum; just the seasoning and noodles he had cooked in the microwave, but it was the best goddamn meal you ever had.

“Good, right?” He looked about as content as he could be.

“Best fuckin’ day of my life.”

He kidded around some more. You choked out a laugh at some, wholly ignored the others to which he took complete offence. You saw it as a way to humble him.

This was the normalcy you had crushed your craving for so long ago, accepting that it wouldn’t ever happen. A normal dinner with someone who made you smile, no impending doom lurking around the corner and maybe a shot at a glimmer of something happy.

It was strange that you found it with another hitman in a safe house, hiding from authorities and who knows what else, with food worth a couple of cents. You wouldn’t want it any other way.

Yet there were things that had to be discussed. Conversations that needed to happen.

“Sam, we need to talk about it.” You didn’t have to explain, he knew what you were talking about.

“What’s wrong?”

“I need to tell you something and I need you to hear me out before saying anything,” you pulled away from him, shuddering at the sudden cold that enveloped you.

“I’m listening.”

“We do,” he agreed, and you could feel the atmosphere in the room begin to shift. “But we don’t have to do it now.”

He reached across from where he was sitting, hesitantly interlacing your fingers. The sense of fluster you experienced wasn’t healthy, you decided.

You just ducked your head, fighting against the damn smile that was trying to make its way onto your face. You didn’t pull away.

“Okay.”

Next part

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fleetingpieces · 3 years

Text

My One in a Million Chapter 8

Hiiiii! I'm back from the dead and finally got back to writing again <3

Sorry it took ages—and sorry it's not a great chapter— but thank you so much everyone for the patience and support, it means so much!

Thank you @inloveoknutzy @donttouchmycarrots and @knittingdreams for beating, love y'all! <3

Tag list: @whataboutmyfries @justdyingontheinside @heyoitslysso @sunflowerfox87 @hereforwolfstarr @potterlocked24-7 @ttylfedora @domesticatedbeetlenamedjorge @lovemeleo @im-lana

CW: Mentions of food

Ao3

Masterlist

Chapter 8 - The morning after

Remus woke up the next morning with a splitting headache. He blinked a few times to get the tiredness out of his eyes—which seemed to want to stay glued shut—and stared at the ceiling for long moments.

His first thought was that, for a second, he thought he could hear Padfoot’s laugh. Vague images of a dream he’d had came flooding back to him; long corridors, empty beds and his gaming console. The sound must have been a remnant of that.

The second thought was that the ceiling of his room was weird. He couldn’t quite pinpoint where the bugging sensation came from, but something was off and he was way too tired to figure out what it was. Maybe he should just go back to sleep. Groaning, he turned around to do just that, and that’s when he got a good look at the rest of the room.

He sat up with a start, regretting it instantly when nausea hit him like a wave. Closing his eyes, he stayed still until the feeling ebbed away, then opened them again slowly.

This wasn’t his room. There was no sign of any of his stuff; instead, he saw a big mirror, a dark wood chest of drawers, and a trail of scattered things that either belonged to different people or to someone with diverse tastes: a blue hair tie, a black snapback, t-shirts that at a glance he could tell were of different sizes, with stamps that varied from Disney to Strand.

One by one, memories from the night before popped up as the fogginess from sleep left him completely. That’s right, Sirius had offered his home to him after he’d found Remus outside of his flat; he’d come in to take a shower and had sat on the couch as they watched a movie and drank. Things were a bit hazy from that point on.

Had he really pouted and asked Sirius to stay with him like a little kid? Fuck, please let that be a part of the drunk hallucinations. He turned around slowly, glancing to the other side of the bed with his heart beating fast in his throat, but the spot next to him was empty.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Remus threw the blankets to the side and planted his feet on the floor to get some resemblance of stability, but frowned when he stepped on something. Looking down, he noticed a pillow and a blanket lying rumpled on the floor, next to his side of the bed.

A pang of guilt made its way to his chest when he realised Sirius must have slept on the floor while Remus was on the bed, covered from head to toe and warm. Sirius had been so careful with him. Every touch had been gentle, not invasive but rather trying not to overstep, trying to comfort. So, so very careful.

Remus felt slightly ashamed for thinking Sirius would take advantage of him. Not to mention for the way he'd bawled his eyes out in front of the man. He’d made a fool of himself yet again, something that kept happening a lot as of late and to which he wasn’t used to.

“Oh, God.” He remembered how he’d felt his mother’s hand brushing his hair before he fell asleep and he desperately hoped he hadn’t called out for her in his dream. Bringing a hand to his forehead, he could almost feel that phantom touch, tracing fingertips over his hairline.

He rubbed his face in embarrassment. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to face Sirius after all that, but there was no way he could fall asleep again and a quick glance at the clock on the opposite wall told him it was barely eight in the morning. It was still too early to call Leo or go back to the clinic, plus he didn’t know how everything had panned out.

Remus glanced at the bedside table where his phone was lying face down and stretched over to grab it. He flipped it from hand to hand, back and forth, the small thing weighing him down every time it fell on his palm with a soft thud.

He could call.

He should call.

But what if something had gone wrong? What if Cocoa had had a complication during the night? Would they have notified him already if that was the case? Did he want to find out like this, far away from him and helpless to do anything? He didn’t want to show any more weaknesses in front of Sirius, he’d already shown more of his vulnerable side than he’d ever intended to.

Nodding to himself, Remus got up and threw the phone on the bed. He took two steps towards the door. The doctor had told him to go in the afternoon; he could wait a couple of hours before going back to the clinic and then he would know and—

A huff escaped him as Remus hurried back and dialed the number, plopping down on the mattress.

“Thank you for calling Mercy Animal Clinic. This is Jennifer, how can I help you?”

“Yes, hi, my name is Remus? I brought my dog in last night for chocolate poisoning and I—I was just calling to check on him?”

“Of course, Sir. What is the patient's name?”

“Cocoa,” said Remus, gripping his phone a bit tighter. Jennifer hummed and asked for a few more details to confirm his identity, to which Remus replied on autopilot, his mind going blank in a subconscious attempt to protect himself.

“Just a second, please.”

Remus busied himself counting the floorboards while he waited, trying to calm his nerves, but it had the opposite effect as he became very aware of how long Jennifer was taking to find what he wanted to know. He’d started tapping his foot when the receptionist finally came back on the other end of the line.

“Yes, everything was ok during the night and Cocoa will be ready to go home after lunch,” they said cheerfully.

Remus’ breath stopped completely and then he exhaled loudly. He could have sworn he felt his heart unclench, invisible fingers letting go of their painful grip and allowing blood to stream freely again. His shoulders dropped, releasing all the pent up tension that had been building there since he’d stepped into his apartment the night before, and he laid down, covering his eyes with his free arm.

“Sir?” Jennifer said hesitantly.

“Yes. Ok. Ok. Thanks, I’ll be there.” He hung up and let the phone fall at his side.

The silence of the room was an echo of his own head as Remus tried to let the words sink in. He peeked at the ceiling from under his arm. Cocoa was fine. The phrase repeated itself a few times until Remus took a deep breath and swung himself up.

The hall was quiet outside of the room, but he could hear some noises coming from ahead. Remus bunched the sleeves of the jumper he was wearing, not too willing to admit how comfy and warm he was in Sirius’ clothes. Especially not when he was assaulted by memories of Sirius helping him walk through this same corridor the night before and Remus almost gave in to the embarrassment. Sirius probably thought he was pathetic.

Groaning, he steeled himself as he padded the rest of the way, but his step faltered before going into the kitchen, a hand rising to settle on the wall. Something smelled amazing in there. Like melted butter and Saturday mornings back home, with his mom humming as she stood by the stove and the sun streamed in through the open windows. The sound of the sizzling pan was accompanied by a rock song playing in the background, a cool guitar distortion filling the room, followed by a gravelly voice singing a capella.

And there was Sirius in the middle of it all, moving around the kitchen gracefully, head bopping and singing into a ladle. He slid across the floor like Tom Cruise in that old movie as he moved to the fridge and a chuckle bubbled out of Remus’ chest, taking with it most of the heaviness still clinging to him.

Sirius jumped up, accidentally closing the fridge door with a bang, and turned to face Remus fully. It was only then that Remus realized what he was wearing: he had black ripped jeans and a black tee, his hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail; and on top of all that, he had one of those aprons that had a buff man printed on the front, that read “Kiss the chef”.

Remus stared for so long that Sirius followed his gaze and looked down, only to look back up quickly with a blush. “It was James’ idea of a joke.”

James, as Remus was quickly learning, took special pleasure in teasing his friends, although Lily claimed he always failed when it came to her. But Sirius clearly treasured anything that came from his best friend, no matter how silly or awkward.

Clearing his throat, Remus stepped into the kitchen and peered at the stove. “What are you making?”

“Pancakes!” Sirius exclaimed, seemingly glad for the rapid move of the subject. “I thought you could use some hangover breakfast,” he added with a shrug before turning back to the mixing bowl on the counter.

“Oh,” Remus said dumbly, taken by surprise. He scrambled for something to add. “Did you get the recipe from the same place as those cookies?”

Sirius spluttered and threw an offended look over his shoulder. “Mon Dieu, I’m never going to live that down, am I? I’ll have you know, these are my speciality. But I won’t give you anything if you keep that attitude up.”

Laughing quietly, Remus breathed a sigh of relief that Sirius wasn't looking at him with pity or mentioning his sorry state from the night before. So much had happened between them in just one day, he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to act anymore. He shuffled awkwardly to the island and, as he leaned on it, the name of the song Sirius had been dancing to dawned on him.

“I can’t believe you’re actually listening to Black Dog,” Remus said, covering his face, not sure if he wanted to laugh or cry.

“Hey,” Sirius turned to point at him with the batter-covered ladle, “Plant speaks to me on a spiritual level. I’m sending good vibes to Cocoa.”

Remus raised an eyebrow, making an effort to keep the corners of his mouth down. “You do know that the lyrics have nothing to do with dogs, right?”

“Yeah, but it’s the feeling that counts,” he waved his hand dismissively, sending a few vanilla-colored drops flying, “and the song title.” Smiling at that logic, Remus shook his head—as weird as it was, he found it reassuring. Sirius peered at him as he flipped the golden pancakes easily. “I’m glad you look better. How are you feeling?”

Remus tensed up, but it didn’t look like Sirius was making fun of him. Focusing on some point by his feet, he rubbed at his neck. "Yeah, um. Thank you for your help. And sorry about...everything. I guess it was one thing after the other and it was just too much.”

“We’ve been through this, you have nothing to be sorry for,” Sirius smiled tentatively. “Have they contacted you from the vets?”

“Actually, I called just now.” His heart rate picked up as excitement coursed through his body. Saying the words aloud made them even more real, allowed them to settle in and gave way to tiny pinpricks of impatience. “They said everything’s good. I can bring him home after lunch.”

Sirius turned to face him fully and his hand went to grip Remus’ forearm, his smile turning so bright it was almost blinding. “Remus, that’s great.”

Remus smiled too, staring straight at him. “Yeah,” he breathed. After a second too long, he coughed discreetly and moved back. “I just feel like I won’t be able to relax fully until I see him, you know? I wish I could go over now.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Sirius said as he leaned back too, fingers moving to play with the strings of his apron. “Just a few more hours, eh?” Remus hummed noncommittally and, sensing that he needed a bit of a distraction, Sirius turned his attention back to the food. “In the meantime, can you get the plates from over there?” He pointed at a cabinet as he got the pan out of the stove.

Remus did as he was asked and brought them over to the counter, where an array of toppings were waiting. His stomach grumbled as he watched Sirius cutting up some strawberries to place over the pancakes and then drizzling chocolate on top of everything, singing under his breath to the next song on his playlist. It was all oddly domestic. It was nice.

They sat in the living room to eat, though instead of sharing the couch like they had last night, Sirius—now without the ridiculous apron—sat across the coffee table on one of the armrests. Remus took a bite of the fluffy sponge and closed his eyes with a hum. “Ok, you were right. These are awesome.”

Sirius had just taken a mouthful himself, but he beamed before he swallowed and licked some of the chocolate off his finger. “Glad you like them, Re. I don’t think my reputation could have survived another fiasco.”

“Are you sure this wasn’t just a lucky mistake?” Remus joked, if only to ignore the way his stomach jumped at the nickname, prompting Sirius to throw a napkin at him.

For the next two hours or so, the conversation was light and easy while the music kept playing at a dim level. But, as time went on and the plates got piled up on the coffee table, Sirius started getting distracted.

He kept glancing at his phone like he was checking the time or waiting for a call. Remus would have thought that he was overstaying his welcome—Sirius had a life to get back to, after all—if it weren’t for the fact that the man kept the conversation going and going, asking questions and gesturing excitedly when he was telling a story about how he and his friends had once managed to get a flock of pigeons inside a train full of passengers. At this point, Remus was pretty sure that Sirius was not capable of lying.

A lazy breeze drifted in from the open window, bringing in the smell of morning dew and ruffling Sirius’ hair so that a few strands fell in front of his face. As he brushed them back, he raised his eyes and pinned Remus with a look that was slowly becoming very familiar. That look that said he wanted to say something but he was choosing his words carefully.

Remus was pretty sure he knew what that meant. So far, everything he’d blabbed about the night before had been skillfully avoided—mostly by Remus averting his eyes every time Sirius looked at him like that. He wasn’t looking away now though. Wasn’t sure he could, honestly; not with such intensity and thinly-veiled concern directed his way. Sirius opened his mouth, the words starting to form at the back of his throat when Remus’ phone pinged.

He jumped slightly and went to quickly fish it out of his pocket, holding on to the getaway it provided. Talking about his behaviour or the few hints he’d let slip about his past was not something he was ready to tackle. A quiet sigh dropped from Sirius’ lips as he got up to take the plates back to the kitchen, while Remus stared at the notification flashing on his home page. “Oh, Padfoot just uploaded a new video?”

The sound of ceramic banging in the sink startled Remus into looking up. “Um...you ok?”

“Yes! Too much soap,” Sirius’ voice came back, muffled slightly by the running water.

Remus snorted and got comfortable on one end of the couch, resting his back on the side and pulling his knees up. He wiggled his toes as he waited for the page to load, digging them into the plush sofa and then tapping his feet when the video finally started. It began like usual, with the starting screen of a game and Padfoot’s cheerful voice.

“Hello everyone and welcome! You’ve all been nagging at me to play with Prongs more often, so I hope you appreciate how much effort it took to get his ass out of bed.”

“That’s so not the introduction I was expecting,” another voice complained.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you want to do it?”

“Why, yes, thank you. Hello y’all! By popular demand and because I know you like me more than this silly goose, I am here to play some games and have fun! Mostly at Padfoot’s expense.”

“You’re the only person in the world who could say ‘silly goose’ and not have everyone laughing at them.”

“I know, it’s a skill I honed for years.”

“What the hell,” Remus laughed, shaking his head fondly.

Sirius came back into the room, drying his hands absentmindedly on his pants as he took his seat back. He sat at the very edge of the cushion, leaning slightly forward with his hands clasped between his knees, eyes down.

Remus made a questioning sound, waving the phone in front of him. “Do you mind?”

“No,” Sirius croaked, gesturing with his hand for him to go on as he cleared his throat.

A small line of confusion pulled Remus’ brows together. Something was definitely going through Sirius’ mind. Deciding to give the man some time, Remus focused his attention back on the video and made a note to ask later if something was bothering him.

Padfoot was talking about the game they were going to play and Remus could feel his energy even through the screen. He always got like this when he was trying something new. Remus pictured him bouncing on his chair, waiting impatiently to start playing, tapping the buttons in anticipation. “He’s like a kid on sugar, isn’t he?” he said without thinking.

A cough came from Sirius’ spot. “Well, I… I think it’s...nice? He sounds happy.”

The corners of Remus’ lips tugged up in a small smile at that. “Yeah. That’s good.”

“Huh?”

“He didn’t seem his usual self in the past few streams. I’m just glad he’s ok, is all.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Remus saw how Sirius’ hands gripped his knees tightly, slipping through the holes in his jeans. Remus watched in silence but, just when he was about to ask what was going on, the video changed. A small square appeared on one of the corners, showing a man sitting in a chair, not much to see in the background, his face covered with the black dog that was his signature logo. Remus sat up straighter. It wasn’t often that Padfoot appeared in his videos and he couldn’t help the interest that sparked inside him whenever it happened. He scanned the small image until something caught his eye.

“Huh? ...Wait. That’s—” Remus froze for a second before promptly throwing his phone to the other end of the couch. “Oh my God.” He covered his mouth, feeling the pull of his mouth as a grin lit up his face, his wide eyes not leaving the small device lying innocently face up. “Oh my God, oh my God.”

“What happened?”

Remus turned to see Sirius looking at him with a confused little smile, probably wondering if he was still drunk or just bonkers.

“He...he’s wearing my merch. My merch.” And one of his favourite hoodies from the collection, at that. “How—How does he even know about me? I know he likes to keep in shape but…”

The faintest blush crossed Sirius’ cheeks. He rubbed his hands together, looking down at them and then back up at Remus’ still astounded face. He took a deep breath and exhaled in one go. “You know, I’m...” He trailed off, mouth opening and closing a few times.

Remus tried to bring his thoughts back to the room, to the man in front of him and not the one on the screen. He bent forward to grab the discarded phone, his mind still reeling as he paused the video. “Yeah?” he prompted Sirius to go on when he straightened back up, smile still in place—he wasn’t sure he could wipe it off even if he wanted to.

Sirius’ grey eyes roamed his face, then went to the phone in his hands before they finally settled on his bright expression and he sighed, smiling and shaking his head. “No, nevermind.”

Remus tilted his head, but Sirius simply shrugged. “Are you sure? You can say it, whatever it is.”

“I don’t think it’s the right time,” Sirius admitted, letting his head fall back as he worried his lip.

Curiosity flared up, dazzling and hot, and Remus tried to water it down, unwilling to trespass Sirius’ boundaries. Instead, he looked down and tried to organise his whirring mind, eyes going to the clock on his phone. “Fuck,” he muttered. He really wanted to finish watching and keep talking with Sirius, but it was getting late. “I should probably get going.”

“Oh,” Sirius blinked as he raised his head up. “You can stay if you want to.”

“No, I…” Remus stood up. “I should go get the key from Leo. I will probably see both his mom and mine, which means it won’t be a short visit and I’d like to be at the clinic as soon as possible.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

Stopping midstep, Remus turned to look at Sirius, eyebrows raised. “Come with me?”

“Yeah, to the clinic? You are not too fond of them.”

It wasn’t a question, but Remus replied anyway, surprised that Sirius had caught on to that at all. “No, I’m not,” he said, dumbfounded. He shook his head. “But it’s ok, you did a lot for me already.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Remus, anyone in my place would have done the same.”

No, they wouldn’t.

“It’s fine, really. Leo will probably come with me,” he said. He wasn’t sure how Sirius could think that everyone was that selfless, that any person would have helped an almost stranger without thinking it was too much effort. Remus chose not to say anything about it, knowing fully well that was not the case.

#my one in a million #moiam #fanfic #remus x sirius #siriusxremus #sirius x lupin #wolfstar fic #wolfstar #remus lupin #sirius black

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xwing-baby · 3 years

Text

The Guide: Chapter 1/? (Ezra x f!Reader)

gif from @spectroscopes

word count: 5.2k

chapter warnings: reluctant saviour to lovers, injury to reader, one mention of rape, little angst, world building :)

summary: The Guide to Everything Ever is expanding, you are sent out to the furthest reaches of Nowhere to catalogue the planets there. What should have been a quick research mission quickly turns to disaster when you crash on a small forest moon. Injured, with no means of communication, you have to rely on the good will of a mysterious stranger...

a/n: first ever Ezra fic lets gooo!! i am super hyped for this i hope you all enjoy it as much as i do <3

masterlist // asks are always open :)

While The Guide to Everything Ever did cover everything ever, it was a little misleading in the boundaries of everything. History was no issue, there was even a large section of the book on prophecy, millions of consequences mapped out on a fold out flow chart. No, the issue was with physical boundaries of everything.

A long time ago the boundaries of the civilised universe were drawn up. From Eden to Xion-5, trillions of stars and quadrillions of planets all included inside the red line separating us from the somehow even more vast expanse of Nothing. There was nothing in Nothing, that much was well known. That was until a group of explorers did what explorers do and found Something. Something in Nothing makes Nothing impossible so the leaders of this great universe came together and decided The Guide to Everything Ever had to include this new Something in their Everything.

That is where you come in.

The Guide to Everything Ever has always relied on first-hand experience. The first edition was a disaster. It only contained the things everybody knew: how to fold a bedsheet and how to get your dog to not hump the postman. The only vaguely interesting part of the Guide was the planetary comments. Even those could send the most interested scientist to sleep! They tried using robots for the first edition, a mere collection of data from far away planets. This was not successful and The Guide only sold four copies.

The next edition was more ambitious. The editors worked out people were a lot more interested in different planets than they were in barbarian fortifications but they did not want to read reams of boring data from a robot called Steve. They wanted a real Steve to give his experience on these new planets. Honest, often humorous, and yet entirely educational extracts of missions across the stars. It didn’t matter that space travel was accessible to everyone. It saved everyone a lot of time waiting in those cold and boring shuttles to get from one side of the universe to another. They could sit in the comfort of their own homes and learn about the man-sized carnivorous plants of Ereta, the beautiful fabrics created on Lii, or which drinks to avoid if you ever find yourself in a Beetjing bar.

The Guide was a success from that point onwards and expanded each year. Soon the job of researcher became a coveted occupation. You were lucky to get into the academy. Only ten new researchers were added each century. You worked your entire life to get in and it paid off, you were off on your first mission into the furthest reaches of Nothing to report back on the wild ‘verse that filled it.

A long time ago space travel was thought of as the most exciting thing anyone could ever do. It was for a few decades but two centuries later it was commonplace. A lot like the London Underground, you just stuck your headphones on and let that distract you until you reached your far more interesting destination.

For your trip you had chosen to watch Anzarch Hospital. A rather cheesy Martian holovid show, it had been going for years. You were on season 85, with only ten episodes left until you were entirely caught up ready for the season finale which was due to air when you returned from this trip. You would rather be at home watching the episodes but this trip to the end of the line was necessary. It wouldn’t take long, a few rotations at least and then you could go to Annie’s party and watch everyone’s favourite doctor finally find out who killed her robot nurse wife.

Nobody ever said Martian holovids were high class, but they were fun.

The computer interrupted your binge, alerting you with a ding that you were within range of your destination and would be stepping out of hyperspace. You pressed a few buttons, accepted the action, and went back to the episode.

It wasn’t until a few moments later when the lower pitch dong did not sound to let you know you had dropped out. Confused, you switched off the holovid and moved back to the cockpit. It was a new ship, it shouldn't have hyperdrive issues yet. But well versed as you were with glitchy hyperdrives you knew what to do. You pressed some buttons, pulled a lever, dragged the ship out of autopilot and twisted one final knob to drop out safely and without panic.

Your routine was correct. The ship dropped out of hyperspace but as the darkness cleared so did any sense of calm. You were already in the thermosphere, hurtling down to the forest covered grounds at electric speeds. Alarms blared as soon as the devices registered the new atmosphere and severe lack of control.

“Please slow down, your destination is ahead at 750 km,” The computer said cheerfully.

“Stupid thing! You’re going to kill me!” You yelled over the alarms.

“That’s not very nice,” The computer replied, “It’s not my fault the hyperdrive isn’t working,”

“You knew?” You shouted. The sides of the ship rumbled and rattled as the change in air density dragged along the surface. The holoprojector vibrated off the table, crashing to the ground and smashing into pieces. There goes all your holovid downloads, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Destination in 400km,” Every minute of your training was coming back as you worked through every combination of buttons and levers on your dash. Nothing was working.

“Computer? Is there still a parachute in this model?” It was archaic but you prayed that your ship was old enough to still be fitted with one. If it, wasn’t you were never going to slow down fast enough?

“Yes, would you like me to deploy it?” The computer asked.

“Yes!” You shouted at the machine.

“Deploying parachute,”

The parachute erupted from the back of the ship with a loud hiss and pop as it opened into the air. The sudden draw backward lurched you forward, smacking your head onto the metal dash in front of you.

You groaned, holding your hand to the injury immediately. A good splattering of blood now set across the screen and was dripping down your face into your eyes.

“Destiable approach im one minu,” The computer said. You frowned, trying to concrete over the throbbing pain in your head. “Systeeee affectabed,”

“Please tell me I’m not having a stroke,” You pleaded. You were not. You could speak and understand language perfectly. The computer, however, was not okay.

Computers are all well and good, very helpful things to have around that is until their processors are catapulted out by a poorly fitted fabric parachute.

You didn’t have time to worry about the broken computer as the trees below were coming closer and closer.

“Fourteenth millennia remaaaa,” The computer slurred. You ignored it. You didn’t need a reminder of how closer to being impaled by a huge tree you were. Instead of panicking you did the only thing you could, strap in and hope that it was all over quickly.

You pulled the straps of the pilot’s seat down tight over your arms, gripped the armrest tight and shut your eyes. The ship whistled through the air, the drag of the parachute doing very little to slow it down. You screwed your eyes shut, cursing every god you have ever known at your terrible luck. You would never see your family again, never see your friends again, and even more importantly you would never find out who killed the nurse in Anzarch Hospital!

The first contact with forest sent the ship off its course, spinning wildly out of control as the craft hit branch after branch. You screamed as the ship tumbled to the ground.

Finally, you came to a stop. Upside down, hanging from a tree, your ship rocked from side to side. You groaned, aching all over from the rough treatment of your descent. You spat out the blood that had pooled in your mouth and tried to think of a plan. Much like the now dead computer you couldn’t really think in words. More drawled sentences drowned out by pain.

The smell of fuel was the thing to get you moving. You gently unbuckled yourself from the seat, careful to not drop yourself on the ceiling and injure yourself anymore. You climbed around the small circular pod to reach the door.

Inhospitable atmosphere. Air unfit for external respiration, respirator advised.

You grumbled and cursed as that warning meant you’d have to climb up the wall of the still swaying pod to reach your kit. It was heavy and difficult to put on at the best of times, this was quite possibly the worst of times.

With a sharp tug the suit and helmet fell out of the cupboard above your head, narrowly missing you as it fell. Carefully, so as not to trip on the steel beams of the ceiling at your feet or cause the ship to swing and fall any further, you pulled the suit on. It was soft, having never been worn before, lightweight and fit you well. The helmet was heavy, a seal at the bottom to prevent any toxins leaking in and the filter was attached to the back of the dome. It was not ideal but you hoped you could find civilization quickly and would be able to take it off fast.

Helmet on. Bag on. Boots tied. Out the door.

In the small amount of luck, you still held, the ship was only six feet above the ground. You sat on the top of the door and jumped out, landing gracefully on your feet in a large patch of unusual plants. The air filter quietly hummed as it set to work cleaning the air around you and you inspected your surroundings. That was where your luck ran out, as you gathered yourself together you looked to your wrist, to the screen of your watch to look at a map to discover the direction you should go, only to find it smashed beyond repair. You had no guidance.

Dark forest was all you could see in any direction. The canopy was so dense only a small sprinkle of light made its way to the floor. Bouncing off the particles in the air, the space around you glittered in the light. It was silent, only the wind rustling through the grass and twigs under your boots made any noise. You picked a direction and walked, hoping you would come across someone soon.

You found a single well-trodden path after an hour of walking through waist high grass, the pollen of which had now covered your suit in a green blue film that made your hands itch terribly when you touched it, bringing up red rashes almost immediately.

The path made its way through the trees, more light coming through as you made it to the edge of the forest. You couldn’t make out much beyond the break in the trees as the contrast between the darker interior showed the outside in white light. You smiled; open space probably meant civilisation!

As you approached the light your eyes began to strain. Sharp pain cut into your eyes, you groaned and squinted bringing your hands to your helmet to cover them automatically. It was no use as a migraine was quickly taking hold. You continued forward, finally breaking the tree line, feeling the heat of the sun through the thin fabric of your suit.

Then everything went black

“What a curious creature,” A low voice woke you. Slowly you gained consciousness, immediately aware of the throbbing pain throughout your body, you pushed to sit up only to feel a heavy weight on your shoulder, “Careful now,” The stranger warned you. You peeled your eyes open and looked up at the creature that spoke. Dome headed in a yellowed fabric suit, Light reflecting off his head obscured his face. The creature spoke kindly and you would have believed the tone too if it weren’t for the pressure of his foot on your forearm and gun in your face. “What’s a thing like you doing in these parts?”

“I-I’m injured,” You tried to speak confidently but your pain overtook your tone as you opened your mouth, “My ship crashed not far from here,”

“Curiouser and curiouser,” The creature mused.

“Please,” You choked out as darkness threatened your vision once more, “Help me,”

The creature frowned, contemplating his decision as if he were choosing a candy bar at a corner store. You tried to move from under him but the effort was too much and you fell into unconsciousness again.

As your eyes closed and breathing softened, the stranger released his foot from your shoulder. His boot left a muddy footprint on the white material that covered your arm. He watched you for a few more seconds, then presuming you were dead he stepped over your body to the blue rucksack that had fallen just behind you. He was in desperate need of medical supplies and clean clothes wouldn’t hurt either.

The stranger rooted through the rucksack, pulling all kinds of things out. Clothes and food, writing equipment and a flip up device that he did not recognise as anything useful. There were no weapons, and no survival equipment of any kind. You were packed for a Sunday stroll, not a trip to the Green. Whoever you were, you were not like the usual people who came here.

The stranger’s cool demeanour changed when he saw your identification card. A gold card, approximately the size of his palm fell out of the bag and into his lap with a soft tap. He picked it up and inspected it, instantly knowing he was screwed. The Guide’s golden emblem was easy to recognise, while he couldn’t read the language that inscribed the card, he could make assumptions. You were a researcher. It was a well-known fact that Guide researchers were protected. If anyone found out you were dead, he would be convicted no matter what he said. There would be no planet in the entire universe he could hide on from the Guide.

Begrudgingly, he had to save you.

Without any other option, he shoved the contents of your bag back inside its original case and threw it over his shoulder. Then came the difficult task of moving you. It wasn’t for lack of strength that the stranger had difficulty with this task, more to do with the fact he had only one arm. He knew it wasn’t far to his camp, he had only been walking for five minutes before you fell into his path.

He couldn’t carry you. With only one arm it didn’t matter how strong the man was he could never hold you up well enough. He tried to wake you first, it would be far more helpful to him if you could walk. He shook your shoulders to try and rouse you but you were out cold. He had no choice but to drag you.

A quick assessment of your body told him you were not injured too badly, apart from the sores developing on your hands from exposure to pollen and a wound on your forehead inside your helmet. He checked your pulse again, feeling it strong through his gloves he was happy that you were not dead and would not be wasting his time. He grabbed the fabric around your shoulders and pulled you back to his camp.

It took a while but he made it there safely without cracking your helmet or injuring you anymore. He set you down on the floor of his tent, pulled his helmet off for comfort, then got to setting up a recovery bed for you.

The stranger pulled a rolled-up mat from under his cot and placed it on the ground and finally rolled your body in its final place on top and he waited for you to wake up again. It wouldn’t take long, he heard you mutter something as he carried you back and even in the low light of his tent, he could see your eyes moving behind your eyelids. The stranger sat on the edge of his cot, watching you carefully with his weapon in hand in case you woke up violent.

After a few moments, you began to stir. The first thing you noticed as you gained consciousness was the pain in your body. Every inch of your body throbbed but nothing more than your head. You felt hard ground beneath you, but no leaves or dirt, it was cold to touch. You peeled your eyes open, met with a low orange light bouncing off dark tent like material.

“Do not be alarmed,” A man said from across the room. You immediately turned your head to see but saw nothing more than a dark blob, “You are safe,”

You found it very hard not to be alarmed. The last thing you remembered was getting out of your ship into a forest, now you were in a small dark tent lit by one single golden lightbulb with a strange blob sat across from you.

Carefully, you pushed yourself up to sit up from your position on the floor. Noticing the blob was more of a man, and without a helmet, you figured it was probably safe to remove yours. With a sharp tug and a hiss from the oxygen tank you were open to the air and you set the helmet down next you. You rubbed your hand across the back of your neck, screwing your eyes shut as a headache shot through your skull.

You studied the man in the soft light. You could not guess his age, simultaneously old and young, you guessed he was a little older than you. He had tanned skin and dark hair with a curious white, blonde streak in the front. A surprisingly well-kept moustache and a spattered beard covered his lower face and a white scar on his left cheek all together created an intriguing character.

“Are you comfortable?” He asked. You nodded. His kindness was unsettling. There was a gentle tone to his voice and a kindness in his eyes but everything outside of that was the complete opposite. You could not remember how you got here; all you knew was the pain your body was in. Had he attacked you? Had he saved you from something else? He could have killed you, but he didn’t. Something must have enticed him to save you and bring you here. Then you saw it.

In the stranger’s hand, he held a gold card. Your identification card. The golden emblem projecting from the card flickered in the poor light, showing your name and number and rank.

“Should I be asking for an autograph?” The stranger looked back up at you, a smirk on his lips, “I’ve always wanted to meet an author,”

“I-I am not an author,” You coughed, clearing your throat before speaking, “I’m a researcher,”

“You pen those books though, don't you? The Guide?” He asked, “There’s not that much literature being produced this day and age,”

“Technically, but we like to think it’s a team effort,” You shrugged, “I just collect the data and write preliminary reports,”

“Does your team know you’re lost here?” The stranger asked.

“No, I… I don’t know,” You said sadly. The computer had broken before you could send a distress call. With no way to get a message to them from the outer ‘verse it would take weeks for anyone to realise anything was wrong, “I would have to find a signal strong enough to send a distress message but the only way I could do that was with my ship,” You thought aloud. You paused for a moment, trying to remember what actually happened when you fell from the sky, “Where is my ship? Where are we?”

“I never saw your transport I’m afraid,” The stranger said, “You must have walked a considerable distance before crossing paths with me,” You frowned, without your ship you were stuck, “I brought your backpack, if that's of any aid to you,”

You immediately lit up. Taking that as a yes, the stranger reached over the cot and pulled up your rucksack. It was caked in mud and a lot less full than you know it should have been, but you ignored his looting and grabbed the bag from his hands.

The only things left inside were your underwear and a hygiene kit. Your stomach twisted at the thought that you had lost the most important item in the bag. Dumping the contents on the floor you searched through every pocket. The Stranger watched you, one brow raised, wondering what you were looking for.

“Did you take it?” You asked, “It won’t work for anyone but me, you might as well give it back,”

“I do not understand,” The stranger looked puzzled, looking down at the things on the floor to see what had upset you.

“My Guide, where is it? I don’t care about the other things, I need that back,”

“There were no books in there,”

“That is Federation property,”

“You’re going to have to explain what it is you’re so agitated about; I do not know what your Guide is,”

“You do, because you stole it!” You exclaimed. Raising your voice made your head hurt more, you flinched and screwed your eyes shut again.

“I am many things but I am not a thief,” The Stranger was offended by your accusation. You scowled at him. He was a liar and a thief, “I took the food from your bag as payment for my saving you,”

“The Guide uses my biometrics, it won’t be of any use to you or anyone you could sell it to,”

“Hold on, do you mean the flip device?”

“Yes!”

“That thing’s important?” He seemed genuinely surprised, “You can have it, it’s no use to me,”

The stranger stood up and walked the two steps to the other side of the small space. From a cluttered table he picked up the black computer. You sighed in relief, there could be some hope for you yet. He passed you the gadget which to your amazement was still in working order. It had got a little scratched in the crash but you pressed your thumb to the lock and it opened it instantly.

Every researcher had their own personal guide. Similar to an ancient flip phone, used commonly on Earth in the early 2000’s, each Guide was a little bigger than your palm. Though small, it was very mighty. Not only did it store every piece of information a researcher collected, but it also allowed communication through text, audio and holo. Through the System there was unlimited access to other researchers' files, yet unpublished information and access to the ‘verse's existing records. There were maps and history of every planet, and more importantly to you at that moment, census records.

As you had expected, you had no signal on the surface of the moon to send a message to headquarters for a rescue. Instead you focused on what you could find out.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed the man’s suit. Though a little hard to read in the dim light you could make out what looked to be an ID number. You had to know who your captor (or saviour) really was. 875-162.

You typed in the worn black ink digits and waited. Nothing was notorious for its poor reception. The stranger was no longer interested in you know you were engrossed in the computer and not trying to attack him, he got up and was rustling around out of view.

Finally, the page loaded. A photo matching the stranger, though a little younger looking, flashed up in holo. You quickly covered the beam with your finger so as not to alert the man with you. You swiped down to read the information.

“Ezra,” You said under your breath as you read the page.

“I don’t remember giving you my name,” Ezra spoke, making you jump. You looked up, cheeks growing hot as you realised you had said it out loud.

“I searched your ID number,” you said, embarrassed you’d been caught, you told the truth. Ezra frowned, looking around him to see where you had seen it. You pointed to the suit piled up on the floor. The numbers were faded and hard to make out from the distance but you had worked it out. Ezra followed your finger and chuckled lightly.

“I forgot such identification exists,” He said, “You have good eyes to make it out from there,” He added.

You hummed in agreement. You were in perfect condition, had to be for the work. Perfect condition except for the concussion and various bruises on your body.

“Well now you know my name, can I enquire as to yours? I doubt that everyone calls you Researcher 42,” Ezra read your name from the ID card beforehand. Leant against the shelves next to him, he looked down at you.

“Some do,” You said plainly.

“That ‘some’ includes me, does it,” He raised an eyebrow, not expecting you to become so cold.

“Seems like it,”

“42 seems a little impersonal considering I just saved your life,”

“I’m meant to stay separated from my subjects. Anonymity helps with objectivity,” You explained. That wasn’t entirely true. You had always made friends with at least one person in every planet or city you researched. It was how you got the inside scoop, the local knowledge that made your articles so popular. Guide Guidance said that researchers stay anonymous for objectivity, but your popularity said otherwise. You just didn’t want to get any closer to Ezra, even just a quick glance at his record told you that he was not someone you wanted to be friends with.

As he had already shown you, he was a thief. He had been convicted of fraud, arson and two counts of murder. No wonder he was here. Most of the places in Nothing were hot beds for criminals like him. Nowhere in Everywhere would hire him, you expected that he had been hired by a contractor to come here and work for his freedom. There wasn’t much freedom stuck on the green though.

“Whether you give me your name or not, you’ve not got much choice in staying separated. A helpless thing like you will need protection here,”

“And you’ll offer that for free, will you?” You asked sarcastically, immediately knowing he would want something from you in return. You were already indebted to him for saving your life.

“There are a few things I desire,” He looked over your body, smirk twitching on his lips. You curled your lip and moved away from him.

“If you’re going to rape me, I’d rather try my luck out there by myself,”

“Oh no! No, little mouse I would never. I have done some felonious acts but I am not a savage!” He exclaimed quickly covering for himself. You regarded him sceptically. He had supposedly killed two people; he’d already crossed a line most people would not. You didn’t believe he wouldn’t step over that line too. “No, The Guide will want you back, I imagine anyone who returned you would be well rewarded,”

“Possibly,”

“Here’s my offer. I provide protection and shelter whilst you are here, and come that fateful day your deliverance arrives, you will negotiate considerable compensation for me,”

“What compensation would you want?”

“Enough money to live comfortably for the rest of my days free of obligation, a ship to get me off this rock and a clear record,”

“And if I say no?”

“Then you can see how well you fare in the forest alone. Food is pretty scarce this time of year and I wouldn’t put it past a few of them to push some more… basic human morals,” Ezra smirked as your eyes double in size. In all your travels you had never encountered cannibals, not human cannibals anyway.

“I- I can’t promise anything,” You stumbled over your worlds as you accepted faster than you should have. You didn’t know there was anyone other than Ezra on this planet, but you were not in the mood to find out.

“We will discuss details when the time comes,” He said. You nodded. “Now we have all that out the way,” He stood up from the floor, “I have to get to work,”

“What about me?”

“You aren’t coming with me,” He said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“But you just said-,” you started to protest until Ezra pulled a gun from seemingly nowhere, you immediately shut your mouth and flinched, “What is that?”

“Protection,” He held the gun out, waiting for you to take it.

“No, no, no! You said-“

“Until your people come to your aid, and give me my money, I’ve got to keep working. Any time wasted is money lost out here,” He explained impatiently. He stepped back closer to you and dropped the gun in your lap, “I assume you do know how to use that even if you don’t carry one yourself?”

You looked at the gun, assessing it properly. It wasn’t complicated, a barrel you assumed was already full of bullets and a trigger. Nothing you hadn’t seen before, apart from the electrical tape that was holding it together. With no more protest from you, Ezra assumed it was fine and stepped away, resuming his routine.

“I will be back at sundown. Help yourself to some food,” He told you.

“My food,” You corrected him.

“Remember who is dependent on who here, 42,” He said scornfully. With that he put his helmet back on to his head and left the tent leaving you all alone.

You waited a few moments to make sure he was gone before making your move. You couldn’t stay with a murderer. You were safer in your ship, wherever it was. You could make a distress call and be rescued. Ezra would never know.

You pushed the gun from your lap onto the floor and tried to stand up. Sat down you could feel how sore your limbs were, your back ached from just sitting up for a few minutes and you were pretty sure you could feel every bone in your feet. A light touch to the forehead told you there was a sizable egg growing on top.

Standing up the pain was worse. You immediately became dizzy, gripping onto the metal shelf quickly to stop yourself from falling. You cursed under your breath and took a deep breath. You could do it.

Or maybe you couldn’t.

You took one step towards the table of things Ezra kept, and fell back on your ass. You were lucky not to pull the shelves down with you as it rocked forward slightly. A few items fell off, narrowly missing you. You dodged the heavy items, cringing as the metal thumped to the ground.

Listening to your screaming body, you gave up. You shuffled back to your previously comfortable position against the wall of the tent and looked around you for something to keep yourself occupied.

There at your feet lay a small book. Ezra wasn’t lying when he said he wanted to meet an author, he apparently was a bibliophile. You picked the paper up, stretching to reach it over your bruised and aching legs. It was well worn, obviously water damaged as the pages curled and the image on the front as warped beyond recognition. The title: “Welcome to the Green”.

You were not going anywhere.

sooo what do you think? i had so much fun writing this fic, i hope you guys enjoyed it too. let me know if you want to be tagged in the next part :D

TAGGING usuals and interested people :): @hunters-heathen @peterssweetpea @beskarbabs @wille-zarr @fandom-blackhole @writeforfandoms @dindja @amneris21 @yespolkadotkitty

#ezra (prospect) x reader #ezra x f!reader #ezra x reader #ezra prospect #x reader #ezra prospect angst #enemies to lovers #prospect movie #ezra #pedro pascal character x reader #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal #the guide #molly writes

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sxfik · 3 years

Text

stay.

read on ao3 • masterlist

summary: But before she could move another step, he grabbed her hand, tugging her towards him.

And then said the word that she always meant to declare to him.

a/n: okay im back with a much longer fic!! tbh this really just slipped out of me, it was meant to be a small blurb but i just kept writing and it turned into this so, ta-da!

i hope you enjoy this and let me know what you think/anything else you'd like to see from me!

The apartment door clicks open as Vincenzo shuffles in. Cha-young follows close behind him, but the silence that stretches between them makes her feel miles away from him. She glances over Vincenzo's figure as he removes his shoes, her eyes tracing up from his black slacks to his black coat that made his figure even more imposing, and finally down to his hand. His hand dried with the blood of the man he killed.

She bit her lip as she removed her shoes, Vincenzo moving ahead of her wordlessly, as if she wasn’t in the room. As she moves past the curtains shrouding the living room, he unexpectedly freezes and she almost runs into him. Cha-young holds her breath as he spun to face her, the sudden reminder of his proximity throwing her senses for a scramble.

“Ms. Hong I- uh,” he struggles, as he screws his eyes shut and the silence between them stretches for a beat longer. Cha-young searches his face as his eyebrows scrunch and the familiar wrinkles appear on his forehead. His hand rises up to the nape of his neck in a familiar gesture, before it froze. “I’m going to clean up,” he finally mumbles out, dropping his hand, and opening his eyes but refusing to meet her eyes.

A pang echoes through her heart and she opens her mouth, ever so slightly, her mind and heart flooding with everything she wants to say to him. Stay with me. Stay for me, here in Korea. I don’t care what you did, what you are. I’ll have all of it, I want all of you. And yet, nothing comes out. So she presses her lips tight and nods, afraid that her voice will give away everything bubbling over from her heart.

His eyes fall to the floor and he turns his back towards her, making his path towards his bedroom and his bathroom. Cha-young stands in his living room, her eyes following him until she hears the click of his door shutting. Her eyes linger at the door and her shoulders sag as she lets out a breath. She shuffles toward the sink in his kitchenette, her body moving on autopilot as she washes her hands. As she pulls apart his kitchen cabinets to find ramyeon and cooking something of sustenance, her mind drifts off to what she witnessed.

Cha-young knows she witnessed a side of him that he didn’t mean for her to see; she could see it in the way he refuses to meet her eyes and the slight crease between his eyebrows as he drove them home. Her mind flashes back to the moment she saw him, crouching over the body in the tunnel and running towards him without a moment's hesitation. Even though he was covered in someone else’s blood. Even though she knew what he had just done.

It terrified her. The worry and panic that filled her when she realized at the cafe what he set out to do was one thing, but the relief when she had her arms around him, the reassurance that he was actually in front of her, alive, was too much. And she knew, when he placed his trembling hand, the hand that killed, on her back and the edges of her hair, that she was past the point of return. Whether she wanted to or not, Vincenzo had carved his place into her heart, and ripping it out is too painful to contemplate.

And Joon-woo. Her bumbling intern. The boy who followed her around. Her father’s killer. His betrayal punched through her gut, the pain almost clutching at her throat. After her and her father’s estrangement, he was the one holding her up with his dramatics. Trusting someone, in the world she was clawing her way through, was hard. She knew that she wasn’t a righteous and pious figure and it drove a wedge through every relationship she built. She knows that she had a hand in her father’s death and so did Joon-Woo. But learning how far he went to secure Babel’s status and the pain he caused her was incomprehensible.

But, Vincenzo was there to catch her as she stumbled back into him. He became the strength she needed to face the reality of what Joon-woo is. Who Joon-woo is. And as she steeled herself, she truly understood that Vincenzo was more than her partner in revenge.

Shaking her thoughts away, she focused back on the task at hand and finished her cooking. She brought the pot of ramyeon to the table in front of the couch, the warmth and smell making her stomach grumble. As she was setting the table, the bathroom door creaked open, startling her. She turned to find Vincenzo, in his grey sweatshirt that hugged his body in a sinful way, staring hungrily past her and at the warm pot of food.

“Hungry?” she asked out to him, hiding her smile and failing. He nodded and shot her a small, boyish smile, making his way to sit by her at the table. They sat in the same positions as the night before, as they served themselves and slurped up the noodles, starving after the eventful night. The strained silence earlier stretched into a comfortable silence between them, as they focused on sustenance. Cha-young noted his quick glances at her as they ate, making her hyper aware of herself, and she stole her fair share of glances at him, examining his arms and the planes of his face.

Quietly and efficiently, they cleaned up their space, working in tandem with each other as if they’ve done this together their whole lives. As they finished up, Cha-young approached him in the living room, her gaze lingering on the floor for a moment before she plastered her signature smile on her face.

“I’ll leave for my house, now that you’re settled in. For tonight, you won’t have my presence here to pester you,” she teased him, even though she craved to have him by her tonight. He deserves a day of reprieve, she thought.

“Ah- Ms. Hong, uh, isn’t your window still not fixed?” questioned Vincenzo.

Cha-young scrunched her face at him. “Weren’t you the one that was sure my windows were fixed?”

“Yea-”

“Then, I’ll be out of your hair, Mr. Cassano, just like you wanted,” she quipped back, mocking the way he referred to her, as she spun away from him and started towards the door.

But before she could move another step, he grabbed her hand, tugging her towards him. And then said the word that she always meant to declare.

“Stay.” his voice pleaded ever so slightly, his eyes shining with emotion she never noticed before. “For tonight, stay here.” With me. She could feel the unspoken words pierce her heart as she paused. And then, she nodded.

“Okay,” she shakily replied back to him, and tilted her head up to fully gaze at him, for the first time that night. Vincenzo’s hand, the one that killed, reached up to her face, shaking ever so slightly as he caressed her jaw and his thumb brushed against her cheek, cradling her head in his hand. Cha-young closed her eyes, savoring his touch with the final promise toward herself. Just for tonight. I’ll indulge myself just for tonight.

As she broke away from him, from the warmth of his hand and presence towards the couch to make room for herself, he tugged her towards him. Towards his bedroom.

The hour passed as she laid in his bed, the moonlight filtering through his window and onto his face. She laid a small distance away on his bed and she spent the hour memorizing him, the look of peace across his face as he relaxed and fell into a deep sleep. She wanted to keep this exact image of him in her head forever, even after he eventually leaves her. Throughout all the chaos they had endured together, the pain and the loss they shared, she wanted to keep this version of Vincenzo, her version, with her forever.

“Villains don’t deserve to love” he had once said to her. But looking at him like this, she was sure that he was wrong. Vincenzo wasn’t the villain in her story. He was her hero.

#vincenzo #fanfiction #vincenzo fanfiction #mine #vincenzo cassano #hong cha young #vincenzo x cha young #cha young x vincenzo #chayenzo #vinyoung #kdrama #my writing feels so stiff lol

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lovieebby · 3 years

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White Winged Girl (part three)

Part One | Part Two

Sugar Daddy!Henry Cavill x F!Reader (she/her)

Summary: Its not easy to cover up when she’s filled to the brim with anxiety, though Henry could care less. This isn’t a game to him and he’s not letting this little minx slip through his fingers.

WC: 1.2k (whoops)

Warnings: 18+!!!, SMUT SMUT SMUT, rough sex, dubcon if you squint (thats a damn LIE) d/s dynamic, daddy kink, oral (m receiving), cum eatting ?? degradation, spanking & spitting

Note: yall idk what happened, my fingers let loose and im not sorry. & PLEASE can someone talk to me like this??

Also! I know on my mood boards theres ladies that are white and I don’t see the reader as white— she is you and I’m trying to find more plussized women and women that are poc so i can meet all your needs! But rlly lovelies, the reader is you and you are perfect and beautiful all on your own way! I just wanted to clarify that real fast bc I don’t want ppl feeling excluded from my works. I love each and everyone of you and if theres anything more I can do to help please please just say so, don’t be shy I promise I’m nice!! & all the pics were found on Pinterest so the credit goes to all the owners of the photos!!

When the door started to open, it gave her enough time to shuffle back while Henry collected his thoughts and calculated his approach. Her knees shook as a muffled sob rolled its way into her mouth, she tried to cover it but was met with Henry’s steely look. A look he only gave if she was going to be punished or put back into her place.

“I don’t—“ He stuttered, his lips pinching shut as his eyes glared into her disapprovingly. “You think it’s funny to say shit like that?”

He still looked dashing as ever, even if it was him in sweats and a jersey tee. His nostrils flared as he bounced his keys in his hand, chest rising and falling before he reverted his eyes away from her and onto the soft rug she stood on. She forgot he asked a question and dumbly fumbled with her fingers.

Again she looked like a little girl lost in the big blue world ready to cry over the stupidest things, and Henry drank it up. He quickly shoved his keys in his deep pocket and took long strides to her, she froze still.

“Did I fucking studder?” He growled, gripping her chin as he backed her into the green velvet couch.

Such a spoiled thing, he thought, how ungrateful.

She sat with a gasp, chest rising fast with her heartbeat thrumming in her suddenly tight ribcage. She shook her head, a small hiccup bubbling up her throat. Henry moved so quick she swore she would have gotten whiplash as her back hit the seat of the couch. Her legs rose to his chest and her ass was met with harsh slaps.

“No please! I’m sorry!” She cried, trying so hard to cover her cheeks. With fruitless attempts of waving her hands to stop him, Henry’s bigger hand trapped her wrists in his grasp and continued his assault.

Her skin prickled with pain, her frails ending and she took his rough punishment with silent cries and mewls mixed with Henry’s heavy breathing. His curls bounced on his clammy forehead, and with a curt huff he was satisfied with the lesson. But knowing himself, he knew this was just the beginning.

“Who pays for your things, hmm? —Your stupid pretty little things?” He grumbled, pinning her ankles in his armpit, “No, I’m bloody serious! Who?”

His shout made her pant a dry sob, “You d-do.” She whispered weakly.

Henry moved his hands to the seam of her black leggings and ripped roughly at the crotch, exposing her whole self to him and the open air. He didn’t bother to correct her, the answer was good enough and with another slap to her heated cheeks caused her to squeal her answer louder. It was perfect for him.

She tilted her head to look at the older mans face, she’s never gotten punished by him like this and it killed her. It ate at her fragile heart and made her feel terrible for causing his frustration. She desperately wanted to be on his good side; yearned for it like a baby fawn searching out its mother.

“Daddy I—“

“No, nothing from you.” He snapped, his bright eyes nearly eaten by his darkened pupils, making her own eyes clamp shut to let herself believe he couldn’t see her.

She heard his keys jingle before she could open her eyes again, but when she did, they shot open to the rushed and forced entrance of her daddy’s swollen and blunt tip of his cock at her quivering cunt. She gasped loudly at his thrusts, mouth falling open in a broken scream.

“You don’t-“ He panted loudly, her pussy clamping tight around his length, “bite the hand that fucking feeds you!”

His heavy balls smacked against her warmed cheeks, creating a beautiful sound to Henry’s hungry ears. And when he felt the wind from the open door, he made for damn sure it continued to get louder and louder.

“Tell me you don’t want this. Go ahead, tell me you stupid little girl.” He taunted, his cock sliding easily into her drenched canal that made room for Henry to call home.

When she didn’t answer clearly, only in broken moans and garbled whimpers, Henry breathlessly laughed. Her sweet eyes hooded over in a fucked out gleam, her body limp as Henry thrusted deep and rough. All she knew was Henry’s large hands and the way his cock slid so easily into her. The only thing she could do was chant “Daddy, daddy, daddy!” And Henry loved every minute of her broken voice.

He was overly ecstatic of her being broken, watching her look at him like he hung the moon and stars. It was all he craved and he’d do this again and again just so he could see her fucked out face watch him dumbly like a whore. His heavy hand rested on her cheeks, squeezing her them together as he watched her pussy become swollen and red with his undying thrusts.

“You belong to me, got that?” He groaned, tightening his grip on her face, darting his gaze away from the lewd and intoxicating sight of them being connected in such a sinful way.

Her lips trembled as she nodded, at least tried to nod in agreement. He could feel his release approaching fast, the loud slapping matched with the absurdity wet smacks of his balls hitting her. With a loud roar, he tore away from her like she had burnt him, shoving her legs down onto the ground and stepped closer to her.

With his angry cock in hand, glistening beautifully in her honey like juices, he surged himself roughly into her mouth. “Eat it baby, ta-take it all and lemme- see it.”

His voice broke in a rough whine of its own, not being able to hold on for much longer. Though she eagerly took his beaten head into her warm mouth, it was her soft and shaking hands gripping tight around his shaft that sent him over. Henry moaned loudly, growling almost with praise as he emptied everything he had to give into her sweet mouth.

Her jaw let loose in perfect timing, letting him see his cum paint her tongue while his jaw clenched as he let out a snarled pant, approving her obedience. “Good girl. Very good.”

She didn’t know what was up, down, left or right. Her mind went into autopilot as she widened her mouth to show her daddy all she caught. The once mean and rough hand, now softly closed her mouth as his breath evened out and watched her soft throat swallow all his seed. His brows rose in a knowing look, waiting for her to stick her tongue out to show him she took it all. And when she did, like always, he spat down her pink throat.

If you want to be added/removed lemme know! Feedback is always welcomed, love you lots and be nice to yourself my bbies ;))

Tag list: @hell1129-blog @snowbellexx @summersong69 @kaizet @omgkatinka @hinata7346 @thethirstyarchive @mary-ann84 @agniavateira @shaybabbby @oddsnendsfanfics @cavillshmavill @fun-with-jane @radaofrivia @iloveyouyen @jessevans @thatglimmerofhope @ollyoxenfrees @woofgocows @captaingothgirl1996 @honeychicana @viking-raider @seb-owns-these-tatas @laufeysodinson @msblkfire84 @youngdreamer3214 @hockeyblogg @october505 @allwaysadoll

#henry cavill au #henry cavill fanfiction #sugardaddy!henry cavill x reader #mean!daddy!henry cavill x reader #sugar daddy!hebry cavill au #sugar daddy!henry cavill fanfic #d/s dynamic fanfic

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ithoughtthiswastwitterbutfr · 3 years

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WandaVision Episode 8 spoilers

Ok I heard this episode is sad so I’m prepared to cry and ruin my eyeliner.

I’m just emotionally preparing myself rq before I start I’m assuming a lots gonna go down cause the second episode is the finale.

I’m still not ready 2 minutes later lmao wait.

Okay hmm the title is called Previously On so we’re going back in time to her childhood based on the summary.

I think we’re gonna get more insight on her and Visions relationship and how it formed and hopefully get to see her relationship with her brother I’m starting now.

Ugh my TV is glitching

Okay we’re starting out in witch trials so it’s Agathas backstory the lady staring at her looks familiar. Oh it’s her mom

Her powers are blue here she’s into dark magic and the book in her basement is the stolen book from Doctor Strange im assuming she began learning dark magic from it l.

As they started to drain her. Her powers became blue and she starting to drain them back. I’m assuming the witches shared power and it was blue and now that it’s dark magic it’s purple.

Wow she killed her whole coven my draining them of their life and magic. Then she took her mother’s amulet so that’s the amulet she’s always wearing from the comics is.

She admitted her thoughts weren’t available and she was never under control.

Her accent is back because she’s angry because of her children being missing.

She possessed the fake Pietro from another universe she didn’t say he was from another universe she just said she couldn’t get to his body so she had to do possession instead of necromancy.

She picked up the fly now she’s chanting in Latin

She’s mind controlling and talking about how thousands of people can be under your control and all interact with each other with complex storylines which makes me think she wants Wanda power because she’s jealous she can do everything like transformation and mind control without having to study all the spells

“Magic on autopilot,” Dhe wants to know how she did this and she wouldn’t tell her and now she’s manipulating her with her own loneliness. She took a piece of her hair so now she has her DNA

Real reruns aka memories so she can look into them to see how she did it.

Her kids are crying out for in the basement so she’s gonna go with Agatha to save them I honestly don’t think the cries were her own.

OHHH MY GOD

All the movies her parents were going to sell were the decades and movies she did projected.

When Wanda walked into the memory she turned into her younger self,

The Dick Van Dick show is in the TV shape of the one Darcy used on the first episode so we know where she got her inspo for that one.

Everything outside makes me think this is the scene where her parents die.

The Stark bomb just hit and she’s looking around and can’t find her family yeah the Stark industry label is in front of her and she’s reverted back to Sokovian because she’s young and not the best at English yet I’m assuming.

The TV I’d still on and playing the show “At the end of the episode you realize it was all a bad dream,” I’m not sure why she said that part in English maybe because she’s referring to the show and movie nights are for English?

Agatha is asking if she used a probability hex to stop the bomb because Wanda reached her hand out towards it and that’s how she uses her powers.

Maybe Agatha is hinting towards Wanda being a natural born witch?

“So what I see here a baby witch obsessed with sitcoms and years of therapy ahead of her. Doesn’t explain your recent hijinks,”

Wanda used her powers subconsciously there and she’s probably using her powers subconsciously to keep Westview running and she used them subconsciously to get it started.

“The only way forward is back,”

She’s referring to Wanda not wanting to go back to Hydra I haven’t seen the scene yet but I’m assuming it’s because the testing was painful and because she now knows who hydra is and what it stands for.

“Don’t be scared you already lived it once,”

They have Loki’s sceptor of course im assuming they got it from SHIELD since they are SHIELD.

She didn’t have to touch the sample it just came to her on its own further proving she’s a witch but I don’t think she knows she moved it,

She touched the tesseract making the mine stone she then absorbed all its energy and passed out.

In isolation she’s watching another sitcom I just can’t figure out which it is.

I’m sure the episode on the TV is important “she hasn’t got any feeling,” maybe it’s about the Westview citizens or maybe it’s about vision being a doll or like a puppet and the brother is like “she hasn’t got any feelings” just like when Pietro or Fietro called Vision a popsicle an inanimate object

“So little orphan Wanda got up close and personal with an infinity stone that amplified what otherwise would’ve died on the vine. The broken pieces of you are adding up buttercup I have a theory but I need more,” This is probably talking about how if you don’t use your powers or learn to control them you stop having them but the infinity stone just made the powers she already had stronger. The name Scarlett Witch is starting to make sense now.

Another door another memory that I’d her watching Malcom in the middle.

She said the Avengers compound was the first home she had ever shared with Vision and with her family and country gone she felt alone so I’m assuming she’s with Vision cause he cured her loneliness.

Vision walking through the walls again she asking him to watch the sitcom with her. The sitcoms are important to her and she’s sharing them with him.

“So it is funny because of the grievous injury that man just suffered?” Vision

“No he’s not really injured,” Wanda

“How Can you be sure?”

“It’s not that kind of show,”

I think this is sort of related to the fact that nothing bad ever happens in Westview permanently like in Malcolm in the middle where the roof structure fell on the dad sure he got hurt but it wasn’t a detrimental injury.

He wants to comfort to her “The only thing that would bring me comfort is seeing him again,” Wanda about Pietro she felt the same with Vision hence why Westview is happening and why he’s back.

“I’m so tired, It’s just like this wave washing over me again and again it knocks me down and when I try stand up it just comes for me again and I can’t- it’s just gonna drown me,” How she explains her grief and depression we’re getting a glismpe of how she copes with death in her actual reality.

Vision says he’s always been alone he never experienced loss because he never had a loved one to lose.

“What is grief if not love preserving,” Okay damn Vision getting all deep.

Aww they just had a moment and now he’s laughing over the show how sweet. The awkward smile they did at eachother. How cute

Vision was dead and she wanted him back now we get to see how she stole Visions body back from her perspective.

All the news on the TV playing might not be revelant but it’s related to tamiles being reunited after the blip. So this is very shortly after the blip and some people might be right thinking it was almost directly after Tony’s funeral.

“He deserves a funeral at least I deserve it,”

They’re letting her take him probably to be able to paint her as a villain which is why Hayward cut out the first part of the footage.

She’s being shown him take apart and sawed she’s in pain seeing him practically dying again. Hayward called vision a weapon and Wanda is saying he’s not a weapon because he wasn’t and he didn’t want to be a weapon Hayward is hiding his true intentions of bringing him back to be his own weapon

“I just want to bury him. That’s all I want,”

She said she can’t do that she truly believes she can’t.

He won’t let her take $3 billion of vibranium to put in the ground she just wanted him to have a proper burial but Hayward provoked her and set her off.

She can’t feel him. A nod to how Vision said “I only feel you,” When he asked Wanda to kill him there is nothing left. She hot in the car and went to Westview she left and when she left she didn’t have Visions body.

She’s pulled up to place where she planned to grow old in with Vision and it’s been demolished this is the scene where she breaks down crying over it. And when she grieved she lets it get the best of her which is how she put the house back together without realizing she was doing it. Then that spread over the whole town and she is projected her own version of Vision. But I’m unsure if this is really Vision or not because then she’d be way more powerful than I ever believe to be able to create people own her own.

Oh wow she’s showing all the lights and it’s like she’s own set so she’s back to where Agatha had this all set up and she was the audience.

Agatha is choking the twins “I know what you are. You have no idea how dangerous you are. You’re supposed to be a myth. A being capable of spontaneous creation. and here you are using it to make breakfast for dinner.” Maybe Wanda was a prophecy before hand and she just never learned how powerful she really was and now Agatha is trying to feed off her powers I’m assuming she’s going to try to get Wanda to push her powers into her so she can drain her.

“Let go of my children,” Wanda with her accent coming back.

“Oh, yes your children and Vision and this whole little life you’ve made, this is Chaos magic Wanda. That makes you the Scarlett Witch,” Ugh yes one of those moments where they say a name of the movie or a character that’s basically it’s own movie I love it.

I’m gonna research Chaos magic and then I’ll reblog this again after I research some other things too.

End credits time. “Team is ready for launch,” They’re going to use Wanda own power to attack her using Visions actual corpse. He’s been brought back as the one thing he didn’t want to be. A weapon. I’m not sure who that was who powered it up but was it Monica’s contact?

Also doesn’t Agatha have Monica now if she was possessing Fietro? I have a lot of questions that I can’t get out right now

#wandavision theories #wandavisionedit #wandavision spoilers #WandaVision #wanda maximoff #vision #billy and tommy #billy maximoff #tommy maximoff #pietro maximoff #agatha harkness #director hayward #monica rambeau #Scarlett witch

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kotalefanzu · 3 years

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Pitch Pearl ATUS AU- Part 3

ahahaha. i finally came back to wite the finale. WOOOO. im still sorry about waiting so long oof.

where we last left off, danny had a dream about phantom, in which he tells him about the creation of the natural portals. he leaves danny, saying that he’ll come running back soon enough. when he wakes up, jazz tells him that sam and tucker have gone missing.

danny takes a second to process that information along with the dream and his brain just shuts down. he goes on autopilot, acting like he didn’t hear a word she just said. jazz tries to snap him out of it to get some sort of reaction but when she actually looks him in the eyes, filled with exhaustion, fear, and helplessness, she realizes that he doesn’t need any more things to worry about and goes to tell their parents not to bother him.

when she leaves, he blankly goes through the motions as he normally would. just like before this all happened. he checks his phone with slight hope that they may have tried to contact him, but after realizing he spent ten minutes just staring at it, he puts it away and doesn’t check it again. the walk to school is nothing but a stream of consciousness and he doesn’t even really feel awake anymore. everyone is just a blur while his brain refuses to process anything around him.

he gets to class, looks at his friends’ desks, and notices two cleanly carved DP symbols on them. it makes him start giggling a little, then laughing loudly, before he sinks to the ground crying out of frustration and overload.

a town meeting is called in the middle of school. the missing children line up with the new influx of ghost sightings and they want to check to see if any more kids have gone missing. someone points out the danny got taken last and the two missing children were his friends. others bring up the lunchroom incident and start pestering him with questions, seeking answers. danny waits for his family to quiet everything down before explaining everything from his first day in captivity all the way to last night’s dream. many people want to push the blame onto danny for painting a target on their heads and force him to deal with it on his own while others want to use danny as a bargaining tool to save their lives.

the fentons reject every suggestion and say that the most important thing here to do if to protect the children and find a way to defeat the ghosts now that blocking their way into the human realm is no longer an option. they explain that giving danny up might be a trap if phantom was able to kidnap sam and tucker but didn’t head straight for danny. he is told to safe and not try anything.

the GIW are called in to work on locating one of the portals and storming the ghost zone to rescue the missing children. danny is desperate to help and spends most of his time reliving unwanted memories just to give any form of information that might be helpful. after a while they send him away to try getting back to normal life as he needs a form of distraction.

at lunch, he is cornered by the other teens who ask if he is really just going to sit there and do nothing. danny is hesitant to lead more children into the ghost zone where they could be hurt, but they are determined and at this point, he is willing to risk it. after stealing a bunch of weapons from his parent's old weaponry vault, he finds a natural portal and opens it. they get sucked into it and arrive in the courtyards of phantom’s keep.

the ectoplasm flooding his system is mildly overwhelming but he pushes through it and begins guiding everyone to the dungeons where they would probably be kept. he notices while navigating that strangely everything is the same as it ws before he left, from to the decor to the guard rotations. when they reach the dungeons, sam and tucker aren’t there. it confuses him. he tries to think about where else phantom could have put them and a small voice whispers, ‘check your old wing’. its actually easier to sneak back to his old wing due to all the times he has snuck in and out of it. while the rest of the group aren’t so used to the routes, following him makes it a lot easier. waiting in the common room of the wing are sam and tucker, posed like lifeless dolls and dressed in clothing uncomfortably similar to what danny once wore, though less extravagant. their skin is pale and lifeless and their eyes are glowing

perched on their heads are silvery circlets. danny motions for the rest of the group to stand behind him. sam and tucker slowly turn to look at them and another battle breaks out.

its obvious from how they are fighting that while they wont strike to kill danny, they dont care about sparing the rest. the group slowly works out a system of one half distracting sam while the other go to hold down tucker and remove the circlet. as soon as it comes off, the glow from his eyes fades and he stills like they pushed his power button. with one less person constantly firing at them, its a lot easier to do the same for sam as she can’t fight them all off. dash and kwan take up carrying the limp, unconscious people and they make off with their battle spoils to the portal.

danny reopens the portal and makes sure everyone gets through, doing a headcount. when he is sure everyone is accounted for and out of the ghost zone. he thanks them and seals it, locking them in the human realm with him on the other side.

it takes a while for the group to finally tell someone what happened and they start fearing how to explain to the two dead to the world people who still haven’t woken up yet. they finally fess up when jazz drives by and asks where danny is. they silently just show her sam and tucker and watch the emotions flicker rapidly on he face. in the end she settles on heartache and gives a weak smile, telling them that she’s glad they are back but wishes they could have brought her brother back as well. she is more forgiving when they explain that it was his decision and they didnt have time to stop him before it was too late.

back in the ghost zone, danny stares blankly at the sealed portal, wondering if he should just step through now before its too late. just as he reaches out his hand, he gets pulled in a tight embrace as phantom laughs in his ear.

“What did I tell you, Starlight. You would come running back into my arms soon enough. Let’s go back home. You’ll find I didn’t change anything when you left. We can go right back to how it used to be before. Like you never ran away from me.”

he stays huddled up in his room for most of the time, only coming out when phantom wants him to accompany him on an errand or when he has to attend meetings with phantom. the faces are familiar. he made a few friends during his captivity and while the circumstances are grim, its pleasant to see them again.

for starters, clockwork was a common face when danny began getting incredibly homesick. phantom had requested danny be allowed to view the present of his ‘loved ones’ lives and he had spent every moment he could watching them throughout the day and making sure they were fine. clockwork also had hilariously awful puns, though they werent allowed to actually say them anymore after phantom got jealous and forbade them from speaking to danny. danny still carried the one-sided conversations and it seemed to cheer clockwork up from the decree. princess dora, now queen dora, was also a good friend of his, often discussing with him the pain of living with overbearing nobility. she had done a double-take when he approached her and sat him down to calmly ask what happened, though he could see the tension laced through her. after recounting she took a long sip of her tea and looked him in the eyes. she told a seemly random story of her exploring her kingdom and hearing a bard singing about how the mighty dragon princess stole the dragon king’s crown and the mighty dragon queen took her dear brother down. the piercing look in her eyes before she moved to a new topic told him more than enough.

the few moments of reprieve they offered was not enough to outdo the lappet treatment of phantom that allowed for no rejection, but it was something and it was all he could ask for.

sam and tucker wake up finally after being in a coma for two days. after scanning the room filled with their classmates, parents, and the fenton family, they quickly realize the only one not there that should be is danny. sam is the first one to speak, immediately yelling at them for trading them for danny and going off about how they need to go back for him as soon as possible. dash defends them by telling her that its not their fault danny closed the portal before any one of them could drag his skinny self sacrificing ass through it. they cant reopen it without him.

sam quiets down after that and tucker takes out asking all the questions he can think of to find a way to fix this. there has to be a way to reopen the portal.

(a cut back scene to danny interacting with phantom. im not good with writing abuse mixed with love very well so go ahead and use your imaginations okay uwu)

sam and tucker also end up secluding themselves and working nonstop on trying to figure out how to save danny. jazz stops by every day to check on them and pass on homework and anything she hears about the ghosts to them. while they start cleaning up the room to take a break and finish schoolwork, sam trips on a piece of paper and is about to fall. only she is caught in mid-air and surrounded by a neon lime green aura, one similar to danny’s though his is a bluish mint. the aura dissipates and she hits the ground with a soft thud but everything stops as tucker and her look at each other in shock.

“That was you!”

“That was me!”

homework gets pushed aside again for experimentation and documenting. they might be able to reopen the portal after all.

#im so nice to characters #look at my kindness #arent i so nice #i edited this #less typos this time around owo #sorry there is going to be another part.#there is so much #danny phantom au #Danny Phantom #danny fenton #pitch pearl au #pitch pearl #tw: toxic relationship #tw: brain washing #part 3 #part 4 coming soon promise

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orionwhispers · 4 years

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Perfect Places // Steve Harrington

(A/N - yep. this isnt peaky, i know. im taking a little breather so i dont completely burn out writing tommy, but trust me i have 3 wips for him coming soon!! i dont know if any of you guys will like this bc its stranger things and thats ok!! i just had a blast writing it and i love steve and it really challenged me. pls let me know if u like it!! stay safe my loves xxx)

warnings - angst but also so much fluff your teeth will rot

You felt like the moon was mocking you.

It loomed overhead, round and full and beautiful, the colour of purity and innocence, a beacon of light contrasting against the ink coloured sky. Your face was red hot, streaked with tears that dripped down your nose and collarbone and into your shirt, staining you with sadness that you could feel clawing under your skin.

You were sat on the Byers’ front porch, the sneakers you had once kept so pristinely clean were now caked in mud, your socks soaked through. You felt numb, you ached for something; a familiar lash of anger or heartache, anything to make you feel human again, but you just felt numb.

You could hear clattering from inside the house, low murmurs of voices and whispers tangling together, but you blocked them out like it was just white noise. The steady hum of those you loved and trusted brought some comfort, but that was instantly replaced by longing for the one person who deserved to be there, the person who deserved to still be alive.

You had been ecstatically high on adrenaline, you were terrified but vivacious as you helped bundle your boyfriend and the kids into Hoppers’ car as he raced past the Laboratory’s gates. You remembered the feeling of Steve’s hands around your waist as he pushed you into the back, flustered and protective, determined to get you away from any danger.

You should have said something.

You knew something was wrong, but you kept quiet. The air in the car was thick and dense like smoke, and Hopper was covered in crimson coloured splotches, you noticed the way he didn’t look at you, instead keeping his eyes focused on the road ahead. You should have said something, should have asked where your Uncle was, should have demanded an answer, but instead you pushed those thoughts away and watched the road through the windshield until your vision went blurry, Steve’s thumb soothingly rubbing over the top of your hand.

You knew he felt it too.

It was only when you reached the driveway of the Byers bungalow, feet moving on autopilot, tearing through the front door and seeing Joyce waiting for you, tears running down her face as she pulled you into her chest, did you realise the immensity of the situation. You let out a wail that could rival a demogorgon, sinking down into the coarse fabric of her hospital gown, her hands clambering across your frame, desperate to offer any comfort she could.

Steve was beside you in an instant, gripping your elbows to stop you falling onto your knees and onto the shag carpet, cradling you into him like a child. He felt so helpless, not knowing how to ease your pain, words getting stuck in his throat like cotton balls as he watched the girl he loved shatter into pieces. One look at his familiar face contorted in torment and it set you off again, coughing and spluttering like you were drowning in your tears. You pushed the consolatory hands off of you harder than you had intended, feeling suffocated and in desperate need of some form of relief. You were no good to anybody like this, you needed to wallow in your grief alone, Joyce had bigger problems and you refused to drag her down under with you.

You stumbled towards the front door, murmuring “I need some air.” You sank into the darkness like it was an old friend, wrapping your arms around yourself as your head throbbed and pulsed. You let the cold air hit your bare skin and fell to the ground, knees to your chest and silent screams leaving your throat.

Steve ran forward to be by your side, but Hopper pulled him back by the hood of his jacket, a large hand consoling your distraught boyfriend, “Let her go kid, give her a minute.”

He gave you five.

Watching the hands tick away meticulously on the clock above the fridge, he flexed his fingers and allowed the slow and steady noises to keep him grounded. He loathed the idea that you were outside alone, beautiful face covered in tears, heartbroken and shattered. Not only that but the knowledge that those things could be looming in the woods waiting to sink their teeth into you was driving him mad with paranoia. The only thing stopping him from pulling you inside where he could safely watch you was the unwavering concern that not letting you grieve would do more harm than good, so he settled for watching you through the window, hands clamped around his trusty bat - just in case.

————————————————————

You were sure you had run out of tears. Exhausted and dehydrated, you buried your head in the palm of your hands, desperate to stop the mind numbing pain at the back of your skull. The trees rustled gently, olive coloured leaves glinting under the stars. You wondered what could be lurking inside of the forest, but you were too drained to care.

You heard the door creak behind you, but relaxed at the familiar weight of Cortez’s against the soft wood.

“Hey.” His voice was soft, almost timid. Sounding so foreign coming from his mouth, so cautious and kind that it almost made you start crying all over again. He paused momentarily, before inhaling and sitting down beside you, his long legs awkwardly bent, his back starting to ache, but he couldn’t care less. You both sat in a comfortable silence for a minute, unsure how to break down the barrier that was forming between you. Your hazy eyes lingered on the T-shirt’s and sweaters dangling from the Boyce’s washing line, sleeves swaying with the movement of the wind, almost as if there was an invisible person dancing inside.

Steve was the first to break the silence. He usually was, his quick wit and smooth demeanour had been one of the reasons you had fallen for him in the first place, the only person you had ever met that could make you melt into a puddle and then cry with laughter with just a few sentences.

“How you holding up?” He faltered, picking angrily at a loose thread hanging from his denim jeans. “That was a stupid question, I’m sorry.”

You didn’t trust yourself to form words just yet, but you tilted your head as much as you could muster, communicating with your boyfriend in that nauseating way that only the both of you understood, except this time it felt sour instead of sickeningly sweet.

You crunched a stray leaf under your shoe, mulling over the sound as it tore under your heel. “It doesn’t feel real.” You muttered finally, biting your lower lip with your front teeth, letting the pain stop your tears. “I keep expecting to see his face, his stupid goofy grin.” You smiled gently, “I keep waiting for him to turn up and say it’s all a prank, but I know he won’t, he’s too kind for that.”

“He was the nicest person I’ve ever met.” Steve said truthfully, “He was a good guy.”

Was. Three words that swam around your head and tangled your stomach into knots and you choked on the thickness in your throat. The strangled groan was so heartbreaking that Steve wanted to tear apart the things that did this to you with his bare hands, but instead he pulled you closer with them, clasping you against his chest.

He let you cry, he let you ruin his t-shirt and cover him in your mascara and wet, hot tears. He would let you bawl into everything he owned, even his prized The Clash shirt or limited edition Charlies Angels sweater that was buried in the back of his wardrobe - he would give it all to you, to stain and rip and ruin, if it meant you had at least one moment of solace.

Under the beautiful navy sky littered with stars, Steve sighed, wishing he knew what to say. He wished that he was as articulate as Nancy, or as strong as Hopper, he’d even take being as soft spoken as Jonathon, if he knew it would make you feel better. But you hadn’t fallen in love with any of them, you had fallen in love with him and he was going to do everything in his power to try and make his girl hurt a little less. So he tried to distract you.

“Do you remember our first date?” He said, breaking the silence, his eyes focusing on the branches of a tree swaying in the distance.

He heard you sniffle, felt the rise of your head under the palm of his hands. If you were surprised by his question you didn’t show it. “How could I forget?”

He smiled, thinking back to the day, over two years ago. If he thought hard enough he could almost relive the gut twisting anxiety and the sweat pooling on the nape of his neck as he pulled up to your house. The two of you had been friends forever, bound since the day you both shared peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in the playhouse in kindergarten. But you both started naturally drifting apart around the end of middle school, settling onto different paths as you grew up, only really seeing each other in the hallways or at the back of the school bus.

By the time you both entered high school, Steve was completely swept up with basketball and his newfound popularity, and you were settling into your own friendships and trying to stay on top of your grades. You rarely saw one another, but by chance the two of you were paired as lab partners one semester in sophomore year, and soon science became his favourite subject. Seeing you became the highlight of his day, better than scoring a goal in basketball or cutting class with Tommy and Carol. It was as if no time had passed between the two of you, the conversation so easy and genuine, and he made it a personal challenge to have you in stitches by the time the bell rang.

He fell hard, and fast. He had always thought you were beautiful, even when you were just kids and you wore your hair in two braids and seemed to always be covered in glitter. There was just something about you, an ease and a lightness that you carried, something about your smile and sound of your laugh that had him stumbling over his sentences like an idiot. He liked hearing about all of the things he had missed, like how you got grounded for sneaking out of your room to go and watch the new Star Wars, or how you crashed your dads car into a tree the very first hour after you got your license.

It wasn’t long before he realised that his day didn’t feel complete unless he had spoken to you. He started noticing how every game he searched for your face in the bleachers, the only person he really cared about seeing. His eyes would flicker over faces at parties, determined to find your sparkling eyes and kind smile, finding the hit of seeing you more electric than the cheap beer and fizzled out joints being passed around him.

He was nervous. He didn’t get nervous - he was Steve Harrington for Christ’s sake, but somehow you had managed to turn his whole world on its axis. He tried to live his life with as little regrets as possible; but in the quiet of his bedroom, with the moonlight casting shadows across his walls, he couldn’t help but feel furious with himself. If he could go back in time and do everything all over again, he would make sure to hold onto you as tight as possible and stop the two of you drifting apart.

He wasn’t stupid, he knew you were a knockout. The kind of girl that would bring even the strongest of men to their knees, the kind of girl that lingered in his brain long after he had fallen asleep. He also knew that he wasn’t the only one who had been completely captivated by you. He had seen the way Mike Adams cornered you after the school assembly, laughing at something you said as you sat with a group of friends, an enamoured look in his eye. He saw the way Jacob Taylor tried his hardest to get as close to you as possible at a house party, dazed by the way you twirled your hair obliviously and smiled like white, hot sunshine.

He knew what they were going through, smitten and stupid and dopey and practically a puddle at your feet, because he felt exactly the same way.

He was going to ask you out to dinner and then the movies. He had an elaborate speech planned in his mind, one that he had practiced in the mirror repeatedly - not that he would ever admit it. He was nervous. So goddamn nervous of screwing up the one thing that he really fucking liked, of potentially ruining your friendship and making himself look like an ass for misreading the signals and making you uncomfortable that he almost talked himself out of it as he walked into the physics lab one rainy afternoon.

But when he saw you there, looking up at him. As sweet as cinnamon in your oversized lab coat and stupid goggles, lips slightly chewed and fingertips stained with charcoal, and he couldn’t stop himself from blurting:

“Doyouwanttogooutwithme?”

For a moment he wished he took photography class, so he could snap a picture of the blush on your cheeks, have a physical copy of your wide smile and the glint in your eyes; something to look at when he was trying to fall asleep.

“About time, Harrington.” You had said, and it had knocked all of the wind from him, and he had walked around with a big goofy grin for the entire rest of the day.

————-————————————————

“I remember being so goddamn nervous. I thought I was going to throw up.” He said now, his voice laced with humour, somehow always knowing how to diffuse any situation.

You curled up further into him, craving his stability and warmth, and you relaxed as you felt his palm rubbing comforting circles across your back.

He looked into the darkness, remembering the anxiety filling him as he waited for you on the street by your house. He remembered peering into the rear view mirror, fluffing the edges of his hair with his fingertips, twisting and pulling the strands until they sat where he wanted. He could feel his leg shaking, foot hovering above the gas as he struggled to keep his composure. He hadn’t even been this nervous when college scouts came to a game, and he seriously needed to stay cool before you opened the door and saw him.

“You brought me flowers.” You said quietly, and he looked down at you with a gentle smile, his heart clenching at the sadness in your voice.

He remembers standing in the grocery store, cursing and muttering under his breath, wondering what was more romantic: tulips or sunflowers.

He bought both.

He can remember holding them in his shaking hands as carefully as he could as he walked up the stone path to your house.

“I had to talk myself into ringing the doorbell.” He felt you scoff under him and he laughed,

“Seriously! I was terrified, more scared than I was tonight.”

Its a lie. Running through the junkyard and fighting off strange monsters had been exhilarating, but also the most terrifying experience of his life; especially when he knew that the kids and you were just metres away, hidden in the old bus. He really thought he was about to die when the demodog reared and snarled in his face, teeth gnashing at his throat, but in those moments all he could think about was protecting you.

It’s strange, he had never been so terrified to lose someone.

“And then Bob opened the door.” Your voice was heavy and thick, like you were swallowing honey and it snapped him out of his thoughts, reminding him of the reason you were both huddled outside.

Your parents worked ninety percent of the time, only really coming home to crawl into bed and then driving back to work six hours later. You were used to it though, falling into a somewhat stable routine of eating TV dinners and doing your homework to the sounds of Jeopardy! playing in the background. Despite the lonely nights and your parents distance, there was always one person who tried their absolute best to make you feel safe and secure. Your uncle, Bob Newby.

The goofy, gold hearted manager at RadioShack was always there for you, especially whenever your parents weren’t. He always made sure your refrigerator had something green inside, and would come over after work to sit and watch cheesy rom coms with you. He even installed new locks and security lights in the yard and on the porch, just to make you both feel better, even though it was Hawkins - and nothing ever happens there.

He was basically a surrogate dad and your best friend, and you weren’t even embarrassed to admit it. Some of the happiest nights of your life had been with him, like when you went to the midnight viewing of The Godfather and shared toffee popcorn and cherry twizzlers, or when he drove you to Lake Michigan for your birthday and you ate sandwiches next to the water.

So when he found out the captain of the basketball team had asked you out on a date, he was a little apprehensive.

“He really grilled me.” Steve muttered with a sad smile, it hurt him that one of the most poignant moments of his life was now to be covered in a thick, black cloud, and he could only imagine what you’re going through. “I thought he was going to pull out a shotgun.”

“Psh. It would have been a lightsaber.”

You remembered shovelling in cereal at the breakfast bar the morning of your date. Bob watching you over his steaming mug of coffee curiously.

“So… Any plans for today?”

You rolled your eyes and smiled fondly at your uncle. “Steve is taking me out. This is only like the billionth time I’ve told you.”

He nodded, “Right, Right. Steve. Steve.” He tested the name on his tongue. “And Steve is - the captain of the basketball team right?”

“Yep.” You said, through a mouthful of sugar. “Oh, and he’s the leader of this really tough biker gang, to get in you have to murder three kittens.”

You watched his eyebrows shoot to his hairline, and then slowly fall back to their original spot when he caught on to your teasing. He held up his hands in playful surrender, taking a swig of his drink and then placing his mug on the granite counter.

“I know I’m being a fusspot! But I’m just looking out for you.”

“I know, Bob! But I’ll be fine! We’re just going to catch a movie and then dinner.”

“Ok.” He sighed, turning to wash up the dishes left from the previous nights pig out fest, but his hands stilled before he could twist the faucet. “Wait! Nothing R rated - or too romantic, and tell him to knock it off if he tries that whole ‘I’m so tired, let me put my arm around you schtick!’”

“I’m ignoring you now!”

You remembered getting ready, picturing the soft blush hue of your summer dress, and the taste of your strawberry gloss on your lips. You remembered the heat of your curling iron as you meticulously styled your hair, checking your reflection as a way to distract from the minutes ticking by.

You knew the familiar feeling of sweaty palms and butterflies before a date, but that morning it was as if somebody had realised a kaleidoscope of monarchs and swallowtails inside of you. You were completely nauseous, but so excited, and you felt like you were floating on cloud nine, unable to believe that Steve Harrington - the boy you had been crushing on since first grade - wanted to take you out.

You were nervously touching up your makeup, widening your eyes and applying yet another coat of mascara, when you heard commotion downstairs - and the telltale sound of your date getting completely grilled. You practically flew to your feet, haphazardly tying your converse and grabbing your purse, hoping to save Steve from the clutches of your overprotective Uncle. You nearly slid down the carpet when you noticed the door was ajar, smiling widely at the sight of Steve clutching two bouquets, his hair perfectly coiffed and his sneakers white and gleaming.

“- No I’ve never been in an accident, Sir.” You heard Steve say, his voice carrying through the hallway.

“Hmm?” You heard Bob reply, “And what about alcohol? Do you drink it?

“Only eggnog at Christmas.” Steve replied with a grin, his lips falling down when Bob sent him a glare. “Ok, not in the mood for jokes.”

“Are you under the influence now?”

“What? No! Why would I… Wow.” He faltered when he noticed you at the top of the stairs, and for the first time his mind went totally blank, his brain short circuiting at the sight of you. He felt his mouth go dry and he struggled to say something, not wanting to look like any more of an idiot than he already was, but Bob got there first.

“You look great, sweetheart.” He said, voice brimming with pride.

You blushed a deep crimson, feeling awkward under both of their stares. “Thanks, Bob.”

As soon as you reached the floor you blinked up at the men watching you, raising a brow slowly when Steve didn’t move. “So are you ready?”

“Yep. Yes. Yep.” He said quickly, rummaging around his pockets for his keys, and then realising they were in his hands the whole time. “Lets go.”

“Be home before eleven!” You heard Bob yell, his words just carrying into the night before you managed to slam the front door shut.

After the initial awkward meeting at your door, and Bob shooting unconvincing daggers at Steve as he guided you towards his car, the rest of the date went smoothly. You had been out with boys before; middle school crushes that took you to the ice cream parlour in town, and letting your best friend rope you in for a double date with a boy you had never met - but nothing like this.

As the car lulled through the streets, any unease forming quickly uncoiled between the two of you, and it wasn’t long until you were both in stitches. It felt so natural and easy, and you found yourself wanting to know everything about the hazel haired man sitting next to you.

You ate at a diner just outside of town, because according to Steve: “they have the best strawberry milkshakes - ever. I swear they’re like crack.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it, Harrington.” You had said, shooting him a million dollar smile over your shoulder. He was glad that you walked in first, because it felt as though a bullet had soared through his gut.

——————————————————————-

“I remember the milkshakes.” You said. Steve looked down at you, curled up on his lap. He nodded at your words, thinking of summer days and winter nights snuggled up in your booth at the diner. You must have shared hundreds by now, drinking such an obscene amount of the sweet treat it was a surprise neither of you looked like a strawberry. You had ruined the fruit for him. He couldn’t take a bite from a strawberry without remembering the taste of your lips or the sound of your laugh, it was conditioned into him like he was one of Pavlov’s dogs. But he would be lying if he said he didn’t love it, strawberries had become his favourite fruit.

“I told you those milkshakes were great.”

“Yeah, you did.”

He could feel you wobbling under him, could feel the heart wrenching tremor of your body starting to shake with tears and he swore internally, trying his best to distract you again.

“And then we watched Ghostbusters.”

You let out a half hearted laugh. “And you almost shit yourself when you saw Slimer.”

“He popped up outta nowhere!”

“And then you spilt popcorn everywhere.”

“Yeah, that old lady was pissed.” He clicked his tongue at the memory, crumbs and melted butter flying everywhere, the entire row in front covered in his mess and glaring at you both, you laughing so hard into your sleeve you thought you might just pass out.

“And then I drove you home - way before curfew I might add - because I’m a gentleman.”

“And then you kissed me.”

“I think you’ll find you kissed me.”

“Ha.You wish.”

It felt good to hear the bite back in your voice, and it warmed him like a zap of electricity that his plan of distraction was working.

Besides, it was partly true - you had kissed him first.

That night as he pulled into your driveway, his gut felt like a huge boulder inside of him. There was nothing more that he wanted then to lean over the console and kiss you, but he was too goddamn nervous.

The date had gone so brilliantly, and he could feel himself, tripping, stumbling and falling completely head over heels for you, but he was so uncharacteristically anxious that it was kind of freaking him out. He was getting all worked up about things he had never thought of before, like his teeth clashing against yours, or accidentally knocking your heads together and giving you a mild concussion.

He left his car running, because he didn’t want you to be cold, (and the constant vibrations were good at hiding the tremor in his legs). It was fully black outside, the night sky a long stretch of navy and the stars were pretty but not nearly as pretty as the girl smiling at him in the passenger seat. Just as your eyes connected and he thought he was going to finally kiss you, the porch light turned on, a nice little reminder from Uncle Bob that he was still watching. You laughed exasperatedly and reached over, filling the distance between you as you tried to grab the strap of your handbag and Steve leant over to give you a hand with the sticky door, but instead your lips caught his and he froze in place, his eyes closed and his heart feeling like a jackhammer in his chest, all of his worries evaporating behind him like ocean spray, because suddenly everything felt right.

“Night, Harrington.” You had said smugly, leaving him in his car that suddenly smelt like cotton candy and coconut shampoo, and with an entire carnivals worth of fireworks erupting from his stomach.

————————————————————

“When I got inside he pretended he had just woken up.” You said now, your words coated with tears but laced with tenderness. “Tried to act like he wasn’t staring through the window watching us kiss.”

Steve tangled his fingers through your hair, anchoring the two of you together, hoping that the small action would give you at least some comfort. He mulled over all of the memories the two of you shared, picturing them shattered at his feet like shards of shimmering glass. He wasn’t sure how to comfort you and it hurt, the silence settling around you like thick, poisonous gas.

“What about our first anniversary? The first time we committed a felony.”

“It wasn’t a felony.”

“Yeah and I’m sure it wasn’t the first time either, you little criminal.”

He remembered when you went out to a much too fancy restaurant in the city. How angelic and beautiful you looked in a little sundress and heels, stealing the breath right out of his lungs whenever he looked at you. How even when he was out of his comfort zone you felt like home, always making him feel stable no matter where he was. He remembered those glances you stole at one another, tongue in cheek laughter and suppressed smiles at the strange place you were both in, the two of you sticking out amongst the older, richer and snootier couples like a sore thumb.

He remembered the glint in your eye and the look on your face, the one that had him completely wrapped around your little finger - (but really, you could look at him anyway and he was a complete goner). It was how you both stood up at the same time, grabbing your handbag and wallet and rushing through the sea of people, laughing loudly as he slipped his hand in yours and pulled you with him, dodging the doorman who was cursing loudly at the kids who had just dined and dashed, even though neither of you had had more than a mouthful of your overpriced starter.

“You are such a bad influence, (Y/L/N).” He had scolded, playfully pinching the inside of your thigh as you lay stretched out on a picnic blanket overlooking the forests on the edge of town. You swatted him away, and he felt his breath hitch at the sight of you, hair tousled and makeup slightly worn, so effortlessly beautiful beneath the headlights of his car.

“Oh, please Hargrove. You would be lost without me.”

He didn’t reply, because it was true.

Instead he leaned over your body, stealing a quick kiss and also a handful of fries from the drive thru bag next to you.

“Hey!” You whined, leaning up and swatting at him. “Those are mine!”

“Technically, technically,” He said, licking salt from his fingertips. “They were at the bottom of the bag, not in either of the cartons - so they were never really yours.”

You rolled your eyes, punching him softly in the gut and laughing as he collapsed on top of you. “You are such a dumbass.”

“Yeah, but I’m your dumbass.”

He ran his tongue over a canine, finding clarity in your eyes.“I can’t believe you’ve put up with me for a whole year.”

“Me neither, but the money your dad gives me to go out with you makes it worth it.”

His finger trailed along the bridge of your nose, his lips curling the same as the path his fingerprints followed. “Stupid.” It was a terrible comeback, but when you looked up up at him like that, all of his sentences spilt into a bowl of mismatched alphabet soup. He blinked down at you, feeling the way his heart hammered against his rib cage, engulfed in the terrifying feeling of being so in love with somebody. “Seriously though, this has - this has been the best year of my life.”

Your rosebud lips parted, showing him that dammed smile that would make him burn down the whole town if you asked him to. “Mine too.”

——————————————————————-

“Remember when I got a black eye because of you?” He murmured, glancing up at the stars that flickered above you both.

“Because of me?” You scoffed, halfheartedly. “Hardly.”

“Ok. Keep telling yourself that.”

There was once a time where he loved nothing more than spending Friday through Sunday completely wasted, waking up on somebodies couch, his mouth tasting like sour liquor and his clothes scattered across the floor - but not after he met you. He used to long for the high from downing tequila shots or jumping into the pool with hazy eyes, a burnt out joint being passed around friends, but soon he realised that nothing came close to the fever high he got from simply being around you.

He remembered sitting in the school parking lot on a Friday afternoon, listening to Tommy and Carol natter about how a group of seniors were going to break into the rec centre and get drunk, but there words were nothing but static as he looked for you among the familiar faces.

You had been officially dating for a few months, and much to Tommy’s dismay, it seemed as though neither of you had any intention of letting the other go. It stung the teenager when Steve started blowing him off to hang out with you, his usual alibi for wild parties leaving him high and dry. He was jealous of the way you managed to consume all of Steve’s attention, and the fact that since the two of you had gotten together, Steve was so much kinder to everyone, and didn’t want to join in with his juvenile antics. When you went to parties, he drank less and laughed more, and Tommy was left doing shots and keg stands alone.

More than anything though, Tommy was jealous that Steve had scored a girl like you, kind and soft and sweet, when he had trouble getting Carol to stay over longer than the time it took to drain a bottle of stolen wine. It made him feel envious and insecure, watching the way you kissed Steve in the hallways with rosebud lips and your eyes shone like diamonds under the gentle sun; when was a girl going to look at him like that?

“You coming tonight, Harrington?” He asked from the hood of Steve’s car, his legs dangling onto the asphalt.

“No.” Steve said, chewing on his fingernails. “Sorry man, I’m taking (Y/N) to the drive in.”

“Aww.” Carol preened, a solid supporter of your relationship. You hadn’t known her too well before you started seeing Steve and hadn’t expected to become so close to her, but now she was one of your best friends. Sure she could be a little vapid and a little rude, but she also made you laugh loudly and always helped you get ready for dates with Steve, and you really appreciated the way she let you into the inner circle. “That’s so sweet. You guys are too cute.”

Tommy ignored her. He could already feel himself boiling over.

“Cmon Harrington, it’s one night. It’s tradition.”

“No it isn’t.”

He exhaled loudly. “Well it should be.”

“I’m good, man. And besides, we’re still going to see the Bulls play on Saturday, right?”

“I guess.”

Silence settled around them like cigarette ash. Tommy, growing more irate by the second, toyed with the collar of his shirt and curled and uncurled his fingers. He wasn’t quite sure why he was pissed - as Steve’s best friend he should have been pleased with how love struck and happy he was, and it wasn’t as though he never saw Steve anymore, or that you had split up the group or anything - but he was still annoyed, and that’s why he said it.

“God, I hope she’s a better fuck than she looks. I mean, she must be if she’s got you this whipped.”

It took a moment for Steve to process what he had said, swallowing his friends words like they were barbed wire, his throat filling with blood.

“What the fuck did you say?”

“Just what everybody else is thinking.” It wasn’t what everybody thought, but Tommy thrived off of mob mentality, and the small crowd watching in the parking lot was enough to spike his adrenaline.

“Tommy.” Carol warned, her voice thick and heavy, eyeing him from over the roof of the car.

“What did you say about her?” Steve asked, his face turning crimson, the shade matching the colour coating his pupils.

Tommy didn’t hold back, his hands firmly grasping his shovel, ready to dig himself deeper. “Jesus. Look at you! Look what she’s turned you into. She’s a bitch, and so are you.” He gestured wildly with his hands, the severity of what he had said was slowly sinking in, but he was stupid enough to stand by it for the time being.

Steve was livid. His body rattling like he had been struck by lightning. He knew he wasn’t some fucking white knight who had to defend your honour, but there was no way in hell he was going to let some fucking prick about you like that.

“And…you know what? The both of you can - ”

“Fuck you.” Steve brought his fingers to a fist and clocked him right in the nose, a sickening thwack echoing around the school. Tommy recoiled backwards, almost falling through the windshield. He managed to regain his balance at the last second, and his face was contorted with both pain and disbelief.

“What the fuck man?” Tommy seethed, spitting out a wad of blood and lunging at Steve, managing to grab him by his collar and slam him onto the asphalt, their jeans ripping across the gravel.

The two of them rolled around, a deadly mix of closed knuckles and crisp white sneakers. A small crowd had gathered around the two of them, the air thick with the metallic tang of blood and rich with stories to be shared around the party that night. They both managed to get a couple good hits in, Steve just managing to get the upper hand before the school janitor started calling in for backup.

You had just left World Civ, your textbooks still cradled in your arms and your best friend laughing in your ear as you made your way out of the school and towards the parking lot.

“Yeah, I swear! She…” Your best friends voice trailed off as she noticed a blur of movement in the distance, her ears picking up like a bloodhounds. “Oh my God. I wonder what’s going on.”

You looked up shrugging your shoulders, expecting to see some of the wrestling team or soccer players roughhousing like they usually did, but your blood turned cold when your eyes focused fully and you caught sight of that damn perfect hair.

“Holy shit. Steve!”

If only your phys ed teacher could have witnessed the speed you ran across the car park; dust picking up with your shoes as you bolted towards your boyfriend. You managed to break through the inner circle crowding around them, the teenagers egging on Tommy and Steve as they scrambled towards one another, the sound of elbows and knees and fingernails clashing all around you.

“Hey. Hey! That’s enough!”

Poor Mr Springer tried his best to separate the two of them, wrapping his arms around Tommy’s waist and trying to tear them apart as they continued scrapping like junkyard dogs.

Your mouth was agape as a couple of boys helped break the two of them up, your eyes widening at the scarlet red blood staining the ground and the deep purple bruises already starting to show. You managed to catch Steve’s line of sight, his eyes widening at the sight of you, his face starting to swell.

“Steve? What the fuck!”

“Oh! Hey, babe? How did your pop quiz go?” He asked, throwing you a dazzling smile as though everything was right in the world.

Despite everything, you bit back a laugh, kneeling down to wrap your hands around him. “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.” You said, cradling the now puffy side of his face, a quarter sized apricot indent growing under his eye.

He winked at you as he was pulled away and dragged to the principal. He knew he was in for a months worth of Saturday detentions, but he couldn’t care less. He avoided the death glare his former best friend was giving him, licking the blood pooling across his split lip.

If he had to chose between you or Tommy, or choose between nights in with you or nights out with the rest of the seniors - hell, if he had to choose between basketball and you, it would be you, every time.

Point blank, period.

———————————————————-

There was a chill in the air, swallowing the both of you whole. Steve could feel his jeans dampening, your tears cascading down your face and onto his denim. He could feel eyes on the back of neck, and knew without turning around that Dustin and the rest of the kids were watching from the kitchen window, waiting to jump out and rescue you both if something crawled out from the bushes.

He didn’t have much time left. Soon he would have to bring you back inside, away from the vulnerability of the night and into the embrace of those you had grown so close to. He thinks back with a grimace, to the fight you had over your new routine.

Bob and Joyce dating came as a shock to everyone involved, especially Steve. Not so much that Bob had found companionship with the pretty single mother, but more so that it meant you were spending more time at their house - with Jonathon.

He wasn’t jealous.

He wasn’t.

No matter how many times you rolled your eyes and teased him - he wasn’t jealous.

He just didn’t like the idea of you sat next to him at movie nights, laughing with him during family board games, eating breakfast in the chair beside him, driving to school together and singing along to the stupid obscure bands that Jonathon liked.

Ok maybe he was a little jealous. Sue him.

He’d spent the night at your place, under the guise of helping you with your calculus homework, even though you had a higher grade than him, and he watched with sleepy eyes as you rummaged around your desk in the morning.

“What?” He mumbled under the slowly rising sun, half of his face still buried in your pillow. “What? Where? Where are you going?”

You rifled through your handbag and examined the contents, glancing at him over your shoulder. “Bob’s taking everyone out for lunch - well it should have been breakfast but someone - ” you emphasised with a playful glare, “Is making me late.”

“Whose going?”

“Everyone.”

“Everyone?”

“You know. Me, Joyce, Jon and Will.”

Jon.

“You didn’t tell me Jonathon was going.” He’s not sure if it’s true. He remembers fragments of you telling him your plans for the weekend, but he also remembers your words shattering before they reached his brain, because of that little strappy top you were wearing and the blackberry colour of your lipstick.

“What?” You asked distractedly, untangling your headphones from your Walkman. “I did.”

“No.” He clicked his jaw, a sign of his annoyance. “You just said Bob was taking you out.”

“With everyone - everyone includes Jonathon.”

“Right.” He’s pissed. His anger isn’t directed at you, more so the floppy haired teenager you’ll be sharing pancakes with, even though it’s not exactly his fault either. “Since when did you guys become The Brady Brunch?”

You let out a dry laugh, oblivious to the fact your boyfriend was getting more agitated by the second.

Did you really have to wear that skirt? He thought. Why did it have to be the short little denim one covered in cherries that made you look so damn good?

“You know how much Joyce loves her kids, Bob just wants to make an effort.”

“Yeah but why do you have to go?”

You shrugged, applying a swipe of lipgloss and tightening your cardigan in an effort to hide the hickeys blossoming under your collarbones. “He invited me, said it’s a family thing.”

“It’s not as though you’re really family though is it?”

He regretted it the moment the syllables left his mouth, but he was too wound up to think before he spoke. He cringed at the way you lost his gaze in the mirror, really fucking hating himself when he saw the crimson blush rise from your throat and onto your cheeks, and the sheen coating your eyes.

“I should go.”

You didn’t hesitate, grabbing your belongings and darting down the stairs. Family had always been a sore subject for you, and he loathed himself for striking you in the one place that it really fucking hurt.

“Wait.. Baby I -” He chased after you, but you were too fast. He wished that you would stay and argue with him, he’d let you scream and yell and shout at him, because he deserved it and he wanted to let you know he was sorry for being a prick, but you were already out of the door.

“Just up when you leave.” Were the last things you said, disappearing into your car.

He apologised with your favourite chocolates and red roses and an attempt to make you dinner. You couldn’t stay upset with him and his sheepish grin even when half of your kitchen was covered in tomato sauce and your moms pan was coated in burnt pasta.

The boy could screw up, but he always knew how to make up for it.

He trusted you, and loved you, and apologised for - in your words, ‘being a class A jackass’ - and even put away his pride long enough to tell you that, Ok, fine, maybe he was a tiny bit jealous of Jonathon and the bond growing between you.

That night as you curled up on your living room floor amongst an abundance of pillows and crocheted throws, you reassured him that you were in love with him and only him, even when he drove you up the wall. He fell asleep a little easier that night, his girl happy and safe in his arms, your words calming the storm that was once brewing in his mind.

…And maybe Jonathon wasn’t that bad.

———————————————————-

The light of the moon was harsh, almost like the street lamps that flickered in the distance. Steve could feel you moving underneath him, and his palms were starting to dampen, the reality of the evening finally sinking in.

Bob was dead.

As though the same thought had passed through you, you spoke, your voice strained and quiet. “I can’t believe he’s gone.”

“I know.”

Your voice cracked like thin ice. “He didn’t deserve to die. He didn’t… He.” You choked on your words, and Steve pulled you into him firmly, as if to stop you from falling apart.

“I’m so sorry, baby.”

You sniffled, a sob tearing through your lungs and clawing through your throat, and you tried desperately to not think about your poor uncles lifeless body. “What am I going to do without him?”

You weren’t looking for an answer, but Steve gave you one.

“It’ll be me and you, it’ll be us. Forever.”

His future was uncertain. He was under a mountain of pressure from his teachers and coaches and guidance counsellors to get his head down and decide about college and scholarships and what he was going to do with his life.

He even took one of those quizzes that was supposed to help him figure his shit out, but when he sat there, pencil in hand and he read the words - where do you see yourself in five years? The only thing he could think of, was you.

He thought of you, so smart and pretty, your future just as undecided as his, but still by his side. He could see road trips and night drives and long distance calls, he could see morning laughter and monumental arguments and make ups, in the distance he could even see a house with a white picket fence and a big dog and a few kids who looked like a mixture of the both of you.

It seemed so simple. So much more simple than applying for college or an internship, because he knew that whatever he did, he wanted it with you.

And then this crazy fucking year happened, and things weren’t so simple anymore. Soon he was best friends with a bunch of pre teens and fighting off big scary fucking monsters and Billy Hargrove. Soon his small world of basketball and strawberry milkshakes and tongue kisses was filled with danger, and he needed to keep you safe.

“I miss him.”

“I know.” He says honestly. “I miss him too.”

He remembered the last conversation he had with Bob. It was before they found Hopper underground, and Bob was getting ready to leave and see Joyce and Will. You were in your room, finishing off the last of your homework, and Steve was heading downstairs to finish off the last of the pizza. He had just grabbed a Coke and a slice of pepperoni, when he saw Bob rummaging through the cupboard in the hall.

“Hey,” Steve said, waving the hand with the soda in it. “I heard about Will. Is he alright?”

Bob gave a kind nod. “Yeah.” He hesitated. “Well, actually, I’m not sure. I’m uh - I’m looking for my old board games for him to play with.”

Steve smiled, because that was exactly the thing Bob would do. “Well, give him my best.”

They exchanged pleasantries, and Steve spun his heel to rejoin you upstairs, taking a big bite of melted cheese as he walked, before Bob spoke aloud once again.

“There’s something strange going on in this town.”

Steve remembered the year before, standing in Jonathan’s living room, twinkling Christmas lights draped on the wall and a baseball bat in his hands. He remembered Barb and Will, and the body from the quarry.

“Yeah.”

Bob exhaled, moving so that he was standing face to face with the teenager. “You make sure nothing happens to her, alright? You know she’s - you know she’s my little girl.”

Steve straightened, his voice solid. “I would never let anything happen to her.”

“I know. You’re a good guy, Harrington.”

He doesn’t know if he agrees, but he knows that for you, he will be.

“Take care of her.”

“Always.”

And they had partied ways: Steve upstairs, where he pulled you into his arms and made you laugh as he planted wet kisses on your face. And Bob to the Byers house to find a map spanning the length of the walls, and then the hospital, and then ultimately, to his death.

———————————————————-

The dark felt much more menacing now, shadows moving like long fingernails and jagged claws around you. He knew that he had to get you inside. He knew that the others would be making plans and setting traps and he knew how much safer you would be there. His heart was shattered after the small sobs leaving your body, your chest deflating like a burst balloon. He also knew that the best people to comfort you would be inside, Joyce with her motherly love, Dustin with his sweet, silly nature, and even Jonathon who truly loved you like a sibling.

“Cmon, lets get you inside.”

He wrapped his hands around you and helped lift you up, steadying you as you swayed on shaky legs. He cradled you into him, feeling the warmth of your breath and tears against his throat, and he inhaled, preparing himself and readying himself, telling him to be strong, for you.

He wrapped a free hand around the door handle, waiting to twist. He took one final look at the menacing bushes and trees surrounding you both, listening for a rustle from the branches.

He doesn’t know what will happen next. But he does know, that whatever it is, you’ll face it, together.

#steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #stranger things imagines #steve harrington oneshot #stranger things oneshot #\#strangerthings #stranger things headcanon #steve harrington headcanon

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faunusrights · 4 years

Text

OFFAL HUNT REMASTERED LIVEBLOG // CHAPTER 19

IN THIS EPISODE OF MURPHY IS SCREAMING, CONSTANTLY, TRAPPED IN THEIR PERFECT NIGHTMARE:

Glynda was saying: “I know we aren’t friends. I know we aren’t partners. I know you’re a criminal. But—I think I can trust you. I think I have to trust you, even if you’ve done awful things before.”

EVERYTHING GOES WRONG BUT LIKE SOMEHOW WORSE THAN EVER? LIKE A WHOLE NEW BRAND OF LOW. LIKE CINDER’S GOT A PICKAXE AND THE CENTRE OF THE PLANET CALLS FOR AID.

IT’S BEEN A WHILE HUH!!!!!!!!!!!!!! but dw offal hunt, like the rising of the sun, the arrival of winter, and the eventual downfall of capitalism, always returns. so lets go.

(i just quickly reread chapter 18 liveblog to remember what happened and Ah Yes I Remember Now. The Suppressed Memories)

The place was emptier without Glynda. Quieter.

/gunshot oh we’re in danger right out of the gate huh? we got some yearning right out here? right now? how quickly the turn do tables.

Cinder appraised her work, holding the beige coat up to the light and squinting.

man i forgot. i FORGET. how much i just love cinder in this fic. sometimes she kinda zones to the back of my mind where she sits waiting for me to start thinking about her again, but now i remember that this cinder is Peaque. look at her GO, minding her own BUSINESS. im proud of her. does she know i love her.

It didn’t take long to don her new, fire-proofed clothes.

in another world, in a more comical plot, she used asbestos. it didnt go well.

The subtle warmth of the Dust teased tension from Cinder’s stiff muscles, even as she marvelled at the strangeness of her own bedroom’s space. It seemed bigger now than it had the last two nights.

She chose not to dwell on it.

i choose to dwell on it! ME!!!! I CHOOSE TO DWELL ON IT. HEY CINDER WHAT THIS GAY SHIT. hello. ma’am. can we look deeper into this. i, for one, would like to, and i, for one, think its of value to think abt this. that said, small segue

Quietly, Cinder murmured, “I didn’t freak out.”

THE FACT SHE SAYS IT ALOUD LIKE EM AND MERC CAN HEEEEEEAR HEEEEEEEER i am. INFATUATED with this family. cant wait for the 100k spinoff thats basically an elongated beach episode where they go to like. alton towers. or butlins. six flags??? thats a thing in america right??? anyway. beach episode. call me. (wink wink nudge nudge push push shove shove)

We had to stop back in because Merc left his favorite binder, and it was 2 in the morning, so it was easier to crash here for the night than mess with the ship’s autopilot.

them,,, THEM!!!! mercury is just a son and childe. thast it. he canot change this. i love these kids so much i am SHAKING THE MONITOR RN!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAA

Stuck here in one of the homes they’d shared, Cinder missed them terribly. Missed the sound of their voices and the easy comfort of their presence. Finding the time to contact them had been difficult, between managing Glynda and Hati both, but Glynda was gone, and she’d sent Hati onwards to Atlas. She remembered her call with Emerald, before arriving in Umbraroot; she knew it had not soothed her or her fears.

im sorry was this chapter targeted at me, specifically, as a human being on planet earth? GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE THIS FAMILY!!!!!!!!! THIS WONKY OLD BANDAGED UP FAMILY UNIT!!!!!!!!!!!!! i thrive every time they are mentioned on the page. it is a blessing. my succulents grow stronger each time they show up.

“No,” Cinder argued softly, “I had to. Mercury, you deserve to hear it from me as well. I am sorry. And I am promising you: I’ll come back.”

For a long, heart-wrenching moment, he was completely quiet. It was good that Cinder was alone in the apartment; laying herself bare like this would be unbearable with an audience.

GODDDDDDDDDDD AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

i am OBSESSED WITH THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IM GOING TO BE THINKING ABOUT THIS UNTIL I D I E. of all thing the remaster does better than og, this is just. SPEEDING AHEAD. this whole CONFLICT this whole MESS just makes everything so much RICHER its like when u splash some wine in yr fancy food or stick some cinnamon on yr favourite desserts u dont NEED TO but it adds that lil SOMETHING,,, that little KICK that just ties the flavour profile together and in this case ofgughugguhu it just GIVES SO MUCH. im making SNOW ANGELS in the WORDS on the PAGE.

“Mercury. If I could prove it to you, I would. But you have to—trust me. For just a while longer.”

“It’s getting harder,” he said. He didn’t sound like he was lying just to hurt her. That wasn’t spite. That was honest anger. And it made her feel like dirt.

im less picking these for specific instances of like, things i want to say, but more just because bits of this r rly just so /chef kiss. cinder has these.... endearingly (take that whichever way u like) human qualities in OG to rly make u realise she had ties to add to her #Doubt but the remaster is just AMPING it up and u FEEL IT and ive never been more SYMPATHETIC to a round-faced sinnamon bun of assholery and fire id DIE for cinder fall and this is a fact PUT IT ON MY GRAVESTONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Is there anything you need?” What was this? Cinder could barely focus on her words. It felt like... “Anything? At all?”

“We’re fine.”

“Mercury, wait please—” She was losing him. “I think—”

“Just hurry up.”

The line went dead.

this place is not a place of honor.................. no highly esteemed deed is commemorated here........................ nothing valued is here................ IM DYING

Cinder began to type out her response, and that was when the nausea really kicked in.

[...]

She recognized this now.

Glynda.

stress stress stress stress STRESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

There shouldn’t be anybody. Cinder had done everything in her power to cut Glynda from people who would interfere. To isolate her. Make it easier to bring her to Atlas, to the frozen north, to her mother and the machine…

Cinder’s esophagus quivered; furiously, she shut her eyes and thought of nothing.

god cinder don’t remind me that you’re an asshole and dipshit and also a moron im trying to be NICE and CARE ABT YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! STOP REMINDING ME YOU’RE A PIECE OF SHIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

FOR FIVE MINUTES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The front door clicked open.

Cinder couldn’t have said how much time had passed, only that it had passed slowly. What she did know was that it was Glynda returning, the sensation of boils bursting wafting off her soul. It crawled over Cinder’s flesh. She curled in on herself.

There were mites under every nailbed. Salt in her weeping mouth.

offal hunt’s brilliant use of this horror aspect is something i have tried previously to emulate and here’s a fact, take it from me: that shit is HARD. offal hunt consistently able to whack those real nasty, really Disgusting vibes on the head EVERY TIME is a work of art. i mean, kc and diesel do not fuck around, and therefore i am NOT surprised, but it’s only when u try this shit yourself that you realise: this is hard! this is difficult! it’s a huge testament to how GOOD this fic is in every way. also this whole fucking body horror aspect is something i didnt know this fic needed, but it did, and here we are.

Thickly: “Things were going okay. If you hadn’t gotten nasty, I might have smoothed things over. I could have fixed things with my son.”

with my son

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA I CANT TAKE IT EVERY TIME ITS TOO MUCH FOR TO BEAR I CANNOT HANDLE IT I CANNOT STAND IT ITS LIKE BEING SHOT JUST DIRECTLY IN MY DICK

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

im like sweating rn

Glynda said, “I’m scared.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to tell you.”

I SAID IM SWEATING

Glynda asked, “Are you lying to me?”

And Cinder said, “What?”

“About me. About Witches. About Ozpin—” Cinder’s guts went sour. “—About anything. I need to know if I can trust you.”

I SAID I! AM! S W E A T I N G

“I know you’ve lied to people. Hurt people.”

Adrenaline and the image of her kids’ faces behind her eyes made a potent, sick cocktail. “—Not. Now.”

so lets like double back to when i said hey was this chapter written to target me specifically and as it turns out, yes. yes it was. yes it was and as MUCH AS I AM LIVING FOR THIS MOMENT THIS SWEET BUILDUP THE EXPLOSION AND THE CRATER IT ALL LEAVES BEHIND

so this next bit is like. i cant really quote one section but as i was saying in Vague DMs, this whole bit feels like wading through mud. usually if you say something consumes energy to Read it’s in a Bad Way when yr bored but this is more like. you Feel cinder all over everything feels so sluggish and it’s like dragging your own corpse around as you try and leave and you’re TIRED and your LEGS HURT and you’re kinda thinking god what if i just fell face down for just a moment of my LIFE.

The putrid weight of Glynda’s soul filled the room until there was no space left for her.

it’s like being trapped in a sauna, like getting stuck in a humid waiting room. where do you GO. what do you DO. god this whole section is fantastic and offal hunt NEVER fails to fucking nail the Vibes but reading it is HARD. i literally keep having to stop and breathe like ive been holding my breath. jesus h christ.

a small intermission for a mood:

“Get fucked.”

back to regularly scheduled hell

Out of the bedroom. Down the hall. The walls were sweating with heat. She tasted smoke.

i love that i just said how i feel like im trapped in a sauna and it turns out: thats because me and cinder both, baybee!!!! hahahaha help

Glynda’s soul chewed her to the marrow. “Move, Glynda.”

cinder being hunted at the start of this fic: teehee! im running away! now im gonna getcha! heehee! arent i clever :) cinder being hunted now: this uh. this blows, actually,

Cinder’s pulse roared in her ears. Her hands twitched. She smelled Ochre Brown’s round face melting off. His wide smile shattered with each of his teeth, going black and popping like corn.

this chapter is probably my favourite so far for this blending of so many elements. i cant even begin to like. THINK STRAIGHT about how all of this is tying together. the lore. the THEMATICS. like i said this character rly is just Rich with what og lacked and oh is it RICH. im gonna read this chapter in future and see so much that i know ive already missed. holy shit.

“Ms. Fall,” she said. “The White Fang requires your presence immediately.”

NOT NOW

Cinder stood there looking at it for a moment. Her thoughts were slow. Copper-tinged. Something small and indulgent whispered to her through the blood-fog.

It was obvious enough what would happen if she got into this car. The driver would take her to a secluded place, where she would be ambushed by a squadron of battle-hungry White Fang grunts.

They’d try to take her down. And she was a killer, wasn’t she? Ochre Brown wailed in her ears with every thump of her runaway heart. Her hands itched for action; her teeth, for blood.

She’d burn them black.

never mind! you are already dead,

She thought about Glynda. About her saying that if there was trouble with the Fang, she wanted to come. That she would fight for Cinder.

She thought of Glynda’s question: What aren’t you telling me about Ochre Brown?

Yeah, fuck that.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!! WHAT A CLIFFHANGER!!!!!!!!!! WHAT A MOMENT!!!!!!!!!!!!! MORE MOMENTOUSLY: WHAT A CHAPTER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

this is EASILY my favourite chapter so far. EASILY. everything about this was peak offal. the relationships. the dynamics. the dialogue. the vibes. the Grossness. the fighting. the EVERYTHING. this is some other level and its BITCHIN. PEAK. that said im now very tired. im going to have a cup of tea and Consider Things for a few hours. brb.

#liveblog #rwby #offal hunt

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captain039 · 4 years

Text

War heros

Bangalore x fem!Reader

Please bare with I've never done f x f xD

Warnings: War things, light swearing

Gonna make a war up and countries up cause idk what goes on in that department don't wanna know. But you live in New York xD

Set in a war before apex legends thingy

You stared at the road going by quickly, the rattle of the truck making you more nervous as you approach. This war has been raging for months, they keep sending troops over and they never come back, seems like the rookies were next, you were next. You stared at the broken and smoking buildings in the distance. You were meant for this, not this side of things, you only defused bombs in little hostile situations, not ones in big ass wars raging through big ass countries. You watched the others around you, heads low, looking at family photos or their weapons. You stared at the weapon in your lap, you've only fired these a few times and that was horrible.

"Base ahead!" The driver yelled making you bite your lip harder. The truck slowly stopped and one by one you all stepped out and were led to the rows of tents. You looked around your eyes burned by the wounds on the soldiers, their looks of fear, sorrow and pity. You were led to a larger tent, a small symbol above it. You stood in the line a woman's voice shouting at everyone before she came into view.

"What the hells going on?!" She snapped the woman next to her looking terrified as she babbled on. The tall, broad woman stood straight and confident as she scanned the line of you. You gulped her eyes intense and her body posture intimidating.

"Rookies?" She questioned her voice going quieter. The man by the desk nodded with a gruff huff, the woman sighed and walked forward.

"Right soldiers, this war isn't getting any easier, we've got men in the south holed up and surrounded, men in the west who are just about dead and us in the east right here" her finger landed on the map.

"Were the last good base standing in this goddamn thing and if we don't hit the front soon, we'll might as well dig ourselves a grave" she sneered.

"We move forward tomorrow at 0600, be ready, Francis here will go over everything else" she pointed to a man and walked off her shoulders tense. As the man went through everything your mind clouded with regret and fear, this wasn't a place for you. Wasn't a place for anyone.

You were shown around the camp and soon led to your quarters, you sighed sitting on the uncomfortable excuse for a bed. You looked around seeing the grim looks on everyone, Hell might as well be now.

You didn't sleep, couldn't, the shuffling, groaning, coughing and wailing. As soon as that bell rang you were all moved out, shown the map and told exactly where to go. Three groups were spread out over the front line, Alpha, Beta and Delta, two taking a side and one in the middle. You were in the middle, clamped together with this scary woman leading you. As the first shot rang your heart stopped, your body didn't move as the bullets rang. You were frozen ignoring the shooting and the gunfire before someone lunged and hauled you down to cover.

"Soldier!" She snapped her voice pissed as she tapped your face. Your eyes focused and you grabbed your gun and aimed some sort of autopilot going on. You laid down cover fire as the men moved not really hitting anything before you came back to reality. You took a deep breath and hid again your mind fuzzy and your breathing difficult.

"Hey! On target soldier, now!" The woman snapped making you snap back without thinking.

"You can do this I can't!" You growled.

"I'm a damn bomb defuser for the city's not this goddamn place!" She eyed you for a second something unknown in her eyes as you lashed out. You froze realising you had just yelled at the commander.

"I-" a shot went by your head and she pulled you flat to the ground with her.

"Got 4 men to my 11" she shouted over the comms as more men came over.

"Clear!" Someone yelled.

"Alright, hustle and move forward!" You all moved upwards thinking you were clear. You ducked as soon as gunfire started again. Gripping your gun you aimed and fired your mind blank and unthinking. The woman stayed by your side keeping you both low and covered as you fought. By midnight it was quiet, no more shooting and dead body's covering the enemies ground.

"First shift" the woman called as the soldiers sighed and sat down. You frowned and stood up to go for the first shift. You couldn't think, couldn't speak.

"Bangalore, got a call" a man said to the woman. You took note of her name and watched the area. You looked up to the sky as the stars shimmered, something beautiful in this hell.

As days went on you grew weaker and stronger at the same time, killing became... Easier, the gunfire the shouting became nothing but a buzz and everything around you became nothing but a familiar place. You had been out of line many times, shouted at the hero Bangalore more than once for being angry at you all the time. You didn't know why, but your mouth just said whatever your mind thought and that got you into trouble, more than once.

Watching the perimeter you frowned seeing silent movement in the buildings. You checked around seeing the soldiers counted for, you slowly crept forward checking the through the broken window before sneaking in. You climbed the stairs gun ready as you moved softly. You felt someone grab you and your gun being cut off, you yelled into the hand covering your mouth when you heard smoke canisters. The body holding you dropped as did you, and soon gunfire and cries came out before nothing but silence came. You were grabbed and dragged down some stairs and out into the open. Everyone looked at you and you cursed knowing the grip on your arm. You shrugged her off ignoring everyone and going back in to grab your gun. You sat on the roof still watching till you heard footsteps.

"Soldier" you sighed inwardly hearing her voice.

"You, yet again, disobeyed an order" you rubbed a hand down your face.

"I saw movement, at least they're dead now" you muttered head in your hands.

"You can't be so damn risky!" She snapped. You looked to her, her brown eyes stern and staring you down. You backed down first not bothering to fight her.

"You're a bomb defuser you don't know how to win a gunfight" she said walking a little closer.

"Wasnt my choice to come here" you sneered.

"You keep that tone up and you'll be back home or dead" you frowned, why was she treating you like a damn child? It's been months now and she still insists on pesting you.

"I don't need you scolding me like a child, Im a grown woman forced into this situation, you may be able to handle it, but I can't, I don't do gunfights I work in simple situations with only the pressure of defusing the bomb nothing else, no shooters, nothing" you sighed running a hand over your dusty hair.

"I just-" you sighed standing up and stretching.

"I'm going to get shut-eye" you muttered and walked away unknown of her eyes watching you intently.

Morning rose quickly and everyone began to move again, the western base was going strong once again and it seemed like the hope of winning was there.

You were ambushed halfway, two groups either side cornering you into buildings. You had counted everyone a forced habit, you didn't see Bangalore though, you snapped your eyes outside seeing her with a bullet in her leg and limping to safety. You sneered and yelled for cover fire as you ran out and helped her into the opposite building. A grenade was thrown into either building, many cries we're heard from the other building as you and Banglore took cover.

Ringing in your ears finally died down as the dust settled, you spoke quietly over comms, but nothing came back.

"We gotta go" you quickly grabbed her and ran out the back. She groaned as her wound oozed with blood with each step. You huffed going to the nearest building and setting her down. You checked for enemies quietly for minutes till you were safe, for now.

You cursed and checked her leg, you saw the bullet shining in there under the blood and glanced to her.

"Take the damn thing out" she sneered. You nodded and gulped going through your small medkit. You grabbed some large tweezers and prepared her. She bit her tongue and groaned as quietly as she could as you pulled the bullet out. You quickly dropped it and grabbed the bandages. You wrapped her leg up tightly so she didn't lose any more blood. You sighed once you finished and sad against the rubble. She had her eyes closed, trying to not focus on the pain. You heard yelling outside and held your gun close as footsteps went outside. You let out a breath and went for your comms again. You tried over and over and you thought the worse, as did she.

Night fell and you kept watch while she slept. She must have passed out while you were trying to reach anyone. You looked to her, strong features, a soldier's face and body. She looked calm though, her sleeping form less tense and on edge, like everyone was. She could actually sleep in this situation, lucky her.

"Stats?" She said making ou blink quickly and stutter.

"Nothing" you muttered.

"Get some rest, I'll keep watch" she said and grabbed her gun, you shook your head, you didn't sleep.

"Very well" she muttered and sighed.

"Where did you live?" She asked suddenly her eyes with a little curiosity in them.

"New York" you chuckled.

"Heh" you cracked a smile and your heart skipped a beat.

"How about you?" You asked.

"Out in the country, on a farm" she smiled like she was remembering memories.

"My pa and I ran it together, we'll mainly him I just played with the dog" she chuckled as did you.

"What about your mum?" You asked, her face saddened and you nodded.

"Sorry" you whispered.

"Died when I was 10, car crash" you nodded clenching your teeth.

"My parents died in a car crash too" you signed.

"18, barely finished high school" you said grimly.

"Sorry" she whispered making you nod.

"My names Anita, Anita Williams" she said after some silence.

"Y/n, Y/n Y/l/n" you smiled.

The days got rougher, you needed to get back to base, her leg was getting infected and food had run out. Water was scarce and any connection was hopeless. You carried her every day and most nights, he limped holding onto you while you pushed every damn minute to keep her alive. Some form of feeling forcing you to get this woman back safe and alive. By the seventh night, you collapsed on the ground, her falling with you. You were exhausted and out of energy, she groaned lifting herself up and you with her as she took you both into cover. You snapped yourself awake and went to go when she grabbed you.

"Sleep, we both won't make it otherwise" she said her voice serious and her eyes full of concern. You collapsed by her again, sighing as you learn back. Your eyes closed and soon you fell into a deep and much-needed sleep.

You some up comfortable, surprisingly. You frowned and opened your eyes, a steady heartbeat in your ear and a shallow rise and fall of breath. You saw long legs and a bandage and quickly froze. You sat up Anita glancing to you quickly.

"You good?" She asked. You stared at her your cheeks suddenly burning from the contact. She frowned at the look as you quickly got up and scouted around, trying to ignore the way your heart pounded. You looked at the map, you needed to go west still, a far journey. As the days got hotter you started resting more, giving up hope more. You let Anita rest every hour and scouted the buildings for anything useful. You tried contacting base every night and tried finding routes for your best approach. You and Anita grew closer, a soft and quiet bond forming. When you fell asleep you always woke up either on her chest or on her lap, one time fingers ran through your hair while she thought you slept. Your heart beats faster every time you looked at her or she looked at you.

By the thirteenth night you were giving up, her health deteriorated quickly along with yours, hope seemed gone and you only had each other.

In a building, you checked every channel begging for a signal, something. You glanced back to Anita her eyes had darkened and her body was failing her. You yelled in frustration as you got nothing but static, you felt years roll down your eyes as you burst finally. Someone touched you and you flinched, you quickly looked up and Anita pulled you to her. You cried feeling lost and hopeless. She would die as would you in this damn land without a goodbye to families or anyone knowing. You felt like connect with your head and you looked up, an uncertain look in her eyes before her chapped lips met yours. The kiss was needing and heartfelt, so many emotions, apologies, everything. You both pulled apart foreheads leant against each other when you heard shouting.

"Signal came from here!" You frowned hearing a familiar voice.

"Francis" she muttered. You got up quickly looking over the roof. Francis and his group were on the ground.

"Hey!" They all looked to you guns pointed.

"Y/n!?" You nodded and waved as they began to run. You walked back to Anita holding her against you, a smile on your face.

"Were gonna be ok" you whispered as her eyes closed.

"We'll be ok" you added.

You stayed by her bed as she laid perfectly still, you watched the slow rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, you were both alive, back at the base and alive. Apparently, you had been in the main base vital for information and a promised win even. However, your mind was elsewhere, Anita, laying still and relaxed. You both went through a lot those days, but it brought you closer, so much closer.

You rested by her bed your eyes closed when you heard a low groan. You snapped up seeing her eyes flutter and her body move. She frowned and looked around before looking to you. You beamed your hand holding hers as she gave it a tight squeeze.

"We made it" her voice was hoarse, but she smiled. She pulled you closer with a light tug and you smiled. You kissed her again, now healthy and very much living and a hope for living.

"I said we would" you murmured leaning your forehead against hers.

"I said we would" you whispered.

#bangalore x reader #bangalore #apex legends #apex x reader #war #anita williams #fxf

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