#Worry does AU-gust
Text
night will fall
summary. riki hates mornings because it means leaving your side.
pairing. riki x y/n
genre. angst, fluff, mentioned mafia/crime au
word count. 1.0k
released. 03.08.2024
author's note. feedback is appreciated! this is a rewrite of one of my older pieces heheh
masterlist
Between the hours of five and six, meek rays of light begin to filter through the curtains. You hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep, and the announcement of dawn makes the unease on your shoulders double in weight.
You look down at the reason for your restlessness, softly snoring his life away in your lap.
Riki had only fallen asleep two hours ago, the long hours he’s been spending at headquarters taking their toll on him. There are dark circles tainting his under-eyes that you gently stroke with your thumb, a furrow in his brow that you try to massage smooth. Constantly being on edge meant never being able to get a good night’s rest—but right now, in your arms, he finally looks at peace.
You wish it was always like this. Having his arms tightly wrapped around your waist, slow puffs of air leaving his parted lips. Knowing he’s safe and in one piece.
Bringing a careful finger to his cheek, you lightly trace his face, connecting the moles scattered across his skin. A small smile pulls at your lips as you imagine lying under the real night sky with him. A midnight sea of a trillion stars, all for the two of you to marvel at.
You would point out a constellation and a gust of icy wind would blow past, but it wouldn’t matter because he would be there to encase you in gentle warmth.
The ticklish feeling causes Riki to stir, his eyes slowly fluttering open. You can’t help but internally wince that you disturbed his sleep.
Grazing your thumb over his eyelids, you whisper softly. “Good morning. Slept alright?”
His grip around you tightens, burying his face into your stomach. “‘m tired,” he replies hoarsely.
When you notice he starts to doze off again, you lightly tap the side of his head in an effort to keep him awake. “Ki, c’mon. You’ve got to get going.”
Riki only groans, unmoving. You sigh in defeat.
You know he doesn’t want to go. You don’t want him to go. You’d run to the ends of the Earth if it meant he could stay. Every fiber of your being is yelling at you to let him sleep, but him staying only meant putting himself in danger.
“I wish you didn’t have to go, but it’s for your safety. Please,” you plead.
The boy doesn’t show any signs of response, and you wonder if he had fallen asleep. You go to shake him awake again, only to feel the fabric of your top growing damp.
When you feel his body start to tremble, you gasp.
Using all your strength, you push him up into a sitting position, gently grasping his chin and tilting it up. Your heart drops at the sight of his crumpled expression.
Riki doesn’t cry often, maybe even at all. But right now, his face is stained with tears, new ones flowing down his soft skin by the second. His eyes and nose are reddening, barely audible whimpers leaving his quivering lips.
He himself seems surprised at the sudden onslaught of tears, cursing under his breath as he refuses to make eye contact with you. Cupping his face with both of your hands, you brush his tears away before they can drip off his chin.
“Cry,” you whisper. You worry that if you speak any louder, your voice would break, and you have to be the strong one because right now, he can’t.
“Don’t hold it in. I know it's hard. You can cry.”
Slowly, Riki’s whimpers turn into small sniffles, sharp intakes of breath periodically piercing the air. You wait for him to speak, and when he does, you nearly regret it.
“Do I have to go?”
His voice cracks. Riki hopes that you hadn’t noticed, clearing his throat—but the sorrow in his voice is so blatant that you feel your heart shatter.
“I’d do anything for you to stay, but you can’t,” you try to reason with him, hoping he would oblige. “You aren’t safe here-”
“You aren’t either!” Riki hisses, finally looking at you properly. Caught off guard by his sudden outburst, you go quiet.
“You’re—” He deflates, the words dying on his tongue. “You’re in danger, Y/N. I’m so terrified every single time I leave your side,” he murmurs incoherently.
Riki slides his hands down his face in an effort to get a hold of himself. You watch as he presses his palms harshly against his eyes. The walls you’re trying so hard to keep up are getting beaten and bashed at.
You reach up to remove one of his hands from his face, lacing your fingers with his.
“I know you’re worried about me, but I really need you to trust me, Ki. I’m tough, okay? Maybe even more than you,” you joke lightly, smiling when you hear a shaky chuckle leave his lips.
“This is my home. I’m safe here, but nowhere is safer than headquarters for you. And I- I need you to be safe. So please go. For me.”
Your words hang in the air, suspended by a desperation that feels more palpable the longer you dwell in it. Then, his head falls onto your shoulder.
You sigh softly. Instinctively, your hand reaches up to run through his hair.
“I hate the morning,” Riki huffs out.
A small laugh. “Why? The morning means a new day for you to live and conquer.”
Riki's head shifts so his chin is resting on your shoulder. His lips ghost against the side of your neck, sending chills down your spine.
“It’s the only thing that separates us,” he breathes out.
You glance out the sliver of your window that isn't shrouded by curtains, watching as the top of the rising sun peeks out over the horizon.
It feels hopeless to believe that it'll ever move. But eventually, it'll rise to the highest point in the sky. Then, it'll colour the lands with different shades of orange and pink, then disappear completely—and when it does, Riki's silhouette would appear at your backyard door, giggling as his hands find your hips and your breaths intertwine.
“Time doesn’t stop for anyone, love. Night will fall, and you’ll come back to me.”
#enhypen#enhypen x reader#enhypen imagines#enhypen scenarios#enhypen fluff#enhypen oneshots#enhypen drabbles#enhypen niki#nishimura riki#niki x reader#niki fluff#niki imagines#niki scenarios#niki angst
278 notes
·
View notes
Text
Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 74
Part 1 Part 73
It’s cold. Eddie’s breath is gusting out in front of him, visible in the air. Somehow, remarkably, Will and Steve are both asleep, cuddled up together in Eddie’s bed. Eddie’s not sure he’ll ever sleep again.
Will’s in one of Steve’s crew-neck sweaters, the yellow one that Eddie steals to sleep in sometimes. His head’s pillowed on Steve’s cold shoulder, cushioned by Steve’s teddy bear to keep a barrier between their drastically different skin temperatures.
Will has three blankets stacked atop him, making him look childlike and smaller than he usually is.
Fuck, they’re all just kids.
In contrast, Steve’s got a t-shirt on, some boxers, no blankets. He’s breathing deeply, air puffing invisibly into the room. Like his lungs are already too cold for the air to tell the difference.
Eddie wants to cry. They’re fucking kids, curled up and small in Eddie’s bed. He wants to barricade the door and never let anyone else see them ever again. But Mama Byers is probably freaking out right about now, and Eddie has the horrible feeling that the monster’s already in here with them.
He leaves the bedroom, closing the door gently with a near-silent click as he pads, sock-footed out of the room.
Eddie’s stuck at the threshold, staring into the darkening interior of the trailer. He feels like he’s been stuck at the threshold for weeks, and everything keeps trying to push him through.
The monster, the lab, Chief fucking Hopper. They’re all pushing at his back, trying to shove him somewhere he’s not sure he wants to be. And now’s he through, and he doesn’t know what to do. They’re kids. They’re all just fucking kids. Even him. Even Steve. And god, Will’s still so small.
He’s past the theshould, straight through, and there’s no more time to stall. So, Eddie does what he always does when he wants to run – he picks up the phone.
It’s not Uncle Wayne that answers, just a faceless, nameless peon down at the plant. But they patch him through. Eddie’s bottom lip tremors, so he bites down on it, caging all his mixed up emotions in his throat until Uncle Wayne can pick up his call and tell him what to do.
“Ed?” he asks, sharp and demanding the way he always gets when he’s worried and trying not to show it. “What’s wrong?”
“It–” Eddie’s throat chooses that moment to clog up. He chokes on his words, trying to claw them out. “It’s Steve he–”
He hiccups pathetically. “Breathe, boy.”
Eddie doesn’t, but he starts talking, words slurring over each other as they fight their way out past his clogged throat and lame tongue. “There was all this smoke, Uncle Wayne, and it’s in him.” He says it all in one breath, barely intelligible as they make a mad dash to escape his vocal chords before he loses the ability to speak altogether.
“Breath.”
Eddie does, just once, sharp and quick, before continuing, “You don’t get it. He was suffocating! Dying! But then he wasn’t, but this is wrong.” he says, hissing into the receiver and staring at the closed bedroom door, waiting for it to open. “There’s something wrong with him.”
The last whisper rings over the static of the line. Eddie can hear Uncle Wayne breathing, slow and steady enough that he can regulate his own lungs to it without the command. As if he knows this, because he always knows, he lets the silence settle in. Eddie’s breaths deepen, finally making his lungs fully expand, before Uncle Wayne speaks.
“I’m coming home.”
Uncle Wayne hasn’t come home early since that time in grade school when he’d called him at work, delirious as his brain cooked itself.
Uncle Wayne had come home with cold medicine and canned chicken noodle soup clacking together in a shitty plastic bag from the gas station. Eddie had been curled up on the couch, nearly delirious as his Uncle spooned medicine down his throat before going to heat up the soup on the stove.
He’d only been living with Uncle Wayne for a few months at that point, walking on eggshells as he waited to be kicked to the curb. It was Wayne’s quiet care even in the face of Eddie’s inconvenience that had convinced him that maybe this situation was for keeps.
He hadn’t realized until the next week that the missed work and cost of supplies would mean two double shifts to keep the electricity on. Wayne never mentioned it, but Eddie noticed things, and the break in routine stuck out. He decided to never call Wayne home early from work again. And, he’d stuck to his guns, muddling through any situation until his Uncle got home.
Now, those same cost analyses are running through his head. A day at home today, means overtime tomorrow, means they get to keep the electricity on. “But–”
“No buts, Ed,” Wayne cuts in gruffly. “I’ll see you in ten.”
The dial tone is the most comforting sound Eddie’s ever heard. He stands there, cradling the dead line until it starts beeping, then goes silent. He’s stuck again, at another threshold.
He doesn’t move when he hears tires on gravel coming up the drive, doesn’t move when the front door opens, when his Uncle’s work-rough hands brush over his shoulders and squeeze, when he walks further into the trailer, away from Eddie.
But then he hears the bedroom door click open. He drops the phone, just lets it dangle unhooked on the line, and follows his Uncle into the unknown.
Will’s still curled into a small ball, but now he’s blinking up at where Wayne is hovering above the bed, the back of his hand pressed to Steve’s head with a frown of concentration.
He reaches out to shake Steve’s shoulder. “Don’t–” Eddie starts, but it’s too late: Steve’s awake.
He blinks up at Wayne, gaze vacant and uncomprehending before it clears. “What?” he asks, voice full of sleep’s gravel as he rubs his eyes.
“We gotta go, Harrington.”
Steve blinks uncomprehendingly up at Wayne. He doesn’t react. Not to the last name that Wayne had never called him. Not to the way Wayne’s frowning down at him like he’s trying to vivisect him with just his gaze. He just gets up and walks purposefully out of the room in nothing but his boxers to stand by the door.
Will sits up, looking after Steve with a worried frown Eddie swears he can feel beating within his own chest. He wrings his hands in the loose fabric of the too-long sleeves of Steve’s sweater as he stands. “Where are we going?” he asks, leaving no wiggle room to be left behind.
Wayne turns away, rifling through Eddie’s drawers to grab a T-shirt and basketball shorts for Steve, who’s still standing eerily still by the front door.
“Eddie?” Will asks, but Eddie just shrugs because he doesn’t know, can’t seem to think past the clawing dread festering within him.
Uncle Wayne huffs, “your Ma’s house,” without looking at either of them as he strides out of the room and toward Steve.
Seeing as Eddie’s own Mom is six feet in the ground, he’s going to assume Wayne means Mama Byers. He looks over to Will who’s still standing there, fidgeting with Steve’s sweater with a wide-eyed look Eddie can’t quite read.
“I’m late,” Will murmurs, staring up at Eddie like he can fix this. “She’s going to be mad.”
Eddie strides over to slap his arm companionably over Will’s shoulders as he drags him out of the room. “Nah, just worried, baby Byers.”
Will huffs. “That’s worse,” he murmurs. And yeah, it is. Ms. Byers has spent enough time with that grieving, panicked look in her eyes, that Eddie’d rather never see it again, to be honest. But it’s a little late for that.
Wayne’s pulling Steve’s shorts up, tying the string around his waist. He’s already got a shirt on, arms dangling loosely as he makes no move to help. It would be a sweet moment if Steve’s eyes weren’t still staring vacantly at the front door.
Wayne pushes Steve forward, shuffling him into the flip flops Eddie left abandoned at the front door. Steve flexes his toes around them, and finally shows signs of life. “Thank you,” he murmurs, reaching out to open the front door, and step surely down the steps as they all scramble to follow.
All four of them pile into Wayne’s truck, Wayne in the driver’s seat, and Eddie in the back with Will, Steve sandwiched in between them. No one mentions the empty passenger seat.
Without prompting, Will digs his walkie talkie out of his deep jean pocket, and depresses the talk button. “Party meeting at my house,” Will says, “Over.”
He lets go of the button, and stares down at the thing, like he’s willing his friend’s voices to trickle out. Wayne watches him through the rearview mirror, before flicking his eyes back to the road.
Eddie jumps when voices start speaking over each other, chaotic and loud, until Dustin’s voice rings over them all. “Code red?” he demands.
Will shifts his eyes over to Steve before meeting Eddie’s own. Eddie shrugs because honestly, who could say what the fuck is going on at this point?
“Uh, code yellow?” Will replies questioningly.
“That’s not a thing!” Dustin says.
There’s the sound of a scuffle, then silence, before it’s Mike’s voice ringing out over the tinny speaker. “Is it about whatever the hell happened with Steve?”
Steve doesn’t look up at the sound of his name. A stone’s dropping in Eddie’s stomach. He’s not sure where it lands, but he can feel the impact shake him. Something’s very very wrong.
Will responds, “yeah,” on a quiet exhale. He takes a deep breath before continuing. “Be quick.”
Will shuts the thing off and stuffs it back into his pocket. The silence immediately suffocates, clouding Eddie’s mind. There’s a careful three inches between his thigh and Steve’s that leaves him buzzing.
There haven’t been any spaces between them, not since that first night in the Upside-Down, huddled down in Harrington’s closet, waiting for a dawn that’ll never come. The space aches now, like a missing limb, like a string pulling them together, rope burning Eddie’s skin as he resists.
It’s a relief to pull up to the Byers’ house. Even when Mama Byers storms out, the rain cloud of anger across her face barely masking the banked terror beneath it. Jonathan trails out after her, eyes shining with the worry he hasn’t been able to shake in almost a year. Will crawls out of the backseat, and stands hesitantly beside the open door, looking down at his shoes as his Mom approaches. She scoops Will into her arms with a curse, scolding him fiercely even as Will burrows into her embrace.
Jonathan hovers, palms resting gently onto both their shoulders, like it physically pains him not to be involved, but he doesn’t have the heart to push in between them.
Eddie watches the scene for a moment, letting the ache settle into him before he’s sliding out of the car to stand by Wayne’s side.
When Steve doesn’t immediately get out, Eddie calls, “Stevie?” until he’s crawling out to stand beside Eddie. The contrast between their outfits is startling in the cold, November air. Eddie’s got goosebumps. Steve’s got nothing at all.
“Aren’t you cold, honey?” Eddie looks up from the bare skin of Steve’s arm to watch Mama Byers round the front of the truck, hands outstretched, as if to pull him into his own hug.
“Wait, don’t—” Eddie says, but her hands are already clasped around Steve’s forearms.
Steve hisses, taking a step back and yanking his arms out of her hands. Mama Byers looks up at him, mouth open, eyes wide. No one speaks.
There’s silence. Then, the loud tires of three kid’s shitty bikes eating up the pavement as fast as possible. They skid into view, abandoning bikes to crowd around Will like he’s an injured deer they're trying to protect.
Wayne sighs. “Guess we better go in,” he says. His voice is monotone, but when Eddie looks over at him, his eyes are sad as he gazes at Steve. “We got a lot to talk about.
Part 75
Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @1-8oo-wtfbro @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar @mightbeasleep @neonfruitbowl @beth--b @silenzioperso @best-selling-show @v3lv3tf0x @bookworm0690 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @wonderland-girl143-blog @nerdsconquerall @sharingisntkaren
197 notes
·
View notes
Text
Miguel O’hara
mafia au fic, NOT proofread 🌚, no SA but implications of it almost happening.
｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈•ﾟ｡｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈•ﾟ｡｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈•ﾟ｡
Your working in a run down old diner, somewhere on the corner of pine street. the smell of stale coffee and cooking oil fills the air.
this is not where you’d expected to end up, all though you didn’t mind it. The pay was..okay and atleast you got free food every shift, so it’s whatever.
the bell attached to the door rings as someone new enters the diner, their heavy footsteps clanking on the old floor as they move closer.
You look up to a man, obviously taller then most, his hair is messy and a bored expression plays on his face.
he sits down in front of you, letting his calloused hands rest on the counter as he does so. You eyes trail over the surface before slowly looking up to him.
“what can i get you sir?” you ask with a small cheery smile hovering on your face. “Coffee, one milk and no sugar.” he says in a rich tone, making you wonder if he always sounds like that. You nod slowly and turn around to prepare the bland drink, before placing it down in front of him.
“anything else?” you ask with a small smile before he shakes his head. “It’s not safe for you to be working alone this late.” he points out “I know, i know.” you nod along with a sheepish smile “but my manger doesn’t seem to agree.” you shrug.
he only huffs in response, you start to move away when a sudden loud noise rings through the air, immediately catching your attention as you turn toward the noise.
“don’t worry, it’s under control.” he says plainly, taking a sip of his freshly poured coffee before standing up with a sigh. “you just sit here pretty while i go clear some things up out there, yeah?” he opens his wallet, taking a 20 out and placing it on the counter in front of me. “thanks for the coffee.” he grumbles as you stand there with a nervous expression, as he walks away.
the little bell rings once again as the door is opened and shut. slowly, you make your way over to the door, peering out only to see him gone. and whoever made the loud shorting noises no where to be found either.
that was three nights ago, and you haven’t seen the suspicious man since. And honestly you were a bit thankful, danger wasn’t something you had wanted to find yourself involved in.
walking down the cold and empty street, your heels clicking on the concrete sidewalk as you made your way home from your late night shift.
every rustle in the bushes, or gust of wind knocking abandoned objects over only making you more paranoid as this wasn’t exactly the safest part of town.
Your legs move quicker as you try to escape the cold night, wanting nothing more to be home right now. Your thoughts distract you as you suddenly bump into someone.
your stunned for a moment, obviously not expecting the interaction before you fall into profusely apologizing.
“An honest mistake, i’m really sorry.” you mumble before looking up to the man..The Man who seems all too familiar.
“That’s alright.” he mumbles, looking down at you with a cold face. You stare at him, trying to remember who he was. “wait..oh, you came into the diner a few nights ago” you say with a intrigued expression painted on your face. “Did you ever find out what all that noise outside was?” you ask curiously.
“oh.” he pauses to think as he brushes a hand through his neat hair. “Nothing, just a small misunderstanding between some friends of mine.” he shrugs non chalantly, causing you to nod slowly, still a bit suspicious of the whole situation.
“It’s not safe to be out this late, thought I told you that” he mumbles digging through his pocket before pulling out a pack of cigarettes and taking one out.
he lights it and you just shift your weight, trying to figure out an answer to his statement. “Needa’ have a chat with your boss?” he asks, inhaling deeply.
you quickly shake your head. “No, it’s just uhm we’re short on employees right now. i just have to close up alone for a little while.” you shrug.
he lets out a low hum in response, always seeming a bit uninterested in whatever the topic was. “so..what about you?” you ask politely. “what are you doing here so late?” you blink curiously.
he lets the cigarette rest in his hands as he turns to face you, his strong face almost entrancing you. “some business.” he looks down, his eyes dragging over your figure slowly. “Just tying a few loose ends up, that’s all sweetheart.” he grumbles as faint yelling can be heard inside the building.
you finally take notice of the surroundings, a few expensive looking black cars parked out front of the building.
The shouting grew louder, followed by a loud shot. something that didn’t seem to faze him in the slightest. You turn to look at him, wide eyed and worried, he only stared back coldly.
“Don’t worry about it, yeah?” he says with a chuckle, putting his cigarette out on the ground. “You heard nothin’ doll.”he stands up to his full height as two other men walk out of the building, one with a small cut across his face.
he looks up to the sky, studying the dark atmosphere. “You needa’ ride home? it’s late.” he asks looking back down to you.
you chew on your lip, not sure about getting in a car with a with someone you’d just met. “come on cariño, don’t wanna leave you alone out here in the dark.” he says in a sincere tone.
you let out a quiet hum in thought. “Okay, thank you” you mumble as he starts walking towards the vehicle.
you open the door and sit down, shutting it firmly and reaching for the seatbelt. “Where you goin’ too?” he asks, turning to face you.
you tell him the address to your apartment and the car engine roars to life, driving down the empty and dark road.
the radio plays mindlessly in the background as you look out the window. “How come you’re still workin in that shit hole?” he breaks the silence “Coffees less then decent and it’s dangerous for you to be around there at night.”
you sigh a little. “Not sure where else i would work, i don’t have much of an option.” You look over to him, his dark eyes staring down the road and his rough hands gripped tightly on the steering wheel.
he turns a corner and your apartment building comes into view, the front entrance dimly lit by the lamp posts.
he parks out front, turning the engine off and looking over at you. “let me give you a ride from now on, i’m in the area anyway.” he gives you a stern look “And i have no problem doin’ something extra to keep a sweet thing like you safe.” he grins at you.
you wet your lips, trying to think. Sure it would be great to not walk home in this dangerous area at night..but yet again-
“Don’t think about it too much, darlin” he pulls you away from your thoughts. “i’ll go by your work round’ 10, you can decide then.” he shrugs .
“okay?” he asks “okay.” you nod slowly before grabbing hold of your purse again and turning to open the car door. “thank you for the ride..” you trail off, realizing you don’t actually know his name.
“Miguel.” he finishes for you. “Y/N” you say with a sheepish smile before exiting the car and closing the door gently.
you walk into the lobby of your apartment, peering out the window as the car slowly drives away, And then he’s gone.
｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈•ﾟ｡｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈•ﾟ｡｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈•ﾟ｡
The night passes quickly and you find yourself back at work, struggling to drag the trash outside. you let out a groan of annoyance.
“Need some help muñecita?” he chuckles, almost scaring the life out of you. “God! you scared me” you say dropping the bag on the ground harshly.
he hums and walks forward to pick the bag up out of your hand, swinging it into the trash bin with ease.
“your shift over?” he asks and you only nod, following him as he walks back towards the door of the diner.
you lock up the diner and stand out front of the building with him. “you want that ride yet?” he asks looking toward you.
you glance down at your shoes and back up to him. “yes please.” you mumble, following him to the car.
once again the engine roars to life, driving along the road. “hope you don’t mind, gotta stop by work.” he sighs “No, i don’t mind at all” you say politely as he nods.
You reach the large brick building and he motions for you to follow him inside. you walk along side him, into the luxurious building, your heels clicking on the marble floors.
he leads you to a sort of waiting room and assures you he’ll only be a moment before taking off.
a minute or so passes by before a man walks in, he’s short and round, with a grouchy look on his face.
a whistle escapes his mouth as he looks over to you, looking you up and down in a gross manner.
he takes short strides over to you, making you lean further back in the chair. you look around the quiet room nervously.
“what ya’ doin here, sugar?” he asks stroking his chin. “waiting for a friend.” you reply in a monotone voice.
“think i can keep ya’ company?” he chuckles, licking his lips. “no, that’s okay. i wouldn’t want to trouble you.” which only seems to earn another laugh from him.
“trust me sugar, it’d be no trouble.” he grumbles on. “it’s okay, really.” you try to tell him but he only seems to move closer, his hand now on your arm.
suddenly heavy footsteps can be heard approaching, before miguel walks in. A cold look covers his face, but it only seems to become sharper as he sees the man near you.
the man turns around, also hearing the footsteps and immediately backing off when he saw who it was.
“Boss! Was just..” he rambles nervously as he backs up. “get out.” Miguel warns and he quickly leaves the room.
Miguel’s face softens he turns to look at you, all worried and fidgeting with your hands. he walks up to you, a sorry expression on his face.
“you okay sweetheart? did he hurt you?” he asks, his gaze analyzing you. “i’m fine..” you mumble, quickly standing up.
“m’sorry muñecita, i’ll deal with him tomorrow.” he nods “promise.”
the two of you make your way to his car, he opens the door for you before getting in his side and turning the keys.
you lay your head on the seat tiredly, shifting in the seat to get comfortable, and out of the corner of your eye you see his grip tighten on the wheel.
you must have fallen asleep because you feel someone gently tapping on your shoulder, waking you up just enough to talk.
“we’re here” he mumbles softly. You let out a quiet hum, barely a response. you feel him unbuckling the seat belt and you instinctively latch onto him, wrapping your arms around his neck.
he lets out a quiet groan into your neck. “come on then” he chuckles, picking you up swiftly. you wrap your legs around him and he walks to the elevator.
you tell him your apartment number as he clicks the button and the doors shut. You shift in his arms slightly, trying to get more comfortable, which earns a groan from him.
“Gotta stop moving like that..” he grumbles in your ear, waking you up a lot.
the doors open to your floor and he steps out of the box, walking down the quiet hallway. he stops at your door and lowers you down to the floor, causing you to let out a dissatisfied whine to which he only chuckles.
you dig through your purse for the keys to your house, pulling them out and unlocking the door.
you turn around to face him, a tired pout on your face as you look up at his chiseled face.
he stares back down at you, a smug look covering his features. “you need to get to sleep sweetheart.” he says, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear and leaning down toward you.
your eyes scan over his face. “mhm..” you hum out quietly, biting your lips slightly. “mhm.” he mimics you, his face creeping down to your neck as he places a soft kiss.
｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈•ﾟ｡｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈•ﾟ｡｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈•ﾟ｡
rahhh anyway lemme know how you feel about this freaks AND if i should do a part two or wtv 😋
#across the spiderverse#miguel o'hara#miguel x reader#mafia!au miguel#mafia!au#miguel spiderman#iminloveweveryone#oh no big bad mafia boss#sweet spot#this is cute#twirling my hair and giggling#cinammonwrites
173 notes
·
View notes
Text
everything i touch turns sick with sadness — nikolai lantsov
series masterlist | writing masterlist | askbox
─── summary: anya still believes, sometimes, that nikolai made a mistake in marrying her. he’ll spend every day for the rest of their lives proving her wrong.
─── pairing: nikolai lantsov & anya kamenev (original character.)
─── warnings: serious angst, miscarriage, pre-established relationship, hurt/comfort. this one is fucking painful. thank you for voting on it i may never recover from writing it! title is from bigger than the whole sky by taylor swift. this is a little au where nikolai is still king post ROW and there's no demon bc i haven't read ROW in a minute and i didn't want to fuck up any details. also i take prompts pls send some i love them
─── word count: 3k.
The Grand Palace is always too cold. It’s all cavernous rooms and long, draughty hallways like a rabbit warren leading to nowhere. Exploring these hallowed halls had been fun when she was small, and there were surprises lurking just out of sight. Now Anya shivers as she turns a corner, a chilly gust of wind streaking down the corridor past her.
For somewhere so opulent, with its vaulted ceilings and gold-gilt wallpaper, one would be forgiven for assuming the insulation would be better, but even now, as the depths of winter give way to a pleasant spring, even with a fire burning in every hearth, the Grand Palace is far too cold.
Genya rests a hand on Anya's elbow as they walk. They are heading into the last meeting in a long day, and Anya is certain she's not the only one who feels exhausted. Genya has her own things to worry about, her own duties to fulfil, but she’d taken one look at Anya’s expression, at the telltale tug of her lips, as they passed one another in the corridor and declared that accompanying her queen to this meeting was of the utmost importance. Everything else could wait.
(It can’t, really, and Zoya will likely be very cross, but Anya cannot deny that she appreciates the company. Tolya is a darling, and follows her like a second shadow, but Genya understands the tiredness that takes root in your bones and refuses to leave. Ruling Ravka comes at a cost, Anya knew that when she agreed to marry Nikolai, but Saints, what she wouldn't give for a nap right now.)
She meets Genya's concerned glance, and offers a weary smile. "You could set this place on fire and I imagine it would still be freezing."
Genya chuckles. "Don't tempt me." Her kefta is buttoned all the way to her throat, and Anya briefly wishes she could wear her own.
She does have one, embroidered in the palest blue of the Tidemakers and tucked at the very back of her wardrobe, though she very rarely has cause to bring it out. She was always going to be a hard sell as queen. So many nobles had made their prejudice known regarding her disability, while her distaste for Ravka is well-documented. She never could have imagined becoming its queen. She’d never wanted to.
But she is, and Nikolai fought for that, so being Grisha remains a secret shared between only her closest friends. The nobles don’t need another reason to dislike her.
Though she suspects Genya is rather warmer than she is right now.
The War Room is already occupied when they reach it. An assortment of a few military personnel, seated around the table. This meeting isn't terribly important — if it were, Nikolai would be here — but Anya had received intelligence from one of the reconnaissance scouts at the Fjerdan border, and a discussion with the relevant officials felt prudent before any further escalation.
She murmurs a greeting as she takes her seat at the head of the table. Her commanders stumble to their feet, "Moya tsaritsa" echoing from their mouths. A chill runs down Anya's spine. No matter how many years pass, she suspects she will never get used to the title.
Maps of Ravka sprawl across the surface of the table, creased and yellowing at the edges. Small figurines depicting their troops are dotted about the place, though the majority are clustered near the border with Fjera now that the Fold is gone. Tolya posts himself at her back, just behind her chair, while Genya sits beside her, shoulders tight as soldiers begin to whisper.
It has been years since Genya was scarred by the Darkling, but she is still a source of malicious gossip in the Grand Palace.
A sharp glare from Anya silences them, and the meeting gets underway. As one of the commanders begins recounting a report from the Fjerdan scouts, Anya does her best to pay attention. His voice is dull and droning, like a drill boring holes into the back of her skull, but she nods at the right times. She knows that report from memory. She takes her role very seriously.
When Nikolai made her General of the First Army, not long before they were married, few had found cause to argue. There'd been dissent about their marriage, concerns about her becoming queen, but not many could deny that she was an excellent choice to lead the First Army. Anya had been one of them, after all; discharged with honours after her injury, she'd ranked highly, served on the frontlines with them all, and she'd been a key figure in the Darkling's defeat.
(Well, she’d really debate how essential she’d been in that scenario, because she’d felt particularly useless at the time, but regardless, she’d been honoured for it.)
It doesn’t matter what she did, or who she saved. She will always have something to prove. Her stomach tightens a little as the memories come to her, unbidden, like moths to lantern light.
Anya’s finger trails absent lines along the edge of the table. It is startling, really, how easy it is to forget sometimes.
The civil war. The people she loved, and the people she lost. Blood in the sand. Days spent tortured in a Shu laboratory. Blood in her mouth. There are mornings when she wakes on a choked sob, red-rimmed eyes already watery with unshed tears. She can still feel the ash from the Darkling’s funeral pyre on her tongue. Her nightmares root through her and leave her half-ragged. Still fresh as the day they happened, no matter how many years sit between those days and these.
Her husband wakes when she does, like two ends of a leather cord. If she tugs, he feels it, so attuned to her pitch-dark soul. Black-tipped fingers curl into her hair as he holds her close. He has nightmares, too. Some scars never heal. Anya knows this too well.
Other days are different. Most days, now that the years have passed. Life demands her attention, won’t allow her to dwell on the dead for too long anymore. The world around her rushes by, and Ravka will not sit and wait for its rulers to be ready. The Grand Palace is a constant flurry of activity.
Her stomach is a raw nerve, a jagged edge pulling inside of her. She tries not to wince at it. The memories are painful still, yes, but she is used to breathing through them. Grief will always sit in the shadows, waiting for its moment to pounce — but there is light, too. There is love. A warm hand to hold, friends to weather the storm with. Memories, good and bad, line the halls of their home like patchwork tapestries. Every room has a ghost.
The commander to her left says her name as he outlines his proposal going forward. Genya shoots her a concerned look, but Anya merely nods as he speaks, her lips pressed together in a thin line. In, out. Her lungs flood with air as she breathes deeply, trying to dispel the knot in her stomach, but the thread of pain only pulls tighter and tighter with every inhale.
She touches her palm gently to her abdomen, the action concealed by the table. Another sensation strikes her, this one sharper than the others, and she fights to hold her breath as it passes.
This is familiar. This carries with it a different grief, hollow and hopeless. Her fingers curl into the fabric of her dress. This she knows, intimately. Her heart sinks.
The meeting can’t have lasted more than an hour by the time it is over, but each moment felt like a lifetime. With a plan of action decided between them, her commanders bid her goodbye. Anya remains seated as they file out of the room. From the corner of her eye, she watches Tolya close the door behind them.
Genya leans in, latching a hand onto Anya’s forearm. Her eyes are bright with concern. “Anya, are you alright? You hardly said a word near the end. That’s not like you.”
Anya allows her eyes to fall closed as her friend reaches out. The palm Genya presses against her forehead is soft and cool, and Anya fights the urge to lean into the Tailor’s comforting touch.
“I’m fine, Genya.” It is easy to brush off her own discomfort. Anya knows what is happening, she’s sure of it, and she will deal with it in time.
It has happened before, after all. The sensation is as familiar as the sharp ache in her knee, the scars on her flesh, the blackened tips of Nikolai’s fingers.
Tolya kneels beside her chair. His frown is so loud that she can hear it without needing to look at him. “I can hear your heart racing, and you’ve been wincing every so often. Is your knee troubling you?”
Another pain spikes through her like a lightning strike. Anya releases a slow breath and shakes her head. “No, it’s not my knee. I believe that was the last of my meetings, so I’ll retire to my chambers for the rest of the day.” She pushes herself up from the chair, faltering only slightly. Tolya’s hand on her waist is steady and sure. “Send a healer, but please be discreet. It’s nothing serious, I assure you. And please… no one should bother Nikolai.”
“Anya, if you’re unwell, he’ll want to know.” Genya watches her as a mourner watches the grave.
“I’m not unwell.” Despite her words, Anya’s voice still trembles. “I will be fine. I promise.”
She’s just about to get out of the bath when she hears the door to their bedchamber clatter open and crash into the wall. Her heart gives a dull, heavy thud as she hears her husband’s panicked voice. She has no energy left to summon any frustration at Genya for giving her away.
When Anya emerges from the bathroom, a silk robe tied loosely on her slight frame, Nikolai is still standing in the middle of their bedchamber. His chest is heaving as if he ran all the way to her, golden cheeks aflush. His eyes are soft and worried as he watches her fiddle with the ties of her robe. Saints, when is the last time she looked like this? Her cheeks seem hollow, purple bruises like pressed violets beneath her eyes. The weariness in her reminds him of long nights during the war, when he’d grip her tightly enough to leave his fingerprints on her skin and it seemed the sun would never rise again.
She’s drained. As if that spark of Anya, that light he’d fallen in love with so long ago, has been snuffed out entirely. The woman before him is a hollow shell. Had it been only a few hours since he saw her last? This morning he’d chased her laughing through the sitting room and kissed her against the wall until Zoya dragged him away to attend to his duties. He can still hear her giggling, a sweet phantom sound.
A servant emerges from the bathroom behind Anya looking upset, carrying a wicker basket overflowing with damp towels. She keeps her eyes fixed on the rug. Anya dismisses her with a small smile and the servant scurries out of their bedchamber, dropping into a rushed curtsey as she passes Nikolai.
Anya doesn’t look at him until the door clicks shut.
The look she sends him is enough to shatter his heart completely. Her mouth quivers perilously at the edges, but she’s smiling at him, damn it, as if soothing his frayed nerves is of the utmost importance.
He doesn’t breathe as she crosses the room to settle gingerly on the chaise, fearful that any sudden movements might spook her. Her honey-coloured hair is swept back, a few tendrils hanging limply around her gaunt face, accentuating the sharpness of her cheekbones.
“What happened?” His voice is little more than a gravelly whisper. The room feels impossibly heavy. “Genya mentioned you were unwell. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Anya hugs herself tightly. The sight makes his heart ache. “I wanted to be sure, first. And I am.” The words are quiet. Nikolai doesn’t think he’s ever heard her sound so small.
He drops to his knees in front of her. Reaching out, he clasps her freezing hands between his own. “Sure about what?”
She looks up at him through damp eyelashes. Her eyes are bloodshot, her hands are limp in his grip, lips cracked and bitten, and yet he wonders how there was ever a day he didn’t love her. How foolish he’d been as a child, to look at her and not immediately surrender his heart.
When Anya speaks again, it is little more than a ragged whisper. “I lost the baby.”
Nikolai blinks at her. His lips have turned numb. “I didn’t know you were pregnant.”
Anya shakes her head roughly. “I didn’t want to tell you yet. I didn’t want to get your hopes up again.”
Grief sits between them like a depthless chasm, and suddenly he understands. Nikolai reaches up to cup her face with one hand, sweeping his thumb over the tear-stained skin of her cheek. She sinks into his touch, and it takes everything he has not to splinter into a thousand mournful pieces.
They both know what happened before. There have been three pregnancies since they started trying two years, and each has left them stained with heartache. After the second, the healers informed them of the harrowing reality; that Anya may well not be able to have children. Not after the beatings she took in captivity.
Some scars never heal. This, they both know too well.
“You should have told me.” He wants to scream, to rage, to weep for her. He wants to scrape away all of her pain and take it for himself, to ensure she never hurts again.
“I didn’t want to. When you didn’t know… When I kept it to myself, I was the only one who could hope and dream and pray about it,” she tells him. She won’t burden him with her dreams, of the golden-haired girl she sees when she closes her eyes or the little boy whose laugh sounds exactly like Nikolai’s.
A desperate whimper slips out and suddenly he’s on the chaise beside her, sweeping her into a tight embrace. He rubs her back in gentle circles as she buries her sobs in his chest, and drops his lips to her hair as if that will stifle his own tears.
“Nik, what if I can’t have children?” Her voice is muffled by his shirt, but no amount of fabric could ever disguise the pain of it. “Ravka… Ravka depends on it.” Once upon a time, it would have amused him to hear her care about what Ravka wants. Once upon a time, not that long ago, she didn’t care if this Saints-forsaken country fell into the sea. Now his heart stutters painfully. “You’re going to need heirs, and what if I can’t do it?”
He wonders how long she has harboured these quiet doubts. How long she has let them fester silently inside her chest. It is so rare for Anya to voice her insecurities. She is a soldier, through and through; stoic and stern, facing the storm with unflinching resolve. When he’d rescued her from captivity and she found her future altered beyond recognition, she hadn’t faltered.
She is not invincible. He knows the softness of her heart beneath all that armour.
“Anya…” he murmurs.
“I don’t want you to wake up one day and regret ever choosing me.” The confession spills out of her quickly, like she’s afraid she won’t say it if she hesitates. When she pulls back, skin blotchy and eyes shining, her expression is almost surprised. “I don’t think I’d survive that.”
A fierce anger rises in Nikolai’s chest, but not at her. Never at her. His eyes burn with ferocity as he kisses her, harder than he means to, hard enough to bruise. He kisses her as if his lips against hers will make her believe it, as if she can feel the love overflowing from his heart. A heart not big enough to hold it all in without bursting.
He pulls away, breathing heavily, and presses his forehead against hers. His hand curls around the back of her neck, fingers tangled in loose strands of her hair.
“Loving you will never be a mistake,” he rasps. “Not to me. Do you understand? I will spend the rest of our lives proving that to you.”
She shudders against him, half a sob building in her chest. “Nik.”
He can feel his heartbeat in his throat. There aren’t enough words in any language to convey what she means to him, but he has to try. “And children, children with you, would be lovely. I’d cherish them with all my heart. But only if you want them. Not because you feel it’s your duty, but because you want them. It’s your choice, milaya. And if you do, and we cannot have them, well—” He shrugs, a fleeting smirk passing over his face. “I’m the King. We will figure it out. ”
Her laugh is small, quiet, but it is there. He wants to bottle the sound and keep it forever.
“The important thing,” he says, pressing a kiss to her forehead, “is that you are safe, and healthy, and I love you. I love you so much, Anya. Never doubt that for a moment.”
She crumbles then, collapsing into him as the last of her strength dissolves. He knows she is in pain, and her heart is breaking, and so is his. She weeps quietly as she curls up in his lap and he holds her as tightly as he can, stroking gently through her hair.
Some scars never heal, no matter the time that passes. But these are wounds they will bear together, and if ever Nikolai is able to ease Anya’s heartache, then by the Saints, there is no force in the world that could stop him.
#* chapter update.#nikolai lantsov#nikolai lantsov oc#nikolai lantsov x reader#nikolai lantsov fanfic#shadow and bone oc#shadow and bone fanfic#grishaverse#grishaverse fanfic#six of crows fanfic#* fic: gold rush.
66 notes
·
View notes
Text
This is the beginning of the end
Formula One x Final Destination AU
warnings: gore, death, blood, graphic descriptions of death
word count: 1.8k
summary: Logan’s premonition of a deadly rollercoaster ride saves his life and a lucky few, but not from death itself - which seeks out those who escaped their fate
authors note: I was bored and decided to combine my 2 favorite interests
It was the senior carnival trip everyone was excited about graduating. Well everyone except Logan, that is. He still had no clue what he wanted to do after high school.
He kept procrastinating finding a career telling himself “he’d have more time” and now here he stands in front of Max Verstappen snapping a shot of him playing the high striker for the yearbook, a week away from graduating.
“Lewis, Nico!” Logan called out towards the duo before snapping a shot of them together.
Logan takes a look at the picture as the duo walks away, noticing a weird blur in the photo he decides to zoom in before Oscar interrupts his thoughts.
“We should totally go and ride The Devil’s Flight, it’ll be so much fun!” Oscar exclaimed as he jumped around. Logan and the rest of the guys just laughed watching him in amusement.
Logan took out his camera and was about to take a picture when someone got in his way. “Excuse me,” he said, annoyed. To his surprise Lance turned around glaring at him.
“Does mom know you’re here?” Logan asked, glaring back.
“You are a complete bitch if you tell her”, Lance growled.
Logan smirked, “The proof's right here.”
“Get a shot of this then”, Lance laughed as he stuck his middle fingers out, wincing as Logan took a picture.
Logan walked away catching up to his friends smiling as Alex called out to him “Take a picture of me holding the devil’s balls!” the brit said in a playful tone.
He giggled to himself as he snapped the picture furrowing his brows as he noticed the weird blur again. He shook his head and decided to ignore it, as he continued walking, Alex slung his arm around him. “Are you alright?” the older one asked.
Logan bit his lip as he stared up at Alex. “I have that feeling like dejá vu, you know? except for something that hasn't happened yet.”
“Look, I know you and I think that maybe you're nervous about this roller coaster because they say the real fear comes from the feeling of having no control.” Alex said as he gently caressed his face, reassuring the younger one.
Logan nodded and continued walking, shivering as a gust of wind hit him.
“So I guess me and Logan are going in front?” Alex asked, making sure everyone was fine with that. Logan quickly turned to look at him, shaking his head. “Nuh uh I can’t do the front, I have to see the track or else I’ll like totally freak out”
“OK fine, you can ride in the back with Lando” Alex motioned, moving the two next to each other.
“No way I am NOT missing out on the fun just cause Logan’s scared, why don’t YOU ride in the back with him” Lando exclaimed, glaring at Alex.
“Don’t worry Logan, I’ll ride in the back with you” Oscar reassured him as he rolled his eyes at the older Brit’s.
Another gust of wind blew, making the hairs on the back of Logan’s neck stand up. He looked up at the giant devil statue and felt his blood run cold. He decided to ignore the feeling and got in line with the rest of the guys.
“You’re in section 6” the ride attendant called out as Logan and Oscar made their way to their seats.
“Oh mega yuck,” Oscar shrieked as he touched a piece of gum that was stuck onto the ride. Logan couldn't help himself and busted out laughing. “That is so not funny, Logan,” Oscar mumbled as the ride attendant waved his hand in front of Logan.
“No cameras on the ride” he scoffed.
“Can I just put it in my pocket?” Oscar asked as he tucked the camera away.
“Yeah whatever”.
The ride started and Logan grabbed onto the seatbelt, closing his eyes for a second and exhaling.
Everyone starts cheering as the ride starts.
“You ok?” Oscar asked and he turned to look at Logan
“Yeah I’m fine” the oldest replied giving the aussie a half smile.
Everyone shrieked in excitement as the roller coaster went downhill, all raising their arms in excitement
“Hey Lewis, say hi to the camera” Romain annoyingly called.
“You should lift up your shirt Nico, give my followers a nice view”.
“Can you fuck off mate” Lewis groaned as he slapped that camera out of Romains hands
“HEY! that camera was expensive” Romain moaned
“Not my problem” Nico replied as he rolled his eyes
Romain frowned as he watched his camera fall, the camera wrapping itself around the track.
The roller coaster turned into a loop and everyone screamed in joy, the rollercoaster took a few more loops and turns. Everything was going smoothly when all of a sudden it ran over the camera, causing the hydraulics to burst, liquid leaking out and eventually the ride started malfunctioning.
“What the fuck!” Logan yells out as his seat belt lifts.
The screams of joy now turned into screams of terror as everyone’s seatbelts malfunction and unclip themselves from the ride.
Oscar yells as he clings tightly onto the seatbelt.
At this point, everyone is terrified and holding on for dear life. The roller coaster goes downhill and takes a sharp turn to the right when suddenly the bar connecting the ride snaps in half, immediately disconnecting the front part of the roller coaster, sending Alex and Lando flying off the track and falling to their death.
The ride continues, going over a bump which causes Max to fly out of his seat. Oscar lifts up his seatbelt and reaches out to catch Max holding onto him as hard as he can, the coaster takes a turn causing a piece of the ride to come off and go flying straight towards Max causing him to collide with the metal bars holding up the ride.
Logan is using his arm to hold Oscar into place as the ride continues, going for a loop when two of the wheels fall off causing the roller coaster to get stuck upside down. Mark and Sebastian scream in fear as they’re hanging onto the seatbelt of the ride.
“Hold on!” Logan yells out through tears at Sebastian as he starts to slip “I can’t” he yells back as he eventually loses grip and falls to his death as Mark follows along, two others falling behind them.
Logan is paralyzed in fear by this point not knowing what to do anymore “Help me rock the coaster” Oscar yells at him as they both start rocking forward. The roller coaster eventually completes the loop going straight down but right as they are about to cheer in victory the metal bar that Max had previously collided with goes right through Oscar cutting him in half.
Logan screams out in fear as the ride falls off the track sending him plummeting to the ground. He closes his eyes as he accepts his faith when suddenly he wakes up looking at his surroundings with a tear stained face as the ride attendant waves his hand in his face “No cameras allowed on the ride”.
Logan gasps and reaches to grab Oscar’s hand as it touches the piece of the gum stuck on the ride.
“WE HAVE TO GET OFF OF HERE!” he yelled at Oscar right as the ride attendant was gonna push the GO button.
“NO DON’T PUSH THE BUTTON, DON'T PUSH THE BUTTON!” Logan sobbed out as he tried getting the seatbelt off, “LET ME OUT, LET ME OUT!” he continued screaming.
Oscar looked at him concerned as he reached to grab his hand “Logan it’s ok”
Logan was looking around panicked as he kept clawing at his seatbelt “NO IT’S GONNA CRASH, IT’S GONNA CRASH!”
“Logan?” Alex questioned as he heard him screaming all the way at the front of the ride
“THE HYDRAULICS WILL RUPTURE YOU HAVE TO LET US OFF PLEASE!”
Logan was practically begging at this point as he continued to sob. Eventually security came “What’s going on?” he asked confused as he saw Logan freaking out “I don’t know he’s on something” the ride attendant replied as he glared at Logan
“LET ME OFF PLEASE!”
“Alright let them out, but just the back” the security replied as the back row seatbelts lifted up. Logan ran out towards the security trying to speak through sobs.
“Whoa whoa relax, what’s the matter?” he asked as he tried calming Logan down
“I saw it- I saw it in my head the tracks collapsed and the roller coaster collapsed-”
“No he was just a little upset before” Oscar interrupted as he grabbed Logan trying to sooth him and calm him down.
“Man can you please control that bitch” Max said as he got out of his seat “It’s gonna crash the hydraulics the coaster, man he’s just trying to get some fucking attention” Max scoffed as he got off the ride glaring at Logan and Oscar
“You know what you’re a real piece of shit Max, fuck you” Oscar replied as he walked up to Max
“Fuck moi?, nah man fuck you!” Max yelled as Oscar pushed him causing him to elbow Sebastian
Oscar and Max start throwing punches at each other as Mark got out trying to break the fight apart, Sebastian following right behind him
“Hey- Hey let me off” Alex exclaimed as he looked around trying to see what the commotion was
The security dragged Logan and the rest out the exit “Nobody else gets off this ride”
Alex turned towards the ride attendant with an annoyed look “Dude let me off”
“So high school” Nico scoffed as he got off
“Let’s get out” Lewis replied as he followed after him
“Where are you guys going!” Romain called out as he followed the pair
Alex was starting to get annoyed at this point “Dude let me off I gotta make sure he’s ok” he huffed as he looked at the ride attendant again.
“Hey, Ho, Let’s go!, Hey, Ho, Let’s go!” the crowd started to cheer trying to get the ride to continue
“Let me out dude, that’s my friend over there!” Alex exclaimed trying to get off the ride, the seatbelt not budging.
Eventually the ride attendant gets the cue to continue and presses the GO button, as Logan turns his head he sees the ride going, he freaks out and runs screaming at the ride attendant as everyone is dragging him back “STOP IT NO, STOP IT PLEASE PLEASE, THE TRACKS ARE BROKEN, STOP IT STOP IT PLEASE, ALEX!” Logan sobbed out trying to get away from Oscar’s tight grip.
The security guy eventually drags Logan and Oscar away, shoving them towards the exit. Logan was a mess as he stumbled down the stairs forcefully trying to explain everything.
“Just settle down and listen, what is your home phone number we can call your mother and everything will be oka-“ right as the manager was about to finish his sentence he got cut off by the sounds of screaming as the roller coaster crashed and sent everyone falling to their death.
“ALEX!” Logan sobbed as he fell to the floor crying.
authors note: plz comment your opinions on my story and leave a “🎟️” if u would like to be tagged in the next part! thank u sm for reading i really hope you enjoyed it 😸
#final destination 3#final destination#formula 1#formula one#logan sargeant#alex albon#alexander albon#lando norris#oscar piastri#lewis hamilton#nico rosberg#romain grosjean#max verstappen#mark webber#sebastian vettel#lance stroll#esteban ocon#mick schumacher#fanfic#fanfiction
27 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Gift (4 of 15) (Witch Steve AU)
previous: Chapter 3 Boys Are Witches Too (Part B)
next: Chapter 5 You're Doing That On Purpose (Part A)
Ao3 Link - Chapters will be updated ahead of Tumblr
Content: 1.5K words, CW: Eddie briefly uses homophobic language against himself.
Last chapter, Steve called back his mother to explain the latest round of the Upside Down and the Hawkins crew heard and accepted Steve's accounting of being a Witch. Now, Eddie wants to have a deeper conversation about what happened when he died.
Chapter 4 Break the Illusion
They had all been talking longer than he had realised, Steve thinks as he enters the kitchen. A window, facing out into the back garden, lets in the soft light of the late afternoon sun, its golden rays spilling over Eddie, creating a gentle halo on the dark cloud of his hair. Eddie's metalhead armor—the oversized black leather jacket, silver wallet chain, and worn jeans—seems incongruous against the peach floral patterns of the backsplash their interior designer installed back in '82.
Eddie has hopped up onto the tiled counter in front of the window, facing the door as he waits for Steve to join him. He’s also returned to that enigmatic expression again, Steve notes, though Eddie’s white Reeboks tap restlessly against the cupboards and his fingers twist at his rings, belying a nervous type of energy. He hopes it’s not him that is making Eddie jittery.
Steve waggles his fingers in a wave from the doorway in an awkward feeling of déjà vu, trying to communicate his harmlessness.
“Why’d you do it, man,” Eddie’s face may not be giving much away, but the tightness in his voice worries Steve.
How does he go about explaining the uncanny to a person who has never experienced it except in short and deadly bursts through a murdering psychopath or a journey through an eerie replica of their town?
Eddie hadn’t acted so reserved before he died, before he was brought back to the revelation that Steve is a Witch. Even in the midst of that damned forest he had been full of irreverant comments while easily swaying into Steve's personal space. The thought that Eddie may look at his white eye now and see the ashen and grotesque Vecna sits heavily in his gut.
Considering Eddie's limited exposure to the variety of mystical present in their world, Steve supposes he can excuse the guy for being tense. A heavy sigh gusts out of him in an attempt to let loose the apprehension stuck at the back of his throat. Determinedly, Steve walks towards Eddie and hops up beside him on the cool tiles, intent on breaking through whatever barrier has sprung up between them.
His hands brush against the back of Eddie’s thigh as he settles on the counter and Eddie whips his head to Steve in surprise, but this time he gets the puzzling sense that it’s like Eddie can’t imagine Steve wanting to be physically close to him.
Steve wonders why that would shock Eddie so much. They had started a tentative friendship, hadn’t they, in the Upside Down? They had shared insecurities and glances of comradery, and silently agreed to protect Dustin as much as they could. They weren’t strangers, is what Steve’s getting at; the experience of the Upside Down was as intimate and bonding an experience as any war.
Maybe that’s how he should approach this, Steve muses, listening to Eddie’s tapping heel create a hollow sound on the blonde wood.
He had gained the best of friends by being honest on a gross bathroom floor the last go round. Perhaps presenting the truth as simply as possible will regain him Eddie’s trust.
“I won’t lie,” Steve promises, catching Eddie’s wide eyes.
“It was risky and pulling you back from the other world was a buzzer beater, even for me. But I don’t think you know what would have happened if you had died. There were so many people, Eddie, who were going to hurt. Who were never going to get over it. I could do this one thing, so I did.”
Eddie scoffs, looking down as he wears at his fingers around the rings, his skin starting to turn an irritated red. “Yeah, I don’t think the local freak disappearing is going to cause that much of a wave.”
“Eddie,” he grabs the other boy’s hand, ignoring the zap of warmth from their connection, the soft humming.
Eddie stills, but doesn’t look up.
“I know you don’t have much reason to have faith in what I can do but believe me when I say that I have the power to See this. And yeah, it would have hurt a lot of people. Dustin…”
Steve has to draw a breath to cover the anxiety he still feels over the tapestries he had unveiled. “Dustin would have been devastated.”
Steve watches Eddie’s lips quirk bitterly through the curtain of his dark hair, his black leather-clad shoulders almost as high as his ears. “Yeah, that shrimp doesn’t know any better,” he says.
“It’s not…” Steve cuts himself off, frustrated. “I’m not great with words, that’s Nance. But it wasn’t only Dustin, Eddie. I didn’t look far, but I Know that there are going to be people who love you so much that they don’t even realise the strength of your loss yet.”
Eddie's fingers tighten around his own and Steve belatedly realises that he’s been holding his hand this entire time. Still, Steve doesn’t drop it, thinking that maybe the connection between them is needed right now, to convey his sincerity.
It’s nice too, the feeling of warmth and affection shared in a simple touch. Other than Robin, it's rare that he has the opportunity to have skin-to-skin contact with anyone these days. At his heart of hearts, Steve is a tactile guy and it's just not the same as when he tousles Dustin's hair or pulls Max in for a side-hug. And, as much as he loves his mother, she never was the demonstrative type, even when he had seen her regularly.
“I think you’ve got a pretty great way with words, Stevie.” Eddie looks up at him from the corner of his one hazel eye, still looking a little tense but something was released with his words, Steve realises, relieved. The knot in his gut unclenching. Maybe being a Witch and deciding to change the tapestry of fate wasn’t going to stop him and Eddie from continuing to be friends.
Steve lets the responding lightness he feels fuel his answering smile, “Yeah, yeah. Don’t tell anyone, they think I’m an idiot. Don’t want to break the illusion.”
“I did too,” Eddie admits guiltily. “Before all this,” he waves his free hand in the air. “I thought you were some empty-headed jock who, while not the worse of the bunch, was certainly a member of the asshole brigade.”
Steve winces, “You weren’t far off.”
“Nah,” Eddie grins, leaning further into Steve's space to teasingly tug on a lock of his hair. He's so close that Steve can smell the warmth of Eddie's cologne and feel the subtle heat of his body.
For a moment, Steve’s breath catches and he’s not sure why.
Eddie seems oblivious as he continues talking, “Turns out you’re a good dude with a head and heart ready to save people. Even people you barely know.” The last of his sentence ends in a deep murmur while Eddie reflects on the bronze strands that he has effortlessly captured between his fingertips.
“Eddie?”
Eddie blinks, letting go to tug at the sable waves over his own ear. He holds up their joined hands. “You don’t mind this?”
“What, holding hands? Robin and I do it all the time.” Robin has a lot of opinions about what she describes as the overly moist and disgustingly warm parts of the human body, but she likes to hold hands just as much as Steve does. Sometimes they’ll watch a film, backs to the opposite ends of the couch but connected by a loose clasping of their fingers.
Eddie sneers, though Steve doesn’t think it’s directed at him. “Not afraid of catching something from the local queer?”
Steve blinks rapidly, trying to remember what that store owner had told him and Robin at their Indy visit. His gaze moves beyond the pale orange tiles that they sit on to the golden amber of the maple island across from them. Steve absently traces the wide space as he cautiously decides on his words.
Drawing on Robin's language and style from when Steve had shared a simliar admission, albeit with far less self-loathing, he shifts back to Eddie, trying to make his eye contact serious and free of judgement, "Thank you for telling me. I’m happy you felt you could share that with me.”
Even as he says the stilted words, Steve feels like an idiot; but his sincerity must have been felt by Eddie because the other man's shoulders drop along with his defensive layer. "Steve,” Eddie laughs. “What are you doing, man? You sound like Twiki.” He mocks Steve with a robotic bidi-bidi-bidi sound.
Steve bumps him with his shoulder in retaliation. “No! I just...” He groans, he really isn’t great with his words. “I have this friend,” he starts carefully. “And we visited this place for the first time last year.”
“Oh, no! Mystical traveller, you've trapped me in a maze of endless possibilities. What riddle do I need to answer to understand your wisdom?” Eddie cries out into the air, bringing both arms up in supplication, Steve’s arm wagging alongside him.
“No, shut up.” Steve keeps laughing, pulling their clasped hands down to rest on the counter between them, before Eddie shakes his whole arm off.
“It was a queer bookstore, and we were talking to the owner about how my friend told me they were gay, and Chris shared about when she outed herself. And it was terrible! Like really awful and she said all she had wanted was someone to tell her that it was okay.”
Eddie’s expression softens and his teasing smile quirks to the side. “That’s really sweet. You’re sweet, Harrington, aren’t you?”
Steve brightens with the compliment even as he rolls his eyes and jumps off the counter, letting go of Eddie as he does. Eddie lets him only to lean forward, elbows on knees, “Sweet little Harrington, looking after his lost lambs and saving the unrepentant satanist of the Hellfire Club.” His eyes are gleaming.
Steve points a bossy finger in his face, pulling it back before Eddie’s mock chomp connects. “Don’t make me regret it, Munson.”
“I think sweet little Stevie, you should just call me Eddie.”
Eddie sticks out his hand and, smiling, Steve shakes it in agreement.
“Oh wait!” Steve drops Eddie's hand, calling over his shoulder as he rushes away, “Wait right there, I’ll be back.”
“Okay.” Eddie sounds amused and a little bewildered.
Steve runs up the stairs two at a time and bursts into his room. Cleaned and folded on his dresser is Eddie’s vest.
He checks it one more time – there are some blood stains that he couldn’t remove from the blue denim for the life of him, but he hadn’t wanted to scrub too hard and wear out the material. He gives it the sniff test as well – smells fine, just like his laundry powder, though he thinks he may have accidentally gotten some of his hair spray on it too. It’ll be okay, Eddie won’t notice.
He runs down to present his offering to Eddie, who's idly drumming his heels against the cupboard again, although now he leans back on his hands while staring up at the ceiling.
Eddie casually glances down to Steve as he bounds into the kitchen, lighting up and quickly reaching forwards as he sees what's in his outstretched hands, “My battle vest.”
Eddie runs a ringed thumb over a dark patch. Steve thinks that the maroon colour could pass for the stain of red wine, but wonders whether Eddie prefers the aesthetic of blood instead — something far more aligned to his admiration for Steve tearing his teeth through that demo-bat.
Nevertheless, he apologises, “Yeah, sorry, I couldn’t get it all out.”
“Nah, it’s fine, Stevie. It’s Metal, right?” Eddie looks up, happy. “Thanks, this has a lot of memories for me. It would’ve sucked if it’d gotten lost.”
Steve feels that warm glow of having done the right thing. He reckons that he may have come out the other end of the Upside Down with another good friend after all.
If you liked anything, please consider leaving a comment over on Ao3 :-) It would make my day!
Taglist
My taglist is always open, so let me know if you want to be added. Likewise, if you want to be removed, let me know. :) If I've missed you, definitely tell me because it's an accident!
@a-gae-af-racoon
@a-lovely-craziness
@aly-reads-alot
@bookworm0690
@cinnamon-mushroomabomination
@ellietheasexylibrarian
@everyrandomthing
@finntheehumaneater
@geekymagicalpotato
@goodolefashionedloverboi
@hallucinatedjosten
@ilikeititspretty
@just-a-tiny-void
@ledleaf
@littlewildflowerkitten
@lostonceandneverfound
@manda-panda-monium
@matchingbatbites
@nburkhardt
@newtstabber
@obliosworld
@oliver-sykes
@platonicbesties4life
@probablyscreamingintothevoid
@rajumat
@scoops-stevie-archive
@spectrum-spectrum
@swimmingbirdrunningrock
@tartarusknight
@whackyrach
Edit: @mightbeasleep
#witchsteve#steddie#platonic stobin#stranger things#steve harrington#any unexplained references are detailed in chapter notes on Ao3#eddie munson#paperbackribs writing
64 notes
·
View notes
Text
The adventures of an ex-mercenary, avatar, cab driver and ex-gift shopist & his university student friend and neighbour!
part of the "I'm friends with the moon" au & can be read as stand-alone
pairing: platonic moon boys x fem!reader
word count: 582
tags: 3rd pov, she/her pronouns, reader insert, no descriptions of physical appearance, no beta read so all mistakes r mine
warnings: none
summary: my own hcs of some snippets of the life of the moon boys with their chaotic neighbour 💙
When Steven ends up telling her how everything happened, and I mean everything from season 1. At the end of it, reader’s eyes are red, her nose is runny and she has snot running down her nose, her hair is sticking in every direction and she has her head between her hands while rocking against the wall. Basically, she falls into a mini depressive episode that lasts 2-3 days.
“What the fuck, guys??”
☆
When reader finds out about everything that has happened, she also learns about Khonshu. And she gets freaked out big time when she’s hanging out with Marc, sitting on a chair next to the tank, watching Gus swim, (well, Gus 2.0 as well, really) there’s a gust of wind that comes out of nowhere and she screams and runs to Marc, “What was that?? What was that??? Marc?? Marc-” and she has to stand there, watching him glare at something invisible in the middle of Steven’s flat while she’s almost pissing herself.
☆
For a few weeks, any gust of wind makes her jump and she screams when she feels cold air hit her feet and runs out to her flat, banging on Steven’s door which he opens, obviously worried, and she tells him Khonshu’s in her flat and he has to assure her it was just the wind because if it was, he would have felt his presence.
☆
Khonshu doesn’t often appear when she’s around, but when he does, she curses at him, “You lying CUNT!” and Marc has to watch her trying to fight nothing (literal air) while Khonshu’s watching her from the other side of the room, the side she wasn’t standing in. "Is this woman mad?"
"Don't talk to my friend like that."
"So you have friends now?"
☆
Once, reader suspects she has a rat in her flat and freaks out and runs to get a strong and capable man to get rid of it, aka one of her neighbours. And it happens that Jake was fronting that day and she tells him she heard a tiny squeak and she thinks there’s a rat somewhere in her flat. And Jake says, “don’t worry, I gotcha.”
And mr. mustache and fat ass pulls a gun in the middle of her flat and reader grabs onto the wall and her boob, trying to calm her heart so she wouldn’t die of a heart attack at such young age, heck she hasn’t even seen BTS in a concert yet, it’s too early to die!
now imagine reader screaming and jake chasing a rat while pointing his gun at the rodent with a crazy grin on his face.
"DON'T KILL IT! DONT KILL IT!" reader is screaming, and jake screams back, "WHY DID YOU CALL ME THEN?
☆
When reader gets into something new and obsesses over it, she shows up to their door and knocks on it, basically like, “Excuse me sir, do you have time to talk about our Lord and Saviour, Jesus christ?”
And if marc happens to be fronting and is in his edgy feels, he shouts at her to “LEAVE ME ALONE!”
“Marcie pooh, let me tell you about the lore of this band I like!” She says like a villain, trying to share their very evil plan.
“NO!”
“Come on, let me iiinnnn! Please, Marc!” She says, trying to squeeze her arm through the crack between the door and doorframe.
But not only she likes to annoy them (sometimes) in waking, but also when she's supposed to be sleeping, when THEY'RE ALL SUPPOSED TO BE SLEEPING
tag list (pls ask to be added or removed): @bobastayhigh @weblesstherains @h-leigh @unspokenmoon @ahookedheroespureheart @thursdaywritings @gebstargeb @softieekayy @fem-moony @peachjellypackets @pakhiya
#moon knight#moon knight meme#moon knight edit#moon knight mcu#moonknight#incorrect moon knight quotes#marvel moon knight#mcu moon knight#moon boys#moon knight 2022#moon knight fanfic#moon knight fanfiction#moon knight fluff#moon knight headcanon#moon knight imagine#moon knight incorrect quotes#moon knight series#moon knight memes#moon knight system#moon knight x reader#moon knight x you#bubuslutty writes#Marc spector#Steven grant#jake Lockley#Mr knight#khonshu#marc spector x y/n#marc spector x f!reader#marc spector x reader
85 notes
·
View notes
Note
Reverse evil Bridgerton au: Portia is keeping a eye on the Bridgertons, not allowing Penelope anywhere near them. Pen tries to follow her mother’s rule but she can’t help but feel drawn to Colin and Eloise.
She wounds up sneaking out, meeting her best friends. Later, she and Colin would fall in love but they worry, her mother expressed her hatred for every Bridgerton but especially about him but they love each other SO MUCH.
I feel like how I would run this particular scenario would be Portia does forbid her daughters from interacting with the Bridgertons and secretly rebellious Penelope would hesitate to listen to her but seeing the genuine concern from Portia leads her to listening. Besides she is making new friends with other children even if they don't live in London like Phillip, Michael, and Sophie. Oh and her pen pal from India, Edwina!
But that doesn't stop the curiosity she feels or this weird feeling she has towards the Bridgertons. Like some sort of connection? Which is odd considering she's never once spoken to them.
Not that they ever really notice her, or would have a chance. She's not out in society yet, and Portia does a good job of keeping unwanted eyes away from her kids. At best, they would see her from a distance if she was in a group outing with her family.
Well that all changed one day when two days before her 16th birthday Penelope's bonnet got caught in the wind. The ribbons had come loose and one gust of strong wind had sent it flying.
"Oh no!" Penelope cried as she chased after her bonnet. It really wasn't anything special if anyone asked, in fact, it was rather old, but it was sentimental to Penelope. So chase after it she must.
"Blasted thing!" Penelope cursed to herself as the wind changed direction on her yet again. Every time she was just about to grab it it slipped into a different direction.
Penelope had failed to realize the wind had led her astray from any of the normal walking paths. Too focused on retrieving her precious bonnet, she failed to hear the hoofbeats growing closer to her.
"Will you stop!" Penelope groaned out in frustration as she yet again failed to grab the bonnet.
The wind must've decided to grant Penelope her wish because it did stop and her bonnet also stopped right into the face of a young man on a horse.
Penelope gasped as she watched the rider become unseated, his rear ending up in the mud. "I'm so sorry!" She shouted, her face flushed.
Sue expected him to be angry, to yell at her. To give her a stinging set down. But he did none of that. He did something Penelope would have never guessed a gentleman would do, especially after being knocked off his horse. He laughed.
"Well that wasn't well to do of me," the gentleman laughed, pulling Penelope's bonnet from his face.
Oh, Penelope recognized him. He was a Bridgerton. Her body tensed once again. She should leave as soon as possible.
The gentleman laughed once again as he stood, handing Penelope back her bonnet. "Oh all the introductions this has to be one of the most exciting. Colin Bridgerton."
Penelope bit her lip. She really shouldn't be talking to him, but he's been so kind so far! Why would her mama not wanting her to talk to such a kind person?
"Penelope!" A concerned gasp was heard from behind.
Penelope felt herself being pulled towards her mama. Her mama's grip shaking.
Lady Bridgerton appeared then as well, along with a few other of her children. Portia pulled Penelope even closer.
The conversation was short and Portia was quick to lead her children away as soon as the opportunity arose. But the whole time Penelope could feel a pair of green eyes on her.
31 notes
·
View notes
Text
@magicalgirlmascot
@crystaltoa
Writing an oneshot with the Turaga Nui in the KNPS AU and I'm getting smacked over the head repeatedly with the angst bat.
Like the moment the Turaga Nui (TN) is close back to Kini Nui and they meet up with Lewa and Pohatu who are the fastest to find them. And both of them are still, staring up at them, looking shaken. TN is worried because they expected that at least Lewa would be excited. But then, the two of them might have seen them being attacked by the Rahi Nui just as they were fusing. And they're not fusions like Wairuha or Akamai.
They are also a little more than scuffed from their battle with the Rahi Nui.
(A "little" scuffed?!)
It's good that they've showered in the forest. Or they'd look even more ghastly if their blood and that of the Rahi Nui was still on them.
Still, this is wrong. The two of them shouldn't look like that. So for lack of a better idea, TN says, "What's with the long face, Windsprite? I thought you like furry-fusions?"
(Onewa within the fusion: *facepalming*)
Because while TN currently is a beastly chimera, they're also made of six dorks, so they're one Huge Dork.
Lewa splutters, "Matau?!"
TN snorts. "In a sense. I am to Matau what Wairuha is to you, little Windsprite. Just twice the numbers of little siblings involved."
"So there's Onewa with you, too?" And that's Pohatu, hopping from foot to foot, equally anxious, and TN has an idea what they worry about. What they might fear. They sit back on their haunches, all six of their eyes focused on the two toa.
"We are Onewa and Matau. We are Whenua, and Nokama, and Vakama, and Nuju. They're all here with us. They can hear you. They'll be with you again once we unfuse."
That seems to be the wrong thing to say, as Lewa cries.
Or maybe it is the right thing to say, as a green blur speeds forward and they catch him in their arms as he clings to their neck.
"Careful, Windsprite." They rumble, holding him firmly despite their words. His energy envelops them in gusts of air. He smells clean, of soap and shampoo and water. No blood or dust remaining. "Our skin is not like Wairuha's at the moment. We're not soft."
"Don't care. You're here-" Lewa babbles, so TN does their best to guide his face to a patch of fur on their neck.
The shower was definitely a good idea.
#bionicle#knps au#bionicle AU#in which the turaga nui metru is a kaiju#turaga nui#implied gore#mentioned blood
21 notes
·
View notes
Text
Above the Clouds and the Atmosphere
Ship: Izzy Hands x Reader
Notes: Wing AU, Izzy hasn’t been able to fly in decades. It doesn’t bother him. (It does.) Reader is the first person he’s met with wings strong enough to carry someone and fly. Not that it matters, Izzy doesn’t need to fly again. (He does.)
So, @run-me-through-but-not-like-that (hope the tag isn’t annoying!) wrote a wing fic with Izzy a while ago and it has not left my brain since. I thought that Izzy deserved to fly again and I love wing fics. So, here’s this.
Warnings: mentioned wing injuries, angst, Izzy being difficult
Title Song: Rocketeer by Far East Movement (but I’m specifically thinking of this cover by Clara C.)
It was impossible not to notice.
A crew member with wings was fairly run of the mill. If anything, they were sought after since the benefits of having a pirate who could fly were too many to count. Most crews only had two or three if they were lucky. The Revenge somehow had six five, Ed, Fang, Bonnet, Buttons, and you.
You still somehow stood out.
Your wings were absolutely massive. You had a larger wingspan than Ed which was a feat on its own. And you were without question the strongest flier on the crew. (Yes, the crew of this clown ship had hosted a competition for that for some bloody reason, during which Izzy did his damndest to hide below deck) Though, and he’d never admit it, he did enjoy watching you. Watching you fly so smoothly when you scouted the waters ahead, watching you swoop down to attack an enemy sending them falling off the boat while you effortlessly shot back up into the air, watching you laugh and joke with the crew, wings moving almost as much as your hands as you spoke, emphasizing your words. You always flew so gracefully. Each twitch of your feathers was intentional and the gusts of wind that each flap of your wings created felt like a storm.
Every once in a while he’d purposely stand near you and when the wind from your wings hit his face it felt like he was flying again, just for an instant, but of course, that instant would pass and then he’d be slammed back into reality, grounded, permanently.
It was beautiful.
It was horrible.
Watching you was incredible but it made his wings ache.
He was stuck. Part of him wanted to cling to you and to the memories of flying. But he didn’t. Instead he avoided you and your beautiful wings and the memories you brought, snapping whenever you dared try and get close, being significantly more hostile towards you than the rest of the crew.
Despite that, you kept trying. You were soft. Just like the rest of the crew. You were capable too, on par with what he’d expect from Blackbeard’s crew. But you were soft. You were kind and gentle and helpful. You always greeted him with a warm “Hello Izzy!�� or a “Good morning, Izzy!” or a “Do you need anything, Izzy?”
It made it hard to hate you.
He wondered if it was harder to hate you or to deal with the reminders you brought of what he couldn’t do anymore.
Regardless, he avoided you.
But avoiding you forever wasn’t practical…
A high pitched yell pulled him away from his work as he dragged a hand across his face.
“No peace and fockin’ quiet on this fockin’ ship.” He grumbled.
Usually a yell like that would have him worried that they were under attack but much to his surprise, he wasn’t really worried. He realized with no small amount of shock that it was because you’d been the one scouting today and you certainly wouldn’t be so incompetent.
He quickly stopped thinking about how that must mean he trusts you.
Izzy stepped onto the deck and immediately noticed the source of the commotion. Practically the entire crew was crowded on the deck all clearly watching something. That something turned out to be you.
You were flying, easily keeping yourself hovering in place with strategic flaps of your wings. Clutching desperately onto you, was Lucius. The scribe looks like he was moments away from screaming again even as Izzy saw you gently comforting him and (if he was reading your lips right) telling him that it wasn’t that high up, that even if you dropped him, which you emphasized that you definitely wouldn’t do, he’d be fine.
Izzy shook his head trying to stop staring at you. He did the only thing he could think of and barked out “What the fuck are you useless lot doing?”
A few people turned to glare at him and you looked remarkably guilty. In an annoyingly graceful movement, you landed deftly on the deck and gently released Lucius (honestly having to peel him off more than anything).
You rubbed the back of your head awkwardly. “Sorry Izzy! Some of the crew wanted to go for a fly and I was done scouting— didn’t see anything interesting— and I’m the strongest flier… So, I figured.” You rambled and Izzy made a point of not looking at how the edges of your wings twitched as you moved your hands. “I… uh…” You seemed to lose confidence as you spoke. “Yeah…”
Some members of the crew notably stepped in between him and you as if to defend you. Not that it stopped him from opening his mouth, ready to unleash a volley of insults but the hand on his shoulder did.
“Aw, come on now. Lay off them Iz…” Edward’s voice was soft as he wrapped both his arm and wing around his shoulder, almost hiding the two of them from view.
The crew went back to talking to you, assuming that Ed would handle Izzy.
Ed took his chance and ducked slightly and whispered into Izzy’s ear, almost conspiratorially, “You know, if you asked, I’m sure they’d take you for a fly… They’re probably the only person we’ve met who could.”
Izzy tensed. Of course you could. And Ed was right. You were very likely the only person who could. He’d never met anyone with wings as strong as yours. You definitely could carry him and fly.
Edward couldn’t. His wings were made for speed, not strength. Even though he’d been nearly dead, he remembered the first raid after his wings had gotten injured. Ed had scooped him into his arms and flown them back to their ship. He’d barely made it, actually hitting the railing and sending both of them skidding across the deck. Ed had sprained his own wings horribly after that, so Izzy never let him carry him again. He wouldn’t let his captain ground himself for his sake.
Izzy glanced at you again as you gently pulled Lucius into your arms again, comforting him before gently taking off.
The idea took over his mind. He could fly again. He’d never thought it would be possible.
No. It didn’t matter. He was fine.
He’d been fine without his flight for years. The hours he’d spent staring at the sky didn’t matter. The nights he’d spend curled up in his bunk, trying desperately to fall back asleep and dream of flying for just one more second didn’t matter.
He was fine.
Izzy rolled his shoulder pushing Ed’s hand off him. “I don’t need them.” He spat and stormed off.
He made a point of not looking at Edward’s guilty look. He knew that Ed had always blamed himself for the state of Izzy’s wings. Izzy had gotten the injuries protecting him after all. Even if Izzy knew about his captain's guilt, he couldn’t understand it. Protecting his captain came before everything else. Even his wings.
And he was fine.
—
Izzy did a double take the moment he stepped onto the deck for his late night rounds. The deck was empty, the night chilly enough to send everyone down to the bunks rather than sleeping on deck. But that wasn’t what caught his eye. Everything was done? The rigging was secure. The deck was organized and clean and he had no idea what was going on.
Until he spotted a familiar wing.
Of course. It just had to be you.
You were crouched near the front of the ship, wings fluttering in concentration as you meticulously checked the remainder of the rigging. So the state of the deck was probably because of you. But why? You’d usually be in bed or eating with the crew by now and you certainly didn’t have a late night shift today. So why were you here working?
Not sure how to get your attention without having to get close enough to risk touching your wings or yelling, he cleared his throat. You jumped lightly and he saw your hand shoot for the blade at your side until you looked over your shoulder and caught sight of him. Then you smiled.
“Evenin’ Izzy!” You greeted as politely as usual.
“Right,” was his curt response. “What are you doing here so damn late?”
You stood, somewhat sheepishly. “Oh, well… I figured I ought to help out a little…” He only got more confused and you seemed to notice since you continued, “well, I was the one who distracted everyone earlier and I wanted to make it up to you… so… I handled some things.”
He furrowed his brows. “Make it up to me?”
“Yeah. I mean, I didn’t want you getting stuck with extra work cause I distracted everyone.” You said it so matter-of-factly too, as if it was normal for you to do something like that for him.
On any other ship, if you’d do something like that, it would be out of fear, hoping to avoid punishment for slacking off. But no one on this ship was actually afraid of him since they all knew that the captains wouldn’t let him do anything. Maybe you were doing another strange thing again. Like how you greeted him and helped out.
Ridiculous.
“Fine.” He glanced at the rigging. “Not bad.” You beamed like he’d given you a huge compliment. “Go.” He dismissed you coldly, trying not to think about how much he liked seeing you smiling.
You walked past him, still smiling. Then you stopped. He was moments away from telling you to fuck off when you spoke again, “You know… my offer stands for you too.” He looked back at you.
“What offer?” He snapped.
“Flying. You weren’t on deck when I mentioned it to the rest of the crew but if you ever want me to take you for a fly, I’d be happy to. Just say the word.” He froze. “If you don’t want to do anything around the crew, let me know and I can find a time where we can fly without them around.”
Izzy stared at you.
Did he want that?
Did he want to fly again?
He tried to picture it, the wind in his face, the ocean beneath him, your arms holding him and your beautiful wings keeping both of you in the air.
He hates the fact that he doesn’t hate the ideas.
You seem to take his silence and glare wrong as you rush to correct yourself. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to assume… I know you don’t like me and I know my wings make you uncomfortable and-
“What?” Izzy manages to force the word out, cutting off your words.
You smiled sadly. “I'm not that oblivious. I know you keep avoiding me and whenever I fly you always seem really uncomfortable. I’m sorry. I want to be friends but if you want me to fuck off, just say the word and I’ll try to stay out of your way.”
“Friends?” He echoed as if that was the most surprising thing you’d said. Not only had you caught on to his behavior but you were actively trying to make it up to him for them.
You chuckled but it was clearly more at yourself than anything he said. ”Yeah… stupid. I know… I’m so sorry.”
“No.” He wasn’t sure why but he had to say it, had to get that stupid sad expression off your face. You seemed surprised. “I don't hate you.”
You froze, glancing back at him. “What?”
He groaned, realizing that he’d backed himself into a conversational corner. “I don’t hate you or your wings. Honestly you’re the most tolerable out of this whole damn crew. You actually know what you’re doing.”
You turned fully to face him, confusion and hope clear on your face. “You don’t? Then why do you avoid me?”
“Because I hate being reminded of what I can’t do!” He snapped. Then almost immediately froze as he realized what he’d said a moment after saying it. Your eyes widened. His eyes widened. “Fuck.”
His wings flexed uselessly under the many layers of wraps keeping them pressed to his back.
“You have…”
“Yes.” No point beating around the bush. “Can’t fly anymore.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.” Your tone of voice stunned him. You weren’t mocking him. He still remembered the way the rest of Hornigold’s crew had reacted to his sudden grounding. And get here you were genuinely telling him you were sorry without an ounce of sarcasm or mockery. You, with the most beautiful set of wings he’d ever seen.
“I don’t want your damn pity.” He snapped.
You didn’t react. “It’s not pity. I mean it. I’m genuinely sorry that happened to you.”
He didn’t know how to react to the fact he believed you.
“Thank you for telling me Izzy. If you ever need anyone to help with your wings, just ask.” Your words were so gentle, so genuine. “Goodnight Izzy.” You turned.
“Wait.” The word came out like a command, even as his voice shook. He knew if he didn’t say it now he’d probably never get the courage again. You turned, confused. But Izzy spoke before you did. “I want to fly.”
“What?”
“I’m not fucking saying it again.”
You (damn you) didn’t push or try to mess with him. Instead you just smiled. “Of course. If you’d like, we could go now?” You offered gently.
Izzy hesitated. He technically didn’t have any nightly duties left since you’d done everything aside from being on watch which he could easily do while flying. He swallowed. “Sure.”
You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face and the way your wings fluttered in excitement. You opened your arms and smiled at him. “I’m going to have to pick you up.”
Izzy couldn’t help but be a little grateful for you simply allowing him to come to you rather than grab him. With far more hesitation than he cared to admit, Izzy moved closer, tentatively stepping into arms reach of you.. You gestured with your arms and raised a brow, silently asking if you could pick him up. Izzy managed to mumble a “Yeah, go for it.” and he was lucky the two of you were so close since he was barely louder than a whisper.
You moved carefully, gently picking him up. One of your arms under his legs and the other resting gently against his back. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders to keep himself steady and was trying (and failing) incredibly hard to not think about how you were holding him
“You good?” You asked, speaking incredibly softly. With Izzy in your arms like he was, he could feel your breath on his ear. Izzy doubted he could actually get his lips to form words but he managed a quick nod. “Alright, I’m going to stay over the deck, not too high. Then if that’s fine with you I can fly around.”
Why did you have to be so frustratingly considerate?
Izzy nodded against your shoulder.
You smiled, even without looking at you, he could hear it in your voice. “Got it. I’m taking off on the count of 3. 1…”
Izzy took a deep breath.
“2…”
He adjusted his grip on your shoulders.
“3!”
More on instinct than any conscious thought, Izzy buried his face in your shoulder. He heard the flap of your wings, the air rushing past, and then, calm. He pulled away from your shoulder slowly and opened his eyes. The two of you were hovering over the deck, about eye level with the mizzentop, your wings carefully flapping to keep you both as still as possible. It took a moment for everything to click in his mind.
He was flying.
“Izzy?” Your voice gently pulled him from his thoughts. “Are you alright?”
He really wanted to give some cool response maybe a smooth “never better” but instead the only sound that managed to escape him was a “mhhnngh” which not only wasn’t smooth at all but also didn’t answer your question so instead he managed to nod.
“Do you want to fly around more?” He could practically hear the smile in your voice.
Since Izzy’s vocal chords were still not cooperating, he nodded, almost frantically.
“Alright… Let’s go…” With another powerful flap of your wings you shot off away from the Revenge. Izzy felt the wind rushing by his face, tousling his hair. He watched the ocean flicker past just below him. You dove down, and Izzy suddenly felt the sea mist against his skin.
When his wings had healed enough for him to attempt flying, he'd honestly already known at that point that it would be useless. He’d tried regardless. Of course, he couldn’t. He pretended it didn’t bother him. But honestly, the idea that he’d never be able to fly again burned up his mind in a way he’d never been able to shake.
But he was actually flying.
It felt like a dream.
Izzy’s eyes must have been watering from the wind and the salt.
He definitely wasn’t crying.
He was fine.
Without even thinking about it, Izzy reached a hand out towards the sea, desperate to reach out and touch it, as if that would fully confirm for him that he wasn’t dreaming. Seemingly realizing what he wanted, you swooped lower, allowing the tips of Izzy’s fingers to skip across the surface of the waves. You soared up into the air, Izzy watching the waves created from air from your wings. Then you dove back down. You flew laps around the Revenge, staying just close enough to be safe. Of course, you (irritatingly considerate) kept checking in with him. “Is this okay?” “You alright?” “Everything fine?” To which Izzy could only respond with nods.
By the time you were landing back on deck, Izzy honestly had no clue how long the two of you had been flying. He’d somehow just let himself get lost in the feeling of flying. A quick glance at the sky made him suddenly realize that his watch was almost up. The two of you had flown around almost all night. Izzy was honestly a lot more reluctant to leave your arms than he’d expected to be, but the fear of someone coming on deck and seeing you both made him finally remove himself from your arms.
He expected to feel just as awful as he had when he’d first realized he was stuck on the ground the moment his feet touched the ground but that didn’t happen. He felt lighter, more comfortable, like some tension he didn’t even realize he’d been carrying was gone. He scrubbed his face with his sleeve, trying to make it look more like he was rubbing sleep away from his eyes with limited success.
“Izzy?” Your voice once again, cut through the silence. He spun, turning to see you leaning against the railing, wings relaxed and breathing a bit heavier than normal, shoulders visibly moving. It seemed that even for someone as strong as you, flying around for hours carrying someone was a lot of work.
“You look exhausted. You should have stopped sooner.” He winced at his own words, hating how even that came out as a complaint.
You chuckled lightly, seemingly not taking his words as insulting in any way. “Yeah, probably.” You agreed as you gently stretched your wings out. Izzy was once again struck by how big and powerful your wings were. “But you seemed to be having a good time so… I only really doubled back when I realized the watch shift was going to change, figured you wouldn’t want any of the crew seeing you.”
Again with you being so frustratingly considerate of him. Izzy sighed. You still made little sense to him with all that kindness but that was an issue for another day. “You ought to go to sleep. I’ll handle your morning tasks so you can sleep in.”
You immediately waved your hands. “Oh you don’t have to do that!”
“I know I don’t.” Izzy replied matter-of-factly. “Just as you didn’t need to stay up late to help me nor take me flying.”
“You don’t owe me for any of that, Izzy. I did that because I wanted to.”
He actually fumbled with his words for a moment. If it were anyone else, he would have immediately called bullshit, but you looked so incredibly genuine. Either you were the best liar he’d ever met, or you were being sincere. “In that case, go to bed. I’ll cover for you because I want to.” He tried to make his voice as authoritative as possible but it was incredibly hard to do that when you were looking at him so softly. “You’re not convincing me otherwise.”
You smiled. “If you insist. Goodnight Izzy. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Goodnight.” Izzy replied with a nod. You walked past him to the bunks, and Izzy gathered up his courage. “Thank you.” He managed to force out without turning to face you, just as you were about to leave.
“Of course, anytime!”
Left alone on deck for a few minutes until shift change, Izzy watched the sky.
#izzy hands x reader#ofmd#ofmd izzy#ofmd x reader#our flag means death x reader#our flag means death#israel hands x reader#wing au#i thought the character wing choices through a lot (probably way more than i needed to)#izzy is a swallow like his tattoo (which also fits him a lot)#ed is a crow since the colors match and they’re very intelligent#stede is a swan#graceful and fancy with the added ugly duckling vibes for young stede which fits thematically#reader has wings like a harpy eagle since they’re one of the strongest birds and also pretty#buttons’ look like a seagull’s wings for obvious reasons#and fang has fluffy snow owl wings since he deserves them#most of them aren’t even really in this one but i was having wing thoughts
89 notes
·
View notes
Text
8 Au-gust: Robots and Androids - Part 2
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4[...]
Rating: Mature
Relationship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson
WT: Android Steve Harrington, Wanted Criminal Eddie Munson
Words: 2523
The android sighs, he knows what to expect from a human outpost, but the human in his arms needs help, so he steps in front of the high walls, waiting for some sentinel to spot them.
"Who are you and what are you doing here?"
"I'm a Standard Electronic Vehicle Evolution, serial number STE2UTK7NQ. I have a human in danger of death. He is dehydrated and hurt."
"Why does he have handcuffs?" the sentinel asks.
"He is my captive. I was taking him back to the central station when we crashed on your planet due to an electrical failure.” it’s not exactly a lie, he can’t lie to humans, but he can choose what to say and what to avoid “ He needs medical assistance and I need to contact the central station. Some of my main circuits were damaged and I wasn’t able to tell them where we were going to crash."
After a long moment of silence, the door opens.
"Leave all your weapons at the entrance." a gruff voice says and he sees a middle-aged man with a mustache looking directly at him.
"I'm a weapon." he states simply. What should he do? Stay at the entrance?
"I know." the man answers, his eyes fixed on the android. Then a woman runs toward them.
"What the hell! Joyce! I told you to stay inside!" the man scolds her with an angry look but the woman doesn’t seem to care.
"This boy needs help, Hop! Come with me, take him to the infirmary." she motions to the android to follow her and he nods, bringing the unconscious boy to the infirmary where the woman quickly checks the boy’s condition.
"He was lucky. He is dehydrated but his injuries are not too bad."
The android nods. He knows it. He took the worst of the impact, shielding the human with his body. He has to protect humans. Even the criminals. It's in his code.
"What about you?" the woman asks him and he looks at her as confused as an android without emotion can look at someone.
"Uh?"
"You are leaking." she simply states, pointing at his leg.
The android lowers his eyes and sees the big pool of liquid at his feet.
"I’m really sorry, but it's just some cooling liquid. It shouldn’t stain the floor." he replies “There is a rag that I can use to clean this up?” help the humans. Always. In everything they need.
"I’m not worried about the floor but about you.” she explains, caressing his arm “We have an engineer here if you want. He could take a look at your damage. He is young but knows his way around androids."
He doesn’t want to be touched and he will get all the help he needs when he will be back at the Central "I'm ok. The human needs help."
"What's your name?"
If androids could roll their eyes he definitely would "I'm an android. I don't have a name."
"What do they call you?" she insists.
This stupid need that humans have to name things.
He points at the unconscious boy "He called me Stevie."
"Nice to meet you, Stevie. I'm Joyce, and I really think you need to go see Dustin. I'll take care of your friend, ok?"
The android looks at the unconscious boy "He is not my friend. He is my captive."
The woman nods with a knowing smile and then calls for the other man "So you are a hunter, uh? We don’t see many of you on this planet.”
None really wants hunters on their planet. They bring with them death and destruction. He knows it too well. But the woman doesn’t seem scared of him when he looks at the older man and asks “Can you take Stevie to Dustin?"
The man mumbles something that sounds like "Who?"
She points at the android "Stevie."
The man grunts but nods, and escorts the android to another room.
"If you made one wrong move I'll fry your circuit board. Are we clear?"
He nods. He doesn't want to point out to him that he can't really fry his circuit board. He has understood what he means so there is no point in talking about the specifics.
The android sits on a cold table, too similar to the one he was stretched out for months after his first hunt.
That wasn’t a good hunt. But he learned a lot from that experience.
He knows what to expect: to be poked and probed by... a little guy.
"Wao! You look surprised!" the boy says, getting closer.
"You are young. I am surprised." the android replies.
"No, you really look surprised. Like... like a human. That's impressive! How did you do that?" he asks excitedly.
The boy is missing some teeth. A quick scan tells the android what he needs to know: cleidocranial dysplasia.
“I don’t know what you mean. The definition of surprise is an unexpected or astonishing event or fact. You are not what I expected, and that’s surprising. Am I using the definition incorrectly?”
“Wao! He is amazing, Hop!” the boy says, his eyes pinned on the android “I want to run a full diagnostic on him and…”
“No.”
“What?”
“You are not going to run a full diagnostic on me.” the android explains.
“But you are leaking and you could have internal damages and…”
“No.”
The two humans still. The android is not sure about how to use the “tones” but he is fairly sure that this time he used it right. And it was threatening.
“Get out of the room Dustin.” Hopper orders, his hand close to his gun.
“But…”
“Get. Out. Now.”
The android doesn’t move but he knows that he is way faster than the old man. If they come to the point that he has to protect himself he could always find a way to disarm the man without hurting him.
“I’m not going to hurt him. It’s against my code.” he states “But I don’t want him to run a full diagnostic on me.” then he tilts his head as Tommy used to do and asks “Do we have a deal?”
The boy nods and the man adds “I’m staying.”
The android nods and the boy, Dustin, gets closer, inspecting the damages.
“God you are hot. For real. Not hot like cool. Well, you are cool too. And hot… Oh my god, this is so confusing, Anyway if you hadn't found the outpost you would have probably burst into flames. Your battery is damaged, I should replace it with a new one but I think you are not really looking forward to that, am I right?”
“The battery works.”
“It works but it’s really old. If you let me…”
“No.”
He hasn’t let any of the engineers touch him in years and he will not let this strange boy either “Do you have some cooling liquid? I could just pour it in the little tank and fill the hole somehow.”
“The tank is behind your leg. It would be much easier if you let me do it.”
They stare at each other for a long moment, then the boy smiles at him “You know what? I promise not to touch your control unit or turn you off and I will tell you exactly what your damages are and you will tell me if you want me to repair it or not. How does it sound?”
The android keeps silent.
“I can assure you that it will be much more comfortable for you if you let me repair you.”
The android nods and then lies on the metal bed.
“Nice. I have never seen an android like you. What model are you?”
“Standard Electronic Vehicle Evolution.”
“A S.T.E.V.E.? Woa! I have never seen one before! I thought they were all destroyed or disused. I’m not surprised that you don’t want to be turned off. You must be scared that they will disable you once and for all.” the boy says, keep studying him.
Is he?
He is not familiar with the concept of death, but being turned off or disassembled sounds really close to that.
He is not scared. He could accept being turned off. After all, he is just a machine made to help humans and nowadays some androids are so much better than him.
What he would not accept would be being formatted. Have all his memories wiped away and be transformed into something else.
He has never really thought about the future. Not until he has seen his very same face on one of the androids in a brothel with the dick of the man he was hunting in his mouth.
That is something he is sure he doesn’t want.
“What are you thinking?” the boy asks him while working on his computer.
“I’m an android. I’m not designed to think, just to execute commands.”
“Well you looked really deep in your thoughts so… do you wanna share?”
“Are you going to tear me apart for my components?” he suddenly bursts out and quickly regrets it.
It’s not exactly what he was talking about but it is still one of the things that scares him.
“What? No! Why should I? You seem to work perfectly well!”
He does but… “Your outpost is small, with too many people and not enough food. You could use some of my components to make something useful for your community. You seem like the kind of guy that knows perfectly how to do it.”
“What? Would you like to become a lawn mower? That’s what retirement looks like for androids?” he asks laughing.
For a moment the android trembles...
For real.
He is suddenly very conscious of having shivered in a human outpost in the middle of nowhere with a boy checking on him.
“Did you just tremble?” Dustin asks.
“It’s not in my code.” he denies.
“But you did. I saw that! You shivered! You were scared!”
There are a lot of emotions in the boy’s voice, a mix that S.T.E.V.E. is not able to identify correctly.
“I can’t be scared. I have no emotion.”
“But you do. Somehow you do.” this time the boy seems astonished “How long have you been working?”
“Two Hundred Sixty Eight years.”
“That’s impressive. I have never seen an android so enduring. You must be some kind of miracle.”
The android shakes his head “There are still some of us around. But they don’t do the work I do.”
“You are a hunter, right? And well equipped if I can say that.” the boy continues while checking on him.
The android tries to turn but the boy stops him “Don’t move please, I’m trying to check your damage without running a full diagnostic. It’s not easy.”
“Sorry.”
“Ok. So. You have lost some metal plates from your back. Your cooling liquid tank is almost empty but I can’t detect exactly where the leak is. I think I’ll just put some color on the liquid and see where it drips. Is that ok with you?”
“How damaged is my back?”
“Honestly? I don’t think you will fly anytime soon. The engines on your back are broken badly.”
He hasn’t flown in years. He has seen too many S.T.E.V.E.s explode due to some malfunctioning that was never fixed. Not on his models in any case.
“I damaged myself during the landing.” he explains even if none asked “Do you think you would be able to fix my ship if I brought it to you? I have to bring my captive back to the central station."
The boy looks at him for a long time.
"I think I could fix your ship, but what do you think you can do? Go to the ship and then come back with the broken pieces? It will not work. I could come with you..."
"No!" both S.T.E.V.E. and Hopper said at the same time.
"Ok. Cool. I will not go and we will keep an android here with us forever."
The older man grumbles "We will not keep an android here forever!"
"And what are you going to do? He is two hundred years old and even if his battery is not in pristine condition it will last at least another fifty years. So? What's your solution?"
"I'll go with him to the ship and I'll stay in radio contact with you."
"Hop!"
"I used to be an engineer long before you were born, I think I still know a thing or two about that, uh?"
The boy snorts but he knows that the only thing he can do is accept Hopper's proposition.
"Ok. so tomorrow at dawn will go to your stupid ship."
The boy gets closer "If you have any pain please call me, ok? And I'll try to fix you."
He is tired of repeating that he has no feelings whatsoever, so he simply nods and follows the man to what seems like a prison cell.
"I know that you could probably evade without even thinking too much about it, so this is more like... a leap of faith, ok? Prove me that you are not dangerous and maybe I'll allow you more freedom."
"You could always order me."
"Do you still obey the Three Laws of Robotics?"
First Law: a robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.
Second Law: a robot must obey the orders given to it by human beings except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.
Third Law: a robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law.
He does. And not because it's in his code. It's because that is the code of conduct that he follows religiously. Without the Three Laws of Robotics, he is no different from a toaster.
"I do." not exactly a lie.
"And what about the new Laws? Obey the law, don't lie, and be identifiable?"
"I'm a hunter, so it's implied that I obey the law, I identified myself as soon as I got here and I have not lied." Just omit some details.
"If I order you to stay, will you stay?"
"Are you giving me an order?"
"I am asking you a question."
"If you order me to stay I'll stay. If you ask me to stay I'll stay."
That's all he can offer to a man who must have seen many horrors in his life.
"I'm asking you to stay. I'm asking you to prove to me that you're not a danger to anyone here."
He is an android but he can understand that.
"You don't have to come with me tomorrow. It's a long way from my crash site to here."
"I know that. But I'll come."
S.T.E.V.E. knows that is not an act of kindness but he doesn't care.
"The boy. The one you brought here. Is he dangerous?"
"He is a murder."
#tumblr fic#myfanfic#steddie#au gust 2023#stranger things#eddie munson#steve harrington#stranger things fanfic#writing challenge#android AU#Android Steve Harrington#Wanted Criminal Eddie Munson#Part 2#medusapelagia fanfic#medusapelagia#my fanfic
31 notes
·
View notes
Text
the following is an excerpt from my new ATLA aang is aaged up AU fanfic!! (or at least, a teaser from the upcoming update on wednesday) (!!!!) (so excited bc u guys seemed to really like the first ch and left so many lovely comments!!
i present to you, a little sample of ch2 of "the teenager in the iceberg"!!!
---
The trio flew on through the sunset, until Tui rose above them, pulling the colour out of the sky as if she were weaving onyx black strands of soft wool into the most beautiful of tapestries. Katara settled on her back, tugging her fur lined overcoat closer, huddled against Sokka, who was in turn huddled against Aang for warmth. Moonlight and starlight bathed the three in enough light that neither Katara nor Aang could sleep, although Sokka seemed to be snoring away just fine. After a few hours of fruitless attempts to slip into dreamland, both Katara and Aang rose from their respective spots beside Sokka and moved to sit in the driver’s bench.
“Trouble sleeping too, huh?” Aang cocked a grin, tilting his head to Katara. She kept her eyes fixed upwards, trained on the moon and the stars, worried that if she looked away, she’d end up staring into his eyes like a weirdo.
“I always feel so awake with the moon’s light on me. Sleeping under the stars has never really been a thing that works. It’s too energising, too… too much. It’s hard to explain.”
“No, no… I get it. I feel the same way in a windstorm, all those breezes and gusts of wind, it feels… exhilarating.” She watched through her peripheral vision as he looked up at the moon. “In times of war, I think we all tend to forget how spiritual bending is at its core. I’d say it’s a good thing that you’re in touch enough with the origins of your abilities to feel the moon’s pull tug at you just as much as it does on the ocean.” Katara raised an eyebrow at the cheesy sincerity, and he chuckled in response. “I’m serious! Out of all the nations, Airbenders have the highest rate of benders, and I’ve always felt like it’s because of how much we connect to the spiritual aspect of all of this. We feel our element through our veins, we acknowledge its origins, we treat it as a sacred art.”
Katara nodded, puzzling it all over. “I wish I’d gotten to learn bending as a child properly, the way you did, with the stories of its origins and the teaching of precise bending forms.”
Aang’s brows wrinkled at this. “You- you didn’t get a teacher? But… weren’t you the one to break me out of the iceberg?”
“You’re looking at the last Waterbender of the Southern Tribe.” She sighed, hanging her head. “Everything I know about my bending was either made up through trial and error, or scraped together by bits and pieces of the few bending scrolls my tribe held on to. We’ve never believed in building fortresses and kingdoms the way the Northern Tribe does, and so, when the Fire Nation raids began… our waterbending numbers just continued to dwindle as they were defeated and taken to Spirits know where.” She bit her lip, trying desperately to steady her voice.
“That's… that’s how my mother passed. I was there, in the tent, when she was…killed.”
---
just finished the draft!! 4,424 words baybeeee!!!! you guys are eating GOOD w this update. releasing wednesday morning:))) catch up on the first chapter before then here ->
#kataangst#kataang fanfic#kataang#ao3 writer#ao3 recs#atla fanfic#avatar the last airbender#archive of our own#ao3#writing#aang#katara#sokka#atla kataang#atla fandom#ao3 works#ao3 link#confessions#oneshot#fluff#eventual romance#atla sokka#trope flipping#trope bending#quillthrillsatlafic#atla aang aged up#aang aged up au#teenager aang#teen aang atla
19 notes
·
View notes
Text
bitten 02 | jeon wonwoo.
↳ a series of non-chronological drabbles + one shots about crown prince wonwoo and his lover
◇ wonwoo x female reader
◇ vampire au
◇ rating: 18+
◇ warnings: none in this drabble
◇ 1.2k [2/?]
Author’s Note: As I said in the short summary, these will not be in chronological order and I don’t know how many parts it’ll have. If it generates enough interest, I may open either requests or suggestions on what you would all like to see next from vampire!Wonwoo. Also, I write these differently to how I normally write my fics. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy and please let me know what you think!
PS. this is unedited i'm sorry.
Disclaimer: In case someone does catch it, this is a repurposed work from a different fandom I wrote for. If there are any concerns, please don’t hesitate to reach out! This will be the last repurposed part and the next drabbles will be new.
Staring out the window of his balcony, Wonwoo wonders at the blanket of white snow that covers the land. Whilst most despise the winter season due to being forced to stay indoors and hibernate, he revels in it. Though, it isn’t like Wonwoo is like most people. No one even refers to him as a person.
Wonwoo is a creature of the shadows.
Wonwoo is… a vampire.
Unlike most of his kind, his origin story is vastly different. With Royal blood coursing through his veins, he was conceived by the King and Queen and was birthed into this world, the first of his kind.
Not one to usually care about his status or the politics of it all, Wonwoo mostly keeps to himself, locking himself in either his room or the castle library. He spends his time reading up on his ancestors and the history of the other creatures that inhabit his world. Every single creature fascinates him, but not as much as humans do. So, he spends his sleepless days and sleepless nights learning about them.
Being around for centuries, the Queen worries that he’ll never be able to find his ‘blood singer’ if he keeps his nose buried in books. So, as a doting mother does, the Queen constantly sends him multiple women — human women at that — to see if any of them will turn out to be the Crown Prince’s soulmate.
Wonwoo will never admit it to his mother, but he hates it when she does this with a passion. It is true that he is centuries old and without a heart, but he is a fool who believes in the notion of love. Lucky enough to witness it with the King and Queen, he wishes the same for himself.
And lucky he is, because he then meets you.
At least he thought he was.
Meeting you was a complete accident — or maybe it was fate.
Wonwoo was hiking, a few hundred miles away from the castle, and stopped by the river to rest when an enticing scent wafted through the air, almost knocking him off of his feet. Staggering to the nearest tree, Wonwoo clung on for dear life — almost snapping the whole tree in half. Curiosity got the best of him and he continued to inhale the delectable scent, allowing it to overwhelm his senses.
The feeling was foreign to him and as someone who had never met their soulmate before and never understood the concept of it, he was left completely unaware of the predicament that he and his soulmate was in. With the threat and consequences far from his mind, Wonwoo followed the trail of the scent until he ended up outside a cafe, another hundred miles in the opposite direction of the river. When he finally regained a bit of his senses back, he quickly looked around to try and find his bearings and it dawned on him that he was somewhere he had never been before.
Suddenly, a gust of wind blew by and it was almost like everything was happening in slow motion. Wonwoo felt the hairs on his skin rise and saw his own breath in front of him and that was when he finally understood that something was horribly wrong. A flicker of movement caught his eye and he turned to see the cafe door slowly opening.
Before he knew it, the scent that assaulted his senses had returned tenfold. The smell was so intoxicating and it consumed him, rendering him temporarily immobile and without control of his own self. It wasn’t until the door fully opened, that he was finally able to move — and almost wished he hadn’t.
By the door you stood, looking dangerously inviting and Wonwoo almost lost it. You tilted your head in confusion as you spotted him and when your innocent doe eyes bore into his crimson ones, it all started to make sense.
With his incredible speed, he was standing in front of you in a blink of an eye and was barely able to stop himself short of the door. In horror, Wonwoo felt his cuspids slowly become elongated when he caught sight of your neck. He could almost taste your blood on his tongue and he realised that he was getting closer and closer to doing something unthinkable. Something unforgivable.
Like you were put on this world to test him, you spoke and he swore he would have ravished you already if it wasn’t for the simple fact that you hadn’t invited him in. For once, his vampiric existence and their laws were of use to him. Wonwoo prayed that he remained uninvited.
“Are you okay?” you asked timidly. In this day and age, you had encountered many of his kind, but none of them reacted to you quite the same as he had. Something about him piqued your curiosity, made you unsure of yourself, and you were desperate to find out more.
Wonwoo couldn’t figure out what it was about you that had him behaving that way. Though he was the Crown Prince, he had been around plenty of other humans before as he encountered them during his travels, but no one had affected him the way you had. There was something about you, something that made him want to consume you whole and protect you at the same time.
With all of his strength, he made his choice.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Wonwoo finally spoke, forcing his gaze away from your throat. Determined, he gripped the edges of the doorway hard and started to push himself away from the threshold. “I beg of you, do not permit me entry. Please.”
You gasped, finally understanding what made him so different. He was your soulmate, and while it pained you that you were unable to help him, you agreed with him, knowing that he hadn’t quite understood what was happening yet.
Wonwoo saw the gears in your mind turning but he was surprised when he realised he couldn’t read your mind. Neither could he compel you, which shocked him once more as it dawned on him that you actually listened to him on your own accord. You were such a mystery to him and he grew even more curious, but he didn’t want to satisfy that curiosity now. Not when he would be putting you in danger.
“Forgive me, but I need you to do one last thing for me,” Wonwoo pleaded urgently. He felt his strength leaving him the longer he was in your presence. “I need you to ask me to leave.”
“I can’t—”
“You must!” he begged you.
“I don’t even know your name. I—”
“You won’t get the chance to know anything about me if you don’t ask me to leave right now,” Wonwoo beseeched you. “Please, ask me to leave.”
You saw how much pain he was in and how difficult his position was. So, you ignored your shattered heart and nodded, speaking the words he needed you to speak. “I want you to leave. You are not welcome here.”
In an instant, it was like a burden was lifted off of his shoulders. Wonwoo threw you a regretful smile, took one last look at you and etched you in his memory then turned to run.
As far away from you as he could.
A stray tear slid down your cheek as you wondered if you would ever see him again and what it would mean if you did.
He was your soulmate.
He was a creature of the shadows.
He was a vampire.
Why was fate so cruel?
© darlingvernon
pls do not copy/repost my work
#svthub#kvanity#kwritersworldnet#wonwoo scenarios#wonwoo fanfic#wonwoo x reader#seventeen scenarios#seventeen fanfic#seventeen x reader#svt scenarios#svt fanfic#svt x reader#kat: writings
97 notes
·
View notes
Note
a prompt thing!
davey is sick and doesn’t show up to sell (or modern au to school/work/etc)
i'm distracting myself with writing so feel free to send me any prompts and i will try my best to write them!! <3
At first, they barely notice anything is wrong. Davey's back in school, but he's continued selling papes with the boys in the evenings and at the weekends. Although Davey had been a quick learner in the early days, he's becoming slower and he looks distracted.
It's brushed off with jokes, until Davey doesn't even have the energy to respond. "Sore throat," he musters, and Jack sends him home and promises to give their equal share to Les when he gets home that evening. He doesn't think much of it - the cold New York winters are harsh, especially during your first time selling in Demeber, and Davey looks like a strong gust of wind could knock him over on the best of days.
He walks Les home that night, refusing a dinner proposal again, and bids the younger boy goodbye and shouts out "make sure that brother of yours doesn't skip out on any more hard work!"
But Davey doesn't show up the next day, and neither does Les. Nor do they show up for three more days after that. Jack gets tired of waiting for the boys with no answer. He climbs up the fire escape to try and get into David's room, when he sees the outlines of tall figures looming in the background.
"He's burning up," one of the men say, leaning over Davey's bed. "Hot to the touch!"
He tries to make it through another window, when he's blocked by Sarah. "You can't be here," she says, worry dripping from every word.
"Davey?"
"They say it's scarlet fever," she says, and Jack's read too many headlines about how it's been killing children all over the world. His heart sinks, feeling utterly hopeless.
"Les?" he asks, clinging onto some hope.
"He's okay, he's with our grandparents. They wanted me to go too, but I told them I wouldn't go anywhere without Davey," she says confidently. "He'll be okay Jack."
"I..."
She places an arm on Jack's shoulder, giving him a sad, knowing look. "I know, Jack."
"What happened?"
"He came home from school, and ma caught him coughing up blood into a handkerchief. She told him to rest, but he only got worse. He was getting sick, kept complaining about pains. I've never seen him like that before Jack, it was scary. I haven't been able to see him since," she says, and Jack can tell she feels as lost without Davey as he does. "Go back Jack, they won't let you anywhere near him. I'll let you know when there's news."
Jack knows better than to argue with Sarah, so he lets himself wander off, walking back to the lodgings on autopilot. He doesn't say anything when he returns, not sure how to break the news to all of their friends who had been waiting for Jack to turn up with the Jacobs' boys behind. Instead, their eager faces begin to fall, and Jack runs straight up to the penthouse. He tells them eventually, and the lodgings don't feel the same as they used to anymore, not without the infectious laugh that follows the two wherever they go.
It's a long week, until finally Davey and Les join the line to pay for their papers. It's Crutchie who spots them first, and the boys run to crowd their friends. Les looks like he's eating up every bit of fame it takes, although Jack can see the protective grip he has on his older brother's hand.
"What? You miss me?" Davey asks, as Jack watches him smiling at the sight before him.
"Don't do that again," Race says, barging in to be the first to give Davey a hug. "You had us worried sick. I couldn't win a game of cards for days."
"I'm sorry that I through you off, your game" Davey says, as Specs is the next person to hug him, Les still holding onto him with a strong clutch. "Guys, I'm okay. I swear. Got it all out of my system."
One by one the Newsies say their hellos, and get on with their days, but before he catches up with the two, he watches Davey divide his share with Les, giving the young boy a few more papes than usual. Jack joins them then, puts his satchel around his arm, and he tells Les to run ahead to some women in the park talking.
"You really scared me Dave," Jack says, and watches as Davey's eyes wander from his excitable brother to his selling partner. "I saw you one night, when the docs were all crowded round you. And I just kept dreaming that I'd wake up and you weren't with us no more."
"Hey, hey. Jack, it's me. I'm here. I'm here and I'm okay," Davey says, grabbing Jack's hand. There's no one too close by, so Davey seemingly decides to risk such a bold move. "I'm really sorry that I scared you like that, but it's okay now."
Jack looks down at their hands, and wishes he could capture this moment with his new paint. Instead, he begins to trace the lines on Davey's hands. "I was afraid you wouldn't know just how much you mean to me."
"Jack -"
"You can't go anywhere, okay? Because I can't stop thinking about you and it's driving me crazy. I was too cowardly to say it before, but you've been it for me. And I've been crazy gone after you from the very beginning."
"Okay," Davey says, and Jack watches him.
"Okay?"
"Okay, I'll stay. Here with you, for as long as you'll let me."
Les runs up to them, dime in his hand before he looks at them both. "Gross. Come on, these papes won't sell themselves!"
Jack watches the kid run off, proud as punch, and he wraps an arm around Davey's shoulder, bumping into him. "One day I'll have you selling like him."
Davey pokes him in the side, before laughing to himself. "Oh shut up. You're the worse."
"You love it though."
"Yeah," Davey says, staring earnestly into Jack's eyes. "I really do."
39 notes
·
View notes
Text
Ribbons & Wings: Ezra x f!reader w/Cee
A/n: I started this on a night of heavy snow followed by blistering cold. I have seen the northern lights, once in Alaska and once in in western New York state. Set between after "Rain" around the same time as "Clean Dirt." I may revise the timeline as I see fit. As with everything else in this AU, this can stand alone. Reader is nicknamed "Artichoke" and "Prickle." Ships and Kings is a game that persists through my Prospect fics,. Cross DND with chess played on a hexagonal board. As with any game there are house rules that vary. Kevva’s Flick is a highly contested (and some claim illegal) move in Ships and Kings.
Warnings: Language. Anxiety. Food mentions. Mentions of old injuries. Snowball fights?
"--all ships in northern quadrant be advised boost is not recommended at this time. Hold tight if you are able--next pickup is in 10.25 cycles--"
"What does that mean?" asks Cee,
"Understood, drop-com, we'll see you on the other side--"
"Ezra, what does that mean?" You hear the rising panic in Cee's voice and reach for the thrower you keep stashed under your bunk.
"There's a storm coming," says Ezra, "Might close our take-off window."
"So we're stranded." Says Cee. She stands and gets in Ezra's face, "You told me this wouldn't happen."
"I can't control the weather, Birdie," says Ezra, "We launch into a blizzard and there's a chance we break up."
"Fuck--"
"How long?" You ask and they both snap their heads around as if they've forgotten you're there, "If we get grounded how long are we here?"
"You heard the man," says Ezra, "10.25 cycles."
"That's two hands," you say, "We can make that. We'll be fucking sick of Bitz-bars but we've got enough margin."
"What if we boost now? Minimum checks--"
"C'mere," says Ezra, he sits on the edge of his crash couch and Cee takes her place beside him, "You too. Let me show you something." Ezra plops his battered data pad into Cee's waiting hands, she holds it so he can manipulate the touch screen. You hunker behind Cee, peering over her shoulder, hunched in the confines of the pod.
"I'm getting the same info yon freighter's getting from the weather sat, about a sixteenth delayed," says Ezra. He zooms into the northern quadrant where the pod rests near a large, frozen over lake.
"Ooo-oooh," says Cee, face pinched with worry, "That's bad. If that's from a sixteenth ago--"
"Conditions are likely worse by now."
"What are we looking at, Ez?" You ask.
"The lines are wind direction, the color scale is speed. We take off now, our boost curve takes us through the worst of it, right at the point of maximum dynamic pressure."
"That could tumble us."
"Could do worse than that," says Ezra, "Big gust could crumple us like a beer can."
"But if we miss the sling--"
"Artichoke's right," says Ezra, "We've got rations for at least 15. More if we stretch it."
"If worse comes to worse we can do some ice fishing," you say.
"Bleee-arrgh," Cee makes a wretching sound. You were harvesting the spiker fish for their odd, metal-rich navigation organs and you'd cooked one over the camp fire just to see what the meat tasted like. "That was like licking a battery terminal."
"Lick many battery terminals, Little Bird?" Cee laughs.
"Spend enough time in a pod and you'll do just about anything for fun."
"The spiker wasn't that bad," you say. Ezra and Cee look at you with mixed horror and fascination, "I've had worse things in my mouth."
"Didn't need to know that," says Cee.
We best power down what we don't need, said Ezra, and the three of you began a systems check. Reading off the things you were each responsible for when getting ready to drop or boost. Proximity radar and chute pyro-batts were obvious. Local comms. External lighting. Scrubbers. You sure about the scrubbers? Air's fine, it's just cold, we can reverse the aft vents and draw heat off the RTG baffles.
"We're only talking two hands," you say, "Between the reserve tanks and the scrubbers we should be fine," and Ezra gives you a flat-eyed look that means you've strayed somewhere you're not supposed to be just yet.
"Two hands have a way of becoming more,"says Ezra, "We take what care we can. Clear?"
"Sure. Clear."
The pod sounds strange half powered down. You don't notice the faint clicks and chirps of the guidance computer until it's offline. In your head you know it'll boot back up just fine, but it still feels deeply wrong having it off. Same with the Baas converter, all the hardware that does the thinking for you. The wind moans through the trees outside, a low warbling wail that resonates through the pod. You and Cee exchange glances. She's got her music player on, but her eyes are big and dark and scared, and you don't like this any more than she does. There's no snow on Falnost but wind is something you understand, driving sand before it that can etch windows, it never happened to any of your livestock, you and your father and brothers were too careful for that, but you'd hear stories about pink skeletons, stripped of flesh but still fresh enough to ooze from their marrow.
"We'll be fine," says Ezra, "We're stable." Eventually you drift into an uneasy sleep. There's nothing else to do.
"We've definitely missed the window," says Ezra, confirming what you expected, "But we might as well have fun little while we're here, right?" You are barely awake, sipping fake coffee from a pouch.
"Fun?"
"Snow, stupid!" Says Cee, she's already wriggling her way into her thermal gear, "It snowed like crazy overnight! We can bury ourselves in it! We can make a snow fort! Let's go!" You smile, but you feel it curdle, you know what snow is, you've seen vids, and the way Ezra is looking at you you can tell that he knows, he knows you've never seen snow, never felt it for yourself, and you can't look at him. There is so much you don't know. You start suiting up out of habit, thermal gear for a cold world, outer layers for batt-assisted heating--
"Hey," says Ezra, "You okay, Prickle?"
"Sure."
"I know they didn't--"
"Yeah, yeah, we didn't have snow there. We didn't have RAIN there. We'd get a little bit of hard frost come winter but that doesn't count--"
"Easy," says Ezra, "Easy. Cee's just over excited." He nods towards the open hatch now venting your hard-won warmth. Cee's voice comes faint from outside, you guys coming or what? "She hasn't had much chance to play in the snow."
You exit the pod into a new world. The gravelly shores of yesterday are blanketed in white, the branches of the feather-trees droop in low arcs, burdened with snow. You can feel the snow collapse when you step in it, hear it, a small crumping sound beneath your boots, you turn towards Ezra, smiling and something frigid and granular and wet splatters against the nape of your neck, and you whirl, reaching for the thrower your left on the pod and Cee's laughing, her cheeks pink with the cold.
"Gotcha!" She crows and bends down, sinks her hands into the blanket of white. You smile. This might be your first snow but you know mischief when you see it. You scoop up two handfuls of snow and squish them together, noting the give and push-back as it compresses down even as you aim for your crewmate's head. You miss by an Ephrate mile, and her next shot catches you mid-chest. For every shot you land she gets in at least three, and at last you scoop up and armload of snow and start chasing her round the back of a huge feather-tree, and Cee throws up her arms in defense and splutters laughter when you dump it on her.
The two of you pause, laughing and out of breath, Cee's cheeks and nose flaming pink.
"Cee? Artichoke?" Ezra's voice peals out from the pod , "By your silence I am assuming you are up to no good and I will act accordingly."
"He's so goofy," says Cee, and grins at you, "Allies?"
"Yeah. Let's get him." Cee bends and starts making snowballs. Ammo dump, she whispers and you nod. Right.
"Cee? Prickle?" Cee leans around the tree trunk and yells.
"Come and find us old man!"
"Old man," you hear him mutter and Cee giggles. She knows just where to poke and how much pressure to apply, "You think you're so hard to track leaving boot prints in the snow--" Ezra rounds the tree trunk and you paste him, snowballs exploding all over his suit. You try not to aim for his head. Cee has no such compunctions. One of her snowballs catches him right in the face, and he shakes his head, snow caught in his mustache, wipes the snow out of his eyes--
"--Oh," he looks past you and Cee, his eyes wide, white limned, "Oh Kevva what's that?!" You turn your head to the dark undergrowth and there's the whine of a discharged thrower over your head and you barely register Ezra's laugh before you and Cee are buried in a shower of snow from above.
You splutter and swipe snow out of your eyes, out of the open neck-hole of your suit. Cee shakes her head, a brief, indignant halo of flakes ringing her flushed face. Ezra howls laughter. He's bent double, face red, eyes squinched shut.
"You shoulda seen your faces--" he wheezes.
"That was cheating!" says Cee, "No fair--"
"That was tactics! That was strateegery--" Ezra takes a bad step and overbalances, flails his arm out and falls on his ass in the snow.
"That was Kevva's Flick!" You say and grin. Kevva's Flick is a marginally legal move in Ships and Kings, the kind of thing that will get you stuffed out an airlock if you try it in the wrong company. A badly missed stealth roll followed by a natural sixteen means that your opponent can flick one of your pieces off the board like dislodging and errant piece of lint. The only reason you even know about it is because Ezra pulled it on Cee and they spent the next eighth arguing and wasting precious bandwidth looking up the legality of the move over the drop-net. Cee throws back her head and laughs, bright and clear. Ez crawfishes in the snow and then manages to heave himself upright.
"Hmmm," says Ezra, narrows his eyes, but his dimpled smile gives him away, "I know where you sleep, little bird."
"I know where you sleep too," says Cee, "Call truce?" A hard gust bends the tops of the feather trees, sending snow down in slow whorls, a low moaning sound that makes the nape of your neck prickle.
"We should get back inside," you say, "Wind's gonna pick up."
"Truce," says Ezra, and flashes you a smile, "Let's get on in before our C5 friend freezes solid." You trace your tracks back to the pod, landing struts buried in white, it's uglier angles and dents covered over.
"Oh hey!" Says Cee, "We can make snow angels!" You and Ezra look at each other, but before you can say anything, Cee is stomping out into the wide expanse of unbroken white.
"It's easy, see?" She flops down on her back in the drifted snow and fans her arms and legs.
"We called 'em phoenixes back home," you say, and pull Cee to her feet, careful not to step in the wing shaped marks she's left behind, "Once things settled after a storm we'd draw pictures in the dust."
You take a few steps so you don't mess up Cee's snow angel and flop down yourself. It feels different. Not like the dust that would puff up in your eyes and stick to your skin but the motion is the same, cloud laden sky instead of the screaming bright stars back home. Cee offers her hand and pulls you up.
"Not bad, dirt-farmer," she says, "You do one, Ez.
"If I must." Ezra takes a few steps and drops into the snow like a felled tree, makes his own pattern beside yours and Cee's.
"I'm somewhat lacking in the wing department," says Ezra, "If I'm to be an angel--"
"Hold up," says Cee. She wanders away from Ezra, back towards the dark of the trees and roots around, finds a fallen limb, some feather-needles still clinging to it.
"My ass is getting awfully cold, little bird,"
"Stay still," says Cee, using the branch like a paint brush.
"There." She casts the stick aside and offers her hand. She pulls Ezra up and turns him around so he can see her handiwork, a feathered wing traced in the snow, fanning out from the shortened arc at his right side.
"See?"
"Yeah. I see." Ezra pulls Cee against his chest, she stiffens, then lets herself be hugged, her arms creeping around his middle.
"S'okay, Birdie," he murmurs into her hair and you turn away, embarrassed, feeling like you've seen something you shouldn't. The next gust of wind comes with a raft of blown snow, rough and cold against your cheeks. You bend down and draw your name in the snow with an outstretched finger and think of how very far you are from Falnost, the only one in your family to make it up out of the well and see snow.
"Come on in before you freeze," calls Ezra, he stands at the ramp and waves, "The snow'll be here tomorrow." You smile.
"Yeah. I suppose it will."
"Hey! Hey wake up!" Cee's voice cuts into your dreams, harsh and breathy and urgent and you are reaching for the thrower beneath your crash-couch before your eyes can unstick themselves.
"Whuzzit birdie--" Ezra's sleep befuddled voice murmurs someplace to your left
"Come on!" says Cee, and she's climbing into her gear, green witch-light shines through the pod's small, rounded windows, "You've got to see!" You pull on your thermal gear and follow her out the door and down the ramp, still half asleep.
"What is this?"
"I don't know," says Cee, her hand finds yours and the sky writhes overhead, shivering bands of green like curtains, like incandescent ribbons, dimming and shifting and brightening, columns that ascend into the dark, stars muted behind them. No sound at all, a silent ignition, silver-green edged in red. You feel Ezra fetch up beside you, his hand finding yours.
"What am I looking at, Ez?" He squeezes your fingers.
"It's an aurora," he says, "I think. I've never seen one before. Just vids."
"It's so quiet," you say, your voice dropping to a whisper without even thinking.
"It is," says Ezra. There is no sound at all associated with the shifting columns, the world gone so still that you can hear your crewmates breathing, hear the soft sussurration of your own pulse. You pull your eyes away from the churning sky to look at your friends’ faces, Cee smiles, wide and open, her pale hair frosted green, eyes alight. Ezra's face is a study in naked wonder, and it's like you’re seeing him for the first time, no spacer's charm, no worldly confidence, just him smiling up at the sky. You squeeze their hands and they squeeze back.
#prospect#prickle 'verse#ezra x f!reader w/cee#ezra x prickle#prickle 'verse au#ezra prospect#cee prospect#ezra and cee#ezra (prospect) x f!reader w/cee
58 notes
·
View notes
Text
AU-gust 2023
6. Domestic
Pairing(s): Cherik, Xavierine, Cherigan(?)
Warnings: N/A
This is a little snippet from my Charles Xavier's Baby verse, where Charles' secondary mutation and poor life choices nets him a set of twins courtesy of Erik and Logan.
-----
By the time Charles and the girls are discharged, Raven has moved out and Erik and Logan have moved into the apartment. He feels bad about his sister leaving to accommodate his newly extended family, but also relieved that everything was sorted without any drama. They even have enough room to fit everyone somewhat comfortably, with Erik taking Raven’s old room and Logan decamped in the study-now-nursery, and the babies in their bassinets in Charles’ bedroom.
Even with three people it’s far from easy, especially the first few days back as they adjust to a new normal. Charles is still recuperating from his C-section and being confined to bed rest (not by the doctors but by Logan and Erik), while the other two do most of the feeding and changing. Thankfully, his secondary mutation hasn’t given him the ability to produce milk, so it’s doesn’t fall to Charles alone to ensure that the twins are fed every three hours.
Of the two newborns, Lorna is the more challenging one, difficult to settle and too easy to disturb. Laura by contrast sleeps for long stretches, and they have to actually wake her to give her the bottle. Because of that, Laura ends up mostly sleeping soundly by Charles’ bed, while Logan and Erik alternate shifts with Lorna in their arms, pacing the apartment to calm the fussy baby. None of the adults really get all that much sleep, though they figure out a system by the third day, when Charles insists on taking a shift, giving both Logan and Erik the chance to sleep longer than an hour or two at a time.
It helps too that Raven and Edie are both so eager to help, running errands for more supplies (Raven) and ensuring that the fridge is crammed full of ready to eat meals (Edie). They’re especially grateful to have Edie’s calming presence, providing information and giving advice to three bachelors who know next to nothing about babies. And she is over the moon to finally have grandchildren to love, doting on them equally and without reservation, uncaring that only one of the girls is biologically related to her.
Charles counts his blessings every day, that he’s surrounded by people who love the girls as much as he does, which is so much more than he ever thought possible.
Of course, it also means there are more people around to gang up on him, including his best friend Moira, who is kind enough to make house calls so they don’t have to make the trek to her office for checkups. She is happy with the girls’ weight gain and their health in general, and tell them all to keep up the good work. She is less supportive of Charles holing up in the apartment and not venturing outside, and suggests that he go out with Raven for lunch and a breath of fresh air. It’s more order than recommendation, and Charles finds himself bundled out the door by his co-parents with instructions not to return for at least two hours.
(He absolutely does NOT spend those two hours quietly obsessing about the babies, alternately relieved to be ‘Charles’ and not ‘new Dad to twins’ for a little while, and freaking out over the fact that this is the first time he he’s been away from Lorna and Laura since they were born.)
------
“They’re not answering my texts, Raven! Why aren’t they answering my texts!”
“They’ve probably got their hands full taking care of the babies! Now put your phone down and finish your food!”
------
Rationally, he knows the girls are perfectly fine; that they couldn’t be in better hands than they are with Erik and Logan. But he still worries all the rest of the way home, until he opens the door to the apartment and finds all four of them sprawled in the living room fast asleep. Quietly, he takes out his phone to snap a picture – Logan is sleeping on the couch with Lorna on his chest, while Laura is cuddled against a conked-out Erik on the leather recliner – and sends it to Raven, who replies immediately with:
Told you they were fine. Idiot.
He smiles, heart swelling at the perfect picture, realizing how much he loves them all…the girls of course, plus Erik. And Logan.
Erik and Logan.
“Dammit,” he mutters under his breath, and resolutely puts that particular problem away to deal with another day.
13 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
msfrankenstein910
I Have No Aesthetic
missguides
missguides
skyedestiny
Parabola Of Mystery
imhotmeltedbutter-blog
i know i'm hot melted butter