#doesn't even count the bottles either. and would you guess who it is who has to trot downstairs and get her all those cokes? me.
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Flight of Icarus lore dump part 2:
Part 1 | Character List
- Wayne has a green thumb. He reads Gardener’s Weekly magazine. It doesn’t say what he grows, but it says he buys vegetables from the store so I’m going to say that gruff old man Wayne has the prettiest petunias in the whole trailer park.
- Eddie sneaks into the Hawk with his best friend Ronnie to watch action movies and thinks Snake Plissken, Han Solo and Conan the Barbarian are cool.
- Eddie talks for hours about the intricacies of Elven politics in Tolkien.
- Eddie read comics as a kid and hid them all over the house "like a little squirrel" under the bed, behind the nightstand, under the rug. Wayne found his Uncanny X-Men in the freezer between stacks of tv dinners. Also, "Hellfire Club" comes from these X-Men comics.
- Floor time! There's a part where Eddie is literally just lying on his back on his bedroom floor counting down from a million. When Wayne comes home, Eddie army crawls on his belly to the doorway to see him.
- Eddie reads Gormenghast paperbacks, gothic fantasy novels. It mentions that Wayne saved them from the house fire along with Eddie’s guitar. It never says how/when Eddie originally got his guitar.
- Eddie says lots of cc’s original songs have D&D references. It's implied that he writes them. One is called “Fire Shroud” after a spell
- Eddie is called Freak King at school and Munson Junior or just Junior around town and he hates all of it
- Eddie talks about having anxiety a lot and it's implied he has had panic attacks in the past
- Eddie is the lead singer and guitarist of cc. He started the band with Ronnie specifically because it was required to participate in the school talent show.
- Neither Wayne or Al graduated high school. When Eddie (temporarily) drops out, Al celebrates.
- Eddie doesn't cook. He doesn't even own a spatula. The smell of cooking in their house actually shocks him and gives him a deep longing for family meals, which Al uses to manipulate him
- Eddie jokes about being into Saturday Night Fever and strikes the pose a couple times.
- Eddie knows how to hotwire and how to pick locks. Al taught him this at the age of ten. Eddie is "disgusted" with himself any time he does either of those things.
- Eddie "drives like a monster" when he's upset about something.
- Eddie smokes cigarettes occasionally. Weed is mentioned a lot in the book but it never says anything about Eddie smoking it or doing any drugs. He either doesn't smoke much or he hasn't tried anything yet in the book. Also, he’s just now meeting Rick. But It’s pretty clear after everything he went through why he would start
- There's lots of mentions of PBR and Bud Light. Though Eddie says he doesn't like to drink after his shifts at the Hideout (where he's a barback). He mostly drinks off-brand Big Buy soda in the book (he calls it "pop")
- Eddie's parents were married on March 12th, 1966. The date is inscribed on the bottle of their wedding wine. Eddie asks what kind it is and Al says they only had 'red or white' kind of money
- Al breaks out the wedding wine (to manipulate Eddie, you guessed it) it's red wine and Eddie really, really likes it
- Eddie went to War Zone with his dad for supplies for the truck heist (spike strips, coveralls, etc)
- Eddie's band played Exciter by Judas Priest at the talent show. The song was only approved because they emphasized the "priest"
- There was another (?) talent show in Winter of 1981 where Eddie's band played "Prowler" and they were kicked off stage halfway through because the song was considered Satanic, and the PTA visited all their parents for trying to convert everyone to Satanism.
- Eddie imagines hitting his dad twice. Once with a glass bottle and once with a metal wrench. (He should've- oops who said that)
- The only hug Eddie gets in the book is when his dad first comes back, Eddie knows it's the first step in his cycle of showing up, using Eddie and leaving, but Eddie still accepts the hug and feels guilty for enjoying it.
- It's implied Eddie gets close to tears a couple times in the book, but the only time they actually spring up is when his mom's favorite song (from Muddy Waters) comes on in the truck radio while Eddie is doing the heist with his dad and feeling awful about it. Eddie has several flashbacks of dancing with her to this song, it seems like his happiest memory that he always returns to.
- Whenever Eddie is doing what his dad wants (hotwiring, charming a person into their plans) he puts on what he calls his "best Al Munson smile" and he's terrified that it will eventually take over his whole face. There's a part at the end where Eddie is sitting in a jail cell and says "All I want to do is tear my face off. If a new one grows in it's place, maybe it'll make me a different person. Someone who isn't such a complete fuckup."
#eddie munson the nerd that you are#steddie writers eddie recites tolkien purposely to be annoying so write that down#these always get progressively sadder oh boy#eddie munson#flight of icarus#wayne munson#al munson#ronnie ecker#stranger things#i'm gonna do one more of all the places name dropped and then a deep dive into eddie's d word issues#mp
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Lost but Loved, Forever and Always
Don't be alarmed by the title, no one dies in this fic.
I wanted to do this for quite a while. Prismo has been constantly comforting Scarab. It's time for Scarab to return the favor. We're talking about Jake tonight.
And, this is my own catharsis. I've had more death and health scares in my close family in the past 3 years than I have my entire life. So... this is to them, I guess.
So... yeah. Enjoy you guys.
TW: Suicidal Ideation and Alcohol Abuse
Word Count: 2,700
Prismo was missing.
This was a new worry for Scarab. He was usually the one to disappear into the Time Room's lower chambers, usually to recuperate his aching shoulders.
But it was Prismo missing today. Scarab hadn't seen the Wishmaster nearly all day, not since the one wish maker wandered in. Even then, Scarab's companion seemed very... withdrawn. Quieter than he'd ever seen him, at least not since before Fionna and Cake.
Prismo's energy had been draining out of his spirit over the past few days. He started going quiet at random intervals, with seemingly no trigger.
Scarab was fretting.
He was not used to fretting. Prismo always seemed... untouchable, emotionally speaking. Unflappable in the face of it all, always a lazy sort of happiness radiating off of him. But... this was not anything the beetle was used to.
He wondered if he should search for Prismo... The Wishmaster had gone looking for him more than once, he should return the favor. But what if he didn't want to be found?
Hmm...
Maybe he'd go find Prismo, then back off if he wasn't wanted. Yes, that sounded like a decent plan.
He closed off to entrances to the Time Room for now and scuttled down into the basement.
Okay, where to look... Scarab's first thought was the pickle room, maybe he was just working on a new recipe? It wouldn't explain the melancholy, but it was a start.
So, to the pickle room Scarab wandered. He idly thought about how well he knew his way around this section of the Time Room now. Oh, how himself from a year ago would have cringed...
Okay, pickle room is empty. No evidence of it being used.
Come on Scarab, you're an Auditor. You've tracked down things that could teleport across the multiverse. You can find one messy Wishmaster who can't leave the Time Room.
He took another look around. There had to be something, anything in here...
Wait, there!
There was a missing jar from the shelf, a trail of brine on the floor. Bingo.
Scarab followed the trail, the faint smell of alcohol slowly seeping into the air. Or, maybe it was stronger, but he couldn't tell. Either way it was... concerning.
"Prismo...?"
Hmm...
He doesn't recall coming this way before. The walls of the Time Room seemed to be coming more unstable the further he searched. Walls with random notches in them, the floor becoming trickier to navigate, drop offs appearing suddenly, walls sliding into each other.
Wait a moment...
Wait, this was familiar. This was where the chase for the Crossovers ended in the Time Room.
Which means...
Scarab found himself staring at Prismo. Both forms.
Prismo, the Wishmaster, staring down numbly at Prismo, the Dreamer.
"...Prismo...?"
Prismo looked terrible, for lack of a better word. He looked tired. Scarab wasn't sure how a dream could look tired, and yet, here he was. He looked... empty. Just staring blankly at his own body, slowly drifting up to Scarab. And, even with his own crippled sense of smell, Scarab was smacked in the face by the harsh smell of alcohol and vinegar. There was a half tipped over pickle jar in the corner.
"...hey..." he murmured. Just like his gaze, his voice was... empty. He said nothing else, drifting his gaze back to his sleeping body. He took a silent swig from a bottle.
"Uhm... What are you doing down here...?"
"...Thinking."
Scarab made a few tentative steps closer to his partner.
"What about?"
Prismo remained silent.
"Prismo...?"
"...You... wouldn't get it."
"I wouldn't?"
"You don't... talk to people. Talk to mortals." His voice sounded wobbling, his voice trailing up and down. Drunk. Prismo was drunk.
Scarab had never seen the Wishmaster... drunk. Tipsy on Star Punch. Maybe a bit too loud and cuddly after a game night with the guys. But this was just... sad.
"You're right, I don't talk to mortals. But that wasn't what I was asking. I was asking what you were thinking about."
Prismo didn't look up. It was honestly making Scarab nervous.
"...You ever think about how long immortality is...? Like... compared to the shorts that pass by upstairs everyday?"
Scarab blinked, pondering.
"I do, sometimes. It's... inevitable with beings like us."
"Hmm... Beings like us..." Prismo sighed blinking tiredly. "They're like... like a blink... Like a spark and then they're gone..."
"I suppose..."
"...Why am I still... here, Scarab? Like... I'm what, hundreds of thousands of years old? I think that's too long, don't you? I died at some point... I sometimes... wonder if I should've stayed that way."
Scarab felt his chest seize, suddenly also very fixated on Prismo's sleeping body. He... he wouldn't right...?
"I... I'm thankful that you are still here, Prismo... More so than you might think..."
"Hmm..."
Prismo took another drink.
"...I'm only alive because of a mortal..."
"Really now...?"
"Yeah. It was... well, super off the books. Wasn't even pinged by the Organizer... Not supposed to get involved with mortals and all that junk... But... well, he was one of my best friends... and... well, that's all I've got left of him."
Scarab gave him a confused look, approaching Prismo's body. It was unnerving, seeing the warm, soft old man the beetle loved so fondly being so still and silent... Wait, was that... fur?
Yes, right there, at the edges of the beard and hair were little whisps of yellow dog fur.
"What on Glob...?"
"Yeah... I got killed, and he helped me with my backup plan. Long story. Complicated. But, a copy of him became... me. It's his dream and memory of me keeping me alive. And... well, the original passed away. A while ago. And... Well, this is all I have left of him. Just... staring at him, looking like me, but that's not even really me..."
Prismo was spiraling. Scarab could hear it in his voice, he was spiraling.
"Prismo-"
"And what was it for? He's... He's stuck here or he's dead or he's a monster or whatever else, and for what? For... me? For everybody's pal Prismo. What a joke."
"Love, what-"
"I got nothing, Scarab. I've tried to have something. But... what do I have to show for it? The banjo? Fucking pickles? A hot tub? I got nothing."
"Prismo" Scarab hissed, sternly, gripping his upper arm, stopping Prismo's spiral.
"Prismo... how long have you... thought about this?"
"...I dunno, man. It comes and goes again..."
"Prismo. You know I, and many others, would be... heartbroken if you disappeared. Many were the first time. Even when I had my grudge, I felt... empty when you vanished."
"I... I know, I guess... Maybe that's why I haven't... done anything. Not yet, at least..."
Scarab warbled, nudging his head against Prismo's shoulder.
"...I might not know much about your... mortal friend... but I don't think he'd want you... wallowing like this."
"Oh, what do you know" Prismo snapped, startling Scarab. "You don't know him! You don't know how this feels!" His eyes flashed purple, a black color pulsing through his whole body before returning to normal.
Scarab took a few frightened steps back, looking up at the Wishmaster with wide, uncertain eyes.
Prismo's eyes sparked with immediate regret. He looked at the bottle, then back to Scarab. He groaned in frustration, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hands.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry... I just... I don't know how to be when I'm like this... I've... I've never felt like this before Jake... I don't know man..."
Scarab chirped out a soft sigh, feeling emboldened to come closer. "...It is not exact, but... I do know a bit of what you're feeling, Prismo..."
"...You do?"
"Mhm. So. How about this. You tell me about this... Jake. And I'll tell you about Cricket. We'll mourn together."
Prismo seemed to be considering.
"...Can we... stay here with him...?"
"If that's what you'd like, love. But let's not loom over him, okay?" Scarab gently tugged Prismo's arm. And he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding when the Wishmaster allowed to be tugged. The beetle retireved the pickle jar, and the two sat down, leaning against each other.
"So... Jake?"
"Yeah... Jake the Dog."
"...How'd you two meet?"
"A wish. His brother, Finn, they were chasing their universe's version of the Lich into my Time Room. The Lich wished for the end of all life, and I granted it. Finn wished for the Lich to have never existed. They both got warped to their new realities. And then there was Jake..."
Scarab tilted his head. He'd heard of the Lich. One of those beings he'd have liked to take in, but couldn't. Vital to reality and all that nonsense. He didn't know Prismo met him before the incident with the Citadel.
"Jake... Well, I think he was in shock or something. He... seemed confused. Didn't know what to do, what to wish for. He nearly wished for a sandwich, but I talked him out of it. Like, I could just make a sandwich, no need to waste your one and only wish on it. So... we just hung out. We watched Finn's wish altered reality for a while, and we talked. Mortals never really... stick around long enough to talk. To know me as anything other than 'Almighty Prismo.' He chilled with Cosmic Owl and me. He had some of my pickles, said they reminded him of his dad. And I just... couldn't stop smiling. Some... some human part of me hoped he'd never make a wish, just so he could stay..."
Scarab could hear Prismo's voice shaking, so he pressed his head against his upper arm and nuzzled, chirping quietly.
"But... Something in Finn's wish reality started going wrong... He started to panic. I... I definitely broke protocol on this but I talked him through his wish. The wish that would make things go back to somewhat normal, and he was gone. I sent him some pickles, invited him back, but... Well, I never thought he would. No one just comes back to the Time Room, not unless you're a god. He got his wish, why would he want to come back? But... he did. Again. And again. And again and again."
Scarab wrapped around Prismo's arm, nuzzling softly as the Wishmaster sounded on the verge of weeping.
"He became one of my best friends. He was... something special. He'd level with me like a person. He didn't have this... weird, distant respect that everyone first comes at me with. He treated me like a person and... well, that was special to me. More so than I ever really noticed... not until he was gone for good.
"When the Lich killed my human body, Jake was the one who volunteered to help bring me back. That's him, sleeping in the bed. It's him keeping me alive. And... I don't know, I don't know how I could possibly repay him for that... I can't just bring him back to life, he belongs to Death now... and I don't think he'd want it. He's on the highest Deathworld, and he deserves to be there. I'm not gonna take him away from paradise just for my sake..."
Prismo trailed off. Scarab assumed he was done talking now, as he gently massaged the Wishmaster's arm.
"Thank you for telling me, Prismo. He does sound special. And I'm sorry you have lost that."
"...I can't talk to the others about it... They'd just say I was stupid. It is stupid, getting that attached to a mortal like that. So... you're the first person I've told, I guess."
"Is this... Finn still around?"
"I think so... Humans live a lot longer than dogs. I see him on the screen wall every once in a while."
"Have you thought to talk to him? I'm certain he's mourning Jake just the same as you. It might be nice to share memories of him."
"I dunno... I don't know if my heart could take it if I got attached to Finn..."
"Hmm... That's understandable, I suppose..." He reached up, gently rubbing away the tears from Prismo's cheek, nuzzling it lightly, even trying his best to kiss it.
"So... Who's Cricket?"
Scarab hummed. Time to hold his end of the deal, yeah?
"Well... My situation with Cricket doesn't align exactly with yours... I knew Cricket from when I was still mortal, rather than meeting them in the middle of eternity. But... well, they were my best friend."
Prismo's eyes widened at that.
"Cricket and I were neighbors, in the mounds. You tend to bond pretty quickly with those burrows around you, but Cricket was my first and best friend when we emerged. They farmed mushrooms while I patrolled. Our routines would have us pass by each other a few times a day, and we'd both get into heaps of trouble for slacking off to chat."
Scarab chuckled at the memory, trying to picture Cricket's face... Glob it's been so long...
"I told them everything. We told each other everything. What we thought about our other friends, who we thought we fancied, what might've been up in the stars, all of it. Thinking back, they actually remind me of you, in a lot of ways. They had this... magnetism about them, it made it easy to talk to them, they were charming and relaxed in ways I wasn't. I... I suspect, if my life turned out simpler, we could've been mates."
Prismo gulped at that, leaning down to listen.
"But... well, then I saw the mouth in the void. They helped me research, they helped me train, they helped me get that audience with the Pantheon. They gave me a crushing hug when I went to go fight. And they were the last I spoke to when I ascended. I promised I'd come back for them someday..."
Scarab rubbed his mandibles together, hesitating.
"I... I've said I haven't seen my home since then. But... that was a bit of a lie. I did go back, once. But... I hadn't realized how much time had passed between me leaving and coming home. What felt like, maybe 5 years to me was... almost 70 for them. Eternity messes with your sense of time like that. I never saw Cricket again. It's been so long; I feel guilty I can't clearly remember their face... I remember a few things, though... they had a deep blue shell, their antenna were long and curled, they laughed loud enough to get neighbors to complain about our late nights... But I can't remember their face. Not clearly anyway."
Scarab sighed, leaning into Prismo's open arm.
"...Does it ever get easier" Prismo whispered. "Knowing you've lose someone that important...?"
"...I'm not sure if easier is the right word... It never really stops hurting, when you think about it. But... it becomes a part of you. A part that prickles and catches you off guard sometimes, but a part of you none the less. You eventually evolve the hurt. The hurt mixes with everything else you felt about them. The hurt of the loss blurs together with the warmth of memories."
"Oh..."
There was a long silence, as Prismo looked between the body sleeping on the pedestal, and the drink in his hand. He gently set it down.
"...I might not know much about Jake. But I can tell he was special. It's okay to feel that hurt when you lose someone special. But... don't let it drown the warmth you felt with them. Remember them. The hurt just... tells you how much they were loved."
Scarab felt the tingle of light as Prismo wrapped around him completely. He could feel the Wishmaster's chest struggling to heave. The beetle shushed him softly, petting his talons against what he could reach.
"...One second" Scarab whispered. He conjured both himself and Prismo a small glass of Star Punch. He picked his up. "A toast. To Jake."
Prismo blinked wetly, a shaky hand reaching for his glass. "To Jake. And to Cricket."
"To Jake and Cricket. Lost, but loved, forever and always."
The two clinked glasses and took their drink.
Scarab knew talking about this would bubble up old emotions. That cloyingly harsh coldness, fighting with an aching warmth. Thinking too long about his home did that, sometimes.
But, it was worth it. Worth it to remember his friend. Worth it to bring some comfort to his partner. Worth it to bring some light onto the peacefully sleeping body across the room.
Lost, but loved.
Forever and always.
#prohibitedwish#scarab x prismo#scarab the god auditor#prismo the wishmaster#prohibitedwish fanfic#wrath of the wishmaster#tw: sucidal thoughts#tw: suicidal ideation#tw: alcohol
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Loving your au!
The thing you said about allowing yourself to stim resonated with me a lot. Like, I've been pretty loud and emotional as a kid, but was forced to bottle up my emotions. Which lead me to self-harm, yei! (btw, Im pretty sure I'm neurotypical, but moving my body in repetitive movion tends to calm my nerves. So I guess it counts as stimming? Unless there is another more appropriate term for it. It's a good thing I got out of rottmnt fandom, lol.)
So, I've wanted to ask about your Donnie's experience with autoaggression. You've mentioned that self-harm is one of his coping mechanisms. So I am curious. What triggers the action? It has to be an intense emotion, right? What does he tend to do? Is it like cutting, biting or burns? A mix of everything? If I'm not mistaken, he does tend to wear more clothes, possibly to cover the scars and such. Also, what would be family member's reaction to his self-harm scars? Would they lash out, ignore or try to lecture him? (The last thing happened to me and it was weird. Like, my mom brought my little brother to my room and told him to ask me to stop. I'm afraid I might have unintentiinally traumatized him there, whoops.)
Also, sorry for long rant, but I adore your Leo having gender issues. Like. I feel it. I tried to copy one of youtubers who sometimes used she/he pronounce and had fun with it until other people started questioning it so I stopped. But my fuckery with gender came to bite me in the ass afterwards. I've only recently realized I fall under demigirl term, so that was a relief. I wonder how Leo's gender adventure will play out. :)
Sorr for grammar mistakes, I'm not a native speaker :'D
your grammar's fine :)
aight so a lot to get into here. SO Donnie's experiences with self harm are heavily based on my own ones, which means overwhelming emotion. That can be either too much anxiety/stimulation, or feeling so empty and numb that you just need to DO SOMETHING that feels real.
you're spot on about his clothing hah, he covers more skin than the others cause he knows it'd make himself and everyone around him uncomfortable to see.
so the thing about his family's reactions is this: Leo is in denial about it, and Splinter doesn't even know. These are both because Donnie has a lot of naturally occurring scars from unsafe metal work. frankly its a miracle he didn't blow up one of his fingers when he was younger.
nowadays Mikey and Raph just try to support him so that he won't feel the need to self harm. I think Raph used to be really mad about it when they were WAYYY younger but. That doesn't really help the situation so he just, tries to help any way he can without directly talking about the issue.
anywho, congrats on the cool gender! Leo will realize his bigender ways eventually (but not soon enough hah)
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🔮🌈🐬!!! sorray love these so so much
It's alright! I'm happy to hear it :]
For 🔮: Meta loves playing pretend! He especially loves, you guessed it, knight and dragon games! He'll usually be the knight, and then the roles of the dragon and the prince/ss will be filled by Kirby and/or his caregivers! Though if the knight is either Vul or Dedede, he's content to be the vampire prince.
For 🐬: His ideal playdate would involve coloring, playing knight and dragon, listening to adventure stories, and playing with his stuffies, in no particular order. Then, he'd finish the day with a warm bottle of angel milk and a well-needed nap.
For 🌈: That would likely be the sheer amount of caregivers and babysitters this baby bat has wrapped around his paws! When you consider the Meta-Knights, most of the Dream Friends, and some other members of the Star Allies, Meta has over 20 cgs/babysitters. And that's not even counting OCs and crossovers... The only Dream Friends who don't act as babysitters or playmates are Susie (Because of Robobot) and Marx (Meta just doesn't like him, at least at first).
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1) So I watched the grub side quest for hollow knight and saw that you could save all these grubs and return them to an elder grub, but once you do and leave, then return; he's eaten them all. However I heard that was so that he could act as a cocoon for them, especially since you can hear them alive in his belly. It made me think of what if the hollow knight boys had come across reader without a disguise (probably from losing it in a close encounter) and become very curious over this strange,
2) soft and small creature, think that they're some kind of grub and decide to nom them to protect them and act as a cocoon as well (Gastric brooding frog would swallow it's young in real life too, with the young developing in the stomach), so that they can develop safely; but of course reader isn't an actual grub so they're scared of being nommed (I guess confusion can be easily sorted if they can communicate, but if it's a different version maybe they have a language barrier idk XD) ~Shy
🥭: Well they'd realize very soon(if the boys already know them) who reader actual was once they hear reader's very familiar voice. Glitch wouldn't count for this though as he already knows reader has been wearing a disguise after the whole kidnaping thing. Lunar doesn't either because he's also seen reader without their mask. This runs true whether there's a language barrier or not due to reader being rather vocal sometimes.
In a different version though where there is a language barrier and they've not met before? Well, with the grub father the truth of what happens with him like most bugs that used living organisms as cocoons is once the transformation is finished is actually quite gruesome. And what's more likely to happen due to the rather hostile environment hollownest currently is Sun and Moon seeing reader as a threat/enemy creature upon first contact.
This leads to reader running for their life from the twins and catching the interest of the hunter who is definitely a threat to them. Lucky for reader Glitch finds the strange, terrified creature and as the collector does and as he did before in the other version. He takes them, investigates them, ends up shoving them into a jar with Lunar who also investigates the small strange creature who seems very very scared but not threatening or violent.
Lunar makes attempts to soothe the smaller soft defenseless creature and show he's not a threat to them and he's successful, but this leads to reader clinging to him for safety and Lunar then feels like it's his duty to keep his new little friend safe no matter who the threat is.
It also becomes clear to reader that Glitch means them no harm seeing as all he's really done is nom them, give them food and keep them trapped in a bottle with Lunar so they start to relax around him too, things go sour eventually in this au of the au.
Glitch ends up stumbling into the room he keeps Lunar and Reader's jar in, severely wounded and with the last of his strength, due to his own fear and knowing how Lunar seems to want to keep the sweet little not-bug safe too, he breaks the jar before collapsing as a sword pierces his chest. Behind him stand Sun and Moon, they're surprised to see the other vessel alive and even more so the strange creature they attempted to kill in the vessel's hold.
Reader is shaking and Lunar can tell they're scared of the pair as reader clings tighter to him and attempts to make themselves smaller while he holds them and they both stare as Glitch's fallen form, Lunar has already made his choice on what he's going to do. He grasps reader as tight as he can as Sun and Moon begin to approach, then he smashes through the window behind him and reader, running off instead of interacting with his 'brothers'.
Sun and Moon are confused about the not-bug, confused about why it held onto Lunar like a lifeline, confused about Lunar's attachment to the not-bug and why he ran then they get the feeling.... They somehow fucked up if Lunar chose to run away with the not-bug instead of interacting with the brothers.
Lunar continues to run holding reader close as he figures the best thing he can do to protect them is to keep running, find them a disguise or something. He gets jumped by the hunter however who injures reader... Then Lunar loses it going berserk and where Lunar was a pacifist who didn't want to hurt anyone once stood, Blood Moon is born and he. is. VICIOUS.
The hunter is slain before he can even take a single step closer to Blood Moon's prey. Even as murderous and blood thirsty he is in this state he still has some recognition of who frightened, fragile and injured reader is....and that reader is important to him. Carrying them in his arms didn't keep them safe enough, so he swallows them then kills the creatures he once avoided while he continues his travels till the red rage subsided and he becomes Lunar once more.
And Lunar feels really really bad that he scared reader like that, after he finds a somewhat safe location, he lets reader out and cuddles them till they also calm down, neither of them know during that small break that both are thinking about Glitch and hoping he lives because despite being their captor they could both tell something drove him mad and his attempts to protect others became well, misguided.
Meanwhile Sun and Moon arn't sure what to do, they found another like them alive but Lunar ran from them, taking that strange small creature with him and when they turned to finish off Glitch he had mysterious disappeared while the pair were distracted by reader and Lunar.
A still injured Glitch has learned something from this encounter, storing people away does not keep them safe, instead it makes them easier targets. The rest of those in his collection were mostly killed off by Sun and Moon before Glitch ran to release Lunar and reader. So now a slower, injured Glitch tracks them, following the path they took he comes across the Hunter laying dead.
Lunar and reader are relieved to see him alive when he finally catches up, but Glitch brought something with him as he came to them, he found a disguise that would fit reader to help keep them safe. Together, the three leave hallownest and it's inhabitants behind.
Sun and Moon, knowing now that Lunar is out there somewhere with a creature they may have misjudged decided after they have saved Eclipse, to look for Lunar, Eclipse learning about their encounter with Lunar, decides he'll look for him too.
They go separate ways, it's Eclipse who finds the trip first during their travels when they've made camp and reader took their mask off. Glitch and Lunar who've learned a bit of reader's language and about reader's run in with Sun and Moon both immediately become defensive when Eclipse approaches them and the unmasked reader.
Eclipse can immediately tell something is up and he wants to know what the hell is going on, once told well, now he's upset at his younger brothers. Sun and Moon are going to be in quite a bit of trouble when they finally find the group. Their needles are going to be confiscated and Eclipse is going to put them on timeout.
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I can't really remember whether I'm "clean" or "messy" naturally. According to my mom's standard, I am very messy. But as I look around at this apartment, it is much messier than the spaces I had when I lived on my own. Maybe I don't clean as much as I should (doesn't everyone feel that way?) But it got to a point when I realized that keeping up with it is just so exhausting. It wasn't like this when I lived alone. Not everything was pristine, but things were put back where they should be. I didn't feel like my space was ruled by chaos.
I'm trying to remain introspective and not blame my partner, but the longer I think about it, the more I can't ignore his contributions to the mess, and his lack of contribution to cleaning. The more I count the number of items he has left out that I had previously put away for him. The more resentment grows when he won't even bring his dirty dishes to the kitchen, but leaves them in the living room to attract ants.
When he knocks an empty soda bottle off the coffee table on his way to the kitchen, looks at it on the ground, then leaves it there and continues walking. Obviously my first instinct is to pick up after him. But I didn't once, I left it to see how long it would stay in that spot on the floor. It was more than a week before he picked it up.
If I ever even insinuate that he doesn't clean up enough, he gets really mad, yells that he actually cleans WAY more than I do, and I'm actually the problem and should be cleaning more. I, of course, cannot produce hard evidence to support my position, and he doesn't back down from his defensive positions. I often end up acquiescing just to end the argument and restore peace. I know I shouldn't but I can't get my anxiety to go away until the fight is over.
He only ever washes the dishes (very occasionally even wipes down the counters) and takes out the trash. He seems to resent these tasks and hold it against me that he already does ~so much~ "for me" without acknowledging all of the cleaning and tidying I do. To be honest, I don't think he even notices. We have two bathrooms, and I can count on one hand the number of times he has cleaned either of them in the 5 years we've lived here. I remember his college house bathroom... An absolute horror show, but there were other 2 guys who lived there so I excused it at the time, but it should've demonstrated the conditions he's willing to live in.
He also just... Takes advantage of my things. I literally bought him nail clippers and a nail file so he didn't have to use mine all the time (he would never put them back, or just ya know BUY HIS OWN), but he misplaces those too so just goes to look for mine (which are conveniently always in the same spot!), uses them, then puts them back in a different spot, like in his desk drawer! I can't tell whether he forgets he's not using his or whether he's just decided to claim my items for himself, or whether he just truly put no thought into the action at all like he claims. And then what do I find as a present on the coffee table? A pile of toe nail clippings. Despite there being a trash can less than 2 feet away. Fucking gross.
I want to keep a cleaner space. But we've had so many "couples conversations" about how we're going to do that, together. No accusations or comparisons, I'm very careful to not put him on the defense. But guess who actually follows through, and then eventually loses steam as her partner doesn't really do any more than start vacuuming one room every other month. I mean, just the simplest things won't stick for him and I don't get it; I bought a "dirty/clean" sign for the dishwasher so we could stop having the "did you run the dishwasher?" conversation. I use the sign every time I run & empty the dishwasher. I don't think he's used it once, and will never fail to ask me "did these dishes get washed?" since he doesn't use it he assumes I don't either, and doesn't even bother to look.
To be totally gross, I'll relay a recent event that I think caused a turning point in my mind. He had expressed that we weren't having enough sex for his liking, so I was trying to make the effort to initiate more when I felt attracted or aroused. We had a nice time cuddling on the couch and I went to the bathroom to clean up a bit first. I opened the toilet lid to find he hadn't flushed his big nasty shit (which he often doesn't) and just lost any momentum and attraction I had. Fucking gross, dude.
I need to be financially independent somehow so my options open up, but that's really tough when I'm going to school, and I know I don't have the capacity to work full time and finish my degree in a reasonable amount of time. And I know that this dirty chaotic environment isn't helping my mental state or my executive functioning ability. But I also don't have the energy or desire to clean up after this man anymore.
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#i hate this capitalist hellscape that causes me to burst into tears at the thought having to work a shitty job for the rest of my life#if i cant make the things i initially enjoyed as a hobby into a successful career just to be able to pay for existing in said hellscape#if art falls through i have nothing to fall back on- its not like i can get a decent paying job with my college reading level#that's the only thing i was actually good at the rest was either fucking around and it working out or just looking up answers#so that i wasn't a failure and i wouldnt get yelled at for anything less than As and Bs bc im 'such a smart kid' and i had to live up to it#im really tired#i want to just- stop drawing for a while but what else is there for me to do? cant just play videogames or do my makeup all day#or sit around scrolling through tumblr or pinterest. there's nothing to do except just sit there and rot like i do every day#even though im legally an adult now i still cant drive and my permit expired a while ago and im still expected to follow mom like a baby#or a maid. i cleaned 8 coke cans off her side table next to the couch today. just from today#doesn't even count the bottles either. and would you guess who it is who has to trot downstairs and get her all those cokes? me.#every day its 'go get me a coke. no bring 2 and stick the other in the fridge' every few hours and its ALWAYS me#im tired#i just want to go somewhere and just lay down for a while#leave the house by myself for once#this days just been shit anyway#had a nightmare about mom being transphobic. had to listen to stupid true crime and far right fox news or whatever bullshit that comes on#im just so tired#i just dont want to draw anymore because ive stressed myself over it so much its just not enjoyable anymore and it feels like im forcing it#ive hit like- a plateau bc im not learning anything new or doing actual studies or paintings or whatever else there is#just draw the same shit over and over im only good at mimicking- cant even make anything new#im gonna delete this later#but i just need like- an actual hug from an actual real person and to be listened to and cared for for a while#elliot vents#elliot rambles#personal vent
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"A Valentine's Rejection" ~ A. Hotchner
Summary: When Jack gets his first rejection the day before Valentine’s Day, Hotch isn't exactly sure how to handle it. Luckily for him, his coworker and girlfriend, Y/N, has seen this before and knows exactly what to say.
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Mom!BAU!Reader
Word Count: 925
Content Warning: mentions of alcohol (no actual consumption), mentions of Haley's death, mentions of reader's husband's death, mentions of serial killers
Genre: Fluff, v Fluffy Fluff
Extra Notes: this wasn't originally supposed to be Hotch x BAU!Reader but here we are lol. if you guys want another version, lmk!
Based On the Prompt: "Person B's kid gets their first rejection and Person A comforts them"
Originally Written: 02/11/2022
Criminal Minds masterlist can be found here!
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"So, this is your house," I commented as Hotch walked me through his house for the first time. "It's very… Hotch-like."
"That's one word for it," he chuckled. "Excuse the mess. When you've got a six-year-old on your hands, your house is anything but clean."
"Trust me, it doesn't get easier," I laughed. "I think having a teenager might be worse than having a small child."
I don't think either me or Hotch would've ever thought we'd date each other after both losing our spouses to serial killers, but here we were. Even though Hotch and Haley had been divorced for a while when she died, he still deeply loved her. And when he came to me on advice for grieving, I don't think either of us would've ever expected for it to take the turn it did.
"Don't tell me that," he chuckled.
"Don't get me wrong, I love my daughter, but I truly miss when she was six and not thirteen."
He then headed over to the fridge as I leaned against the counter. "Can I offer you a drink?"
I chuckled before replying, "A hard one."
"I do have some beer in here."
I giggled and shook my head before telling him that a bottle of water would be just fine. He walked over with two bottles of water before the two of us sat down on the barstools. Only a few seconds later, we heard what I assumed was a school bus outside, presumably dropping Jack off.
"That would be the reason I need a hard drink," Hotch laughed.
I followed behind him simply out of habit. When he moved, I moved. It had always been like that for us, even before we'd started dating.
"Hey, buddy," Hotch smiled, bending down to give his son a hug. Jack hugged back hesitantly, but at first I just assumed it was because his hands were filled with small treat bags and one of his school books.
"Hi," he replied, seemingly upset.
"You OK?" Hotch asked, taking off the heavy backpack hanging from his son's shoulders.
"Yeah, I guess," Jack replied, walking over to the couch, climbing onto it, and surrounding himself with his treat bags.
"Well, you don't sound that way."
Jack didn't say anything in response, he just started munching on a small package of conversation hearts. It wasn't until I spotted those in his hand that I remembered the next day was Valentine's Day.
Finally, Jack answered with, "I got rejected today."
"You got rejected?" Hotch asked as he bent down in front of Jack.
"At least that's what all the kids at school are calling it. I asked this girl at school, Allison, to be my valentine today but she just laughed and walked away."
Hotch had a sort of panicked face when he said, "Jack, could you excuse Daddy for a moment?" He then walked over to me and whispered, "My child just experienced his first rejection. What do I do?
I chuckled as I patted his chest lightly, making sure Jack couldn't see me. "I've seen this once or twice before. I got it."
I walked over to Jack, who seemed less than satisfied with the conversation hearts he was chewing on. I kneeled in front of him, making sure I was eye-to-eye with him. "Hi, Jack."
"Hi," he replied. "Miss Y/N, what are you doing here?"
I hid the small giggle I could feel coming up in the back of my throat when he said this. "I'm here to hang out with your dad, but you seem like you could use that more than him right now. Can I ask what's wrong? Why are you upset?"
"A girl at school didn't want to be my valentine," he confessed.
"Now, why would she say that?"
He just shrugged his shoulders in response.
"Well, she's crazy to not want to be your valentine. I mean look at you. You're so handsome, and you're very sweet. Any girl would be as lucky as a four-leaf clover to be your valentine."
He lightened up a little at my comment. "You mean that?"
"Of course I do. And she's a fool for not accepting."
"Can you be my valentine this year?" he asked unexpectedly.
I was a little stunned to say the least.
"Well, I already have a valentine this year, Jack. I'm sorry."
"Oh," he replied, his face filled with sadness.
"But I think I know someone who will accept your invitation," I mentioned, knowing my daughter and her love for younger kids.
Jack's face lit up as he asked, "Really?"
"Mhm. I'll bring her over tomorrow so you can officially ask her."
"OK," he smiled.
Jack happily walked off to his playroom as I once again joined Hotch in the kitchen. I observed Hotch, who seemed stunned, almost like I'd performed a magic trick even Spencer couldn't perform.
"You're a god among men."
"Ain't my first rejection," I laughed.
"How did you know exactly how to handle that?" he questioned.
"Did you forget I have a middle schooler at my house?"
Hotch smiled, something I cherished every second of. "You know, someday I'm gonna ask you to be my forever valentine."
"You Hotchner men just love getting rejected," I smirked.
He smirked back. "You wouldn't dare."
I rolled my eyes, shaking my head as I thought about how lucky I was to have him as a potential forever valentine.
"I'm serious. Someday, I'm gonna ask you to be my forever valentine."
"And someday, Aaron Hotchner, I'm gonna say 'yes.'"
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Alone [P.P]
TASM!Peter Parker x fem!reader
Word count: 2.5k
WARNINGS: mentions of anxiety and depression in general.
A/N: Ok, I wrote this while I was on the bus to school, so it's not very long and not very good. I spent days doubting whether to publish it or not, but it is written in the first person because it is something that happened to me and I apologize in advance, I just wanted to express everything I felt by writing something and now I want to share it with you.
I looked from one side to the other. The night was already falling and the party was heating up. I'm not a very party person if you ask me, but after the insistence of my friends to go to the school welcome I had no choice. After all, I'm already a college student and college students do those things, right?
I see a couple of people smoking weed in a corner, others are playing beer pong and a couple is kissing that I am sure won’t take long to escape to the bathroom.
It's fun to watch all these people, but when a guy offers me alcohol for the sixth time and I refuse, I know I'm starting to not fit in.
I think in all my life I've never fit in, in one way or another, but I have learned to get used to it.
The music is loud and he's not my favorite singer, but he's not bad either. The rhythm is cheerful, it serves to liven up the atmosphere.
There is no one sitting next to me, my friends are playing, dancing, or jumping on the trampoline that the owner of the house has. I smiled, at least they are having fun.
I look at the time, it's just going to be 10:00 pm. I think about the homework I still have to do; I think about the movie I want to finish watching, and I think about how I'm fucking hungry and there's nothing but booze at this party. So I grab my stuff and decide it's time to go. My friends seem sad because the pleasure of having taken me out of my cave didn't last long. I tell them that I am tired, that I want to sleep a little before the hard day that awaits us tomorrow. But the truth is that I had begun to suffocate.
I say goodbye to the nice guy who greeted me and he seems a bit sad too (or at least he fakes it) but I let it go. There are no buses at this time of night so I am forced to walk home, safe in the knowledge that Spiderman will come to the rescue if anything bad happens.
Oh Spiderman, how can I describe him?
Since a few weeks ago he has been very close to me as if my safety was of vital importance. And I mean, it is for me, but it shouldn't be for him.
I've greeted him a couple of times and I can almost imagine him blushing under his mask, embarrassed to be found out.
But he's a good guy, I guess, otherwise he wouldn't do everything he does for the city.
The cold is getting to my bones and I greatly regret choosing to wear a dress that day. I thought that maybe with that I would manage to attract someone's attention and that I would live some crazy love story, but that only stops in the movies.
While walking home I get a couple of messages. I've been out on the street for almost an hour now and it seems the party got even more lively when I left. I mean, not that this is directly related, but you get my point.
I watched videos of one of my best friends making out comfortably with a man and managed to figure out who he is. I met him weeks before and told all my friends that I thought he was attractive, but apparently, the alcohol had erased that memory. Honestly, I can't blame her either, because I limited me to looking at the guy from afar and greeting him from time to time. It's not like I'm his girlfriend or anything, nor do I think we ever had anything. So if she gets a boyfriend or a quickie that night, good for her.
He looked at another couple of videos on my contacts' statuses and smiled as he recognized a blond boy named Harry. He is taking a shot straight from the bottle and his friends cheer him on. He's a good-looking guy with a lot of money, but that doesn't make him snooty. On the contrary, he rebelled against his father to drop out of his super expensive school just to get into our shitty public university. It is curious, because I would never pass up the opportunity to be in a prestigious and renowned school, but I suppose that his action is because the girl he likes and his best friend (I haven’t yet deciphered if it is actually the reverse) are studying there. They're freshmen, just like me, and I tell myself that I should try talking to them later.
Try. My life has been a complete run of failed attempts. I am not saying that I am the shyest person, I am very loud and outgoing, but the truth is that I always chicken out when it comes to important things. That's why I don't have a partner and that's why I've been in love for years with a person who will never love me in life. She is already a thing of the past, or so I hope, but although I always say that I am over things, there is still a little bit of the pang of pain that causes that thorn in my heart.
In Harry's video, in the background, I can see the boy I told you about earlier. He is brown-haired, tall, with beautiful eyes and pale skin. He was looking at his friend with a bit of amusement, but also with something else that I don't know how to name but that I recognize in my own face when I'm with my friends. It's that 'I'm glad you're having fun, but I'll have to take care of you in a few hours' look. I smiled to myself, thinking of him. He must have been a good friend, but I guess from my position it was hard to tell.
I put my phone away as I approached a corner I considered dangerous. There were only a few blocks to go, but a shiver ran through me. I knew what it was about, those horrible moments when the whole world seemed to fall apart. I was supposed to have gone to a party, I must have been happy, right? So why did I feel this heavy tightness in my chest? Why can't I enjoy a moment before my own mind consumes me to the core?
Breathing became heavy and painful, and the feeling of wanting to disappear only intensified. I was only a few blocks away, I could go far enough to get home and lay on the floor to let myself slowly die. But I couldn't, my legs didn't move at all and I didn't have the heart to do it either.
So I just flopped against the cold wall, in the dark, hoping God would let me live another day.
“Hey…” I heard, close to me. My heart skipped a beat at the thought of it being some rapist or mugger, but it was just the friendly face I'd been seeing for the past few weeks. Well, it was more of a mask than a face “Are you okay? You feel bad?"
"I'm fine" I lied. Why was I told him that? Why did I feel the need not to worry a person I didn't even know?
"Did someone hurt you?" he insisted, crouching down in front of me. His voice was gentle and I wished I could ask him to keep talking to calm my racing heart. I only managed to shake my head, afraid that if I said a word I would burst into tears. If not that I was already crying at this point, well often the tears came long before I knew it "Do you want me to walk you home?" he said. I watched him reach for his hand for a second, deciding whether or not it was wise to touch me, but in the end, he decided to take a chance and placed his gloved palm on my arm. His touch felt like an anchor to reality, like he was stopping me from sinking into my own misery. "What's your name?"
“Y/N” I replied. Somehow, I knew he was smiling.
“Okay, Y/N. I'm here, do you want to talk about what's happening to you?" he exclaimed softly. And hearing it I thought: what the hell does it matter telling my problems to a complete stranger? I could be honest with him, he wouldn't judge me. And if he did, I didn't care because he wouldn't see it again unless I was in danger or turned into a supervillain. So… What difference does it make?
"I feel so fucking useless," I whispered and a sob escaped me. I pushed away all thoughts that I sounded ridiculous by telling him this just so I could throw it out of my system. I needed to tell someone.
"Why?" he asked. His movements were graceful, I just realized it, and I saw him get a little closer to me.
"I don't know, I feel like everyone hates me" I continued "but I don't even have a reason to and that makes me feel even worse. And I don't know, I feel so guilty about everything"
I stayed silent, with a lump in my throat, just to wait for his reaction. I wasn't looking at him directly, though I knew he was.
And despite my brain screaming at me to be quiet, my mouth kept talking.
"And everywhere I go I feel excited and happy to meet new people and make friends, but as the hours go by, I just feel more and more stupid and out of place. Everyone is smooching around, taking drugs, drinking alcohol, enjoying their lives and youth and I can't. And I know I don't need those things to have fun, but at the same time I'm convinced that if I don't do it everyone will make fun of it and that's why I end up thinking I'm much better off locked up at home" I let out a sob that cut me off and he slid his hand up my arm until it was close to mine, either inviting me to take it or letting me push him away. I took his hand and started to cry a little harder.
"We all have different ways of enjoying things"
"I know, but it's just that I feel so alone" I confessed. I hadn't talked about this with anyone, but loneliness was a latent part of my day to day "And when I have problems, I feel like a hindrance in the lives of my friends, I feel like I'm a burden they have to bear" I murmured, completely broken "Sometimes I just wish I was brave and strong. Like a superhero maybe. Like you”
"Brave and strong? Me?" he asked, amusement creeping into his voice "Oh, I'm not any of that, darling. I have problems and suffer many things every day, just like you. That's why I understand this emptiness you feel because I've felt it myself, many times” he continued. I held out my fist to wipe away my tears, incredulous at what he was saying. Maybe he was just lying to make me feel better "Listen, you're not a burden to anyone. I know it doesn't do much good to say that because I don't have magic powers that ward off sadness, but you shouldn't be affected by this. Sometimes our minds deceive us and we end up convinced that we are not loved, when this is not even remotely true. I know that there must be people in your life who care about you and that's why you have to surround yourself with them. What if you don't get drunk until you throw up? What difference does that make? The important thing is that you know that there will always be a place where you belong” his words felt safe and his grip on my hand comforted me. I was silent for a while. This talk wasn't going to fix my life, but at least I needed someone to tell me out loud that I wasn't just a disposable piece of an idiot.
"Thank you" I managed to say. Somehow, he had made me feel better, just by being there keeping me company.
My breathing was stabilizing and although I knew that if I thought about it again, I would explode again, at least I was calm enough to go home. He perceived that I was better and was encouraged to speak again.
"I'll walk you home," he exclaimed.
"No, I'm fine…"
"It's obvious you're not okay. I can accompany you, there is no problem. It's my job,” he insisted friendly. Even if I said no, I knew he would, for he was in no condition to ignore what had happened. So I thought that maybe this man was some kind of angel sent by God to take care of me and I wasn't going to be stupid enough to reject him.
He helped me up, because the previous crying had made me a little dizzy. It was the worst part of crying, the one that nobody talks about where after doing it for a long time you start to feel how your body begs to sleep.
He held me for most of the way and kept asking me questions about myself to drive away bad thoughts and at the same time keep me awake. It was working.
I don't remember if I thanked him, nor do I remember when he left. All I remember is him helping me sneak out my bedroom window and as soon as my body hit the mattress, everything went dark.
The next morning, the feeling was gone. It's as if my body sedates me naturally as if I suddenly don't remember anything that had happened. I was just tired, with big dark circles under my eyes and a lost look.
That's how it always was, after the explosion, there was simply nothing: it was like dying.
“Morning,” I said hoarsely, to the driver. My backpack was already slung over my shoulder and I hurriedly made my way to the nearest empty seat. My eyes stayed on the window, looking at the sky and realizing that even in the dark of night some clouds could be seen. It was going to rain, that's for sure.
I closed my eyes, hoping to get some sleep, and then I felt a person sitting next to me. I mentally cursed for that and raised my head, praying that I wasn't that friend. It wasn't, instead, I was met with a pretty face and a sheepish smile.
“Hey” he greeted me. He didn't say anything else and neither did I, I just greeted him with a nod, returning to my starting position. I could have stayed quiet, slept until I got to school, and never spoken to him again.
But I remembered that song, saying you're not good alone.
And I thought maybe it was true. I wasn't good alone.
"Your name is Peter, right?" I asked in his direction. He smiled at me... and I knew I would be fine.
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Nobody changes, they just lie.
(Guess which scene inspired this, lmfao😂 This is inspired by and dedicated to @darkestamralime, who reminded me in a discussion about Bo that beautiful things can be terrifying, and it's been in my head ever since. I hope you enjoy this drabble, big sis.🥺🖤)
TW; argument (mentioned but mostly aftermath), unresolved conflict, Bo's an ass (and we love him for it), implications of Stockholm (unintended bc you KNOW I prefer to write genuine connections but it's still worth listing), reader's a little (?) immature when it comes to handling conflict (not sure about this one but still worth listing), swearing (dialogue & narrative), crying (reader), unhealthy relationship elements (I mean... he's Bo???)
This is very casually written; it's gone midnight & I'm so tired I feel like I'm already asleep, but we all know that's when the creative juices flow best.😂Unedited, I just.... let my fingers hit the keys without worrying too much.
Word count: 1, 414.
You had an argument with Bo.
You can't remember what it was about and at this point it doesn't matter, either. It is bad enough that you have stolen his truck keys and helped yourself to it, climbing inside and throwing in some wrapped snacks, a few bottles of water and some blankets after giving yourself a few moments to cry and stare after the space Bo had vacated in a hurry. It left you feeling like your presence made him feel sick, so you decide that you are going to ride out the night in his truck, not wanting to be in the house. It's ridiculous, childish, this you know, but you just have to get away and Bo's truck is right there.
You haven't gone into his truck because you felt unsafe with Bo in the house, no. No, even in his blackest rage, you know that the worst Bo could do would be to launch something at the wall near you. Just enough to scare you, but never to harm you. He wasn't like that, not with you. Not anymore. No, you have gone into his truck because the house is somehow too big yet too small all at the same time, and you just have to get out. Bo's truck has always been one of your favourite places to be and mid-argument is no exception.
Bo had stormed off into the basement after leaving you, alone and crying, presumably to check in on Vincent's progress with the newest lot of sculptures to the town, and you are now settled for the night. The blanket is around your knees and tucked up between you and the back of the driver's seat, periodically is it used to dab your tears away. Your head leans against the space where Bo's arm usually fell out over the side of the window. You can smell him in every part of the truck and it soothes you as much as it rips you open, your metaphysical wounds open and your heart bleeding in your hand.
You sit there, for how long you know not, but your stomach begins to rumble so you eat one of your snacks and neatly fold up the wrapper to put it in your pocket for future discard; Bo loves you to death, even now, but he would never appreciate you dirtying up his truck, his baby. You think of lots of things as you sit in Bo's seat; of him, of his truck, of you and the life you left behind to welcome one with Bo and his brothers, of the fact that the hours are creeping by and the sky is now pitch black and still Bo hasn't come looking for you. You think of the fact that your blanket isn't thick enough and you are chilled, but you welcome that all the same.
Your eyes slide closed and you let them, feeling cosy despite the chill, despite the raging war above your tongue and behind your eyes, despite the sadness and the silent pleas for Bo to come and find you. Oh, but you miss him. You love him dearly, just as he loves you, but there is something twisted in his love, something mangled in the way he gazes at you, and it's times like this that it hits you tenfold.
You think you hear the front door creak open but you ignore it. It's Ambrose - strange things happen here all the fucking time. You're so very tired and you just want Bo to come and find you and take you home. The house is right in front of you, but home had stomped off into his brother's basement hours ago and you hadn't seen him since.
A hand tries the door handle closest to you and you jolt; you hadn't heard the scuff of boots on concrete steps or the crunch of gravel underfoot. Had you actually fallen asleep here? Your eyes wildly search around and they fall on Bo. He's got a strange look on his face, one you can't read, but even through the glass does his icy gaze penetrate you.
"What're y'doin'?" His voice is quiet, muffled by the closed and locked door. For a brief second do you feel like an animal in captivity but you shake it off.
"I'm tryna' sleep. Go away." Pointedly do you resume your position in his seat. You still can't remember why you were arguing but you do remember that he had pissed you off and perhaps that was what fuelled your words... or maybe you just didn't care at this precise moment.
Bo's jaw sets. His chin dips, a muscle in his cheek jumps. "Open the damn door. This is my truck." He jiggles the door handle again, harder this time, the whole door frame shaking with the force of his efforts.
He's right, you know it. He knows it. But you're so tired and there's a gentle apathy which surrounds you now like a blanket as you lazily reach up without lifting your head and flick the lock to undo it. He can open the door himself; you've met him halfway and that's gonna have to be enough. You have so little energy this night. Fights always took it out of you and you just wanted to forget the world and have some sleep, with or without Bo. It wouldn't be the first time he'd left you to soothe yourself to sleep after yelling himself hoarse.
Bo doesn't open the door right away. "Get out of the truck."
You sigh, the sound so saturated with tears that it reaches his ears perfectly even through the glass. "Bo, please. I'm so tired." It gives him pause and he looks at you. He really, really looks at you. Your sore eyes, the bleary blinks, the blanket... he sees you in that moment and it's like a knife to his gut. He thinks he would have preferred an actual knife; it would have hurt him less. Even he can't remember what the argument was about now, which means that it was about something so insignificant that it broke the camel's back and caused a pent up something to escape him.
The door opens unexpectedly and you almost fall. You would have, if Bo hadn't wound an arm around your waist, always prepared is he to help you. He rights you in his seat and then leans across the open frame, his face oh so close to yours. You will have to move to the passenger side door if you want to exit the truck, but if you do so before he's happy with the conversation, you will just be pulled back. Bo has regained control of the situation, but the weariness you expect doesn't plague you because now you're looking at him and you see his red-rimmed eyes, the trembling of his hands, the white-knuckle grip he has on the door frame.
"Bo?"
He sucks in a breath. "I looked fuckin' everywhere f'you, darlin'. Everywhere in th' house. Even had Vincent helpin' me check all the trap doors, the switchboard tunnel... An' we couldn't find ya. Thought y'd... thought y'd gone. An' then I come out an' you're here an' I..."
Now it's your turn to catch Bo from falling.
You wrap your arms around his neck and you pull yourself into him in a tight hug. His arms immediately encircle you and Bo pulls you out of the truck and into his arms, kicking the door shut when he sees you're home free. When he sees you're home. Bo presses a kiss to the crown of your head, royalty are you, and you don't miss the way his body trembles the more you're holding him. "M'sorry, darlin'. I di'n't mean t' - awh, hell." He gives up on his apology but you understand him well enough. Oh, but he is just as upset as you are, and again do you wonder how the fuck neither of you can remember the argument yet be so torn up by it. You wonder if it's healthy, but then Bo tilts your head up with a reverent yet demanding finger under your chin to press his lips to yours - he's showing you his apology because he can't tell you and it pisses him off - and you realise that you don't care.
You only want Bo, and he's right here where you want him to be.
You're home now and so is Bo.
#bo sinclair#bo sinclair x reader#bo sinclair imagine#bo sinclair headcanon#slasher fic#slasher community#slasher x reader#house of wax#house of wax imagine
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ooo okay so a James Potter x reader soulmate au where they feel each others pain, and she has a suspicion he's her soulmate but it's confirmed when he falls off his broom, and she hates him being her soulmate because he's in love with lily, but he says that lily doesn't matter anymore blah blah, and she says she first thought it was him when he fell of a bench in the great hall or something after confessing his love for lily in front of the entire school (1)
‘all along that they were soulmates but she tells him its really inconsiderate for being so obvious about his love for lily when he knew he had a soulmate and he feels really guilty and tries to make it up for her and yeah fluff ending please :)’
the painful soulmate
james potter x fem!reader
summary: in a world where you can feel your soulmates pain; your soulmate happens to think someone else is his soulmate
word count: 2.2k
warning: swearing, mentions of verbally abusing someone, mentions of beating people up, injuries; falling in the air, cracked ribs, tripping, face planting. joking name calling, kissing, angst, soulmate au, insinuation of unrequited love, fluff ending
by the age of 16 you and every other witch along with wizard were given a particular... gift. you wouldn’t consider it a gift, more like your worse fucking nightmare but you could squeal and pretend to be all dainty and excited about meeting your soulmate.
i mean why not give someone a choice on who they wanted to love? this wasn’t a game of spin the bottle this was forever.
being the only female in your friend group, made all the boys amongst you ridiculously pry into your privacy. wanting to know who they had to verbally torture considering they would scoop up the ‘precious little baby-girl’ of the group.
coming directly from the drama queen himself; sirius black. it’s not like they could beat up your partner because you would be able to feel his or her pain as-well.
you were sat in the marauders dorm absently playing with your fingers while looking at each of your mates, sirius and remus attempted to finish their plans on a new prank for the newest defence against the dark arts teacher, james sat at his desk table writing up ways to ask lily more dramatically than the last and peter had been figuring out his transfiguration homework from a few days prior.
“prongs, if you know she’s gonna say no, then why ask?” remus questioned not even looked at the sapphire-eyed boy. his only logic being, ‘well ill turn her no into a yes.’ as if coercion was the way to go.
the brunette sat at the table swiftly turning his head in the lyncanthropes direction, his spectacles almost falling down his nose from the quick snap of his head. “well, lily-pad has always said, ‘not in a million years!’ but that means after a million years she’d go out with me.” finishing his speech with a small grin.
the rest of the group on the other hand looked at him dumbfounded. eyebrows either scrunched or furrowed, “james m’afraid that’s not how it works.” you spoke, trying to ease his feelings as if your words could stop his incessant pining.
“well, i’ll just make it work!” turning around and continuing his list, speaking as if he was godric gryffindor coming up with the best idea of the century. “ten galleons she says no again.” sirius quickly whispers in peters direction, the dirty blonde haired boy doing a quick nod then looking back at his parchment.
“i heard that!”
the next time there was a ramble of soulmate talk, which by the way you were getting exhausted from. why did everyone have to have a soulmate? why couldn’t you pick from your own free will? it’s not even like you could have a bloody crush because there was already someone supposedly out there for you!
one free period, ONE! and it’s spent over peter narrowing down his options on all the gryffindor girls he might be paired with. “it’s definitely not marls, peter.” sirius’ pearl irises glanced at peter than over to remus who was trying to teach you how to play wizards chess.
“moony, not to be offensive, but this game sucks arse.” you shrugged, glaring at your queen piece that looked like it wanted to yell at you. as you were twisting around the wood of your pieces, james got up from the bench catching a glimpse of red among the ravenclaw students. instead tripping on the stone of the bench and face planting into the freshly cut grass.
you felt a soreness at the fronts of your calves and an immense discomfort on your face. you grimaced while rubbing your knees trying to soothe the random shoot of exertion through your veins to the point where you almost had the urge to groan.
james quickly scrambled to his feet trying to brush out his hair that had sprinkles of green all over the front, you completely ignored the fact that james’ fall broken by the stone of the bench had caused you to have a twinge of pain into your system.
“none of you saw that.” he panted with slight embarrassment, directing his message to sirius who had his hand clenched into a fist over his lips attempting to cover up the small chortles that were threatening to escape his lips.
“don’t worry, we saw nothing.” you confirmed with an amused grin, putting your two fingers over your lips like a seal.
he grinned back at you twice as hard, your heart starting more of an upbeat frequency that you started to notice as he sat beside you moving a piece that could ruin remus’ chance at winning.
“you slimy git! you’re helping her cheat, you little slag!” remus whined, trying to analyze the board again.
after your recovery, from absolutely nothing. you were sprawled on the scarlet-couch waiting for the rest of your friends to come back from detention. you dazed into a book remus had recently given to you, an icepack laying on your foot as you were almost hypnotized by the pride and prejudice book in your hands.
“oi, m’lady!” sirius abruptly shouted while returning to his common room. you jumped from the stentorian voice, that sunk into the now not-solemn and peaceful common room.
you turned your head seeing the bespectacled boy limp onto the other vermillion couch and rest his leg onto the plush of the pillow, meanwhile, the fawn and dirty blonde haired boys sat in the gryffindor-red love seats tired from their detention.
“what’s wrong with him?” you asked, referring to james’ leg that was propped under the pillow.
“we don’t know, we were walking and he just picked up his foot in agony. who knows maybe lily stubbed her toe.” sirius amused to the rest of the group. but your eyes widened in concern, but you had— there’s absolutely and completely no way. more than one person can stub their toe in one day, not just— just one person.
almost like you were in a daze or hypnotized, as stealth as possible you grabbed the maroon coloured blanket that was rested on the arm rest of the couch you spread it over your legs covering the foot; that you had injured previously that day.
what the fuck. no seriously, what the fuck. there wasn’t— there couldn’t even be— that wouldn’t work. it’s not possible. the butterflies, the flushed face, the nervous ticks— fuck.
over the course of the next few days, you were very careful. you could’ve been mary friggin’ poppins i mean you didn’t want him to get suspicious if you were both injured at the same time. you also did not want to know if he— the boy pining over lily fucking evans since first year was possibly— no there’s no way.
the following week there was a slytherin and gryffindor quidditch game. which also happened to be incredibly nerve wracking not only for you but between both houses, as much as slytherin wanted to seem nonchalant there act was simply not going to work. this determined who would be playing in the quidditch house cup, slytherins also happened to not play the fairest in quidditch so extra gryffindor training was keen.
well now that following week, was today. the game was fine, great even. gryffindor was in the lead and james was about to score a quaffle in the hoop, that was until slytherin beater decided to bat a bludger right into james torso causing him to collapse off his broom twenty five feet into the air with nothing to break his fall. at the reflect of the bludger on james ribs you already groaned hunched over into your seat catches the attention of both peter and sirius.
dumbledore did all the spells he could in such a swiftly manner before james skidded on the muddy grass of the pitch. by then you couldn’t even hold in the moans and groans from his affliction with the hard iron bludger and the fall from the air.
both peter and sirius’ eyes widened and shared a look before taking concern to your arching figure. “m’god i didn’t think it hurt that bad!” you groaned into your hands that could almost be seen as trembling from the agony that you were in as james’ team mates brought him down to the infirmary to check for injuries which he did in-fact have.
after sirius had brought you to your dorm, attempting to do a spell to rid you of most-but not all of your pain he raced to healers wing, seeing james on the verge of unconsciousness as madam pomfrey tried to whip up a potion in a fast manner to heal the boy.
i guess it was true— james was your soulmate. your soulmate in love with another woman that is.
a few hours later james was ordered to stay the night for observation, while both sirius and peter decided to catch up remus along with james up on the other ‘things’ more, or less, that occurred during the quidditch match.
him, and lily.... weren’t soulmates? he thought maybe one day they would’ve ended up together, at some point. not his very best friend being the one he’s ‘destined’ with. but he was desperate to speak with you, how did you know? did you even know? how bad did it hurt? he had so many questions scattered around his brain, until he saw your face that was close to a grimace from pain.
“hi.” you whispered, catching his attention.
“hey.” he whispered back hoarsely, gulping at the sudden tension in the room.
“so we’re—“ “you’re my—“ you both spoke at the same time, following an humourless more-so nervous chuckle, from the both of you.
“how long— did you even know?” james started, looking at your figure as if you didn’t know what to do with yourself.
you sat down nervously, cracking your knuckles as you were unsure where to start. “i thought— i started wondering, that day me and rem were playing chess and you fell.” you cleared your throat while speaking, avoiding eye contact entirely. “my knees started to hurt, but i didn’t even notice it. the day that you came into the common room limping, was when i suspected it.” you wrung your fingers together nervously, then looking into his irises.
“you knew? why didn’t you—“ his anger already starting to get the best of him, you knew that you were his soulmate. you were right in-front of him, but you never told him; he almost felt betrayed.
“i didn’t know! only suspected. but you have to understand, james. you were incessantly pinning after lily, you claimed you were ‘in love with her’. you’re making it seem like it was gonna be so easy for me to tell you that ‘guess what, james! the girl you love actually isn’t your soulmate and it’s your best friend you have no interest in!’ prongs, m’fraud s’not that easy.” you mocked, proving your correct argument to him based on his actions.
he took a shaky breath, analyzing basically his whole life in-front of him. even though he might’ve ‘loved’ lily, you were still more important to him. soulmate or not, he would always go to you first. he could barely stand to fight with you, he couldn’t loose you over some silly crush that he had.
“it doesn’t matter— lily— she doesn’t matter. y/n it’s you, soulmate, not soulmate, who cares! lily or not lily, you’ve always been my go-to, my number one, i mean you’ve always been the most important!” he said drastically while punctuating his words, and flailing his arms in the air to prove his point to you.
you sighed looking at him, almost unsure of his words. he looked at you expectantly before speaking again, “i’ll get on my knees right now and beg to you. with broken— well now bruised but priory broken ribs. not to mention my stubbed toe.” he chuckled at last second trying to humour you.
“oh my g— get up!” you snickered at him, james potter was on his knees fighting all the pride in his system right in-front of you where you were sat. his hands grasped both sides of your thighs trying to soothe you into you forgiving him.
at the sight of him right infront of you, with the best sirius black puppy dog eyes he could muster with a pouted lip you immediately gave in. “fine.” you sighed, “fine, fine, fine.” you giggled.
both of his hands encasing your cheeks, a small pout on your lips. “can i kiss you?” he asked, his elbows resting on your thighs. you looked at him pretending to ponder off in thought; shrugging while you spoke, “hmmm, maybe. i gues—“ he quickly cut you off, kissing your pouted lips in the middle of a sentence.
you kissed back, holding his face between your agile fingers. your right hand resting on his squared jaw and the other in his fluffy and borderline-sweaty hair. your lips slotting together, he could feel the mint taste from the gum you have chewed earlier bleed onto his tastebuds; you on the other hand, not such a memorable taste.
you quickly pulled away, a dramatic whine escaping from his throat. “you remember when you face planted into the dirt earlier?” you giggled while asking him. he looked at you confused; why would... you... be asking if he remembered himself falling?
“erm, yeah i can recall.”
“yeah your mouth tastes like dirt.”
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#james potter one shot#james potter fluff#james potter fic#james potter fanfiction#james potter x oc#james potter x you#james potter#james potter x y/n#james potter x reader#james potter fanart#harry potter fanfiction#harry potter smut#harry potter
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Hello! Im glad i made it on time for request! T^TI would like to request a chishiya x female reader. Where the female reader is strong and intelligent and chishiya just basically falls in love with her. He tries to get close with but apparently reader doesn't live in beach she lives in her own homemade house. So chishiya tries really hard to find her.
Of course, here you go! 🥰
Search | Shuntaro Chishiya
{Alice In Borderland Masterlist}
Character(s): Chishiya
Summary: Chishiya searches all through Tokyo to find you, who he met at a game and fell for instantly.
Warnings: swearing, somewhat creepy behaviour from Chishiya, violence
Word Count: 2.2k
*reader is female
Author’s Note: sorry I closed requests for so long! They’re open again now for a few days so please send in anything you want me to write! ❤
The dark streets of Tokyo echoed the sounds of the wind travelling through the trees. The silence that filled the atmosphere was deafening, leaving Chishiya to nothing but his wandering thoughts that pottered so carelessly through his head. The occasional cry of a crow kept him grounded, always bringing him back to the reality that was in front of him.
The young man was taking yet another attempt of finding the peculiar and alluring figure that he had encountered at many games. No one had ever taken his interest as much as this, and even if they had, he would’ve given up at finding them for the fact that they live in the huge empty wasteland that is Tokyo. Any nook and cranny could have the chance of being your home, but Chishiya was determined to find you. He didn’t have anything else to do anyway. But now that he’s taken interest in you, he finally has something to work towards rather than just waiting around to die at The Beach.
He strolled effortlessly through the Shibuya crossing, recognizing the place from when he was first thrown into the game, always returning to the large open area to use as a safe space. Even after being in the game for as long as he had, it still felt foreign to see not a single soul crossing the road, very unlike usual Tokyo.
The only source of light he had to assist him was a small torch he took from The Beach and the occasional game sign pointing to some late running games. He felt unsettled every time he entered an area where no light was available, and the silence didn’t help.
“Tch,” he scoffed to himself, rubbing his sleeves over his eyes to keep them from dropping from how tired he was. He had been at it for weeks, not even getting the slightest clue where you stayed in the huge city.
“This is ridiculous, as if I haven’t found her yet.” He was becoming more and more frustrated as each night dragged on. All he wanted was to meet you in person that wasn’t in the registration section of a game, where he wasn’t even sure either of you would leave alive.
After being saved by you during a hearts game, Chishiya developed an irrational attraction to your selfless and strong demeanour. He admired the fact that you managed to look after yourself and others at the same time, always thinking of an intelligent way to make sure that everyone survived. He was impressed and taken back, for he had never met or encountered anyone like you.
Chishiya strutted over to a large building near the Shibuya crossing that displayed a screen pointing towards a game. He had to sit down for a while, he had been walking for hours and his legs were beginning to hurt. He shivered and pulled his hoodie tighter around him as he walked through the entrance of the building to find that place nearly trashed all through. Obviously some people had attempted to search the building for resources to assist in their survival.
He slowly made his way further into the building, being mindful of the shards of glass and other debris that scattered the floor. The last thing he wanted was the trip of something and ended up with sharp glass shards in his back.
Chishiya entered a large room that almost seemed untouched. Much unlike the other rooms, this room was clean and no furniture was turned over. He frowned, wondering why no one had bothered to search this room.
“Huh, must have missed it,” he answered his own question. He walked to the centre of the room and sat on a small brown couch that was placed there, rather inconveniently. The layout of the room was very scattered and random resources such as water bottles and empty cans of beans and tuna were laying around on every surface.
The cans of food looked awfully too clean to have been left there for long. The leftover specs of food remaining appeared fresh, and the smell of tuna was far from smelling off. Chishiya moved his tired eyes around the room, trying to find any more evidence of someone being there recently. His eyes locked on a small pile of blankets and pillows in the corner of the room, all bunched up together to create a comfy nest almost.
The pile seemed a bit too lumpy to be holding only blankets, so Chishiya’s curiosity got the better of him and he stood slowly to make his way over to the makeshift bed. He thought maybe someone was hiding some more food underneath it, probably planning to return some other time to collect them.
He kneeled down next to the pile, scanning the small space. His eyes widened as he saw the blanket move, slowly lifting up and down incredibly slightly. He almost stepped back in shock, but decided against it and lifted his hand slowly to lift the duvet.
He grasped the soft material and carefully pulled it back towards himself. His breath became caught in his throat when he locked eyes with what was underneath it.
There you laid, peacefully sleeping and tucked into yourself. Your legs were folded and against your torso with your arms lying lazily next to your head. You looked so vulnerable and small, especially since Chishiya just found you hiding from the world underneath a blanket. He assumed that you covered yourself so if someone was to find your hiding space, they wouldn’t see you and potentially hurt you.
Chishiya couldn’t help himself. After seeing you become so aggressive and resilient in games, seeing you so calm and at peace pulled at his heart strings. He knew it was wrong, intruding on you while you weren’t aware he was even there, but he knew that he wouldn’t ever hurt you.
His heart hurt from the sight of you holding yourself in a tight ball, obviously being anxious that something would happen while you were asleep. He pouted and tilted his head, examining you closely.
“So pretty,” he whispered. But just as the words left his mouth, his stomach dropped when he saw your eyes snap open and lock directly onto him.
Before he could even think, you had swung a fist at his face, punching him square in the jaw, making him yell in pain as he backed away while squatting on his legs so he could get up and run if he had to. He held his face in his hands, trying to reduce the pain throbbing in his jaw.
“What the fuck?!” you exclaimed, standing up out of your bundle of blankets. “Fucking creep! Piss off!”
Chishiya groaned and glanced up towards you, noticing that you were now standing over his meek body on the ground. You held a small knife in your hands, pointing the sharp object towards him in case he made any sudden movements.
Chishiya’s usual smug smirk crawled onto his face, making your frown more as he stood up slowly, hands held up in surrender. “Wow, feisty,” he chuckled.
Your angry expression softened and you lowered your weapon slightly as the bright moonlight shined through the window and painted across Chishiya’s face. You immediately recognized him as the young, white-haired man that always assisted you at games. But what was he doing here?
“What do you want?” you glowered, taking a few threatening steps towards him. Chishiya raised his eyebrows, but kept his composed behaviour as your weapon pressed lightly on his chest, making him wince slightly as the sharp point pierced his skin through his white shirt.
“Rude. I don’t even get a hello? A how are you? All I get is a knife in my face,” he smugly responded. “You did that to yourself by watching me sleep like a fucking stalker,” you hissed, leaning your face closer to his.
“I guess so,” he sneered. “By the way, I wouldn’t kill me if you were considering it. Trust me, I’m not on my own.”
You felt ridiculed by his calm behaviour, hating how he didn’t seem threatened by you at all. Out of all the people you’ve scared off, why did this skinny, short man have more nerve than anyone else?
“I wasn’t counting on it,” you reassured. You pulled back your knife slightly, but still kept it drawn in your hand in case he tried anything. You may have met him a few times in games, but trust was very hard to earn from anyone in the Borderlands.
“So, Y/N,” he started. “I’ve been searching for you for a while now. I’m glad I’ve finally found you.”
You scowled at his words. “Me? What could someone like you possibly want from me?” You watched as his pink lips curled up into a smirk, making you cringe slightly.
Chishiya turned away from you and strolled back over to the brown lounge in the middle of the room. He leaned comfortably on the back of it, facing you again. You had lowered your knife, feeling reassured now that he was further away.
“I’ve noticed you,” he started, staring holes into your eyes. You raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. “You know how to handle yourself in games, and I can’t help but become a little immersed in your methods.”
The way he spoke gave you a headache. He sounded too smart for his own good, making you question if he was bluffing just to trick you into believing that you were needed, when he would just use you then leave you in the dust.
“Yeah? And what about it?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest.
Chishiya looked down to the ground and tucked his hands into his pockets. “I would very much appreciate it if you joined me,” he suggested. “I am staying at a hotel called ‘The Beach’, but everyone there is an idiot. If you are willing to put your trust into me, I promise that I will help you collect all the cards and escape this place.”
You kept your gaze on him, trying to see any sign that he may be lying. If he was lying, he was incredibly good at it.
“What’s the catch?” you asked, fiddling with your knife.
“There is none. Only the fact that I’m asking you to join forces with hundreds of idiotic, drunks that act like children.”
There was a moment of silence before Chishiya continued.
“But I can reassure you, if you stick by me, I will be sure to keep you safe and alive.”
You rolled your eyes at his promise. “I don’t need your protection. Look at you, you’re skin and bones. I can take care of myself.” You turned back to your pile of blankets, lifting them to search for your radio that had become lost in the sheets during the night.
Chishiya thought to himself, trying to think of something to say that would convince you to come back with him to The Beach. He couldn’t downright say that he was in love with you, because it would probably scare you off. If he wanted to have a chance with you, he first had to gain your trust. But that was deemed difficult when he was the shady character that he is.
“There’s food and water at The Beach,” he spoke up, making you freeze in your movements and turn back towards him. “There’s comfy beds and personal rooms, as well as allies and guaranteed protection from militants. If you really want to survive, you’d be best there more than out here by yourself.”
You stared at him before glancing around the room, eyes landing on the scattered cans of food and random dirty clothes everywhere. You would admit, you were lonely, and hungry, and cold.
“What makes me sure I can trust you, Chishiya?” you challenged.
Chishiya stepped away from the sofa and walked over to you, making you stand up from your position on the ground so you were at eye level.
“Because you have no other choice,” he smugly stated, “You’re lucky enough for it to only be me to walk in here and find you. Just think about it, if I can find you, so can a group of murderous people, or starving people, or people desperate for cards.”
He had a good point. You hated that you were falling prey to his manipulation, but if The Beach was even slightly better than the dirt hole you were inhabiting, you were interested enough to at least take a look.
“Okay,” you mumbled, turning away from him and leaning down to pick up the small backpack that laid next to your bed. “I’ll come, but if I find out you’re lying or trying to have me killed, it’ll be your head hanging from a lamppost in Shibuya.”
Chishiya smiled at your threat, not being affected by your violent words. “That’s the kind of talk that will get you killed Y/N,” he warned, turning around and making his way towards the entrance of the building. “Keep that up, you might be the one losing a head.”
You groaned and rolled your eyes at his warning.
Chishiya smiled to himself as he stepped out into the cold night air. He could finally relax, knowing he found you and would now be able to keep you in his sight at all times. Even if he had to tell a few fibs to make you come with him, he believes it was worth it, as now he could stay by your side.
He knew it would be a work in progress to earn your trust eventually, but he would make sure that you always trusted him over anyone else.
#alice in borderland#alice in borderland imagines#alice in borderland imagine#alice in borderland scenarios#alice in borderland one shots#aib#aib imagines#aib imagine#aib one shots#aib scenarios#chishiya#shuntaro chishiya#chishiya imagines#chishiya imagine#chishiya one shots#chishiya scenarios#chishiya x reader#shuntaro chishiya x reader
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Hello doll, it's Minty! 💚 I saw your requests are open and I simply had to dance into your inbox! I would adore a Bad Batch Western AU fix with Crosshair and the sentence prompt "If that wound doesn't kill you, then I will". I love you friend! 💚💛💚💛💚
Crosshair – Dust and Blood (TBB Western AU)
Summary: Every story need a beginning, a middle, and an end. This is the beginning, and it starts with a man who calls himself Crosshair.
From the sentence prompts:
22. “If that wound doesn’t kill you, then I will.”
Word Count: ≈1535 words
CW/ TW: Angst? Idk if you could say it’s angsty - it’s not happy that’s for sure but angsty? Idk anyway; western stuff, wounds/ injuries, (death) threats, pain, scars, blood
Tags: @mintywriteswritings @chaoticvampirejedi @loth-wolffe @m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s (thank you again for the help!) @dusk-dawn-and-stars @tacticalsparkles @imalovernotahater @canwestayinthisdream @wakeupjackthisisntfair @namesmox @badbatch-simp24 @lightning-wolffe @maddieskywalker @for-the-love-of-clones @m-e-w-117 @99squad @equalityforcats
@ladykatakuri @firelordillyria @andiebell2023
Notes: This is so exciting for me you can’t even imagine; thank you Minty for the request! I’m really happy to dive a bit more into the stories of the boys, and Crosshair’s arc is one I’m really happy to explore ^^
Also feel free to check Little One – Highly Suspect (you’ll find out a lot of their songs help me dive into that AU)
Dust.
This is how everything started, and how everything would end. He knew it the moment he jumped down his horse, a grimace of pain twisting his face as the dry coat of blood on his ribs ripped open once again. He tried to take a deep breath but stopped halfway, the pumping in his head becoming too strong to focus on anything else. He almost tripped on his feet, grabbing the beige mane of his companion to keep himself up; which made the horse neigh.
“Sorry, pal.” He barely muttered, unable to do more than loosen up his grip a bit.
Above him, an old sign falling into pieces, and a barely readable inscription on it; bleached by the constant exposure to the sun and the occasional rains.
Marauder Valley.
He walked through the entrance of the abandoned village – if one could call it a village – and wandered next to his horse, looking for shelter and a new shirt. His was tainted with red; dark and dried, smelling like iron and sweat. His wound wasn't bleeding too much anymore, but he could still feel a thin dash dripping against his skin when he was turning around or raising his arm.
It took him a few minutes to find the abandoned saloon, and the sight made him hum in a mixture of disgust and relief. A thick coat of dust was laying on the floor, and most of the bottles and tables were left to be; frozen in the middle of their usual occupations. A deck of cards was spread on one of them, and he came closer to take a better look.
Poker. And it was a good hand. Whoever played it knew what they were doing.
The wooden floor was lightly creaking under his feet as he walked around; and hadn’t it be for the few footsteps he was leaving behind, no one could have guessed he came here. He took a small hallway, leading to a few unsanitary rooms – barely big enough for a bed and a chair for most of them – and looked under the beds for a medical wallet or something he could use to patch himself up. His head was spinning a bit, but the clicking of a gun’s chamber and the cold metal tickling the back of his neck felt more important in the moment.
“If that wound doesn’t kill you, then I will.”
He slowly turned around, hands barely raised to show he intended no harm, and came face to face with a lady; probably in her mid-forties, small and chubby, and visibly determined to fulfil her promise.
“I need a doctor.”
“You won’t find any ‘round here.”
“Then a drink will do.” he shrugged, unimpressed.
“We’re going out and get you a drink then.”
She moved the cannon of her gun toward the main room, letting him open the way. He went in with the hope of getting some rest and medicine, and got back outside empty-handed and under the threat of an armed lady; bathed by the burning sunrays of a hot afternoon, in the middle of nowhere.
Nothing had changed during his little visit in the saloon but his state. He tripped on his feet, unable to focus on the stairs and the figure next to him, and fell on his knees next to his horse. The pain was getting worse; stinging and burning, the sensation of warm blood dripping from his open wound and straining his shirt even more; and the headache, the heat, the shivers-
“Alright, sit down.”
He dropped his weight on his behind, letting out a heavy sigh.
“Stay here. And don’t faint!” the woman warned as she walked away from him, disappearing behind the horse. His head felt too heavy, his veins pumping too hard to let him think straight. He let himself lay back against the dusty wooden floor, closing his eyes under the bright light burning above him.
He woke up when cold water splashed his face, making him jolt and grimace in pain.
“ Told you not to faint.”
“I didn’t.” he groaned, trying to sit again, the coat of blood ripping itself a bit as he did.
“Feel like y’can walk?” she looked down at him with a sort of irritated worry. He nodded, grabbing the guardrail to get up, slowly. “Good. Follow me.”
He stumbled a bit, trying to catch up with the woman. He thought he could handle it; he had gone through a lot to get here, and it couldn’t be worse than what he had left behind.
Or maybe it could be.
The loud thud of a body falling on the ground caught the woman’s attention, and as she turned around, a sigh escaped from between her lips.
“Great… Now I have to get the big guy.”
.
Waking up was painful, sudden. His ribs were on fire, his eye stinging – though the light was filtering through old curtains – and the remaining of his headache was still blurring his vision. He didn’t noticed the comfort of the mattress right away, neither the voices filling the room he was in.
“Ha, coming back to us. Told ya ‘t would work.” A deep voice commented in a smile.
“And that?” the woman’s voice asked, and he guessed she was pointing at his wounded ribs. He brushed the tips of his fingers against his own torso, realizing he was bare skin and wrapped in a bandage.
“Can’t do miracles. ‘Have to rest for a few days, go easy with manual tasks for a while.”
He let out a groan when he heard the recommendation, and tried to move his arms to push himself up and sit in the bed.
“I wouldn’t do that,” the voice advised in a laugh, “Unless ya want to open that wound ‘gain.”
He blinked a few times, and managed to see who was talking to him; a man, tall and visibly strong, dressed with dirty clothes and a squared shirt – probably a farmer. A scar was covering the side of his bald head and reached his left eye. The man was neither scary nor impressive, and seemed friendly enough.
He abandoned the idea of sitting, letting go of the light pressure he had put on his elbows and falling down against the mattress. His head gently buried itself in the pillow, and he let out a long, tired sigh.
“Who’re you?” he muttered in his breath, turning his head their way to look at them.
“’Name’s Cid,” the woman told him, “and he’s the big guy.”
“You know that’s not my name.” the man chuckled, and his voice filled the room with warmth and amusement as he looked at Cid.
“Don’t know your name, and couldn’t care less about it.” she shrugged.
“And you are?” the big guy asked, shifting his attention back to him.
He had expected the question, and he knew the simple answer would be to give his name. But he couldn’t stand the sound of it anymore, and his spite told him to go for that one instead. After all, it was “made for him”.
“Crosshair.”
“Well then, welcome to Marauder Valley Crosshair.” The man smiled at him.
He didn’t feel like returning the gesture, but nodded nonetheless, out of respect and gratitude for their help. He scanned the room, bringing a hand to his face; a light grimace twisting his mouth as he felt the skin stretching on the side of his body.
His fingers ran against his scar around his eye, trying to sooth the stinging pain. It was still recent, bright red, not quite blending in with his warm skintone.
“Well, ‘gotta leave now,” the big guy smiled, grabbing his hat in hand as he walked toward the door, “but if you need anything, I won’t be far.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Cid pushed him out of the room, following his steps, “we know. You,” she pointed to Crosshair, “don’t play stupid, stay in bed.”
And on these words, she dragged the door behind her, slamming it before her heeled steps hit the apparent stairs outside the room. Crosshair stared at the door for a moment, contemplating once again getting up, but he was tired, and the bed was comfortable; and these people didn’t seem to want him any harm.
He didn’t seem to want any harm either, right, “Crosshair”?
He groaned faintly at the thought, and his hand dropped from his face to his chest, barely grabbing the thin blanket above him. He was far from him; from them, and now he just needed to sleep the pain away.
Sleep the pain away. Sleep.
Don’t let them get to you. Because they will get to you.
He will find you, you know he will.
They did this to you. They will do worse.
You know that, don’t you, Crosshair?
He let out a frustrated sigh at the thoughts, and slowly turned his head to look at the window. The sun was shining bright behind the curtains, and he could see the dust floating in the rays of light filtering through. It was peaceful.
For now he was safe, far away in a lost, abandoned town, in the middle of nowhere.
For now.
#star wars#the bad batch#tbb#tbb western au#mesa writes#yousa request mesa#crosshair#western crosshair#i forgot the tags when I posted it lmao#minty 🤠#hope you'll enjoy it!#sw tbb#star wars the bad batch#sw#tbb crosshair
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OATH
Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Reader
Words: 1.836
Warnings: none, fluff
Synopsis: after a bad mission, yn is there to support Leon who is doubting himself
"Here you are.", Yn said with a soft smile as Leon opened the door of his hotel room.
"Yn, hey.", he said low, looking tired and exhausted.
"May I come in?", she asked carefully, nodding into the room.
Leon stepped aside, "Sure. But I'm not the best company at the moment."
"I know. Chris ... told me what happened.", she said as Leon closed the door.
Leon leant against the doorframe with crossed arms, "And now Chris sends you to talk with me as his last chance because I don't wanna talk with him?"
"Actually...", she said while putting a bottle of Whiskey and two glasses on the table, "I'm not here to talk."
Leon looked at her with confusion written on his face and a raised brow.
"I know you, Leon. After this mission, I expect you to hide in this room to get drunk. But getting drunk alone sucks. So, here I am. Your support. We can talk, we can sit in silence. Whatever we do and everything that happens while we drink this bottle stays between us and with this bottle. You know like 'what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas'.", she explained smirking.
“Like an oath?”, Leon asked amused, feeling already a bit better. He had no idea how she was able to do that but it seemed to be her magical power to let him feel better even if Leon didn’t think he deserved it.
"Yeah, kinda. So, come on, let us go to bed- no! Not what you think but if someone passes out, it would be more comfortable.", she said, taking the bottle and the glasses. Leon followed her and together, they sat side by side on the huge hotel bed with pillows in their backs and with a perfect view of the night city lights from the window facade.
Yn poured Whiskey into the glasses and handed one of it to Leon. While taking it, Leon’s fingers brushed over her skin but even if Leon checked her reaction closely, she was good at hiding the impact he had on her even by this small contact.
"This is good.", Leon said after the first small sip to taste the liquid.
Yn nodded and let the amber liquid slowly swirl in her glass while watching the light dancing in it, "Yeah, it's my dad's favorite Whiskey. I hoped you would like it.", she said, looking at Leon with a soft smile before they touched glasses.
Leon was still staring into his glass, after a while of pure, comfortable silence, he said: "I never expected everything would go so wrong."
Yn stayed silent to give him time. She also had no idea what she could say. Yes, the mission had gone wrong but she was convinced it wasn’t Leon’s fault. At least, not how he thought it. He always did what he could to save as many people as possible.
"It's almost as if whenever I make one step forward someone comes around and pushes me two steps back. It's exhausting.", he sighed.
"But you're still fighting. That's all that matters.", yn said low.
Not looking at her, he answered: "Are you sure? How long can a man fight before he starts to break?"
"I don't know. But I saw you fighting. You still have a lot of energy. I guess much more has to happen before you even start to break."
Leon scoffed and looked at her with a grin that wasn't reaching his eyes, "You have a high opinion of me.", he said bitterly, doubting himself.
Yn turned over to him, "Of course I have. You're the one everyone of us can count on. I can count on you whenever I need you. No one could do what you're doing to stop this whole bullshit."
Leon saw the truth in her eyes but still, "I'm not so sure about that."
Quickly, she put her glass on the nightstand to face him, "Leon, if you give up, there won't be someone else. If you give up, they will win."
Leon drew his brows together, "And what if I don't wanna fight anymore? All the people who died because of me-"
"And what's with all the people who are still alive because of you? Doesn't this number count as well? And I bet it's higher than the other one.", yn said convincingly, waiting for Leon’s reaction.
Leon put his glass away as well. After the third glass, his mind already felt a bit cloudy. Maybe that was the reason behind his courage. As he turned back to yn, he leant closer to her, "You know, I like the way you see me.", he admitted low.
"I always saw you like this and I always will see you like this. Leon, you're the best man I know-", she got stopped by his lips on her own. The kiss was careful, soft but also desperate. As Leon noticed that she stayed where she was, he tangled his fingers into her hair to deepen the kiss even more. While still kissing her, he snaked his arm around her small waist to pull her close and just like that, yn laid on her back with Leon hovering above her.
Her mind was clouded with alcohol, and maybe it was because of this that she got brave enough to act the way she always wanted: yn digged her fingers into his long hair to scratch along his neck what caused him to moan. She had imagined how Leon would kiss her but to feel it was so much better.
Leon drew back to look into her eyes but neither of them said something. There was a silent agreement between them. Both wanted the same thing. And so, they were just relishing the moment together.
**
The next morning, Leon awoke with the first rays of sunlight warming his naked chest. A movement next to him brought the events of the past night back into his mind. Leon rolled on his side and looked at yn. She was naked and her legs tangled with the blanket. A beautiful view in the rising sun. Her hair was tousled and spread across the pillow. Carefully, Leon took a strand of her hair to pull it out of her face.
As Leon brushed her cheek with his fingers, she moved, slowly opening her eyes and smiling sleepily at him, "Hey, good morning."
"Morning. I didn't mean to wake you up.", Leon said softly with an apologetic glance.
"Well, with such a view in the morning, it's not the worst thing to wake up to.", she said while placing her hand on Leon's chest, feeling his heartbeat.
He watched the move and sighed. Everything just had happened and now, he wasn't sure if that had been right. Leon liked her. A lot. He respected her and before the mission, he wanted to ask her out and now, it seemed to be more complicated. His eyes moved to the bottle on the nightstand. Half of it was still filled.
"Leon? Buyers remorse, huh? It's okay if you regret the last night. Like I said, what happened during the bottle stays with the bottle. We don't have to talk about it. Ever.", she said, slowly retrieving her hand away from him and pulling the blanket closer to her body.
Leon noticed the shift in her mood and hurried to stop her from leaving the bed, "No! No, I don't regret anything. I just.. I...", he said and laid an arm around her middle.
"Yeah?", she asked insecure and feeling vulnerable.
"Damn, I had planned it differently.", Leon cursed low and looked away, brushing his hair out of his face.
"You had planned what?", yn asked confused.
Leon rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding her eyes, "I... I wanted to ask you out but then, there was this mission and everything went so wrong. And now, we're here... skipping a few steps."
"Mhh...", she said, slowly nodding while Leon watched her curiously. She looked at him, at the bottle and back at him before she grinned, "So, Leon Kennedy wanted to ask me out, huh? Good to know. But as I see it, the bottle is still filled."
Matching her grin, Leon pushed her back to climb on top of her, pushing the blanket away on his way to have her naked again, "You have an idea, sweetheart?", he whispered low and smirking while stroking over her jawline and neck with his fingers, tracing her facial lines.
Yn slid her hands over Leon's naked back, digging her nails into his skin now and then, which caused him to shudder with pleasure, "You know the oath, whatever we do, it still counts to the bottle."
"So, until this bottle doesn't get empty, the thing between us, doesn't have to stop either?", Leon asked.
"That's my idea.", yn said and nodded slowly, already seeing the hunger in Leon’s eyes.
"I really, really like your idea.", he breathed before he crashed his lips on her. He found his way between her legs and within a few more moments, the two were busy with the second round to explore each other.
***
Leon took a cardboard box with 'kitchen' written on it to carry it inside the house he and yn had just moved in. Yn already were unpacking another box. She took some glasses to put them away. From the corner of his eyes, something caught Leon’s attention. It was the black cap of a bottle. He took it out of the box and smiled as he held a half filled bottle of Whiskey in his hand. He remembered the night where yn had brought it. It was the night where everything had started between them, "We still have it.", Leon said and raised the bottle up as yn looked puzzled at him.
She grinned, the same memories were running through her mind, "Of course, we do. I won't allow that something happens to this bottle or otherwise, things are over between us. Remember the oath."
Leon chuckled and snaked his arms around her waist to bring her close, "Even after ten years, you still think I would leave just because the bottle would be empty or broken?"
"Whatever we did, we do or we will do, it still sticks to the bottle. So, why should we take the risk?", she asked with a smirk. It was silly but it was the thing that had brought the two together.
Leon cupped her chin and kissed her softly, considering if he should be honest after all these years, that this wasn't the original bottle anymore. It was another one he had brought after the original one got destroyed by accident. As he left her lips and saw her smile and sparkling eyes, he stayed silent. There was no reason to take that away from her. He loved her just too much and the tradition was just a silly thing of theirs.
It was their oath and it shouldn’t be broken.
#resident evil leon#leon scott kennedy#leon s. kennedy x reader#leon s. kennedy#leon s kennedy#leon kennedy#resident evil infinite darkness#resident evil the village#resident evil vendetta#resident evil#resident evil damnation#fandoms#writing
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delicate; b.barnes
chapter nineteen - “tomorrow”
delicate masterlist
word count: 2.8k
synopsis: reader is faced with a very distressing ultimatum and has to deal with the consequences.
pairings: bucky barnes x fem!reader
authors note: omg pls listen to “water under the bridge” by adele after reading this it’s fits so well
Muted. She felt muted - but not necessarily in a bad way. Everything in her was dialed down and dulled. Over the last couple days, Y/N had toned down her emotions, feeling less. Call it a coping skill. Call it a stress response. Whatever. It wasn't like she was sad about it. In a way, in was comforting - not having some overwhelming internal angst.
It had been a week since that fight she and Bucky got into. The mature part of her was telling her to find him and talk it out like the adults they were. But here's the thing. Over time, before they even had the fight, the number of therapy sessions they were having was less frequent as his treatment was improving. The sessions were more intermittent now, and there wasn't one scheduled for a while. Until then, she felt no desire to talk to him.
Was she mad? Sad? She wasn't sure. She just avoided thinking of things that caused her a considerable amount of distress. At this particular moment in time, Bucky was one of those things. Ergo, she made a constant effort to ignore all thoughts of him.
Though, she somehow couldn't entirely ignore the ever present lack of... Bucky. She had gotten so used to having him close by, used to having someone to talk to, laugh with. His proximity had become a constant. A comfort. She refused to admit to herself that silence didn't feel like silence anymore; it just felt like the absence of his voice.
She found she needed to keep herself busy.
Bucky handled it a bit differently. He had lots of intense emotions but he didn't mute them, per say. He didn't ignore them. He felt them, he definitely felt them. He just kept them bottled up inside and talked about it to no one. It was a very strange change of routine. Whenever he had some sort of emotional turmoil, he would always go to her - therapy session or not - to vent, rant, ask for advice, or just talk through a stream of consciousness. Now he just had to sit with it.
He spent most of his time alone. He missed her.
-
"Hey Shuri," Y/N greeted as she entered the princess' lab.
"Hello," Shuri smiled. "Come sit."
This wasn't a routine visit. Shuri mentioned wanting to talk about something else this time. Something important. She was reminded of this when she walked in to find two Doras sitting with Shuri at a lab table.
"So," Shuri started, "The trigger word experiment. We're here to discuss safety and security."
Shit. That awful thing. It had slipped her mind these past couple days.
"Alright. What are we thinkin'?"
"Well, the Doras don't think it would be necessary to have two of them there with you, but if you would feel safer with two, then that's fine as well."
"I think one is fine. I trust your judgment," Y/N nodded to the Doras.
And I'm not afraid of Bucky, she thought but didn't say.
"We also have a special location to run the experiment," one of the Doras, Ayo, added. "Away from people and secluded in the case of an emergency."
"Okay. That sounds good."
"We understand Barnes is now equipped with the vibranium arm, yes?" Shuri asked.
"Yes, he is."
"Then you need to know something for the experiment."
Y/N's brows furrowed, confused. Was she missing something?
"There's sort of a fail safe built into the arm," Shuri began.
Fail safe?
"There are a series of pressure points when, if hit correctly, will disengage the arm. It will just drop to the ground. So if anything were to happen-"
"I'm sorry, what?"
The expression on Shuri's face changed immediately when she heard her partner's tone. Y/N looked bewildered and almost in disbelief.
"It's there as a precaution in case Barnes needs to be put in check."
Suddenly, every emotion she had been "muting" rushed back into her head. Every feeling for Bucky returned, as well as her compulsion to protect him.
"Building that into the arm shows a complete lack of trust."
"You know what HYDRA did. It's unpredictable, and I'm sorry but we just can't be sure."
"We need to be careful with this so it doesn't blow up in our faces," Ayo said.
"I understand having that precaution for this test, I do. But it isn't just this test. Given it was successful and everything worked out, he was supposed to keep the arm. Right?"
"Right."
"So we fix the HYDRA programming and he's free, but leave the 'fail safe' in so after all of this, he still has someone in control of him."
"The arm is a gift," Ayo stated. "He should be happy he has it at all."
"I understand that, and believe me, he is so grateful. But a gift is for someone else to keep and use as their own. How are we supposed to help him and work with him for months, building trust and aiding him in healing to just tarnish all of that with deception?"
"It's what's best for the protection of all."
"Even after the experiment if it's successful?" Y/N cried in disbelief. "I should say when it's successful. Shuri, I've been seeing his progress for months and working with you on his neurobiology data. Can't you tell how much skill has been put into this? It's us. It's going to work."
"Even still."
"I can't stand for that. I would understand if it was just for this test, but after? We haven't come this far just to not trust our own work and Bucky's deprogramming. He deserves to have someone on his side."
"I'm sorry, Y/N, but it's already been done. The arm is already built and being used."
"This is the plan," Ayo declared. "Either you are on board, or you are free to leave Wakanda. We can fly you out as soon as tomorrow morning."
"I can't knowingly be a part of this. It's wrong."
"As I said. Free to leave."
She refused to be a willing participant in perpetuating the loss of Bucky's autonomy. He's been through enough, had enough taken from him. She would not play a single role in taking more away.
"I guess I have to go then," she said, standing from her chair.
She couldn't believe the words coming from her own mouth.
Shuri sighed. "That's very unfortunate, my partner. I'm sorry we couldn't agree on this."
"I am, too. But please. Please consider what this will do to him. It's like saying 'even though we've all been working with you, we don't actually believe that you're not still a weapon.' What is he supposed to think of that?"
"Barnes isn't going to have to think anything about it..."
"...because he isn't going to know," Ayo finished the thought.
"No..."
"It's the way it has to be."
"No it's not."
"Y/N..."
She took a couple steps back, preparing to leave the room. "No, I'm sorry. I can't. He needs to know. I'm going to have to tell him."
"I'd advise against it if you care about your job," called an unfamiliar voice.
Y/N turned to the other Dora, whom she didn't know.
"What?"
"What would your employers think if they knew their doctor had certain... inappropriate relations with a patient? And a very infamous one at that."
She froze, face burning. Her stomach dropped and her breathing stopped dead.
Did they-? Who else-? How did they-? What did they-?
She couldn't form a single coherent thought.
"You are more than free to leave quietly, without any worries" said the Dora, "but if Barnes knows about this, you can be sure that the rest of the world will know about you and your... relations."
It was then when she could feel almost every piece of her world come crashing down. She could feel every test she took, every research project she was a part of, every hour she spent studying for the career that took years to build. The thing she was most proud in this world, the part of herself she most loved. She felt the job she loved and all the things she had learned and accomplished begin to crumble around her.
This career... it was her life. It was her passion. It was all she had. Now she was in immediate danger of losing it. All she could process was fear; she shut down.
Finally, she managed words.
"Okay," she conceded, her defeated voice barely above a whisper. "I'll go... quietly. I'm sorry."
With that, she turned around and took the remaining steps out of the now silent room.
- - -
When she was in the hallway, she felt like she was dying. The guilt was overwhelming. How could she betray him like this? She tried to fight for Bucky to get the truth and now she has to hide it from him and leave him. She has to lie to him.
Y/N was still in shock, completely immersed in her own fear. It felt as if she wasn't in her body. She knew she was moving - walking down the hallway. But her body was just on autopilot; she was gone.
She couldn't tell if she was crying but she could feel a twinging in her eyes and a burning in her nose. She was also hardly breathing so if she was crying, it was nearly silent.
In a faraway echo, she thought she heard her own footsteps. She wasn't sure where they were taking her, but she wasn't sure if she cared.
-
She walked, and she kept on walking for a long time. She could feel the ache in her feet once she sat down in front of the water. She hadn't planned to go to the waterfall - that waterfall... their waterfall. It just sort of happened. Perhaps it was a long enough distance away to feel safe.
She finally let herself think for a moment.
What the fuck had just happened? Her exact fears had come to be. Somehow, someone saw or figured out her and Bucky. It felt worse than she thought it would. Exposed. Embarrassed. Guilty. Humiliated. Distressed.
It was numbing. So numbing that she stared at the little pool and let the white noise of the waterfall clog her ears until she was able to lose track of time.
She had no idea how long it had been when he approached her.
"Y/N!" Bucky's voice called as he jogged over after catching sight of her. "I've been looking for you! Can we please talk?"
His voice snapped her out of it, but her gaze remained fixed on the water in front of her. She wasn't sure what to do, how to engage with him; she froze.
When she didn't even turn her head, Bucky guessed she was still upset with him. He didn't want to be a bother, but he needed to talk to her. He sat down right next to her.
"Okay..." he started, carefully. "I know things aren't great between us right now, but-"
She turned her head to him and the words died in his throat when he saw her face: bloodshot, puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks. He forgot whatever he was going to say, cupping both sides of her face.
"Oh my god, what happened!? A-Are you alright?"
The cool metal of his hand on her cheek made her want to scream, reminding her of what she could not tell him. Reminding her of the searing guilt. Trembling hands reached up to touch his arms. And then he saw the quiver in her lip.
"Oh, honey," he cooed, worried. "Hey... Hey, talk to me. Talk to me, what's wrong?"
He was so concerned and so sweet even after they had a huge blowout. If possible, it made her feel even worse. She didn't deserve his kindness anymore. She just stared into him with the saddest eyes he'd ever seen.
Bucky had never seen her like this and he was scared. Was it because of him and their fight? He supposed so. What else could it have been?
"I'm so sorry, please don't cry," he caressed the back of her head with one hand. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean any of what I said, I was just mad. You were right. I feel awful, I had no idea it upset you this much."
Their fight was the very last thing on her mind. Looking back on it, it seemed like such a trivial thing compared to now. But he thought this was his fault. She wanted to break into a million tiny pieces and let the wind blow her away.
She shook her head. "Bucky, no. It's not that. It's not you."
He looked so confused. She felt so bad.
"Then what... what's wrong?"
"I'm leaving."
Bucky leaned back, perplexed, and his hands slid down to rest on her forearms. "Leaving? You're leaving Wakanda?"
She nodded. "I'm sorry."
"No, no, hey- You don't have to leave. We can figure something out. We were too risky, you were right. I understand that now. We don't have to do that anymore. We can make sure that we're always completely in private from here on out."
She shook her head, staring down at the grass below her. "I'm sorry, I can't... I can't do that. I have to leave."
She could barely look him in the face.
"You don't, it's okay," he implored. "I know it worried you, but it really only was Steve. And I know, I know it could have been anyone and I get that. I thought about it, and I get it. We don't ever have to... sleep together... again. We won't be distracted, and-and we'll be careful."
She clenched her eyes shut, trying not to let her burning eyes release more tears. It didn't work.
"Bucky..."
"Baby doll please," his voice cracked while he tipped her chin up to meet her eyes again. "We can just-... we can just go back to the way it was before. In the very beginning. We can- we'll only see each other in sessions, we don't-... No more lake trips or all-nighters or anything just-"
He sharply inhaled, beginning to ramble as his breath became unsteady.
His voice shook just slightly. "You can barely even talk to me if you don't want to- just please don't go..."
She thought a part of her cracked and died at that moment. She sprung forward and held him as tight as she could. Instinctively one of Bucky's arms was around her back and the other cradled the back of her head.
She thought maybe if she held tight enough, she could keep them together and she wouldn't have to leave him there alone. Of course he would be fine, but he would spend the rest of his time feeling like it was his fault that she had gone.
She couldn't let him think this was his fault.
"Buck, I don't wanna leave you. But I have to do what's best for the both of us. You'll be just fine without me. I promise."
He didn't think so.
"I'm putting your treatment and my career in jeopardy if I stay," she continued. "I just don't want anything bad to happen to either of us. I'm sorry if you hate this and I'm sorry if you hate me for doing it."
He mumbled something in the crook of her neck, but she couldn't hear it. She pulled back from the embrace.
"What?"
"I could never hate you."
Despite the fact that she was so internally distraught, despite what happened with Shuri and the Doras, with having to tell Bucky she was going to leave him, with having to watch him beg her to stay, despite the extreme dread and guilt within her, she still looked at him and felt so much love.
She was doing the very thing he feared and all he could do was care for her.
"God, I'm gonna miss you," she breathed before grasping his jaw, and pulling his head to hers.
Bucky tasted salt and he couldn't tell if it was his or her tears mixing into their lips.
As much as he wanted her to stay, he could sense how serious she was about this. He wouldn't be able to convince her to stay even if he tried. And he already did.
He could only soak up as much of her as he could before she left, and be with her until she had to go. He had no idea how much time he had. Wait-
"When are you leaving?" he broke the kiss as soon as the thought arose.
She was silent for a moment when another tear dripped down her face. "Tomorrow."
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Tyrants | Chapter One - Disclosure
A/N: This was supposed to be a Jax x Fem!OC fanfic, but it took a little turn as I started to write more of it. So, it’ll be Tig x Fem!OC, but Jax does play a very important role in this.
SUMMARY: A sick turn of events sees Isla Telford thrown in at the deep end, battling to govern the sudden pressures of all that her father's club decidedly bestow upon her.
WORD COUNT: 2.7k
WARNINGS: Brief mentions of murder, the guy that got his ass shit is in this one. Jax and Tig get their own warnings, too, for obvious reasons.
The older I get, the more I realize that age doesn't bring wisdom. It only brings weary.
John Teller was always so astute.
His judicious character befell his son, too. Jax had that same perceptive nature as his old man--everyone would comment on that.
To Isla, it was admirable. For Jackson Teller to be a man of such stature--to hold such a reputation--and to remain somewhat level-headed through it all, was only something she could commend.
She'd seen many of her father's friends crumble under the pressure of Samcro, unable to balance the weight of living with the responsibility and commitment to the club, and meet their unfortunate demise--in some not-so extreme cases.
But Jax was different. He'd always been different.
Maybe that wasn't so great, however.
"You're fucking insane, Isla."
"Not insane." She mumbled, sifting through the box of shitty medical supplies that Gemma had left atop the pool table last night.
"Just trying to patch this shit up so Hayes doesn't kick the fucking bucket before Jax gets back here."
Tig snarled. "But it might be infected, and the bullet is still in this dude's ass--"
Isla whipped her head to glare at the man, her eyes wide, forehead slick with sweat--and a little blood, too.
"Shut the fuck up."
"Isla--"
"Tig, with all due respect, unless you're gonna help, please get the fuck outta here."
"That's not gonna suffice," he pointed out, referring to the medical tape, ignoring her scolding.
She wanted to throttle him. Truly, Isla was willing to wrap her crimson-coated fingertips around Tig's neck and squeeze the absolute life out of that man.
"I know." Her lips kneaded together in frustration, watching her father dab an alcohol-infused pad on the wound. "But unless you've got any better ideas, then we're just gonna have to keep reapplying this shit."
"But the infection, Isla."
"But the lack of medical equipment, Tig."
He slapped his palm against the table and glared at her,
pointedly. "Why've you gotta be such a bitch all the time, huh?"
"Watch it, Trager." Piqued, Chibs growled.
"I'm not a bitch all the time," she dismissed her father, wiping at her palm with a wet rag. "I'm actually able to control the way I act around other people."
"Oh, fuck you--"
"Christ!"
The Scot's yell was muffled by the cap of his whiskey bottle, his hand pressing against Cameron's skin as the man screamed into the cloth Isla had placed underneath his head.
"God, for fucks sake, both of you just pack it in."
"Chibs--"
"Shut the fuck up. You're a fucking geriatric and you're spending your morning bickering with an almost thirty-year-old. Grow up, Tig."
Despite laughing at his comment, and enjoying the irritation wash over the other man's face, she felt bad.
For riling her father up--who was simply trying to help the innocent Irishman caught in the literal crossfire--she felt fucking awful. Especially because he never seemed to get mad at her all too often.
Tig, though...That was a different story entirely.
"I'm gonna go see if Clay has any more shit lying 'round here." She declared, throwing a damp towel onto the table, backing out of the room.
Her heart was in her throat, stomach in damn knots. Isla wasn't confident that Cameron was going to make it--not with such a deep wound.
And in his ass, too? Jesus. She wasn't confident at all.
Of course, she'd seen men get shot. Her own father, for one. But she hadn't seen somebody have to go so long without actual medical attention.
Chibs was ex-army med, but there was only so much a man could've done with a bottle of liquor, gauze, and a towel.
She was relieved that the bullet hit Cameron and not Clay, though. As sick as it sounded, she was so fucking glad that he'd managed to dodge the line of fire--initially intended for his own skull--and come out completely unscathed.
But for every ounce of relief she'd felt, an even more fervid sense of anger prevailed at the thought of Jax taking so damn long with those medical supplies he'd sought to get last night.
Gemma mentioned something about heading to the hospital--or a friend's house, or something--but Isla wasn't paying any mind to the woman as she, and Chibs, were trying all ways to stop the bleeding coming from Cameron's ass cheek.
It was the most bizarre turn of events she'd ever experienced.
One minute, Isla was sipping on a glass of wine while she eagerly awaited the spirited ping of her tiny microwave oven, ready to spend a rare--though well fucking deserved--night alone.
However, things took a drastic turn when she received a call from Tig--on behalf of a very busy Chibs--casually requesting her assistance because the Mayans had tried to assassinate Clay.
But Tig failed to mention that the man was completely fine.
She'd spent fifteen minutes on the way over mentally preparing herself, wondering what hell she'd walk into when she set foot into the clubhouse. But it was normal--strangely so.
Isla wasn't a professional, she didn't exactly know how to handle such a trauma, but she trusted her father and she just wanted to make sure he had a helping hand.
God knows that Tig wouldn't have been very much use, and Juice was a little nervous--though, he was doing incredibly well throughout the ordeal regardless of his internal apprehension.
"How's it looking?" Gemma threw at Isla, getting to her feet.
"Bloody."
She quickly scanned the room, taking in the uncomfortably sparse bar. It wasn't usually so empty, so quiet.
Clay, Gemma, and Juice. That was it. Not even Piney--not even Epps.
"Is he doing okay?"
It was still early in the day, though. She guessed that they'd pop in once they properly came around.
"He's better than he was last night." The brunette nodded. "Dad is certain the laceration is gonna get infected if we leave it any longer without trying to get the bullet out--"
"You've gotta wait 'til Jax gets back here, Isla, we can't risk Hayes dying on us."
"I know, Clay. He's just fucking tired--he's been up all night. We need a real medic on the scene before something bad happens. It's only a matter of time."
He mumbled something to himself that only Gemma seemed to catch, but Isla didn't particularly give a damn at that point. Like Chibs, she was exhausted.
The tattered and torn plaid shirt she had thrown over a random tank top--now smeared with another man's blood--was wrenched between her fingers as she pulled it off, folding it not-so-neatly.
She hadn't dealt with such a bloody wound in a while. Not since her mother's palm, decorated with shards of glass, was in dire need of stitches and her father was across the country, unable to offer his medical assistance.
"I'll grab one of Jax's shirts for you--"
"No, Gemma, it's okay," she smiled, taking a seat on one of the couches opposite her.
The older woman pinched her eyebrows together skeptically, watching Isla shift. "I insist."
"It's fine." Isla was adamant. "I'm gonna head home as soon as Jax gets back here--if he gets back here--so, really, it's fine."
A minimal amount of already dried blood was spread over her wrists and fingers, and the excess had been rubbed off on her crimson flannel, so she didn't particularly feel bad about making any mess.
Though, she shouldn't have felt bad. Not after she'd been coerced into helping and eventually receiving that shitty reception from Tig.
"Aren't you cold?" She questioned, waiting for Isla to capitulate, but she never did.
The thought of wearing one of Jax's shirts--after it being given to her by his fucking mother--didn't sit right with her for some reason. Plus, she didn't particularly feel like walking out of that building wearing the damn reaper on her back.
She didn't want to flaunt their patch. Not any more than she already had been for the last ten years.
"Where the fuck is he?"
Clay glared at the clock on the wall, realizing they'd been without the Vice President for hours. In an attempt to put him at ease, Gemma ran a hand along his shoulder.
Isla could only watch them--admire, perhaps.
"He told us he was gonna swing by Tara's place for the equipment. But that was last night, man." Juice shrugged, circling the lip of his beer bottle with his thumb.
She felt her throat thicken with a sick sense of trepidation. She hadn't heard that name in years.
"Tara?" She stuttered, feeling Gemma's piercing glare.
The woman hated Jax's first love, though she never said it aloud. Isla knew her perception of her, however, and she'd started to feel the exact same as the years went on.
Bitch.
"Yeah, y'know, Tara Knowles--"
Her heart sank--fuck that, it dove straight to the deep caverns of her chest, throbbing away into nothing. Until she felt completely void of all emotion. Completely fucking numb.
"I know her, Juice." Her response came hastily, snappy. "I'm sorry. I just didn't expect you to say that."
He shrugged it off. "It's alright. I wasn't expecting her to be back in town, either. I thought you already knew."
Suddenly uncomfortable, Isla's head shook.
The crow situated at the bottom of her spine began to smolder, blistering away at her skin until she physically flinched.
It was a brilliant idea at the time, getting a matching tattoo with Jax's old lady--the one woman she truly adored and trusted, never once feeling an ounce of malice toward.
Because that was a rare thing for Isla, and she wanted their friendship--and relation to Samcro--to prevail for eternity, she supposed.
But as time went on and Tara decided to distance, and eventually alienate, herself from the club, an ample sense of regret persisted for fucking months.
Isla loathed her ink. She hated the negative connotation of the crow she once lauded, and the mere idea of that thing being slapped above her ass forever churned her stomach.
It wasn't one of her finest moments, she had to admit. But she was young and extremely fucking dumb. She'd bet top dollar that Tara felt the same--if she hadn't gotten the crow covered up already.
"Jesus, Jax, where were you?!"
Her eyes flicked upward, attention on the blonde as he sauntered across the wooden floor of the bar.
She hadn't even noticed his presence until Clay spoke, but she soon started to heed how Jax was trembling a bit with every step that he took.
It wasn't obvious. To most people, the slight shake of his wrist would've gone completely unnoticed. But to Isla--to the most observant woman in Charming--his discomfort was striking.
Jax ignored him, stomping his way toward the back room. His line of sight never satisfied Isla's. It didn't even come close to it, either.
Something had happened. It was obvious that, in the time he had been with Tara, he'd encountered something grizzly enough to chill him to the bone.
Which was saying something, what with the horrific shit that he'd already seen in his time.
"Jax!" Clay yelled, following closely behind him. "Hey, asshole, where the fuck did you put the bag--"
"I've got it."
If she had the option, Isla would've allowed the floor to swallow her fucking whole.
"Tara." Pissed, Gemma acknowledged. "You're here because?"
"I asked her to help, mom."
"But Chibs had it covered. He just needed some actual instruments--"
"Gemma, quit it."
She simply nodded at her son, not wanting to cause another problem that she'd have to fix later--which, honestly, Isla was shocked to see.
"He's in there--"
"I know." Jax cut her short, ushering Tara to the back of the clubhouse--striving to get her into the room before she heeded Isla.
But she did.
The first person she clocked--aside from Clay--was Isla Telford, the woman she had purposely alienated herself from ten fucking years ago.
It wasn't anything that she'd particularly done to Tara, more like the crowd she ran with--and the way her loyalties never seemed to lay very closely to her friends, or anything outside of the club.
Isla wasn't a part of Samcro--she didn't want to be a part of Samcro--but her coalition was strong enough to convince anybody that she was more than merely a daughter of a Sgt. at Arms.
She had been brought up around the Sons--her father's choice, of course--and when her mother passed, she had no choice but to dive a little bit deeper into that world. But, as expected, it was constantly under the watchful eye of her old man.
She was dedicated to them. They were, essentially, family, and she was an honorary member.
"Isla." Jax mumbled, nodding his head toward the entrance of the clubhouse as he closed the back-door. "Outside."
He pulled a carton of cigarettes out of his leather vest, shaking the box as he strived to seem a little less suspicious to Clay and his mother.
The blonde wobbled to her feet--knees weak after hours of standing--while simultaneously pulling her bloodied flannel back onto svelte, freckled arms, recognizing that the chill was to hit her the second she stepped onto the gravel.
Jax was casual while he strutted ahead, taking long strides that Isla found fucking impossible to keep up with.
He pushed the door to close behind her, offering a cigarette that she hastily declined.
"What's she doing here?" Was how she decided to break the silence, her eyes searching for a hint of something written on his face.
But there was nothing. Not an ounce of emotion--scarily so.
"She's fixing Cameron up--"
"Not at the clubhouse, Jax. I meant back in Charming."
He ran a thumb across his lower lip, trying to soften his gaze on Isla, but it was futile. He looked discomposed--unsettled.
"She's uh--she's workin' at the hospital now." She started to nod, waiting for his elaboration. It never came, however.
"Oh, that's nice. I wonder what happened in Chicago...Do you know why she's back here? Or how long she's gonna be staying in town--"
"You sound like my fucking mother--give it a break with the thirty-seven questions about Tara, damnit."
He snarled, heeding the distaste of his words the second she glowered at him.
"Excuse you?"
"I didn't call you out here for a sweet little conversation, Isla, I called you 'cause I need your help--"
"With what?"
Jax's hand hooked onto the back of his neck while he tilted his head to look upward, thinking of a way--any fucking way--to explain just what damn mess he'd found himself entwined with over the course of the last twenty-four hours.
He didn't know what to say or how to say it--if he should've fucking said it. He trusted Isla with his life--always had--but sometimes he appreciated that she mightn't have appreciated finding herself tangled within Jax's boisterous, at times frightening, life.
But it was too late for that. She'd been dragged through the deepest shit and wasn't crumbling that easily.
"Jax--"
"Kohn." He stated simply, waiting for the cogs of her brain to begin turning.
"What about him? You got in trouble with the ATF or something? Because we can handle that--"
"I already did." Jax laughed humorlessly, finally meeting Isla's line of sight.
The skin underneath his eyes was red raw, blotchy and irritated after he had used the sleeve of his hoodie to scrub away the tears he'd shed.
The tears he hadn't wanted to shed, but had fallen freely--uncontrollably--from those cerulean hues Isla never tired of looking at.
"What do you mean by that?" Nervously, she quizzed.
He didn't even have to say anything. She fucking knew. She knew exactly what he meant by that, but there was a tiny morsel of something within her that hoped and prayed that he'd declare that her gut feeling was wrong.
But he couldn't. Because it was right. Like always, Isla's intuition didn't fail her.
"Jax, honey, what did you do--"
"I killed Kohn."
#sons of anarchy#sons of anarchy fandom#sons of anarchy fanfiction#sons of anarchy fic#tig trager#tig trager fanfiction#tig trager fic#tig trager x oc#jax teller#jax teller x oc#jax teller fanfiction
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