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hoe-doroki · 3 years

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passing the night stars

banner by @dymphnasprose

warning: reader has social anxiety

pairing: shinsou x reader (platonic or romantic)

genre: hurt/comfort

wc: 3.2k

summary: The party was neon and you needed darkness.

a/n: this is a gift for my SiL’s birthday today! To any astronomy nerds: I tried and I’m sorry.

edit: I no longer write x reader but here’s my old masterlist - mobile | desktop

There was something to be said about distance.

It was a buffer, quieting every voice, external and internal, until the only one left was that of the crickets singing over the lo-fi spilling out of the house behind you. You’d stepped away from the party long enough ago that the playlist had started over many songs back—you had no clue how many anymore. The distance turned the music’s thrumming into a quiet melody, the lyrics just as indistinguishable up close as here in the backyard, sitting on patio furniture that rocked lopsidedly in the grass.

Any filter would do, though. Anything that could soften the world just a little around its loud, coarse edges. The ice in your peach-flavored hurricane melting so that the drink was a little less saccharine. The rum casting a film over your mood, keeping your loneliness from dropping you into total dolor. The slight late-night breeze blowing the smoke from the fire pit away from you so that the acrid smell was stronger on the hood of your black sweatshirt than the air. It all muddled your emotions, numbing the buzzing overwhelm of the party to an anxious hum. The party had been neon, and out here you had a bit more darkness.

Without these buffers absorbing some of the furor, you might have escaped the party hours ago. Snuck out while the thing was still in full thrall, before social anxiety could hiss over your bones. Got out while you were ahead. Instead, you’d lasted as long as you could before out to the backyard with the near-dead fire, wracked with guilt at the prospect of leaving without saying goodbye, while too nervous to actually draw the attention to yourself necessary to actually say goodbye.

That wasn’t to say you hadn’t held up for a good while, though. You’d hung out with your friends when the fire had just gotten started and then when the party had moved indoors for drinking games and edibles. You’d hovered on the border as your friends grew more interested in dancing in drunken delay to the somniferous lo-fi beat than conversation. Then the itching had started in your brain, and before you knew it, you were out here, social battery drained dry, waiting for an indefinite future in which you could find the energy to escape.

You shivered as footsteps swiped through the grass, crickets chirping at the intruder.

“Did I surprise you?” Shinsou asked, his voice deep from booze or smoke or both. Or, maybe he was just tired, you figured, as the harsh light of the fire sharpened the bags under his eyes into dark creases.

“Breeze,” you mumbled, goosebumps rising on your wrists, standing the fine hairs on end. Only a few licks of heat from the pit were touching your knees, leaving the rest of you cold in your threadbare sweatshirt as the fire shrank smaller and smaller.

Shinsou had a blanket in his arms, ratty and certainly stolen from the back of the living room couch. He blinked at you for a second before he asked, “Can I join you?”

His voice was deadpan. Between the two of you, there was no real vocal inflection to speak of. Still, you shrugged one shoulder and said, “Sure.”

You stiffened when, instead of choosing one of the many other patio chairs or foldable camping chairs forming a friendly circle around the fire, he joined you on your bench, tossing a bit of blanket over your knees. You hardly realized you were staring at him until he said, “You’re cold, right?”

“Oh, yeah, a little,” you said, tucking your knees up to your chin and curling the scrap of blanket around your arms.

The blanket was raggedy in your hands, pilled on the hem, but warm from being indoors with all the dancing bodies. Plus, clinging onto it, running your thumb over the uneven texture gave you something to focus on instead of Shinsou’s body so close to yours.

Your senses were tingling, raw at having someone nearby again. It was too soon—you still didn’t have anything to say, no defense for why you’d dropped off from the party without a word.

But, on the other hand, being alone wasn’t fixing you either. Parts of your brain were still coiled taut as compression springs, and while they weren’t getting any tighter, they weren’t quite loosening yet either. It was rest, not recovery.

Abruptly—was it abrupt, or were you that zoned out?—Shinsou touched the back of his hand to yours, nearly making you flinch as he furrowed his brows at you. “How long have you been out here?” he asked, shifting towards you and pushing more of the blanket into your lap.

“Oh, um—” maybe a half an hour, maybe more, “—not that long.”

For that flash of contact, his skin had been hot against yours, so you could only imagine how cold your hands had felt to him. Your icy drink was probably mostly to blame, but you were also suddenly aware of how your shoulders were hunched nearly to your ears, your arms clenched to your sides like your chest might warm them. You piled the blanket a little more over your knees and one shoulder, only the hand holding your drink poking out.

“Hard being on the fringes,” he mused as he took a sip from a can. Possibly seltzer, probably beer.

You mirrored, tasting your own drink. It was really mostly water by now, though you were sure it was still painting your tongue orange.

Shinsou’s situation wasn’t much different than yours. Everyone in that house was old classmates. Shinsou was too, but he’d come late. Not too late to be friends, but late enough that it mattered. You were even later—not a classmate, but a post-high school roommate. You’d both landed on the side of Kaminari’s friend group, but neither of you were the core of it. The heart of it. That, for reasons you couldn’t quite understand, was Bakugou.

For some reason, you and Shinsou had never talked about this before.

“Hard being in a group big enough for there to be a fringe.”

Because, of course, it wasn’t just the Bakusquad here today. The majority of the old 3-A was here, those who weren’t on duty or suffering with early morning duty tomorrow. Enough people to certainly cause a ruckus and maybe a noise complaint that even pro heroes wouldn’t get out of.

“Touché”

The two of you fell into silence, and you couldn’t help but wonder exactly what had drawn Shinsou from the party. Even if he didn’t feel he was the most popular guy in the room, you’d seen the way he had the ability to talk to everyone. You weren’t sure if it was a product of his quirk or what, but he was able to start a conversation with everyone he met. He didn’t seem shy or anxious in the least.

Then again, that was just what he presented. You knew from that what you put forth in public wasn’t necessarily in line with what you were feeling.

It was hard to be the introvert around a group like yours. Worse—it was noticeable. This wasn’t the first time you’d stumbled away from a party, mind half gone not on alcohol or weed but on the sudden assault of attention, loud voices, and talk of hero work. Being one of the only non-heroes in the room was exhausting, and maybe that’s why you’d had to escape. Or maybe there never was a reason, good or otherwise, and you were just here because of your stupid self.

“Clear night,” Shinsou commented, “Don’t get to see much of the stars in the city.”

You looked up, a bright spot in the center of your vision from where you’d been staring into the fire. Almost everyone in your group lived in the city, not too far from each other, depending on your definition of the word. But those with quirks better suited outside the city, like Tsuyu and Koda, had moved out of town post graduation, granting the rest of you access to a night in the suburbs like this.

The truth was, you hardly looked up at the sky in the city. Tourists were always looking up, eyes glinting off the skyscrapers and billboards. But natives were always looking down, too aware of the fact that other natives didn’t always clean up after their dogs and, with so little grass, the sidewalk often needed a close eye kept to it.

But here, it was pretty. Not the smog-stained brown you were used to, but deep blue and twinkling with infinite pinpricks.

“Mm,” you hummed, taking another sip of your watery drink. “You’re right.”

“There’s Cassiopeia,” he said, pointing just over the tree line.

You followed his finger, unsure quite of what you were looking at. The stars hardly looked like clusters to you, especially on a night like this where you could see so many. It was more a broad network of them, either all connected or all individual. All the stars or just a star.

“You know constellations?” you asked, ears latching onto something that finally wasn’t hero related. Truth be told, you probably knew less about stars than you did about hero work but it was less alienating. You could lean into it.

“Some,” he offered. “Cassiopeia is a basic one.”

“Where is it?”

Shinsou glanced at you, leaning in closer so that his finger could match your gaze. You shoulders knocked and you could feel his wild hair against your own. His finger traced down and up, down and up in a cockeyed W. “Cassiopeia, mother of Andromeda.”

“She’s a woman?”

It was any wonder that ancient people had looked into the night sky and seen things like rams and bulls, creating a whole woman out of a few diagonal lines. Still, you listened to Shinsou, his low voice rumbling into your tired bones as he began.

“A beautiful woman,” he answered. “In Greek myth, she thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world. Her boastfulness made Poseidon angry, so he created a sea monster that Andromeda was sacrificed to. Andromeda was left to await her fate when Perseus, who had just killed Medusa, used Medusa’s head to turn the sea monster to stone. After saving Andromeda, the two of them got married, and when they died, they both became constellations alongside Cassiopeia.”

Shinsou’s voice was husky and even as he told the story. The cadences were easy drops, landing you softly before he started up again with his next thought. It was a voice you could be rocked by, a voice you could be held by.

“Do you know where they are too?”

“Just below,” Shinsou said. “Probably come up just in time for the sun to make them invisible.”

“That’s too bad,” you said, curling deeper into the blanket, curling so that on shoulder leaned more onto the bench than the other. You head was almost resting on Shinsou’s shoulder and you could feel his warmth radiating in the cold night. “How do you know all this?”

Shinsou was quiet for a second and your nerves spiked again. You hadn’t even felt them relax, but suddenly your anxiety was scratching again, wondering if you’d misspoke. Or maybe you’d whispered it and he just hadn’t heard you? Before you could decide whether to say it again or apologize, though, he let out a sigh that jostled the blanket.

“Jack of all trades, master of none,” he said by way of explanation.

You cocked your head. Perhaps it was just a good hobby for an insomniac, but you were unsure about the evasiveness. “Did you have to learn a lot for general studies? Or to get in to U.A.?”

“…Yeah.”

You could only imagine. U.A. was an incredibly competitive school for heroes, but that was a specialized course. For general studies you didn’t need to have the physical prowess or the other particular skills that came with heroics, but you had to be an ace in school. It was no small feat to get into general studies, especially while you were trying to pursue something else. You were satisfied with that, ready to let it go and return to the near silence of the crickets and the fire popping, when Shinsou suddenly continued.

“When it looked like my plans to become a hero wouldn’t pan out,” Shinsou began, his words slow, tired, “my parents encouraged me into any and all other interests. None stuck.”

“Oh,” you said quietly, the personal admission taking you aback.

For all the times you’d seen Shinsou talk effortlessly with people in a room, you weren’t sure how personal or vulnerable you’d ever seen him. He seemed comfortable enough probing other people, but this was new. It made the space between you suddenly seem private—so different from the party you’d escaped from. You could still hear the ambient noises of a couple dozen people in there having a good time, but it was suddenly a world away.

“I’m sorry, Shinsou,” you said, brows furrowing as you glanced his eyes, still gazing up at the stars. His parents had probably thought they were being supportive, but it wasn’t the support he’d desired.

“It is what it is,” he said. “It worked out in the end.”

There was the smallest smile on his face at that, barely betraying what must have been true joy at having a dream slip through his fingers only to fly back to him. And he’d earned every bit of it, even if he wanted to keep it to himself.

“So now,” you began softly, “you just have a lot of little things that you can offer people. The little things you could have been. That’s not so bad, right?”

“No, it’s not so bad,” he agreed. “I always liked that story.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Japanese astronomy varies so much from region to region and is usually about more functional things. Harvest, seasons. But these other myths about people with no chance of being heroes becoming ones anyway…”

He trailed off, but the sentiment was there. Trapped in the things he’d done to try and leave heroism behind were little vestiges. The inescapable fact that he was meant to be a hero and would be one anyway, even if the world told him he was a villain, doomed for failure.

The stories had been true.

“Are you feeling better now?” he asked, surprising you.

“Feeling better?”

“You’d been out here for over an hour,” Shinsou stated. “Your eyes were glassy and distant and you were freezing and you didn’t seem to notice.”

“Oh,” you intoned. You hadn’t realized it had been that long. You were sure it had only been half that time.

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” he said. “I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay.”

“No, I’m fine,” you said truthfully. “I’m fine now.”

The anxiety from earlier that had been buzzing through you had kept you awake, all while thoroughly draining you. You’d hardly realized just how much until now, with your body not just feeling settled but heavy. The stress had run straight through you, and now you bore the fatigue.

Shinsou glanced down at you out of the corner of his eye. His brows raised and it lifted his whole face, making the dark circles under his eyes just a little less stark. “You look exhausted.”

“You always look exhausted,” you retorted, your first little grin curving along your lips.

In his surprise, Shinsou smiled too. “I know that. Here.”

Shinsou took your forgotten drink from your hand and set it down, then patted his shoulder.

“You should rest for a little while.”

Your eyes met his, searching for anything that looked like obligation or impatience. But there was none. Just a surprising amount of openness and a pretty shade of purple.

“Do you have more myths?”

Shinsou smiled and, once again, his gaze went up to the stars. As he started another tale, you snuggled onto his shoulder, the rest of your body drawing closer to his as well. He didn’t wait long to begin speaking, talking in more detail than he had before. There was no reason to be concerned that he might be boring you, or that you didn’t want to hear it. Really, these stories, these stars that had brought him even the tiniest speck of light were just what you needed too.

You weren’t sure when you fell asleep, and you weren’t sure when you woke up. But when you blinked your eyes awake, the first thing you noticed was that Cassiopeia hadn’t moved far. The second was the feeling of Shinsou’s head tilted against yours, his breath like gentle waves under you.

You shifted, signaling that you were awake, and Shinsou did too, his head lifting from yours. At some point, his arm had wrapped around you, encasing you in his warmth. He didn’t move it, not yet, as your body creaked and you forced yourself to sit up.

“How long?” you murmured, voice barely raspy with sleep.

“Not that long,” Shinsou answered, echoing your reply from earlier.

He didn’t look at his phone or a watch, and hadn’t since he’d come out, so you wondered if he had any clue. Or if it simply hadn’t felt long. Somehow, the idea that his time spent with you hadn’t felt long was a comfort, a relief.

“How are you feeling?”

You checked in, feeling that grogginess that always came in the wake of an intense mental episode. Your brain struggling to catch up and survey the backlash from its earlier antics. That would go away. It always did. “I’m good.”

Shinsou continued to look at you, switching between each eye, double checking your expression for any lie. But he must not have found any, for he leaned back into the bench and relaxed, that tiny ghost of a smile back on his face.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he said, gazing out again. “You out here alone before? It had been…well, we were…I wanted to check on you.”

For the first time, Shinsou looked almost a little shy, and you couldn’t help but smile, touched. You put a hand on the shoulder that had just taken your weight and brought his gaze back to you. “Thank you.”

There actually was one thing you knew about stars. You’d heard that every light year a star was away from you was a year into the past you were seeing its light. Looking at the stars was looking millions of years into the past. Despite the fact that these selfsame stars connected you to humans around the world today and those of old, that filter of distance and time rendered them ancient, if not already gone.

But as you looked at Shinsou, their soft, silvery starlight illuminating one side while the last dancing coals of the fire glowed on the other, you were sure that this was the opposite. This wasn’t old or past or known to anyone but the two of you. This wasn’t the stars or even the stories inspired by them.

This was just beginning.

#shinsou x reader #shinso x reader #hitoshi shinsou #hitoshi shinso #bnha x reader #mha x reader #shinsou fanfiction #shinso fanfiction #bnha fanfic #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfic #mha fanfiction #tw: anxiety

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asphyxiateher · 3 years

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Only Monsters Come Out At Night

Chapter 2: Say My Name. A/N: Rough draft I’ll be posting to AO3 later after I go through the edits. Enjoy now, I’ll be polishing it later. I personally would let Lady Dimitrescu and her daughters step on me but that’s just me

Warnings: Character death, graphic descriptions of violence, gore, horror. Elements of non-con.

Time had no meaning for Desdemona anymore as her entire being floated comfortably into a quiet void. She was only accompanied by the sweet sound of silence that filled her ears and that in itself was comforting. She was in such a deep state of sleep that it felt like she would be trapped in the peaceful state of purgatory for eternity, but alas that would no longer be the case. Desdemona thought she was dead; in fact, she wanted nothing more than for that to be the case. Unluckily for her, she was about to wake to unfortunate events that would lead her to believe she was trapped in Hell. At first, she sees nothing in her field of vision but then she hears the shrill sound of familiar laughter that sends a shiver down her spine. The black abyss she grew accustomed to deteriorated all around her, a blinding flash of white light surrounds her for the briefest of moments before Desdemona’s eyes finally opened to reveal the disturbing scene before her. “Mother, my pet is finally awake! Oh, I was growing ever so impatient, my darling little one. I was so desperate to peer into those gorgeous eyes of yours again, I was tempted to pluck them out of your skull as you slept.” A voice whispered dangerously into her ears behind her, wet lips gently wrapping around her right ear before it was released with a pop. “Cassandra, you foul thing, learn your place! How many times do I have to say that it was I who found our prize? Do not touch what does NOT belong to you!” Screeched the woman with the green pendant as she materialized by her side in an instant. It didn’t take long for the fact to register that this was the first time that Desdemona could finally get a better look at the women who attacked the group in the village. Now that their hoods were down, she could better identify them by not only their hair color but by the manner of which they spoke and the pendants they wore. The way they continued to fight over her made her stomach turn as she struggled to comprehend why they wanted her alive and what they were going to do with her.

Another black mass of insects appeared and disintegrated into nothing just as quickly as the third woman decided to chime in, her yellow pendant gleaming brightly against the dimly lit room. Her dirtied, dark brown hair tickled Desdemona’s face as she leaned dangerously over her, the smirk on her face growing wider when Desdemona’s breath grew heavy again. She raised her hand and playfully walked two fingers up Desdemona’s arm and over her collarbone before she roughly grasped her prey’s chin and forced her to look directly into her eyes. “Hello, pretty little plaything, you’ll find that my sisters lack manners when they’re lusting over irresistible blood. You should feel honored you made quite the impression as you did. The others you brought with you are undeserving of your company and you’ll find that they deserve punishment simply by existing. Mother will see to that soon enough.” The brunette told her quietly as she straightened back up.

‘Wait, what did she mean by punishing the others for simply existing? Where were Desmond and Veronica?’ Desdemona worriedly thought to herself. The younger Hawthorne sibling attempted to move but she didn’t realize her wrists were restrained by old fashioned shackles until it was too late. She suddenly felt herself being lifted to her feet by the two crazed sisters standing on either side of her. Each woman occasionally nuzzled into her neck and sniffed at her, nipping at her and licking exposed skin whenever the impulse struck.

Desdemona glanced around her environment and realized that they must be inside the castle if the polished flooring, centuries old artwork and beautiful grand staircase were of any indication. Where else would they be after getting lost out on the trail?

The frightened young woman made the mistake of looking over to her left and found that the red-haired woman known as Daniela was staring at her with a glazed look in her eyes. The sight of her lips parting and blowing her a small kiss made Desdemona’s heart nearly jump out of her throat. She couldn’t avert her gaze out of fear and Daniela took that as an invitation to flirt the only way she knew how. She brought two fingers to her face, spaced them out to a “V” shape and made an obscene gesture with her unusually long tongue, moaning loudly when Desdemona blushed and looked away. “Don’t be shy, my love. Once we take care of Mother’s unwanted pests, we can finally be alone together and I’ll taste you once and for all. You’ll find that I do want to eat you but only in the best way possible. You wouldn’t deny me the pleasure, would you?” Daniela growls out, her eyes fluttering shut as the sound of Desdemona’s blood rushing through her veins and her rapidly beating heart thudding against her chest awakened a whole new need in Daniela. Desdemona wanted to cry out but refrained from doing so when she realized somebody else was coming.

Heels could be heard clicking from afar, a door slamming open and voices shouting in protest behind what seemed to be an impossibly tall, statuesque women. Desdemona’s jaw dropped for two reasons: The woman who entered the room dramatically exuded such class and confidence that it didn’t look awkward in the manner in which she had to bend so far low to pass through the doorway. When she uncurled herself from the uncomfortable position, her golden eyes met gray uncertain ones and they immediately pierced through Desdemona’s soul. The woman brought out a whole new level of terror within her. The second reason Desdemona’s mouth remained agape was due to the fact that the mysterious woman dragged along the wounded bodies of both Desmond and Veronica.

‘They’re still alive!’ Desdemona thought, hope rising in her chest the moment she saw both her best friend and twin reacting to her presence. “Des, you’re okay! Christ, the way these fucking things were talking about you, I thought the worst happened.” Desmond called out to her, desperation in his voice as he attempted to crawl his way towards his sister. Veronica tried to break free from the intimidating woman’s grasp but the woman merely raised a perfectly manicured brow in response and tugged on the chains wrapped around both Desmond and Veronica. They had collars clasped tightly around their necks and they choked as a result of the chains being pulled back.

When Veronica glanced back at Desdemona, the furious expression on her face softened when she noticed the bedraggled state her friend was in. Desmond noticed it too and it only served to fuel his anger. “What the fuck did they do to you? I’ll kill them, I’ll slit their fucking throats and make them pay if they so much as tried to ra-,” Veronica began but was immediately cut off with a harsh slap to the face. “Goddamn, bitch!” “Silence, vermin! Speak when you’re spoken to or you’ll learn your place soon enough should you continue to use foul language in my house. Now, pray tell my daughters, what is it that has you all so eager about entertaining this particular foreigner?” The elegant woman asks as she gives Desdemona a once over. The manner in how she reacts to inhaling Desdemona’s scent alarms the younger Hawthorne sibling. She decides to inspect her more closel with flared nostrils and enlarged pupils. She seemed…pleased, for whatever reason. ‘Do they plan on sacrificing you to appease whatever wicked deity they believe in?’ Desdemona nervously asked herself.

One of the daughters, the one known as Bela and the one with the red pendant, spoke first. “We were out on the hunt in the village when I suddenly picked up on her delicious scent, mother. She’s a carrier of our favorite blood type. We haven’t had anyone like her in so long, we were hoping we could make a feast of her with your permission.”

Desdemona tensed up at the suggestion and vigorously shook her head. “M-may I ask what w-we did to offend you and your daughters? I apologize for any wrongdoing, ma’am but we’re just Americans on vacation and we ran out of gas on the way to Bran! We weren’t expecting to get lost but please let us go, we didn’t come out here to hurt anyone!” She pleaded with tears streaming down her cheeks, her eyes flicking from Daniela to Cassandra and finally, the incredibly powerful woman standing before.

“Des, don’t go begging them. They’re not going to listen to reason, believe me; we tried!” Desmond warned.

The quiet dark-haired woman, Cassandra, sneered at Desdemona’s twin and slashed at his face with her sickle in hand. Desmond cries out and attempts to cover his face with his cuffed hands only to have them ripped away. She kicks his chest and flattens him on the ground. Cassandra smiles wickedly as she brings her heel to the open cut and presses hard against his face for a moment, stomping on him a few times for good measure. Both Veronica and Desdemona scream, begging the sadistic sister to stop tormenting him but their pleas fell on deaf ears.

“Good, girl, Cassandra. The hideous man-thing won’t shut his hole. I’m this close to gutting him on my newly polished floor and letting you girls get your fill for the evening. Ugh!” The woman in charge said before looking over to you once again. “It seems your exotic little treat has good manners considering what she is, however, and wishes to bargain with us. I can be a most gracious host and I’m all ears but I have two conditions if you wish to prolong your life, little one. Allow me to introduce myself first. I am Countess Alcina Dimitrescu and these beautiful girls of mine are my daughters Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela.”

Veronica scoffed and spat at the floor, earning a glare from the titan of a woman who was apparently on the edge of snapping. Desdemona was ready to leave in one piece so of course she stepped in and spoke on behalf of her brother and her furious friend. “P-pleasure to meet you all, I’m Desdemona Hawthorne and that’s my twin brother, Desmond and my childhood friend Veronica. Ma’am, or My Lady, this all has to be a colossal misunderstanding and we are willing to pay any price if you allow us to leave and return home.”

The trembling girl gasped the moment she felt a pair of cold hands wrap themselves around her breasts from behind. Another set of hands reached for her belt buckle and began undoing her jeans rather enthusiastically. The next thing she knew, her v-neck shirt had been torn in half and her pants torn and ripped off her body.

“Desdemona, such a lovely name and what a lovely body. Mother, please let me keep her? I promise I won’t break her.” Daniela whined as she rubbed her hands up and down the length of her victim’s bare torso. It didn’t help the situation at hand when Daniela’s touch left Desdemona arching back into her, which must have sent the wrong signal because the delusional woman squealed with delight.

“If you or Cassandra had it your way, you’d bleed her dry on the first night and waste her blood when I would savor every inch of her until her very last moment!” Bela complained, her fingers inching dreadfully closer to the band of her undergarments.

“Get your filthy fucking hands off my sister, you twisted bitches. Stop fucking touching her! I’ll kill you, I swear it!” Desmond bellowed, managing to pull away from Lady Dimitrescu’s clutches and lunged at the women that were touching his twin inappropriately. He swung his arms at Daniela and used the length of the chain to whip against the side of her body. Daniela, caught off guard by his sudden attack, screeched in surprise and this immediately angered Alcina.

“ENOUGH!” Lady Dimitrescu signaled for her daughters to apprehend Desmond and the girls obliged, their concern for Daniela overwhelming even to them. Bela and Cassandra ambushed him on either side and using their transformative powers, they pulled him away from their youngest sibling and slammed his body against the nearest wall. Cassandra pinned his shackled hands above his head while Bela held onto his thrashing legs tightly.

Veronica was breathing heavily but made no move to run to him, not while Alcina held her leash tightly. Her brows were furrowed, teeth gnawing at her bottom lip as she tried to refrain from saying anything that would cause them to harm Desmond.

Desdemona could only cry out for mercy as it physically pained her to watch her own twin suffer at the hands of these monsters.

Meanwhile, Alcina had been hunched over Daniela and whispered disturbingly soothing things into her daughter’s ears, words expressed by a loving mother to her daughter, and it looked almost normal. When Alcina stepped away from Daniela, she composed herself after displaying what she deemed a moment of vulnerability and shot Desmond a withering glare. “How dare you touch my daughter with your filthy man-hands, you wretched creature. I can see there is no taming a wild animal like you and like all wild animals, they must be put down! I was ready to lay down my conditions if I were to let you leave alive but you really screwed yourself. Desdemona Hawthorne, seeing as you were polite and tried to communicate in a manner I found pleasing, you shall be gifted to my daughters as their personal form of entertainment. You will be their plaything, and your trashy friend, Veronica, who is now under my employ as a house maiden, will be forced to clean you up after every time they choose to play with you. She will be beaten and broken until she learns what it is to be obedient.” Alcina growls out menacingly, enjoying the way Veronica begins to hyperventilate at the terrifying concept of being broken in by someone like Lady Dimitrescu. Alcina drags Veronica across the room as she approaches Desmond and Veronica is now desperately trying to claw her away from the elegant countess. Raising her free hand in the air, sharp elongated claws form almost immediately at the tips of her fingers. It was in this moment that panic begins to set within Desdemona as she realizes what she’s about to do and so she attempts to rush Lady Dimitrescu. Daniela is quick to catch her prey and uses force to subdue Desdemona. She slams her knee against Desdemona’s back and brings her down to her knees, hooking both of her arms from around and underneath the smaller girl and forcefully raises her arms up. “Let this be a hard lesson, my darling. Don’t you ever disrespect my mother in her own home or disobey her when she gives you an order. There are worst things than death, love, and they wander the mansion unsupervised at night.” Daniela whispers into Desdemona’s ears before bringing her attention back to her mother. Heart hammering against her chest, Desdemona’s blood runs cold when she sees Desmond shed a tear at the realization that he was going to pay the ultimate price. In a quivering voice, Desmond beckons his sister to look at him one final time.

‘Oh no, no no no. They can’t do this, they won’t do this! I have to help him. I’m not sure I can live without my other half, it would be too cruel for me to go on without him!’ Desdemona thinks, weeping at the sight of her twin brother sacrificing his own life for hers. “P-please, my l-lady, let him go I beg you! Don’t hurt him please, I’ll do anything if you let him go. Don’t take him away from me, please.” Desdemona begs. Steely gray eyes meet hers and she recognizes that he is resigned to his fate. She sucks in a deep breath, unwilling to break eye contact as he says his final goodbye. “See you on the other side, Dezzy. Promise me you’ll make it out of here. Mom deserves to know. I love you and V…so very much.” He tells her with a wavering voice. In the background, Veronica is verbalizing her objections and pleads for Desmond’s freedom but in the end, it was all for naught.

With an evil smirk and a deep chuckle, Alcina brings down her claw at Desmond’s abdomen, slashing him so deeply that his innards begin to seep out of him.

Desdemona feels like she’s suffocating, her lungs unable to function as she struggles to make a sound no matter how much she wants to cry out her brother’s name one more time. She throws her head back and opens her mouth to wail but nothing comes out but a few choked coughs. The surviving twin couldn’t explain it but it felt like Alcina personally reached into her chest and destroyed the most important part of her being. Desmond was her other half and upon death, a most profound connection between siblings is severed and there lies nothing left but an echo of what was once there. Desdemona felt…empty, as if she would never be whole again now that her brother was gone.

She shuts her eyes and the horrifying image of Desmond’s intestines piling up on the floor and blood sloshing everywhere replays again in her mind. The hurt is renewed and this time, she summons every ounce of emotion she could as she screams out his name, Veronica’s loud, panicked screaming fueling her grief.

“DESMOND!”

She screams it over and over again until her body slumps in Daniela’s arms. She’s too weak to do anything else. She can hear voices and the sound of heels clicking but she can’t hear what is being said. Desdemona tries her very best to drown out the background noise as her sorrow was too great but Cassandra’s voice breaks her out of her reverie and it is what she murmurs in Desdemona’s ears as she passes by that makes her whimper for an entirely different reason.

“Just you wait until I make you say my name like a prayer, love. This is only the beginning.”

#horror story #resident evil village #re8 #RE8 Village #lady dimitrescu daughters x ofc #lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #dimitrescu daughters #bruh i swear this is going in a romantic direction but holy shit this got dark fast #original female character will go to great lengths to survive but she ends up falling for all three of them #she's gonna lose her mind eventually #only monsters come out at night #mine #bela dimitrescu x ofc #cassandra dimitrescu x ofc #daniela x ofc

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jawritter · 4 years

Text

My Best Friend..

Request: hi I have dean x reader request! the reader and dean are friends with benefits but recently she’s just been down in the dumps and just wants some platonic affection and not sex. as the writer you can do what u want but could you add Dean playing with the reader's hair? I have a weakness for it lol thanks!

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, unrequited/requited feelings, Language, angst, fluff, that’s about it.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2401

A/N: As always all mistakes are mine! Please don’t copy my work! Feedback is golden! Hope you enjoy this one!

Want more? Check out my Masterlist!

**MASTERLIST**

Dean's lips crashed into yours as soon as you crossed the threshold of your room back in the bunker. Hands roaming your body as he backs you to your bed. His lips left little marks along the way as he trailed his way down your collar bone, grinding his impressive erections against your core as he presses his body to yours, holding you to the mattress that he'd just laid you down on.

Little moans and soft breaths filling the room as he rips your underwear to the side, to be wired up and full of adrenaline to even properly remove your clothing. He'd gotten your pants off, but lost patients after that.

One hand leaves your body as he roughly rips his belt open and shoves his pants and boxers down to his knees.

"Fuck Y/N. need you," he grunted against your neck as he rutted his already leaking tip against your waiting core.

Your body accepts him like he belonged there, just like it had done so many times before. Dean didn't give you much time before he sat his brutal pace, driving you both very quickly toward the edge. The sounds of moans and his name fill the room as he pounds himself into you over and over again until his pace starts to falter.

"Fuck Y/N, cum with me, baby girl," he gritted out as he snaked his hand between your bodies, finding your swollen bundle of nerves with ease, and rubbing harsh circles as he continued to pound into you at a matching pace; winding the coil tighter and tighter in your belly, as he brought you up higher and higher with him.

With one more thrust of his hips, you were both tumbling over the edge together. Your hands flew to his shoulders as you try and ground yourself, your orgasm is so strong that you saw stars. Dean slowly pumped himself in you, working you both through it until you both had regained control of your bodies, leaving you both a panting, sweating mess, and a pile of human limbs on top of the bed.

Just like he always does after a hunt, Dean gets up slowly after pulling out of you, fixing his clothes, and buckling his belt. He turned and looks at you before he walked out of the door, giving you a tight-lipped smile as he made his way to the kitchen to find whatever he would be drinking tonight. You had returned his smile, hiding the fact that inside your heart was breaking.

Dean and yourself had been, "friends with benefits,'' so to speak ever since you moved into the bunker. You'd known the Winchesters for years before ever moving into the bunker, having grown up in the life. You remember them even when you were all just teenagers. When your father died last year Dean had offered to come live and hunt with them, safety in numbers, and you accepted because you were lost. You had nowhere else to go. It was the logical thing to do.

It wasn't so bad at first. When either of you needed a stress release, or just needed to scratch that itch, as they say, you turned to each other. You trusted each other. It worked out just fine when it all started. Dean needed to blow off some steam, and you needed Dean.

As time when on, and no matter how hard you tried to stop it, or deny it, or even fight it, you had developed feelings for the tall hunter. Now it was too late. He had your heart whether he knew it or not. The problem was, this was all you ever got from Dean. He wasn't a very affectionate sort of person. He did what he came to do, then left, that was just his way. Sometimes you felt like to him you were no more than an easy lay, and that's why he kept you around.

Let's be honest.

You'd never be able to keep up with the boys as far as strength and ability when it came to hunting. They were Winchesters. They were the best. All you seemed to be good for is a traveling fuck buddy for Dean. At least that's what it felt like to you anyway.

Getting up you made your way to the shower, wiping at your face harshly. Dean would never feel the same way you felt about him. Still, that didn't stop the want, or the need to be close to him in more ways than just sex. Intimacy wasn't always about sex, and you craved more of him.

You don't know exactly when this depressed and down feeling started, but God you wished it would go away.

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

Two weeks went by as they usually do, and you still weren't able to shake that feeling. That hole in your chest, that loneliness. Dean hadn't tried to come into you again. Tonight though you knew he would because you were currently sitting in the back of the impala, having left the last hunt you just finished with the boys and headed back to Lebanon. Dean was all knotted up, you could see it in the way he held his broad shoulders as he drove. His eyes would shift back and forth from the rearview mirror to stare at you to the road. He didn't have to even say anything, you knew what he wanted, you just didn't know if this time you could do that for him.

You had felt so low, that you knew if you let yourself go there again, you'd never pick yourself up off the floor. The problem was you just didn't know how to tell him. Dean was your best friend, you didn't want to lose that at all. Even if you'd never be more than friends you needed him, just like he needed you. He was your crutch, and you were his. There was no way around it.

When the impala finally pulled into the bunker, and you all got out and threw your duffle bags over your shoulders. You made your way straight for your room, locking the door behind you, changing into one of Dean's oversized shirts that fit you more like a dress than a shirt, you crawled into your bed and covered yourself up.

You knew that Dean would just pick the lock. There were really no points in locks on doors when it came to living with hunters, it was just pointless. Still, it would slow him down, and hopefully deter him, maybe he'd think you were just asleep.

You lay there for no more than 30 minutes before you heard him try to open the door. When he saw it was locked he didn't even bother to knock. You could hear the distinct sounds of the lock being picked and the door swinging open. You laid there as still as possible as you felt the bed dip, and the covers pull back, letting you know Dean was sliding himself in behind you. He immediately starts to run his fingers up your thigh, burying his face in your neck as he kissed and nipped at the flesh there, not being at all shy about his intentions with the erection that was currently pressing against your ass.

"Y/N, Baby, I know you're not asleep," he whispers against the shell of your ear.

You didn't say anything. just rolled tighter into the covers and pressed him away with your hand. Dean sat there stiff as aboard, confused by your rejection. You had never once told him no before.

Reaching over Dean turns on the bedside lamp so that he could see you, checking to make sure you're not injured, and he didn't know about it. That was the only reason he could formulate at that moment that said you wouldn't want to be with him. He was more than a little hurt and looking for some sort of justification for your rejections.

Finally letting out a deep sigh you roll over and are met with a pair of very hurt looking green eyes staring back at you.

"Did I do something I don't know about?" Dean asked you, his voice tense, stress set deep in his shoulders.

The man thrived off of blaming himself for everything and you knew that. So you knew that you were going to have to talk this out with him, as much as you'd rather not.

"No Dean, you didn't do anything wrong, it's me. I'm just not in a good headspace right now," you tell him, rolling back over to face the wall.

Dean didn't leave like you were hoping that he would. Instead, he pulled himself closer to you in almost a spooning position, something he'd never done before.

"We all get down like that sometimes Y/N, this life is hard, but you don't need to push the people that care about you away, let me help you. Tell me what to do and I'll do it, but don't reject me and shut me out," Dean said, waiting for you to say something.

He didn't want to overstep his bounds, and he was still feeling the sting of being told no, so you knew he wasn't going to let this go easy.

You both just sat there in silence for a moment, neither of you saying anything. Dean was giving you some time to put your thoughts together. He could almost see the wheels turning in your head.

"Dean, I want you to answer me honestly about something. No matter how bad you think it might hurt my feelings or whatever," you said, turning to find him staring at you, concern etched deep in his features.

"Okay."

"Am I more to you than just an easy lay?"

The question seemed to throw him for a moment. All the things that he was expecting to come out of your mouth, that definitely wasn't one of them. He blinked at you a few seconds before realization sat in, and his features softened.

"Is that what you think? Y/N no, I don't see you that way at all. You're my best friend, you're the one that I share everything with. I have feelings for you that go deeper than that even. You know I'm not good with words, and I'm not really good at showing things, I never meant to make you feel like that. I've opened myself up to you more than I think I ever have with anyone. I need you baby, your not just an easy lay,"

Dean reached over and grabbed your hand in his, making little circles with his thumb, it was a small gesture, but even then it made your heart swell.

This is what you needed from him, closeness, intimacy. Not just sex.

"Every time you come in here and we have sex you just leave like I'm nothing. When we're not having sex you act like I'm a piece of furniture. You barely even acknowledge me. Dean If all this is ever going to be between us is an easy lay when you need to blow off some steam I don't know if we can keep doing this."

What you said seemed to have hit Dean hard, but so did the realization of what he'd been doing to you. Dean never was one for words, he never got it right, he always screwed it up getting it out. So he did the only thing he knew to do in that moment to keep you, because losing you was more than he could even fathom. He loved you and losing you would tear him apart.

Reaching over Dean grabbed your face and crashed his lips into yours. Kissing you slowly, tenderly, his tongue exploring your mouth in a way he never had, more care and love was placed in that one kiss than any you'd ever had in your life. By the time he released your face your world was a little fuzzy.

"Y/N, I love you, you are everything to me, I kept my distance because I don't want to freak you out, and make you run away from me. I thought all you wanted was a friend with benefits thing, but if you want more I'm all in for that too."

Laying down on his back Dean pulled your down with him. You slipped your head into the junction of his shoulder and neck, nuzzling down to fit your bodies perfectly together. like you were made for each other. Dean wrapped his arms tightly around you, half rolling onto his side caging you against him.

His body was warm against yours, you felt more safe and secure than you ever had in your life. This is it, this is what you were missing. Dean started to card his fingers through your hair, placing little kisses at random to your lips. Nothing was expected. Nothing was being pushed. He wasn't in a hurry. In fact it didn't look like he was going anywhere. He seemed perfectly content just to be, and that meant more to you than anything you had ever had in your life.

“I love you too, Dean, I always have,” you told him, your eyes are getting heavy. Exhaustion of all the emotions hit you all at once.

“I know Sweetheart, sleep, I’m not going anywhere,” he said, placing a soft kiss to your lips before settling back into his spot, playing with your hair, letting you nuzzle your face into him. You breathe in his scent deeply, letting it envelop you, and wash away all that hurt that you felt, leaving just him, your best friend, your rock, your comfort.

After about an hour while you were dozing asleep tangled up in his arms Dean was still playing with your hair, even though you had fallen into an easy sleep long ago. Dean laid there with his mind on things a hunter really shouldn't be thinking about. A home, a family, an apple pie life.

He wasn't dumb enough to ever dream that it would actually happen that way, but what you didn't know was that if he ever did get out of this life or he died in it, he wanted to do it right here, with his best friend. If he never got to do all those things normal people got to do, that was fine, he'd expected that a long time ago; but whatever he did get to do, as long as it was with you... Well... That was more than enough...

Tag List:

@deanwanddamons @imabitch4jensen @rvgrsbrns @bi-danvers0 @onethirstyunicorn @i-love-superhero @akshi8278 @alanegaming @magssteenkamp

#dean winchester #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x you #spn #spn smut #spn fanfiction #spn fic #spn one shot #jensen ackles #jawritter

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wwwafflewrites · 4 years

Text

Never Fear (The Winchesters Are Here)

Catch You Later

You wanted to scream in frustration.

You and Sam had been wrapping up a wendigo case. The wendigos had been twins, so you had split off. You and Sam taking on the first one, and Dean on the other side of the park taking the second.

Shortly after ganking the first wendigo twin, Dean called Sam for backup… which apparently didn't include you, because Sam hadn’t even blinked when he abandoned you with the Impala.

It was ten miles up this stretch of road. Course, it wouldn’t take Sam very long. But you? That was at least a two-hour walk, if not three. Running would be faster, but you were wiped after being out in the blistering sun all day.

The sky was dimming, too. Even if you had ganked the wendigo, walking alone in the woods at dark was a big hunter no-no. Your pistol was useless against a wendigo, and Sam had taken the flare gun.

You could take a shortcut through the woods to get to the campground. Less than a half a mile in, and you'd be right next to tents and RV’s. Surely you could hitch a ride from that point, if not, hot-wire a car.

With that, you veered off the trail. The terrain was muddy and covered with old, dead leaves. "Stupid Winchesters," you said, kicking at the tall grass and brooding. It was like you were a freaking balloon. Appealing, but easily forgotten. Replaceable. Dispensable.

You kicked again at a tree and a rock. And when that wasn't satisfying, you kicked a patch of grass.

Excruciating. Pain.

Your vision whited out, momentarily going numb, then refocusing entirely on your leg. Your scream echoed back into your ears.

You had fallen. You wheezed, trying and failing to collect yourself before finally sitting up. Carefully, you moved your leg in front of you to look at the injury. Your teeth tore at your lip to hold back a scream when the movement jolted your leg.

It was a bear trap. The muscle and fat had cushioned most of the blow, but it had cut deep enough to let blood seep into your jeans.

You could still wiggle your toes, which was a good sign. It wasn’t like the movies; they designed bear traps to catch the leg of a bear, not cut it off. But holy hell if it didn’t feel like it had.

You need to push down on the springs. Dean's voice bounced around in your head.

"Springs…" you muttered. "Okay, okay, springs." You pressed down on each of the springs with all your might and the trap pried open. You pulled your leg out, releasing the trap altogether and letting it snap onto itself.

With your leg free, you rolled your jeans up so you could assess the damage. You had multiple stabs from where the spikes drove into your skin, and each spike had made about a centimeter long incision into your calf. You had dry blood caked along your leg, so it was hard to see how bad it really was.

Wearing layers as a hunter always came in handy. You ripped a large strip of fabric from your shirt, wrapping it around your leg wound; zipped your jacket closed; and pulled your jeans down over the wound, thankful that they were dark enough to hide the blood stain.

Now, to get help. Sam took the flares, so you pulled out your phone. You could probably call emergency numbers. Except… the Winchesters didn’t need ambulances, cops, or authorities snooping around until this Wendigo thing blew over. You would just be putting more people in danger.

You scrolled through your contacts, muscle memory bringing you to Dean's number first, since it was alphabetical.

It rang for two beats before something clicked.

"Hey, what's up?"

You fell back with relief. "Dean, hey, could you pick me up? Your stupid brother left me stranded out here."

You could almost feel the glare Dean was giving his brother in his voice. "Course, where are you?"

It would probably be smarter if you had him pick you up on the trail, rather than search for you. "Sammy knows where it is. Same stretch of road."

You could walk back. It wasn’t too far.

"Alright. Be there in a few." And then he hung up.

You wiped the stray tears from your eyes and prepared yourself. You stood with the help of a tree, teetering. Your leg was painfully tender, and your knees rocked under your weight.

It was possible to walk, sure, and it wasn't far on two good legs, but you had largely underestimated the effort you were going to need to get there.

You were going to take a helluva long nap when this was all over.

///

When you made it to the road, you took it upon yourself to sit down at a large stump. The day had faded into night, and you could hear the raccoons shrieking.

Finally, the low rumble of the Impala could be heard over the cicadas. You stood, albeit a little wobbly, and somehow walked closer to the road without limping.

Headlights washed over the ground and made long shadows. Dean's window was rolled down, and his eyes drank you in. Satisfied that you didn't look too roughed up, he motioned to the back door.

Sam had a tight smile. "Hey, I'm sorry about—"

"It's cool," you said. "Seriously. No harm done, I just wanna get back to the motel and shower." Well, yes harm done, but the shower is the escape. I just need to escape for a little while. The last thing you wanted was the Winchesters getting all freaked.

Dean looked at you a little skeptical. "Forgiven that easy? Dude, if he had done that to me I'd've punched him."

Sam scowled at his brother.

You laughed. "Yeah, well, I'm not one for grudges. I know he didn’t mean it." Or did he? Then, you went quiet.

Dean was giving you ‘the look’ in the rearview mirror, and you tried not to acknowledge it, but you could tell that he knew something was off. Did you leave blood somewhere?

"You sure you're okay? You're kinda pale," he questioned.

You wanted to retaliate, to shout, Dean, shut up, I'm literally fine. But then he would know. So you shrugged instead. "I'm cool." You stretched, careful to set your leg somewhere comfortable before resting your head on the window.

The peace didn't last long. The Impala went over a pothole, jostling your leg and you cursed out loud before you could bite your tongue.

"What is it?" Dean asked.

"I'm trying to nap back here," you snapped. "You’re shakin' the whole car."

"My bad."

You rolled your eyes.

The rest of the ride went fine. Until you had to get out of the car. You swung your leg around, but when you put pressure on it, you nearly fell on your face. Fortunately, you caught yourself, gingerly shifting your weight onto your other leg.

"I knew it. I knew you were hurt," Dean growled, coming over to haul you up by the shoulder. "Why do you insist on hiding this stuff from us?"

You let him shoulder most of your weight, leaning on him. "Because you baby me!"

"We don't baby you, we make sure you're freaking okay, so we don't screw your injuries up even more. And you're not really the reliable type," Dean said, scowling.

He pulled you into the motel a little roughly. He was irate—the upturn of his lips were not a smile, rather, a sneer. Yeah, he was sick of your crap. You didn’t blame him.

He sat himself on the bed across from you, clapping his hands together. "Let’s see it."

You didn’t move. You needed to explain first. "Dean, before you—"

"No. I don’t want to hear it."

"I was—"

He said you name in a low, warning tone.

Welp. You let your shoulders drop, sulking. "You’re not gonna like it."

"I figured, when you decided not to tell me about it. Show me the damn wound, or so help me—"

"Promise you won’t yell."

"I’m not making promises I can’t keep."

That shut you up. You reached down reluctantly. Rolling up your jeans, you brought your eyes to the wall. You didn’t want to see his face. When he was silent for longer than you were comfortable with, you mumbled, "It was a bear trap."

"Yeah, I’m seeing that," he snapped.

That's when Sam walked in with the bags. His expression crumpled. He murmured your name in alarm, tossing the bags on the adjacent desk. He looked so disappointed in you. "What the hell? You said you were—"

"I was fine. Cool. Yeah, I know. I lied, okay?" you admitted uncomfortably. "You two are just a bit overwhelming sometimes. I was going to tell you—"

"When? When were you going to tell us?" Dean barked.

You knew Dean loved you and was protective, but sometimes he was so pushy. "I don’t—I was handling it, okay?"

Sam’s expressions shifted into realization. "Hold up, did you walk back to the road?"

Dean analyzed you, and did not like his findings. "She did," he announced. "She freaking—" he stood up and disappeared into the bathroom.

You sighed, pulling your head into your hands.

Sam shook his head. "The bear trap would have been in the woods, and we picked you up at the road."

"I took a brief detour, which never would have happened if you hadn’t ditched me!"

Sam snapped his mouth shut.

Dean came out of the bathroom with a med kit. "Lets see how bad this thing is." You stuck your leg out on display, wincing as you placed it on the bed.

Dean dug out the alcohol and cotton balls. Right. He had to sterilize the wound.

Not much missed Dean Winchester. He could read your body language pretty dang well. He watched as you stiffened, and his expression softened. He nodded to Sam, who moved to sit beside you on the bed.

You breathed deep, a slow panic setting in, and it hitched as Sam’s hands fell onto your shoulders. "Relax your shoulders", he said. "It’s going to sting a little, but it's nothing you can’t handle."

Winchesters. In all irony, as much as they left you in the worst freaking moments, they were also there when you needed them afterward.

Or maybe that was just you getting sentimental before Dean agitated a painful wound of yours.

You hissed as he first dabbed the cotton ball onto the lacerations. He wasn’t harsh with it, but he wasn’t gentle, either. His movements had a clinical urgency to them— quick and fluid.

You leaned into Sam’s loose embrace, which tightened a little as you settled yourself.

Dean hummed at his work. "You’re lucky. It worked deep, but it’s nothing that some stitches can’t fix. You’ll have some ugly bruising tomorrow, though."

That was some good news. You sent them a soft smile. "Thanks, guys. Really. I know I can be a bit… secretive. Sorry for that."

"We just want you to open up a little more. That’s all we’re asking."

You huffed a little laugh, then squirmed as Dean drove the needle in for the first stitch. "I wonder who I learned it from."

Dean drove in the next stitch a little harder.

"Hey! Ow! Okay, okay. I'll… open up."

"Good."

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everythingloveandanimated · 3 years

Text

Tangled Season 3 Rewrite: Varian/Quirin

Like a lot of fans of Tangled the Series/ Rapunzel’s Tangled Adventure, I found myself unsatisfied with the relationship building in Season 3, mostly with dropping and under development of Varian’s relationships and redemption. I’ll be posting a series of ideas on how I would rewrite Season 3 to make it more satisfying. This list will cover Varian and Quirin’s relationship.

The Note: Instead of saying “All it said was ‘I’m so proud of you Varian, I always have been.’” Quirin says “Too many things to get into right now, but the most important thing I wanted you to know was that I’m so proud of you Varian. I always have been.”

Inspired by a scene Crystal-Moon-101’s fanfic “Stars in My Eyes”, Quirin rewrites the note and leaves on Varian’s bed, or he just presents it to Varian during the day.

Quirin’s past: Quirin opens up about his past, the Moonstone, the Dark Kingdom, his time in the Brotherhood, why he had to leave and why he settled down in Corona. When asked why he didn’t tell any of this to Varian he admits that he was scared of what Varian would do with the information. He was afraid that Varian would do something well-intentioned, but rash, that would land him in trouble with the King. He was afraid that Varian would try to bring Rapunzel into this and mislead her or cause her to clash with the King (he wouldn’t know unless told that Rapunzel was at odds with her dad after “The Quest for Varian”), suggest they go to the Dark Kingdom, start arranging the journey himself or tell all of Corona why the black rocks were here. He was afraid of what the King would do to his son if he started disturbing the delicate game/balance the King had made of the situation. He tells Varian a trait of his is when he sets his mind to do something he gets tunnel vision. He doesn’t think about how far reaching the effects of his actions can be. Varian admits all of what his father said is true, and that his father knows him better than he thought he did. Quirin can tell by Varian’s face, tone, and posture that one or a few of the things he feared and tried to prevent may have happened anyway.

Varian’s confession: This next scene played three ways in my head. One with just Rapunzel present, one with Rapunzel and Eugene present, the other without either them present, it’s just Varian and Quirin. It takes place immediately after Quirin shares his past.

With tears and a shaky voice, Varian admits what he’s done over the past year. Quirin has to walk out of the room to process what Varian has done, leaving Varian brokenhearted and sobbing.

With just Rapunzel, she takes Varian into her arms and holds him while he cries. She tells him to give his father a few minutes to process things. She says that even if Quirin is ashamed of what his son did, he should be proud that Varian told him the truth even though it was hard for Varian to say. After a few minutes, Rapunzel gets up to talk to Quirin to bring him back into the room to comfort Varian. She gives him a moment to speak his mind. He’s distressed at the mess Varian has landed himself in. He feels like he’s failed him as a father. He knows he can’t protect his son now. Varian has to fight this on his own. He has to watch his son struggle through even more distrust, more sneers, more leery looks, even some ridicule, name calling and harsh words, possibly threats and acts of violence. Things he has tried to shield Varian from or soften the blows of. Rapunzel tells him that he can make up for that by being there for Varian now. Being his support, reminding him that at the end of the day, there’s someone he can always come home to that loves him dearly.

With Eugene present, Eugene too has to step back a bit to process Varian’s side of the story. When he has done this, he places a comforting hand on Varian’s shoulder before he checks on Quirin seeing that Rapunzel has Varian in her arms. Here, Quirin admits that he wants to protect his son but now he feels that he really can’t. Eugene tells him that yes, Quirin’s ability to protect Varian from the people is relatively low right now. Varian screwed up and has climb out of this hole on his own and make amends himself. He also agrees that Quirin has been a bit a of distant father, even throws in a joking reference to the amber which earns a bit of a glare. Eugene recomposes himself and says Quirin can make that up to Varian standing by his side and support him. “You left him out there” (pointing back to dining room) “thinking that you’re ashamed of him, and that he’s lost any hope for a relationship he can have with you. Go back in there/Go to your son, and let him know that you’re here for him.”

When it’s just the two of them they are in the dining room or in Quirin’s room looking at his chest he brought from the Dark Kingdom. After Varian admits what he’s done Quirin leaves to process and compose himself. Varian, heartbroken, tears streaming down his face pleads in a desperate broken voice for his father to not leave him. His voice gets smaller as his father walks away. Quirin comes back after calming down. He holds his son as he cries into his shirt, apologizing over and over. It’s a rough conversation with Varian being vulnerable in his shame and Quirin venting some frustration but trying to hold it back for his son’s sake. At the end, Quirin says he’s proud of his son for telling him the truth.

Scene- Quirin comes in seeing his child hunched over, hugging himself as he sobs. He walks over to him, gently puts his hands over his son’s. Varian either jolts at the contact, or he takes a second before he looks up at his father. They hold each other’s gaze, reading the emotions the the others’ eyes before they shift their positions. Varian is practically on his father’s lap. Quirin brings Varian’s head to his chest, one hand on his head the other wrapping around his son’s small body. He really is a child dwarfed by his father, wrapped in the cocoon of his father’s arms.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I-I’m… I’m so sorry, Dad.”

“What are you sorry for?” Quirin asks. There’s a slight roughness in his voice mixed with other emotions. He’s sad, heartbroken, scared for his boy but decides to be strong for him. He’s trying to be gentle to coax words out of his son.

“Everything! For disappointing you, for what I did to the King and Queen, to Corona, (his voice speeds up before dissolving into sobs) to Rapunzel, the Saporians, the amber, all of it!”

He collapses into sobs that shake his whole body. Quirin shifts his arms to make sure he has room to breathe. Varian buries his face in his father’s shirt.

“I wish you would think about these things before you do them. Think about the consequences of your actions and how far they can reach.”

…

“I hoped that it wouldn’t require a death to make you stop and examine your actions,” Quirin said.

“But it did.” Varian said a few tears coming down his face. “Y-your d-death, and almost a (sniffle) year in prison.”

Clearing the Air, Making Amends- Topics that the two will talk about and how they promise to change or do things differently moving forward.

Moonstone Headcanon: Quirin has PTSD from his time in the Dark Kingdom. The helplessness he felt with the Moonstone’s power, the failure he felt when they all had to leave, when he couldn’t protect his people, or his King.

Scene- After hearing accounts from Edmund and Adira on what the moonstone was like, volatile, unpredictable, destructive, Varian asks if his alchemy ever made his father feel like he was around a second moonstone. Quirin, not wanting to hurt his son doesn’t answer at first. Varian asks him to be honest with him. Quirin says “yes, some times were worse than others.” Varian is distressed that he caused his father so much pain and stress. He apologizes. Inside he wishes he had known about the Moonstone, maybe he would have toned down some of his experiments for his the sake of his father’s sanity.

Scene- After hearing a rough story about Quirin’s time in the Brotherhood, Varian hugs his father to comfort him. He can tell his father has a lot of heart wounds from the experience. He walks in front of his father who is sitting down, presses his father’s head to his front, holds it there with one hand, then drapes the other hand around his shoulders. “Thank you, Son,” Quirin says with a sigh and returns the hug. “You’re welcome. I’m really proud of you, Dad.” Quirin leans into his son. “Thank you.”

Scene- Quirin gets nightmares about the moonstone. Sometimes Varian’s alchemy gets mixed in there. Sometimes Varian dies, sometimes he’s mixing and pouring not even aware to the destruction he causes. Sometimes He and the moonstone merge into an entity. Destructive, but trying to have restraint.

Alchemy: Show or confirm how Quirin’s experience with the Moonstone has affected his view of Varian’s alchemy. If it’s volatile or unpredictable, don’t mess with it! He doesn’t understand alchemy, or how all the reactions come about. Varian says that he can always ask and he’ll be happy to explain it to him. At a different time, Eugene point out that Varian gets excited every time he talks about alchemy. Quirin confirms this but admits that it’s like trying to understand a foreign language. Using a foreign language as an example, Eugene says that if you know some basic words and sentence structure, context and meaning can be easy to pick up. Even cutting through the jargon can be easier if you know the basics of the language. Quirin realizes has to swallow his pride and re-channel his feeling of feeling stupid so he can connect with his son. It’s pointed out that if Varian can slow down and give Quirin time to process what he’s saying or use everyday language or simple terms or even bottom line something then go into more detail, Quirin can follow along better.

Taking on big projects: Quirin says that he was afraid to encourage Varian because he didn’t want Varian to take that as permission to take on bigger projects. But that’s what happened anyway (i.e. hot water system). Varian admits that he thought that if he successfully did something amazing for his village his father would be proud of him, praise him, look at him with pride instead of disappointment. Quirin apologizes for this. He says that the disappointment came from stress from dealing with the fallouts from the explosions. Also it seemed like in the excitement of his projects Varian would not consider how far the damage could reach if something goes wrong. It seemed like he didn’t have a contingency plan or failsafes to avert disaster. He also worries that Varian will hurt himself or get killed from his work going awry. Varian promises tot tone down his alchemy. Keep thing simple, no new chemical compounds.

Quirin wants his son safe but he doesn’t know how to go about that.

They discuss how Quirin felt with Varian’s alchemy. How worried it made Quirin that Varian never fully grasped how dangerous his alchemy methods were to himself and those around him. How Quirin was reaching the decision to let life teach his son the consequences of his actions. He just hoped that it wouldn’t require a death for Varian to step back and accept that what he was doing was overly risky. He knew a death could break his son causing him to breakdown in guilt and come out of it with a broken spirit.

He wants to protect his son from people. He’s been able to shield him from the brunt of their words, but now with Varian’s stint as a villain, he can’t protect him in that way anymore. It hurts and he feels like he has failed his son as a father. He later realizes that he can use his position as Village Leader to protect his son from threats and acts of physical harm, but that’s about all he can do for now.

Once Varian becomes more responsible with his alchemy and inventions Quirin starts being more vocal with his support of his son’s passion and works.

Explaining Alchemy- Varian explains that he felt alchemy was all he had since his mom is dead and he doesn’t have a good relationship with his father. Also asking him to give it up like some people wanted was like asking Monty not to make candy.

Varian shows his dad his notebooks, records, and chemical recipes. The notebooks are organized by year, records show the results of his mixtures and their reactions. He even has graphs and pictures in his records. Quirin turns to the explosives section. Tables for each explosive compound. Which mixtures cause explosions and how big those explosions are. Example “Flynnolium”, needs a reactant to explode and is very flammable. A table shows which equations cause big “BOOM”, and which produce flames but no explosion. The only constant on the page is “Flynnolium”.

Scene- “You take notes. Careful notes,” Quirin says flipping through one of his son’s notebooks.

“Kinda have to. I do, or rather did, a lot of mixing. It’s hard to remember every result of every combination I mixed.”

Quirin looks through one of the books. Tables that record chemical equations, how much of each chemical, and the result of the equation. There’s graphs of flame’s heights and sizes, rows of drawings of explosion radii. Multiple uses of DANGER! TOO MUCH! DON’T DO IT! AVOID FOR EVERYONE’S SAFETY!

“I had no idea.” Quirin says quietly, in awe and impressed by his son’s meticulous notes. He looks up at his son as he arranges things on a shelf. His eyes soft and proud, an equally soft smile on face.

“I wanted you to be proud of me” Varian explains that his bigger inventions were attempts to get his father to be proud of him. Varian realizes that he has to go into better detail of what that means. “I wanted to you to look at me with pride in your eyes, instead of disappointment. That’s what fueled me. I thought that if I could fix my mistake with the amber, we’d be good. I decided on my way to the castle that that day that I was going to be a different person. I wanted you to believe in me.”

It’s finally decided what both of them can do for each other. Varian promises no more mixing chemicals for awhile. He’s got a pretty good arsenal as it is. He promises to keep any new inventions small scale, calculate potential damage, and prepare for damage if something goes awry. Any big projects he’ll ask for help. (basically anything to help lower his dad’s stress levels). Quirin for his part promises to be more open with his son. Both in how much he loves him, and let Varian know when he sees something Varian can improve on. He agrees to ask about Varian’s alchemy projects more often. Varian promises to find a way to explain his projects in layman’s terms. In addition to this one of them buys Quirin a dictionary of alchemical terms to show he’s actively making an effort to get close to his son, to join him in his world.

Nightmares After being reunited, the two of them have frequent nightmares.

Ruddiger usually comforts Varian; sometimes his dad hears him and comes in to comfort him until he falls asleep.

If Quirin gets a bad nightmare regarding Varian dying, getting injured, or pleading with his father to save him and Quirin is unable to, he will go to Varian’s room and check on him. He’ll wake Varian up and try to calm him down if Varian is having a nightmare. He smiles if Varian is sleeping peacefully. He’ll stay and watch his precious son sleep.

Ruddiger will usually stay with Varian. However, there are times where he will hear Quirin come in while Varian is sleeping. If Ruddiger is awake enough, he’ll notice that Quirin has had a nightmare. If Varian is sleeping peacefully, Ruddiger will follow Quirin back to bed and lay near him. Quirin comes to appreciate this, he even tells Ruddiger one night that he’s grateful for his presence in their lives. Ruddiger gives a soft, happy chitter in response.

When both of Varian and Quirin have night terrors, Quirin goes to Varian’s room (he may or may not have heard Varian yell). They calm each other down, then embrace in a sweaty hug. A few times, after they’ve calmed down and they’re not ready to be alone, Quirin invites Varian into his room. They get into Quirin’s bed after switching the sweaty pillows. Once they’re tucked in, Quirin wraps his arms around his son. In this case Ruddiger climbs onto the bed and will do one of three things:

1) He’ll place himself next to Varian or he’ll find a divot on top of the blankets and nestle himself there. He makes sure he’s in arms reach of both the humans, or by their legs.

2) He’ll find a spot between the father and son and position himself there so Varian can wrap his arm around him. He pays attention to whether they need to have close contact. He won’t get in the way if they really need to be close.

3) If Quirin is on his back and Varian is resting his head on his father’s chest or shoulder, Ruddiger will sleep on Quirin tummy.

EXTRAS: Ideas that didn’t really fit in the categories above

The first night or three after Quirin’s release from the amber, father and son slept in each other’s arms, not wanting to be apart. Varian either had his hand or his head or both on his father’s heart to guarantee that his father was with him.

Quirin standing up for his son against jerks in Corona or against Nigel. Speaking against threats or when comments about his son get taken too far. Occasionally he will draw himself up to full height and berth to warn people not to touch his son.

Quirin gives Varian the money to buy the albemic he mentioned in “Day of the Animals”, and packed a couple ham sandwiches and apples for Varian’s lunch for the trip.

The Saporians break out again, target and capture Varian. Quirin fights Kai then Andrew, and knocks Clementine out while the handle of his sword before she can use the wand in a surprise attack. Varian’s jaw drops seeing his father’s control and power with his sword. When Varian is recovered and the Saporians thwarted, Andrew makes a final attack on Varian. It’s intercepted by Quirin who then grabs Andrew by the throat, lifts him and warns him to stay away from his son. While they are walking back home, Varian is marveling at his dad’s skill. Someone informs Varian that Quirin was holding back. If he wanted the Saporians dead, they would be dead. He says he didn’t kill for his son’s sake and for his own; Varian’s aversion to blood and not wanting to be the reason someone died, and Quirin has seen enough death from the Moonstone.

Scenes of Varian and Quirin fighting side by side in the final battle. (WHY DID WE NEVER GET THIS?!?!)

Both of them riding on Ruddiger, Quirin welding a sword, or hammer like I’ve seen in some fanart.

Quirin using Varian’s alchemy balls and the Project Obsidian bazooka to trap their enemies and protect his son when enemies get to close. Sometimes he throws the wrong alchemy balls to his mild frustration.

Varian using his alchemy to protect his father’s flank and blindspots. Throws a smoke bomb to hide his dad. Takes Quirin awhile to re-adjust before he lands a punch to an enemy. A bit later he warns Varian not to obstruct his view while fighting. It makes him an open target.

Battle banter and encouragement! WE GOT SO ROBBED!!

Hope you guys enjoyed my ideas and scenes. I will be posting more so stay tuned! Have blessed day and Advent (if you celebrate that).

#tangled rewrite #tts season 3 #tangled season 3 #rapunzel's tangled adventure season 3 #varian #quirin #ruddiger #family fluff #family angst #fluff and angst

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lailannajacobs · 4 years

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Heart to a Gunfight - Chapter Five

Pairing: Bucky x fem!reader

Summary: You didn’t want to help Bucky Barnes make it through the party by pretending to be his fake girlfriend, after all, you had just met him. You also didn’t plan on the charade lasting as long as it did.

Warnings: Fluff!

Word Count: 2k

A/N: Hope you guys enjoy this chapter! Sorry if some of the sentences feel a little awkward, I don’t know what was up this week! Let me know what you think! <3

Heart to a Gunfight | Five

“So (y/n), or wait, do you prefer Speedy?” Kira asked through a faked, innocent smile.

You were about halfway through your plate and had been far more content when the conversation hadn’t been directed at you or Bucky. Eating in peace and listening to Peggy and Steve talk nonsense was far more how you had envisioned spending your night. Dealing with Kira was not.

“(y/n),” You answered dryly, not bothering to play nice.

Bucky stole a chip from your plate, “I’m the only one who gets to call her that.”

“I’m still not sure why though,” You shook your head at him, glaring a little, before turning your attention back to Kira, “I just can’t seem to get him to stop.”

“That’s because you love me,” Bucky draped an arm around your shoulders as if he did so every day.

Startled and surprised he would even go there, you paused, unsure of what to say next. He, on the other hand, didn’t seem the least bit concerned about the words he had spoken, lazily drawing circles along your bare skin, a loving smile on his face. Obviously, he didn’t care because the words were fake and they didn’t mean anything, but you hadn’t been expecting them all the same. It was only when you noticed that Brad was mindlessly playing with Kira’s hand - more specifically the engagement ring on her finger - that you understood why Bucky had suddenly upped his game so drastically. You sucked in a deep breath and made sure to reach for his hand along your bicep, interlacing your fingers with his.

You rolled your eyes but made sure to lighten your next words with a little smile, “The things we do for love.”

Bucky smirked, seeming pleased with himself, but you had a feeling it was all bravado. The sight of that engagement ring flaunted in front of him like that couldn’t have been easy. Then again, he had just gotten away with not having to remember your name. That little fact could have been the reason for that victorious smirk. Either way, you thought, the idiot should have to forfeit the competition because of it. Not knowing your name really made him a terrible fake boyfriend.

Kira cleared her throat, probably in no way pleased by the lovey-dovey turn in conversation, “So, (y/n), what is it that you do?”

“I’m a mechanic.”

Bucky coughed on his water, struggling to keep hold of his sip. Everyone stared at him, confused, until he managed to sputter out, “Went down the wrong pipe.”

“Mechanic…Oh, that’s…interesting,” Kira said as if interesting was the kindest word she could come up with.

“That really is!” Brad exclaimed, not at all understanding his fiancée’s tone, “So what do you drive then?”

“A car that’s only alive because she’s a mechanic,” Bucky interrupted, shooting you a knowing look, “It’s so old and falling apart, the only reason it hasn’t died yet is from her sheer force of will. And, of course, her incredible talent,” He added, almost as if he had forgotten he was supposed to be acting madly in love with you and not dissing your car like he had been from the moment you had met.

Brad laughed, “That’s not what I expected.”

“Wasn’t what I expected either when we first met,” Bucky agreed, as if he hadn’t just learned that fake at the same time as Brad.

You jabbed an elbow into his ribs when no one was looking, thinking he deserved more than that, but knowing it would have to do for now. Flinching, he dropped his carrot, causing Peggy to narrow her eyes at the two of you. You sent her a reassuring grin that only managed to attract Steve’s attention.

“So, Peg,” You started, not wanting to warrant Brad’s attention with another voiceless conversation, “I didn’t have a chance to look at the schedule for tonight. Anything else exciting on there?”

She grinned, “There’s a nearly newlywed game later tonight that all the couples get to participate in, but other than that I think it’ll just be a lot of eating, drinking and dancing.”

“Sounds fun,” You tried your best not to sound sarcastic, “These games sound so fun.”

Kira looked up from her plate, “Hoping to redeem yourselves?”

You wanted to roll your eyes at her, but instead forced a laugh, hoping to make light of the situation, “I think even if we got every question right, we’d never outlive the fall of that three-legged race.”

“You know we would get them all right, though,” Bucky added confidently, pressing a featherlight kiss to your cheek before stealing another chip from your plate.

Judging from the pleased look on his face, he thought he was winning your little competition. By your count, you were in the lead. You were doing most of the talking while he was insulting your car.

“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see,” Kira’s pleasant voice sounded more like an ominous threat to your ears and you forced to keep a smile on your lips.

If you kept hanging around Kira and Brad, you were pretty sure you were going to have sore cheeks by the end of it the night.

“There are also those bean bag boards over there,” Steve added with a grin that told you he was enjoying this charade far more than he should have, “We could play a few rounds before dessert.”

“With Speedy’s aim, I’m not sure that’s the way to redeem ourselves,” He teased, running his thumb along your hand, “Maybe we’ll sit that one out.”

You squeezed his hand harder than necessary even though you knew he was only said that so the two of you wouldn’t have to get involved in another silly competition, “We can’t all be such sharp shooters like you, Soldier.”

“Thank god for that,” He murmured, pressing a quick kiss to your intertwined hand, “You beat me at just about every game we play. I need to win at something.”

You grinned at him, hoping he understood that there was no way in hell he was going to take the lead with a few well placed kisses, “Well, maybe you can teach me so that I can win at this too.”

“Sure thing, Speedy,” His eyes were bright as if he knew exactly what was going through your head.

You found yourself so captivated by the look, that you couldn’t look away. When you realized you were staring, you stood abruptly, his arm falling off.

“Anyone want another beer?” You asked when you noticed Peggy’s confused look.

Steve and Brad both asked for one and you were about to escape when Bucky spoke up.

“I’ll go with you,” He reached for your hand and you tried to ignore the comforting warmth of his palm in yours. When you reached the bucket of beer he spoke, “What’s the score now?”

You raised a brow, “I’m curious to know what you think it is?”

“If you ask me, I’d say we’re tied,” He shrugged as if he hadn’t been as caught up in keeping score as you were. You knew better than to believe the act.

You moved to cross your arms but remembered your hand was still in his, “I’d say I’m ahead by one.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I, for one, answered more of Kira’s questions. And two, my car doesn’t take kindly to being insulted,” You jut out your chin, “And that’s why I’m ahead.”

You tried to stalk off but were held back by your interlaced hand. Before you could shrug him off, he gently spun you around and his lips were on yours, free hand sliding around the nape of your neck.

Stunned, it took you a moment to realize that the feel of his lips on yours was actually quite nice, but he pulled away before you think anything more of it.

Still flustered, the only thing you could manage to do was cock your head in question.

He grinned, “I believe that makes us tied?”

His words snapped you out of your weird trance.

“You only get one point for a random kiss like that,” You warned, jabbing his hard chest with a finger, “Next time you do that it’s going to have to be more strategically timed.”

You weren’t mad at him, more like confused as to why you wanted to know how it would feel to keep kissing him, uninterrupted. Still, the harsh tone in your voice didn’t escape your notice and you tried to soften it.

“That’s fair,” He shrugged, looking almost sheepish, “A surprise kiss from you, a surprise kiss from me. That makes us even. Everything else has to be better planned.”

You let out an amused huff, “Yeah, I guess we’re even now…we’re not very partial referees, are we?”

“No,” The corner of his mouth pulled upward slightly, “We’re not.”

“Should we get Steve or Peggy involved?” You asked.

“I think they’re already involved enough.”

He tilted his head to where they were sitting, whispering and sneaking glances at the two of you, “You might have a point. Still, it’ll make things fairer.”

“All right,” He nodded, then his eyes widened, “But we go to Peggy. I don’t trust Steve not to favour you instead of me.”

“That’s fine,” You laughed, “I trust my abilities to beat you on fair ground.”

“You know,” He sobered, that playful look on his face fading, “We’re going to have to do that couple’s game later tonight.”

You nodded, seeing the worry clear on his face, wondering if it was mirrored on yours. He had so much more to lose from this game than you did, but despite yourself, you found that you were getting invested.

“Yeah, I know. It’s not going to be easy.”

“If only it could be,” He sighed.

“Any suggestions on how to make it easier?”

“Maybe we can do the bean bag toss and get out of it that way?” He suggested, placing a hand on your hip and pulling you in a little closer almost in a distracted way that might have made you think he wasn’t aware he was doing it, “Which isn’t likely. Judging by the way the night is going, we’ll probably end up doing both.”

“We’ll need a better plan,” You agreed, “Cause it isn’t like we can be seen getting to know each other. Already this conversation risks blowing our cover.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers curling into the hair at the nape of his neck, and you leaned back to get a better look at him, feeling his arms tighten around your waist as he kept you close. If the two of you were going to take this long to go get a few beers, then you needed to appear like you had a good reason for taking so long. You voiced as much

“Smart,” He remarked, pulling you in a tiny bit closer, “As for getting to know each other, I’m sure I can ask Peggy for information and you can ask Steve the same. At least that way it’ll be subtler.”

“Smart,” You echoed. Sliding your hands down his hard chest you gave him a little pat, “Let’s actually grab those beers and head back.”

He loosened his grip and you stepped away, feeling his hands linger until you were far enough that he couldn’t reach you. Handing him two beers, you lead the way back.

“I didn’t know you were a mechanic,” He mentioned before you were close enough to Kira and Brad that they might hear.

“You never asked.”

“And yet you drive a piece of garbage,” He stared at you, brow raised, “What’s up with that?”

You shrugged, refusing to get this personal with Bucky - a complete stranger up until a couple hours ago - even if he was beginning to feel less and less like one.

“I like fixing cars. Old cars always have something that needs fixing.” It wasn’t a complete lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either.

Those piercing blue eyes stared at you as if he could tell there was something more to your words than you let on, but he didn’t press.

Instead he said, “So, if I ever need a mechanic?”

“Let’s see how the night goes, and then I’ll let you know,” You grinned.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky imagine #james buchanan barnes #james barnes #fake dating #MCU fic #MCU fanfiction #mcu fluff #fanfic #fan fiction

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jane-the-zombie · 4 years

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Wedding Inferno || Harsh & Jane

TIMING: Present LOCATION: ???? PARTIES: @notsoharsh & @jane-the-zombie SUMMARY: Jane and Harsh show up to Jane’s wedding wearing the same dress. Obviously, one of them has to change.

Soft music guided careful steps down a long, carpeted aisle. Chairs on either side were full of smiling, unfamiliar faces. The dress was hard to walk in. Or maybe that was the shoes. Harsh couldn’t really tell, they were trapped underneath the voluminous skirt. Well, at least everyone was looking at him. They should be. It was his big day after all. Except… it wasn’t. Someone else was walking the aisle with him. He gave her a sideways glance, brow furrowing. What was she doing wearing white on his day? Or was it his? Whatever, that was so out of line. Everyone knows wearing white to a wedding is just in bad taste. “What’s with you?” he muttered before looking down the aisle. Just one groom there waiting. The guy was… decent looking. Yeah, Harsh could work with that. It was just the chick keeping pace with him who was a problem. “Seriously, shouldn’t you go sit down? You’re kind of getting in the way.”

Oh god, not this again. Jane scowled down at Dream Jason, beaming at her from the end of the elongated aisle. Everything was wrong. Her flowers were blood red roses instead of the pretty purple pansies and they were in a church with the two sides of the family separated, and she was pretty sure her heels were a size too small. And, Jane realized as she walked down the aisle, instead of her father escorting her to Jason, some asshole in the same dress as her was walking with her. Excuse me, absolutely not. “What’s with me?” she hissed back. “What’s with you! You’re the one interrupting my wedding! That’s my fiancee down there! And how the hell did you get that dress, this was custom made just for me!”

Harsh scoffed, one hand on his hip. “If it was made for you, then why does it look better on me?” None of the guests seemed particularly bothered by their little pause halfway down the aisle. Good. No one should be giving him crap, not today. He cast another look at the groom, head tipped to one side. “I don’t know, I’m pretty sure he’s giving me bedroom eyes right now. What do you want for him?” Maybe they could trade something. What was worth a fiance? Chauncey was probably just as good as a boring human husband. The music was still going, it seemed a little louder, a little more urgent. “I think they want us to get this show on the road. So one of us is going to have to sit this out. Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of uh… what’s his name?”

“Trade him?!” r stared at him, aghast. Honestly, if this was real life and not a dream, she would absolutely trade Jason for less than half an m&m. But she was fairly certain this was a dream, considering her mother was actually here and not somewhere on the West Coast tanning. That had to mean Jason wasn’t a total bag of dicks. Jane scoffed. “You don’t even know his name. This is my wedding, my dress, my possessed ring-bearer step stool and that’s my family -” Jane pointed to where her family was sitting. “- so go sit your ass down.” She full on body blocked him, standing in front of him with hands on her hips. Who cared if it was embarrassing, it wasn’t real! And damn that music was getting loud, the groom’s side of the church starting to shuffle quietly. There was something she should be remembering, but she was too distracted by whoever the hell this guy was. Trying to interrupt her dream wedding, dickhead was lucky she didn’t shoot him right then and there. “I’ll save you a piece of cake.”

The groom’s side was starting to get ansty, moaning and groaning discordantly. Harsh spared them a brief look. Huh, apparently some of them didn’t want to wait for the reception to eat. Oh well, they weren’t his family. What’s his face at the end of the aisle didn’t seem to care much as his best man turned and started snacking on another groomsman. As long as the blood didn’t get on his dress, it didn’t seem to matter. “Listen, lady, I don’t know who you are, but you’re really killing my vibe here. You want me to sit down, how about you try to make me,” he said, shoving roughly at her shoulders. It was probably bad luck to start a fight on his wedding day, but if she wasn’t going to move, he would just have to make her.

There was something she was forgetting - something very important. Jane, with her back to the chaos behind her, was shoved backwards. By some miracle she didn’t fall on her ass in her one-size-too-small shoes. Grumbling under her breath, she looked at him. She wasn’t about to be bullied by some man on her wedding day. Absolutely not. “I’m Jane - Jane Wu. And this is my wedding!” It wasn’t like any of this mattered right? And honestly, it was a little fun to start fights. She could feel her heart pumping the adrenaline going as she wound up and decked the man straight in the face with her best punch. She didn’t fuck around. She killed a mime with her bare hands. Some half-rate dream man wasn’t going to do crap to her.

For a human, or someone who looked pretty human, Jane could throw a decent punch. Harsh staggered back, catching himself on a chair. His cheek stung. There was something weird about that. Whatever, he couldn’t go down that easy. Giving himself a shake, he straightened up, rolling his shoulder. “So that’s how it’s gonna be? Fine.” Charging forward, he threw a sharp punch right to her gut and then slammed his foot down onto hers. Wearing heels was suddenly a great call. Maybe he should get a pair to wear more often. Wait, no he had these. Didn’t he? He couldn’t think straight, his face hurt and that weird music just kept getting louder, almost like it was trying to drown out the growing growls around them. And, for a second, he was sure he smelled smoke.

She didn’t have time or really the ability to block the hit as it came, Jane swearing as his foot slammed down onto hers. Why did that hurt more than the damn punch to the gut? Jane gripped Harsh’s shoulders, pushed him back before using the momentum to flip them both down onto the ground. There was an outrageous tearing noise - someone’s dress had ripped and she didn’t give a shit whose it was. She wound up to bunch him in the face again, this time with her left hand so her diamond ring would cut his face - yikes, when had she gotten so violent? - when she heard her father scream. The mangled frantic Mandarin came to through to her - Janey, janey what are you doing, help - when her head snapped up to see Jason’s friend Dave ripping out his neck. “Dad?! Hold on! Hold on!!” I’m coming!” Jane cried back in Mandarin. “Zombies. Oh crap, I forgot about the zombies!” She pushed herself up off the man, forgetting about everything. “Dad - shit, I can’t move in this thing.”

Shit. The carpet didn’t do much to soften the blow as Harsh crashed down. That hurt, really hurt. Maybe she wasn’t human. Something was off. He threw up his hands to try to stop the blow, but it didn’t come. Oh, right people were getting eaten. “Hold on.” Forcing himself up, he took Jane’s arm, helping her to her feet. The chaos was spreading, the music was almost defeating now and he didn’t just smell smoke, he could see it. Dark tendrils of it crept out from under the few chairs that were still upright in one piece. The stupid dress was too long. Cursing under his breath, Harsh ripped at the skirt. He grabbed a few bits of a broken chair, handing one to Jane. “Here. It’s better than nothing,” he said before turning to try to brain a zombie with his makeshift club. “Where did these things come from? Did you invite a bunch of zombies?”

Jane watched in horror as her Dad was carried off away, the blood spraying everywhere. And suddenly, the man under her was helping her up to her feet. Well that was strange - Jane winced as she heard screaming that sounded like it was from her friend Anya. Oh god, Anya. Her maid of honor. Jane needed to call her, but Anya gave up on her way before she moved to - nope. Focus. She took the chair leg from Harsh looking down at it doubtfully. “We need a sword,” she said, solemnly. “I didn’t on purpose, I didn’t know - well, it’s a long story. It always ends like this. Take your shoes off, you’re doing to twist and ankle.” Jane kicked her heels off, slugging the first zombie in the face that tried to come for her. “Don’t let them bite you!” And then she noticed the smoke. Dark smoke filled her nostrils as she ran forward to try and save her nephew she saw the flames. “... The fire’s new though.” Jane said, nervously. Things were somehow scarier when she knew they weren’t real.

“Right, just let me pull a sword out of my ass,” Harsh said, rolling his eyes. Her advice wasn’t terrible though and he made quick work of his shoes, driving the heel of one through the eye of an advancing zombie. “No shit, my first plan wasn’t really to just let them chew my arm off. I don’t think it matters if they bite me. I’m already dead. Ish.” He was pretty sure he couldn’t get any deader. Jane probably didn’t need to know that, but… this wasn’t real. At least, it seemed pretty not real. Was it a dream? His dreams were usually more… oh. There was the fire. He winced. “I think that’s mine. It’s going to keep spreading until it’s everywhere. We’ve gotta get out of here.” He looked around, frantic. There had to be an exit, this stupid church had to have a door somewhere. The flames grew, ripping through the last of the chairs, climbing the walls. “How does this end for you?”

“Right.” And unaffected by zombie bites? Weird. He must be a zombie she conjured up with her mind. Dreams were fucking wild. Jane shook her head, before she reached out and grabbed Harsh’s arm, pulling him down the aisle. “This way, there’s always an exit down by the priests quarters. We can avoid the fleeing guests that way.” The smoke was getting worse though, scratching the back of her throat. They clambered over bodies in a wedding dress and she barely even paused to think. “When I get down to the end of the aisle to get married, I usually... “ Jane grimaced. “Get eaten.” But it looked like Jason had been ripping Lizzie’s throat out last she checked. Figures. Dream Jason went for her sister. This wasn’t real - Except she was really sore and in a lot of pain. Weren’t people supposed to not feel pain in dreams. “Come on,” Jane coughed. “Shit. I think the exit is blocked off.”

Stumbling over a few lost limbs, Harsh followed after her as fast as the dress would allow. He should have ripped it more. The smoke stung his eyes, but not having to breathe had its advantages sometimes. “Y’know, I was sort of hoping for a different answer. We need to get out of this.” His own ending was rarely better. Being burnt to a crisp was so far down on his to-do list. And there was something wrong with the fire. It felt hot, it felt real. But it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. This… this was a dream. Wasn’t it? The walls were engulfed now, the ceiling above them starting to creak. The screams and cries behind them were growing fainter, but there was still that damn music over everything. “We can’t stay here,” he said, eyes flicking about. There, one of the walls wasn’t the raging inferno the others were, but it had broken in places, bits of light peeking through. “That wall, we’ve gotta get through it.”

“Through the wall?” Jane looked at him like he had four heads. There was a raging inferno and it was starting to get way too hot for comfort. She was sweating, her carefully done up hair damp and falling down, and she was sure her makeup was running - that’s how she knew this was a nightmare. Who the hell wore non-waterproof mascara on their wedding day? “And how do you expect us to go through the wall - of course we can’t stay here. What if we try to get through one of those windows -” she pointed. They were a little high up, but with some small feat of acrobatics maybe they could manage it. It wasn’t like they would die or anything. The flames were starting to creep closer though, and Jane wished the fucking music wasn’t so loud. Here Comes the Bride was only fucking charming during a wedding that wasn’t shit show.

“The fuck are you talking about? Those windows are tiny. Just c’mere.” Harsh grabbed her arm, yanking her toward the wall. There were little spaces between the wood, faint hints of light. Wedging his fingers in, he found purchase and yanked. The fire was growing hotter and hotter, his dress already stained by the smoke. He ripped away chunk after chunk of wall, hands aching. The hole he made wasn’t huge, but it would have to do. Grabbing Jane around the waist, he pulled her close for a moment. “See you on the other side.” And then, with a rough shove, he forced her through before clawing his way out himself, into the light.

“What are you - hey! I don’t think this is a good idea! This is stupid, it’s all a dream anyway, I’m going to wake up just fine -” Jane said, but it wasn’t heard and she was gaping at Harsh as he ripped a hole through the wall. Things were getting worse by the second. Smoke burning her throat and eyes and things were far too hot, and Jane was pretty sure for the first time in a long time, she felt a healthy dose of fear. But that’s what nightmares were, right? It was fine. Except she didn’t have time to really process that before Harsh yanked her close to him. “Wait, don’t -” except she didn’t have time to object as she was forced through the small hole in the wall, cutting her arm in the process and -

Jane jerked upwards in bed, sweating, coughing. disheveled, and bleeding. Wait, bleeding?! Fumbling for her lamp, she knocked her alarm clock on the floor. “Crap -” Jane swore, before finally disentangling herself from her covers as she limped to the bathroom flipping on the light to look at herself in the mirror. Her arm had a jagged cut on it, blood dripping down onto the floor. She was still coughing, eyes burning with tears as if she had just been in a fire. Wait. A fire? THat’s what she wash ust dreaming about, right? Her stomach was killing her and so was her foot - what the hell? What the hell?! Aghast, Jane reached for her first-aid kit, and wondered how the hell she managed to kick her own ass in her sleep. Hadn’t it all been a dream?

Harsh jerked awake, nearly rolling off his couch. He sat up, patting at himself. His cheek still stung and his back ached. That… that was wrong. How did he still hurt from that stupid dream? Something was wrong. Maybe it was something he drank… or someone. And then there was that woman, Jane. She had seemed different than the rest of it. More real. It was something to do with her, it had to be.

#wickedswriting #para #para harsh #harsh #ya'll this was a deLIGHT LMFAO

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ellewritesathing · 4 years

Text

So Close - S.S. XVIII

Summary: The universe has a funny way of putting the things you want right in front of you, but just out of reach. Stiles and Y/N have been best friends ever since Scott brought him home, but when Stiles realizes that he might want to be something other than best friends, she leaves to go to some fancy private school up North. Now that she’s back though … maybe he’s got a shot? A Teen Wolf AU in which the reader has always been so close to Stiles and yet so far.

Prologue - S2E1 Part 1 - S2E2 + S2E3 Part 2 - S2E4 + S2E5 + S2E6 Part 3 - S2E7 +S2E8 Part 4 - S2E9 + S2E10 Part 5 - S2E11 + S2E12 Part 6 Part 7 - S3AE1 Part 8 - S3AE2 + S3AE3 Part 9 - S3AE4 Part 10 - S3AE5 + S3AE6 Part 11 - S3AE7 + S3AE8 Part 12 - S3AE9 + S3AE10 + S3AE11 Part 13 - S3AE11 + S3AE12 Part 14 Part 15 - S3BE1 + S3BE2 Part 16 - S3BE3 + S3BE4 Part 17 - S3BE5 + S3BE6 Part 18 - S3BE7 + S3BE8 + S3BE9

Word-count: 4.2k+

A/N: anyone in the mood for angst? me too.

“Y/N.” You could barely make out the person’s voice. It was low. They were shaking you. “Y/N, are you okay?”

You blinked at the harsh light shining in your eyes, squinting to make out whoever was with you. It couldn’t be Stiles. You pushed off whoever it was, but that just made them tighten their grip when they found you again.

“Y/N, it’s me. It’s Scott. You’re okay.”

Your heart rate slowed and you started processing what was going on around you. “Scotty, my head hurts. And-” why did it hurt so much? “And something’s wrong with Stiles.”

“Yeah, yeah, we know,” he said. He tried to help you stand but you stumbled into him as he did. “How bad does it hurt?”

“I can find him,” you said, not answering his question. You moved to look around the room and when you turned back to Scott, he was looking at you with those big eyes of his. “What? I know I can find him.”

“No it’s not that,” he said quietly. “Your neck … it’s all bruised.” He moved to touch it and you pulled back. His hand fell to his side. “You need to stay here and- and I’ll get Mom to come take look at you.”

“No!” The word came out too loud and you winced again. “I just mean … Scott, she can’t know about this. If she knows how much danger I get in when I’m helping you, she … she won’t let me help anymore.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t,” he said gently.

You felt about ready to cry. It felt like there was a bullet rattling around in your skull and it took so much effort just to stand up, and now Scott was saying that he didn’t want you around anymore. It hurt. Your throat felt like it was closing up with all the emotions you felt.

“There’s one more thing-” He clenched his hand as he looked for something to say. “Stiles, or whatever’s inside him, cut one of the power lines. A lot of people are hurt. Including Isaac.”

“Isaac’s hurt and you didn’t start with that?” Your yell was scratchy and faded out towards the end. You started stomping past him to go find Isaac but your legs gave out almost as soon as you moved.

Scott caught you and lay you down on the bed. “Stay here, okay? I’m getting Mom.”

“Scotty, please,” you begged. You felt the tears pool in your eyes.

“Stay here.”

He pressed a quick kiss to your forehead before running out to find your mom or anyone else that could give you a check-up.

Now that you were alone, you let the tears stream down your face. How could you have not seen it? Felt it? Just known that it wasn’t Stiles? You knew he was acting differently and you knew he was scared but you didn’t do a single thing about it. You turned to cry into the pillow and found that it still smelled like him. You cried harder.

---

They’d been keeping Isaac in almost the exact same room that they kept Stiles for two days now. Although the nurses all knew you as Melissa’s daughter, they still wouldn’t let you see him because you weren’t family. They wouldn’t let Cora in either, despite all her arguing.

So the two of you had curled up on the bench outside his room, waiting for someone to let you see him. You must have fallen asleep because you felt Scott’s hand on your shoulder, trying to wake you up as gently as he could.

“Have you been here all night?” he asked.

“I’ve been here since they cleared me,” you said between a yawn and some stretching. “She’s been here since he got his own room.”

Cora mustered up a smile that faded quickly before speaking, “They won’t let us see him because we’re not family. I tried to explain that he lives with us because he doesn’t have any family but …” She shook her head.

“Well, he’s got us,” Melissa said. It made you smile, despite your still aching head and broken heart. “And I’ve got a key card.”

Your mom let the three of you in and you sucked in a breath as Cora reached for your hand. He looked nearly dead, lying there hooked up to the machines. It scared you, and judging by the faces around you, you weren’t the only one.

Cora walked over and pushed some hair out of his face. She kissed his forehead.

“Shouldn’t he be healing by now?” you asked quietly.

“He almost died,” Cora said. Her voice was harsh but you know she didn’t mean it to be. “The other people that were in that water did die.”

Scott reached out for his burnt arm. “He’s in a lot of pain. I can take some … it won’t help him heal but-”

“Thank you,” Cora said, softening her voice.

He nodded at her before taking Isaac’s hand. You watched as the veins in his hand turned dark and the darkness crept up his arm. When you looked over at Cora, the black was snaking up her arm too. You felt useless.

Isaac took a deep breath in as the two of them pulled away sharply. Cora took out a tissue to wipe her nose; it was bleeding.

“We should get to school,” you said after a few seconds.

“I’m not leaving him,” Cora said. “He’s vulnerable when he’s alone.”

“Cora, I really think you should come to school with us,” you said. “If you push too hard now, you won’t be able to protect him when it matters. Right now, I think you just need a distraction.”

Cora didn’t say anything, but she let you walk her out of the room and take her to school.

---

As soon as the whistle blew, Cora took off way in front of you - apparently not as concerned about showcasing her superspeed as blowing off some steam. You couldn’t really blame her. But you picked up your pace when you heard her scream in the woods.

The only reason you stopped was to talk to Scott and Kira - and that was just to tell them that Cora was hurt - but when you saw Stiles running up with Coach, you had no idea what to do. You were so angry with him, or whatever was inside of him. Scott caught your arm to stop you from doing something you might regret.

“Stop! Stop! Everybody stop!” Stiles yelled. He had his hands out to keep everyone still. He bent down and picked up the end of a chain and kept pulling and pulling … until he picked up the other end.

“Congratulations, Stilinski. You found a length of chain,” Coach clapped slowly as he spoke. “Can somebody now please tell me what the hell is going on?”

You saw the movement before you registered what it was. You were going to jump in front but Scott pulled you back. You turned to yell at him and instead found Coach lying on the ground with an arrow in his chest.

You all rushed to help, but he was thrashing on the ground, trying to pull the arrow out and yelling for someone to take it out. Aiden was telling him to keep still but he refuses to listen.

“Alright, everyone stand back!” you yelled at the group of runners that were getting closer and closer. You stood up and started shooing them away.

To your surprise, Ethan was actually helping you. He gave you a smile over his shoulder and you walked closer to him.

“What the hell are you guys doing with Stiles?” you asked quietly.

“Nothing, I swear,” he said. He seemed frustrated about being accused again.

“No, you don’t get it,” you said. “Where did he come from? Are we sure it’s him?”

Ethan blinked at you for a second, seemingly shocked that you trusted him more than Stiles. “I don’t know. Scott trusts him.”

“Scott trusts everyone,” you huffed. You ran a hand through your hair. “Okay, look. Cora’s out there somewhere and she’s hurt.”

“I heard the howl,” he said.

“I need you to find her,” you told him. Again, he looked surprised. “You’re faster than me and you can smell her. Go.”

He ran off after a second and you told the crowd to start heading back to the main road, but to watch out for the ambulance. They didn’t seem too happy about it but they started moving.

You turned around again after the last of the stragglers started walking away. Scott looked drained. He must have taken some of Coach’s pain to get him to be quiet. You didn’t like the way Stiles was looking at him.

When you got back to the main road with everyone else, you started going through the Jeep with Aiden. As touching as Stiles’ reunion with his dad was, you weren’t in the mood to be a part of it.

“Scott, you should look at this.” Aiden held out the tube of wrapping paper you found to him.

“That’s the same wrapping paper we used for Coach’s birthday present,” he said, taking the tube in his hands.

“Yeah, and that was Barrow’s thing,” you said. “He made his bomb out of nails and bolts and wrapped it up like birthday presents. Then he blew up a school bus.”

“You guys are saying that Stiles is gonna blow up a school bus?”

“No,” Aiden argued. “We’re saying whatever put an arrow through Coach’s chest is gonna blow up a school bus.”

---

Ethan found Cora and pried one of the animal traps off her ankle. He met you in the parking lot and loaded her into her car. You thanked him and drove her to the animal clinic so Deaton could check on it. She insisted she was fine but she seemed tense when Deaton wasn’t there.

You worked off the memory of Deaton treating Isaac to clean Cora’s leg. You washed away all the dried blood and disinfected the wound before wrapping it up.

“Well, you were right about one thing,” she said. “It took my mind off Isaac.”

You gave a shallow laugh before pulling her into a hug. Cora could be a lot to handle at times, but you knew that she meant well. She was just scared to losses anymore of her family.

“I’m going to head back to the loft.” She pulled away slowly and tried to stand on her own. “You need a ride home?”

“I think I’m gonna stick around here for now,” you said. “I think this might be the only place in the county that I won’t run into Scott and Stiles today.”

“What happened between you two, anyway?” Cora asked, she didn’t mention it but you knew what she was looking for. After a few days, you had to admit that your bruises were looking pretty rough. “The last I heard was him getting an MRI and then Isaac was in the hospital.”

“He, uh-” you looked down. You pulled your sweater up to cover your neck. “He went for the MRI but he found me before it was done. That’s why I’ve got these bruises and a headache that won’t go away.”

“I’ll kill him,” Cora said without hesitation. It made you laugh, and that made her soften slightly.

“It wasn’t him. I- I still don’t know if it is,” you said. You shook your head and sighed before continuing, “Go home, killer. I’m fine here.”

Cora left and you had maybe half an hour of silence to spend with yourself before someone barreled through the back entrance. You picked up a scalpel and waited.

Not even a second later you heard someone yell, “Hey, Kira!” It was Stiles. “Kira, get inside!”

He closed the door and laughed for a second. He didn’t know you were there.

You tightened your grip on the scalpel and set your jaw. You threw it at Stiles’ back, aiming for the spot right between his shoulder blades, but he spun around and caught it before it made its mark.

“Uh, uh, uh,” he hummed. “What’s that saying? Fool me once, shame on me. Stab me twice …”

“Shame on you.” You made another move for something sharp, but he was too quick.

He’d picked up something off one of the shelves and was forcing whatever was inside down your throat. You gagged and tried to push him off, but you couldn’t control your muscles. Your body was going numb.

“Jackson really is the gift that keeps on giving,” he laughed, grip hard enough to make new bruises on your arms as he lay you down on the ground. “If only he was here now. That- well, that would be fun.”

You tried to bite him as he pulled apart some surgical tape to put over your mouth, but he hit you before you could. He dragged you to a corner and moved some of your hair out of your face when he was finished. He pressed another awfully rough kiss to the tape covering your mouth before running out to feign panic to your brother.

You watched him and Kira carry Scott inside - he had one of the oni’s katanas in his stomach - and tried to scream. They couldn’t hear you. Kira started pulling the blade out, but Stiles caught her wrist. He pulled it away and slammed her head into a table. You tried your best to do something before he could do anything to Scott, but it didn’t work.

His fingers danced around the handle of the katana. “You okay?” he asked.

“Please don’t.” Scott’s voice was so quiet, so tired. He was afraid. “Stop.”

“It’s okay,” Stiles smiled at him. Almost a real smile. Almost. Then he put his hand on Scott’s shoulder and grabbed the handle. He started twisting and Scott started groaning.

You screamed and Scott finally saw you but he was in far too much pain to do anything. He didn’t want to hurt the thing that looked like his best friend.

“Does it hurt?” he asked. “You should’ve done your reading, Scott.” Another twist. “See, a nogitsune feeds off of chaos, strife, and pain. This morning you took it from Isaac. Then from Coach. And then from a dying deputy. All that pain … you took it all. Now give it to me.”

The veins in Scott’s face and neck started turning black again, except this time the darkness snaked up Stiles’ fingers, through his wrist and arm, and to his heart. Or what was left of it.

“Oh, you’ve really gotta learn, Scott,” he said. “You’ve gotta learn never to trust a fox. You know, because they’re tricksters. They’ll fool you. They’ll fool everyone.” His head tilted slightly in your direction. “Well, maybe not everyone. But everyone that matters.”

“Is that so?”

You’d been so caught up in watching Stiles that you didn’t see Deaton come in. He injected something into Stiles’ neck and he started gasping for air, struggling to stay up. He collapsed in front of you and you screamed again.

“What was that?” Scott asked. Deaton pulled the katana out when Stiles fell. “Was that a cure? Is he okay?”

“The fox is poisoned, but it’s not dead,” Deaton said. He came over to take the tape off your mouth. “Not yet.”

---

“My father said all of the Katashi evidence is being moved to a federal lockup by armored car tonight,” Allison said as she opened the door. “Probably within the next few hours.”

You walked in after Scott but before the twins. You’d been picking at your nails again, almost always fiddling with something since Stiles institutionalized himself after Deaton poisoned him.

“We’re going to rob an armored car?” Aiden asked.

“Well,” Lydia drew out her answer. “We’re gonna try.”

You followed the two of them into Chris’ study and you all found a place to sit before talking about the plan. The scroll with instructions about how to destroy the nogitsune inside of Stiles was in Katashi’s silver finger, so the twins were supposed to distract the car so the others could break in and steal the finger without anyone noticing.

“This is a really bad plan,” Scott said.

“It’s not that bad,” Lydia said.

“It’s not that good,” Aiden disagreed.

“None of us knows the route they’re going to take,” Lydia continued, ignoring him. “If Allison can get one of her dad’s GPS trackers on the armored car, then we can follow it.”

“So when it gets here-”

“We attack them?” Ethan asked.

“No,” Lydia said. “Your bikes will be in the middle of the road, looking like you guys got into an accident. And when the driver gets out to help-”

“Then we attack them?” Aiden asked.

“No!” everyone snapped.

“I still don’t think they should do it by themselves,” you said, pushing yourself off the couch and ignoring the looks Ethan and Aiden were giving you. “They can’t act and they’ll attack anything that moves.”

“Fine,” Lydia said. “You three distract them, and Scott will break open the back door.”

“I hope,” Scott added.

“And you will get Katashi’s finger,” Lydia finished.

“It’s not like his actual finger, is it?” Aiden asked, scrunching up his face.

“Oh, my god,” you mumbled. “I’ve done a lot of things, but I’ve never been arrested before. You two better not get me arrested.”

“Why aren’t we just going to Stilinski for help?” Aiden asked, ignoring you.

“Because if he gets caught, then it’s the Sheriff tampering with federal evidence,” Scott answered.

“Guys, this is going to work,” Allison said before anyone could doubt the plan again. “We can do this. We’re losing Stiles. My dad’s in jail for murder. We need to do this.”

---

“Okay, I’m just gonna say it. They should’ve been here by now,” Aiden said, pushing himself off his bike.

“Yeah, I’m getting worried too,” you said as you checked your phone. “Scott should have texted by now.”

“Okay, so we’re agreed? We’re going against the plan and finding them?” Ethan asked.

“I-” you bit your lip. “Yeah. Let’s circle back.”

You climbed on the back of Ethan’s bike and held on tight. He didn’t drive nearly as carefully as Scott did, and you already hated being on these things with him. The twins cut corners and took shortcuts to get back to the station, and you felt about ready to throw up when they stopped.

“You guys go ahead,” you said. “You’re faster than me and they need help.”

Ethan nodded and the two of them disappeared around the corner. You caught your breath and got your throwing knives out of your bag before making your way to where they kept the armored cars.

When you got there, the twins were beating the crap out of Kincaid. You raced down the steps to find Scott. You helped him up while he yelled at the twins to stop. Kincaid rolled to a stop at your feet and you stepped over him to get between them.

“You want him to come after us?” Ethan asked.

“Scott,” Aiden started, “We’ve seen guys like this. Trust us. He’s dangerous.”

“So are we,” Scott said. Kincaid was getting up, wiping the blood off his face. “And he looks smart enough to remember that.” He reached out and took the silver finger from Kincaid’s jacket. He smiled when the scroll fell out. “We’re here to save a life. Not end one.”

The twins exchanged a look before taking a step back. Kincaid pushed past them to walk away. He didn’t say anything as he left, but he did look back over his shoulder at Scott. And Scott didn’t look away.

---

You’d been going out of your mind the past few days. You got the scroll back, but it was barely helpful. ‘Change the body of the host,’ how were you supposed to do that? Stiles never wanted to be a werewolf. Isaac was still in the hospital. Cora was putting up walls again without him or Derek around. Scott was always off somewhere with Kira, not really telling you the full story about anything.

So you were doing chores. You finished all your homework, scrubbed every available surface in the house, and did laundry. That’s why you were heading to the Stilinski’s house, you told yourself, to return the lacrosse jersey that Stiles lent you months ago. Definitely not to find an excuse to be in Stiles’ room.

You used your spare key to get in, but you heard voices upstairs. You made your way to Stiles’ room, holding onto the dagger you hid up your sleeve. When you got there, you saw Allison, Chris, Noah, and Derek huddled around Stiles’ chessboard. It still had the sticky tabs from when he tried to explain the supernatural to Noah on it.

“What are you guys doing?” you asked, disengaging the dagger.

They turned to look at you, but Derek was the only one that wasn’t surprised by your entrance. “Looking at a message that the nogitsune left,” he answered.

“That Stiles may have left,” Allison corrected. “What are you doing?”

“Returning a jersey. Let me see that,” you said, making your way over to the board. “Why is Derek the king?”

“We were just discussing that,” Noah sighed. “He’s one move away from being in checkmate.”

“Then that’s not a message from Stiles,” you said, folding your arms over your chest. Stiles didn’t leave messages like that. “That’s a threat.”

“He’s at the loft. That’s what he’s trying to tell us,” Allison said.

“And he wants us to go there,” Chris said.

“Night’s falling,” Derek said.

“This couldn’t sound more like a trap,” Chris said, his tone was hard like he’d been arguing for hours already.

“I don’t think it is,” Noah argued.

“I think your opinion might be slightly biased, Sheriff,” Chris said.

“Look-” you put your hands up. “If this is a message, he’s telling us to protect Derek. If it’s a threat, then it’s about killing Derek. Regardless, it’s happening at the loft once the sun sets. We shouldn’t be there when it does.”

“Just hear me out,” Noah begged. You nodded. “What we’re dealing with here is basically someone who lacks motive. No rhyme, no reason, right?”

“Meaning what?”

“Our enemy’s not a killer,” Noah said. “It’s a trickster. The killing is just a by-product.”

“If you’re trying to say it won’t kill us, I’m not feeling too confident about that,” Derek said.

“It won’t. It wants irony,” Noah explained. “It wants to play a trick. It wants a joke. All we need to do is come up with a new punchline.”

“Stilinski, look at her neck,” Derek said. You’d taken the brunt of the physical damage that the nogitsune had caused the pack because your wounds didn’t heal like theirs, even if they were starting to fade. “Does that look like a joke to you? The bomb set off in your office, is that another one? This thing might be trickster but it’s not just playing some game anymore.”

When Noah didn’t respond, all eyes were still on you. You hated it. You were thankful when Chris finally broke the silence. “The sun is setting, Sheriff,” he said. “What did you have in mind?”

---

You heard the handcuffs clink in Noah’s hands and the sound of a defensive and scared Stiles. It was convincing, and it made your heart ache. Until you heard the metal snap and the cuffs fall to the ground.

You walked in with Derek, Chris, and Allison, and watched as Allison aimed her stun gun at his chest and pulled the trigger. Stiles caught it and started pulling on the wire, ripping it out of her hands and sending it flying to the ground.

Next was Derek’s attack, full of his werewolf glory. Stiles grabbed his arm and slammed him into the table before sending him flying into a wall. You winced.

In the silence that followed, the click of Chris’ gun was deafening. Stiles turned to him, seeming amused, and Noah started talking Chris down. You didn’t know what to do. The situation got worse when Noah pulled out his gun and pointed it at Chris. Stiles tilted his head.

“You’re not gonna shoot my son,” Noah said.

“You said it yourself, Sheriff: that’s not your son,” Chris said.

“Dad, he’s going to shoot me,” Stiles said. He had tears in his eyes. “He’s going to kill me, Dad.”

Chris didn’t lower his gun. Noah was yelling at him to put it down. And Stiles was yelling at Chris to shoot him.

“Enough!” you yelled. As much as you didn’t want to get close to the thing that looked like your childhood crush, you stepped into the middle to separate him from the others. “Noah, this isn’t Stiles. But, Chris, I swear to god if you shoot him, I will end you.”

“Ah, see?” Stiles asked, leaning forward to get your attention. “We knew you’d come around.”

“And, you-” you turned to glare at him, pointing a very sharp knife at him. “Shut. Up.”

“Can’t you see this is exactly what he wants?” Allison asked. She was still looking at you.

“Not exactly,” Stiles said. “I was kinda hoping Scott would be here. But I’m glad you all have your weapons out … because you’re not here to kill me; you’re here to protect me.”

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles slow burn #mccall!reader #teen wolf #teen wolf au #teen wolf rewrite #so close

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fireblaze5555 · 4 years

Text

Fire Away: Chapter 3

WARNING: This chapter contains assault and attempted sexual assault. If this is disturbing to you, please view the synopsis of the chapter in the end notes on Ao3.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24934339/chapters/61045300

Chapter 3: Pretend I'm a Shelter for Heartaches That Don't Have a Home

It was amazing, Karen had missed Frank incredibly since she last saw him, worried herself sick about him after she left the hospital. And yet, he had managed to infuriate her to an amazing degree twice in the span of just a couple of hours.

She felt her face heat with anger, how dare he take this decision from her. Karen let Frank make his decisions, as much as it hurt her to do so and he couldn’t even give her the same courtesy?

"Oh yeah? Just keeping up with your proclivity for double standards? Well YOU don't get to decide for me Frank. I didn't ask you to track me across anything, sorry you wasted your time.” She paused for a second, her eyes searing him with her fury as she thought carefully about her next words.

“When you asked me to walk away before, I listened," Not without fighting tooth and nail , she thought, but that's beside the point . Karen's voice dropped low and harsh, "You don't have to ask me walk away this time." She pretended she didn't see hurt flash across his soulful eyes before she stood from the table. Pretended like just saying those words didn’t make her heart feel like it was being ripped out and now she had to back them up and actually leave.

His eyes followed her as she straightened and said softly, "Thanks for dinner Frank. Have a safe trip back."

She was proud of how steady her voice was despite her throat closing around her anger and the fragments of her broken heart.

Karen turned on her heels and headed for the door. She heard his muttered curse but continued through the door and took off into the night, headed back to the motel on foot. Cutting behind the closed Dollar Store next door she tried to stick to the shadows as much as possible in the sparsely populated complex. Both trying to avoid being spotted in general but also to avoid one agitated marine.

Karen knew he meant well, it softened her anger towards him a little but he didn't get to force her out of his life only to pop up and tell her what she was going to do. Okay, so maybe her anger wasn't softened that much. She deliberately stayed off of the roads to avoid the van she was sure would be rolling by looking for her. Funny how being followed by a murder van driven by one of the most dangerous men in New York was a mere annoyance to her.

Scoffing to herself at the thought, she walked through parking lots and side streets that ran parallel to the main road that brought them from the motel. It only took a few minutes for her to realize she didn't have her jacket and despite the pleasant temperature during the day, night was still pretty chilly. A shiver ran through Karen, making her gasp when it reminded her about the large bruise covering her side. It was to a point where she could forget about it until she moved just right. Turns out, shivering was 'just right' because the ache got deeper and more persistent. It occurred to her as well when she went to reach in and verify she had a room key, that she had also left her bag in the room. Frank showing up had completely thrown her off.

"Well this is going to be a long walk back. I should have made my point a little closer to my destination." She murmured wrapping her arms around herself.

Karen tried to walk a bit more briskly, hoping a faster pace would help warm her extremities some. The crunch of tires on road debris had her rolling her eyes, it hadn't taken him as long to find her as she thought. Taking a deep breath to prepare herself for the coming storm, Karen turned to glare at Frank the best she could through her shivering but went suddenly still.

‘He’ had found her it would seem but it wasn't Frank. It was a normal looking silver sedan, nothing out of the ordinary for small town USA. The man who climbed out of the driver seat, however, was not a 2nd shifter headed home from work, try as he might to look casual. He was a large man, several inches taller than her and muscularly built and she really hoped he was just a good samaritan.

"Excuse me Miss, you look lost. Do you need some directions?" His voice seemed sincere, light and friendly, it made her pause for a second until she saw the glint of something in his waistband.

Putting as much casual pleasantness in her voice as she could, Karen waved a hand vaguely ahead, "Oh, that's very kind of you but I actually don't live too far from here. I'll be meeting up with my husband soon anyway, he usually meets me halfway!" She gave a blinding smile but didn't turn her back. If it really was a good samaritan, he would get back in his car and let her go but if it wasn't, she wasn't going to turn her back on him.

He took a step closer, causing her to take a step back and with a smile that was all predator he began pushing his jacket sleeves up his forearms, "Funny, the file didn't say anything about you being married. It didn't say how pretty you were either, though, which is even better."

Well that answered that , Karen took off in a sprint, rounding the first corner she could to avoid any possible projectiles. She didn't hear any cracks of gunfire but she did hear footsteps behind her that sounded like they were covering much more ground than her. She cleared the next building and had an open parking lot between her and a small scrubby wooded area, if she could reach that she may be able to lose him. Pulling from her days in track she lengthened her stride and tried to regulate her breathing, ignoring how her heaving breaths made her ribs burn. Lord don't let all those years of running be for nothing .

As the sparse wooded area came closer, Karen felt like she might actually make it. Until a hand tangled in her hair, pulling her up short, knocking what wind she had left out of her lungs when she hit the pavement on her back. The man stepped into view so Karen wasted no time, lashing out with a long leg, kicking hard and hoping to land a blow to his groin. The kick landed but unfortunately it was only to his inner thigh. He let out a grunt only losing his footing for a second before landing a much more on target punch to her face.

Karen's cheek lit up with pain, her vision blurring. She was pretty sure the inside of her cheek got cut with the impact as well because she had the coppery taste of blood in her mouth.

"Now, now," the man panted above her as began dragging her the rest of the way into the scrub trees by her hair, his voice was light, like he was amused by her struggle, like tracking someone down to murder them was just the every day norm. "Be a good bounty. No need to make something so inevitable so difficult. I promise we will have a good time before I put you out of everyone's misery."

Ice cold fear gripped her spine at his tone. He didn't intend on just killing her and being done with it. Redoubling her efforts, Karen gripped the hand embedded in her hair doing her best to dig her nails into his wrist. Her other hand reached up until she felt his eye, digging her fingers in as much as she could there as well. The grip in her hair loosened just for a second while he cursed but then he was slamming her head into the ground causing the world around her to go black for a moment.

A weight on Karen’s ribs quickly brought her back around as the man straddled her hips and had heavy hands pushing her t-shirt up over her breasts. Karen let out a whimper but quickly started pushing at his face, an edge coming into her voice, "Don't touch me, motherfucker. I will fucking end you!"

He just laughed, pushing her hands away and pressing harder into her ribs. She did at least have the satisfaction of seeing blood running down his cheek. That evaporates quickly though, replaced by a sick feeling when he canted his hips so that she could feel just how much he was enjoying himself. His amusement was abruptly halted by the sickening crunch of his nose when Karen brought her elbow down onto it, baring her teeth and clenching her jaw against the pain that radiates up her arm from the impact.

"Goddamnit! Stupid fucking bitch!" He landed another blow that had her arms falling to the sides of her head. Her vision was dark around the edges but she could see the blood running from the man's face and the rage burning in his eyes. She was only vaguely aware of his hands unlatching his belt. Her mind was screaming at her to move, to do something but her limbs would not cooperate, the panic bubbling up through the sludge of near unconsciousness just giving her enough energy to stay awake.

An inhuman yell echoed through the area before Karen felt the man move off of her. The fog was starting to clear from her vision but she still flinched when she heard the crack of gunshots.

Looking in the direction she thought they had come from, she saw Frank fighting with the larger man, a power struggle for the gun. She had only managed to pull herself up to an elbow when she heard the sickening crunch of the man's wrist and before he could process the pain he had two bullets in his head and the rest of the magazine in his chest.

Karen shivered as she looked at Frank. Well, not quite Frank, at least not a side of him she had seen very often. She was looking at the Punisher, in all his wide eyed glory. He landed a kick to the side of the man's head for good measure, his breaths coming out in sharp bursts, his muscles coiled and ready for another attack. It only took a gasp from Karen as she tried to sit up to snap him back to himself.

"Karen!" he was kneeling at her side instantly, gently pushing her back. "Hey, hey, don't move, let me look ya over first." He started at her head, she hissed when he found the large bump on the back of her skull from where her assailant had bounced her head off of the ground. He skimmed over her cheekbones and down her arms, looking for broken bones. He stilled, quiet rage building in his eyes, his jaw clenching as he saw her shirt pushed up over her breasts. His hand was scorching hot against her chilled flesh as he ran his calloused hand lightly over her watercolor ribs.

Karen placed her hand over his on her side when she saw his rage start to bleed into torment. He met her eyes quickly. She spoke quiet but firm, "That was from before I left New York. This isn't on you Frank, none of it." She could tell he wanted to argue but settled for pulling her shirt down and quickly stripping his jacket off. Gingerly he helped Karen sit up and thread her arms through the much too large garment.

Voice low and ragged he gently pulled her to her feet, "The van is just up the embankment over there. We will get back to the room to get your stuff and then we need to leave."

She made a grunt of acknowledgement, doing her best not to let the pain show too much on her face as they moved up the hill to the waiting van. They were closer to the main road than she had realized but it still felt like an eternity as they made their way up the embankment. Frank had pulled the van hastily to the shoulder, presumably after seeing the struggle below.

Quickly, he bundled her up in the van before pulling back onto the deserted road to her motel room. Her shivering was starting to subside, his residual warmth in the jacket seeping into her bones. Karen took a deep breath, breathing in Frank's scent of gunsmoke and leather and with a sigh she realized how incredibly tired she was. Karen felt his eyes on her frequently and held his gaze for a while but before long she rested her head against the window and shut her eyes until the van eased to a stop.

---

Frank had slammed the ticket and money on the counter as quickly as he could but when he stepped outside it's like Karen had vanished into ether. Cursing louder this time, he stepped around the sides of the building hoping she had just stepped out to cool down.

The woman was infuriating. Karen was so goddamn headstrong, so damn stubborn and despite his rising frustration and unease he begrudgingly had to admit she had a right to be angry. It really wasn’t fair of him to push her away so strongly only to pop into her life when he saw fit but also, there was no way he could leave her to be hunted down. Just another example of her showing him she wasn't going to take his shit. Karen matched him blow for blow in so many ways.

However, if she got herself hurt to prove a point to him, he was going to kill her. Or at least give her a very stern talking-to. Right after he ensures there isn't a scratch on her and she is safe.

He crossed the lot, wrenching the van door open and hopping into the driver seat. She couldn't have gone too far, so he looped around a couple of buildings before getting back on the main road. He suspected she would not be out in the open so he scanned the surrounding area as he slowly rolled through. Thankfully there wasn't any traffic out, the less prying eyes the better.

Frank stopped abruptly, there was a car parked on an access road to his right. The lights were on and the driver's side door wide open. It had been about 10 minutes since he last saw her, there was no way she could be in trouble already...right? Who was he kidding, Karen was a shit magnet, trouble could find her at the drop of a hat.

He sped up a bit, dividing his attention between the road ahead of him and the access road to the side. It opened up into an empty parking lot that, for a second, had Frank thinking maybe the car had been a false alarm after all.

Movement caught his eye at the edge of the parking lot in a copse of trees. He saw a flash of blonde under a large man's hands as he was beating her head against the ground. Instinct took over before Frank had a second thought, the rage that fueled him blooming out from his chest and he pulled the van to the shoulder, slamming it in park with his sidearm in hand in a matter of seconds. He heard her beautiful voice spitting venom at the man on top of her and his heart stuttered in his chest knowing she was conscious and fighting back. The man's back was mostly to him but the angle of the embankment prevented Frank from having a clear shot. He didn't want to risk the bullet passing through him into Karen, so he holstered the gun and took off at a sprint. He saw her elbow come down and the man's answering punch and he was nearly mad with the fury from it but the world bled to crimson when he saw the man reaching for his own belt, a sadistic smile on his face.

Extreme military training and his current lifestyle allowed Frank to operate on near autopilot when he pulled Karen's assailant off of her. He barely felt the few blows the man got in on him and didn't flinch when he broke the man's wrist after a brief struggle, taking the gun and ending him with two shots to the head and 5 more in his chest for good measure. Everything was still tinged red, each breath raked his throat raw as Frank tried to rein himself in before he kicked the man in the head.

A pained gasp behind him brought the world back into full color and sharp focus and Frank was kneeling before Karen before he had time to blink. He thinks he said her name, he isn't sure, "Hey, hey, don't move, let me look ya over first."

There was a large goose egg on the back of her head, he would have to watch her for concussion. He skimmed his fingers over the delicate bones of her face, there was swelling but he didn't feel anything broken. He noticed blood gathered at the corner of her mouth, hopefully no broken teeth. As his hands smoothed down her arms he noticed her shirt had been pushed up over her bra and her side was a mix of blues and purples he was used to seeing on himself but would do anything to prevent ever seeing on Karen again. Rage and nausea hit him at the implications of what was about to happen.

Asshole, you had to be an asshole and chase her off. This wouldn't have happened if you weren't such a prick ...Frank was brought out of his thoughts by her hand resting firmly on his. He hadn't even realized he had reached out to touch the large bruise. Her voice was small but laced with steel, "That was from before I left New York. This isn't on you Frank, none of it."

He wanted to tell her how wrong she was but the way she was looking at him made the words stick in his throat.

Frank was pretty sure there wasn't a heaven or hell but if angels existed, Karen Page had to be a prime example. She never gave up on her crusade to redeem him and it blew him away every time. He glanced quickly over at the man with his broken nose and what looked like scratches by his eye before he looked back at her and saw hellfire in her eyes. Yeah, an angel of truth and retribution, burning the guilt out of every sinner. They'd build monuments to her one day.

Shaking himself out of that line of thought he tugged her shirt down gently and noticing her tremor he was out of his jacket in seconds. It felt like an eternity before he had her safely in the van, tucking the man's gun into a bag behind the center console before taking off in the direction of the motel. Every time he glanced at her he was met with her steady gaze but the final time he noticed she had closed her eyes to rest her head against the glass. He tried not to let his worry influence his driving. The last thing they needed was to be pulled over, both had blood splatter on them, she was beat to hell and there were numerous illegal guns in the back.

He pulled slowly into the spot closest to her room, leaning over and resting a gentle hand on her leg, "Hey," he spoke softly to not startle her and it took a second for her eyes to focus on his, "We're here. Let's go get you cleaned up and grab your stuff, yeah?"

She nodded and started to open the door and slide out but Frank was at her side in a second, a solid wall for her to lean into as they made their way to her door. He had the key inserted, cleared the room and ushered her inside before she had much chance to think, laying her back on the springy mattress.

Once he was sure it was as secure as it was going to be, Frank ran back out to the van to grab his first aid kit. He didn't think any of her injuries would require stitches but a cold compress would be good to keep the swelling down on her face. He took a quick second to change his clothes, tossing the blood stained outfit in a bag. Karen was still laying down when he came back and made a line for the sink to find something to wipe the blood from her face. She gave him a wan smile as he sat down beside her with a warm wet washcloth and began gently wiping away the blood.

Standing, Frank went back to the sink to grab a paper cup, filling it with tepid water from the faucet before stepping back and handing it to Karen.

"Here, you can rinse your mouth with this.” She took the cup, draining the contents with no protests, wincing slightly when she sloshed it around her mouth and spitting it back in the cup. Frank gave the barest nod as he set the cup aside, “Open up, let me see where that blood is coming from." He cupped her chin gently as she opened her mouth. "I don't see any broken teeth, looks like you cut the inside of your cheek pretty good though. Gonna be hell eating anything on that side for a while."

She gave a little huff as he let her go and handed her another cup full of clean water to drink.

Stepping over to her bag, he handed it to her, "Gonna wanna change, looks like there is just some blood on your shirt."

Karen didn't question anything, just dug around in her bag to find a different top. Frank busied himself taking out her other things, listening for any sign she might need help. Once she was resettled, he placed one compress to the back of her skull and had her lay back on it and instructed her to alternate the other one on each side of her face while he took her remaining things out, throwing her shirt in the same bag as his sullied clothes to be disposed of.

Before he stood up though, Frank looked her in the eye that wasn't covered with an ice pack and ground out a quiet, "I'm not goin' anywhere Karen."

He saw her lip twitch slightly before she laid her hand gently on the side of his face, running her thumb over his strong cheekbone. He saw moisture gathering in her eyes and just as quietly she rasped, "I know."

Frank leaned into her cool hand, leaving a soft kiss on her palm before moving off the bed. He tried to pretend he couldn't still feel her hand on his face. Tried not to feel how her touch was seared into his flesh. He tried, he failed. Frank felt like if he looked into the mirror he would see exactly where her hand had been, a red brand on his skin where she had caressed him.

It didn't take long for him to have the van loaded up with her meager belongings. He set up the small cot he kept in the back for stakeouts, cursing when he realized he just had one threadbare blanket. Frank walked quickly back into the room, gathering up the blanket bunched up around Karen, carrying it out with one of the spare pillows. Frank felt Karen's curious gaze on him as he absconded with the laundry but she didn’t say anything. She was sitting on the edge of the bed when he came back in to retrieve her. Her cheek was swollen and he could see bruising starting around both of her beautiful eyes. Each developing color and injury marring her skin was another monumental failure on his part. He catalogued every one of them. When he was able to get his hands on Wilson Fisk, he would be sure he got each bruise in turn. Before he died of course.

Without a word, he offered her his hand, pulling her gently to her feet. She gave a small grateful smile before heading out the door. Frank could tell she was trying to keep her shoulders straight but he could see her favoring her ribs. He would need to look closer at those when they had a chance to stop.

He stopped her as she started for the passenger side door, "I set up a cot in the back, why don't you start there. It'll give you a chance to rest and keep ice on those bruises." Karen opened her mouth to argue, he already knew what it would be, 'I'm fine. I don't need rest .'

Frank doesn't like to plead but desperate times and all that...he rested a gentle hand on her shoulder and pleadingly, "Please, Karen." He knew those words would have an affect on her, they always do. With a sigh, she gingerly climbed into the back managing a small exasperated look as she went. Her long legs looked a bit cramped on the small cot but before long she was settled in, cold compresses back in place.

Wasting no time, Frank slid the door shut and rounded the van. Glancing back from his spot in the driver's seat, he isn't surprised to see that Karen is already asleep. Double checking that there was plenty of gas in the vehicle and his firearm was tucked in the door, Frank pulled out of the parking lot. Before long he was on the interstate, heading West and dialing David to see about getting a safe house secured. It only rang once before a familiar voice answered.

" Did you find her ?" David's voice was urgent, not bothering with pleasantries.

"Yeah. Yeah I got her with me. Listen Lieberman, I've already involved you too much but I nee-,"

" Need a place to stay? Yeah I figured, I've been working on getting something set up while you looked ." Frank heard the tell-tale clicking of a keyboard in the background as the hacker's fingers worked deftly. " I have a couple places lined out: Illinois, South Dakota and Colorado. What are you thinking ?"

Frank shook his head, as much as David drove him crazy, the man was incredibly intuitive and efficient. He just hoped he wouldn't get him and his family involved in any shit.

" Hey, Earth to Frank, stop with the brooding and answer the question ."

"Fuck you Lieberman. Colorado, send me the info and then get off the grid. Don't get yourself into any shit trying to help me."

" Yeah, yeah, sure thing. I'll get it to you soon. " There was a pause, " How is she?"

Frank stayed silent for a moment, then quietly so he didn't wake her, "She's pretty beat up." He finished with a growl, "A couple guys got to her before I could stop them."

Another moment of silence.

"She's tough though, she put up a hell of a fight. She even tried to send me home once I found her, said she didn't need me." Amusement laced his tone, then he realized just how quiet David was on the other end of the line.

"Oh fuck off Lieberman. Don't start that shit. Just send me the information and go spend time with your family or somethin'."

There was a smile in David's voice and no small amount of smugness. There was no way to miss the affection in Frank's voice when he talked about Karen.

" Yeah, alright, it's sent. Try following the route I outlined, it will be easier for me to track you and make sure you don't have a tail. I've got channels open for any mention of Karen here in New York. You kids just relax and have a good time. Don't do anything I wouldn-.. " Frank hangs up the phone and tosses into the passenger seat before David can finish.

A muttered, "Asshole." Was all he said before settling in for a long trip.

#kastle #Karen Page #bamf karen page #frank castle x karen page #assault

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author-morgan · 4 years

Text

Phobia ☤ Alexios

sixteen - fire and flames

masterlist

“Be strong, saith my heart; I am a soldier; I have seen worse sights than this.”

Fate decrees two kindred souls from two different empires will find one another, and the spear shall be made whole again.

THE NEXT TWO days pass in a blur. Irene isn't sure how she'd found herself fighting rogues in a burning warehouse with Alexios and a Spartan after chasing Phoibe through the streets, but the flames lick at her skin and fire rages in her blood. She ducks beneath the swing of a two-handed axe and lurches forward, cutting deep into the man's thigh. The howls of pain are silenced when Alexios drags the point of his kopis across the man's throat in a tight slash.

She rises with blood spattered across her face -chest heaving, eyes wrought with harsh obduracy. Alexios' gaze lingers on the princess for just a second too long and he doesn't notice the assailant approaching him from behind -sword raised. Irene darts forward, uses the dead man's body as leverage, launching herself into the air over the Eagle Bearer's shoulder. She bears down upon the man with the broken spear, driving it through his neck. Lidless eyes reflect the glow of the inferno.

Something slams into her side before she can rise -sending her backward into a burning post. Scrambling to her hands and knees, Irene sees a discarded shield and rolls toward it. Bones rattle at the impact of a heavy sword against the metal. She drives her attacker back and regains her footing -wielding both sword and shield.

The second blow to the shield reverberates through her arm. She sweeps the shield wide, opening her foe's defenses and plunges her sword deep into the man's belly, wrenching it free in a spray of blood. She snarls, kicking the collapsing corpse away and tossing the shield aside. It only slowed her down.

Smoke begins to burn her eyes and scratch her throat. Through the flames, she sees the Spartan -fending off two men. He doesn't see the third. Irene recovers her broken spear from a corpse and throws it with all her might. As the Spartan turns to face the man, he is already falling backward -the hilt of a broken spear rising from his eye.

The Spartan gives her a curt nod, before turning his focus to the last rogue. Alexios already as his attention on the same man. The princess retrieves the spear. It comes free from the corpse's skull with a soft squelch and pulls his burst eye out of socket, too. Planks creak above, it won't be much longer before the half-rotten wood collapses and the roof caves in on them.

Night air floods the warehouse. It is cool by comparison -but only for a moment before it makes the flames grow larger and hotter. Irene returns to one of the civilians that'd been too weak to leave of his own volition. He drapes his arm over her shoulders and tries his best to push forward as she pulls him from the burning warehouse.

Alexios and the Spartan are dispatching the rogues that'd been waiting outside the flames. Irene eases the elderly man to the ground against a stack of crates. His gaze is empty and unfocused -eyes fogged over. He raises a withered hand, trembling, and reaches toward the princess. The tips of his fingers brush her bloodied cheek. "The gods will bless you," he cries and it almost sounds prophetic.

IRENE SHAKES THE water from her hands and looks up at the Eagle Bearer. There's a fresh cut above his left eye that hadn't been there when she'd last looked at him in the flames. "Why are you bleeding?" The question doesn't come out the way she'd intended, but a mix of what happened and you're bleeding.

Alexios lowers himself onto the dock after sheathing his sword with a dry chuckle. "Misstep on my part," he says, brushing two fingers over the cut above his brow. Blood trickles down his face in a rivulet and comes away on his fingertips, but he isn't concerned. It's minor -a scratch compared to injuries he's had in the past.

The Spartan, Brasidas, has already left to return to his camp. Much like Anthousa, he has plans for the Monger too, though they differ from the hetaeras. Brasidas wishes to lure the brute into the sacred cave and do away him without spectacle to spare civilians from the anarchy that could follow a public execution.

Either way, Korinth would be free of his reign of terror. Her gaze lingers on Alexios as he washes away the blood. "What do you think should be done about the Monger?" Irene asks -she's already made her choice but is curious who he will side with.

His jaw clenches. "If I were in Anthousa's place I'd want the satisfaction of seeing his head mounted outside the theater, but I think Brasidas is right," Alexios announces, "the less bloodshed the better." Irene nods, it is good to know they both agree on the task at hand.

IRENE GLARES AT him from across the fire. Alexios is sharpening the blade of a newly acquired labrys. She isn't so lucky to have come across treasure, only a room full of soldiers. "Sneak into the fort, you said," she grouses, trying to reach the bloody scratch on the back of her shoulder. "It'll be fun," she mocks.

He smiles a small smile. His lips twitch like he's trying not to laugh. The Eagle Bearer sets aside the labrys and whetstone, his eyes soften as they trail over her. "Come here, princess."

She offers him a harsh glare. "Princess?"

Alexios shrugs, going to her instead. "Well, you are a princess," he reminds her. She only scowls. He pushes her hair away and unclasps another pin on her shoulder, baring the full length of the slim cut. The blade must have slipped beneath her linothorax cuirass. Taking the damp cloth from Irene, he lays it over the scratch and finds his attention drawn to the scar running upward beneath her left arm.

His fingertips brush over the raised scar of their own accord. Irene's breath hitches and tiny sparks emanate from his touch, racing all over her body. She shifts -not fully turning to face him, though she can see the silent question in his gaze. Lifting her arm, she exposes the full length of the scar curving around from her back to just below her breast. "A mercenary intended to collect the bounty on my head while I slept," Irene explains.

She'd been in Argolis delivering news to Hippokrates and taking care of a group of bandits causing trouble for one of Alkibiades' friends. The blade had been quick, but the princess was quicker. Euterpe the Snake's dagger had missed its true mark and Irene had buried her spear deep into the mercenary's neck. By the time she arrived at the clinic in Argos to find the physician, she was drenched in blood and sweat. It's the closest she's come to meeting Hades.

A look of deep contemplation furrows Alexios' brows as he wipes away the dried blood on her back. He offers to wrap the slim cut, but it no longer bleeds and Irene wishes to save the bandages for more pressing needs and grievous injuries. Righting her chiton, the princess turns toward the fire.

"Alexios." Irene takes his hand and traces over the pale scar running across his palm -it's more recent than the ones wrapping around his arm. She'd felt the raised mark against her skin while he tended her minor injuries. "This scar," she begins, "how'd you get it?"

He looks down at the scar -and how small Irene's hand is in comparison to his own. "When I snuck into the Cult's meeting in Delphi, one of the Cultist was collecting offerings for the bloodline," Alexios pauses, "I offered my blood so it wouldn't raise suspicions."

Since meeting the Persian princess on the shores of Samos, Alexios has slowly begun learning her many expressions and what they mean. For instance, the way her lips are pursed and dipping downward and the soft wrinkle in her brow are a good indicator she is deep in thought about something. "What is it?" He asks.

"Hermippos bears the same scar," she tells him, "I've seen him with his hand wrapped many times too." Far too often for a just playwright and given his disposition against Perikles, part of her doubts it is merely a coincidence.

Before the morning comes the fire turns into a pile of ash and the chill of autumn lingers in the air. Alexios pokes the pile of ash with a stick and a flame jumps up then dies out. The brief flash of light is enough for him to see Irene curled into herself, shuddering. He rises, moving his thin bedroll next to hers. The princess shifts, rolling toward him -his warmth a magnet.

WORD PASSES AROUND the streets quickly of what had occurred at the Monger's warehouse in the Port of Lechaion. Whispers rise that he is making his way back to Korinth from Epidauros to face whoever had disrupted his dealings. Even with haste, it is a two-day journey and until the Monger arrives, Alexios wears the moniker of a misthios again.

By the day's end, he's secured two small pouches of drachmae and Irene has given away twice that much of her coin to those in need on the streets. Korinth is not a kind city and such help does not come often, but when it does -the people are indebted with gratitude.

Stars are veiled by thick, low hanging clouds shroud the countryside just outside the city walls in darkness. Flames cast long shadows in the ruins of an old temple next to a spring -bubbling with fresh water.

"Honestly, how do you even find a helmet to fit your inflated head?" The princess inquires, wringing water from her pitch hair. Alexios won't admit it, but he enjoys their banter. Some things he does just to get a rise out of her. Most of the time it works well enough -though he had not meant to provoke her scrutiny earlier in the day. "Well, luckily for you I am one," Irene says, puffing out her chest and trying her best to imitate the timbre of his voice. "I mean who says that?"

Alexios leans back against the felled stone column, trying his best to hide a smile as Irene paces back-and-forth. "Just because you have the body of a god doesn't make you one," she snaps without thinking -her cheeks turn burn bright red upon realizing what she'd said aloud.

He sits up straighter and has the audacity to smirk. "You think I have the body of a god?"

Irene grumbles and turns her back to him and the fire. "Forget I said that," she says over her shoulder, wrapping herself in a pale yellow wool blanket, "good night." Alexios shakes his head, smiling, then glances up and finds Ikaros hovering above them, keeping vigilance.

#Alexios #Alexios x OC #Alexios Imagine #Alexios Fanfiction #Assassin's Creed Imagine #Assassin's Creed Fanfiction #Assassin's Creed Odyssey #story: Phobia #my writing

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alexius-fr · 4 years

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Brother

Part 1 of ?

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@jollyroger-fr @fusefr @lindwur-fr @slighteyewing @mask-fr @kagira-fr @indulg3nce-fr

If you would like to be added to the pinglist let me know!

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Do you know what it's like to stand in someone's shadow?

It may be someone you admire or even claim to love. A mother, a mate or a brother.

It gets harder when you feel you're in everyone's shadow.

Am I useful or used?

Silas didn't know the answer. But he knew something was eating at his pride. Sanguine's barked irritations over the smallest things day after day, the knowledge his mother never cared for him, his lover that left him so long ago, never to be replaced with another.

How much could one dragon take? How much more did he have to withstand without ever being heard, being appreciated or loved? He used to shrug off Sanguine's snarky remarks. He used to be certain at least his brother would always be his closest friend. Family bonds were not easily broken, as their mother proved so well. It seemed they could not escape her legacy where ever they went.

A new dragon had arrived into the clan several days ago. She was a recently awakened ancient, a warrior of the Flamecaller, her egg preserved in the wake of a terrible tragedy, but now hatched and fully grown, a song filling her head with the glory of eras ago. Her name was Ashe, and she had intrigued Silas a great deal. They had spoken quite a lot since she arrived, and had quickly become friends. The way she treated him as an equal and not someone inferior to her had opened his eyes to the abuse he let slide all too often. It gave him a different view of his relationship with Sanguine, who he had followed all his life, enduring the mean spirited snarking in favour of his brotherhood with him. But Ashe had insisted Silas deserved respect, too. After all, who had stood by Sanguine all this time? And she was right, Silas realized. Sanguine depended on him for a fair bit of the work that was part of running a clan, yet never a word of thanks had befallen him.

He would have loved to confront Sanguine with it, but he found a part of him scared of his reaction. His brother did not like being confronted or put in his place, so perhaps he could show him instead. Carve out his own place in the clan, a new dragon who was stronger than the one everyone knew. Silas had always been adept at magic, and Ashe taught him some of hers, the ancient power reinvigorating his own magic to a higher level. Perhaps, with it, he could be like her. Strong, unwavering and true to himself. He would never have to stand in anyone's shadow again. But the spell he wanted to cast was not without consequence or risk. He was almost done preparing for it when she found him.

“There you are, Silas. I've been looking for you, Mahlah asked if you-” Ashe fell silent when she saw the runes on the ground. Ancient runes, which she recognized all too well.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her red hide gleaming in the light of the torches. Her green markings made her face appear ghostly, her white eyes peering into his worriedly.

“I'm preparing a ritual.” Silas said, evasive.

“I can see that much. I mean what kind of ritual?” Ashe insisted.

“You know better than to ask.” Silas said, knowing she knew what this was.

“Is this really the right path forward?” Ashe asked, not dissaprovingly but her tone was intended to make him think. Silas sighed and looked at her, the emotions clear on his face.

“I can't spend the rest of my life as a lackey, Ashe. I must do something.” He sat, pausing his preparations for the moment. Ashe sat next to him, a gentle look of understanding in her eyes.

“You need change.” she said, and Silas nodded.

“But you don't think you can just change as you are?” Ashe reasoned. “You are a strong dragon, one with a keen mind and good insight. You can be your own dragon if you wished, without this.”

“You are kind to think so.” Silas smiled.

“But you don't believe it.” Ashe said, sadly. “I can tell.”

“No, I don't.” Silas admitted. He was glad for her support, but he had made up his mind. “Will you remain my friend if I go forward like this?”

“I will.” Ashe confirmed. “It is your decision. But you don't have to do this for me. I already value you as you are.” her words were tender and stirred an emotion in Silas he thought he had forgotten.

“You are my first real friend since my awakening, Silas. You ground me and show me a new reality every day. That will not change.” Ashe smiled. “Make your decision, but weigh it carefully.”

She laid the front part of her wing on his shoulder gently before she departed. “I will wait for you outside. Call if you need help.”

“Thank you.” Silas had never spoken the words so gratefully. Ashe gave a last reassuring nod before she left Silas' lair, her footsteps echoing slowly away.

Silas quietly sat for a while, his mind focused and mulling over Ashe's words. She may be right. But he knew this was the way forward for him. He needed a change. And a sense for the dramatic had always run in the family.

He crushed the herbs he'd held in his claw and cut the hide underneath with his talon, the blood mingling with the herbs. He rubbed the mixture over the runes and stood in the middle of the circle he'd drawn with said runes. Everything was prepared.

He felt the pain almost instantly as he started chanting, it shot through his bones and travelled up to his spines with a shiver. This magic was potent, unlike anything he had tried before. He kept chanting, the spell that he cobbled together with magic known and unknown, unsure if it would work at all or if it would just disfigure him for life. But it felt necessary, and the pain was cleansing, in a way. It reflected all those years of being used, of being ignored, of the pain that was lurking inside of him all along. It all came out, in heavy breaths, sobs and screams that interrupted the chanting, but never for long. He could not break the spell now, or it would devour him whole. This ancient magic was nothing to be toyed with. Even as he maintained the spell, it threatened to swallow him whole, the darkness only just kept at bay by the warding runes. Then, slowly, the darkness retreated, and Silas dared to open his eyes a little bit. He kept murmuring the chant even now that the pain receeded and the darkness had dissapeared. Had it worked?

Exhausted, he slumped to the floor, expecting his front legs to catch him. Instead two wings softened the blow a little bit, but it changed nothing about the fact he faceplanted into the dirt. With a yelp of surprise he looked at the wings in amazement, feeling them flex as he tried to move what used to be his fingers. The spell had worked. He was like her now, strong, although he did not feel it right now. The spell had cost him most of his power, and he would need to rest and recover his strenght before facing Sanguine like this.

Footsteps approached and he saw Ashe's hind claws approach, lifting his head just enough to see her smile.

“You did it.” she said, with a small note of sadness but also pride. “It'll take some-” Silas paused for breath. “-Getting used to.” he wiggled his wings and Ashe nodded in understanding.

“Sanguine-” Silas wriggled to try and get up, but Ashe hushed him.

“Can wait. You need to rest first. I will tell him you're violently ill or something. You need to recover. Magic like that could kill you.” “Yes, alright.” Silas sighed and resigned to his fate. “You're probably right, as usual.”

“Come, let me help you to your nest. I'll bring you some food and water.” Ashe said, Silas leaning heavily on her as he crawled to his newly acquired hind feet. Being a bipedaled dragon was strange and new, but he was sure he'd get used to it in time. Ashe did not seem bothered by it either, after all.

“You walk like a toridae.” Ashe joked.

“Harsh.” Silas said, but a smile was on his face. “I've had this form for two minutes and you're already critiquing me.”

“It's what I do best.” Ashe boasted, both of them laughing as she helped him into his nest. Silas crashed almost immediately, his new body painful and worn from the magic that had assaulted it. But it was done, and he felt a sense of real pride at his accomplishment. Whatever Sanguine would make of it, Silas did not regret his choice, and he fell asleep easily, knowing Ashe watched over him.

#fr #flight rising #fr lore #flight rising lore #my lore #Murdoch lore #IS THAT A LORE POST ON CHRISTMAS EVE #WHY YES IT IS

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dragonheartetk · 5 years

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There’s always those things that I hear or see about romance, those little things I’ve heard a thousand times. Normally they just kinda bounce off, or leave the tiniest scratch, barely noticed. I’ve been dealing with amatonormativity my whole life. I’m used to that little undercurrent of society that says you’re missing out and you’re broken and you’ll never be worth as much as a romantic partner. That loud, constant cacophony that is so familiar that it seems to just be a whisper. I’m used to it. But then, every once in a while, it hits home. Said at a bad time or maybe the words are just a little too spot-on, or maybe this time they come from a friend.

“… you’re the one who I want to spend my life with, who I love more than anyone else.”

I freeze with my mouth open, she notices. “I’m sorry, I interrupted you, your train of thought.” She says, thinking that I merely was going a different direction in this conversation about the concept of romance and the difference between polyamory and monogamy. The conversation stalls. She knows something is amiss, but she doesn’t realize yet, she doesn’t know. That emotionally every muscle in me is tensed to accommodate the blow, trying to make it not sink in, not let it hurt. My head feels a little cold, like a minor version of when I try to speak in front of crowds. Somewhere deep inside that ache that I try to hard to ignore throbs.

I finish parking the car, movements still stiff. She must realize that it is something bigger than her initial presumption, I assume. I’m trying hard to arrange my thoughts, to express why this hurts without insulting this concept which is so dear to her. Finally, the words stumble out, “That’s what I hate about romance.” Not what I meant to say. Exactly what I meant. Not how I meant it to feel. I always want to soften it, but I can’t this time, the words are coming, as she protests (Or is that in a moment? I can’t quite remember what words were spoken when.).

Her protest, she understands now, at least in part, “That’s not what I meant. Who I love more tha- No, that’s not fair to you, you’ve been through that.”

I continue on, before or after she starts, I don’t remember, “I hate that concept of, ‘You, more than anything else. Above everyone else.”

She tries again, “Who I love enough to be intimate with, is that better?” (Was that before or after I spoke again?)

“Romance superior to friendships.”

I’ve send my part. I’ve said it, straight up, for the first time, aloud. I forget what she said after, what I said after. There was something, and it was important. Clearly, it was important. She understood, and she did not mean what she originally said. The conversation continued. But I don’t remember exactly how. And I don’t quite remember her words during it, either. These are my best renditions of the impressions and snippets that come clearly. The order is probably wrong, as are the particular sentences.

For once, I remember my own words better than those of my friend. Because these words have rattled around my brain, my rib-cage so long and so hard, left unspoken, or spoken just a little. Just a taste of it, but watered down to avoid hurting people. And finally I just said them. I named what was wrong with the whole attitude towards romance. Out loud. To another person. To an alloromantic.

Oh, but the best part? The best part my friends, is she understood. What’s more, she agreed. As much as I have feared saying these words uncensored, she did not feel hurt, she did not consider me harsh. She saw my pain, she saw her mistake, and she had never intended it to begin with. I felt... an equal. How strange that I normally do not feel that, and how terrifying. But, how marvelous to feel as one now. Finally. Perhaps I shall not have to live with this all my life. Perhaps someday I shall be able to speak out my feelings in the light as I did today, but without fear, and not only to a trusted friend.

Maybe someday I’ll feel allowed to consider myself the equal of a romantic partner. And maybe someday I’ll be allowed to consider my best friends the equals of romantic partners. In the daylight, and not just in my mind and online.

#aromantic #aromaticism #aro #amatonormativity #aro struggles #kinda depressing sorry #but kinda hopeful too #oh gosh I'm so messed up I never realized how broken I am

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misc-headcanons · 5 years

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Scenario: Law and his s/o after Doflamingo's defeat

2nd place prize for @leynadoodles

The second Doflamingo had fallen to the ground, defeated by Luffy's blow, Law stared at him. He'd always imagined what the bastard would look like after being beaten, and he wanted to burn the sight into his brain. Mugiwara-ya had really done it, despite all odds.

He quickly snapped out of it as he saw his s/o running to him. Her right arm had been severely cut by some of Doflamingo's strings after she had blocked an attack, and it was bleeding in several places. Nothing life-threatening, but it would definitely take a while to heal and it would leave more than a few scars. When she wrapped her arms around him and breathed a sigh of relief, Law was still; his arms hung at his sides and he looked down at the ground. ____ pulled away and looked back at him. "Law? Are you okay?" Her voice was laced with concern; she had been separated from him for most of the fight, and she had no idea if he had been injured. "Shit, did I get blood on your jacket? Sorry. I'm just...it's really over." She beamed at him. "We did it."

Law returned her smile with a glare, and ____'s grin faded. His fists clenched as he tried to keep them from shaking. I can't believe she came here, after how hard I tried to keep her out of danger... "I told you to stay behind on the ship with Bepo and the others," he replied coldly. "I gave you a direct order as your captain, and you immediately defied that order by sneaking off to Dressrosa." He turned away from her, too ashamed to look at the blood on her arms; he glanced down at a bloodstain on his shirt that had come from her embracing him, and he felt a pit form in his stomach. This was his fault. She was bleeding because he couldn't protect her. She almost died because he couldn't protect her. Goddammit, why couldn't she have just listened to him for once?

"Law, I--"

"How could you be so reckless?" Law snapped, turning around to face her. His voice rose with every word. "How could you be so stupid? Why did you come here after I specifically told you to stay behind?"

His s/o's mouth opened slightly at his harsh words. She glared at him. "You're my captain, and my lover," she replied heatedly. "You really think I'm going to stand on the sidelines in a fucking submarine when you're going to fight one of the most dangerous men in the world? How could YOU be so selfish and inconsiderate to just leave me behind like that, waiting to hear about you on a DenDen Mushi or read a newspaper to find out if you're still alive or...or dead?" Her voice broke at the end, and she felt tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

"I'm selfish?" Law barked. "You came here out of a misguided sense of love and duty because you didn't want to be patient. Do you have any idea how easily you could have died just now?" He marched over to her and grabbed her wrist to show her the wounds on her arm. She winced from the sudden movement, and Law's eyes widened as he realizes he had hurt her. He quickly let go of her arm and looked down."I've already lost someone I care about to that son of a bitch," he murmured. "I...If he had killed you too, I..."

____ stared at him, and her expression softened. She reached out to caress his cheek. "I'm sorry I made you worry by putting myself in danger," she replied gently. "But...I didn't want to lose you, either." She smiled and hugged him again, making sure to avoid smearing blood on him this time. "And we're both here."

#one piece #one piece scenario #law #trafalgar law #trafalgar d. water law #mine #100+ followers

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queakenstein · 5 years

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You , miss , are by far my favorite zelink writer ever. I have 2 requests for ya... ugh I need to stop being greedy XD it’s fine if you do one. - Link getting Impa’s approval for courting Zelda - Drunk Link spilling his feelings for Zelda to everyone who can hear.

Thank you so much!!

Hope ya like!

He knew from experience that he really shouldn’t challenge a Gerudo to a drinking match. However, Link was not the type of man to back down from a difficult task. The woman, a dignitary from the desert region, slaps him on the back and laughs. “I’s alright, ya can stop now.” Her words are slurred and her fingers rest, lazily, on her small glass. She’s turned it upside down. A classic sign of defeat.

Link grins. His blue eyes sparkling with assured victory and blows his bangs away from his face. He snaps his own drink to his lips and takes the shot with as much grace as he can given he can’t quite remember what number he’s at. “Do ya give?”

She snorts, raises her hands and nods. “ ‘M callin’ it quits.” She latches on to a passing guards arm and points in a general direction of the guest rooms. “Help a lady, would ya?” The man raises a questioning look at Link who waves him off with a smirk. The Gerudo throws an arm around his shoulders and leans against the man like crutch. “G’night.”

“Night.” The Hero stands and keeps to the walls. It’s safer that way especially since he knows straight lines are dangerous right now. Eventually, he finds the woman he’s looking for. Back rigid and red eyes scanning the crowd for any sign of disturbance. She should know that few would dare to attack the castle with some of the country’s strongest warriors present. He can appreciate her vigilance. She’s the only reason he was able to let himself loose.

“You won.” She glances at him from the corner of her eye. Her lips hold some small trace of amusement. “Impressive.” He notes that she doesn’t sound impressed.

He ignores her tone and steadies himself by leaning back against the wall. He watches the crowd with her for a moment. Sages, nobles, great knights and famed heroes all move about the celebration. No one is treated any better than the others. Tonight is a night to enjoy the peace brought forth by all the hard work each of these individuals have done. Either by pen or sword. This was the third annual gala created by Princess Zelda. Link smiles at the thought of her.

“This is the third time you’ve refused to accept any honor or award.” Impa takes a step back so that she stands a bit closer to him. “Why do you refuse?”

Link shrugs. He’s dizzy and all the colors are honestly making him sick. “Uh.” He swallows and tries to carefully scan the area for anything he could safely vomit in. “I don’t…” He stops and decides standing is making all of it worse and let’s his body slide down until he sits on the floor. “I didn’t do it for medals.”

“As chivalrous as that sounds, it would not hurt to receive some accolade.” Impa either pulls on of her shadow walking stunts or his eyes close for longer than he thought. Either way, Link finds a piece of bread in his hand. She’s crouched before him and peering into his eyes. “She would, happily, give you any thing you would desire.”Her eyes squint. “Land. Gold, A title.”

He doesn’t like this interrogation nor the fact that she’s using his inebriated state to gain some sort of leverage or answers. Rather than spit the foul mouthed retort gathering on his tongue, he merely chomps a large piece off the bread and munches, angrily, at her. They sit there in a silence while he contemplates her queries. The titles and land would do him well. Gold would not be a bad prize either. He falls asleep for a time but wakes up feeling less dizzy but knows he isn’t sober. Impa stands guard next time him. “How long’ve I been out?”

“Two hours.”

“Shit.” The wall, ever his friend, helps him to stand. “That’s embarrassing.”

“You snore.”

He flinches. “Yer jokin’?”

“Not in the slightest.” Impa turns to points at the bread in his hand with a nod of her chin. “You should eat more.”

“Fine but this needs something.” He moves toward the table where a majority of the food has thinned out. He’s a little surprised to see that the party hasn’t dwindled much considering it is getting in the early hours of morning. A brief scan of the room reveals no trace of Zelda. He tries not to think about the possibility of her being swept off into a more private setting. A slice of cheese, butter and with an apple in hand, Link returns to Impa’s post. He drags a chair away from a table and sits next to her. “Thanks.”

“For?”

“The bread… earlier.”

She shrugs and makes no further comment for several minutes. “Who were you looking for?”

“You stalking me?” He asks, frowning.

“Merely noticed is all.”

Link sighs and answers her with exasperation. “Zelda.” He takes a bite out of the apple and makes a noise of delight before he continues. “She mentioned she wanted to dance.” He makes quick work of the fruit and starts on the cheese. “Why so many questions?”

“I’m bored and you’re the only one around… and you intrigue me.”

“How?” He rolls his eyes. “I’m not exactly a puzzle.”

“You say that yet none of your actions seem to add up.” She turns to meet his gaze and he feels very dizzy again. “You waged a war with a Evil reincarnated to fight for the peaceful life you had before. Yet, do not return to. So, perhaps it is knighthood that you long for but you refuse to accept any offer of ranks. Gold seems not to appeal to you nor does any lordly right or land…” She glares. “Still, you remain close by and accepted one final job offer… that of personal guard to the Princess herself.”

Link meets her stare and smirks. “You don’t trust me.”

She frowns and the hardness he sees softens some. “Wrong. I trust you.” Her admission shocks him but she doesn’t acknowledge the expression he makes. “The point that I would like to make is… If you are waiting for a sign, for some sort of permission, or approval then you have it.” Impa spares him one, small, sliver of a smile. “We have many ghosts that walk these halls. All of them filled with regret. Do not make that same mistake.” She turns away from him. “She pressures you to take all of her gifts because she thinks you are unhappy… but, also, because it might make the process easier.”

Link’s brain misfires for a brief second before he stands, quickly, and causes his chair to topple with a clatter. “Easier?” His voice is a little louder than he expects so he clears his throat. “Are you telling me… that she’s…?”

Impa nods. “Are you not in love with her?”

“I-I–” He knows he’s losing composure. He’s still to drunk to deal with this. There’s too many people but calculated steps are far from his mind. “Of course, I do but– It’s— Complicated.”

“You make it so.”

Link shakes his head and growls with frustration. “No. The fact that she is a Princess and I’m just some man with a sword makes that complicated.” Link’s voice is a harsh whisper and he moves to stand in front of her. Talking to the Sheikah’s back is making the situation all the more uncomfortable.

“You slaughtered Ganon.” Her face is impassive and her voice resumes it’s unimpressed tone from earlier in the night. “You are the one making this complicated.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose and can feel a headache coming on. His voice rises but he’s too worked up to notice. His heart is pounding and he’s sweating. He can’t understand why he’s sweating. All he knows is that Zelda is in love with him and, apparently, it’s his fault that they aren’t…married? Courting? He shakes his head and settles on together. “You’re telling me…” He ignores the way that Impa’s eyebrows rise. “That I… could just waltz up to Zelda.” He takes a deep breath. Air. Air is hard. “Princess Zelda. Who, by all rights, is Queen.” His gestures are wild and his legs have begun to pace. “A-And just tell her that… what? I love you?! And she would be okay with it?!”

He realizes his mistake when he recognizes the voice bouncing back at him is his own. Impa’s mouth is open slightly and she holds the first truly shocked expression Link has ever seen… There’s a small voice in the back of his head that tells him if he just drops to the floor hard enough that he would probably knock himself out and spares himself a few hours of whatever the hell awaits him behind his back.

The grand hall is deadly silent. Clearly, one’s drunk love confession to your regent who may or may not be in the room is serious.Sounds of feet shuffling around reaches his ears as Link glares at Impa and half-scream, half-whispers to her. “You’re dead to me. Now, I have to go kill myself. Hope you like your ghosts filled with embarrassment too!”

“Now, now.” A soft voice admonishes. He’d recognize it anywhere. He can picture her dressed in the pink gown he saw her in with her pale, blonde locks cascading behind her. Light blue eyes that would peer up at him should he turn around. “You promised a dance and, since you mentioned waltzing, I would like to take you up on it now.”

“Or.” Link swallows. “I could throw myself off the balcony.”

“You’re very drunk.” She giggles and he can’t help the smirk that crawls across his face because he knows she is too. She only giggles like that after drinking too much wine. “Could you make it that far?” Her hand, gloved in silk, reaches out to pull at his. “Dance with me.” He turns to her with just a small tug from her fingers and keeps his eyes to the ground. Zelda steps forward to wrap her arms around him. Her fingers clench his shoulder blades and his arms encircle her shoulders in a tight embrace. He closes his eyes to the many gazes on them and rests his chin on her hair. “Hi.” She giggles and he feels her shift to look up at him.

He musters up the courage to finally look her in the eye and he smiles, ever-so softly. “Hey.”

#queaky writes #legend of zelda #legend of zelda fanfiction #zelink #zelink fanfiction #fanfiction #zelink fluff

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bakugous-abs · 5 years

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Hello, hope you guys are doing great! I really love your writing and I was wondering if you could give me a Bakugou x reader scenario where he pines after her in class everyday and she's so oblivious, but it's obvious to everyone in class till the point where it gets so annoying, they just lock them in the classroom till they make out or something? Thank you so much, and have a nice day!

~Admin Eun

Bakugou Katsuki wasn’t one to openly express his emotions, and almost always would he keep his emotions other than raw anger or passion inside his head. He didn’t like to show weakness, and to him having any sort of romantic feelings towards anyone was a sign of such weakness he resented. Still, despite the fact that he tried so desperately to keep any feelings at bay, a girl in his class just so happened to bring the damned feelings out of him. Katsuki would like to tell himself that he concealed his emotions well, but the truth was that he couldn’t hide his affection towards (Last Name) (Name) to save his life. Everyone noticed it—well, everyone except (Name) herself, that is. The way his voice would soften when he talked to her, or even the fact that he’d let his steel guard down whenever he was near her…Whatever it was, it was clear that he had a soft spot for her, no matter how much he’d try to deny it. And deny it he did, telling himself that romantic feelings were stupid and meaningless and he’d be better off alone for his time in high school. Sure, there had been boys and girls alike who confessed their feelings for him, but he could care less. In both middle school and high school he’d get a confession at least once a week, but these people to him were naive and didn’t have the slightest clue of what they were getting in to—not that he ever gave them a shot, that is. Not a chance in their lifetime that was far below his own.

This fact made his evident feelings towards (Name) all the more confusing. What was so special about her? And this wasn’t a question rooted from jealousy or spite, but instead genuine curiosity. It wasn’t like she was abnormally talented or at the top of her class—yes, she was a profoundly adamant aspiring hero, but it wasn’t anything record breaking. She was cute, but in a gentle way and certainly didn’t look like the type that would catch Katsuki’s attention. She was a bit oblivious to some things, and in turn she was extremely mellow to others and was generally that way to most things that presented itself in her life.

But…Perhaps this is why Katsuki was so resolute on (Name) and not anyone else. Perhaps her soft nature attracted him to her, or maybe it was something completely different. The boy himself wasn’t even sure why she out of all people made his heart beat and his palms sweat. It made him angry whenever he’d catch a glimpse of her smile and feel himself jump at how utterly enchanting he found it. After a few weeks (Or perhaps it was months? He wasn’t keeping count.) he finally said, “Ah, fuck it.” and decided for himself that if his dumbass heart was going to have these feelings, he might as well just go ahead and act on it. His theory was that anyone would be lucky to have him as a boyfriend, so of course she’d agree to a date with him, right?

Well, not exactly. The first day he tried to hint a date with her, she completely brushed it off.

“Hey,” he grumbled as he walked up to her, the sound of students enjoying their lunch break white noise behind him. The only thing he could hear was the pounding in his ears and the only thing he could see was (Name) look up at him curiously, eyes inviting and bright. “Oh, Bakugou! Hello!” she chirped, giving him her full attention. Whenever he felt both her and her friend’s (Raccoon Eyes and Frog) eyes on him, a layer of sweat began to form on his brow line. What was he thinking? Well, obviously he wasn’t thinking or else he wouldn’t have approached her out of the blue in the public eye. Still, he found himself spitting out a jumble of words before he could even contemplate it.

“G…Go out with me this weekend, dumbass!” he shouted. His classmates that surrounded her either let out an audible gasp or a laugh and it made his face turn red in both anger and embarrassment. (Name) pursed her lips a bit, pressing a finger to her cheek in thought. The action was so innocent, yet it made him blush at how cute it was.

“Go out, huh? Well…How about we all go out? That could be fun! Mina, do you want to come along?” (Name) started to converse with her friends, leaving Katsuki jaw slacked in shocked. Did she really not understand what he was insinuating? He saw as her friends nervously tried to decline, obviously understanding Katsuki’s internal motives.

“Urgh, just…Forget it, damn it!” He let out a huff of frustration before he turned to leave, ignoring (Name’s) shouts of protest.

Try as he did, Katsuki couldn’t seem to catch a break. He didn’t know if she was stupid or just intentionally playing him, but either way it made him want to blow things up out of sheer rage. The humiliation he felt was comparable to the time when he was captured by a villain and that stupid Deku had to be the one to save him, and that was a bold statement.

“Just be straight with her!” Kaminari groaned. “Seriously, it kind of hurts to watch.”

“Shut the hell up! I’ll kill you, dumbass bastard!”

“I’m just trying to help!”

Katsuki was on the verge of picking a physical fight with Kaminari, but to the electric blonde’s relief, his attention turned to (Name) who had just exited the classroom. She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, smiling when she caught Katsuki’s gaze. “Bakugou! Hey!” She jogged up to him with a smile, her text books held tightly to her chest. His friends beside him held in a chuckle when he shot them an icy glare.

“I was actually just looking for you, but turns out you found me instead!”

He gulped, his mouth parting only slightly. “Yeah…”

From a spectators point of view, this was simply too mortifying to watch. His friends started to physically cringe whenever Katsuki would mumble out some half-brained response, and truthfully it even made them feel kind of bad to see someone like him act like this.

“Ah, (Last Name), follow us. We wanted to discuss the test with you, is that cool?” Kirishima asked, grabbing Katsuki by the wrist and walking towards the classroom. The girl smiled, nodding. “Sure, of course!” Kirishima allowed Katsuki and (Name) to enter the classroom, the two only a few feet in before the door slammed behind them. Sero was quick to tape the door shut before shouting, “Shoot me a text when you’ve finally done what needs to be done!” The group left directly afterwards, all laughing as they did so.

“The hell? What do you dumbasses think you’re doing!!” Katsuki roared, going to blow up the door. (Name) dropped her books, immediately grabbing his wrist. “No no, Katsuki don’t blow the door up!” she cried. She pulled him back as hard as she could, the force causing Katsuki to turn and slam into her chest with his own. The impact caused the two to stumble back, (Name’s) back against the edge of a desk and Katsuki’s body pressed against hers.

“Ow,” she mumbled, hands on Katsuki’s shoulders. She seemed to shrug their closeness off, but the alternate felt his heart pound out of his chest. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe it was the fact that he had been itching for a situation such as this for longer than he’d like to admit, but Katsuki found himself leaning forward. His lips touched her own, and as soon as he realized what he had done he jumped away.

“W-What the hell was that, dumbass?!” he barked, covering his mouth.

“What—?! M-Me?! You kissed me, you…You…!” (Name) sputtered, face red and gestures flustered. The two were met with a heavy silence before Katsuki sighed. “Fuck, you…You seriously didn’t fucking pick up on anything?”

“What? What are you talking about?” (Name) whispered, voice shaky.

“You really are a dumbass, for fucks sake…” (Name) was about to retort back before Katsuki finally made himself make eye contact with her. He stepped towards her, actions wobbly. “Obviously, I…I feel that you’re…More tolerable than the other dumbasses. A lot more tolerable, that is…So much that I, um, shit.” Katsuki cursed under his breath, lowering his head. (Name) didn’t respond, the boy feeling himself start to shut down at the lack of answers from her. Before he could though, he felt two hands press against his cheeks, raising his head up to meet the gaze of (Name) herself.

“Bakugou, do you like me?”

He almost fell over. “W-What are you, stupid?! What the hell do you think?!” His voice was harsh, but it was only because he wanted to distract her from his unbelievably red cheeks. (Name) stared at him for a moment before breaking out into a bright grin.

“Why didn’t you just say so? You’re so cute, Katsuki,” she purred. He started to yell at being called ‘cute’, but before he could she pressed her lips against his, pulling his figure towards her hastily. He was caught off guard, a rare feat for him. He felt his back press against a desk as she started to kiss him deeper, rougher. Even though it embarrassed him to be in such a vulnerable and submissive place, he still had to appreciate the fact that he could finally kiss the lips that he had been distracted by for a while now.

Sero, Kirishima, and Kaminari all took a while to recover from their laughing fit. Truthfully, they were just being Katsuki’s friends and messed with him. Surely their stupid joke wouldn’t go anywhere, right?

“Ah, it’s a text from Bakugou. I bet—” As Sero unlocked his phone, he was silenced at what his friend had sent him. Three pairs of eyes all rested upon a picture of both Katsuki and (Name), the two clearly disheveled. If they looked closer, they would even be able to see the array of hickeys that rested on (Name’s) neck. The picture was followed by another message.

‘get fucked, shitheads.’

#admin eun #bakugou #bakugou x reader #katsuki #katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x rader #kacchan #kacchan x reader

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