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elianamarie-blog · 4 years

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The Things You Give Pt. 11

Happy spooky season, my dear loves! Thank you for being so patient with me as I publish each part. I really hope you enjoy this next part. I love hearing from you guys so feel free to message or leave a comment <3

Steven Hyde x Reader

“Eric!” Y/n said, completely frozen in shock. “W-what are you, uh, what are y-you doing h-here?”

Eric’s face didn’t change as he stared at the couple in front him, wide eyes and jaw slack. So many questions ran through his mind as well as different emotions. Rage, confusion, hurt, shock, and most of all: betrayal. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to scream or strangle them both. His hands started to shake and he swore his heart was going to beat out of his chest.

“Uh…it’s not what it looks like!” Hyde said, trying to save the situation. “She was helping me move some boxes and she found some of my nudie magazines.”

“Yeah!” Y/n cut in, catching on. “And I started making fun of him for it and that’s why it sounded like we were talking dirty and that’s why we look like this because of all the moving…and it’s hard work. And we smell like this because we got all sweaty. But nothing else happened!”

Eric couldn’t believe that his best friend and sister would think he was that stupid. He couldn’t even say anything to them. All he could do was calmly walk out through the basement door without saying a word.

“Oh no,” Y/n said under her breath.

“Crap,” Hyde sighed and looked at Y/n who looked like she was about to cry.

Down at the Hub, the couple and everyone else, minus Eric, sat around their usual table as Y/n and Hyde relayed what had happened just a short hour prior.

“He was like a deer caught in the headlights,” Hyde said. “A very angry looking deer.”

“You know what this means?” Donna asked. “This means that he’s going to rant for the next six months and guess who is going to have hear about it?” She pointed a finger at herself. “That’s right, me. Over and over and over again.”

“I know,” Y/n grumbled and hid her face in her hand. “This is so not the way I wanted him to find out. Any of you really.”

“Yeah, I still think I found out the worst way still,” Donna commented and took a sip of her root beer, but not before she shuddered dramatically. “I still have nightmares about it.”

“Yeah it wasn’t a thrill for us either,” Hyde said and took some fries from Y/n’s basket.

“To be honest, I’m kinda scared to see him,” Y/n said after taking a sip of her coke. “He just…didn’t say anything and stormed out.”

“Maybe he didn’t know what to say,” Jackie said. “I mean, he probably was disgusted.”

“Jackie, what the hell, man?” Y/n asked her frustrated.

“No, I mean it’s his sister and best friend. How would you feel if that happened to you?” she defended.

“It did happen to me!” Y/n said. “When Mike McCan’t Keep It In His Pants over here and Easily Spread Butter started sleeping together.”

“First of all, that’s a good burn,” Kelso laughed. “And second of all…I totally nailed your sister! Now if I can nail you, I’d done it with all the Forman girls!”

Hyde didn’t even hesitate to connect his fist to Kelso’s shoulder. Kelso grunted and glared at him before scooting away from him.

“So, how did it make you feel? How did you react?” Donna asked.

“Well, I was beyond angry because I felt so betrayed and disgusted and lied to—ah crap,” Y/n said, realizing what the point was. “Dammit, Jackie, I hate it when you’re right!”

“Which isn’t very common,” Jackie stated, holding up a finger. “But when I am, it’s a big deal.”

“Have you guys seen Eric?” Y/n asked.

“I haven’t,” Donna answered.

“Me either,” Jackie mumbled.

“Nada,” Kelso said.

“Sorry,” Fez finally said, shaking his head.

“Man, I’m kinda freaking out,” Hyde said. “Normally I don’t, especially when it comes to Forman, but you should’ve seen him. I’ve never seen him like this. Normally, he’s like, you know, all squeaky and twitchy, but this time, he was just quiet and walked out calmly.”

“Yeah, I don’t what I’m going to do once I see him,” Y/n said, leaning back and crossing her arms.

“Well, you might want to figure it out soon because he’s coming in,” Fez said, panicking a little.

Y/n and Hyde whipped around to see Eric stomping in, but the second he came in and made eye contact with them, the air around them suddenly went still.

“Hi, Eric,” Y/n said softly.

“Hey man,” Hyde said, trying to sound as casual as he could.

The dirty blonde twin looked at them before turning away back into the parking lot.

“Damn,” Kelso mumbled and turned back around to face the group. “He’s really pissed.”

“Trust me guys, I’ve known Eric our whole lives and I’ve never seen him like this,” Y/n said.

“Well, duh, you shared the womb with the guy,” Fez piped up and everyone couldn’t help but roll their eyes. “I guess you can say, you were wombmates.”

Y/n couldn’t help but giggle at that while everyone else groaned and rolled their eyes.

⧝⧝⧝

The next day, things between the twins and Hyde were still eerily quiet. Eric couldn’t even be in the same room as them. Even at the breakfast table, Eric refused to look up from his plate. Kitty and Red shared a look, knowing something was wrong.

“What’s wrong with you?” Red asked. “You’re usually annoying in the morning. Actually, I can get used to this.”

“Red,” Kitty said sternly and turned to Eric. “Eric, honey, are you okay?”

“M’ fine,” Eric mumbled shortly without looking up and shoveled some eggs into his mouth.

“Did you get into a fight with Donna?” she asked.

“Mom, I said I’m fine. Can we please drop it?” Eric asked, trying to not raise his voice at her.

She held her hands up. “Fine, fine.”

The table went back to ground breaking silence while everyone sat there tense and still, except for Red who was actually enjoying the silence for once.

Outside later in the afternoon, everyone, minus Eric, sat in the driveway, shooting some hoops and talking on top of the Vista Cruiser.

“Where’s Eric?” Jackie asked.

“He’s…somewhere,” Y/n answered and looked towards the house. “I think he’s been hiding in his room all day. Or he just goes where we aren’t.”

“Probably both,” Jackie said and shuddered. “I wouldn’t want to be in his room either.”

Donna laughed. “That’s true. One time I just walked in and he was reading a nudey magazine and I swear I’ve never seen him jump up so fast. It would’ve been funnier if he wasn’t naked.”

Y/n and Jackie shuddered in horror.

“Gross!” Jackie exclaimed.

“What she said,” Y/n said and gagged. “Thanks for that mental image.”

Y/n looked over to Steven, Michael, and Fez playing basketball and made eye contact with Steven. In that split second, Michael took advantage of it and swiped the ball from him. He made a slam dunk and stuck his tongue out at Hyde.

Hyde quickly grabbed the ball and spun around, dodging Kelso’s attempted swipe and slammed it into the basket.

“Hyde: two, Kelso: uno,” Hyde said, smirking and balanced the ball on his hip.

“I love watching you play basketball,” Y/n said, her voice lowering.

“Yeah?” Hyde responded, staring her down.

“Yeah, it’s hot,” she responded before realizing they were in front of everyone and cleared her throat. “Or you know, whatever.”

“Get a room!” Kelso shouted.

“It’s my house!” Y/n argued.

“Exactly! So, you should go find one and get that out of here,” he responded.

“Shut up, man. We used to have to watch you and Jackie make out all the time,” Hyde said.

“Yeah, but it wasn’t weird like this is,” Kelso responded.

Y/n and Hyde rolled their eyes at him before turning back to each other.

“So, have you seen him?” he asked her.

“No, have you?” she asked.

He shook his head. “We’re going to have face him sooner or later.”

“Later,” Y/n answered. “Gives me time to think of ways to calm him down. Or by the time we do face him we’ll be in Guadalajara.”

Hyde shook his head smiling. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

Y/n sighed and hopped off the car. “Fine. Let’s go find him.”

“I think I saw him go into the basement earlier,” Fez said and everyone followed Y/n and Steven to go to the basement.

“Can we get some privacy?” Y/n asked when they noticed everyone was following them.

“No way!” Kelso answered. “We aren’t going to miss the show.”

Y/n grunted, feeling annoyed. “Idiots.”

Hyde turned around and slammed his fist into Kelso’s shoulder. “Will you get out of here? All of you!”

“Ow!” Kelso yelled. “Fine!”

Everyone dispersed leaving Hyde and Y/n alone.

Begrudgingly, Hyde and Y/n made their way to the basement where they did, in fact, see Eric sitting on the couch watching TV. But judging his body language, he was tense and still really pissed off.

“Eric?” Y/n called out gently, afraid to scare him off like a stray animal. “How are you doing?” She rounded to the couch to face him and saw his chin resting on his thumb while his index finger held up his cheek. He wasn’t paying attention to the tv and was just sitting there, seething.

He looked at her from the corner of his eye to back to the screen. He stayed silent, refusing to speak to her.

She looked at Hyde desperately, needing help.

“Listen, Forman. We need to talk about this,” Hyde said stepping forward.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he said, struggling to keep his voice leveled.

“Yes, there is and it’s need to happen,” Steven responded. “I get it, you’re pissed. But this needs to be hashed out so it doesn’t become another Kelso fiasco. So, come on. Let’s talk.”

“Talk about what, exactly?” Eric snapped. “What’s there to talk about? Talk about you screwing my sister? Or that you guys went behind my back and have been lying to me this whole time? Or how ‘bout this, that you went after my twin sister? You know it was bad enough when Kelso did it with Laurie, but Y/N?” He shook his head.

“Eric, please,” Y/n begged. “Trust me, this is not the way we wanted you to find out.”

He jerked his head to look at her. “How did you want me to find out?”

She shrugged her shoulders nervously. “I don’t know, but somewhere along the lines we wanted to tell you.”

“And how did you think I would take that?!” he yelled. “You’re sleeping with my best friend! I can’t believe you guys would do this to me!”

“Okay, first all, Forman, we’re not doing anything to you,” Hyde defended. “In fact, this isn’t about you at all. And second of all, it’s nothing like that. It’s more than that now.”

Eric’s face darkened. “What do you mean by that?”

Hyde cast his eyes down and looked to Y/n before turning his gaze back to Eric. “I love her, man.”

“WHAT?!” Eric practically screamed. He dragged a hand down his face and started to pace behind the couch.

Y/n stayed seated as she watched her brother’s breathing becoming uneven and shaken. She knew that he was about to lose his cool.

“What the hell do you mean you love her?” he continued shouting. “Out of all the stupid crap you’ve pulled, this has got to be the dumbest one yet!”

“What do you mean by that?” Hyde asked offended.

“I think you know exactly what I mean,” he replied. “You stringing my sister along for fun, making her believe that you’re in love with her and then when you get tired of her, you’re going to dump her for the next girl that comes along.”

“That’s what you think I’m doing?” Hyde was getting visibly angry. “You think I would that to her? I’m not freaking Kelso!”

“I don’t see you denying it!”

“Hang on!” Y/n shouted, standing from her seat. “Do you really think I’m naïve to fall for something like that again?”

“Well, you did before,” Eric spat.

Y/n’s blood started to boil. “That’s nothing compared to what Steven and I have! What he is saying is true because I love him too!”

Eric’s face fell and flushed red, clenching his teeth. “How long?”

“How long what?” Y/n asked.

“How long has this been going on?”

“Well, uh, since June,” she answered.

“So, you’ve been dating secretly for four months and never thought of when to tell me?! When were you going to tell me? After you guys secretly got married? Or after the birth of your first secret child?”

“It’s not like we wanted to hurt you,” Y/n defended. “We didn’t plan for anyone else to find out either.”

“Everybody else knows?!” Eric shouted.

“Nice going,” Hyde grumbled, elbowing Y/n’s arm. Gently, of course.

“Uh—yeah. They kind of…found out on their own. Except for Fez. Kelso told him, but other than that, yeah. They caught on.”

“How do you think Mom and Dad are going to take it when they find out their daughter is screwing the town’s rebel?!”

“You mean the one they took in?” she asked angrily. “The one who they love like another son?”

“I’m warning you now when Dad finds out, you’re dead. Both of you. And I mean literally,” Eric warned and continued to pace.

“I know, but this a risk that we’re willing to take,” she said and walked over to where Hyde was standing and wrapped her arms around his waist. Steven wrapped a protective arm around her and held her close. “I love him and he loves me. I’m actually happy.”

“I know this hard for you to get through your thick skull, but I really do love her, man. For the first time ever, I’m happy,” Steven said, more calmly this time.

“Stop saying that!” Eric screeched.

“It’s true, man!” Hyde yelled back. “Will you quit acting like a two-year-old and actually have a decent conversation?”

“You don’t get to tell me how to act when you’ve been going behind my back like this,” Eric growled. “Don’t you dare tell me how to act!”

“This is why we didn’t want to tell you!” Y/n said. “We knew you’d act like this!”

“How am I supposed to act, Y/n? I mean, for four months, four damn months, you’ve been doing whatever you’ve been doing in secret. I can barley understand all of this. I don’t know how the hell you expect me to accept this!”

“Well, you’re gonna have to because this isn’t going to end anytime soon!” Hyde said.

Eric finally stopped pacing and looked Hyde straight in the eye. “You know what bothers me the most? That I gave you more than one chance to tell me the truth and you lied to me. I’m supposed to be your best friend, your brother, and you couldn’t even come to me to say, ‘Hey man, I like your sister and I’m thinking of asking her out. Just thought I’d give you a heads up,’” Eric said, doing an impression of Hyde.

Hyde unhooked his arm from Y/n’s shoulder. “Okay, first of all the impression, uncanny,” he said sarcastically. “And second, even if I did come to you first you still wouldn’t be okay with it.”

“Of course not!” he said. “But it still would’ve been better than being lied to!”

Hyde and Y/n grew quiet and looked at each other. As much as they hated to admit it, he was right. They should’ve at least said something to him before all this.

“You know what? I can’t even look at you two right now,” Eric finally said and walked over to the door, grabbing his coat from the rack.

“Where you going?” Y/n asked, tears beginning to surface.

“Anywhere but here!” Eric shouted and slammed the door on his way out.

“Damn it,” Y/n groaned, rubbing her hands down her face. “I knew this was going to blow up in our faces.”

“Let’s just give him some space,” Hyde said and brought her in for a hug. “It’ll be okay. He can’t stay mad forever.”

“What was all that yelling about?” Kitty asked, coming down the stairs.

Y/n pushed herself away from Hyde and stood close to him. “We got into a fight with Eric.”

“You two got into a fight with Eric?” she asked surprised. “Why? What happened?”

“Donna and Eric had a fight,” Hyde and Y/n answered quickly together.

“Nice!” Y/n laughed.

“Alright!” Hyde laughed with her.

Y/n turned back to her mother. “We sided with her and now he’s all pissed at us.”

“What about this time?” Kitty asked.

“I’m not too sure,” Y/n lied. “Something about Star Wars.”

“Oh, for the love of God,” she responded, rolling her eyes. “Those two fight over the dumbest things.”

“You can say that again,” Hyde said, chuckling to himself.

“Well, when Eric gets back, make you sure tell him dinner’s almost ready.” She trotted back up the stairs, leaving the couple along again.

They sighed together and collapsed on the couch next to each other.

“What are we going to do?” Y/n groaned and dropped her head on his shoulder.

Hyde kissed her head and sighed as he put his arm around her. “I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out.”

“I love you.”

A small smile crept up on his face. “I love you too.”

⧝⧝⧝

The next day at the hub, the gang, again minus Eric, sat around a table eating burgers and fries. Y/n slurped on a milkshake while listening to Jackie’s incessant rant about God-knows-what.

“So, then as Brittany took the position of head cheerleader from me, now the whole squad has been completely ignoring me and talking behind my back. That skank wad,” said Jackie, crossing her arms.

“I thought you quit cheerleading?” Y/n asked.

“Yeah, but then I realized I needed to go back to my natural habitat. Snobby and bitchy.”

“At least you’re honest,” Y/n said..

“So, you talked to Eric, huh?” Donna asked.

“Yeah, and he didn’t take it well at all,” Hyde responded.

“Well what happened?” Fez asked.

Y/n and Hyde went into the details of what happened the night before with everyone’s eyes glued to their faces.

“Man, he’s taking this a lot harder than I thought,” Donna said, leaning back and taking a sip of her soda.

“I’m not surprised,” Kelso piped up. “I mean, he hated it when me and Laurie got together, but yours is way worse.”

Y/n squinted at him. “How is this worse, exactly?”

“Well, me and Laurie were just doing it,” he responded. “You guys actually feelings for each other.”

“No, you idiot,” said Fez. “If he was just doing her he would be angrier because then Hyde would look at her just like a hot piece of meat instead of actually having feelings for her.”

“Thanks, Fez,” Y/n said, happy that someone made that point.

“Or,” Kelso said. “He’s madder because this is a thing that’s going to stick and not just be a fling and get over with.”

“That’s also a good point,” Jackie said.

Y/n gave a look to Donna and shook her head before continuing. “Anyway, I don’t know what else to do.”

“There’s nothing you really can do,” Donna responded. “He knows now and there’s nothing you can say or do to make him any less pissed.”

“Except if you two broke up,” Jackie said.

“Oh, I got it!” Kelso said, snapping his fingers. “You two should break up!”

“Kelso!” Hyde and Y/n said in unison.

“No! I mean you two should fake break up and then Forman won’t be so mad at you anymore,” he responded.

“Well, that’s not too bad of an idea,” Jackie said.

“What’s the point of that?” Hyde said. “He’s already pissed off at us for lying to him. What makes you think this one is better?”

“Yeah, good point,” Fez said. “Well, then Donna is right. There’s nothing you can do.”

Y/n sighed and leaned back, rubbing her temples. “This sucks.”

“I know, but he’ll come to accept it,” Donna said. “Especially if this is going to last.”

“What Miss Kitty and Mr. Red?” Fez asked. “Red is a fireball. He’s going to lose his crap.”

Everybody gasped.

“Red!” Kelso shouted. “I didn’t even think about him!” Then he started laughing. “You’re so dead, man.”

Hyde glared at him. “You think we didn’t think of that?”

“Well, we’re eighteen now. He can’t tell us what to do and who to be with,” Y/n said, turning to Steven. “He’s going to have to get over it.”

“Yeah, after he sticks his foot in your ass,” Donna laughed.

“I’ll take it,” Hyde said and put his arm around her shoulders. “I’ll take anything for you.”

Y/n giggled as everyone awe’d at him.

“Shut up!” Hyde yelled, but a smile formed on his face anyway.

A ding at the door caused the group to turn around. Zack stood at the entrance and made his way over to Y/n once he made eye contact with her. Y/n internally groaned.

“So, you’re with the school burnout now huh?” Zack mocked. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to find someone better than me.”

Y/n blinked at him. “Great. You’re back. Don’t you have to be annoying somewhere else? Like in college? Or did you fail and disappoint them too?”

“BURN!” Kelso shouted, laughing along with the rest of the group.

“I didn’t fail out,” he defended. “They kicked me out.”

Y/n laughed. “For what? For spiking the sorority girls’ punch?”

“No,” he said, growing frustrated at everyone’s laughter. “I broke into the girl’s locker room and drilled a hole through the wall.”

Y/n through her head back and laughed. “Yeah, you know what, I upgraded. And my guy maybe a ‘burnout’ but at least he doesn’t cheat on me with some skank.”

“I only cheated because you wouldn’t put out,” he said, his cheeks puffing out.

“Yeah, get lost, Loser,” Y/n said, throwing the word back in his face.

He pfft’d and smacked Hyde in the arm. “Good luck with this bitch, man.”

Hyde glared at Zack before slowly standing and winding his fist back and connecting it to his nose. Zack cried out and held his nose in his hand.

“What the hell, you prick?!” he shouted.

“Call my girlfriend a bitch again and I’ll make sure you’ll be the first person to touch his chin to his ass!” Steven shouted. “Get the hell out of here!”

Zack didn’t respond as he scrambled out of the building.

“That was awesome!” Donna cried out, laughing.

“Yeah, that was,” Kelso said, smiling. “I’ve never heard a guy scream like a bitch before.”

“Me neither,” Y/n chuckled and looked to Hyde. “By the way, that was so hot.”

“I gotta protect my girl,” he said and leaned in for a kiss. Y/n smiled into the kiss as she placed her hand on his face, scratching his sideburns.

“Oh, God,” Eric called out from the door, feeling disgusted seeing them being affectionate.

Hyde and Y/n pulled apart and looked at Eric.

“Hi,” Y/n said. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d come down and see my dear sister with our dear friends, to try and maybe to hang out and get some normalcy, but seeing you two makes me want to vomit.”

“Oh, come on, Eric,” Donna said. “It’s not like this Kelso and Laurie.”

“That’s what I said!” Hyde said, trying to deflate the situation.

“Besides, they’re kind of cute together,” Donna said with a smile on her face. She looked to Y/n who mouthed a ‘thank you’ and winked at her. “You can’t stay mad at them forever.”

“Maybe not, but I can for a really, really long time,” he answered and was about to walk out the door when Y/n stopped him.

“Eric, wait no,” she said and got up, grabbing his hand. “Please don’t go. Sit with us.”

“Look, Y/n. I can’t. You have no idea how angry I am that you lied to me. We’re twins and we’re not supposed to have any secrets between us. We share everything, but you know the thing that really hurts the most? It’s that you felt like you couldn’t come to me at all. I can understand Mom and Dad, especially Dad because he’s well, scary, but me? I thought we were best friends and you trusted me enough to come to me.”

Tears filled Y/n’s eyes. “Eric, I do.”

“Clearly not enough,” he said, hurt laced in his face and drew his hand back from hers. He looked to Hyde who looked like he felt deep guilt. “We’re supposed to be best friends and you couldn’t even tell me the truth the first time. You clearly don’t care about anyone else but yourselves.”

“Eric, that’s not fair!” Y/n cried.

“You want to talk to me about fairness?!” he raised his voice again. “This isn’t fair. None of this is fair! It wasn’t fair that you went behind my back and started doing it! Or, that you couldn’t even come tell me that you have fallen in love with each other! That’s not fair.”

He walked out the Hub, leaving Y/n in tears. She sat back down and rested her head in the crook of Hyde’s neck, face turned away from the group so they couldn’t see her tears.

Hyde wrapped his around her waist and held her close, trying his best to comfort her.

“I’m sorry Y/n,” Donna said. “I’ll talk to him later.”

“But he’s right,” Y/n croaked out and turned her face back to them. “This isn’t fair to him and we did him wrong.”

“But you can’t help how you feel,” Jackie said sweetly. “It’s not like you did this to get back at Eric for something. You two truly do love each other and if he cared about you, he wouldn’t be so angry.”

“No, he has every right to be,” Y/n said, wiping her eyes. “Yes, we have strong feelings for each other, but we still went behind his back and betrayed him. He has every right to feel the way he does.”

No one else knew what to say, but to look at each other.

“I gotta go,” Y/n said and ran out before anyone else could see more tears.

“I should go too,” Hyde said. “This is my fault too.”

He got up and walked out after her, feeling the same guilt as she did.

Taglist:

@lieswithoutfairytales @mdittyz123

#Steven Hyde #steven hyde x reader #that 70s show #That '70s Show #that 70's show fanfic #Eric Forman #Donna Pinciotti #Michael Kelso #jackie burkhart #fez #fez x jackie #i just love when fez sings this because it's so cute haha

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moxfirefly · 3 years

Note

hellow its me again hehe can i have a order 53 In/By A Swimming Pool with mikey please?? (kink prompts??) Sorry if it's not clear ^_^

A little aquatic adventure? Ok I’m down for it.

Rated Mature (18+ Only)

Michelangelo really loves your thrill seeking ways. It’s quite possibly one of his most favorite things when it comes to you, first place being you yourself obviously.

You had met up with him at the roof top of one of your many spots. It was date night nevertheless and Mikey always prided himself in showing you a good time. Dull was surely not in his vocabulary and you loved that. But tonight the two of you had been drawing blanks upon what to do. The humidity had covered the night air making it just unbearable to be outside.

Which led to your idea.

“Babe, can you break us into the pool over at my college?” You were lying your head on his lap whilst Mikey played with your hair. His face broke out into a big smile. “You serious?” You sat up and smirked at him. “Well it’s freaking hot and I’m kinda feeling a pool date tonight” You climbed on his lap wrapping your arms around him. “So? Up for a little breaking and entering?” Mikey was thoughtful, he wasn’t necessarily into illegal stuff but where was the harm of taking a little late night swim?

Mikey nodded, laughing once you squealed in delight . He welcomed the onslaught of kisses you attacked him with.

____________________

Breaking into the college had proven fairly simple, child’s play almost. Inside the large indoor Olympic pool you wandered off to turn on the pool lights. Not wanting to make it obvious you made sure to just turn the lights that were placed inside the pool itself. Mikey wowed at the sight of the grandeous pool.

“Pretty neat yeah?” You met him by the bleachers, your giddiness radiating off of you in waves. Mikey couldn’t even keep still, the prospect of taking a little night time swim with his gorgeous girlfriend was definitely bucket list worthy. “Let’s jump in!” Mikey announced unfastening his skateboard back bag and his gear. You yourself unbuttoned your jeans and kicked off your shoes. Your orange clad boyfriend couldn’t help but stare as you pealed piece by piece of clothing. He was kicking off his own shoes by the time that you were in your undergarments.

Good lord you were absolutely stunning to him.

“Come on baby boy, last one in is a rotten egg” You took off and canon balled into the pool. Almost slipping trying to kick off his shorts, he jumped into the pool and was instantly met with the cool liquid relief. You swam to the bottom of the floor, the serene soundless feeling of the water engulfing you. Truth be told you always enjoyed the water but just hated coming here when it was filled to the brim with people.

Mikey swam up to you effortlessly and pulled you into a hug. The bubbles flowed freely with your laughter and soon you were above the surface with a laughing and giggly terrapin. “Ok I gotta say, this is cracking top three date nights” You feigned shock. “Big words there Mikey, top three? Really?” Mikey made a thoughtful expression.

Then he grinned and dunked himself and you down.

Most of the night was spent like that. Swimming around, a rousing battle of spraying water at one another, you even tried to race him (lost pretty quickly too). The entire night was shaping up to be another legendary memory for the two of you. Closer to the shallow end the two of you sat, your head on his shoulder.

“I want a pool in our future place some day” You smiled at the idea and Mikey whistled. “Man now that would be lit, could you imagine? We could get some cool slides and have it be heated so we can still use it in winter” There he was off adding to the fantasy of what might be. It often crossed your mind how things might be if the two of you had your own space to call your own. You and Mikey always made up crazy fantasy houses for fun when bored.

“I’m serious though, Mikey” You got up, waist deep in the water. The drops mesmerized Mikey, you looked so beautiful in the dim lights. “Our own place? Me too angel cakes, I want the whole deal” He stood up as well and wrapped his arms around your waist. “You think I ain’t getting Raph ordained online so he can marry us? Like I wouldn’t break into city hall and steal those marriage license documents? Gurl I’m gonna wife you up” Each announcement only made your smile grow wider before you couldn’t stop giggling.

Wrapped in a blanket of love you had no other option but to kiss him. It was one of those kisses you couldn’t stop smiling against his lips but the more you kissed the more heated it became. Mikey’s kisses trailed down your neck, the wetness there felt so good, the coldness of your body pressed against his making your nipples harden. “Say it again” You punctuated each word with a kiss to his cheek. “You’re gonna be my wife, baby” He backed you up against the wall of the pool and caught your lips in yet another heated kiss.

How can an idea make you feel so excited, in every sense of the word. You pressed your hands against his plastron, the firmness of it was something you secretly enjoyed a lot. You admired him, mouth agape catching your breath you pushed down his underwear. Mikey smirked and did the same with yours. He unclasped your bra casting it out onto the water. “Gosh you’re so gorgeous Y/N” He cupped your breast in his hands, firmly kneading them before dropping kisses onto each of them. You twirled a wet mask tail before untying it and also letting the water take it away. The weightlessness of the water, Mikey supporting you with his hands the goosebumps pebbles your skin. You would never get bored, just never a dull moment with him.

He entered you like that, slowly with a sigh of your name against the shell of your ear. Wrapping your legs around him more tightly you let him take charge. The water rustled with first few slow thrusts, the feel of his wet reptilian skin felt so tight against your human one. “Love you to bits” He spoke sweetly. A wave of emotion crashed into you, to have him here present and so in love. Your eyes fluttered closed and you smiled. “Love you so much” You hiccuped when he bottomed out fully.

Mikey loved the feeling of the water around him, the coldness of your skin that seemed to be heating up little by little. The feeling of his cock nestled inside of you, how you dug your fingers into him. “You’re so beautiful, love this so damn much” He thrusted slowly but the intensity in his words, in how he admired and loved on you had you quickly going up.

You kissed him with a desperation that matched his own. Mikey moaned into your mouth, thrusting harder and more firmly. Those icey blue eyes of his landed on your own e/c ones. You gasped holding yourself tighter around him. He begged for you, something untangible he couldn’t make words for but he showed you with actions.

It hit the two of you so suddenly and it felt so damn right whenever you could manage to cum at the same it always blew your mind. Disorienting didn’t begin to explain it, Mikey choked out something that sounded like your name and you held onto him you were sure he might bruise.

Once the ringing in your ears stopped, you felt his lips on yours and everything in the world, simply melted away.

#tmnt bayverse #tmnt mikey #michelangelo tmnt #tmnt michelangelo x female reader #tmnt michelangelo x reader #tmnt michelangelo #michelangelo x reader #mikey x reader #Mikey #ns*w #ask #angelcatlowlyn #requested oneshot #writing prompt

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aegonbeingfakeisracist · 4 years

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I think one of the best arguments for Aegon being real is the fact that he's written as pretty much doomed. Poc dont get to be much more than plot device in these books. Just as Quentyn's death was used as a plot device, just as Oberyn was killed to 'subvert our expectations', just as Baelor died for.. literally no reason, Aegon won't get to be anything more than a plot device for Daenerys. He's there to give her 'something to fight for', to further her own character arc. He doesn't get (part 1)

to be his own character. Him turning away from Dany to go west is actually seen as a fatal mistake by the fandom. Even his training is meant to mirror hers (he learns the same languages she does). We don't get to know Aegon's thoughts about his mother and sister, his most important scene is once again about Daenerys. I swear this infuriates me to no end. Why is Aegon a 'subversion of the hidden prince trope', when poc already don't get to be heroes in fantasy books? (part 2)

Wouldn't it be more satisfying if Aegon got justice for his family and lived on to carry their legacy? Wouldn't it be better than the same tired cynical story of another person seeking justice and getting punished for it ? (Sorry for the rant!!) (Part 3)

You get me.

Baelor dying is so impossibly frustrating, and I wish I had the words to properly express my mixed feelings about the issue. I love me a good heroic sacrifice and someone dying to defend the principles they believe in. And in order to get that same emotional impact, yeah, Baelor probably had to die. But why couldn’t we have gotten that after getting to see more of him and why he was as beloved as he was? A common theme in the story is that good intentions don’t always pan out into good results. People that start off promising can be corrupted by power. But by the time of Baelor’s death, he was still a good guy. His last action was to fight his own family to defend an innocent hedge knight. He’d been an extremely competent Hand of the King, presiding over a period of peace. He was a skilled warrior, administrator, and diplomat, with a firm sense of right and wrong - as Duncan put it, “[h]e saved me once with his sword, and once with a word, even though he was a dead man as he stood there”. He was the hope of Westeros. But we didn’t get to see him interacting with his parents or his wife or his sons. We get a small glimpse of the kind of man he was, and it’s great, but why couldn’t we have gotten more? Why couldn’t we have gotten to see, I don’t know, the conversation between him and Egg where he told him to go apologize? Or something between him and Daeron - “his royal father’s wishes prevailed” when it came to the funeral arrangements, and “Daeron II had a peaceable nature”. I would have loved so much to see their interactions as king and Hand, or the contrast between Baelor and Bloodraven as the angel and devil on Daeron’s shoulders.

The Dunk and Egg novellas after the first are set during a very troubled time in Westerosi history, and it begins with Baelor’s death in the first - this death marks a loss of innocence. Baelor was a young, genuinely good man and a great leader, cut down before he could become the greatest king in the history of Westeros. He was one of the few men that lived up to the idealized, heroic image. He fought to make institutions better. After his death, a cloud falls over Westeros. We see the darkness in the later novellas - the aftermath of the Spring Sickness, Bloodraven’s police state. The world post-Baelor is not at all the same as what we see in The Hedge Knight. Maekar notes that every time a crop fails, people will say that Baelor would not have let it happen. And the thing is, saying that would absolutely be an oversimplification. Some of what went wrong, Baelor would not have been able to stop. But through competent management, some of it he would have been able to improve - it’s hard to imagine him letting Bloodraven create a surveillance state or completely neglecting his domestic duties in favour of obsessing over Bittersteel in Essos! Bloodraven probably wouldn’t have even been his Hand, given what we know about them advising Daeron to do entirely different things. Because we don’t see that preceding golden age, Baelor feels closer to a plot device than a character, and the impact and feeling of loss after him isn’t as strong as it could be. Like, take A Game of Thrones, right - Ned Stark gets a large chunk of the book about his successes and failures and interiority. We see him decide that, yeah, he will confess to anything to protect his kids. And then we get to see the impact of his death on both the short and long term, with different outcomes specifically linked. With Baelor, we see a good, likable guy, and the tragedy of him being cut down in his prime, but so little about anything about him that doesn’t directly pertain to Dunk and his trial. Part of the point is that a good king is not enough - inherited power cannot lead to long term success. One good king does not guarantee his successor will also be good. So in order to emphasize that, shouldn’t we have gotten more of Baelor instead of killing him in his first appearance?

And again, it’s frustrating that the character whose death symbolizes the loss of innocence is the visibly brown one. Why couldn’t the necessary loss of innocence we see in the Dunk and Egg era been the result of, say, Baelor accidentally killing Maekar and becoming a more hardened, cynical man as a result? The throne could have still ultimately passed to Aegon V through essentially the same way it did in canon - Baelor's children predeceasing him, the throne passing to Aerys, a succession crisis from which Egg emerges victorious. Or Baelor could have died, leading to the childless Valarr becoming a harsh, stern king for a time before the throne eventually passed to Aegon. We’d still have the tragedy of losing a good man in both these circumstances, all that changes is how - it doesn’t have to be death. But the brother that explicitly resembled his Dornish mother had to die to pave the way for his white passing brother/white passing nephew to become king.

Then there’s the Dark Sister issue. As I’ve mentioned before, characters of colour are so frequently excluded from the magical side of the story, even in things as tangentially related as Valyrian steel swords. The Martells don’t seem to have an ancestral weapon, let alone any connection to the water magic of their ancestors. And we have zero indication that Baelor - the half Martell heir apparent to the Iron Throne, a known warrior - ever got to wield one of his familly’s ancestral swords. His uncle Bloodraven (notably younger than him) got Dark Sister. The most likely explanation as to how is that Daeron gave it to him. But when was this, and why? Was Baelor passed over for the sword? Did he wield it before his death? Given how he was noted to have his sword sheathed by his side before he went into the flames, that one seems unlikely. Meaning he never had the sword, and Daeron passed over his non-white heir to give the ancestral sword to his white half brother. Teenage Jon Snow is gifted House Mormont’s ancestral Valyrian steel sword, with the pommel even changed to indicate that it’s his sword, now. Grown man Baelor that had proved himself time and time again did not receive his family’s sword. This is the intersection of two problems - characters of colour being excluded from the magical side of the story, and Targaryens of colour being cast aside as unimportant. Baelor and his children all die. Rhaenys is brutally murdered. Aegon is surrounded by “he’s a fake!” theories and is doomed no matter what. But Daenerys gets to be central to the story. Aegon V, who is treated as white even though he’s biracial, gets to be central to the story. There’s no reason it had to be Egg rather than Matarys; there’s no reason it had to be Daenerys and not Rhaenys. Baelor gets a lot more agency than most other characters of colour. It’s not that he doesn’t have a personality. It’s not that I don’t love him and appreciate the choices he made. But since we don’t get to see more of him, his primary purpose is to drive the plot - all his decisions are to advance the character arcs of other people.

Also, I have issues with the origin of the Water Gardens story. It was Daenerys that had to tell her son to keep his people in mind with every decision? Seriously? Maron isn’t even named in that story. He’s referred to as “one of [Doran’s] ancestors”. He was the Prince of Dorne, and his heir is only referred to as Daenerys’s, as if it were she that were the real ruler. Maron Martell is one of the poster boys for keeping his people in mind - he joined the Seven Kingdoms! That would not have been a popular decision! But he did it anyway because it was what he needed to do. Women are constantly neglected in this story, so while I’m often very happy about the female ancestors we do get information on, I find it frustrating that in this case, it’s information on a white woman that comes at the expense of a brown man.

It gets even more uncomfortable when we think about the parallels between the Water Gardens and Summerhall. Summerhall is the Targaryen equivalent of Water Gardens. Both are pleasure palaces. Doran stays at the Water Gardens, rather than Sunspear. Daeron the Drunken stayed at Summerhall, rather than Dragonstone. Where it gets uncomfortable is when we start talking about why these castles were built. Maron built the Water Gardens explicitly for Daenerys. Daeron built Summerhall to commemorate the peace he’d made. While it would be logical to infer that part of the reason for the construction of Summerhall was Daeron wanting to do something for Queen Myriah, it’s not in the text. Daeron and Myriah’s marriage is inextricably linked to Maron and Daenerys’s. Daeron and Myriah’s marriage ended the war. Daeron’s younger sister marrying Myriah’s younger brother brought Dorne into the realm. Both marriages were happy. Both marriages involved a woman leaving her home to go somewhere extremely different. But where white Daenerys gets a speech that makes it explicit that the palace her husband built was for her, the reader can only realize that something similar was true about brown Myriah through inference. Maron treated Daenerys spectacularly well. We have no way of knowing how Daeron treated Myriah. Myriah’s name isn’t even spelled consistently.

Now that I’ve gone on my pre-series characters rant, Aegon! I’ve said many times that it’s gross for him to just be a plot device. It’s unfair. He’s got death written all over him, and I hate it. You’re so right - what even is the point of having him be anyone other than Aegon? No matter what, he’s still dead, so why go off on this weird, needlessly complicated thing? It’s a logical flow that I dpn’t even understand. Why should he be fake? To prove what Varys says about power residing where the people believe it to reside. Then why is he doomed? Because he’s not really a Targaryen. Then how does that prove that power resides where the people believe it to reside? There are “too many secret princes”, but there’s nothing wrong with the ridiculous concept that Aegon being is Illyrio’s son by a wife that was a female line Blackfyre descendant and Illyrio is for some reason all in favour of sending him to be raised by someone else for the sake of conquering a land ravaged by war when he could instead gain more power and influence in Essos? How? It’s hard to see what the point of it is - if Aegon were to live and be king at the end of the series, I can maybe buy it. But we all know he won’t. The only argument is “foreshadowing” - which, you can’t really say whether something is foreshadowing or not until you know what the payoff is. Right now, there’s just as much setup for him to be who he says he is. And while there are so many cool ways his story could be taken...he is, indeed, just used as a plot device.

As the son of a Dornishwoman, Aegon is a descendant of Rhoynish refugees. He has a greater connection to the Rhoyne than most of his Dornish contemporaries! We meet him travelling along it! It would be perfectly reasonable - and very cool - to see him using rediscovering water magic, to contrast Dany hatching the first dragon eggs in a century. He could carry on his family’s legacy. It could be made extremely clear that yeah, Dany needs him and it is not true that Dany doesn’t need anything but her army and dragons to conquer Westeros. We could get emphasis on how Daenerys has nothing waiting for her in Westeros and could have done literally anything, but is too busy being fixated on the idea of “returning” to claim the throne, while Aegon very much does have ties to Westeros through his living maternal family and the need to avenge his murdered mother and sister. But nah, can’t have that.

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve said I wish Rhaenys had lived, and how I think the Young Griff story could have been more powerful with her. But it honestly doesn’t matter, because neither of them are allowed to matter. I talk a lot about how characters of colour are not associated with the magical side of the story, and we see even more of that by thinking about prophecy. We get all this talk about the prince that was promised, with people trying to interpret what it means and who it is. Aegon is portrayed as a false lead, with it really being Daenerys, with no one in the present actually believing he has a part to play in this magical story. But the Martell sigil is literally a sun with a spear through it - a “bleeding star”, so to speak. As Elia’s children, Rhaenys and Aegon were both born “beneath a bleeding star”. It should come up, but it doesn’t. Quentyn must die because he's not special enough to tame a dragon. Oberyn has to die to subvert expectations. Baelor has to die to save Dunk’s life and clear a path for Egg to take the throne. And Rhaenys and Aegon cannot have any connection to magic because that would make the white characters less special. The only reason Aegon (real or not, it doesn’t matter) gets to be in the story at all is that he looks white. Aegon looks like Dany, so he can be painted as an obstacle for her to fight. It can become a pseudofeminist story about a woman challenging an entitled man who thinks he ought to rule because he’s male. If Rhaenys - a visibly brown woman - were in the story, it would quickly become apparent that that’s not what the conflict is at all. So she can’t be, just as Aegon can’t matter in and of himself.

There’s this novel. It’s called Sorcerer to the Crown. It’s a cross between low fantasy and regency romance, with two leads of colour. In it, there’s a scene where the female lead hatches three familiars’ eggs. A familiar - ha! - scene, to one in ASOIAF. But it’s striking to compare how in Sorcerer to the Crown, it’s a nineteen year old brown woman that gets this powerful scene. She gets to go from a position of weakness and being used by people around her to a position of strength. The novel doesn’t just involve people of colour, it centres them. Prunella and Zacharias are the story. They are the heroes. They don’t have to justify their existence and power to any of the other characters demanding they apologize for taking up space. It’s hard not to think of that whenever I think about how every character of colour in ASOIAF is used to prove how special the white characters are.

#A Song of Ice and Fire #Aegon VI Targaryen #Baelor Breakspear #severelyuniquebarbarian #replies

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bagels-and-seagulls · 5 years

Text

sugary sweet apologizes

based off of these headcannons

check it out on ao3 (2k)

“Jesus, Matteo, can’t you see I’m busy? Stop bothering me.”

David feels like he was just dunked underwater. Everything is dull around him so quickly and his muscles are weighed down with the molasses sensation of guilt. His ears plug up with the sound of his own heart thumping, just waiting to jump right out of his chest and land on the floor for Matteo to pick up and take with him because he owes it to him anyways.

No, he’s not underwater. He’s moving in slow motion, watching the words form off of the tip of his tongue, and if he tries hard enough, he can almost pluck them out of the air right in front of him to save Matteo from having to hear them when everything about them is wrongwrongwrong.

That’s not really right either. He’s not in slow motion. He’s outside of his body, watching a scene of a movie where there’s about to be a knockout fight, except the only one who will be fighting is himself because he vowed the second he looked at Matteo to pummel anyone who made this boy look like he did now. The director of this scene will tell the actor to hit harder with each strike because it won’t be enough to even out the cruelty he has already done, and the actor will listen because David is all of them, and he agrees wholeheartedly.

Matteo cocks his head to the side like he hadn’t heard anything and then blinks at David. His face flushes in embarrassment, and David can tell just by the look in Matteo’s eyes that he has already decided to check out of this conversation and ignore anything from this moment forward. Matteo straightens up from where he was leaning over the desk, looking at David, and he clenches his jaw.

“Whatever,” he mumbles and turns away.

“Wait, Matteo- I didn’t-“ David tries to reach out and touch because he still feels like he’s not entirely in his body. Everything he has become has done nothing but try to protect this sweet boy from the cruel world he has come to know, but he never really expected that he would have to protect Matteo from his own ability to be too quick to strike out with his tongue.

“Go back to studying,” Matteo says back. “I won’t bother you.” There’s no heat in his voice, and David really wished there was. He wished that Matteo would deliver his own hit just to bring some sort of balance to this situation, so that David could start apologizing now and hope that Matteo would forgive him by tomorrow.

But Matteo stays quiet. He drops himself onto the far side of the bed, turns off the light, and pulls the blankets up high under his ears, turning away from David completely.

David doesn’t know what he should do. He really does have a lot of work that he needs to do, but if he tries to turn back to his books, he knows that he won’t be able to concentrate on anything, will just count down the pages until he’s able to curl up behind Matteo and hope that he lets him. But if he just crawls into bed now, he doesn’t want Matteo to feel like he’s doing it just because he feels guilty. Even though it would be because he does. Matteo hates pity. David didn’t want to insult him twice in one night.

David looks at his papers for another minute before he sighs and closes his books. He shoves them in his backpack before he looks over at Matteo who is still turned away from him. He wonders if this means he’s supposed to sleep on the couch. Matteo wouldn’t tell him if that was true anyways. David had gotten better at figuring Matteo out after all this time, but even if he jotted down every flutter of his eyelash and every click of his tongue and every reddening of his ears, David still wouldn’t know everything about him. He still would be at a loss now about how to read the sharp line of his shoulders and the tight way he was gripping the blanket to his face. All he wants to do is ease the tension in his jaw and kiss the back of his neck with apologies written in between his teeth, but he doesn’t know if that would be enough.

He gets into bed anyways. Matteo stiffens, and David reaches out before he can even think too hard about it, his muscle memory to pull Matteo close at every inkling of a frown and smooth out the lines in between his brows overpowering his common sense that Matteo was upset because of him. “Baby,” he whispers.

“Don’t,” Matteo says, still quiet. And he pulls his arm away.

David lays awake most of night, realizing why people agree not to go to bed angry. He wasn’t angry. Just guilty. Shameful. He doesn’t think that Matteo is angry either. He’s probably just sad. Just insecure and regretful and beating himself up for something that wasn’t his fault, something only David should feel bad about. He just keeps replaying the two sentences in his head over and over and over again because he wants to know where he went wrong, where his boyfriend’s natural caring affection made him snap and say something ugly, say something he knew cut deeper than David’s frustration over his latest school assignment.

It was a quiet night like this a couple weeks ago, maybe months ago, where Matteo muttered into the skin of David’s collarbones about his parents screaming matches every night, about how his dad would brush him off with a quick ”I’m busy. Bother your mother.” whenever he didn’t want to have to deal with his son, about how he learned to be quiet while the adults were talking. David was so surprised when Matteo started talking. He was sure that he would never hear the story of what had pushed him to move out and not talk to his father anymore except in quick spurts of frustrated Italian once a month. He ran his fingers up and down Matteo’s spine and pressed kisses to his forehead and his temple and the soft spot behind his ear, whatever it took to keep Matteo slack enough to let this all out for probably the first time since it happened. David smoothed kisses over Matteo’s skin and sewed in his promise to be nothing like the couple he described in terrible detail.

Matteo is so quick to retreat and hide somewhere deep in his chest whenever someone gets too loud around him, when they raise their voices no matter what emotion they were pouring out at the time. And David just combined the two things that he knew reminded Matteo about the worst parts of his past and his biggest fears of the future. God, David would just hate himself if he thought it would be of any use to proving to Matteo that he hadn’t meant it.

He wakes up around dawn. His whole spine itches with the desire to shove his face between Matteo’s shoulder blades and pull him tight to his chest. Matteo is on his back, sleeping restlessly with his eyes moving behind the lids rapidly. David cards his fingers through his hair slowly because even if he knew that he didn’t have the right to crawling inside Matteo’s space, he couldn’t but help and try to get a small touch to ground himself to reality. He sits up quietly before he takes it too far and rolls on top of his sweetheart to smother out the bad dreams with his pure desire to drown Matteo in his love.

David goes to the kitchen and tries to think of something to occupy his hands. He find the bright pink post-its that Hans keeps around to remind himself what kind of groceries he wants to buy and to remind Matteo what groceries he owes him. David draws a quick figure. The guy’s toe is digging into the ground while his head is hung low. His hands are behind his back, holding a big array of exuberant flowers. He tries to make the expression bashful and guilty, and not completely overcome with the need to fix this right away because he didn’t want to spend another second without being about to look at Matteo like he hung the moon because he very well could have. And if anyone told David that, he would believe them. He draws a speech bubble and writes as neatly as he could to not create the room for confusion I’m sorry, monkey. I didn’t mean any of it. You never bother me. He sticks the note on Matteo’s phone in the living room before he can think about it any longer and starts to make some breakfast.

“Hey,” Matteo mutters.

David looks up from where he’s pushing scrambled eggs around in a pan. “Hi,” he responds. Matteo rubs at his eyes with the heels of his hand and stretches the other arm above his head. He was holding his phone in his hand, but the post-it wasn’t anywhere to be seen. David tries not to stare too long. “Do you want some eggs?”

“Sure.”

“Okay. Coffee is ready too, if you want some.”

Matteo doesn’t say anything, just gets out a mug.

They were usually quiet in the morning. Matteo wasn’t much of a morning person, and more often than not would try to get David to stay in bed with him as along as possible, chasing the last few minutes of sleep that he could. But this didn’t feel like the peaceful morning that David had gotten so used to. It felt like there was storm warning in the area, and everyone had already boarded up their windows, waiting for the rain to start.

David doesn’t say anything until Matteo has already gotten one bite of eggs shoved ungracefully into his mouth. “Teo, I’m sorry.”

“It’s whatever,” Matteo shrugs, and looks down at his hands on the table. “I shouldn’t have interrupted-“

“No,” David argues. He keeps his voice even and reaches out to run his fingers over the other’s elbow. “It’s not whatever, and this isn’t your fault. I snapped at you when you were just trying to help, and it wasn’t fair or right of me. And I’m sorry.”

Matteo stares at him for minute, like he’s trying to read all of the hidden messages written on David’s face. “Okay,” Matteo says quietly after he found whatever he was looking for. His shoulders slump, and his elbow pushes further into David’s fingers.

“I’m sorry,” David repeats.

Matteo looks up then, and David has to remind himself not to let his breath get too far away from him. “Okay.”

“Really.”

“I know,” Matteo says with a little more force this time.

“I’m sorry.”

“Okay! Okay! I get it. You’re apologizing. I forgive you!” Matteo cracks a small smile and rolls his eyes.

“I love you,” David says instead for a change of pace.

Matteo’s smile gains a couple more teeth. “I know.” His fingers graze over the back of David’s hand, and it gives David the confidence to try his luck.

“Can I get a kiss?”

Matteo rolls his eyes but leans over the table. David meets him halfway there.

That night David brings back a big bouquet of sunflowers he buys off of a lady selling them on the street, and Matteo laughs when he sees them. He calls him a sap and dramatic and says things like dramatic and overkill. David smothers out Matteo’s giggles with an innocent kiss that leaves them both in goosebumps and in a situation not suitable for the kitchen. Later, Matteo puts them in a nice vase that Mia had left behind and puts them on the desk. David catches him smelling them and rubbing at the petals but saves him the embarrassment of pointing it out. He just soaks in the moment. He thinks about drawing it later. He thinks about getting Matteo flowers every week.

#davenzi #druck #matteo florenzi #david schreibner #davenzi fic #my writing #angst

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stranger-who-writes-fiction · 4 years

Text

Everything Awesome about COIE Hour 2

STILL GEEKING OUT

We start off...by pouring one out for Oliver. RIP, Ollie, you will be dropped in a murky pit of standing water at the bottom of an abandoned mine missed!

And of course Kara wants to save EVERYONE and refuses to give up, even in the face of death and cosmic destruction.

PARAGON OF HOOOOOOOPPPPEEEEEE

“I promised my crew no more crossovers.” Oh, Sara. Sweet, naive Sara.

I also love that Lyla’s like, ‘I don’t need your crew, just one part of your ship.’

“You had me at beer.”

Speaking of Mick, we then get the BEST SCENE, which is Baby Jon interrupting the Monitor’s Weighty Exposition, and the heroes just. Passing him down the line.

That’s exactly the kind of characterization I crave, re: Lois and Clark. They’re both just like. Completely fine with 1.) Having their baby here for this Big Important Super Hero Meeting on board a space-and-time ship, 2.) are equally fine with their kid potentially interrupting the guy and 3.) they’re chill with having Heatwave babysit.

So the Paragon thing, as far as I can figure, is unique to the CW crossover, and I Dig It.

(Do I Dig It because Kara is the Paragon of Hope? Absolutely. Would I like the Paragon idea if she wasn’t? Hard to say!)

(I am Biased, I admit it.)

Anyways I just gotta type it out again: KARA ZOR-EL, PARAGON OF HOPE.

It’s what she deserves.

Ears perked up at ‘Tome of the Guardians’ b/c I wondered if that was a reference to the Guardians of the Universe, AKA, the Oans, AKA, the creators of the Green Lantern Corps.

(They were kind of a huge part of Crisis but the Arrowverse is lacking in the way of Lanterns so. WHO KNOWS.)

And then Kate’s like, ‘Who wants to meet Batman?” while the Batman theme plays and. My comic book nerd heart is just. Filled with joy.

Kara at the computer console, searching for Argo and Earth-38...

I...sad.

And then Lex comes and Kara’s ready to SMITE HIM WHERE HE STANDS but Monitor’s like, ‘No.’

(Jon Cryer continues to be an excellent Lex, he’s the kind of villain ya just LOVE to hate.)

Then a lil chat between Kate and Kara

“That’s dark even for Gotham.”

The beginnings of the Lazarus Pit field trip plot! I like that it’s centered on Sara and Mia.

(We’ll come back to that later.)

A very sweet Barry/Iris moment, nice, nice.

And then we're on Earth-99! Kara’s ‘Afraid of yard work’ line = A+

The whole front door scene is great too.

“Can I just...?” *effortlessly destroys door*

Over on Earth-75, Lois and Clark hunt for the PARAGON OF TRUTH only to discover that Lex is on the loose, murderin’ Kryptonians.

And then we get the DEATH OF SUPERMAN REFERENCE which is EXCELLENT, in terms of nerdy easter eggs, but devastating, because a CLARK HAS DIED.

And then I *think* we’re back with Old Man Bruce? Maybe? I don’t have it written down in my notes but regardless, I’ll take a moment to express my appreciation for the fact that in CW-Land, it’s an old version of Batman that goes off the murderous deep end, not Clark! There are so many Dark Superman stories, but CW Crisis is like, ‘NOPE. Look at all these good Clarks!’

I mean, did I kind of want Kevin Conroy to be a heroic Batman? Sure. But we got Three Good Supes so I’m okay with it.

Also I enjoyed his Old Man Bruce growl-y voice, so that was good.

And then, Smallville Earth! 167, I think?

(I’ve given up trying to keep track of the designations)

I have to admit, Smallville was always a little too...’CW teen drama’ for me, so I don’t have the emotional attachment that many other fans do. I can’t really weigh in on it, from that perspective.

(I’m way more familiar with the Season 11 comic.)

But, the cameo does seem to be in line with what I’ve read about Tom Welling, who kind of always seems like he wants to be done with the show.

So in that sense, I’m glad he’s sort of had his ending. Like Harrison Ford in Force Awakens. Minus the patricide!

And, this is perhaps weirdly specific, but I like that this Clark has daughters!

Also enjoyed Smallville Clark punching Lex in the face.

Oh, wait, can’t forget Lois’ line! “[Or he’s] the buff guy on paper towel rolls.”

Mick soothing baby Jon with a self-published romance novel is delightful.

OOOOOH and then at the Daily Planet! The Lois and Clark theme! (Not the TV show, Lois & Clark theme, but the John Williams, Lois and Clark theme.) T’was lovely!

Back to Gotham, and Kara Danvers! In the Library! With the Glasses!

It was a grim reveal. It was great.

I like that Kara’s right, in that Bruce is not the Paragon. I worried that her mistrust would be unfounded, or that it would be like, another Lex situation, where the dude is clearly bad news, but folks shrug it off for the sake of the multiverse.

Nope. Kate is like, 1000% ready to side with Kara and let the dude fry.

(That’s dark, even for Gotham.)

(Just gonna. Try and slip that into casual conversation.)

(Also HEY Burton Batmobile under a tarp in the batcave!)

Then there’s the whole SUPES vs SUPES battle and it’s fine? It’s fine. But I like the character stuff a whole lot more.

FOR EXAMPLE: Lois’s little, “Come on Honey, you got this.” And taking Lex out with...a paperweight? I couldn’t really see. Either way, GOOD!

Also Lois and Iris getting the book and Lois saving Donner!Clark with the POWER OF LOVE!

SUPERMAN RETURNS HEAT VISION! WOO!

(So the Blue is unique to Earth-38 HMMMMMMMM. Cool.)

Alright circling back to the Lazarus Pit Field Trip!

Sara and Mia finally coming around, getting along. GOOD, YES, GOOD.

“I miss Ollie too.”

Sara giving Jonah Hex his scar.

Also they just...have Oliver’s dead body? ...O...kay....

And then they dunk him, and he’s under there for a while, and ALL SEEMS LOST until he LEAPS FORTH FROM THE WATERY DEPTHS.

Oliver, you poetic, noble land-merman.

So now they’ll have to FIGHT FOR OLIVER’S SOUL.

Which I’m already WAY more invested in, than any fight for Lena’s

I’m sorry I’m not usually so MEAN to fictional characters but I’m so done with her and her NONSENSE.

Back on the Waverider! Ray and Clark!

Also, Lex in a cage! And he does a curtsy! It’s great.

Kara: Ray, you’re looking jacked. Clark: HE IS YOUR COUSIN.

“Huh.”

Kate was a Paragon all along! I appreciate that the Monitor is like, ‘THE MULTIVERSE IS DYING...but you needed to learn that the courage was inside you, here, have a side quest.’

Then we end on another Hope Speech from Kara but like, tailored to Kate.

“Do these things even work on you?” “Not really.”

KARA’S GONNA SAVE EARTH-38, EVEN IF IT KILLS HER...or drives her insane a la Superboy Prime but whatever, it’s fine, this is fine, it’s fine.

And then HARBINGER AND THE ANTI-MONITOR!!!!!!! Get ready for some MIND-CONTROL and BETRAYAL, Y’ALL.

In conclusion! A quieter, more ‘feelings’ heavy episode, but I liked it! I like how they integrated the cameos, and that the ‘three supers’ left in the crossover are Clark, Clark, and Kara.

And that’s it for Hour 2! I had a belated thought on Hour 1, but it’s SG specific...as in, specific to the season-long arc, not really the crossover:

I had mentioned, in my prior post, that I couldn’t stand Lena and her pettiness. (Still can’t.) BUT, I realized that it was good that Lena was a huge jerk about the whole thing, because she absolutely saved billions of lives with the portal, BUT. She behaved so badly that there’s NO WAY they can use it as a redemptive action on her part.

And also, she got the portal working thanks to Alex, so. There’s that too.

#stranger speaks #COIE spoilers #crisis on infinite earths spoilers #DCTV #long post #SG post

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freckled-words · 5 years

Text

Count The Teeth - Part Three

I get so wrapped up between writing and working (doing more writing than working, WHOMP) I keep forgetting to post the next update!!

Edited by @the-wild-ego

PART ONE / PART TWO

Three peaceful weeks went by. Three weeks without NateMare popping into your apartment. Three weeks without being dragged around. Three weeks to just feel like life was somewhat normal again.

That bubble of peace was burst in a spectacular fashion as NateMare woke you up in the dead of night.

The lights were thrown on, and a body slammed onto the mattress next to you.

You woke with a shriek. You shoved yourself away from the body in a frantic scramble. Unfortunately, you’d been right by the edge of the bed.

You hit the floor in an awkward heap, bumping your elbow on the edge of the bed frame in the process.

That bit of pain ebbed off some of the panic.

Peering up at your bed, the rest of your panic was wiped out by a surge of anger.

NateMare was on your bed. His face was buried in the pillows as his body sprawled out over the majority of the surface.

Not giving a damn about waking the neighbors you yelled, “What the hell is your problem?!”

He snuggled deeper into the pillows, “Yell at me later, trying to sleep.”

“No. I will yell at you now! You can’t just crash here like we’re friends!” for good measure you moved to the other side and slapped his leg. It felt good to hit him.

There came a rumbling growl from his chest. You tensed, thinking he was about to spring at you, or he’d make the chain do something.

A moment passed, and then another rumbling growl.

Inching closer to peer at his face, you found that he was fast asleep. The growls were his snores.

Throwing your hands up in defeat you left. Thankfully you had a futon for a couch. You were too tired to try hauling his ass up just then, you’d deal with him in the morning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was the smell of coffee that pulled you from your dreamless sleep. Cracking an eye open you found a steaming cup on the table next to you.

Beyond that you could see NateMare in the kitchen. Cooking bacon while he whistled a cheery tune.

Sitting up you squinted suspiciously at the coffee, then over at NateMare, “Either this is a fucked up dream, or I’m in an alternate reality.”

“Sorry for stealing your bed last night, I was half conscious when I came in.” He called back over his shoulder. He turned off the stove and put the frying pan to the side.

The smug smile on his face made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

“You’re beyond happy about something. You get laid during the past three weeks?”

Your little quip did nothing to take his smile away, “Yes I did, and it was good times, but that’s not what I’m jiving on.”

You took the cup of coffee and gave it a small sip. Tasted safe enough, just needed more sugar. The nectar of the gods warming you from the inside, you gestured with your hand, “Alright, let’s hear it. What’s got your engines running?”

“While you were here, being unproductive and pining away for me-”

“In your dreams.”

“I was researching. After a little quality time with my host, I took a lovely trip to Japan.”

Your tone dry, you asked, “You have a passport?”

He scoffed and laughed. Going back to the frying pan, he used the spatula to move some bacon onto a plate that had already been loaded with scrambled eggs and toast. It smelled delicious, and you knew your eyes just had to be begging for that food.

Which was why NateMare took that much more pleasure in sitting down on the floor and digging into the plate.

You slurped your coffee in loud protest.

NateMare at least had the decency to wait until he finished his mouthful before talking, “Who needs a passport when I can sneak into a suitcase, and then into an empty seat on the flight? First class is amazing by the way.” He gave a wink as he took another bite of his eggs.

Rolling your eyes you urged him on, “Okay, you went to Japan. Why? What was there?”

He put down his fork and held up a finger telling you to wait. He leaned down and pulled something out from under the table. It was a tattered notebook with a navy blue cover. You couldn’t even begin to guess how old it was just from the frayed page edges you could see.

Placing it on the table he answered, “This beautiful gem, is a journal that belonged to my host’s family. It took me forever to first learn about it, and then to find it stuffed into one of their storages. Bless mortals and their need to hold onto everything for sentimental value.”

You picked up the journal and with slow, delicate movements, turned the pages. The pages were filled with Japanese writing, “And you can read Japanese?”

“No, but I met a charming college student that was happy to translate for me. Among other things.” with a flourish, NateMare pulled out a small stack of papers.

You took the papers from Mare with a quiet, “Ew.”

They were typed pages, appearing to be word for word translations of what was in the journal.

As you began to read you felt your brows furrow. When you reached the 5th page and its ongoing story you looked up at NateMare, “Is this really-”

“A legend of a monster resembling a family member, that frames them for the murders of a handful of people? Yes. This is that asshat’s origin story.”

“Alright, I’m adult enough to admit this is some good work. But this doesn’t tell us where to find him.” You continued to read, entirely engaged with the content about the mysterious monster from the past.

While you’d been reading NateMare had finished off his breakfast. Leaving the plate on the table, he lay back on the floor, “I have a name now, and I know someone that can find people with just their names. I’ll have my hands around that leech’s throat by the end of the day.”

This was the best bit of news you’d heard all month, “Great! You have everything you need, and you don’t need me anymore, right?”

Your eager question hung in the air.

Each second that passed without an answer was too long.

“NateMare.”

“No.”

“What?”

“No.”

Throwing off your blanket you stood to glare down at him, “You have what you need. The deal, which I never agreed to, was to help you find him. You don’t need me to find him anymore.”

His eyes were closed with his hands under his head, “The research is done, but I’m not going vampire hunting without bait.”

“Bait?”

He slowly nodded his head.

“Fuck you. Go grab someone off the street and use them for bait. I’m done. You can’t keep dragging me around like this, I have my own life to get on with!” You were panting by the end, and despite your words, your emotions were still a mess that threatened to cause tears.

His eyes opened then. Each of his movements seemed slow and deliberate as he got to his feet. Standing toe-to-toe with you he tsked, “A life to get on with? What life? I kept an eye on you for a little over two weeks. Your ‘life’ consisted of work at that gas station, going to the movies on your own, and sitting on your ass in front of the computer. Maybe the odd screaming match on the phone with your father. Pathetic as your existence is, it belongs to me.”

He snapped his fingers, and you began to burn.

You’d assumed the chain would be the source of whatever punishment NateMare would inflict on you. You’d assumed wrong.

You felt as though you’d been dunked into a body of water set to boiling. You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t scream. You watched the skin on your hands form patches of blisters in some spots, or dry into cracks in other patches.

You were cooking from the inside out, shriveling and weakening your muscles.

Crumpling to the ground, the tears that you managed to produce stung your skin as they traveled down your cheeks and to your chin.

NateMare crouched down to your level, taking hold of your chin he hissed, “If not for me showing up that night, you would be just like the other victims. Drained and in the hospital, possibly even dead. You’re done, when I say you’re done.”

Straightening he snapped his fingers.

The heat stopped, and your skin returned to normal. Sucking in gulps of air you fought the urge to begin crying. You refused to let him see you as the pathetic person he already thought you were.

“I’ll come to get you once I have a location.”

Then he was gone, leaving you to wonder what you’d done to deserve this fate.

#NateMare #Evil NateMare #fanfiction #NWTB #Natewantstobattle #Reader Insert #vampire

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valkyrieofsmut · 5 years

Text

Engel de la Gargouille Section 1 part 3

Engel de la Gargouille (Gargoyle’s Angel)

Kurt Wagner/ Nightcrawler x Female OC

Types: Smut, Angst, Mutual pining, Pregnancy, Romance, Love, Insecurity, Long as hell…

Overall series warnings: Smut, bit of violence, swearing, German (translations provided, but I have bad grammar… Sorry native speakers…) (Will be added as they come up) Chapter warnings will be added individually as well.

A/n- Most tags connected to child abuse, such as physical abuse, mental abuse, emotional abuse, and grooming for, but not physically sexual abuse. Self hatred. Thoughts about possible forced prostitution. Self harm as a way of testing powers. Blood / scabbing.

Masterlist Series Masterlist

Story!

Angeline woke in the middle of the night to sweat coating her and her sheets, her blankets had been kicked from the bed and her pillows were wet.

She rolled over, scratching at her shoulders.

She felt as though someone was poking needles at her from the inside, causing a prickly, tingly, sort of itchy feeling. She scratched and scratched, hurting as she was sure that she was clawing away at least a couple layers of skin.

Her mind was telling her to stop, that her mother was going to punish her for damaging her skin, but she couldn’t; even though it hurt, it was only in the seconds that the scratches were fresh that she had any relief.

“Stop, I have to stop- stop- stop!” She cried softly, trying to convince her hand to leave her back. She managed to switch hands and looked at the one that had been scratching.

Her eyes widened in horror; she was going to be punished, her mother was going to do more than hit her this time.

She’d thought that the wetness she’d felt was just the sweat that coated her, but her fingers were covered in red and were becoming sticky as they dried, and there was something under her nail that was probably skin.

Her other hand shot to where she could see it, and a sob pushed at her throat.

She had to hide this. She couldn’t let her mother know- maybe it would go away- maybe it wasn't that bad! she hoped desperately. She climbed from her bed and went to the mirror, pulling her shirt off.

Of course, she couldn’t see in the dark and turned her light on, going back to the mirror, looking over her shoulder.

Her back was covered in lines of blood and scratches, and panic was filling her stomach.

She had to hide this! She patted her shirt against her back, trying to get the blood off, running to her night stand and getting her glass of water. She dunked the shirt in it and washed her back, rubbing and rubbing, focused on getting the evidence off of her.

Finally, she thought her back would be clean and looked over her shoulder at the mirror.

She couldn’t see any marks, and her heart leapt with hope. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as she thought.

She felt over her skin, and really couldn’t feel any cuts, so she focused on the next pressing matter; the rest of the evidence. She looked over her sheets carefully, looking for even the most miniscule drop of red. She didn’t see any, even though she went over it multiple times, and the mattress and pillows, then the area in front of the mirror and the mirror as well.

She pulled on different pajamas and stared at the stained ones. What could she do with them?

They were obviously covered in blood; obvious evidence that something had happened…

And if she got rid of them, her mother might notice…

She cracked open her door and looked out into the hall to make sure that no one was there before creeping out and down the hall to the bathroom.

She spent hours trying to wash the blood from the shirt, but no matter how hard she tried, there was still a pinkish red wash stain that she could see through the tears in her eyes.

She hurried into her room and stuffed them under her mattress, then tried to go to sleep, only able to drift off into fitful, disturbed rest due to stress and worry.

The itchiness that had woken her up and panicked her spread down her back, and lasted for two weeks, making her go crazy and use anything around her that wouldn’t hurt her to scratch it, the back scrubber's bristles, her hairbrush, a spoon.

One morning a couple if days later, Angeline woke up to strange bumps growing on her shoulders.

She had no idea what was happening, and she was afraid, not only of what was happening, but what her mother would do.

Angeline had to rely on the training she had received from her mother to keep her behaviour natural, because, while it was true that her mother didn’t care much about how she was feeling, or what she thought, she couldn’t start acting strangely all of a sudden.

She started spending most of her free time, what little there was of it, in her room instead of stretching and doing self study in the barre room, not wanting anyone to see the strange things going on with her, and deathly afraid that they would if she spent too much time around them. She went down for meals wearing a jacket over her small shirts, just telling her mother that she was chilly when she commented.

The bumps grew larger and larger, and she started to realize that she could move them, which helped as she tried more and more elaborate ways to hide them, but was soon able to hold them at certain angles as she put her bra on so it would hold them.

Throughout that week, panic attacks threatened to overtake her when her mother got close to her, but she managed to deflect her judging gaze by positioning her body so that the changes were less conspicuous, and keeping deep, even breaths moving through her lungs, as well as somehow managing to keep up with her responsibilities. All of which were mostly done in her room anyway, since her mother was becoming more busy with some things that she wasn’t privy to, as her mother never thought it important to involve her in anything that she didn’t actively need to be a part of.

As the week had gone by; after the first two days, she noticed that the bumps had feathers starting to grow on them, and a goose egg like bump had started growing at the base of her spine. By day five, they were no longer bumps, but long, jointed flaps, almost like a whale or dolphin's flippers, and the goose egg had turned into a growing tail, leanly muscled and getting longer daily. As her flippers finished developing, they filled out, spreading down and wide, becoming feathered wings, her tail, on the other hand, looked very much the same; longer, but still flesh colored and leanly muscled. It didn't do much, she had to almost focus on what she wanted it to do to move it.

By the end of the week, Angeline had a fully formed set of white feathered wings, and a very strong tail that was just a few inches over three feet long, which made it long enough to drag on the floor if she didn’t hold it up, or wrap it around her ankle. The wings were very articulate, able to lay the long first few joints close against her back and wrap the rest around her in a tight hug.

She pulled one of her tight shirts on, expecting it to tear, however, it seemed that her mother had wanted her clothing as tight as possible, and had gotten mostly spandex blend tops that stretched around her extra three inches or so of girth. Over that, she put her jacket, and, although very warm, her wings were hardly visible!

She smiled as she stared at her back in the mirror, tucking her hair behind her ear, and noticed that her ears had grown longer and pointed, almost like the pictures she'd seen of elves. She pulled it back straight and left her hair down, as it covered the tips of her ears so they weren't noticeable.

After a nice, hot shower, and blow drying her hair and feathers, Angeline rubbed her shoulders, feeling the soreness to her new wing muscles. She flexed them in front of her full length mirror, admiring them.

Freedom.

She could hold them close, keep them hidden under a longer coat, and her tail fit under her pants or skirt perfectly. Her pointed ears poked out from her hair and her hand touched the mirror, as though to reach her reflection.

Since her "audition", she had been afraid of what would happen when she went to filming in three weeks, but she’d grown these.

She looked like a freak.

She smiled wider as she stared at her hand, pressing her middle fingers together like she’d heard they had been when she was born.

She wouldn’t be able to go to the movie.

She wouldn’t have to be in any movies.

She couldn’t go to producers, or talent scouts, or managers anymore.

She wouldn’t have to listen to her mother telling her to kneel before them and do what she’d been taught so she could get the part. It had been bad enough the three weeks earlier when her mother had tried to make her watch

She looked up to her reflection’s eyes. “Happy birthday,” she told herself.

Sixteen was apparently the perfect age, just like she’d been told, although for a different reason.

She stretched her wings and tried to flap them as if to fly. They were powerful, and she nearly knocked herself over.

She had to try this out.

She flapped and fluttered, but really just made very large jumps using only her wings, as her room didn't have enough space to actually fly.

When she’d worn herself out, she realized that she was very excited and wished she had someone to talk to about this as she stood gasping for breath and smiling.

She looked in the mirror to admire her wings again, and realized that she’d been jumping around in her underwear for the last few hours.

She was so giddy that she just laughed.

... ... ...

Angeline dug through her closet until she found her page boy hat, pulling it on and tugging it down over the tips of her ears.

She was going to have to go to school today.

She'd chosen a little fluffier of a skirt so that the outline of her tail wasn't visible, and her off the shoulder shirt hung low enough that it covered the bottom of her wings, and when she pulled on her jacket, it covered her shoulders.

She left her room, hoping that her mother wouldn't notice her perhaps strange outfit choices, and trying to act as normal as possible.

After she returned from her classes that day, and did her line practice, as well as the script practice for the movie, which she didn't want to give up all of a sudden in case her mother suspected something, she pulled her jacket off and tugged at her shirt until her wings could struggle out of the fabric.

That made it so that the shirt was choking her, though, so she quickly fixed it and found a tank top that she could pull on over her legs, since it would be hard to get it on correctly over her head with her wings either in the way, or trapped under it, and was glad to feel that the tank top ended under her new wing joints. She adjusted her shirts, finding the most comfortable way to wear them that would still let her use her wings.

She went over to her window and opened it, looking back into the room and running to lock the door before going back to the window.

With a glance outside, though, she turned back to the room, thinking that she needed to hide her identity; she couldn't let someone see her who might tell her mother, and of course the worry was so great that she didn't even realize that there was actually a very low chance that anyone she would see would recognize her, but in the end, it's better safe than sorry, and she grabbed a mask that covered half of her face, thinking this would be enough of a disguise, and went to the window again.

Pulling the mask securely over her face, she climbed onto the window sill and leapt out, flapping hard to gather the altitude she needed to get away from her house undetected. She flapped her wings, surprised by how natural it felt to have them, and how easily she was flying, despite having never done it before, or ever hearing of anyone else doing it before.

As she glided above the city buildings, she saw a bus speeding through the street, nothing out of the ordinary, except that she had also seen a flash of a boy chasing a ball into the street.

She'd seen enough movies to know that this is when the camera cut away to the ball bouncing away and tires screeched in the background.

The thought that she should do something popped into her mind with an urgency, and her wings automatically moved, tilting and angling so that she was shooting down toward the boy, crashing into him and grabbing blindly, her arms managing to wrap around him, as they careened into an alleyway.

Angeline sat up, sorting herself out quickly, and made sure that the boy was ok, pushing him to the edge of the alley before flapping her wings and taking off.

After a couple more days sneaking out to fly around the town, and stopping a man from kidnapping a teenager, she decided that she needed a bigger coat; her jacket did cover her wings, but it wasn't the most comfortable thing to wear, and wearing it out here was getting it dirtier than she expected, which was going to make her mother notice.

She snuck down to the hall closet, closing the door behind her to stay hidden, since there was a light and enough room to stand inside of it.

She looked through the coats, sure that there would be one that would work, especially since her stepfather was six feet tall, and she was only about five foot.

She found an older duster and knew that it would for sure cover her wings, as it fell all the way to the ground when she put it on, dragging just the edge on the floor as she turned around. She smiled and nodded in decision, but froze as she heard footsteps coming closer to her.

"Yeah, I know. It is depress- oh-"

Angeline threw herself between coats, turning so that the duster hid her from the view of the closet door as it opened.

"No, I agree with you, someone just left the closet light on," her stepfather assured, stepping into the closet and pausing, standing there as he continued his conversation. "I understand what you're saying; this new one is making it hard to spread the word about mutants when what it's doing is making them look good."

Angeline's brows met. Mutant? She had heard that word before, him saying it at the dinner table as he spoke about work, and maybe on a few of his work phone calls, she thought.

What was a mutant? Memory filled her mind; she'd asked that same question, and he'd told her that a mutant was a dangerous animal that looked like a human, and sometimes they didn't look human at all.

"No, for sure, I know that we will be able to make them see the truth, I mean, mutants are popping up more and more, and whatever that lunatic with the helmet does proves our point more; mutants need to be registered, and monitored." He turned off the light and closed the door behind him, still paused outside the door as he finished his conversation. "I really think that if we do that, if we can sterilize them to stop them from breeding, they'll die out naturally, and we still look good, like our only concern is for the public. Then we won't have to worry about those- animal rights groups,” he paused and made a sound like he was trying to get the taste out of his mouth, “protesting and causing a scene."

Angeline listened at the door for a few moments before opening it and hurrying upstairs.

She was glad that she wasn't a mutant; they sounded like bloodthirsty monsters, the way he spoke about them. She paused as she closed her bedroom door, pondering for a moment.

Was she a mutant? But she was a human, and had started out that way, not as an animal.

She shook her head in dismissal.

Besides, she was doing good things; saving that kid from getting hit by a car, stopping that man from kidnapping that teenager, if anyone was a bad guy, and therefore maybe a mutant, it would be the guy who was trying to kidnap people.

She was different, sure, but not a bloodthirsty animal monster.

After spending an afternoon going through her closet, Angeline found the best outfit for her excursions; a pair of older jeans that were tight, as nearly all of her clothes were, with her tail down one leg you couldn't see it, and with a tank top under her wings, and a looser, low cut, shirt over them, she could look completely normal if she had to take off her coat, but no one would be able to see her bare skin when she had to pull the bottom of the top shirt up so her wings could move freely, and the duster she'd borrowed from her stepfather not only made it so she didn't have to hold her wings so tight, it disguised the bulk from them when she just had them folded behind her, she had her hat to hide her ears, and the mask on her face to hide her identity.

For school she had nearly the same style, but with her regular jacket instead of her stepfather's duster, which her mother would never approve of.

Her mother had gotten angry at her over the week because she was eating more; she felt like she was always starving! Apparently, flying took a lot of energy.

Angeline had been afraid that her mother would hit her, or more, but she had glared at her and told her that she was lucky that her body had to be pretty for the movie and that she was too busy getting things ready for it.

Her mother's way to deal with her had turned to checking her weight daily, and looking to make sure she was appropriately dressed as she dropped her off at the school, but otherwise ignoring her so that she didn't get angry enough to hit her and leave marks where her skin would be showing for the movie.

Soon after getting her clothing situation sorted out, Angeline was flying across the city, watching the flow of traffic and the people wander along as she enjoyed the air against her skin.

She rolled in the air, laughing in amazement at how her wings seemed to know what to do; all she had to do was think of what she wanted to do, be it a dive, a roll, a flip, anything, and all she had to do was think of doing it for her wings to make it reality.

She looked down at the street, another laugh escaping her lips, but cut off as she saw a man pointing a gun at a woman. Her wings turned her to them without her even thinking it.

She landed on the roof and looked down, troubled and unsure of what to do.

The woman needed help, she wanted to help, but the man had a gun. He was dirty, and large, wearing clothing that covered him and made it hard to see his face.

“Just give me the money!”

The woman was shaking so badly that she couldn’t, and the man waved the gun at her.

Angeline felt her insides twisting, but- she was sure that the poor woman was going to get shot if she didn’t comply, and she could hardly control her shaking legs enough to not fall down.

Angeline took a breath and steeled herself, deciding to sneakily land at the back of the alley.

She could help the woman comply, at least, and that should help her survive.

Her wings let her land nearly silently on the street behind a dumpster, and she slowly left its shelter. “Please,” she said softly, and the man spun to look at her, the gun still pointed at the woman.

“Who the hell are you?! Where did you come from?!”

“I just want to help- I’ll get it for you, so please don’t hurt her…” The woman’s eyes left the gun and moved to her. “Just give him the purse and we’ll walk out of here,” she told her. The woman shook her head. “It’s the best way out of the situation,” Angeline told her. She moved closer, and the man watched her.

“Stop, don’t get any closer to her!”

Angeline stopped and looked at the man. “I’m only trying to help.”

The man was starting to react in a strange way, and Angeline didn’t know what to do to put him at ease. If she had wanted him to come closer so she could seduce him, or buy something for her, it would have been no problem, but this, calming him, she had no idea.

He waved the gun at the two of them, and neither moved. “F-fine, get the bag, give it to me!”

Angeline moved toward the woman, holding her hand out for the purse. The woman shook her head again, but Angeline stepped next to her. “Money and cards can be replaced, but not your life,” she told her.

The woman finally relented and jerkily let the purse strap slide down her arm so she could hold it out to the man. He reached out, and Angeline turned to keep her eyes on him.

The woman suddenly threw the purse at the man and ran.

Angeline and the man both jumped in surprise, and a bang echoed through the alley.

The man stared at her as she looked down to her shoulder, where it felt like she'd been punched.

Blood was starting to run down down her shoulder and chest.

The man turned and ran as fast as he could out of the space. Panic started building in Angeline’s stomach and thoughts started firing rapidly through her mind.

She had gotten shot- she had damaged her body; her shoulder was probably broken, defiantly bloody- she was getting blood all over her clothes- her mother was going to kill her!

“Oh no,” she whimpered as tears started building in her eyes.

She wasn't supposed to be out of the house without permission, which her mother only gave for school, and she was injured, had damaged her body.

Even if her mother didn't beat her to death, she would very seriously turn to renting her out to make the money back for all the trouble she'd been…

She didn't want that!

Maybe- maybe if she could get back to her room- if she could just get back to her room, her mother might never know she had left it! She would take her to the hospital and have them fix her shoulder, and everything would be ok. Even if she died, at least she’d be in her room and her mother wouldn’t find out that she’d left.

“I'm sorry, mama,” she whimpered as pain filled her shoulder.

It was different from the pain she'd felt before; that was all external pain, but this, it was a little like when her wings had started growing, pushing from the inside, feeling like it was deep in her bones.

She managed to gather herself enough to let her wings do their thing, flying her back home as she panicked.

‘Please, if mama never finds out, if everything is ok, I'll be a good girl, I won't go out anymore, I'll do what she says, I'll kneel down when she says,’ she started bargaining with an unknown force in the universe, anyone, anything, as long as it would stop the doom she felt awaited her if her mother found out what had been happening.

She made it to her house, flying high to the roof so no one would see her, then lowering herself to her window and climbing in.

The pain in her shoulder was less, now, like when her body became accustomed to her mother hitting her and stopped paying attention to it.

She hurried to the large mirror and stood in front of it, looking at her shoulder to see how bad it was.

Flying through the air had made a lot of the blood dry, and she was coated in a lot of half congealed and crusted blood.

She managed to shrug off her coat, letting the duster fall to the floor as she pulled the collar of her shirt out of the way.

She couldn’t see clearly what had happened, so she went to where she had left a bottle of water, and pulled out the ruined bloody pajama shirt she had left under her mattress, unsure of what to do with it.

She wet the shirt and started wiping at the outsides of the blood, expecting it to hurt the closer she got to the wound.

She had washed the whole outside, and couldn’t see anything wrong, or feel any pain. With slow, soft strokes, she started cleaning over where the shot had hit her.

She still couldn’t see anything…

With her face twisted in confusion, Angeline cleaned her entire shoulder, but saw only a red welt.

She blinked in confusion and poked the spot. It hurt, but only as much as she did after getting hit with a belt, maybe.

Had she made it all up in her mind? She looked down to her clothes, and saw that her shirt was still soaked with blood in the area around her shoulder and down her chest.

She poked it again, very confused.

She went over to her dresser where a vase holding a few roses was sitting, and pulled one of the thorns off, turning it and pushing it against the soft skin near where the bullet had hit.

It caught after a moment and sank into her skin, making her gasp. She pulled it out and wiped over the blood drop that had started welling out, revealing a puncture mark.

After a moment, she wiped again, and the small hole had disappeared.

She blinked in surprise. Had she healed? Did it really go that fast?

She stabbed herself with the thorn again, and had the same result.

After thinking for a moment, she changed and snuck to the room with her mother’s wardrobe in it, finding the drawer with the alteration things in it and taking a needle and the large, heavy cutting shears and quickly went back to her room, closing and locking the door again.

She held the needle up and looked at it, taking a breath to steady herself before doing what she was about to.

Angeline clenched her jaw, pushing the needle against her arm, closing her eyes so that she didn’t have to watch it sinking into her skin.

After feeling like she had pushed enough to make it in a short way, enough to be able to tell anyway, she opened her eyes and they widened in shock.

Without realizing it, she had pushed the needle halfway into her arm.

When she just left it there, she felt a strange tugging against the skin where the needle was, and watched as it was pushed out of her arm to tumble to the carpet.

Angeline blinked at it, wondering how it had happened.

She opened the scissors, and carefully cut her ribs under her breast, probably the only place her mother would never find the cut if it didn’t heal, and watched in the mirror as it healed.

She stood and went to the door of her closet.

It was a heavy, good quality door, like the rest in the house, and she braced herself, putting her fingers in the open space between the hinges, gritting her jaw and throwing the door closed with her other hand.

Angeline could hear the light, but solid snapping of the bones of her fingers breaking as the door bounced off of them and opened back up.

Angeline whimpered as she fell to her knees, holding her crooked and deformed looking hand to her, staring at how her fingers pointed in strange, unnatural angles.

It hurt so bad, she was nearly sobbing as she watching in amazement, seeing her fingers snapping and popping as, movement by movement, joint by joint, they put themselves back into order.

Angeline moved back over to where the shears were on the floor.

She held out the hand she’d just watch repair itself and managed to get the tip of her finger into the scissors, holding one side while the other rested on the floor.

She quickly pushed them closed, and a chunk of flesh fell. She took the shirt and held it under her hand to catch the blood running down her wrist as she watched her finger bleed.

Slowly, it got longer and reformed.

She rinsed her hand off the best she could and stared at her finger.

It looked perfectly normal.

She hurried to the bathroom and washed her hand, drying it to see that it was perfectly normal.

She looked up at herself in the mirror with wide eyes. “I’m indestructible…”

Tag List!

@racheo91 @a-book-pressed-rose @tephi101 @keldachick @Randomfandompenguin @Avacadobutthole @mannls @screeching-student-unknown @lilypalmer1987 @pingu89 @gifsbysimplysonia @omnomsauruswrites @Mybloodtypeiscoffee

#Kurt Wagner #Kurt Wagner x oc #Kurt Wagner x FOC #kurt wagner smut #valkyrieofsmut #Smut #eventual smut #angst #mutual pining #Pregnancy #Romance #Love #insecutiry #multi part story #nightcrawler #Nightcrawler x oc #nightcrawler smut

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raychleadele · 6 years

Text

Hindsight

(This is my first ever published fanfic so that’s a thing! You can read it on AO3 here. I’m posting this for @taakitzweek which technically starts tomorrow but it’ll be a busy day for me so I’m sharing early. Show this some love if you like it, i’m nervous and hungry for affirmation since this is my first.)

People often romanticize what it’s like to sleep next to their partner, imagining how peaceful their lover looks, so content and happy and beautiful when veiled in the cloak of sleep.

A beautiful sleeper Taako certainly was not.

Taako is a sloppy sleeper. While he may have started the night gently tucked into Kravitz’s arms, now his limbs are twisted around his body in a dozen different directions. It looked terribly uncomfortable. His glamour spell wore off in his sleep, and now instead of the pristine complexion he usually shows, the scars and marks of over a hundred years of adventuring and dying - so much dying - are splayed across his face. His cheek is squashed against his pillow, his mouth hanging open, displaying his gapped teeth and - is he drooling?

It’s a face that wouldn’t be endearing to those who didn’t know him, but Kravitz does, and he feels a pang of love for his husband clench in his chest.

Taako doesn’t let his guard down often, and certainly not just for anyone. Sleeping is a vulnerable, intimate thing. Kravitz knows how fond Taako is of naps - he’s often found him snoozing in a pile of limbs with his former crewmates or Bureau members - but Kravitz is one of only two people Taako will sleep alone with. He knows it’s a huge sign of trust that Taako had expanded that circle from one to two in order to include him.

Kravitz was awake now because Taako had been talking in his sleep. It wasn’t uncommon - Taako was prone to dreams. Most of the time the dreams passed without waking him, and he woke with no memory of them at all. Other nights, the terror was too much to sleep through.

Tonight was one of the other nights.

Taako started awake with a shout, sitting abruptly upright in their bed. His breathing was heavy and his nightshirt stuck to his back with sweat. He sat a moment, staring into the darkness, as if still shaking off the dream that had awakened him. Kravitz sat up with him and took his hand.

“I’m here, love, you’re alright,” Kravitz assured him quietly.

“I’m...yeah. Are you?” Taako let his eyes meet Kravitz’s, panic still lingering in them and...perhaps guilt as well.

“I’m fine, Taako. You don’t have to worry about waking me, I was already up.”

Taako looked away and gnawed on his lip, his breath slowly evening. Like flipping a fantasy light switch he turned his glamour spell back on and his scarred skin and baggy eyes were pristine once again. “I’m gonna go make breakfast,” he said abruptly, detaching his hand from Kravitz’s and climbing out of bed.

“Taako, it’s four in the morning-”

“Breakfast,” Taako repeated curtly, grabbing a cardigan off the chair by the door as he left the room. He didn’t bother with pants. Kravitz sighed and pulled himself out of bed to follow.

Taako had already lit the burners on the stove and had pans warming on them by the time Kravitz got to the kitchen. He was moving with a brisk energy that was clearly forced.

“Taako, come back to bed, it’s too early,” Kravitz said, rubbing his eyes. He may not need sleep, but he had recently learned he enjoyed it, and he was distressed that his husband had cut their time in bed together so short.

“Early to bed, early to rise and all that!” Taako replied with a stiff cheeriness as he cracked an egg into his already hot pan. “That’s a Taako Original™ my dude!”

Kravitz could see he wasn’t going to be persuaded, so he sat down on one of the barstools at the island and resigned himself to an ungodly-early breakfast. Queen help him, he hoped he didn’t get called in on an assignment today - he could already tell he would be wanting a nap this afternoon.

“Taako, do you remember the dream you had this morning?” he asked. Taako grunted.

“Feeling nosy, are you?” His ears were pressed flat against his neck.

“Was it Glamour Springs again?” Kravitz pressed, undeterred.

“What? No!” Taako tried to brush the question off with a laugh. “Nah, you know I don’t cook after that one. Cha’boy’s too fucked up for all that!” He nonchalantly flipped the spatula in his hand but didn’t turn to look at his husband.

“Lup then?”

Taako snorted. “Nah!”

“...was it Wonderland?”

Taako didn’t answer this time, and his silence was long enough that Kravitz could tell he had hit a sore spot.

“Shit! Aw dunk,” Taako exclaimed suddenly, slapping his spatula on the counter. “Fuck!”

“What is it?”

“Oh, I broke the yolk,” Taako grumbled, already carrying the steaming pan towards the trash. “I know how you like your eggs runny but I’ve gone and fucked this one up.”

Kravitz stood up to intercept him. “You don’t have to throw it out! It’s fine, Taako, I’ll still eat it.”

“Nah, dude!” Taako protested, pushing past him. “You deserve the best, and this-! Well this ain’t it, my man!”

Kravitz put a cool hand on Taako’s arm, stopping the egg from falling into the garbage just in time. Taako turned to him and for the first time since he had woken up their gaze met. His eyes were red, as if he’d been fighting back tears that even the glamour couldn’t hide, and Kravitz recognized his husband’s self loathing when he saw it.

“This isn’t about the eggs, is it?” Kravitz said quietly. It wasn’t particularly a question.

“Don’t know what you mean!” Taako lied unconvincingly.

“Taako,” Kravitz said slowly and with care, “I still think you’re beautiful, even after what happened in Wonderland. You know that, don’t you?”

Taako huffed. “That’s not - I mean, yeah, of course, you say so every day - but Krav, I - is that what you think this is about?” He pulled his arm away. “I mean, yeah, cha’boy’s a little fucked up, it’s true, but you picked the wrong insecurity of mine to try to fix this morning, babe.”

It was the first genuine thing Taako had said all morning, and Kravitz was taken aback. Not by the sudden honesty, but by the realization that he had been wrong. He could read his husband’s emotions well, but he had managed to misinterpret the signs. He was embarrassed.

“I - I’m sorry, Taako,” he stammered. “I thought you had dreamed about Wonderland - I made an assumption, and I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well, a lot of fucked up things happened in Wonderland,” Taako grumbled, finally flipping the egg into the trash. “Gonna give that egg another go. Only the best for my man. You deserve better than...this.” Taako waved the spatula noncommittally at the trash, but Kravitz still wasn’t convinced he was talking about the eggs.

He gently took the pan and spatula from Taako’s hands and set them on the counter. “First, tell me what your dream was about this time. Help me understand.” His voice was caring but firm.

“Ain’t gonna let this one go, are ya?” Taako muttered, and Kravitz shook his head. “Fine. It was...only tangentially about Wonderland this time.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes a moment, forcing the words to escape his lips. His hand gestured vaguely as he tried to express himself. “When I was pulling Magnus’s soul back to this plane, we saw you. You were trapped in that Hunger-oil-stuff.”

Kravitz stiffened. He remembered, of course. If a man who was already dead could experience drowning, he had, and for a long time. But most people don’t drown in a substance which physically latched onto you and kept you there. And most people die or at least lose consciousness fairly quickly after the beginning of the experience - Kravitz, on the other hand, had been trapped in that oil for longer than he could calculate - several days at least. It had gripped at him, pulling him unceasingly back down into its impenetrable darkness, with no sign of ending. He had been afraid it would be the end of his soul. It was the most terrifying thing he’d ever experienced, and he dreamed about it sometimes, too.

“Yes, I remember. I saw you, too,” he said quietly.

“I saw you, and I left you there,” Taako went on. “You were drowning in the Hunger and I left you behind. You didn’t deserve that. You don’t deserve...this.”

Kravitz sighed and took his husband’s hands in his own. “You know, I’ve never been upset about that. Is that what you think? Is that what you’re afraid of, Taako?” He breathed deeply, searching for the right thing to say to convince his husband that he was telling the truth. “Taako, your...your priority in that moment was Magnus’s wellbeing, and frankly, what you did in that moment was amazing. Saving Magnus was your concern, and you did that! I don’t hold that against you.”

“Yeah, well, maybe you should,” Taako said quietly.

“There’s nothing you could’ve done, Taako.”

“You don’t know that!” Taako protested, his eyes wide and damp. “I saw you there in that moment, and you were so...afraid, Kravitz, and I left you there! I didn’t even try! I didn’t even have a chance to think about you after that, because so much happened so fast. I saw you there, and I left you behind, and I didn’t think twice about it. Well, I’ve thought about it since then, and there’s so many things I could’ve done to try to save you, and I didn’t attempt one of them.” He took a ragged breath as he looked down at their linked hands, trying to compose himself. “But, you know, hindsight’s twenty-twenty or whatever.” He glanced back up at Kravitz quickly. “That’s another Taako Original™. You can look it up, check my book.”

Kravitz couldn’t help but chuckle. “Taako, you know I know that book is full of stolen quips.”

“You can’t prove anything.” A glimmer of a smile touched Taako’s eyes.

“Lup’s already found a way to revisit the planes you traveled through. I totally could.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Kravitz was grinning openly now. “Taako, look...I know you think I should be upset or love you less or something, but I’m not, and I don’t. You’re my husband and I adore you. And even the things you insist on seeing as your flaws or mistakes...I don’t see them that way. You may not be perfect, but you’re perfect for me, and that’s what matters.”

Taako sighed and dropped his head to rest on Kravitz’s chest. “You can’t fix me, Kravitz.”

Kravitz pressed his nose into Taako’s hair. “You’re right, I can’t. I can’t snap my fingers and make all your anxieties go away, as much as I wish I could. But I can still try to help you through them.”

They stood like that for several minutes, both breathing deeply of each other’s scent and taking comfort in each other’s touch. Kravitz could feel his heart beating slowly in his chest, gradually picking up its pace, and he knew that Taako noticed the warmth spreading through his body.

As they stood together, a thought quietly planted itself in Kravitz’s mind and he pulled back from his husband with a frown. “Taako...couldn’t you have just transmuted the egg yolk?”

Taako raised his head, the moment of realization played clearly across his face. “Aw, beans,” he mumbled, rubbing a thumb across his wet eyes. Then he laughed, a short but genuine sound, taking Kravitz by surprise. “Hindsight,” he said with a grin. Kravitz laughed too and placed a kiss on his husband’s forehead.

“If you really insist on staying up, why don’t you give those eggs another shot. I can start on coffee.”

“You’re terrible at making coffee,” Taako teased. “Honestly can’t understand why, it’s the simplest thing. What are you possibly doing wrong?”

“Would you rather I take over the eggs, then?” Kravitz asked in mock seriousness.

“Gods, no,” Taako gasped. “Even my strongest spell can’t save your cooking. No, you stick to coffee.”

Taako’s second attempt at the eggs turned out perfectly, and Kravitz’s coffee was, well, drinkable - at least after adding plenty of sugar. They sat at the island together for a long time, long after their food was gone and even until the sunlight began to break through the curtains. Taako’s ears gradually began to point back up, and though Kravitz knew he could never fix all the hurts in his husband’s soul, he seemed happier now that night was passing, and Kravitz felt warmer than usual.

#taz #the adventure zone #taakitz #taakitz week #taako #taako the wizard #taz taako #kravitz #taz kravitz #angst #fanfic #mine #i made this #come hop on the angst train with me #my writing

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abadoodlesss · 6 years

Text

More Than a Prisoner - Chapter Seven

Tag List: @missieluvsmurder @a-fan-fighting-for-equality @sleepy-demon @murpmurp

Read Previous Chapters Here!

Next: Chapter Eight

Bella let her eyes flutter open. She sat up and raised her arms above her head to stretch, rubbing over the muscles that were still sore from three days prior when she help Hunk man the kitchen. She never realized how strenuous baking was.

Rolling out of the slab she called a bed, Bella grabbed her raggedy dress from the corner of her bed. Striping out of the pajamas Lance lent to her, Bella slipped the dress over her head. She buttoned up the back with her nimble fingers, pulling her wild hair out from underneath the garment and twisting it into a bun.

Then she did what she found herself doing very often, waiting around until Shiro told her what to do. Bella wasn’t complaining much, she knew things could be worse but she couldn’t help but wonder what her life even was anymore. She had dreamed of what she would do with her life once she finally escaped Lotor’s grasp, and this certainly what she dream of. Bella was taken away from her thoughts about her bleak life when there was a knock at her cell door.

She stayed silent. The door slid open and Bella walked out, receiving the tray Shiro held out for her. She noted the way her breakfasts seemed to get more extravagant with each day, how less and less green goop was incorporated into her meal. Upon her plate now was toast and scrambled eggs, no trace of green goop at all.

Bella knew that with each passing day, with each breakfast, Shiro was trying to show he was sorry. She did appreciate it, he was obviously doing it on his own as Hunk was still very much asleep. What Bella didn’t appreciate is the fact that Shiro had to show his apology through kind gestures but not through words. All she wanted was for him to say, “I’m sorry for being a huge dick the other night at the diner with the Balmerans and treating you like less than human. It was incredibly stupid, I’m incredibly stupid”. Was that too much to ask for?

Until Shiro managed to verbalize his apology, Bella would continue to give him the cold shoulder.

They walked in silence until Shiro stopped at a room.

“Things got a little intense in here yesterday.” Shiro explained revealing what Bella assumed was their training room. It was a mess.

There were clothes and gear strewn everywhere as well as miscellaneous weapons lazily ‘put away’. If that wasn’t bad enough, the whole room smelt like teenage boys and sweat. Bella was sure it would take her the rest of her life to rid the room of that scent.

Shiro must have noticed the face Bella made. “Yeah, we were training almost all day, I felt bad making the guys clean up, they were so exhausted.”

“So you make me do it instead.” Bella grumbled to herself, placing her breakfast on the ground, annoyed she wouldn’t have time to eat it while it was hot. She brushed past Shiro as she turned her attention instead to the clothes on the floor. It aggravated her that at the end of the day, she was stuck doing chores for a man who thought so little of her.

“Bella-” He started, but Shiro didn’t know what he could say. He knew why she was mad, hell he was just as mad at himself as Bella was. Shiro felt terrible for dismissing her like that, but in the moment he panicked, he had no idea how to talk about her situation to the Balmeran’s. He thought it would just be best for her to leave. He knew at that moment it was a mistake. The second he saw the hurt on Bella’s face that night, his heart sank. They were just starting to get along and now he forced them back to square one. God, he was such an idiot.

Bella heard a sigh leave Shiro’s lips followed by his retreating footsteps. Bella grumbled to herself, ranting about who Shiro thought he was as she collected the clothes.

Bella’s fingers were cramping because of how hard she was pressing down on the rag, scrubbing the floor until it shined.

The training room was nowhere near spotless, but Bella made significant progress. She was currently crawling across the floor on her hands and knees, scrubbing the spots on the floor that needed a little extra elbow grease. She’d already been over the entire floor with a mop but there were stubborn stains littered across the floor that she was determined to get rid of.

She dunked her rag into a bucket of soapy water just as the doors slid open behind her. Bella couldn’t stop her eyes from rolling. She threw the rag down and stood up to face who she assumed was Shiro. As she turned around, she instead came face to face with Keith.

“What are you doing in here?” He asked, his voice dripping with disgust.

“Cleaning up your mess.” Bella said, returning to scrubbing the floor.

Suddenly, Bella felt a hand clasp onto her upper arm, dragging her to her feet. “Well, I need the training room.” He said, practically dragging Bella to the door. She wriggled in his grasp but couldn’t free herself. Keith took her all the way to the door, letting it slide open before he shoved her into the hallway. The doors closed behind her as she steadied her footing.

Bella couldn’t believe the audacity of that boy. There was no way in hell she was going to let that slide. She whirled around, anger filling her entire body. Just as she was about to pound on the door, a small voice called out to her.

“Bella?”

Bella turned to see Pidge and Hunk, both with concerned faces as they noticed Bella’s ticked off expression.

“Are you alright?” Hunk asked, a bit hesitant.

Bella sighed. “I’m fine. It’s just Keith, he-.” She sighed again, feeling some of her anger alleviate. “It’s nothing.” She finished, having a much more pleasant tone, throwing in a soft smile too. “What are you guys up to?”

“Everybody’s planning on having dinner together tonight.” Pidge explained. “We never really eat as a family, we’re normally too busy but we thought we’d make the time for it tonight.”

“And of course, I’m cooking.” Hunk added.

“Sounds nice.” Bella said, her stomach grumbling as she thought about Hunk’s cooking, choosing to focus on that rather than the fact she’d be eating alone in her cell tonight.

“I could always use a co-chef.” Hunk offered. Bella remembered how much fun they had while cooking for the Balmerans. It was the best day she had in the castle so far.

“Well my schedule just cleared up.” She said, giving a final glance to the training room doors. “I’d love to help.”

The three headed to the kitchen, Hunk baking away while Pidge and Bella sat and watched, offering emotional support rather than any actual help.

The girls talked, Hunk chiming in every once in a while, but he was much more focused on the meal he was preparing. Bella had gotten to know Lance and Hunk fairly quickly, and she knew Pidge was part of their trio, but Bella always felt a disconnect with Pidge. Thankfully, they got the chance to really talk with one another, bond a little bit. She learned a lot about Pidge, firstly that Bella really liked her. She was so intelligent for her age, hell for any age. Pidge was so passionate about technology and a total master of it. She was an interesting girl and Bella was nothing but impressed. She learned how Hunk, Pidge and Lance were friends back at the Garrison. That led to countless embarrassing stories about Lance that Bella was sure she’d use for blackmail one day.

“Lance was always getting us into trouble.” Hunk said through a laugh.

“It was the easiest way for him to get attention.” Pidge added, making them all laugh.

“Looks like nothing’s changed.” Bella commented.

Perfect timing. Lance walked into the kitchen to find his three friends laughing. He, of course, wanted to be a part of the joke.

“What’s so funny, guys?” He asked.

“Oh nothing.” Bella said, trying to contain her laughter, but the second she looked at Pidge and Hunk, she burst out laughing again.

“It’s about me isn’t it?” Lance asked after his friend’s giggles died down.

“Course not, buddy.” Hunk said, clapping Lance on the back.

Lance shrugged off Hunk’s hand and took a seat beside Bella. He was only a little bitter, Lance often was (but hated being) the butt of anyone’s joke. He liked to think of himself as the funny one, no one makes fun of the funny one, that’s the funny one’s job. He didn’t mind all that much though. if having Hunk and Pidge tell embarrassing stories about himself meant that he could hear Bella’s laugh, it was worth it. Lance was almost entranced in the way her head went back slightly as she let out a cackle, letting her beautiful eyes shut and her nose wrinkle in the cutest way.

Lance could feel himself really falling for Bella, he felt something for her from the moment he saw her. Though that’s normally how it went with any girl Lance came across, but with each passing day, each conversation, he felt more and more for Bella.

“I can’t believe you did that.” Bella said to Lance through her giggles. Lance panicked for a second, he’d been so focused on staring at her that he had no idea what the group was talking about.

“That’s not even the worst of it, Bel” Hunk said.

“Enough guys, he’s embarrassed.” Bella said, holding in her giggles as she looked at Lance. It was then that Lance realized he had a very apparent blush on his cheeks, no doubt due to staring at Bella for so long.

“Need your girlfriend to stand up for you?” Pidge teased.

“I don’t need anybody to stand up for me. I’m the most macho man.” Lance said, jumping out of his chair to flex what little muscle he had, purposely trying to distract from the fact that Pidge called Bella his girlfriend.

“Of course you are.”

“No samples!” Hunk scolded, swatting away Bella’s hand as she tried to again steal something off his tray. Hunk and Lance were manning the stove and there was an unattended tray topped with something sweet. Bella thought she’d be able to snag one without Hunk noticing, but he apparently had the vision of a hawk when it came to food.

“C’mon.” Bella cried. “Nobody’s gonna miss just one.”

“I would.” He replied, turning back to the stove.

“So unfair, you guys are gonna get to eat all this food.” Bella complained. “I’ll be lucky if Shiro gives me leftovers.” She whispered this last part more to herself, but everyone heard.

“I think you’ll survive without one.” Lance said, leaning over the counter to where Bella sat. She glared at him but he took her hand resting on the countertop and flipped it over. He quickly placed the little sweet roll in her hand, closing her fingers over it. He held a finger to his lips, telling Bella to stay quiet. She gave him a sweet smile.

“Alright, that’s the last of ‘em.” Hunk called, pulling the final tray out of the oven. “Can you three start taking things out to the table?”

Bella stopped for a moment. Of course, she wanted to help Hunk, but she thought of what happened the last time she was in the dining room, what Shiro said to her.

“Are you alright, Bella?” Pidge called. She and Lance were almost half way out the door before they realized Bella didn’t grab anything yet.

“Uh, yeah, just start setting the table without me.” She said, knowing that only made her friends more suspicious.

“You guys go ahead.” She heard Lance whisper. Bella’s back was to them, but she heard Pidge and Hunk’s retreating footsteps as Lance came closer to her. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Bella said, turning to face the blue paladin. “Really, I am. It’s just what Shiro said the other night.”

“You know he didn’t mean it.”

“Didn’t he?” Bella cried. “Why else would he say it?”

“Since when do you care what Shiro has to say about you?”

“I don’t, I just- I thought we were finally making process, Lance, I thought I was starting to be more than just a prisoner to him, but he proved that isn’t the case.”

Lance could see Bella was getting worked up, her face was flushing and her eyes were starting to prick with tears that she tried to hide from him. He grabbed onto her shoulders, forcing her to face him, but she never met his eyes.

“You are so much more than just some prisoner, Bella.” He said. “You are so much more, you don’t even know.”

“Am I?” Bella said, chuckling a little.

“You really are.” He practically whispered, there was no need to be loud for the two were so close together now. They stayed silent for a moment, enjoying being so close to one another. Lance was sure that if Bella just tilted her head a little higher he’d be able to reach her lips, the lips that finally turned from a frown to a smile.

“Get a room.’ Pidge called as she and Hunk returned, grabbing another tray each.

Moment ruined. Lance and Bella separated from each other. Bella gave him a grateful look before turning her attention to a tray.

The four ignored the moment as they all headed to the dining room.

The rest of team Voltron were already seated at the table, chatting to one another.

“Eat up guys.” Hunk said, placing down his tray before fixing himself a plate. Bella froze for only a moment before Lance gave her a reassuring look.

Pidge and Lance laid their trays down and took their seats. Bella stood awkwardly, trying to find a place to leave her tray before she could make a swift escape back to the kitchen.

Just her luck, the only open space on the table was right in between Shiro and Keith’s seats. Bella took a calming breath. Just push through, Bel she thought to herself.

“Excuse me.” She said, as she placed the tray down. Though Bella was sure to get out of there as soon as humanly possible, she managed to see the look of surprise on Shiro’s face. He opened his mouth to say something but Bella was already at the other side of the table before he could utter a syllable. “Is that everything?” She asked Hunk.

“Yeah, thanks for the help today.” He said.

“No problem.” She said, patting Hunk on the shoulder before turning to leave. She supposed she’d wait in the kitchen to see what leftovers Hunk would bring in, it was only fair after all the hard work she did talking to Pidge and him all day.

A chair pushed back from the table, scraping across the floor with a screech.

“Bella, wait.” Someone called. She turned.

It was Shiro.

He stood at the table, arm outstretched to Bella. All eyes were on him. It was then, Shiro realized how intense and embarrassing his outburst was.

“Take a seat.” He said in a calmer tone, fighting the urge to look away from her glare. Her expression turned from annoyance to suspicion, slightly better but not the look he was hoping for.

After Bella didn’t answer, Shiro walked to an empty chair, pulling it out so Bella could sit. He looked at her expectantly, but Bella still seemed hesitant. “I’m really sorry for what I said to you the other day.” He said. Bella was impressed, she was sure if Shiro was going to apologize, he’d do it quietly to her and only her, not in front of the rest of his team. She could see in his eyes how sorry he was, and he was making a sincere effort. “I hope you accept my apology and join us for dinner.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” She said, sitting as Shiro pushed in her chair for her.

“Where could you be, little flower?” Lotor asked aloud to himself, staring out a window into the vastness of the galaxy. He’d asked himself this question each and every day since his Bella managed to escape. No one had any information as to her whereabouts yet. It was infuriating.

The ship she stole was found but any trace of the girl was lost. How could she have just disappeared like that? With each passing day, Lotor worried more and more that his Bella may be gone forever

The prince’s thoughts were interrupted when he heard a knock on the door.

“Come in.” He called, keeping his amber eyes fixated on the window as if he stared long enough, he'd be able to spot her.

“We’ve found her, sir, alive.”

Lotor stayed facing his window, letting the corners of his lips turn up in a smirk.

“And where might little Bella be?” His tone was nothing but malicious.

“We have reason to believe she’s been taken in by Voltron, sir.”

A deep chuckle rumbled through Lotor’s chest. He finally turned to the soldier, a wicked grin on his lips.

“How wonderful.”

#voltron #vld #voltron fanfiction #voltron imagine #shiro #lance #keith #pidge #hunk #allura #coran #reader #oc #shiro x reader #lance x reader #lotor x reader #lotor #he's finally back

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i-write-supernatural-imagines · 7 years

Text

Request: Sharp Objects

Request: HI I love your fics!! could you do a deanxreader where dean broke his right hand on a hunt and can't shave himself so the reader, with hidden feelings for dean, does it for him with lots of fluff please

Word Count: 1,270

Thank you<3

“Ouch! Jesus Christ, that’s a bitch.” The muffled cursing comes from behind the bathroom door, then followed by the clinking sound of something falling into the ceramic sink, and finally a, “Son of a bitch!”

Despite the laundry pile you’re carrying, you swerve across towards the door and knock a couple of times with your free hand, “Dean? Everything alright in there?”

There’s a moment of silence, and then a short reply, “Fine.”

He’s obviously frustrated – a tone you’ve quickly become accustomed to hearing after dragging him home from the hospital a few days ago. He’d landed badly after being catapulted across the room by an overzealous ghost and broken a hand, whereas Sam had gotten off with a concussion and you’d somehow managed to slip away injury-free – which had inevitably resulted in you skivvying around to cater to their every whim.

While Sam had managed to get over himself somewhat and take it easy while the hellish egg on his head goes down, Dean has been trying to do everything as normal. He hates being laid up like this, and trying to get everything done for himself has just resulted in more hurt and hindrance than help.

You still linger outside the door for a few moments, “Can I help at all?”

He hesitates, and for a long moment you wonder if he’s actually going to accept, “I could use a clean towel.”

“Got one here. Mind opening the door?” You ask, after trying to get in and finding the door locked. Again, a hesitation, but then the door opens, Dean fumbling with his good hand for a few moments to get it undone.

You pride yourself on being able to keep a poker face. Sometimes giving the enemy no indication of your emotions could mean the difference between life and death – sometimes it’s imperative that a victim doesn’t know what you’re thinking. But this time, when it’s important that you don’t make a sound so Dean doesn’t slam the door in your face, you just can’t seem to freaking manage it.

“I know, alright?” He huffs as you sidle into the bathroom and begin draping the towels from the pile over the towel rack, trying desperately not to laugh. It’s not your fault – he’s covered in shaving cream – it’s smudged over his nose and there are even splatters in his eyebrows. It’s all white, apart from a trail of crimson blood slipping down the side of his face.

“You can’t shave left-handed?” You guess, taking note of the razor left in the sink and the cast immobilising his right hand. He sighs wearily, and then nods.

“Nope. I’ve never had to try before, and I was starting to look even more homeless than Sam.” He complains, taking a towel from you when you offer one to him.

“Dean, for crying out loud, you shattered your hand. I think you’re allowed to look homeless for a little while.” You reassure him, balancing the rest of the laundry – mostly jeans and a handful of flannels – on the countertop, “If you really want it sorted, I’ll do it for you.”

As soon as the offer has left your mouth, you regret it – the very idea of managing to get so close to him without blushing like a five year old, or completely losing your breath… impossible. And yet, he nods, smiling ruefully.

“Would you mind? I just… can’t.” He shrugs, and you smile back, nodding and shooing him off towards the closed toilet seat.

“Go on then, sit down.” You instruct, picking up the razor and running the warm tap to clear it off. You let the tap run for a little while, filling the basin, and then approach Dean carefully, “You have to promise to stay still. Usually when I’m so close to someone with something this sharp it doesn’t end very well for them.”

He laughs, leaning back with the force of it, “That’s not encouraging, Y/N.”

“I said I’d do it. I never said I’d do it well.” You remind him with a smile – humour: humour is how you get through this without making a complete idiot of yourself.

“Much appreciated, beautiful.” He winks, and it’s all you can do to force out a snort and place your fingers beneath his chin to tilt his head up a little.

“Mm, whatever you say,” Sometimes it’s difficult not to take his words too seriously, and you have to remind yourself that Dean Winchester can and will flirt with anything that moves – you’re not special to him beyond being good friends and hunting buddies.

“Well, the closer you get, the more I’m thinking it.” He mumbles, remaining still as stone as you skin the razor over his skin smoothly – you’re painstakingly careful, starting on the opposite side to the cut on his lower cheek. He chuckles when you lean back to dunk the razor in the sink, then move back over to him.

“I’ll stay well back, then.” You wink in response, but contradict your own statement by leaning close enough to him that his breath ghosts over your face. His eyes remain trained on your face, watching every movement as you press your lips together, squinting in concentration. You try your best to ignore it, being as careful and steady as your humanly can manage while you get to work.

His eyes don’t leave you until you’re finished, patting down his face with a towel and then handing it to him – only then does he force himself to look away, watching as you clear up and set everything back in its place.

When he finally manages to open his mouth, he’s expecting the words that come out to be ‘thanks, Y/N’ – instead, they’re, “When you’re concentrating, your nose does this funny little thing.”

You turn slowly, quirking an eyebrow in a manner he can only describe as adorable, “Excuse me?”

“It kinda… wrinkles. But just at the tip. Right here.” He taps his own nose, a small smile playing on his lips, “And you blink a lot. I just… never noticed before.” Dean confesses, giving a nonchalant shrug and trying to ask as if he isn’t mortified by the words.

Rather than make a comment, you give a smile, wiping your hands off and stepping back, “I suppose I’m not the kind of person people pay a whole lot of attention to.” It’s not meant to be self-deprecating, but Dean takes it that way nonetheless.

“You have got to be kidding me.” He rolls his eyes, standing up and poking at the cast as if his hand would be magically healed, “Y/N, you turn heads everywhere you go.”

“Yeah, right, of course.”

“Hey, look at me,” He takes your wrist in his hand, turning you to face him properly, “You’re beautiful. Really, truly beautiful. And smart, and kind, and funny. And people notice that. I notice that.”

That’s when your heart really does skip a beat – his eyes are on yours, emeralds glinting in the harsh white light of the bunker’s main bathroom.

“Dean, I-“

“You don’t need to reply to that. Didn’t mean to back you into a corner. Sorry.” Dean smiles sheepishly, scratching at the back of his neck with his good hand – but you shake your head, stepping forward with all of the boldness you can muster.

“I want to.” You assure him, taking his good hand and squeezing it gently, “I don’t care about anyone else noticing. Just you.”

He hesitates, then glances sideways, at the door, “Can I kiss you?” He blurts, flushing red like an embarrassed teenager.

“I’d be offended if you didn’t.”

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