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helloalycia · 3 years

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overstepping [one] // jane banner (Wind River)

summary: after getting several voicemails from your colleague and best friend with her asking for your backup, you attempt to call her back, only to get no answer.

warning/s: mentions of rape, murder and injuries.

author’s note: this is a two parter because i finally watched Wind River and it broke my heart but also lizzie was v cute and i felt the need to write this, hope you like it x

part two | masterlist | wattpad

"C'mon, work you stupid phone," I complained for the millionth time, before standing on the chair to get a better signal.

When I saw the bars in the corner of the screen increase, a grin appeared on my lips. I loved my parents, but the fact that they lived in a remote cabin in Tennessee with zero signal was not my favourite thing.

When the bars remained, my phone decided to actually be helpful and receive all the messages, calls and voicemails I missed. I did a brief flick through, noticing nothing was too important that couldn't wait for me to return to work. As an FBI agent, I rarely got time off. And now that I had taken a two month vacation to spend with my parents, I was adamant on enjoying it, even if I was missing work a smidge.

Next were the calls, which I noticed were mostly from my colleague and close friend, Jane Banner. I furrowed my brows, realising she'd left me several voicemails, too, which was strange since she knew I was on a break from work. What could be so important?

I sighed, glancing down at my uncomfortable position standing on the chair and leaning above the wardrobe. It was the only place in the house with decent signal and the only other place that wasn’t in the middle of nowhere was twenty minutes out. Telling myself I'd just listen to one voicemail to make sure everything was okay, I played the earliest message.

"Hey, Y/N. I'm sorry, I know you're on a break, but I just had to talk to you," it began, and Jane sounded troubled. "I was in Vegas, as you know, but I've been called out to a reservation in Wyoming where this poor girl was–" She paused, releasing a shaky breath. "She was raped and left to die out in the cold. I thought I could send in another team to take a look – y'know, usual protocol. But the coroner won't rule it a homicide and you know what that means."

I swallowed hard, knowing exactly what that meant. If it wasn't ruled a homicide, no backup would come and we had to move onto the next case. But if this girl was raped and left to die, the rapist was still out there and wasn't getting caught by the FBI.

"I can't just leave it and go," Jane continued quietly, with that recognisable passion for her job evident in her voice. "I have to do what I can. But I... I can't do this alone. It's not like other cases, Y/N. It's different out here. And there's only so much their police department can do. I know you're on a break, but I was hoping that, maybe, you could come out here and help me? It's the Wind River Indian Reservation. That's it, I guess. Bye."

The message ended and I found myself chewing on my lower lip anxiously, unable to think about anything other than Jane now. She'd worried me with that one voicemail alone – I couldn't imagine what the others said.

She was usually so good at dealing with cases, but this seemed different. She sounded shaken up, attempting to put on a brave face by the sounds of it. What was so different about this case? She didn't need me. She was capable.

Curiosity got the better of me and I played the second message, ignoring the discomfort in my arms as I stretched to maintain the signal. It was left a day after the first one.

"Hey, so I just remembered that you said you don't get much signal up there with your parents," she began apologetically. "I don't mean to– shit, it's so cold..." There was a pause, a noise in the background, then she continued, "Sorry, just turning up the heating. Anyway, I was saying. I don't mean to intrude on your break. I just– I'm hoping you'll find signal and hear this because I could really use your help. I think we've got a lead on who may have done it. It was hectic today. Really could've used that backup."

She chuckled dryly at her attempt at a joke, but all I felt was guilt. She sounded exhausted within a day of being there.

"I hope you get this," she finished with a sigh. "I should go. Got a busy day tomorrow. Hope you're doing okay. Bye."

I wasted no time in playing the next message. Three days into her case.

"I don't know why I keep sending these," she began with a hoarse voice, and my heart clenched at the sound of it. "You clearly aren't getting them in time. But it's easier talking to you like this than not at all."

It went quiet, so quiet that I thought she may have finished and forgot to hang up. But then she spoke up again, a whimper escaping her lips.

"It's so hard," she admitted. "We've covered worse cases, but this one... everything about it makes me uncomfortable. Something doesn't feel right. I've got a lead – we think it might be the boyfriend who did it and we're gonna see him tomorrow. But I don't know."

I frowned, squeezing my phone tightly because I didn't recognise the girl speaking as my friend. This girl sounded broken and I wondered what she could have discovered that made her like this.

"I've got the police department with me for backup," she said with a sniffle. "And Cory, he's a hunter whose been helping me with the case. They're all gonna be with me tomorrow. But I wish you were here, too. You always make things easier."

The lump in my throat wouldn't disappear no matter how many times I swallowed it. She made things easier, too. Always. And all I wanted to was be by her side and be there for her like she always was for me.

"Sorry about this," she said with a watery laugh, and I could imagine the embarrassed smile on her face as she did. "I sound like such an idiot. Never mind these messages. Just enjoy your break. I shouldn't be worrying you like this. See you when you get back."

The message ended and I checked to see if there were anymore, but to my disappointment, there wasn't. That message was from a few days ago and she hadn't sent anything since which was concerning in itself.

Trying not to panic for no reason, I called Jane. Hopefully everything was okay and I was being stupid. She was a fully-trained FBI agent. She could take care of herself. Right?

The call rang and rang, but nobody picked up. One missed call. No biggie. She probably heard it and couldn't find her phone or something. So, I tried again.

More ringing and no answer. Okay, no big deal. Just try again.

Another call and no answer. The chewing on my lip became more intense. Why the hell wasn't she picking up? Was she still working the case?

I waited an hour, trying again at ten minute intervals, unable to fight my concern. But there was no answer every time and I realised that I couldn't sit and wait for her to call back. Not after how she sounded in those voicemails.

No, I had to go there. She needed backup.

—

Wyoming was way colder than I could have prepared for.

I mean, technically, I prepared for nothing. I bid my parents a goodbye, threw some random clothes in a bag and caught the next plane over there. I tried for Jane's phone constantly, knowing she was never one to ignore me for this long, but there was no point. She wasn't answering, which could only mean so much.

When I reached the reservation, I had no idea where anything was or what I was looking for exactly. I just knew that as soon as the taxi dropped me off in the centre of town, I didn't know where to go.

There were a lot of locals hanging around, so my first port of call was to ask them if they'd seen Jane around – or Agent Banner, as she may have introduced herself. I showed them a picture of her on my phone, described her with vivid detail, but they just stared at me like I was crazy. I was starting to believe I was at one point, until I stopped by the convenience store.

As worried as I was for Jane's whereabouts, the chill in my bones was real. Especially my hands, which I was certain would fall off any minute. So, I decided to buy some gloves and also ask the cashier if he'd seen Jane around or heard anything of her. Whilst I was doing that, a customer caught my attention, probably having overheard my conversation.

"Did you say Jane Banner?" he asked with a quirked brow, interrupting my purchase. "The FBI lady, right?"

I nodded quickly, facing him. "Yes, that's her! D'you know where she is?"

He nodded casually. "Yeah, she's in the hospital. That big shootout that happened a few days ago, right?"

My stomach dropped. "The what?"

"The shootout," he repeated, not aware of the concern in my face. "At the drill site. A bunch of officers were killed and the FBI lady was one of the only one left standing." He tutted as he shook his head. "Very lucky that one."

A shootout? The hospital? Only one left standing? No wonder she hadn't been answering her calls.

"Can you– do you–" I stopped, clearing my throat and trying to stop freaking out. "Which hospital?"

After getting the address from him, I caught a taxi to the only hospital in town and prayed to God that Jane was okay. The one thing she'd asked for was backup and I couldn't even give her that. If I'd just looked at my messages sooner... fuck.

Getting past the front desk and to Jane's room was no issue at all. A quick flash of my FBI badge was enough for the receptionist to give me the details and wave me through. My heart was constricting in my chest the longer it took. What if it was really bad? What if that customer's intel was outdated and Jane was– no. I couldn't afford to think like that.

Upon finding Jane's room, I spotted an older man leaving through the door, being careful to close it behind him. I didn't recognise him at all.

"Excuse me," I called, earning his attention. "Is that Jane Banner's room you just came from?"

He seemed surprised, glancing over his shoulder to make sure I was speaking to him, before nodding. "Yes. Sorry, who are you?"

I pulled my badge from my pocket and showed him, though I doubted anyone would take me seriously when my eyes were watering at thought of Jane being severely injured.

"I'm her friend," I said, swallowing down the lump in my throat before lowering my badge.

"Oh, you're the backup that didn't come," he said with realisation.

My eyes flickered to the floor guiltily. He wasn't exactly wrong.

"I didn't mean it like that," he added quickly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."

I shook my head, lifting my eyes to meet his. "It's okay. I should've... I should've been here." It went quiet as he didn't know what to say, so I looked to him halfheartedly. "I assume you're from the police department, one of the ones who helped Jane."

"Not exactly," he said, before putting out his hand for me to shake. "Name's Cory. I'm a hunter by trade."

Returning his handshake, I recalled Jane's voicemail. "Oh, yeah, she mentioned you... thank you for helping her out."

When I couldn’t, I added in my head.

He offered me a small smile and I couldn't find it in myself to return it. I must have looked like shit, since he gave me a pitiful gaze.

"You want me to catch you up before you go in?" he asked, nodding to Jane's door. "She's okay by the way."

I nodded, sucking up a breath. My nerves were eating away at me the longer I didn't see Jane – half of me was terrified of what I'd find, and the other half was afraid she'd be upset or angry because I left her to it, even when she pleaded for my help.

Cory and I took a seat down the hall and he proceeded to explain about the case and how they found the guy who raped that poor girl. The shootout was the worst bit, making me shiver with discomfort. Apparently, Jane had gotten blasted with a shotgun, puncturing her torso and neck despite the vest she wore. All of the officers with her were killed and by the sounds of it, Jane almost was, too. But Cory managed to take out the criminals and the rapist himself. When he was finished telling me, I had no words.

"She's a bit shaken up, but her surgery went well," Cory reassured with a short nod. "Does she know you're coming?"

I shook my head, voice thick with emotion. "She wouldn't answer her phone. I guess I know why now."

Cory nodded, rubbing the back of his neck before sparing me a consoling glance. "She talked about you a lot. I think it'll cheer her up seeing you. You should go."

My eyes met his, teary and stinging with unshed tears. "Thank you so much."

He shrugged bashfully, but he didn't realise all that he'd done. I gave him a small, tight smile before standing up with a sigh. No point dwelling anymore – I had to see her.

Pushing my selfish feelings aside, I sucked it up and approached Jane's room. She would either want to punch me or not, but either way, I had to see if she was okay. And so, when I opened the door slightly, heart racing in my chest, said heart jumped in my throat at the sight of her.

She was laying on the bed with wires stuck in her and, only from what I could see, bandages were covering the side of her neck. I thought she was sleeping at first, but then her head tilted towards the door curiously, and bright blue eyes widened with disbelief.

"Y/N?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. "What are you– how did you get here?"

I closed the door behind me and hesitantly approached her bedside, unable to stop my eyes from soaking in the sight of her. She looked so feeble and vulnerable and unlike how I saw her last. Then, Cory's words came back to me and I began to imagine the worst scenario of her getting shot, blood seeping from her wounds, the life draining from her eyes...

"Y/N," she called, and I looked to her startlingly, hoping I didn't look as troubled as I felt.

"Sorry," I said, clearing my throat. "I, er– the messages. Voicemail. I heard them and tried calling you back, but..."

She pursed her lips, exhaling with a wince and looking up at the ceiling, as if suddenly remembering she left messages in the first place.

"I'm sorry I didn't come sooner," I said quietly, guilt seeping back in.

"No, no, don't be," she said, and I just about noticed the pink dusting her cheeks. "It's not your fault. I shouldn't have interrupted your vacation like that. I know you said you wanted a break and–"

"Jane, no, don't even say that," I cut her off, reaching for her hand in an instant. She looked my way, eyes flickering between mine nervously. I squeezed her hand gently and said, "I should have been here. You needed me and I– I didn't come. Maybe if I had, this could have ended differently."

She tried to smile, but I could see the discomfort in her eyes. "It's not that bad, honestly. It just looks bad."

I pressed my lips together, eyes falling to the bandage on her neck. Even though it was big and covered her wound, I could still make out the bruising around it from the impact of the shell. I didn't imagine the torso wound looking any different, and that thought alone made me regret leaving her alone. It was very much as bad as it looked; I knew that and she knew that.

Her lips trembled as she avoided my eyes, her own tearing up. I pushed away my guilt momentarily and changed the subject.

"So, I met Cory. He seems like a great guy."

She didn't say anything as she seemed lost in thought. Either that or she was trying not to cry in front of me. I hoped it wasn't the latter, since the last thing I wanted was to make her feel uncomfortable.

"You know," I said, when she wouldn't speak, "I'm pretty sure I told you to stay safe before I left for my vacation."

At my poor attempt to lighten the mood, she cracked a small, tight smile, but a smile nonetheless, and my racing heart slowed down momentarily.

"I'm glad you're okay," I said, now that I had her attention again, and she looked my way with a softened expression. "Kind of okay. But you know... okay."

Thankfully, she knew what I meant and her hand tightened around mine.

"I'm glad you came," she returned, and I couldn't look away even if I tried. She was always able to trap me with a single gaze.

With a tug of her hand, she motioned for me to sit on the edge of her bed, so I did. And then she began to ask me about my vacation, what I'd been up to this past month, how my parents were... basically anything and everything except for the case. And it was understandable, since she was reminded of it all the time. If I could be a form of escapism for her, so be it. It was the least I could do.

We spoke for hours until the nurse came in to let me know visiting hours were over and I'd have to come back tomorrow. With a regretful sigh, I got up from my seat on her bedside and stretched my limbs.

"Where are you staying?" she asked, a slight frown on her lips.

I smiled awkwardly, realising I didn't think that far ahead. "I'm not gonna lie, I don't know. I came straight here. There's gotta be a hotel or something in this town, right?"

She nodded and flicked her hand to the shelves on the other side of the room. "You should stay in my room in the inn. Key's in my bag over there."

"Oh, I don't have to do that–"

"Y/N, it's not like I'm going to be staying there anytime soon," she cut me off, smiling halfheartedly. "Please."

I chewed on my lip and nodded, giving in. When I grabbed her keys from her bag, I stopped by her bedside and gave her a supportive smile.

"I'll back first thing in the morning, if you don't mind," I said, and she finally gave me a smile that reached her eyes.

"I'd like that."

I nodded, resting a hand on hers and squeezing comfortingly. "Goodnight."

—

Though I knew Jane was okay, I still couldn't stop myself from thinking about her all night. The sight of her wounds and the broken expression on her face was enough to keep me awake. And the guilt that came with it all... why couldn't I have just picked up my damn phone?

As promised, I returned to Jane's hospital room the next morning, this time bringing some breakfast snacks from the hospital cafeteria since I knew the food would be much better than whatever they were serving her. Judging by the content expression on her face when I gave it to her, I was right.

When she finished eating, she was able to sit up slightly and move over on her bed, urging for me to join her and watch some TV with her. There was no way I was going to turn down that offer, so I slid next to her and kept a packet of sliced apples between us as we watched whatever was playing on the TV.

About halfway through watching, she spoke up randomly, taking me by surprise.

"When are you leaving?"

I tore my gaze from the screen and realised she was staring at me with intense green eyes.

"When you're well enough to," I answered truthfully.

She looked down to her hands. "You don't have to stay with me. You can go."

I studied her profile, knowing it was the wrong time to appreciate how stunning she looked even when she was makeup-free, sporting a bed head and tired.

"Do you want me to go?" I asked softly, afraid I may have overstepped.

She was quick to shake her head slightly, finally lifting her gaze to meet mine with glossy ones. "No."

I nodded, trying very hard not to smile, cleared my throat and grabbed her hand. "Then I'm not leaving. I'll be right here until you get better and I can take you home."

A ragged breath escaped her lips as she nodded in response. We both looked back to the TV and I noticed she didn't let go of my hand, her fingers warm to the touch and giving me goosebumps at the contact. But I wouldn't have had it any other way.

#jane banner #jane banner x you #jane banner x reader #jane banner imagine #elizabeth olsen x you #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen imagine #wind river imagine #wind river

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jeankirstein4ever · 3 years

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The love I paid for : Strippers and Shiganshina

+ Pairing : Modern!Eren x reader

+ Genre/ warnings : Modern au, Hard core smut Low-key smut , angst , fluff. Tw alcohol use, cursing , drug abuse strippers and sexual topics.

+ Word Count : 1.53k

(Erens Pov)

"I can't believe you Eren, you fucking cheated." "It was just one time Mikasa," She was looking at him, disbelief burned into her face. "Do you even hear yourself right now? It doesn't matter if it was just one time", the sarcasm in her words evident. "You still cheated on me, you fucking scum." "Okay, and what do you want me to do about it", sounding bored and somewhat nonchalant. "I-I you're unbelievable you know what we're done. I'm sick of this, I'm sick of your bullshit and being treated like crap by you."

He finally turned his full attention towards her and away from his computer, "Fine but on your way out I need you to pack your things", his voice cold and flat. She was stunned. "You're firing me?" "It's in your contract darling, I'm the reason you have this job if you lose me you lose this job."

"You know what, that's fine I don't care, You're a dick and a shit boss anyway. "Mhm'', he said, returning back to the paperwork in front of him. Mikasa turned sharply, her heels squeaking against the cold tile floor, slamming the door on her way out. Only a few minutes later Jean slowly opened the door, "What was that all about?" "She broke up with me." "Jesus, Jaeger. I'm so sorry man." "it's fine don't worry about it, but I do need your help hiring a new assistant. "Oh come on really", Jean slumped down in the leather seat in front of Eren. Eren looked at him with a quizzical expression on his face. "I just mean that's all you care about, you just got dumped by a girl you've dated for five years and your first thought is getting a new assistant." "Your point being?" "you need to take some time for yourself or do something other than work." "Shouldn't you be doing something other than giving me relationship advice? " "No, I shouldn't come on. After work me, you, Armin, Connie, Levi, and Erwin should go out and get drinks." "No." "Come on man, it's Friday night, and you have literally no reason not to." "I have a corporate brunch tomorrow."

"Oh bullshit, come on Eren. Come out with us, we'll get drinks and it'll be fun." Eren looked at Jean knowing that he wouldn't stop bothering him until he agreed. "Fine but if anyone gets wasted I'm not driving anyone home." Jean tried to hide the growing smirk but based on the death glare provided by Eren he realized he fucked up. "Jean-" "I'm leaving, I'm leaving." Just as Eren heard the soft click of the door his phone rang, echoing in his office.

"Yes?" "Hey Eren, it's Monica." Her velvety voice made Eren freeze, "How did you get my number?" "Elliot gave it to me. So when are we meeting again dear?" "Never, don't you ever come near me. I-" "Aww come on I heard that that plank of wood you were dating dumped you. You've got no reason to not visit me." "She wasn't a plank of wood", Erens's words mumbled harshly under his breath. "As I told you what we did was and will remain a one-time thing" "Uh, huh. Darling I-" "Goodbye Monica'', then he hung up.

The rest of the day proceeded, as usual, with endless paperwork and meetings. The idea of sleep was more alluring than anything else on the planet but Eren was a man of his word and he pretty much promised to go out drinking. So when Jean and the rest of those who agreed to go knocked on his door, he reluctantly collected his things and left with them.

"So where exactly are we going?" "There's a bar on 47th and then a few blocks away there's a Strip club" Jean answered Armin's question in a sing-songy voice only to be cut off by Eren. "We are not going to a strip club." "Aww come on Eren let loose a bit" "We're not going to a strip club jean", Eren repeated firmly. "Jesus I forgot how scary you are when you're angry." We're gonna have to take separate cars since there's six of us", Jean said as they descended the elevator.

"Why not just take someone's car", prompted Armin. "I plan on getting wasted tonight, I mean I think we're all getting drunk right?, he looked around at the group. They went silent. "Awww come on guys, it's no fun if you guys don't drink." "You don't have to get wasted to have fun, I think you just have a problem", Piped Connie. Jean proceeded to death glare Connie until they got to the parking garage.

After a few moments of bickering mainly between Connie, Armin and jean they decided on getting a cab. So when the cab got there they squished into the car, Armin was practically sitting in Connie's lap, "I still don't understand why we can't just get another cab." His voice was muffled in Armin's back. "Because, brat since you all seem to not understand that in order to use a cab you need to have money to pay the cab driver, I could not afford to pay for all you brats to be seated comfortably." Levi finished a certain snark in his voice. Eren grimaced at Levi's tone, despite the fact that he was Levi's boss he had always slightly feared him. It was only a few minutes drive between the time Jean gave the directions and the time that the cab driver pulled over to let them out into the bar.

Now when Jean had mentioned that he wanted to go out drinking, Eren had in no way envisioned something classy but this, this was on a whole other level of shitty. They were in the Shiganshina District, which was known for their frequent shootings and drug rings. "Why Shiganshina?"Armin questioned, his voice shaky. "Oh, calm down Armin it's not that bad just don't do anything too stupid. "You're one to talk, Jean" Jean snapped his head back at Eren but was silenced by Connie shoving him into the bar, everyone following suit. The outside of the bar was spotless compared to the inside. The carpet flooring was caked in years worth of vomit and alcohol, the occasional spot of blood here and there. "Tch", Levi's face obvious with disgust. "I know it's not the cleanest but it was the closest to the strip club." "We're not going to a strip club." "Uh, huh", Jean pretended not to hear Erens remark and proceeded to sit down in one of the booths before pestering one of the seemingly high waitresses for a round of beers.

Eren had finished 3 beers within the first twenty minutes of them being there but that was nothing compared to the likes of Connie and Jean who had both independently downed eight beers and were working on their ninth. Considering that Eren had only drank a few beers the effects of the alcohol seemed to be working pretty fast, he was starting to feel slightly fuzzy and his thoughts seemed to be muffled under the sound of his heart and the noise of the bar.

Armin was completely trashed on the other hand, Armin as long as Eren had known him was a lightweight, he had only finished one beer and was currently nursing his second but was in a complete array of emotions. For a solid seven minutes he was laughing uncontrollably about seagulls' looks when they fly which turned into him sobbing uncontrollably about how he missed the ocean. Erwin was going on an angry rant about how mismanaged government funding was , Levi sat there silently agreeing with him the whole time.

Despite the fact that it was probably a bad idea, they continued ordering more rounds of beer until Jean began a very drunken speech. "We are brought here in sorrow and in celebration of Eren Jaeger, while he has lost his girlfriend of five years -hic- he has newly entered the dating pool and that's a cause to cheer for." The chaotic overlap of the rest of the men yelling caused the rest of the bar to look over at them. Erwin tried to drunkenly shush the group but that only resulted in them yelling louder at Erwin, "Shut up old man." "Yeah old man." The bartender glared at them, practically yelling at them , "Hey if you assholes don't shut up I'm gonna kick you out." "Yeah Jean." "Thats it all of you out." "Aww come on-" "Now."

Everyone hurried out of the bar careful not to stumble over their own feet. Armin almost face planted into the concrete but luckily Erwin was able to grab him by the back of the shirt. "Well , where do you guys wanna go now?" "Home", whined Armin. Eren felt electric, like there was a fire going on under his skin and he didn't want it to stop, he wasn't ready for it to stop. It was like the words came spilling out of him before he could understand or even think about what he was saying, "Lets go to the strip club."

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santacarlahorrorshow · 4 years

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Wolves Are Coming For Me (Eric Northman/Reader)

Summary: “You had always preferred your solitude and a week away from the bullshit that had plagued your life lately seemed almost too good to be true. And that's exactly what it turned out to be.”

Word Count: 1.7k

Author’s Note: This is kind of sad, but I prompted this to myself off my Halloween Prompt List. So, I used ‘alone in a cabin in the woods and there are strange noises outside’ from the scenario list and ‘”don’t open the door”’ from the dialogue list. Part of my True Blood ‘verse in which reader is the middle Stackhouse child.

Masterlist / Until We Meet Again / This House Is Falling Apart

After Bon Temps was terrorized by a vampire-hating serial killer and a delusional maenad, you were more than ready to get away for a while.

You were still reeling from not only your grandmother's death, but Godric's as well. It felt like you were losing people left and right and even though your agent understood, you were still fast approaching a deadline with very little to show for it.

Jason had balked at the idea of you spending a week by yourself in a cabin in the woods, but Sookie had wished you luck. She knew just how hard you had taken Godric's death and after getting rid of the maenad, you were looking forward to trying to process at least a tiny bit of your grief during your self-appointed isolation.

The only people who knew about your plans were Jason, Sookie, Tara, and Sam. You had asked Tara and Sam to keep an eye on your brother and sister for you while you were gone. Both of them had a horrible penchant for landing themselves right into the middle of whatever shit was going on, whether in Bon Temps or in Dallas, so you had left Sam and Tara with explicit instructions to call you if they seemed like they were going to make another dumbass mistake that would prompt another supernatural problem.

Your agent had been nearly overjoyed that you were attempting to finish your book. She had practically offered to pay the rental fee for the cabin herself, but you had turned her down.

You felt an odd sense of excitement while you were buying enough supplies to last you a week. You had always preferred your solitude and a week away from the bullshit that had plagued your life lately seemed almost too good to be true.

And that's exactly what it turned out to be.

The first night in the cabin passed with hardly any disturbances. If you noticed an odd sound outside, then you were going to chalk it up to the wind. You could hear the howling echoes of it as you tried to force yourself to go to sleep. You shivered at the sound of it carrying through the house, prompting you to pull the comforter tighter around you as if fighting off a chill.

The next day, you thought a walk through the surrounding woods would be nice and peaceful. You were suffering from an annoying bout of writer's block and needed to get out of your own head for a while. Enjoying a bit of fresh air and sunlight filtered through the trees sounded like exactly what you needed.

You only made it a few steps into the woods before you noticed something smeared on one of the tree trunks. You frowned at it, a sinking feeling in your gut that told you instinctively what it was as you got closer to the tree.

It was blood.

And it looked fresh.

You stumbled back a few steps, quickly looking around when a creeping paranoia set in that had you convinced that you were no longer alone. When you didn't spot anyone, you backed up towards the cabin.

You couldn't help but hope that it didn't mean anything. Maybe a wounded deer had stumbled past the cabin last night and leaned against the tree.

Even as you thought it, you couldn't help but think it sounded like total bullshit.

You spent the rest of the day in the cabin, checking that all of the windows were locked as well as the doors. You never heard anything that would suggest you should pack up and leave, but you couldn't shake off the thought that you should go ahead and do it anyway.

That night, you heard more of the mournful howling of the wind and the rustle of the trees as they shook and swayed outside. You had trouble sleeping, so you were curled up in an armchair in the living room, the fireplace lending you a warmth that did nothing to fend off the chilling effects of the sounds outside.

You were just starting to doze off, your head cocked back at an awkward angle, when you heard the unmistakable sound of claws raking over the front door. You jumped, turning in the chair to watch the door. When no other sounds reached you, you started to slowly relax back into the chair. You were just beginning to think that you had completely made it up, an auditory hallucination that only happened because you were half-asleep, when you saw a shadow move past the window.

You held your breath, your fingers blindly seeking your phone where it was resting on your lap, as you carefully watched the window for another hint that someone was out on the porch. Your first instinct was to call Godric. He would have been the first to assure you that everything would be fine before either coming to your rescue or dispatching someone else to do it. Probably Isabel, you couldn't help but think.

But Godric was dead and no longer playing the role of your protector and friend. You weren't going to call Sookie or Jason or any other humans. You couldn't get them tangled up in whatever this was.

You weren't going to involve Sam and you sure as hell wouldn't call Bill Compton. Where Bill Compton went, Sookie followed. You also weren't entirely fond of the vampire, so you definitely didn't want to rely on him for help.

That really only left you with one option.

You chanced a glance at the phone Eric had gifted to you after yours was destroyed in Dallas. He had made sure to program his number into it, bestowing himself the honor of first place on your speed dial. He claimed it was in honor of Godric’s memory that he extended his protection to you as well, but you couldn’t help but hope that maybe Eric liked you more than he let on.

You weren't really sure what you had with Eric. You seemed to be stuck in the awkward and confusing dance of a potential relationship with him. Your relationship had only strengthened in Godric's absence, especially after you comforted him the morning Godric met the sun, but he had yet to make a move and you weren't sure if you were supposed to.

You chose his name from your list of contacts while you forced yourself to take a deep, shuddering breath.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite Stackhouse," Eric drawled when he answered.

You weren't even going to think too much about how just the sound of his voice was enough to make your fingers unclench from where they had been digging into the arm of the chair.

"Something's wrong," you told him, attempting to keep just how spooked you were out of your voice.

There was a brief silence before Eric spoke. "Where are you?"

You opened your mouth to answer, but you were cut off by the sound of a long, wavering howl.

"Where. Are. You?" Eric repeated, his tone suggesting that he had heard the howl and it wasn't anything as simple as the wind.

You managed to tell him where you were, your eyes tracking the movement of another shadow as it passed the front window.

“Don’t open the door for anyone but me,” Eric demanded, his tone brooking no argument.

"Hurry," you whispered before you ended the call. Your heart was racing so fast that for one dizzying moment, you felt like you might pass out.

You weren't sure why you were so terrified of some odd noises and unexplained shadows. You had faced vampires hellbent on killing you and a serial killer and a megalomaniac of a church leader and a maenad of all things. You had gone up against unimaginable horrors within the past year, so why did you feel like your heart was going to give out from the strain it was currently under as you listened to the creaking of the porch steps as they protested the weight of someone walking up them?

It was because you were alone. You had no one to protect and no one to protect you in that moment. If someone managed to force themselves into the cabin with you, then you could only rely on yourself to get through whatever hell waited for you on the other side of the door. If Eric came just a moment too late to find your body, torn open and bloody, then it would be because you hadn’t been able to save yourself.

And that in itself was terrifying.

You clutched your phone tight to your chest as you forced yourself to get out of the chair. You backed up a few steps from the door, prepared to run if the door was kicked in.

You heard the eerie sound of nails running over the front door again before a pained yelp rang out. There was a sharp thud as something was dropped on the porch before silence fell.

You were just about to bolt for the back door when someone rapped on the front door three times.

"It's me," you heard Eric call.

You hesitated for only a moment before you rushed to the door and unlocked it. You threw it open, letting out a sigh of relief when you saw Eric standing there. You had the inane urge to pull him into a hug, and your arms were already moving to embrace him, when you were brought short by the sight of the dead, naked guy just a couple of feet away.

"Who the fuck is that?" You couldn't help but ask as you took a startled step away from the body. "And why isn't he wearing anything?"

Eric sighed before he turned away from you. He crouched down to inspect the body, his touch careful as he rolled the guy over and studied him. You weren't sure what he was looking for, but after a few moments, he seemed to find it. You noticed his shoulders draw tight before he stood up again.

You could tell from the careful way he was trying to keep his expression blank that something was definitely wrong. It wasn't until he spoke that you began to realize just how fucked up the situation really was.

"What did Godric tell you about werewolves?"

#true blood #eric northman #eric northman x reader #eric northman imagine #reader insert #reader #eric northman x you #true blood x reader #reader is a stackhouse

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zosonils · 3 years

Note

surely post some autistic ferb things for us all,,,,,,

hell yeah anon!! here’s an absolute hell dump of Ferb Autism Indulgence Things because i have really been wanting to get my grubby little autistic hands all over him lately

his special interests are engineering and tetris [which is the game he’s internationally ranked in!]

he stims vocally by humming or repeating other vocalisations, but rarely with actual words

if he’s too nervous to vocalise/just not in the mood he goes for small hand movements to stim like clicking pens or tapping his fingers

he does flappy hands/arms when he has a lot of excitement to release! otherwise he prefers to stick to smaller/more subtle motions for a variety of reasons

he only repeats actual words as echolalia, almost always off of either phineas or perry! that thing they do where perry chatters and the boys mimic it and they all just loop off each other for a while is absolutely an echolalia loop for all of them [yes even the platypus]

a very epic headcanon i have is that owca agents are typically labelled as having therapy animal training to give them some more wiggle room with showing intelligence, so perry is officially a therapy platypus for the flynn-fletcher kids, especially the boys. ferb does the aforementioned echolalia chatter thing with perry and also just generally finds him extremely comforting to hold. of course perry’s figured out all of ferb and his siblings’ needs by observation and makes sure to subtly be as comforting as possible for his kids, especially if they’re having a meltdown and need to hold someone who won’t try to talk to them

ferb genuinely dislikes communicating verbally, due to a combination of general social anxiety, struggling to translate his thoughts into words, and finding it physically uncomfortable to talk. it’s not serious enough to prevent him from cracking a joke or vocalising his thoughts every once in a while, but he prefers to be nonverbal as much as possible and communicate through gestures and body language

throughout the series he only ever speaks on his own terms and as much as he’s comfortable with, so it comes out without issue, but if he’s forced to talk when he doesn’t want to or while he’s under stress he struggles to string sentences together and stutters really badly. fortunately he’s got nice friends and a great family so this issue rarely presents itself, although it comes up sometimes during the school year in battles with pissy neurotypical teachers over oral presentations

over time he starts to work past the discomfort [genuinely, it’s on his own terms as opposed to masking to get allistics off his back] so that by the time he’s an adult he can hold an entirely verbal conversation for a decent while before it drains him, but he still tends to avoid speaking if he can

phineas instinctively understands ferb’s silent emotional cues, a lot better than he understands most people’s [but that’s a whole other infodump lmao], and unless ferb actively indicates that he wants to talk for himself phineas usually speaks for both of them and translates any of ferb’s less neurotypically obvious signals

phineas and ferb made The Ultimate Fidget Cube as one of their daily projects [they were being mass produced for an hour or two and then something or other happened, there was a mobile phone and an avalanche of instant noodles, long story short only the handful they made for themselves and their friends are left now] and neither of them go anywhere without it

ferb doesn’t have any specific comfort/security objects but he feels significantly more at ease if he’s got some kind of tool in his hand or within reach [or, failing an actual building-stuff tool, anything he can hold and Do Something with, like a pen or his fidget cube or a video game controller], and is a lot more stimmy with his hands and generally anxious if he isn’t holding something

perry performs the task of comfort item better than any inanimate objects but platypi aren’t allowed to come to school even if they’re very polite :(

believe me the brothers have tested this numerous times

school is stressful for ferb because it fires up his sensory overload and is usually where he’s forced to do some neurotypical shit that upsets him, but his friends always have his back and linda and lawrence are definitely super involved in making sure their kids’ needs are met and respected by their teachers, so he manages pretty well unless something really bad happens to set him off

he’s susceptible to sensory overload, mostly with bright lights, sudden noises, and being touched. the light and sound involved in many of his and phineas’ projects is alright because he usually designed them and knows exactly when they’ll come on and what it’ll be like, but if he doesn’t have that prediction available he freaks out easily. being touched [especially without warning] is the absolute fucking worst and he almost invariably flips out if someone unfamiliar tries to touch him or he’s hit with an unexpected sensation he doesn’t like

he only rarely has meltdowns because he’s good at self-regulating when he needs to and his friends and family know what does and doesn’t fly with him, but when he does they’re often triggered by either sensory overload or being forced to talk

when ferb starts entering meltdown territory his verbal skills are the first thing to shut off, and if it gets worse he usually stops communicating altogether and enters a really bad dissociative state that he won’t come out of until he feels safe again and can be carefully brought back to his senses

standard procedure for ferb meltdowns is to get him a weighted blanket and some tea and a perry if you can find the slippery little bugger, let him snap back to reality at his own pace, and once he can communicate his needs again pay extra close attention to them until he calms down enough that he can properly self-regulate again

his favourite sensations are weight/pressure, the funky bumpy shit perry’s tail has going on, and anything soft!

most of his clothes [including his usual outfit in the show] are tight-fitting but made out of soft fabric for maximum comfy

the blanket on his bed is a weighted one, but if he’s too far from his room or it’s too hot to be comfortable under a blanket sometimes he’ll just find the tightest spot he can wedge himself into without getting hurt or stuck and squish himself in there to calm down a bit

his favourite food texture is crunchy stuff, and he samefoods with particular cereals and sandwich combos that rotate every few months when he finally gets tired of the exact same breakfast and lunch every day and wants slightly different identical meals

while he’s fine with variation from day to day, he’s very firmly attached to the summer/weekend formula of wake up > cereal > big idea > where’s perry > [building montage] > mom holy fuck > sandwich > [having fun montage] > our fuckoff massive contraption has vanished somehow > oh there you are perry > snacks > nondescript vibing > dinner > bed time, and if this schedule gets significantly thrown off it really bothers him

ferb shows his emotions more subtly than neurotypicals, which can make him seem hard to read, but his external emotional range is still extremely distinct - he just expresses it in atypical ways sometimes!

one of his most notable atypical emotional cues is that thing he does when he’s startled and he pulls his hands up - he does this in we call it maze when candace falls over on her skates in the beginning, split personality when busting candace scares him, lost in danville when he’s worried another capsule might fall on him or phineas, and the phineas and ferb effect during how do i do it when milo’s exercise bike crashes, just to name a few instances! this boy has Unique Emotional Cues and i love him for it so much

he’s better at reading emotions than phineas [as low as that bar is], but sometimes misses more subtle cues and doesn’t quite trust his ability to read anyone aside from phineas, candace, and his closest friends

he’s been aware that he’s neurodivergent ever since he was diagnosed as a little kid [he was first diagnosed with autism when he was extremely baby, not even three years old, and had it continually reconfirmed as he got older] and he’s been entirely happy with being autistic for as long as he’s known what that even means, with this only being reinforced as he found siblings and made friends with other autistic kids :)

good lord this is such an infodump i’m sorry i just love my son so very much and have been feeling particularly self indulgent today ;<;

#i've been on and off typing at this ask for like six hours help hsjnkdfnkj /lh #i love ferb so fucking much you guys have no idea #[diverges his neuro]#sonic forces me to answer questions #just fucking whatever #THIS post goes RIGHT in the infodump tag #long post #good lord i'm sorry lmao [except i'm not because talking about my comfort characters is awesome]#anon

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concussed-to-pieces · 4 years

Text

To Tell You The Truth Part One

Fandom: Prospect [2018]

Pairing: Eventual Ezra/Prospector!Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Hello everyone, and welcome! I present a new indulgence, as I am a simple man subject to the whim of my hyperfixations. I hope that you all will enjoy this tale, though I warn it will be a tad less carefree. Darker subject matter will be tread in this series. But! My indulgences will shine through regardless, and my trigger warnings will be at the beginning of each installment. If you're interested in reading more of my attempted writing involving a space Pedro, I will direct you to Stay Safe, my completed Mandalorian fic. Enjoy!

Tag List: @huliabitch @renegademustelid @wrestlingfae @zombiexbody @sporadic-fics @rzrcrst

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains allusions to previous abuse. Stay safe!]

You ran.

The thrower knocked against your leg as you fled, almost tripping you numerous times. You couldn't bring yourself to fix it, though.

You didn't stop, even when your ribs started to ache and your vision went patchy. The pod is just in the next clearing, you kept telling yourself, the next clearing for certain. Once you were inside it, you could…

It had no lock. Damon hadn't deemed it necessary. Maybe...maybe that other man just wouldn't find you. The one that Damon had shot and tried to thieve everything from. How could he have believed that his greed would go unchecked?! Those two men had clearly been slaving in the Bakhroma Green for ages. Months at a bare minimum. Now one of them was dead, and the other had been wounded by Damon before your oh-so-illustrious companion had succumbed to the injuries inflicted by that railgun.

You had been involved in dig disputes before, of course, but you were hard-pressed to think of a time where one had been settled with such...messy finality.

You entered the pod with a gasp of relief, jerking your helmet off to breathe the comfortingly stale air. You dropped the thrower by the door, unable to bring yourself to even think about using it.

Damon was dead.

You pressed your hands to your temples and sank to the floor. The man who had bullied, browbeat and press-ganged you into this remote locale, was dead. And you…

You had no idea how to urge this pod back up past the thick canopy. You were a digger. Digging was what you were good at. It was what you knew. You were not a pilot.

Despair took hold then, as you realized you were truly trapped. Precious seconds ticked by while you laid there on the floor, a curled-up ball of miserable floater. There were three cycles left before there would be no escape, before the freighter slingback would be entirely inaccessible.

You dragged yourself out of your funk eventually, doing your best to wipe your face clean of all your tears. You could figure this out. All Damon had been good for was flying, right? You would inventory the supplies and see how many days you could eke out. Maybe you could reach someone on the long range.

...

The sorting and cataloging work kept you busy. Which was good. You liked busy. Busy limited headspace. Busy kept people alive on digs.

It was a little warm inside the pod once the sunlight started beating down on it. You wiped your sweat off with your forearm for the millionth time, flipping through your notes. If you were cautious about certain resources and supplements, you might be able to last two months down on the Green moon. But that was only if your filters continued to hold recharges. Uncharitably, you wished you had taken Damon's before you bolted.

There was nothing for it. You would just have to make it back to the freighter in time. Two stands of miserable living would do you no good if you were still on this moon. Judging from the thickness of the pollen in the air, the plant life would be noxious. You wouldn't survive without your filters.

You leafed through the radio manual, flipping the power switch and grimacing at the burst of static that greeted your ears through the Arcsoko long range headset. "To anyone listening, this is Dasha Landcraft Rental, parcel-class, pod number-" you paused, fumbling through to the back of the manual for the number scrawled there by the company. "Number...eight-eight-three-nine-seven-five dash-zero-zero--" you stopped to inhale, "-two-seven-four-two. We have landed off course. I repeat, we are off target in the Green. Pilot lost." Your voice started to shake. "P-Pilot lost. If a-anyone is within range, please respond."

You flipped the switch on the signal amp and then pushed the looper, setting the message to repeat broadcasting for an hour. It would be a varying amount of expenditure on your chit for every additional hour you wanted to keep your transmission on the air, and you didn't exactly have money to throw around, so all you could hope was that someone would hear your distress message within the first free hour.

You kept the headset on, rocking back and forth in your chair as the minutes ticked down. A few times there were bursts of static that sounded like someone was about to come on air, but they peaked as fast as they arrived.

Hope faded the longer you sat there, sorting and stacking the brightly-colored Calori-pouches of Pastors Henry slurry. You staunchly ignored the way your lower lip was quivering. Damon hated it when you cried.

Within the last few precious minutes of your free broadcast, a noise outside sent your heart into your throat. You yanked off the headphones, scrambling for the nav console. The wall of bulky, jutting screens was the first thing you could seriously consider cover, but it was only once you'd tucked yourself beneath it that you remembered you had left the thrower by the door.

You started forward to grab it, but ended up just lowering your body closer to the floor as the noises advanced, footsteps you realized. So he had found you. He would certainly kill you if only for what your partner had done. It had been careless of you to start your broadcast so soon after returning to the pod. You had essentially beamed out a homing signal to your exact location.

For an hour.

This was it. Cowering in a rented pod, weapon feet away, clutching an itemized list of all the things to eat and drink. A fitting end, for a timid dust-scratcher like yourself.

I will not cry or beg, you told yourself sternly. It would do no good here. It was better to face your demise with some shred of dignity, and Damon had just gotten more angry when you cried.

The hatch hissed loudly and you somehow made yourself even smaller while that man, the talkative one, lurched up into the pod. He stumbled, fighting with the latches on his helmet for a good ten seconds before finally managing to get the thing off, thus affording you a clear view at his face.

He didn't look particularly cruel, or Brism-busted like Damon had. Mainly, he just looked tired and dirty. He had a head of shaggy brown hair, olive skin and deep-set brown eyes. His nose was hawklike, prominent even alongside that heavy brow and the square jut of his scruffy jaw. When he turned his head, you spotted a curious chunk of blond hair that grew determinedly out at a different angle from the right side of his hairline, Mallen streak, your brain supplied oh-so-helpfully. An old scar, silver with age, meandered along his left cheekbone, and a halfway-maintained mustache shielded his upper lip.

His eyes roamed the pod curiously for a moment, taking in all the notes you had tacked to the walls in your inventory sweep. He absolutely noticed the thrower abandoned by the door.

"This is a vexsome position that your friend Damon has put you into, I'm afraid." He drawled, his pistol loose at his side while he slowly rotated. "I will not apologize for my hand in his death, as he wounded myself, razed my associate and was planning to abscond with several stands worth of my hard work. His greed outplayed his hand."

Dark eyes landed on you, curled up against the wall beneath the console screens, and the smile that bloomed under his mustache was decidedly predatory.

"I'm...I have food." You began to bargain shakily.

"You certainly do, don't you?" He crooned in a patronizing tone, the thrower pistol humming as he primed it.

"I'm a good digger. Th-That's the only reason Damon dragged me here." You cringed when he took a step towards you. "P-Please, I didn't-"

"I have no doubt that whatever it was, you surely didn't. You could have picked me off easily out there had you wanted to, plenty of range on that thrower. What is a gentle soul like you doing with a character that had such a predisposition for marauderous pilferin', I wonder?" The man mused, his expression cheery to an unsettling degree. The grip he had on the pistol didn't waver an inch.

"He promised I-I would be able to finally quit with the points this planet would make." Why bother lying? This man would just kill you anyway. "B-But the pod, it...something happened during the landing. A malfunction, I'm not sure."

"Ah, so your friend Damon was the Ahab of this vessel as well. No surprise there, that steadfast moral compass of his must have seen you two just flawlessly across the vacuous expanse."

Your lower lip began to quiver again and you dug around in your suit pockets for the lone gem that you had uncovered on your trek earlier. "I don't...I don't have anything to offer aside from the supplies and this. But...p-please, I just…"

Your sketchbook tumbled out of your pocket as you removed the gem. The barrel of his gun grazed the side of your head in obvious response to the action and you froze in terror. "You keep those hands where I can see them, gentle soul. I am not in a gaming mood at the mo…" His words trailed off when he caught sight of the massive pearl cradled in your palms. "Well well, it seems you've got a bit of bargaining power yet."

"I don't need much food, I p-promise." You had told yourself you wouldn't beg, but this seemed...very close to begging. "J-Just water and a pilot." You extended the aurelac, knowing full well that you were surrendering your ability to go home. That miserable rock would have paid for the lease on the pod and passage back to the Pug at the bare minimum. Which you had pointed out to Damon, but he insisted on trekking further. You found yourself agreeing wholeheartedly with this other man's earlier observation, his greed outplayed his hand.

"I am not overly inclined to rid this world of you, gentle soul. If I am reading the situation correct, you are not here because you wish to be." The man said after several breathless moments. He didn't seem concerned about taking the gem from you at the moment. "However, we are at a bit of a stalemate when it comes to locomotion."

His gun dropped from the side of your head and you flinched again when he stretched out his hand towards you. "H-Here, here! Just p-please, don't-" You shoved the rock against his fingers, your eyes shut tight with anticipation. Why couldn't he just shoot you and get it over with?!

"I'm offering you a hand up, gentle soul. Squirrel away your bargaining chip for the time being." The man said, gently easing the gem aside. "I am not an unreasonable man. Let's get you up off that floor and we shall discuss terms as civilized folk do."

"You...you're not going to kill me?" You asked weakly, daring to open your eyes.

"At this juncture? No." The man tilted his head. "Are you planning on doin' anything nefarious that may encourage my own expedient shuffle off of my mortal coil?"

You had to take a minute just to try and figure out what he'd actually said. It had been ages since you'd interacted with anyone aside from Damon, and your late 'partner' hadn't had the most expansive vocabulary. "I've never killed anyone before." You replied, your voice a whisper.

"A prudent answer, to be certain, for one never knows what the tides of fate have in store for them." He pondered for a breath, his eyes almost impossibly dark. "I'll take your word all the same, face value. You seem an honest sort, gentle soul. Makes me inclined to wonder how you got tangled up in this sorry soirée, though." His boot bumped against your sketchbook and he toed it a little closer to you, obligingly keeping his distance.

"That's not...it's not important right now." You snatched the book up and crammed it back into your pocket. Then, you floundered into one of the flight chairs, sitting sideways so you were able to maintain the barest pretense of eye contact. You clasped your trembling hands in front of you, trying to remember to keep them where he could see them.

"The terms will be as follows: we work together to get this craft airworthy once again. By my late partner's calculations, Kevva rest his soul, we've only got a few turns of twenty-four left until we're well and truly cut adrift on this forsaken Nessus." The way that he was using the term 'we' had your chest strangely tight. "I am loathe to be restricted here for the rest of my days, especially with a royal's ransom stashed in my trophy case. I doubt you wish to suffer that same perdition."

He leaned forward and you shifted back on reflex, quickly dropping your gaze from the scar on his cheek to the floor. "I understand." You said softly. "What do you want me to do? I'm not...I don't know anything about the nav systems or engines or-"

"Gentle soul, how long had you wandered this world with that disreputable thief?"

To your horror, you couldn't actually remember how long it had been. It was a haze of silent travel, punctuated by violent outbursts as you tried to make yourself seem even smaller than you already were-

"I did not mean to wound you, gentle soul. I offer my most sincere reparations." He apologized quietly.

"What?"

He gestured with his hand, a little slower now. "You are weepin'."

"Oh! Oh, I'm sorry." You fumbled to wipe your face off on your sleeve. "I'm alright, I'm fine." You assured him with a watery smile.

He studied you for what felt like a lifetime, those brown eyes boring into your own. "I am Ezra, gentle soul. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Ezra. That's right, he had introduced himself as such to Damon before everything had gone so incredibly wrong. "I'm sorry about what happened to your friend." You said thickly. "I didn't...I didn't want anyone to get hurt."

He waved off your words, scoffing a bit. "Number Two was a utility, not a friend. I am none too aggrieved by his loss, and I implore you not to trouble yourself with such dour ruminations on his behalf." Ezra stretched, then swiveled his head around. "What does our supply situation look like? I can see your scrawlings, naturally, but I would prefer it from the merchant's mouth."

You leafed through your notebook pages. "If we're careful, we should have enough to last one month." Split between the two of you rations were a bit harder to calculate, so you went with the safe route of halving the time evenly. "I don't know your appetite. Damon would go days without food sometimes, because of the sleep meds."

"I am ravenous at any and all opportunities, I must confess." Ezra admitted. "Been surviving off bits bars for the last four stands. Calori-paste is my damn marrow at this point in time."

"W-We still have some powdered things, tea, if...I mean can I offer you...um, some coffee?" You warily turned your back to him and started rummaging in one of the many side compartments, pulling out a tiny sealed bag of dehydrated coffee mix.

"I would be…" He paused, sounding like he was fighting for breath. It was so dramatic that you actually looked at him, a touch alarmed. "I would be forever in your debt if you would grace me with so much as a watered-down teaspoon of that heavenly beverage." He settled on one of the side benches, his pistol holstered for the time being. "We will not need rations to last the month, gentle soul, so our best option in the event of calamitous mechanical difficulties may be to take any excess off to the Saders to trade for goods."

"Saders?"

"They are a group of people that inhabit the Green. Religious settlers, tedious scavengers."

Your brow furrowed. You were no religious expert. "Like Kevvaites?" You tried.

"No no, not so much with the monotheism. They believe in the Tides of the universe. The Currents, a certain...ebb and flow of life." Ezra waved a hand to illustrate. "All very poetic, giveth and taketh kinda' sort. Not bad folk to deal with, all things considered, but voraciously against conventional arms and armaments."

You wracked your brain for any other useful items you may have stowed away from Damon, lest he pawn them to pay for his drugs of choice. After you set the hydro to churn the precious dust into coffee, you knelt and shuffled your small personal storage compartment open. "I don't have a lot to offer, I'm afraid." You murmured, tugging out a few duct tape sealed bags. "Almost all the basic hygiene items, my emergency filters...anything he could get his hands on, really. He would just trade it for more drops or Brism." You continued apologetically.

"That man was a junkie." Ezra said bluntly. "Now, I have my own vices and I am not above reproach, but I always assured that my consumption was never at the cost of someone else's comfort."

Your throat felt tight and you ducked your head down, avoiding eye contact. "I...I'm sorry."

"Whyever for, gentle soul?" He asked curiously.

"I-I shouldn't have-" You had no idea what you were apologizing for, your words dying in your throat. After so much time with Damon, you did it automatically. The hydro beeped, offering you the opportunity to bolt. Which you took immediately. "Coffee!" You announced brightly, the flimsy cardboard container that it dispensed into almost scorching your hand. You passed it off to him, warning, "Be careful, it's-"

Ezra slugged half the scalding contents in one go, his Adam's apple bobbing convulsively.

"-h-hot." You finished weakly.

"Kevva above, it sure is." He grunted, shuddering. "God damn, I have missed that acrid nightmare of flavor burnin' my esophagus like Satan himself. Absence truly does make the heart grow fonder." He pawed idly at his wounded arm after a moment, grimacing. "I don't suppose that Damon kept any of the usual med supplies? A field kit, maybe?" The older man queried hopefully.

You hesitated, gnawing on your lower lip. "He...didn't." You answered carefully.

Ezra looked momentarily distraught before he seemed to catch himself, his expression smoothing into something closer to weary resignation. "Well, can't say I'm surprised. They're worth good currency in a trade. Bodes poorly for the survival of my arm, however." He said glibly, the wince that followed contrasting dramatically with his unphased tone.

"Y...Your-?"

"Once the dust gets in, it don't take too long for the fester to permeate." Ezra explained. The wound on his arm oozed a sickly, yellowish fluid down the sleeve of his exosuit when he pressed his hand over it. "It wasn't originally just myself and Number Two, you understand. We had a full crawling party before the muti--" He jerked to a stop, shooting you a wary glance. "Now, gentle soul, I don't want you thinkin' that you have anythin' to fear from me. The mutiny was...a misunderstanding. You saw today what depths desperate men stoop to over a bit of aurelac."

You nodded, your throat gone dry.

"There were...concerns voiced about equal shares, it was a Kevva-forsaken mess. I don't know how many times I've told folk to draw up their union contracts before they get boots on the ground. Nobody listens, though. It's always 'mutiny once we're planetside' this and 'we can take everything' that." He griped. "Words and metal flew and, regrettably, myself and a few others were marooned on this damnable moon." Ezra drew his hand away from his arm, that yellowed fluid clinging to his fingers in thick, pitchy strands, "We quickly found that these climes are fiendishly inhospitable to floaters in damaged suits."

Your lip felt like it was about to drop off your face from how hard you were worrying it. "I...D-Do you promise not to hurt me?" You finally asked.

Ezra gave you a look of confusion, brown eyes narrowing slightly. "Gentle soul, I thought I had made it abundantly clear that-"

"Just-! Just say yes or no."

"Yes, dammit, but I fail to see what that's got to-"

"I h-have a kit. A f-field kit." You stammered out. His eyebrows drew together in a thunderous frown and you saw his jaw working. "Wait! Wait, just let me f-f-finish." You extended your hands in a placative gesture, your heart hammering wildly in your chest. "I...trade. I'll trade you. Nobody does anything for free, right? I'll help you, and in exchange, I want you to promise me you won't hurt me."

"What would you do if I did hurt you, gentle soul?" Ezra inquired softly. Your breath hitched. "Indeed, what would you be able to do? Especially now that I'm aware you've got a kit hidden somewhere." The man got to his feet and you immediately flinched. "Your powers of persuasion need some...refinin', but I am not immune to civility. Gentle soul, if you give me that kit not only am I willin' to work with you to get us off this moon, I'll throw a chunk of my haul your way as a show of good faith." He offered, dark eyes watching you closely. "And, I will give you my word as an individual with the slightest, infantessible modicum of moral standing, that I won't lay a finger on you fueled by dubious or malicious intent."

You stared up at him, your mind entirely blank from panic. His strange words certainly weren't helping your comprehension. "I..." No, no, this was wrong. He was putting far too much up for his end of the bargain! He must be planning something, some sort of trick.

Ezra cocked his head. "You still with me, gentle soul?" He asked cautiously. "Don't tell me you're strokin' out, it'd be a shame to lose such pleasant company."

Your laugh was a jagged hiccup in your chest. Ezra huffed out a breath after a moment, obviously uncomfortable. He probably thought you had gone moony, entirely lunar. "I'm...I'm sorry, I...that's a good, um, deal, b-but I can't accept it." You struggled to get your words out. "Y-You…that is, I don't...I don't want…" to be like Damon.

"Perhaps your persuasion isn't nearly as uncalibrated as I originally surmised. Very well, gentle soul. How much is my dominant arm worth to you?" Ezra queried dryly, misunderstanding your hesitation. "Because to me, as a workin' man, it's worth its weight in aurelac sixteen times over."

You hadn't thought of it like that. You felt a bit foolish now. "Oh. Oh, I'm sorry. I...I'm sorry."

"Kevva above, you are a tender thing. I don't mean to be so grim, but that's the harsh reality that I've been livin' with since I found myself marooned. It's a miracle I've managed this long with the meager supplies allotted to us." He said, sounding rueful. "I mourn my stomach every morning as I eat those crunchy bastard bits bars and I pray for my sufferin' to end."

You didn't mean to snort, but his colorful terminology caught you off-guard. His smile was less predatory this time, as if he hadn't expected your mirth. You knelt, burrowing even deeper into your compartment until you hit the false bottom. There, underneath several sheets of whitewashed cardboard, resided your precious field kit. You had traded the entirety of your meager share from an equally-meager haul for it stands ago, once you realized how deeply entrenched Damon was in his addiction. You had always clung to the faint hope (albeit perhaps in vain) that you might be able to escape from Damon and, if you struck out on your own, you knew you would at the very least need a good field kit as a failsafe for emergencies.

You hesitated before you tugged the box free, your fingers stroking the smooth plastic. You felt silly for the melancholic sensation that rose in your chest, it was just a field kit. You could always get another one. But it had seemed like so much more than a porta-surge. Until today, it had represented your dreams of getting out from beneath Damon's thumb.

"Not to-" You had been so lost in thought that the unexpected sound of his voice caught you by surprise. You bolted to your feet in a rush and the top of your head met the bottom of his jaw with a bone-jarring impact. Your vision faded momentarily from the force of the blow, black dots exploding and fading out.

The older man grunted, staggering back a step. He proceeded to sit down heavily on one of the bench seats as you held your aching head in pain. The porta-surgery box laid abandoned on the floor. You could only imagine what level of punishment you were in for now.

"Martyr's malfeasance, gentle soul, if you try to ring my bell like that again you may do me in." He groaned hoarsely, working his jaw and tonguing the inside of his cheek. "What the fuck is your cranium comprised of?"

You didn't answer, sniffling a little bit and blinking back your tears as you scooped the field kit off the ground. You held the box out to him, your eyes focused on your boots while you struggled to keep your hiccups to a minimum; Damon hated when you would cry.

You cringed when a gloved hand rested gently on the top of your head, clumsy fingers parting your hair. What was he…? "You are goin' to have a fine bruise, gentle soul. Mercifully you didn't break skin. Guess my jawline isn't as sharp as I've been claimin'."

Was he...was he joking with you? You dared to glance up at him and you were startled by how concerned he looked. Oh, I'm still holding the kit. You gracelessly pushed the field kit against his stomach, trying to use it to give yourself some breathing room.

Ezra seemed to get the hint and he shifted a step back, taking the kit as he went. "Kevva, this is one of the portable surgicals. Sequestering it was the intelligent choice, gentle soul." He muttered, almost like he was speaking to himself. "I am loathe to willfully use your resources, so I shall do my best to be prudent." You could feel him looking at you again. "This is all that you have, isn't it?" He asked abruptly. "The kit, those few possessions you've already dug out of that compartment."

You just cleared your throat and avoided his searching gaze with studious intent. "You're wasting time." You whispered.

"True enough." Ezra agreed. He flopped back down on the bench and rummaged around in the box, tugging loose the tiny orange sepsis kit and the patch gun with a grimace. "Hello, old friend." He then raised his voice to address you once more, "I will be makin' a copious amount of noise presently, gentle soul."

You nodded jerkily, covering your ears and turning your head away.

Part Two

#ezra (prospect 2018)#ezra prospect #ezra prospect x reader #ezra prospect imagine #slow burn #eventual romance #pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #how do I tag this #aw heck #thanks for being here #you brave soul you #ezra x reader #prospect 2018 #prospect #this is prime indulgence hours boys #enjoy!

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riversofmars · 3 years

Photo

Would you look at that, finally another update! :D Sorry about the delay guys, I'm going through a really stressful time at work at the moment and my mental capacity is a bit more limited than usual lol. But here we are!

Chapter 14: Deceit

“Well done.“ The Emperor slow clapped as he stepped out of the TARDIS and Missy whirled around.

“How did you…“ She didn’t know what to say. She had refused to share her secret, the only secret worth keeping she had, the location of Gallifrey, and it had all been for nothing. Here he was, his heavy boots falling onto the sand.

“Well, I knew I would get my answer either way. I thought you would take the easier way, I really did, I thought you would tell me where it is but this works too.“ He explained, savouring the moment and the expression of devastation on her face. She had failed to stop him from finding their home.

“You put a tracker on me.“ Missy realised.

“I knew eventually you would return to Gallifrey.“ He shrugged.

“Leave. You’re one man. How are you going to take on the Gallifreyan military.“ Missy looked around to the capital in the distance. They would notice their arrival soon enough if they hadn’t already. She could only hope the Council would realise what they were dealing with.

“Don’t underestimate me, so many have.“ The Emperor chuckled. “And I’m not alone, am I.“ Missy’s anxiety increased as she watched River, Rory and Amy step out of the TARDIS behind him.

“Missy, how’s life? How were the last four and a half billion years? You’ll excuse us for taking a short cut.“ River smirked as she looped her arm around her husband’s.

“This is great, nothing but dust and blazing sunlight.“ Amy huffed sarcastically as she looked around, Gallifrey wasn’t exactly the marvellous thing of beauty she had expected.

“Not sure you’ve met my in-laws?“ The Emperor took great pleasure in Missy’s obvious discomfort. “But wait, there is one more.“ He looked around as Clara stepped out of the TARDIS and Missy visibly tensed. She squared her jaw, forcing herself to appear unfazed. “What? No cheerful reunion?“ The Emperor joked as they just looked at each other.

“Here they come.“ Rory interrupted and pointed towards the capital.

“They will kill you.“ Missy said as she looked around to find a ship approaching.

“Let them try.“ The Emperor smirked.

“You’re trespassing, you are not welcome here.“ A metallic voice sounded when the shuttle got close, hovering in front of them.

“Is that really how you welcome home a son of Gallifrey? A war hero?“ The Emperor called back.

“You’re not welcome here, Doctor. You’re not a hero, you’re a war criminal.“ The electronically amplified voice shot back. Missy looked to the Emperor, who didn’t even react to the usage of his old name.

“Who defeated the Daleks and saved Gallifrey? Did you? Did any of you?“ He retorted. “I’m walking into that city, whether you like it or not. Come along.“ He looked to his companions.

“We will open fire.“ The warning came promptly.

“Well go on then!“ The Emperor took a step forward and to Missy’s surprise and horror the patrol followed through without hesitation. They opened fire. Three rounds of heavy artillery. When the dust cleared, the Emperor and his friends stood unscathed and amused, only Missy had cowered down. “You really think I would stand here without ample protection?“ The Emperor called up to the ship. There was no response. Then, suddenly, heavy shells pounded into the ship. The explosions blinded them, the noise was deafening. Missy looked around to see Amy having retrieved a sort of rocket launcher from inside the TARDIS, firing at the shuttle. Within seconds, the ship exploded and debris crashed to the ground. They remained save within the TARDIS’s shield, all Missy could do was look on in horror.

“Told you it was worth bringing the big guns.“ Amy grinned dropping the rocket launcher, it’s shells spent.

“Let’s go before they send reinforcements.“ The Emperor decided. “Come along, Missy.“

“You don’t need me.“ Missy remained rooted to the spot as the others set off.

“I don’t but I want you to see me tear the city apart.“ He retorted.

“Why are you doing this?“ Missy didn’t understand. All this destruction and for what?

“They cast me out. They could have had it all but they were scared. So instead of standing with me, they hid at the end of time like the cowards they are, I’m going to make them pay.“ The Emperor answered as they stopped to wait for her to come along. “You of all people should understand, they left you behind too!“

“I don’t understand you, I never have…“ Missy shook her head. “Why won’t you leave me behind? Or kill me? If this is the end of time, I haven’t got anywhere to go anyway.“ She had had to get away from him. If she wanted any chance of stopping him destroying Gallifrey or indeed surviving herself, she had to get away. He had to have some idea of how he could go about conquering Gallifrey. He couldn’t go into its past like he usually did when destroying a planet and surely he didn’t have the man power to stand against the Gallifreyan military. But the Emperor wouldn’t come here without a plan, would he?

“Oh no, Missy, you’re coming with me. From now on, I wish my enemies long and healthy lives so they can witness my many victories. And this will be the biggest.“ The Emperor grinned. “Gallifrey is the last stand.“ The paused for a moment as something caught his attention and he listened out. “Can you hear that?“ He asked as the distant ringing of bells carried across the plains ahead of them.

“The Cloister Bells.“ Missy realised.

“How’s that significant?“ Amy asked and River answered:

“They toll when disaster is drawing near.“

“It’s not drawing near, it’s here.“ The Emperor smirked.

——

“This is nice, I could see myself living like this.“ River took her time looking around. The grandeur of the place was certainly to her taste.

“What… how…“ The other River stared at her in shock. Was she hallucinating? It was a lot to take in but she realised this had to be possible. There was no reason why there should be a mirror version of her wife and not herself. Apart from the fact that the Doctor had admitted to her wife being dead? She shook her head to clear it, she had to find out what was happening. The Cloister Bells ringing for the first time in years and this River’s appearance couldn’t be a coincidence.

“Oh come on, you’ve met my wife, you know of me.“ River gave a little wave as she circled around the room surveying everything. She took her time too, which made it all the more unnerving.

“How did you get here?“ The Emperor’s wife demanded to know as she regained her composure.

“Same way as my wife?“ River retorted in an off hand sort of way. “Not sure actually. But aren’t you missing the more important question?“ She turned back to her twin and found herself staring down a gun.

“Why are you here?“ The other River demanded to know.

“Oh okay, this is gonna be fun.“ River tilted her head with a sly smile and pulled a gun on her in turn. “How long has it been for you since you shot a gun?“ She asked with a smirk. “Aren’t you getting a bit rusty living in this comfort? Me, I’ve just been chased by deadly shadows only a little while ago, my instincts are as sharp as they come.“ The bells tolled again.

“How come you died then.“ The Emperor’s wife shot back gipping the hilt of her gun more tightly.

“Oh I’m sure you can guess. How do you think you will die?“ River deflected.

“Not here.“ The other River retorted promptly.

“Well, neither one of us has to die, that’s not why I’m here.“ The Doctor’s wife shrugged. “Come on, ask me again.“ She smirked, she was enjoying this more than she probably should.

“Why are you here?“ The Emperor’s wife repeated exasperated. “You could have killed me already, which means you’re here because you want something.“

“I’m here because I agreed to kill you and your wife. You’re not dead because I thought I’d offer you something instead.“ River answered.

“Which is?“ The other River raised her eyebrows surprised. She didn’t, however, lower her gun.

“I don’t trust Clara, I don’t know her, not in my universe or yours.“ River revealed. “You, however, have a very trustworthy face.“ When the other River didn’t react to her joke she carried on to explain: “I listened in on the conversation the three of you were having and, boy, was it informative.“

“You have no idea what…“ The Emperor’s wife tried to interrupt but she wouldn’t let her.

“Shush, I’m talking.“ River shot her down playfully as another bell tolled. “You want to get rid of her. To do that, you need prove she’s plotting against you.“

“We already know she is.“ The other River huffed unimpressed.

“Maybe, but can you prove it? And have you figured out how to overpower her when it comes to it? She won’t go quietly and she does have the Quantum Shade under her control… how will you get to her without getting yourself or other’s killed.“ River asked. “I can help with that and I can get Clara to confess to plotting to kill the Emperor. You can get rid of her at last. Or you can let her carry out her little ploy for which she has enlisted my help and secured the cooperation of my wife. And believe we, we will make sure she succeeds if it’s our best way to get out of here… Or we can work together and we both win. You get rid of Clara and you will have us out of your hair.“

——

“Who’s there?“ Yaz called into the Cloisters convinced there was more than the wraiths moving in the shadows. “Fan out.“ She instructed raising her gun as she slowly moved forward. Her troops of men obeyed, splitting up as they advanced into the Cloisters. “We know you’re down here. Come out come out wherever you are!“ Yaz hummed as the bells rang. The sound was deafening down here.

“They’re blocking the exit…“ Missy observed glancing past the pillar for a moment.

“They don’t belong down here…“ The Doctor mumbled catching a glimpse as well, so far they hadn’t been noticed but they wouldn’t be able to keep hidden for long.

“They must have come because of the bells…“ Missy retorted and the Doctor shook her head.

“That’s not what I mean.“ She replied as she looked again to assess where the different soldiers were headed.

“Oh you mean because…“ Realisation dawned on Missy and the Doctor nodded:

“The wraiths protect the Matrix, the Matrix is Timelord technology, everything else that invades the Cloisters is a foreign body, a virus, and they are the fire wall. They will protect the Cloister. We are Timelords. The guards don’t seem to be.“ The Doctor explained. “We need to draw them further in…“ The soldiers were advancing slowly, spread out evenly. They would spot them soon if they didn’t move.

“They won’t be stupid enough to venture too far, surely…“ Missy couldn’t imagine that they weren’t aware of the risks.

“You know sometimes I have really brilliant ideas…“ The Doctor grinned as she turned her head to look at Missy and feeling slightly better already, Missy asked:

“Yes?“

“This is not one of them.“ The Doctor smiled apologetically and jumped out from behind the pillar. “Over here!“ She called.

“Stop right there!“ Yaz shouted and the Doctor waved her arms catching the attention of the other guards as well. Another bell toll shook them to the bone.

“You have to catch me first!“ She started running, drawing them away from Missy who was watching in horror as the guards chased after her.

The Doctor didn’t keep running for long, she quickly found herself in a corner and face to face with Yasmin Kahn.

“You’re surrounded, Doctor.“ The captain of the guard informed her.

“Hello again, Captain.“ The Doctor looked around. Indeed, she was surrounded by four guards and Yaz who was approaching with a smug smirk on her face as she lowered her gun.

“Surrender now, Doctor.“ She said as she looked her up and down. “No-one is going to fall for that disguise.“ She huffed.

“We will see about that.“ The Doctor retorted with a smile, over Yaz’s shoulder she watched Missy sneak towards the exit. “You really don’t know me every well yet, Yaz, such a shame, otherwise you wouldn’t have made this mistake.“ She focused her attention back on Yaz when she was sure Missy had made it to the door. They were so focused on her that they didn’t even notice Missy or, in fact, how far into the Cloisters they had come and what might be lurking in the shadows.

“What mistake is that.“ The captain huffed slightly amused. She raised her gun again for good measure. “You’re backed into a corner, you’re trapped.“

“There is one thing you never put in a trap.“ The Doctor took a step towards her and away from the shadows. “If you’re smart. If you value your continued existence, if you have any plans of seeing tomorrow, there is one thing you never ever put in a trap.“ She smirked pushing her hands into her pockets. She looked past Yaz to where she knew her eyes needed to be for just a moment longer.

“Yeah? What’s that.“ Yaz asked tilting her head as the bells rang again.

“Me.“ The Doctor answered and pulled her sonic from her pocket. Before anyone could react she pointed it at the ceiling lights and everything went dark. And then, there was movement in the dark, she could feel it, even if she couldn’t see it. The guards could feel it too and opened fire. The Doctor quickly dove for cover as energy blasts flew overhead. With every flash of light, she saw the Weeping Angels had moved, grabbing hold of the soldiers, their weapons. They screamed. The angels were part of the firewall, protecting the Matrix against aliens. It was high time she got out of here before the angels decided she was an intruder as well. The Doctor ducked under the arms of an angel and bolted for the door that Missy was holding open.

——

When there was a knock on her door, Clara was reluctant to open. The tolling of the Cloister Bells put her on edge, like everyone else in the palace presumably. There was no way of knowing whose disaster they were announcing. She was prepared for all sorts when she opened up, but to find River back so soon was what she had least expected.

“That was…“ She looked at her perplexed but River didn’t pay much attention, she just walked past her.

“Quick, I know, surprising what you can accomplish with the right incentive.“ She retorted.

“So it’s…“ Clara closed the door behind her after checking up and down the corridor. No-one had seen her come in.

“Done? Of course it is, I don’t make empty promises.“ River chuckled and Clara was genuinely stunned.

“I’m gonna need some sort of proof.“ She managed to say at last, trying to take in the news.

“How’s this for proof? Bottle of the Emperor’s finest, straight from her drinks cabinet I might add.“ River presented a bottle of champagne that she had been carrying. “How else do you think did I get my hands on that?“

“I could do with a drink…“ Clara took the bottle with shaky hands.

“Then there is this…“ River held out her hand to Clara who took a moment to understand what she was referring to.

“Is that…“ Clara’s eyes fell on the ring River was presenting to her, she hadn’t worn it before.

“Thought I might keep it, as a memento you know… fits perfectly after all.“ River chuckled as she dropped her hand with the wedding ring and made her way to a cabinet to retrieve some champagne flutes. “A toast then?“ She carried the glasses over to Clara as the bells rang again.

“Quite right.“ Clara found herself smiling now as the news sunk in. They’d done it. The worst was over. Everything else was just technicalities. River had kept up her end of the bargain. Clara popped the cork on the bottle with a grin and River laughed as the champagne sprayed before she could get to the glasses with it.

“This is what you’ve wanted all along, isn’t it.“ River said when they had succeeded in filling their glasses.

“It was never what I wanted…“ Clara retorted as she sat down the bottle. “But it’s what she deserved. She should have just chosen me. Why couldn’t she see that we would have been so happy…“ If only for a moment, a wave of sadness swept over her. “I can’t believe she’s dead.“ She mumbled and took a sip of the champagne in an attempt to calm herself.

“Are you regretting it?“ River asked tilting her head.

“No.“ Clara said after a moment of brief consideration as she sorted through her emotions. She looked back up to River and smiled. “I actually feel so… relieved. It’s like a spell is finally lifting. I should have done this so long ago.“ She raised her glass to a toast. “To new beginnings.“ She grinned and River toasted her.

“So what happens now?“ River asked as she watched Clara drink.

“Now we…“ Clara started to answer when suddenly, a wave of sickness came over her. She steadied herself against the table. “Now we…“ She tried again but broke off when she started feeling dizzy. She looked to River and realised her mistake as she watched her tipping out her own glass. She hadn’t taken as much as a sip. This time, the tolling of the bells sounded like a rousing chorus as Clara’s senses slipped out of her control.

“Now you’re going to pay for your deceit, Clara dear.“ River smirked and Clara collapsed.

——

“River?“ The Emperor called out as she returned to her quarters. She was on edge. Although it was the middle of the night, the whole palace was awake. The ringing of the Cloister Bells kept them up and shook the foundations of her reign. Questions where being shot at her from every direction, even on her way back to her quarters. The bells had been quiet for so long, everyone knew something was happening and the Emperor didn’t have any answer yet. She had to find out what was going on but no reports had come in so far. All she could do was wait. “River?“ She repeated when she didn’t get an response. As the bells tolled again in the distance, she felt a wave of worry. She shouldn’t have left River here by herself. Quickly she walked into the adjoining room and called for her again. The wheezing and groaning of the TARDIS sounded, drawing her attention. “River, what are you…“ The Emperor pulled the box’s door open and to find River fiddling with the console.

“Oh, welcome home, Sweetie.“ River looked around with a smile.

“What…“ The Emperor hoovered in the doorway, something was off, why was River in here and what was she doing? The TARDIS hummed in response to her unspoken question.

“Now, now, that’s not fair, telling on me.“ River sighed shooting a look at the large crystal in the centre. The Emperor pulled a knife from her belt.

“What is going on here?“ She growled. The TARDIS was right, this was not her wife.

“That’s disappointing, I was so curious to find out if I could fool her but you just had to ruin the fun, didn’t you.“ She shook her head at the TARDIS which responded with a threatening buzz, very unlike the TARDIS River knew.

“Where is my wife? How did you get in here?“ The Emperor demanded to know and took a threatening step towards her. The resemblance was remarkable, down to the same dress her wife had worn when she had left her here not long ago. One thing was missing though, that gave her away straight away: her wedding ring. The Emperor tried her best to prioritise her thoughts. This was the Doctor’s wife, she had to be. While part of her was intrigued, curious as to how she had got here and wondering, how she could use her, the other part was overcome by deep worry for the wellbeing of her River.

“Don’t worry, your wife is fine, just off to have a little chat with Clara.“ River gave a wave of her hand as she stepped closer. She also marvelled at the resemblance between the Emperor and her own wife. She eyed the knife in her hand with curiosity. The Doctor hated the use of weapons.

“Why would she be doing that?“ The Emperor shot back.

“Because I suggested it? Because the other option would have been me killing her and none of us want that, do we.“

“You? Kill her? Oh, darling, if you’re anything like that pathetic excuse of a wife of yours, I would love to see you try.“ The Emperor huffed condescendingly.

“I like your fire.“ River smirked, she couldn’t deny that the assertiveness and confidence was quite attractive on her but it wouldn’t distract her from why she was here. “You haven’t got the first idea what I’m capable of. Or my wife for that matter. But I have a feeling you will find out soon enough.“ In the distance, the Cloister Bells tolled again.

“What is going on here? What are you planning?“ The Emperor shot back.

“Well, I did tell Clara I’d kill you but then I thought better of it, don’t really want to be picking sides in your game of thrones.“ River answered. “Now, really, I’m just waiting to see what my dear wife has come up with.“

“She’s on her way here for you, isn’t she?“ The Emperor concluded.

“Perhaps.“ River shrugged. “I don’t actually know. It’s all terribly exciting, isn’t it.“ She grinned. “Now I think I best get going.“

“You really think you can walk out of here? I bet the Doctor would move heaven and hearth to keep you safe, seeing as she let you die once already. Perhaps she can finally be persuaded to share her secrets if your life is on the line. So really, it’s terribly thoughtful of you to pop in.“ The Emperor smirked. This River was the leverage over the Doctor she had been missing. And she had walked right into her arms. No matter how confidently she acted, they both knew there was only one way out of the TARDIS and that was through the Emperor.

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drlahlahroo · 4 years

Text

A Rare Case

( SNK / Rivetra / Veterinarian AU )

Chapter 2

(read Chapter 1 here)

/////////////////

He knew she looked familiar.

She was that same ginger-haired girl he saw in a class in the university auditorium more than a year ago. Back then her hair was longer, neatly tied in a low ponytail, the color a stark contrast against the mandated forest green scrub-uniform that all the senior veterinary students wore. It had caught his eye from his place at the far back of the room, where he sat low in the corner most seat to avoid the attention of anyone, especially from the students below.

The large auditorium was one of the few places Levi would normally hideaway when he wanted to take a break from a busy hospital setting (much to the dismay of the dean) as it was mostly unused and empty, only ever reserved for large gatherings and conferences, so it was a surprise to him that a class was held in it when he arrived. It wasn’t even a large class; they had only occupied the first 5 rows. Because they were so few and too far for them to have noticed his presence, he had decided to stay and eavesdrop on their lesson. It was a clinical pathology class, he recalled. They were doing a case analysis.

She had stood in response to her name being called. Levi hadn’t been able to pick it up, not like he would remember it anyway.

“Based on the clinical signs and laboratory findings, what do you think is the probable cause of the canine patient’s sudden hindlimb paralysis?” He had heard their professor ask. Doctor Mike Zacharias voice was too deep and monotonous that Levi had to strain his ears just to listen from his distance.

The ginger student did not respond immediately, but Levi could see from his spot how her brows furrowed in deep thought. Aortic thromboembolism had been his answer, and that had just been from reading the notes in the PowerPoint presentation. The girl was taking her time, and he had started to think that she was probably a slow one.

Then a hand had landed heavily on his shoulder, and in his shock, he turned to find a grinning face. “Found you, Levi.”

“Fuck off, shitty glasses.” He had to say it in a hushed grumble to avoid the class from overhearing. “How long have you been sneaking behind my back?”

“Maybe a few minutes,” Doctor Hanji Zoe’s grin had only widened, which he always found annoying. The veterinary pathologist always did seem unaffected by his crudeness. “Erwin sent me to fetch you. Said he needs you back in the hospital pronto.”

He was about to go into a tirade, something about how Erwin would just have to suck it up and find some another doctor to deal with whatever boring routine procedure he had in mind, when a feminine voice had echoed through the auditorium walls from the rows below.

“I believe it’s due to an aortic thromboembolism, doctor.” The ginger-haired girl had finally responded.

“And can you explain what made you come up with that?”

“There are irregularities in the dog’s electrocardiogram, and its femoral pulse rate is not equal to the heart rate. It’s fifty percent weaker. Meaning blood flow to the posterior-most part of the body is weak. Something is disrupting blood flow to the hind legs, so it’s most likely a clot since the patient is negative for heartworm.”

Levi had turned his attention back to the girl and ignored his colleague, although he did notice that she also seemed to be drawn to the ginger’s explanation.

“Plasma D-dimer test is also highly elevated, which means the body is trying to break down a large clot somewhere. And to add to that, the patient’s history also states that he has Cushing’s disease or hyperadrenocorticism, which is known to increase clotting factors in the blood, as well as the likelihood of forming thromboembuli.”

Levi had raised an eyebrow at that. It was a particularly difficult case to analyze even for a student, but she was able to catch the necessary markers to pinpoint the disease condition.

Her thorough explanation had rendered everyone in her class to silence. All eyes were on her.

“Excellent, Miss Ral. You may please take your seat.” He heard the proud undertones in Mike’s voice. There was a short burst of clapping and praises from the other students as she sat back down, rubbing the back of her neck, embarrassed from all the attention.

From behind him, Hanji had whistled, impressed. “Oh, it’s her. The interns back in the lab said she’s the top of her class. They weren’t kidding. Damn, that was a great response! She’s a smart kid.”

Ral. Levi repeated the surname in his head as he watched her from his corner. The lecture had continued and her attention was back to the topic, but he had noticed that, despite her previous display of bashfulness, she still wore a wide, proud smile on her face.

And that same wide, proud smile was displayed before him right now as she stood at the entryway of his office.

“ALT is elevated.” Petra declared, waving the lab results before him.

The leather of his chair creaked as he straightened from his previously lax position, then he reached for the paper presented before him.

“All other values are within normal range, except for the liver function test, so it’s a hepatic issue.” She continued, watching as he scanned the lab results with a rather bored expression.

“Platelet count is high.” He said, dropping the paper on his desk before turning to her.

Petra shrugged a shoulder. “Platelet count that's higher than normal isn't exactly significant.”

“Anything that’s not normal is abnormal, Ral.” He stood from his chair and turned towards a whiteboard that hung from the wall across the desk.

Petra watched as he retrieved a black marker and started writing “High ALT” and “Thrombocytosis” on the whiteboard. Above the 2 new additions, he had already written down “Right-side abdominal enlargement” and “Weight loss with appetite”.

“You didn’t include hepatomegaly,” Petra said as she approached the board.

“Not until I see the x-ray.” Levi lowered the marker and turned to her, eyes narrowing slightly. “Don’t assume something without completing the evidences first. A right-sided abdominal enlargement can easily be any abdominal organ other than the liver and a high ALT can be caused by other stressors to the liver.”

She crossed her arms and once again rolled her eyes at him. She’s stubborn, he can tell. She oddly reminds him of himself.

A sigh escaped his lips. Levi leaned back on the edge of his desk and crossed his arms. He stared up at those amber eyes, deciding to humor her with her suspected diagnosis.

"All right then. Assuming there is hepatomegaly, then what would you do next? An enlarged liver isn’t exactly a definitive diagnosis. Nothing in the dog’s signs and lab results would explain how the liver got big.”

This caught Petra off guard, and she uncrossed her arms and furrowed her eyebrows in deep thought. It was the same look she had on as she contemplated the answer to that case question back in the auditorium.

Just like before, she took quite a while to respond.

“We’ll check for possible causes of hepatic inflammation.” She began.

“Inflammation means infection. There’s no elevation in white blood count.” He stated matter-of-factly.

“It doesn’t have to be an infection. Certain toxins could also cause the liver to be inflamed.”

“With that much toxin to swell up a liver then his kidneys should be failing. Creatinine is within normal range. Besides that, there’s no indication of pain. It’s not inflammation," He raised his chin at her. "If all you’re going to do is list down the differentials then you’re wasting your time.”

Petra’s lips tightened and the crease between her eyebrows deepened. She turned away from his scrutinizing gaze and focused her eyes on the words written on his whiteboard.

All the while, Levi continued to watch her mental struggle. Of course, he already had an answer to his question. Even if he didn’t think this was truly a case of hepatomegaly, there was still something that would at least support her diagnosis. If she was as smart as Hanji and Erwin had claimed, she would have seen it as well. Maybe not as quick as he did, but she should be able to see it.

And when she did saw it, Levi saw that unmistakable determined fire that seemed to lightened her amber orbs.

“It’s a tumor,” she finally responded, “Elevated platelet count is a strong indicator of cancer.”

A sudden silence fell between them. Petra waited for a response from him, one that would try to rebuff her findings, but as none came, the corner of her lips tugged up slightly in a small smile.

Eventually, Levi stood straighter, slipping his hands in his coat pockets. He didn’t keep his eyes off her. “Tell the brats to hurry up with the patient’s x-ray. If it’s the liver, do a biopsy.”

Petra turned away and started walking out of his office, still wearing that proud smile on her lips. Levi trailed slowly behind her, stopping just by the door frame to watch her walk towards the lobby.

He stood there for a minute, playing back the previous debate in his head. He’d have to admit, Petra truly was a smart one, but not quick enough to gather her thoughts. That would be rather disadvantageous in emergencies, but he supposed he could let it slide for now. She’s young. She’s new. She’ll get better.

His musings were disrupted by the sound of loud barking. Normally, he was used to the various animal noises that were normal in a veterinary hospital, but for some reason, his attention had peaked at the particular sound. The barking was deep, as if coming from a large dog, but it was rough and aggressive. He turned to the noise, suddenly realizing that it was coming from the same direction Petra had walked into.

He pulled himself away from the doorframe and walked to the source of the barking, and as he got closer to the lobby, he could hear a few voices in between growls. Curiosity and uneasiness settled in the pit of his stomach.

When he reached the lobby, he saw the familiar pet owner from Exam Room 8 trying to pull back on the leather leash of the same Golden Retriever Petra had attended a few hours ago. However, the previously affectionate dog was now baring his teeth at another client, who held on to a small poodle in her arms, trying to back away at the larger canine. Petra stood in between the confrontation, while Eren and the few other interns tried to move the other owner away to a safer distance.

“I-I’m so sorry! I don’t know what’s wrong with him!” The retriever’s owner cried out, struggling to keep hold of the leash.

“Spark, calm down, boy,” Petra said in a soothing tone, getting down on one knee and lowering her arms in a way as if she was inviting the dog into her arms. But her attempt at calming down the animal was overpowered by its hostile snarls. “Is he normally this aggressive when seeing other dogs?” she addressed towards the owner a little louder.

“N-no! He has never harmed anyone or another –”

At that moment, the dog had pulled hard enough that the leash slipped from the older woman’s grasps, and it began to charge. But instead of rushing to leap up at the smaller dog that was pulled away to the far corner, it turned its eyes to the female vet crouching on the floor.

She tried to pull back quickly, but the dog was quicker. It gave one more snarl before rushing to her with jaws wide. Petra braced herself, closing her eyes and raising her right arm to protect her face, just in time to feel a pull on her sleeve.

Then she heard a tumble, a yelp followed by suppressed growls. Petra opened one eye nervously.

Doctor Levi was crouching on the floor. One of his arms was around the Retriever’s neck in almost a chokehold, while the other arm held down its torso in a manner that pinned its hind legs on the floor. It was the classic method of restraint used to steady a large dog, though Levi seemed to be adding more strength than usual. Petra noticed that despite that rather forceful embrace he had on the animal, he still avoided adding pressure to the right side of the body, where the bloating was defined.

“Get a muzzle!” the dark-haired vet cried out like an order, and suddenly the interns, who were previously dumbstruck at the situation, scrambled about, grabbing a muzzle from the nearest exam room. All the while, Levi stared down at the dog’s dilated pupils. His intimidating stare had somehow slowed down the dog’s manic state, and its growls slowly lowered in volume, until all it could muster were anxious yelps.

Eventually, one of the interns managed to fix the muzzle over its snout. When Levi deemed it safe and that the patient’s aggression had died down, he slowly slipped his arms off its body, but kept one hand over the dog’s nape, keeping its body low on the ground.

He then started shouting instructions to each intern, but it all sounded incoherent in Petra’s ears because the quick beating of her heart was too loud. The hand which was previously raised to protect her face lowered to her chest. She could feel the rapid thumping beneath her palm as she slowly stood up from the floor.

Then she felt a strong grip on her elbow. It took her a minute to realize that it was Levi’s hand, and before she could turn to him, he had pulled her away from the lobby and dragged her into the hallway. Then it took her another minute to realize that he had pinned her to the wall next to his office door.

Levi glared at her. The same glare he used that rendered that dog to silence, and Petra stilled.

“What the fuck was that?” He almost snarled. “You’re an idiot to go down face level with an aggressive animal.”

She swallowed thickly. “I… I was trying to calm it down…”

“By offering it a hug? You should know it doesn’t work like that. Just because an animal was friendly to you doesn’t eliminate the fact that it can still bite your face off if it wanted.”

Petra bit her lower lip and lowered her head. In embarrassing situations, she would normally clutch her wrist nervously, but the action caused a painful sting to run up her arm. Levi had noticed her sudden reaction, even when she tried to hide it. Reaching down, he took hold of her right arm, raising it to eye level, where the sleeve lowered down to reveal a bite mark just below her wrist.

He clicked his tongue, irritated. Petra was once again pulled away from the hall and back into his office.

“Sit.” He told her, or rather ordered her, as he shut his office door close.

Petra stood for a while, watching as he shuffled behind his desk, pulling something out from one of the drawers. Not wanting to get into his bad side again, Petra hesitantly sat on the adjacent seat in front of his desk. It was then that she noticed the box he had pulled out was a first aid kit.

He then sat across from her, sighing in exasperation. He took a moment to himself, massaging the space between his eyebrows, before offering a hand, indirectly telling her to show him her wounded wrist.

Petra did so after rolling back her sleeve. Levi’s fingers encircled her wrist in an oddly gentle manner, very different from when he grabbed her by the elbow a while ago, as he inspected the wound.

“It’s a shallow bite. Managed to nick you enough to bleed but it’s not a big deal.” He said, showing her the four indents on her skin, clearly from the dog’s canines. “Guess I managed to pull him back before he chomped down hard enough. Still, expect some bruising.” He said as he began to wipe her skin with an alcohol swab. Petra tried not to hiss.

A silence ensued as his nursing of her bite wound continued. Petra tried to hide the severe flushing of her face by turning to face the whiteboard instead. She was deeply ashamed of her naïve attempt in handling the previous situation, but was also embarrassed at her proximity with the dark-haired vet and his gentle ministrations with a wound that she could probably tend to on her own.

“I’m sorry.” She apologized with a sigh, “I shouldn’t have crouch down like that, it probably provoked him some more. No wonder he decided to come for me.”

Levi was in the middle of applying an antibiotic cream over her wound when he responded. “Yeah, you were an idiot. But your stupidity did reveal another symptom.”

Petra looked up at him suddenly, eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

“The dog’s vaccinated against Rabies, right?”

Levi heard her gasp and felt her hand stiffen and shake in his hold.

“You think the sudden aggression is due to Rabies? Are you trying to scare me? Because Rabies isn’t a joke!” She replied with a hint of fear in her tone.

“Stop fidgeting and just answer the damn question, woman.”

“The patient’s vaccinated! There’s no way its Rabies.”

“Then there you have it. You ruled out Rabies then.” Levi grumbled as he pulled her wrist back so he could start bandaging it up. “What else causes sudden aggressive behavior in dogs?”

“You think it’s a symptom?”

“Owner said the mutt was never aggressive towards other animals and humans before. Which means it’s a new symptom.”

Petra once again furrowed her brows in thought, looking up at the ceiling. “High testosterone levels.” She concluded. However, he heard the doubt in her tone, and he looked up at her with a raised brow, because she never sounded so doubtful from their previous exchange. He watched her rubbed her chin with a finger as she continued to think. “But… the patient’s neutered.”

Levi lets go of her now bandaged wrist. “When was he neutered?”

“The owner has no idea. She adopted Spark from the local shelter 3 years ago. Their previous vet noticed that the dog didn’t have testicles, so he was probably neutered before he ended up in the shelter.”

“And you confirmed he’s neutered?”

“Of course. I checked him.”

Levi hummed to himself as he leaned back on his chair. He stared up at the list of clinical signs written on the whiteboard, deep in thought. Petra watched him and could almost see the gears turning in his head. Meanwhile, she was too stumped at the new information to think of any more differential diagnoses to add on the list.

“Maybe… the aggression isn’t significant at all. Maybe the dog was just stressed out.” Petra said softly but doubtfully, “Besides, it doesn’t add up with everything else. It doesn’t explain the abdominal enlargement, or the elevated ALT, or the platelet – ”

Both of them turned to the sound of knocking. Eren slowly opened the door, peeking into the office. At the sight of the ginger vet, the boy’s green eyes widened in concern. “Doctor Ral, are you alright? We saw the dog bit you.”

Petra beamed him a reassuring smile. “I’m fine, Eren. It was just a nip. Nothing to worry about.”

There was a look of relief in his face, which quickly morphed into fear when he finally noticed the other person in the room.

“What do you want, Yeager?” Levi chimed in with an annoyed scowl, standing up and walking towards the door.

The intern ducked his head a bit, as if trying to hide away from the intimidating glare. “I-I’m sorry for intruding, Doctor Ackerman. But radiology wanted me to hand this to Doctor Ral.” He raised a large manila envelope, which the dark-haired vet quickly snatched away.

“About fucking time,” Levi mumbled, stepping aside to check inside the folder, confirming that the x-ray films belonged to their patient.

“Thank you, Eren.” Petra once again smiled at the male intern before he left in a hurry, shutting the door close. She then turned to the other person in the room, scowling at him. “You should stop scaring him like that. He’s a sweet kid.”

He ignored her, opting to pull out the films from the envelope. He approached an X-ray view box installed next to the whiteboard, flipping a switch to light up the box. Petra squints her eyes at the sudden flash of white light in front of her.

One by one, Levi clipped the films over the white surface, so that it highlighted the more translucent areas of the radiograph. Once he was done, he stepped back to get a full view of the mystery of the case.

Petra’s gaped slightly at what she saw. Just below the ribs cage was a large opaque mass that extended to most of the right of the body. It was large enough to push aside the other organs. “Is that the entire liver?”

Levi hummed, walking closer to the view box. “No. The edges are too smooth.” He raised a finger, and used it to trace the outline of an almost triangular organ in the large middle portion of the mass. “See the angular edges? This part is the liver.”

Petra had stood and drew closer to the view box, standing by the right of the male vet as she followed the movement of his finger. “Why is it… smaller?”

“It’s not. It’s the normal size. Just very compressed.”

She watched as his finger moved away from the angular shaped part and to the smoother shaped right half of the mass. “This part over here is causing the right abdominal enlargement.” He traced what appeared to be two large ovoid masses right beside the liver.

“Is that…” she paused, gaping at the images before here. Levi watched the shocked expression on her face, and he wasn’t sure if the spark in her eyes was from the light reflecting from the view box, or the sudden realization as the puzzle pieces finally started to fit together.

“You were right about one thing,” He said softly, still observing the amber glow of her eyes. “It’s a tumor… Just not on the liver.”

End of Chapter 2

Medical Terminologies:

Aortic Thromboembolism: a disease process wherein a thrombus (a large clot) is formed in the heart and later breaks off to travel through the aorta, which is a large artery that supplies blood to the abdomen and the organs there, as well as the legs, until it reaches an artery with a diameter too small for it to pass through, causing a blockage in blood flow.

Electrocardiogram (ECG): a test which measures the electrical activity of the heart, indicated by a pattern of waves printed on paper or displayed on a screen.

Heartworm: a parasitic worm which inhabits the heart and the blood vessels of dogs. It is transmitted by mosquitos.

Plasma D-dimer test: a blood test which detects of the amount of a protein called D-dimer, which increases when a clot is being broken down.

Cushing’s Disease (Hyperadrenocorticism): a serious condition wherein the adrenal glands produce too much of the steroid hormone cortisol.

Thrombocytosis: a high platelet count.

Rabies: a highly fatal viral disease in that causes brain inflammation in humans and other mammals. Dogs with the virus show sudden neurological symptoms like disorientation, seizures, and aggression. The virus is passed through the saliva and causes death as quickly as 10 days. There is no cure, but is 100% preventable through vaccination.

A/N: Ok, so I thought I could fit this entire story within 2 chapters, but it appears to be much longer than I originally planned. Which is great, I suppose. Everyone’s always happy with an extra chapter hahaha! Chapter 3 would hopefully conclude this story, but you never know. Wink wink.

And as usual, no actual due date for the next update, but let’s see if I can get it up by next week. Until then, always vaccinate your pets!

#rivetra #levi ackerman #petra ral #veterinarian AU #veterinarian #veterinary au #fanfic #attack on titan #snk #aot

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thewickling · 4 years

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Winding Moonrise - 9 to 1

“No fun,” Wei Wuxian whines, staring at Lan Wangji’s sleeping profile. Exactly at nine, the little chatter he managed to coax out of Lan Wangji stopped. Poking the suspiciously smooth cheek, he is surprised to find it hot rather than the chilling touch of ice that Lan Wangji carved from.

Rolling to his side, he stares at the ceiling. Like how the Lan residence falls and rises at five and nine like clockwork, he can’t sleep a wink before one. If anyone asked, he would blame his career. After you can’t hunt what goes bump in the night without being awake at night.

Jiang Cheng would call bullshit on that if he heard this thought of Wei Wuxian’s. Long before either of them were allowed to train, Wei Wuxian already had his habit ingrained in his soul.

‘Who cares? It’s not like anyone does anything important before nine’ had always been Wei Wuxian’s reply. That was true — for university and adulthood but from k to 12…

“Wei Ying,” Jiang Cheng bellowed. Kicking the mattress, he slung Wei Wuxian’s pack over his shoulder. He stomped again punctuating his phrase. “Wake up.”

Wei Wuxian grumbled. Rubbing his side, he wrapped his blankets protectively around his organs and returned back into slumbers sweet and tempting embrace. Whoever set school to start before ten was a sadist.

Rolling his eyes, he grabbed the duvet with both hands and yanked. The tension built up from Wei Wuxian’s resistance was futile. He wretched the blanket, dragging Wei Wuxian out with it.

Thump.

The chill of the ground seeped into his bones but Wei Wuxian wiggled back into a warm spot for more rest.

“A-Cheng,” Jiang Yanli said from the door, “The driver is here and mom is…”

She didn’t need to say the rest of the warning. With a heavy sigh, he handed his and Wei Wuxian’s bags to Jiang Yanli. Tearing the blanket away, he tossed his older brother over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

The trio rushed down stairs before the Jiang family matriarch could lecture them into submission. In the back of the car, Jiang Cheng gestured for the driver to pull up the window. Jiang Yanli helpful passed over Wei Wuxian’s clothes.

Wei Wuxian cracked half a eye, sparing only enough consciousness to sit upright. His brain swam with lingering dreams. Jiang Cheng’s shouts rang in his ears.

He remained awake just long enough to see his jie cover her eyes as Jiang Cheng ripped his shirt off. He mumbled, “Be gentle. No wonder no girl wants you.”

“Oi!” he smacked the seat beside Wei Wuxian’s head. With begrudgingly practiced hands, he dressed Wei Wuxian in the back of a car as their jie coaxed him to be kinder.

Wei Wuxian always woke part way through the second period with a sparse breakfast hidden in his desk. Whispering his appreciation to his perpetual deskmate, brother, and best friend, he snuck in a meal behind his textbooks.

That was their morning routine til the day Jiang Yanli headed for university then it repeated with just two until university.

Wei Wuxian smiles. Rubbing his face, he wonders if Jiang Cheng remembers their past this fondly. His mouth flattens out.

Rolling over, he thinks, How strange. I would have never imagined going to sleep beside Lan Zhan.

It wasn’t as if he tried. Every time he invited Lan Wangji to hang out during their college days, if the event lasted overnight, he was always politely declined. Well, he was eventually politely declined. Originally…

“Lan Wangji!” he shouted down the hall.Cupping his hands over his mouth, he shot off. “Lan-ge! Ji-ge! Lan Zhan!”

The fellow first year froze. He turned ever so slowly. His voice carried like the hint of frost in a winter morning’s breeze.“Excessive noise is prohibited within the dorms.”

Bouncing over, he complained, “What? You didn’t respond when I called you.”

Lan Wangji’s expression could not be called angry rather his aura was like a cold front. It sent most people indoors and towards fire. Yet Wei Wuxian could never help himself and always ran towards the frosty teen.

“Anyway, now that I have Lan Zhan’s attention, Jiang Cheng, Nie Huaisang, and some of us are going heading to a resort for the break.” As he spoke, he crept closer and closer to Lan Wangji. Slinging his arm over Lan Wangji’s neck, he continued, “Come with us! We have two rooms, four beds. We’ll stay two nights and play for three days.”

Wei Wuxian fumbled in the air. The absence of a body to rest his weight on put him off balance. Righting himself, he stared at Lan Wangji walking away.

His figure slowed. Shaking his head ever so slightly, he rejected Wei Wuxian reluctantly as if his manners kept from being as standoffish as he wished. He marched off immediately after.

Wei Wuxian chuckled into his sleeve. That was perhaps the nicest reaction he gained from Lan Wangji in the month that they knew each other. At this rate, they should be good friends by the time next semester ends.

Twisting, he stretches out like a cat that hasn’t played enough. He flexes muscles, trying to rid himself of his excessive energy. He drums on his thigh, pondering what he can do while Lan Wangji sleeps.

“Stay still,” Lan Wangji orders. The words rise from his lips with strange clarity for a man who is still asleep as if the pack’s rules have ceased to just be guiding principles but rather have been written into his very being.

Poking the ice-like cheek, Wei Wuxian taunts, “How will you punish me if I don’t?”

To make a point, Wei Wuxian shifts. He throws his leg over Lan Wangji’s, punches his arm toward the wall, and pokes the supple cheek again.

Smack.

Lan Wangji’s hand is a snare and Wei Wuxian’s is the prey that landed in it. He tugs Wei Wuxian closer, pinning the misbehaving limbs under his own.

The world spins. Wei Wuxian’s brain flashes with confusion. The world moves too quickly for even reflex to kick in. He finds himself atop Lan Wangji who has readjusted so that he is back to his proper sleeping posture except rather than resting his arms at his sides, his arms lock Wei Wuxian in place.

“Lan Zhan. When were you so domineering?” he asks. He wiggles and squirms but every movement just encourages Lan Wangji to hold him more tightly. After several minutes of pointless struggling, he whines, “How can you have a good dream after being so cruel?”

He freezes when he notices his words seem to be true.

Lan Wangji’s expression is carved like a doll’s from his phoenix eyes, to his straight bridge, to the slight curve of his lips that is absent when he is awake. The delicateness of his features remind Wei Wuxian of porcelain yet it is set against sharp cheeks and a strong jaw that create an overall effect that is hard to describe. It hovers between pretty and handsome in a way that would make models envious.

You'd be number one if you smiled more, Wei Wuxian thinks. In their group of young masters, it was only Lan Wangji’s cold demeanor that kept from number one. He adds, You wouldn’t look like you’re always in mourning.

#MDZS #Wangxian #Winding Moonrise #Wei Wuxian #Lan Wangji #No Sads #wick writes #reminder this series is unedited #i totally did not write this because all the wip memes made me feel bad for not writing any one of my 5 wips #anyway look no sads!#hm... next is mild sads?#or foreshadowing sads #oh and more puppy pile #i have about three parts roughly written in my head #after that 🙏

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capricornus-rex · 4 years

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A Legacy Begun (6)

Chapter 6: A Hopeful Beginning | Cal Kestis x Reader

Summary: After a long time of running and fighting, you and Cal decided to finally settle down after all these years to raise a family. However, it was never a life of peace whilst the shadow of the Empire looms over your heads.

Prompt/s in play: Anon prompt (in Chapter 1 link) & fic idea

Also posted in AO3

Tags: Scruffy! Cal Kestis, Daddy! Cal Kestis, Adult! Cal Kestis, Jedi Family, Jedi Offspring, Force-Sensitive Offspring, Settling Down, Rebel Alliance

Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 | Previous: Part 5 | Next: Part 7 | Masterlist

6 of ?

You were given a few more days to recover after giving birth. The whole crew remained in Polis Massa while you regained your strength. The nurses were very meticulous when it comes to your diet and general post-partum health.

A day later you can already sit up, Cal remained with you in the ward with little Cassidy nestled in the little crib by your bedside—with the toy Binog that you’ve sewn yesterday lying right next to her. The medical droids suggested skin-to-skin contact must be done as often as possible—adding that it is crucial for the overall health of the baby.

The medical droids were strict about visitors, Cal was the only one who can go inside and out of the ward as he pleases. He eventually showed his baby to the Mantis crew with the glass wall dividing them, everyone absolutely loved the little Kestis girl swaddled and nestled in her father’s arms.

From your bed, you watched Cere, Merrin, and Greez smiled and wiggle their fingers in front of Cassidy to get her attention. The sight of them melting at the presence of a baby was new, it warranted a giggle from you. The crew looked over Cal’s shoulder and waved excitedly at you, your husband turned around and smiled back at you too.

“I’m not used to seeing all of them worked up at the same time,”

“Yeah, it’s my first time seeing that too,” you joked.

Cal surely took his time in holding his daughter: nuzzling the tip of his nose against her forehead, his lips parting as he mimicked her yawning and then smiling once her mouth has closed.

“Mind her head,”

“She’s so tiny,” Cal sighed, not getting enough of feeling the weight of his daughter in his arms.

He gently adjusted his hold of her, letting the baby’s head rest on his shoulder, he held his breath so he could feel hers—warm, sweet, and small. He was careful not to disturb her with his stubble.

“I just wanna squish her so bad,” he cracked.

BD-1 peeked over Cal’s shoulder, chirping and trilling at the sight of little Cassidy. Cal softly shushed the droid as the baby continued to sleep, staring at the small face as he kept cradling her in his arms.

Eventually, Cal transferred her to your arms, the baby gurgled and squirmed when she felt she was being moved. When she pressed her cheek against your bosom, she yawned and her eyelids slightly flicked up, showing a little bit of her eyes before she dozed off again. Your heartstrings twisted in the best way possible.

“She’s so beautiful,” you sighed, smoothly stroking her head with your first two fingers.

Your heart felt light when your daughter’s tiny hand patted your chest and her fingers unfurled. Cassidy’s hand latched around your thumb when your hands met. You didn’t realize that the tiniest hand could hold so much of you.

It was your final checkup a week after you gave birth. The GH-7 medical droid hovered towards you and towed along a table of medical tools behind him.

“How are you feeling, miss?”

“I’m fine. No headaches or what, but still a bit exhausted,”

“Physical exhaustion is normal after childbirth, since your muscles have been most likely overworked,” the droid motioned to a handheld apparatus. “With enough rest, you may return to your normal activities in a week or so.”

“Good to know,”

“My readings indicate that your blood pressure is optimally normal and your vitals are in peak stability!” the droid trilled, green lights glowing in its lenses as they reported its diagnosis. “You are permitted for discharge whenever you’re ready.”

The droid politely replied and then dismissed itself to the computers. Your husband turned to you, already knowing what that face meant. You gestured a nod at him, to which he translated to “In a bit” and continued cuddling up Cassidy. The three of you were ready after an hour or two, upon returning to the Mantis, the baby was greeted with hushed swooning and baby-talk murmurs.

“Oh, look at her,” Cere fawned, beaming at the sight of the child up close and personal. Then she leveled her head to the Jedi couple. “So, where to now?”

“I think I should let [y/n] take the reins on that,”

You strode to the holotable and typed the coordinates of Ilaro. Everyone gathered round the map as the projection colored the room into the bright cyan.

“Ilaro,” Cere reads out loud.

“Ilaro is in the Outer Rim, it’s going to take a few parsecs away from here,”

You also added the same information that you told Cal about the planet—the range of the Empire’s hold in that system runs thin, so there will be little to no Imperial presence.

“Then we’re gonna have to make a cutting trip, I don’t want the Mantis running with a half-empty tank,” Greez grumbled. “If it’s in the Outer Rim, I know an outpost where I can fill ‘er up before heading to your planet.”

The whole crew concurred, Merrin accompanied the mother and child by the holotable couch while the three manned their stations in the cockpit. The Nightsister admired the infant, rubbing her index finger and thumb between Cassidy’s pudgy feet—both of you giggling whenever her toes would flinch because it tickled her.

“She’s such a sleepy bug,” Merrin hummed.

This was the first jump to lightspeed to the fueling outpost for Greez.

The slight turbulence of the outpost’s tractor beam jolted the infant but you snuggled her into your arms.

“This’ll take only a while,” Greez announced from the captain’s seat.

The Mantis was peaceful, but it was a new kind of peace, now that the ship has a new, tiny member with them. For the rest of the trip, Cassidy slept soundly, occasionally cooing and gasping with the little voice that tugged your heartstrings. While there’s nothing much to do in the middle of hyperspace, Cal sat next to you, his palm curled to cradle her head. He’d giggle back at the soft noises that Cassidy makes in the middle her sleep. The Mantis’s speed has slowed down, signaling your arrival in Ilaro’s orbit. Cal returned to the co-pilot seat and assisted Greez as the ship cuts through the atmosphere, the Jedi was able to navigate the land mass and found the hillside town that you once told him about.

“Over there, Greez, I see it,”

“Me too, kid,”

The captain flew the ship over to a clearing they found in the hillside, just a few meters away from the town’s border. You braced yourself for the landing until the rumbling came to a halt. Cal exited the cockpit and joined you.

“We’re here,”

He escorted you out of the ship and got a glimpse of the landscape. It was breathtaking. It was exactly the same as you and your master found it many years ago. The town that you referred to was more of a quaint village that clustered along the hilltop overlooking the ocean on the other side of the island.

“You’re right, [y/n], this is the perfect spot. A ship’s not the best place to raise a child—no offense to Greez there,”

“Yeah, I just hope it’ll remain that way,”

You and Cal stood at the hill, gazing at the deep blue sea that stretched to the far reaches of the horizon—illuminated by the twin suns that have begun to sink behind the coastline—looking forward to a future filled with hope, especially for your child.

—–

8 BBY

At the age of three, Cassidy Kestis had grown plumper and cheerier; with hair—and perhaps a will—as fiery as her father’s, eyes as docile yet full of spark like her mother, she’s nothing but a waddling ball of light in the Kestis homestead. Her laughter, voice, and words would fill the entire house and the entire ship during your visits to the Mantis.

BD-1 had grown extra especially fond of the little one, and Cassidy had the exact same sentiments to him. The little droid and the little girl have become best friends ever since then. BD was there to entertain her with the flashing blue lights, even though she half-understood that they were hologram projections of all the data scans throughout her parents’ journey.

“You’re always showing her that Binog scan, buddy,” Cal chirped while watching over the kid and the droid play together.

“I think he wants us to teach her how to say Binog,” you suggested after popping out of the kitchen while waiting for your recipe to simmer.

You leaned against the door frame to watch BD-1 and Cal try to coax the word “Binog” from Cassidy. The toddler pointed at the blue projection and then she started surveying the living room for her toy of that creature—when she spotted it lying behind the droid, the child outstretched her arms but she remained on where she sat. The parents watched their daughter with great intrigue, their eyes shifting between the child and the toy until the object started to shudder, inching towards Cassidy’s general direction until the stuffed Binog toy sprang from the floor and lightly landed in Cassidy’s hands.

“Dad… Mommy…” Cassidy gurgled, waving the toy around in front of them.

Cal glanced over his shoulder to his wife, he found you just as dumbfounded as he is. The two of you traded puzzled stares at one another. The surprise didn’t come from the fact that she was Force-sensitive, both of you were more surprised that the Force has manifested within her in such a young age.

“Later,” you firmly established.

Cal nodded and repeated the word in agreement. You returned to the kitchen and stirred the soup one last time before serving it. You tapped the ladle against the rim of the pot, Cal promptly snatched up his daughter from the floor.

“Come on, Cassidy, it’s dinnertime!” he buried his chin against Cassidy’s cheek and arms.

“Daddy… no itchy!” Cassidy squeaked, trying to push away her dad’s scruffy jaw from her face.

“Oh no, you’re gonna fall!”

Cal continued to joke around on his way to the dining table with Cassidy in tow. He faked her falling by lowering her upper half close to the floor and the bottom half locked securely in his grasp. The little girl was exhilarated as her red hair draped and swerved as Cal strode, she bursts in laughter as she tried to kick her way out of her daddy’s grasp.

“Here comes the Sarlacc in the floor!”

He made a comedic impression of the Sarlacc’s grunting and hissing as he continued to dangle and rock the baby close to the floor.

“Daddy!” the little girl struggled to speak through her squealing giggles.

“Okay, okay, careful with the Sarlacc game or you might spill the pot,”

You come out of the kitchen and settled down the pot on the table. Cassidy looked to you for help, stretching out her arms at you, opening and then closing her palms as if to beckon you to come to her.

“Mommy, here!”

“I gotcha!” you swiped your baby girl away from her daddy, shielding her from Cal with your back but your husband’s height towered over yours.

Arms snaked around your waist, pulling you in from behind, Cal nuzzled his jaw against your neck—now you were his victim of his ticklish kisses thanks to his stubble. You bobbed your head to the side, denying him more entry to your weak spots.

“The food’s gonna grow cold, time to dig in,” you segued.

“You mind if I dig into your later?”

“I’d like to see you try,” you pecked him teasingly before settling Cassidy down on her chair.

The two of you helped yourselves with potful of boiled potatoes and tenderized Chorcap meat swimming in creamy, rich broth. Cal dug in, taking spoonful after spoonful of his serving.

“Slow down or you’ll choke on the chopped scallions,” you warned.

“Are you trying to compete with Greez? Because this is really good!”

You took that as a compliment. Meanwhile, you alternated between feeding Cassidy and bringing your own spoon to your mouth. She smiled away the soup dribbling at the edge of her mouth, leaving a butter-colored smeared mess across her chin as she continued fiddling with the legs and tail of her toy Binog.

The peace that lingered at the dining table changed.

The stern expressions in your faces focused on Cassidy, the little toddler was clueless as she sat and patted her toy in her seat, shifting her gaze between her mother and father. The exact same thought bridged your minds, it was the only conversation you had without speaking, but your eyes uttered so many questions and words.

Eventually, you were the one to break the silence.

“You do know the risks that come with it—the same risks that we had to face as children,”

“I know,” your husband hummed.

A pensive tone rung in your words, “In time.”

Cal’s head motioned to a nod. He reached for Cassidy’s hand, by instinct, she latched her stubby paw around Cal’s finger; the two of you continued to watch the baby unknowingly wield the Force by causing her toy to float inches above her lap and giggled as it plopped back down on her legs—doing so without a clue in the galaxy what she is capable of.

A few hours after dinner, you’ve bathed Cassidy to ready her for bed. Her fine red hair smoothly followed each sway and turn of the hairbrush. In your arms, you sang a wordless lullaby to her, the solemn melodies lulled the child to sleep until you could settle her down in her cradle.

“Sweet dreams, my little angel,” you cooed, smoothing her fringe across her forehead.

You sat by the window nook, having a full view of the sea—black at night but will return to azure in the day—beneath the twin platinum moons shining below the planet.

In the calming darkness of your bedroom, Cal sat behind you, joining you in listening to the sleepy tides crashing in the distance.

“Your mind keeps dwelling on the thought, love,”

“I only keep thinking how she’ll turn out,”

“Don’t worry about her,” he slid his knuckles across the smoothness of your shoulders, your skin recalled a familiar sensation not too long ago. “She’s got us.”

You shifted in your seat, the moonlight amplified the determination twinkling in your eyes. Cal caressed your cheeks and brushed away the hair that nearly concealed your face.

“I won’t let anything happen to my girls,” a steely yet gentle glint shone over the gloss of his eyes.

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fawnofmythos · 3 years

Text

Not My Name (Part 1)

Summary: soulmate au with Jason Todd. People have their soulmate’s name on them from birth. When the reader meets Jason Todd, they recognize his name as the one sprawled across their inner thigh. However, the reader has been going by a pseudonym. How long will it be until they give in to the urge to outs themselves and potentially be put at risk?

Warnings: cursing. Some angst and thriller.

The burner phone wedged between your ear and shoulder rang as you waited for your friend to pick up. Acrid odors greeted your nostrils as you stepped off the subway, piss most likely. You were still surprised that cell phone coverage had extended even this far down. Gotham just didn’t seem to be the type of place to have tech in their subway stations. At all.

Paranoia slowly sunk it’s claws into you as you glanced around. You pulled the bill of your cap down further. You tried to seem as grounded and not, well, scared as you were. Stay invisible.

“Hey,” the gentle voice of your friend greeted as he picked up, pushing your anxieties aside just a bit. “I take it you just got off the subway?”

“Yeah... at 14th,” you responded quietly.

“Okay, head south,” he paused. “You still have the address?” You responded affirmatively. “Good, keys under the mat. Shitty hiding spot I know but it’s only been there like an hour.” He attempted to lighten the mood and you appreciated it, a small smile lighting face.

“Remember to avoid cameras! ATMs have them so I had the bank send a second credit card to the apartment. They’ll think I’m on a business trip to Gotham so no problems there.”

“I’ll pay you back I-“

He scoffed. “None of that. I’m a fucking lawyer working for the biggest firm in America. I think I can take on some financial burden to protect my best friend.” The emphasis on the word ‘burden’ made your lips twitched into a small smile. Sarcastic bastard. A beat of silence passed as you ascended the stairs. It had been so long since you had been to this city and you paused to look around. The promise of impending fall lingered in the air as you noted a slight chill go through your body. Good, you thought, more layers would be easier to hid in.

“I-” you cut yourself off with a sigh, knowing how stubborn he could be. “Thank you, Tom.”

You could tell from his chuckle that he was pleased. “Security at the building knows you’re staying in my apartment and won’t bother you. Be warned, there are cameras in the lobby but try not to seem suspicious, alright?”

“Did you give them my fake name?”

“Yeah...” you could hear him shuffling around a bit, his dog barking in the distance. “Make sure to check in frequently. Nick and I will look into our next options, alright?” You agreed. “Alright, gotta go. Love you, call me soon!”

“Love you too,” you mumbled while hanging up.

As you moved through the dreary city, you kept your head down and simply dodged any oncoming people. The dark towering buildings of Gotham caged you in but at the same time, gave you a little hope that you would be hidden within it’s shadows. The walk was short and easy, but unnerving. The hair on the back of your neck stood on end, it felt like eyes were on you at all times. You didn’t breath easily until you were in the comfort of Tom’s apartment.

Even though you were happy to be away from people, you still did a sweep of the apartment, making sure nothing was out of place and nothing was suspicious. You knew it was unlikely that anyone knew you were here or that it had been bugged, it helped easy your nerves just a little bit. The second thing you did was unpack your large duffle bag. Beyond clothing and necessities, all it really had was your official papers (id, passport, etc), a phone charger, and a pistol. You let out an uneven breath as you placed the weapon on the table. This is the safety lock. Be careful there is recoil with it. Arms like this, yeah. Nick’s words rang in your head, this was real. You were shocked by how heavy it was and still couldn’t see yourself using it even in self defense.

“Credit card,” you mumbled to yourself, breaking the spell of the glinting metal. You needed food and food required money so unfortunately that meant braving the world one more time. “Fuck.” With a sigh, you rubbed your hand over your face, tired and drained.

You grabbed the hat one more time, a common Gotham Knights baseball cap and fixed it to cover your face. The plain, baggy navy hoodie worked to obscure your figure. One more look over confirmed that you looked like an everyday Gothamite. Deep breaths.

You avoided the elevator, less chance of being on camera, bonus: less people. The card was in the mail, just like promised and you headed once more out to the streets.

About an hour later you were a block away from the apartment building, arms laden with bags. It was going fine, no one paid you attention (though the burning feeling of eyes on you persisted). A sharp hit to your shoulder sent your bags flying, eliciting curses from you, directed at the man that bumped you. He looked at you, surprised as though you had materialized out of nowhere.

“Seriously dude?”

“Shit, sorry,” his voice was rough. He shoved a hand through his black hair a shock of white in the front, looking flustered. You gave him a roll of your eyes but mumbled something along the lines of ‘yeah it’s fine.’

He awkwardly helped you gather the strewn groceries. Had your anxieties not been going haywire, you would have noted that he was attractive with blue eyes, and a tall, muscular body. When you had all your bags back, you walked away, ignoring the fact that he looked like he wanted to say something else.

Back in the apartment you kept yourself together long enough to put away the groceries. By then you were too tired to cook and the anxiety had left you with no hunger.

You paced in the living room, which was an open concept with the kitchen, giving you a direct eye line to the daunting gun on the table. By the time your feet were tired, you were able to at least sit down and realize pacing solved nothing. Unfortunately. You decided another sweep of the apartment may help though, so thats what you did.

After debating it for far too long, you took the gun into the bedroom and placed it in the nightstand. The bedroom was typical with white walls and nice furniture. The comfortable looking sky blue duvet was no surprise. Suddenly you were appreciative of Tom’s taste for the finer things. The apartment overall was very nice and you couldn’t fault it. Thankfully he was also concerned with security, you mused. Your nightly routine was short and you quickly got into bed before you could get yourself stuck in another loop of bad coping mechanisms. Maybe something else would help you relax, the tense muscles of your shoulders beginning to ache.

You picked up the book on the opposite nightstand and began to read. The words ran together and you couldn’t untangle them, causing you to re-read the same paragraph over and over. Then you attempted to meditate. All you saw was red and yellow and orange. You glanced to the nightstand where his white noise machine sat. When in Rome... Almost immediately you regretted that decision as the noise simply overwhelmed you.

After a few minutes of sitting in silence, the room dark, your eyes felt heavy, but your anxieties spiked. You tried to sleep anyway. Eventually, the world faded away and you slept. It was not restful.

You hummed as you stirred the ingredients in a bowl. A song played that you kind of knew - not enough to sing but enough to sway your hips. Your apartment was cozy and exactly how you wanted it. Intense eyes stared at you from the window of your apartment, you could feel his fiery gaze.

Burning. Burning. Burning.

The bowl slipped from your hands, flames rose from the stove, the oven roared to life.

“Mine.” His voice melded with the sound of the flames. “You are mine. Do not run from me.”

As the flames spread around you and your apartment fell away, he rose before you. Intimidating figure cut from stone, eyes of fire, hair of gold. The god he thought himself to be, brought to life.

Breathe.

The roar and crackle of the fire intensified until it was so loud you had to clamp your hands over your ears. The god’s lips move, smiling as he does. The words his lips formed repeated. Over and over. Over and over.

Slowly, you removed your hands to be met by not a roar but deafening silence. You couldn’t hear the god. Now, you could read his lips, “I will find you. Do not worry. I am coming. I love you.”

Breathe, fucking breathe.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd imagine #jason todd x y/n #dc comics reader insert #oof I am r u s t y #not my name fic

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whisker-biscuit · 4 years

Text

In the Name of Science: Chapter 4

Fandom: Sonic Movie (2020)

Rating: T for unethical experimentation, implied violence and gore, and implied torture

Summary: Tom and Maddie didn’t make it in time to rescue Sonic from Robotnik. Hopefully it’s not too late to save him now. Unfortunately, hope is hard to come by in the labs of the mad doctor himself.

Note: Warning for detailed panic attack.

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When Sonic was seven years old, he’d found a baby bird that had fallen out of its nest. It was so small that he was able to hold it in one hand despite his own size, and he’d carefully inched his way up the tree it belonged to, too afraid of dropping it if he moved too fast.

Maybe it was because the chick had been struggling for so long already, but all it was able to do in his hold was weakly bob its head and hold its mouth open, for food or for pity. No sound had come out of it the entire way back to its nest.

The idea had scared Sonic that day, of being too weak or helpless to do anything more than what that baby bird had done. His memory of it had mostly faded beyond subconscious fear.

It’s not subconscious any longer.

He presses up against the back of his cage, feeling the horrible weight of the things around his face and his neck and wanting nothing more than to get them off. But he can’t, because his hands are still stuck together, and he’s so scared, so scared of what the doctor is going to do to him if he tries anyway.

His mouth is clamped shut in a way that makes his teeth not quite lock right. No matter how he tries to adjust it, they remain in that same position and do nothing more than remind him of the muzzle as his cheeks bump against it with every movement.

At least he didn’t bite his tongue.

This isn’t a reassuring thought, because he can’t say it out loud like usual. If he can’t say it out loud, then he can’t reassure himself. It doesn’t feel real if it’s not something he can hear. There’s no guarantee it’s real. There’s no guarantee any of his thoughts are real if he can’t –

If he can’t –

He can’t breathe.

Sonic’s hands fly up to the muzzle and start pulling at it frantically. His panic rises as it refuses to budge. He jerks his head forward, side to side, slams it backwards against the wall and yanks as hard as he can. The tears in his eyes finally spill over as he begins hyperventilating. It won’t come off, it’s not coming off!

Another whine escapes him. He jumps to his feet then takes one step and crashes hard on his face, having forgotten his bound ankles in his frenzy. The clang of metal on metal plus the painful smashing of his snout has him crying out wordlessly, unable to articulate anything beyond fear and distress.

He can’t run and he can’t move and he can’t speak and he can’t breathe and he’s going to die here like this, oh god why did he ever think he’d get out of this alive? He can’t, he can’t, he can’t!

His fingers aren’t really grasping the muzzle anymore. His thoughts are dissolving into static. Black spots dance in his vision like terrible mocking figures.

The teen writhes against the floor, thrashing and kicking mindlessly in his panic attack. At one point his feet connect with the wall so hard it jolts pain up through him like lightning. He gasps and whimpers through clamped teeth. It’s barely enough to snap him back into his body, momentarily. His heart is still trying to break out of his chest and his breathing is erratic and keeping him lightheaded, but he’s more aware of these sensations again.

An image comes to mind. It’s Pretzel Lady standing on her back deck, body straight and arms held in front of her. She’s listening to a recording of ocean waves and chimes. Her breathing is controlled and deliberate. Her eyes are closed.

In desperation, he does the same, trying to repeat the motions he’d watch Pretzel Lady do a thousand times. Breathe in, hold, breathe out, hold. It’s hard; he’s still panting way too fast to really control it. But he keeps trying. In, hold, out, hold.

The static peters out. The black spots disappear. He stops thrashing and instead simply lays there, eyes closed and breathing all he can do to keep the panic at bay. Slowly, very slowly, Sonic relaxes. He’s exhausted, but the worst of the attack is over – for now – and he doesn’t have the energy to think about anything else.

It feels like an eternity later that he stirs from his lethargy. Sitting up sucks and leaves him dizzy, so he leans back against the back of the cage with half-lidded eyes and just…exists. His hands and feet are no longer magnetized together, but he doesn’t remember when that happened. The metal around his mouth isn’t cold anymore. He doesn’t know how to feel about that, and he doesn’t want to think about it, so he stops doing both.

Instead he thinks about Donut Lord and Pretzel Lady. They probably have no idea where he is. Probably don’t even realize he’s been captured. The tears are threatening to spill again, so Sonic wipes his eyes as best he can and tries to turn it positive. He’d saved them from falling to their deaths – a situation he’d caused, but no one was keeping track of that anyway – and now they’re safe back in Green Hills.

If they’re safe, that’s what matters. He’d dragged them both into this mess. It’s only fair they get out even if he doesn’t.

He recycles this thought in his mind like a mantra, as loud as he can manage. It’s no substitute for speaking, but he’s determined to make it work. If he spirals again he doesn’t think he’ll be able to snap out of it.

So he sits against the wall, still and quiet and weary.

……………………………………………………………………..

Robotnik comes striding in a few hours later, the smug sneer on his face implying he knows exactly what was going on earlier.

“Well, well, well. The kick’s really been taken out of you, hasn’t it?” He strokes his mustache and peers into the cage. “Who would’ve thought that all that I needed to calm you down was this?”

A broad gesture is made with his hand towards the entire setup, but they both know what he’s referring to. Sonic curls in on himself.

“Do you want it off?”

The hedgehog makes a bitter, forlorn noise. He doesn’t want to give this man the satisfaction of begging again, but he can’t handle having the muzzle on any longer either. Defeatedly he nods.

“Lovely!” Robotnik snaps his fingers and within an instant a pair of egg drones are hovering above the pen. “No struggling, now, or I’ll take it as a sign that you want the thing to stay indefinitely.”

Sonic shakes his head frantically, his eyes wide and alarmed. He stays as still as he can when the ceiling hatch pops open and the robots drop through. They pull his arms up by his restraints and lift him so he’s dangling the same way he’d been when the muzzle had first been put on.

The scientist’s hand goes for his face, and Sonic stiffens at the action. Fingers grip the muzzle as his other hand reaches behind quills. It pauses just outside of their range.

“We’re going to try an experiment in obedience. I’m going to undo the straps around your head without robotic assistance, and you aren’t going to stiffen your quills while I do so.”

He gives the muzzle a good jerk, causing the teen to flinch violently and whimper a nervous agreement. Satisfied by the answer, Robotnik’s free hand buries itself in blue to find the clasps. It takes about ten seconds and Sonic hates every moment of it. But he manages to keep his quills loose and non-deadly throughout.

The muzzle comes off with a final click and the doctor steps away with it in his hands. Sonic immediately starts panting with his mouth open, his jaw sore and his mind feeling significantly less trapped.

“That wasn’t so difficult, now was it?”

Robotnik gives him a few head pats, earning another flinch. When the hedgehog goes to respond however, he’s met with a smile and a subtle lifting of the muzzle. Paling, his mouth clicks shut. This causes the man to laugh in a way that sounds more like a scoff.

“Ah, so he can learn! Look at the progress we’ve made with just half a day, how remarkable.” The way he says it implies the scientist is praising himself more than Sonic. “Though, I do think that’s more than enough excitement for now.”

The robots release the teen and he collapses into the cage with a grunt. His body isn’t hurting nearly as much as this morning, but it still sucks. The shadow of the mad doctor covers the front as he examines the food and water bottles.

“I see you haven’t touched either of these. No doubt your appetite must be ravenous, wouldn’t you agree?”

Sonic picks himself up and draws his knees to his chest. He’s not sure if he’s supposed to answer, so he simply stays silent to be safe, but his stomach gurgles in response anyway. Robotnik observes him for a long, tense, quiet moment. The expression on his face slowly turns to something terrifying, and he taps the top of one of the bottles.

“Well? Aren’t you going to do something about that?”

The hedgehog stares at him.

“What?” He asks despite himself. The doctor only grins at the confusion, not reprimanding him for the slip-up.

“Eat! Drink! I can’t have my beautiful little specimen collapsing from malnutrition before the fun truly begins. No, no, no, that would be irritating and irresponsible. So go on.”

Sonic blanches as he realizes what is expected of him. He doesn’t want to use those weird, awful nozzles, and he definitely doesn’t want to do it with his captor watching.

“I’m….I’m not hungry.”

Robotnik gives him a look like a scolding parent. “Your biological responses beg to differ. Additionally, I have calculated that your basal metabolic rate is significantly higher than both humans and hedgehogs with your age and weight category. Therefore, it stands to reason that going at least twelve hours or more without sustenance is both dangerous and stupid.”

He leans forward and taps the bottle again.

“That isn’t even placing into consideration the factors of dehydration and recovery from injury. You are undernourished, and I will not accept that. It will skew the results of everything I have planned once you are back to full health. Come here and eat and drink. Now.”

The teen bites his lip but doesn’t move. The scientist’s mustache twitches as his face darkens.

“Do it now, or I’ll have you force-fed. Do you know what that entails?” A bemused stare. “My robots will force a tube down your throat straight to your stomach and feed you that way, mostly with liquids. I’ve heard it is extremely painful and unpleasant, but I’ve never received the opportunity to try it on anything. I highly doubt you’d like to be the first.”

Sonic’s hand flies up to his mouth, wanting to vomit just from the description.

“That’s what I thought. If you don’t want to learn firsthand, I suggest you come over here right now. I won’t ask again.”

Ears pressed flat against his skull, the hedgehog stands shakily and makes his way to the front of the pen. He looks between the bottles and Robotnik, who is watching him without a shred of mercy. Sonic swallows his pride and his angry fear and grabs one of the nozzles.

The food is bland.

……..........................................................................

Dr. Ivo Robotnik, M.D. Log 4

Behavioral training continues with predominantly positive results.

End Log

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A/N: Hi y'all. I promised I wasn't dead, and here I am! Sorry about the long wait. Spring term of college was moved online and I started a new part time job that cut out a lot of free time, so it was a struggle to balance the two and I wanted to focus on keeping my grades up. But now I'm free for the summer (mostly) and I'm ready to rumble!

I reread the fic to catch the tone again but this chapter feels a little off in a way I can't really place. If the characters don't read well please let me know, I'd really appreciate the feedback because it's driving me crazy. Also, we're going to pick up the pace for time passage from here on out. The first day is always the longest, after all.

Hope you enjoy! Please stay safe in these uncertain times and take care of yourselves!

Chapter 3

Chapter 5

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic #sonic movie #sonic movie spoilers #dr robotnik

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freddieslater · 6 years

Text

They’re getting bad again (they never stopped)

This was sort of requested by @pewdienarusmosh who has been the most patient person on earth! I’m sorry this has taken me so long to write, and I’m not quite sure it’s what you were looking for?? But I hope you enjoy it all the same! <333 (Also on AO3 here)

Guns fire, people scream out as the bullets pierce them, knocking them to the ground while others run, taking cover. Scott spots a building close by, within distance if they sprint for it. It's almost in complete ruins, but he reckons it'll be sturdy and secure enough to give them shelter for at least enough time to heal, get out of their enemies' firing range before jumping back in and taking them down.

"Stiles, follow me!" Scott says, already taking off in the direction of the building.

"Wait—fuck. No, no, no, no. Scotty, we got a problem!"

Scott stops, hearing the panic in Stiles' voice. He quickly turns back around, his stomach already twisting and turning, a sense of dread rising in his throat. Just as his eyes find Stiles in the crowd of people running, throwing grenades, shouting for their friends to get back, another gunshot rings out.

"Fuck yo—no! You have to be kidding!"

Scott's so distracted by Stiles' angry protests and watching his character fall to the ground that he doesn't even notice the sniper aiming at his own. Then the words "Game Over" flash on the screen in big, bold letters like they're taunting the both of them.

"That was totally unfair," Stiles says, waving his controller at the screen as Scott looks over at him, lips twitching up in amusement. "I wasn't paying attention, that shouldn't count!" He turns his head, staring at Scott. "I want a rematch."

Scott shakes his head, setting his own controller aside. "Dude, this is the sixth rematch you've asked for. I think we should call it a night and get some sleep."

He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to the side of his mouth. When he pulls back, Stiles' lips are turned down in a half-frown, half-pout. He stops, concerned.

"Is everything okay?" he asks, his eyebrows furrowing slightly.

Stiles lifts his eyes back up to his face, widening just enough to pass for surprise and confusion. Scott isn't really buying it, he knows him too well, is too used to all of the little signs of when he's forcing himself to appear calm and okay, even when he's not. He's never been good at it, either, so it's not like it's hard for Scott to figure out that something's wrong.

"What? Yeah. I'm okay. Totally fine. Just not that tired."

Not only does his heart jump, but his chemo-signals betray him as well. Scott's pretty sure Stiles is more sleep-deprived than he's ever been. That's one of the reasons he asked to stay over tonight, to make sure he was getting sleep and prove he was just imagining it.

He's not so sure he was now.

"At least get in the bed," Scott says, moving his hand to rest on top of Stiles'. "You can keep playing the game, but I want to sleep, and I prefer having you next to me."

He kisses him again, lingering a little longer this time. Their lips are still brushing as he adds, "Makes me feel safer."

Stiles' face does that thing it does whenever Scott says something like that. His eyes seem to soften and he looks like he's about to wrap his arms around him and promise never to let go while planning to hurt anyone who ever made him feel unsafe.

He actually did do that once and Scott didn't bother to tell him that what he really meant was that it makes him feel safer knowing that Stiles is alive, and okay, and not in any sort of danger, rather than being worried about himself.

"Okay, okay," Stiles sighs. "I'll get in the bed. But I'm leaving the TV on."

Scott doesn't argue; he prefers noise when he's trying to sleep anyway. He gets up off the floor, Stiles following, and they both climb into Stiles' bed, slipping under the blanket.

While Scott lays down, shifting around a little to make himself more comfortable, Stiles stays upright, leaning back against the wall. He flicks through Netflix, looking for something to put on that he promises won't be loud or distracting enough to stop Scott from getting any sleep.

Scott notes that he doesn't include himself in that.

He brushes it off as he closes his eyes, knowing that Stiles will more than likely fall asleep soon enough anyway. Scott's seen him sleep-deprived in the past. Many times. Usually, after a week, he gets exhausted enough that he sleeps for pretty much the entire day. It's already been two weeks since Scott started noticing the signs of his tiredness, his lack of sleep, so he's willing to take a guess and say tonight will be when he finally gets more than an hour's sleep.

He doesn't know how wrong he is as he drifts off, the warmth from Stiles so close to him helping him relax a little and tune out the quiet sound of people talking on the TV.

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

The scent of fear hits Scott's nose in strong and overwhelming waves. It's enough to force his eyes open, adjusting straight away to the nearly pitch-black of the room, the TV still on and casting a slightly harsh and too-bright glow at the bed as it quietly plays away to itself.

He takes a second to glance around the room, checking to make sure that nothing's wrong, there's no one else there. It wouldn't exactly be the first time someone's snuck into his room—or Stiles'—while they're sleeping so that they can either scare them half to death just to talk to them about something that definitely could have waited, or simply to try and kill them.

He's relieved to see that they're definitely the only two in the house, aside from the Sheriff, sleeping peacefully in his room down the hall.

A quiet noise fills the room and Scott shifts his attention back to Stiles. It was like a whimper, and Scott finally notices that Stiles' eyes are screwed shut, like he's in pain, scared. His hands curling tighter around the blanket catches Scott's eye, his knuckles white, and he realises just how pale Stiles has gone, and the thin layer of sweat on his forehead.

He shifts, head moving to the other side. For a second, Scott expects him to relax, for that to be it. Then another noise escapes his throat, a little louder this time, hands pulling a little more insistently at the blanket.

Scott quickly figures out that he's having a nightmare and pushes himself up. He places a hand on Stiles' arm, making sure to keep his touch light, and gentle, and soothing.

"Stiles," he says, his voice quiet but just loud enough that he knows Stiles will hear him. He runs his hand up his arm, setting the other on Stiles' shoulder as he stays asleep, lips pressing together. "Stiles, hey—wake up. It's okay. I'm here."

Even though he's done this before, he still isn't quite prepared for the raspy, slightly hoarse-sounding scream that claws its way out of Stiles' throat as he shoots up, eyes flying open. Stiles grabs at Scott's arm, his nails digging in enough to sting.

"Hey, hey, hey." Scott quickly pulls him closer, moving his hand from his shoulder to wrap around him. "You're okay. Just breathe, Stiles. It's okay, you're okay."

It takes a few second—maybe more, Scott isn't really keeping count—before Stiles goes quiet, his screams turning to sobs that make his entire body shake. He buries his face in Scott's chest and Scott just holds him, continuing to whisper soothing things to him, uncaring about how wet his chest is slowly becoming.

He notices the door opening and Stiles' dad peeking his head into the room, clearly having been woken up by Stiles' screaming and crying. Scott gives him a little nod, telling him it's okay, he's got this.

He pauses, clearly unsure. But then nods back at him, casts another worried glance at Stiles, still hidden in Scott's chest, and slowly closes the door. Scott hears his footsteps moving away from the room, but he doesn't go back to his own room, heading to the kitchen instead.

The room's quiet other than the sound of Stiles' shaky breaths and his slightly too-fast heartbeat. Scott hugs him a little tighter, running his hand gently up and down his arm.

"I'm sorry," Stiles mutters, his voice muffled and scratchy. He turns his head, still not looking up at him as his fingers move over the little crescent marks his nails left in Scott's arm. They're already slowly healing, but Scott can still smell the scent of guilt coming off of Stiles as he repeats himself, "'m sorry."

"It's okay," Scott says. "You don't need to apologize."

Stiles just makes a quiet noise in response like he wants to protest but just doesn't have the energy. He does it every time he has a nightmare and Scott's sleeping over. Even when they were kids he would try and apologize for waking him up and making him comfort him. Scott always told him he wasn't making him do anything, then tried to distract him for the rest of the night. It worked most of the time.

It finally occurs to him.

"This is why you haven't been sleeping, isn't it?" he asks softly, understanding. "They're getting bad again?"

"I didn't want you to worry," Stiles admits, much faster and with much less prompting than Scott was expecting. "But yeah. I can't seem to even shut my eyes without them starting. I was hoping that tonight would be the exception."

"You could have just told me," Scott says, but he knows it's pointless. "We could have at least asked Deaton if there's anything he can do. Some sort of druid thing, maybe. Or I could just ask my mom if you can go back on those sleeping pills, the ones you were taking a few months ago?"

Stiles finally turns, shifting in Scott's arms until he's looking up at him. Scott can tell just by looking at him how completely exhausted he is, the dark circles under his eyes somehow even darker now than they were earlier.

He's stopped crying, Scott notices. Although his eyes are red and his skin's blotchy with tear tracks running down both cheeks. Still, he manages a smile.

"You're sweet, Scotty," he mutters, then leans up. He presses a kiss to the corner of Scott's mouth, surprisingly soft and gentle, like another silent apology. "But I doubt they'll help. I think nightmares about supernatural shit are more powerful than a pill."

Scott's stomach twists again, like a stab to his gut. Stiles doesn't talk about his nightmares. Ever. He used to, back when they were kids and the scariest things their imaginations could come up with consisted of getting lost and never being found, or their parents not remembering them, and on rare occasions, after a horror movie, sometimes the odd killer clown or vicious dog.

But when Stiles' mom died, he stopped telling Scott about his nightmares. He still shares his weird and crazy dreams that makes Scott wonder how he has such a creative imagination even while he's asleep, but nightmares are off limits. Especially after everything that's happened in their lives. They stopped being ridiculous and slightly funny, and became as bad as their reality.

He swallows, fingers still trailing up and down Stiles' arm. Testing the waters, he asks, "so I'm guessing it wasn't about us getting launched into space and being stuck with murderous space monkeys then?"

Stiles pouts and Scott's lips twitch. "Okay, I was six when I had that dream. And they were very big, very purple murderous space monkeys who were holding us captive in their giant space prison, so excuse me for thinking that was terrifying."

Scott smiles now as he bites his lip, nodding. "Oh yeah, sorry. I forgot they were purple. Definitely makes them scarier."

Stiles rolls his eyes, catching on to his teasing. "Shut up." Then he looks away, the hint of amusement that had been there a second ago completely disappearing now. "No, it was, uh—it wasn't like that. It was..."

He doesn't seem to be able to find the right words to describe it, and it only makes Scott more concerned. His nightmares were bad enough before; there was one rare occasion where Stiles did decide to tell him what it was about, after showing up at school pale and shaky, having refused to go back to sleep after it. But they seem worse now.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asks quietly, a little hopefully. Maybe it'll help. "If you don't, it's okay. We can just... watch TV if you don't want to go back to sleep."

Stiles takes a few seconds to think it over and Scott waits, listening to his heartbeat. It's not as fast as it was when he woke up, despite how shaky he still is, his heartbeat almost back to a steady rhythm. His own breathing syncs with it without him even noticing.

"To be honest, I think I'm too tired," Stiles says, and his voice seems to agree with him, the exhaustion finally slipping through. He looks up at Scott. "Tomorrow? Right now I think I just—sleeping makes the most sense. We do have to be up in a few hours after all."

Scott doesn't let his surprise show. "You sure? We could just keep watching that show you put on. It sounded good."

Stiles nods, sending him a small, grateful smile. "I'm sure." He pauses, something crossing his mind, his smile turning down into a slight frown. "Just don't go anywhere, yeah? I wouldn't want you running off in the middle of the night and getting hurt by some psychotic werewolf pack or hunter or whatever."

Something clicks in his mind and he thinks he has a good idea of what Stiles' nightmare was about, just based on that comment. He doesn't say anything else about it, though; Stiles said tomorrow, so Scott can wait.

"I promise I won't go anywhere," Scott says, and he can see the tiniest bit of relief wash over Stiles. "Now—sleep?"

Stiles nods again and follows Scott's lead when he lays back down, shifting back to their previous positions. Except Scott keeps an arm around Stiles now, holding him a little closer. Just in case. And Stiles doesn't roll back onto his other side to face away from him like he usually does. He cuddles closer to him, head tucked below Scott's chin and his face practically buried in his chest again.

Scott can only smile, just a quirk of his lips, and close his eyes as he moves his other hand until he finds Stiles', taking it and lacing their fingers together. He doesn't have to be looking at him to know that Stiles is smiling as well.

He makes sure he's not the first to fall asleep. It only takes a few minutes for Stiles' breathing to slow enough that it's obvious he's not awake anymore, and for the scent of fear that had been lingering from the nightmare to disappear, replaced by something Scott can't quite put his finger on.

It doesn't matter. He's just glad he even managed to get back to sleep at all.

It isn't until Scott hears the sound of the door down the hall closing that he decides it might be a good idea to try and get some sleep of his own. He pauses, listening carefully, just to be sure that Stiles isn't having another nightmare.

But judging by the soft, peaceful-sounding little noises he makes, Scott's guessing he'll be sleeping through the rest of the night. He follows a few minutes later, and sure enough, none of them wake up until a few hours later, when Derek comes looking for them to tell them they're late to the "pack training." Scott isn't too fussed about it, knowing it was worth being a little late.

#sciles #foreversciles #otp: tell me later #teen wolf #fanfiction stuff #violence cw #technically but it's just a video game #pewdienarusmosh #thanks for asking me to write this!!#<333

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breanime · 5 years

Text

Bloody Secrets (Part Three)

*This is a repost, please let me know if you can actually see/read this.... @something-tofightfor

Billy’s mouth was warm against yours. You hadn’t even been making out for a complete minute and you were already wet. You loved the feeling of his hands on you; one under your shirt, caressing your breast, and the other carefully placed on your neck. It had taken you a while to realize that Billy put his hand on your neck for very specific reasons: 1: as a quiet but firm sign of possession, 2: because he knew you liked the feel of his long fingers on your throat, and 3: to check your pulse. It was oddly endearing, his sporadic check that you were alive.

“Billy,” you whimpered, biting your lip as he peppered your neck with kisses. His damp hair smelled like sandalwood and tickled your chin. Your eyes fluttered closed when he pushed your shirt up and began licking circles around your nipple. He always touched you with such care, and tonight he was being especially deliberate. You felt him press a wet kiss to your puckered nipple before he moved on to the next one. It was like he was worshipping you with the amount of care and attention he was showing you. A strong wave of affection for him washed over you, and you pushed your hands underneath his sweater, lightly trailing your nails over his muscular back. “Billy,” you repeated, watching through a wave of arousal as he looked back at you with his gorgeous black eyes.

He sat up and shed his shirt, knowing exactly what you wanted. You sat up and moved to take your shirt off as well, but he leaned over and did it for you. “I want you to know,” he held you close to him, “that there’s no way I’m lettin’ you out of this bed for the next 24 hours.”

You laughed as he laid you back down. “You gonna call my professors for me?” He kissed you, effectively shutting you up, before burying his face in your neck. You knew there’d be hickeys in the morning. You hissed when he bit down on your neck but sighed in content when he soothed the sting with his warm tongue. He had you on your back and he was pressed tight against you. You could feel how hard he was, so you rolled your hips, earning a deep groan from Billy. He lifted his head up and kissed you again, his tongue moving with yours in perfect sync. He had one hand wrapped around you while his other dove into your pants. You gasped when he pushed two fingers into you, and you felt him smirk against your mouth. He curled his fingers and massaged your insides. Your head was flush against the mattress, hair all over the place, with your mouth open in pure pleasure. Billy added another finger and you closed your eyes and focused on the feelings bursting within you. His long fingers, which had always fascinated you, brushed against every sweet spot you had. He plunged them in and out of you quickly, and your breath was starting to come out in small spurts. You felt the warmth between your legs and knew you were close. “Baby…” You sighed out, holding his very busy hand with your own. “Baby…”

“Come for me,” he ordered, his voice sending another trickle of lust through you, “Come on my fingers, baby.”

He didn’t need to tell you twice. You came immediately, moaning loudly as you writhed on the bed. For his part, Billy didn’t stop or slow down at all, he continued his movements which made your climax last even longer. When you were finally able to open your eyes again, he was looking down at you. His dark eyes held so many emotions, but you didn’t have a chance to analyze them before he was kissing you again. He slid his fingers out of you and pulled your pants down in one fluid motion.

“Good girl,” he complimented you, “now let’s make you cum again.”

You didn’t even have a chance to quip something back—not that you had anything prepared—before he was leaning down and licking one long stripe down your still pulsating core. You attached both of your hands to his hair, pulling at the cool, damp strands as he ate you out. His tongue was even better than his fingers; he was licking and sucking and at one point even grazed you with his teeth and you were nearly dizzy with arousal. It was almost too much to handle, so you tried to clench your thighs together, but Billy was not having that. His strong hands grabbed your upper things and kept them apart. You could have sworn you felt him chuckle against you. You groaned and squirmed, so close to falling apart. In a second, Billy released one of your things and plunged his fingers inside of you as he continued to eat you out. The combination made you scream, and your orgasm had your legs shaking.

Billy was completely naked by the time you opened your eyes again, and your mouth watered at the mere sight of him. His body, so lean and toned, took your breath away. You had seen Billy naked hundreds of times and every time left you in awe. He didn’t speak as he crawled over you, his dark eyes glistening. You held eye contact with him as he positioned himself at your entrance. One part of you wanted to take him in your mouth, but a bigger, much more urgent part of you wanted—needed—to feel him inside of you. You stared into his eyes as he pushed into you, but shut them when he bottomed out. He was big, and he knew it. Your mouth opened as you felt him stretch you out, and you both moaned at the sensation. He waited a moment before moving, giving you a chance to adjust to him, and you heard him groan when you moved your hips in response. Your bodies rocked together, your hands on his shoulders and his eyes never leaving your face, for what felt like hours. You had always enjoyed sex with Billy—he made it so every time was a fucking experience—but this time felt different. Better, somehow. It felt like the two of you were passing some kind of milestone with every thrust and moan. Having orgasmed twice, you were a little sensitive, so you whimpered, pushing your chest against Billy’s when you felt another one coming on.

“’M gonna cum,” you whispered, rubbing your cheek against his, the stubble making your skin tingle.

“Me too,” he huffed back. He thrust into you sharply, making you cry out in pleasure. That seemed to inspire him anew; and your soft moans turned into breathy screams as he began to move with new purpose. His hips slammed into yours and you could hear the headboard beating against the wall—thank goodness Billy didn’t have any neighbors, they’d be furious at the noise—you wrapped your arms around him at the same time your legs started to squeeze his waist like a vice.

The two of you came at the same time; and you could see stars as he came inside of you. The warmth spread upwards through you and you clenched around him harder than you ever had. He collapsed on top of you, still inside you, and you could feel a warm wetness drip down your thigh. You were out of breath, tired, and extremely satisfied. You opened your mouth to tell him so, when he lifted his head to look at you.

His eyes were soft, a rarity for Billy, as he surveyed you. He leaned down and kissed you softly, his lips brushing against yours as if you were made of glass. You kissed him back, trying to put all of the affection and worry and relief you had felt in the last few hours into the one action. He slid out of you, slowly, and kissed your pouting mouth as he lay back on top of you.

When you looked at him, you felt a sense of security and safety you’d never felt before. Like you could jump from the Empire State Building and know that Billy would be there at the bottom to catch you. It was a strangely frightening feeling of safety. Your brain felt like mush, so you almost didn’t realize you were talking when you said, “I want this forever.” You froze and watched in silent horror as Billy’s eyes widened. Your heart started pounding as a myriad of emotions flashed through his eyes. Finally, his lips stretched into a wide smile.

“I can do that,” he said, and you could have died happy right at that moment.

Hours later, and Billy was true to his word about not letting you leave the bed. He wouldn’t even let you make something for the two of you to eat, he ordered delivery and spent the time waiting for the food to arrive with his dick in your mouth. Later you both fell asleep full and happy. Billy had his arm around you and you had your head on his chest, snuggled close to him under the covers.

Billy was still asleep when you woke up, so you took the time to think back on the day’s events. You had never thought your life would go down this particular path, and though you weren’t proud of the mistakes you’d made, you were glad you made them. After all—they led you to Billy. You lay there, pressed against the most perfect man’s warm chest, and wondered how you’d gotten so lucky. You both had secrets; bloody, dangerous, illegal secrets, but you also had each other. It felt so great to not only be with Billy, but to be with him as an honest and open partner, no lies between either of you. Only love. You weren’t sure if you were quite ready to say it, but you loved and trusted Billy Russo.

It was a terrifyingly comfortable concept for you to come to terms with. Just as you were making a pro/con list of saying the three words out loud to him in your head, Billy’s phone rang. Normally he would have woken up as soon as he heard the ringer, but he was dead asleep. You leaned over him to see who it was—thinking it was Frank wanting to check in—but frowned when you saw an unfamiliar name on his private, non-Anvil phone.

Who the hell was Dinah Madani?

#bloody secrets

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endoftheroad1983 · 6 years

Text

Who do you work for?

Steve Rogers x reader

Saturday Night

12 hours had gone by and you guys were still stuck in that room. F.R.I.D.A.Y was barely responding to you guys and the only thing that was coming through the TV was the news channel. And you knew for sure that you didn't care how sunny Florida’s beaches were. Steve was standing near the door Tony went through. He was off silently in his own world as he tried to figure out what to do. You had been sitting on the bed watching the metal over the windows. Every once and a while they began to vibrate as if a bomb went off. The room was so sealed that neither one of you could hear any sounds coming from the outside.

A grunt from behind you pulled out of your thoughts of home. Your claustrophobia was trying to kick in but you were putting up a good fight. Steve was pushing on the metal looking for a weak spot. After a moment he began shaking his head. He turned his body towards you.

“What am I doing?” A humorous chuckle escapes his lips.

“Losing it?” You had raised an eyebrow at him. For half a second you weren't joking about it.

“No, Here I am trying to find a way out so I can protect you and here we are in own fortress. We just got to relax and not cause a reason for anyone to coming looking for us.” He came over to the bed and join you by your side. He took one look at your face which dropped the smile from his face.

“What's the matter?” He asked.

“I'm fine, its just I'm a bit...” A weak rumble was heard from the outside. It rattles the room with a bit of force. Both of you were on your feet in a flash.

Panic flashed before your eyes and you had lost all the fighting for control.

“Oh My God. We are going to die in here like sardines in a can! We can't even get out of here if we want.” You rushed towards the window and began clawing at the metal. The panic had made you go crazy for the outside air.

“Claustrophobia.” Steve finished your sentence the same time the panic attack hit. He was quick to be by your side. He grabbed your hands and lead you to the bed. He was much stronger than you that it really wasn't that hard for him to grab your full attention.

Steve laid the both of you down on the bed. His blue eyes made sure that Y/C/E never left his. The panic was easing up into heavy breathing as Steve whisper small thing to you.

“Have you ever been to Liberty Island?” His voice was so low you almost didn't catch it.

“Have I?” You are thrown back by his question. You answer by shaking your head.

“Well, we'll have to make a trip out of it.” Again his voice never rose higher than a whisper. It was a smart move that you caught on quick. He was whispering to make you focus on him. Soon the two of you were wrapped up in a playful conversation of what ifs.

“What if I had declined the professor's request. I wonder how that would turn out.” You ponder lightly.

“Badly for me.” Steve whisper. His eyes had drawn shut and you guys had lost track of the time while you were laying in bed. It had been awhile as you had to snuggle under the blankets for warmth.

“What do you mean? You wouldn't have gotten shot.” You watch his lips form a ghost of a smile. He was getting tired.

“I wouldn't have met you.” He was right to the point. Your heart flutters suddenly as you were brought back feeling like a school girl.

“What? Yes, you would have. The meeting would go as plan and our company would be partners. We then would meet. Only in that version, bad shit wouldn't of happen to you.” You didn't stop yourself from brushing a rogue hair away from his forehead. He smiles at the touch of your fingers.

“Us.” He caught your petite hand in his large hand.

“Us, What?” You were confused by the word as your eyes barely just closed themselves.

“Bad things wouldn't have happened to us.” You open your eyes at his comment and found Steve already looking at you. You didn't know what to say to that.

“I'm sorry for hurting you.” He whispers this time because of the pain and guilt.

“That wasn't your fault.” You quickly defended him.

“But that still doesn't stop your nightmares.” His words hit you like a bag of bricks. He was fretting over the nightmares. It wasn't until then that you remember spatting the words at him.

“I didn't mean it like that. I did have a couple nightmares but I think a lot of it had to do with the intruders, don't you agree?” Again you drop your voice and eyes. After a moment you were drifting off to sleep as you listen to Steve's breathing.

The sleep you were in was so long and deep that it was one of the best you had gotten since you arrived here. Your mind was already wide awake before your eyes open. That's when you heard the shuffling in the room. You crack open your eyes to see that everything was still the same. Steve was still on his side and was fast asleep. Sometime during your napping, he had reached out and draping at arm around your waist. Heat flushed into your face as you hadn't had one real date with him and here you were cuddling with him.

Slowly, without bouncing the bed, you sat up and stretch. The news was still running and was still repeating everything it had said that morning. You looked around and notice a small fan hooked to the metal bed frame. Without thinking you grabbed it and flicked it on. The room fills with a small cool breeze and a low humming. You waited patiently for the wind to connect with the produced wind. After a few moments, A faint, gust burst away from the fans cycle and found you next to Steve.

Need to be in woods for safety. It was barely a message but you understood completely.

“Steve, We need to leave...” But you cut off by a very firrmiller bamf noise. Kurt was standing in the middle of the room. You froze as Steve was quick to his feet. Nobody move for a moment as everyone stood in a fighting stands. There was such hatred in your friend's eyes.

“Kurt, Listen to me!” His angry filled eyes found yours, “This isn't you. You were never a violent guy and I don't think you want to start now. This is the work of a mutant.” But he never responded to you. Instead, he leaps up onto the table and Bamf behind Steve.

Within seconds they were both gone. You scream your frustration and began pounding on the steel wall that covers the exit. What the hell was going on? Where did he take Steve and Why? You didn't have to ponder long about what happened before you could turn around to the bamfing in the room, you were knocked out.

You woke up to a very bright, white room. There was four of you tied up in chairs facing each other. Tony, Steve, you and the Professor. You were the first to wake up. You began to pull on the metal band that held you to a metal chair. You struggled as your mind was still in a dense fog.

“Y/F/N?” Tony was the first to call out followed by Steve. “What the hell is that doing here?” He ignored the fact that he was tied up. You looked over your shoulder to see one of Tony's body armor hook up to a very expensive computer system.

“What's going on?” You asked just as the two mutants, the manipulator, and the empath came walking into the room. They ignore Tony and Steve's questions and went straight to the Professor. They slapped him until he woke up. They then wrapped a black neck brace around the Professor's neck. Once you were all awake, The two left the room without a word.

“What's going on?” You asked the Professor.

“It seems that The Brotherhood and Hydra having been working together a lot longer then we thought.”

“What does that mean exactly?” Steve asked as he survives the room.

“It means that they want to take the powers of mutant and implant them into Mr. Stark suits.”

“Please call me Tony. Let's not get all professional now.” You fought back the urge to roll your eyes. A sickening feeling rose in the pit of your stomach.

“Not all mutants power Charles, Just the elementals.” A new voice rose up behind you. A very shock look overcame the Professors face. Stay calm. Jean and the others are on their way. The professor's voice rang out inside your head. You see that Tony and Steve had received the news as well. You guess the neckband didn't take away all his powers.

Your chair was pulled back and whipped around. If you weren't strapped in by the bands you would have been thrown to the ground. You look up to see a wire, old man in a white lab coat. He had thick white, frame glasses. He was mumbling to himself but you could only understand certain words like, strapped to the wall and using the lamp as the electrical sources. Your skin began to crawl.

“What element's do you harvest?” The deep voice from earlier spoke again. He stood as tall as a general and his face was hidden behind a back ski mask.

“Just the wind.” Hello, mutant to suck the power from.

“And?” He pressed on.

“And that's it. Just the wind.” You snorted back. You prepared for some kind of retaliation from your outburst but instead, A folder was handed to him.

“No, if you harvest one you can harvest them all.” He informed you as a matter of fact. You look over to the Professor for help but he was just as shock as you were, “I see what the problem is. She not fully opened. Bring me the 1040 vile.”

“What the...” Steve cut you off by yelling your name.

Before you knew it, A sharp pain exploded in your arm. You howled in pain and soon your body and emotions were exploding altogether. Wind-formed out of nowhere and began whipping around you. It was creating a twister of black air. Soon you and the chair was in the middle of the air space. You could hear the objects in the room get sucked up and thrown into the walls. Then everything froze.

Y/F/N. It was the Professor but he was in your mind.

The vile is going to take its effect in three minutes. You must summon the wind and break free from your chair.

“But Professor, It just getting way to hot in here. I feel like I'm going to burn up.” You didn't know if you were talking or thinking it.

Wake up Y/F/N

Then with a blink of an eye, the chaos was back and the burning in your veins was only getting worse. You twisted your back to see that your friends were getting hit the flying objects. You call the wind to you in a banshee-like painful cry. The black air surrounded you in a ball. And then with a few tries. The wind snapped the chair into scrap metal pieces. Heavy metal pieces rang out as they hit the floor. You were close to being drained and you knew you had to do one more thing. You order the wind to tear apart your friend's chairs.

A sharp pinch itching feeling erupted on your neck. You raise your hand it finds a dart needle was sticking out. You gave one last look at your friends as there were free from their chains. You didn't care though, they were free and would take care of the rest. You voluntarily gave yourself up to the darkness that was creeping up on you.

You woke up to your body throbbing with a new burning sensation. You were greeted by the wind though it said nothing to you. You manage to get one of your eyes open and notice that you were in a different room. The air was heavy and salty, which meant that you were close to the coast.

You move to sit up even though every inch of you was killing you. You highly doubt that you were back at the Avengers Base. So what did happen?

“Subject Beta has awake. Condoning to phase three.” You were too worn out to physically groan out load. You moved your arm to see that you were restraint with metal chains that you have never seen before.You were still with the bad guys. You study the room that you were in hoping that you can use anything in there to help you escape. You watched as the lab assistants work on a table behind a wall. It was the man from the last room. He hit a button and spoke quietly into the mic. After three minutes, two arm guards with over the top guns enter the room. Your stomach twisted as you knew they were here in case you had another element fit.

“Get away from me you freaks!” You growled. But your threats fell on deaf ears as he continues setting up the needle.

“Get me out of here!” You screamed to the wind but it was like they didn't hear you. How was that possible. You were beginning to panic as you were tied down to the bed.

Another sting of a needle went into your arm. This time the liquid was greenish. You waited for the effects to take place. Silently you wished that the injection would kill you and they would be left with nothing. But that wouldn't stop them. They would find another victim to torture and extract their abilities as well. Your body felt like it was turning to rock. Your head was so heavy tour what you fell back into the bed. You were paralyzed as your eyes began to close. You felt as though you were sinking into the ground. burning, agonizing pain course through your veins as the ground swallowed up. Then you were out.

When you woke up this time, you didn't move. You lay still just appreciating the fact that you were still alive. And yet you knew your time was still counting down. To take the essence of the mutant gene from the body and incorporate it into an armor suit. It doesn't really scream that everyone will walk out winners. So you had to rely on yourself this time. So you stay still.

You didn't know how you were going to manage it but this wasn't the first time you had to defend yourself out of a situation. But it was the first that the enemy knew exactly what you were capable of.

“Subject Beta is still unconscious.” A voice spoke up. After a moment, radio feedback broke the silence and the head creep answered back.

“Then proceed.”

“Negative, Sir. It will be futile, To injected her while the other serum is still working in her system will be too much in her system and she will degenerate.” The wired old man snapped back, “I will run a process scan as soon as she is conscious.” The little scientist had guts and in the end, the Headman agreed. He also let out the tidbit that the Avenger was doing what they did best. They were preparing for an attack.

Hours and minutes melted into one and you were at a loss of time and days. You silently plead with the wind to answer you. Nothing. Not even running across your face to make you few better. Were you already losing your powers? Trying to lay completely still while your mind was racing was very tricky and finally, you moved.

You open your eyes to see that you were in a loading dock of the building. Two goon stood over you. The tiny scientist was hover over a portable table. I soon as you look back over you locked eyes on one of the guards.

“Doc She's up. We should report to the boss!” He snapped at the man. It was something in his demeanor that caught your attention. He was nervous. But Why? The doctor turns around with a metal round wand. He ran it over your body and processed to read the scan. The guards retorted again but the doctor already had his back to you guys.

Stay still Y/N! Something with a low cracking voice called out. You turn your head to see that the doctor spun around with a ----. He wastes no time pulling the trigger. Spountiously the two guards were out cold one the ground.

“What the hell!!?” You questioned in shock. The Doctor was hovering over you by now. You waiting for the same fate as the others but that was not the case.

“You need to listen. You have to get out of here in the least than five minutes that is when I will pull the alarm and Alert hydra.” You open your mouth to speak but was quickly cut off by the Doctor's com going off.

“Report!” The man in the mask barked out. Quickly the Doctor was over to the radio.

“We are in the med lab now. She will be ready to continue in forty-five minutes.” He was quick to change his voice into the smooth, everything is ok kind. There was a long pause before the cracking broke.

“Then I will see you there.” He sounded please as he responded.

The Doctor grabbed a small metal suitcase before he continues back to you.

“Like I was saying, You will have five minutes to get to the cliff in the south.” The metal bars snapped open and you were free to move. You sat up as you listen on. “That is where the others with pick up.” He handed you the suitcase, a map, and a watch. You took it with ease and started for the door before you were stopped again by his bone like finger grabbing your arm.

“There is something else. You must take the last vile. If not the surem will not complete the process causing your cell to attack each other. You have to take the serum within the next five minutes as well.” He then shoved you, weaky, into a company van.

“Who are you?” You finally croaked out.

“Nobody. Just tell Rogers he owes me one. Now go!” He limped away.

You stepped on it and heading down a path that you hope led to the cliff. You slung into a clearing that was way to close to the edge. As you stepped out of the vehicle the watch in the passenger sit went off. You debated on what kind of monster you would be? But at the first pulse of your heart, you couldn't risk that thought process. You slammed the needle that held pink fluid in it and prayed for the best. As you sat on the ground waiting for your fate the serum kicked in and you felt as though you were floating in the air.

You close your eyes just in time to hear and feel the jets of a hovercraft approaching. You didn't bother to get up as someone was already approaching you.

“Y/N?” The voice sounded so very far away. And then you were out. You could feel the changes being made in your body and you honestly couldn't tell if it was a numbing or hurtful feeling that was taking place. But one thing was clear, in the mist of all the change you could see Steve sitting in his coffee shop. His large hands around a white coffee cup. He brought it to his lips and took a sip. His eyes were on you the whole entire time. It was a soothing stare as he continues to peacefully sip on his drink. If you were dead and this was you were meant to be then it wasn't going to be so bad.

But a red flame began to glow in the corner of your thoughts. It whispered out your name until you moved towards it.

There is still one more, They are lurking as we speak! Poisoning they are! You must go back! You were so surprised by the flame talking to you that it took a minute before the news started sinking in. Where are they? How do I get back?” You called out to the flame that bounced around.

Touch the flame! You hand shot up instantly and soon you found yourself in the Avenger med bay. You shot out of bed and to the window.

“Where are they?” You asked the wind. It rushed in and you felt warm with it's happiness to see you. You pulled a pair of pants on and bolted out the door.

And I have to leave it at that. I'm also trying to figure out how to set up a master page and all that stuffies

Thanks for reading and being patient.

I'm also working on a book of my own and bouncing between this and that.

LaTeR KiTtEns

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stydiasecretsanta · 6 years

Text

AND IF WE DID IT FOR LOVE, WE DIDN’T DO IT ENOUGH

merry christmas @slowburnotptrash!! ♡ ♡

ship: stiles/lydia overall rating: slightly nsfw word count: 3071 summary: a series of snapshots. post 5B - pre 6A

‘“The dread doctors are dead, Lydia–”

“I know.”

“–and we are closer to graduation than ever.”

“I know, Stiles.”

“And we are celebrating!”’

She saved him. Allison saved his life.

—————————————————————————————————-

Lydia Martin glanced up at the clock, feeling like a character in High School Musical as she willed the hands to move faster.

Not that she watched High School Musical of course.

Stiles Stilinski was bouncing his leg to her side. It was something she found irritating. Now, she felt an odd fondness for the agitated movement.

“Come on,” he muttered, staring at the clock just as she had been.

Another five minutes and it was winter break. Semester one of senior year finished. They had survived.

Lydia forced her attention back to their teacher’s droning voice. He was talking about something she had already revised herself, and so it was hard to focus. Soon enough the bell rang and every student leapt out of their seat.

“We did it!” Stiles cried out, slinging an arm around her shoulder playfully as they walked towards the exit.

Lydia ignored the way her heartbeat quickened.

“The dread doctors are dead, Lydia–”

“I know.”

“–and we are closer to graduation than ever.”

“I know, Stiles.”

“And we are celebrating!”

Lydia ducked her head, hiding the smile that shaped her lips. She let herself face Stiles again, awarding him with an exaggerated eye roll.

“Stiles, you really don’t need to reiterate this to me,” she told him, eyebrow arched almost flirtatiously.

He removed his arm from her shoulder to flail both arms about. “I’m excited, Lydia.”

“Okay, okay,” she conceded, reluctantly thinking it was awfully cute. “I’ll be at yours in an hour or so.

“With food?”

“With food.”

A few days earlier Stiles has texted the entire pack, inviting them for an end of semester gathering at he and the Sheriff’s house with an absurd amount to exclamation marks and we deserve this clichés. Lydia could admit they were in desperate need of a little relaxation and something to distract them from the wariness of constant threats.

Like she had told Stiles, within an hour she had changed into something a little more comfortable and arrived at the Stilinski abode bearing Chinese takeout.

Scott was the only other member of the pack already there, and Lydia hugged him for slightly too long. She still remembered running through those tunnels, feeling the scream tied to his death building in her throat.

Stiles was as wired as ever, boundless energy practically oozing out of him.

“Oh, Lydia, you angel,” he crooned, grabbing the takeout from her smooth hands. If his fingers brushed hers in a decidedly pleasant way, she didn’t notice.

She made her way to the kitchen with Stiles, greeting the Sheriff with a genuine smile as she passed him in the lounge.

The doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it!” Stiles shouted, dashing out of the kitchen as his father made his way in.

“Lydia,” he said simply, nodding at her in that calming way of his.

“Good evening, Sheriff,” she replied. “Sorry to invade your house.”

“Oh, don’t apologise,” he said, waving his hand airily. “I’m happy he’s keeping himself occupied.”

Lydia nodded. “So am I,” she said, but it was barely audible. Too often was Stiles in the middle of danger, armed with nothing but a sense of determination and his wit.

If you die….

“I know it’s not easy,” the Sheriff spoke again, pulling Lydia from her morbid train of thought. “What you guys have to deal with…but I trust you all to keep him safe.”

Lydia averted her eyes, feeling a sudden surge of emotion. “We try, Sheriff,” she told him, eyes watery. God, did she try.

“Thank you,” he replied sincerely, intently inspecting the linoleum floor before looking back up at her. “He does the same for you. Especially you.”

Lydia’s heart pounded, brain whirring at a mile a minute. Especially you.

“Sheriff, wha–?”

“Lydia!” a high female voice called, prompting Lydia to turn around and spot Malia standing at the kitchen entrance. “Stiles said you didn’t get me any sweet and sour pork, care to explain yourself?”

Lydia smirked and handed the girl a takeout box labelled M. “He’s winding you up.”

“I swear to god…”

——————————————————————————————————–

“Lydia.”

It was soft, the voice in her ear and the nudge at her shoulder.

“Lydia.”

She wasn’t frightened. How could she be when she had heard so many soft voices in the night? She wondered which death this signified, numb to the sensation of dread after the past few years.

“Lydia!”

Her eyes snapped open.

Oh…not a banshee premonition then, Lydia thought as she inspected Stiles’ bony face, illuminated by the bright moon. He was leaning over her, hand warming the skin on her shoulder through her pyjama shirt.

Oh.

“Stiles,” she mumbled, voice barely a sleepy whisper. “What is it?”

He was looking at his hand, thumb situated just over her clavicle. Lydia could swear she saw his eyes flicker downward for a moment, something that ignited a fire deep in her stomach.

“Stiles?”

His eyes refocused on her face, head shaking slightly as though chasing out a dream. “I think something is happening.”

“What do you mean?”

“I heard something on the police radio but I can’t quite remember what it said. Have you had any banshee feelings recently?”

Lydia closed her eyes as she tried to remember if she had felt the familiar sensation of a broken scream crawling up her throat, or heard an unsettling whisper that she couldn’t quite make out.

“No, I haven’t felt anything,” she answered sincerely. “Is this something we need to be worried about?”

Stiles sighed. “I’m unsure. I think the officer said something about the Eastern part of the woods, I’m going to check it out.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“Lydia, no,” Stiles said softly, gently pushing her shoulder down as she tried to rise up. “It’s freezing outside.”

Lydia scoffed. “I can handle it. Let’s go.”

Within ten minutes the jeep was pulling out of her driveway, Lydia was rugged up in her trusted green peacoat and was comforted as Stiles blasted the heater. They drove as far into the woods as possible before Stiles quieted the engine and surveyed their surroundings.

“I think this is it,” he said before opening his door and climbing out.

“What exactly are we looking for?” Lydia asked as she joined his side. She had a surprisingly strong urge to hold his hand.

“Not sure. Now that you’re here I guess we can walk around and see if you feel anything.”

“Okay.”

They walked in silence for a while, occasionally splitting a few feet apart to inspect various points of interest.

Lydia thought it was kind of nice, the way they fell so easily into comfortable routine with each other. There was no one she would trust more to explore the woods in the dead of night with.

Stiles was just out of sight when she felt it, that familiar dread. The scream started to claw at Lydia’s throat but she pushed it aside, helplessly following the beckoning voices that pulled her deeper into the forest. She saw the tattered jacket from a distance and terror twisted in her stomach.

Something happened here.

She could hear something faint in the background but it failed to pull her attention away from the bright blue cotton. They took me, Lydia heard, one of the voices standing out more than the others.

The noise behind her was getting louder but she just couldn’t focus.

They took me, the disembodied voice called, frantic. Don’t forget.

“I won’t forget,” she whispered, tears pricking at her eyes in response to the voice’s distress. She reached out, the jacket only inches from her fingertips.

“Lydia!”

It was all she heard before something was wrenching her shoulder around, pulling her until she lost her balance.

She landed on the ground with a hard thud, only having a moment to adjust before something else crashed down on top of her.

“Jesus Christ,” she heard, and this time the voice was almost tangible, an exclamation fired out just near her ear.

Just like that Lydia was broken out of the haze.

Stiles was above her, elbows bracketing her head and legs tangled around hers. He was breathing harshly, like he had just been running. Lydia looked at his bowed head, almost touching her shoulder.

What the hell?

“Stiles?” was all she could ask, brain otherwise focussed on chasing the thick cloud that was previously occupying it. I had been doing something…what was it?

Stiles seemed to collect himself and lifted his head. “What the fuck just happened?” he asked, tone laced with a million different emotions.

“What do you mean?”

“What do I mean?” he repeated dumbly. “You just walked off into the woods without telling me! When I finally found you I called out multiple times but you wouldn’t stop walking. I caught up to you just in time to save you from walking headfirst into that tree!”

Lydia blinked slowly and turned her head to get a look at the large tree they were only a foot away from. Ouch, she thought, why was I walking towards that tree?

She turned back to Stiles. He looked…scared, she had scared him.

“I must’ve felt something,” she said, unsure whether it was true. “I’m sorry if I freaked you out.”

Stiles exhaled sharply. “You did freak me out,” he told her frankly. “What did you feel?”

Lydia searched her brain for a moment. “…I can’t remember.”

Stiles’ eyebrows furrowed deeply, concern and confusion evident. “How could you forge–?”

“Stiles, I’m fine.”

He met her with silence as he regarded her, honey brown eyes searching her green ones intently.

“Stiles,” Lydia repeated, softer this time. More…intimate. “Really, I’m fine.”

Stiles released a shaky breath, face seemingly closer than before. “You scared me,” he whispered, placing a trembling hand on her cheek.

“I know,” she replied, voice equally low, hand autonomously rising up to rest on his hip. “I’m sorry.”

He was so close she could faintly smell him, it was sweet and boyish and heated up the apex between her thighs.

“I’m sorry,” Lydia whispered again as he lowered his head, eyes darting around, regarding her with that look she seen so many times. Well, the look she used to see.

Stiles’ warm breath met hers and Lydia noticed how uncharacteristically still he was, how focused.

He’s going to kiss me, she thought to herself, warmth spreading from her stomach outwards. Please, please, kiss me.

“Lydia–”

The harsh sound of a phone ring reverberated between the trees and the pair froze. Stiles put all of his weight on one arm, using the other to pull his phone out of his pocket.

“Hey, Scott…”

Lydia swallowed back a groan. Good lord, girl, she thought to herself, calm down.

She half focussed on the phone conversation, half on Stiles’ tracheal muscles bobbing as he spoke.

He hung up the phone after a minute or so and returned his gaze to her face. “Lydia, I’m sorry I–”

Lydia cut him off. “It’s okay,” she said, patting his shoulder in an attempt to get him to move off of her. “What does Scott want?”

As Stiles reiterated the phone call to her, Lydia thought that maybe it was for the best. She had no business getting romantically entangled with a member of the pack, not when they could be ripped away so easily.

Allison.

She could continue ignoring her ever-growing feelings for that boy, that wonderful intoxicating boy.

They set off after a few minutes. Almost-kiss forgotten.

———————————————————————————————————

“Popcorn, please.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Stiles passed her the plastic bowl, eyes never straying from the Battle of the Pelennor Fields. Their Lord of the Rings marathon had begun at midday, and was drawing to a close.

Lydia was comfortably situated beside Stiles, noting that they has started the day at opposite ends of the couch. She thought Stiles was positively adorable, the way he stayed enraptured by the scenes on the screen despite seeing the movies at least five times before.

His mouth stayed wide, eyes fixated on the flashing colours and roaring orcs.

Lydia moved just a little closer, feeling emboldened by the darkness of the room. It had been a week since the incident in the forest, and she had trouble erasing the image of Stiles’ sharp features inches away from hers.

She was in deeper than she thought.

“Come on, Aragorn!” Stiles suddenly exclaimed, wrenching Lydia out of her reverie.

“Stiles,” she said, placing a delicate hand on his shoulder and rubbing back and forth. “Shouting at the screen won’t change what happens.”

He whipped his skinny neck around to face her, eyes narrowed. “That’s what you think.”

Lydia stifled a laugh, looking at his lips for a moment before returning her gaze to the screen.

She was finding it increasingly hard not to pursue something romantic with Stiles, now that they were become closer friends. If it was any other boy she would’ve tried her usual tricks; turned her charm up to eleven, bent over a little in one of her tight skirts and bam!

They would be at her feet.

Stiles was different though, she knew that deep inside with frightening certainty. She couldn’t approach this like everything else in her life.

She scooted closer to him. He was something else.

Stiles absentmindedly relaxed his body so Lydia could slot in like a puzzle piece. She could hear his quick heartbeat through his shirt, ear against his chest.

God, Lydia thought to herself as she let her legs fall across his lap, I’m fucked.

———————————————————————————————————-

The harsh red lights of the alarm clock next to her bed irritated her eyes.

02:04, it read.

Lydia was beyond tired, eyelids blinking more frequently than normal in an attempt to remedy the dryness.

She needed sleep.

Her phone screen lit up beside her with a Facebook tag notification from Stiles. Behind that was the default phone screen, loud speaker button lit up, phone call run time reading three hours, sixteen minute, and forty-three seconds. Sleep could wait.

It was probably the longest phone call of her life, if she remembered correctly. Which she always did.

Stiles had called her a little before eleven at night, asking about something innocuous. The conversation then shifted to a discussion about supernatural points of interest, then to a fairly deep and intimate chat, and now Stiles was apparently tagging her in Facebook memes.

Lydia clicked on the notification.

“Funny,” she said dryly, running a hand through her tangled locks.

“I thought it was pretty good,” Stiles replied honestly, not seeming offended by her less than enthusiastic reaction.

There was a long pause as Lydia stared at the ceiling, suddenly emotional.

“Are you okay?”

I love you, she thought, hot tears filling her eyes, I love you, I love you, I love you.

She swallowed her shaky voice, waiting a moment before answering. “Yeah, I’m fine. How are you feeling about going to college away from Beacon Hills?”

As Stiles began a longwinded answer to her question, Lydia’s lips quirked upwards. The sound of his voice soothed her.

When Malia unceremoniously asked why she looked so tired the next day, Lydia lied, choosing to keep her realisation a secret.

She smiled secretly at the sight of Stiles’ matching bags.

———————————————————————————————————-

23:34, Lydia’s alarm clock read.

The night before the first day of second semester. Senior year.

So far their break had been merciful, no supernatural happenings, no enemies lurking in the shadows. They were all safe.

Lydia was physically tired as she lay in bed, but her mind wandered, flitting through images of the past month.

She and Stiles had grown closer than ever, which was something awfully frightening to her. As strong as her feelings for him became, the more she was sure Stiles would never love her the way he used to. Unrequited love was as painful as she imagined, yet she couldn’t bear to bring herself out of his orbit.

So Lydia stayed in limbo, acting liking everything was the same.

One day, she thought to herself, absentmindedly thumbing the scar on her throat. One day I’ll tell him.

She let her eyelids fall shut.

“Lydia.”

Her eyes flashed open, knowing his voice with a new certainty. “Stiles.”

He was above her again, eyes frantically searching hers.

Lydia turned her head to the side. 00:04.

“I must’ve drifted off,” she needlessly told him, voice raspy. “What’s going on?”

He didn’t say anything, only raking his eyes over her face and bare clavicle repeatedly. There was that lookagain.

Lydia shivered under his wordless observation, feeling that familiar magnetic pull towards him. God, he’s beautiful…he’s everything I’ve ever wanted.

She slowly raised a hand, letting it settle over his prominent cheekbone, thumb catching on the soft skin under his eye.

“Stiles,” was all she could say, helpless against the intensity of his presence. He pitched forward.

“Lydia, I–”

He cut himself off as his head fell into the crook of her neck. Lydia exhaled sharply, body suddenly alight. She could swear she felt the rough texture of his lips against her skin.

Unwilling to end this haze of slow, sleepy indulgence, Lydia didn’t say anything else. All she could do was wrap her arms around Stiles’ broad back, pulling him even further into her space and delighting in his earthy scent.

He reciprocated, lifting her up slightly to get his arms beneath her tiny waist. They stayed in that embrace for a few moments, simply breathing together.

Lydia didn’t think she’d ever felt so close to another human being.

The words she had been holding down for a few weeks now were threatening to bubble over.

Thankfully, Stiles extricated himself from her hold, leaning on an elbow next to her instead.

“There’s something going on,” he told her, expression full of dread and sorrow and everything terrible wrapped together. “I can feel it.”

Lydia’s stomach dropped. Here we go again.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, a kid was brought into the station…parents were taken by something on a horse.”

Lydia sighed. “What do you need me to do?”

“I know where their car is,” Stiles told her, running a few strands of hair through his fingers. “I need you to see if you feel anything.”

“Okay.”

Stiles’ rubbed his hands over his face. “I’m sorry.”

Lydia smiled sadly. “It’s okay,” she told him sincerely. “Let’s go.”

Her feelings could wait.

——————————————————————————————————–

Remember, I love you.

#stydia #stydia secret santa #stydiaedit #stydia fanfiction #slowburnotptrash #edits #edit #graphic #graphics #gifts #presents 2017

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