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pappydaddy · 3 years

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Mashed Potatoes and Joel Hoekstra (b.h.)

A/N: This is for the lovely anon who wanted a Billy x Byers!Reader. I was so excited to write this one, I loved this request (I am loving ALL requests, but I’ve been loving these Billy ones lately!). Definitely very fun to write this one so thank you so much for requesting doll! Hope you love it lovely anon💛!

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Fem!Byers!Reader

Show/Movie: Stranger Things

Requested

Warnings: Mean people, bullying, prejudice, the shits of the teenage years, but fluff in the end!

Remember guys! Your family name does not define you or someone else! It’s who they are that defines them, it’s who you are that defines you. It’s how you act, how you treat people, etc. Just like you don’t judge a book by it’s cover, you don’t judge a person by their name. If anyone tries to put you in a box simply because of a prejudice with your name, ignore them. I know it’s hard, I know - trust me, but they really don’t deserve your time. And if you feel trapped in a box because of your name, just know that you can break free from that box. My DMs are ALWAYS open if you lovelies need to talk💛!

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“Billy,” Y/N’s soft voice broke the tranquil silence that had settled over the room. Her finger that had been tracing random shapes on his chest stopped moving, her eyes flicking around the darkroom as she waited for him to respond in some way. She knew he wasn’t asleep by the lack of snores lowly rumbling in his chest (which she also laid her head upon) and his breathing pattern. He hummed, the sound reverberating in his chest, his hand still stroking up and down along the dip in her back where her spine was. “We’ve been dating for a few months now-”

“Six months.” He interjected, pressing a warm kiss to the top of her head.

“Right, yeah, we’ve been dating for six months,” She nodded, her already tangled hair tangling a bit more. Her voice was nervous, not knowing how he would react to her bringing this up. “And I was just thinking that maybe it would be time for you to meet my family,” She asked, her voice pitching up towards the end. “Maybe. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but it’s just everyone else I’ve dated has met them by now, but then again, everyone else I’ve ever dated left a few weeks after meeting them so-”

“You’re rambling again, Bug.” Billy cut her off gently, knowing that she rambled and rants when she’s nervous and scared. Her cheeks heated up, burning as she settled back down to cuddle into Billy’s bare chest.

“Sorry.” She whispered.

Billy pressed another kiss to her hair, knowing that her ex’s all harped on her about her nervous rambles, making her snap her mouth shut and sink into herself. “Nothing to be sorry for, Bug, you’re nervous.” He reassured her.

She took a deep breath, calming herself as Billy gave her the silent support she needed. “Back on track,” She nodded her tone calm once again. “I still think you should meet my family because they are really important to me and you’re really important to me and I just really would like it if you guys got along,” She expressed nervously. The room was silent as she waited impatiently for his response, her breath was hitched, her mind automatically assuming that he was going to leave her right here, right now because he didn’t want to meet her family or worse, not feel the same about her. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to; if you’re not there in the relationship, that’s fine, we can take a few steps back if you’d like-” She started to shrink away from him, her mind panicking as it continued to imagine him leaving her like the rest - like her father.

“No-” Billy interjected softly, gently pulling her back to be flush against him. “I’ll meet your family only if you get some sleep, it’s late and you’re exhausted. He bargained, suddenly feeling nervous and wanting her to go to sleep for her sake and his.

“Okay, deal.” She yawned, closing her eyes, snuggling her cheek farther into his chest, listening to the beating of his heart. Billy squeezed his eyes closed as he tried to control his heartbeat so he didn’t alert her to his sudden nervousness.

____

The next day was relaxed other than Billy’s increasing nervousness. He loved Y/N, he was at that place in the relationship where the only logical step would be to meet each other’s family, but he couldn’t help but feel a sense of doom. For one, meeting her family meant she would have to meet his family and he wanted to keep her as far away from Neil as possible. Secondly, the Byers family had a certain reputation around Hawkins High and Middle and Billy had heard all about it from his friends. Of course, he was stand-off-ish of Y/N before they started dating because of this reputation, but everything turned out fine with her so why wouldn’t her family be the same?

“What’s got you so quiet, Hargrove?” Tommy asked aggressively as they mulled around the locker room, changing after gym class. Billy jolted out of his thoughts as he just stood, staring into his locker. Looking back at Tommy, he blinked at him for a second before comprehending what his question was.

“Uh, nothing,” Billy shook his head, grabbing his shirt from his locker, slipping it on. “It’s just that Y/N invited me over to meet her family.” He had no idea why he was confessing this to Tommy and his other friends of all people, knowing how they feel about Y/N and the rest of her family. The words had tumbled out before he could even think about stopping them.

“Woah,” Tommy exclaimed, laughing as he pretended to back away from Billy as if he were carrying some sort of contagious disease. “Boys! Say good-bye to the Billy we all know because soon, he’s gonna be infected by the Weird-os.” His statement earned a chorus of laughs from the boys huddled around.

“Buzz off Tommy, they can’t be that bad. I mean, Y/N is great!” Billy said mostly to himself, closing his locker.

“Sure, she’s the most normal one,” Tommy shrugged. “But the rest of them man,” He shook his head as if telling some old wise tale. “They are complete basket cases. Completely messed in the head. Look at Jonathan for an example,” Tommy paused, walking over to Billy and slinging his arm over his shoulder. “Nobody talks to him, he sits in the back of the classes or in that stupid dark room, playing with his stupid little camera.”

“Y/N says that he’s quiet and works most of the time so he doesn’t have much time to hang out and the time he does have, he chooses to practice photography.” Billy pointed out, pushing Tommy’s arm off him. Tommy remained unfazed, leaning against the lockers as he continued.

“Alright, if not Jonathan, then the younger one,” He paused, using his hands to set the scene. “He died, okay? Died and came back to life like in one of his freaky little movies he and his dork friends watch,” Billy glared at him, knowing full well that Max was one of his friends. “Much like his brother, he just sits there and colours and colours and colours. He’s in middle school and still colours like a pre-schooler.”

“He’s pretty talented, I’ve seen some of his pictures in the car when Y/N has it.”

“Now, let’s talk about the mother. She works at a general store, she dated that geek from Radio Shack, her husband left her, she had a meltdown in the middle of the street, she bought all the fucking lights in Hawkins because she thought her dead son was talking to her through them,” He paused. Billy opened his mouth to defend Joyce, but Tommy cut him off. “They are weird, Hargrove. They are completely nuts and you better prepare to be just as nuts because I am pretty sure it’s contagious.”

“Just look at Harrington and Wheeler,” Another guy piped up, making Billy look towards him. “They started to hang around with the Byers and look at them, they turned just as crazy. Constantly looking over their shoulders, Harrington only hangs around kids now, always having hushed conversations with them and Wheeler only talks to Jonathan now.”

“That’s not-”

‘That’s not the same,” Tommy cut Billy off with a question. “It is exactly the same. Meeting the Byers is like the kiss of death. Kills your social life and makes you crazy-”

“Billy,” Y/N’s voice called into the locker room from the door she held slightly open. “Are you in here, we should really be getting to lunch, I’m starving!”

“Yeah, be out in a second!” He called to her, the door softly closing in response. He nervously looked at the door as Tommy clicked his tongue.

“It’s your choice, Hargrove, it’s your grave you’re digging.” Billy glared at him, shrugging on his jean jacket and leaving the locker room. His eyes met Y/N easily, seeing her talking to Steve excitedly. Though Billy still didn’t like Steve, he didn’t have the mental or emotional capacity at that given time to deal with his fluffy-haired nemesis, too busy fretting about what to do about meeting Y/N’s family.

“There you are, I was worried that you accidentally slammed your head in the locker or something,” She joked, not realizing that Billy was actually considering it. He didn’t want to make her think that he wasn’t ready to take the next step in the relationship, but I also was scared now. As much as he wanted to admit that he didn’t trust Tommy H and all the other guys, he really did want to say that he let their warnings roll off his back, but he couldn’t. “Come on, I want to eat, see you, Steve!” She grabbed Billy’s hand, pulling him out of the gym and into the halls.

“What were you talking to Harrington about?” He asked, hoping that it was completely unrelated to her having him over for dinner.

“About you meeting my family,” She chirped happily. Billy wanted to deflate right there. Of course it had to be about that. It couldn’t have been about anything else. Anything to take his mind off something so anxiety inducing. “He thinks it’s a great idea! He said that you would love my family and I really hope he’s right.”

“I really hope so too-” He muttered under his breath.

“What was that?” She asked, her brows furrowing as she leaned in closer.

“Nothing, Bug.” He told her, hoping she would buy it. She pulled a face, shrugging before regaining her giddy mood.

“Must have just been hearing things,” She chalked it up. “Anyway, I was thinking that you should come round to my place at seven? My mom is off today so she’s been prepping for this since nine this morning!”

“Yeah, about that,” Billy spoke slowly, dreading what he was about to do. He really didn’t want to do it, but he needed to buy himself sometime so he could figure out his next move. Find a way to keep Y/N while not having to meet her family. “I’m feeling a little sick to my stomach, Bug. I don’t know if I’m going to be able to go tonight.”

“Oh no,” She gasped, her hand squeezing his affectionately as she stopped in the hallway. “You might have overdone it in gym today, especially when I accidentally kicked that soccer ball right into your stomach, sorry about that by the way.”

“No, it wasn’t that, but you do have one hell of a kick on you,” He shook his head, not wanting her to blame herself. “I just think I’m coming down with something and I really don’t want to infect your family.” He lied through his teeth.

She awed, her hand coming up to cup his cheek sweetly. “That’s so sweet,” She cooed. Her hand slid from his face as disappointment flashed across her face, but it was gone as soon as it came, or at least she tried to fake it. Billy could see the disappointment she tried to bury, his heart pulling at the sight of it, knowing that he was the one who caused it. “It’s alright, I want you to worry about your health first. I’ll just go call my mom and tell her that there was a change of plans-” She paused, looking for a quarter as she tried to ignore the worry bubbling up once again. “Could I borrow a quarter? I think I spent mine calling her earlier to check up.” She asked, extending her flat palm, waiting for him to drop a quarter in it.

Billy tucked his bottom lip between his teeth. He could tell she was thinking that he was trying to avoid meeting her family because he just didn’t want to. While there was some truth to that, he couldn’t let her feel like he was pulling away from her. “You know what,” He pushed her hand back down to her side. “I’m going to go to the nurse and see if she can help me. I’ll see you before next period and update you, Bug.” He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before running off down the hall.

“Okay-” She breathed out, shocked. She watched him run past Tommy and his gaggle of idiots, the group watching him run - laughing.

“Oh, the crazy is already starting to rub off on you, Hargrove!” Tommy yelled, but Billy either ignored it or didn’t hear it. Y/N eyed Tommy oddly before eyeing Billy’s retreating form.

____

The fact that Billy stood at the front door of the Byers’ house was a miracle in itself, considering how many times Billy considered swerving hard right into a tree in order to escape this night, but he pushed forward, knowing that Y/N was worth it. He tightened his grip on the bouquet of flowers, the thorns digging into his hand making him wince. Groaning, he switched holds, shaking his stinging hand out. He felt constricted in his clean cut clothes, his button-up buttoned more than usual, only the first two buttons being undone. The slacks itched his legs and made him feel like he was heading to a Sunday service.

Taking a deep breath, he raised his close fist, hitting his knuckles against the door twice in rapid succession. He could hear a scuffle from behind the door and Y/N’s distinctive voice pleading with her mother to let her answer it. The door was jerked open, revealing a breathless woman and a blushing Y/N standing in the back looking defeated. “You must be Y/N’s sister.” Billy used his normal line that worked wonders on mothers, but he was so off his game that he sounded a bit nervous, spitting the line out a few moments too late. The woman didn’t seem to mind, taking the compliment easily.

“Oh, stop it,” She flicked her hand, a wide smile nearly breaking her face as she laughed. “You must be Billy,” She continued to giggle, the laughter making her look youthful. If Billy hadn’t known that she had two teenagers and a pre-teen, then Billy would have thought she was much younger. “I’m Joyce, come on in, you must be cold,” She ushered him in hurriedly, her hand guiding him into the warm, cozy house as it rested on his upper back. “Standing out there in only a shirt in this fall weather.” She shook her head, closing the door behind him.

“Mom-” Y/N whined, embarrassed by her mother’s fussing. Joyce gave her a look, silencing the whine.

“You stop that and get this poor boy a drink,” Joyce insisted, leading Billy over to one of the couches. With a small groan in protest, Y/N ducked into the kitchen and out of Billy’s sight, sending him right on edge again. He sat on the couch, his clammy hands running over his slacks as his eyes watched Joyce. She was fairly gentle and normal looking for someone everyone called insane. “Will, go grab Jonathan from the shed, supper is going to be in a few minutes.” Joyce told the small looking boy who worked at setting the table for five, a mismatched chair added to the four that looked like they normally surround the table.

“You have a lovely home Ms. Byers, thank you for having me.” He extended the pleasantry, seeing Y/N coming into the room with a glass of water.

“Please, call me Joyce,” She told him, waving him off once again. “And it’s no problem, Hunny. We’re glad to have you. You’re welcome anytime!” She reassured him, thinking that his nerves were from the donating task of meeting the family for the first time.

“Will do.” Billy nodded, gulping down his water. Y/N sat next to him on the couch, her hand naturally falling to his knee. Though his nerves lifted with each passing second he spends with them, he couldn’t seem to get Tommy’s warnings out of his head.

“You know, my mom was so excited for you to get here, she side-checked me out of the way to get the door,” Y/N told him, giggling. That seemed normal enough, they all seemed to have a good relationship with each other. It was more functional than his family and they were deemed normal. “And I definitely think you made her entire night with your comment.”

“Kids, dinner is ready,” Joyce called from the kitchen. Y/N patted Billy’s leg, standing up. Billy swallowed thickly, feeling like he was walking to his death as he neared the table filled with loads of dishes full of a beautiful home-cooked meal. “Billy, dear, you’re the guest so you can sit here,” Joyce patted the chair at the head of the table, before pointing to the chair next to it that sat between the wall and the table. “Y/N, you sit there.” She instructed her daughter.

“So, Billy,” Will spoke up, taking his place beside Y/N, looking directly at the blonde as he scooted his chair in. “Max tells me you like rock music. What’s your favourite band?” He posed the question, grabbing the pitcher of water and filling his glass up.

“Uh- I’ve been listening to a lot of Whitesnake lately, but I would say the Scorpions are my favourite band I guess.” Billy answered him, his hands nervously hovering over his plate, not sure what he should be doing.

“That’s cool, I like The Clash the most personally, but I like watching the Whitesnake videos, their hair is really cool-” Will nodded, accepting Billy’s answer.

“And where have you been watching Whitesnake videos, young man?“ Joyce perked in eyebrow at the youngest, making him shrink back slightly, but Billy could tell it was all playful banter.

“At Dustin’s.” He admitted, making Y/N laugh and nod as if it were to suspected.

“That was probably Steve’s doing, no doubt.” Y/N pointed out, filling up her own water before filling Billy’s glass automatically.

“Yeah, it was Steve, he turned MTV on while he was watching us play D&D,” Will perked up at the mention of Steve. Looking right at Billy, he excitedly spoke. “I drew Joel Hoekstra a few months ago, but I made fire shoot out the end of the neck of his guitar. It’s insanely cool.”

“Billy, you haven’t gotten any food yet! Go on, you get some first.” Joyce noticed, holding a bowl of mashed potatoes to him. He looked at the bowl of potatoes, perfectly whipped. To anyone else at the table, it was just a bowl of starch and butter, but to Billy, it was the sign that they weren’t crazy. They were just not fitting into the box that everyone says you have to fit in. Looking at the bowl, he felt every bit of nervousness and apprehensiveness leave his body. Smiling, he gently took the bowl, scooping some out onto his plate, causing everyone to start putting food on their plates.

“Hey, Will,” Billy spoke up, causing everyone to look at him nervously. Jonathan eyed him, not trusting him yet. “Maybe after dinner, you could show me that drawing? Joel Hoekstra is my favourite member of Whitesnake.” He suggested, causing the boy to light up. Y/N smiled gently, her hand laying over Billy’s gratefully. Who knew that some mashed potatoes and Joel Hoekstra was all it took to see the Byers for who they were.

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moonlit-jeno · 4 years

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secrets | n.jm

genre/ warnings: vampire au, explicit sexual content, angst, way too much blood/ blood drinking, b i t i n g, character death (kind of), references to drugs, religion

word count: 9.5k

summary:

“I’m not scared.”

“No?” The sharp points of his fangs graze your skin and you swallow down your whimper, head falling back against the wall. You’re not scared of what Jaemin could do to you.

You’re scared of what you want him to do to you.

notes: big thanks to @jaemallow for pushing the jaemin agenda and helping to keep me sane

“Come on, we’re going to be late.” Mark grumbles at you, throwing an agitated glance over his shoulder. You roll your eyes and slow down even more just to spite him. “Dude, my dad’s going to kill me.” “He’ll be fine. Murder’s against the word of God, y’know.” You speed up despite your words, laughing at the way Mark glares at you.

There’s a crack in the sidewalk that he trips over and you laugh good naturedly. The street leading up to the church is in less than optimal shape, littered with cracks in the sidewalk and missing chunks of cement. Mark’s dad had tried to raise money to fix the street, but it hasn’t happened yet.

Mark starts walking slower all of a sudden and you grumble, glaring at him when he grabs your wrist to yank you backwards. You’re about to ask what his problem is when you see the three figures at the end of the road, moving closer towards you two.

“You’re kidding me.” They hear it, they must, with their superhuman senses. It only makes them smile brighter. You glance at Mark. “Wanna turn around?”

“Too late.” Mark breathes, staring straight ahead of him with wide eyes. You look away from him to find the three vampires standing directly in front of you, blocking your way.

A groan leaves you and you cross your arms, raising your eyebrows expectantly. “Can we help you?”

The ringleader of the bunch, Jaemin, smiles. “Well, since you’re offering, I suppose I am feeling a little hungry.”

The church is only one block down but if they don’t want to let you pass, you’re not going to get there. Mark shifts nervously next to you, shaking his head when you open your mouth to make a remark. That doesn’t stop you from saying it. “You realize that just because you’re from the 1200’s doesn’t mean that you have to talk like you’re from the 1200’s.”

“I resent that.” Jaemin frowns, clutching his hands to his chest likes he’s been stabbed. “I was born in 1706. It’s almost like you don’t care about me at all.”

“Is it? Must be because I don’t.” The other two vampires are silent, though one of them- Jeno- watches with amusement. The other one is unfamiliar and looks like he’s trying to figure out to pair you with white or red wine. You shudder and turn your attention to Jeno. “Nice cross. I thought shit like that burned your skin? You know, because you’re a demon and all that.”

Jeno’s eyes smile with him and it’s hard to remember that he’s a monster. He brushes his thumb against the small mark under his eye, shrugging. “Nah, only the blessed ones. Or, y’know, the silver ones. But this one? I just wanted to piss off the church daddy who told me that I deserved to rot in worse places than the sewer.“

You snort before you can stop yourself. “Church daddy?”

He waves a dismissive hand. “Church daddy, father, same thing.” A pause. “Hey, Mark, isn’t that your dad?”

Mark avoids eye contact and nods. “Yeah, but I like, I don’t like, speak for him, y’know?” He laughs nervously.

“You don’t have to.” That’s the one you don’t recognize, glaring at Mark. “We can tell it’s what you’re thinking. You don’t even have the decency to look at us?”

“And who are you? Their vampire bitch or something?” You snap to Mark’s defense, not wanting the vampires to prey on Mark’s nerves.

The boy lunges like he’s going to attack you but Jeno grabs him by the neck. Jaemin laughs. “Careful princess, that hits a little too close to home for our little Renjun over here.” To clarify, he leans a little closer and lowers his voice. Not like it matters, the other two can hear him just fine. “Jeno got carried away while feeding the other day and turned him.”

Your eyes widen in surprise and this time you don’t have a witty comeback. Vampires are monsters, yes, but they have laws. And it is very, very illegal to turn a human. “That’s-”

“Against the law?” Jeno finishes. “Yeah. It was an accident though, plus he’s from out of town! So I can’t technically get in trouble.”

“Technically.” You mock, rolling your eyes. “Whatever, we’ve got places to be so if we could speed this conversation up?”

Jaemin pouts. “So soon? You’re already late for church, why even bother going?”

You stand your ground. “Good bye, Jaemin. Make sure you do a better job of training your new puppy.” Renjun snarls at you.

“What, like how you trained your puppy?” Jaemin nods over at Mark and the boys face turns red. “Bye, y/n, Mark. I’d ask you to say hello to God for me but he doesn’t exist!”

He walks off with that as a goodbye, Renjun and Jeno on his heels. Jeno at least has the decency to smile at you and tell you to have a good rest of your day.

They’re right about one thing: going to church when you‘re already late sucks. A few people glance back at you and Mark when you sneak in, sitting in the last row. You spot your parents sitting in the front row along with Mark’s brother. Luckily none of them notice you slipping in, so they won’t know just how late you were.

Mark seems on edge and you pat his knee, frowning at how violently he flinches. You raise an eyebrow, silently asking if he’s okay. He just gives you a tight smile. Mark’s always been a nervous kid, so you figure it has to do with the little vampire interaction you just had. Or fear that his dad will yell at him for being late. They’re both pretty scary.

It’s not until after the service that you talk to your parents- your mother taking the time to hug Mark and pinch his cheeks before she even looks at you- and your father asks where you were.

“It was my fault, sir.” Mark speaks up, knowing that your parents adore him and won’t be upset. “I couldn’t find my church clothes, I forgot that they were in the wash and had to sort through all of my laundry. Y/n was an angel and stayed with me to help.”

“Huh,” Your father says, looking Mark up and down. “Well, your shoes could use a good polishing, but you look sharp, kid. Good man.” He pats Mark’s shoulder and walks off to talk to a friend. Your mother raises an eyebrow and shrugs, loading you up with tasks to take care of when you get home.

Do the dishes, fold the laundry, remember to take the store bought pie out of the container and pop it onto a plate so that it looks homemade. “Oh, and one last thing.” She stops you, turning away from her conversation about her book club meeting with some lady that she can’t stand. “I don’t want you walking through the city. Those vampires are getting braver and braver, attacking in broad daylight.”

“Okay, I’ll take the long way.” You promise her. She nods, and satisfied that you won’t die, turns back to her friends. You say goodbye to Mark and a handful of other people- most of whom you don’t like- and head home.

You have absolutely no intention of taking the long way home. It adds an extra half an hour to your walk and you swear you always get attacked by bugs. Besides, vampires might be dangerous, but it’s not like you have a high chance of encountering one. The three you’d talked to earlier were harmless, two of them attending your same university.

Jeno did medical research, occasionally stepping in to teach if the professors needed help. He’s technically a doctor, but he finds ways to multitask. The benefits of being immortal, you suppose, is that you learn a lot, especially if you’ve been alive since the 1100’s. He was nice enough by himself, though he would never answer your questions about history. Not that he wouldn’t try, but the poor guy would just get so confused that he would end up rambling about a completely unrelated topic.

Jaemin was a little different. He took classes, though his goal was to learn about interesting topics and keep up with the culture, not to fit in like Edward Cullen and prey on teenage girls. For someone so old, he’s surprisingly good at the technology classes, learning how to use a camera faster than your much younger parents. Jaemin also holds tutoring sessions for struggling students, pretty much offering help for every subject. Sometimes he assists Jeno with his research, though he never says what they’re researching. It’s always the same vague answer: medicine.

You know them pretty well, and yet you wouldn’t say that you’re friends. Vampires and humans coexist, but it’s not always that peaceful. There’s a definite divide between the two, a definite feeling of “we’re better than them” coming from both sides. And you can see why that divide is there, you can understand why.

After all, it’s not like you’re too fond of vampires yourself.

Cursed to hell, is a phrase used too often by your parents, by the church. God’s reject’s is another. And when you look at them, it’s hard to disagree with those statements.

They don’t burn in the sun but they can’t touch silver, can’t say God’s name, can’t enter a building without explicit permission. They catch on fire when they enter holy places (they’re fine to enter the one across town, but that’s another story).

Similar insults are used to describe humans. “How can you call us God’s rejects when you die so easily?” One vampire had countered when you were in middle school, pointing out that vampires couldn’t get diseases or die of natural causes like a human. He’d called you weak. You’d thrown a cross at him. Both of you had been suspended.

Still, you don’t hate vampires. And you especially can’t hate vampires now, not when you’re failing your chemistry class and your only option for help is Na Jaemin.

Mark has a different opinion. “Y/n, you can’t go to his house! He’ll kill you!”

You laugh. “Mark, come on. It’s either he kills me, or my parents kill me when they find out I wasted my tuition on a class I failed. It’ll be fine.” He still looks unhappy. You wiggle your fingers at him. “Look! I have silver rings on. I’m wearing my cross. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not going to be the one telling your parents you were killed by a vampire, y/n.” He sounds dead serious and you raise your eyebrows.

“Mark, I’m helping with a research project. I’m not deciding to work for the food bank.” You point out. “This is the only way I can make up my grade, Mark. It’s generous of my professor to even let me do this.” He sighs, knowing there’s no arguing with you, and pulls his necklace off. Walking closer, he drapes the silver cross over your head. “Fine. Just, please be careful.” You smile and pat his cheek, tucking the charm under the collar of your shirt. “I always am.”

Jaemin lives in a pretty nice house on the top of the hill, which sucks because your calves are burning by the time you get up there. It has a pretty view, though, and it’s a decent distance away from his closest neighbor. You always joke that he could kill someone up here. Going up alone, that joke doesn’t seem as funny.

He’s got an old fashioned knocker on the wooden door that you only use because you’re not too fond of digging splinters out of your hands. It makes a pretty solid sound, and it barely takes five seconds before Jaemin answers the door. He looks good, wearing a dark blue button up with his hair pushed off of his forehead. Almost like he put some effort in. He obviously catches you giving him a once over and he grins.

“Eager to see me?” You tease, stepping past him into his house. He laughs, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, of course. The world revolves around you, I just had to get a glimpse.” Jaemin drawls.

“Alright, what’s the research project?” You ask, wanting to get straight to the point. “I’m only here because I need to pass my class, Jaemin.

He takes his time flipping through a book on his coffee table before glancing up at you, rolling his sleeves up to his forearms. “The effects of vampire blood in humans.”

Your eyebrows skyrocket. “If you say that you’re making me drink your blood, we’re going to have a problem.”

“Fucking hell, y/n. I know you humans have a problem with vampires, but I’m a researcher. I do research, and I do it just as responsibly and professionally as human researchers.” Jaemin snaps, and it’s probably the first time you’ve ever heard him not use a flirting or teasing tone. “And besides, we already know what that would do. It would only turn you.” You swallow thickly at the thought of being turned. “Then what do you need me here for?” “We just need a few of your cells and a tiny blood sample.” Jaemin says, moving to where you stand next to the counter. “We’re researching if vampire blood has an effect on strengthening human cells, or preventing undesirable circumstances that affect humans. You know, aging, disease, the like.” He hands you some paperwork and you glance over it briefly. There’s nothing about him draining you dry of blood, so you sign it. “Great. We won’t be taking the samples today considering we’re at my house, but I’ll walk you through the basics of what we’re doing. You know, assuming that you’re smart enough to understand it.” “I’m not fucking dumb, Jaemin.” You snap, glaring at him.

“No, of course not.” He sympathises, smiling down at you. “Just a little slow. Come on y/n, you’re failing one of the easiest courses at the university. You’re not exactly smart.”

You shove the papers over to Jaemin, purposely letting your silver rings graze his exposed skin. Jaemin flinches back from your touch, a sharp hiss leaving him as he grabs at his wrist. He glares at you. “You fucking serious?”

It’s mean, but what he said wasn’t exactly nice. You meet his gaze head on, eyebrow arched. “What’s the matter, leech? Can’t take the heat?” He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes to ground himself. It’s probably not smart to goad him, but that’s exactly what you do. “Aww, don’t ignore me, leech. It’s rude. Didn’t your parents ever teach you any manners?”

All the air in your body leaves you with a whoosh as Jaemin pins you up against the wall, wrists held over your head by one of his hands. A dull pain radiates through your body and you’re sure you’ll have bruises on your back from the impact, not that Jaemin seems to care. The boy stares down at you with dark eyes, standing way too close for comfort.

“My parents died 300 years ago.” Jaemin snarls. “But yours are still alive. Didn’t they teach you to respect your elders?”

“You’re not older than me.” The words are intended to be fierce, defiant. They come out shaky, timid. “You’re a dead man, Jaemin.”

That makes him laugh, though you don’t think he’s found your words funny. “Yeah? Do I seem dead to you?” He tightens his grip on your wrist and uses his free hand to tilt your chin up, make you look him in the eyes. “I can feel your heartbeat, little girl. You’re scared.”

“I’m not scared.” You are. He knows that.

“No?” He raises his eyebrows, cocking his head to the side before dipping down, letting his mouth hover over your neck. “Not even now?”

You shake your head, swallowing down a whimper. He’s right about your heartbeat, it’s fluttering so frantically that you can hear it in your ears, feel it under your skin. You’re scared, but not for the reasons he thinks you are.

Jaemin smiles at you, fangs on full display, and moves even closer to your neck. The sharp points of his fangs graze your skin and you swallow down your whimper, head falling back against the wall. You’re not scared of what Jaemin could do to you.

You’re scared of what you want him to do to you.

He scrapes his fangs along your neck, an action that’s painful in the most pleasurable way, but doesn’t break the skin. His tongue darts out instead, soothing over the pain before his lips press to your skin in an open mouthed kiss. Your fingers flex above your head and you ache to touch him, to fist your hand in his soft hair and pull him closer.

A moan leaves you and he pulls away, pressing his thumb to the area. Jaemin can feel your pulse from there and he smirks at how frantically your heart beats.

“You’re not scared?” Jaemin asks, the question condescending. He doesn’t believe you. “You do realize that I could sink my fangs into your pretty little neck and drain you dry, right?”

The mention of him biting you drags a keen out of your throat, and you find yourself whimpering out a “please” before you can help yourself. It has Jaemin pausing, eyes roaming over you as he reassesses the situation.

“Oh, you really aren’t scared.” Jaemin smirks. “Who knew that you were so fucking filthy?” He doesn’t wait for a response, dipping his head down and trailing the tip of his tongue up your throat. It feels nice, so, so nice, but it’s interrupted by a burning pain, a sob ripping from you at the intensity of it.

You thrash against his hold, but then the pain starts to get replaced with a pleasure unlike anything you’ve ever felt, and you slowly melt into his touch, arching against him to expose more of your throat.

Jaemin pulls away eventually, licking over your wound a few times before pulling back to give you a bloody grin. “Feels good, yeah?” You nod, and the bliss must be apparent on your face because Jaemin chuckles darkly before leaning back in. “You want more, don’t you?”

“Yeah, want it.” The words are breathless and slur together, your body thrumming with heat, begging for more. Jaemin does the opposite of what you want and steps away.

“Be a good girl and take those fucking rings off, then.” Jaemin commands, and you swear you’ve never moved faster than you’re moving now, carelessly dropping your jewelry to the floor. Mark’s necklace lands near his foot and he scowls at it, crushing the piece of metal beneath the heel of his shoe.

You immediately grab for him when you’re done, but Jaemin doesn’t let you pull him forward. He just scoops you up into his arms, carrying you to the sofa. You end up straddling his lap, his back pressing into the couch, and he wastes no time before sinking his fangs back into your neck.

“God,” You breathe out, winding your arms around his neck, pulling his head closer to you. “F-fuck, Jaem, that feels so good.”

He just hums against your throat, continuing to suck and lick at the wound. There’s a little bit of blood on his lips when he pulls away and you wipe at it with your thumb before letting the digit slip past his lips. He sucks on it slowly, gazing up at you with dark eyes, and lets his fangs graze the skin. Arousal jolts through you and you whimper, pulling your hand away and dragging him back to your neck.

“Baby wants more?” Jaemin teases, not waiting for an answer before sinking his fangs into you, this spot even more sensitive than the last. You whine loudly, tugging at his hair and feeling your eyes roll back in your head at the euphoria spreading through your body. Your head feels fuzzy and there’s so much heat coursing through you that you can barely function.

“Mhmm, yeah.” You pant out. “Want more. Oh my God Jaemin, I’m so fucking wet.”

Jaemin groans at your words, one of his hands sliding up your thigh before moving inwards, cupping your pussy over your clothes. He pulls his hand away when you try to grind down, grabbing onto your hip to stop your movements.

“No.” He growls, the simple word vibrating through your entire body and making you shake. “You come from this, nothing else.”

Tears slip down your cheeks as you hold onto him for dear life, your core clenching desperately around nothing. You hug him tighter, letting your head fall back on your shoulders to expose more of your throat, your lips parted to let Jaemin drag sound after sound of pleasure out of you. It feels good, way too good considering the action, and you lose yourself to the feeling.

The collar of your shirt is tugged down and then Jaemin’s lips are attaching to the top of your breast, fangs sinking into the delicate flesh. You keen and shove your chest further into his face, not knowing what else to do besides hold onto him for dear life. Your body feels heavy but your head feels light and it’s such a startling contrast to the euphoria coursing through your veins that it makes you dizzy. It’s hard to see straight, let alone think straight, and your pussy throbs with every little bit of blood that Jaemin takes from your body. Your hips rock against nothing but air, desperately searching for some sort of friction, something to fill your needy cunt, but you can’t find anything and it has you sobbing out in frustration.

More bite marks are left, more electricity shoots through your body, more wetness drips out of your pussy. You swear you’ve never felt this good in your life, and that’s only confirmed when Jaemin seals his lips over the first mark he left, licking and sucking at the wound until it opens all over again and you feel yourself falling, white flashing behind your eyes as the most intense orgasm of your life crashes over you. You grab at Jaemin as tightly as you can, screaming his name and babbling incoherently as he drags out your pleasure, lets you get high off all of his kisses and bites.

It lasts forever, and it takes even longer for you to come down to yourself, Jaemin stroking your hair and your back. You open your eyes to find him already looking at you, his face clean and dry of any blood. It takes you a while to notice that there’s an ice pack on your neck and a plate of food on the table in front of you, and you vaguely wonder how long you were out for if Jaemin had time to do all of this for you.

“Don’t move too fast, baby.” Jaemin cautions, noticing you struggling to sit up. “I took way more blood than I meant to, you’re gonna feel a little weak.” “A little?” Your muscles feel like jelly when you try to push yourself off of him and you collapse back onto Jaemin’s chest with a soft groan. Jaemin huffs a laugh and helps you sit up, turning you around on his lap so that your back is to his chest. He drops a soft kiss to your ear and your eyelids flutter.

“Here, take these.” Pills are dropped into your hand, a bottle of some energy drink you don’t recognize. “It’ll replace all the nutrients and stuff you lost.” Jaemin watches you down the drink in one go, tossing it across the room when you hand the empty bottle back to him. “How are you feeling?”

Your vision is much clearer than it was, though you still feel lethargic and would like to do nothing except lay down in a soft bed for the rest of your life. “My head hurts.” Jaemin hums. “Okay. I would rattle off some instructions for you to follow but I know it’ll just make your headache worse. I’ll write them down for you instead, how’s that.” “You’re so self aware.” Reality hits you when you feel the bruises on your throat, on your chest, and realize that yes, all of that did just happen. “Um. I didn’t know it could feel that-” You trail off, hand waving vaguely in the air. “Good?” Jaemin offers, laughing when you nod. “Mhmm, did they not tell you about that? I’m sure they make it sound like being bitten by a vampire is the worst thing imaginable at that fancy church you go to.” You look away, embarrassed, and Jaemin laughs. “You know that humans make drugs out of our saliva, right? That’s why there are hunters.” Your eyes shoot open in alarm. “Really? That’s awful.”

Jaemin hums, nodding. “Yeah, well, when it’s profitable...” He laughs bitterly. “Anyways, it’s an expensive drug. And you just got that shit for free.”

“I feel so honored.” You laugh, snuggling into him. He pushes you back.

“Y/n, I need you to understand something.” Jaemin says, tone suddenly serious. His eyes burn straight into your soul. “That was a mistake. I’m not- we can’t do that again.”

It shouldn’t hurt you. What you just did is considered shameful by many, you should be relieved that he’s telling you it can’t happen again. You shouldn’t want to spend more time with a vampire. “Oh. Yeah, yeah of course.” You nod, looking away from his intense gaze to blink back your tears. “Yeah, we just got carried away.” Jaemin looks like he wants to say something else, lips parting for a second before shaking his head, offering a tight smile instead. “We got everything done that we needed to get done. You should rest now.”

He doesn’t mean now as in right this second, which he made especially clear after telling you that it was a mistake, but you can’t help it. You’re asleep in seconds.

When you wake up for the second time, Jaemin is nowhere to be found. You’re in your own bed, tucked in nice and neatly, and you smile as you realize it meant that the vampire had carried you home. There’s the list of instructions that he’d promised you on your nightstand, signed with nearly illegible hand-writing. Your smile grows before promptly dropping off. Vampires can’t get into a house without being invited. You’ve never invited him in, which means that he must’ve either asked permission from Mark or your parents. Neither is good.

The gravity of the situation hits you when Mark walks into your room, jaw set, arms crossed. He blanches when he sees your neck, the sight clearly making him uncomfortable. “Holy- y/n, I told you that you couldn’t trust Jaemin. You’re lucky I was here when you brought you home because I can guarantee your parents would react way worse than me.”

“Jaemin was fine. He didn’t do anything I didn’t want him to.” You see the exact moment that those words process in Mark’s mind, his face going from worried to angry.

“You let him drink from you? What were you thinking? Y/n, you look like you got mauled.” Mark sounds disgusted and you try not to shrink into yourself.

The bruises ache when you press over one of them and an overwhelming sense of embarrassment washes over you at how it makes you shiver. “Relax, it’s not like I let him turn me. We just got caught up in the heat of the moment. Mark, it felt so good.” Your eyelids flutter shut at the memory, snapping back open when Mark scoffs.

“So what? You want to be their blood bag now?” Mark’s voice rises in pitch as he yells and the sound grates on your nerves. “Wanna be a vampire whore for the rest of your life? Live in a dusty ass attic and let whoever walks by have a go at you?” “Mark, what- do you hear yourself? What the fuck is your problem?” Mark’s been your best friend since you were five. Never, never, have you heard him talk like this. It hurts.

“Do I hear myself? Y/n, I should be the one asking you that. Here you are, creaming yourself while talking about letting some fucking, some bloodsucker tear your throat open! It’s disgusting.” Mark scoffs, shaking his head. “You’re just as bad as Do-” He cuts himself off suddenly, but you know what he was about to say. “Just as bad as who? Donghyuck?” You shake your head, feeling hot tears prick at the back of your eyes. “It must run in the family to become filthy disappointments, then.”

Mark’s eyes soften and he grabs your wrist, rubbing circles into your skin with his thumb. “It’s not too late for you. Let’s go to the church, you can pray for forgiveness.”

You feel numb when you nod, letting Mark wrap a scarf around your neck and lead you down the road. He sits next to you in the pews, rubbing your shoulder while you rest your forehead on your hands, pretending to pray. But you can’t focus, can’t stop thinking about your brother.

Donghyuck was Mark’s best friend before you were. The three of you would hang out a lot, though you only joined the two because as Donghyuck’s younger sister, he felt obligated to include you. The two boys were inseparable, and then one day, they weren’t.

Your parents say that he was tainted by the devil. Mark’s father says that he betrayed God. You think Donghyuck simply fell in love. And love is a beautiful thing, but not when it’s between a vampire and a human. Your brother was forced to choose between his family and his love.

In the end, he chose love.

That night, you toss and turn in bed, unable to stop thinking about your brother. If he’s alive, if he’s a vampire. If he’s dead. What you would do in his situation. Not that it matters, because you wouldn’t fall in love with a vampire, but you can’t help but wonder. Is it really that bad? They were once human, too.

The thought doesn’t leave your mind even when you go to the lab, meeting an uncharacteristically quiet Jaemin, and a very excited looking Jeno. “Y/n! Thank you so much for doing this!” “Yeah, well, gotta pass my classes somehow.” You laugh. Jaemin doesn’t meet your eyes when you look at him, keeping his gaze just a little too low and frowning.

“Seriously though, this is great. I’ve been trying to get permission for this experiment for ages, the fact that the administration finally caved is insane.” Jeno says, turning to ruffle through some papers on the desk. You shoot a curious glance at Jaemin, finally realizing that he’s staring at your neck. Or well, your covered neck. He’s trying to see the marks. With a glance towards Jeno, you carefully slide the fabric of your turtle neck down, laughing silently at how Jaemin inhales sharply, lips parting slightly. You yank it back up when Jeno turns around. “Jaemin informed you of the experiment, correct?” You shoot Jaemin a look. “Yeah! You just need to take a couple of blood samples, right?” Jeno shakes his head, tilting his head at Jaemin. “Not exactly. We’re going to need you to take microdoses of vampire blood.”

It takes a moment to register. “You want me to drink vampire blood?” You screech, eyes bulging. “That’s going to turn me!” Jeno shakes his head, laughing. “With the amount we’re giving you? No. It’ll only turn you if a vampire drinks your blood, and you die. You’ll be fine.” Next to you, Jaemin stiffens. You bite your lip. “Um. Like at the same time, or?” “It doesn’t have to be at the exact same time. If you’ve been bitten before, you can’t drink any blood or you’ll be turned. But again, that’s only if you die.” Jeno tilts his head. “Have you been bitten before?” “Jeno.” Jaemin draws his attention away before you can respond. “It’s just a microdose, right? Like, barely enough to have an effect?” He considers this. “Well, I mean, not enough to have negative effects.”

You and Jaemin share a long look. Jaemin had drunk your blood not even a week earlier. It's dangerous. But it’s a small amount. Jeno said there wouldn’t be any negative effects. And you can’t fail this class. You send Jaemin a pleading look. Jaemin swallows thickly and looks back to Jeno.

“She’ll be fine?” Jaemin’s voice is shaky.

Jeno nods. “Caring for a human? That’s odd, coming from you. But yeah, she’ll be fine.”

You exhale heavily. “I’ll do it.”

There are more papers to be signed, more blood to be drawn. Though this time Jeno takes it in a much more professional manner, drawing it out and putting it into a test tube. Next to you, Jaemin squeezes his eyes shut and you watch his jaw clench. You want to tease him but you can’t, not in front of Jeno.

Despite Jeno’s reassurances, the worry doesn’t leave you. He doesn’t know what you and Jaemin did, doesn’t know that you’ve been bitten by a vampire. And maybe it doesn’t matter- it’s not like you’re going to die or anything, which is what needs to happen for you to turn- but you need some sort of comfort.

That’s how you end up bailing on your Friday night dinner with Mark’s family, saying that you need to finish a project that’s due that night. Your parents roll their eyes and scold you for not taking your studies seriously, but let you skip the dinner. Mark shakes his head at you, disapproving of you working with a vampire, but keeps his mouth shut.

If Jaemin’s surprised when you show up at his door, he doesn’t show it. He just smirks at you, leaning against the door frame. “Hey blood bag.” You scoff and shove past him into the house, dropping down onto the sofa you sat on last time. “When did you start calling me that, leech?”

“When you let me drink from you.” Jaemin says plainly, sitting next to you. “Is there a reason you’re here? I mean, I know I’m irresistible, but-” “But we didn’t tell Jeno you drank from me.” You interrupt. “We need to tell him. He’s been waiting forever for this, he’ll be devastated if we ruin it.”

Jaemin nods, considering it. “Y/n, you know you’ll get kicked off the project if we tell him, right?” You nod, biting your lip. “Look, Jeno’s been my best friend for hundreds of years. I hate keeping this from him more than you do.” “Then why are you?” It doesn’t make sense. You’re certainly not friends, or at least you weren’t before last week.

He doesn’t answer. His eyes are dark and it looks like there’s a war raging behind them, but he doesn’t elaborate on what’s bothering him. The sharp points of his teeth dig into his bottom lip as he bites it nervously, blood beading at the cut when he finally looks back at you.

You don’t think when you bring your thumb up to swipe at his lower lip, skin coming away red. Jaemin watches in fascination as you bring the digit up to your own mouth, sliding it past your lips, sucking the blood away. He swallows thickly.

“Does it feel as good for you as it does for me?” You ask, glancing from his lips to his face. He shakes his head gently.

“It feels good for you because of our saliva.” Jaemin explains. “But it doesn’t feel bad when you do it, it’s just-” He makes a vague gesture with his hand as if trying to pull the words out of thin air. “It’s very intimate.”

He licks his lips, then, digs his teeth back into his bottom lip. It’s a subconscious movement but you still lean in to press a kiss over where the blood pricks up, nipping just hard enough to have a growl rumbling in Jaemin’s chest before soothing the wound with your tongue. You pull away and smile, licking the blood off of your lips.

You don’t even have time to make a witty remark over how affected Jaemin looks because he’s pulling you onto his lap, crashing your lips together with enough force that you’re sure they’ll bruise. It draws a moan from you and Jaemin eagerly drinks it in, fisting his hand in your hair and deepening the kiss.

A gasp leaves you when he pulls away, trails his lips down your throat. You tense in anticipation, a whine getting trapped in your throat when his fangs just barely scrape the skin. He leaves a wet kiss there, pulling away to look up at you. “Want me to bite you, baby?”

“God, yeah.” You moan out, tilting your head to expose more of your neck.

“Ah, I’d rather you didn’t say that name in my house.” Jaemin laughs. He moves back to your throat, digging his fangs into the spot he’d marked. There’s less pain this time, pleasure coursing through you almost instantly. You whine and tighten your grip on his hair.

Electricity runs through your veins as Jaemin takes what he wants, marking up your body. You breathe out something along the lines of “want more” and Jaemin takes it to heart, scooping you up and carrying you to his room in record time. He tosses you onto the mattress, crawling over you not even a second later to press his lips to yours.

He fits himself easily between your legs, rocking his hips down in a rare show of desperation. You can feel exactly how affected he is, his hardness pressing deliciously against your core. Another plea of “more” is whispered against his lips and he doesn’t need any more encouragement, pulling away to move further down your body. He kisses and nips his way down your torso, pushing your shirt up to reveal more skin to him, dropping kiss after kiss to the sensitive skin just above the waistband of your pants. Your core throbs at the feeling of having him so close to you and you squirm, trying to spread your legs more, trying to articulate that you need something, anything.

“J-Jaemin, take them off.” You whine, pushing at the waistband. “I need you.”

The coldness of his hands brushing against your skin when he drags your pants down has you shivering, squirming. He tosses your clothing to the floor and wastes no time attaching his lips to the inside of your thigh, holding you down when you squirm.

“Is this okay?” Jaemin asks, concern mixing with his arousal. He brushes his index finger over your pussy, making your back arch in an effort to get him closer to where you need him.

“More than.” Despite your assurances, Jaemin doesn’t touch you. He moves his hand up to your abdomen, flattening his palm to keep you pinned down. You whine in annoyance, but the teeth dragging over your inner thigh has you shutting up. A gasp leaves you before he even sinks his fangs in, your pussy absolutely throbbing with need. He presses another gentle kiss to the skin and, raising his gaze to make eye contact with you, bites you.

It’s more intense than when he bit your neck or your chest. It sets your body on fire in the best of ways, leaves you writhing under his touch. Your eyes roll in your head and your hands flail in an effort to grab something, anything to ground yourself. It’s amazing, and just when you think you’ve reached heaven, he touches you.

You’re soaking wet and Jaemin’s fingers slide into you effortlessly, fill you up so well. It’s too much effort to keep your eyes open and so you let them drift shut, let yourself fall into the bliss. There’s pressure against your lips and you open your eyes to find Jaemin hovering over you, sliding two fingers past your lips. You didn’t even realize he’d stopped biting you.

“Suck.” He commands, and who are you to disobey? You wrap your lips around the digits and hum at the taste of yourself, at the weight of them in your mouth. “Taste good, baby?” “Mhmm, yeah.” Your words are slurred around the digits and you suck even harder around them, letting your tongue trace patterns around them. Jaemin swears softly and grinds down against your thigh.

He presses one more kiss to your lips before sliding down your body. “My turn to taste.”

Maybe there should be some sort of alarm going through your system when Jaemin lowers his mouth to your core. Some sort of reminder that he has some very sharp fangs, that he has just bit you in multiple places, and that his fangs are right in the place that fangs should never be. But it feels heavenly when he licks a stripe between your folds, when he fucks his tongue into your hole. His hands keep you pinned to the mattress, super strength coming in handy to control your squirming.

The pleasure consumes you and it’s so much, too much, and your eyes want to squeeze shut but Jaemin looks up at you and his gaze is magnetic, making it impossible to look away from him. Your body’s on fire, burning brighter with every flick of his tongue, every moan he lets out into your core. He pulls away to drop his head to the apex of your thigh, digging his fangs into the delicate skin there, and you can’t fight the scream that rips from your throat. You’re babbling, chanting incoherent words as you try to explain how good it feels, how you never want him to stop. His hair is soft in your grip and it’s the only thing keeping you anchored, the only thing preventing you from drowning in pleasure.

“You taste so good, baby.” Jaemin moans, pulling away momentarily to make a show of licking his lips. “Everything about you is so delicious.” He returns to your core, lapping at your hole before flicking his tongue over your clit, laughing at how your body jolts. There’s nothing but hunger in his eyes as he sucks your clit between his lips, fucking two fingers into your needy cunt. He does it again, hitting all of your sensitive spots, making you scream with bliss as you finally tip over the edge.

Wave after wave of euphoria crash into you and your lungs burn as your gasp for air. You’re drowning in the best way possible, surrounded by nothing but pleasure and Jaemin, Jaemin, Jaemin.

He works you through it with gentle flicks of his tongue, hands smoothing over your thighs to bring you back down. You manage to find enough strength to shove at his head when it gets to be too much, tiredly sinking into the mattress when he pulls away. Jaemin wipes at his mouth and bends down to kiss you lazily, nipping at your lip just to hear you whine. He smooths your hair down and brushes a few strands out of your face, smiling down at how fucked out you are. And you’d be content to lay wrapped in his arms, with Jaemin cooing softly at how pretty you are and petting your head, but you can feel how hard he is.

“Jaemin,” You murmur, shifting in his hold. “Jaem, wanna make you feel good.” “It’s alright, you don’t h- oh, shit baby- you don’t have to.” He has to fight to get the words out, a groan interrupting his sentence when you grab at his cock. You pout at him and manage to tug his pants down just enough for you to pull him out.

“But I want to.” You smile, leaning up for a kiss. Jaemin doesn’t bother replying, just presses his lips back to yours and melts into your touch. The way you jerk him off is lazy, your energy drained from how intense your orgasm was. Though with the way Jaemin groans against your lips and tightens his grip on your hip, you don’t think that he minds.

He moans your name when he comes, a beautiful sound that has your stomach twisting with heat. White spills over your knuckles and onto his stomach and you bring your hand up to your mouth, licking at it curiously. Jaemin watches you with heavy lids before collapsing onto the mattress.

“Fuck,” He sighs, eyelids drifting shut. “Why’re you so good to me?” “Why are you so good to me?” You mumble back in response, curling up into him. “Thanks for not biting my pussy.” Something about that sets Jaemin off and his body shakes with the laughter running through him. A giggle leaves you. “What?” Jaemin shakes his head, still laughing. “Nothing. Come on, gotta get you some food.”

And that’s how it goes. You and Jaemin continue to hook up, although he does end up saying ‘fuck it’ and attempting to actually teach you chemistry. Despite Mark’s fears, he doesn’t end up killing you. He’s a lot of fun to be around, plus he keeps his pantry stocked with various snacks. Sometimes he even cooks for you, if he’s feeling nice.

“What’s a vampire doing with all this food?” You ask one day, watching him make fried rice. He doesn’t respond, just staring down at the pan and offering you a shrug, though you swear you see him blush.

Your professor raises your grade to a C. It’s not stellar but it also isn’t failing, which you will happily take. There’s only a little bit of guilt when she beams at you while telling you how happy Jeno is with your dedication to the project.

Jeno continues to take blood samples, and you continue to not tell him that you’ve been bitten. It eats you up inside, but Jaemin’s always there to reassure you. Whether he’s trying to comfort you or himself more is up for debate.

Everything stays the same except for Mark.

He gets more distant, grows a little more resentful. There’s no smiles or teasing jokes, except for the polite ones he flashes in front of your parents. He starts to make up lies, too, which is something you promised to never do. Excuses to get him out of plans, saying there’s nothing wrong. And your best friend, the most timid, nicest boy you’ve ever met, begins to pick petty fights with you.

You’re over it, and it bothers you even if you try not to let it show. Jaemin rubs your back and tells you it’ll be okay, but you know it won’t. Because Jaemin’s the reason that Mark’s distant. And you have no plans to stop seeing him.

Talking to Jaemin, you’re sure Mark would have liked him if the circumstances were different. If Mark didn’t hate vampires so much, or if Jaemin were just a regular human college student like you. But those aren’t the circumstances, and so you have to deal with Mark’s whiny ass showing up at your door to drag you to church.

“Mark, it’s Thursday night.” You groan, shaking your textbook at him. “I have work to do!”

“Yeah, you also have praying to do.” Mark snaps, grabbing the book out of your hands. “Not like you even understand this.”

Which, ouch, that kind of hurts. Especially when Mark knows that you’re frustrated that you can’t get the subject down even though you try. You glare at him and reach for the book. “Mark, give it back. And I actually do understand this, Jaemin’s been helping-” “Helping what? Taint you? Turn you into one of their blood whores?” Mark grabs the book back and throws it across the room. “Y/n, come on. I’m not letting this happen to you too.” He pulls you after him despite your grumbling, though he at least has the decency to let you put shoes on. Just because you go freely doesn’t mean you’re happy about it, complaining as Mark drags you through the city. “Jesus Christ Mark, has it ever occurred to you that Donghyuck had free will? That he willingly chose to be with her because he loved her?” You’re fed up with Mark, fed up with everyone. “God Mark, they’re not that bad!” Mark stares at you for a moment. “What, they’re brainwashing you too? How is it that both you and your brother are so dumb? I know you weren’t raised like this.”

“Well at least I wasn’t raised to be such an ignorant asshole.” You snap. “I have the ability to make my own decisions, something you apparently lack.” “Oh, so what’s that supposed to mean?” Mark stops walking suddenly, crossing his arms as he waits for an answer. You open your mouth to yell at him when a flash of movement catches your eyes. Squinting, you make out a group of guys, and they’re close enough that you can hear them laughing when one of them wipes… is that blood on his mouth? “Mark, we have to go.” You whisper. The vampires don’t see you and you’re hoping that you can get the two of you out of there safely. “Come on-” “No, tell me what you mean!” Mark yells, stubbornly standing in place. You groan and try to drag him away but he doesn’t budge. “Come on y/n, tell me what you fucking mean.” You shoot a worried glance over your shoulder, surprised when you don’t see the vampires. There’s a second of relief, lasting only until you turn around to find them standing right behind Mark. You squeak in surprise. Mark freezes too, one of the men having grabbed him by the shoulders. His face presses way too close to Mark’s neck and you jump when you feel hands on your own shoulders.

“Aww, lover’s spat?” The guy holding Mark laughs. “That’s okay, we’ve all been there, right guys?” The rest of his friends cackle in the creepiest way that you can imagine. “Come on, we can resolve this.” You and Mark look back and forth between each other worriedly. There’s no way out of this, you realize. No way to even try.

“Don’t you wanna know how we can resolve this?” This time the guy holding you speaks and it’s so close to your ear that you flinch, nearly jumping out of your skin. He laughs and his fangs graze your skin, but it doesn’t send pleasure through you like when Jaemin does it. It sends chills down your spine, makes you want to cry. “Answer me.” “N-no.” You stutter out, eyes squeezed shut in fear. “Please, just let us go.” The guy sighs and lets go of you. “Alright.” You and Mark share a look before bolting, adrenaline pumping through your veins. Freedom only lasts for a second before you’re being grabbed again, yanked backwards.

“Stupid girl. I don’t appreciate being told no.” You whimper and you can hear Mark screaming your name, screaming for help, screaming for anything.

It’s the last thing you hear.

“Jaemin, you’re an idiot. Literally the dumbest person I know.” There’s a familiar voice swimming through your head and you try to move towards it, finding your entire body feels drained.

“Yes, I’ve been told.” Is that Jaemin’s voice? It sounds a lot clearer, drags you out of the darkness. “But look, it ended up being good, right? She’s alive.” You finally manage to pry your eyes open and immediately regret it, slamming them shut and curling into yourself. A groan leaves you and the two stop talking. “Y/N? Baby, it’s me.” There’s a hand on your cheek, brushing against the skin gently, and you press into his touch. “How are you feeling?” “Bad.” You croak out through a dry throat, cringing at how dry it feels. Jaemin laughs softly and something presses to your lips. “Here, drink this.”

You didn’t realize how hungry you were until you get the first taste, and then suddenly you find the strength in your body to take gulp after gulp of the drink. It brings a little bit of warmth to your body, makes you feel less achy. You even manage to pry your eyelids open.

Jeno and Jaemin greet you, both men looking relieved. Jaemin beams at you, dipping down for a kiss. “Hey baby.” “What happened?” You frown, trying to remember how you got to Jaemin’s couch. “Did I- I was walking to the church and we were attacked.” Oh shit, you weren’t alone. You search frantically around the room. “Did Mark- is he okay?” The thought of your best friend- no matter how strained your relationship was at the end- dying is too much for you to handle.

Jaemin smiles. “He’s the one that brought you to me.”

“He’s okay?” Jeno nods in confirmation.

“They only wanted to kill for fun, guess you were enough.” Jeno says. “Speaking of killing, Jaemin has a lot of explaining to do. And since I don’t trust him to do a good job, I’m going to stay here!” You look between the two. “Kill? Am I- I’m dead?” Jaemin makes a face. “Fucking- I’m a vampire?” Your words come out shrill and the two boys cringe.

“Yeah, sorry.” Jaemin scratches the back of his neck. “My bad. But, um, I’ll take care of you! Don’t worry.” Then, to Jeno: “Come on man, can’t we have a second of peace? I literally never thought I was going to see her again.” Jeno sighs, glaring at his friend before walking away. “Dramatic.”

You’re in Jaemin’s arms in the next second, held close to his chest. “Fuck y/n, I’m so sorry.” His voice is shaky and he keeps his face pressed into your neck. “This is all my fault, I don’t know how I’m going to make it up to you.” “We’ll figure it out later.” You tug at his hair to get him to look you in the eyes. “I almost died, Jaemin. Give me a headache later. Right now…” You trail off, letting your lips stretch wide. “Kiss me.” It draws a snort from Jaemin. “You were dead like an hour ago and now you want to fuck?” “No!” You whine and smack his chest. “I just want a kiss, get your mind out of the gutter.” Jaemin teases you some more, making you laugh and smack him to stop before you finally say fuck it and pull him closer, smashing your lips together. He smiles into the kiss, wrapping his arms around your body. You have a lot to worry about, but you’ve also got all the time in the world to worry about it. It makes you sick to think about, and for now, you want to just relax. Not that Jaemin seems to mind, happily letting you curl into his chest, stroking your head. You’re not alone, you have Jaemin, and you know he’ll help you through this.

+ You’re not expecting a welcome home party. You’re also not expecting to find all of your belongings scattered across the front yard, having very clearly been chucked from your bedroom window.

“Lovely.” You scoff, staring at the mess. The front door has the biggest cross you’ve ever seen nailed to it, complete with the silver door knob that you promptly burn yourself on. You stare at the door, wondering if you should knock. It swings open before you make your mind up.

Mark stares back at you with wide eyes and parted lips. “Y/n? You’re alive?”

“Hey, Mark.” You smile, tight lipped. “Jaemin told me you saved me.”

Mark looks like he’s about to say something but then his mouth closes and he shakes his head. “Y/n, you- you’re a vampire now. I can’t.” Mark doesn’t look you in the eye when he says it and you scoff, rolling your eyes. “I’m sorry.” “I’m sorry.” You mock, shaking your head. “No you’re not. If you were sorry, you would fucking look me in the eyes.” He doesn’t. “You know it’s your fault I’m like this, right?” That gets him to look up at you. There’s fire in his eyes this time. “No, it’s your fault for whoring around with vampires.” You shake your head. “Who made me go to church that night?” He looks away and doesn’t answer the question. “Good bye, Mark.”

#nct smut #nct dream smut #nct fic #nct dream fic #jaemin smut #jaemin fic #jaemin fanfiction #jaemin vampire #na jaemin smut #kpop smut #supernatural nct #dream smut #kpop scenario #nct scenario #nct dream scenario #jaemin scenario

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dissonantdreamer · 3 years

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okay so shout out to @caitsyoi for this post, which prompted a search to try and figure out the umbrellas (only thing i could think of was umbrellas being there the first time and last time they were in Jackson together but that is a stretch) and led to an entirely different discovery about just how much detail went into Ellie’s trauma.

I made a separate post because this gets super long and don’t want to detract from the original goal of the post with a rambling hugely unrelated tangent. So go check out all cait’s in game detail posts cause holy fuck are they good good details.

Anyway details about Ellie’s trauma manifesting that might have been missed under the cut:

The photo of Ellie’s flashback set my brain off. I’ve stared at this game far too long and I distinctly, vividly remembered a different door in my mind. I panicked because my memory is shit so when I know i remembered something and there is proof that contradicts it I have to double check. So I looked up the door in the chalet and my dudes, my fuckin’ DUDES! Naughty Dog has done something, cause I didn’t misremember the wrong door: Ellie’s brain gave her an entirely different door.

Here is the door Ellie actually goes through just before Joel’s death scene (and the one I remembered):

And here is the door that we see in her PTSD flashback:

Her recollection of events when compared to the actual event becomes a fucked up Spot the Difference game. The handle, something she physically grabbed has changed as well as the design of the entire door. Which is something that happens with PTSD. And now I’ll lead you through my thought process, cause I processed all the wrong things but it’ll make sense I promise so the info is staying in.

-So I’ll admit, I got real excited and spent almost and hour scouring gameplay videos scrubbing and pausing trying to find the door in Ellie’s flashback. Initially thinking it was a different door she couldn’t get through from some other traumatic point in the game. Was it a door in Joel’s house? No. What about her door in Jackson? Nope. Hmm. Maybe, I thought, it was in Part I. How fucking brilliant would that be, to tie in some other big moment of upset from the first game with this moment here in the second game and show the lasting effects of trauma and how it doesn’t go away completely. It wasn’t a door she went through around Tess, or Sam and Henry. David! It could be the door she escaped him through! No dice. Left Behind! Riley. And the answer to that friends is that a “yes” would be a biiiiig ol stretch:

Sort of similar handle but it’s still too different to be the correct door details. Still there could be some overlap.

I got stumped and then my brain kicked in and reminded me, “Hey remember how trauma affects memory, how you can remember certain details of what happened that day, but your shoes are never right?” and I was like “What the fuck are you on about brai- oooooh fuck you’re right.”

-Naughty Dog, layered her trauma in a way that we might not have noticed because depending on difficulty, it’s about 15 plus hours in between these two scenes (plus personal breaks which could be days or more at at time).

Ellie’s traumatic memory of that moment doesn’t just replace details of the door, her mind pieces things into the scene that never existed. Sights and sounds, possibly the smell of blood given her journal about the boar. The blood and Joel’s screams turned to him calling out for her, being the most notable change we recognize ourselves, a manifestation of her guilt and failure to help Joel. It’s draws your attention and in the moment, entrenched in Ellie’s pain with her it’s all we can really focus on.

Look at the photo above and compare it to the one below. How many differences can you find?

-Memory is a weird, complex thing. With the most basic knowledge of how trauma affects your memory, I’m going to dumb it waaaay down to my level and do my best to explain:

The process of storing a memory involves that primal part of your brain that recalls and collects the moments you felt fear and of danger, it’s survival and how you survive this part allows you to remember the next time “Oh hey, maybe I should not have put that metal fork in a light socket. That fucking hurt the last time I did that.” The process also involves the part of your brain that serves as a librarian of memory, storing and cataloguing details of events in bits that can be put together like a puzzle. When shit goes down your brain focuses on the “OH SHIT DANGER” more that it focuses on making the pieces of the puzzle. So later when your brain recalls the event you got pieces missing.

You don’t know what your brain will remember after a traumatic event. The memory itself will be the result of those two parts of your brain making a final product, which is almost always a deeply negative emotional memory. Encountering anything that reminds you of the event, like the sound of a boar dying or a shovel falling over onto a bucket, your brain begins triggering that flight or fight response because last time this meant danger fuck, looking at the bigger picture for context clues.

During a flashback your brain will try to fill in the gaps however it can to complete the puzzle even if it means using pieces from another puzzle that fits. Little details that might not be noticeable once the picture is completed and you are looking at the final product.

-The moment here seen here shows that her brain worked to create a memory with, some correct details from that day and some details to fill in the gaps. She gets the umbrellas, a painting, something hanging off the coat hanger, a box, a pair of boots, how there was a storage bench of sorts.

Her memory omits the white gloves, the baseball cap, the color of the umbrellas, the photo in the frame, the contents of garbage on the floor. It adds smudges on the top of the box, changes the door entirely along with the bloody signs of a struggle that never happened smeared from under the door along with Joel’s screams.

One of the biggest details that got me, is the building here. Because to me it looks like an approximation of a building we’ve seen in Part I. Either an old statehouse in Boston or a building on the UEC campus (Go Big Horns)

Her brain is filling up the scene as best as it can, taking details from other moments and replacing the fuzzy bits. The puzzle has to be completed. How many nights did she stay awake post flashback trying to fit the pieces of her memory with what she just saw in this vivid reliving of that moment. These little details show how deep, how damaging Joel’s death was.

Sometimes, with trauma and memory the details you do remember are ones you wouldn’t think you would even notice in the moment. Like a broken fuse box and the switch of a light, the way the wallpaper cracks and peels.

These are just the things replaced about the stairway, and the moments leading up to the event. There might even be things we never get to see in the flashbacks she may have. Being in the room during Joel’s death, waiting next to Joel’s body while Dina rushes off to get Jesse might go differently in her mind than what actually happened.

What happened vs. what Ellie remembers, we’ll never fully get to know. (Not that we need to know every fine detail of her trauma.)

I did wonder briefly if she remember it right for the first time on the beach? And after watching a few scenes over and over. No, she’s remembered that moment with crystal fucking clarity since Dina found her on the chalet floor. She can’t not forget the new hole in Joel’s skull, the sickening way his eye stares at the floor, out of focus, out of light. Her brain has formed a memory around those details, it’s where all her attention went. She might not even be able to recall the room at all beyond the spot where Joel died. Or she might remember everything. It’s hard to tell with trauma.

If you pause on Joel’s face before she fights Abby, really look at his eyes, you can see why Ellie can’t sleep why she can’t draw his eyes anymore. She can’t close her own eyes without seeing his dead ones. That’s why the memory of Joel pulls her out at the end. She can remember his eyes bright and alive again. That’s the moment of hope that she can recover, it’s going to take a lot of work given the fact that dealing with mental illness in the world requires adaptation to what is available. It’s still possible for her to live and we see that she understands that as she leaves the guitar behind and heads off the farm to an unknown.

The depth of nuance to Ellie’s trauma has continued to surprise the more that’s uncovered. Naughty Dog and Ashley worked extremely hard to portray PTSD and dealing with it going untreated as accurately as possible and I’d say they’ve put the effort in. Because the details that say the most are the ones that often go unnoticed.

#ellie x trauma #i'm seriously blown away by the details in this game #these are literally blink and you'll miss it #but they put them in to show how deeply affected ellie is #instead of just saying she is #i probably spent way too long on this post #a good hour was spent trying to find a fucking door before i realized what was going on #i was up til ass o clock trying to write this before i realized it was nonsense #and then figure out what the fucki was on about #this morning #hopefully this version makes sense #also a lot of what i said is my repeating what's been told and explained to me #so if i misrepresented anything plese correct me #papa is back baby #the analysis of us

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rose7420 · 3 years

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Words Can Hurt

A request from @lokiismyhubby! Hope you like it!

Hello!! Can you write a story where Loki is friends with a tiny girl who loves hanging out with him? Wherever Loki is, Y/n is always with him. Loki loves the girl to death, but he also loves acting like she’s bothering him. Whenever she talks to him, he always acts like he’s annoyed, says things like, “Why must you talk to me all the time?”, or "Can't you find something to do rather than talk to me?" (Idk, anything that has to deal with her hanging around him a lot😂), he sighs like he’s irritated, and even rolls his eyes. Deep down, Loki adores his small friend, but he goes too far with the annoyed expressions and remarks, resulting in hurting her feelings, and making her cry. She could run towards the wall crying because she thinks that Loki doesn't want to be her friend anymore, but he grabs her (kind of rough but it's by accident only cause he doesn't want to lose her as a friend) and she becomes afraid of him.

Y/N lay on the undulating platform of Loki’s chest. The gentle ins and outs of his breathing rocking her slightly. Asleep and dead to the world, light snores escaped his lips causing Y/N to grin even wider. She read a book, skimming the pages relishing the calm scent of the battered paperback. A change in his breathing rhythm alerted her that he was awake.

“Don’t you have anywhere else to be?” He teased feeling the slight weight upon his chest.

A rush of pain shot through her chest from the tease. She actually didn’t have anywhere else to go. Loki was all she had, all she wanted. She drew her knees up to her chest as if she could block out all the negativity, forgetting about her book.

Loki thinks you’re pathetic.

Practically nothing.

She shut down her intrusive thoughts shaking her head.

“You’re funny Loki. But you know I love spending time with you.” She admitted walking towards his face.

He poked her stomach, a very ticklish spot. She immediately fell down to her knees in laughter, pushing his finger away with no result.

He relented his teasing, seeing how tired she had made herself.

She reached his chin, as he was still lying down it was easy to grasp and pull herself onto.

“Oh yes, very daunting Little One, whatever shall you do now?”

She laughed completely forgetting about her previous doubts and focusing on the mischief that was at hand.

Later that day Loki and Y/N sat on the floor rearranging his books upon the shelves. He had gotten tired of how they looked originally and decided to change the setting. Of course, Y/N was too small to help but she sat upon Loki’s shoulder talking passionately of the books she adored. Loki picked up a rather heavy volume placing it upon the shelf, as he bent down Y/N held tightly to his shirt collar preventing her from a fatal fall.

“Mercy child, do you ever stop blathering on?” Loki teased.

Sharp pain stabbed through her chest, her breath becoming thin. He didn’t relent his efforts.

“Don’t you ever stop speaking?”

Unwanted tears escaped her eyes. She remembered her mother saying the same words to her at what felt like ages. But truly was only a year ago.

“Don’t you ever stop speaking?” Her mother turned around and yelled as they were folding linens. Y/N had been rambling on about her favorite author and how they wrote so beautifully. She shrunk back from the harsh words of her mother.

“I’m sorry Mama.” Y/N softy said with tightness in her chest. The only one who would ever have listened to her go on for ages was her Papa. He had died a year ago. Books were the only thing that truly brung her happiness.

“No more books y/n, I mean it. You should be borrowing more often winter months are coming. Now get to work.” Winter months meant the humans stayed inside longer, making it harder for borrowers to gather supplies.

The next day she came back from a borrowing trip to find all her books gone. She rushed to Mama, in a panic.

“Mama, Mama where are my books?” Mama reached up for a can in the cupboard; sparing her no glance as she said, “I got rid of them.” Y/N slowly walked back to her room to stare at the empty box where her books once sat. Her last remembrance of Papa as he had stolen each and every one of them for her when he came across a miniaturized one.

She felt empty.

Truly, desperately alone.

She cried herself to sleep that night.

She slid down Loki’s arm ungracefully, stumbling across the floor to get to a safe, non-vulnerable place.

“Y/N?” Loki’s voice called, not feeling her tiny weight upon his shoulder any longer. She began running as fast as she could to evade his approaching form.

“Y/N! Where are you going? Come back this instance!” His voice was demanding and loud.

She refused but that didn’t prevent him from getting what he wanted.

A rough, heavy hand pounded before her stopping her instantly. She was caught in his grasp unable to overpower just his fingers.

She was so weak, unimportant...so flawed. Why would a powerful being such as Loki even want her if her mother had thrown her out by her lonesome.

Loki’s grip became tighter and tighter, unrelenting. Her lungs were crushed, unable to expand in order to breathe fresh air in.

“Loki…” She wheezed pathetically in a last attempt to persuade him to loosen his deadly grip. Black coated her vision, her arms went slack draped over his comparatively large knuckles.

Darker

The night sky waited to welcome her with gloomy arms.

And then, breath.

Oh, how thankful she was for the expansion of her lungs and the clearness of her sight.

“Are you okay Y/N?” She heard a voice faintly.

“Y/N?” She was held up to those emerald eyes, boring into her very soul.

“I-I can’t believe I hurt you. I’m so sorry.”

He carried her in a flat palm to deposit her onto the tabletop. The cool wood was a refreshed feeling against her battered body. She lie there taking deep breaths, worried air would escape her grasp again.

A finger brushed her arm. She flinched away. The appendage retreated.

Loki watched his tiny friend lay limp on the table. Her chest rising and falling rapidly with desperate breaths. He brushed his fingers over where her tiny fists had hit his knuckles with an anguished release.

He hadn’t even known he was holding her so tightly. He reached a tentative fingertip out to brush her arm and she flinched back. He did too from the obvious rejection.

He waited patiently for her to regain her awareness.

She spoke without any encouragement from him.

“I don’t like it when you tease me. It makes me feel unwanted and not appreciated. If that’s how you really feel then I’ll go, but if not..” She couldn't finish the rest of the sentence, her voice thick with tears.

An enormous ache of guilt ran through Loki’s heart.

“I meant no harm to you Little One, I will stop the teasing. And I do want you around, please do not feel unwanted.”

“I know I can ramble a lot and it’s annoying, so I’ll do my best to stop.” She wrung her little hands together.

“Absolutely not,” Loki ordered. “Do not change who you are because of my unkind comments. I want to hear all about what interests you, and what you are passionate about.” He reached out a gentle finger to nudge her back. She whimpered. He pulled back immediately.

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have done that,” Loki said with guilt.

She quickly shook her head, “No, no that’s fine its just… my mother used to tell me to be quiet too. She didn’t care about what I liked.”

Loki listened attentively to her past, his heart wrenching with pain with all she had suffered through.

He slowly reached forward to cradle her in his palms, pressing her gently to his chest.

“Shhh, my Little Dove. I’m here and I will always be here. I will never take anything of yours nor leave you by yourself.” He felt tiny fists through the fabric of his shirt as she held to him tightly.

He pulled her away from his chest, holding her level with his eyes, “We are a team, you and I, we stick together.”

She smiled a smile that warmed his heart tremendously and held out her fist.

“What is this Little One?” He questioned unfamiliar with the gesture.

“Hold out your fist,” she squeaked. And so he did and laughed when her pinprick of a fist bumped into his middle finger.

“Come on cowboy we got books to sort.” She commanded with a bit of sass.

He obliged.

#loki #giant loki #shrunken reader #Loki x borrower #borrower reader #sensitive

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anothertimdrakestan · 3 years

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Heat Waves (TimKon)

Words: 3k

Hi! I’m so glad you’re here! I’ve been working on this for way too long and definitely have a pt2 planned out if you guys like part one! I hope you’ll take the time to read this because I spent way too long on it and I’m pretty happy with how it turned out!

for the like 0.1% of my audience that this overlaps with, yes, i too am utterly obsessed with Heat Waves for DNF and have been listening to this song on repeat for three days straight waiting for chapter 8. But, i figured why not let that amazing piece of absolute art inspire a Timkon fic cuz they have the same dynamic as DNF in my eyes! All credits go to tbhyourelame on ao3!

if you don’t know what heat waves is that’s fine this is just a regular fic but I highly recommend you checkout the amazing song here

It was as hot as death itself in Kansas. Not to mention a farm with no AC was just about the worst place Conner could be forced to “vacation” at. But Ma and Pa had been begging to have him over and the month of June just seemed to overlap, so there Kon was, sweating buckets in the middle of nowhere.

It felt so cold in Gotham. Though, the temperature was comfortable- the most comfortable it had been all year- but Tim always felt colder, lonelier, when Conner wasn’t by his side. The two of them were a duo, fitting together like a puzzle piece, the absolute best of friends and best of heroes. But now, he was using his mandatory away-from-the-tower weeks up while Conner was in Kansas, it was some sort of mandate that Bruce’s kids come home occasionally and instead of suffering weekends in Gotham Tim opted to just grind out a few weeks at the manor, even if it meant dealing with Damian’s unrelenting murder attempts. But it wasn’t all bad, Tim got to patrol with Bruce again, hang out with Jason occasionally, and even see Dick from time to time. “Family” bonding at it’s finest.

“Hello?” Tim’s voice was quiet, Kon constantly felt himself turning the volume button up on his phone just to hear a decibel more of his best friend’s comforting tone.

“Hey Timbers how was your day?” Conner felt himself relaxing to the light sound of Tim breathing, he was laying on the floor, spread like a starfish so that no sticky part of his body could touch and create more sweat.

“Nothing much, no patrol tonight- I guess you remembered,” Tim’s voice was filling his ears. I remember everything you tell me. “Yeah, yeah I did,” Conner quickly replied. “Any boring farm chores today?” Conner heard the familiar rustling, he could hear Tim stand up, he’d memorized the sound of Tim taking him off speaker and resting the phone in between his shoulder and ear. He could hear Tim’s hair, that he knew he was probably growing out, brush the mic. I always liked his hair longer.

“Kon?” Tim snapped him back into the stiflingly hot room. “Oh sorry, it’s really hot here, kinda makes me zone out. Um, I’m alright I got to hangout with the cows today which was cool- they don’t like the heat either but Ma says it’ll be over soon,” Conner rambled, all too focused on Tim’s breath in his ear.

“Sorry for making you zone out, I guess nothing interesting is happening here,” Tim sighed, Conner shook his head, rolling over on the floor, leaning down into the mic of his phone.

“Nothing about you bores me Tim,”

Tim didn’t reply. Conner mentally cursed himself, he was really too tired, too hot and bothered to be this flirtatious with Tim, who was a complete wild card when it came to Conner.

And then he answered, Tim’s voice was higher pitched, the way it ascended when he was blushing- he was blushing. “Well that’s not true, I’m very boring. When I’m doing cases or training or-” Conner couldn’t take it.

“Nothing about you could bore me Tim. I’m down to be with you whenever, doing whatever, you know that,” he felt his tone soften, loving the way Tim’s breath hitched with every compliment.

“Be with me?” Tim shot back playfully, Conner could practically hear the smirk toying on the smaller boy’s lips.

“Did I stutter?” Conner heard a loud noise, a thump. Tim’s voice was high pitched again, “Sorry- uh I dropped my phone,” Conner felt himself growing warmer, if at all physically possible. “No problem. So, what are you doing tomorrow with Bruce?” Conner didn’t like pushing Tim too far, hell, he barely knew how he felt half the time. Tim’s voice brightened, “Oh! We’re gonna go to this old ice cream shop I adored as a kid! It’s been too long since I’ve been there, you remember me talking about it?”

Conner didn’t need a second to answer, “Sub 30, you always get the one with the espresso poured over it,” he couldn’t lie, ice cream sounded absolutely heavenly at the moment. Tim’s voice flooded through the heat, “Right as always- I swear they programmed some sort of photographic memory inside of you,” Tim teased, Conner answered honestly, “I just listen when you tell me things”. The night went on, Tim quickly had to go, believe it or not he did sleep when given the opportunity. “Try not to die of heat exhaustion, drink lots of water throughout the day, not all at once,” Conner smiled, “will do, goodnight Timmy,” Tim answered mid yawn, “night Kon”.

And then he was alone. Alone with the heat, with his thoughts, the latter far more dangerous. He’s my best friend, of course I remember everything. Conner found himself staring at the ceiling, Ma had painted constellations on the walls and ceilings of the room, something funny about alien genes liking the stars. Conner used to be able to find every pattern, name every star, but the only shape he could trace was Tim. There were his eyes, they were pools of deep blue, they sparkled when he laughed but could glare bullets when he tried. If he stared hard enough Kon could find his hair, it’s always soft and smells delicious, layers falling effortlessly- cascading to frame his face. Then there were his lips, Conner found himself constantly mesmerized with the way Tim bit his bottom lip when thinking, the way they scrunched together when he said something funny, how they constricted when he bit the inside of his cheek just enough to hide the emotion he was so scared of portraying. They were perfect.

He let the heat take his mind, flowing with the stars as he thought dangerous thoughts about his best friend. His thoughts danced around Tim’s waist, flowing carefully around his chest, wrapping Kon in every layer of Tim’s personality, every smile, laugh, tear, scowl, it was Tim. Kon’s Tim.

And there, on the floor, he drifted to an uncomfortable, sweaty sleep.

Tim was scrolling aimlessly through his phone, Gotham was surprisingly boring. He once found the city bustling and distinctly alive but now it only left him cold, cold and bored.

“Ice cream as good as you remember?” Bruce’s voice lifted him from his device. “Yup! Can’t believe you let me have espresso at like 10, you basically started my addiction.” Tim threw on a smile, glancing down at the half eaten dessert. “Yeah, can’t say I was the best father but, I tried,” Bruce’s shoulders shook lightly, but the laughter didn’t make it to his eyes. Did you really try? Truly? Tim dove back into the creamy sweet, admiring the bitterness the espresso brought the flavor. His phone buzzed.

K: Did you get the ice cream?

T: yeah, you remembered?

K: You literally told me last night

T: have i been off your mind since?

K: No.

Conner always did this, every time Tim thought he’d throw him off guard with something funny or flirtatious just to have a little fun Kon took it and ran with it. And I’m always the one who ends up blushing. Tim thought, shaking his head. It was really his fault he let Conner get him riled up. They were best friends, flirting or dealing out little sexual quips were natural, and often pretty funny.

“Earth to Tim? I’ve got a meeting you wanna head back while I head to the office?” Tim glanced over at Bruce who was now standing up in front of him. “Yeah, I can work on cases back at the manor, you gonna head to the office?” stretching his arms he stood up, noticing Bruce had put on his business face- the one stone cold and dry that only brought back the worst memories. “Yes.” His response was gruff, Tim suppressed the shudder that tried to dance down his spine. “Uh yeah, I’ll head back, have a nice day B,” he smiled, hoping it made it to his eyes.

“You can’t keep calling me while I’m on patrol, it’s not safe,” Tim chastised Conner loosely, appreciating the company as his patrol with Damian was always deathly silent. “C’mon, you’re used to having me in your ear,” Tim gulped, glancing around for Damian who was three buildings over, deeply uninterested. “Kon, oh my god, I’m gonna mute you,” Tim whispered, revelling in the chuckle that stirred in Conner’s chest. It was deep, and warm, so distinctly warm Tim felt the heat budding in his chest.

“So, patrol with the demon? He hasn’t cut your grapple line yet?” Conner’s tone was low and silky smooth. Coughing to clear his throat Tim replied, “nope, he’s most horrific when Bruce is here, when he’s not the punk couldn’t care less whether I live or die,”

“I care,”

“I know Kon,” If only you knew how much I appreciated it.

“Asshole, can you hear me? I said we’ve got a gang robbery on second? You coming genius?” Damian’s disgusted tone flooded over his comm, and Tim quickly turned his attention to the bat-brat who was already grappling towards the alarms and shouts. Conner’s whisper asked, “can he hear me?” and Tim replied, “no, you’re on a separate channel, Dami can only hear me when I unmute. Just be quiet while I take out these thugs,”

“Why? Because my voice distracts you?” Conner’s tone shifted into dangerously flirtatious.

“No, cuz you’re annoying as shit,” Tim smirked, running across the top of a building, letting Damian call the signals so he didn’t get all upset.

“Do I make you uncomfortable Tim? Do I make you forget just exactly what you’re doing, whether you want to use your batarang or bo staff? Do I make you, warm? Because it’s so warm here, so hot, god I’m just so hot I-”

“Shut. Up.” Tim struck the gun out of a scared looking man. Rolling his eyes at the man in his ear.

“Why? Are you too focused? We’ve taken out much harder criminals all while talking. Aren’t we just talking right now?” Kon’s voice was ringing in his head like never before.

“I’m trying to focus but it’s no good when you’re in my ear.”

“And what if I wasn’t in your ear? You remember? When we work side by side, so close- are you an affectionate person Tim?” Tim could feel the heat dripping off of Conner’s voice, but he was taken aback by Conner’s new line of thought.

“Wha- what? Am I affectionate? I don’t know. Sometimes?” Tim almost missed a hit, huffing as Damian blocked what would’ve been a hard blow on him. “Start paying attention Drake,” Damian’s tone was acidic. But he was drawn back into his com as Conner’s voice flooded his ears again.

“Would you be affectionate with me?”

“Yes” Tim’s breathless reply was instant, his brain not giving him a chance to think.

“Good, I like that. You know I’m very affectionate too? I like getting to hold the people I care about close, feeling their warmth. You know I’m very warm right now?”

“I- I know Kon, I bet, are you doing alright? Drinking water?” Tim shook out the thought of Conner lazing out in his room, sweaty, lips parted as he pushed out warm breath- Stop. Focus. Your job is to defend these people. Damian’s doing a good job, You just have to round up the civilians. Tim forced himself back into the real world, taking on one of the gang members with ease, tying him up swiftly before moving on to the next.

“I heard that, I can hear it every time you take out one of those men. This is easy isn’t it? I can’t be that distracting to you. You’re too good.”

“You always do this,” Tim felt his cheeks heating up, his steps felt forced, like he had to remind himself to breathe. Tim carefully rounded up civilians, escorting them to safety as Conner started again in his ear.

“Always do what Tim? Tell you how much I appreciate you? How much I miss you? Do you not think you deserve to be missed? To be loved?”

“Conner” Tim’s tone was harsher than he wanted it to be. But nonetheless Conner continued.

“Why not? Why the hell not? You’re amazing Tim.”

Tim scoffed, playing it off as a cough to the people in front of him.

“What do you need to hear Tim? That you’re amazing? Brilliant?-”

“Oh my god Kon-” Tim interrupted, but Conner wasn’t done.

“Talented? Impressive? [his tone deepended] - Attractive?”

“I’m gonna hang up,” Tim was breathing so hard he was practically hyperventilating. The compliments were all that consumed his thoughts, swirling around his brain, packing it full of deep, dangerously flammable thoughts.

And Conner was ready to let it burn.

“You need to be kissed Tim,” Conner murmurs, throat raw, “so hard that you can’t remember your name- maybe then you’ll understand what I mean.”

The batarang in Tim’s hand clattered to the floor. Damian’s head whipped to him as Tim struggled to regain function.

“I’m muting you, see you in a bit,” was all Tim could choke out before he ripped the earpiece out, unable to let it sit, burning into his skull. You’re almost done here, cool down, finish up. Tim told himself as he manually reminded himself to breathe. You’ve got this.

Conner knew Tim ended the call. But he didn’t have the energy to stop the endless beeping from the disconnected phone.

He was laying on the floor of his room, limbs spread out as he clawed for anything that could cool him down, but all he could feel was heat as he stared up at the stars.

He had to admit, he’d pushed Tim further than ever before. But it felt too right to stop, too good. He couldn’t stop replaying the way Tim’s breath hitched after every word, desperately grasping for the feeling budding up in his chest. It was too addictive to not let the words he’d spent too long crafting pour from his lips into Tim’s heart.

Kon didn’t know how long he laid there, dazed in the heat, just trying to relive word after perfect word.

Until his phone rang.

“Tim?” his voice was ragged and raw.

Tim’s was high pitched and tight. “Conner what the hell was that? Was that funny to you? Saying all those things- flirting with me while I’m trying to do my job?”

“Flirting?” Conner mused, staring at the stars with a tattered smirk on his face.

“Don’t act dumb, I don’t know what kind of sick joke it was saying all that while I’m on patrol but I’m glad you think you’re funny,” Tim’s voice was cold. But not the cooling tone, it was sharp, like the way the freeze of ice can feel so painfully hot when applied too harshly.

“I would’ve said it to you no matter what you were doing,” Conner whispered, resting his phone on his chest, wincing at the sticky noise it made as he tried to adjust it’s positioning.

“So that was just all for you? To let you listen as you screwed with my brain?” Tim retorted.

Conner was done dancing around the truth, all forms of control eluding his mind. “Yes,”

“That’s cruel Kon, can you imagine if I did that with you? Told you how you needed to be kissed while you’re out with Jon or something?” Tim sounded exasperated, but at the end of each quip Kon could hear the deep breaths he was taking. Does- Does he like this?

Tim continued. “Don’t answer that. Shut up, I know what you’re gonna say. ‘Oh Tim it’s not the same,’ just- just get out of my head!”

Conner sat up. He was floating. Floating in the middle of his room, the phone on his chest tumbling to the floor as he scrambled to grab it again, feeling his feet touch the ground as he held the phone as close to his lips as he could.

“What do you mean Tim? How am I in your head?” Do you feel the same way I do right now?

“You- you just know me. So well, and when you say stuff like that- when you’re in my ear saying those things your voice, it’s like fire, it burns.” Tim sounded desperate, his voice painfully strained.

Conner’s head was spinning, “I burn you?” he matched Tim’s desperate tone.

“You melt me.”

Conner’s head slammed against the roof of his room, as he tried to regain control of his senses he heard Tim murmur, “does that make sense?”

“More than you know Timbers, more than you know,” Conner could hear Tim let out a sigh, the kind that told him all would be okay.

As Conner took a deep breath, steadying himself for what was to come Tim spoke first. “It’s so late Kon, I’ve been up to long, I think I need to go to bed,” Tim’s tone was soft again, the cooling, comforting tone that Kon was scared he’d never hear again.

"Yeah, I- uh, have chores in the morning anyways.” Conner answered, hoping to give Tim some peace of mind.

“Okay, sounds good. Goodnight Conner,” Tim said quietly, his tone thoughtful and slow, finally letting the sleep crowd his mind.

“Goodnight Tim, talk to you tomorrow?” Conner let too much hope sink into those last few words.

“Yes, night now,” Tim answered easily, quickly hanging up the call, letting Conner sink down back into the carpet of his floor.

“Tomorrow,” Conner whispered to himself, feeling the intense heat start to creep back in as he drifted into a sweaty sleep.

“Tomorrow,” Tim whispered to himself, trying to swallow the nerves he didn’t know Conner could draw out of him.

“I’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

not my usual fic but I really hope you enjoyed!

taglist: @vintageroses10 @idkmanicantenglish @kishony-the-geek @foenixphire @how--are--you @psych0crybaby @romance-is-tragic @birdy-bat-writes @subtleappreciation @officiallydarkgeek also kita cuz i love u and wanted to try writing timkon more in your style hehehe @river-bottom-nightmare

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cel-aerion · 3 years

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So, I’m going to ramble about gender, and throw it into the void that is Tumblr, because like… I don’t know if anyone will relate to this, but if so, I want to put it out there to be seen, so that hypothetical person knows they’re not alone. And also, maybe (probably)... I’m just hoping that I’m not alone.

I’m also going to talk about Dollhouse, so like, if anyone is concerned about very minor spoilers for a show that’s a decade old, there’s that I guess.

So, for those who don’t know, the premise of Dollhouse is that there’s this company that will like wipe people’s minds and imprint them with new temporary personalities, based on whatever a client needs, whether that be a date, or a crisis negotiator, or an expert in a certain field, or whatever. Like, they’re not pretending to be these people, they really truly are them, at least until they’re wiped again. But at one point the main character, Echo, ends up with a lot of these personalities dumped on her at once, which isn’t supposed to be done and causes chaos, but then it seems to be under control. Until, while she’s supposed to be someone named Roma Klar, she ends up getting hit on the head. And she seems fine, until she’s having to declare who she is, and she says, very determinedly, “I am, and will always be, Mrs. Eleanor Penn.” Then after it’s out of her mouth, she gets a look of confusion, and says, “...wait. Who did they make me this time?”

More and more, this is my experience with gender. It’s happening with greater frequency that I’ll make some sort of comment that stems from the base assumption that I’m a guy, and then after I say it, I’m just like, “...wait, that’s not right, is it?”

It feels weird to be 36 years old and be experiencing this now. Not that it’s the first time I’ve questioned my gender identity. But previously, I’d settled on “don’t actually care,” “don’t want it to be a focus,” “wish it could just not be perceived,” “why is this even a question why can’t I just exist,” and, thanks to one particular Tumblr post, “wearing a red shirt at Target.”

And I thought I was good with that. With just sort of existing in the middle. But maybe that’s not where my identity actually resides.

But on the other hand... I never really had dissonance/dysphoria with my body. Quite the opposite, actually - I actively like my body. I mean, sure, there’s things about it I wish I could change, some days I’m more happy with it than others, but that’s just everyone. On the whole, I like the model I’ve ended up with, so to speak. Which, unfortunately, just makes this whole thing more complicated. Like, I feel like my gender identity and my physical body are two completely unrelated things, and if I existed in a vacuum, saying “I’m a guy but the parts I have happen to be female and I don’t see any conflict there” would be enough.

But I don’t exist in a vacuum, so it’s very easy to start second-guessing myself, my motivations behind this, all of it. To wonder if what I’m experiencing is enough to count myself as trans or genderqueer or what-have-you. To wonder if I’m really a guy, or just like dressing in a more masc style, or just enjoy subverting gender expectations, or something like that. To wonder if I’m really a fraud.

Obviously I don’t have an answer to this, or else this rambly post wouldn’t be necessary. All I know is what’s going on in my head, and what that seems to be, when I’m not overthinking everything - when I’m not thinking at all and just reacting - is defaulting to the idea that I’m a guy. And since there’s no guidebook on How to Be Sure About Your Gender Identity, there’s really nothing to do except just… move forward with this and see what happens. Maybe it’ll fit. Maybe not. But I feel like I won’t know for sure unless I give it a try. And right now, I’m at a place where I’d rather do that, even if it doesn’t work out, than to keep going with the status quo but forever wonder what if.

#gender #and overthinking #and screaming into the void #i dunno #also this is to say that i'm gonna start using he/him pronouns #somehow it felt clunky to have that in the body of the post #but yeah that's the takeaway

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thegrunkiest · 3 years

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Not gonna lie, returning to Skyrim over the past few days has reminded me of just how much I hope TES VI does factions like they did in Oblivion.

!Some critical ranting of Skyrim/positive rambling of Oblivion ahead!

I’m saying this after I started trying to immerse myself in the College of Winterhold, at last, after installing some good magic mods. But I just couldn’t. I couldn’t really care less about this Eye of Magnus or why the Psijic Order wants to talk with me specifically. I couldn’t care about stopping Ancano I can hardly remember what even happens in the questline aside from go into ruin, find orb, go into basement, talk to an aura, go to a ruin, beat up a skeleton dragon and something after that.

This is the same issue I’ve personally had with the Companions, and to a lesser extent, the Thieves Guild. I legit only remember the Companions as “the guild that gives you lycanthropy”. Thieves Guild is a little better, as I do distinctly remember a few of the characters and their quests could get quite creative. I never felt particularly invested however.

So why exactly do I (and possibly some of you) think Skyrim’s factions don’t work, and that they should look back on Oblivion when creating questlines for the next games? For me personally, it boils down to two components: the state of affairs, and sense of progression.

Sense of Progression

I’ll start with the simplest one first. Let’s use the College as an example again, comparing it to the Mage’s Guild of Oblivion. What do you do to gain entry to the College? Cast the requested novice/apprentice level spell (or alternatively, shout if you’re a Dragonborn or just schmooze if you, for some reason, already have 100 in speech). In Oblivion? You have to gain a recommendation from each of the individual chapters by completing a quest unique to each quild hall, which involve a little more work than simply casting a spell.

Alright, alright, so what do we do once we’re in? At the College, we engage in a little lesson with our many (see: three) fellow students. Cool (it’s also our only magic lesson from what I recall - great education system!). Then we’re immediately thrust into the questline, with no real or necessary deviations from the main subject regarding the Eye of Magnus. Then guess what - you’ve become Arch Mage!... wait what? I thought I just joined not too long ago?...

I find it hard to feel good about gaining the leadership role, despite me having just stopped a potentially devastating crisis to earn it, because I never felt more than a junior beforehand. This is how Oblivion does it right with its ranking system in my opinion. While I admit I might have chosen a bad example to draw from, as the Mage’s Guild quests also heavily concerns the main threat in at least some way, but what personally makes it more immersive for me is the fact you’re promoted whilst you’re playing - even to the point you’re being passed onto a different superior for more daring assignments! This is where the little things really count.

Then there’s the Thieves Guild. Unless there’s some backstory I’m glancing over, I don’t see why the Thieves Guild of Skyrim couldn’t have shared the same ranking system as the Oblivion branch, if no one else. In Oblivion, you can only initiate the quests after you’ve passed a certain threshold of fencing stolen goods, something that encourages you to actually be a thief to progress as a thief. I’m not just going from Pickpocket to Gray Fox, as I feel I am from an initiate to Nightingale/Guildmaster in Skyrim; you have various titles you earn in between.

If I had to summarize the point I’m trying to make - I’ll use Oblivion’s Dark Brotherhood. Arguably one of the most popular questlines in TES. Now, could you imagine an Oblivion Dark Brotherhood without Whodunit?, The Assassinated Man, Permanent Retirement, etc. - just axe those unrelated quests in favor of focusing on rooting out the Traitor. No promotions, just primarily finding ways to stop a person who, probably, has killed assassins much more seasoned than you! A deadly threat! Why? Because you’re you! And you obviously deserve to become the Listener after being a Murderer the whole questline.

Which leads me into my next point....

State of Affairs

Skyrim’s questlines seem to have a fixation on factions that are destitute and/or are on the brink of extinction. Business is dry with the Thieves Guild; in the Dark Brotherhood, all but the Falkreath sanctuary is destroyed and the Old Ways are abandoned; the Companions are struggling with the lycanthropy that plagues its strongest members; the College of Winterhold have little reputation in quite an anti-magic province; hell, even the Blades, who were previously slaughtered and run into hiding. The Dawnguard factions I feel are an exception (a reason I like that DLC so much), as the Dawnguard can excuse its low wealth and reputation with the fact that it was just reformed, and the Volkihar Clan have, for all I know, have just been... existing, in the shadows.

Admittedly, Oblivion also has a bit of a running theme among its faction - stable and well-organized factions plagued by a specific threat. The Blades have their Oblivion Crisis, the DB with their traitor ordeal, the Mage’s Guild with the necromancers/Mannimarco, the Fighter’s Guild with the Blackwood Company, Court of Madness with Jyggalag.

The reason why I prefer Oblivion’s guilds over Skyrim, I suppose, is related to my personal problem of power fantasy. Skyrim is a big old power fantasy. You’re the Dragonborn, the chosen one, the Hero of prophecy. So obviously you need to be the savior of each guild, right? You have to be the one the Night Mother deems Listener; the one the Psijics talk to; the one Nocturnal makes a Nightingale.

One might say it’s more realistic that way though, as it adds to Skyrim’s aesthetic of a darker, more unstable time with the Civil War and return of dragons. That’s a fair point. But did 90% of the guilds have to be restricted to poor little groups? Surely the Companions could’ve had other bases in some of the cities somehow, or the Thieves Guild have another hideout in, say Solitude?

You could argue you’re also chosen in Oblivion, sure. But while Uriel saw you in his dreams, you’re place as HoK wasn’t in part due to a superpower, either. I felt I was closing the Oblivion gates because my characters were who they were. You aren’t the only one who can enter Oblivion gates, but you were determined and skilled enough to make it through to the end. While in the factions, you were, for the most part, a newbie working through the ranks until eventually, you’re trusted to confront the threat. In Skyrim it feels less like organizations, and more like ragtag groups that were waiting for you to come in and fix them.

Coupled with the sense progression, this makes experiencing Oblivion’s factions much more organic and satisfying - in my opinion. That’s what’s most important. I’m not ragging on anyone who likes Skyrim’s factions, and I still love Skyrim despite my endless complaints. I understand I may have missed a few points (like the Civil War and Arena), and the ones I made could be disputed.

TL;DR: Skyrim’s fondness for power fantasy and the lack of ranks makes its faction questlines less immersive and more forced, whereas in Oblivion climbing ranks as a sort-of average joe feels organic and more rewarding. This is just my opinion. I don’t hate Skyrim. You’re free to agree or disagree and add to the discussion.

#VS BS #the elder scrolls #elder scrolls #tes iv: oblivion #oblivion #skyrim #i haven't played Morrowind so that's why i didn't mention it #dark brotherhood #college of winterhold #the companions #the mage's guild #the thieves guild #the blades #hope adding tags of the guilds i'm criticizing is okay

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sasarahsunshine · 3 years

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Broken

Warning: Blood, beating, stabbing, angst. Temporary character death. Spencer Reid whump and hurt Derek Morgan.

Pairing: Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid | Moreid

You can also read this on AO3.

He could handle anything He did to him. He had been beaten black and blue before, blown up, shot at, and stabbed. He could handle it. He survived in the past, and he’ll survive this, too.

So, being thrown to the ground so hard that his head bounced off the concrete, the air being forced from his lungs as a steel-toed boot slammed into his stomach, he convinces himself that he’ll be okay. Because he can handle it. He was Derek fucking Morgan. A respected and hard-working FBI agent, for crying out loud. He could handle it.

However, what he couldn’t handle was being handcuffed to a metal pipe that jutted from the cold wall. What he couldn’t handle was the submissive partner grabbing him by the chin and forcing him to look up as the dominant partner walked into the room with someone else in his arms, their thin figure fighting hard against his firm grip. What he couldn’t handle was the look of fear that flashed behind Spencer Reid’s eyes when he finally noticed the bruises and the blood that had marred his lover’s face.

“What-?” He choked, coughing as the vile taste of pennies slipped down his throat. He yanked against the handcuffs, the sharp metal digging into his wrists in a numbing sort of burn. How did they get to Spencer? He was supposed to be back at the hotel!

“Derek!” Spencer’s voice was hoarse, his eyes red and cheeks tear-streaked. Damien, the dominant partner, threw Spencer to the floor, the lanky doctor’s knees cracking against the cement. He gasped silently, cursing, before reaching for Derek in an attempt to crawl to him. Damien’s boot came down on Spencer’s wrist, pinning him to the ground with a yelp. He squatted, his elbows on his knees as a hand softly gripped Spencer’s chin, forcing him to make eye contact. “Huh. Guess you are a pretty boy,” he said with a click of his tongue and a twisted grin. “I’m sure I can change that.”

Derek growled, yanking against the handcuffs again. He could feel the bite of the metal as it threatened to break his skin. “Leave him alone! You wanted me, remember? This whole thing was for me, right? So let him go, and take out your anger on me, like you wanted!” He didn’t know where the burst of energy came from, but he wouldn’t let it go now that he had it. He needed to keep Damien’s attention on him.

Damien rolled his eyes, dropping Spencer’s chin with force before gripping his hair, forcing his head back. Spencer swallowed, closing his eyes tightly to try and mask his emotions. Damien tugged at his roots, gazing over the pale expanse of Spencer’s gorgeous neck. His grin was wicked as he noticed a small hickey hiding under the collar of the genius’s sweater.

“You know,” he started, his other hand going to yank the sweater aside so he could get a better look, “I’ve been watching you for a while, Derek Morgan. The day you murdered my father was the day I knew I would get revenge for him. At first, I thought about just killing you.” He stood up, releasing Spencer’s wrist just long enough to kick him over, then slam his foot right into Spencer’s stomach, making him gasp sharply and curl into himself. Derek shouted, “No! I said leave him alone!” He was fuming. His wrists were starting to bleed.

“But then I thought, why not take someone you love so dear away from you? Then we’d be even.” Damien’s shoe connected with Spencer’s face, a sickening crack echoing in the concrete room as Spencer screamed out. Derek screamed too, his body protesting to how hard he was pulling against the pipe.

Damien’s partner, Justin, was standing off to the side, wincing as he watched Damien kick Spencer again and again, aiming for his stomach and chest.

Derek felt his tears, hot, unrelenting, as they flowed freely down his cheeks to the sounds of Spencer’s agony. His pain. He kept yelling at Damien, begging, pleading, asking him to “Please just stop- you’re going to kill him.” But he didn’t relent.

Derek could handle a beating. He could handle a knife stabbing through his stomach, a bullet to the shoulder, an explosion at his back. He could handle acid on his skin. He could handle the pain because he was strong and capable—a survivor.

But he couldn’t handle watching the love of his life being tortured before his very eyes. His heart was hammering against his chest, breaking with every shout that left Spencer’s bloodied lips. His lungs hitched as he choked on his sobs, his shoulders quivering with every ragged breath he took.

Damien eventually paused, crouching down, lifting Spencer’s head by his hair, the young agent wincing with blood and tears and snot dripping down his chin and splattering to the floor. Damien’s eyes scanned the damage done, watching Spencer’s uneven breathing, his gasps for air. He listened to Derek’s incoherent rambling behind him. “Please, please, please, please-”

“Oh, shut up,” Damien finally said as he dropped Spencer’s head, the genius’s forehead connecting with the concrete with a loud smack. He curled into himself, wheezing, his eyes closed tightly. His sobs were more like hiccups; each exhale misting the floor with droplets and bubbles of bright red.

Derek was shaking, his hands utterly numb as blood pooled down his arms and dripped off his elbows. He would severe them entirely if it meant getting to Spencer and holding him. His lungs felt heavy as he gasped between sobs, his eyes glued to Spencer’s trembling figure. There was so much blood. “Spence- Spence, please look at me,” he begged silently, his vision blurred at the edges as more tears welled in his eyes. Spencer didn’t look, didn’t even move.

Damien stood up, looking down at his handiwork with a tilt of his head. He hummed, turning and walking to Derek. With a sinister chuckle, he grabbed Derek’s chin and forced him to meet his eyes, “I have a knife. I was wondering if I should just put him out of his misery now, or if I should let you watch him bleed to death?”

Derek narrowed his eyes, yanking his chin from Damien’s grip, “You’re sick! You won’t get away with this! I’m going to-”

“To what? Arrest me? You’re not really in a position to do that, agent,” Damien spat, glowering. He pulled out his knife, flipping it over in his hand once, twice, three times. He grinned again, “Maybe I’ll stab him anyways. Then make you watch him bleed to death. A win-win for me.”

Derek swallowed, all of the fight leaving him as his shoulders sagged. He was so tired. “Please, don’t. I’d rather you kill me. Just leave him alone. Please.” Justin just shifted from one foot to the other before looking at Damien, waiting for his decision.

Damien glared at Derek, “You don’t get to beg. You didn’t give my father that chance, now did you?”

“Your father was a murderer!” Derek shouted as Damien walked back towards Spencer, the knife poised in his hand. Derek felt his shoulder aching as he pulled against his cuffs again, “He had a gun to the girl’s head! I took that shot to save her!” He didn’t know why he was trying to explain himself; it wouldn’t make a difference. Because the cold indifference in Damien’s eyes told him that he didn’t care. Like father, like son.

Damien didn’t even hesitate to kick Spencer over onto his back, pushing the man’s arms away before plunging the knife into his stomach and twisting. The mangled scream that rang out in the room could have been Spencer’s-- it could have been Derek’s-- either way, it was an agonizing sound that reverberated through Derek’s body, ripping his heart in two.

Spencer coughed, blood pooling behind his lips and dribbling down the sides of his mouth, dripping off his chin. His eyes closed.

Derek was screaming, “Spencer!” His shoulder popped from its socket as the pipe burst from the wall with the force he yanked against it. Justin fell backward into the wall from alarm, his eyes wide with fear, “Damien!” But Damien only grinned, taking a step back to see what Derek might try to do next. He still had the handcuffs on both wrists behind his back. He wasn’t going anywhere.

Derek collapsed to his knees beside Spencer, cursing that he couldn’t hold him. He dropped his forehead against his beloved’s, tears sliding down his face, “Spencer-- Spencer, come on. Open your eyes, please. Spencer, look at me-- look at me.” He could smell the metallic scent of death and blood with every breathy wheeze that came from his partner’s opened mouth. He could hear the way Spencer’s lungs were filling with fluid, how he sounded like he was drowning in his own blood.

Derek snarled, looking up to see a retreating Damien and Justin, the two rushing up the stairs, a bloody knife in Damien’s grasp. He shouted after them, “Damien! You’ll pay for this! I’ll kill you myself!”

A soft whimper broke his attention, and he looked down, seeing Spencer’s gorgeous face contort in pain, another cough racking through his whole body. He shushed him, pressing their foreheads together again, “Shh, it’s okay, baby, it’s okay,” his voice cracked. He swallowed thickly, watching as Spencer tried to open his eyes, his eyelashes fluttering with drops of tears dotting them. He pressed a kiss to Spencer’s nose, “Just, just stay with me, okay? I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so, so sorry.”

“‘Sokay,” Spencer whispered. His voice sounded like he was speaking underwater. It made Derek sob, shaking his head, “No, no, it’s not okay. Spencer, please, just stay with me. Talk to me, okay?”

Spencer was quiet, aside from the gentle wheeze that came in uneven breaths, his chest rising and falling in small tremors. Derek bit his lip. He was about to watch his beloved die. He couldn’t handle that. “Spence? Talk to me, please,” he whispered, pleaded, his lips brushing against Spencer’s forehead, tasting of blood and sweat. He just wanted to hold him. “Please.”

“Der,” Spencer inhaled sharply, his face twisting up as he tried not to cough. Derek pushed his body closer to him, “Yeah? What’s up, baby?”

“I just…” Spencer’s breathing was slowing down. Derek swallowed the lump in his throat, his shoulders shaking as he tried not to cry. When Spencer spoke again, his voice was so quiet, so far away, Derek wasn’t sure that he even heard him. But he did, and it made him break down, his forehead falling to Spencer’s chest as he willed life back into his love, his partner, his soulmate. He sobbed, his face pressing into the blood that was supposed to be inside of Spencer, pumping through his veins, keeping him alive. But now it was spilled from his wound, drenching the floor in a brilliant deep red. And then Spencer was gone.

“I love you.”

~~~~~

Rossi slammed the door open, followed by two SWAT team members and Hotch, a flashlight and his gun in hand. He shone the light around the darkened basement before it landed on the crouched figure of Morgan, his body bloodied and shaking. “Hotch!”

Hotch hurried down the steps, landing on his knees beside Morgan and Reid, his eyes wide and looking over the two of them frantically. “Morgan,” he spoke sternly, forcing his agent to look at him, “Reid?”

The tears streaming down Morgan’s face was all he needed to see before he looked over his shoulder, screaming, “Medic! We need a damn medic!” Rossi dropped behind Morgan, unlatching the handcuffs from his bloody wrists. The moment he was free of his metal prison he threw his arms over Reid, pulling him into his lap and sobbing.

Rossi had to wrap his arms around Morgan’s middle, holding him still when the medics came down. Morgan had no fight left in him, watching with weary eyes as they loaded Reid onto a stretcher, their voices background noise to the roaring of his thoughts. I failed. I failed Spencer. I lost him. What am I going to do now?

“There’s a pulse!”

“It’s thready, if best.”

“Call ahead and let them know to prep for an emergency surgery.”

Did he hear right? Morgan’s head shot up as he watched the paramedics carry Reid away, Rossi still holding him and shushing him from behind. He yanked himself away, standing to his shaking legs, “Did they- he’s alive?”

“Barely,” Hotch said as he grabbed Morgan by the arm, leading him up the stairs, “Get in that ambulance, Morgan. And let them check you over too. We’ll meet you at the hospital.” It wasn’t a suggestion, it was an order. One that Morgan was not going to argue with.

Once loaded into the ambulance, a more common occurrence than Derek would ever want to admit, he grasped at Spencer’s hand with his good arm, ignoring the blood that stained his skin. He watched the medics work, hooking up wires and tubes to his partner’s body, an oxygen mask going over his face. One of them began working on the knife wound immediately, covering it with gauze to stop the bleeding. They began talking about numbers, BP, heart-rate, things that Derek zoned out.

He was too busy looking at Spencer’s face, trying to remember what it looked like behind the bruises and the blood. Under the pain was the most beautiful man he had ever met, whose eyes were the brightest shade of brown, glittering in the sunlight like gold. Whose nose would scrunch up adorably when he was being teased. Whose tongue would poke out and run along his bottom lip when he was thinking intently, his eyes scanning over files and files of casework. Beyond the broken man that was before him now was his true love.

He couldn’t lose him. He couldn’t handle that.

Arriving at the hospital was chaos. Derek fought hard to follow Spencer into the emergency room, but eventually collapsed in Hotch’s arms as he watched them wheel his soulmate away. What if Spencer died on the table? What if he never got to see him again? What if he never got to hold him at three in the morning, tangled up in each other’s limbs, planting soft kisses on exposed skin, ever again?

He couldn’t handle that.

Six agonizing hours later, with Derek’s wrists stitched and wrapped up nicely, his shoulder popped back into place, his cuts and bruises treated, a doctor finally walked into his room, a clipboard in hand. “Derek Morgan?”

“Yes?” He glanced up at her, his eyes and body heavy. He was exhausted.

“Dr. Reid is out of surgery,” she smiled, “and he’s been put into a room. He’s going to be okay. He’s a fighter, they told me. And seeing here,” she glanced down at her chart, “since you’re his medical proxy, you can go see him now.”

Derek didn’t have to be told twice, his feet carrying him straight to Spencer’s room.

The sight of him lying there, his eyes closed, an oxygen mask covering his face with wires and tubes attached to his body, was enough to make the tears start again. Derek sat down tentatively in the chair beside the bed, taking Spencer’s hand in his own. He squeezed it, gasping as his emotions came crashing down.

Spencer was here, alive, and right in front of him. Broken, but alive.

A soft whimper brought his attention to Spencer’s face, his hand going to brush some of the wild curls from his love’s forehead. “Mm here,” he murmured, “I’m right here, baby.” Spencer seemed to settle then, the lines and creases by his eyes smoothing out. His body relaxed under Derek’s gentle touch.

“I’m always going to be right here,” he continued, whispering. “I love you too.”

And I’m never going to let anything happen to you ever again.

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gt-ridel · 3 years

Text

Several hundred words of Half-Life Borrower!AU goodness

(Hi, this is Passportinspection!) Oooh goodness. I actually started writing this as an ask. I really thought what I had to say would fit into an ask. Since sending that anon about having 350 words of thoughts, I ended up getting distracted for a few hours, and then when I came back to this, I apparently had 400 more words to say. I just love rambling what-ifs about AUs. :’>

Hi Passportinspection! Sorry it took so long to reply to this. I had more work than I thought yesterday. >__< I totally agree! Rambling about what-ifs is WAY more fun than actually writing a story. ;;>__> _

These are… not all A-list ideas, and I was very tempted to cut it down to the best bits, BUT I know that if someone said to me “I had 5 ideas for your au but only told you the 2 good ones” I would be extremely interested in hearing the 3 bad ones anyway, so… here it all is. This was written pretty stream-of-consciousness and then rearranged a bit to form my pinballing thoughts into something a little more linear, but, fair warning, it wasn’t edited much beyond that.

_ Ooo, I absolutely want to hear everything! All ideas, good and bad! Are you kidding? (Gets comfy) _

I keep thinking about the end of that “gordon takes borrower!barney with him through the events of HL1” scenario; Imagining gman’s speech at the end, I like the idea of him saying something like, “As for your.. /passenger/..” and both of their bloods running cold. I can’t decide if I’d rather barney actually go into stasis with gordon or not I think it could be an interesting/cute concept- the idea that gman/his employers figured barney was enough of a factor in gordon’s success that they thought it would be wise to keep them together for future “assignments.”

_ Bro I'll be honest, I hadn't gotten that far in the AU because I still haven't finished the game. My only reference for G-man is Mr. Coolatta. So I'll have to at least look the ending up on youtube before I'll be able to give my informed opinion. But taking it as is? That would be freaking terrifying. They've met some other scientists and security guards during their escape, but the HEV helmet was a perfect hiding place. None of them ever noticed that Gordon wasn't alone. But somehow this reality bending creep knows, and it looks like he's not going to let Barney and Gordon just go home, which was basically what they were fighting for the whole time. _

I’m also thinking about, like.. With Barney in Gordon’s helmet with him, Gordon must be able to feel him tense up and hear his breathing speed up whenever something particularly scary/dangerous happens, maybe even at times faintly feel the fluttering of his heart, and it strengthens his resolve to make it out of there bc it’s not just himself he’s saving. 🥺 Also Barney can provide running commentary, which perhaps soothes both of their nerves a little. Maybe he even helps with some puzzles. :> I also think it’s funny/convenient that that would work really well for an actual video game format. A friend that’s with you wherever you go that sees everything you see but can’t interact with the world but provides commentary and occasional helpful tips? That fits in nicely!

_ Ha! Something I was thinking about was how Barney has spent his whole life living in the vents and such. He would probably be a perfect guide for Gordon. :3 As for Gordon feeling when Barney gets tense or scared and that fuling his drive to escape, that was ABSOLUTELY one of the reasons I wanted Barney in the helmet. It would be uncomfortable, inconvenient, and down right dangerous sometimes. But you cannot deny the unique opportunities for deeper emotional exploration it would present. _

…But also, now that I think about it, maybe there are parts where the only way forward is for Barney to slip through a crack in a blockaded doorway and use a control panel that opens another door- that sort of thing. He gets to help with more than just talking sometimes! :> Oh, dang, imagine the part where gordon gets jumped and almost killed by the military. Poor Barney. D: Maybe a factor in Gordon escaping the trash compactor before it crushes him is Barney frantically trying to wake him up.

_ I was defo hyperfixating on what the whole beat down would be like from Barney's perspective a few days ago! Gordon would be at an extra disadvantage in the fight because he'd have to be careful not to accidentally bash Barney between his skull and the helmet while he's being smacked around. Imagine Barney being tossed all over the small space, maybe ending up pinned when Gordon finally passes out. Noticing when a small stream of blood starts leaking from his friends mouth and soaking into his clothes. Gordon is completely helpless, and so is Barney as he hears the soldiers talking about what they're going to do with the body. I just think that whole scene and the escape from the trash compactor would be so fun and exciting~ -

Also, unrelated, but I wonder how barney would wake up in city 17, if he did go into stasis with gordon. That is, since gordon is wearing a citizen outfit when he comes out of stasis, barney obviously can’t be in the helmet anymore. Maybe gman elects to move barney to a pocket somewhere instead lol. I’m imagining as soon as gordon is released from whatever effect gman had him under and he’s able to move again, he starts patting himself down looking for Barney (the same way one does when they forget which pocket their phone is in ), bc last he knew Barney was right up against his face and now he’s /not/, and that man SAID they’d be “hired” as a team so /where is he/ because Gordon needs to know he’s /okay/. As Barney is released from the same effect, he probably moves and makes himself apparent, so it’s only for like a second that Gordon is doing that.

_ Once again, I can't speak much to what would happen in a HL2 continuation of this story, but that sounds about right for an initial reaction scene. Imagine Barney just coming out of it and being in some sort of... bag? being jostled around? He feels a giant hand pat over him from outside and he grunts in surprise. Then the hand rests against him and Barney realizes he's in a humans breast pocket, being held against someones chest as beside him a thundering heart slowly begins to calm. He figures this must be Gordon. He doesn't KNOW any other humans, and he can't imagine that man in the suit would be all that concerned about Barney's wellbeing. _

Barney doesn’t know where they are/who else is out there at all ‘cause he can’t see from where he is, and Gordon can feel him shifting to lean out of the pocket and get a look, and he just puts a hand over the pocket, covering the opening in the process, and applies a gentle pressure for a couple moments, and Barney knows that means he needs to stay put because it’s not safe to come out yet. Thankfully Barney heard Gman talking to Gordon and addressing him by name, so he doesn’t have to worry about whose pocket he just woke up in. He would probably somewhat recognize Gordon’s gait/the feel of his hands at that point, too. As for how Gordon avoids boarding the train to Nova Prospekt without canon barney there to stop him, I have no idea.

_ YEAAAH that is a good point. Barney is kind of vital for that role. Maybe we can slot a different character into his place. ^__^;; _

Oooh, going back a bit, maybe when the nihilanth is teleporting gordon around in the boss level, or from the very beginning when gordon jumps into the portal to Xen, they get teleported separately and end up in different places? (Ignoring for a moment the parts with portals in Black Mesa ^^;) That sure is an additional level of distress for the both of them during the Big Final Level(s). And then perhaps at the end, part of gman’s speech can be like, “As for your.. companion, you can rest assured he was recovered safe and sssound. After all, you two performed so well, together, it would be ideal to hire you as, a team.” Or whatever

_ Imagine Barney, stranded and alone on Xen, desperately trying to find Gordon, and having his OWN creepy G-man encounter. :U _

Our Barney AUs differ in some exciting ways and it’s fun to play in someone else’s sandbox for a while. :p I’ll probably cut my notes doc down into something readable and post it sometime in the near-ish future.. Either that or actually write the dang fic.

_ I would absolutely LOVE to hear about your AU too! So if you do either of those things, be sure to @ me! Thank you so much for playing in this sandbox with me. I am ALWAY down to talk Borrower AU stuff. It's just so much dang fun! ^0^

#Half-Life #Borrower!AU #Borrower!Barney #Gordon Freeman #Barney Calhoun #G-man

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vcidgalpin · 4 years

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The Tell Pt 1

Stiles Stilinski x Reader (Eventually)

Season 1 Masterlist

Word Count: 2400

A/N: Well holy shit, didn’t expect that one.

Warnings: making out, uncomfortable flirting, i guess cheating... yeah.

Browsing through the horror movie section at the video store, I hear the ding of the bell above the door. Peering up to the entrance, I swear can I hear a thud from behind me, but I could be hearing things. Quickly, I recognize who had walked in a moment ago. None other than Jackson Whittemore. Turning around, I pray he didn’t see me.

“Can somebody help me find The Notebook?” I hear him call out. Looking up from the shelves in front of me, I notice that the man I saw when I walked in earlier was no longer up on his ladder. “Hey, Y/N? Is that you?” Jackson taps my shoulder and I jump in surprise.

“Uh, hey Jackson. What are you doing here?”

“Looking for The Notebook,”

“Funny, I didn’t think that would be your type of thing,” I joke, trying to ease my nerves. For some reason, being around him always made my hairs stand on end.

“I’m not. Lydia is though, and she is more stubborn than anyone.” His eyes roll, but for once I kind of agree with him. He steps closer to me, and I step back, instinctively. “What’s your type?”

My breath catches in my throat, and confusion fills my mind.

“What?”

“Of movies. What type of movie are you looking for?” His voice sounds casual and unaware at what he did, but his smirk gives him away.

“Oh, I- Um… I guess horror movies?” He takes another step, but I notice how my back is already pressed against the shelf behind me. He is a couple inches taller than me, so he just towers over me, caging me in. Something behind me, over the shelf seems to catch his eye though. He stumbles back, a shocked look on his face, his hand goes to cover his mouth.

“Y/N, get behind me. Now.” I turned to try and see over the shelf, but I’m only just too short.

“What? What is it?”

“Just, stay behind me. Alright?” Clearly he was putting on a brave front, but I hear his rapid heartbeat banging in his chest. He obviously doesn’t know I can protect myself, so I let him have his way, and I trailed behind him as we wandered around the shelf. On the floor, near to the stepladder, lies the man from earlier. Blood pours from his slit throat and puddles around his lifeless body. The ladder suddenly falls, as though it were pushed, and wires are yanked from the ceiling, causing sparks of electricity to jolt around the air, before the video store becomes shrouded in darkness. Jackson grabs my wrist, and we go to run for the door before stopping, hearing things falling from shelves in between us and our exit. He pulls me down, behind a shelf, so we are both crouching. His breathing has become ragged and wobbly, and he takes a peek around the corner. One of the shelves rocks forward, and I adjust my hand in his grip so now I am the one pulling him. I rush to drag him out of the domino of falling shelves, but one of the shelves slams down onto his back, I am yanked towards him again, as I still have him in my grip. I kneel next to him, about to lift the shelf up, when I am pushed, hard. So hard that it clearly wasn’t by any human, or even normal werewolf. My head slams into another shelf and-

---

Sirens blast, echoing around my head as my eyes blink open. A paramedic stands above me, staring down with a worried look on his face.

“How are you feeling, Miss? How many fingers am I holding up?” I rub my eye and reply with the correct number. I move to sit up, and they move closer to my side, aiding me in my movements. I’m already pretty much healed by now, but I feel very cared for at this point in time.

“Thank you,” I smile to the young-ish paramedic, leaning on my hands, half elevated, when I hear someone shouting my name over the loud bustling of people and cars,

“Y/N! Is that you?” Instantly recognising the voice to be Stiles’ I whip my head around, searching for him in the sea of people. I see his father before I see him, and I offer them both a small smile and a nod, letting them know I am ok.

“Hi, I know him, am I allowed to just go over to them?” Politely, the man nods to me, helping me up off of the stretcher.

“You sure you are feeling up to it?” I nod, and start over to the Stilinskis. Stiles rushes over to meet me halfway, his arm grabbing my shoulder gently.

“Are you okay, are you hurt? What happened in there? Was it the Alpha? Who is it?” Stiles frantically spams me with questions, before noticing how overwhelmed I am, and he stops, looking me in the eyes with a soft look on his face. “Seriously though, how are you?”

“I’m fine Stiles,” He gives me a look as though he didn’t believe me. “Werewolf healing, remember?” This seemed to relax him for a moment, before he looked over my shoulder to see Jackson and Lydia by an ambulance. I twist my head round to observe, and find Jackson staring directly at me. He looks angry, but sort of scared too? After a few moments of uncomfortable eye contact, he looks to a paramedic, and loudly asks if he can leave.

“I don’t need to go to the hospital, I’m fine,” I can tell that’s a lie. Not only does his heartbeat betray him, the weak scent of blood coming from his direction is a pretty significant tip off. The sheriff walks over to Jackson, and the young boy starts directing his anger towards him instead.

“No, you don’t understand. Which kind of blows my mind since it should be a pretty basic concept for a minimum wage rent-a-cop like you. I just want to go home!” He shouts loud enough for everyone to hear, even over the busy sounds of the scene. I look to Stiles, who looks very unimpressed by the other boy’s jab at his father. It’s my turn to grab his shoulder sympathetically now, catching Stiles’ attention and causing him to softly grin at my action.

“Take me home?”

---

Chemistry with Mr Harris… joy. I sigh as I slip into a seat next to Stiles, who is filling a page of his textbook with a yellow highlighter. The teacher drones on about some conference for parents tonight or something. Boredly, I fiddle with the sleeve of Stiles’ shirt, drawing his focus away from the book.

“What are you doing?” He asks, no harshness in his tone.

“I’m bored,” I state, matter of factly. He lets out a soft laugh,

“What do you mean you’re bored? It’s been like a minute, class hasn’t even started yet?” He nudges my hand away from him and I try to nudge back, before Mr. Harris’ annoying voice beckons us.

“Mr Stilinski, Ms Y/L/N, maybe if you two stopped childishly flirting for one moment, and actually paid attention, you wouldn’t be averaging below a C in my class,” A dumbfounded look forms on Stiles’ face, his mouth hanging open like the hinge of his jaw was loose, and I feel pink heat crawl up my neck. Quickly, I retract my hands from Stiles, trying to avoid the stares of my classmates as some snickers can be heard from around the room. He caps his highlighter, and leans towards Danny, who is sitting at the table in front of us, after Mr Harris starts writing away on the board.

“Danny, can I ask you a question?”

“No,”

“I’m going to anyway. Did Lydia show up in your home room today?” Why was he asking about Lydia, she wasn’t even inside the store last night.

“No,”

“Do people know what happened to her, Jackson and Y/N last night?”

“He wouldn’t tell me,” That’s weird. What happened to Jackson after I got knocked out.

“But you’re his best friend,” To that, Danny shrugs, “One more question?” Danny groans in annoyance. “Do you find me attractive?” I nearly choke on the air. Where the hell did that come from? He starts leaning forwards, as if in a weird trance of curiosity, before his stool tips, and he has to stop himself from clamboring to the floor, receiving stares from everyone in the room.

“Idiot,” I mumble to him, and he just rolls his eyes at me. “What made you even ask that? Do you like guys?”

“No- I just- Scott made me think, I was just curious if gay guys find me attractive,” I let out a laugh before covering my mouth.

“That’s the stupidest thing I've ever heard,”

---

Stiles rings Scott for about the 30th time in a row when he finally picks up.

“What?” I can hear him complain from down the phone.

“Finally! Are you getting any of my texts?”

“All nine million of them,”

“Scott now is not the time. You have any clue what’s going on? Lydia’s totally M-I-A, Jackson looks like he had a time bomb inserted into his face, another random guy is dead and you need to do something about it,” Stiles rambles on into the phone, flailing his free arm around like a maniac.

“Like what?”

“Something,” Real helpful as always Stiles.

“I’ll deal with it later,” Scott’s tone is hushed, and just as I go to grab the phone to talk to him myself, I hear the end call noise bleep from Stiles’ mobile. Infuriated, I groan, and we stop pacing through the corridor.

“What are we gonna do?”

“We need to talk to Lydia and Jackson, find out what they know,”

“If you haven’t noticed, even though I literally said it 2 seconds ago, Lydia isn’t here. And Jackson is… well, Jackson. He’s not exactly the most cooperative person of the best of days, I highly doubt that he will let me get a word in- But you. He was looking at you last night. You were in there with him, right? He’ll talk to you,”

“Stiles we don’t know that, and besides-”

“Y/N, it’s worth a try. You go find Jackson, and I will go to Lydia’s, okay?”

“Stiles, Lydia is my friend. You guys have barely even shared a look, never mind had a proper conversation. And, as I was saying, I am not talking to Jackson, I will tell you that for a fact.” I cross my arms, and glare into the boy’s amber eyes.

“Can you not be so difficult, and just do this one thing for me? Besides, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“You said it yourself. This is Jackson we are talking about,” Stiles looks at me with puppy dog eyes, desperation glittering within them. I sigh, shaking my head, and trying to avoid his unrelenting stare. A few moments pass before I begrudgingly groan,

“Fine. But you owe me, Stilinski,” Stiles fist pumps the air triumphantly, and tries to pull me in for a hug at the same time, causing him to just miss my face with his hand. “Sorry,” He gives me a quick squeezing embrace before sprinting down the corridor. Guess I better find Jackson, yay.

---

I see the boy staring into his locker, almost frozen in place. He seems deep in thought, basically unaware of his surroundings. I clear my throat, so as not to catch him by total surprise, and end up with a reflexive punch in the nose. He turns to me, his eyes wide, as his hand moves quickly to rub the back of his neck.

“Hi Jackson, crazy night, huh?” His unimpressed furrow of the brows doesn’t really give me much hope for this plan. “Um, anyways. I was wondering, what do you remember? I guess I got knocked out before I really saw anything,”

“I- I didn’t see anything, okay? Can people stop asking me that! I promise I didn’t see anything okay?” His voice sounds pleading, laced with fear. I put my hand on his arm, and his breathing starts to regulate again,

“Hey, look at me.” His eyes meet mine, the usual intimidating look not present. “Something attacked us, okay. And I don’t know if we are still in danger, I’m trying my best to do what I can to figure this whole thing out. Now, please, can you just trust me?” A while passes, as Jackson stares down at the floor, considering my offer, when he suddenly grabs my wrist and drags me into the nearest empty classroom.

“I can’t risk him hearing me.”

“Who?”

“Derek Hale. He was here earlier, he told me not to say anything. He said-”

“Jackson. Relax. I know him, he’s just trying to help too, he just wants information. Unfortunately, his way of going about things is- well it’s not the best, but hey. He won’t do anything to you, not on my watch.” I rub my thumb on the back of his hand to try and calm him. I read somewhere that physical touch is therapeutic for some people, especially people who have issues with attachment. I heard through the grapevine that Jackson was adopted when he was young, so his lack of actual social skills makes sense. Within the blink of an eye, hands suddenly cup my jaw, and Jackson’s lips collide with mine roughly. I am frozen in place for a moment, and then something seems to take over my body. I find myself kissing him back, a hand resting on his chest. One of his own moves to my hip, gripping down hard, backing me up. A table hits the back of my knees, causing my legs to buckle. Sitting on the desk, one of my thighs hooks to his waist, pulling him closer, before moving my hand to around the back of his neck. That’s when he winces, pushing me back harshly, and I struggle to stay upright at the shock of it all. His eyes are scrunched up as he puts his own hand over where I had touched. Then he gives me one wide eyed look, before bursting out of the room, without a word.

“What the fuck just happened?”

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#teen wolf #teen wolf series #teen wolf fic #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf season 1 #teen wolf rewrite #stiles stilinski #stiles x reader #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles x y/n #Scott McCall #Jackson Whittemore #lydia martin #jackson whittemore x reader

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vitalityofficial · 3 years

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Vitality LORE ACT 1 - The Girl: Prologue

VITALITY LORE // A1 - The Girl

Summary: We are introduced to a young girl whose life is about to change forever. After suffering a devastating loss, a mysterious man will eventually come into her life and begin his dark path of vengeance. The girl is only the beginning.

Warnings: Death, Cursing, Mentions of Blood, Bullying, Depression, PTSD, Anxiety

Wordcount: 1,778

School had been out for an hour now and all her friends had gone home. Why hadn't her parents come yet? They never took this long! And why haven't they called? She took her phone out, dialing her father's number and it rang and rang before going to voicemail.

"Dad! I'm still waiting. Are you okay? I'll wait for fifteen more minutes and if you aren't here, I'll walk home! I'll take the special kimchi route, okay? I love you!"

The 'special kimchi route' is a series of alleyways littered with various family-owned shops - one of those shops owned by an older woman who had the best kimchi dishes around and one her family ate at often.

The girl frowns after the fifteen minutes are up and finally hops off the swing, grabbing her book bag and sighing. "Traffic must be bad today," she reasoned, leaving the gated school property and making the long trek home. She still found it odd that neither had contacted her, but her mother's cellphone was being repaired and her father was old and sometimes didn't pick up service well. They lived far up in the hills - the rather "poor" part of Seoul, tucked far away with the main city in the distance - and any nearby payphones were broken and left to rot.

As she walks and walks, she can't help but to hum a happy tune, feeling perky despite everything. Her birthday was in 5 days and her parents had promised to take her to Busan for a whole week! Her best friend had moved there last year and the two didn't get to keep in contact so it was the perfect way to celebrate a special day.

"You! Child!" A gruff voice spoke from a darkened corner and she yelps when a frail hand grabs her arm, spinning her around. "Grandma! You scared me!" She laughs, hugging the older unrelated woman. She was a well-known resident to all in the small neighborhood and the girl's family was very familiar with her.

“It’s so awful, child! Truly terrible!” The elderly woman murmurs, her eyes wide and pupils as big as saucers. The girl frowns and a look of concern comes over her face - word around was that Grandma was not well and often spouted eccentric things but the other residents often did their best to take care of her as there were no known relatives around. “Are you okay, Grandma? Shall I help you home? It’s getting chilly out.” The girl softly grabs her hand, guiding her in the direction of the woman's house.

“I am so sorry, my sweet girl. You are to endure so much pain and it is not fair for you were destined for so much good.” The old lady rambles as they walk but the girl brushes it off, use to it. When they reach the final hill - which happens to split off into a fork - the girls home on the right and a cliff just across the weather-beaten road and the woman’s on the left - they are overwhelmed by the flashing lights of multiple police cars and an ambulance.

“What’s going on?” The girl panics as she takes everything in, immediately dropping the old lady’s hand as she rushes towards the commotion. She had never seen so many people gathered around this area and to her horror - right in front of her house!

"Was there an accident? What happened?" She pleads with an officer, who immediately stops her from crossing the tape barrier. "It's not safe, young lady. Please stay back!" The female cop grasps the girls shoulders, pushing her back. It wasn't soon enough though as the girl peaks around her, seeing a trail of blood that went over the cliff edge - something truly abnormal and mortifying.

“That’s my home! Where's are my Mother and Father?” She was panicking now - something clearly wasn’t right. Her parents were never late picking her up from school or activities and to come home to this...mess...The girl knew now that something terrible had happened and there was no hiding it from her. “Mama? Papa?” She screams desperately, tears instantly flooding down her cheeks.

The officer gave her a solemn look before turning to her superior, the two whispering among themselves for a couple of minutes. When they returned, the woman put a reassuring hand on her shoulder and guided her away from the commotion, sitting on a bench with her - a bench the girl often sat on with her Father when they ate breakfast and waited for the school van to pick her up each morning.

The officer didn’t waste much time breaking the news. “My dear, I am afraid your Mom and Dad had an accident and are no longer with us in this world.” Though her voice was gentle, it was clear that breaking such awful news to a child wasn’t something she did often, or even wanted to do.

The girl sputtered, unable to form any words. She looked around for the Grandmother but the woman was nowhere in sight now. “Mama...Papa?” She cries out weakly - the thought of never seeing them or speaking to them ever again filling her with an overwhelming sense of despair, leaving her gasping for air.

Everything went black then.

7 Years Later - (2016)

“Yah! Chaewon! Are you even listening? Hey! Watch out!” A firm hand grabs the girl's arm and yanks her backward just as a delivery scooter races past, beeping madly. “Are you spacing out again? What is with you?” Areum looked at her friend worriedly, the rapper of the triangle kimbap she was holding in her opposite hand crinkling loudly.

“Huh? What did I miss?” Chaewon snaps out of her funk, a tentative smile on her face. Areum groans in response, rolling her eyes as she takes a bite of her snack. “I said,” she begins with her mouth full of food, “I was thinking of asking Kangdae out. Isn’t he handsome, yeah? He’s not like the other boys in our class.”

“He’s a bit dumb, isn’t he?” Chaewon mutters. Sure, he was cute and had muscles but he wasn’t exactly known to be bright and was at the bottom of their class in terms of grades unlike Areum, who was in the top five.

Areum groans and smacks her friend on the arm. “Don’t be so rude, Unnie! He’s not stupid, okay? He just doesn’t really like studying but he’s a good person! He wants to get into music and he’s really good at it too! You should listen to one of his tracks he’s produced!” She goes to pull out her phone, biting her lip as she scrolls through some files.

“Maybe another time, yeah?” Chaewon waves dismissively at the cellular device her friend holds out to her. “I have to get home.”

“Let me walk you!” Areum offers, linking her arm through Chaewons. She was understandably concerned about her friend - who had been experiencing sporadic blackouts for a couple months now - and wanted to make sure she got home safely. “I mean, you did just nearly get shit on by a scooter while having one of your...moments.”

Chaewon shook her head, “No! I’m fine! Plus you know how my parents are.” Areum pouts, grumbling. “They have to be the lamest parents on earth if they won’t let their daughter bring a friend home. We’ve been besties since forever and I’ve never even met them! Ugh...”

"Yeah. They’re...strict and really embarrassing, to be honest. You’re not missing out on much.” Chaewon huffs, checking her phone for the time. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” She forces a smile at her friend, pulling her school blazer around her tighter as suddenly a chilly breeze whipped through the air. The two said their goodbyes and went their separate ways.

As Chaewon walked, she couldn’t help but feel guilty for being so distant lately. Areum had been a true friend to her ever since her move to Gwangmyeong. She was the first student to welcome her. The first to defend her against the snotty students who picked on Chaewon for being sullen, quiet and “weird”. Prior to the...incident, she had no real issues with bullies and was rather well-liked by her peers. She had since become the opposite version of former herself - the girl her parents adored was gone and she had no proper concept on how to defend herself or react to the other student's harsh words and actions.

So why was she so rude at times? Why did she lie to someone she considered her best friend? Chaewon had come to the conclusion that it was a defense mechanism of sorts. The only way she could deal with everything was by lying about her life outside of school. It made it easier to pretend - the façade she had created was an escape, albeit still very bleak, much like the truth.

The sounds of the city center grew more distant as she reached the iron gates of her “home”. Her slender hand gripped the cool iron and pushed it open slowly, the squealing of the metal sending a shiver down her spine. Laughter could be heard flittering from the playground behind the old stone building that housed 13 other kids just like her:

Orphans.

The Seojun house for orphans wasn’t too terrible - the food was edible on most days and the rats and roaches were few and far between as of late. The couple who ran it weren’t the kindest and had clearly become burnt out after running the institution for the past 20 years. If they hadn’t been getting a good sum of government money to run it, they most definitely would have abandoned the ominous place long ago. What made the place tolerable were some of the staff, like Mr. Kim.

“Welcome home, Miss Lee!” Mr. Kim - the designated maintenance and security man -- greets Chaewon with a cheery smile as she approached the front door. He even stops raking to open it for her, bowing and motioning with a hand for her to enter as if she were royalty.

“Ah! yes! Home sweet home! Thank you, Mr. Lee.” She manages to muster a smile, bowing as she walks through the familiar doors and sighing loudly. Her smile falters as she is out of the caretakers sight and the familiar sense of dread slowly overcomes her once again.

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a-little-slice-of-fandom · 3 years

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In response to the Jane ask, I totally agree! Her song, as vague as it might be in the newer versions, is very much about emotional abuse and her realizing/reflecting on it. In the other versions this is arguably even clearer! Besides the list in the first verse, there’s a line in the student run version that always get me, in the second verse after “with out my son your love will disappear”. Usually in the lastest version it’s “I know it isn't fair, but I don't care”, which can be a sign of even tho she knows that he has hurt her at this point, her love will still be there for her son. But the student run it’s something like “you’ll let us fall apart, try to break my heart” which I think is much more powerful in showing more of her self awareness at what would happen to her. Also that opening monologue before about if she was really loved or just checked all the boxes on a list before she could make him angry, she knew that he would be willing to destroy her if she didn’t do as he wanted (Cause Anne wasn’t some death that would never happen again and that only happened cause Jane was there, he was to said to have threaten Jane with the same fate cause of the pilgrimage of grace incident (also well it did happened gain two queens later). Also just a slight unrelated thing, I can sorta understand why people blame Jane for Anne’s death but also not really. It was a whole campaign against Anne, and we only know that Jane was yeah trying to be queen due to influence from her family and others trying make sure she was but I don’t think it’s her fault Henry (and others) decided the best course of action would be to kill Anne. Though I am not a big Tudor researcher, this is only from multiple weeks and hours of searching and learning cause of curiosity and someone could fact check me but that’s what i interpreted the history as. Random rant over) Also the fact (and I’m pretty sure this is true in the newest version), she says “loved” most of the time. The past tense is important there, cause yeah maybe she did truly think she “loved” him. And he may have been the only one she ever “loved” but that cause she probably didn’t get a chance to love someone else (when Henry says it’s you, it’s you after all). This is just speculation though, I can’t assume what a 500 year old historical figure was truly feeling but a character in a show is different and ready for analysis. For that I say that maybe she did “love” him but it easily could have been out of fear or wanting to just deal with the cards dealt to her. But at the end she realizes where she wants her love to be directed towards, and that’s her son and in “Six” her new found family.

And fun fact about her part in “Six” (I kinda learned from something on tumblr but can’t remember who but either way here it is.) it’s 200% about the queens as her family, with her pun at the end being the main signifier of this. “You could perhaps call us the Tudor Von Trapps” is a reference to the Trapp Family Singers, an Austrian singing family (if you see the wiki for them, they are apparently the inspiration for sound of music, Neat!). So from that you would think “oh she’s talking about Henry and her kids with him having a band” but then she says “Just kidding! We’re called the Royalling Stones!”. A Rolling Stones references and they were made by friends forming a band, so that can be associated that the queens are said friends in this case but also part of family that has grown! Also Rolling Stones have a song called heart of stone, seriously this is the most clever joke Jane had during the show and it makes me, a pun/joke lover, very happy to see this be such a character trait that it’s in the damn description for her character for an auditioning sheet (check out Citadle Theather and Six the Musical in google, i think you’ll find it.)

Anyway sorry about this long ramble, it’s just that even though I totally can see how people view Jane as “weaker” in terms of some writing choices made, I still think there’s a lot to talk about with not just her current incarnation but also the other ones as well. I wish some changes werent made to her song, but she is a still strong character about the effects of emotional abuse and maternity. There’s nothing bad about talking about those things, your right that it doesn’t make her any less feminist. Anyway ramble over and I hope you have a lovely day :)

Hello hun!

Please don’t apologise for rambling! I’m always so interested in hearing other opinions on the queens and I love the opportunity to discuss any queen at any time! Frankly, I’m just impressed you got the whole essay into one message! Have they gotten rid of the character limit? Sorry, not relevant to the question.

(Also sorry for how long this took to answer! Uni happened sort of happened and I didn’t want to half ass my response to such a well thought out ask)

I adore the older versions of Heart of Stone, especially the student run version! I completely agree that Seymour feels so much more aware of her place in Henry’s life in the older versions. In the older version she knows she wasn’t Henry’s true love (even though she loved him) and she knows her worth is completely dependent on her ability to give Henry a son. She literally says “nothing lasts forever, I’ll fade away”. That is such a powerful statement and I wish that line was still in the song! I still think these themes are in the new version, but they’re nowhere near as explicit. Plus the character development in the student run feels much more explicit, with Seymour saying “soon I’ll have to go, I’ll never see you grow” instead of “him grow” in the new versions. She’s clearly speaking to Edward in the older version, so the last half of HOS in the old versions (at least in my eyes) is actually directly speaking to Edward and not Henry as many people think. I still think this is true for the new versions, illustrating Seymour’s character development as she breaks away from Henry and rather concentrates on her son, but again I don’t think it’s obvious in the new version. The older version just felt so much more powerful and I think it presented Seymour as much more as a victim than the newer version...which I argue is true! Seymour was as much of a victim as any other character in the show and I think she deserves more sympathy than the show gives her, and for as much as I love the newer versions of six, you can’t deny that Seymour is reduced to a joke for half of the show. The student version is such a genuine and earnest version of Seymour, and I can’t help but love her. It’s definitely a testament to the actresses from the student run that their characters are still on parr with professional versions of the show!

(Im so sorry I don’t feel like I’m adding anything to your analysis, but you’ve really summed up my feelings perfectly! )

Weirdly, I think that the student run and studio run play with the idea of having a “heart of stone” better than the modern version. I love the contrast between the material things that Henry can buy versus the natural world. Material things can fade, but the natural world (and Seymour’s love) transcends that. It’s a really nice use of juxtapostion in that song and I just don’t feel like the newer versions play with those images as much as the older version.

I do sort of get why they changed it (I think Seymour spends upwards of 10 just listing different objects, which is powerful in its own way but I do think audience members could get bored of those verses) but I wished they had still somehow managed to keep the theme that Seymour as explicit. I still think it’s there in the newer version of the song, but I don’t think it’s anywhere near as obvious as the older version. It would make HOS more like AYWD in a way, and that would be brilliant. Six shouldn’t be afraid to tackle different forms of abuse.

I personally can’t comment on the whole Anne Boleyn vs Jane Seymour thing because I just don’t know enough about the situation. However I don’t think any of the wives should be burdened with the blame of what happened to their predecessors. It wasn’t their fault.

Also I’d never thought of the tudor von trapps vs the royalling stones indicating that it was a found family rather than a blood family, but it’s actually such a neat little detail and I think it makes complete sense! I have always maintained that Seymour’s “family” doesn’t have to be related by blood. Found family is just as meanigful and as important as a bloof family, and Seymour finding her place with the other queens and calling them her family rather than Henry is very powerful in my opinion. I just don’t think the “my family’s grown” lime has to be as literal as people take it. Thanks for bringing that line to my attention though!

Seymour isn’t a “weak” character, both in term of the writing and in terms of character development. As much as I love the older versions of Seymour, I still like the new versions and appreciate that Toby and Lucy decided to allow Seymour to be a motherly character and have that be treated as an equally empowering thing as the other queens. Some women want to be mothers and that’s okay!

Anyway thank you so much for this ask my love! I really enjoyed thinking about Seymour (since she’s not a character I talk about a lot). Sorry again for taking so long to respond ❤️❤️❤️

#six the musical #enya discusses: six #six #sixthemusical #six: student cast #six: studio cast #six: west end cast #ask #ask answered #anon #anonymous ask #heart of stone #anon ask #anonymous

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punyparkerfics · 4 years

Text

double vision

Arvin Russell and Peter Parker Twins AU

Tony collects Spider-Man for the fight in Germany and finds out he’s quite literally twice the trouble she had expected.

A/N: This is me cementing my place as CEO of the Parker twins. It’s literally all I’ve thought about for over a month. My actual twins au doesn’t have female tony stark, and doesn’t include Arvin for this meeting. this is just me seeing if I could actually write these boys and giving y’all a small taste. hope you enjoy!

Tony desperately wanted to stop herself. She knew this was a terrible idea. Unfortunately for all parties about to be involved, she wasn’t left with much of a choice. Ross had given her basically no time, and Steve had given her no room to negotiate. Tony never wanted to involve a kid still enrolled in high school (if her quick scan of what FRIDAY had compiled on the kid was accurate) in this mess. But again, she had no choice.

It was easy enough to sweet-talk her way into May Parker’s apartment. Tony was recognizable and surprisingly doing well in the press, that paired with her smart appearance and pretty smile was more than enough for the woman.

Mrs. Parker had let her in with a kind smile and an insistence that she brewed tea for the two of them to pair with her fresh walnut date loaf. This led to an over-excited May Parker rambling about nutrition and how difficult it could be to get teenage boys to get all the vitamins and shit they needed for healthy development… or something? Don’t ask Tony, a plastered smile and convincing nod compensated enough for her to not have to actually listen to what the woman was saying.

Before she knew it, the two women sat beside each other on the cozy couch situated in the living room. Tony gazed around the apartment and thought it was adorable, very homey. She could see signs of life in it that just weren’t present in Tony’s own home. Whether it was a kicked pair of shoes or a stain or chip on the coffee table, it was clear there were many memories in the space surrounding them. The Tower, no matter how many people it housed at any given moment, never looked lived-in… it never felt like an actual home. Not quite like this.

Tony smiled at the framed photos on the mantelpiece as May continued rambling on about omega vitamins or iron deficiencies or… something. Again, it’s very important to not ask Tony. Her mind had about a million things running through it at the moment, she couldn’t be bothered to be an attentive student on nutrition right now, nor ever. It didn’t seem odd to Tony that there seemed to be an absurdly large amount of school photos of the same face all over the apartment. She figured the Spider-Kid just came from a very loving family with a doting aunt looking after him, and that made her feel warm and fuzzy but she wasn’t sure why.

“So,” May’s voice cut through Tony’s distracted gaze, drawing the billionaire’s attention to her, “What did you say brought you here? I’m sorry my head’s all over the place today.”

Tony politely smiled and placed her teacup back in the saucer before clearing her throat, “Um, I’m here to talk to Peter. He applied for a grant provided by Stark Industries. I was so impressed by his application I had to meet him, and you, and hopefully, discuss the next steps.”

“Grant? Peter didn’t tell me about any grant?” May shook her head, her brow furrowed, “Maybe he told—”

“Kids these days are so excited to share things with their friends that they forget to tell their family. I bet it slipped his mind that he applied.” Tony offered easily.

“Maybe,” May muttered, still looking put-off, “I just… Peter’s been such a big fan of yours since he was little, I couldn’t imagine he’d keep something like that from me or—”

The two were interrupted by the sound of muffled arguing coming from behind the front door and a key jingling in the lock.

“How many times have I told you—” a low and steady voice called out, upset, only to be interrupted but a higher-pitched, nearly frantic one,

“Would you stop treating me like—”

The bickering continued as the door to the apartment swung open, the voices much louder this time. Tony’s eyes shot to the door and her jaw dropped at the sight before her. Two teenage boys of the same height, weight, hair color, age, and fucking face were barking at each other in front of the apartment door. Tony was flummoxed, they both looked just like the kid she was here to pick up and take to Germany.

There weren’t two spider boys, right? The idea that there was more than one person behind the mask had crossed her mind a time or two but seeing a pair of identical twins wasn’t something she would ever even think to consider.

“Boys!” May called out, her face instantly changing from confused to stern, “What is the matter with you two?”

The two stop going at one another to look towards the woman addressing them. The one on the right, his chocolate curls obviously have escaped the copious amounts of hair gel he’d meticulously applied very well complimented his oversized sweatshirt and skinny jeans.

Tony figured that was Peter as he gaped at her in awe when his eyes landed on her, the argument with his twin brother obviously since forgotten. His identical counterpart was dressed in a white t-shirt underneath an open grey button-up and dark jeans. His hair was smushed underneath a dark navy cap, chocolate curls poking out on the sides.

This brother, though, either hadn’t noticed Tony at all or couldn’t care less that the billionaire superhero was sitting in his living room, because he just relayed whatever it was that riled them up to his aunt.

“He thinks he knows everything and that I— stop it!” The boy grunted and shoulder bumped his brother who was frantically patting his arm, obviously trying to get his attention. But again, the boy remained unperturbed in telling his aunt what was bothering him as he continued.

“He never fuckin’ listens to me then gets mad when I so graciously save his sorry ass from any trouble, and I—”

“Arvin!” Probably Peter, now graduated to Definitely Peter, cried as he shook his brother’s shoulder and pointed to where Tony remained sitting in shock on the couch.

Arvin looked about ready to clobber Peter but settled for looking in the direction his twin brother oh-so-desperately wanted him to look. Upon the realization of what exactly he was looking at, his face melted from one of fury to one of pure confusion.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Arvin asked.

“Arvin Eugene Parker!” May called out as she stood to instill what was nothing short of the fear of God into the boy, “Where are your manners, young man?”

“Sorry ma’am,” Arvin ducked his head in mild embarrassment from upsetting his aunt, “Won’t happen again, May. You have my word.”

He whipped his hat off and ran his fingers through his hair before looking at his twin expectantly. Peter stood frozen, his wide eyes glued on Tony. Arvin cleared his throat and bumped Peter’s shoulder again, hopefully reminding him of his own manners.

“Ms. Stark!” Peter squeaked in surprise, “Hey, I-I-I’m Peter.”

Tony bit back a chuckle at the boys before her before pointing to herself casually, “Tony.”

“What are you- what are you- what are you doing here?” Peter asked nervously, clearly flustered from seeing the woman in his apartment. Arvin snorted at his brother’s pathetic excuse at being casual in front of his lifelong idol.

“Arvin,” May reprimanded again, causing the boy to sober up and nod with an apologetic smile.

“Excuse my brother, Ms. Stark,” Arvin addressed Tony, “He’s a real big fanboy of yours and he’s probably trying not to piss himself right now.”

“Arvin!” Peter cried in horror before shoving his brother, “Shut up!”

“Fuckin’ make me!” Arvin retaliated with an identical shove of his own.

“Okay, that’s enough!” May interrupted, her hands on her hips and her face sternly expectant, “If you two don’t cut it out right now, I’ll get the shirt.”

“No!” The two shouted in unison, a flash of panic on their faces, before straightening up and standing shoulder-to-shoulder with sweet smiles on their faces.

“The shirt?” Tony quirked a brow at the woman.

“It’s nothing, Ms. Stark!” Peter blurted, “It’s uhh… Anyway, what was it you said you were doing here?”

“You weren’t gonna tell me about the grant?” May asked Peter, her face soft.

“The-the grant?” Peter repeated with clear confusion in his voice.

“The September Foundation,” Tony supplied easily. Her eyes flicked over to Arvin who gave her a hard stare. For some reason, she felt like the kid was onto her.

“Right,” Peter agreed, his demeanor more than unconvincing.

“Yeah, remember when you applied?” Tony asked.

“...Yeah…” Peter replied nervously. Arvin looked back and forth between the billionaire and his brother with a sense of distrust on his face.

“I approved!” Tony shrugged casually much to the dismay of the boys’ aunt, “So now, we’re in business.”

“You didn’t tell me anything, what’s up with that? You’re keeping secrets from me now?” May asked gently.

“Well, I just- I just know how much you love surprises, so I just thought I would let you know—” Peter was beginning to flounder. Whatever Ms. Stark was actually there for, he didn’t want to let her down. He knew he certainly didn’t apply for any sort of grant, certainly not one with anything to do with Tony Stark. If he had, May and Arvin wouldn’t have heard the end of it, they all knew that,

“With all due respect, that’s a load of shit,” Arvin interjected to everyone’s horror.

“Arvin, I will not tell you again—” May was clearly at the end of her patience with these boys, the mouthy one in particular.

“May, we know better than anyone on the planet if Peter had applied for a grant from Tony Fuckin’ Stark, that’s all we’d hear about for weeks. I don’t know why she’s actually here but it’s not for no damn grant,” Arvin explained, his face hard and unrelenting.

“I didn’t say anything because—” Peter began to only be interrupted.

“Don’t try to feed me any bullshit, P,” Arvin shook his head, “I’ve been shoulder-to-shoulder to you your entire fuckin’ life, I know you. And I know she’s lyin’.”

“She isn’t!” Peter insisted, “I didn’t say anything to you or May because I didn’t want you or her to be disappointed if I didn’t get it. I didn’t want to get my hopes up, y’know?”

“Like we’d give a fuck about that,” Arvin scoffed, “September Grant or not, we’ll always be proud'a you. You know that.”

“Arv,” Peter looked at his brother with pleading eyes. Arvin was the only person in the world that knew all of Peter’s secrets, even the big one. Peter had a feeling that whatever Ms. Stark was here for, it was spider related and he really needed Arvin to at least play along if he was going to get May to cooperate without asking too many questions.

Arvin studied his brother for a long moment before turning his gaze to Tony. She had remained seated on the couch, looking expectantly at the boys and occasionally glancing at her watch. Clearly whatever she wanted with his twin was time-sensitive. And sure, Arvin’s protective instinct for his brother was what drove him to do pretty much everything he did, but he didn’t want to ruin whatever opportunity Tony Stark was about to give him. While he didn’t trust Tony in the slightest, he knew he had to trust Peter and his instincts. Sure, his brother might very well be blinded by hero worship but he wasn’t stupid. He just really had to trust him.

Arvin sighed and relented, “Fine, I believe you,” he lied.

“Mind if I have a minute with him?” Tony asked as she stood, straightening out her skirt and looking to both May and Arvin for permission.

May seemed on the fence. She wasn’t too skeptical before Arvin called the situation as he saw it: unlikely. May Parker knew her boys too well. She knew that Peter would more likely than not gush excitedly about the grant in question and his application for weeks to the point Arvin would consider smothering his own twin with a pillow.

But she also knew Arvin was fiercely protective over Peter and always had been. Arvin spent his entire life by Peter’s side, fending off bullies and monsters under the bed, holding his brother after particularly scary nightmares and more grief than the two teens could ever imagine. Arvin was, in short, Peter’s protector. But that meant Arvin often let their trauma lead him to paranoia, constantly fearing people had the worst intentions when it came to Peter.

At the end of the day, May reminded herself, Tony Stark was a superhero. She was Peter’s hero. It was hard for May to think of any scenario in which a super-suit toting billionaire philanthropist would go to such lengths to pluck a random kid out of Queens for nefarious reasons. That paired with the fact that Arvin had relented definitely eased the woman’s mind. She looked to Arvin for his response.

“Whatever,” Arvin shrugged as he made his way back to the door to the apartment, “Have fun talking about your stupid grant.”

With that, the stoic twin stormed out. Peter and May let out identical sighs, the latter bringing a hand to massage her temples.

“I’m sorry for any trouble I’ve caused,” Tony piped up.

“Oh, no,” Both remaining Parkers insisted at the same time.

“Arvin’s just—”

“He just—”

The two sighed again.

“I’m gonna call him,” May said, pulling her phone from her pocket before turning to Tony, “You two can talk in the boys’ room.”

Peter offered an awkward smile before leading Tony to the bedroom he shared with his brother. Locking the door behind her, Tony looked around the room. It was clear two teenage boys inhabited it by the random articles of clothing strewn around the room and the bright posters adorning the walls and the bunk beds.

“You the Elvis fan?” Tony asked, pointing to a framed poster of the king himself.

“No, ma’am,” Peter shook his head, “That’s my brother. Arvin’s really into music from the ’50s and ’60s.”

“Hmm,” Tony nodded, clearly impressed, “I have to admit that does surprise me.”

“About Arvin,” Peter interjected with a grimace, “I’m really sorry about him, Ms. Stark. He’s just super protective, is all. He really is a nice guy, you just— You caught him on a bad day.”

“Ah, don’t worry about that,” Tony waved him off as she continued looking around the room and stifling a smile at the framed photographs of the twins from when they were much younger, “Not why I’m here.”

“Right…” Peter nodded, “I definitely didn’t apply for your grant. Arvin knows that.”

“Your brother’s really on top of things,” Tony agreed.

“Yeah, like I said,” Peter sighed, “Super protective.”

“Bet that can get infuriating,” Tony hummed, reminiscing on her MIT days and a menacing James Rhodes by her side.

“Well, he’s my brother,” Peter shrugged, “I know he’s only like that because he loves me.”

“That’s sweet,” Tony smiled. The genius casually pulled up a holographic video of a masked spider-like vigilante swinging through Queens as if the conversation prior hadn’t happened, “That’s you, right?”

“Wh- No?” Peter denied, causing Tony to roll her eyes.

“Listen, kid,” Tony sighed, “You and your clone really ate up valuable time that I don’t really have. You got a passport?”

“No,” Peter shook his head, “I don’t even have a driver’s license.”

“You ever been to Germany?” Tony asked.

“No.”

“Oh, you’ll love it,” Tony replies flippantly.

“I can’t go to Germany!” Peter exclaimed.

“Why not?”

“Well, I got homework and—”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,” Tony rolled her eyes again.

“And Arvin for sure won’t be cool with it! He’ll flip, seriously,” Peter shook his head, “I’m sorry, Ms. Stark, I’d love to help you but my brother would actually kill me if I went to Germany with you.”

“What’s he thinking I’m gonna do to you?” Tony grumbled, “I’m not a kiddie snatcher or anything. I’m a damn superhero. Does he know that?”

“Yeah, he just,” Peter chuckles nervously, “You’re still a stranger and all. He doesn’t take too kindly to those.”

“What if I took you both?” Tony suggested. She really was at the end of her rope here, and she needed this kid on a plane to Germany as soon as possible. If taking his angry twin brother meant that he and his aunt would be at ease without asking too many questions, she’d easily do that.

“Us both?” Peter repeated in shock.

“Yeah, you and thing 2 can sit pretty and take a private jet. If he wants a separate room, that can be arranged, but he’s gonna wait in the hotel for you until we’re done. He’ll make sure you’re safe and—”

“I don’t know,” Peter sighed, “I’d have to talk to him.”

“Okay,” Tony nodded, “Any idea where he might be? I take it he knows about your arachnid activities.”

“Yeah, he’s the only one who knows,” Peter agreed, “Kind of hard to keep things from him, and he’s stubborn as hell.”

“I can tell,” Tony chuckled, “So, where can we go get him?”

“He’s probably with his friend Michelle,” Peter offered easily, “But we can see if May got a hold of him”

“Good call,” Tony said as she sauntered towards the door, her hand on the doorknob, “We should tell your unusually attractive aunt—”

The genius was cut off by the distinct sound of a thwip and the feeling of her hand being bound to the doorknob.

She looked up at the kid and saw him pointing his crazy web shooter contraptions at her before he held a finger out and said, “Don’t tell Aunt May.”

“Okay, Spider-Boy, get me out of this,” Tony rolled her eyes at the boy’s dramaticism.

Once Peter had pried his idol out of the strong webbing, the two walked out into the living room where May was pacing. The woman stopped upon hearing the two enter before looking up at them.

“Is he okay?” Peter asked.

“Yeah,” May sighed, “He’s at Delmar’s with Michelle.”

“She must’ve been in the area, then,” Peter hummed, turning to Ms. Stark, “Delmar’s is a bodega just a few blocks from here. It won’t take long to go get him.”

“Perfect,” Tony hummed before turning to May, “Mrs. Parker, Peter has been offered a spot at the Stark Industries Internship Retreat in Palo Alto. It’s an all-expense paid trip, he’d get put up in a hotel and he’d be participating in workshops with other recipients of the September Foundation grant that qualify for the retreat.”

“What?” May choked, her eyes wide, “Palo Alto? California?”

“Ms. Stark said that Arvin could come with me!” Peter assured her, “That way I won’t be out there without anyone I know, and we’re out of the apartment while you work throughout the weekend.”

“You—” May turned to Tony. The poor woman looked so confused.

“Peter told me that Arvin wouldn’t be comfortable letting his brother go on a trip with a stranger,” Tony explained, “I figured you’d feel similarly, and it’s really no trouble if the two of them came. He could shadow Peter at the retreat since he doesn’t qualify as he didn’t actually apply. He’d even get his own room if he wanted, but he’d—”

“No,” May shook her head, “They have to share. You can’t separate them. They stay together the entire time. That’s my only condition.”

May wanted to say no. She wanted to ask the billionaire if she was crazy, that there was no chance in hell she’d let a stranger take her boys to California on such short notice. But, May felt a sense of ease at the idea of the two of them going together. She knew Arvin would look after Peter and Peter after Arvin. May knew her boys had an unbreakable bond and an ability to take care of each other better than even May could. She’d seen it firsthand when the boys first moved in after their short stay in foster care, once Ben and May finally got custody of them.

May knew the boys loved her and had loved Ben just as much, but they only truly needed each other. They’d proved that time and time again. And because of that, May surprised herself by deciding that Peter wouldn’t ever have an opportunity like this again. And Arvin tagging along made it that much more special, she figured.

“That’s perfectly fine,” Tony smiled.

“You stick with your brother, Pete,” May said to Peter, not giving the boy any room to argue, “No matter what, okay? If he tries running off on his own, you let someone know and you follow him if you have to, okay? I don’t want you two getting separated so far away from home.”

“I promise,” Peter nodded with a soft smile, “We’ll be okay, May.”

“You two gotta look out for each other,” May urged him, her hands gripping the teen’s shoulders.

“We always do,” Peter assured her, “I gotta go get him from Delmar’s, so I can tell him and we can pack.”

“I’ll take you,” Tony offered, swinging her car keys on her finger, “We’ll get there in a flash.”

Peter looked back to his aunt with sparkling eyes as he silently asked for permission. May hesitated for a second before her face softened into a smile, her baby was too excited to deny him. So, she nodded.

“Love you, May,” Peter nearly squealed with excitement as he pressed a kiss to the woman’s cheek and gave her a tight hug, “Be right back!”

Tony had to suppress a smile as Peter practically skipped over to the front door and held it open, gesturing for the woman to walk through.

“After you,” He said kindly to the billionaire. Tony raised her eyebrows and turned to May.

“Quite the gentleman,” Tony noted, “You must be proud.”

“Very,” May nodded, “Arvin’s manners are usually better than what you saw, you’ll have to forgive him.”

“Water under the bridge,” Tony waved her off like she had done to Peter before. She found it endearing how badly the two of them wanted her to know that Arvin was a kind boy. She was more than inclined to believe it.

“Let’s go, short stack,” Tony said as she led the way to her car, smiling as she heard Peter send May another ‘I love you’ before closing the door and trotting behind the genius.

“You’ll navigate me, right?” Tony asked as they made their way down the stairs, “I don’t really know my way around here.”

“Yeah, for sure,” Peter smiled, “It’s not too far, Ms. Stark.”

“Okay,” Tony nodded, “We go get your brother and give him a rundown of what we told May. He knows not to spill your secret, right?”

“He’d never,” Peter scrunched his face as he held the door to the apartment lobby open for her, “He knows it’s to keep him and May safe.”

“Good,” Tony hummed. She unlocked her car and got settled, ignoring how Peter gaped at the vehicle before climbing in himself, “Then we won’t need to convince him to go along with us, right?”

“I’m sure he’ll get it, Ms. Stark,” Peter agreed as he fastened his seatbelt, “It should be fine.”

“Okay,” Tony replied. She followed Peter’s direction to a little bodega just a few blocks from the apartment.

She could see Arvin from the window out front. He was leaning against a wall, lazily sipping on a bottle of root beer beside a light-skinned girl with curly hair. She was pretty, she’d have to give him credit there.

Peter made his way into the bodega to collect Arvin, kindly waving to the man behind the counter, making Tony smile. Arvin watched his brother with a mild intensity as he took another swig of his root beer, the girl looking up at where Peter was approaching. Michelle, if Tony recalled, looked at Peter briefly before returning her attention to the book in her hands. Tony could see she was still attentively listening as her brows raised slightly when Peter began to talk animatedly and gestured towards Tony’s car. When Arvin looked at the car and Tony inside, she saluted the kid. His face hardened again and he adjusted the cap on his head before turning back to his brother, asking him something Tony couldn’t decipher.

Whatever Peter was telling him, seemed to ease his mind, because he sighed and nodded before turning to Michelle. He seemed to ask her a question, as she nodded in response before punching him lightly on the shoulder. The boy smiled and pulled her into a quick hug before following Peter out of the bodega, making sure to wave to Michelle as he left.

It was nice to see Arvin smiling, Tony thought. He had the same twinkle in his eyes that Peter had. The same light and hope. The two exited the bodega (after they both waved at the man behind the counter again. Gosh, these boys are too friendly.) and Arvin disposed of his root beer bottle in the recycling bin before shoving the last bite of a candy bar in his mouth and throwing the wrapper in the trash bin. The boy chewed thoughtfully as he looked at the flashy sports car in front of him. Peter clapped a hand onto his shoulder before seemingly urging him to climb in the back seat with him.

The twins piled in the back seat, Peter’s excited smile back on his face and Arvin’s skeptical stare on his own.

“All set, boys?” Tony asked, looking back at them, “Your girlfriend won’t miss you?”

“She ain’t my girlfriend,” Arvin grunted in response, “Where’re we actually going?”

“Germany. We’ll take a private jet, I have someone getting passports for the both of you, they’ll have your school ID photos on them,” Tony replied as she turned back around and started the car.

Peter clicked his seatbelt into place before nudging Arvin to get him to do the same.

“So our aunt thinks we’ll be three hours behind when we’re actually six head?” Arvin asked as he fastened his own seatbelt, “How’s that gonna work, genius?”

“Arv,” Peter sighed, “Don’t pretend you haven’t lied about where you were before.”

“Yeah, but I’ve never been in a damn foreign country before, P,” Arvin hissed, “Sayin’ I’m with you at Ned’s house when I’m really at Pioneer with Jamie ain’t the same as saying I’m in California when I’m really in fuckin’ Germany, now is it?”

“It’ll be fine,” Peter shrugged, “If May wants to call us when it’s 3 AM in Germany, we can just say we were at dinner or that we were sightseeing with a group or something.”

Arvin just shook his head before looking out of the window. Tony held back a sigh as she pulled back up in front of the Parkers’ apartment. She knew this was going to be a long trip. Thanks alot, Rogers, she thought bitterly. God, she just hoped she was making the right choice here. Only time would tell, she figured.

#Arvin Russell #Peter Parker #the devil all the time #toni stark #tony stark #female tony stark #Tony Stark fanfiction #peter parker fanfiction #arvin russell fanfiction #arvin and peter are twins #punyparkerfics

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materialwoman · 3 years

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❦ 　*　 ❝　 𝐓𝐀𝐌𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐑 + 𝐀 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 , FROM EARLY LIFE TO MODERN TIMES .

▌ 𝐀 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 key - points of tammy’s life, ranging from her family ties and professional aspirations to her involvement with crime. it’s a rather long and rambly collection of thoughts, so sadly i’ll have to keep most of it under a read more. this covers all of the main arcs i write on this blog :

[ ♡ ] arc i , youth / teen / young adult years

[ ♡ ] arc ii , adult / pre - canon

[ ♡ ] arc iii , adult / canon

[ ♡ ] arc iv , adult / post - canon

▌ 1974 - birth ,

december 16, 1974. circa 7am. tamasin sinclair, the second daughter of the ferguson-sinclair family, is born. she’s a giggly baby girl, but often cries when far from her mother, veronique. her favorite people to be around are her big sister, olivia, and katherine, her grandmother.

▌ 1980 - age six ,

a six years old tammy travels overseas for the first time, having europe as a destination. she’s taken to london, for a fun week under the cares of her favorite grandmother, while her father attends a law conference in the city. for the first time, she sees the world beyond her mother’s eyes, following katherine around events, fun sleepover nights and even her day-to-day life at the dance academy’s office - with an outrageous amount of a new discovered common obsession: british vogue.

▌ 1983 - age nine ,

she’s nine years old when her younger sister is born. louisa is bubbly; a funny little child that amused tammy in every way. olivia and herself would spend hours around the crib, even more than their own mother, who would often be off working or dealing with her own set of concerns. the sisters would take care of lulu, as they called her, whenever they could; she was their new favorite little person.

▌ 1990 - age sixteen ,

tammy reaches the age of sixteen, and as a gift from her other grandmother, virginie, is invited to spend a couple of weeks with her in paris. the woman, a strict and straightforward art curator, has no doubts a young lady such as tamasin could use a little time with her to learn new things about modern womanhood. the visit went well, although tammy did spend more time trying to convince virginie to take her to one of her fancy events or a fashion week than listening to her grandma’s teachings. virginie was not very pleased.

tammy’s aunt, uma sinclair, has her own idea of a gift for the soon to be young woman in the family -- one the girl would enjoy much more, as well. the blond ambition world tour reaches new jersey, the closest to tammy’s home. she hears as madonna sings about love, friendship, fashion, and some much better takes on modern womanhood. she would never be the same.

▌ 1992 - age eighteen ,

at age eighteen, tamasin graduates from high school. her biggest interests during the previous years were fashion, creative writing and the influence of women in culture and society. her main graduation choices were psychology and journalism, where she hoped to discuss some of her passions through the gift of writing. [ ... ] against all of her efforts, tammy has no support from her parents to follow any of her careers of choice. she’s advised ( although practically induced ) to follow the path of those before her, and very much like her parents and her older sister, ends up enrolling into pre-law school. it was the one moment when tammy got the closest to being the daughter veronique ever dreamed of having.

▌ 1993 - age nineteen ,

despite veronique and laurent’s attempts to keep their daughter under their watch, tamasin decides to move out of the family house and start over, this time making things her way. she moves into an apartment in the big city, alongside with olivia, and no longer having financial support from her parents, starts working at a diner in new york city. she drops out of pre-law school after one semester.

as louisa, her little sister, reaches the age of ten, olivia and tamasin notice there’s something wrong. the little girl that once was a wild spirit started to seem less and less bright, and their mother seemed to be the reason of such change. they’ve been there before: they knew what she does. tammy goes to their grandmother, which intervenes and asks veronique to let the sisters take care of lulu for some time. she’d be constantly helping when needed, as well, while veronique took some time to take care of herself. although not content, the mother agrees. the older sisters take lulu to their apartment in nyc, and keep raising a strong, bright little girl for the next many years.

1993 - 1997 . tamasin, olivia and louisa carry a light, fun day-to-day life in their apartment in nyc. the three of them have their own studies and personal matters, as the eldest finishes law and looks forward to building a family already, tammy studied and explored her ambition, while both raised a much more hopeful little lulu.

▌ 1994 - age twenty ,

noticing tammy’s resilience and quick wits, tammy’s coworker invites her to take a small part on a con one night. her sense of adventure, ambition and the undeniable need for extra cash in order to get into college again are decision makers: call her the newest fence in the business. well, figuratively. she didn’t truly know what that meant: only that she was good at it. [ ... ] one day, working at the diner, tammy catches a young woman trying to pickpocket one of the clients from behind the counter. enter debbie ocean - and tamasin doesn’t stop her, much on the contrary. she’s proud to quietly announce she’s done things of that sort, too. it’s a match made in heaven: if not even deborah had the eye to catch her as the type to con, who could ever suspect?

▌ 1995 - age twenty - one ,

tammy is introduced to lou miller, an australian con artist that soon became her other partner in crime. together, the three ladies take part on small cons, such as movie theater tickets, amusement parks, retail and similar. with them, tammy makes the extra money needed to start studying again. this time, she goes with journalism. [ ... ] tammy gets her first ever tattoo, a delicate little rose now marked onto the side of her ribcage. she tells everyone it was her choice because it was cute, but secretly likes to think of the strength of her delicacy represented in it.

▌ 1996 - age twenty - two ,

as a birthday gift, louisa and olivia give tammy a pet bunny. she calls him cherry.

tammy is introduced to danny ocean and his partner in crime, rusty ryan. it’s when debbie, lou and herself get the perspective of expanding the cons they’ve been working on. small casinos and events become their new target.

▌ 1997 - age twenty - three ,

as olivia graduates law and starts working at the family office, along come the news of the newest baby in the family. she gets married shortly after, moving out of the sisters’ apartment and into her own household. [ ... ] tamasin graduates from college, finally having her journalism degree.

▌ 1999 - age twenty - five ,

as grandmother virginie brings an art exhibit to new york, a twenty five years old tamasin is invited to attend the event. debbie, lou and tammy take advantage of her position and steal a piece from an adjacent exposition during the party. they go unnoticed, making thousands of dollars each. [ ... ] having her degree, tammy tries to get a job position at vogue magazine, as well as paper and vanity fair. she doesn’t get a call back after her interviews.

▌ 2000 - age twenty - six ,

tammy gets a new day job, at a flower shop. she works there for a few years, deeply resenting not being able to work on her dream field after finally being able to, and takes it out writing independent articles for her portfolio and shopping for designer clothes rather inconsequently at times.

▌ 2002 - age twenty - eight ,

tamasin gets a job at paper magazine, writing a monthly column about the representation of fashion in the media and exploring its influence in storytelling. finally, she’s able to work with her passions combined.

▌ 2003 - age twenty - nine ,

at age twenty, louisa moves out of the apartment, having recently graduated from the juilliard dance intensive program.

tammy continues to live in the apartment in nyc, where herself and the girls can meet up to plan future heists. even at this point, crime represents her main source of income, as her day job doesn’t pay quite as well as stolen goods and jewels. however, it’s not only for the money; tammy finds being a fence allows her to explore her ambition and sense of adventure, things long repressed after years being controlled by her parents’ will. surprisingly enough, she’s happier than ever.

▌ 2005 - age thirty - one ,

cherry, tammy’s pet bunny, passes away after nine years. [ ... ] after three years, tamasin leaves her job at paper magazine as she’s offered a position at W magazine, where she’s handed a column on the beauty section. [ ... ] following her acceptance into the royal ballet company, louisa makes the decision of moving to the united kingdom.

▌ 2007 - age thirty - three ,

tamasin is invited to the inauguration dinner party of olivia’s very own law office. at the event, she’s introduced to nicholas mcallister, a colleague lawyer to liv.

1998 - 2008 . tammy’s golden age of crime; acting as a fence, constantly developing her skills as a con artist. after years acting on unrelated events, casinos and parties, she develops a system of hijacking equipments trucks crossing the border from canada and reselling the goods on the black market. it lasts for years and grants her certain status on the underworld of crime as an experient, trustworthy fence in the business.

▌ 2008 - age thirty - four ,

one night, tammy receives the new that her younger sister, louisa, had been involved in a car accident and seriously injured her knee, compromising her debut on the royal company as a lead and, in a long term matter, her dancing career. tamasin travels to london immediately, offering her baby sister support and inevitably reconnecting with her parents. [ ... ] her sister’s injury was an undeniable step back on tammy’s life, and reconnecting with her mother due to the intense family trauma was a decisive point on the decisions she’d make from then on; being heavily criticized for not yet having a family in her mid 30s, unlike her older sister, who had perfectly built a family of her own while finishing law school, tammy finds herself deeply torn between the duality of her desires -- to stay in the city, investing on her career as a journalist and continue to explore how happy crime made her, or to finally settle down and think of building a family, bringing the life-long dream of motherhood to reality. finally, she decides it is time to take a step back, and chooses to retire from her career as a fence.

▌ 2009 - age thirty - five ,

as a consequence of laying low and removing herself from the crime scene, tammy grows lonelier every day. despite believing she could remain friends with debbie, lou, and all of her former con acquaintances, tammy came to realize it’d be harder than she thought to stay in touch while keeping a distance from crime. she agrees to go on a date with olivia’s fellow lawyer, nicholas, and a few weeks later, starts dating him.

▌ 2010 - age thirty - six ,

as of august 2010, during dinner, tamasin and nicholas get engaged. tammy grabs onto the planning of her wedding almost fiercely, and with the help of olivia, uma and katherine, builds a dream-like event to celebrate her union with nick.

▌ 2011 - age thirty - seven ,

save the date: tammy and nick’s wedding happens during spring, on a beautiful vineyard, and she’s as happy as one can be. the couple signs a prenup, and despite tammy’s absolute devotion to her relationship, she does not change her last name. she tells nick there’s no way she’d ever stop being a sinclair woman; that was something she hardly considered back then. the couple moves to a house in the suburbs outside of new york, where they plan to build a family together. she does not get rid of the sisters’ apartment.

▌ 2012 - age thirty - eight ,

tammy and nick have many attempts, but still find themselves unable to conceive a child. [ ... ] to better use her time, tamasin decides to enroll into univertity once again. she goes for marketing courses, knowing it can be of good use when working on her dream field, with critical and commercial writing.

▌ 2013 - age thirty - nine ,

on the first days of the year and after many attempts, tamasin discovers she’s pregnant. it’s a very calm pregnancy, and tammy has no trouble working from home for the same w magazine column on beauty. during her pregnancy as well, tammy graduates from marketing school, studying from home. through a c-section, she gives birth to twins, and calls them beatrice and benjamin.

▌ 2015 - age fourty - one ,

having the twins, tammy knows she wants more babies. nicholas and her decide there will be no other time to give that a try, and attempt to get pregnant once again. differently from the first time, this pregnancy happens easily, but definitely takes its toll on tamasin’s health and body. she decides to let go of her position at W magazine, dedicating her time to taking care of the twins as well as herself. during the months following august’s birth, tammy experiences postpartum depression.

▌ 2016 - age fourty - two ,

after years distanced from crime, and having plenty of time in her hands as an unemployed housewife, tammy falls into temptation

and reconnects with a former provider. she starts gathering goods stolen directly from fabric on her garage, and reselling such items to the black market. if you ask her about crime, she’ll say she’s retired. [ ... ] tammy gets her second tattoo, this time, even more discreet -- three little dots on the back of her neck, one for each of her children.

▌ 2018 - age fourty - four ,

despite making it clear that she’s out of the crime business, tammy gets a surprise visit from an old friend. debbie ocean makes a rather undeniable proposal: to join her and lou in a millionaire heist. she leaves for the big city in a matter of days, asking her sisters to keep an extra eye on the kids as she’s gone. she acts as a fence in the met gala heist of 2018 and goes unnoticed as the seven other members of her crew. once the heist is done, and after having another taste of just how exciting her life can be when she explores her greedy side, tammy realizes she does not want to go back to her life in the suburbs. it only adds up to the fact that she was no longer happy in her married life. as of the end of the year, tammy and nick file a divorce.

▌ 2019 - age fourty - five ,

after working for the met staff in 2018, tammy interviewed for a position at the vogue office. this time, she gets a call back, and is made a collaborator of vogue online, writing articles for the vogue.com website and supervising content creation for vogue america’s social media.

at the end of the year, she’s made one of the editors of vogue online, coordinating the creation of editorials and videos for vogue’s youtube channel.

for the first time, she covers new york fashion week and writes two articles analyzing chanel and ellie saab’s show. her work is vastly recognized by the industry and well received by the public.

▌ 2020 - age fourty - six ,

proving to be a skilled writer and creative director, tammy takes a long shot and asks for a chance to act as a collaborator to vogue magazine, the print. such position is ultimately granted, and tamasin continues to coordinate vogue online’s content as well as occasionally collaborate to print articles for the magazine.

▌ 2021 - age fourty - seven ,

after being granted her first chance at completely handling her previous position at the fashion print, tammy is named editor of vogue magazine. she mainly coordinates and keeps contacts for photoshoots, interviews, articles and columns. she occasionally acts as a collaborator as well, and is released from her position at vogue online.

2018 - future . tammy lives in a house in new york city with her three kids, benjamin, beatrice and august, and has finally been hired at the job of her dreams: vogue magazine. she continues to work on cons with her crew heist, and her career as a journalist only seems to be growing. keep an eye on that one: who knows when vogue might announce a new editor in chief?

#* ii. ╰ ♡ catch a wave & take in the sweetness › headcanon.#hello and welcome to my personal heaven... i have finally... finally finished this!!! yayyyy!!!!!#special thanks for gin and cora for hearing me ramble about this #and also reign for the wild help re: lulu's timeline in this #now a kiss for you miss tammy sinclair... and ur beautiful life

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