#add that to the pile of reasons readers have to be paranoid

[canadian-riddler]

'I can't trust the nice things my readers said about my story because they said nice things about a different story that I think is bad'

#so says Indy #add that to the pile of reasons readers have to be paranoid #writing angst

[callsign-rogueone]

the spider - l.m.

Liam Mairi x reader When you find an uninvited guest in your room, you find yourself knocking on Liam's door to ask him for help. words: 861 🏷: no book spoilers at all, just fluff! mentions of spiders but nothing too detailed (mild arachnophobe here) and Liam handles it for you 🥰 reader is referred to as a girl once, but no pronouns used. this was originally going to be for someone else, but I realized I haven't fed the Liam lovers in a while, so here you go!

“I need you,” you blurt as soon as Liam opens his door.

He blinks, thoroughly confused. “What?”

You take a breath and try again. “There is a ginormous spider in my room and I need you to do something about it. Please.”

“And I was the first person you thought of?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. He has a point — you hardly know each other. 

“You’re my neighbor, so yeah, you were,” you answer, your cheeks warming. “Please, Liam?”

He doesn’t think you’ve called him by his first name, ever. To hear you whining it as you blink up at him, pleading… 

“Before it crawls into my bed or something,” you add urgently, shuddering at the thought. 

“Well, we can’t have that,” he says with a soft laugh. “Lead the way.”

He knows where your room is, knows you’re right across the hall, but he still trails a few paces behind as you make the incredibly short walk over.

You unlock the door and usher him inside, remaining out in the hallway.

He steps forward, taking it in; he’s caught glimpses over your shoulder, but never set foot inside.

It looks… lived in. There’s a pile of boots by the door, tonight’s homework and yesterday’s notes spread over the desk, and he could swear that’s a romance novel on your nightstand — you’re almost finished with it, judging by the location of the scrap of colorful parchment you’re using as a bookmark.

The bed is unmade, blankets pulled back as if you’d just gotten out of it. A small stuffed dragon sits on your pillow, a soft green thing that looks remarkably like Blythe.

And everything about this room smells like you, soft and sweet — he’s never figured out how you manage to do that, to smell so good when everyone in this entire school uses plain unscented soap.

His eyes finally catch on the intruder. It’s an ugly little fucker, but nothing to write home about, just a harmless garden variety.

“You know, it’s probably more afraid of you than you are of it,” he says with a glance over his shoulder.

“I highly doubt that,” you huff. “There is no reason why anything on Amari’s green earth should have that many legs. It’s damn creepy. Can you just smush it, please?”

“That’s a fair point. But it’s too big, if I smush it you’re gonna have spider juice on your wall.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Ew, okay, fine, um. There’s paper on the desk, and an empty cup.”

“See, you have the tools,” he begins, grabbing the aforementioned supplies, “you just need to take the leap and follow through with it.”

“No, thank you,” you reply from the corner of the room you’ve pressed yourself into, as far away from the thing as you can get. “I’ve faced enough of my fears this year already. This one is gonna have to wait.”

“Understandable,” he acknowledges, trapping it inside the cup and sliding the paper overtop it.

You give him plenty of space as he walks out the door, not leaving the corner until he returns a few minutes later. 

He holds up the paper silently, showing you the front and back, and flips the cup upside down, shaking it to prove that the spider is, in fact, gone.

“Where did you put it?” you ask, still paranoid.

“In the bushes, as far from your room as possible. Clear across the courtyard.”

“Thank you,” you say quietly.

He sets the paper and mug back on the desk where he found them, looking back at you. 

You pull him into a loose hug, wrapping him in that lovely scent — orange blossoms and vanilla, he decides. It’s intoxicating.

“Thank you,“ you say quietly. “For dealing with it, and for not thinking it’s dumb or making fun of me.”

He falters for a moment, but quickly brings a hand up to rest on your back. “I’d never make fun of you. And it’s no problem, really.”

You realize you’ve never so much as shaken his hand before. You pull away quickly, embarrassed. “I’m sorry, that was… forward of me,” you manage.

He laughs softly. “It’s okay. Come get me if any of its friends show up. I’ll give them a talking to.”

You can’t help but smile. “Thank you, Liam.”

There you go again, saying his name and making him feel things.

He offers you a soft smile that nearly brings you to your knees. “Goodnight, pretty girl.”

“Goodnight,” you breathe, shutting the door after he’s back in his own room.

“He thinks I’m pretty,” you whisper aloud, smiling.

“Of course he does,” Blythe says, amused.

You jump. “What have I told you about eavesdropping?” 

She sounds like she’s rolling her eyes. “And what have I told you about broadcasting your every thought to me?”

You sigh, conceding. “I’m still working on that. I’m sorry.”

“All in good time, soft one. All in good time.”

You kick off your boots, flopping down onto your bed with a sigh and picking up your book again, but you’ve lost interest. Knights in shining armor be damned; all you can think about right now is Liam.

#Liz posting before 9pm? unheard of #liam mairi #liam mairi x reader #fourth wing #fourth wing x reader #fourth wing imagine #reader insert #mine

[radiowallet]

December 28th - Long Distance

Summary: Marcus gets pulled away on a long distance mission just after the holidays leaving you and Missy alone. He calls to check in late one night and you do your best to make the distance seem a little smaller.

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x Wife (female reader)

WC: 1.9K

Warnings: Smut, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, curing, Christmas talk

Thank you to @toomanystoriessolittletime for putting together this prompt list.

The phone rings at 9:47 pm. You’re already in bed, an outdated fashion magazine you had found stuffed beneath the bed while trying to organize some of the leftover holiday chaos open across your knees, dresses that have long since passed from the zeitgeist spread out before you. You don’t need to look at the caller I.D. to know who’s on the other end, a smile spreading across your face as you answer the call.

“Hey baby,” you say in a way of greeting, flipping the page over to find bathing suits staring back at you. That’s less than helpful. “How’s the last minute business going?”

On the other end of the phone Marcus lets out a low chuckle, his laugh slightly tinged with static. Your best guess is the cell reception isn’t great wherever he and Miracle-Guy are but you dare not ask. Even with encrypted cell phones and calling recon missions “business trips” he’s still slightly paranoid about your and Missy’s safety. You tend not to tease him about it, more content to just go along with his anxieties, within reason, if only to help him sleep more soundly in these moments when he’s called away from the two of you. This time it had been the day after Christmas, Missy playing with her new Barbie dolls, you standing in front of the fridge trying to talk yourself into one more night of leftovers before saying fuck it and tossing all of it (tupperware included) in the garbage. Marcus had been having a similar internal debate, glaring daggers at the pile of needles beneath the Christmas tree when his phone rang.

“It’s fine. This hotel we found is shit but at least I have my own room tonight. Slept in the car last night. I forgot how much Jimmy fucking snores.”

You laugh quietly, muffling the sound further into the back of your hand. For a minute the two of you sit in silence, basking in the sound of the other’s breathing. Nights apart are never easy, but to have one sprung on you this close to a holiday just adds salt to the wound, and part of you wants to curse the Heroics for taking your husband away again. The other part of you, the part that’s tired from a day of chasing a five year old around, the part that misses him fiercely, just wants to close her eyes and pretend that the breathing she hears is right next to her and not miles and miles away.

Eventually he clears his throat and breaks the silence. “How’s Missy?”

“She’s good. Already bored with that Barbie dream house. Was asking me why it didn’t have the elevator like the one on the television. Toy companies can bite my ass for dropping a brand new model of something the week before Christmas.”  

It’s Marcus’s turn to laugh now, and you let the deep baritone timber wash over you, the sound of it like a balm on your soul. Fuck. You’d think it’s been 2 years and not 2 days. Still, the sound of his voice has you aching to touch him, hold him, feel him between your hands and it’s impossibly painful that you can’t do that right now.

As if sensing your frustration, he speaks again. “I’m sorry for taking off on such short notice, baby.”

“It’s okay,” you hum, tossing the magazine aside and wiggling deeper below the comforter, burying your face in Marcus’s pillow, inhaling the soothing scent of his body wash. “Just miss you is all. Wish you were here with me.”

“And where is here? The living room?”

“Mmm, no. I’m in bed. It’s lonely without you.” Your free hand falls to your thigh, tracing the bare skin just beneath the hem of one of Marc’s old t-shirts, the only thing you bothered throwing on before crawling into bed- the paint stained one with the hole by the neck that he refuses to throw away, like you would even ever consider the notion. It’s warm in the bedroom, almost too much beneath the duvet, the smell of cinnamon and pine still lingering in the air, and you can hardly hold back the breathy sigh that leaves your lips as you let your fingers move just an inch higher, Marcus’s name following the warm gasp of air from your tongue. You can hear him choke back a groan on the other end of the phone, and you know there’s a 50/50 shot of getting what you want. He’s quiet for a few seconds, breathing growing heavier as he absorbs the little hums you set free into his ear, a tension growing between you, rubber band pulled tight, threatening to snap against bare skin. Just as you’re about to let the thought leave you for now, your vibrator waiting dutifully in the drawer to your left, you hear a click followed by a groan in that same beautiful baritone that sends a wave of heat to the pit of your stomach.

“It’s lonely here too, baby. Never really got to enjoy that Christmas present did we.”

He’s referring to the lingerie you had splurged on, not usually your thing, but the little metal clasps strategically placed delicately across the thin fabric had caught your attention immediately, thinking about how your husband’s gifted hands could put that small detail to good use. You moan at the thought, partly in disappointment, partly in anticipation, fingernails digging into the meat of your thigh in hopes to alleviate some of the pressure building up impossibly fast. Before you can let yourself fall further, you feel yourself asking, annoyed that some of Marcus’s paranoia has eeked into your brain.

“Is the line safe?”

“I just added a second encryption layer,” Marcus promises -the click you heard earlier- his voice just as strangled as you feel, the rustling of sheets in the background. “What are you wearing, baby?”

“One of your shirts, the one you painted the kitchen in.”

“And?”

“That’s it.”

At your answer he lets out a deep groan, and you can see him clearly now, head tilted back, neck straining, eyes slipping shut as he lets himself fully enjoy the moment.

“Fuck,” he whispers, a hush of a sound slipping out, followed by a quick command. “Leave it on.”

The order goes straight to your core, thighs clenching around your arm, picturing the steel in his eyes. “Yes sir,” you breathe out, meaning it as a joke but instead feeling yourself grow wet that one singly syllable. You let your fingers move upward, touching gently at the lips of your pussy, letting the pad of your finger drag through your folds, already wet with arousal.

“Are you touching yourself?”

“I am,” you reply, the tip of your finger circling your clit, jolts of pleasure sparking in your core just from that simple touch. Marcus hums through the phone, his breath like liquid fire in your ears, and when he speaks again, you swear you almost come from his words alone.

“Good girl.”

You moan at the praise, turning your head to muffle the sound in Marcus’s pillow, inhaling the faint scent of him as you rub with more certainty at your clit, the bundle of nerves hard and swollen beneath your finger tip. Through the phone you can hear your husband groan, the distinct sound of skin on skin, and another moan slips out of you and into the downy soft pillow beneath your lips as you picture him fisting his cock, gripping tight at the bottom and slipping up to the tip to collect precum before sliding back down.

“Wish I could hear you, baby. Feel you. Fuuuck, you always feel so good.”

“No, you…you feel good, baby…miss you,” you sigh, shifting your hand to rub at your clit with your thumb, slipping one finger inside your entrance. It’s not enough, nothing is enough without him here and you whine at the loss of something you can’t have, desperately wishing he was here to slip his own thick finger in alongside your own. “Need you, Marcus,” you sob, pushing your finger as deep inside the tight walls of your cunt as you can.

“I know, mi amor. I know. Fuck, wish I had your hands or your mouth or your tight pussy. Fuck you so good right now if I could. Slip into that pussy and kiss you. I just want to kiss you. Kiss you all over. You’re so beautiful. Beautiful, pretty girl. I love you so fucking much.”

It’s practically nonsense, garbled word salad mixing in with the sound of him fisting his cock, a slick thrust of skin on skin, matching perfectly with the wet squelch of your pussy. The edges of his voice are pulled tight, straining with unseen exertion that you can only picture through the phone. Maybe you imagine it, or wish the command into existence, but you swear you hear his deep voice softly commanding you to add a second finger. Your breath comes out high and pitched, as you press your fingers as deep inside your cunt as they can reach, searching for that one single spot that makes stars burst behind your eyes. All the while, Marcus continues to ramble, one sentence running into the next into the next as you fuck yourself onto your fingers.

“Want to come home. Come home and lay in our bed with you. Fuck you in our bed. Feel you wrapped around my cock. Fuck, I want that. Do you want that?”

You nod, then remember that those little things he’s begging for aren’t true, and he can’t see you. The miles between you have never felt greater and you want to scream out, the rage at the long distance slamming head first into your arousal.

“Y-yes, Marc. I want that. You. I want you.”

After that it’s all heavy panting and breathy sighs traded back and forth, the sounds of your hands working yourselves closer and closer to the edge coming to the foreground of sound, wet and slick and sopping sounds as you pump in and out of your entrance, thumb brushing awkwardly at your clit, your other hand wrapped around your cell with an iron grip. It’s rushed and desperate and you know it will be over sooner rather than later, and you try not to sob at the thought. You’re close, pathetically so and you manage to slip a third finger in, sacrificing depth for stretch.

“Close. You’re close, baby. I can tell- you’re, y-your breathing is…shit, I love listening to you breathe. Please come for me, baby. Come all over your pretty fingers. I…I…”

He never gets to finish that final thought, a moan ripping from between your lips, cutting his words off at the knee. You stroke harder at your clit, your thumb pushing hard at the bundle of nerves and suddenly your coming, hips canting up into the open air above the bed. Marcus is practically sobbing through the receiver of the phone and you can see it clearly in your mind’s eyes, thick ropes of cum hitting his stomach as his strokes go from fast to slow, working himself through his own release as your body comes back down to earth.  

You breathe in slowly, together, matching the in and out of oxygen to one another, your limbs and eyes filling up with lead. It’s seconds or maybe hours, but finally, finally, your tongue doesn’t feel like it’s stuck to the roof of your mouth and you find some words to offer up to your husband.

“Come home soon, Moreno.”

He huffs, a laugh or a groan or something else, answering to you in a soft, sated promise to do just that. “As soon as I can, Moreno. As soon as I can.”

Main Masterlist

31 Days for Marcus Moreno Masterlist

Tag List: @nolanell @honestly-shite @leslie-lyman  @gingersnappe-9 @mandocrasis @castleamc @dobbyjen @sergeantbannerbarnes​ @lowlights​ @cowboy-turtle @mindidjarin @alm0501 @tintinn16​ @hnt-escape @prostitute-robot-from-the-future​ @magpie-to-the-morning​  @jazzelsaur @mylovelycomandante​

#31 days for Marcus Moreno #StephsXmasWritingChallenge2021 #Marcus Moreno #marcus moreno fic #Marcus Moreno x fem!reader #Marcus Moreno x you #Marcus Moreno x female reader #Marcus Moreno x f!reader #Marcus Moreno x wife #we can be heroes #we can be heroes fic #wcbh #wcbh fic #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal characters

[itsthestutterforme]

Shuriken (Jang Hanseok)

Summary: Y/N is a mercenary with a particular knack for knives and torture. Hanseok hired her as his new body guard against Vincenzo, little did he know that her and Vincenzo have a history. A dark history.

Characters: Jang Hanseok x mercenary!reader (implied sex), Vincenzo x mercenary!reader (past lovers), Jang Hanseo x reader (platonic), Ms. Choi x reader (platonic)

--

You hated jet lang with a passion. You would think that since you're a mercenary, that you're fine with traveling but you really hated it. You pull up your turtle neck to cover your maliscous scar across your neck. It's not that it bothers you to show it, you just didn't feel like explaining to others that someone tried to kill you and failed.

You take a taxi from the Incheon International Airport to the location your employer asked you to meet him. He was explicit with making sure that you get all the luxuries plus the 500k and that you never leave his side. He's definitely paranoid. But this isn't the first time you've had a paranoid employer.

Hopefully, he's not a crazy one. You'vs had enough with the crazy employers. The taxi drops you off at a fairly large, modern-looking house. But from the looks of it, it does not take much to break in here. You'll suggest installing some deadlocks and bullet proof cameras.

You pay the driver before hopping out of the car with your luggage. He drives away and just as you approach the gate, the door buzzes open. You walk in and are instantly greeted by four people, three men and a women. Two of the men looked young, they're probably brothers. The other man and woman looked older.

"I'm Jang Hanseok, this is my brother, Jang Hanseo and my lawyers, Ms. Choi and Mr. Hanchul. This is Y/N, the Slicer." "I see you did your research," "A little. Had to know who I was dealing with." "Yeah, and that nickname did not give me any justice. That's one of my least favorite names given to me."

"There's multiple?" "Yeah, there's Ninja, SheWolf, Shredder, Grim Reaper, Death, Queen of Hell, and my favorite, Shuriken." "Shuriken? How did you get that name?" "A talented magician never tells their secrets," you say. "Now, where's my room?" You add.

Over the passed few days, there is not much action to be on high alert. Which leaves random conversations about favorite foods and TV shows.

He doesn't seem like a terrible guy, he has a messed sense of humor though. He even asked a if you've ever been in love before. You answered by pointing to your scar and saying, "Once, unfortunately,"

You were walking through the parking garage to get the car after having dinner with Hanseok and the rest of his crew when you hear tires screeching. There was a black van next to you and the doors flew open Instinctively, you push Jang Hanseok behind you.

A dozen of guys with masks pile out of the car with their own weapons. They rush towards you and you take out a few thin shurikens from your sleeves and flick your wrists forwards. They hit two men in their throats and you duck under the arm of a man with a wrench.

You grab his arm and throw him to the ground and just when another man headed towards you, you take out your ninjato sword. Clicking the button, it springs into it's full length and you slice across the man's chest.

His blood sprays across your face before he falls to the ground and the man you threw to the ground is starting to get up.

You cut his throat and knee him in the face before ducking and weaving through their blows, cutting their backs and faces along the way. One managed to take your ninajto sword from your hands so you took out your daggers.

Stabbing his heart, you take out the blade before drop kicking him towards his remaining four comrades. They all fall to the ground and before they could get up, you threw a dagger through one of their eye sockets.

The three of them rush towards you and you swing your leg under one of them, tripping him. Then you one with a roundhouse kick and the other with a jumping back kick.

"Now, which of you wants to run back to you boss and say that Shuriken is in town?" You ask breathlessly. They look to each other and one of them hops into the van and drives away. "Well.." you state and before they could run away, you use two more shurikeins that cuts through their throats.

You turn around to see Hanseo, Ms. Choi and Mr. Hanchul looking at you with both fear and shock. You tried to wipe away the blood from your face as you look at Hanseok. He smiles at you with a dark look in his eyes. "Let's go," you suggest.

**

Since you fought those amateurs in the parking garage, Jang Hanseok has been more around you a lot more than usual. It's almost like he was attracted to the fact that you killed people without blinking. He buys you everything from food to jewlery.

He doesn't mention who I'm protecting him from. He doesn't even allow his comrades to say his name. They just call him Mafia Bastard. They were celebrating a victory over said Mafia Bastard. It wasn't until he admitted to killing his mother that you realized just how similar you guys were.

Sitting at the table, you read your book and leave your glass of champagne untouched. You started to zone out after they continue to ramble about the Mafia Bastard.

You felt some tensesness in the room when Ms. Choi said, "Did you really think that you would betray the Chairman and I wouldn't find out about it?"

You still don't look up from your book until you heard a silenced gun shot and Ms. Choi's screams. You reach into your belt and aim your gun towards the perpetrator.

His expression matched yours when you realized that it was him.. Vincenzo. The man you loved and betrayed you. The one that gave you that hideous scar.

Without a second thought, you shot his arm and chest. He kneels on the ground and drops his weapon. "Thats impossible, you're dead." He groans. "There were times when I wished I was." He spits out some blood and says, "Y/N, I.. I'm sorry."

You raise the gun again to kill him but you remember Hanseok saying he didn't wabf the Mafia Bastard dead, not yet. "Get the hell out of here," you say, setting your gun on the counter. He stands up from the floor and staggers a little before opening his mouth to talk to you. You raise your hand for him to stop and he complies.

He holds onto his chest and walks slowly out of the building. That's when you notice the dead man on the floor. From the looks of it, he's was tortured to death. He must have been the one who killed his mom. "Why didn't you kill him! We didn't hire you to let people live! We hired you to kill!" Ms. Choi yells.

You look to Hanseok and ask, "You said to keep him alive, is that correct?" "Yes, I did. And we didn't hire anybody, I did, so watch your tone."

You approach her and take out a dagger from your ankle holster. You press the dagger against her throat and said, "Question my intentions like that again, and I'll slit your throat."

With that, you walk out of the lounge room and went into Hanseok's room where the balcony was. "So he's the reason why you have that scar," Hanseok says, stepping on to the balcony with you.

"I don't want to talk about it," you say flatly. "He's the one that's trying to kill me, so you better talk about it."

"Look at me," he adds, turning you around and pressing your back against the railing. "Why do you care? What matters now is that I'm willing to kill him. No, I'm more than willing. I want to kill him." You say as you throw him to the ground and apply pressure to his chest with your knee. Taking out your blade, you press it against his throat.

"I'm not your brother. Put your hands on me again and I will kill you, do you understand?" You add. He nods and you release the pressure from his lungs. You tuck your dagger away in your ankle. When you try to stand up, he pulls you back down and flips you onto your back.

He pins your arms above your head. "What are you doing?" You ask. "I'm trying something," he says before capturing your lips in a burningly slow kiss.

Oddly enough your body eases under his touch and he lets go of your arm. You sit up to pull off your shirt and he pulls off your jeans, slowly kissing up your stomach.

Meanwhile Cha young walks Vincenzo out of the hospital and to his chair. The bullets were through and through, so it didn't take that long to clean and stitch him up. "Who did this to you?" Cha young asks. "I deserved it," "No one deserves to be shot... except Hanseok."

"I.. I don't know how, but I'm going to make it up to her." "Her? A woman shot you?" "A very special woman that I once loved," "Wait, now I'm even more confused. If she was so special then why did she try to kill you?" "Because I tried to kill her."

#kdrama fanfic #vincenzo #kdramas

[mediocrevideopodcast]

Domestic Headcanons

Summary: Domestic headcanons with everyone’s favorite ogre! (Oni?)

Pairing: Loathsome Leonard/Reader (Established Relationship) 

Content Warnings: None!

Word Count: 1142

[A/N: I can’t fucking believe I wrote 1k words for a single character headcanon. girl i don’t even simp for him what the fuck. and i wanted to write even MORE but it was getting too long. leonard simps this one’s for you <3]

Danny’s Here // Mickey’s Here 

When you’re such a well-known, prolific criminal - especially in his specific line of work - it’s hard to really settle down into a domestic life. He wants to, he really does. But when the cops are constantly on your tail, moving around is simply a fact of life. And crime has always been a part of his life: it’s not something he can just drop and move on from. But he tries his best to make each place feel a little bit less like a safehouse and more like a home. And at the end of the day, home truly is with the people you love. Nothing can replace that. Although he does dream of defecting from Mama’s rule, taking the money for you guys and the rest of the crew and finding the dream life, it isn’t exactly feasible. He knows she’d catch onto his plan, likely before he even initiated it. But he can dream, right? Maybe someday he’ll save up enough of his earnings to find a little home for you two.

If you have a home top-side though… ecstatic doesn’t even begin to describe it. He’s not real obvious about it, of course, but you can tell that he’s happy to finally have a place that he can feel safe in. And better yet, it’s with you.

He’s a very good mechanic. Pretty good handyman in general, actually! You’ll never have to call the repair guy again. He almost never uses a measuring tape, but fortunately he’s damn good at eyeballing shit.

Gets kind of freaked out if you guys don’t have a garage? He’s a little paranoid about it, especially because he does NOT want his bike stolen. He’ll start pawning stuff he finds in the Hidden City to afford a garage if he has to, honestly. Fortunately, that ALSO means you guys can start piling stuff in there. Free hangout spot.

He spends at least an hour on his hair most mornings. He uses clay instead of gel, so it usually takes less time on the second day. He’ll still mess with it throughout the day, though. He’s got an image to keep up, babe!

Never wears his cloaking necklace in the house. You’re waiting for the day that the FBI or Scotland Yard or something fucking break into your house for hiding a demon.

In another life, he could have worked as a chef, no joke. He can make pretty much anything, honestly. He’s not one to follow recipes to the T, but that’s what makes his food so good. And his barbeque is the best!! If you guys are top-side, it’s really funny to look out the window and see him cooking because you never fucking recognize him. It’s weird seeing him in… not yokai form. If you’re not, though? Fuck yeah, brother. 

He hates soybeans so much, it’s unreal. Like, he’d rather die than eat them. He has no other reasoning than “they suck.” Sorry if you like tofu, but he’s not gonna touch that shit with a 30 foot pole.

His voice is very rumbly in the morning, it’s nice.

Local plant killer. He’ll find a way to kill a cactus without even trying. Very impressed if you have a green thumb, though.

He likes to order out a lot. If he finds something he likes he tends to stick with it, but he’s not opposed to trying new places. He’s not picky, but he does like to give you shit <3

He sucks at decorating. Like, he has no eye for it at all.

Always the first to put away the dishes! He’s very fast at it as well. 

He’s really good about making coffee at night, or when he wakes up in the morning. If you’re not awake yet, he’ll always make your drink of choice just before you wake up. He’s good about that sort of thing. Also, he likes to pretend that he drinks his coffee black, but he actually pours a fuck ton of maple syrup in it when nobody’s looking. In the same vein, he takes his tea black. If anything, he’ll add a bit of milk to it, but that’s rare. He likes spiced teas the most, but he’s not insanely picky. Hates chamomile, though.

There’s a lot of temporary shelters that you guys hide out in the Hidden City when you’re unable to leave, and the heat gets too hot to handle, with a few semi-permanent places. His favorite hideout is a little farm way out in the countryside. If he had to choose a place to live forever, that would be his dream home. The trees out that way grow tall, with deep green trunks that reflect cobalt blue light at night. The megafauna roams freely, creatures the size of skyscrapers soaring slowly through the air, or sending rumbles through the ground with their colossal hooves in the late afternoon. And yet, they always go around the home. Magically warded, perhaps? Or are they intelligent enough to avoid a dwelling? Neither of you are sure, but he knows that he’d love to live his life here, with you. Something about it just feels right.

King of bonfires. It happens at least once every two weeks. The flames dance high, changing colors every few seconds. Something about the wood makes the flames dance and change hue, unlike the wood from your own world. It’s nothing new to him, but it’s absolutely magical to you. You two will happily spend the night out there, watching the flames dance and the megafauna roam. Your laughter echoes through the land, and you truly feel at home in this little cabin.

Yes, the guys absolutely come over often if you aren’t hiding out with them. Come on, they’re family.

He’s pretty good at Mortal Kombat! Expect game nights every now and then. Also he absolutely lost his mind over the new Mortal Kombat movie. No cap, he’d fuck Liu Kang. He’s very excited for the next movie, but tbh he hates Johnny Cage. Okay I’ll stop talking about mortal kombat now i prommy

He’s not super big into gaming, but he’s happy to watch you if you are. Little bit of a backseat gamer, but just kiss him. It’ll either keep him quiet or prompt more quips,  but at least you get kisses.

He really wants a dog. He can’t exactly have one at the moment, but he’d really like one. He’s a fan of most kinds of dogs, but he’d like one that’s fairly strong. His ideal dog would be a Cane Corso!

Loves action movies and horror movies. Come on, have you seen his line of work?

Honestly, 10/10 husband. The life he leads isn’t one to lend itself to domesticity, but he’s never been one to take “no” for an answer. And he’s gonna do everything he can to make a life for the both of you, no matter what.

#rottmnt loathsome leonard #loathsome leonard x reader #rottmnt mud dogs x reader #mud dogs x reader #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt imagine

[bnhasimpgirltm]

Why Is It That You Only Ever Hurt Me? (Part 2)

Parings: Bakugo x Reader (Past), Yo Shindo x Reader (Present)

Warnings: none

Type: Oneshot

Genre: angst? (this hurt my heart to write)

A/N: I had to use Yo Shindo for this because Bakugo DESPISES this guy. It might have been a bit much to do the entire song, but I didn’t want to remove anything because I really like how well this songs fits. I just didn’t write this very well, and it feels a little repetitive, but I think that’s what adds to it. Let me know what you think, and as always, Enjoy!

Song: “Heavy”- Linkin Park ft. Kiiara (2017)

note: the last lyric line “If I just let go I’ll be set free” was added by me so I could tie the story together nicely. It isn’t actually sung at the end in the song. I cried while writing this oh crap.

Read Part 1 HERE

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

I don't like my mind right now

Ever since you broke up with him, Bakugo had been miserable. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t function. The only thing he could do was train. He had lost you and he couldn’t get you back.

Stacking up problems that are so unnecessary

He still loved you, and you didn’t love him back anymore. One sided love creates all sorts of problems. So many problems piled up.

Wish that I could slow things down

He wishes that he could take back what he said. He wishes that he didn’t speak so impulsively, that he slowed down and though about his words before they left his mouth. But he couldn’t turn back the clock, so the only thing he could do was let go.

I wanna let go but there's comfort in the panic

He wanted to let you go, but he couldn’t. He wanted to hold onto you for as long as possible, and every waking moment that he wasn’t training, Bakugo as looking through your social media.

And I drive myself crazy

You had removed all of the pictures of the two of you together after the break up. He missed seeing his tag on your photos. He missed being able to retrace your entire relationship just from your social media page. He missed you.

Thinking everything's about me

Bakugo still had all of the pictures with you on his pages. He knew that if he archived them it meant that you were really gone forever. He didn’t want to think that it was all over, even if deep down he knew the truth. He wanted to hold onto these last threads of your broken relationship. Bakugo knew he had to let go, so he tapped on one of his posts with you in it.

Yeah, I drive myself crazy

He knew you were gone, but he couldn’t do it. Bakugo couldn’t wipe you from his life, so he exited Instagram and opened messages. His finger hovered over your name. He wanted to text you and tell you how much he missed you, how much he loves you.

'Cause I can't escape the gravity

He couldnt escape you. Everywhere he went he saw you. Even if you weren’t really there, to him, every place you went together had a small piece of you. 

I'm holding on

When he saw you for real the first time after the breakup, he thought it was his imagination running wild again. That was until you looked at him. Imaginary you never did that. Bakugo knew that it was really you. He thought that you had finally given up running from him, and that maybe he could move on because you had too.

Why is everything so heavy?

But he couldn’t, because when he saw you, his heart ached so much that it felt like it was physically hurting. It felt like a weight heavier than anything he had ever lifted was placed on his back. He knew that he couldn’t let go. He couldn’t set himself free just yet.

Holding on

He couldn’t let you go. It had been months since the breakup, and he still couldn’t let you go. He still held onto the hope that you still loved him as much as he still loved you.

So much more than I can carry

He wanted to go and apologize to you, to take the weight off of his back, to end it for real. To tell you that he was sorry for everything, and that he wouldn’t bother you anymore. 

I keep dragging around what's bringing me down

But he couldn’t. Bakugo couldn’t bring himself to go and talk to you. Not after everything he did. So he let the weight sit on his back.

If I just let go, I'd be set free

Everytime he saw you, he considered finishing it for real, to tell you that he was sorry and move on. He could be set free from his guilt. 

Holding on

But he didn’t want to. He was going crazy, trying to keep this nonexistent relationship alive, but Bakugo didn’t care that he was being insane. He just needed something to care about, because the only thing that he truly cared about was gone. So if the only thing Bakugo cared about was this pretend relationship he still had going with you, so be it.

Why is everything so heavy? 

When you saw Bakugo, you felt your heart fall. He still made you feel this way, even after all this time. Even after you told yourself that you had moved on.

You say that I'm paranoid

Everywhere you went, you saw him. His blonde hair poking up between the people in the crowds. His black tanktop passing by on the trains. Every time you saw him somewhere, you felt haunted by a ghost. A ghost from your past that you couldn’t let go.

But I'm pretty sure the world is out to get me

You hated that you couldn’t face him. You were too scared of what he would say to you. You were too scared that he would say that he had moved on.

It's not like I make the choice

But you were more scared of what you would say to him. Because if he moved on, then that meant that you would have to move on.

To let my mind stay so fucking messy

So you pushed your emotions back like you always did and continued to live your life with thoughts of Bakugo constantly ravaging your mind. 

I know I'm not the center of the universe

You didn’t mean anything to him, he made that clear, but he was the center of your universe. He was your everything.

But you keep spinning 'round me just the same

You knew he didn’t love you, but deep down, you still loved him. You knew it would take a long time to move on, so you started dating again. Hoping you could move on and find someone else to love. And you did, you found someone else.

I know I'm not the center of the universe

Bakugo knew that he didn’t mean anything to you, you made that clear by avoiding him for months. 

But you keep spinning 'round me just the same

Bakugo knew you didn’t love him, but he still loved you. So he kept himself away from the dating scene.

I'm holding on

Bakugo told himself multiple times that he wasn’t dating because he ddin’t have time, but in reality, he still held onto the hope that you would want him back.

Why is everything so heavy?

Until he saw that Ketsubutsu guy, Yo Shindo, walk into the common room. He wondered what that idiot was doing at UA, until he saw you smile and walk towards him. Then it clicked.

Holding on

Shindo grabbed you in a hug, and threw a dirty look over your shoulder straight at Bakugo. The worst part was that you jumped into his arms willingly. 

So much more than I can carry

He wanted to say that he was okay with it. He wanted to just roll his eyes and walk away.

I keep dragging around what's bringing me down

But he couldn’t lie to himself, he was jealous. Not just jealous, Bakugo was enraged that you were hanging out with that Shindo guy. He was enraged that he had been replaced.

If I just let go, I'd be set free

So instead of going back to his dorm, he followed you and Shindo.

Holding on

Bakugo watched as Shindo did everything he didn’t. Shindo held your hand and talked with you. He kissed your cheek and laughed when you said something funny. He bought you lunch and gave you a flower. 

Why is everything so heavy? I know I'm not the center of the universe

He saw the way you looked at Shindo. Like he was the center of your universe. 

But you keep spinning 'round me just the same

It was the way you used to look at Bakugo. 

I know I'm not the center of the universe

He watched as Shindo looked at you the same way. The way Bakugo looked at you. The way Bakugo still looked at you.

But you keep spinning 'round me just the same

He knew that he wasn’t the center of your universe anymore, but for some reason, he still couldn’t let go, no matter how much he tried.

And I drive myself crazy

He hated himself so much for losing the best thing that ever happened to him. He hated himself for screwing up everything good in his life.

Thinking everything's about me

He hated that he couldn’t get over himself just to keep you with him. He hated that the weight of your breakup was still tied to his back and that it wasn’t getting any lighter after seeing that you had moved on.

Holding on

Years passed, and Bakugo never got into another relationship.

Why is everything so heavy?

He was still dragging around the weight on his back. It never got lighter. Not when he immersed himself in his hero work, or when he saw you and Shindo on the news together as the hero couple that everyone loved.

Holding on

Bakugo felt like he was being crushed, but he continued on with his life. Until one day, he got a letter in the mail. “You are invited to the wedding of Yo Shindo and (y/n) (l/n).” It was at this moment that the weight became too heavy. It crushed him, and Bakugo Katsuki, the pro hero Ground Zero who feared nothing, broke down into sobs.

So much more than I can carry

His entire world shattered that day. It should have been his name with yours on that invite. It should have been him who you were marrying. Bakugo was so overcome with sadness that he did the only thing that he could when he was sad. He masked it as anger. Why the hell would you invite him to your wedding? Was this some sort of joke? 

I keep dragging around what's bringing me down

Bakugo was angry, but he still loved you even after all this time, so he went to your wedding, and he watched as you walked down the aisle to marry a man that wasn’t him.

If I just let go, I'd be set free

He watched as you and Shindo looked into each others eyes with so much love that he regretted his decion to attend the wedding. Bakugo regretted not tearing the invite in half and shoving it into the recycle bin. 

Holding on

He listened as you recited your vows and said “I do”. He listened as he heard the priest say “Any objections?”, and Bakugo wanted to stand up and proclaim his love for you. He wanted to stand up and tell you that you belonged with him. To take you back and love you just as much as you loved him back at UA.

Why is everything so heavy?

But the he remembered what you said to him all those years ago. He remembered: “Were you always this selfish?”, and Bakugo made his decision. For once in his life, it wasn’t selfish. He owed it to you. Maybe the selfish part of him wanted you to be with him, but the part of him that still loved you and wanted the best for you was telling him to let you be happy, so he stayed silent.

Why is everything so heavy?

As Shindo swept you into a kiss, it was all crystal clear to Bakugo. He would never get over you. He would carry the weight of your breakup for the rest of his life. Maybe the weight would get lighter, and maybe it would only get heavier, but it would always be there.

Why is everything so heavy? 

Bakugo finally realized that you had moved on from him. You had Shindo. You didn’t need him anymore. 

If I just let go I’ll be set free.

 You had finally let go. You were finally free.  

#ao3 bakugou #bakugou imagine #bakugou fluff #bnha bakugou #bnha x reader #bakugo katsuki #bakugo katsuki x you #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo fanfiction #katsuki bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugo angst #katsuki bakugo imagine #bakugou x y/n #bakugou angst #katsuki bakugo fluff #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo headcanons #katsuki bakugo fanart #my hero fanfic #bnha bakugo x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #my hero academia fanfic #bnha fanfiction #bnha fanfic recs #bnha katsuki bakugou #bnha manga #bnha #my hero headcanons

[tra-sh]

Love’s Labors pt 3

Part three to my Ivar Ragnarson x reader series! Part four is here!

@youbloodymadgenius @red-roses-are-gonna-shine @angelofmysmalldeath

The library of King Ecbert's castle was, unsurprisingly, empty. Most of the inhabitants were either being trained for battle or standing guard around the Kings as they met. So, you found it to be the perfect hiding place when you felt the need to escape your tutor for the day. The chamber was in a calm and almost reflective state as if you were the first one to grace its halls in months. You gathered a small pile of books and scrolls that seemed the most interesting and made yourself a small nest on the ledge of a tall window. You'd purposefully tucked yourself away in the back of the library in the case that someone came looking for you. Though not many had caught onto your tricks, you knew Judith was smart and would most likely search for you here if she discovered you went missing. 

You sift through your pile, settling for a written book on medicinal plants. At least this one was illustrated. 

You settle into your spot as comfortably as you can and immerse yourself in reading. Though you were much more content to wander around the castle and cause mischief, you knew your father was especially on edge today. You'd overheard the maids gossiping about King Aelle's mistrust of Ragnar and knew if he caught you in your usual antics, you would be banished from seeing Judith and Alfred for the next month. 

The warm breeze coming from the window coupled with the book in your hands was enough to lull you to sleep, and you surely would have, were it not for the figure leaning against the dimly lit bookshelf across from you. You sit upright, blinking to let your eyes adjust. "Ivar?" You ask quietly. "What are you doing here?" 

Ivar shuffles forward with the help of his crutches, into the sunlight where you could see him better. "Same as you, I suppose. Hiding," he says with an amused tone. You laugh, closing your book and scooting forward. "How did you know I was here?" Ivar shrugs, plopping down at a small wooden table across from you. "Lucky guess." 

You rest your chin on your palm and observe the prince as he sets a book of his own on the wooden table. "I'm not sure why I am surprised to find you can read," you mock gently, biting your lip in anticipation of his response. Would he have a temper with you, as the rumors say? 

Though Ivar's jaw sets and he throws a glare in your direction, he says nothing. You wonder for a moment if you've ruined the mood, and you press again. "I didn't mean anything by it. People talk, you know," you add. "People may talk, but it is up to you to listen," Ivar replies. You let out a small chuckle and look away. "Oh, dear. I'm afraid I haven't a response to that," you say quietly. 

Ivar looks back to you with a brow raised. "You, not having a remark? I think I'm surprised." A loud laugh rips from your throat before you can stop it, and you lean back against the stone window frame behind you. "It does not happen often, so I cannot advise you to get used to it, Viking." Ivar's face betrays his amusement as he turns back to the book before him. "I imagine, Saxon, there are many things about you I will not get used to," he says quietly. You bite your lip in an attempt to stop yourself from smiling, but to no avail. The Viking prince does something to you that you have never experienced before, and it was thrilling. 

You shuffle back into your spot, picking up your forgotten book. You flip through the pages absentmindedly and steal little glances here and there at the boy beside you. You allow your mind to wander and imagine what it would feel like to be courted by someone so fierce. Ivar was a mystery to you, so much like his father. When you'd heard of their arrival, you had expected two beastly men who did not speak a lick of English nor have any common decency. Admittedly, you were almost disappointed at how pleasantly normal they were. Perhaps your dad's stories of the Northmen were just that-- stories. Figures, you shouldn't have listened to the paranoid old man. 

You glance over once more only to catch Ivar staring at you. You offer him a smile and lift your head. "Yes?" You ask, smug that you caught him looking. If Ivar notices the tone in your voice, he doesn't comment on it. Instead, he asks, "You and Alfred. Are you really betrothed?" Your face falls at the topic, and you turn your attention out the window and to the courtyard below. "We are," you start slowly. "It is more so in name. My father wants me out and tamed as soon as possible, and King Ecbert was looking for a queen for his Alfred. It was a supposed perfect match," you mutter. Ivar listens carefully, his eyes scanning over the words before him. "When would you marry?" He wondered. You sigh and slump down further against the wall. "Most likely when Alfred is crowned King. If my father had his way, I'm sure it would be far sooner." Ivar seems to consider your words for a moment. You lull your head to the side, eyeing the young man. "Why do you ask?" 

He shrugs, his eyes not leaving the page. "Curious about Saxon affairs," he offers lamely. You sit upright and frown. "Is that all?" You wonder quietly. This time, it's Ivar who turns to you with a smug face. "Is that all you want it to be?" 

A heavy silence blankets the library as the two of you stare at one another. Was there another reason? What were you hoping for? For Ivar to live up to the Viking rumors and kidnap you, hauling you off to some unknown land? 

You're the first to break eye contact as you lean back into the wall. "I suppose so," you say softly. 

You hear the creaking of wood and a shuffling sound, followed by the repeating tapping of Ivar's crutches meeting the stone floor. You turn your head in time to see Ivar towering over you, looking down to meet your gaze. "For someone who causes such trouble," Ivar begins, reaching out to grab a stray piece of your hair. "You are a terrible liar, princess." Your face feels hot and you splutter incoherently while Ivar chuckles. "I am not lying!" Your voice betrays you, rising above your normal pitch. Ivar gives you a knowing grin and you snap your mouth shut. His eyes flit back and forth from your own as if searching for something. "I am leaving tomorrow. Will you really not tell me the truth before I go?" Ivar asks finally. Your breath catches in your throat as you stare up at him. Does he leave tomorrow? But what about Ragnar? Your face must have betrayed your sorrow because Ivar's gaze softens as he looks at you. "What if I ask nicely?" He adds. 

You can't help laughing at this and shake your head. "It wouldn't suit you, Ivar." 

He stares at you and it brings back that strange feeling in the pit of your stomach that only he seems to cause. He reaches a hand out and grips your jaw experimentally as if examining you. He does not hold your chin as a lover would, but more like a farmer observing livestock. It sends a strange thrill up your spine, to be so fiercely scrutinized by someone like him. Something dark and mischievous flashes in his eyes as he looks at you. "Give me permission, princess," Ivar says in a low voice. It's so quiet that you almost don't register that he spoke. You swallow as your eyes search his. "For what?" Your response is barely above a whisper, you know your voice would betray you if you spoke up. You don't need his response. You're not so oblivious to what he wants, but the tumultuous side of you wanted him to say it out loud. To hear him say he desired you, in the same way you did him.

But Ivar is wise to your tricks and doesn't speak. His grip on your face lightens, and for a moment you're disappointed in thinking he's walking away. Suddenly, his thumb hooks your chin and drags you towards him, earning a small squeal of surprise from you. His mouth is hot over yours as he kisses you and it sends small tingles throughout your body. Your hands come up to grab fistfuls of his shirt, trying to pull him flush against you. One of his hands tangles in your hair, gripping and pushing you closer. You feel his free hand slide under your dress and grab your thigh, hooking your knee and dragging you forward so he's nestled between your thighs.

Your head spins as Ivar kisses you with such a passion as if this was the first and last time you would see each other. The thought bothered you, and you found yourself whining into the kiss. This seems to spur him on as Ivar lets out a low growl, nipping your bottom lip with his sharp teeth. Then he breaks away, ending the kiss just as quickly as it began. You lean after him lamely, mourning the sudden loss of his warmth. Ivar steps back and looks at you with such a savage look of pride on his face that you feel something curl in your stomach. "Until next time, princess." 

His fingers trail across the frame of your face one last time before he drops his hand and starts to leave. "You would leave me here like this?" Your voice trembles as your eyes sting. He can't just leave you here like this, right? Ivar spares one last glance over his shoulder and rakes his eyes up and down your figure. "When I come back, you will not have to worry anymore." 

And just like that, he leaves you sitting in the library alone as the sun sets behind you.

#ivar x reader #ivar imagine #ivar from vikings #ivar the boneless #ivar fanfic #ivar fanfiction #ivarxreader #ivar ragnarsson #ivar romance #no beta we die like men

[mrwinterr]

Who Do You Love?

Pairing: David Budd x Female Reader

Summary: After some months that David’s been working for the Home Secretary, you notice he’s been acting differently. Not wanting to overanalyze the situation, the signs are just too hard to ignore, so when it’s time to confront him there’s only one real question to ask.

Warnings: Bodyguard (2018) TV series spoilers! Adult themes. Explicit language. Light smut. Infidelity/cheating. Mentions of war, PTSD, political assassination, death, pregnancy/miscarriage, paranoia, and attempted suicide. Sad vibes, probably. We’re not gonna have a good time.

Disclaimer: This piece goes hand-in-hand with All For You. It’s not required to read beforehand, but it would be nice. As far as the TV series, yeah, don’t even read these if you’re still planning to watch the show. If you don’t care, you may proceed.

Title Inspiration: “Who Do You Love?” by The Chainsmokers ft. 5 Seconds of Summer

A/N: I want a happy David, I really do, but I’m a heartless writer. I took a break from the smut, so it’s not a huge bulk of the fic this time. I hope y’all still like it! Happy New Year! 

Another night alone was not unusual for you as of late, having grown accustomed to it ever since David had taken up the job of protecting Home Secretary, Julia Montague. Neither you nor David could’ve foreseen his courageous efforts in neutralizing the terrorist attack on the train back home would thrust him into his new position, furthermore the extent of its outcome in his personal life.

It wasn’t a hidden secret that David resented most politicians, and you knew of Julia from the news and her political ambitions in pushing a bill to increase security surveillance. David’s job put a big emphasis on confidentiality, so for his superiors to throw him into a public political warzone was a bit suspicious to you. There was something that didn’t add up, and you couldn’t just outright ask David whose side he was on in all this.

After neglecting the mountain of dirty laundry, tonight was dedicated to the domestic chore. It was nothing out of the ordinary mixing your batch with David’s, but he had a habit of leaving things in his clothes pockets, so it was routine for you to check everyone. You’d moved onto one of the costly tailored button-ups he wore to work and feel something protruding from the shirt pocket. You dig your hand in and fish out a tube of lipstick. Strange. You didn’t use this brand of cosmetics, and even more so the garment smelt different.

Under normal circumstances, this type of discovery would raise a red flag, but you recall one of David’s first days on the job as her bodyguard, the intern had clumsily spilt Julia’s coffee all over her outfit just before she was about to do a live interview, and David had offered her the shirt off his back, essentially saving the day. The man was just too dedicated to his job sometimes, so you shrug it off, but this wouldn’t be the first time you would notice something out of place.

It really started after the first assassination attempt that was made on Julia’s life. With the rate she was going at, her political status had made her a prime target to those opposed to RIPA-18. It was very frightening, you figured that much for her, David had seen worse in war. You just about had a heart attack when you reunited with him that night, the blood still stained on his clothes and missed splotches on his skin.

The both of you clung onto each other all night, lost within the throes of passion. It might as well have been one of the most intense nights yet, even then you could tell something changed by his movements. You didn’t think much about it at first because there’s already so much wrong with him, you’ve yet to learn all his mood swings.

Then one day you’d gotten sick, and discovered it was because you were pregnant with David’s child. One of the few things that made you forget about all the aches and pains that David unintentionally caused, was remembering the beautiful smile on his face when you revealed the news to him. You knew how much happiness Ella and Charlie brought him, you could only imagine what that would feel like, your own family with David.

He was so overjoyed in the beginning. He had quickly phoned his mother, who’d visited and even stayed a few days with you when David’s new position became more demanding of him, claiming she was worried about you being alone. You didn’t deserve to experience this alone, but it was sure heading that way.

Lately, you’ve found yourself occupying the Budd household quite more than often when David’s mom went back home. With David being on duty almost 24/7, you were completely alone, so the little family welcomed you.

Legally, on paper, David was still married to Vicky. It was something you weren't going to verbally admit bothered you, but oddly enough it did. What with the mood you’ve been in as of late, it ate at a part of you. They were separated and the divorce papers were well on track until David’s “promotion” paused the process.

There’s still not a hostile fiber in you towards Vicky. She’d moved on well, been on several dates with someone else, and things were looking great for her. It was lowkey, not even David knew about it, not that he even stuck around or bothered to care. It had to come out eventually because it would affect Ella and Charlie’s lives.

You watch as Vicky rounds the table after placing a cup of tea in front of you then sitting in the seat across and asking how you’re holding up.

You contemplate for a split second if you should be honest or not, but who else could you confine to at the moment? No one else could possibly understand. Vicky herself may not even, but she knew David more than most people did, so surely, she could see where you’re coming from to some degree, right?

Letting out a big sigh, you answer her truthfully, “I’m...not well, Vicky,” your eyes drop down to the cup in front of you, finger tracing the rim, the hot cloud of smoke of the concoction almost burns your skin.  

“Oh, poor thing,” she says, extending her hand over to place it on top of your other one on the table, “it’s the pregnancy. It has to be. It’s taking a toll on you. I can tell.” You look up at her and almost want to cry. No one noticed it was more than symptoms of pregnancy. You were bottling up so much.  

“Let me tell you, while I love Ella and Charlie, pregnancy was not a breeze…” she started to ramble, but you quickly cut her off, exhausted of people telling you the same thing over and over, unintentionally, blaming the innocent baby.

“No. I don’t think it’s that. I don’t want to blame anything on the pregnancy,” you say straight up. You got yourself into this mess, you went headfirst knowing the baggage David came with and you knew full well that protection wasn’t at the forefront in the affairs. Ready or not, you both went in this together and brought a baby into the picture.

Vicky stares, confused, but still genuinely concerned, “then what else could be wrong?” When you didn't immediately respond, she knew it had to be one other thing, or person, and you just didn’t want to admit, well out loud, “David?”

You only nod; you knew you were going to have to face the music sooner or later. So, you start listing things you’ve observed that have caused you to grow suspicious over the course of the last few months. You just hoped you didn’t sound like a mad woman in front of her.

The one time your phone had died, and he let you use his to place a food delivery. You couldn’t unlock his phone, trying every possible combined set of numbers close to David, only to come to a conclusion that the access code had changed. Visibly distressed, he realizes you were attempting to unlock his work phone. You knew that was his though. What work phone?

You didn’t even know he had one of those, let alone why did it have the same crack on the screen in the exact same spot as his personal one? You feigned stupidity and blamed it on exhaustion. Deep down David knew you were suspecting something was up, and he ended up placing the order for dinner that night himself.

The other time you confronted David about coming home smelling heavily of another woman. Whatever, whoever, her perfume was strong, and it made you nauseous. The pregnancy didn’t even do you any favors on this one with your senses heightened and overly sensitive.

Of course, he smelled of another woman, the person he was assigned to protect. You could see all the holes in his alibi. He was lying, and it hurt most when he indirectly admitted your mood swings were irritating him and then flipped it all on you, saying you were overthinking the situation and getting all paranoid for no reason. Accused you of not trusting him, when truth was you had the utmost faith in him, but not when the evidence was piling up.

There’s a solemn look that washed over Vicky’s face. She had expected more tales of David’s PTSD, but none of what you spilled alluded to it. This time David couldn’t blame the effects of war on your suspicions. However, Vicky knew that this was you and David, and if there was a pair that could survive love’s tumultuous doings then it was you two.

“There’s a lot of coincidences, yes, but this is you and David,” she says, grasping your hand for support because she could see the moisture in your eyes building up, “is it silly of me to admit I was always jealous of you,” she confesses, trying to steer the conversation a different route.

She didn’t want you to think she was brushing off your worries, but to remind you that everything you and David had been through to get to this point to be together, whatever you both were dealing now wasn’t anything you two couldn’t overcome. There were high hopes for you and David in Vicky’s mind.  

A small smile cracks your face, and you bring your vacant hand up to dab at the inner corner of your eyes, just before the tears start to race down, “jealous? Of what?” It was almost shocking to think you had something she was jealous of.  

“Every time you visited us,” she starts, “I could tell David held so much admiration for you,” and you know she’s not trying to hurt your feelings, but it’s taking a bit to figure out where she’s going with this.

“That’s silly,” you scoff lightly, “you both got married and had two kids, surely there was no doubt,” then bring the cup up to your lips for a small sip.  

“But there was and look where we ended up?” she says. Your lips cave in to form a tight line in response, and carefully place the cup back down on the dish, before she follows up, “you two are finally together.”

“Vicky,” you pipe up, not knowing where to begin. It was never your intention to steal David’s heart away from another.

“I’m not saying any of this because I’m mad at you. No. I’ve never truly hated you. You’re a good person and you’re finally getting your happily ever after. Don’t ever stop fighting for it,” she comes out wholeheartedly, and this time you make no attempt to keep the tears at bay. It stung to hold them back anyways.

Vicky gets up from her seat, walking the short steps to yours, to wrap her arounds around you. You immediately cling onto her arms and just cry, finally letting everything out.

“Seriously, don’t think of the worst,” she starts advising, while rubbing your back, “David will always come back to you,” she pulls you away from her before reminding you, “you knew going into this wasn’t going to be easy.”  

You feel so pathetic. What she said was completely true, you just didn’t think it’d be this bad. There’s no doubt you love David and want to be with him through the good, the bad, and the ugly, so you nod and try to keep your chin up. It wasn’t to appease her, you were going to get back up, because if not for David, then for the baby.

Suddenly, the front door busts open and Ella and Charlie are bustling into the kitchen, where you and Vicky were. Quickly wiping away the tears, you both noted that school had just let out.

They were ecstatic to see you, especially Charlie as he had currently been experiencing issues of his own adjusting to school. They lifted your spirits greatly; they were more fascinated by the baby growing in you and couldn’t wait to meet him or her. You absolutely adored them. They looked like David and the whole time they were talking your ear off; you wonder to yourself if your own kid will look more like you or David. 

David’s thrusts were deep and good; you made no attempt to hold it in, letting him know exactly how he was making you feel. Nails digging into his firm buttocks, pulling him closer to you, wanting him to just keep going and going; the chase proving to be almost just as good as the climax. You feel one of his hands run up your side and his large hand starts groping your breast, adding onto the pleasure he was plaguing your body with, while the other held onto the small of you back, bringing your hips up to his.

His face was buried in the crook of your neck, you could feel his hot breath fanning against your skin and hear his murmured swears and praises. The air in the room was thick, and for the majority of the intimate activity, the only sounds that travelled around the apartment consisted of heavy breathing, moans, gasps, whines and skin slapping, until the annoying distinct ringtone started screeching from a few feet away.

You’d learned to distinguish his work alarm since the supposed mix-up, and it pinged constantly, agitating you. David’s pace notably falters, and the rhythm you’d both built started dwindling, the needy side of you started to panic because he was going to stop and you desperately wanted to come, even more so come with him, but it looked like neither of you would be as you feel one of David’s hands leave your body and make an attempt to reach out to the device.

You grab a hold of his wandering hand and lace your fingers together, hoping to keep him close and forget about the alert. You buck your hips forward, urging him to continue. His grip tightens and cock twitches inside of you in response. Your strategy almost deems successful when he picks up momentum, each swivel of his cock gradually bringing out the starved woman in you. Not to mention, your sex drive had heightened too, you’d longed and craved any affection he could give you.

“David, baby…” you whine, holding a hand to his face, forcing him to keep his gaze on you and only you, the ringtone almost drowning out, “...don’t. Don’t. Fucking. Stop...please,” you resort to begging and hook a leg over his body, the new angle allowing him to thrust deeper.

And just when you’re about to tip over the edge, the incessant ringing persists, and David’s halt unintentionally pulls you back down. He unwinds your sweaty clasped hands, no doubt in search of the phone once more, however, you had more leverage than he did, and your hand beats his hand to it. He wasn’t that far behind as his hand covers yours, and he tries to grab the phone to answer the call, but instead you swat it off the nightstand.  

“What the fuck?” David says aggravatedly, while attempting to reach his phone on the ground, all while he’s still inside of you, pressing your body deeper into the mattress, but careful to not crush you.

“No, fuck you, David,” you spit back, and shove his body off of yours. You scoot over to one side of the bed and try to level your breathing. You were both so close!

“What is wrong with you?” He asks, forgetting the phone on the ground.

“Do you really have to answer that?” You ask, attitude on full display.

“It could be an emergency at work,” he tries reasoning.

“You’re not on the clock, David!” You dispute, sitting up, clutching the sheets to your body to conceal yourself.

“That’s not the point! It could’ve been serious. Julia could be hurt,” he says, the words just coming out of his mouth, giving each excuse little thought. His mind was in a frenzy and you didn’t miss a single syllable.  

“You called her Julia,” you say just above a whisper, and suddenly you have an urge to vomit, but you do your best to control it.

“What?” he asks, not understanding what that meant at all to you.

It hurt more that he didn’t realize there was anything wrong and if he did, he was doing a good job at hiding something and making you look like the bad guy. You lightly shake your head, feeling defeated, and lie back down, settling on your side facing the opposite direction of him.

What was going on in David’s head? You tried so hard to understand him. It was like walking on eggshells, and even you had a breaking point. It was just sometimes too much because it felt like you were the only one putting in the effort to keep this relationship afloat.

The bed shifts significantly, letting you know that he’s gotten out of it. What felt like an hour, but were only a few seconds, the room was silent, tension still heavy in the room, and neither of you were willing to be the first to crack. You lie still, unmoving and making no attempt to stop him. It’s only when you hear the swing of the bedroom door creak, you allow yourself to blink the tears in your eyes away.

He didn’t leave the apartment that much you could rest assured of. Rest? That was what you were having trouble with. Things weren’t getting any easier with David and you even though you vowed to yourself that you’d go through Hell for him, the pressure was getting too heavy on your heart and in return, you knew the distress wouldn’t be good for the baby.

Maybe it was all just paranoia, the stress of pregnancy, and you were taking things too personal. You could be understanding about a lot of things in David’s life, his terms and PTSD, his kids, and his job, but was it too much to ask of him to be understanding of you? You suppose you were being selfish, and you were really tired. The only way to help you sleep was to swallow your pride and admit you were wrong.

The rush of the cold air instantly surrounds your bare legs the second you throw the covers off your body to get out of the bed. You throw on the discarded oversized shirt to be decent. Your steps are light, and you’re kind of nervous and, dare you admit, ashamed of how you overreacted that it drove David to the point of sleeping on the couch. After all, you made him feel unwanted in his own bed, and he certainly had enough respect to not steal yours.

Just when you’re ready to apologize and ask him to go back to bed with you, he’s already sound asleep, his legs sticking out from the mere blanket covering his upper body. You didn’t have the heart to wake him up for that. Sleep didn’t find him easy and he seemed just as stressed as you were, so you don’t disturb him. It can wait, right? You turn around and head to your room, shut the door and pray sleep finds you soon.  

It didn’t and neither did the conversation. 

News of the blast at St. Matthews College, where Julia was presenting a speech, rocked not only the political world, but it was the forefront of every news channel and medium. Tons left injured or dead, and as if that wasn’t bad, David was being told Julia had not survived the bombing.

He’s clearly distraught, believing he’s failed her, and on top of that, the weight of his lies started to suffocate him. He was going to have to come clean to you about everything he’s done behind closed doors with Julia. You wouldn’t forgive him, he was sure of that, and if by some chance you did, it would take a hell of a long time for him to regain your trust.

How many more lives does he have to ruin or lose under his watch? It was becoming too much, and it was sad, as he stared at the gun in his hands, that he’d contemplated his next actions more than once, but he really didn’t know what he had left to do anymore. There was a lot actually, he had his kids, a baby on the way, and a new life to build with you, but he was far too gone at that moment.

It’s Vicky that finds him back at the apartment, cleaning the brass fragments from the wound on the side of his head. She quickly puts the pieces together, the notes on the table addressed separately to her, the children and you, and the admission from David that these were brass fragments of a bullet casing.

“Dave, what the fuck? What about Ella and Charlie? What about-” she starts going on but stops when he visibly cracks because he knows your name is next to come out of her mouth, “I’m taking you to the hospital,” she decides and is quick to put away her tools.

“No. No one can know about this,” David says adamantly. They start to argue about his injuries and how David hadn’t been aware that he fired a blank round before he asks her to go back home to the kids.

“I’m not leaving you like this,” she says grabbing a jacket and tries to reason that he shouldn’t be alone right now and maybe being around the kids and seeing you will open his eyes and realize what he was leaving behind had he successfully ended his life.

He couldn’t pretend living like he was okay. What had happened to Julia was not his fault. All David ever did was do his best to protect, protect his country, his family and her.

“You need to tell her,” Vicky says while she hands David a cap for him to cover the wound on his head.

“I don’t even know where she’s been the last few days,” he admits pathetically. His own girlfriend, the mother of his unborn child, he can’t even keep tabs on where she’s been this whole time. It made him feel even terrible that he’d neglected you.

“She’s been staying with the kids and I,” she reveals.

“What? Why is she there?” He asks, and quickly puts the cap on and gets up from his seat.

She didn’t tell David of your whereabouts earlier because you’d asked her not to and she politely respected that, but she knew now was not the time to take sides anymore. You two had to deal with your issues now.

“She shouldn’t be alone, Dave. She’s pregnant with your child and yet she’s going through it all by herself,” Vicky tells him.

“I never meant to bring her into any of this mess,” he says heavily, full of grief. He brought you into the madness that was his world and now you’re trapped in it, bringing a new life along for the ride.

“She loves you, David, don’t sell yourself short. She just feels like she’s been left in the dark. You need to talk to her,” Vicky advises him, “it may not be pretty, but you have to hear her out.”

She knew you couldn’t stand being alone in the apartment without being reminded of David constantly. You weren’t in a good place either and she wanted to help you both before it was too late. 

You’d been left behind at the house with Ella and Charlie in the other room watching TV, while Vicky was out looking for David. He wasn’t answering any of the phone calls she’s made, even ones made on your cell phone, there was no form of contact or communication from him. You knew he was there at the college; he was Julia’s bodyguard after all.

When you heard more than two voices return, you knew she’d brought David back and had told him you’d be here. You weren’t mad at her for ratting you out, it was going to come out eventually. Nothing ever stays hidden.

“You don’t normally wear a hat indoors,” Ella points out the cap on David’s head that stuck out like a sore thumb.

“You said it’s silly,” Charlie reminds his father.

“Then I’m being silly,” David responds as he watches his children chomp away at the slices of pizza in their hands.

While Vicky was on the phone cancelling her date tonight, you faintly hear the end of the conversation he was having with Ella and Charlie over their dinner. He still hadn’t even seen you. Then you hear his quiet, controlled sobs, but he couldn’t detain them enough and be strong around his kids.

“I just did something silly today,” he tells them.

“Wearing a hat?” Charlie asks innocently.

“That, too,” he replies as he clings onto them both in a group hug.

Vicky had just revealed to you of David’s suicide attempt moments ago. You’re numb. Clearly, Julia’s death had affected him rather deeply, so much that he thought killing himself was a solution.

He didn’t care about you or the baby. You both weren’t enough to save him or have anything to look forward to. You can’t even cry anymore. You wanted to lash out and get mad. She advises you to keep calm and think rationally, but you’re tired of thinking about all of this.  

Without warning, David enters the room you’d been staying in. You’re like stone on the couch, arms crossed and starting straight ahead of you, mindlessly at whatever TV program the kids left it on before retreating to the dining area. Your eyes cast themselves on David’s demure stance. He cautiously steps forward and hesitantly takes a seat next to you.

“Is it true?” You ask, breaking the silence and finally turn to look at him. He only nods in response, his head hangs low, ashamed. You felt like your heart didn’t have any parts to break anymore. The confirmation alone just felt like him stomping on it for added measure.

“Ok,” is all you say, biting down on your lip to prevent you from saying anything else. It was petty, but you’d refused to show him any remorse or sorrow of any kind.

“Is this where you’ve been the past few nights?” He questions, rather awkwardly too.

“Oh, so you’ve noticed I haven’t been home?” You ask bitterly.

He was really going to push your buttons. You’re not sure if Vicky was right about you and David having to talk. This wasn’t going to go well at all. You were not in an ideal mental and physical state to be talking about your problems with him, but if not now then when?

“Of course, I have. Why wouldn’t I?” He asks, almost appalled by the accusation, and watching as you get up from the couch to stand in front of him.  

“I hardly see you and when I do I find out that you just tried to kill yourself, so forgive me for not assuming I even ran as a mere thought in your messed-up head,” it was harsh, poking at his mental state, but you were so fed up, your mind was just as clouded, “...you didn’t think about me when you held the gun to your head,” you said ripping off his hat.

Your heart tightens in your chest as you stare at the wound and tears threaten to fall, but you don’t let them, “...and you certainly didn’t think about our baby when you pulled the trigger,” then chuck the cap at him, he makes no attempt to catch it as it lightly bounces off his chest and fall onto his lap.

“I’m so sorry,” he says sincerely and making no attempt to hide his tears as they raced down, “I’m so fucking stupid,” and he gets up on his feet, ”...I need help.”

He’s not even going to use the excuse of work and you’re not expecting him to rat himself out and come clean about Julia just yet. David didn’t work like that and you were absolutely done with it. No, everything had to come out now.

“I know,” is all you say at first. He thinks it’s some form of forgiveness, him acknowledging his problem, until you follow up, “just admit it,” your voice changes in tone from anger and hurt to an icy one, “who do you love now, David?”

All while asking him that question, you’re trying to get his eyes to focus on you, but you simply cannot. He’s looking everywhere but, and it hurts.

“It’s Julia, isn’t it? Tell me!” You shout at his face. When he doesn’t answer immediately, your lips press down together and you don’t hold back the tears any longer, “I can’t believe you,” you say in disbelief, almost struggle to breathe right, “this shit has been keeping me up at night!”

You back away from him and cover your mouth, just to conceal your sobs so the rest of the family doesn’t hear you cry. They most definitely heard you yell, but you didn’t want to further trouble them anymore or cause a big enough scene for them to burst right through.

There hadn’t been a doubt in your mind that David loved you before, but just seeing how he couldn’t open up enough to tell you there was someone else during, filled you with more heartache. Maybe it would hurt less, you wouldn’t know unless it came straight from his mouth.

David starts crying as well and you honestly want to slap him, but instead you start saying nasty things, cutting him way worse than anything you could ever do physically, and you certainly don’t hold back. Claiming you two were never meant to be together, and the baby doesn’t mean anything especially in uniting you both.

“I’ll be surprised if this baby even survives,” you scoff thinking about a past experience, and how cruel life was gifting you this baby.

“What are you talking about? You’re not thinking about-“ David starts getting all frantic suddenly, and not thinking, he grabs both your arms in his hands, holding you in place.

“God no! I would never!” You say in disgust and pull away from him, “I can’t believe you’d think I would…”

“Then what did you mean?” He asks curiously.

“I never told you why I broke up with him,” you don’t really mention your ex’s name these days. While you’d both moved on as civil as the both of you could, it still pangs you to reminisce about the relationship and how it ended.

“He couldn’t handle the long distance,” he said thinking he knew.

“He only couldn’t after...” you pause, trying to decide if now was the time to reveal this secret. David had the right to know, after all, an incident like such could happen again.  

“After what? He was seeing someone else?” He grew increasingly anxious and almost ill towards the thought of another being unfaithful to you.

“No! It was my fault,” you don’t want to slander your ex at all. He couldn’t have prevented what happened to you across the other side of the world even if he tried. “I miscarried. I don’t know what I did wrong, but I woke up one day in my blood and the sharpest pain I’ve ever felt.”

You started reliving that day, how you were alone and the way your neighbors had to come to your aid. Your poor ex felt so helpless, he wanted nothing more than to drop everything for you, but the wave of depression afterwards had strained the relationship. It formally ended when you’d returned from studying abroad.

“I didn’t even know you were pregnant,” David says in shock. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling, and if it was stupid to think all this time you could’ve easily had a life without him long before you two finally became a thing.

“It didn’t matter, David,” your voice finally regained strength, and wiped at the tears on your face of the memory, ”you and Vicky were so in love. There’s nothing you could’ve done for me.”

“That’s not true,” David persists.

“I would’ve turned you away, just like him,” you say so sure. David was your friend then, yes, but you didn’t need or owed him this before now.  

“You’re not going to lose this baby,” he promises.

“You don’t know that,” and you’re not trying to be a pessimist about this, you wanted this baby, but you were more than aware of the possibility it could happen again. Bad things just always seemed to be happening lately anyways.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I’d protect you both with my last breath,” he vows, grabbing your hands, desperate to feel any part of you.

“I don’t need your protection, David,” your words continue to crush him, that was your subtle way of leaving him and he knew it, “I love you, David. I love you so much!” you say with plenty of emotion, and lightly squeeze his hands in yours, “...but you can’t even tell me who you love right now,” you point out, reluctantly removing your hands from his.

“You need to get help, David. If not for your family, me or the baby, please do it for yourself,” you say last, before placing a small kiss on his cheek.

“I’m going to get help...for you,” you hear David say determinedly just before you walk out of the room. It wasn’t all you wanted to hear, you wanted him to tell you he loved you back, but you wanted him to live easy once again even if that meant him not loving you.

You could manage on your own, and work something out when the baby arrives, but for now it was time for you to go home.

A/N: Nope. Sorry! Whenever Season 2 decides to come out, maybe we’ll get a happier David, so for now I don’t think I can let these two ride off into the sunset…but I can if you send 2020 off with giving this a like, reblog, comment or all of the above!

#mrwinterr writes #david budd imagine #david budd x reader #david budd smut #david budd x y/n #david budd x female reader #richard madden imagine #richard madden smut #bodyguard imagine

[huearmy]

The Smell of Truth - III

Summary: After years being forced to fight in clandestine hybrid ring, Jungkook is now living in shelter, but life remains bad, the place is abusive, and nobody seems to want adopt him. Until one night a pro-hybrid activist group invades the shelter, and a woman in black smelling like truth promises that things will get better, and he decides to follow her wherever she goes.

Pairing: pitbull!Jungkook x human!Reader

Genre: fluff, angst, future smut maybe.

Words: 5303

Rating: NC-17

Sorry that it took forever, my head is messed up.

Chapter I  Chapter II  -  Chapter IV Chapter V  Chapter VI Chapter VII

For the first time in years Jungkook woke up on his own, when his body asked for it, without anyone waking him up with a bucket of cold water, or to meet some schedule. He felt numb and heavy, relaxed, rested. He stretched, sitting against the headboard in the dark room. He couldn't tell the time, since there was no clock, making him feel a little disoriented in space time. After so many years without freedom to come and go the boy was not sure what to do now. About ten minutes went by without anyone showing up to tell him to get up - and he didn't want at all, the bed hugging him - hunger settled in his stomach, as well as the urge to go to the bathroom. But could he really leave? He got up and tested the door. It wasn't locked. So he could leave the room, in theory. Without making a sound he closed the door again and went back to bed, thinking about what to do to make the best impression on the first day in his new home. He decided to make the bed and tidy up the room. When he opened the curtains, bringing light to the room, a pile of clothes on the armchair caught his attention - a pair of sweatpants shorts and a oversized t-shirt, a new toothbrush, a pink post it on top. These clothes are mine, but it’s for you to wear while we don’t buy some for you. I think it'll fit. By the smell it was obvious the clothes were yours, he didn't even need to read the note to know. It fit, but not the way Jungkook likes to dress up - he likes big clothes on him, to feel comfy, and your big clothes, wich are big for you, who are smaller than him, are just right to him.  Right now he was in clean clothes, smelling of fabric softener and you.  He put on his shoes and his cap too. Outside the window the now busy street was full of cars and people, making him excited to go out. But yet again, can he? Determined to be a good boy and not disobey, for you to love him, Jungkook sat on the edge of the bed and waited. More minutes passed before he heard light knocks on the bedroom door. He crossed the room in one step and opened the door as fast as he could, his tail wagging from side to side, but it wasn't you in the hall, his smile fell. It was the cat. "What are you doing?" Yeri asked, taking him by surprise. "I... I'm..." He stammered. She crossed her arms "You've been up for almost half an hour, why haven't you left the room yet? Are you alright?" "Yeah" He spoke so low that if Yeri didn't have feline hearing she wouldn't have understood a word. "I was waiting for Y/n." "Oh" Her confused expression softened. "She went to work." "She is not home?" Yeri couldn't understand the slight panic in Jungkook's voice at asking it, or why he didn't left the room by his own choice. She don't know the feeling of rejection like he does, or the pain of being treated like a animal. She knows she is privileged though, she don't need to understand to be empathic... And you asked her to be nice to Jungkook so... "No, and she asked me to keep an eye on you until she back." She smiled softly "Go wash yourself, Y/n let breakfast done for you." Jungkook loved the restroom, for no especial reason, he just he just never saw a bathroom so ... happy - all colorful and with little plants in cute pots, and smelling and clean like he never imagined a bathroom could be. Out of curiosity he decided to try the shower, turned the register slowly, and when the water started to fall he put his hand under it and ... oh, it was so warm. "Yeri!" Jungkook ran into kicthen , where the cat was waiting by the table, scearing her off. The white hairs on her tail were all standing on end when she answered in a hiss. "What?!" "Where do I find towels and shampoo?" He excitedly asked. Not quite understanding Yeri pointed to the hall. "In the closet under the stairs in the hall... But..." Before she could end the sentence he was gone, and the sound of the door of the bathroon closing againg. Jungkook love to shower, stay clean, water. This was often the only medicine he received after being beaten until he was unable to get up. After a while, the cold, limited water shower became the safe spot for him, where the world couldn't hurt him anymore, and he could just breathe. In the shelter the water was not so cold anymore, but there was still a time limit for each shower, it was still Jungkook's favorite time of the day, because he didn't need to think about anything other than himself. Now the water was hot and pressurized, massaging his sore muscles, more than the room you give to him, this felt like home. Of course Jungkook felt a litlle bit upset that you weren't home when he woke up, after all he wanted to see you, he never liked an owner so much that he missed them from one day to the next. But he wasn't going to complain, it's not like he's used to getting attention, in fact being alone was more common than anything. He understands that you can have more important things to do than show him the apartment or prepare and have breakfast with him... You are already too good to be real. He was rinsing his hair and ears, massaging his own scalp, when voices came from outside, caughting his attention. It was two voices, female. You were home. _________________________________________________________________________________________ You entered the apartment with arms full of shopping bags and document folders. You quickly dropped everything on the table or on the floor near the door, took off your coat to hang on the rack and kicked off your shoes. Your eyes searched the living room and kitchen, looking for Jungkook, without a sign of him. You tried to complete all your tasks at the office as quickly as possible and rescheduled some visits for other days of the week to be able to get home early to see him, you were anxious to know if he slept well, or if your male clothes fit him . The breakfast you prepared for him before leaving still wrapped on the counter. You frowned. "Where is Jungkook?" You asked to Yeri, who was lying on the couch by teh window, jumping through the channels. "Taking a shower. He just woke up." She said without looking away from the tv. You hummed. "Ok. Can you put on the news for me please. I didn't have time to check it today." Yeri complained despite obeying anyway, but you paid no attention to it, busy putting the mess you brought with you in its proper place. The TV journalist was talking about the economy updates, which was not the topic you wanted to see. The explosion of the shelter last night ended up on twitter trending topics, but you wanted to know what the official media outlets have to say about. On the internet your organization is seen as justice, everything you do is seen as a heroic act by many, and that brings strength to the movement. Those in favor of the slavery of the hybrids also speak out against you, but their ignorance only strengthens the abulutionist discourse too - in a slow process of difficulty, but there are so many people working for equality that you refuse to be shaken by these rotten people full of hate. This polarization of ideas, of course, also divides politics, and it is this part that interests you the most, because it is from the government that the rights of the hybrids will be guaranteed. Mess with the economy and popular opinion that it is possible to change the government, which is why you and your camarades love that much to explode some state buildings. "Why are you home? I was expecting you only in an hour." Yeri looked at you from the other side of the room with lazy eyes. "Ah, I have to go out to do some more sttuf, but I needed to come pick something... And maybe eat. I skipped lunch."   You decided to warm up the pancakes you made for Jungkook in the morning, and add toast and eggs to your meal. You heard the bathroom door and fast steps and was about to ask Jungkook if likes coffee, the moment you turned around he was already behind you, with a big smile and open arms to hug you. "Y/N!" You were enveloped by jungkook's long arms and squeezed against your chest, losing your balance the way he hit you with his whole body. By instinct and with no regrets, you hugged him back. His tail, which was already swinging from side to side, started to swing even faster. His dump hair was wetting you, and his litlle happy sounds were malink you soft. "Hi, Jungkook...." You give light taps on his back and opened up space between you two. " Let me see you... I knew the clothes would fit quite well. But if you don't like them, fine, they are only temporary, so you don't have to walk around in that shelter's hideous pajama." "I like the smell of it." He said smelling the shirt collar fabric. "Good. Because I'm a little paranoid about laundry." You really are. Actually you are kind of crazy tidy. "Are you hungry?" You softly said, still looking to how the clothes were wrapping his body. You didn't notices but you were making him blush with your stare. "Yes." He said in tiny. "Me too, lets eat breakfest together.". You reaffirmed your theory that Jungkook wouldn't be too picky about food, and that basically anything you put in front of him he eats happily. He just doesn't like coffee. And sweets are really his favorite. He ate the pancakes and egg with toast, plus a very large bowl of cereal, some fruit and a glass of juice. It wasn't just because everything was good, but he was happy you were eating with him, and that made him even more hungry. "Lucky me I have money." You still have a lot of questions in your head to do to Jungkook. You were curious about him in so many levels. Since from his habits and tastes to his past ... One doubt you have is: How is he so docile? His file said that he spent almost a decade in illegal dogfights. Most hybrids take less than five years to lost their and go feral, and then when they can no longer be controlled the owners put them down. But Jungkook doesn't. Furthermore, despite being a pitbull, he does not have his canine ears clipped, which is not common in the middle of where he came from. You wanted so much to ask... but you decided oposite it, thinking that it wasn't the moment. "Want more juice?" Jungkook offered, he was pouring himself more and saw your empty glass. "Of couse, thankyou, sweetie." You didn't notice the blush on his cheeks again, intending to pay more attention to the TV in the living room. Jungkook was not used to hearing praise like that, the most he heard from his former owner was 'champion' or 'good boy' when he won a fight and there was nothing satisfying about it. Your 'sweetie', on the other hand, accompanied by a smile from you, just because of a glass of juice seemed like the world to him. "Updates on the terrorist attack on a shelter in downtown Seoul last night: It was confirmed that despite the magnitude of the explosion and the damage to the building's structure, there were no victims, either by the hybrids or by the local staff. According to the authorities, the 100 hybrids that lived in the shelter were kidnapped by an anti-government organization as a form of protest, on social media entities defend that they were released by the Set Us Free movement." You got up and crossed your arms to watch the jornalist talking as aerial recordings of the burning building and post prints talking about took over the screen. "Early in the morning, a series of complaints linked to the shelter came to the knowledge of the police, involving corruption and money laundering, as well as mistreatment of resident hybrids. Among the evidence presented a list with names involved in the scheme ..." As the jornlist listed names of businessman and politicians. Many of these names you already knew, once your group that investigated and made the report, others were a surprise to you. In that moment you were so interested in the news that you sat on the end of the chouch supporting your elbows on your knees,  watching the TV without blinking. Jungkook recognized the images from the shelter last night, but he didn't find it so interesting, because seeing the explosion live was much nicer, and none of the information said anything to him. But seeing you so serious was interesting, he took the bowl of cereal and sat at your feet, looking more at you and your reactions than at the TV itself. "Senator Y/L/N spoke earlier in a news conference.." The image of the journalist was replaced by one of a man in a suit speaking in front of several different microphones. "Violent acts can't and won't be encouraged, but we need to pay attention to where it comes from. The social injustice and slavery of hybrids needs to be tackled in some way, and since the government is slow to guarantee the rights they deserve as similar to humans, manifestations of marginalized groups are to be expected. It is not giving them what they want, as the conservators say, it is guaranteeing them what should already be theirs by right. Situations like last night are nothing more than a symptom of the disease that we think we are entitled to own a hybrid." Jungkook thought it was cute the way you were biting the inside of your cheek or how it looked like you were narrowing your eyes with each word said. "Ya... Dad is so different when speeching..." Yeri mumbled.  It took Jungkook's attention away from you. "Dad?" He asked with his mouth full of cereal, looking from Yeri to you and to the man in the TV. "Yes." You awnsered, lying in the couch. "This is my uncle... He is cool isn't he?" Jungkook frowned, not thinking the guy is so cool... but since you say so... "Does he protect hybrids like you do?" You smiled to him, slightly petting his head. "On his way." At the same time that the news changed to weather forecast, your phone started to beep with messages. You praticaly jumped from the couch to your feet. "I need to go." You said. From the floor, Jungkook looked at you with doe eyes and a pout. "You are leaving again?" "I have something to do... But you can come with me. If you want." "I do." Jungkook jumped on his spot, finishing his cereal as fast as he could. "Then go put on that hoodie I gave you. Is kind of cold out side." You didn't need to say twice. Jungkook ran to his room to obligue, he came back finishing putting on his sweatshirt and putting on his shoes midair. He was so excited, and the look on your face when he took your hand was so affectionate towards him, just like the good dreams sometimes he have. He was intending on livig his best life with you while it lasted, as long as you wanted him, after so many bad, terrible things that he was forced to go through during his short life, Jungkook got used to not waiting for things to really improve, but he also learned to enjoy each of the good moments, whether they were truth or just dreams. Maybe he will wake up at some point and realize that he is still in the shelter ... or in the cold room, using a muzzle ... Until then he will not stop receiving all the affection that you are willing to give. Among the good things he was not expecting to happen, going out for a walk is one of Jungkook's favorite. "I'm ready." He told you with a cheekie smile, even if you could clearly see it for yourself. You just smiled back containing the urge to grab him by the cheeks. So cute. "Do you want a ride home,Yeri?" You picked the keys. "No thanks. Irene will pick me up in half of an hour." She didn't even looked at you to awnser, to busy scrowling throgh her phone. "Ok. Don't forget to lock the door when you leave," Said that you two left the apartment, and Jungkook got your attention all for himself again. ________________________________________________________________________________ It wasn't your plan to spoil Jungkook so much. Of course, you already intended to go shopping with him, and maybe, who knows, give the world to him if he wanted to, but the idea was that things would happen more slowly.  Instead, early in the morning on your way to work, you saw a beautiful jacket in a shop window and thought it would look beautiful on him, without hesitation you went into the store and bought it, and as a bonus some other pieces of clothing for essential use. Now you were supposed to go to the grocerie store, get an order of yours, and that's it. Kess than one hour and you both would be back home. Now its been almost two hours and your SUV is stuffed with shopping bags of clothes and other random things that made Jungkook's eyes sparkles as you strolled in front of shop windows - you let him buy a skate and an air freshener, for exemple. The tour was a big new world for him, clearly he was having fun just running around the store shelves and you had to pull him back into focus more than once. Like when he decided to try on all the hats in a store, first one hat at a time then all at the same time, it was cute, and you took the ones he seemed to like the most and added to his shopping pile without him paying attention. "Jungkook, do you want to choose some underwear? I have no idea what you like or what size you wear..." He was no where to be seen but you knew he was listening to you, especially after a few seconds, when the sound of the new boots you bought him two stores earlier approached fast, and then the hybrid's happy face appeared among the jeans racks beside you. "Oh, this is important, the only underwear I have is drying on my bedroom window." He said starting to look through the pile of new underwear, ignoring all the colored ones, and separating only the black and white ones. "Wait, what?" You blinked at him. "I washed in the shower and didn't know where to leave it, so I hung it in the window." He simply said. You were kind of shocked. "Jungkook... Aren't you wearing underwear? Like right now...?" He just made no with his head, too entertained in choosing several identical boxer briefs.. You looked around to see if anyone around heard it, taken with modesty but finding the situation a little funny. "Did you have more at the shelter? Why didn't you bring it when I said to get your things?" "I had it, but I didn't think about it at the time." You just laughed at him and hurried him so you would soon pay for everything and move on, with the promise of returning to buy more things later. You still needed to go to the grocerie store... Where together you filled a shopping cart with your list - last night he said he wanted to have a barbecue, so you were going to prepare one for him, lots of meat, charcoal and side dishes - and things that Jungkook thought might taste good by the look of it. "Jungkook, you will find some hygiene products for hybrid in this corridor. Take a look and choose, I'll be right back ... ". "Wait." He looked arond. The grocerie store was way bigger than the clothes shops you went before, with a lot more people, he was not comfortable being alone here. How would he know where to find you if you go too far? You read that in his expression and give his hand a squeeze. "I'll just pick a package. Three corridors from here to the right." You poited. "But don't worry I'll be right back. Can you look the cart for me?" "Of couse I can." He said, more confident now. "Thankyou, sugar." You gave him another of those smiles and then left him alone to choose deodorants and soaps for hybrids. But you didn't lie, as fast as you're gone you're back, now with a wrapped paper package in your hands. Out of curiosity Jungkook sniffed the package over your shoulder while you put it in the cart, but for some reason he was unable to identify what could be inside. "Please don't put anything on top of that, it's fragile." You said. "Ready to go?" "Yeah." Jungkook droped one of one soap bar into the cart, not seeing which of the two fragrances he had been choosing before. "What is it?" You gave him a mischievous smile, hooking an arm around his and then guiding him through the corridors to the cashiers. You knew he would be curious, and you specifically asked them to wrap the package in a special paper that will outwit his dog nose. "Its a surprise." Jungkook was convinced. He never had good experiences with the idea of 'surprise', but coming from you he did not imagine anything bad. If you were saying that he was supposed to wait to find out what was in the package, then he was just going to wait. ____________________________________________________________________ When you got home, you parked once again at the back of the building, the light from the florist indicating that although it was time to close, the employees still haven't left. The same thing in the office on the second floor. You thought it would take a lot of coming and going to take all the bags up to the apartment, but while you picked up some and thought it was too much for you, Jungkook picked up almost all the others, hanging them in his arms, and when he left the first batch on living room ran to get the rest alone. It had been a while since he had space to run a litlle, without even being able to remember the last time. He only slowed down when he heard voices on the second floor, adjusted the bags in his hands and tried to go unnoticed. "I want to finish this before call it a day." A soft voice spoke. "But I want to go home. I'm hungry..." Another male voice answered. "More fifteen minutes, Tae." The office door opened just when Jungkook was passing, and he felt like he was caught doing something he shouldn't have, even if he wasn't, two guys looking right at him. The one at the table in front of a computer and stacks of paper smiled and waved at him. The other, holding the door handle, didn't even blink at him, looking serious. Jungkook just bowed his head and continued on his way, stopping only after reaching you in the kitchen. You felt his arms embracing you from behind and his forehead on you sholder. The guy at the table was a hybrid, he couldn't tell what kind, but the smell was like a cat, and probably, since as far as he knows they both work for you, the two shouldn't be bad. Still, Jungkook couldn't make his heart slow down. Men scare him. You turned to look at him. He didn't let you go tho. "What's up?" You asked noticing his distress. Jungkook bited down his bottom lip. "Got tired." You smiled and pet his head for the second time today making him sigh and close his eyes. Without knowing it you made him calm down. "Go put your things on your room, the new clothes in the closet... When you're done, go up to the terrace." "And then we will eat a lot of meat?" "Yep" _______________________________________________ You were just finishing making the vegetable skewers, and putting the meat on the grill when Jungkook went up the stairs to the floor where his room is and the terrace, where he hadn't gone yet. Like the bathroom, the terrace were filled with plants, but here the vases and plants are much bigger. The starry sky was beautiful, and the movement of cars and people on the street is comforting and full of possibilities. Jungkook stopped by the glass door and just looked at you, who didn't noticed him yet. You were now in comfortable clothes and messy hair, drumming his fingers on the table to the beat of a song that was playing only in his head. Once again the thought that you seem inoffensive crossed Jungkook's mind. But that's a lie. You are powerfull in a way he isn't. During the tour of the city he saw your surname in names of shops and street signs more than once, your uncle is an important guy who appears on TV, and your friends do illegal things using guns and bombs... And you are human - and that's enough for you to be scary for any hybrid. You are not harmless, and one thing that would certainly hurt Jungkook hard would be if after today, when he felt at home after years of not knowing what that feeling is like, you decide that you don't want him anymore. That would be worse than every time he thought he was going to die in a fight. Rejection. Like in the shelter, Jungkook was trying to figure it out a way to be loved. To be so loved that someone would want to live with him forever and never leave him. But he doesn't know how to do it. "Do you want some help?" He approached you. "No. Now just don't let the meat burn." You proudly put your hands on your hips. "But I wantou to sit here... and close your eyes." You made him sit by the wooden picnic table and ran inside. He closed his eyes as you said so. You came back with calmer steps and put something in front of him, an instant after the smell of phosphor and sugar entered Jungkook's nose and you said... "You can open it now." In front of Jungkook was a cake with the words "Welcome home JK" written on it and some candles on top. His eyes got wet instantly. "This is an welcome party." You said softly, holding his hand. "And every party need a cake. Surprise, Jungkook." Jungkook wiped away the tears that began to flow with the sleeve of the hoodie - the hoodie that was yours and still smells like you. Seeing that he was crying, you tentatively rubbed a hand on his back and waited for the sobs to pass before you spoke. "Jungkook, we need to have this conversation sooner or later... But I don't want to be your owner." You said and he got freeze. He looked in shock to you and more tears ran down his face. He was so confused. The cake made him so happy and then you said exactly what he was afraid of hearing. A knowing look reached your eyes and you wiped the boy's face yourself. "Don't cry. Let me explain, ok?" He nodded, without realizing that he was holding your hand with all his strength. You couldn't care less. "I never intended on adopting or buying a hybrid. You are the only exception." You smiled sweetly. "When you said you wanted to come with me I couldn't say no. You were so sweet, trusting on me... You are very special to me, even if we've only known each other since yesterday." You took his face in your free hand. "But I'm unable to own a person. It may be strange for you to understand what I am saying now, but my intention in having you with me is for you to be free. If you want to live with me forever, in the simplest way in the world, I will take care of you. If you want to live your life in any other way, even if it is somewhere else, I will also take care of you, and support you. Because the choice is yours. Of course, you don't have to choose anything now. Today or years from now ... It will remain your choice." Jungkook relaxed but remained confused, not knowing how to respond. "What do you want?" He finally said. Your eyes saddened, the thought that your wanting to be more important to him than his own bothering you. "I want to be your friend." His answer seemed to be what Jungkook wanted to hear, because he opened a huge and beautiful smile. "That's enough for me. Can I eat the cake?" "Of couse!" You served him a piece and one for you, chattering like you never cared much for dessert after a meal, and that if he wanted to eat the meat and the cake together you wouldn't judge. His daydreams are cute, he concluded, determined to love you so that you love him. "Y/N... There are a lot of things about me that I don't like, and I know you won't like it either... And I don't like to talk about it, or to think about it at all... But since we are friends I feel like I should... " "That you should tell me?" He nodded. "You dont need to. Jungkook, I already know a lot of bad things about you." You made him freeze again. "Nothing personal, but enough that if it bothered me or changed the way I see you, I wouldn't even have brought you home. But I don't care, and if you don’t feel like sharing it with me now, or ever, okay, you don’t owe it to me just because we’re friends." He smiled to his cake. "Seriously, I have a lot of secrets my friends don't know. You can have yours too." "Thankyou, Y/N. I like you a lot, and I think I want to be with you forever." That was your time to smile to your cake. "So you are stuck with me forever then." Having a friend has always been more important to Jungkook than having a good owner. But for him the only friend he had stayed in the past, he was already sure that it would never happen again and that he was alone for the rest of his life. But now he had you, and that is enough. Regardless of the situation, friends are forever. If you are friends, he doesn't have to be afraid of you kicking him out, even with all the bad things he has done or all the fears he has.

And that good feeling tastes like cake. _____________________________________________________________

Tag list: @stayunderthelights  @deolly  @panconte @serendipityoreuphoria @madygswich

_______________________________________________________

If you want me to tag you, pls tell me.

AND PLEASE GIVE LOVE TO THIS WORK OF MINE: Clumsy

#bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts hybrid fic #bts fanfction #hybrid bts #bts reaction #bts #bts angst #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jeon jungguk #jungkook fic #hybrid jungkook #hybrid #dog Jungkook #jungkook imagine #bts hybrid fanfic #bts hybrid au #bangtanshadowfamily

[ragingbookdragon]

Earning Trust Doesn’t Come Without Its Struggles PT. 4

An Adrian Tepes (Alucard) x Reader Story!

Warnings: Explicit Language Author’s Note: Honestly I don’t even have anything to say lol. Enjoy! -Thorne

           The morning after (Y/N) met Adrian marked a new month, which she was all too happy to start, except he wasn’t. He spent the first week actively ignoring her, and she knew why, but it still pissed her off to no end. The second week, (Y/N) decided that she wasn’t going to be ignored any longer, which is why she decided to start with breakfast. She climbed the stairs, Cezar at her heels, and when she reached the top, she strode to Adrian’s door, knocking at it. “Adrian, it’s time to get up.” No reply came from inside and she cocked an eyebrow. “Look pal, I can wait out here as long as it takes, but I’m gonna keep knocking until you do open the door.” True to her word she raised her knuckles, rapping quickly. After a few seconds of uninterrupted thumping, the door swung open revealing a disheveled and glaring vampire. (Y/N) wore a grin as she placed her hand on her hip, eyeing the bedhead. “Good morning Sunshine. Did you sleep well?” His glare seemed to darken as she added, “Breakfast is ready. Come downstairs.” Adrian scoffed at her before slamming the door shut in her face. (Y/N) blinked in shock then felt her eye twitch as she griped, “I know he didn’t just do that.” Narrowing her eyes, she began knocking again; a few seconds passed by then he threw open the door and grabbed her wrist, hissing,

           “Stop that!” She jerked her wrist back from him and countered,

           “Then don’t slam doors in my face like a child throwing a tantrum!” The two glowered at each other before she took a deep breath and calmly said, “We have things to do today, so you’re not going to sleep in until lunch. It’s nine in the morning. Get dressed and come downstairs for breakfast.” Not waiting for his response, (Y/N) spun on her heel and marched to the stairs, calling out, “If you’re not at the table in ten minutes, I will come back.”

           When she got back to the kitchen, she busied herself plating their food, and as she turned to the table, Adrian walked in. (Y/N) offered him a smile as she placed the dishes down. She pointed to a seat. “I assume you’re at the head of the table, so I’ll sit here.” As she moved to sit down, he shifted past her, pulling the chair out for her; she smiled as she sat down. “Thank you.” He grunted in response, sitting adjacent to her. He looked down at the plate then asked,

           “What…is this?” (Y/N) glanced down then puzzled,

           “Zacuscă on Tara Paine?” She picked up her toast. “There wasn’t any Telemea, so I used Feta instead.” Pausing, she asked, “Oh my god, you’re not one of those that can’t eat cheese and milk...are you?” Adrian’s eyes shot up and he replied,

           “No…I just…wasn’t expecting so much to eat.” (Y/N) nodded in satisfaction as she took a bite, chewing for a second, then swallowing.

           “Well, my uncle always said that breakfast was the most important meal of the day.” She gestured for him to eat. “Besides, we have a lot to do today, so we’ll need strength.”

           “What do you mean, ‘we’?” (Y/N) smiled as she took a sip of her juice.

           “You’re gonna help me clean the observatory, and then we’re going hunting.”

           “And why am I going to help you?” She eyed him and quipped,

           “Because you’ve spent an entire week cooped up in your room and it’s good to get out and do something once in a while.” He rolled his eyes as he ate, muttering,

           “I wonder what the reason is for me staying in my room. Perhaps it’s the human who won’t leave my home?” (Y/N) stared at him with an unimpressed look before going back to her breakfast and retorted,

           “At least I don’t mope like a child who’s been punished.” She could feel his glare against her head but she paid him no mind, adding, “I need you to help me lift the bookshelves and apparatus that have fallen over and move them back into place.”

           “Why? I’m not using the observatory.”

           “I am. And I’m not strong enough to lift those things on my own.” She took another sip of her drink. “And, helping each other will be a good bonding experience!” Adrian scoffed.

           “So you can gain my trust only to turn around and stake me?” (Y/N)’s eyebrows shot up and she grumbled,

           “I don’t blame you for making a conclusion like that, but damned if you don’t leap far.” She wiped her hands on her napkin. “Again, I don’t plan on killing you Adrian.” She stood from the table and pushed her chair in before placing her dishes in the sink. “Since I cooked, if you will, wash the dishes. When you’re done, join me in the observatory, please.”

           She patted Cezar on the head as he curled up in the corner of the room before moving to the telescope at the end of the room, beginning to pick up the scattered books and papers. A few minutes went by then she heard him enter and she looked up, watching as he walked over to her, quietly helping her. (Y/N) placed the books and paper on a table then swept the shards of glass into a pile. Adrian pulled one of the apparatus up straight, then paused, looking at the table that she’d been working at for the last week and half; he gently traced the words she’d hurriedly scribbled across the parchment, remarking, “Being an alchemist seems like an incendiary type of profession for a woman.” (Y/N) huffed as she placed another set of books on the table.

           “Believe me Adrian, you’re not the first to tell me that.”

           “Who was?”

           “It was my uncle in fact. The very one who taught me alchemy.” She walked over, uncapping the alembic to check its contents. “I’m not just an alchemist. I’m a physician too.” Champagne eyes regarded her carefully as he asked,

           “You’re a doctor?” (Y/N)’s face pinched and she shook her head, reaching over to add another ingredient to the alembic.

           “Not a doctor-doctor. More like a doctor’s assistant. I can treat wounds and conditions, but I’m not advanced like other people are.” She glanced over at him. “I’d always wished I could’ve met Doctor Tepes before she was murdered. I heard her skills were legendary. I could’ve learned a lot from her.”

           “She wasn’t an alchemist though.” (Y/N) tipped her head side to side, arguing,

           “Technically, one who practices any form of medicine or healing is an alchemist. What is a mixture of medicine but simple alchemy? Those that carry alchemy titles are usually developing potions of destruction rather than those with doctoring titles who are developing medicines.” She paused, then stirred the mixture. “I’ve been trying to develop a way to make a poison known as ‘The Quiet Death’, but I’ve never been able to get the right ingredients.” Her fingers moved in a familiar flow, twisting knobs, and stirring.

           “Why?” (Y/N) chuckled as she placed a dish in front of the opening.

           “Because a good half of the ingredients aren’t native to Wallachia. I’d have to travel the seas to find them.”

           “What? No, I was asking-” Adrian sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I meant why do you want to make a poison like that?” She looked over and reasoned,

           “Because I’m an alchemist? And the best way to prove you’re good at what you do is to make something that only a few of the best in your field can make?” She went silent for a second then mumbled, “Perhaps mentioning that you want to make an extremely fatal poison to a paranoid vampire isn’t the best thing to do.” (Y/N) glanced at him, reassuring, “Don’t worry, if I was going to poison you, I’d give you something that would incapacitate you, then shove you out a window.” He gave her a look and she waved a hand. “But really, I want to make the poison because it would prove that I’m a capable alchemist.” He cocked an eyebrow but kept quiet and she dropped her gaze to the dish that had filled with a thick, dark liquid. Smiling, she picked it up and brought it to his face. “Smell.” Adrian recoiled slightly and she rolled her eyes. “This isn’t the incapacitator, Adrian. It’s a salve. Smell.” Keeping a cautious gaze on her, he leaned down a sniffed it, and she watched his face relax. “See? Smells good, doesn’t it?” He nodded.

           “It does. I can smell eucalyptus in it. What type of salve is it?” (Y/N) winked at him.

           “Good nose Adrian.” She lowered the plate and scraped the salve into a small container. “It’s an inflammation reducing salve. It contains eucalyptus, aloe vera, coconut oil, honey, and lavender in it.” She handed him the bottle. “Here you go.” His eyes drifted from the bottle to her and he asked,

           “Why are you giving me that?” (Y/N) shrugged.

           “Because it’s tradition to give gifts to people who are sad.”

           “Since when? And I am not sad.” She grinned as she placed the bottle in his hand.

           “Since now, and yes you are. You’re so sad that you make onions cry.” Snickering she walked past him. “Now come on, we have a deer to hunt.” She spun on her heel, walking backwards as she asked, “Does this castle have an armory?” Adrian nodded, careful to keep a distance between them.

           “It does. What do you need from it? Are you planning on fighting something?” (Y/N) winked.

           “I’m no good with swords but I can shoot a quail out of it’s nest at two hundred yards.” He cocked an eyebrow at her declaration.

           “That’s quite a feat for a human to complete. You said we were hunting earlier. Why?” She placed her hands on her hips and responded,

           “That didn’t exactly sound like praise Sunshine. I’ll have you know that I’ve trained in archery just as much as I have alchemy. I’m deadly from afar.” (Y/N) huffed. “And we’re hunting because we don’t have any meat and consuming meat is good for the body. Besides, I’m getting tired of dried-” She cut herself of with a gasp as she placed her foot backwards but didn’t land on firm floor. (Y/N) flailed as she fell backwards, and on instinct, shot her hands out to grab onto something to stop her fall. A warm hand curled around her wrist and jerked her forward, sending her tumbling forwards instead of reverse. She fell into Adrian’s chest, her free hand curling in his shirt as she sunk down to her knees. The hand around her wrist uncurled, moving to her back, rubbing softly.

           “Are you alright?” (Y/N) nodded, placing her hand to her chest, feeling her heart pounding underneath.

           “I-I’m fine. Thank you.” He moved his hand to her shoulder, pulling her away so he could look in her eyes and proceeded to admonish her.

           “You need to watch where you’re going. If I hadn’t been here to catch you, you’d probably be in a heap of broken bones and bent limbs at the bottom of this staircase. There’s nothing in this castle that could hurt you, but that doesn’t mean you should go and find something to do so.” (Y/N) felt her neck disappear into her shoulders as she mumbled,

           “I haven’t been reprimanded since I was a child.” Adrian raised an eyebrow as he pulled his hands away.

           “Then perhaps I need to treat you as if you were one.” She glared at him as she straightened her tunic.

           “There’s no need for such an extreme.” She paused and murmured, “But…you’re right…I should’ve been watching where I was going.” For a moment, neither of them spoke, then he rose to his feet and offered his hand to her. (Y/N) took it, letting him help her up, then he said,

           “Follow me. I’ll show you the armory.” She blinked in stunned silence then smiled and chased after him.

A Few Hours Later:

           She didn’t even look at him as she plucked twigs from her clothes. “This is your fault. I hope you know that.” He grunted at her as he pulled leaves from his hair.

           “You’re just as guilty as I.” (Y/N) scoffed.

           “I wasn’t the one who shoved us both into ravine.” Adrian turned, glaring at her as he spat,

           “You were going to shoot a doe.” She met his eyes, defending,

           “No, I wasn’t!” She plucked another twig from her shirt. “I saw the doe cross in front of the buck just as I was about to loose my arrow. I was un-knocking the arrow when you shoved me!”

           “And you pulled me with you!”

           “Because I was being shoved into a ravine!”

           “You were going to shoot the doe!” (Y/N) threw her hands in the air as she stomped up the stairs.

           “Oh, you’re the most insufferable vampire I’ve ever met!” She listened to him scoff as he climbed the steps behind her.

           “Well from one insufferable being to another, you’re one to talk!” She spun around as she reached the top step, glaring into his eyes.

           “I am not insufferable! I am perfectly sufferable, thank you very much!”

           “I’m glad you’ve recognized the fact that being around you is suffering in itself.” (Y/N) felt her eye twitch as she resisted the urge to roundhouse kick him back down the stairs and she turned on her heel, marching to the bathroom.

           “You are an ass! A giant ass.”

           “You have nothing but insults, have you, (L/N)?” She glared at him over her shoulder.

           “These insults are about to be joined by molotovs if you can’t learn to be nicer!” (Y/N) turned as she came to the bathroom doors and reminded, “Like it or not Adrian, you gave me one month.” He crossed his arms over his chest and inquired,

           “And what does that have to do with this?” She narrowed her eyes and hissed,

           “Perhaps in that time I can teach you to be civil!” Not waiting for his response, she shut the door and twisted the lock. Grinning she turned her back to the door, only to stop in her tracks as her jaw went slack. “Wha-How-You!” Standing in front of her was the very vampire she had locked outside. (Y/N) pointed to the door. “How did you get in here?! I locked that!” Adrian crossed his arms over his chest and informed,

           “Contrary to your belief that I only stay in my bedroom, I’ve lived in this castle my entire life. I know every entrance and secret door in this place.” Turning his back to her, he gripped the back of his shirt, pulling it over his head; (Y/N) recoiled, blurting,

           “What are you doing?!” Adrian leaned over the large tub, pulling one of the handles.

           “Taking a bath.” She scowled as she marched up to him, listening to the water fill.

           “Uh, no you’re not! I was in here first!” He whirled around, purposely showing his canines as he dared,

           “Are you going to stop me?” (Y/N) clenched her jaw as she glowered at him and after a second, he turned back around, unbuttoning his pants. Her eyes shot to the ceiling as he shucked them off and stepped into the tub, sinking down until his shoulders and head rose above the water; he smirked at her and quipped, “When you leave, shut the door, please.” (Y/N) dropped her gaze from the ceiling to him, and with a burst of sheer spite she yanked her tunic and pants off, slipping into the tub at the opposite side. She flashed him a look that irked him, because all it screamed was, ‘I win’, as she sassed,

           “If we were playing chess, I do believe this would be ‘checkmate’.” (Y/N) propped her feet up on the rim, stretching herself out until the water lapped her neck. She let out a sigh as the day’s tension began melting away. “I know the Roman’s used bathhouses, but whoever built this tub was a genius. It’s a shame that with the fall of the Roman’s, hygiene went with it.” She looked over at him, but her eyes quickly fell to the angry red marks lining his arms and chest. Feeling golden eyes boring into her she quickly diverted her gaze to the window, watching the sunlight fall across the forests.

           “If you’re curious, ask.” (Y/N) cleared her throat, murmuring,

           “I’m not sure what you’re talking about Adrian.” He scoffed.

           “You’re a terrible liar (L/N).” It wasn’t the insult that made her frown, it was what he said after, with such a tone of self-loathing. “You saw the scars. Aren’t you curious to know how I received them? Intrigued to ask who gave them to me?” (Y/N) swallowed thickly and glanced back at him, this time, only staring into his eyes and not at his body, admitting,

           “I do want to ask. But I’m not going to. Your scars are yours alone. The incidents are not mine to know until you have deemed me ready to hear them.” A stunned silence filled the space between, and she bemused quietly, “Though we are in a rather intimate setting, so I’m sure it’s as good a time as any.” Adrian huffed, a small smile crossing his lips, and the two stared at one another for a moment before they burst into laughter. When they calmed, he recounted,

           “The one across my chest was given to me by my father over a year and a half ago…the ones on my arms, legs, and torso were given to me by the corpses outside.” (Y/N) drug her eyes over the ones on his arms, examining the jagged lines running up his arms. She shifted, stretching her hand out, but stopped when he tensed, and she softly requested,

           “May I touch them?” Adrian watched her like a hawk as he raised his arm, allowing her to run her fingers across them. She caressed the raised skin, whispering, “They’ve healed nicely…well, as nicely as scars can…” (Y/N) peered into his eyes and avowed, “Tu es superstes. Scriptum super corpus.” Golden eyes widened at her words and she squeezed his arm as she rose from the tub. “I’m going to change then start dinner. I hope you’ll join me when you’re finished.” Wrapping the towel around her waist, she unlocked the door and slipped outside, closing it behind her. Adrian stared at the door for a minute then placed his hand across his chest, whispering,

           “You are a survivor…written on the body…” A frown crossed his lips, and it deepened as his heart gave a heavy thump.

#adrian tepes imagines #adrian tepes imagine #adrian tepes x reader #adrian tepes x reader imagines #adrian tepes x reader imagine #adrian tepes #alucard imagines #alucard imagine #alucard x reader #alucard x reader imagines #alucard x reader imagine #alucard #castlevania #castlevania imagine #castlevania imagines #castlevania fanfiction #trevor belmont #sypha belnades #vlad dracula tepes #lisa tepes

[ellewritesathing]

So Close  -  S.S.  XLII

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

Masterlist   Prev. | Part 42

Word-count: 5k+

A/N: thanks to tumblr’s search function being The Worst, it is nearly impossible to find gifs for 5b. anyway, hope you guys like this part 💕

After you guys found out about Parrish being a hellhound, Chris promised to keep a very close eye on him for you. When he texted Scott saying that Parrish was on the move, the four of you piled into the Jeep and started driving. 

“Why’s Parrish headed to the school?” Liam asked, scooting forward and pushing his head between Scott and Stiles in the front. You tugged at the back of his shirt and pulled him back into his seat before Stiles started arguing with him. 

Scott shook his head, eyes still focused ahead on the police cars you were following. “It’s not Parrish. At least not right now.”

Liam tried again, careful not to bump into you as he shoved his way forward again. “Okay, then why is a hellhound going to the school?”

“‘Cause he’s got a yearning for higher education,” Stiles grumbled. You scooted closer and put one hand on the seat for support and the other on Stiles’ shoulder to calm him down. “Liam, the Hellhound’s at the school. So, we’re going to the school. Okay?”

Stiles shot a look over his shoulder at Liam and your hand before he put the car in gear and sped up, throwing you and Liam back in your seats. You didn’t mind so much but it made Liam pretty annoyed. He didn’t say anything for the rest of the drive, all he did was bounce his leg and stare out the window restlessly.

To top it off, Liam slammed the door when you got to the school. You didn't think he meant to; he just got over-excited and over-annoyed at times. Scott and Stiles both turned to look (and glare) at him, so you bumped his arm encouragingly as he mumbled an apology. 

The four of you met up with Chris after a few minutes of walking around your wrecked school. Scott immediately asked for an update on Parrish and Chris sighed and shook his head.

“I lost him,” Chris said. “He’s moving too fast.”

Liam turned to the side and tapped your hand. “That guy’s not moving at all,” he said. He was looking down the corridor at someone lying on their back. You could smell the blood from all the way over there. 

Scott and Liam took the lead as you walked down the corridor, with Chris taking up the back and you and Stiles in the middle. They stopped a few feet away from a very dead body, covered in blood and strewn on the floor. His chest was torn open. 

An image of Scott lying on the library floor after his fight with Liam and Theo flashed through your head. 

When the image faded, you saw Scott step over the dead body and you almost gagged. The smell of his blood was nauseating. The only reason you started moving again was Stiles’ hold on your hand. You tightened your grip and he rubbed the side of your hand with his thumb as your group continued down the walkway. You came to a stop in front of another body, near the busses this time.

It was the same as before; bloody and torn apart. 

“Look,” Liam said, nodding towards one of the busses. You felt guilty for not noticing the carnage sooner. 

While it was too dark inside the bus for the humans to see in detail, you, Scott, and Liam saw the pile of dead bodies. They were covered in blood, ripped apart, and piled near the opening. And then one of them moved. 

“Help me …”

His voice was so weak. Your legs started moving towards him before your brain had time to process what you were doing. Stiles pulled you back when Parrish spoke. 

He stormed out of the darkness inside the school, shirtless, burned, and glowing in some places. He stopped between you guys and the body. “It’s a trap,” he said in his distorted hellhound voice. 

“Please,” the guys on the bus whispered. 

Scott started forward again when Parrish looked over his shoulder at him and said, “You can’t help him.” He snarled at the bus and in an instant, something inside growled and snapped the guy’s neck. 

You flinched, pulling Stiles behind you as the Beast’s glowing eyes emerged from the darkness. It started towards the opening, snarling and covered in shadows. 

“That’s big,” Stiles said, gripping onto your hand. He started walking backward and taking you with him. “No one said it was that big.”

“I did.” Liam shot a look at you as he backed up ever so slightly. 

You had to admit, the Beast looked a lot bigger in that tiny bus than it did at Fort Jewett. You knew it was a killing machine, but you struggled to process the fact that killed over a dozen kids in one night. And then it let out a roar that made your bones shake. It was going to add to that body count.

Parrish lit up in response and let out a matching roar, claws extending and fire blazing. He sprinted towards the bus as the Beast stalked towards the front. It broke into a run and launched itself through the windshield while Parrish ran next to the bus. You thought it was running away at first, but then you realized the trap hadn't been for you. It was for Parrish. They took off into the darkness and your group only made it a few feet before they completely disappeared. 

“What the hell is happening?” Scott asked. 

“It’s getting smarter,” Chris said.

You looked at Stiles out of the corner of your eye. “It's evolving.” 

---

Having heightened senses was all fun and games until the sun rose and annoyed you into waking up. The good news about this situation, however, was that you almost always woke up before Stiles. Sometimes you’d get out of bed and sneak back to your house before anyone noticed you were gone, but sometimes, on days like today, you pulled the covers up a little higher and curled into him to listen to his heart. 

“Mmm, hey,” Stiles hummed, still half-asleep. He started moving so the two of you fit better together. “What are you doing?”

“Listening to your heartbeat.” You found one of his hands under the covers. “It calms me down.” 

Stiles dug his arm out from under all the blankets and ran a hand through your hair. “Why are you nervous? You know, other than the overwhelming fear that we're going to die at the hands of a giant, probably primordial werewolf.” 

Despite joking about death before seven in the morning, you felt yourself smile. “You’ve got a lacrosse game today,” you said, tapping his chest with your joined hands. 

“Oh, crap. I forgot about that,” Stiles groaned. He took his hand out of your hair and pulled it down his face. 

You laughed and sat up. Taking his hands off his face, you said, “Good thing I spotted it on one of the very burnt banners at the school last night.”

Stiles started making another joke when he stopped and frowned. “Wait, why are you worried about that?” He straightened up slightly. “Do you think something’s gonna happen?” 

“God, I hope not.” You turned yourself around to look at him. He looked clumsy and half-asleep and adorable, if slightly paranoid. “I’m nervous because my boyfriend is like the star player of the team so the other team might single him out and do nefarious things to him.” 

Stiles rolled his eyes and propped himself up on his elbow, picking up your hand and playing with your fingers. “You sure that’s not because of his big mouth?”

“Actually, I think it’s because he’s devastatingly good looking.” 

“Devastatingly, huh?” You nodded and Stiles shook his head at you. “You are so full of shit. Come here.”

You laughed as Stiles pulled your hand toward him and wrapped his other hand around your waist. He pulled you into his chest and the two of you rolled around as you pretended to squirm out of his grip. His heart raced when you settled down, your arms around his waist and his around your shoulders. It was cute. Stiles never laughed like this anymore. 

But Stiles’ heartbeat wasn’t the only one picking up. Noah was awake. 

“I gotta go,” you rushed out, untangling yourself and gathering the rest of your things. 

“What?” Stiles scrambled to sit up, trying to wrap his head around your sudden change in mood. “Why?” 

“Because your dad’s awake and he’s going to kill me.” 

“No, he won’t. You’re his favorite,” Stiles said. He grabbed ahold of your hand when you reached for your phone on the nightstand. “Plus, you can just hide.” 

You took a breath and looked him in his eyes. “I can’t hide. He always finds me. Stiles-” 

“I’ve wasted all of your prime running away time,” Stiles said with an annoying smile. “Oh, I hear footsteps. You better hide.”

“I hate you.”

“Mm-hmm, sure you do, babe.” 

You flipped him off before dropping to the ground and crawling under Stiles’ bed. It was disgusting down here; wads of scrunched up paper, pens, long lost snacks, and a Tamagotchi kept you and dust bunnies company while you waited for Noah to bust you. 

After a few minutes, he did. Noah wandered in, still groggy and barefoot. You couldn’t see him, but you knew he was squinting at Stiles. 

“Is Y/N here?” he asked, sounding very suspicious. At least he was still using his dad voice and not his sheriff voice.

“Nope. Haven’t seen her.”

Stiles was lucky Noah couldn’t hear his lying heartbeat, but Noah still knew. He always knew. “Uh-huh. And isn’t that her jacket from last night?”

“Is it? Didn’t notice.” 

“Uh-huh.” You squirmed under the bed. You knew the sheriff voice was coming. “Well, since we’re both up early, why don’t you get dressed and meet me downstairs for breakfast?” 

“Oh, uh, sure,” Stiles said, surprised by the lack of sherrif voice. The bed shifted above you as he moved. “Thanks, dad.” 

“No problem.” Noah turned to leave but then stopped and knocked on the doorframe. “Oh, and tell Y/N that if she’s done hiding under your bed then she can join us, too.” 

Stiles coughed uncomfortably and you hit your face. “Right. I’ll do that.” Noah started walking away so Stiles yelled after him, “Thank you!” 

---

Awkward breakfast aside, your day was actually looking up. None of the teachers were assigning homework because of the game, and everyone was mostly too excited to start up any drama. Even your friends, as difficult as it could be at times, were in good spirits. You were all joking around in the library - you were keeping score for Scott and Stiles’ paper football match while Lydia caught up on the material she'd missed - when Liam found you. He looked pretty upset. 

There went your good day. 

It didn’t take much convincing to get him to sit down and talk about it. He told you guys about Mason’s theory that the Beast, like the Dread Doctors, worked on strong frequencies.

“Mason said it’s not just a transmitted frequency,” Liam added. “It’s high-powered. Like it has to be really strong.”

“And that’s causing it to shift?” Lydia asked. Looking at her now, surrounded by study notes and seeing how ready she was to engage with all this, you almost couldn’t believe what she’d been through. 

“No, I don’t think it’s just that,” Scott said. “Last night Argent said that it’s getting smarter. What if the Dread Doctors are trying to make the Beast grow faster?” 

Stiles frowned and stopped tapping his hands on the table. “With frequencies?”

“No, by shifting,” Scott said. “The frequency is just the trigger. The important part is when it shifts into the werewolf.”

“Like Peter,” Lydia said. You shuddered. 

“Right!” Scott smiled at her. “And when Peter was an alpha, he got stronger every full moon. Eventually, the burns healed and he was back to normal.”

‘Normal’ was pushing it when it came to Peter, but you agreed with what he said for the most part. It made sense. 

“Except the Dread Doctors don’t want to wait for the full moon,” Liam said.

“No, they want the Beast as strong as possible, as fast as possible,” you said. “Before Parrish gets strong enough to beat it.” 

“So if this is happening tonight, what are we going to do?” Lydia asked. 

“Uh, we’ve got one clue to go on,” Stiles said. He pulled his bag out from the space between you and pulled out a photograph of the shoeprint you’d seen at the hospital. He slid it over to where Lydia, Liam, and Scott sat. “This came from the hospital. Whoever’s lurking inside the Beast is wearing a size 10 sneaker of indeterminate make.” 

“Indeterminate?” Lydia asked, still looking at the photo. 

“Means that it’s a partial print,” Stiles said. “Basically, it was all we were able to get considering all the fire, blood, and carnage.”

“How many size 10s are out there?” Scott asked. 

Before you could tell him that there were bound to be at least a hundred kids in Beacons Hills High alone with size tens, Stiles said, “Only one with Parrish’s blood on the sole.”

“So are we going to try to get the game canceled?” Liam asked. 

“No. No, we’re going to play, but we’re just going to hope really hard that it doesn’t turn into a blood-soaked massacre,” Stiles said. You bumped your knee into his leg and he shrugged at you. 

Liam grimaced. “Aren’t we kind of missing out on a chance to catch this thing? We don’t have the ‘who,’ but we have the ‘where’ and the ‘when.’”

As much as you didn’t want to admit it, Liam had a point. You looked over at Scott, hoping he didn’t think the same thing. He was too good to gamble with lives like the rest of you would. 

Scott thought about it for a moment and then shook his head. “There’s too many people.”

“And we still don’t actually know if it’s going to happen,” Lydia said. You loved her and her optimistic logic. “It just might end up being a regular lacrosse game.” The others looked about as convinced as you felt. “It’s possible, right?”

“That’s absolutely possible,” Stiles said. 

“Just a little unlikely,” you added. 

“So we’re getting the game canceled?” Liam asked again.

“We’re getting the game canceled,” Scott said as he shouldered his bag and stood up. 

The rest of you followed his lead and quickly dispersed. Stiles grabbed your hand and led you away from your friends once you reached the hallway. You were amused by the look of determination on his face. 

“And where exactly are you taking me?” you asked. 

“To get my dad to cancel the game,” Stiles said, stopping and frowning at your smile. “Why, you got somewhere to be?” 

“No, but-” you laughed and lifted up your hands. “You’re cute when you’re determined.” 

Stiles’ resolve faltered and he blinked a few times as he processed. All his time and he still got nervous when you flirted with him. It was true, though, he was cute. 

“Oh, uh-” Stiles lifted his free hand and scratched the side of his nose. “You, uh- you think I’m cute?” 

You leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “The cutest. Now let’s go before someone notices we’re ditching.” 

---

Noah, though not surprised to see you out of school in the middle of the day, was adamant that he couldn't legally cancel the game - but he pointed you in the direction of someone who could. He reminded you guys that one of the coaches could forfeit the game. 

The problem was that the substitute coach would never forfeit the game, but you guys knew that you could convince Coach Finstock to do it if he was there. So, Stiles swapped you out for Scott and the two of them went to harass the poor guy in his rehab facility. 

You used your time off to catch up on the assignments you were behind before Malia picked you up for the game. There was still something going on with her, but you guys had a comfortable understanding not to pry into each other’s personal lives, so you bit your tongue. Instead, you bonded over how weird it was that the bad guys all chose the nights you had lacrosse games to be evil. 

Stiles texted for you guys to meet up with everyone in the biology classroom when you got to the school. Malia shrugged when you relayed the message to her and soon enough the two of you were huddled around one of the work stations with the rest of your friends while Scott gave everyone jobs to do. 

“Mason, you know your part-”

“Corey and I break into the Devenford bus and search their shoes,” Mason said with a nod. 

You ran your hand along Stiles’ back absentmindedly as you listened. He sat on one of the stools while you stood next to him. It was hard to believe that he'd been so happy this morning. “Malia and I take out the TV vans,” you said.

“Then right before the whistle blows, Coach forfeits the game,” Stiles added, catching your hand when it landed on the top of his shoulder.

“And the rest of us look for a size 10 with a bloody sole,” Liam finished, looking equally dejected. 

Malia pushed herself off the window edge and walked closer to the group. “Just out of curiosity… what if this doesn’t work?” she asked. “What if we have to go up against this thing? I mean, I hate to bring up bad memories, but Scott’s still healing from what Theo did to him-”

“No, he’s not,” Kira said.

“She’s right.” Everyone looked at Scott and he lifted up his shirt to show where his wound used to be. He was perfectly normal looking. “It happened the night we got Lydia out of Eichen House. I healed.” He paused so everyone could soak up the information. “When we were all together again, when we were a pack.”

“The Beast doesn’t have a pack,” Liam said. Werewolves don't survive very long without a pack.

“Not like us,” Scott said. 

You laughed. “I don’t think anybody’s got a pack like us, Scotty.”

The others laughed and Scott smiled at you. “Exactly. We’ve got this, guys. No one dies tonight.”

You could have slapped him for jinxing you guys like that, but you restrained yourself. After a quick and awkward group hug, you wished everyone good luck and gave Stiles a quick kiss before Malia dragged you out to where the news vans were parked. 

“I’ll take these, you take the ones on the far side,” Malia said. 

You let go of Malia’s arm and nodded. “Yeah, sure thing. If you anything goes wrong-” 

“I’ll call you,” Malia said with a nod. 

You took off for the far side of the vans and started cutting wires. Between your knife, claws, and brute strength, cutting the wires was the easy part; the difficult part was staying unseen. There were a few times when you had to duck or jump to the ground and roll under the van to keep from being seen, but it took less time than you’d expected to cut your share of wires. 

Malia wasn’t at the rendezvous point. 

You weren’t sure what to do: go looking for her or finish the job yourself. Malia could handle herself just fine without your help, but the vans needed to be taken out or you’d all be handling the Beast.

So, ignoring the horrible feeling in your stomach, you picked yourself up and kept cutting wires.

The sound of the changing scoreboard caught your attention. You were running out of time. You hurried up but it made you sloppier. You landed on the roof of the last van with a thud and cursed as you rolled off the side, landing at Malia’s feet. 

“Where have you been?” you asked. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” Malia snapped. Something happened to her while you were cutting wires. “Let’s just get this over with.” 

She jumped up the side of the van without another word, leaving you to get up on your own. You were back on your feet when she swore. You were about to ask what was wrong when the mic feedback rang out along the field. You curled in on yourself, squeezing your eyes shut at the electrical sparks and trying to block out the noise. One of the vans had fixed their wiring and started broadcasting. 

Your ears rang as you forced yourself up. The Beast was here and you had to find it before it was too late. 

Turns out, you weren’t the only one who thought that. While everyone ran into the school, you found Liam fistfighting the Beast in the parking lot. He was being torn apart. Before you had the chance to think of a better plan, you charged. 

The Beast threw you into the line of busses, but you refused to let it kill Liam. Every time it threw you aside, you coughed up some blood and attacked again. It could have killed you with one hit, but that’s not why it was here. The Beast disappeared into the school after it decided you were beaten enough, and you collapsed next to Liam on the pavement. 

“Hey,” he said weakly, fumbling for your hand. “You saved me.” 

With the last bit of energy you had, you took his hand and said, “I’ll always save you, Biscuit.”

And then you blacked out. 

---

You woke up to the taste of blood. 

It wasn’t like the blood Deaton gave you from whatever animal blood vets kept on hand. Or like the old, refrigerated blood bags that your mom would bring home from the hospital. This was something entirely different; not the metallic taste of the chimeras but the brightness of the first bite of fruit. Sweet. Fresh. 

You felt yourself reach for wherever it was coming from and pressed it closer to your lips. It was like the whole world faded away, each one of your senses working together just to block out anything that wasn’t the blood. And then you felt a hand. A very familiar hand. 

It was Stiles. 

The pieces fell into place instantly and you threw his arm away from you and scrambled away from him. Every muscle movement hurt but you had to get away from him. You would kill him if you didn’t. 

You slammed into a desk and looked around frantically. Stiles reached out to steady you but then he stopped when he noticed it freaked you out even more. He held his hands out with his palms up. He was trying to calm you down like you were a frightened animal, trying to show he wasn’t a threat. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” he said gently. “It’s just me.” 

You couldn’t look away from his bloody wrist. Was he pale from blood loss or was it the light? “I could have killed you,” you said. 

“No, you wouldn’t. You didn’t.” Stiles slid closer. “You were dying and I had to do something.” 

“Where- where’s Liam?” you asked. You forced yourself to look around. You were still at school, a science classroom. The Beast was still here. 

“He’s right behind you with Hayden,” Stiles said. “He’s hurt but he’s alive.”

You nodded, trying to calm yourself down. He was okay. Stiles was okay, minus the flesh wound. “Where’s Scott?” 

“Here. Somewhere,” Stiles said. He was close enough now that he put a hand to your face and wiped away some of the blood with his thumb. It broke your heart. You didn't want him to see you like this. “Everyone is safe.” 

It took you too long to formulate a response, and when you did, all you came up with was: “Can I wrap up your wrist?” 

Stiles blinked in surprise. “Uh, yeah,” he said. He pulled his hand away and looked down at it for the first time. He managed to look even paler, but at least he didn't pass out. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

You had to hold onto the desk to pull yourself to your feet. It felt like your muscles were being torn open as you did, and Stiles had to loop his arms around you to get you to your feet. It was a good thing he was there, too, because you almost fainted once you were up. 

He helped you to one of the sinks in the back and let you run water over his wrist. You stared as the water turned pink and disappeared down the drain for a long time (probably too long, but - disgusting as your fixation on his blood was - it was the only thing that could distract you from the mayhem outside) before finally disinfecting it and wrapping it up with bandages from the first aid kit.

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly, not taking your eyes off the white bandage. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

Stiles shook his head. “You didn’t.” 

“I drank your blood.” 

“I fed it to you. It’s different,” Stiles said. He frowned, not liking how that came out. “But we can get into the ethics of that later, okay? Let’s just get through tonight.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you said in the most normal-sounding voice you could muster. 

The two of you joined Liam and Hayden in a corner and started waiting it out. He was healing a lot quicker than you were, but he was still pretty beat up. Thankfully, neither of them expected you to say anything. The four of you sat in silence, jumping at every sound, until it was completely quiet. 

“Do you hear that?” Liam whispered. 

It took you a second to figure out what he was talking about but if you concentrated then you could hear it: the sound of your brother getting his ass handed to him in the library. 

“We’ve gotta go help him,” you rushed out as you struggled to your feet. “He’s going to get killed.”

“What? No way.” Stiles got to his feet much faster than you did. He held onto your arm to keep you from running out the door. “You can barely stand.” The look on his face broke your heart. He was so worried about you. “Stay.”

You took his hand off your arm and held it in both of yours. “Babe, I’ve gotta go. It’s Scott.” You forced back the tears in your eyes as you kissed him. “I’ll be back, okay? I promise.” 

“Don’t promise. Just stay, alright? Stay-” 

You would have stayed if Liam hadn’t grabbed your other arm and started running to the library. Every movement felt like glass shards shooting through your muscles. Your lungs were on fire. But Scott was dying and you had to help him. 

Turns out that Liam was more than enough help, though. He burst through the doors and jumped to land a ridiculous punch on the Beast. Seeing as it was already off-balance, you dove and kicked it in the shins (did demon werewolves have shins?) with everything you had. 

And then someone shot it. You curled in yourself and protected your head, sneaking a look at Braeden and a very pissed off Malia. You realized that you hadn't seen her since the busses and Stiles hadn't known where she was either. She had been alone.

Braeden kept shooting, so you stopped thinking and crawled out of her way and over to Scott. After the fourth or fifth presumably wolfsbane-filled bullets, the Beast crashed through the windows and sent glass flying everywhere. You flinched at the very recent memory of Stiles getting covered in glass for you, and Scott pulled your head into his chest.

Even nearly dead, he always protected you first. 

Malia pulled you off Scott so Liam could get him to his feet. She was pretty much the only thing keeping you upright as Braeden started berating your brother. Good for her. 

“You didn’t seriously think you were gonna have a chance against that thing, did you?” she asked. 

Scott took some very shaky breaths. “No,” he said with a small shrug. He turned to face the broken window. “But I got its scent.”

Malia wanted to go after it and so did Scott, Braeden (no surprise) wanted to wait to be cautious, but Liam (surprisingly) also wanted to wait. You wanted to pass out, but you figured you were just an outlier. 

Before you could argue too much about it, Scott took off after it. Malia half-dragged you out until Stiles found you guys just out of the library. 

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Stiles held onto your arms and Malia, tentatively, handed you off to him. His whole face was full of concern as he stared at you.

You couldn’t look at him when he looked like that, so you looked down at the floor as he lifted a hand to your forehead. “Yeah, I’m fine.” You looked over to Malia. “Mal, could you make sure he doesn’t get himself killed?”

Malia seemed confused for a second, but she nodded and let go of you. “Yeah, sure.”

Once she was gone, it was like she took any strength you had left with her. You started leaning into Stiles too heavily; all your energy going into attempts at healing. Stiles was rambling - probably waiting for you to say something - as he held you upright with one hand and checked you for injuries with his other. Nothing was bleeding, at least not on the outside. 

You didn’t hear most of what he said until Stiles asked, “Can I take you home?” 

“Yes, please.”

Part 43

Tagged: @ietss​  @used-avocado​

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

[sweet-xoxo-thatcares]

Also I noticed, mom's engine is kind of fuel proof.

And when I say engine, I mean her temper. Thats why Dad would always break it down to me when I would ask "What's wrong with momma?" And he would break it down to me like a list of groceries, and where everything else would hidden under a car hood. But I think mom would prefer the word table. Because she wouldn't like the idea of being compared to a car.

In Daddy's instruction manual, he was in coach mode. He figured her out. And it took awhiillllleeeee for him to get to understand her fully on why she would do the things she said, and acted and reacted the way she would do or wouldn't do....especially had she not have drank around certain times of the day when she was upset, frustrated or just having a headache.

I know this sounds like my mom is an alcoholic and I would tell you she's not. But she still has this thing like one would do, but she would probably suggest to me that its just stress and wine, and that I don't know what I'm talking about. Because any type of criticism, and I mean aannnnnnnnyy type of criticism from me, my dad, or family in general....hurts her.

And she hates that thing about me where I can just know what's going on and what I need to do to not get hit or lashed out at by her words. I don't need to her to tell me what to do. Because I hate talking to her when she's upset and don't wanna see her get triggered again. There's been times where she would put the foot up on the gas and blast right through us like we weren't there listening to her every word, every comment and not being able to block her words killed me every time. So I would just zone the fuck out, to not be mean back to her. Either that or leave the room. Because lets be honest. I don't wanna endanger myself by adding fuel to the fire by reacting to an adult who sometimes does/sometimes doesn't has control over her temper. I'm even having a hard time typing this out because it makes me paranoid to even say anything bad or wrong about her. Because she wants to be seen as perfect, even in front of her friends, family members we don't know, and company.

I know neither of my sisters like putting on this facade of fake smiles and everything...and I think maybe my sisters thought I was over exaggerating when I would tell them "hey you need to clean this up before your mom sees it" and then they would say "like yo, just chill. I got it" and I would get cranky, upset, and confused so much for tolerating this big sister role, that I would go in my room to confront my emotions about this alone. Because if the reason why I was upset or crying didn't make sense to my mom, she would look at me like I was stupid, "Like what's the point in crying over that. What's the big deal?" Because even after I told her I was dealing with grief because I had to cut off some friends with whom I was deeply attached to (and loved) she said "What grief? You didn't lose anything?"

Daddy had to reassure me that she just wasn't the innocent-playing control freak who was insensitive to her daughter's emotions. She hated seeing me sad all the time, going up to my room, not wanting to spend time with my family because I was depressed. She thought I was just being rude and irritable for nothing. When I finally told them why after having a panic attack about me just being depressed and I wasn't getting back to happy fast enough for mom and them, it stressed me out. Because they wanted to feel better, when all I wanted to do was cry, (cringe warning) white cake icing that had been sitting in the pantry for like a year, and compulsively watching anime and korean dramas. And of course thats when I started doing music as a coping mechanism.

But any who back to my original intention to say...

Mom has a fuel tank, with an engine light, and a reader.

The more things that trigger, it gets added to the pot. Like she's not over the top neat-freak, but things add up. And Daddy was making a lot of sense about why momma cried when I told her the chocolate chip cookies she made were too crunchy when I was maybe 6 years old. I shut my mouth after he told me. He didn't yell at me, but I kinda wish he did. I told her I was sorry and she hugged me for understanding. That's probably how I started using context clues a lot better in most english literature classes. I had to survive my childhood with my mother. Escape the belt, escape the "whoopens" escape control, escape everybody telling me to do this and this right the first time or else.

Momma is sensitive too. Just like me. Cause I'm her daughter. And I think I became more entitled for her to take care of me and my emotions as I got older. Because I blamed her lack of care for my emotions and attention, when all I was doing was keeping myself out of harms way. It was either by feeding her negative emotions with kindness. Problem and solution. More compliments, complimentary breakfasts, cooking for something new or especially different, talking to her to make sure she was in a good mood first to talk, because I know she gets uninterested and cold if she talks. Kinda whatever I saw my Dad do for her to make her feel better, I would try to mimic that. He was like my calm down, cheer me up kind of guy. He would listen, understand, be patient with me if I was upset or just emotionally frustrated. But tantrums he would get more aggressive to get me to stop embarrassing him if I was upset in public, so I had to be quiet then and just let the teardrops drop and shut up. Because I hated disappointing my father too. Especially if mom had already made me feel bad for not pleasing her or not looking pleasing enough to go out to eat. She was very picky on clothes, and my taste was different from hers. I think maybe we were just too similar on wanting things the way we wanted things to go. Maybe I started turning into her, once I started dating these other people who I thought reminded me of these little piles of quarrels and abc debates with my mother. I don't like to argue, but I guess I have a fiery engine too. The little things add up and it gets on my nerves after awhile. Sometimes I can't think straight and just talk it out if I'm so damn frustrated. So I have to leave the room and handle the way my father would have wanted me to. Which was to not fight, to not lash out, don't let nobody get in your face, don't put your hands on them unless they put your hands on you. He made sure of that when I was going to school. He didn't want me to end up like him with a bad record of getting into fights with kids in elementary. This guy was a beast back then. He even challenged the big dudes, because of his height at the time. Especially if it was for justice for somebody talking shit to him. He wasn't taking no bullshit. A lil bulldog with aggression, that later on turned into passive as he got older dealing with the workforce. He probably saw some shit with corporate and certain types of people that he had to deal with. Dealing with people like that to pay bills and you got kids at home, I could see why he would find another better way to talk over someone who thinks less of them, because he figures people out too at work. Once he does, you can't fuck with him. He won't give you a reaction. He tries to see the logic of it so he never ever lets his emotions about something get to him. He moves forward and turns his heart off. Brain on. Like a robot, coming to an absolute conclusion so he never has to face that again.

That could be why I say I'm like a cool blend like my mom and dad. When Im hot, im like hot, coffee, acid,aggressive, passionate, fiery like my mom. Dad, he's cool guy, people smart, cold, blue, smooth, fast, speed, control, logical, offensive linemen, defensive line. He's a football guy, quarterbacks think in sight and what they observe. They have to learn to be on their toes. You can't fool him or lie to him, unless you changed. Like I did.

[popculturebuffet]

Jake Reviews Stuff: Amphibia: Marcy at the Gates

Marcy arrives! The Plantars make it to Newtopia but first have to deal with a slight ant problem and a new addition to the family, as we finally meet the adorkable Marcy. Legs in two months under the cut. 

So as you could probably tell by the tone the last few weeks, doing this has weighed on me a bit. While I do love talking about this show week after week, as well as having a recurring series here to bring in readers, the split quality of the Season thus far has been a challenge. Now when I say split I don’t mean like star vs season 3 where it was either really damn good and some of the show’s best writing or “oh god what have they done to marco’s character this time”, it’s more either really good standout episodes ore more forgetable average ones. See a good episode I can gush about, dive into big charcter stuff, motviations, that sort of thing. I defintley will with owl house at some point and have with other shows. A bad episode can be taken apart and taken to the cleaners, which I haven’t done much of but probably should and if you want any taken to task yourself, I do comissions. But self promotion aside, the point is a meh episode just dosen’t leave me with a lot tot alk about and hte recaps became really dry as a result as I just couldn’t find a lot of jokes, and having a busy few weeks on top of that didn’t really help, nor did the antipciation for this week and the intersting setting of newtopia. 

Thankfully a combination of a really good few days, a better sleep schedule, and a really good episode this week, and a pile of scary go round collections for a dollar have reinvgorated me, so hopefully I can get back to doing what I love: Overanalizing children’s cartoons. So with that we can dive right into the episode. The keithdavidpocalypse is upon us! Pitter Patter! We open with Spring and Anne in the cart. Their close to newtopia, but Anne is worried they never found Marcy, while Sprig isn’t because her last friend turned out to be “Evil”... which Anne harshly rebuffs. And both sides are understandable: To Anne, Sasha was her friend.. a manipualtive and bossy friend sure but one who genuinely cared for her, she just may not know how to deal with people. To Sprig, Sasha is some asshole who abused his friend, tried to murder his Pop Pop, and works for a guy who tried to murder his whole town. It’s really understandable he woudln’t have the same warm fuzzy feelings Anne has.. insert your own Sashanne joke here.  We also get our first actual look at Marcy who to my suprise, rather than be another form of manipulative.. is simply an awkward nerd, constnatly playing video games, reading books , cataloging shit, and trying to get her friends to play d and d. So me if I knew what d and d was in high school. 

Anyways, the family finally DOES make it to Newtopia, impressive as you’d expect when the guard won’t let them see the wizard no way no how. Antique references aside, the guard at the gate actually has good reason for not letting them in as they have a tiny barbari-ant problem. A species Hop Pop is, in a nice touch, unfamiliar with due to the Valley not having them. We quickly see them in action as one approaches the plantars, basically a giant ant with ant-lers. Yes I used a pun there sue me. Anyway, our heroes ward off the ant they do find with some really cool team manuvering, and Polly showing she has spiked teeth. It’s a cool sequence. However they quickly find themselves outgunned, outplanned, outnumbered and outmanned. They gotta make an all out stand. Their gonna need a right hand man. Also I finally saw the film version of hamilton, as you can tell. Utterly magic. 

Said Right Hand Man, er woman, er tween comes in the nick of time as a cloaked Marcy sprays some black goo and sets it ablaze, scaring the ants off, snatching a stalemate from the jaws of defeat,  then rappeling down on a rope shot from a crossbow, also making polly want one because of course. She then.. Faceplants. Still a solid 8/10 entrance Marcy.  Marcy is played by Haley Tju who you may remember from such shows as The Loud House. And that’s all I know her from but given Stella’s one of my faviorites and Haley’s performance is part of that, so it’s unsuprising she’s great here. Also fun fact I learned by looking at her trope page: She actually played a younger version of London, brenda song’s character, on the Suite Life I Pray for Death but Death Won’t Come.. or On Deck for those who’ve never watched it. But I like the fact two londons are now on the same show together.. and an actually good noe at that! Horay. But yeah Haley is a great VA and what little i’ve seen her in and a welcome addition.  Marcy and Anne happily reunite once htey both realize who the other is, and hug and etc, before Marcy decends on the plantars, talking on and on and on about geeky stuff and how she likes the found family trope. ... I may really relate to this  mediums sized child, as I too am a huge nerd with no filter and was probably a lot like her at that age. It’s also clear she very transparently sees this as a combinaton of a video game and a d and d session, but said skills have actually benifited her as rping a rogue allowed her to easily bluff her way into the kingdom’s good graces and now she’s a sworn agent of the king as we’ll find out.  She quickly wins over the Plantars, measuring hop pop’s head, gushing over him being a farmer (which he almost instantly adopts her over and asks to point blank later), and then noticing Polly’s legs are about to come in and giving her the note seen in the review image, my faviorite gag. Sprig however is more out and out hostile and has his reasons we’ll get to in a second.  Marcy escorts her new family and sorta girlfriend to the makeshift war room set up by three scholoary newts who quickly resolve their planning disagreements by beating the piss out of each other. Just like real politics.. and that’s not a cheeky jab between the actual caning in the sentate that happened once and the various duels in the revolutionary and early america eras.. yeah the only reason the preisdent hasn’t been shot for challening one of hte many people he hates for a duel without realizing he really can’t see through that squint too good is that it’s now illegal and not the kind of illegal he can hide like usual.  Anyways after the Newts scoff at our heroes, but Marcy vouches for them and reveals that the ants are getting closer because i’ts gotten warmer....

Marcy has a plan though: Spread scentshrroms around that will release a pheremone which will drive them off, having throughly studied Amphibia’s various flora and fauna and thus knowing how to deal with them. I’ts something I like about the character and how she adds to the other huamns group dynamics. Alll three deal with issues diffrent ways; Anne has plans, but rarely thinks them through, Sasha does think hers through and is a master manipulator while Marcy is a ballance between the two: She does throughly think things out and have well thought out clever plans.. she just also tens to rush into things or go forward with a nose in a book or without a thought to how dangerous soemthing is. She’s prepared, she’s just not very aware of her surrondings, which is amood. 

But Anne is nervous about her coming along as is sprig which sets up both’s conflicts with her for the episode: Anne wants to protect Marcy, since she just got her back and her only other remaning friend now clearly wants to stab her and she has a better option now love interest wise. However Marcy convinces Anne, 2nd capefire this episode nonwithstanding, she can handle herself. She also calsl her annabannna which is fucking adorable.  The other conflict is that Sprig dosen’t trust her.. he has no rational reason not to give she’s a sweetie, but is a bit gunshy about another human girl working for a dictator popping up in their life. And while he’s probably wrong, while I think Marcy isn’t working for the best people probably she’s likely too oblivious to genuinely relaize she’s doing crimes if they have her doing them or was given a fake justification. I could be wrong, and will gladly eat crow. Metphorically i’m not going to bake a real crow. I don’t have the right seasoning. And i’d also be cursed but eh I doubt I can get poorer. But it’s understandable he has reservations, especially since while he dosen’t say it he’s likely worried Anne will get hurt again. He’s a good boy, he’s just being paranoid over probably nothing.  Anyways onoto the plan: The plantars and new girl marcy are gonna:

Okay phermone them whatever, the point is they head into the Ant Hole, witht he conflicts continuing as the plantars progress; Sprig is naturally suspcious and Anne is worried about her precious gurl. The group fight some more ants, and Marcy seemingly wonders off.. only to instead BLOW THEM A FUCKING TUNNEL with some chemicals from some flowers she found, then instant sprout a plant cage.. and accidently trap polly. NOOOOO.> Thankfully she frees her and tosses some plants on the ants, which is fun to say.  We then get to our climax. OUr group find the queen who ihs horrifying.. a good mom as sprig points out but horrfing. Nice design though i’m just.. not an insect guy and sometimes this show leaves me in abject terror. this is one of those times. Our heroes plant the mushrooms, phrasing I know but this review is late as is and i’ve already used up my archer refrence for the day.  Anne dives to Save a seemingly oblovious Marcy.. whose mad at Anne over it.. while Anne is udnerstandable Marcy wants her , NEEDS her to understand...

No not that erik. That, much like Anne herself, Marcy’s grown and changed over these past three months. She can handle herself now and she needs her ot see that. Also sprig gets attacked by an ant baby, which not only wakes up the queen, who can hear but can’t see but now knows something’s arry, but causes said queen to unleash a hoarde of ants.  Marcy however naturally has a plan: She’ll dive into the queen’s belly and get sprig, the plantars will hold them off and Anne finally trusts her lady enough to fiht off. I don’t have a lot to say I just really like this character arc and Marcy’s character: She’s a bit oblivious, ab it obessed with nerdy things which again relate.. but when push comes to shove she’s also clever, a master planner and has clearly studied her ass off about this world and knows it well. She’s throughly likeable.  And that likeablity finally gets through to sprig when she gets him out and swings him. Trust earned, anne’s faith in her gained and the mushrooms go off and send the ants running. Misson Complete.  With the mission complete our heroes finally enter Newtopia and meet the mysterious Lady Olivia, whose been sending Marcy on her missions, and is likely her spymaster. Not that i think Marcy realizes that but Marcy’s love of midevil fantasy means she blends in well with thier courty apperance and introduces anne and co to her.. Olvia isn’t impressed but is cordial about it at least.. even with Sprig breaking shit. And yeah , Amphibia has a king over all of it, as Hop Pop puts it “We aren’t savages”. It does make sense it woudln’t come up every day though, it’s not as if the king really cares about the valley... but more on speculation about him in a minute. Hop Pop wisely gives the two “Friends’ some alone time, and the two talk things over: Anne explains how she found sasha.. and it didn’t go great, and Marcy vows that the two of them can go their own way now. Maybe iwth tounge. we dunno. The two then look over anne’s phone while anne recounts her anne-tics.. and we get to the king. And it’s KEITH DAVID BITCHES AS WAS PROHPISED A FEW WEEKS AGO. And he has myserious plans and wood carven figures of both our heroines and possible gaybies. “The game can finally begin. “

Final Thoughts: This was a really damn good episode. Whiel I summarized more than usual , both conflicts were great, all the plantars got to shine, there were gags a plenty, an intriguing new member of the main cast and a mysterious new antagonist. I mean given it was revealed the Newts were behind Toad tower a few episodes back, I figured Andidas wouldn’t be a good guy, even if he’s played by upstanding gentleman and god among men keith david, , but it’s a question of what his end goal is, how the girls got here, and what his plan ofr them is that i’m curious to see play out as the season goes on, as well as see if Marcy is a pawn or not. Newtopia also looks intresting and i’ts nice to have a new solid setting to build on now we’re here, as well as new mysteries to unlock> Ther’es also the honest possibliity marcy, who claims to have found bubkuss, might simply want to stay in a world where she gets to live out her dreams and isn’t picked on or bullied. Again we’ll see all speculation but this episode was damn good. For now this is the clear highlight of the season and i’tll be intresting to see where it goes from here. Until next time courage. 

#amphibia #anne boonchuy #marcy wu #hopidiah plantar #sprig plantar #polly plantar #marcy at the gates

[angelaiswriting]

The Assistant (6 of ?) | Vladimir Ranskahov x reader

[original picture: pinterest]

✏️ Pairings:

(eventual) Vladimir Ranskahov x fem!reader

Anatoly Ranskahov x OC (Paulina)

probably other pairings in the future

✏️ Requested by @kellydixon01  : Y/N–hacker, big mouth, even bigger attitude–is the new addition to Fisk’s team. Sent to help the Ranskahovs, she immediately gets on Vladimir’s nerves. But as time passes, they start to take a liking to each other, even if none of them is willing to admit their feelings. Yet.

✏️ A/N: we’re finally inside Y/N’s mind in this chapter! Btw I hope this story doesn’t suck and that it makes sense.

✏️ Warnings: mention + talks of murder, death in general, probably angst (but isn’t this story a pile of angst?) and I think that’s it. Tell me if anything triggers you and I’ll add it.

✏️ Word-count: 4,200 

REQUESTS ARE OPEN IF YOU WANT ME TO WRITE FOR YOU 💛

📚 To read the previous chapters, click on the MASTERLIST link in my bio (unfortunately I can’t put links here if I want my post to come up in search results. I apologize.)

CHAPTER SIX: TRUST ISSUES

“What the fuck?”

Y/N’s choked scream came as a surprise. On one thing, Vladimir Ranskahov had been right: she had never seen a corpse and now that she stood just meters from four, she couldn’t help the trembling in her legs.

When the men turned around, diverting their attention from the four criminals at their feet, they saw she had left the security of the car. Surprisingly enough, she had been the first to react and as she stared at them with eyes full of shock and fear, Vladimir was the second.

His brain was working a thousand miles an hour and as his fingers tightened around the grip of his gun, he thought he could shoot her down. A bullet between the eyes and all would be over with. But the more he stared, the more his rational mind fought that urge, and the more his anger boiled and screamed throughout his whole body.

How was it that the first–and hopefully last–time they brought her along, they almost got played like some kids? She comes, she does her juju with the phone signal and Dobos is ready to try his luck and overthrow him.

Before his rational mind had the time to realize it, he had her pinned against the side of the car, the hot muzzle of his gun just a breath away from kissing her temple.

And suddenly, all was calm once again. His mind had stopped racing, his blood had stopped boiling, his breath had evened out. His hold was gentle on the gun, the coarse surface of its grip a soothing caress against his cold palm. There wasn’t the sudden surge of adrenaline he got during a fight, nor the buzzing enthusiasm of anticipation coursing through his muscles. There was calm. He was calm, for the world had gone silent and all he could hear was the soft whisper of her breath against his chin.

“Do you have anything to do with this?” The tone of his voice burned harder than the still warm muzzle of his gun near her skin, but she didn’t dare move away. Nor speak up.

“Let her go.”

Anatoly had finally entered her peripheral vision and even though his presence calmed her enough to distract her from her churning fear, she couldn’t but stare in Vladimir’s gaze of steel. “No,” she eventually whispered, wishing she had just stayed in the car–that she had just stayed at Wesley’s side, for she knew, no matter how much she disliked him, that he’d protect her somehow.

“You knock out phones and then they come and Dobos has new men. Money he gives us is fake. Why shouldn’t I shoot you?”

“You have already made up your mind about me, even though I told you I’m here to help. Why are you asking, then?”

“Because you spy on people,” he casually answered. “And I do not trust you.”

“I guess you either shoot people in the head or you trust them, then. You don’t give anyone the benefit of the doubt. But if you’re waiting for me to confess you that I somehow knew of their trick, you’ll be left waiting forever, even long after you’ve killed me.”

“No one will kill anyone tonight,” Anatoly intervened, tearing the gun from his brother’s grasp. “Why you have to be so paranoid, I truly do not know,” he added as he pushed Vladimir backward. “What we must do now is dash back to garage before police come here.”

*

Y/N couldn’t understand Vladimir and still, at the same time, she could. She had spent the majority of her life not knowing who to trust, or if trusting that person was going to make her end up in trouble, and at the same time she had never stopped hoping she could stop, just for one minute, and give the people that stood in front of her the benefit of the doubt.

To give a chance had always felt stupid–and dangerous. It had always made her whole body shiver in fear and anticipation, her muscles ready for the jump of her life in case things went downhill. But she had tried, and so far Fisk and Wesley had yet to fail her.

But now, as she stood in a corner of the garage as the Russians argued together, she felt small and insignificant under Vladimir’s accusatory glare. That and the silent treatment he had reserved her in the car scared her more than a gun pointed at her head.

Silent was… terrifying. It was the unknown slowly but surely transforming itself into a ghostly body of its own and she could almost feel its icy breath trace the line of her spine.

Vladimir Ranskahov was predictable when he screamed, for he would never attack as long as his mind was busy yelling at somebody. She had learned that long before she had actually met him, his past had been an open book once she had found her way in, and it had been easier to read than Anatoly’s. When his anger got the best of him, he was the only one at risk of dying as the scorching emotion burned him alive. But when he went silent and his body got as still as a predator stilled before it lunged at its prey–that was the moment you should be scared, the moment you should pray your fight-or-flight instinct kicked in and self-preservation brought you to safety.

Vladimir was easy to read when he let events take the best of him, for then he was still a man. But when his survival instinct surfaced and he couldn’t even feel the wound on his arm left behind by a flying bullet, the same wound Sergei was now sewing up, that was when he turned into the animal that got out of Utkin.

She wasn’t sure whether he knew it or not, or if maybe it had just turned into an instinctual behavior when he felt like his life was at risk, but he still knew how to use it in his favor. That version of him scared him more than the sight of those four men left dead on the pavement, back at the piers.

Had she gone through what Vladimir had been forced to live, she wouldn’t trust herself either.

But she was here and she was willing to help–willing to put her own life in the spotlight of the unknown and of the risks it threatened her with–and she couldn’t but feel like the stupid kid that had hoped too much when hope had never entered her house.

And as she eavesdropped those criminals talk and reason together, she wished she had been honest from the start–at her own risk. She spoke Russian and therefore understood every ill and every nice word they had ever said about her, the things they said during their Russian-only meetings, the insults they threw at Wesley and Fisk when they thought she didn’t understand shit. It had all been a game so far and she had always thought she was the cat and they the mice, when it had always been the other way around. She had learned the meaning of Vladimir’s tattoos and had always laughed at them, but now that he had her life in his hands–now that she had been foolish enough to move into the apartment across from his–she wished there was still time for sincerity.

“Y/N, come here!”

But now, as her body obeyed Anatoly’s order before her brain had the time to process it, she knew her confession could only do more harm than good–and it didn’t matter that she had nothing to do with the Hungarian and his plans. Nor that she was deliberately ignoring Fisk’s orders to give him inside info on the Russians so that he could control them better.

And with each step she took, she could feel herself shrink and get smaller, almost as if she could disappear so as not to face Vladimir’s wrath. He was her biggest fear, but as the saying goes, keep your friends close and your enemies even closer.

She had most likely overestimated herself.

Sergei was applying the last stitches, but Vlad never flinched, not even once. It was almost as though he couldn’t feel it, almost as though he were still in beast-mode. She had never wished she had Wesley at her side as much as she wished for it now.

“Why did you want us to change place for meeting?” Aslan’s voice wasn’t as threatening: it was calm, soft, and even though she suspected he was anything but, she was still thankful.

“Because you’ve always been stupid enough to give your clients the upper hand.” It was almost an out-of-body experience, or as close as she could get to one: part of her wanted to cower away as her self-defense mechanism finally kicked in, and another part of her welcomed it as her muscles started to slowly relax.

It didn’t matter that she had done her best to focus on Aslan’s face because she had kept Vladimir in her peripheral vision and her mind had been more focused on him than on his man. And so, when he tightened his jaw, she didn’t miss the movement.

“We never give anyone upper hand,” he growled.

She sighed, half in exhaustion and half in contentment, for he was slowly slipping back into his angry self, burying the beast deep inside his mind once again. It didn’t mean complete safety–to think that meant you were only a fool–, but it also didn’t mean immediate death, either. It was a dangerous yet comfortable middle ground that Y/N knew how to handle–sort of.

“We keep eye on them,” Anatoly agreed, forcing her to sit on the chair in front of his brother, who was sat on the desk Sergei often used as his accounting office.

“But you still trust their choices too blindly. What would have happened if tonight’s meeting had been held where those people wanted to?”

“I don’t know, you tell us, spy.”

Vladimir was stubborn. She thought she had known it before she had started to work with him, but being in his presence had proved her wrong. He had turned out to be more inflexible than anyone she had ever met–and she was used to working with Wesley, who was only happy if and when things were done his way. Working with him should have been the right training to be able to manage Vladimir Ranskahov, but either it wasn’t the case or they weren’t as similar in their stubbornness as she had previously thought.

“The guy could have had more men.”

“They cannot bring ‘more men’,” Vladimir mocked her, yanking his shirt out of Anatoly’s grasp. “It’s deal.”

“Yeah, like paying you with Monopoly cash, apparently.”

“It had never happened. Maybe it was you who tried to work with vengry and play us.”

She scoffed. “I work for you, and therefore for Wesley and therefore for Fisk. Fisk is the one who signs my checks, not your cheating friends. Why would I side with them to trick you and risk getting shot and then dumped into the Hudson? I thought you were stupid, but I swear to God, you’re on another level! If you stopped being this paranoid for one second, you’d realize I just made you a favor.”

“A favor?”

“Volya, zamolchi,” Anatoly threatened. He wasn’t in the mood to play the peacemaker, not tonight, not after the flop with Dobos. He just wanted to go home, fuck Paulina into tomorrow, and then spend the next day sleeping to avoid coming to work and deal with his brother.

He was tired, but neither Vladimir nor Y/N seemed to realize how close to combustion he was.

“And you,” he pointed at her, “no more insults.”

“You all still doubting my loyalty after me trying to help you is an insult, me stating the truth is not. If your brother would just get his head out of his butt and use his brain for something that’s not murder, for once, he’d see I’m not the spy he thinks I am.”

And she wasn’t going against Fisk’s direct orders just to be called a liar and be stepped onto by some criminals.

“I don’t doubt you,” Tolya sighed. Aslan had quietly distanced himself from them and was now checking the rest of Dobos’ money with Sergei, both sitting in a cab. “You tried to help and Hungarians did shit. It was just coincidence.”

“Of course it was not!”

There was a fight, then: Anatoly had to stop himself from attacking his brother and Vladimir had to do the same. Y/N simply estranged herself from the scene and with the fact that they had switched back to Russian, she was able to cut their voices out of her mind without much of a problem.

She understood paranoia–she really did–, but she didn’t understand when someone just wanted to be an ass. And she wasn’t in the mood to put up with it, not now that the surge of fear-induced adrenaline had died down and all she could see before her eyes were the corpses of four criminals lying on the pavement.

It had all happened so quickly that she had barely had the time to register what the heck was going on. One second Vladimir was checking the money in front of her and the next, dollar bills were flying in the air as the Russians shot the Hungarians down. They had been quick and she hadn’t exactly understood how Tolya, Sergei and Aslan had known they had to open fire that their guns had already shot.

It didn’t matter. Only Dobos had the luck to fire a blind shot, grazing Vladimir’s arm, before he went down like a trunk. Even above the sound of the echoing shots at the pier and now, above the Ranskahovs’ heated argument, she could hear Miklos Dobos’ body thudding against the asphalt. She didn’t know how, she didn’t even want to know why, but that was the sound her brain had put on a loop as all she could see was the perfectly centered hole in the man’s forehead.

She didn’t know who had gunned him down, but she knew that if Vladimir got pissed enough with her, that was how she was going to go down–a bleeding hole in the middle of her forehead, brains splattered everywhere as she fell down to the floor.

Dead. Lifeless.

This wasn’t the first time she feared for her life, but it was definitely the first where she felt like she was so close to the end of her life and to meet the Creator.

Fuck.

She had been so dumb. Moving in next to a criminal? What had she been thinking? Now that she found herself in the company of murderers–not that they hadn’t already been before, it was just that now she had seen them at work–that unplanned decision suddenly didn’t feel like a good one anymore.

If Vladimir decided that he really didn’t trust her and that he was tired of her, he could… He lived mere feet from her: he just had to cross the hallway to…

She couldn’t think it. She couldn’t form that thought in her mind.

And yet, it was an easy one. Death was easy. You go down and you leave this world and it all happens in a fraction of a second. All the rest is just torture–or torturous wait. All she needed was an unexpected millisecond to leave this world for good. And all Vladimir needed was the previous millisecond, before he opened the door of his apartment and drilled her body with bullets.

Y/N had thought that working with Wesley had been torture. Do this and do that and dodge his advances and play deaf when he told her anything that could be interpreted as sexual. And it wasn’t just that, it wasn’t just that all he wanted to do was fuck her and that he didn’t waste any occasion to remind her that. It was that he wanted her to do things a certain way, even when there were way easier and faster ways to do it, and when he was pissed, he got prissy and intolerable and she had to tiptoe her way around him.

Working with actual criminals had felt like a nice change in the wind’s direction back then, when Fisk had first proposed it–or rather told her she was going to do it without giving her the chance to say anything. It had felt like freedom in a way: no more Fisk, no more Wesley, no more suits and high heels and tight buns because there wouldn’t be another Wesley that wanted her to dress that way.

She found herself hoping the Russians would ask her to dress more formally now, to come to work with freshly manicured nails and spot-on make-up. It would have been easier. And yet, she had come to work with the knowledge of all the research she had conducted on the Ranskahovs, with slightly less information about Sergei Yurchenko, who she felt was almost as important as the other two kingpins… and with her lies. She had come with white lies: she had to inform Fisk of anything that could even remotely be useful and she had to keep a close eye on the Russians–headstrong and therefore dangerous Vladimir in particular.

Technically, Vladimir was right: she was indeed there to spy. But she had done no such thing. The first couple of days it had been because she wanted to get to know them–she hadn’t succeeded. The next days it had been because she was trying to help them with the shipment–she hadn’t succeeded. Then it had been because Vladimir doubted her too much, while Anatoly seemed to at least be okay with her presence as long as she didn’t annoy him, and the other Russians were just either uninterested or they chatted a bit before they went back to work.

There technically was nothing to report–or this was the excuse she brought up when Wesley bugged her for intel. There wasn’t an exact reason why she kept her mouth shut when it came to spying on the Russians, but all she could think of was that her silence meant more time away from her usual office, job, and colleague.

“Vladimir will accompany you home.” Anatoly’s words felt like a punch to the stomach, one that left her breathless–and one that brought her back to reality.

She moved on her chair, the muscles in her back suddenly tense and heavy. Was that how she was going to die? In a kingpin’s car?

Vladimir didn’t say a word: there was no way he could escape his brother–and he was tired. So tired he felt like going to bed and sleep for a century, willingly embracing nightmares and spasming muscles as he waded his way through a memory lane he could not elude. So, he groaned as he jumped down from Sergei’s desk with the grace of an elephant.

He didn’t wait for her: he headed towards the exit, suit jacket thrown over his left shoulder as he retrieved a packet of cigarettes from one of its pockets.

“If he does anything, you call me, da?” Anatoly softly ordered her, but Y/N didn’t turn even when he put his hand on her shoulder. “At any hour.”

“Will he kill me?” She didn’t really want to know, but at the same time, she did.

“No.”

“Why doesn’t he trust me?”

“You didn’t give him reason why he should.” The man shrugged his shoulders, his gaze fixed on her face.

“Why do you trust me, then?”

“I don’t exactly trust you either,” he confessed. “But you haven’t given me reason why I should accuse you of anything, so I’m good, for now. You don’t trust us either.” There was a smirk then, one that proved her there was more to him than what his tattoos could say.

“You are unpredictable and I never know what to expect,” she stated, and that confession seemed to cost her more than she’d ever thought.

*

The ride in Vladimir’s car was weighed down by a tense silence. She didn’t dare ask him to put out his cigarette, just as he didn’t care to ask her if him smoking was alright with her.

(It wasn’t.)

The radio was turned off and just as with his cigarette, she didn’t dare ask if she could turn it on. This was his territory and she was afraid of what he might do.

But the late-night traffic was thick that day and they both thought back at the Hungarians they had abandoned by the Hudson. The police had probably found them already, Y/N thought, not knowing Anatoly’s men had already taken care of them.

“Why did you move in next to me?”

Vladimir’s voice was tense, rougher than usual–probably because of the smoke or the anger, she didn’t really know. It took her a couple of seconds to convince herself to turn her head to look at him: he was staring ahead, his right hand gripping the wheel so hard his knuckles had turned white, almost as though the tattooed barb wire of his trips to jail had robbed them of their color. His jaw was clenched and she could see the sudden leaps of muscle underneath the skin when he gritted his teeth.

She opened her mouth, left it hanging like a fish out of water, and closed it again with a sigh. “It seemed like a good idea back then,” she answered then, gaze traveling back down his arm, skirting over the blood stain on his otherwise immaculate shirt.

“You should have not done that.”

“I guess I got it now.”

He remained silent for a while, until he finished his cigarette and threw the butt out of the open window. “My brother says I should give you chance,” he said. “‘Benefit of doubt,’ as you called it.”

She nodded, eyes lifting up from his barbed knuckles to the side of his face. For a second she was about to stretch her arm out and touch the scar that ran down from his right eyebrow to his cheek, but she tightened her fists in her lap and kept still.

“But my trust comes with price.”

“What do you want?”

He turned to stare at her then, and it scared her both because he wasn’t minding the street and because his eyes had turned to steel, to rock-hard hatred. “I want to know if you’re spying. I know you are.”

Y/N swallowed, and the movement was slow and thick and almost painful as she tried to swallow down her own fear, too. She was stronger than this. She had put up with Wesley and with Fisk–and with her family–and she was not going to give Vladimir Ranskahov the power of making her feel minuscule and insignificant, so small he could step on her and put her out the way she had watched him put out endless cigarettes, back at the garage.

But she had lied enough and there was no reason why she should continue, not now that he knew. He had always known, she had never deluded herself into thinking Vladimir was some stupid ass that could be tricked without much effort–he wasn’t like James, whom she played like a doll.

“I should be,” she found herself correcting him. “But I haven’t.”

“Why not?”

What was the reason? Was there a reason? She didn’t know.

“Why not?” he insisted. He parked in his usual lot, but the engine was still roaring under the hood of his expensive car.

Was that-? No, it couldn’t be his BMW.

“I like it, at the garage. No one bothers me. You’re stubborn and we fight a lot, I know, but I’d rather be locked up in a room with you than with Wesley.”

How had he found out she had moved here?

“If I find out you spy, I kill you.”

Was he waiting inside?

“Okay.” Her hand was trembling on the door handle, but it wasn’t out of fear nor was it because of Vladimir.

He followed her gaze, eyed the white BMW she was staring at, and eventually shrugged one shoulder as he opened his door.

Y/N’s feet weighed like lead as she walked to the elevator with Vlad at her side.

What did he want?

“Don’t come up now,” she said just before the doors to the elevator opened. “Wait a few minutes before you go up.”

“I take no orders from you.”

She stopped him with a hand in the middle of his chest, right on his sternum, and under the thin cotton of his shirt, his warm skin and hard muscles, she felt the faint thudding of his heart.

“I think Wesley is upstairs.” And she really didn’t want him to realize she lived right across from Vladimir Ranskahov.

How was this? Hopefully okay... As always, feedback, requests and suggestions are welcome and appreciated :) Thank you for reading  💛 I feel like I’m not doing this story justice, but hopefully it’s just bc of the swamp my life is these days.

TAGS (to be added to or to be removed from any list, shoot me an ask. Same goes for ‘Bratva’)

Everything: @idhrenniel @saibh29 @fuckthatfeeling @aya-fay @pebblesz892  @mblaqgi

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[themadlostgirl]

Not Dead Yet (Part 47)

*Early update! Also a bit of a lengthy one. Either way I like it!*

Pairing: Reader x Peter Pan

Warnings: language

“How did you not notice the poison ivy everywhere?” Ben looked over Isaac and I with our rashes. I had only meant to take a quick nap and ended up falling asleep under Peter’s Thinking Tree next to Isaac. Being as dark as it was I didn’t notice the patch of poison ivy and while Isaac seemed to be in the majority of it and I had rolled into some of it.

“I’m sorry my night vision wasn’t working at the time.” I grabbed the aloe from him and started to rub the plant’s soothing gel on my itchy arms.

“Serves you right.” Verne grumbled. He and his friends had finally been allowed down from their perch.

“Do you really want to make me mad again, Verne?” I smirked at the way he curled his toes back, “That’s what I thought.”

“You could at least give Paul his tongue back.”

“He can have it back if he finds it.” I shrugged and whistled down for Candace. She landed on my shoulder looking older than usual. She’s probably nearing the end of her cycle and would burst into flames soon. Probably not best to have her around camp when that happens unless I want the camp burnt down again.

I walked her to the beach and made a little divet in the sand for her to nestle in while I waited for her to combust. I rubbed at my arms trying to drum up some heat. Why was it so cold this morning? The sea was clouded with fog and I could just barely make out the silhouette of the Jolly Roger on the horizon. Was Peter away from the island? I can’t think of why he would be upset unless he ran into Tigerlily or something like that.

“Peter,” I called but he didn’t show up, “Curiouser and curiouser.” He always shows up when I call. Maybe he is away from the island. But it’s far earlier than he would normally leave and if he left the island last night he would have been back that same night. What reason could he have for being gone all night? The only time he was ever gone so long without telling me was when he...went for a visit.

I shook the thought from my head. He hasn’t done that since we started our own arrangement. He’s told me time and again that he doesn’t want to sleep with others because he has me. Then again I did tell him I wanted things to be toned down. Not just the frequency of which we had sex but our familiarity around each other in general. What if he took that farther than I meant? What if he was back on other girls? What if he never actually stopped? Peter leaves the island a lot and he’s a good enough liar that sometimes not even I can see through his illusions.

“No. That’s stupid.” I muttered to myself, “He wouldn’t lie to me. He knows the repercussions to not being honest with me. We trust each other. I am his confidant and his friend as well as his lover I should not be so worried about this.”

Candace hopped out of her sand nest and came to rest on my lap. I ran a soft hand down her back. “I’m just being paranoid. Aren’t I, Candace? Just because Peter’s away from the island doesn’t mean he’s off sleeping with other girls. What should I care if he is anyway? This is just an arrangement between friends. Purely physical…”

My mind flashed back to the other night when I willingly fell asleep in Peter’s tent wrapped in his arms. A warmth started to blossom in my chest...then my legs and into my hands--oh shit! I quickly scrambled off the ground knocking Candace off my lap as she erupted into a column of flames. My lap and part of my chest was singed a bit but it was my hands that had gotten the majority of the damage. “Just perfect,” I looked back to see Candace poke her naked head out of the smoking pile of ash, “I hope you’re happy. Look how blistered my hands are.” I scooped her up and placed her inside of my coat.

I got back to camp and smeared some more aloe across my hands. Seeing as how my hands hurt too much to hold anything I had to abstain from training and instead took a walk along the beach. This has just been the most inconvenient day ever. I think I’m just going to wrap my hands up and go back to bed for the day.

I settled back down in my tent ready to just sleep the rest of the day through but I was not going to get that luxury because the moment I laid down all the boys came back making a ruckus. “Come on. Why is nothing going my way today?”

I sat back and glared at the boys as they ran around playing and eating. That’s it, I’m going back to the Thinking Tree and hiding out in the cavern for the rest of the day. At least there it’ll be quiet and boy free and birds won’t explode while I’m holding them. I dragged myself back to where the Thinking Tree was and jumped down the hole that led to the underground cavern.

Strange enough when I landed at the bottom of the cavern it was not dark like it usually was but it was filled with light. Sitting at the table was Peter hunched over a stack of parchment. He glanced over at me mildly surprised. “Wait, have you been here this whole time?”

“Hello to you too.” he set his pencil down and turned toward me fully, “What are you doing down here?”

“Trying to find some peace and quiet. I’ve been having a bit of an off day.” I held up my bandaged hands. “Why are you down here?”

“Same as you, peace and quiet.” I sat down next to him and he started to untie the bandages from my hands. “What happened here?”

“Candace.” I muttered as he started to heal the blisters, “She started to combust when I was holding her.”

He moved his hands up to erase the poison ivy rash from my arms. “There. If you still want to stay then go ahead and rest, I won’t bother you.” he turned back to his parchment.

“Oh why thank you,” I rolled my eyes and scooted closer to see what he was doing, “I see you’re putting that pencil box I gave you to good use.”

All around him were sketches of various things. I picked up one that was a rather splendid likeness to Candace herself. “Have you been down here all day just drawing?”

“It helps keep me calm.” he muttered as he took the paper back.

“Keep calm? Why, may I ask, are we not so calm this foggy day?” I asked.

“Weren’t you looking for a place to rest in silence?” he snapped and I backed off.

“Excuse me,” I huffed and flung myself back on the bed, “I was just asking a question. What’s going on? You’ve always been able to talk to me before.”

“Not now, Y/N.” he grumbled back.

“Fine...can I ask you one more thing though? Just one.”

He let out a sigh and turned back towards me waiting for my question with an impatient glare, “If you’ve been down here all day, why didn’t you come when I called for you?”

“Contrary to popular belief I am not at your constant beck and call, Y/N.”

“I never said you were but…”

But you usually always are.

“Were you gonna finish that thought?” he quirked an eyebrow up at me.

“Nevermind.” I tossed one of the animal pelt blankets over my head. I was able to breathe out a small breath of relief. He’s just been down here all day and not off running around other realms with pretty face princess and midnight maidens. Not that I should care anyway that is! “UGH!”

“The hell--” Peter flung the blanket off me, “Did you just have a mental break?”

“Possibly.” I drew my legs closer to me, “I don’t know what’s up with me lately. I brought Tigerlily here hoping I could have a female companion that could make dealing with all you boys easier and she’s somehow done the exact opposite.”

“Told you, fairies are terrible.” he sat down next to me, “Can I ask what she’s done now that’s put you in such a disgruntled state?”

“Things. Stupid things. Mainly pertaining to you and I. I don’t know how but because of it I’ve flipped my brain and I can’t go back to thinking the way I used to. It’s like there’s a happy ending right in front of me but I can’t get to it because I need to keep making tangents that I actually don’t want to make but I feel like I need to because I’m too scared to get to the happy ending!”

“Tangents like Isaac?”

“What?” I looked over at him but he wasn’t meeting my gaze. “What does Isaac have to do with this?”

“You tell me.” he flung a piece of paper at me.

I unfolded it and read over the note. “But this is the note Isaac left for me in my tent to meet him at your Thinking Tree. Why do you have it?”

“No. You left this note for me in my tent last night after I returned from trying to find the Truest Believer.”

“I never left you a note.” we inspected the parchment in a new light. It was the exact same handwriting from my note from Isaac. Why would he send both of us the exact same note though? He made it clear he only wanted to speak to me last night.

“This new Lost Boy seems to be up to some mischief.” Peter stood off the bed and extended a hand to me, “Little brat wanted me to see you two.”

“Why? It’s not like anything happened. We talked and we fell asleep.” the information was starting to add up, “And when we woke up we were in a patch of poison ivy. Mainly he was.”

I stared Peter down. Was this him being territorial? He couldn’t seriously have believed I’d have interest in a pale Lost Boy like Isaac. I had made it fairly obvious who my type was. It’s not like I haven’t been familiar with the others either. I go skinny dipping with the boys all the time. Devin actively peeped on me my first day in Neverland so it’s not like I’m not used to having no privacy or even any personal space. Why had my falling asleep next to Isaac piss him off so bad that he had to conjure up a rash inducing plant around us?

“Glare all you want but I do not have to explain myself to you. We need to go find this kid and find out what his problem is.” he hauled me off the bed. I made a mental note to bring this whole jealousy/territorial idiocy up after we dealt with this Isaac situation. In a gust of wind we were gone from the cavern.

~~~

Run and hide!

“Holy--” Isaac was thrown back at the sudden shouting in his head. “What is--”

“Geez, Isaac, what’s your problem?” the others looked down at him.

“Nothing. I just--”

Stop your babbling! Find a bean and run! You need to get as much space between you and others as fast as you can if you want to live.

“Why?” he whispered quietly, “What’s happening?”

Go before you incompetence gets you killed! I’ll buy you some time.

“But--”

“Where’s Isaac?” Pan’s voiced boomed from the center of camp.

“Ooh, looks like someone’s in trouble.” the other boys grinned at him like he was about to be devoured and they couldn’t wait to see the carnage.

“I gotta go.” Isaac took off running into the jungle. Where had he seen the bean grove before?

~~~

“I said, where is Isaac?” Peter demanded. He had felt the Lost Boy’s presence here a moment before. Where had he gone?

“He took off.” One of the others stated, “Shall we go hunting?”

“I believe we shall.” Peter could do with hunting down a scared pup in over his head.

“Peter,” Y/N tugged on his arm, “Something’s wrong.”

“What do you--Y/N?” the gem of her necklace turned as black as onyx. The black of her pupils expanded until her entire eye was clouded with black. She went rigid before collapsing completely. “Y/N!”

Devin caught her before she hit the ground. Her eyes never closed or even blinked. “Dammit,” Peter tried to tear the necklace from her throat but it held sure.

“That’s not gonna work,” a voice that wasn’t Y/N’s echoed from her mouth, “Your Lost Girl is currently unavailable.”

“Who the hell are you and what are you doing possessing my Lost Girl?” Peter had to remember this was still Y/N’s body and not to choke her.

“I’m not surprised you don’t recognize my voice. The last time you heard it you were nothing but a babe.” She peeled herself off the ground and started pacing around the boys. There was power in each step. Whoever was using Y/N’s body was far more confident than she should be considering she was intruding in Peter’s Lost Girl.

“Who are you and what are you doing in my Lost Girl?”

“This was the only way I could think to talk to you without appearing myself. Besides, I have a feeling you’ll be much more cooperative if I was in this form given what I can make her do.” Peter eyed the dagger strapped to Y/N’s hip.

“Fine. You have my attention. Care to introduce yourself?”

“My name is Fiona, or as I’m better known, the Black Fairy.” she smiled, “And I’m your mother, Peter.”

Not a sound came from the entirety of the camp. This black-eyed demon that had taken over Y/N’s body stood sure and straight never once blinking as her words resonated within Peter. His mother? That was impossible. His mother had been a mortal. A horrible mortal that had tried to kill him because she thought he was a changeling.

“Shocked? I would be surprised if you weren’t. After all these years you probably haven’t thought about your real family. Then again you didn’t know about me so I cannot blame you.”

“You are not my mother.” Peter’s words dripped with malice, “I have no mother. The woman that bore me died many years ago.”

“Ah yes, the mortal woman…” the Black Fairy/Y/N grimaced, “She was supposed to raise you in my stead but that didn’t quite work out as I had hoped.”

“Even if you are my real mother, which I don’t care if you are, why are you here? What business do you have with me?”

“What do you think, dearie?” she stretched out a hand as if to touch his face but Peter hit it away. She frowned as if his rejection was the most hurtful thing he had ever done, “You are my son. I’ve come to bring you home with me.”

“And leave Neverland? There is no amount of magic or gold you could offer that would get me to leave here and be your son.”

“Is that so? Not even if I were to tell you I could remove your curse?” this made Peter freeze and she smirked. “Oh yes, I know about your little predicament.”

“You speak of things you have no knowledge about.”

“Maybe not I, but this Y/N girl does. She knows a lot about you.” she smirked, “I’ve been able to go through her mind, see her memories, even the ones she’s forgotten. She knows you very well and you care for her an awful lot. Good thing she didn’t listen to Tigerlily when she mentioned the necklace. I was almost worried but of course you pulled through for me.”

“The magic I sensed…”

“Mine. But you took it as yours because it was so familiar. Is that enough proof that you are my son.”

Peter couldn’t believe what he was hearing. For years he’s been trying to forget the torment he went through when he was just a newborn. Forget the woman that he thought birthed him and move on with his life. Now this fairy had taken control of his Lost Girl and was telling him that she was in fact his actual mother. More than that she was telling him she suddenly wanted him? Why now? She could have collected him anytime but she chose now.

“If I am your son then why do you want me now? You gave me up years ago, what use do I have to you now? It’s not exactly like I’m clamoring for a parent.” Peter sneered.

“It’s not the use I have for you but the use you could have for me. I can lift your curse. Together we can accomplish anything. Rule the realms with ease. You need never have a worry again if you come with me. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?”

“You cannot lift my curse and even if you could I already have a cure. Everything I need and could ever want is right here. Now how about you shove off before you make me do something you’ll regret.”

“I don’t think you are understanding what I am offering you. You can join me and I will lift your curse and we can rule all the realms together or you can remain cursed on this spit of jungle hoping for a remedy I know you do not have yet and may die before ever achieving. Which honestly sounds better?”

“Neverland. Always.”

“Fine. I was hoping it wouldn’t have to come to this.” she snapped her fingers and the necklace started to shrink growing tighter around Y/N’s throat yet the voice came out clear. “Come with me or the girl dies.”

Peter watched as the necklace grew smaller and smaller. He had to make a decision. “Go ahead.” he put on his most convincing smirk, “Offing just one of my recruits isn’t going to make me change my mind.”

“Is that so? And here I thought you may have actually cared for her given all the lengths you’ve gone to for her before.” she chuckled, “I can see it all. The kind words, the drastic measures to keep her safe, the intimate dances, and such pretty drawings.”

Peter’s blood was boiling but he kept it bottled down. If he played his cards right he could get the both of them out of this sadistic confrontation. “Sentimentality is not an attribute of mine. You are only seeing the honeyed words for a stubborn common whore.”

“Well then,” she stuck out her lip in a pout, “If she truly is worth nothing to you than there is no point in me prolonging this.” The necklace cinched tight like a noose as it started to cut into her neck. A thin line of red blossoming across her throat.

“No!” Devin shouted,”Leave her alone!” he tried in vain to pull the necklace free. Devin looked back at Peter pleading. “Damn it you coward! Save her!”

“Stop.” Peter pushed Devin away and approached Y/N’s possessed body. “I’ll go with you. Just leave Y/N out of this.”

She smiled cruelly as the necklace loosened. Peter immediately pressed a hand to the cut stopping the bleeding and healing her throat until there wasn’t a mark left. “Good choice. And to ensure that you don’t try anything, this necklace will not fall until you leave.”

Peter withdrew a bean from the pouch at his side and handed the pouch off to Felix. “You’re in charge till I get back. Don’t let these idiots destroy the place.”

“How will you get back?” Felix asked worry evident in his voice.

“I’m not sure. I’ll think of something. In the meantime find that rat Isaac. I want to have his head on a stake when I get back.” he turned back to Y/N, “I want to speak to her.”

“Of course. But don’t forget, I’ll still be watching.” She closed her eyes and when they opened they were clear once more. Y/N fell forward into him and gazed around.

“What happened?” she asked groggily, “I felt like I wasn’t anywhere. Peter, what’s wrong?”

“Are you alright?” he asked and she nodded. “I have to go do something. I’ll be back though. I don’t know when but I will.”

“What do you mean? Where are you going? What’s going on?”

“I can’t explain right now. Just stay here and don’t do anything stupid.”

“Wait you can’t just leave so abruptly like this--” he cut her off with a deep kiss not caring who was watching. There was so much he wanted to tell her but this was not the time for it.

Reluctantly he pulled back and pressed his forehead against her’s, “I’ll return to you and explain everything,” he whispered, “I promise.”

She studied him for a moment before giving his lips another peck, “You had better.”

“I will. My word is my bond.” He gave her one final look before dropping the bean on the ground and stepping through the portal. The sight of the necklace falling from around her neck being the last thing he saw before being sucked through the violent torrent into the unknown.

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#ouat peter pan #peter pan ouat #slowburn #ouat #peter pan imagine #neverland #peter pan x reader

[quasithinking]

Gravity’s Rainbow: Part XIII

If you were a reader thinking "I wonder what The White Visitation looks like and one compelling story about the patients who used to be housed there" then this is the section you've been waiting for! Because it begins with those things! In the story about the patient who escapes from The White Visitation when it used to be solely a place to house the insane, we learn that the Lord of the Sea has been named Bert. This might be important later. Try to remember it's a Pynchon novel. Every weird bit with a general eating shit directly from a woman's ass or some guy jerking off on an encoded war missive is probably important! The White Visitation slowly became more than a mental hospital as the war began. The new military occupants' first piece of business was to set up a broadcasting station to broadcast paranoid thoughts into Germany on a constant basis; it's why The White Visitation was chosen: high on a cliff overlooking the sea and facing the Continent. It was the perfect place to beam wireless paranoia directly at the German people. A BBC broadcaster named Myron Grunton took up the job. And being wireless, his paranoid programs also infiltrated the dreams and daily life of the locals. How could it not? Paranoia isn't exactly a domesticated and controllable entity. Myron's broadcasts became the first iteration of Project Black Wing. The idea of Project Black Wing began when Pirate brought back intel on a group of ex-colonial Africans—the Hereros—now living in Germany and involved in a secret weapons program for the War. What better subject to fire up paranoia among the Germans than the possibility of a race war brewing, based on the Hereros' vengeance for Germany's colonial and genocidal treatment of them back in Africa in the early 1900s? They named them the Schwarzkommando and they broadcasted, continuously, descriptions of the possible (probable!) danger of their discontent. Moving on from Project Black Wing, also headquartered at The White Visitation is our Pavlovian and his dogs, Pointsman. As the War is nearing its end and victory is in sight, Pointsman grows more and more desperate and disillusioned. His experiments have not provided him with any material to make his name known; the War, while being an apt conduit for funding, turned out to not be the ideal situation for Pavlovian ideas. And he knows that when the War ends, so will his revenue. This is why he is so desperate to get his hands on Tyrone Slothrop and his bomb predicting boners. It's hard to show how making dogs drool can be turned to usefulness in the war effort. But figuring out the cause and effect, discovering the stimulus present to give a man's penis the ability to predict where a rocket will fall, how can that be denied by the people parceling out the money?! Pointsman's biggest obstacle to more funding is Brigadier Pudding. "Ernest Pudding was brought up to believe in a literal Chain of Command, as clergymen of earlier centuries believed in the Chain of Being. The newer geometries confuse him. His greatest triumph on the battlefield came in 1917, in the gassy, Armageddonite filth of the Ypres salient, where he conquered a bight of no man's land some 40 yards at its deepest, with a wastage of only 70% of his unit. He was pensioned off around the beginning of the Great Depression—went to sit in the study of an empty house in Devon, surrounded by photos of old comrades, none of whose gazes quite met one's own, there to go at a spot of combinatorial analysis, that favorite pastime of retired Army officers, with a rattling intense devotion." That's Pudding. Pynchon adds more that evocative opening description of Pudding which is well worth reading but my goal isn't to transcribe the entirety of the novel here! I'm just trying to come to an understanding of what is happening in every section of this book. That's not going to be easy because I already feel like I've failed with the Slothrop's Sodium Amytal hallucination. One of the great things about reading a 1973 Thomas Pynchon book in 2020 is that I have the Internet at my disposal. So when Pynchon says something like "Maud Chilkes, who looks from the rear rather like Cecil Beaton's photograph of Margot Asquith, sits dreaming of a bun and a cup of tea," I can simply Google "Cecil Beaton's photograph of Margot Asquith" and voila:

Maybe, for some reason, I'd have already been familiar with this if I'd read the book in 1973. But I doubt it! Unless there was some big Cecil Beaton revival that year.

Whether or not readers of Gravity's Rainbow in 1973 would have recognized this image, it's beyond doubt that 80 year old Brigadier Pudding would have used it as a point of comparison in 1944. He probably jerked off to that image on multiple occasions as a wee lad of 63. The point of Pudding's mini-biography in his introduction is to point out that he's not really happy being in charge of doling out money to a bunch of maniacs who nobody would have thought twice about pre-War but he's too old and set in his outlook to be of any serious use to other parts of the war effort. Here, have a line that broke my heart: "In the ARF wing, the stolen dogs sleep, scratch, recall shadowy smells of humans who may have loved them, listen undrooling to Ned Pointsman's oscillators and metronomes." It's just one line so it only brought me to the brink of weeping as opposed to the section on the Dodos and the other section on the Hereros' plans for generational suicide. And now we get into discussions of Pavlovian theory. It's not as confusing as Alan Moore's Lucia James chapter in Jerusalem (I mean, what is? Could I have at least chosen something understandable without unending hours of torturous speculation and guesswork? Like maybe Memento or Lost Highway?) but more confusing than the boner I get reading and Archie and Jughead comic book (because of Veronica, of course! Va-va-va-voom! If it wasn't for Veronica, the boner would be more confusing than the discussion of Pavlovian science). It's sad that I don't understand it because I'm pretty sure it's all this smart theoretical stuff that is the key that unlocks the door to the room where all the good porn is hidden. The porn is a metaphor for postmodernist themes. One dog, Vanya, has entered "the 'equivalent' phase, the first of the transmarginal phases." That means her response to the stimulus is no longer dependent on the strength of the stimulus. Her response is the same no matter how great or how meager the stimulus. Vanya's body and mind are literally being changed by her exposure to overwhelming stimuli. She no longer perceives a difference between inconsequential stimuli and life-and-death stimuli. Vanya has become numb to not just subtlety and nuance but to any degree of difference in outside stimuli she's exposed to. This is commentary on us, isn't it?! Especially in a time of war where rockets exploding around us have become just a part of our daily lives. It's an example of Roger's earlier confession to Jessica upon driving by scenes of devastation where people are searching for the living and wounded. "Once Roger and Jessica might have stopped. But they're both alumni of the Battle of Britain, both have been drafted into the early black mornings and the crying for mercy, the dumb inertia of cobbles and beams, the profound shortage of mercy in those days. . . . By the time one has pulled one's nth victim or part of a victim free of one's nth pile of rubble, he told her once, angry, weary, it has ceased to be that personal . . . the value of n my be different for each of us, but I'm sorry: sooner or later . . ." See? This is why this project is good for me in understanding Gravity's Rainbow. Because now I get why all the Pavlovian stuff! It's making sense! After the bit about the dog Vanya, Pynchon describes Brigadier Pudding's weekly group meetings. It's fucking hilarious but I won't go into it here. It's another example, 80 pages in, of how hilarious this book is and, at the 80th page or so, easily still a surprise, especially if it's your first time reading it. A reader could easily make it this far having missed the truly hilarious other parts of the book (like, say, maybe the reader thought of themselves as too intellectual for toilet humor or slapstick. Why, they would have been doubly, but sternly, apoplectic over Poinstman's hunt for a dog that winds up with his foot stuck in a toilet!). But I submit there's nobody who could get to this section and not think to themselves, "Oh! Ha ha! Good show, chap! Mighty funny, this!" Unless, of course, they missed it because they were so confused by the transmarginal stuff it caused them to miss the way Brigadier Pudding's meeting devolves into other topics so that they read the entire section and thought, "Oh! I mean, what? 'Vertical interest'? I don't get it." One scientist, Géza Rózsavölgyi, is concerned not with Pudding's meetings but how everyone at The White Visitation will be funded after the war. He believes they need a powerful program to justify their existence rather than a charismatic leader able to secure funding through pure force of ego and will. The work is what should matter; it is what should drive the science. Currently, Géza Rózsavölgyi believes that Tyrone Slothrop is their best bet for studies which will lead to a promising post-War program. And so Géza Rózsavölgyi sets out the parameters for Chapter Two: "Precise-ly why," leaps Rózsavölgyi, "we are now proposing, to give, Sloth-rop a complete-ly dif-ferent sort, of test. We are now design-ing for him, a so-called, 'projec-tive' test. The most famil-iar exam-ple of the type, is the Rorschach ink-blot. The ba-sic theory, is, that when given an unstruc-tured stimulus, some shape-less blob of exper-ience, the subject, will seek to impose, struc-ture on it. How, he goes a-bout struc-turing this blob, will reflect his needs, his hopes—will provide, us with clues, to his dreams, fan-tasies, the deepest re-gions of his mind." Eyebrows going a mile a minute, extraordinarily fluid and graceful hand gestures, resembling—most likely it is deliberate, and who can blame Rosie for trying to cash in—those of his most famous compatriot, though there're the inevitable bad side-effects: staff who swear they've seen him crawling headfirst down the north façade of "The White Visitation," for example. "So we are re-ally, quite, in agree-ment, Reverend Doctor. A test, like the MMPI, is, in this respect, not adequate. It is, a struc-tured stimulus. The sub-ject can fal-sify, consciously, or repress, un-consciously. But with the projec-tive technique, nothing he can do, con-scious or otherwise, can pre-vent us, from finding what we wish, to know. We, are in control. He, cannot help, himself." Christ that was a pain in the ass to transcribe! Basically, the plan is to expose Slothrop to the rocket in more direct and intimate ways than just wandering around London getting boners where rockets will land. See what he makes of it. See how he reacts. Watch his paranoia run out of control until the world is exactly what he thinks it is: people manipulating his life to the point that he has practically no free will. And, I mean, yeah. How does one account for the observers observing the observation ruining the experiment? I mean, if you're manipulating a guy to see how he reacts and he reacts by assuming his entire world is being manipulated, does that mean, you know, anything?! Oh, and who is Rosie trying to emulate? What person is the most famous Soviet war-era compatriot? It sounds like it should be Spider-man! I said the section begins with a description of The White Visitation. But that's nothing compared with the actual detailed description of the building on which the section ends. It's practically a treatise on postmodern architecture. And that's it! This was a most enlightening section to re-read. How come we can't just re-read books instead of having to read them first before we can re-read them? They'd be so much easier to understand!

#Gravity's Rainbow #Thomas Pynchon