#did I come on here just to scream about it thought a foxes post? absolutely | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

solalunar-eclipse · 3 years

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Sonic Boom - S3E1

Episode title: Friendship 101

Word count: about 3000 words

Author’s Note: I’m trying a rather new format for this fic, since it’s based on a TV show with various songs and camera angles. If you have any comments about whether it works well or not, please let me know!

(Also, the theme song choice is all thanks to khinesthetic, who used it here and inspired me to put it in this fic.)

[cue Mr. Blue Sky by ELO (0:00-3:45)]

[The show opens on a zoomed-out view of Hedgehog Village from above. Stone walls separate the village from the wilderness outside. There are large spaces at several points throughout the structure for entry and exit. A large patch of grass with benches scattered about sits at one end of the village, and a marketplace made up of wood-and-cloth stalls runs along one of the walls. Houses are grouped in seemingly random clusters throughout the town, and the (in)famous Meh Burger stand sits all on its own, with picnic tables spread across its wooden flooring. As the music progresses, the camera begins to zoom in on the village- then on one of the streets in particular- and rotates down to eye level to face…]

Sonic the Hedgehog walked through the streets of Hedgehog Village with a bounce in his step, occasionally dancing to the music playing through his earbuds. As he wandered throughout the town, he passed the usual people running their stores, arguing over botched orders at Meh Burger, and, at one point, Aqua the Rabbit absolutely freaking out over the loss of a single follower on Angstagram (the latest social media network for moody teens).

He did a 360-degree spin before winking and pointing finger guns at Amy Rose when he spotted her haggling with the local grocery store owner. She paused briefly to wave at him with a smile. “Hi, Sonic!” she called, completely ignoring the irritated fennec in the process.

Then, the music froze and changed to something extremely ominous as she turned around to face the shopkeeper once more. A dangerous gleam appeared in her eyes as she pulled out her signature hammer. “Now then, about those prices you’ve been setting lately…”

The song cut back in as the view switched back to Sonic, who was now moving away from the scene at a slightly faster pace.

Really, though, he was more than happy to see his other friends not long after. Knuckles and Sticks were currently busy rummaging through the town’s garbage together, excitedly chatting about the latest piece of interesting junk they’d found, while Tails was fixing someone’s broken rain gutter (and attempting to ‘improve’ it in the process, which meant that it could now measure the amount and intensity of rainfall in a storm- a very useful, though unfortunately unwanted improvement).

Surprisingly enough, as he continued on his way through Hedgehog Village, he managed to get people from a few different places to wave back at him when he said hello. Although perhaps it wasn’t quite so surprising when one considered that this was one of the most cliched opening sequences that could possibly happen in any movie or TV show. Ever.

And of course, the only logical outcome of this scene led to everyone beginning to stop their usual activities and gather in one of the few open spaces in the town, clearly prepared to break into a fantastic musical dance number straight out of Broadway. Incredibly, this was one of the few moments in which everyone in the village seemed to be able to get along…

...until Eggman’s latest giant robot slammed feet-first into the ground, sending everyone off-kilter and scrambling for cover. Shrieks of panic rose in place of the music as the villagers fled the scene to hide in their houses. The dramatic entrance didn’t just ruin the mood, it absolutely crushed it with the sheer force of its impact.

And that was, obviously, when the show really began.

[cue In Your Face by Shockwave Sound (0:00-1:04)]

[Each of the five members of Team Sonic appears on a black screen with their name spelled out in their signature colors (blue, yellow, red, pink, and green) and does a couple of cool fighting moves, followed by snippets of scenes featuring them from previous episodes of the show for about eight seconds each. All five of them then appear together in their usual fighting stances, emphasizing their status as a team.

The Eggman logo then appears in an ominous, glowing red, backlighting the doctor himself and all his creations- before the lights flick on to reveal him alone in his evil lair with a green screen behind him, at which point he shrieks and covers the camera with a hand. Then, neon blue electronic lines begin to appear across the screen and the camera spirals to follow them, selecting one particular line to trace. Not long after, said line ends at a circle which, with a flash, turns into the words ‘Sonic Boom’. Beneath the title, it says ‘Ancient Secrets’ in neon blue.]

[Then the music ends, at which point the episode title- “Friendship 101”- appears for a few seconds in the same color before the show itself returns.]

Sonic scrambled to his feet and zipped over to Tails, pulling him up from where he’d fallen after the robot’s overdramatic arrival. Amy managed to do the same with both Knuckles and Sticks simultaneously, which let Sonic stare for a moment, startled, and then promptly resolve to remember not to get on her bad side anytime soon.

Soon enough, the team had scrambled into their usual positions, ready to fight. Amy and Sticks kicked the battle off by handling the various smaller robots that threatened to get too close to their team, never faltering (and in fact seeming a bit gleeful in the badger’s case) despite the sheer number of enemies. Knuckles, meanwhile, launched Sonic bodily into the air for Tails to catch, before picking up a boulder about the size of a house and lobbing it directly at the robot’s chest.

“Hey! Easy with the boulders- QuakeBot took a lot of effort to make, you know!” Eggman shrieked from above, hovering in the relative safety of his Eggmobile.

(Relative, in this case, was of course in comparison to mixing absurdly volatile chemicals in a lab, bothering Shadow at any and/or all hours of the day, or being on Tails’s bad side when the fox had a glue gun. The doctor still remembered that situation all too well, and currently ranked it as far more terrifying than merely being punted into the stratosphere by kids under half his height and about a third his age.)

Sonic paused to stare at Eggman from where he was currently dangling in the air. A smirk began to spread slowly across his face. “…what did you just call it?”

“You heard me the first time!” the doctor roared, now incredibly embarrassed. “I named it that since it makes the ground shake when it moves, like an earthquake??”

General laughter came from the heroes assembled on the ground and in the sky.

“Argh! Nobody appreciates my genius around here! Now, QuakeBot, stop standing around and start attacking!”

“I suggested TerraBot, since it still has to do with earth and is a play on the word ‘terror’, but nobody ever listens to my ideas, now do they?” Orbot muttered irritably to himself, tucked inside the Eggmobile.

“I listen to all your ideas!” Cubot offered encouragingly.

Orbot’s mouth shifted into a small smile. “Thanks, Cubot.”

Meanwhile, Sonic had been pulled into a spin by Tails, who whirled the hedgehog around before letting him shoot downwards toward the robot in a spin dash- only for him to get caught and sent flying into the nearest house.

He shook off the surprise quickly (and apparently sustained absolutely zero damage despite having literally crashed through a house, because superpowered teenagers), darting back over to the group. “Well, uh, guess it’s time for Plan B then!”

Crickets chirped in the ensuing silence. Even the robot had stopped moving to hear what he had to say.

“And the plan is…?” Amy prompted.

Sonic folded his arms with a huff. “I dunno, I thought you guys would have one!?”

The pink hedgehog rolled her eyes at that.

Tails piped up. “I have an idea! Sonic, you’re going to need to be curled up for this, okay?”

The hero promptly did just that, before emitting a muffled “mmhmm?” from inside his layers of quills.

“Alright then, Amy, I need you to hit Sonic with your hammer right at the side of this house.”

Sonic’s blood ran cold. “Whoa whoa whoa, wait a second can we maybe rethink thiaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAHHHHH!”

He ricocheted all over the palace like a pinball, slamming into several key points of the robot thanks to Tails’s rapid calculations. However, the robot was sadly unaffected by his screaming at a pitch that came dangerously close to shattering glass.

The robot was easily disabled and the attack overall quickly repelled after that. Thankfully, it took Sonic only a moment to recover from his impromptu stint as an out-of-control projectile and get back to fighting with the others…complete with a “Let’s do that AGAIN!” moment, which was met with a resounding no from both Amy and Tails.

Their ears were both still rather sore from last time, after all.

After Eggman was punted all the way back to his island by a well-placed kick from Sticks, though, the crew was about to head over to Meh Burger for a post-battle meal when they discovered that they had an entirely different problem to take care of. The villagers, who were beginning to come out of hiding after the attack, were furious upon seeing the damage dealt to their homes and stores.

“How could you let this happen?” one shouted.

Before long, the villagers found themselves a more specific target when the owner of the house that Sonic had smashed into pointed her finger directly in his face. “This mess is awful!” she cried. “And it’s all his fault!”

Within seconds, a mob of people had descended upon the overtaxed teen.

“I’ve never known a hero so irresponsible.” one fumed.

“How dare you!” the fennec from earlier roared.

The elderly wolf of the village shook her cane at him. “Shame on you!”

Sonic could feel himself beginning to tense up as the villagers turned their ire on him. Whether or not he’d admit it to anyone, he needed two main things in order to be his usual heroic, cheerful self: open space and positive reinforcement. Right now, he was getting exactly the opposite of both of those.

And he was not feeling good about it.

He looked briefly over to his friends for help, but Sticks had already vanished, Knuckles and Tails looked more nervous than anything, and Amy was already walking towards him with that look in her eye…

“Sonic, next time you do need to work on making sure the robot doesn’t catch you, you know-”

A streak of blue shot out of the village, leaving nothing but a scorched trail of grass and the snap of a sonic boom behind.

Sonic didn’t slow down until he reached the mountains- which technically wasn’t very far from the town at all, so he ran quite a bit more after that until he ended up in the middle of the jungle. Then, he sat down with his back to a tree and his arms around his knees, feeling very unheroic and overall pretty lame.

The blue hedgehog frowned at the dirt. Honestly, some days it really did feel like nobody seemed to like him. The only person who ever even suggested he was important on a regular basis was Tails, and Sonic didn’t blame him at all for not jumping into the middle of that crowd. Tails was only thirteen to his seventeen and a half years old- not exactly an age when he should be expected to go toe-to-toe with a crowd of angry adults.

Still, though. When being a hero got him all risk (no matter how low) and no reward...it was difficult for him to keep hold of that core feeling of “I can make the world a better place to live in!”, which, despite all his other claims, was truly at the center of what had motivated him to start fighting against Eggman so long ago…

[The scene morphs in a manner which shows the lighting shifting so that the sun is overhead. A sound effect of birds chirping plays over the scene change. This implies that it’s been several hours since he first fled the village.]

Sonic was still lost in thought when the snap of a twig in the bushes made him jump to his feet in surprise. The surrounding vegetation rustled ominously for a moment...only to reveal the four members of his team in front of him. He watched them all cautiously, his expression tense. More than anything, he looked ready to run at a moment’s notice- something which only served to make his friends(?) seem a little more distressed. “Uh…hey, guys?” he began tentatively.

“Sonic, I…” Amy began forcefully, before stopping herself. At first, it looked like she was about to scold him again, but then suddenly her face fell. “Listen, Sonic, we’ve all been talking a lot about what happened back at the village…and there’s something I want to say.” She gave a slightly tired sigh.

“I know we usually like to make jokes and witty commentary, but...sometimes, the world’s just a difficult place to be in.” she said. “...so we really do need to talk about serious stuff occasionally, even though I know it’s tough for you to even mention how you’re feeling. Unless, you know, it’s ‘great!’ or ‘cool!’ or something like that.”

Sonic cringed at the mere idea, looking more and more like he thought running away was the preferable option here.

“So what I wanted to say was that in a world where there are too many people trying to beat you down...what I was trying to do was tell you how to be more tolerant, because I thought that would help. I figured you can’t change how other people are going to be, just yourself, so I hoped that might make things better.

“But...I’m not actually a licensed therapist- yet, anyway. So I might have been wrong on how I went about that. Maybe...instead of telling you off for not being able to stop all those people...in the future I’ll pull out my hammer and tell them to knock it off already. Does that sound better to you?” she asked.

The blue hedgehog froze. “Ames…I...” he croaked, trying his best not to think about why exactly it felt like his throat was so tight all of a sudden.

Sticks folded her arms. “I like that plan! Those people are way too crazy sometimes…and you guys know I have a verrrrry high tolerance for crazy.”

“We can make the villagers quit bugging you together, just like how we fight Eggman!” Knuckles added encouragingly. “It’s always better that way, isn’t it?”

There was still one person who hadn’t spoken yet, though.

Suddenly, Tails crashed full-force into Sonic, squeezing him in a hug that for once he didn’t pretend to hate. “You know I’ve always, always, always got your back, right, Sonic? No matter what?” he asked, looking up at his older brother. “Even if I don’t always know how to do it right.”

The blue hedgehog simply nodded, not trusting his voice to help him maintain his ‘cool guy’ status.

“It’s okay if you don’t feel up to talking about it now, though.” the fox added understandingly, stepping back but still leaving a hand on his arm.

“But!” Knuckles added. “We won’t tell anyone if you ever decide you do need to get some stress off your chest every once in a while!” He smacked his own chest with a fist for emphasis.

“Nobody needs to know.” Sticks growled, the camera suddenly showing a dramatic angle of her face as the lighting dropped noticeably.

“Uh…that’s kinda dark.” Sonic said, holding up a finger with a bit of a confused frown, which let the lighting and camera angle zip back to normal.

“Anyway!” The pink hedgehog clapped her hands together, turning to face the group as a whole. “What do you guys think about heading over to my house and watching some movies? I’ll even…” She sighed, her whole body slumping. “…make some messy, simple, unprofessional chili dogs. In my state-of-the art kitchen. I know Sonic probably could use a pick-me-up right now, after all.”

“Thanks, Ames! You’re the best!” the hedgehog in question said cheerfully, the promise of good food and great companionship boosting his mood significantly.

Then, his posture shifted once again into something a little more vulnerable. “And thanks to all you guys. For, y’know, everything.”

“Of course!” Amy chirped.

Tails smiled at him. “No problem, Sonic.”

Sticks folded her arms. “That’s what a team’s for, ain’t it?”

“Of course it is!” Knuckles said, in that rather confusing manner where nobody was actually sure if he understood anything about what had just happened.

The echidna actually walked over to Sonic after that particular declaration, though, placing a hand on his shoulder as his face became uncharacteristically serious for a second. “Really, Sonic, we can all help you out, alright? Nobody gets to yell at our leader without getting yelled at back!” he declared, punching a fist into his other hand.

The hedgehog blinked twice before looking up at his friend. “You…just called me the leader?”

“Well, duh! That’s why everyone calls it Team Sonic, right?” Knuckles asked with a smile, letting an awkward (but genuine) grin spread across Sonic’s face.

Within seconds, the hero found himself squeezed in a big hug from all sides by his friends- and then actually lifted off the floor through a joint effort from Knuckles and Amy.

“Guys- come on! I can’t even move here!” he cried out, his legs flailing so quickly they made a vibrating noise in the air. “Guyyyyssss….” he whined, though nobody seemed to care much about his halfhearted complaints (judging by the happy expressions on their faces).

Then, the episode began to end, as evidenced by an iris out transition. The slowly shrinking circle paused for a moment on Sonic’s current expression, highlighting it against the otherwise black screen. He now sported a sheepish, if slightly pleased smile, complete with a faint pink blush on his face from all the positive attention.

Clearly Sonic liked being, well, liked far more than he let on.

Then, the circle snapped closed with a pop, and the credits began to roll.

[Voice Actors:

Roger Craig Smith

Colleen Villard

Travis Willingham

Cindy Robinson

Nika Futterman

Mike Pollock

Kirk Thornton

Wally Wingert

Bill Freiberger

Original creation by:

Evan Baily

Donna Friedman Meir

Sandrine Nguyen

Bill Freiberger

Takashi Iizuka

Writer/editor:

Solalunar “Sol” Eclipse

Thank you for watching reading.]

#sonic boom #sonic the hedgehog #miles tails prower #knuckles the echidna #amy rose #sticks the badger #i really really hope this new format was a good idea #i just had some very clear ideas about this fic that couldn't be expressed in the usual medium of character actions and dialogue #because sonic boom is very different from the sonic games and often uses camera and music-based references #(i may not roll credits every time though- just thought i'd give it a shot haha)#anyway!#i also wanted to ask: is there a particular way people would like me to use for replying to the wonderful comments i get in the tags?#because i want to let the people who take the time to leave comments know how much i appreciate it #but i'm not sure how to go about that #any suggestions?#and finally:#next time...shadow's going to show up! i can't wait to write him #as always #thanks so much for reading!#:D #sol's fanfiction

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lizbotw · 4 years

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Hawks, Bakugou, and Kirishima With a S/O That Has a Kitsune Quirk

Anonymous said:

hello hello !! Can I request some headcannons on how hawks, bakugou, and kirishima would be in a relationship with a fem!s/o that has a Kitsune quirk and fox like traits please? i couldn’t find the rules post so sorry ahead of time if this is anything you’re against doing. 💞

hi! hope you like them ♡ and dw this is something i’m fine with doing!! also, i know you said fem!reader but it came out more so gender neutral so i hope that’s alright!

Takami Keigo (Hawks)

He loves stroking your fur all the time. Even if you try to swat his hand away, he just grabs your arms to stop you so he can go back to doing it.

He just loves teasing you in general and he always has a little smirk on whenever he does it, but he also knows you like it and obviously if you weren’t in the mood he’d know to stop right away—he can read you well so it wouldn’t take him long to realize he should switch into cuddly, comforting boyfriend mode (he especially likes the cuddly part because you’re just so soft).

If he sees any fox plushies in stores when he’s out and about, he’ll show it you and tell you how it looks just like you (he’ll even hold it up next to your face and pretend to do a comparison with a cheeky grin while you try and fail to look annoyed, unable to fight off a smile every time). If you’re not with him, he’ll send you a picture of it and tell you it reminded him of you (he’s always thinking about you honestly), or sometimes he’ll just straight up buy it for you (or do both). Yes, you have way too many fox plushies at home now. (But you also do the same to him so you have way too many bird plushies as well.)

Let him leave the house unsupervised and left up to his own devices and expect quite a few text spams of:

[Keigo sent an image.]

[LOOK AT THIS ONE]

[Keigo sent an image.]

[THIS ONE HAS YOUR EYES???]

[Keigo sent an image.]

[Almost as cute as you 💕]

And once you think it’s finally over and your phone will stop torturing you with its constant buzzing, a few minutes later he’ll text you again. [Babe… don’t be mad but HYPOTHETICALLY how would you feel about sleeping next to five new fox plushies tonight? Once again, HYPOTHETICALLY.]

Reading that, you can literally imagine him saying it as though he was right in front of you with a playful smile on his face, not even the least bit bashful, and badly concealing a shopping bag overflowing with stuffed animals behind his back.

Knowing he already bought them anyway, you have no choice but to agree to the inanimate newcomers that will now be joining in on your cuddle sessions with your boyfriend.

You shake your head in defeat as you text him back that no, you totally wouldn’t mind, and then glance over at the rapidly growing stack of stuffed animals you two already have.

He likes to talk about how you’re perfect for each other because of your quirks and how you make such an amazing “animal duo” or whatever silly name he comes up with that time.

“Please stop googling new nickname ideas, none of are going to catch on.”

Cue camera pan to Keigo typing away on his laptop, furiously searching for an even catchier duo name, tongue slightly sticking out of the side of his mouth in concentration. He doesn’t even look up when you speak, eyes instead lighting up as he reads something. “Okay, so what I’m hearing you say is that you want to see the brand new one I found.”

You’ll probably groan because please, someone help.

“Hey! Don’t give me that look, I know you want to see it.” Aaaaand now he’s pouting which is stupidly cute on someone like him—a pro hero high up on the rankings—and you have to admit you are a little curious. And that’s how you end up giving in and leaning over his shoulder to see what in the world he’s found this time.

(He may also take advantage of the position you two are in now to quickly turn his head to the side and plant a wet kiss on your cheek, lips, jaw—wherever his lips end up really before you can go reeling back from his sneak attack and scolding him while he’s laughing at your expense. Don’t put it past him to cheekily ask for more even after pulling that stunt—spoiler alert: you sigh and agree once again when he pulls out the pouty look for the second time in the last five minutes.)

He loves cuddling with you on the couch when watching a movie, or in bed right before you fall asleep, because your fur is really warm and soft. You should get used to this because even if you manage to roll him off of you, he’ll somehow end up right where he was before. Each and every time.

Buys you cute outfits!!! He goes out of his way to make sure whatever he buys you doesn’t get in the way of you using your quirk while still making sure you look stylish.

(“My baby deserves to look good!”)

(“…Keigo, please, my closet is already overflowing.”)

Tons of gifts related to your quirk. He just thinks it’s so cute. Somehow simultaneously finds both the tackiest and the nicest things ever to give you. The duality means that any time he hands you a gift bag it’s always a gamble as to what’s inside. (“What? I’m just keeping you on your toes! Plus, I thought the fox-themed crocs were pretty cute, I don’t know why you didn’t appreciate them more.)

Overall, he just loves being by your side constantly and always having an arm around you or touching you in some way because you’re soft and fuzzy and he loves showing you off, and he spoils you a lot as well, even if you tell him you already have way more things than you’d ever need.

Bakugou Katsuki

He pretends he doesn’t care about your quirk all that much, but he actually thinks it’s pretty cute and will sometimes absentmindedly stroke your head or play with your fur when you’re just lounging around in his room. If you catch him in the act and ask him about it, he’ll quickly pull his hand away and tell you you were just imagining things.

You know he secretly loves being close to you though, so you’re not afraid to just climb right on top of him when he’s laying down and snuggle into his chest. He’ll probably curse and tell you to get off, but there’s an interesting dilemma that’s always presented:

“Kat, if you want me to get up, you have to stop hugging me first.”

“…fuck no.”

If you’re feeling insecure about your quirk, he’ll be confused because why? You got into U.A. didn’t you? So it’s not like your quirk is terrible or anything.

Yeah, he’s not that great at motivational speeches. But through a lot of cursing and fumbling over his words, he’ll eventually find some way to get it out that he loves your quirk and that you shouldn’t be ashamed of it. Plus, he wouldn’t date a weakling would he? You hit him playfully on the arm when he says that and then he quickly tries to reword it so it doesn’t sound so mean. Please give him a chance.

He loves to intimidate people with his power, but if it’s a class training exercise and he can’t fight whoever you’re up against personally, he’s definitely supporting you because he refuses to lose, even if it’s through you. Cue him screaming words of support from the sidelines and everyone barely containing him from jumping in there and finishing the fight himself because he’s so pumped up.

He also has a lot of respect for your abilities though and has faith in you, so even if you get hit, while he’s still concerned for you, he knows you can take it and will get right back up.

Now, if you get really hurt, he’s the first one to rush to Recovery Girl’s room to check up on you (after first beating up the person who did that to you, of course).

Speaking of this protective side, if anyone makes fun of you their ass is absolutely getting beat!!!

You’ve actually had to stop him a few times from getting into a fight with a group of students he thought were looking at you the wrong way, but you know he’s just looking out for you and find it all pretty funny and endearing.

His rough personality is a perfect contrast to your soft persona (it’s the fur honestly) and everyone at U.A. likes the play on the “opposites attract” trope you two have going on.

Best couple ever honestly because of the pure balance.

Katsuki may not be the best with traditional sweet and caring words, but you understand him better than anyone and anything he does for you you can tell comes from a place of love.

Kirishima Eijirou

#1 fan right here!!!

He thinks it’s cute how you’re so soft and cuddly due to your fox traits while his quirk is all about hardening.

It’s a funny contrast to him but it just makes him want to protect you even more (although he also knows you’re definitely not fragile and can stand up for yourself as well).

If you ever feel insecure about your quirk, you better be prepared to be bombarded with love. He can tell when you’re feeling down and in a school filled with people with so many amazing quirks, he knows what it’s like to sometimes not like yours.

(If he ever falls into a self-loathing spiral, lamenting about how his quirk isn’t as flashy as others, you always know exactly what to say to cheer him up. You’re both each other’s rocks and it strengths your relationship greatly to be so effortlessly open with one another.)

He’s also good with understanding people, no matter what hard exterior they put up (as seen by his friendship with Bakugou), so he makes sure that you feel comfortable around him and are able to talk about any insecurities you’re feeling.

He asks tons of questions about your quirk sometimes because he’s just in awe whenever he watches you, and when you’re cuddling in bed, he likes to stroke your fur (also it feels really comforting so you can’t really complain).

He’s just so interested and in love with you that he’s constantly talking with you.

“Tell me the kitsune legend again,” he’d request, resting his chin in his palm, elbow propped up on the table, and staring at you with pure adoration in his eyes.

“No, this is the third time and we’re supposed to be studying math. How did we even end up talking about Japanese folklore and mythology?”

“Well-”

“Don’t make me tell Bakugou you’re slacking off again,” you threaten with a mischievous grin and a dangerous glint in your eye. The clash of your sweet expression with the warning undertone makes him unsure if you’re joking or not but he decides not to take any chances or push his luck.

That usually clams him up and he looks absolutely adorable as he scrunches up his face when he goes back to trying to work out the difficult math problem.

Anyone who makes you feel bad about your quirk is catching these hands, he does not care!!! Well, maybe he’ll try to be civil at first, but once he sees they’re not backing down, oh boy, he’s going full scary boyfriend mode.

He’s so protective of you, but when you do fight and stand up for yourself, he’s hyping you up so much and supporting you 100%. Expect lots of kisses and hugs and words of praise as he tells you you did great out there.

“Babe, you’re so amazing! I love you so much,” he’d say as he squishes you to his chest (you’re pretty sure he’s about to suffocate you), peppering kisses all over your forehead, temples, and the top of your head after a particularly intense training exercise fight. Everyone has to agree that you two are adorable together, even though some of them pretend to be grossed out with your PDA and stick their tongue out in disgust, turning anyway dramatically.

You two are such a sweet couple. Between all the affection you show each other and your unconditional support for the other person, but also the way you have each other’s backs and won’t hesitate to protect one another, you two just work so well together.

(There’s also a joke going around U.A. about how while Eijirou is soft on the inside because he’s just so supportive, you’re soft on the outside because of your fur. It’s a really stupid saying but you two love it all the same because honestly it’s true.)

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wallwriterstuff · 3 years

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Found Family ||Demetri Volturi x Female!Reader||

Part 2 found here: Baby’s First Christmas

Warnings: Anxiety and panic, mentions of child endangerment

Words: 7565

Summary: A request for @kpopgirlbtssvt

There are things Demetri never thought he could have, things he had never dreamed would be within his grasp ever again. He has plenty of experience with newborns…just not your kind of newborn.

He was absolutely perfect. You couldn’t imagine anyone better for you than Jeremy. He had always been the sweet kind, the kind that complimented you when he held doors open and gave you his jacket when you were cold, the kind that paid for one date if you got the next. He was a hit with your parents and your friends. You were just so sure about him, more sure than you’d ever been about any of the other idiots you dated throughout university. That was why you were confident it was going to be okay when you missed your period that month, because this baby was Jeremy’s and he was your perfect match, your partner for life, so wasn’t it time to start living it? You’d told him the same night your first pregnancy test came back positive.

You’d never seen a man pack so fast.

Everything that was his in your shared apartment was gone and with no one to fill the space you had been forced to move home. Moving home meant telling your parents you were pregnant and that your baby daddy had run off into the wind, and that had gone down about as well as sticking a fox in a henhouse would. For the past eleven months it had been constant snubs, snide little remarks and complete overreaction to everything you did from your parents. How were you supposed to learn how to be a mother if your own constantly hovered and took over at the slightest perception something was wrong? Your daughter had been in this world for two months and she had most likely been held by your parents more than she had you. The timing of your friend’s sudden job offer was perfect for you.

She had planned a holiday in one of the more scenic cities of Italy, shutterbug that she was, but the job required her to move across your home city post haste. With her holiday deposit on the line, everything had been transferred into your name and the ticket dropped off at your doorstep. Your parents had done their best to convince you to stay of course.

You’re not ready to go on a holiday alone with her.

What’ll happen when she gets fussy on the plane hmm? You think she won’t? How will you handle all the people looking at you then?

We still help you with night feeds, how are you going to do that on your own?

You ignored every single one of their pleas and got yourself and your daughter out of there. The moment the heat and the sunshine and invaded your senses you knew you had made the right decision. Lyra wasn’t sure what to make of the sunglasses you put on her little face, and more often than not she pulled off the wide brimmed hat on her head, which left you in a very cyclical routine of putting hats and glasses on whenever they came off. There was lots of green space in Volterra, and so many beautiful alleyways hiding quaint little shops to wonder about in. Your spending money was limited but it didn’t mean you didn’t splurge on a few treats. Your favourite place by far though had to be the fountain in the centre of the square.

Though it was often bustling in the daytime, come the evenings it was calmer and quieter, cooler to. Laying back in the crook of your arm, Lyra seemed to find the splashing sounds of water and the way the light reflected off of it absolutely fascinating. If you had had a full day she sometimes napped, but when she was awake her little eyes were wide with wonder and she looked between you and the water a lot, trying to communicate with you exactly what she thought about it. You pandered to her of course, rocking her gently as you had a one-sided conversation about how beautiful Volterra was. If you didn’t have responsibilities back at home you could happily see yourself adapting to this slower pace of life. As it was, this small dose of peace in your newfound haven was all you would get, so you decided to make the most of it.

It was one of your last days in the city when you were approached by her. She was Aphrodite incarnate you were sure, statuesque with flawless skin shrouded in shadow, yet her hair couldn’t hide from the sun. No, it caught the beams and threw them back at the world with a dazzling amount of shine that left you utterly awed as she approached you. She looked down at Lyra, plush lips pulling into a smile and revealing perfectly white, straight teeth.

“Buon pomeriggio, hai bisogno di assistenza?” she asked. Her voice was like honey, sweet and smooth, trickling through your consciousness until all other noise simply faded away. You blinked yourself out of your stupor, your brain scrambling to try and translate what little Italian you had picked up over the past week you had been staying here. You could hazard a guess at the last word, and you knew the greeting well enough, but you weren’t sure about the rest.

“I’m sorry, erm, I don’t know that much Italian, Er…erm… non capisco?” you tried. Her laughter was as sweet as angel song, as feather light on your ears as a lover’s whisper.

“I see. I asked if you need assistance. Are you perhaps waiting for someone?” she questioned. Her accent was thick but oddly out of place, seemingly a mix of many different accents mingled into one. It wasn’t unpleasant to listen to however.

“Oh, no we’re okay thank you.” You smiled up at her, squinting slightly in the harsh sunlight. Her head tilted, glossy waves of caramel falling like satin over her shoulder, one strand slipping over the next in a gorgeous waterfall that left you more mesmerised than even her voice could.

“Then perhaps I might interest you in a tour of Castello Volterra? It’s so hot out here, the ancient stone will keep you cool and give you chance to take many more marvellous pictures.” Her head turned, a silent indicator that your camera had taken her interest. Your cheeks flushed pink – how much more obviously a tourist could you be? Lyra had yet to stir in your arms and you glanced down towards her, biting your lip. She’d been asleep for quite a while now and had been safely in the shade of her hat, but a cooler indoor climate would probably do her some good.

“How much?” you asked, cautious of spending your remaining money. She trilled a laugh.

“I’m looking to make up numbers, some turiste dropped out and I have spaces spare.” She waved you off with ease and, well, who were you to look a gift horse in the mouth? It never occurred to you in that moment that you hadn’t even caught her name or asked for a badge; the woman was enigmatic and honestly you were more than a little enamoured so her name seemed quite irrelevant as you hurried to gather your things and walk after her. You left Lyra’s buggy at the front desk with the secretary, your daughter finally stirring some and grumpily making her displeasure known with quiet half-cries and a pouty lip. The rocking movement as you walked and the strange décor of the place was slowly drawing her attention, your hand patting her back while your free one held your camera aloft.

When you had been told you were going to tour a castle you had expected more opulent decoration, tapestries and chandeliers, maybe some plush carpets. At first you had seen what you expected, a grand library decorated in deep reds and blacks with a stain in varnished wooden flooring that came with a ghostly story of blood spilled within medieval walls. You were thrilled, your eyes magnetised to your tour guide as much as they were too any painting or gilded book cover. It wasn’t until Lyra began to fuss and take up more of your attention that you started to notice how…odd, the place felt. The stone walls did little to keep heat in and compared to the outside the castle itself was freezing. Lyra had nestled into her shawl, sharing body heat with you, but you were starting to feel goosebumps pebble your flesh now.

It was not just cold but dark too. Very little natural light entered the castle’s rooms, and on the odd occasion you found a square patch of sunlight streaming through admittedly pretty windows, your tour guide avoided it with effortless grace. The further into the castle you went, the colder, darker and less extravagant it got. Bare stone walls were embellished with little decoration and the warmth in your guide’s voice was now gone, her pace hurried and heels clacking off the stone as though she was impatient to get you to the end of this tour for some reason. You struggled to keep up and quickly fell behind, Lyra’s fussing growing worse as she too started to feel the chill in the air and odd atmosphere. Her wriggling grew more intense and you had to lower your camera to tighten your grip on your daughter, hushing her gently when she began to snuffle, huffing breaths through her nose.

They were signals you knew well. With the nappy bag over your shoulder, you slowed your pace and started to rummage through the contents of the large satchel, producing a cloth for Lyra and settling it beneath her chin as you pulled her upright somewhat, pausing in the corridor to readjust your grip on her lest you drop her. A soft cry escaped her, face scrunching in the build up to something louder when you felt the ominous presence behind you. Turning around you were face to face with a man at least a head taller than you were, dressed entirely in black with dark dreadlocks hanging over his shoulders. He radiated something dangerous, made every instinct in your body scream at you to turn and leave him be. Lyra seemingly sensed it to, letting out a wail on demand. In the brief moment where you turned your head to look at her you swore a flash of dark red, the same kind of colour as wine, caught your eye. It wouldn’t have been so strange to you if that flash of wine hadn’t appeared quite high up, at eye level, say.

Lyra was far more important though, her cries cutting off into a gurgle as she spit up just as you had expected her to. The warm vomit splashed onto the cloth, dribbling down as you scrambled to catch it and wipe her mouth. Her screaming grew louder at that, the horrible smell of bile and acid reaching your nose and making it scrunch.

“Keep moving.” The man’s voice was deep. It rumbled in his chest and shook you to your core.

“Is there a bathroom up ahead? Somewhere I can clean her up?” you asked.

“Keep moving.” He repeated, closing in on you with slow, deliberate steps that set your nerves jangling. Holding Lyra closer to your chest you clasped the back of her head tenderly, bouncing and rocking her to try get her to calm. Your daughter was here in your arms, unsettled and in need of your comfort. You had to be calm for her, even if your heart was racing in your chest.

“I need to see to my daughter.” Your voice was firm and left little room to argue, but he didn’t stop moving towards you. Heart leaping into your throat you took a step back, shaking your head and struggling to calm Lyra as you tried to remain firm and not give anymore ground. Your heart raced, a hot flush overcoming you as anxiety made itself present in a sudden, nauseous wave. Why wasn’t he stopping? Why wouldn’t he listen? Couldn’t he see your daughter needed your care? See he was scaring you?

“Keep moving and you can see to her then.” His voice wasn’t comforting in any way and it was difficult to believe a man so intense. He was twice your size and built well, very capable of man-handling you if he so chose to. You had tried to avoid looking, tried to play it off as a trick of the light, but when you looked into his eyes it was plain as day that you had been correct. His irises were the colour of rich red wine, and to your astonishment they only seemed to darken as they stared back into yours with such intensity your thundering heart was all you could hear for a moment. There was no ring around the colourful part of his eye. Nothing indicated that he was wearing contact lenses, but he couldn’t have had red eyes could he? It wasn’t possible…

“I think I better leave. Where’s the exit?” you asked shakily. Something was wrong here, wrong wrong wrong. The corridor was long, not a single door in sight. You could navigate the hallways again right? There had to be an exit somewhere close. Lyra was only growing more unsettled, screaming now at the top of her lungs. People were whispering behind you and the man was growing ever more annoyed, shooting your daughter a disgusted glare as if she had physically offended him with the noise. You instinctively held her as close to you as possible, turning slightly to shield her from him.

“Keep. Moving.” He ground out.

“My daughter isn’t well, we just need to leave! There has to be an exit near here!” you snapped. It was more fear than anything else that had made you snap, desperation more so than anger, but the man seemed to take it as such. He seemed to inflate somehow, shoulders squaring and lips pulling back over his teeth as he stalked ever closer when a pale hand intervened, gripping his arm. Given the way the man flinched, you guessed the newcomers grip was hard. Head snapping to the left, you turned to try and convince our saviour to help you, only to freeze at the sight of apple red eyes. They were the same red eyes, just different shades. He inhaled sharply as he locked eyes with you, his expression somewhat distant for a minute as you tried to make sense of the sudden and inexplicable relief. It was small, barely made a dent in your anxiety in the grand scheme of things, but it lessened some of your nauseous gut feeling to simply lay eyes on this man even if he was clearly a part of this strange tour company.

“Is the little one alright?” he asked. His voice was smooth and rich, the deep bass reverberating through your head. He had the kind of voice you could listen to all day, the kind you could envision being good for audiobooks. Lyra was still screaming in your arms, her wailing echoing back to you off the walls. You bounced her again, rocking her side to side with a shake of your head.

“No, no I need to take her back to the hotel, please, tell me where I can find the exit?” you were almost pleading with him at this point. He nodded slowly, his gaze strangely intense, unwavering and unblinking. On one hand you didn’t mind it; you liked the way he looked at you actually, with a hint of wonder and trepidation, as if you were the thing in the room to marvel at and the expensive paintings on the wall weren’t worthy of a second glance. Given the general atmosphere of unease that you had picked up on now however, his stare also left you feeling minorly uncomfortable. He held a hand out towards you, his arm open and separating you from the man with the dreadlocks.

“Allow me to escort you to a quieter room so you might tend to her needs.” He said. You swallowed thickly, itching to agree despite barely knowing him or his intentions towards you and Lyra. It felt safe, like his waiting embrace was something you could depend on. Getting you away from the strange man had to be your new priority, but could you really trust a stranger?

“Demetri, what are you doing?” your tour guide was back, her musical voice distracting you somewhat from the beautiful man before you. He was made with the finest of nature’s ingredients you were sure, with high cheekbones and a jawline that could have cut steel. His hair was the most beautiful shade of chestnut brown, his stature tall and lean, posture exuding confidence and grace. His smile was dazzlingly white and so very comforting as he ever so gently guided you towards him.

“Escorting the young lady to a room where she might see to her daughter. I will join you momentarily for the…conclusion, of the tour.” He seemed to choose his words carefully and despite how much more on edge that made you, you still stepped into him with a nod. Your eyes were drawn back to your tour guide again, unable to stray too long as her gaze turned somewhat dangerous.

“The child will be cared for as always.” Her voice was like wind chimes and you unknowingly leaned closer to hear it. The man, Demetri, immediately pulled you back and began to lead you down the hall.

“Indeed, by her mother.” He spoke as though she was still stood right beside him, yet you were sure she shouldn’t have heard anything given she was already four steps behind you both. His pace was quick, only slowing when he realised you were struggling to keep up. You could see the way his jaw clenched as Lyra screamed and you tried to shush her again, swallowing past the lump in your throat as your clawed fingers held tight to your baby.

“Where are we going? Surely there’s a bathroom or something near-“

“Somewhere we will not be disturbed, can you soothe her?” he asked, looking at your daughter with a grimace. You stumbled over your own feet a little.

“I – I’m trying.” Your stammered. He gave a terse little nod, eyes flitting about as he led you down a maze of corridors. By the time you emerged at the top of a flight of stairs you had no clue what way was up and what way was down. Perhaps that was what he had intended. Demetri quickly pushed his way past a heavy looking door made of dark, expensive looking wood; surprise flooded you, and it melted into horror as quickly as it came. A bed, you were looking at an extravagant, four poster bed, a room with a desk and a bookcase and a fireplace. This was a bedroom. Why would he bring you to a bedroom? Was it his? You shouldn’t have followed him. Tears welled in your eyes as you imagined all the horrible ways this once nice trip could turn out, and when Demetri caught sight of them he quickly shut the door with the most pained expression you’d ever seen on a man.

“I mean you no harm, truly, but there are things I am not at liberty to explain right now that you cannot conceive of. Use whatever you require from my bathroom to tend to your daughter but do not leave this room. I beg of you.” The urgency in his voice shook you to the core and your tears spiled over. His room? Why was it so imperative you not leave? What was wrong with this place that it was so dangerous to you you couldn’t leave this strange man’s room? His finger was as cold as marble and just as hard when he wiped the wetness from beneath your eye. You recoiled with a soft whimper.

“Please, just let me-“

“Stay, here. Please tesoro…Per il mio bene.” His finger delicately trailed your jawline before he was gone, the door closed behind him. It was like you had blinked and missed him. Lyra was quieting a little in your arms, though still crying she seemingly had run out of energy, not bawling anymore. You slowly sank to your knees, fresh tears springing to your eyes. You had doomed you both. What kind of irresponsible mother followed a strange man to his bedroom? Rocking back and forth, you shakily stroked the soft tufts of hair on her head, trembling and praying to a God you hadn’t really believed in before now that somehow, you would be okay.

With a quiet sniffle, you wiped your eyes hastily with your hand. Your daughter needed you to be strong right now, so even as you crumbled inside you pushed to your feet and paced towards the large bed, setting the pillows up in such a way Lyra would be securely confined away from the edges of the mattress. With quick, practiced movements, you cleaned her face with a baby wipe and changed her pretty little dress into a loose top and shorts combo, one you had packed for occasions just like this. Lyra wriggled, not enjoying the changing procedure and reaching for you. Maybe she was just as perturbed by the situation to, wanting your embrace, your comfort.

“It’s okay, we’re going to be okay, we’ll be alright baby.” You whispered shakily. You could make no such promise. Time seemed to drag by slowly, seconds feeling like eternity dripping by through the thin neck of an hourglass. Lyra had calmed after a few minutes of you rubbing her tummy, now enjoying the feel of the soft sheets maybe and being in fresh clothes, and her big eyes watched you as you paced beside the bed. It took a long time for you to pause, your mind coming to the shocking and horrific realisation that just because this Demetri fellow had told you not to leave, it didn’t mean you couldn’t.

Dashing to the door, you pushed down on the handle. Relief swept through you when it went all the way, the door clicking open, and with a soft gasp you raced back to the bed to collect your daughter. Her bag was of little consequence, though your purse and phone were so you pocketed these as you picked her up, cursing your old school phone and it’s poor battery life. With Lyra swaddled to your chest again in her shawl, lips smacking and a serious little frown on her face, you turned back towards the door only to find it closing behind the one man you didn’t want to see.

Your heart sank.

“You stayed.” He sounded surprised.

I didn’t mean to you thought hopelessly. Shaky hands came up to hold your baby girl again, Lyra sensing your obvious anxiety and beginning to shift again restlessly. She tried to turn her head, find the source of the noise, but you wouldn’t let her. Whatever he was about to do to her, you silently vowed your daughter wouldn’t see. You would suffer in silence, your lips pressed together in a firm line and your will caging your voice if only so Lyra wouldn’t suffer with you. Demetri held his hands up in front of him but the gesture was meaningless and empty – his eyes were now a vivid ruby red. The brightness of his irises frightened you. Deep down, you doubted he had simply gotten his irises retattooed in the time since he’d separated from you.

“I did, I did everything you asked, now please let us go.” You tried to keep your voice steady but the slightest warble gave away your fear. Demetri’s expression twisted into regret, an ugly expression his godly face somehow made it impossible to look away from, like you were the one who needed to comfort him, as though he was the one suffering and you weren’t.

“Next time you ask me something please, try to make it something it is within my power to do.” He said softly. Tears welled in your eyes, one spilling down your cheek.

“Okay,” you swallowed, “Then whatever you can do, are going to do, please don’t make my daughter watch. She’s so young, please-“you choked, cutting yourself off with a sharp inhale as you tried desperately to hold in the sob building in your throat. Lyra let out a noise of discontent and you immediately loosened your grip. Demetri shook his head.

“Nothing is going to happen to you tesoro. My oath was true, I mean you no harm,” he promised, pausing slightly as his eyes flitted to Lyra, “Neither of you…how old is she?” his question caught you off-guard. It was such a mundane thing to ask, given he’d more or less kidnapped you from a tour group to steal you away to his bedroom it seemed out of place almost in the conversation. You swallowed.

“That’s of no concern to you!” you snapped, turning to shield Lyra from his view some. He winced slightly, stepping closer to you.

“Will you let me explain?” he questioned, “The things I wish to tell you, need you to know, are not easy to digest, but perhaps if you know them you might yet change your opinion of me.” He ventured. His voice was casual, as though he was discussing the weather with you and was not trying to beguile you into trusting him. In truth, part of you already did, and that part had made you lean towards him ever so slightly, your ears so focused on the sound of his voice your eyes hadn’t noticed how close he was until he was mere feet away. You backed up immediately, scolding yourself for being distracted by the honeyed words of a pretty man; last time that had happened you had ended up pregnant in your childhood bedroom while your parents lectured you about condoms for three hours.

“And why would my opinion matter to you?” you demanded, cringing when your back hit stone. A window to your right gave you a beautiful view of a garden, a garden with high walls and vibrant flowers and…a disco ball? No…no wait that was…a man? You were sure the outline of a man was quite literally glowing in the sunlight, his skin reflecting the warm rays and turning them into the most beautiful diamonds that scattered along the wall he stood by. As if he sensed your eyes the bulky figure turned his head, and though his features were too far away for you to make them out you were certain he was looking at you.

“There are things in this world you dismiss as fictious but should know are very much real, tesoro.” Demetri’s voice was soft by your ear and you jumped violently, whirling around to face him. His skin did the very same thing. He stood before you, an Adonis carved straight from marble that shone bright in pure light, his room lit up by rainbows that bounced off of the prism of his skin. You reached your hand out without thinking, pure instinct driving you to both fear and question this beautiful man. When your thumb came back glitter free, your stomach churned in silent horror. There was no make up, no illusion of any sort you could see or imagine, so how was it possible he could literally shine?

“What are you?” you whispered. Demetri’s eyes never left yours, his gaze soft and somewhat sad, as if he already knew you wouldn’t like the answer.

“Vampire.” His reply was simple, yet it set off a chain reaction in your head. Every instinct that had screamed at you to run before was now screaming that it had been right and you should run again, but your rational mind scoffed and forced those feelings down even as you tried to put more distance between you both. Vampires weren’t real, and so far he had kept true to his word. Demetri had yet to hurt you, though he seemed plenty ready to lie to your face.

“They aren’t real.” You denied.

“Because my coven made you believe so,” Demetri countered, following you with slow, cautious steps, “Look at me. What man do you know of that has skin like mine? What man has these eyes? Your body knows Tesoro, it’s been telling you all along that I am wrong, has tried warning you that there are differences between us your brain cannot put a name to.”

“Stay away from us!” you warned. He froze in place, letting you put as much distance as you could between you both. With your back to the wall you stared him down, afraid to move for fear he would to. Within a blink he was in front of you, and you were falling to your knees, like he had almost anticipated your obvious collapsed. With the way your knees were knocking together it shouldn’t have been surprising really. He had moved so fast and with such startling efficiency you were left completely in awe of the smooth series of actions that led him to catch not only you, but Lyra as well. She squealed in delight, the first time you’d ever heard her make such a noise, while you could only stare with wide eyes at the man who had yet to take his arm from around your waist. He was busy watching Lyra with his own wide eyes.

“Take her,” he whispered, giving you a little nudge to get you upright, “Take her now, please, before I drop her!” he insisted. You hurriedly made a cradle and accepted your daughter back into your embrace, somewhat spellbound. Demetri had moved faster than any human could, had horrifically red eyes and skin that literally glowed…yet a baby had undone him? There was literal panic written all over his face the minute his arm had curled around your daughter and he looked quite relieved you had her now. You could only stare at him as he carefully guided you back towards the bed. Once Lyra was settled back between the pillows again you sat and listened to every tale he wished to tell you, your mind spinning.

He spoke of where he had come from and how he came to be, your mind reeling as he told you of a far off, sunny land where the Gods had ruled his life before he was given life anew. He spoke of Aro and Marcus and Caius, and the war with Romanians that had ended the slavery of your kind and sparked the dawn of an era of secrecy. He chuckled as you tentatively listed off myth after myth, taking great delight in your obvious amusement that he had been the one to circulate the rumour vampires were weakened by garlic simply because he didn’t like the way it smelled. As impossible as it all seemed, you believed him. Demetri had maintained a respectable distance from you at all times, looking more relaxed and at ease the longer you spoke. Not a toe out of line.

The cadence of his voice had lulled Lyra to sleep, your own nerves soothed by the rhythmic rise and fall as he told his stories with the kind of expertise only extensive practice could bring. The wonder couldn’t last however, not when you remembered there were other people beyond the door to his room.

“Our tour guide…” you trailed off, shifting uncomfortably. Demetri looked regretful.

“Less a tour guide and more a fisherwoman. Heidi is like me, as is the man who dared try to confront you in the corridor.” His eyes narrowed a bit, the memory clearly unpleasant to him. You swallowed, your heart skittering in your chest.

“A fisherwoman?” you questioned, your voice weak. Demetri observed you carefully, looking reluctant to speak now. You were by no means stupid; you had a fairly good idea what he had meant but you wanted to hear him say it. He seemed impossibly perfect and as silly as it sounded, hearing him admitting to this one great flaw might actually soothe some of your own insecurities you were struggling with by just being near him. You were still losing a baby fat after all and the stretch marks…well your skin was not as unblemished as his.

“I think you know.” He said finally. You exhaled in a rush, fingers curling into the fabric of your skirt so tightly your knuckles turned white.

“She’s not even a year old,” you whispered, “My daughter isn’t even a year old, and you were going to…she brought us here to…” you couldn’t even finish your sentence, squeezing your eyes closed as you thought of the rest of the people in your tour group and the fate they must have endured. There was an elderly couple, Americans you thought, talking of how their history loving granddaughter would adore the pictures they were taking about the place. A young couple of Indian origin you guessed who were speaking their native tongue as they walked arm in arm, their gazes adoring as they stared at each other, a honeymoon couple perhaps whispering sweet nothings and fantasising about the life they were embarking on together.

“We would not have laid a hand on her,” Demetri swore, his voice somewhat cross, “We are not monsters, tesoro. Your child would have been taken to the authorities and given a good home.”

“Without me. You would have killed me and let my daughter grow up, without me.” Your voice was rising in pitch now and you pushed to your feet as the hysteria began to rise once more. Demetri shook his head.

“I would have done no such thing!” he snapped, losing his temper with you for the first time since you’d met. You took a hesitant step backward, afraid now you knew what he could really do but reluctant to leave him so near Lyra. Lyra…so small and vulnerable and still utterly asleep. He took a breath, running a hand through his hair.

“Why not? Why would you save us?” you couldn’t wrap your head around it. Your tour group had met a grisly end so why hadn’t you? Why had you been spared this fate? Why did he favour you? Demetri looked saddened again, his entire expression crestfallen, like a puppy who’d been scolded for being too close to the Christmas tree.

“I had hoped you would feel it, that you would know, at least on some superficial level.” He seemed to be speaking to himself, distracted by watching Lyra’s chest rise and fall as her mouth moved, eyelids fluttering. It was your favourite expression on her, the one she wore when she dreamed. For a moment Demetri looked wistful, as though he was watching something he desperately wanted but was out of his reach from a distance too great to cross.

“Feel what?” you groaned, your exasperation now obvious. It was difficult to be afraid now he’d told you everything. It didn’t make sense for him to spare you just to kill you now, especially not now he’d divulged what you guessed was a great secret to you. What exactly did he expect you to feel that you hadn’t already? The whole afternoon had been a roller coaster that left you thoroughly exhausted; fear, anxiety, awe, disbelief, scepticism and more had all been prevalent in your heart today and you weren’t sure how much more it could take.

“The mate pull,” Demetri said finally, tearing his eyes away from Lyra to look up at you, “My kind, we feel so much more deeply than humans do. Some people appeal to us so much it sets a bond. Fate has a hand to play in this to of course, making a pair so compatible that neither can deny the other was made for them.” You stomach dropped, mouth forming a perfect ‘O’. Without thinking your hand whipped up to slap him, your hand almost breaking on impact with his cheek. His head barely moved, though he did blink a bit in shock, something you had yet to see him do despite the time you spent together. The sharp sound woke Lyra up and she let out an abrupt, piercing cry, startled and upset while you hopped up to shake your hand out with a curse.

Demetri looked absolutely flabbergasted, his head turning between you and your daughter as if trying to figure out which one of you to approach first. His hand reached for Lyra, his lips protruding in the perfect pout as he tried to shush her.

“Keep your hands off of her you pervert!” you cried, hurrying forward to scoop her up and taking a few steps back from him. There was no fear anymore, just pure rage. It boiled in your veins and curdled in your stomach, the intense disgust you felt towards him unparalleled by anything else.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me! I don’t care what you are or what your world’s rules are but in mine, you keep your ancient ass hands off of my infant daughter!” you warned. Demetri paused, his eyes widening slightly before he recoiled from you with an obvious shudder.

“You think I – no! Gods no tesoro! Your daughter is not – I do not – it was you! I meant you!” he hurried to amend himself as your glare grew more vicious, and the simple confession made your mind fritz. There was nothing for a moment, a blissful few seconds of pure silence in your head, no frantic thoughts or feelings, just pure nothingness as you tried to comprehend what this gorgeous stranger was telling you.

“You…what?”

“I meant you, tesoro. The moment I laid eyes on you I was sure…do you truly not feel it?” Demetri asked, hesitantly stepping closer. You let him this time, swallowing thickly.

“What should I be feeling? Beyond confusion, there’s…there’s a lot of confusion.” You mumbled, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. His lips pulled into the slightest smile, but it quickly disappeared when Lyra let out another piercing cry. Neither of you had seen to her yet and you quickly set to work making sure she could see and hear you as you rocked her, patting her bottom as you swayed side to side. As she began to quieten down once more, looking confused and tired and grumpy with you for the long day you had turned out to be having, Demetri very hesitantly moved closer to you both again.

“Perhaps you feel curiosity, a desire to know me better. You may feel something when I am close to you, that tries to keep you near to me. There are many things you might feel, I could not possibly guess all of them as we all react differently to the mate pull, but I know I feel it quite acutely when I look at you.” He confessed freely, his eyes fixed on Lyra’s head. He lifted his hand, pausing to look at you for permission as his fingers neared her head. You glanced between them, finding Lyra looking at him with big eyes, no doubt confused as to why his eyes were a vivid shade of red while yours were a bright Y/E/C. If Demetri had proven anything to you so far it was that he really meant to uphold his oath, he wasn’t going to hurt either of you.

When you nodded, he ever so gently began to stroke her hair like he was touching the most precious and delicate of diamonds. Maybe it was this so-called mate pull, maybe it wasn’t, but your heart almost burst in that moment as you watched him share such a tender moment with Lyra, a moment her own father couldn’t even be bothered with. He looked absolutely enraptured with her, murmuring soft things in Italian you couldn’t hope to understand with the faintest wisp of a smile.

“Would you like to hold her?” you asked. The thought had escaped your mouth before you could fully process it and it made Demetri pause, his expression twisting quickly into concern.

“I better not, I fear I might hurt her.” he frowned. Lyra’s lips smacked, a slight huff escaping her – she clearly didn’t enjoy not holding his attention.

“I think she might hurt you if you don’t. It’s easy, I’ll show you.” You encouraged. Demetri was still shaking his head when you expertly jostled your daughter in one crooked arm and used the other to start moving his.

“Tesoro I think that I shouldn’t-“

“So long as you remember to support her head it’ll be okay, she’s only two months old, the support is key for her right now.” You explained, already handing him Lyra. There was no hesitation there, not anymore, you knew he wouldn’t hurt either of you. Demetri let out a small, panicked huff as he tried to settle his arms somewhat, relax into letting Lyra fit there. She looked thoroughly perplexed for a moment as he did his best to adjust his grip, head turning to you as if to say ‘what’s with this amateur Mom?’ before she lifted a tiny hand to place it against his chest, snuggling down into the cradle of his arm.

“Is this okay?” he asked. You nodded, unable to fight back your smile. He was adorably flustered, something you were surprised the suave vampire could be. All wide-eyed with awe you had to wonder if this was the first time he’d ever held a baby before. He stood still as stone, afraid to jostle her it seemed as they had an intense stare off. Lyra was the first to break it, a wide yawn splitting her face as her blinks grew longer. You watched her fall right asleep in his arms, slowly perching yourself on the edge of his bed to contemplate everything this meant. Demetri was a vampire, something out of your wildest imaginings, maybe a nightmare even. He had been going to feed on your tour group, on . He had been going to feed on your tour group, on you, but some supposed bond between you had made him save your life instead. Now, he held your daughter like she was precious gold in his hands, whispering sweet nothings to her in a language you couldn’t understand with eyes as doting as any father’s should be.

Did he already see himself that way? The thought made you mildly uncomfortable. He had a lot to prove to you before you’d even consider giving him the title of boyfriend, never mind father. It clicked suddenly, the realisation that your heart had already decided and was waiting for your brain too catch up. Demetri had captured your attention in more ways than one and his world sounded…fascinating.

“What if you stop feeling this pull? Are we in danger then?” you asked finally. Demetri seemed to struggle to tear his eyes from Lyra for a moment, but when his eyes met your’s they were flooded with sincerity.

“Vampires mate for life tesoro…even if I wished to fall for another in the midst of an argument perhaps, I physically no longer have the capacity to. It is you and only you who was made for me.” He vowed, moving at a snail’s pace to carefully sit himself beside you.

“We’re a bit of a package deal.” You pointed out. Demetri nodded.

“It was not expected, that I might find my mate with a child, but I confess I find myself in awe of her. Two months, did you say?” he questioned, glancing briefly at you. You nodded.

“Yeah, yeah two months old.”

“So she will not stay this small for much longer?” he sounded almost sad and you giggled slightly.

“Believe me, the sooner she sleeps through the better.” You lifted your hand to gently run a fingertip down her cheek.

“If you stayed I have no need for sleep, I could see to her in the night with some guidance, but I know I cannot ask that of you.” He sighed. You swallowed, the nerves fluttering in your gut. He was already asking you to move in with him? You wanted to see a red flag but you couldn’t. Demetri clearly wanted to look after you both. Why shouldn’t you let him?

“My parents would go mad.” You agreed hesitantly. Demetri chuckled.

“I shall have to win them over then. A child complicates matters, buys us more time to figure out exactly how we might proceed. She is a blessing, tesoro.” He promised you. Your brows pulled low together.

“What does Tesoro mean?” you asked.

“Ah, it means darling…I may have neglected to get your name.” he admitted bashfully. Your eyes widened, mind replaying all the time you’d spent with him that afternoon. He wasn’t wrong, you hadn’t introduced yourself once.

“It’s Y/N. Y/N L/N. That there, is little miss Lyra.” You told him. Demetri sighed.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful pair…her father must be missing her, no?” he was clearly hesitant to ask and you didn’t blame him. You couldn’t imagine how difficult it would be to just…walk into someone’s life, knowing they were made for you and find they already had a child that wasn’t yours. Come to think of it could vampires even have children? You had so much to learn…

“He left the minute he found out I was pregnant…you’ve spent more time with her than he ever has.” You informed him, the bitterness in your voice obvious. Demetri looked upset by that but you didn’t question or comment on it. With slow, careful movements, he gently began to rock her. You doubted he would relinquish her to your grasp anytime soon.

“He is a fool…but I’m not.” He whispered. You smiled slightly, a strange warmth filling your gut. Who’d have thought you’d find your very own Prince Charming while touring a castle?

#twilight #twilight fanfiction #demetri volturi #demetri volturi x reader #female reader #volturi #heidi volturi #newborn #fluff #so much fluff #you could make a build-a-bear factory with it #single mom reader

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mira--mira · 3 years

Note

Our of curiosity, how impactful will the summons be to the plot of Oot?

Since so far it’s kind of a side plot, but with the looming threat of Kitsune showing up that’ll be fun to see and is bound to be very impactful.

It’ll also be a cool path to take post-chunin exams. Since the terrors would be so wary and untrusting if Konoha, not to mention worried about the Akatsuki it would be cool if they ended up going to the summons realm “not sure if they’d let Hashirama in tho”

Maybe Madara could even find the Falcons and get some more insight and clarity from them, since they’ve seen what happened with the founding of Konoha and Madara’s fall from grace.

Also, I just realized that if/when they face off Orochimaru in the forest they’ll end up meeting Manda (I think he’s a first not sure) and that’ll be fun.

I love your theories! They're always so thoughtful! Below is I'd say medium-level spoilers, not specific points but talking broadly about the projection of OoT plot-wise.

So you have it almost exactly right! The only difference is, in this AU because of reasons that will come up relatively soon (for me), the final arc of Part 1: Sasuke Recovery Mission cannot happen as it did in canon. You'll know exactly why when we get there lol, it won't be subtle. I thought about ending Part 1 at the end of Search for Tsunade but that still felt a little soon and I had a few ideas I wanted to wrap up before 1. a timeskip or 2. the terrors going back to the past and then a timeskip so that led to the creation of an og content arc! IE Kitsune. I'm still spitballing names but I like "Shadow of the Fox" because the arc is about Kitsune and [redacted]. The terrors will focus on Kitsune but you, as an audience, will be screaming about [redacted] I'm pretty sure 😉

So I'm setting the stage for that now lol. Kitsune won't be mentioned too much more in the chunin arc (though she does get a sort of cameo in an interesting way 😉) she'll be lingering over the search arc and then it'll be her time to shine. I didn't want to blindside readers though by having her come out of nowhere like 'hey we just got Tsunade back to the village and btw Mikuzume's scary Grandma is here! Have I mentioned she's super strong and scary?'

As for the other points, I still want to get the falcons involved in some way, still thinking about the specifics of that though. And as much as the summons love Madara, they will absolutely refuse to let Hashirama into their homes. Not even Kitsune or the falcons would make an exception, not even for him. (I feel bad saying 'it'll come up eventually' but I promise Hashirama's thing with the summons will, the specifics will be hinted at but the true reveal and full story is more end-game lore so that one will take a while just FYI)

I won't say anything about Manda being a First or not but ohh the terrors do meet him in the Forest of Death. I can promise that!

#naruto #daughterofprometheus22 #out of time #out of time spoilers

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artemiseamoon · 4 years

Text

Sin

Narcos Mx AU | Miguel x Female reader | Female reader x Pacho *

Chapter 1 of 5 | revised 10/24/22 | words: 3,667

Summary: You were Miguel's ex-mistress, he insists you come to his birthday party and the night takes an interesting turn.

All chapters / fic index | read on A03

NSFW Adult 18 + only | gifs credit to owners

Warnings: Sex, cursing, unprotected sex (wrap it up ya’ll and be safe), multiple partners, neck grabbing, ass slapping

* Pacho is bi in this AU.

Read as an OC if you prefer, Fox is one of her nicknames

Author note: Just a dirty ass one shot because my depression is sneaking back and this makes me feel better. I don’t know how my week of fluff turned into this. (Love how this went from oneshot to fic 😂)

PLUS: as always i do not condone the actions of the real life persons. This is just fanfics based off the show and the handsome actors.

Updates go to A03 after chapter 3, previews post on tumblr

Don’t like this? Don’t read it. I don’t need anyone’s complains or whining.

Tonight, represents more than Miguels 40th birthday party. It represents his status at the top, his success; the physical manifestation of every move he's ever made until now. Good or bad, out of need, desire, or spite. It all got him here.

Tonight, also marks two months since you fell out with Miguel, and the end of your affair. You hadn’t seen him since, but you knew he was keeping tabs on you. Miguel is a possessive ex. He didn't let things go.

Miguel never begged for anything, never had to, never would. But he had his little ways of convincing people to say yes, and though you knew better, and you knew all his little tricks, he still got you to say yes. In the back of your mind, you figured if you declined, he'd send someone to come get you anyway, it's just the way Miguel is.

The last time you saw Miguel, he had Azul escort you to his office. It went as expected, you yelled and screamed at each other followed by Miguel fucking you against his desk. Once you came you slapped him, got dressed, then left. To be fair, you did desire him, it just didn't take away the anger and rage you felt for the man. That was two months ago.

Now, here you are at his over-the-top birthday party. It started 30 minutes ago; everyone's having a good time. The guest of honor is a no show. You imagined him in your mind, the lonely King, deep within the walls of his castle smoking in the shadows and contemplating his next moves. All the while his guest ask about him and seek him out, for a multitude of reasons; personal, political, business.

But not you. You haven't asked about him at all and don't plan to. You busied yourself with your date. He wasn't anyone important, just some hot guy you hooked up with a few times. Miguel isn't the only one who's spiteful, you know the moment he sees your date, and your dress, he's going to freak.

The anticipation of pissing him off, of seeing the look on his face, is almost too much for your body to contain. You can't stay still for too long and hit the dance floor to work off some of your energy.

When the birthday boy finally appears, it takes him no time to notice you and your date. The way he looked at you from across the room, his young new wife at his side, was enough to stab daggers into your soul. Your date may or may not end up dead by the end of the night; this is Miguel after all. Still, you danced up on him. Kissing on him. Absolutely making Miguel crazy.

It works.

Miguel makes a line for you. He hooks his arm around your waist, “Come with me.”

He doesn't even look at your date or acknowledge him. But your dates not stupid, he knows who this is, and even thought his ego is wounded, and he would likely never call you again, he lets Miguel take you with him.

Miguel was tense and quiet as he leads you into the house, the whole time keeping his hands on you, like if he lets you go for one second, you'll slip away. He only stopped when you reached a long dark hallway. He pushed the door open and led the way inside. You barely had time to make out what the room was before he pressed into you, backing you into a wall, his eyes dark with jealousy.

“You think you're clever?”

“You're drunk Miguel,” you dismiss him, knowing it will upset him more. You pushed against his chest, but he holds you in place, “what?!”

“Who is that?”

“Why do you care? I’m sure this party is full of your conquests.”

Miguel just stared at you, his eyes darkening even more. You see his jaw clench, then he dropped his head slightly, his eyes moving over your bare shoulders. He grabbed the strap of your dress and snapped it back in place.

“Does he know I bought this dress with all the money I made us?”

“Correction,” you tilt your head to meet his line of sight, "I purchased this dress! Get over it.”

You pushed him off of you with force, then started to walk away. Miguel grabbed your forearm, whipping you back into place against the wall. This time, he crowds you even more, using his own body as a block.

Miguels eyes clouded with lust as he takes you in. He grips your neck with his right hand and holds your hip with his left. Your eyes fell to his lips as they parted slightly, you have him right where you want him. Using only his eyes, Miguel devours you like a man in need of a meal.

“When I’m finished with you, you’ll forget all about your date.” He growled.

You challenge him. "Yeah, doubt it."

Miguel wastes no time hiking your dress up over your hips. He uses his knee to part your thighs and kisses you with so much passion, so much desire you nearly lose your balance. There's no time to think, to stop yourself. Everything happens in a fevered pace and Miguel fucks you hard and fast against the wall. When that position became too trying, you moved over to the couch.

Miguel was rough, possessive, ravenous. Something about fucking him this time feels more dangerous than the other times. Like he's a demon trying to fuck your soul away, to sign you over to him forever. In the back of your mind, you wondered, no matter how fucking good this feels, if Miguel's possessive behavior will be much worst.

While he fucked you, even used his belt to tie your wrist together. You knew, if he could, he'd have you all night long, but he made the best with the time he had and took you in every way he could.

When you were close to coming, he pulled out, teasing you, waiting for you to beg for more until he gave it to you. In the aftermath of your lust, you laid there, catching your breath, seeing stars, unable to move. It was only when a knock came at the door did you both rise, it was Azul.

Miguel covered your naked body with a blanket and went to the door, only opening it slightly. You overheard what was said, the infamous Pacho Herrera was on his way.

Taking some time to clean yourself up, you make it back to the party. From a distance you see a girl flirting with your date, and if anything, you feel happy for him. You are more than aware you have a big 'do not touch' sign on you now, and honestly, you kind of like it. You also revel in Miguels boldness, to sweep you away like that, at this party full of people and watchful eyes, with his wife right outside. Bold.

You get another drink at the bar then head over to some associates. As all of you chat, your mind focuses on one thing: Pacho. You'd be lying if you said you weren't excited to see the legend up close, in the flesh, for a second time.

The first time you saw Pacho was at a meeting, Miguel took you with him, at the suggestion of someone else. They said you'd be a pleasant sight for the Cali Cartel, and it wouldn't hurt having you there. Miguel took the advice, and that was the first time you saw Pacho in person.

The whole meeting you couldn't think straight. Pacho was sexy as hell and every time his eyes landed on yours you nearly came right here. The man has serious vibes and if you had the chance to sleep with him, you would. Even if it only ever happened once, that's good enough for you.

You left that meeting thinking you'd never see Pacho again. Now, knowing you will, fills with a great sense of excitement.

When Pacho arrived, near the end of the band singing happy birthday to Miguel, it took your breath away. Your eyes were locked on him, and you were far from the only one watching him. He took his time, walked at a slow yet purpose filled pace. Once he and Miguel walked off together, you devised a plan.

You know this property like the back of your hand, Miguels had you over enough times you could draw a map. Using your knowledge, you make your way to the small church, unseen, hiding in the shadows. You carry your heels in your hand, careful to be as quiet as possible. When you reached the church, you tried to eavesdrop but were quickly intercepted by Azul.

"Just going for a walk, too many people at the party." You flash a big smile at him and act drunk.

Azul lets it go, and nods.

You walk in the other direction and head back to the water fountain. On the walk, you think of another way to cross paths with Pacho. You cannot waste this opportunity, even with the risks involved.

Years ago, you gained the nickname Fox, and it wasn't without reason. You would find a way to catch Pacho's' eye. You heard Pacho is bisexual and knowing that put all kinds of ideas in your head, knowing you had a chance changed everything. It also changed your perspective on the day you met. Part of you was convinced he was looking at you with desire in his eyes. Part of you thought you were making it up, so you just chalked it up to wishful thinking.

You didn't know much about the man, even with a reputation, there was still so much about him that was a mystery. Still, he seems like the type to know all about everyone else. Part of you wondered, if he knew about you. Was he ever curious about you?

As your mind continues to wander, you make your way back to the church, this time out of Azul's line of sight. You think about how fucking Pacho could be the biggest fuck-you to Miguel. You weren't a bad person, and normally not so vengeful, but Miguel is a damn vampire and he hurt you many times over.

He's able to pull out the villain in you, in a way no one else could. Anything you give him, he has coming. Even with all the tenderness of your past together, but that died out a long time ago. You try to not think about that part too much.

The doors of the church finally opened, then closed. Pacho exits first, cocky and sexy as all hell. Miguel is still inside. You can tell whatever happened in the church went in Pacho's favor.

You take a moment to scope the landscape, then make a b line for Pacho's car. You noticed it was parked away from all the other guests, and it would make it easier for you to act on your plan. When you got there, you encountered the strange yet curious Navegante.

At the sight of you, he stopped leaning on the car and walked over to you. He stepped into your personal space with a weird little smile on his face. You wait for him to speak, he doesn't, not right away.

“Did you see the tiger? I touched it.”

You don't know whether you want to laugh, or back away. And he sure looks proud of this little fact.

You start to respond, “I -”

Before you could get the rest of your words out, Pacho appears.

Though you've seen him before, this feels like the first time all over again. You feel your heartbeat faster and your pulse quicken the moment his eyes fall on you. And when he speaks your name, you hold your breath. You've heard your name all your life, but from his lips, from his lips it feels like the most seductive thing you've ever heard.

You smile, "you remembered." Your eyes lock on his.

He motions to the car with a small hand gesture, “What do you think you’re doing?”

You can see in his face; he sees through your innocent act. Of course he does.

“I wanted to see you up-close, too many people back there. Last time, we were in a room full of people too.” You replied confidently.

He smirks, looks at Navegante then back at you. “You’re a sneaky little thing.”

“You have no idea.”

Something flashes in his brown eyes you can't name or describe. Whatever it is, it takes your breath away. You unconsciously raise your hand to your chest and fiddle with your necklace.

Pacho slides his hands in his pockets and looks your over. Then signals to Navegante who gets in the driver's seat. You hold your breath and watch as Pacho walks over to the passenger side. Just as he's about to get in, he says, "get in."

Your heart is pounding even faster now. Would you really fuck Miguel and Pacho in the same night? Could you be that much of a sinner? Was that even possible?

You open the back door and hop in fast before anyone sees. The car speeds off into the night.

The hotel is nice. His room is a deluxe suit with two floors, large enough for a group. You haven't seen the upstairs yet.

The car ride over was quiet, strange, a thick electricity in the air. Back at the hotel, you sit in the living room area, a drink in your hand, trying to anticipate what's going to happen next. Your nervousness building by the second.

Pacho still doesn't say much, he watches you, like an animal stalking its prey. He's cool, calm, in control. He doesn't do anything in a rushed way, not even when he made your drink. He took his time and observing him was - exciting. This man exudes controlled, confident dominance in every single thing he does.

Oddly enough, in this period of waiting, you had more conversation with Navegante. Unsurprisingly, he was talking about weird shit, random stuff, but you actually found it amusing. At one point, Pacho left you with Navegante, as he went upstairs to the upper level. You were starting to wonder if this was a bad idea, then, he called for you.

You're hyper aware of every step you take, as you reach the second-floor landing and step into the room. There's a lounge area with a long couch, then a small hallway you assume leads to the second bathroom and the bedroom. There's a second bar up here, a smaller one. Pacho is making daiquiris in a white robe. His beautiful dark hair was wet.

“Sit.”

He motions to the couch, you do.

He brings the drink over and sits beside you. Same as the first drink, he watched you quietly as you tasted it. Once he's pleased with your reaction, he stands again.

“What was your goal, seeking me out?”

You bite your lip, feeling nervous as hell. Now that you're completely alone with him, your courage was starting to fade.

“I traveled a long way, don’t act shy now."

You place the drink down on the side table and sit up straighter. “I thought about you for months, since the first time I saw you. Is it a sin to be - curious?”

Pacho does that little thing with his nose, the thing you saw back at the meeting months ago and thought it was cute as hell. As the seconds pass without his response, you start to wonder what he’s thinking.

You didn't have to wait too long. Pacho sits beside you, his body feeling warm and setting all your sense on fire. He leans in, eyes locked on yours, “Stand-up” he points to the space before him.

You do as he commands.

Pacho reclined back, sipping his drink as he takes you in. “Strip. Slowly.”

Your heart skips a beat.

You do as he commands.

Taking your time, you strip off the tight black dress that Miguel’s money did indeed pay for. You could have used your own, but you were saving your money and mostly splurged with his. Something about that thought alone was adding to your arousal. Stripping in front of Pacho's' penetrative gaze in a dress bought for you with Miguel money? It's scandalous.

Standing naked before him, you feel the most vulnerable you've ever felt, the most - seen. Something about the way Pacho looks at you is unmatched. Your desire for him burns red and hot, your body craving his touch, his lips, more of his commands.

Pacho, maintaining his relaxed position, draws you closer to him with a single finger.

With a few steps, you close the distance between your bodies. Without breaking eye contact, Pacho unties his robe.

Dropping to your knees like some common whore you wait eagerly to take him in, to welcome him with your mouth and indulge in one part of your numerous Pacho fantasies.

Your wish is soon met. He fills your mouth; you take him in with pleasure. When you deep throat him the sound he makes nearly sends you to heaven. Fuck, you just made Pacho make that sound. You pull out all the stops, casting your spell on the man you couldn't stop thinking about for months. Finally, when Pacho can’t take it anymore he pulls you away by your hair and guides you to the bed toward the back of the massive suite

“On your back, knees up.”

Eager, you do so quickly, getting in place on the bed and gazing at him with flirty eyes. He takes his time walking over to you. Once he climbs on the bed, his body hovers over your own, you can feel his arousal pressing into you.

The bastard teases you.

Ghosting his lips over your, but not kissing you. Pulling your head back when you try to kiss him. Using his lips and tongues to leave a trail of kisses down your body and in-between your legs. He continues to explore your body, in any way he sees fit, his mouth, tongue and fingers all working masterfully, driving you over the edge.

Each time you get too close to coming, he stops, making you wait, enjoying the way you whine for him. You quickly learn your lesson and behave; you stop trying to kiss him and try to control your body.

Once Pacho deems you obedient and patient, he finally slides his cock inside of you. With all the teasing, he's worked you up nicely, you take all of him with ease, he stretches you more than anyone else has, filling you deliciously. His strong-arm wraps around your body to hold you in place as he bottoms out in you.

You nearly come then and there, and when he finally kisses you; any sense of time or space disappears. Pacho fucks you hard, so deep, leaving you dazed and breathless as he continues his lust filled stokes, the whole time he holds you in a vice like grip. Kissing you so deeply, so passionately, you forget anyone who's ever kissed you before.

He maintains control the entire time, the intensity never letting up, even when you change positions. At certain points, you're sure you've broken skin, digging your nails deep into his back, his arms, his thighs - you've become utterly intoxicated by Pacho.

Finally, when you can't take anymore, dancing on the edge of release, Pacho pulls out completely. He makes you lay flat on your stomach. You know better than to beg for him.

Pacho sits back, strocking himself and catching his breath. You can feel his eyes burning into you. Just as silence falls in the room, his hand come down hard to slap your ass, leaving a burning sensation, he slaps the other cheek. You grab the pillows beneath your head.

“Should I let you come?”

“Yes, please.”

“I don't know if you deserve it,” he slaps your ass again.

“Please.” You begged.

His big strong hands come to your hips, fingers digging into you as he pulls your ass up in the air. He frees one hand, placing it flat on your back, keeping you in position.

He adjusts behind you, getting comfortable and lining himself up with your entrance. Without warning, he slams into you, knocking you off balance. He holds you in place and finds his rhythm again. You didn't even recognize the sounds leaving your lips as he fucks you, sounds you never made before.

Then sweet release comes.

The room spins and you're not sure if you're actually going to pass out or not. Your vision fades as pleasure explodes in your body. Pacho comes, your name soft on his lips as he does.

Once he pulls out, Pacho rolls onto his back, closing his eyes to catch his breath. You look at him, still on your stomach, his hair in his face, lips parted. This man is fucking beautiful.

When his dark eyes find yours, he shifts ever so slightly and cups your face, pulling you close to him. His lips, his beautiful lips you've started at more than once, now roll over yours. Moving his hand to the back of your head, Pacho grips tight, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth before claiming your lips again.

Kissing him is dizzying. You kiss until your lips are swollen and slick. He draws back, keeping eye contact with you as he caresses the length of your neck.

A smile draws on his lips as he lays on his back,

“What's that look?” You asked.

“You look tired, don’t fall asleep on me now. I have plans for you -” when his eyes meet yours again a sense of excitement and slight worry overcomes you. Whatever else Pacho had in mind, you were definitely not getting any sleep tonight.

“Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6

#narcos mexico #pacho herrera #miguel angel felix gallardo #not the real guys #just the show and actor #narcos Mexico oneshot #pacho narcos #Miguel narcos #pacho oneshot #miguel x female reader #pacho herrera x female reader #By artemiseamoon #please read warning at top #fic: sin #read warnings

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ellelans · 3 years

Note

You made a tag comment about how Buddie wasn't planned from the beginning. And therefore what we got in Season 2 wasn't (at the time) the groundwork for a love story. I agree completely! Much of it I can see as either a bit of fun (the Christmas elf, the instagram girl) or that kind of hyper-masc heterosexuality that loops around itself and becomes gay (Buck's whole...thing with Eddie in the beginning, the focus on Eddie's body/hotness/physical appearance). But sometimes I step back and look at the whole and I'm all 🧐 🤔.

I don't even know what I'm asking lol. Would just love your thoughts/feelings on the confusing spectacle that are Buck and Eddie in season 2. And when/how/why did the show change their mind?

Thank you so much for the ask and you know what? Let’s talk about it.I recently had an in depth chat about this pretty unpopular opinion with a friend and I tried to explain to her why I don't see buddie as an actual pairing or having any canon potential until early s3 and why I don't believe they were planned from the beginning.This will be long and all over the place of course lol

The first and the most obvious reason is the way 911 deals with main characters and their romantic arcs.They don't actually drag it on for long because there is no need or time for that since every single main character has a strong storyline of their own and any romantic development between any pair as an additional combined storyline. Relationships happen fast on 911 because they are planned ahead and the only relationship that took longer than usual few episodes was Chim and Maddie and they were already kissing and planning a date in 2x11.

Also when shows enter their second season there is never a way to predict how long it will stay on the air and because of that it is impossible for me to believe that buddie was planned as some epic old school slowburn that is nowhere as close to be resolved after 3 seasons.When I say old school slowburn I mean shows that have this one heterosexual romance at the center of the universe that is usually stretched across seasons and builds up sexual tension between characters and it takes literally years for them to finally get together.We have these two characters that where made for each other and you KNOW that they will eventually get together because of some ridiculous pining that will eventually end in a kiss and everyone will scream and cry.And maybe that’s how buddie feels to me now after years of careful build up-but the way I see it they as a potential something didn't happen in s2.

We all joke about how character introduction of Eddie is the gayest we have ever seen and Buck's reaction to him as true bisexual and I do that myself too because I am a bisexual too and tbh its hard to unsee (also I don't want to) but lets remove our rainbow glasses for a second. What really did happened in that scene? Eddie's perfect abs on display,Chim and Hen fun comments on how beautiful he is,Bobby's praise and bragging about getting Eddie and his Silver Star on the team and Buck's insecurities flaring up as a reaction to all of this.Buck immediately feels threatened.At this point we of course have no idea how deeply his insecurities run or why,but as episode progresses we witness Eddie on his first call making a better decision to how to handle a medical situation and backed up by Bobby.It has sort of a devastating effect on Buck,who suddenly starts acting like we have never seen him before.Then there is a that scene at the gym where Buck tells Eddie how he is his problem. And later we of course have the scene in ambulance when Eddie asked what exactly they are measuring. Because that's what it looked like - a usual macho men measuring context. But the thing is 911 doesn’t toxic masculinity when it comes to main male characters and we saw many examples of that already by then,but the biggest one was supposed to be BuckandEddie. Equals,partners and best friends.

911 was already pushing boundaries with cast,characters and relationships diversity and I strongly believe that what they wanted to show us was a male equivalent of what we are used to see in female bffs -a different kind of a friendship between men. Men who care about each other,who talk about feelings,discuss sex,dating or why they don’t,who again openly acknowledge that they find each other attractive and giving advices on how to take a more flattering selfie,who are not afraid of crying, admit they are struggling or heartbroken or loving their kid.Honestly when was the last time any of us saw a male friendship like theirs?Men are not allowed to be like that on TV (I am still shocked that its a Fox show tbh) and especially with each other.We are not used to see such a development so no wonder people started paying attention-which was what writers wanted,of course.

But that also brings us to that important question about queer undertones,subtext and do what we actually see in s2. Are there queer undertones?Absolutely. Subtext?It’s right there but you will probably not get it unless you’re reading between the lines.Before we get to Christmas Elf,there was ‘’He is cute!/He gets that a lot,you should’ve seen his kid...’’ Maddie and Buck scene that is once again reinforces that Buck finds Eddie attractive and it shouldn’t be a surprise because we already know from 2x01 he has eyes - but they mention it AGAIN and that personally made me raise a brow or two.By the time we get to that Christmas episode,we already have Shannon back and Buck finally moved on from Abby with Taylor and then Ali and then we are given another queer coded scene-with Christmas elf.And its very cute and to an average heterosexual viewer its a nice little joke,but any queer watching that scene was probably taken aback a little.

So why imo did Tim&Co do it and when they realized they can actually see where they can take BuckandEddie and when they started becoming buddie?My answer is ship teasing.It’s what a lot of people actually mistake for queer baiting,but we are not talking about that rn.Ship teasing works like charm and if shows can get away with that-they will totally use it to their advantage.It’s usually not always malicious,but it IS always intentional because that brings in a category of people that were overlooked for a long time-online fandom.Now I have seen some opinions that fandom doesn’t really matter,it’s the ratings that count and that is NOT TRUE.You can have your ratings,but if there is no buzz online?Your show is going nowhere.For at least a decade now every self-respecting production has teams to monitor fandom activities because it gives them better ideas about how consumers(fans) are interacting with their product (show).Fandom is important because we generate the buzz.So I do believe that BuckandEddie and that sweet ship teasing were to get a certain part of the fandom pay attention.

I wasn’t here when S2 aired so I don’t know if that was the case,but it is obvious that these scenes I talked about above made fans pay a LOT of attention. And maybe that was the reaction writers needed to start changing course from ship teasing to start building up to something else.They maybe didn’t plan it at the very beginning and on paper,but lets also not forget the insane chemistry between Oilver and Ryan,which imo is another big reason-it's impossible to ignore.

Because S3?Is light years away from S2 in terms of BuckandEddie-they became buddie.In s3 Buck and Eddie become each other’s significant other,they are in a primary relationship. ’’Buck invites Eddie...’’?!!!!! It is not yet romantic and probably won’t be until ending of s5 if we are lucky-but it is in your face,they are not subtle anymore.I personally saw buddie only at the end of 3x03 when Eddie came over and said that there is noone in the world he trusts with his son more than Buck, looking like he did into Buck’s eyes,while ‘Photograph’ played in the background right before Buck’s overvoice about being seen and found and a raft to bring one home. After S4 ending tho...we all know that something is about to happen and its like there is electricity in the air as we are waiting for s5!

Probably a lot more thoughts than you expected,but I have many feelings about these two and when buddie goes canon this post will become completely irrelevant lol 💖

#what i was trying to say #is that s2 still can be read as heterosexual #but s3? no way #s3 was different #it was impossible to ignore that something is going on #911 #buddie

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hookedonapirate · 3 years

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Summary: The Jones brothers are polar opposites. Liam's the safe and honorable one, straight-laced and straight as an arrow. The good son.

Killian's the dangerous one, the bad boy with tats, leather jackets, a motorcycle and a questionable past.

The only things they have in common are panty-melting sea-blue eyes, the flat they share in Storybrooke and a rare blood type.

Oh, and apparently their taste in women.

Or rather, one woman.

Feisty.

Blonde.

Gorgeous.

Green-eyed Goddess.

Killian saw her first, but she chose his brother—the nice guy over the playboy. And even though she’s dating his brother, it doesn't make him want her any less. If that's not bad enough, she moves in with them and he has to pretend he's not completely in love with her. His life could not get any worse…

Until Liam dies in a tragic motorcycle accident.

Leaving each of them with one half of a broken heart.

Now Killian and Emma are left helping each other pick up the pieces.

Just as they're beginning to learn how to live in their new reality, another riptide pulls them further into the deep end when she finds out she's pregnant with Liam's baby.

Notes: So I made this post on Tumblr the other day, and then this fic happened. If you haven't seen the tags, please read them before starting this story or becoming invested because it’s very angsty. First of all, this starts out as Swan Jewel? I don't know what their ship name is or if there is an official name, but yes, Liam and Emma are in a relationship in the beginning, and I know it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. If you're not comfortable with that, I highly encourage you to hit the back button.

Thank you @ultraluckycatnd for looking it over!

This story was inspired by Baby Mine by Kennedy Fox, and I loved the book so much and thought it was very much underrated. I’ve wanted to write a fic like this for a long time now because it’s one of my favorite tropes, but after I read that book, I just had to write my own take. Also, I made this post about a Baby Yodarita drink last year when it was trending and since the beginning of this story starts one year prior, 2019 and since Killian is a bartender, it was a perfect way to include the prompt.

The title comes from the lyrics of the song, Lay By Me by Ruben. The particular line goes like this:

"I hope you know through the rising tide That I'll be here and you can lay by my side"

If you've never heard it, I recommend giving it a listen. It's an amazing song and very fitting for this story.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VFJbLzEtoZw

P.S. In case you're unable to read the shoulder tattoo in the picture above and are wondering what it says—

"There is no happiness without tears

No life without death

And no true love without heartbreak"

Rated: Explicit for smut (including sexual fantasies, masturbation, implied and detailed sex, etc.) and language (lots of F-bombs).

Also available on: AO3 FF.N

Chapter 1

“Late again?” Liam chides when Ruby waltzes into work as if everything is completely normal. As if she’s not an hour late for her shift.

For the third time that week.

She gives him an apologetic smile, but Killian knows she’s not actually sorry.

He’s just wondering who she was with this time.

“Won't happen again, boss.”

“Damn right it won’t. This is your third warning. Next time, there will be a write-up,” he admonishes.

Frustration creases her forehead. “Geez, would you just chill? My car broke down.”

Liam crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes at her. “So, you mean to tell me your car has broken down three times this week?” he asks, holding up three fingers. “And on either of these occasions, you couldn’t pick up the phone and give me a heads up? Did your phone break, too?”

She flashes him a look as though the answer to his question is obvious. “I told you my car’s a piece of junk. And I tried to call, but no one answered.”

Killian fights off a laugh, knowing for a fact Ruby is bluffing. At least about calling tonight, since the phone hadn’t rung in the past hour. But he could easily check to see if she’d called on the other two days on the bar phone’s caller i.d. to find out for sure if he really wanted to.

“So get a new car. Don’t you make enough from your tips and the hourly wage I pay you?”

“I make enough from my tips,” she replies with a sarcastic smirk, “but I have more important things to buy.”

Liam rolls his eyes. “Like what? More six-inch heels, low-cut tops and short skirts?”

Ruby lets out an exasperated sigh. “How do you think I get good tips—by dressing like a Catholic schoolgirl?” She twists her lips and presses the back of her long, red-painted fingernail to her chin, pondering her own words for a second. “On second thought, that actually might bring in even more tips. Besides, you should be paying for my work clothes. Maybe then I could afford a new car.”

Liam scoffs. “You want me to pay for your outfits?” He shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”

Ruby's eyes widen, as though she’s shocked he declined her request. “Why not? Can’t you claim them as a work expense?”

He nods. “Alright, fine. But if I’m paying for your work attire, then I’m choosing what you wear. Sound good to you?” he asks, knowing damn well she’ll never go for it.

Unsurprisingly, she shakes her head. “Absolutely not. I ain’t wearing no damn polo shirt and black slacks. I like my low-cut tops and short skirts, thank you very much.”

Liam sighs and cups his forehead in his hand to indicate she’s giving him a headache as he turns around and walks toward his office. “Just get to work, Ruby.”

She wraps her apron around her waist and mimics his words in a mocking tone, “Just get to work, Ruby.”

“I heard that!” Liam hollers.

“I could be already serving customers if it weren’t for my pain in the ass boss riding me every two goddamn seconds!” she shouts, hoping he heard that too.

Killian chuckles to himself as he rings up a customer for his drinks and hands him the change.

“That dude seriously needs to get laid,” Ruby huffs. “Maybe then he’d back off a little.”

“Ha! I doubt it,” Killian comments before taking another drink order.

Ruby heads to the dining area to wait on customers. She knows Killian’s not wrong to doubt Liam’s ability to show a little mercy. He’s worked for his brother for two years, longer than anyone has ever been able to stand working for him, and he’s never once seen Liam be lenient, not even to his own brother. He runs a tight ship, and Killian doesn’t see that ever changing. Liam has owned this bar for five years and takes his job very seriously.

Killian’s just glad he only has to work here for another six months. Or at least that’s the plan. He’s about to graduate from Storybrooke University and get his degree in engineering. As much as he enjoys working for his brother, or rather listening to his coworkers complain about his brother behind Liam’s back, he doesn’t plan on spending his entire life making drinks.

Liam emerges from his office an hour later and announces he has to take off for a while to run some errands. Killian’s confused because this is Liam’s night to manage the bar. He dedicates the majority of his other time performing administrative tasks during the week.

“What errands do you have to run on a Friday night?” Killian asks, his words laced with suspicion.

“Just some errands I promised someone I’d take care of. You’re in charge while I’m gone.” He pulls on his jacket and leaves Killian behind the bar with a confused expression on his face, wondering what his brother is up to.

Killian brushes off the thought, deciding to further question him later.

Liam heads out the door, but not before scolding Ruby for sitting down at a table full of rowdy men, chatting (and not about the menu). She may be into women, but she flirts with customers regardless of their gender for the tips.

Ruby curses under her breath and gets up, moving to her next table to jot down orders.

~*~

Emma sighs as Mary Margaret grabs her hand and pulls her into The Captain's Rum. Or more like, drags her in kicking and screaming. She doesn’t wish to be at this bar any more than she wanted to be at the last two. But her sister-in-law insists on the outlandish idea Emma’s going to find Mr. Perfect tonight. Or somehow get over her asshole of an ex-boyfriend after one night of drinking.

And even though it's been two months since she left Neal and his thieving and cheating ass, and as much as she wants to get over him, Emma knows it’s not gonna happen for a while. At least not tonight.

And yet, here she is.

One night of drinking can’t hurt, she supposes. One night of forgetting everything. Of numbing her pain. Or so she keeps telling herself, but that could be the alcohol she’s already imbibed at the other two bars speaking.

“So, how’s it going tonight, Rubes?” Mary Margaret asks the cocktail server once they’re seated at a booth.

Apparently, they know each other.

“Well, no one's tried to manhandle me yet, so it's a start.” The tall brunette with red streaks in her hair leans over the table and murmurs, “Not a great start, but it's a start.”

Mary Margaret rolls her eyes and laughs as she gestures at Emma. “Rubes, this is my sister-in-law, Emma. She just moved here from New York.”

Looking at Emma, Ruby grins and sticks out her hand. “Hi! Nice to meet you!”

Emma gives her a polite smile and shakes her hand. “Likewise.”

When Ruby brings the chips and cheese Mary Margaret ordered, she places them on the table along with two empty plates. Before arriving here, Mary Margaret decided they would put some food in their bellies before they added more alcohol so they wouldn't get too drunk too fast and have to head home early. Well, that was Mary Margaret’s idea at least. Emma would much rather be home in the comfort of her bedroom watching Netflix. Or rather, her brother’s and sister-in-law's guestroom they so graciously let her sleep in until she gets her own place.

“Enjoy, ladies.”

“Sure will,” Mary Margaret beams as Ruby leaves their table. She sips on some water as she scans the bar. Probably for potential suitors she can hook her sister-in-law up with, Emma surmises. “What about him? He's cute,” Mary Margaret remarks, her eyes trained on someone behind her.

Emma looks over her shoulder and arches a brow. “He’s cute if you’re sixteen. He looks way too young.”

“Well, he’s drinking, so he must be at least twenty-one,” Mary Margaret points out.

“He looks sixteen, and sorry, I don’t date children.”

“Emma, he’s not a child, probably a college student. And you act like you’re so old just because you already graduated. You’re twenty-two,” Mary Margaret points out like she’s jealous and wishes to be so young again. But she's only a few years older—the same age as David.

Emma groans. “No, thanks.” Her last boyfriend was immature enough as it was, and he was ten years her senior. “So, tell me, how are you and my brother getting along?” Emma asks, attempting to change the subject and get her sister-in-law to avert her attention from the college boys across the room. “Sick of each other yet?”

Mary Margaret whips her head around and scowls. “Of course not. Why would you ask such a thing?”

Emma laughs and raises her hands in defense. “Because I knew it was the only thing that would get your attention.”

Guilt and apology flicker in Mary Margaret’s eyes. “Sorry, Emma.” She lays her palms on the table. “David and I are just worried about you, that’s all.”

Emma sighs, frustration creasing her forehead. “I’m fine, I promise. Neal was an ass, and honestly, him cheating on me was a good thing. I needed the wake-up call, okay? I was blinded by love. But now that we're over, I can move on with my life. That’s why I let you talk me into bar hopping.”

A slow, hopeful smile spreads across her lips. “I know, and I’m so happy you got out of that relationship, Emma. David and I both are.”

Emma laughs. “I know. When I landed on your door stoop, we both had to stop him from driving all the way to New York to kick Neal's ass.”

Mary Margaret nods. “True. He’s very protective of you.”

Emma rolls her eyes. “I know. It’s both a blessing and a curse.” She takes a sip of water as she scans the bar. It’s the first time she’s been to The Captain's Rum, and everyone is so unfamiliar to her. New York is a huge place, especially compared to Storybrooke, but in this bar, it feels like she‘s back in New York. She swears everyone in Storybrooke is here.

Ruby returns to their table to sit and chat. And steal some of their chips, double-dipping them in the cheese. Emma fights off the urge to laugh at this as her eyes wander past Ruby’s shoulder.

Huge mistake.

The group at the bar counter disperses, revealing the most gorgeous sight she's ever seen.

Holy. Fucking. Hell.

She loses a breath when she sees what she can only describe as a fine specimen.

Good Lord.

Handsome features and such a delicious smile to accompany his perfect face as he chats with a male patron at the bar, she finds herself licking her lips.

“What about him?” Emma manages when she’s able to find the words in her throat.

Mary Margaret’s eyes light up before she even looks to see who Emma is staring so unabashedly at. “Who?!” She and Ruby both turn their heads, their eyes following the path of Emma’s gaze until they land on the target.

“You mean the bartender?” Mary Margaret asks, though, to Emma’s surprise, she doesn’t seem very excited; more like disappointed.

Emma tears her gaze away from the bartender, as much as she doesn’t want to. But she couldn’t breathe when she looked at him and she needed to come up for air. “Yeah, why not?”

“Why not what?” Ruby asks as she looks at Emma, curiosity flashing in her big hazel eyes. “Because if you’re asking ‘why not jump his bones,’ then I can’t think of one good reason.”

“Ruby, don’t encourage her,” Mary Margaret chides with a glare.

Ruby frowns, confusion etched in her features. “Why not?”

“Because… Killian is a player. Emma just broke up with her player of a boyfriend a couple of months ago. She doesn't need another one in her life.”

“Um, excuse me, I’m right here,” Emma groans wryly. “And I’m perfectly capable of making my own decisions.”

“She’s not wrong though,” Ruby remarks. “He is a player. But a fucking hot player. Between the two of us, we’ve conquered all the women of Storybrooke.”

Emma lifts a brow. “Does that mean what I think it means?”

“Yep. Probably even some of the same women,” she winks, her words bearing no shame or remorse.

“Ruby, would you stop? Besides, neither of you have conquered me,” Mary Margaret points out with air quotes.

Ruby rolls her eyes. “Of course not. Prince Charming had already parked his car in your garage long ago.” She reverts her eyes to Emma. “If you’re looking for a relationship, he’s definitely not for you…” she leans over toward Emma, speaking softly, “but if you’re looking for a hookup to get over that cheating ex of yours, then he’s absolutely perfect for that. He’ll give you an orgasm sooooo hard, you’ll forget all about that scumbag. Then he’ll do it over and over again until he knows you won’t be able to walk for weeks.” Ruby grins wide. “Hell, you’ll forget your own fucking name for weeks.”

Emma gulps, having to recover from the images Ruby implanted in her mind of the man on the other side of the bar. Once she recovers, she furrows her brows at the conclusions she’s drawn from Ruby’s graphic depictions of what a night with the handsome, dark-haired bartender would be like. “How would you know? Have you two—”

Ruby laughs as though Emma just said the funniest thing she’s ever heard in her life. “Oh Gaaaaawwwwd, no! I don’t swing that way, honey,” she says, rising and waving off Emma’s words with a flick of her hand. “But I’ve seen the number Killian’s done on his conquests. People talk, especially the drunk, horny females who enter the bar. Plus, as I said, he’s my competition, so I have to know what he's working with… if you know what I mean,” she says with a wink.

“Yeah, I got it,” Emma groans as Ruby saunters away. Why do all the hot guys have to be players?

It’s just her luck.

Emma turns to catch another look at him.

God, he’s gorgeous.

Dark, wild hair, stubble on his chin and cheeks, and a fantastic body based on what she can see from her vantage point.

“Emma! Don’t even think about it! That man’s trouble and you know David would never approve,” Mary Margaret explains, pulling Emma from her trance.

She turns her head, glaring at her sister-in-law. “David is not my father. And besides, I’m a grown-ass woman! He can’t tell me who I can or cannot date.”

Mary Margaret gives her a motherly look. “I know, sweetie, but this man doesn’t date women, he fucks them and then sends them packing. David only wants to protect you from guys like him.”

“I don’t need his protection, okay? Or yours. I’m perfectly capable of looking out for myself.” Emma stands from her seat, and she’s not sure if it’s because of the alcohol still brewing in her system, or because her sister-law has expressed disapproval from both her and David, making this man seem like a forbidden, sinful dessert she’s dying to get a taste of, even though she’ll pay for it later. But right now she doesn't give a fuck.

She sucks in a breath and strides across the bar, ignoring Mary Margaret’s pleas and warnings.

Her eyes are fixed on him like a magnet. He’s wearing a black v-neck that fits him like a glove and shows off a provocative amount of chest hair, his tight, firm muscles bulging as he wipes down the bar counter. His muscles aren’t inhumanly large, just big enough for her to imagine him picking her up and easily carrying her to his bedroom like she weighs nothing. Emma can feel her panties grow wet just from watching him work.

But even though she doesn’t wish to be told who to be with, she knows she should heed her sister-in-law’s warnings.

What would one night of fun hurt, though? She’s spent too much time holed up in her New York apartment, wallowing in self-pity and heartache after Neal hurt her. She hasn’t been with anyone since then. And maybe she’s not looking to dive into a serious relationship right now. Or ever. Maybe she just wants to blow off some steam. And this man looks like he can handle such a task. She’s more than willing to find out.

Emma approaches the bar and stands in front of him, placing her hands on the counter.

“What can I get you, lass?”

Well, fuck me sideways.

He has a British accent too?

She knows she should run for her life, but before she can talk herself out of it, he looks up from his task, and she feels like her feet are glued to the floor.

Ho-ly hell.

He’s even more gorgeous up close.

His arms are inked with tattoos she so badly wants to trace with her fingers, and his striking blue eyes sparkle as he stares at her, his smile showing off a set of pearly white teeth.

Well shit.

She couldn’t run away if she wanted to.

~*~

Killian had been running back and forth behind the bar for hours, ringing up bar patrons, making drinks and engaging in small talk. It’s a typical Friday night at The Captain’s Rum; the place is normally busy on the weekends, especially since the bar is only a stone’s throw away from the university, and tonight is no exception. It’s crowded and loud, couples are dancing, and the women are scantily clad in either tiny dresses or short tops and skirts. As he’s grabbing beers and making cocktails, the bar continues to fill and grow louder.

He hands off drinks to a couple before moving on to the next customer.

“Hey Jones, can I get two Blue Ribbons?” his good mate, Robin, calls over the blaring music.

Killian chuckles and grabs the desired beers, popping off the caps before handing them over. “Taking it easy tonight?” he asks, leaning against the counter and gripping the edge of it with both hands.

“Aye. Regina doesn’t like the hard stuff. She’s more of a wine person.”

“Ah, I see.” Killian nods; he can definitely see that about Regina. He doesn't want to say this to one of his best mates, but the lass can be a little stuck up and quite bossy at times. She makes Robin happy though, so he keeps his mouth shut.

He chats with him for a few minutes, finally getting a few minutes of reprieve. As Robin heads back to his girlfriend, Killian takes the opportunity to wipe down the bar top. But before he’s finished, someone approaches the counter. His eyes are still trained on his task, but he can’t miss the long blonde hair, pink lace and fantastic cleavage, seeing as the view is directly in front of him. “What can I get you, lass?” he asks, throwing on his most charming grin as he lifts his head.

His smile is cemented on his face the second he looks up.

Killian’s accustomed to seeing pretty women entering his brother’s bar and parading around in clothes that barely cover their essential parts.

Yet nothing in the world could’ve prepared him for the woman standing in front of him on the other side of the bar counter.

No, not woman.

Goddess.

Emerald green eyes, soft pink lips curved into a shy smile, smooth creamy skin, long golden hair cascading over her shoulders.

Good.

God.

She’s breathtaking.

Stunning.

“What would you recommend?” she asks in a teasing tone.

Fuck.

Her voice is that of an angel’s. Pure and sweet and innocent.

She looks like everything he doesn’t deserve but wants every... fucking... part of.

“Uh… I um…” he stutters, scratching nervously behind his ear. He can’t form a cohesive sentence as he looks into those hypnotizing eyes. He wants to get lost in them, drown in them. “What are you… what are you in the mood for, love?” he finally musters, adding another one of his signature grins. “I can make you anything your heart desires.” What he wants to say is, “I can give you anything your heart desires,” but even that may not be true. As gorgeous as she is, he’s afraid he wouldn’t be the man she deserves. He’s never been the guy women like to take home to their parents, anyway. He’s the guy chicks like to have around for a good time before they eventually settle into a serious relationship with Mr. Perfect. He’s definitely no Mr. Perfect, more like a Good Luck Chuck, but at the moment, he feels like he could be fucking Superman for this woman. And he's only exchanged a few words with her so far.

She arches a brow and it’s literally the most adorable and sexiest thing he’s ever witnessed in his life. “Anything?” He senses a challenge in her tone.

“Try me,” he encourages.

She bites her bottom lip in thought.

He lied. Now that’s the most adorable and sexiest thing he’s ever witnessed.

“What if I said I wanted a Baby Yodarita?”

He arches a brow, very much intrigued. “A Baby Yodarita? Never heard of it.”

She laughs and the sound is music to his ears. “That's because I made up the name. But I figure it would be a green drink that looks like baby Yoda.”

“So, I take it you’re a Star Wars fan?”

“Are you a bartender?”

Just as he answers like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, since he’s behind the bar serving drinks, he catches her drift and flashes a smirk.

Could this woman be any hotter? And yes, as he’s asking this question in his head, he’s picturing Chandler Bing and the way he would say it, emphasizing the word be. Gods, he hates that he knows that about Friends. He hates that he actually likes that show.

“You don't really have to be a Star Wars fan to be a baby Yoda fan though. He's so cute, he's trending on the internet, haven't you seen?”

He chuckles. “Aye, who hasn't?”

She plants her hand on her hip, donning a sultry smirk. “So, are you up for the task, or not?”

He licks his lips and leans over the bar counter, his eyes locked with hers. He wants to ask her if she fell from heaven. Or if he just died and went to heaven. But he has a feeling cheesy lines wouldn't work on a woman like her. “I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific as to what task you’re referring to, love.” But who the fuck is he kidding? There is nothing he could do for her he would consider a task.

Only a pleasure.

Blush paints her cheeks and she leans over, meeting him halfway until her face is mere inches from his. “I have a few in mind… but how ‘bout that drink, first?”

Bloody. Fuck-ing. Hell.

Her voice is a mixture of sweet and seductive. He doesn’t know how she manages to pull off a combination like that. His eyes drop to her lips and he’s seriously considering kissing the holy fuck out of her over the bar counter, audience be damned. He almost groans just thinking about her soft, luscious looking lips pressed against his, but he swallows the sound before it leaves his throat.

He lifts his eyes to hers. “Sit tight, sweetheart.”

“Okay,” she says with a smile and takes a seat on a barstool. “Oh, and a Cosmo for my sister-in-law.”

“Coming right up.” It takes every ounce of strength within him to pull away, but somehow he does.

He has to take slow, deep breaths to peel his mind from the fantasies he’s already having of him and the blonde temptress watching him intently as he prepares her drink.

~*~

Emma snorts. She honestly didn’t think he would actually take her seriously. She was only kidding around. But he took her very seriously and eagerly accepted her challenge. And he did an amazing job.

She stares at the green drink in amusement, impressed, to say the least. He brought it to her in a margarita glass with two lime wedges sticking out like ears. The stem is wrapped in a napkin tied with twine and clearly made to look like Baby Yoda’s coat. And there's a cocktail stick tucked into the twine like a sword.

“Well? How did I do?” he asks, eagerly seeking her answer.

“It's so cute,” she comments honestly. “It looks great, but does it taste as good as it looks?” As she asks that question, she’s looking up into his gorgeous eyes. And she can’t deny she’s wondering the same about him.

Does he taste as good as he looks?

Before she brings the glass to her lips, he puts up a finger to stop her.

“Hold on.” He grabs a toothpick and stabs two cherries, one on each end, before sticking it into the drink, giving the baby Yoda a pair of eyes. “For the finishing touch,” he smirks.

After she stops laughing, she takes a hesitant drink. Once she takes the first sip, her face sours and she blinks a few times as she swallows. “Wow, that’s strong.” She arches her brow, pinning him with an accusatory stare. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”

He chuckles. “Aye, isn't that the intention?”

She nods and grins. “This will certainly do the trick.” She rises from the stool and reaches into her back pocket, pulling out her phone case wallet, which holds her phone and money. “How much?” she asks, pulling out some cash.

He waves off her offer. “The drinks are on me,” he says with a wink.

“Are you sure? I don't wanna get you in trouble.”

“Trust me, I won't get in trouble.”

Taking his word for it, she tucks the cash into her wallet. “Thanks for the drinks, Killian.”

He arches a sultry brow, making her heart skip a beat. “So, you’ve heard of me, but I have yet to learn your name?”

She laughs and points at the name embroidered into his shirt. “Yours is right there.”

“Oh, that,” he chuckles, a light blush tinting his cheeks as he peers down and brushes his fingers over the letters. “My boss insists we have our names displayed on our shirts.”

“Well, your boss sounds like a pain in the ass.”

“He is, but I only have to work here for another six months. I’m graduating from SBU in the Spring.”

She nods as a group of people approach the counter beside her. She glances over at them and shifts her gaze back to him, wishing he had more time to chat, but she knows he has to work. “It's Emma,” she makes sure to tell him before the counter becomes too overcrowded. “My name,” she clarifies, in case that wasn't obvious.

“It’s nice to meet you, Emma,” he says sweetly, reaching over to shake her hand. When she slips her palm into his, she can feel the sparks from his touch, but instead of shaking her hand, he brings it to his lips and kisses the back of it.

Oh, God.

This man’s lips on her skin feel like heaven and sin. She has to clench her thighs to stop the throbbing she feels between her legs.

Fuck.

She feels the loss when she pulls her hand away and sees the loss written all over his face. “Well, I should um… I should get back to my sister-in-law,” she stammers after learning how to form words again.

He scratches behind his ear and opens his mouth to speak before closing it again like he’s nervous about something. “Of course, love.”

Emma swallows thickly and lingers a bit, patiently waiting for him to say what’s on his mind.

He must sense she's waiting for him because as she grabs the drinks and starts to back away from the counter, his voice stops her. “Emma?”

Good Lord, she loves the way her name slides off his tongue.

She cocks a brow, hoping he's about to ask for her number. Praying he does. “Yes?”

“I um… can you come back here before you leave? Say in an hour when it slows down a bit? I’d love to chat with you some more,” he says sincerely.

Emma purses her lips like she has to mull over his question. The offer is extremely tempting. But she has something else in mind other than talking. Something involving his hands all over her body and her legs wrapped around his hips as he's plunging into her.

And you know what? Fuck it.

She’s sure whatever he has in mind is exactly what she has in mind. Or at least, close to it. “Sure.”

His eyes widen in excitement and surprise, as though he wasn't actually expecting her to say yes. “Really?”

She flashes him her sexiest grin. “Yeah, why not? I’ll see you in an hour.”

“See you then, love. Enjoy your drink. May the booze be with you.”

She snorts and backs away from the counter, holding up her glass in salute before taking a sip. Their eyes are still locked before she turns around.

As she walks away, she cranes her neck to see him still watching her, even as he's serving other customers. She winks at him and has the pleasure of witnessing that adorable pink blush coloring his cheeks and the smirk on his lips before she faces forward and heads back to Mary Margaret.

She’s not looking forward to the lecture her sister-in-law is about to give her, but honestly, she doesn't care. She's looking forward to returning to the hot bartender, hoping to go back to his bedroom. Or the restroom. Either will do, really. As long as she gets to have him.

After Mary Margaret is done chewing Emma out and reminding her of what a player Killian is, and after she finally realizes Emma is going to do what she wants, regardless of what anyone says, they are able to have some fun.

Ruby keeps the drinks coming, and soon they’re tipsy enough to get up and dance among the crowd of gyrating bodies already on the dance floor. Emma glances over at the counter every now and then, and every other time, she catches Killian staring at her, sending shivers down her spine. And every time he tosses her one of his cheeky smiles, her stomach flutters with butterflies.

Emma's thankful Mary Margaret is plastered enough to let loose and not give her any shit because she has no idea what Mary Margaret would do if Emma told her she's going back to talk to Killian. Though she has a feeling if Mary Margaret were sober, she'd do anything in her power to make sure Emma stayed away from him.

When the time finally comes, they order an Uber, which takes much longer than expected. She helps Mary Margaret into the backseat and tells her she's staying for a bit longer and will catch another Uber when she's ready to leave. She doesn't dare mention Killian's name, or that she plans on leaving with him, for fear Mary Margaret will blabber to her brother. Because then he'll come marching into the bar on his white horse to find his sister with the bartender and embarrass the hell out of her.

Mary Margaret's too drunk and in no shape to talk her out of anything, so Emma’s able to escape, knowing her brother will take care of his wife when she gets home.

Emma quickly shoots David a text to let him know his wife had a few too many drinks and is on her way home in an Uber and that Emma decided to stay a little longer but will be home soon. Which is a lie.

She hopes.

Before the Uber drives away, Emma slips her phone into her pocket before heading back into the bar. She's fifteen minutes late, but it's not like Killian can go anywhere. He’s the bartender.

Once inside, she takes a deep breath and tucks some hair behind her ears, a smile playing along her lips as she makes her way to the bar counter. She has no idea what exactly will happen once she reaches him, but with a face as gorgeous as his, she’s pretty sure she would let him do anything he wanted to.

She’s also pretty sure he could help Emma get over her ex. As they say, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. And that’s exactly what she plans on doing.

As Emma nears the counter and spots Killian, the beaming smile on her face immediately falls flat.

And her heart sinks.

A busty blonde is standing at the bar, her hand running up and down Killian’s arm, her fingers tracing his tattoos. The woman is sitting on a barstool at the opposite side of the counter in a low-cut top that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination, and a skirt so short and tight it looks like it's been painted on. Killian’s standing in front of her, so his back is to Emma as he gives his full attention to the other blonde. It's almost time for last call, so it's now much quieter in the bar, and she's close enough to be able to hear their conversation.

“What can I get you, love?”

“A Tequila.”

“Tequilas are trouble,” he says matter-of-factly.

She moves in closer, biting her smile. “So am I,” she taunts.

“I’m fully aware,” he replies with a chuckle. He tries to move, probably to make her Tequila, but she grabs his arm, forcing him to stay. Though, forcing is a bit of an overstatement; Killian doesn't seem to be putting up much of a fight. “Would you like a snack, too?”

Mischief dances in her eyes as she licks her lips, ogling him like he’s the snack. “I’m looking at it, honey.”

Emma feels like she's going to be sick.

The woman leans in and bites his ear and then pulls away slightly. “Last weekend was incredible. Can’t stop thinking about having my legs wrapped around you,” she giggles.

Jealousy stabs Emma’s gut and disappointment shoots through her like a lightning bolt, bringing her back to reality.

Mary Margaret and Ruby were totally right.

He’s a player.

Unable to listen to them for another second, Emma spins on her heels and dashes out the door so fast, she almost tramples over some guys heading in at the last minute.

She should’ve listened to the warnings, but she was too blinded by the attraction she felt for Killian.

God, she’s a fucking idiot.

Why does she always fall for the dangerous guys? The ones who are bad for her? Why can’t she just find a nice guy for once? Someone safe. Someone who won’t stomp on her heart and discard it like trash without batting an eye.

She pushes open the door, tears stinging her eyes as she runs outside into the bitter, chilly night, hoping the Uber driver hasn’t taken off yet. But it's wishful thinking because she can't think of a reason why he wouldn't have left by now.

“Ooof.”

The air rushes from her lungs as she slams into a tall, solid mass.

Hands are gripping her arms to keep her from falling as apologies leave her lips. “Sorry.” She looks up at the man towering over her, Emma's eyes connecting with soft blue ones, which are full of apology.

He flashes a warm smile, his lips framed by a light brown scruff.

“I’m the one who should be sorry, lass. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

Shit.

He has an accent too?

What’s with all the accents in this town? She’s noticed a lot of the locals here weren’t actually born here. Or the States. She didn’t realize how much she liked men with foreign accents until tonight.

This man continues to apologize, but he doesn’t sound very sorry. At least not for crashing into her. “I was distracted,” he says with a smirk, giving Emma the impression she was what he was distracted by.

Emma tears herself from the trance she’s in and glances at the side of the road, where the Uber once was. “Shit,” she curses under her breath.

“Are you okay?” he asks in genuine concern.

“Yeah, it’s just… my ride has already left. And I’m too drunk to drive home,” she sighs.

Before the man can respond, his phone chimes from his jacket. “Excuse me,” he says apologetically, pulling out the device. He studies whatever’s on the screen with a worried expression, then looks up at her, his mouth slightly agape.

“Everything okay?” she asks with an arched brow, starting to shiver as a frigid wind sweeps around her.

“Um, yeah.” He glances at his phone again before lifting his gaze. “You wouldn’t happen to be Emma, would you?”

She freezes and just stares at him, not knowing how to answer that. Or rather, why she should answer that.

What the hell?

She's never seen this man before in her life, so how does he know her name?

Her heart pounds and she wants to run, but she's afraid she’s not sober enough for that at the moment. “How do you know my name?”

He appears to be hesitant as he holds up his phone, showing her his screen.

Emma takes it in her hands so she can get a better look.

Her eyes widen when she sees a text from a Nolan.

Nolan, as in her brother? Who else with the last name, Nolan, lives with a Mary Margaret and an Emma?

Nolan: I just received a text from Emma. She sent Mary Margaret home in an Uber and is at your bar. Can you make sure she gets home all right?

Her blood sizzles as she rereads the message. Then she reads the texts before it, a couple in particular sticking out like sore thumbs.

Nolan: So… I have a huge favor to ask.

Me: Sure, what’s up, mate?

Nolan: The wife and sister are going to the Rabbit Hole tonight. Emma just moved here from New York after a terrible break-up and Mary Margaret is determined to hook her up with someone.

Nolan: Think you have time to get away from work and keep an eye on my sister, make sure she doesn’t find any trouble?

What the actual fuck?

Why is her brother having this man spy on her?

Emma turns around and pulls back the hand still holding the phone, about to toss the damn thing.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, don’t shoot the messenger, love,” he pleads. “I need my phone.”

The endearment makes her shiver. Killian had called her love, too.

She spins around to glare at the stranger. “David’s using you to spy on me?” she demands firmly.

He holds up his hands in surrender. “I didn’t want to, lass, I promise, but I would’ve felt terrible if I said no and then, later on, found out something bad happened to you. I promise, I was only helping a friend and looking out for you.”

Emma sighs and hands his phone back, knowing he’s telling the truth. She saw his responses to David’s texts and gathered he didn’t wish to put his nose where it didn’t belong or to stir up any trouble. “David always has been good at persuading people,” she grumbles.

“Aye, especially when it comes to protecting the ones he loves,” he winks.

“Even so, he has no business spying on me!” she states louder than intended.

“I wholeheartedly agree,” he states adamantly, making sure to express how much he was against this whole idea, to begin with.

Emma crosses her arms over her chest, wondering how she never saw him at the Rabbit Hole when she was there. “So, you spied on me at the Rabbit Hole?”

He shakes his head. “No, I didn’t get the chance to. By the time I got there, you and Mary Margaret were already gone.”

Emma shakes her head and rolls her eyes at the thought of her own brother asking someone to spy on her. But she’s not surprised. “Brothers are so annoying,” she grumbles.

He chuckles, and the deep, hearty sound warms her heart a little, despite the chill in the air. “Agreed.”

She arches her brow, as though to ask him to expand on why.

“I have one of those, too. So I get it.”

Emma’s features soften, a small smile pulling at her lips. “Older or younger?”

“Younger. He can be quite the ponce sometimes, but at the end of the day, I’d lay down my life for him.”

“I usually feel the same about David… and then he goes and pulls something like this,” Emma remarks bitterly.

“I take it he does this a lot?”

“He did when we were younger. But then I moved to New York and he came here, so we didn’t see each other very much.”

“Ah, I see.”

Another gust of wind makes her shiver and has him removing his jacket and offering it to her. Even though she’s already wearing one.

“May I?”

She cocks a brow. “Won’t you be cold?”

He shrugs. “I rarely get cold.”

She gives him a soft nod. He looks like he’d be the type of man who knows how to stay warm, and therefore knows how to keep a woman warm. He has those big, strong arms and broad shoulders, and he’s very tall. She could picture herself being buried in his warmth, but maybe because she's currently freezing her ass off. “Thanks,” she murmurs when he goes behind her and drapes the jacket over her shoulders.

“It’s my pleasure, love.” When he’s standing in front of her again, he sticks out his hand. “The name’s Liam.”

Emma smiles and slips her palm in his.

She was right. He is warm. Very warm. “I think David’s mentioned your name a few times.”

“Probably not as much as he talks about you. In fact, I feel like I already know you,” he chuckles as they break the handshake.

“Hopefully, he had good things to say?” She almost groans at the idea of David spewing a bunch of embarrassing stories about her from when she was a kid.

“Aye. Very good things… well, mostly,” he admits. “But who doesn’t have at least a complaint or two about their siblings?”

She nods in agreement. “True. I complain about him all the time.”

He grins big and wide. “I don’t doubt that.” When his smile fades a little, he scratches his head as he looks at her, hesitant to form the next words he wants to say. “Well, uh… seeing as it’s,” he checks his watch, “almost two o’clock and not getting any warmer out here, how about I give you a ride home?”

Emma twists her lips in thought. Normally she wouldn’t even think twice about rejecting a ride from a stranger, but there’s something about this guy that tells her he’s not a serial killer or rapist. There’s something pure about him, a vast contrast to the bartender inside. That guy screamed danger and sin, but this man standing before her gives off completely different vibes. He has a warm personality, which is very refreshing, and he has honest eyes. Besides, she may not be able to stand her brother and his antics sometimes, but he's always had good taste in friends. And if David trusts Liam enough to keep tabs on his sister, then he must be trustworthy.

So with a feeble smile, she finally answers. “Okay.”

Tagging people who have shown interest. Let me know if you would like to be added. @itsfabianadocarmo @resident-of-storybrooke @onceuponaprincessworld @viajandosinalas @teamhook @captainswan-shipper88 @jamif @katielovesstarcrossedlovers @uhthreeyuh @lfh1226-linda @babyyouremyqueen @sthonour @julesep3026 @fairytalewhispersinmyheart @andiirivera @wefoundloveunderthelight @wickedsw4n @eleveneitherway @eherron14 @ouatpost @transparentclodsludgeweasel

#cs ff #captain swan #liam and emma #swan jewel #forced roommates #minor character death #angst #heartache #pregnancy #healing #through the rising tide #my fic

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amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines · 4 years

Text

Sweet Pea//don't know if you love me or you want me dead

Request: I dunno if this'll go through or not but can i request a Sweet Pea/reader based on this text post, I can't find the original version lol

hey! sweet pea imagine based off this ^. originally posted by @riverdalecentral, so thank you! its enemies to lovers!! which is a trope that i adore! (side note, if you ever see anything to do with enemies to lovers you can 100% just send it to me with literally no explanation and i absolutely will not mind). title is from ‘teeth’ by 5sos! i had so much fun writing this! i hope you all enjoy it! i also hope you’re all having a lovely day/night!

No matter where you are in the world, you never want to be in a forest at night. But if you live in Riverdale, thats just a given. Nobody in their right minds goes into Fox Forest at midnight, however, spending five minutes with Sweet Pea can make anyone go insane. And so here you are, trekking through the woods like you’re in some sort of shitty horror film.

“I can’t believe Jones has got us running around town like we’re in fucking Scooby Doo.” Sweet Pea huffs as the two of you walk through the trees. You let go of the branch you’re holding, and it narrowly avoids hitting Sweet Pea. You can feel the glare you’re getting and a small smirk twitches at your lips.

You and Sweet Pea have a complicated relationship to say the least. You’ve both been part of the serpents for the same amount of time. (You were actually initiated 5 minutes before him but he doesn’t like to admit that). You have grown up in the same trailer park, five trailers from each other and you share the same friends. But there’s just something about him that makes you want to stick pins in your eyes. And there’s something about you, that makes him want to repeatedly stub his toe every single minute of his life, rather than spend five minutes with you. So yeah, its complicated.

There’s been so much speculation around why you two hate each other. Fangs says its because you’re both too stubborn to actually have a proper conversation (whatever Fogarty). Toni says its because you secretly like each other (gross), and there was once a theory that it was because you had secretly dated and then broke up (again, you would rather stick pins in your eyes).

You just hated each other. That was it.

Although, despite the fact that spending five minutes in the same room with him makes you nauseous, he is kind of attractive. If you’re into the whole ‘bad boy, gang member, secretly soft at heart’ thing. Not that you’d ever admit that to anyone.

“You’re Shaggy!” “You’re Scooby.” You both say at the same time making your expression mirror his. You both glare at each other before reluctantly turning away and continuing to walk.

“If you’re implying that I’m lesser because I’m the dog...1. You’re an idiot. Everybody loves dogs and Scooby Doo is evidence of that. And 2. Scooby Doo is the main character. The whole franchise is named after him, making him the lead. He even has a snack named after him. Its Scooby’s world and we’re just living in it.”

“What. The. Fuck.” He stops and you roll your eyes, turning around to look at him.

“You know I’m right...Shaggy.” You shine your torch in his eyes and he squints before flipping you off.

“How am I Shaggy?”

“You give of major stoner vibes, you’re always eating and I never see you wear anything other than a dark t-shirt, black jeans and your serpent jacket.” You look him up and down and he huffs in response, crossing his arms over his chest.

“They all wear the same outfits...they’re cartoons.”

“True.” You nod. “But the other two are right. Plus, you’d be nothing without me.”

“I’d be a lot happier without you.” He replies and you send him a sarcastic smile back. He returns it and the two of you continue through the woods, your torches casting a variation of shadows against the tall trees. Its less like Scooby Doo and more like Blair Witch. And despite your company being Sweet Pea, you’d rather him than nobody.

You suddenly get the feeling your being watched, and the intensity of it makes you stop in your tracks, Sweet Pea soon catches up to you, stopping beside you and also looking around.

“What is it? Did you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror?” He teases and even though you’re absolutely terrified, you still find it in yourself to punch him in the arm.

“We’re in the middle of a forest. Where would I find a mirror?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “I’ve found some weird things in the woods. I once found a pile of bones, a belt and a half eaten apple.”

“I-What?” You look up at him and he shrugs casually.

“To this day I have no idea why they were there. Although, the belt does look pretty good on.”

“Hm-Wait what?” You glance at his belt, the silver reflecting off the rays of your torch and he quickly looks away.

“Nothing.”

“What exactly are we looking for?” You ask, changing the subject.

“I dunno. Jughead just said ‘anything strange’.”

“In Riverdale? Yeah, that’ll be easy.” You huff before quickly pointing your torch to the side of you. Sweet Pea joins, the two of you silently listening and watching (and praying) that its just an owl. After a minute you both continue walking, this time in silence and you’re sure you’ve huddle a little closer to each other, but neither of you seem to mind.

Twigs snap underneath your shoes and a gust of wind makes the trees rustle around you. It makes you shiver, and you swear Sweet Pea pauses for just a second to look around. The whole atmosphere makes you feel suddenly claustrophobic, despite being in the great outdoors, and right now you’re unsure who you hate more, Sweet Pea...or Jughead.

“What did he mean by strange?” You whisper and look around again.

“I don’t know. Anything that could explain the weird going ons at his preppy new school.”

“Why would that have anything to do with the woods. They’re in the opposite direction of each other.”

“Ask Jones.” He holds his hands up defensively making you huff loudly. Your barely make it two steps before freezing again, Sweet Pea grunts as he walks into you but you don’t acknowledge him, too busy trying to decipher whether the noise you heard was a bird or a murderer.

“Did you hear that?”

“What!?” He looks around quickly and somehow, the two of you end up closer together than you were before. “Y/n, I swear to god, if you’re fucking with me, I will actually kill you.”

“Surprisingly, you don’t sound that threatening when I can feel you literally shaking beside me.”

“Shut up.”

“Why did Jones even pair us together. You’re about as much use as a wet sock.” You mutter angrily, but you cut yourself off when you see a shadow move out of the corner of your eye. Before you can stop yourself you’re reaching out for Sweet Pea, grabbing his arm and squeezing. “Sweet Pea?”

“Yep?” His doesn’t even hide the fear in his voice, and if you were in any other situation, you would have definitely made fun of him.

“Did you see that?”

“...yep.” He nods. “Do you think we should investigate?”

“Do you think we should investigate?” You mock. “Its like you want to get murdered.”

“A lot of people wouldn’t be opposed to that.”

“Getting murdered, or you specifically getting murdered.”

“Either, or.” He shrugs.

“I think at least a few people would miss you.” You reply and a smirk appears on his face.

“Am I dead? Have I already been murdered? Are you actually being nice to me?”

“We can find out if people would miss you if you want.” You smile sarcastically at him and he shoves you lightly. For a second, the two of you forget where you are and what you’re supposed to be doing. It feels light, even if you are being rude to each other, and you swear, for a split second, you feel yourself enjoying each others company. But of course, he ruins it.

“No thanks. I’m happy knowing that you’d miss me.”

“I never said tha-” He only looks away for a few seconds. He saw something move and he thought he’d check it out. But in the time that he turns around, that he pulls his eyes away from watching your lips as they say whatever sarcastic comment you’d come up with, you vanish. Your sentence being cut off.

He swears he’s never moved faster. Instantly he turns back around, shining the torch in every direction he can. It suddenly feels darker and the only thing he can hear is his heart beating in his throat. “Y/n?” It starts off as a whisper, unsure of what to do. But when you don’t answer, he manages to find his voice. “Where did you go? Y/n? I would very much like to hear your annoying voice.” His eyes close, despite every fibre of his body screaming at him not too. He’s seen horror films, he knows he shouldn’t close his eyes, but he needs to wish and prayer and do anything he can to find you.

“...sweet pea?” Your voice is quiet and trembling, but he hears it and his eyes snap open, frantically looking around.

“Y/-” Your name dies in his throat once he sees you, and he can’t speak anymore.

For as long as Sweet Pea can remember, he’s been day dreaming about you getting into traumatic accidents. There’s a running competition between the two of you, over who can come up with the most gruesome and violent end for the other. Unfortunately he is winning due to a very traumatizing death that he said was inspired by both Saw and Final Destination.

Right now though, your actual life is in threat and he has never wanted anything less in his life.

A blonde, creepy looking boy around the same age as both of you holds you tight to him, one arm over your chest while the other holds a knife to your throat. There’s a dark haired girl stood beside him, also holding a knife, and even though she doesn’t look as intimidating as the blonde, it does nothing to make Sweet Pea feel better.

“Wow, Jones was too scared to find us himself he sent his lackeys to do his dirty work.”

“Let her go...please.” His voice breaks and he takes a careful step towards you. His hands already reaching into his pocket, desperately searching for his knife and brass knuckles, but he stops when he makes eye contact with the boy.

“And we are not his lackeys.” You protest, despite the knife digging into your skin further, and the hold on you becoming tighter.

Whatever Sweet Pea was feeling, whether it was fear, vulnerability or something in between completely disappears. And his gaze shifts from the man holding you, to you yourself, the same annoyed expression on his face. “Maybe focus on the knife being held to your throat, and then argue about what we are to Jughead.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” You roll your eyes.

“Oh sorry for trying to save your life.”

“Save my life? You couldn’t even sav-”

“Is this a bad time? Do you want us to come back and kill you later orrr?” The girl asks sarcastically as she looks between you and Sweet Pea. Both of you look at each other before looking at the floor.

“Continue.” You grumble and you feel the knife slice into your skin. A small cry escapes your lips and Sweet Pea looks up quickly. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him look so frightened, and you definitely didn’t think you’d be on the receiving end of such a look, but there’s something about it that stirs something inside of you, in spite of the very inappropriate moment.

“Okay.” She says, twirling the knife in-between her fingers. “We can either do this the easy way, or the even easier way. We’re going to make it look like a fight that went wrong. And then we’ll stumble out of the woods, covered in blood, crying, saying that it was self defense.” She smiles wickedly.

“Even better idea, we don’t even have to be here. We could make it look like a fight between two gang members.”

“Hmmm.” You and Sweet Pea say at the same time. Both of you know it’s very rare that Serpents kill each other, so that wouldn’t work, but as soon as you look at each other after the collective thought, do you realize the mistake you made. Never say ‘hmm’ when faced with death.

“Aww, thanks for helping us plan your death.” The boy says. “So no to the fight between gang members. What about a fight between two lovers.”

“Ew.” You mutter.

“Gross.” Sweet Pea adds.

“I’d rather just die.” You shrug and Sweet Pea sends you a look.

“Y/n.” He sighs.

“Fine, we’ll just go with the fight.” The boy huffs, moving the knife to the other side of your neck and digging it in. Blood trickles down your chest making both you and Sweet Pea wince.

“You want to fight?” Your force the words out of your mouth and you can feel the look Sweet Pea is giving you. “Come on then, fight me.” The two of them exchange glances, they clearly weren’t expecting an answer from you. Whoever sent them to do this, definitely underestimated how stubborn serpents are, so maybe Fangs was right about you and Sweet Pea, maybe you were both too stubborn to get along.

The ten seconds that they’re distracted, gives you and Sweet Pea a chance to look at each other. A silent conversation happens between the two of you and even though you’re not entirely sure of what he’s saying, you just hope you got the basic idea and so you send him a nod.

While they’re distracted, Sweet Pea reaches into his pocket, slowly pulling his knife out, and as soon as they look back, you start your plan. Quickly you kick the guy as hard as you can in the shin making him fall and push you away from him, dropping the knife as he does. You swiftly pick it up and Sweet Pea uses the distraction to grab the girl, pressing his own knife against her neck.

You stand a few feet away from them, holding your own knife and the one you stole out in front of you.

“Touch her if you never want to see the light of day again.” He whispers in the girls ear and he sends a look to her weird friend that makes him stop in his tracks.

“Now.” You smile. “Do you want to do this the easy way, or the hard way?”

----

Dawn breaks as you both stumble out the forest. You’re covered in cuts and bruises, but thankfully you’ve stopped bleeding so you’ll take that as a win. Usually you enjoy beating up rich kids, its one of the few things you and Sweet Pea can bond over, but right now you just want to go home.

They may have been preppy, but they definitely knew what they were doing. And they’d managed to escape, slipping away from you and through the trees. They may have gotten away, but they were barley in one piece, and so you figured that would be enough to bide Jughead some time with whatever he was planning.

There’s a togetherness about fighting. For a while you, both you and Sweet Pea were sure you were going to die in there, and so now that you’re walking through the sleepy streets of the town, there’s a part of you thats glad the other made it out.

They say fighting changes you. It awakens something in you. Usually that something is hate or anger, but both of you already have enough of that.

No, this is something else.

Respect for the other? Or maybe fondness? Whatever it is, its new and it swirls around the both of you, leaving you unsure of how to act. So you walk to Jughead’s house in silence, your arms brushing gently against each other every so often.

Jughead’s house is quiet as the two of you walk through the front door. The Jones/Cooper house is full, serpents mill about the place, with either food or drinks in their hands. And Jughead is in the middle of them, stood right in the centre of the living room. It seems you and Sweet Pea weren’t the only people sent to their deaths last night.

Everyone looks surprised as you walk into the living room. They probably expected at least one of you to be dead, whether that was because of something is the woods, or one of you, its surprising to see you two alive, with just a few cuts and bruises.

“Did you guys find anything weird.”

“Oh, you know. The usual.” You shrug. Jughead nods, deciding to talk to you about it in private later on. And so he starts talking to the group again, you and Sweet Pea practically blending into the background. But there’s a definite shift in atmosphere.

Usually when you and Sweet Pea are in a room together there’s tension, and everybody is aware of it. But this time, its different. It feels light, despite the tense subject being discussed. Everyone can feel the change, but nobody can figure out what it is.

Only you and Sweet Pea know what has changed. And as he squeezes your hand in his, a soft smile appearing on his face as he looks at you, you have a feeling a lot more things are going to change. Some of them may not be for the good, it seems like there’s a lot more to be uncovered in Riverdale, but one things for sure, you’re glad Sweet Pea is by your side for it.

#sweet pea #sweet pea imagine #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea x you #sweet pea x y/n #riverdale #riverdale imagine

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lordeasriel · 3 years

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Do you have a take on what Phillip and Vera’s daemons would be? Or any of the other guests’ for that matter?

Hehehe yes I do, I've been waiting for this question for so long lmao I'm working on a new fic that is ATTWN written by the Agatha Christie of Lyra's world so I had to come up with daemons for all of them.

I'll start in reverse order, from Vera to Marston, since you asked about her first anon.

For Vera, I was torn between a brownish/greyish owl and a marmoset. I really can't imagine any other Vera than Maeve Dermody, and because appearance is important when thinking about Daemons (because daemons lend something of their animal form to the human, ie 'a serpent daemon usually has a human with a serpentine vibes' this was said by Philman in an interview), I think an owl would have suited her. She has big eyes, that are always darting around; she's often immobile, observing her surroundings. However, I think that a marmoset suits her better because Vera has a Hannah Relf quality to her (another marmoset daemon, in case you haven't read the HDM books). It's that silent attitude, keeping to herself, wary of her surroundings and while she seems weak and fragile, Vera is not afraid to act or reacts extremely if the situation calls for it. She is also very shrewd, and I chose the marmoset for her because there is something so appealing to see Vera, big eyes and shrewd attitude behind a mask of silly girl, with a daemon clinging to her neck, observing the room, tiny and silent, but just as clever as she is.

For Lombard, and this one was a no brainer, he has a panther. Show! Lombard would have a black panther, because it suits Aidan Turner's looks; for the book, it would still be a panther type, but a spotted leopard one. Book! Lombard is more earthy than Show! Lombard, hence his daemon having a lighter, more brown palette. As for the reason, there wasn't a lot of thinking when I chose this; in the book, Lombard is described many times like a panther: dangerous, lithe, moving quietly about the house. Everyone in the house feels this vibe and they know he is dangerous, and he sees them as prey (because one of them is the killer and he is just waiting to catch them). I think for a man like him, having a big, dangerous daemon, is very suitable. There is also something of Asriel in him, both in the show and book, so it's fitting they have the same/similar type of daemon.

For Blore, I knew it had to be a type of dog. Everything about Blore screams "barks more than it bites", and while he can be assertive and take control, he always defers to people if they say the right thing to him. Book! Blore would have a boring, but bigger dog, I imagine; he is described as a big man, and he has a very thuggish attitude. Maybe a German Shepherd. Show! Blore is more sleek and clever, less thuggish more alert and paranoid, but also more in control. He dresses nice, is rather vain specially towards his skills, so I gave him a black poodle, a small one though. Blore, although assertive, always is overwhelmed by Armstrong and Lombard, both men that have a bigger presence and willpower than he does.

For Armstrong, I was torn between weasel and a badger, and I think the badger suits him better. It's tempting to go weasel and say he was oh cunning and sleek, but I don't think that's true. While Show! Armstrong loses his shit fairly quickly, even in distress he maintains some control (like when he insists to take care of Mrs Rogers despite Rogers saying she was alright; or when they are all dancing and he is staring at Vera and Lombard, suspicious, trying to steady himself). The Badger fits him better: grounded, stable creatures but also very vicious if they have to be; if my doctor had a badger daemon I would feel safe, I think. Examples of badger daemons in the books I think it's Malcolm's mom, who is incredibly down-to-earth and assertive, which represents Book! Armstrong better, I'll be honest, but I can see Toby Stephens with a badger daemon as Armstrong as well. His character is a man with a sense of belonging, and he perceives his surroundings very well. In the book, Armstrong is more cool headed (for the show, him and Vera have their attitudes swapped, which I like but it's fair to mention here as well) and more in control of his motions. He moves around everyone and doesn't start dissent like in the show, which I think makes sense for his daemon. He doesn't fight unless he has too.

For Wargrave, and this was fun, but I was torn between a butterfly and a chameleon, and I ultimately decided for the butterfly because I thought the chameleon was too on the nose with his twist. This is for both show and book, and if there are changes it's probably just in colours and patterns. In the book, Wargrave is often described as someone with a reptile smile, hence why I chose the chameleon at first, but I think he is still a fragile man at his core. Butterflies are synonym of beauty and change; they tend to be associated with evolution and growth, and that's Wargrave's story I think. He is a man who spent his life working in law, seeing dozens and dozens of criminals come and go and die: he was known for having a high death rate, so I imagine he dealt with heinous crimes the most (I don't know for sure but I don't think they hanged people for stealing or whatever in the early 20th century, but take this with a pinch of salt lmao). Then one day Wargrave meets this Edward Seton, a total sadist (and a serial killer in the show) and he realised things about himself that he didn't know before. In the show, he has a line about Seton having a legacy of terror to be remembered, while he and everyone else would be forgotten and I think that's very much what the butterfly represents for Wargrave. When he finds out he is sick, he finds growth in pursuing his true passion, which was murder. The butterfly is also a very fragile daemon, and because of that she doesn't reflect his true physique (despite sick he is nowhere near as frail as he appears to be), and her beauty helps lure the trust of people, make him seem trustworthy (Vera on the show, Armstrong in the book). Just to add, he is also separated from her, and this is how he manages to fake his death well. (i was saving this twist for the fic but I might never finish it lmao)

For Miss Brent, this one had me thinking a lot. Like, a lot. I was torn between a toucan and a spider, and I ultimately decided to go for the toucan, mostly because I think it suits her better. Spiders are often associated with storytellers and creative people and Emily Brent is far from creative. She is judgemental, conservative, vain and nasty towards anyone she considers unworthy. In the show, she has an attitude towards the General, she likes him well and they don't quite explain why, but I think it's because he is from her generation - and social status - and she respects him for it. The same goes for Wargrave and Armstrong, but towards Armstrong she just respects his status, not his age. She sort of sees him as "still young but on the right path". She absolutely resents Lombard - as she does in the book, probably for the same reason: he is pretty much a living hands to mouth kind of guy and he is immoral according to her - and she doesn't think highly of Blore either, also because of social status. Anyway, I can do a separate post about this, but I chose the toucan because they are beautiful birds, a little menacing, and they have a bit of a bitchy attitude. No deeper thought to that to be fair lmao. Toucans make me think "vain" and I love this concept because Miss Brent loathes women who wear make up or show off, but I think this Is clearly a façade on her part, because she is also vain, in her own way.

For Rogers, I was torn between a big, posh dog and a fox. Now, this one is tough because we fall into that "good servants have dog daemons" rule, which I think it's too simplistic to define a person's nature. I'm more inclined towards the posh dog, mostly because I think that helps Rogers fit in with a crowd that isn't his; and sure, he is a cunning man (like a fox daemon would evoke) but I think a dog like a Dobermann suits Rogers best, in the book at least. A fox would suit show! Rogers better, but the dog suits him too physically (tall, slender, mean looking), so I'm sticking with the dog.

For the General, I think a hawk. A bird of prey. He was a soldier and he was fucking shrewd to send a man to die in such an inconspicuous way. Birds of prey Daemons have very passionate humans - Ma Costa, Tony Costa, Anthony Hassall, as well as Bud Schlesinger and Marcel Delamare with their owls - but while owls are tame and introvert, hawks tend to be extreme and out there, lashing out and being menacing with ease. This was a natural choice for me, although I also considered eagles for him later, but changed my mind. (On my notes I wrote "def not an owl" lmao)

For Mrs Rogers, I think a mouse would suit her, and I know this is painfully obvious, but that's the vibe she gives me. A small person, being coerced and oppressed by a petty tyrant, and she just lets things steer her by, absolutely not in control of her life. I also gave her a same sex type of daemon, because she just has that uncanny aura, I don't know how to explain it; I can see that affecting her life since childhood, and steering her towards a man like Rogers, who would take advantage of her loneliness. Same sex daemons are rare and the example we had was in someone extremely sensitive, and I feel that in Mrs Rogers.

And lastly, Tony Marston, and this one I had too many options, but I opted for a Margay, who was suggested to me in fact. It's a feline daemon, very slick and lithe but also very ethereal looking, which I think suits Marston: handsome but lacking substance (not lacking so much substance in the show tho lmao get it? cause he did cocaine? a substance? Haha please don't unfollow me). Frankly, because he dies first I didn't give this too much thought, but I knew it had to be a wild daemon, quick and lithe.

Honorable mention to Fred Narracott and his seagull daemon. Thanks for asking this anon, I had a blast!

#asks #hdm au: attwn #and then there were none #thanks for the ask anon I've been waiting for it for so long lmao #long post

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umbramatic · 3 years

Text

Bear No Fruit

This is an ancient Zootopia fic I am posting here now because apparently I never posted it here??? or at the very least I absolutely cannot find it searching this blog. Anyway here you go: Bear No Fruit

They were cornered, outnumbered, outmatched.

Judy was curled up next to him, a large, gaping, bloody wound in her leg left by an inadvertent yet literal scrape with a fossilized tusk in the Zootopia Natural History Museum. He saw she was as scared as she was, wanted to calm her down, figure something out...

"Okay, now just relax..."

He knew this was no time to relax. He was just desperate for them to both stay composed, figure something out.

He reached to his pockets, looking for something, anything, that could help the cut. He found nothing. He had a vague recollection of forgetting blueberries somewhere, but dismissed it, that was hardly important right now.

"Come on out Judy..."

Nick froze for a second, feeling the vice was disturbingly omnious for a sheep, before Judy shoved a metal case into his chest.

"Take the case! Get it to Bogo!"

"I'm not gonna leave you behind. That's not happening."

"I can't walk!"

"Just... We'll think of something."

"We're on the same team, Judy!" said the sheep's voice again.

Nick grabbed Judy and the case and ran, haphazardly placing a dummy rabbit into view of the officers as he headed off. He tuned out the rest of Bellwether's rant as he ran, until:

"Over there!"

He just ran faster. He ran so fast, in fact, he didn't see the ram heading straight for them until his horns were within his tail's length of his face.

He and Judy were immediately knocked into a deep pit and slammed against the decorative rocks amid the fake grass within, the case knocked from his grip onto the museum floor above. As they got to their feet, Nick reached out to Judy, only for both to hear Bellwether laugh - at Judy, however.

"Well you should have just stayed on the carrot farm, huh? It really is too bad. I... I did like you.

"What are you going to do?" said Judy. "KIll me?"

Bellwether laughed. "Of course not!"

"...He is."

Just as Nick had come to the realization of what she entailed, the dart had already hit his neck. As the serum flowed through his bloodstream all his horror and coherent thought were replaced by other things.

Anger.

Hate.

Hunger.

-----------

Judy rushed over to Nick as the dart hit him, horrified, even as Bellwether continued to taunt.

"Yes, police! There's a savage fox in the Natural History Museum! Officer Hopps is down! Please, hurry!"

Judy clutched Nick even as he groaned and snarled. "No Nick, don't do this, fight it..."

"Oh, but he can't help it, can he? Since preds are just biologically predisposed to being savages..."

Suddenly Nick got up on all four paws and snarled at her, Judy realizing with horror his pupils had been reduced to slits. She scampered back with her lame leg best she could as he rushed her, threw a fake deer in his direction he was pinned by and savagely attacked as Judy watched, helpless.

"Gosh!" said Bellwether, "think of the headline! 'Hero cop killed by savage fox!'"

Taking her eyes off Nick just barely enough to look up at Bellwether and fiddle with something in her pocket, Judy scowled. "So that's it? Prey fears predator and you stay in power?"

"Pretty much."

"It won't work!"

Bellwether scowled herself. "Fear always works. And I'll dart every predator in Zootopia to keep it that way."

Suddenly, she saw Nick's slitted eyes lock on her again. He made no slow stalk, just a mad, frenzied rush toward her, fangs bared.

Instinctively she used her good leg to let out a kick. He flinched, yelped, then mindlessly lunged again, only to be hit with another, breaking teeth and drawing blood. He attempted to claw, at which she bit, drawing more blood. He snarled, snapped, until another kick laid him unconscious.

Judy gasped and panted as Bellwether sneered.

"Hmph. Should have gotten a tougher fox for a partner. But no matter. It's clear with all this evidence it's my word against yours."

The other police officers file in, stunned at the sight. Belwether turned to them, opening her mouth to speak, when she heard her own voice and Judy's come up from below.

"So that's it? Prey fears predator and you stay in power?"

"Pretty much."

"It won't work!"

"Fear always works. And I'll dart every predator in Zootopia to keep it that way."

Bellwether turned to see Judy weakly holding her carrot recorder up in the air. She turned back to see the officers -particularly Bogo - scowling down at her.

"We're going to need to talk," said Bogo.

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

Judy lay fidgeting, tossing and turning in her hospital bed even as the bandages and stitches around her wound stung. She grabbed the remote, flipped through various news channels,saw everything of the Bellwether scandal she had exposed by the skin of her teeth but nothing of what she truly looked for.

She perked up slightly at the entrance of an opossum doctor, but didn't look a him, merely spoke softly. "...Doctor?"

"Yes, Officer Hopps?"

"This hospital... It's the one with Zootopia University Medical, right?"

The doctor nodded. "It is, as a matter of fact."

"Aren't they helping the Night Howler cure effort? What do you know about that?"

The opossum blinked, then sighed. "I'd be lying if I said I haven't gotten that question many a time from many a patient as of late... We're making good progress, but we're still a while from a working antidote."

"...Alright. Thank you."

"And thank you, Judy Hopps, for saving this city."

The opossum exited the room as Judy sighed. Obviously, she was glad the city was saved.

At this point, however, she was more worried about Nick.

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

Night. He stalked through the woods, just as he had heard in all his tales of predators of old in his youth, sniffing, searching.

Eventually, he caught the scent of prey on the wind, he crept towards it, found a burrow, all too easy to creep inside.

Inside were baby bunnies, mewling, helpless. Ravenous, he lunged forward, craving the taste of their blood.

Just then, they were replaced by Judy, panicked and desperate, looking at him with utter terror before a got of blood burst from her throat, and he screamed as he staggered back only to be dealt a kick to the face, then another.

He tried to scream again, but was cut off by the shadowy apparition of a prey animal clamping a muzzle over his snout. He tried to pry it off, but more herbivores surrounded him, clamped more metal restraints to every part of his body, shoved him in a metal cage as he squirmed and let out muffled screams until he saw a blinding flash of light.

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

Nick woke with a start, gasping, panting, lying prone on a hospital bed. As he came to he felt his jaw and the side of his face ache horribly, as did a bandaged part of his arm.

"Wh-where am-"

"Easy there, Nick Wilde. The antidote seems to have worked. You're in good paws."

Nick turned his head weakly to see a hyena nurse looking over him.

"Wait, I'm-"

"Alive, and cured of the Night Howler serum. You can rest easy now.

Nick sighed and set his head back to relax when his eyes widened in shock and despite the pain he turned back to the nurse.

"Judy, is she still - "

"She's all right. Did a number to your arm, head, and face fighting you off, and the latter may not fully heal, but she got out there alive and exposed Bellwether for who she was."

"Are... Are you-"

"Trust me, if she hadn't I wouldn't have this job right now."

Nick paused, then sighed and laid back on the hospital bed. "Heh... Guess I shouldn't doubt Carrots when it comes to going up against me..."

The nurse smiled. "Good to hear; she told me to give you a call once you'd recovered, so I'll be going ahead and doing so now."

Nick's eyes widened again. 'Wait, maybe you shou-"

But she was already gone. Nick groaned, then clutched himself and shuddered.

The blood and clamps were still on his mind.

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

Judy sat on a park bench, thumping her foot. She glanced around, saw pedestrians come to and fro, saw a kid playing Pocket Primates on a PawDS - she briefly marveled at it still being around after 20 years - and sighed, placing her head back on said bench. Her one day off duty and she was still too anxious to do anything because -

Her phone rang. She held it up and answered.

"Judy Hopps here, may I ask who's speaking?"

As the voice chattered, she beamed.'

"He's recovered? Doing fine? Ready for visitors? Thank you so much doctor I will be right over!"

She bounded off the bench and ran. Not even bothering to catch a cab or bus, she sprinted for the hospital herself as fast as she could.

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

Judy forced herself to keep to a fast walk as she maneuvered her way through the hospital corridors, eyes darting between room number after room number.

"Lessee, it was this floor... No... No... No... Ah! There it is!"

She opened the door wide and grinned.

"Nick! I'm so glad you-"

She stopped and frowned in worry when Nick gave an uncharacteristic yelp and covered his face, leaning back.

"J-Judy, stay, away!"

Judy's ears folded back as she shifted back and forth.

"Nick... You don't have to be afraid anymore... The serum worked, you aren't going to hurt me aga-"

Nick slowly lowered his paws. Judy stifled a gasp enough for it to become a whimper as she stepped back. They'd told him she'd left some damage on him, but not this much - there were distinct scars and deformations from where she kicked him, and another, thick scpar from her bite.

"Nick, I- I didn't expec-"

"Judy. Stay away from me. I almost killed you. I-I almost-" he wretches- "ate you..."

"Nick, no, I stopped you, I-I stopped you too well, I'm sorry..."

"Judy, I was savage. You did what you had to do. Now stay away from me before I relapse or something. I should've known I had it in me."

Judy doesn't respond this time, instead backing up and simply sprinting back down the hospital hallways the way she came, tears streaming down her face.

Nick silently lays his head down on his bed, tears falling down his face as well.

---------

As Nick was led out of the hospital, he felt himself briefly. It felt a bit weird to be in normal clothes again.

He paused and realized he was glad he was still comfortable in clothes at all.

"Mr. Nick Wilde, sir?" said a vice from behind him.

He turned to see the hyena nurse who had cared for him standing nearby.

"I... I'm awfully sorry about what happened with Hopps... I assumed-"

"No, no, lady, it's fine... You thought she'd be happy to see me, I'd be happy to see her, I get that. It... Just didn't work out then."

"All right. Take care, Mr. Wilde."

"You too."

The nurse walked back into the hospital. Nick turned back around, gulped, and headed off into Zootopia yet again.

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

At the Zootopia police station, Clawhauser plunked a box of freshly-obtained donuts in front of his desk. Eyes glistening, claws twiddling, he grabbed one and reached in to take a bite when his eyes were drawn to someone entering the building.

He squealed "Nick Wi-"

"Er, keep it down?" said Nick. "Nice you're happy to see me and all but... Y'know."

Clawhowser's voice was reduced to a strained whisper.

"Oh, yes, sorry abou-"

He stifled a gasp. "What happened to your face?"

"Judy... Did a number on me, what with the feraling on my end and all. Speaking of which, do you know if she's on duty today and where."

Clawhauser figeted. He looked left, he looked right. "So I heard you wanted to talk about Judy."

He leaned in to Nick with a lot less subtlety than Nick figured he thought,

"Because don't tell anyone I said this, but-"

He is interrupted by the sudden appearance of Bogo, who clamped a hoof over Clawhauser's mouth. Nick staggered back.

"Er, hey, Bogo, how's it going?"

Bogo gave him a leer which he quickly redirected at Clawhauser. "You know you don't have the authorization to give that information, Clawhauser."

The tubby cheetah gave a muffled "sorry".

Bogo sighed, removed his hoof, and gave a berudging look at Nick. "...That said, I do. She's investigating some bizarre bromeliad burglaries - do not even think of asking me to say that five times fast - in the Rainforest District. Don't interrupt her."

"Right," said Nick, "Thank you you two and I am off!"

He dashed out of there as fast as he could. Bogo leaned back and managed to crack a small smile.

Making sure Clawhauser was too distracted by his donuts to see, of course.

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

Nick navigated through the rainy leaves, searching, sniffing. Eventually, he found her; sitting on a bench by the gondolas, halfheartedly scribbling notes on a notepad.

Hesitating at first, he made his approach, but stopped, fidgeted, and moved back to give enough distance for her to run away.

"...Hey Judy."

Judy started, looked at Nick in surprise, then looked away in shame, shifting awkwardly.

"...Sorry about that," said Nick.

"...You're sorry? Your face is still-"

"Scraped up a bit from me trying to kill you? I am not one to judge."

"You... You're still-"

"It doesn't hurt or anything. I'm just glad you're more OK than I am."

At that Judy looked up at him, unsure. He smirked.

"Besides, I could totally start a supervillain gig with this new look. Get a mask and everything."

At this Judy grinned. "You'd be a better supervillain than Bellwether."

Nick rolled his eyes and snickered. "Like that'd be hard."

Judy grinned wider, then lept up toward Nick and embraced him. Initially shocked, it didn't take long for Nick to hug back.

Judy broke the hug. "But more seriously, we need to find you a real job."

"Heh... Thanks."

"But once I finish writing down the files for the bromeliad culprit - Some Idaho Jones, nutjob wannabe action archeologist trying to find some Outrealm Gate and activate it - we'll head off to my family's farm to relax and catch up, if that sounds good?"

"Sure, a trip to hicksville actually sounds refreshing at this point."

He chuckles.

"...And I could certainly go for some fresh blueberries."

***

Thank you for reading! As an important note, this was the first non-Pokemon fic I ever completed, so... Yeah, that felt pretty awesome.

#zootopia #nick wilde #judy hopps #fanfiction #furry

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cartoonfangirl1218 · 3 years

Text

If Bombshells ever returned, maybe to explore the aftereffects of the war. Here are some superheroines and supervillainesses that could join the fight into the new era. The Cold War.

Jesse Quick; Jesse would totally join the families providing their homes to the displaced Jews of Europe while at the same time protecting her city from all sorts of crime. But her storyline might come with learning that in her need to help everyone and solving everyone's problems since she has the technology and the privlege, well... kinda appears as a white savior. At least to Lisa Snart which brings me to...

Golden Glider: Well I think we can all guess that Lisa has a Jewish-like last name and while her big bro, Captain Cold, Leonard was working with the Nazis, I am so arguing that he was just conveinately converting in order to save his skin and his sister's. Anyway with her brother in jail and Europe in shambles after the war, Lisa can travel to America with other displaced Jews. Some families were kind enough to "foster" these peoples which is where Jesse comes in. Well Lisa isn't the type to accept the "pity" and dislikes how priviliged a life, Jesse leads. Then comes a whole new yet classic Flash vs the Rogues rivalry.

Nyssa ah Gul: How can we forget another misplaced Jew. Well not Jew but Ra ah Gul's other daughter, Nyssa, whose entire adopted family died in the concentration camps while Ra was off whatevering with the Lazerus Pit. But since Ra's long gone from the picture, I suppose Nyssa will have to seek answers from Talia about why she didn't try to help her or contact her after finding out they were sisters.

Mya: Meanwhile after WWII, India is revving up for a revolution after being used and abused by the British Empire in a war they didn't even want to be in. And after being in the war, STILL treated like second class citizens. That's why Myra, prodigy of Shiva is up to lead a revolution for her people.

Gypsy: Let’s not forget about all the other groups that Nazis were prejudiced against. Cynthia Reynolds or "Gypsy" as the SS slurred against her and her Romanian family. But with Europe's landscape in disarray, Cynthia can use her earth-bending powers to help and educate people that she is more than the fortune telling, pick pocketing stereotype that the world believes.

Volcana: Now I know we didn't really get into Italy's part in WWII, but someone with volcano powers would totally be working in Italy, specifically Pompeii. The one issue is that, like in her origin story, she was working for Mussolini against her will and the Italian still wants their "super weapon" under lock and key in case of WWIII.

Thorn: Meanwhile the late 40s-early 50s is totally not a time to be woman with a mental illness. Especially when the "understanding" doctors try to lobtomize you. So Roselyn Forrest's double personality disorder is a big problem in her life. Especially since her second personality is a scythe weilding maniac and her uncle wants to put her in an institution. Added to the fact that she is still suffering under Irish discrimination. Hopefully the Batgirls can help, not only change child labor laws, but views on mental illness too. Giganta: A gorilla turned into a girl. Why shouldn't that be an experiment by the crazy Americans or Russians in a way to beat each other as the world superpower. Well technically the Russians wanted to send a gorilla into space and beat the Americans, but they thought a woman astronaut (or as they called cosmonaut) would make them look better. (All true look up Valentina , first woman in space). But besides being part of the space race, Giganta can bring spotlight to Africa where she was born, and which is being divided by the major world powers for exploitation.

Crimson Fox: Constance D' Amis, French heiress would be part of the small army of woman workers during the YALTA conferance trying to get their say into how to rebuild Europe for the benefit of all. Who knows, maybe she even talked to Selina Delgatti. Hey French heiresses and Italian heiresses must know each other. Plus she expels hormones that can make anyone under her thrall which leads me to...

Queen Bee: Another pheromone expelling woman. A villainess though. Africa wasn't the only one being exploited and colonized. The former Ottoman Empire was being exploited for its oil and Lebenon is taken over by the French (Basically ample reason for Constance to go to Lebenon and fight Queen Bee). And the former queen is certainly not above going to the Russians to fight the US/Europe to get her country back. Or just team up with Lex Luthor to take down Supergirl and get her country back. I just imagine Lex and --- to be like an evil Mr.Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet okay. All suave, witty banter. It makes sense in my head.

Catherine Colbert: A bit like Lois Lane, Catherine is an everygirl. Well if the everygirl was a daughter of an dimplomat and had her sights on making a name for herself in NASA and trying to avoid the pressures of mysgonistic men that woman aren't fit for government. Being told that she is too emotional and should stay in the kicthen, Catherine rebelled by becoming a stone faced, cutting ice queen in the diplomacy track and also a horrible cook. Artemis and Cheshire: I'm taking a bit from the YJ story in that Artemis and Cheshire are half-french, half-Vietnamese. Since their abusive father was loyal to the Nazis, he disowned them and cast off their Vietnamese mother in Japanese concentration camps. While Artemis made it to America and tried to stay on the good ol American democratic way (while fighting petty looters in the streets of Gotham as one does), Cheshire went to Vietnam where she works as an assasin, for the communists and the non-communists. It doesn't matter to her as long as she gets paid. But times are changing in Vietnam as the fights about communism between the North Vietnamese and South escalate.

Lady Blackhawk: Zinda Blake, hero of WWII and the Blackhawk brigade comes home to nothing. No money. No pension. No respect. Life as a veteran has no perks since no one has money to pay in Europe. Plus she'd still be trying to adjust to civilian life after nonstop combat and the inevitable PTSD while the Germany she loved is split into two. Hopefully Rudi and Helen will help to keep her in a safe place until she can get back on her feet. Miss Martian: While I don't know whose in Harley, Ivy and Viktoria's circus, I feel like Miss Martian would find a safe haven there. While she did not experience the WWII, she did experience a similar prejudice and genocide on Mars being a white martian so I bet she can help with reprations. Or just join Starfire on the fire squad...wait nevermind. Fire is Martian weakness. Well at least have her and Starfire being alien girlfriends exploring the strange Earth world together.

Rocket: Again, haven't had the joy of reading the final vol of Bombshells United so I don't know exactly what Bumblebee has been up to nor the racism she had probably experienced. But Raquel would be in a similar boat. An African American teen in an unjust pre-Civil Rights movement society with the added difficulties of teen mom hood. I really want some spotlight on her whether she joins the Batgirls or strike out on her own or helps Icon just like in the comics.

Mercy Graves: Alongside Lex wherever he is, I want a similar debut to what Mercy did in JL. Mercy takes over LexCorps during Luthor's absence, absolutely crushes it and makes it more of a success than Luthor ever did because she is not obsessed with the Kryptonian heroes. Maybe she even teams up with Waller? Who knows? Or even have two heads, Mercy Graves and Lena Luthor, making millions and making plans, evil or no, always ending on top.

Silver Banshee: A woman whose screams causes people to age. How they could NOT use her in a war, I do not know. But I picture Siobhan's arc going something like after her family dies in battle or something or other, she taps into her genetic banshee powers. Fueled with grief/cynicsm/vengeance she travels around the Iron Curtain, causing death since death is a mercy compared to living in destitute misery.

Plastique and Roxy Rocket: One is a Canadian explosives expert, another just really, really loves rockets. Both would be very useful on either side of the Cold War. They're traditionally illanesses so I could see them as double agents like Cheshire, working for whoever pays the most for their time.

Roulette: Roulette’s big thing is gambling on illegal cage fighting activities. Well lets up the ante by having her big gamble being stoking US/Russian tensions. After all the longer the war goes on, the more she gets paid for her information on the other side, her contacts for weapons, her spies etc. She'd be rolling in dough, and loving it even when under threat of nuclear destruction.

Fire and Ice: No idea how the heck they would fit in to a post WWII world. But let's suppose they want to escape Brazil and Antartica respectively to be able to help out in the aftermath after doing nothing during the war. Jessica Cruz and Aresia vs Star Sapphire Meanwhile with Hal Jordan out of the picture, let's have the infamous Green Lantern vs Star Sapphire rivalry again.

Lady Shiva: Street fighter, assassin, mother of the future Batwoman, Cassandra Cain. Lady Shiva must be part of the Cold War. She is bit of a anti-hero so I doubt anyone would know where her loyalties truly lie, but she'd be on the side of whoever her daughter wishes to protect.

Cassandra Cain: The new Black Bat, continue Katy Kane's work, and the Batgirl's work, and all the work that needs to be done after WWII. She's the new heroine.

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atths--twice · 4 years

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Chapter Three 3/3

Constant Love

After Amor Fati, Mulder is left with many confusing thoughts rattling around in his mind. Scully is there to care for him and be sure he is okay.

Mulder stood in his doorway, his eyes closed, the sound of Scully’s heels clicking on the hardwood of the hallway as she walked away. He smiled as he thought of the feel of her thumbs grazing his lips while he drowned in the blue of her eyes. He sighed as he stepped back, closing the door, his hand remaining on it as it clicked shut.

He carefully took his hat off and hung it on his coat rack. Pulling off his tie, he laid it on the dining room chair and unbuttoned his shirt. Sliding it off, he laid it with his tie and walked over to the couch, sitting down with a heavy sigh, his head absolutely aching.

Scully was right; he was not in any state to come back to work, but he had wanted to go into the office, needing to get out of the apartment. So many thoughts were banging about in his head, it was hard to know which were true and which had been fabricated.

The memories of when he had been brought home after collapsing in the stairwell were stronger than others, though they seemed to be a lifetime ago. He remembered Diana being with him, though he did not know how she knew he needed help.

She was then beside him in his bed, an uninvited guest he could not force her out, his exhausted mind and body unable to do more than lay there. He remembered her voice in his head and then vocally when she believed him to be asleep. The feel of her hand on his face was familiar, but also that of a stranger, and one he no longer welcomed.

I’m so sorry, Fox.

He heard her tears as she lay her sins at his feet, his forgiveness asked, but the knowledge of her participation too late to put an end to. She laid close beside him, the feel and scent of her all wrong, his thoughts only on Scully.

In his hospital bed, knowing for certain who she was and what she had done, Diana’s hopeful words of them being together held within them an underlying fear. She had to have known there was not a chance of that happening. The past was long ago and now there was only Scully, the one person he would die for without hesitation.

He lay in that hospital bed for days, weeks possibly; he had no concept of time. Too many voices continued to clamor in his head, his brain burning and tired, unable to quiet them no matter how he tried to shut them out. But then, one voice, the voice he had wanted to hear the most, quieted all the others.

Scully had finally come to him.

He knew she had been on her own journey trying to prove the validity of the discovery of the rubbings they had found. He knew why she was gone, what she was doing, and yet he had ached for her, needing her with him.

The moment she walked into his room, he felt her voice everywhere, not just in his head. It settled in his heart and his soul. Her words were clear and concise, but her love even more so. It sang out, unable to be quieted, even though she may not have spoken it, or known of it herself.

Hearing it, knowing it to be fact when it had been something in the background and out of focus, was equally beautiful and frightening. For someone like Scully to be in love with him, was unthinkable. His crusade had become hers and what did she have to show for it? Two months of her life taken from her, her ability to have children stolen, her sister killed, her own health decimated, and for what? For him?

He did not deserve her love and yet there she stood, speaking of keys and finding the answers he had desperately been searching for, asking him to hold on, but the words she was not saying rang out louder than anything else.

I love you. I love you. I love you. Don’t leave me, Mulder. Stay with me. I love you.

He heard it all, and yet he could not look at her, could not give her the sign she asked of him. Her love for him filled his heart and froze him, knowing he was unable to speak the words to her in return. They were there on the tip of his tongue, screaming inside his head, his heart pounding out the words, but he could not speak them. Physically unable to do it, and also emotionally terrified.

He was sure he was dying, felt it in his bones. Everything hurt, his mind raced back and forth and he did not want to see her crying over him anymore.

One sorry son of a bitch.

Bill had been right to call him that years ago, as Scully lay dying in a hospital bed of her own and he did not have the balls to tell her that he loved her. He had loved her for so long and missed so many chances to tell her. He could not do it to her in that moment when he was sure she was going to die, just as he could not say it as he believed he himself was dying.

He did not deserve her love. He was a sorry son of a bitch. He had married her, but had never said he loved her. He should have told her every day, but he had not. He knew she loved him just as she had to know he loved her, but hearing it from her, feeling it in ways he never would again, it was a balm on his heart.

And then Scully was gone. People were speaking around him, about him, and he could do nothing. His mother, her face close to his, her eyes so worried, he tried to call to her, but his body was frozen.

Then … he was everywhere and nowhere all at once. Things did not make sense and yet made perfect sense.

You owe me this. I’ve done all you’ve asked of me.

Diana’s voice had cut into his thoughts, far away and close to his ear all at the same time, no idea where or when he was.

Oh, Diana. Came his voice, the one he heard like a snake, always lying and slithering close. Your sentimental side will be your undoing. You need to let go of that which makes you weak. But I will see what can be done.

He floated into a dreamlike life, everything handed to him. Deep Throat was alive. His sister was as well, with three beautiful children of her own.

Diana. Coming to him seductively, no longer repentant, but happy. They were married, had children, and then she was dead and gone. All of it happening far too fast, like a slideshow on super speed.

Though fast and confusing, it had felt perfect, exactly what a person should have had- a mate, children, a house in the suburbs, and yet … it lacked something.

As he lay dying, hearing of all those who had gone before him, one name had broken his heart and brought him to tears. Scully. Scully was dead. His perfect life had been without her. His thoughts of her coming fewer and farther between, until they were obsolete, almost as though done intentionally.

She could not be dead. Not Scully.

Then suddenly, she was there, walking purposefully into his room, very clearly not only not dead, but confusedly as young as the last time he had seen her, while he himself was old and dying. How was that possible?

But … she was not his Scully. She was cold, harsh, and cruel. Her clipped words cut him to the core.

Traitor. Deserter. Coward.

No, you don't understand. He's taking care of me.

No, Mulder, he's lulled you to sleep. He's made you trade your true mission for creature comforts.

There was no mission. There were no aliens.

No aliens. Have you looked outside, Mulder?

I can't. I'm ... too tired.

No, Mulder, you must get up. You must get up and fight ... especially you. This isn't your place. Get up, Mulder. Get up and fight the fight.

Scully ... Where's Scully? Scully? Scully!

He stood up from his couch, tears in his eyes, as he remembered the desperate feeling of loneliness when she walked out of the room, leaving him despite his cries. He paced his apartment, taking deep breaths to calm himself down. That exchange with her stayed with him, like bold typed print, harsh and dark within him.

Her appearance, her hard and truthful words, broke into the dreamland he believed was created for him, to lull him to sleep just as she had said. Her appearance and voice made his mind race in ways it had not done in years. He felt confused and scared, not sure if he had ever known the truth, or if the truth had walked out his bedroom door and he was too weak and stupid to chase after it.

Then he heard her voice again, but not the cruel Scully who had stood before him. Not the Scully who was incredibly angry and not afraid to show him. No. From somewhere, he heard the soft scared voice she only used when she was truly frightened. The one he heard most when his own life was threatened.

Mulder. Mulder, you've got to wake up. I've got to get you out of here. Mulder, can you understand me?

Mulder, you've got to get up. I don't know how much time we have. You've got to get up, Mulder.

No one can do it but you, Mulder. Mulder, help me. Please, Mulder.

He remembered the horrible and painful screaming in his head, as though he were fighting with two realities, as her words pushed their way to be heard. He was old and dying. But no, he was not, he simply needed to get up, fight, get away from the horrible pain shooting through him.

He felt something fall on him, something wet, and it was as though it was the magic item needed to break the spell he was under. He opened his eyes and his senses were assaulted by Scully. She was there, all around him, wherever there was, and he knew he would be okay. She had found him.

You ... help ... me …

He felt the words rasped from his throat as he pulled her close, needing her help, but also to feel her, to know she was real. She held onto him, helping him up carefully. He could smell her and he nearly broke down at the familiar scent of his Scully.

They stumbled out of the room together, his lumbering weight slowing them down. Down long twisting hallways, she murmured to him to keep going, never letting him go. Her voice was the only thing he heard; her arms around his waist holding him tight was all he felt despite the pain coursing through him. Even when he felt he was about to crumble and fall on his face, she held him up and kept him moving.

They made it to her car, her gentle hands guiding him carefully to sit down. Her eyes, worried and wet, appeared behind his eyelids as he closed his eyes, his head pounding, his body weak and spent.

Her voice once again came through, centering him as she spoke, keeping him there with her and not back in some alternate world he seemed to have been living in. Her hand landed on his thigh and he weakly gripped her fingers with his own.

You’re okay, Mulder. I’m here, I’m here. Stay with me. Hang on, Mulder. We’re going to the hospital.

He had passed out before they made it there.

He had nightmares in the hospital, which continued even after he had come home. Terrible nightmares, in which Scully was truly dead and no matter what he did, he could not bring her back. No matter how he screamed, or the life saving measures he attempted, she lay cold and lifeless in countless locations. He wanted to die with her, but nightmares are never that kind. He was left to suffer, to live his life without her.

Diana also made appearances, her eyes unreadable, always watching him. She never spoke, though he tried repeatedly to speak to her. She stood in front of him, silent and stoic, as he fired questions at her.

Why Diana? You said you loved me. Why would you do this? Was your plan worth my suffering? Is this what I would have done? One suffering to save millions is still one suffering. I would have found another way. Diana … why?

She shook her head and disappeared down long hallways with many doors. He tried to follow her, wanting his answers, but the doors led to more doors and soon he was back in the room where Scully found him. He knew it by the smell and his own temporarily lucid memories.

Maybe that was Diana’s very last attempt to make things right with him, continuing to lead him back to that room in his dreams, to show him that no matter the horribleness that happened there, Scully would be there to save him.

For every time, whichever door he chose, he walked into that room. As he stood there, looking down on the table he had laid upon, his pulse rate increased and he would begin to hyperventilate. The pain and fear washing over him until he inevitably felt a hand on his back, and a soft voice speaking to him.

Scully. She was his constant, even in his nightmares. He could feel her touch, smell her near, and it calmed him. She kept him from falling off the edge in those horrible nightmares, her presence enough to quiet him. In dreams as well as reality.

She stayed with him for a couple days after she brought him home from the hospital. Administering his medication, checking him for any lasting trauma, and changing his bandage regularly, all fell onto her capable shoulders. He did not remember much of that time as he slept through most of it, his body beyond exhausted. Yet despite the medication he was given, the unrelenting nightmares interrupted his rest until he felt her close to him.

After she left, he felt so alone, his mind buzzing. He had more nightmares, not wanting to rely solely on the painkillers to help him sleep. He would call her sobbing, needing to hear her voice, to know she was not dead, her blood running across the floor as he had just dreamt. Or her face blue from choking, or her body only bones and found in a shallow grave.

She took every call, talking to him until he stopped crying, telling him repeatedly that she was there and she was okay. She told him what she had done that day, a story about her childhood, anything to calm him down. He would thank her quietly as he reached for the painkillers, knowing he could not stop taking them, not yet.

Scrubbing his hand down his face, he sighed, his head still throbbing. He walked toward the kitchen to grab the bottle of medication when his phone rang. His head pounded at the quick reverse of his motion when he walked back to the living room.

“Mulder,” he said, closing his eyes and wincing as he touched his bandage.

“Mulder, it’s me,” he heard Scully say, and he smiled softly.

“Hey, Scully,” he replied lightly, taking a silent breath, not wanting her to hear the pain in his voice.

“I was thinking, I could … bring dinner over later, if you’d like some company,” she said, and his eyes opened, his hand moving from his head.

“Dinner, huh? Yeah, that sounds great. I could even meet you somewhere,” he said hopefully.

“Mulder,” she warned, and he smiled.

“Okay, Doc. I’ll be a good boy and stay home,” he told her. And take some medicine for this terrible pain, he thought to himself; no chance was he going to say it out loud.

“That’s all I ask,” she said. “What would you like me to pick up? Is there something in particular you’re craving?”

You, he thought, but held his tongue, knowing he was in no shape for anything of that nature.

“Whatever you feel like bringing over will be fine,” he said, not caring what food she decided on.

“So, tofu, greens, and brown rice?” she asked, a teasing tone to her voice.

“Sure. And I’ll take a double bacon cheeseburger, fries, and a chocolate shake,” he quipped, and she laughed softly.

“Okay. I’ll be by later tonight. But no fries until you eat some veggies,” she warned.

“But Moooommmm,” he whined and she laughed again before he heard the phone click off. He smiled as he hung up and then went to find his medication.

________________

“See? It’s not so bad, you gigantic baby,” Scully said with a roll of her eyes as she took one of his fries. He was swallowing down a piece of the broccoli she had gotten for herself, drinking a large mouthful of tea to chase it down.

Making a face, he shoved a few fries in his mouth. Shaking her head, she smiled at him, reaching for a couple more fries. He smiled, letting her take whatever she wanted.

“Anything interesting happen today?” he asked, and she shook her head.

“You didn’t miss anything,” she smiled, now stealing a drink of his chocolate shake. She raised her eyebrows, but he just smiled, happy she was there with him.

“I have something for you,” he said quietly, taking the shake from her and taking a few sips. “I’ll be right back.”

“Mulder …”

“Just sit tight,” he called back to her as he walked out of the room. He took the package from its hiding place and brought it out to her, laying it on her lap. She sighed as she looked at him and he shrugged.

“Oh, Mulder,” she breathed, opening it and staring at the painting he had searched for and had professionally framed. “You went out and found this? You were supposed to be resting.”

“No, Scully, no. I bought it weeks ago. The day after we … after I left your apartment early that morning,” he explained and she stared at him, then looked down at the painting with a sigh.

She touched it with her fingers, sighing once again. “It is a very beautiful painting,” she said quietly.

“It has a new story though,” he answered, just as quietly. Raising her head, she looked at him questioningly. “We thought the people who live there were on their way home, but I don’t think so anymore.”

“You don’t?” she whispered, and he shook his head slightly, taking her hand.

“No, I think they are already home. I think they are upstairs, happy and very naked,” he said and she smiled widely. “I think they had been out, but earlier in the day. I think that a baseball bat, and the basket of balls they carried, have been hastily dropped with the desire to get upstairs and get, as I already stated, very naked.” She was grinning now and he smiled back as she grasped his hand.

“Perhaps they had been out celebrating a marriage only they knew about, hitting fouls and home runs, the thought of returning for their own private home run, too much to wait for. The balls will have rolled all over, but it will have been absolutely worth it,” she said softly, staring into his eyes.

He nodded slightly, his fingers rubbing her naked ring finger in slow circles. She smiled and he felt the words on his tongue to tell her, to say how much he loved her, but then she moved her hand, placing it on his bandage. He knew what she was saying, just as he had earlier when she placed her thumbs against his lips.

It was a promise. A silent vow. They had jumped into this odd marriage, and then life had thrown them hoops and huge hurdles to maneuver. Their faith had been tested and yet they were there together, sharing a meal in his apartment.

They had time, they had each other. He knew. She knew. They did not need to hurry this, but let it unfold slowly. As they did everything it seemed.

He nodded at her, his hand reaching to hold her wrist lightly. She smiled, tears in her eyes, but he knew it was not from sadness. He squeezed her wrist and she nodded, taking a breath.

“Stay,” he whispered, and she nodded again. Leaning forward, she kissed him softly, her hand moving to his cheek, as he closed his eyes.

This life, this was the one he would choose.

Every time.

#The X Files #XF Fanfic #The Unnatural #Three of a Kind #Amor Fati #Angst #Fear and Worry #Caring #Love #Dinner #Gifts #Happy to be together

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danadeservesadrink · 4 years

Text

Do You Believe in Fate?

Chapters 1 and 2 available on AO3 Do You Believe In Fate (2750 words) by Samwritess

Posting both chapters 1 and 2 together here! Hoping to make this a longer series with tons of fun prompts and cute fluff!

Words: 4k

Rating: T for now

Tagging @today-in-fic

“Dana Scully speaking”

“Hi, um, I think I have your pants”

“Excuse me”

“I’m sorry that came out wrong…”

“Who is this?”

“Um, sorry, this is Fox Mulder, I live in the Guardian apartment complex on Columbia St. I think I keep getting your mail”

“Oh. Are you in apartment 52? I used to live there.”

“Yes. That makes sense, actually, but um I’ve gotten some letters and today I got a package with some pants”

“You opened my mail?”

“I only opened it because I thought the shipping information would have a phone number.”

“I see. You know you probably could have looked me up before you rifled through my Loft purchases”

“Didn’t think of that. Anyway, I have your pants.”

“Thank you for letting me know. Are you planning on returning them or are you also a size 0?”

“No, no right, I’m sorry. Where would you like me to meet you?”

“I’m actually in D.C to pick up some supplies from my office on Tuesday. Would the coffee place on the corner of 11th work?”

“Yea that’s perfect actually. What time?”

“Let’s say noon?”

“Great. I’ll see you then Fox”

“See you then Dana”

He knew it was her before she even walked into the shop. He saw a glimpse of red hair about a block down and got to spend the entire block watching her small figure push through the pedestrians on the sidewalk and he felt like he knew her in seconds. She was wearing probably exactly the same pants he had in the box sitting next to him. Probably ordered them as backups for her backups. Navy goes with everything. She walked with her head down, and even with her small frame she seemed to get people to move out of her way with no effort. Dana Scully was a no fuss, no frills, independent woman. And god damn if that wasn’t his kind of woman.

When he figured out she had lived in his apartment, he knocked on the door next to him to get the inside scoop. The gunmen had lived in the apartment for a few years longer than he had, so maybe they had seen this woman around before. It took three seconds after he mentioned her name for Frohike to start gushing about her. “She’s got these blue eyes that stare right into your soul Mulder, red hair like fire, and God her voice...” he hadn’t shut up about her until Langley interrupted. It seems like Frohike’s adoration was more of the ‘we met in the laundry room once and I think I’m in love with her’ type. And with Frohike, you never really know if the woman will live up to his fantastical expectations. Apparently the last they saw of her was about two months before he moved in she packed up and left in quite the hurry. “God we were disappointed when you moved in after she moved out”. So far she fit the description.

She walked in the shop and before the twinkling of the bells had ceased to announce her presence she had spotted him and begun her march over to his table.

“How did you know it was me?” he smirked as she came to a halt next to his little table in the corner.

“How many other people sit in a coffee shop with a week's worth of letters and a Loft package?”

She takes off her sunglasses and he gets to take in all of her face for the first time and it almost knocks the wind out of him. Those blue eyes looked right through him. He had to tell Frohike he was right later. She wrinkled her brow when he spent too long staring so he started to shove the package in her face before she thought he was too much a creep.

“Can I buy you some coffee?” he tried to stand but it was awkward and he got way too close to her as he clamored his way up. He could smell her perfume and he swore he would never forget it. She stepped back.

“It’s no problem. I should be going anyway.” She started to back away from him and he felt a little piece of him move with her.

“No please I insist” He reached out to her and she backed up again, fumbling with the packages she was now holding. “At least let me help bring the packages to your car”

She huffed and shifted to packages again, clearly fully capable of carrying them back herself.

“Listen, Fox. I’ve got an office to drag back to Annapolis and I really don't need your help. What I do need is to get going” She turned and walked back out of the shop and someone must have slipped something into his coffee that morning because he found himself slipping through the door behind her, abandoning his half finished decaf in the bin on the way out.

Maybe it was because Mulder had never felt as much connection as when she looked at him with those baby blue eyes. He had been with more women than he cared to admit, been in love with a fair few, but Miss Dana Scully with her navy blue Loft pants that she probably owned six pairs of had stolen his heart entirely. He felt this infatuation overtake him and every cell in him was screaming not to let her go. So he followed her out onto the busy street and walked next to her as she practically sprinted through the afternoon foot traffic.

“Why are you following me?” She huffed as she tried picking up the pace, but his long legs easily kept up with her tiny strides.

“Do you believe in fate Dana?” She turned to look at him as if he had grown a second head, and at that moment a passerby jostled her shoulder, causing her to trip forward, losing her balance and crossing her feet over, bumping right into his side. He grabbed her elbow to steady her and for the second time met those ice blue eyes. He thought time stood still. If the hard corner of the cardboard package hadn't been poking him in the ribs it would have been the most romantic moment of his life. Fuck, it was still the most romantic moment of his life, with her breathing heavy and the two of them staring at each other on a crowded sidewalk, pressed together by circumstance and fate.

“Logically I’d have to say no.” She breathed out, but the blush on her cheeks told him he wasn’t the only one who felt this.

It took another shoulder to hers from an old woman with an umbrella and too much perfume to knock her back into herself. She stepped back from him clutching the package into her chest like it was Kevlar.

“I have to go. Please don't follow me again.” He watched as she walked away into the crowd, her red hair enveloped into the mob of civilians like a balloon into the sky. Never to come back.

I’ll see her again, he thought. I have to.

---

“Dana Scully speaking”

“Hi, it's me again.”

“What do you want?”

“You got another package. I didn't open it this time”

“Oh. Thank you.”

“When would you like me to return it? I don’t know if you’ll be in town any time soon…”

“I have a friend’s wedding in a week on Tuesday in Alexandria. I can pick it up then.”

“Ok sure I should be home. What time should I expect you?”

“I’ll probably come earlier in the morning on my way to the ceremony if that's alright”

“Of course.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you then.”

“See you then.”

---

He was sweating. This isn’t even a date and he was practically sweating through his shirt at the idea of Dana Scully showing up at his apartment door. He hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind and he’d seen her for maybe 20 minutes tops. He had come home that day and pounded a beer like his life depended on it. The gunmen called his apartment not long after to check on him because apparently Frohike thought “he might have suffered a stroke when he saw her”. He walked into their apartment and was handed a glass of whiskey and an invitation to spill it all about the girl he was now undoubtedly infatuated with. Maybe it was love or maybe just obsession but he was stuck with the image of only her in his head. And she was going to be at his door any minute forcing him to have to look into those beautiful eyes and not have an absolute breakdown.

He was busy deciding between continuing to stare at the clock waiting for her arrival and calling her again when the wrap of knuckles on his door sounded through the apartment. He sprinted to the door, took a second to compose himself and opened it to greet his fate.

“Wow”

She was in a little navy dress that hugged her hips and cut deep down her chest, revealing freckled collarbones to match freckled knees. Was it bad that those knees almost brought him to his? Of course Miss Dana Scully didn't wear little black dresses. She had a little navy dress that matched all of her navy pants and was just as sexy and somehow even more alluring. His eyes followed her freckles from her clavicle to her shoulder and up her neck like connect-the-dots and yet again he looked into the eyes of an angle, noting how the deep blue of her dress made them look even more piercing. She broke his gaze to stare down at herself with an embarrassed blush and smooth the front of her dress.

“Come in. Please.” He stepped aside and her strappy heels clicked into his apartment. He fought every brain cell telling him to drink in her figure from behind. He was a selfish bastard but later tonight he’ll remember her walking through his door in that little navy dress and dream that it was just for him, not for some high-school friend’s wedding 20 minutes away in Alexandria.

“So…” She took a careful look at the room and he suddenly remembered she used to live here. She touched the counter top like she was familiar with the dust that had settled there. Something in her eyes looked almost sad, like she was reconnecting with an old friend. “I like what you've done with the place.”

“Thanks. It’s a great apartment. I was lucky to get it.” She grimaced and it dawned on him why he happened to be so lucky, her having moved out halfway through her lease with the landlord practically begging him to pick it up. He shoved his hands in his pockets like maybe that would stop him from saying something stupid. She hummed and looked up at him expectantly.

“Oh right. Package.” He almost forgot why she was actually in his apartment.

He heard her chuckle as he walked into the kitchen to grab the box from behind the counter. It was significantly heavier than the last time. If it was clothes it was some diamond studded platform boots by the weight of it. He found her staring at the fish when he returned.

“This is heavy. You want my help with taking it down to your car?” He couldn’t help himself.

“Actually, under normal circumstances I would say I can handle it, but these heels aren’t exactly made for transporting boxes of baby food.” She laughed again and he tried to hide his shocked expression.

“Baby food?” She recognized his confused gaze and explained.

“It’s for my sister. She likes to order her baby food in bulk because apparently they don’t sell it in non-organic grocery stores. She must have used my account by accident and they sent it here.”

He really was a lucky son of a bitch.

He gestured towards the door and she walked first, him following her with the package in his arms. They boarded the elevator together and it was just goddamn unfair how those heels made her the perfect height so that if he glanced over he could see straight down that little navy dress of hers. Unfair.

She clicked her way off the elevator and dutifully he followed her to the parking deck. She popped her trunk open and he plopped the case of organic baby food in.

“Well, I think I finally changed all my accounts to my new address, so hopefully this problem gets solved” She must have seen his face fall because she blushed again. “Thank you for all your help Fox.”

“Mulder. I even made my parents call me Mulder. Hated my first name. Hope that's not too strange” He doesn’t know why he was telling her, if she was going to exit his life after today. Maybe the dress had truth-inducing powers.

“Mulder.” She tasted his name like a cherry on top of a sunday, the way that would leave a red stain on her lips like the lipstick she had on now. The way that dress was cut made him think that she was the kind of girl that could secretly tie a cherry stem into a knot with her tongue. “It’s certainly not weird. Being a doctor I get called Scully most hours of the day.”

Dr. Dana Scully . It fit her perfectly.

“Well Dr. Scully, Dr. Mulder is always ready to be your personal mailman.” Her eyebrow quirked up, obviously impressed with the title.

“M.D?” she questioned like a judge running a trial.

“PhD in Psychology. Oxford University.” He stood up a little taller. She smirked.

“Impressive. Although I would be careful calling yourself a doctor unless you can complete a surgery with a Myers-Brigs test” Her eyes lit up when she challenged him. He was more than willing to submit to her.

“Nah I’ll leave the surgeries to your…” He grabbed her wrist and her eyes widened, “capable hands”. If pedestrians were not there to bump them together, he figured fate wouldn’t mind if he gave it a helping hand. The energy between them was palpable.

Psychology may not complete surgeries, but it did give him the ability to peg Dr. Dana Scully down to a tee. If he had to guess, she went to undergrad somewhere close to home, but went far away for medical school, probably the best school she could get into. She gets the buttoned up look and her quick pace from a military background, probably her father. A gold cross like the moon in a sky of stars on her chest said she was religious, likely from childhood. But that low-cut dress and strappy heels made him think there were many many layers under the stiff exterior.

“Where did you go to school?” he released her hand and tried to inhale without giving away the fact that he’d barely taken a breath while she was in his grip.

“University of Maryland for my bachelors, then Stanford for medical school. Impressed?”

She licked her lips and he wanted to peel back every layer of her, including that tantalizing dress of hers.

“Very.”

“Well Dr. Mulder, I need to head to the ceremony.” It was goodbye again and he hated every second of it. Now or never.

“Listen, Dr. Scully . If you're ever in D.C again, you should give me a call. I would really like to take you to dinner some time.”

He wanted to bottle the grin she shot back at him. The color of her blush should be sold on every makeup counter because it was the perfect shade. Everything about her made him fall harder and faster.

“I just might take you up on that. It’s been a while since I’ve gone to some of the good restaurants around here.”

“I’ll take you to your favorite” He’d take her to a dumpster behind a pizzeria if that's what she wanted. Just to get to see her again.

Her phone rang and she answered, a voice through the phone likely asking her where she was, as she responded with “I’m just leaving, I’ll be there in 20.” She sighed and hung up, then looked back up at him again with a small smile.

“Enjoy your wedding.”

“I will. Goodbye Mulder.”

“Bye Scully.”

He walked on air back to his apartment.

#the x files #The X Files Fanfic #txf fanfic #txf #Dana Scully #Fox Mulder #msr #msr fanfic #msr au #sam writes

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