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merrybloomwrites · 3 months

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I Hear Them Calling (Chapter 4)

Story Summary: Alpha Harry Styles and omega Y/N Y/L/N meet under less than ideal circumstances. Overtime their paths will cross and they will be drawn to one another in ways they never expected.

Chapter Summary: After battling the symptoms of touch deprivation for weeks, Y/N sees Harry again in Chicago and he helps her deal with the worst of it.

Previous Chapters: Prologue ; Chapter 1 ; Chapter 2 ; Chapter 3

Word Count: 4.9k

Y/N POV

“You haven’t had a nightmare in 4 days?” Rachel asks.

“Nope!” You reply happily, taking a sip of your iced caramel latte. You and Rachel both have a free afternoon and decided to meet at a local cafe. You feel so much better than you had for the last few weeks that you felt confident to order a different drink. No tea that reminds you of Sarah, no hot chocolate that makes you think of Harry.

“And you’re not using those coping mechanisms you mentioned?”

“Haven’t needed them in days.”

“And you’re still not going to tell me what they were?” You blush at this question, embarrassed by the truth.

“No, that secret may come with me to the grave,” you joke.

Rachel looks at you, slightly worried and says, “It was safe right? You weren’t like, drugging yourself to sleep were you?”

“Oh God no!” You reply with a laugh. “Nothing like that, I swear.” Though you think to yourself that Harry’s scent in its direct form would probably be so delicious that it would act like a drug to you.

“Okay, I trust you,” Rachel says. “So, have you heard from Harry?”

You sigh, slightly disappointed by the answer you have to give. “Not since the night of the concert. I’m sure he’s been busy.”

“Maybe you should text him first.”

“And maybe you are out of your mind. No way. And before you say anything, it has nothing to do with the fact that I'm the girl or he’s the alpha or any of that sexist bullshit. It has everything to do with the fact that he’s Harry Styles.” You whisper the last part, aware that you’re in public and anyone around could hear the conversation.

“So what if he’s Harry Styles?”

“What would I even text him?”

“You could start with ‘Hi, how are you?’”

“Very funny. I mean, I guess I could. Maybe. I’ll give it a couple more days.”

“Waiting for him to leave the area?”

“Something like that,” you reply.

“Speaking of procrastinating things,” Rachel says teasingly, “have you called your doctor yet? To find out why that alpha knew you’re an omega even though you’re on suppressants and scent blockers?”

“Okay, that I did not procrastinate on. I called her but I can’t get an appointment until November.”

“Seriously?”

“Yea. I mean there aren’t a lot of doctors who specialize in omegas, so they’re always booked. Anyway, she said that my body has probably just developed a resistance to the pills. She’ll try to change my regimen after the appointment and told me to use the spray on neutralizers until then.”

“That sucks.”

“It does. I am so not looking forward to changing meds. It takes awhile to find the right combo and then there’ll be all new side effects. But it’ll be worth it.”

“I wish omegas didn’t have to hide who they are.”

“Me too. But that’s just how it is now.”

From there the conversation turns to lighter topics until you part ways to continue your day.

Another week passes and you still haven’t heard from Harry. On top of that the bad dreams come back, along with the restlessness, and chills. You’ve started using the old coping mechanisms again, which barely work this time around.

The morning after his final show in New York City, your social media is flooded with videos of him receiving his banner at Madison Square Garden. If there was any time to reach out to him, now was it. He said he wanted to be friends, right? A friend would absolutely congratulate him on this achievement.

It still takes you forever to type out the message, and ever longer to find the courage to press send. It’s nearly noon by the time you text Harry, “Congrats on the banner!”

It’s a simple sentence, just four words, and you still find a way to overthink everything for the two hours it takes Harry to reply. You’re taking a walk, grateful once again that you work on your own schedule and can take a break when you need one. And right now, you need one. Because you texted a celebrity and he still hasn’t answered and you for sure made a complete fool of yourself.

You stop dead in your tracks when your phone buzzes and Harry’s name appears on your screen.

From Harry Styles: Thank you! Can’t believe I got such an honor. How are you? What are you up to?

There’s a bench nearby and you sit to reread his message five times before replying.

To Harry Styles: You deserve it! I’m good, just out for a walk. How about you?

The next message comes in much faster.

From Harry Styles: I’ve been doing well. Took it easy this morning, currently enroute to Texas for the next shows.

You can’t help but feel disappointed that he’s no longer just a city away. You know it’s silly, but it was nice that he was so close by.

To Harry Styles: Enjoy Texas!

From Harry Styles: Thank you! Have you ever been?

To Harry Styles: Once, in college. Went to San Antonio with some friends.

From Harry Styles: That’s a great city, love the river walk there!

And so, you and Harry Styes became friends who text each other about random things. You talk throughout his flight to Texas, and sporadically over the next couple of weeks. It never gets very deep, all surface level conversations, but it’s nice. You feel like you’re getting to know the real him, and he’s getting to know who you are as well.

The texts from Harry are the high points. The low points are, unfortunately, very low. The hot chocolate, and roses, and forest smelling candles are no longer helping you. Bad dreams happen almost every night, you’re constantly cold, and there’s an itch under your skin that just won’t go away. The voice in the back of your brain is telling you it’s touch deprivation, but you refuse to admit that to yourself. You’ve never needed an alpha, and you refuse to depend on one now. So no, you do NOT have touch deprivation.

You’re checking your email, and you see that there are still spots open for a job training opportunity in Chicago. You rarely go to these, but it’s been a while, and you think maybe it would be good to go. There are always new types of data software, and you found the last two training courses you attended to be pretty informative.

Looking at the dates you notice the course is the following Thursday and Friday. In Chicago. You also notice that Harry will be doing shows there at the same time. You don’t admit that’s what seals the deal for you, but it totally is.

After registering and setting up your flight and hotel reservation you send a text to Harry. You casually mention that you’ll be in Chicago the following weekend. You’re surprised when your phone starts to ring, and Harry’s name is on the screen.

You answer the phone and he’s first to speak, saying, “You’re gonna be in Chicago?”

“I am!” you reply, matching his excitement.

“Can you come to my shows?”

“Which days are they again?” You ask this to try and seem like less of a stalker.

“I’ve got one Thursday, Friday and Saturday. You’re welcome to come to as many of those as you want,” he answers.

“I think Thursday is an all-day thing, so I won’t be able to come to that one. The training ends with dinner on Friday evening so I think I could make it just in time for the concert.”

“Ok great, and Saturday?”

“I am free all-day Saturday. My flight back home is Sunday afternoon.”

“Wonderful. I’ll have tickets for you for those two shows. That is, if you want to come of course.”

“Harry, I absolutely want to come.”

“Then the tickets are yours. All the details will come from Jada. I’d be a mess without that girl.”

“You paying her well?” you ask jokingly.

“She’s compensated handsomely, I promise,” he replies with a laugh.

“Happy to hear it.”

“I uhm- it sounds like you won’t be able to come before the show Friday, correct?”

“Unfortunately, no. I’ll probably get there right before you go on.”

“Forgive me if this sounds forward, but would you want to hang out after? It would have to be at the hotel, I can’t really be out in the city after a concert.”

“Totally understand that. And yea, I’d love to hang out after.”

“Great! I’m staying at the Nobu Hotel.”

You quickly look it up and see that your hotel is close by.

“No way!” you reply. “I’m at the Crowne Plaza like, two blocks away.”

“Well, that’s convenient. I’ll make sure there’s a car to take you to Nobu after the show Friday if that works for you?”

“Yea that would be great. I’d love to hang out!” You cringe, hoping that didn’t come off too strong.

“I’d love to hang out as well. Listen I have to go to sound check for tonight’s show. I’ll text you soon. And look out for the email from Jada, it’ll have all the info you need.”

***

Harry POV

“You’re extra happy today,” Elin says as Harry bounces around the venue smiling so big that both dimples are showing.

“I am!” He replies. “Thanks for noticing!”

“What’s got you in such a good mood?” Sarah asks. “Because it’s definitely not how this sound check is going.” She has a point there. No less than a dozen things have gone wrong since they started, leading them to take a break while the sound techs work out a few problems.

“Just talked to a friend who will be in town next week.”

“Oh I see,” Mitch says. “So Y/N will be here?”

“Yes, and she’ll be coming to the shows Friday and Saturday. I can’t wait to see her!”

“Aw, someone’s got a crush,” Pauli says.

Harry ignores the teasing from his band members and says, “Honestly I’ve been a bit worried about her. I’ve just had this feeling that keeps getting worse.”

“Why do you think it has to do with Y/N?” NyOh asks.

“I mean, I don’t know for sure. But we’ve talked on the phone a couple times, and she always sounds exhausted.”

“I’m sure she’s alright,” Sarah says reassuringly.

“I know, I just can’t help it.”

“I completely get that,” Sarah replies softly, looking towards her mate.

“Fixed it!” One of the sound techs calls out, effectively cutting off the conversation as Harry and the band get back to work.

***

Y/N POV

The next week passes in what feels like slow motion. Every hour drags on. Your apartment building hasn’t switched from air conditioning to heat yet, so you’re constantly wearing layers of warm clothes and burrowing under blankets. The itch under your skin only gets worse, spreading to new areas each day until there’s a maddening tingle throughout your whole body.

Amelia drops you off at the airport Wednesday afternoon. You know she can tell that something is wrong, but you don’t offer an explanation, so she doesn’t pry for details.

You put on your mask before walking into the terminal. It’s a habit leftover from the pandemic, and also a great way to block out the potential strange scents. Alphas and omegas might be rare, but there’s always a chance a few will be around in such a crowded place. You’re extra sensitive to smells at the moment due to the touch deprivation that you’ve finally admitted you have. But it’s mild. Totally manageable. Not a problem.

The plane ride and subsequent train trip and walk to the hotel is exhausting. You stop and grab some food on the way. After checking in you immediately eat your quick meal, take a hot shower, and crawl into bed.

You’re almost asleep when your phone digs with an incoming text. You’ve already texted your family and friends letting them know you’re at the hotel, so you’re annoyed that someone is interrupting your sleep.

That is, until you see who the message is from. Harry’s name pops up with a text asking if you made it safely to Chicago. You practically melt at how sweet it is that he’s checking in on you. You send a quick reply before immediately falling asleep.

The first day of the training session is typical- informative, but boring. Harry’s show is still going when you get back to the hotel, so you watch on a livestream. You’re still exhausted and fall asleep before it’s over.

Waking up the next morning is difficult. Your body feels heavy, like your bones are filled with lead. The chills seem worse than ever and you’re grateful you packed yourself a heavy sweater to wear that day. Not only is it warm, but it covers up the marks from where you’ve been scratching at the skin on your arms due to the incessant itching.

You have trouble concentrating on the training throughout the day. There was one alpha there, and he was somehow in every single session you attended. He didn’t have a bad scent per se, but his presence alone became overwhelming.

By the time the sessions are over, you feel exhausted. You debate skipping dinner altogether but know you at least need some food before you can start your walk to the United Center. The alpha, whose name you’ve learned is Andy, sits next to you at dinner. He seems nice enough, you don’t feel threatened by him, but you still want to finish dinner and get away from him as quickly as possible.

Once dessert is over you grab your bag, ready to escape. Andy stops you before you go, asking for your number. Without thinking you quickly say, “I have a boyfriend,” and hastily leave the restaurant.

You’re not far from the venue, only a few blocks away, and you’re so out of it that you barely notice where your legs are taking you. It only takes fifteen minutes to get there, but you’re on edge the whole time. Glancing at your watch you see that it’s just before 8PM, meaning Harry should still be backstage.

You’re tired, and dizzy, and a little fuzzy, but knowing you’re so close to seeing Harry again has you moving faster than you thought possible. You’ve even built up a slight sweat, and you feel warm for the first time in weeks causing you to roll up the sleeves of your sweater.

As you approach the building you hear your name being called. You turn to see Jada running up to you.

“I didn’t think you’d be here so early! Glad I was talking to one of the security guards, you walked right past the entrance,” she says.

You smile as she hands you your VIP badge and leads you inside.

“Harry has a few minutes before he needs to finish getting ready. He’ll be glad you made it before he goes on, I know he’s been dying to see you,” Jada says, causing you to blush.

“Well, I can’t wait to see him either,” you reply.

She knocks on a door which opens a second later. The first person you see is Mitch, who gives you a hug as he says, “Hey kid, good to see you again.”

“You too!” you answer, somewhat surprised by the warm greeting.

Sarah’s there too, pulling you in to a hug next. The moment her arms wrap around your shoulders, you’re overcome with a wave of dizziness. Black spots flash in your vision and you blink rapidly to try and clear them.

“You okay, love?” she asks as she lets go and takes a step back.

After a couple deep breaths you answer, “I’m good. Practically ran here from dinner, still catching my breath I guess.”

Harry, who’s been quietly watching you quickly walks to the fridge and grabs a water bottle. You reach out your hand so he can pass it to you, and see his eyes focus on your arm. There’s no way he missed the angry red scratch marks there, but you immediately pull your sleeves back down to hide them anyway.

“Can we have a moment?” Harry asks, causing Mitch, Sarah, and Jada to promptly exit and close the door behind them. He motions to the couch, and you’re reminded of the last time the two of you were in his dressing room together.

Like the last time, you sit next to each other, but he seems to be giving you more space. This confuses you. If he’s so excited to see you, why didn’t he greet you with a hug like everyone else? And why is he so far away now? And why does he seem so serious instead of happy?

“Y/N, I have a question, and it’s kind of personal, but I’d like you to answer honestly,” he starts.

“Okay,” you reply, taken aback by this turn of events.

He’s quiet for a moment, seeming to think of exactly what he wants to ask. Finally, he settles on, “Where did those scratches come from?”

“My arms were itchy,” you reply. Not a lie, though probably not the full truth he’s looking for.

“And the dizziness? Cause I don’t think it was from your walk. You seemed fine until Sarah touched you. Until an alpha touched you.”

You know what he’s getting at. He’s no dummy. Just minutes after seeing you he’s figured out what you’ve been hiding for weeks. Hiding from everyone, including yourself.

He watches you, and you know he’s waiting for an answer. But you can’t think of one to give him. So, he continues, “Y/N, I think you have touch deprivation. Is that fair to say?”

You let out a shuddery breath and nod. “Yea, that’s fair to say.”

“It seems pretty severe.”

You finally decide to open up, saying, “It’s been getting worse the past couple weeks. I don’t think my meds are working anymore, and the soonest doctors appointment I could get still isn’t for a couple weeks.”

“I’m worried you’re close to a drop. Like, any minute now. Or that you’ll go under if I touch you. You realize that you were close with Sarah, right? That if you’d stayed in contact with her, or if she’d released any pheromones you’d be in a full drop right now?”

Part of you wants to snark back, yell at him for going full alpha male and acting like he knows your body better than you. But the problem is, he’s right. It’s been so long since the last time you dropped that you forgot what it’s like. You forgot what the signs are.

But now that he’s pointed out the obvious, you really start to feel it. He sees as you deflate, starting to fold in on yourself. His hand reaches out, wanting to comfort you in some way, but he can’t. He can’t risk sending you into a drop, not when he has a show to do in just twenty minutes.

“You’re right,” you finally say. “I didn’t realize it. I thought I was handling it, that I could make it to my doctor’s visit and get new soothers and I’d be okay. I just don’t know what to do if I don’t have meds that work.”

“I’d like to help you, if you’ll let me.”

You finally meet his eyes and see that he’s completely serious.

After a moment you nod and reply, “Okay.”

“Okay? You’ll let me help?”

“Yes. I don’t know what else to do. And uhm, I trust you. You’re a good person, Harry. A good alpha.”

He smiles at your words before glancing at the clock and saying, “I have to finish getting ready in a minute. I’d still like to hang out after the concert. I think it might be healthy for you to do a drop with me there, if you’re comfortable with that?”

“I mean, I don’t like dropping. It’s only happened to me twice before and I was alone each time, so they weren’t good experiences. But maybe it will be different if you’re there?”

“I can help you through it, if you’ll let me.”

“What would you do to help? Like, how do alphas help omegas through that?”

“It depends on what you consent to but ah, I would hold you, help you get the touch your omega needs. Most alphas will scent the omega. It lets them know that they’re not alone, that someone is there protecting them, keeping them safe while they can’t do so themselves. I’d also release calming pheromones to keep your omega relaxed.”

“Okay. I’m okay with all of that. I’d like that,” you answer. Truthfully you’re a bit nervous. Harry Styles has just offered to hold you, to scent you for goodness sakes. That’s incredibly intimate. But you’ve felt so awful for weeks, and there are still weeks to go before you can get new soothers. And this is kind of a dream come true.

“Do you want to stay here for the concert? You can hang in here or go to the VIP box. Or you can head to the hotel now and take it easy if you’d like,” he says.

“I’ll stay in here if that’s alright,” you reply.

“It’s more than alright,” he answers. “And if at any point you want to get out of here just text Jada. She can arrange a ride back to my hotel and I’ll meet you there after the show. Or if you change your mind she can get you a ride back to your hotel too.”

“Thank you, Harry. For everything.”

“Of course. I know I don’t know you all that well, but I care about you. Anyway, I uhm, need to get dressed so I’m just gonna step into the bathroom for a moment.”

“I can go in the hall for a minute, get out of your way-”

“Nonsense. You’re not in the way. I’ll be right back.”

Harry finishes getting ready, and you make yourself comfortable on the couch. A couple of people come in, touching up his hair and make-up and before you know it he’s heading to the stage.

You watch on the screen in the room for the first few songs. After a while Jada joins you and you ask if you can watch from the VIP section for a bit. It goes well until Harry and the band take a break. You’d been so focused on the music that you were distracted from everything else around you.

But now all you can hear are all the other people, and it’s overwhelming. It becomes difficult to breathe, and you start to see dark spots once again.

You turn to Jada, and she immediately leads you back to the dressing room.

“Do you want to wait for Harry, or do you want to leave now?” she asks.

“I think I should go,” you reply.

“To your hotel, or his?”

“Harry’s, please.”

“Okay, wait here, I’ll get the car and come back for you in a minute.”

You sit back on the couch, seeking out Harry’s scent to calm you, but it’s barely noticeable.

Jada comes back and you follow her to the car. It’s a quiet ride to the hotel, and once there, she goes with you to the suite.

His room is on the top floor. It’s big, basically a full apartment, and you stay in what seems to be the living room. Jada sits on the couch with you, and you say, “I feel like you have more important things to do than babysit me.”

She laughs and says, “It’s not babysitting. I like hanging out with you. And you’re a priority to Harry. Which makes you a priority to me.”

The two of you lapse into a comfortable silence for a while until Jada’s phone buzzes. “Shows over,” she says. “Harry’s just getting changed and then he’ll be here soon. He said you can borrow some of his clothes if you want to get comfy.”

You hesitate and she adds, “I have no problem going through his stuff. I can grab you some clothes if you want.” You laugh at that and nod.

A short while later you’ve changed into a pair of Harry’s sweatpants, as well as a t-shirt and hoodie. They smell like him, and you shamelessly inhale the scent you’ve been craving for weeks. The suite door opens, and Harry walks in, looking incredibly cozy in his own pair of sweats.

“Thank you, Jada,” he says. “Get some rest, you’ve earned it.”

“Night guys,” she says as she leaves the room.

You’re left alone with Harry. It feels different, here in his hotel room, surrounded by his belongings, while you’re wearing his clothes.

“You left early,” he says.

“Sorry,” you reply.

“Don’t be. I’m just worried as to why you left.”

“I was just overwhelmed. Needed some quiet.”

“I understand. Y/N, are you ready for this? You still seem on the edge of a drop.”

“I’m ready.”

“And have you changed your mind about anything? Or is it okay if I hold and scent you through this?”

You pause for a moment, scared at how vulnerable you’re about to be. “I haven’t changed my mind. I want you to do that. I trust you.”

He takes a step towards you. “Thank you, for trusting me. We’ll probably be more comfortable in the bed.”

“Lead the way,” you say.

It’s awkward at first, the two of you sitting next to each other in his bed, backs resting against the headboard.

He turns to you and says, “Can I hold you now?”

You nod, and his arms wrap around you, pulling you until you’re tucked under his chin and resting against his chest.

Everything starts to get fuzzy, and you feel yourself losing consciousness. It’s an unsettling feeling, but you know that Harry is there to help you through this.

The last thing you hear before it all goes black is Harry calmly saying, “I’ve got you. Let go. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

Harry can’t describe the helplessness he feels as you go limp in his arms. He doesn’t allow himself to stress, or panic, knowing that his emotions will impact you. Instead, he takes some calming breaths and thinks through everything he knows he needs to do in this situation.

He hears you whimper quietly as you start to shiver, and he doesn’t hesitate to soothe you. It takes some maneuvering, but soon you’re both laying down in the bed. He tucks his nose into your neck and begins to scent you, releasing calming pheromones until you relax.

It continues this way for the next couple of hours. Harry holds you, and scents you, his nose rubbing against the gland in your neck. During one moment when you seem particularly distressed he can’t help but place kisses there to soothe you faster.

Finally, you start to stir. It takes longer than Harry had anticipated, so he’s relieved when your eyes meet his after hours of being closed.

“Hey there,” he says with a soft smile.

“Hi,” you answer groggily. “How long?”

“Couple hours. Your inner omega needed the rest. Now you need some too. Go to sleep, I’ve got you.”

It’s the same words he said before you dropped. You wish you could hear that all the time. No one has cared for you before, not like this. It feels good, but you remind yourself not to get used to it. Still, you curl into his embrace, enjoying every moment of contact with Harry that you can get.

The next thing you know, it’s late morning. You’re still cuddling against Harry, and his deep breaths indicate he’s still sleeping.

You feel amazing. You’re nice and warm, your mind is clear, and the constant itch and restlessness are nonexistent. You’re extremely grateful, but at the same time, you’re annoyed that you need to depend on another person just to feel normal. But you don’t dwell on that. Because Harry is starting to stir next to you.

“Hey,” he says when your eyes meet his. “How do you feel? Sleep okay?” God, you could melt at the gravelly sound of his morning voice.

“I’m good. Feel better than I have in a long time. And according to that clock, I slept wonderfully.” The two of you laugh, seeing that it’s nearly noon.

“I was hoping to treat you to a nice breakfast, but I guess I missed the window on that,” Harry says, continuing to laugh with you. “I do still have plenty of time before I need to be at the arena. Would you like to spend the afternoon with me exploring Chicago?”

“I’d love to,” you reply. His face breaks out in a huge smile before he leans down, once again running his nose along your scent gland. You go limp at the feeling, happily submitting to him.

You don’t think about the fact that this is temporary. That you leave to fly home tomorrow afternoon. That you’ll be without his alpha scent once again.

Instead, you think about the hours you have ahead of you, hours to spend with Harry. Nothing could be more perfect.

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AN: Thank you so much for reading! This was one of the scenes I imagined when I first thought of the story and I'm so happy that it's finally shared with you all!

Taglist: @akkatz @pandeebearstyles @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite@theekyliepage@numafarawayglxy @booberry019-blog @hillzrry@ssareidbby @gem1712 @acesofspadess@houseofdilfs@shaquille-0atmeal-1@kissitnhekitchen @amateurduck @poguestyleskye@n0vaj3an@snwells@drunk-teens-doing-drugs ; @fdl305@creativelyeva@daphnesutton@selluequestrian@lovingfurypanda @stardream14 @tbsloneely@eversincehs1@boomitsallie1@rose-garden-dreamz @fictionalmensblog @buckybarnessimpp

#harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #wolfrry

147 notes · View notes

musette22 · 2 years

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Hi, darling (I hope it´s ok to call you darling) I´m starting to write ff so I am really curious to know more about your dont´s and any other advice about writing that you might have. I´m a huge fan of your stories and I think you´re an incredible writer so I will really value your opinion on the topic

Hi, lovely! It's absolutely fine to call me darling, you can call my anything you like as long as it's something nice 😘 Thank you SO much for your kind words about my writing, I appreciate it more than I can say 💗 I'm so happy to hear you're starting to write fanfiction as well, that's very exciting!! As for writing advice, I really don't feel qualified to dole out advice lol, but I'll do my best to tell you about a few things that I try to do and/or avoid myself when I'm writing! I'll put it under the keep reading tag for you, since it's a little lengthy 😘

1. Make sure you stick to one tense. I personally always write in present tense, but I know a lot of people who write in past tense as well, and that's just a matter of personal preference. Both are absolutely fine, as long as you consistently use one or the other throughout your fic (with the exception of course of when a character is recalling something, or in dialogue etc. But that speaks for itself, I imagine)

2. Make sure you stick to one POV within a single scene. Unless you're writing from the omniscient narrator POV or something like that, you always write from one person's perspective, meaning we are in their brains and looking through their eyes. It's incredibly jarring to me when within a single scene, multiple POVs occur. It just jolts me out of the story immediately, because that's impossible in real life, and it should therefore also be in fiction. It's fine to switch POV from one chapter or even scene to another, as long as it's clear that it's intentional POV switching.

3. Avoid the use of epithets and characteristics (i.e. when someone is described as 'the taller/older man' or 'the blond woman') to indicate someone instead of using their name or he/she/they. This does not apply when it's a character whose name we don't know yet. It makes sense to describe those characters by some of their characteristics, although if it's a while before we learn the character's name, I personally prefer it when people just give them a nickname (blondie, Hot Gym Guy, Sarah's dad etc.)

4. When writing dialogue, try not to use too many alternatives to the word 'says/said'. It's understandable to want to avoid constantly going "Bucky says" and "Steve says" etc. since that can get irritating too, but only using substitutes like "grumbles" or "sighs" or "whines" or "mutters" can also start to become tedious after a while. The trick is to find a balance, and to also write dialogue in such a way that it's often clear who's saying what without always having to indicate who is speaking.

5. Try to use a mix of shorter and longer sentences. I personally find it difficult to get into a story when it consists of only short sentences, but of course, when an author only writes very long sentences with lots and lots of commas, that can get a little tiring too. So the trick is to try and mix it up, but in an organic way (so not alternating or anything like that, but finding a balance that works).

6. Use proper punctuation. I can't stress this enough. Commas and full stops and hyphens all exist for a reason. Please use them as they were meant to be used as much as possible, and be economical with exclamation marks. In my opinion, it's almost always possible to show that someone is agitated or enthusiastic by simply using the right words, or sometimes some well-placed italics.

7. Pay extra attention to your opening sentence/paragraph. Make sure it's engaging, and draws your reader in. An easy way to do that is to open with dialogue, but if you do that, do make sure that you take the time to set the scene as well. Your reader will want to learn the who-what-where at some point during the first few paragraphs. It's sometimes tempting to open a fic by explaining what happened before this scene, how the character(s) got to where they are, and exactly who they are, but to me, that can feel decidedly clunky a lot of the time. So again, try to find a balance (but I'll admit it's a tricky thing to get right!)

8. Try to find a balance between exposition and dialogue. It's totally fine and understandable that some fics are heavier on one than the other (it depends on a lot of factors), but if a fic consists almost exclusively of descriptions without there being a good reason for it, I personally find that it gets less engaging. Similarly, if a fic uses a LOT of dialogue and rarely delves into exposition, it can kind of make me feel a little unmoored or stressed, and like I need to catch my breath. If possible, try to alternate.

So basically, it's all about balance 😅 I could probably go on, but I think these are some of the most important practical things I can think of when it comes to writing a story. Please keep in mind that I am not a professional author, and that I've only been writing for about three years, and learned through trial and error more than anything. I still struggle with a lot of the above - as you, as a reader of my fics, will probably know! But I do always try to pay attention to these issues, so I hope some of these tips can be useful for you too!! Let me know if you want me to elaborate on any of these points, and best of luck with your writing, lovely!! 😘😘

#writing advice #my writing #fanfiction #minnie answers

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butterfliesluke · 3 years

Text

Ex trouble:

Request: Y/n and Luke are married. Luke's ex Sierra keeps bothering them tho even tho Y/n is pregnant. It goes as far as that they have to call the police.

Requested by: emmyb.allen1 (this is for a request no hate towards Sierra)

A/N: Sure thing! Enjoy!

▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️

Y/n's POV:

The light breeze of summer air was hitting my face. My body sprawled out on the bed.

My back against Luke's warm chest as my eyes fluttered open. A smile on my lips as I felt warmth curled up against my belly.

Little paws pushed against it. Petunia has been always attached to me since the day I moved in with my at the time boyfriend.

Now Husband. But since I got pregnant she was practically guard dog.

I scratched her head smiling before turning around slightly. Luke's eyes shut closed.

His eyelashes laying against his cheeks. His hair messy against the pillows.

My finger went up to poke his cheek with a cheeky smile.

A groan leaving his lips as he opened his ocean blue eyes with a glare.

,,Just cause you are carrying my child doesn't mean you can be cheeky darling." He mumbled making me giggle.

A sudden ping interrupting my planned sassy remark.

His phone lighting up on his nightstand. I huffed annoyed.

Since Luke's ex found out about my pregnancy she apparently noticed how much she still loves him.

Don't understand me wrong. I always had respect for Sierra. But this is going to far.

,,If it's her again I will actually give birth and then jump out if the window." I laughed making Lu chuckle.

,,Don't stress about it love. It's bad for our little bean." He whispered against my lips before pressing a kiss against them.

He sat up grabbing his phone. Before slandering into the bathroom.

I sighed before turning to piggy who was now sitting up next to me.

,,Goodmorning pup!" I whispered smiling.

After we got ready for the day Luke and I decided to go out for lunch with the boys.

We all sat in the back of the little diner.

,,I'll have..the chicken Alfredo with garlic bread..but could I get the garlic bread on a different plate? I don't like my food touching." Michael murmured.

The waited giving him a side eye meaning he will definitely spit in our food after that.

Crystal shaking her head with a smile.

,,Ofcourse..I'll be back with your drinks." She sighed and turned around.

,,Why is she making such a fuss? It's literally her job!" I laughed as Luke wrapped his hand around my shoulder.

,,I don't know! Don't worry Mike." Ashton smiled patting his frowning friends back.

Whose eyes then went wide while looking behind me matching everyone's who was sitting opposite us.

,,Yall look like you saw a ghost!" Luke exclaimed turning around to.

A small curse leaving his lips making me and Calum turn around too.

,,Oh fuck no.." I spat as I watched the one person I least wanted to see walk in the diner.

Sierra. Today is not my day.

,,What the fuck is she doing here?" Kay asked confused as she walked up to our table with an annoying grin.

Luke grabbing my thighs and whispering calm words in my ear.

That didn't help my boiling self tho.

,,What a pleasant surprise! 5sos and their girls! And the one night stand that got pregnant." She teased with an smug pout.

A gasp leaving Crystal's lips.

,,Oh fuck no girl. You are not ruining our day." Luke laughed standing up.

,,Oh Luke..don't get so worked up! We both know she's just a phase." She scoffed.

What the hell. Everyone is looking at us.

,,Sierra I am literally married to him you you blind chicken." I giggled shaking my head.

,,Deaton. Leave before I fucking call the police." Calum threatened also standing up.

Suddenly a glas off tap water being placed infront of me making me realize the waiter is back.

Sierra eyeing the orange juice infront of Luke and the sprite infront of Kay.

Her grabbing them both and with a swing I felt it splash against my shirt and pants and a slap against my cheek.

A yell leaving my body as I looked at her with stunned eyes.

,,Babe! Omg was it something hot? Did it hit your stomach!? Someone call the police right now! " Luke ranted before cupping my face.

His eyes filled with worry and pain.

,,I'm alright lu. It's okay.." I reassured standing up.

,, You guys take a taxi home. We'll handle this from here." Michael spat looking at Sierra.

I nodded standing up with Luke guiding me outside.

I guess this is what it's like being married to a celebrity.

Ex trouble part 2:

Request: Can I Have a Part two where Sierra feels so Guilty

Requested by: emmyb.allen1

A/N:Ofcourse! I tried my best! Hope yall like it was very requested by all of you♥️

THIS IS JUST AN IMAGINE. THE MENTIONED TOPIC DOES NOT APPLY TO SIERRA IN REAL LIFE. WE LOVE HER (no really. I am practically obsessed with her.)

Luke's POV:

It's been a week since the drama all happened.

And I'm still worked up about it. What is the liquid would have been hot? It would have burned her skin.

No matter how much I used to love Sierra. This has gone too far.

The constant stalking, messages, drama.

I'm married for God sakes. The moment she got physical the line got overstepped.

,,What are you still fuming about?" A sweet voice asked making me turn around.

Y/n waddled into the kitchen. Her belly looked like it could explode any second.

Her signature dimply smile flashing across her face.

,,The Sierra thing..." I murmured as she sat down next to me.

Her head falling on my shoulder as her perfume went up my nostrils.

My heart beating faster by the second.

,,Oh Lu. Stop stressing. It turned out fine. She won't bother is anymore." She whispered as I tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.

Management has finally decided to do something about this mess allowing me to be able to never let Sierra near us again.

,,I know...but-"

My sentence got interrupted by the door bell.

Y/n furrowing her eyebrows. ,,Are the boys coming over?" She asked making me shake my head.

,,Mhm maybe it's Crys." She shrugged pressing a kiss to my cheek and standing up.

Running to the door as best she could. A grin on my face. I'm so madly in love.

My day dreaming cut off once I heard a loud ,,LUKE!!" from the hallway.

The Luke that mostly comes when either she is upset with me or she needs me instantly.

My mind running a mile per hour. Did I order something stupid again?

Oh God what did I do?

Jumping up I quickly ran to the door.

My eyes widening as I saw who stood infront of the door.

,,Yeah no. What are you doing here?" I asked crossing my arms, standing next to the shocked Y/n.

Sierras guilty face dropping some more.

I know that face. She really felt bad for something.

,,Luke.. Y/n..I don't know what got into me to be honest. I was hoping I could apologize and maybe explain myself." She muttered.

Her gaze fixed to the ground.

,,There's nothing to ex-" ,,Hush! Sierra this is the last chance. If you try to pull a thing like that again I don't wanna see you again." Y/n, miss sometimes too kind hearted, said.

Sierra had a small smile on her lips before nodding. Us stepping aside and walking into the living room.

,,She better have a good reason." I grumbled making Y/n push me slightly.

,,Negative Nelly.." she spat shaking her allowing me to roll my eyes.

We sat down on the couch. Si taking a huge breath before starting to speak.

,,Firstly..I wanted to say how truly sorry I am. I should not have lashed out on you especially since you are carrying a Child." She said.

Her eyes screaming -I really mean it this time-

A small nod coming from Y/n.

,,And Luke. I really do care about you. I'm sorry for hanging on you even tho you are married." She explained.

My dark eyes turning a shade lighter as I nodded too.

,,The thing is..when I found out your pregnant...my heart shattered." She admitted.

Unexpectedly her eyes filling with fresh tears.

Y/n's face dropping as if she knew something.

,,I-I can't have kids. I found out two months ago." She cried out.

Y/n's eyes filling with tears aswell as I gasped. Even tho she practically turned my life upside down..I was still in love with her a while ago.

,,Oh my..Sierra I'm so sorry!" I exclaimed as Y/n put her hand on hers.

,,I got so jealous and I'm sorry!" She sobbed making our heart shatter.

,,oh shh it's okay..I can't imagine how you feel." Y/n cooed rubbing her shoulder.

My arm coming around Y/n's shoulder as I placed my hand on Sierra's thigh.

Y/n was my everything. My whole world. And her allowing me to have a child is the best gift in the world.

But I can tell the excitement on her face when we talk about welcoming our baby into the world.

She will be an amazing mother and her love for our child is already so huge.

So passionate.

I can't imagine how it is for a woman to find out that she will never be able to have children.

Pulling her into a hug we all stayed close to her.

And in the end...our little girl and Sierra got along so well.

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olderthannetfic · 3 years

Text

Ah, I do see your points, anon. I'm not going to post all your asks publicly because if you really feel that unsafe, it's probably best not to have a bigass chunk of your text for people to analyze and try to guess your identity from. I think one of the best points you made is about how close to home it hits when the non-fave is not only your fave but is similar to you in some way like demographic. You're not wrong for having those emotions. I do wonder if they make it hard to see how some other people feel similarly embattled on other axes.

TBH, I think one of the big problems here is that the large aggregate patterns you're talking about are racist, but most individual fics and fans are not really the problem. It's hard to know how to talk about this or who to tell to "fix" it when we're looking at free, hobbyist art.

A lot of people's tastes are certainly formed by shitty society, but once they're formed, they don't change fast if at all. Asking someone to rewrite their libido is a big ask, yet tumblr does it all the time as though it's as simple as snapping your fingers.

This leaves me with the sense that a lot of tumblr is... like... the political lesbians of porn fic or something: desire is not real, only choosing based on logic and politics. Or maybe people are so asexual that they just don't understand the lizard brain's "YES!" at some porn things and complete indifference to others?

I don't think it's great if great swaths of people feel like bottom!Nicky is super hot and top!Nicky fundamentally isn't, but I also don't think they can necessarily just turn it off like flipping a switch.

(If someone reading this doesn't like their current tastes and wants to attempt to alter them, I do think it's possible. What you should do is line up a large slate of media that prominently features characters of the ethnicity or whatever that you don't find hot/interesting. These should be leads whose emotional development drives the plot and is supposed to be central to the audience's enjoyment of the media. Watch/read/etc. this media all the time. All. The. Time. Try out many pieces because you won't like every character or every show, and we're looking for genuine enjoyment, not the fandom equivalent of a pity fuck. Spend enough time on this, and your unconscious sense of who's hot and interesting will eventually shift somewhat. This is a project you should expect to take a few years.)

But I digress.

The one tweet thing is a very toxic pattern. If TOG fandom is doing that, guys, please try to be more conscious of holding the actors of color to a higher standard (or the women or whomever). I know this often comes from a place of paying more attention to our own and wanting to set a good standard, but the effect is that minorities can't fuck up ever while white dudes get infinite passes.

Okay, on to the fic thing... Gotta say, my instant reaction to that description is "Ooh!"--as it would be for the same scenario with the characters reversed. (Ships who start out trying to kill each other are my favorite! x1000 if they're resurrecting style immortals and they literally do.) I can see how it would feel like slamming into a brick wall if you aren't kinky in just the right way and you didn't know it was coming though.

Part of why I react so strongly to a lot of discourse that runs along these lines is that I am a naturally extremely kinky person. It's not so much about what I do (which as a deeply lazy person in a long distance relationship is essentially nothing), but it's absolutely how I'm wired.

And I can tell you that my quotidian experience in fandom is sharing something I don't even realize is a big deal only to have someone I like, respect, and trust react in horror and tell me that it's triggering and awful and should not be allowed in fandom spaces because it makes "people" unsafe. It's such an instant, kneejerk reaction they don't even realize I was sharing it because it spoke to the very core of me. Lesson learned, friend. Lesson learned.

That sounds a bit off topic, I know, but bear with me: The point of that anecdote is that it's pretty common for me to get people trying to raise my awareness of things I have already thought deeply about while denying my essential humanity and not even realizing. As a kinky person who likes to make my fave the top (and generally a conflicted sadist), this constant request to explain and justify is exhausting.

I doubt most of the top!Joe fans have this precise problem simply because people who make their fave the top are much less common in fandom than people who make their fave the bottom, but I see a similar pattern with fans who are just fundamentally wired for rape fantasies (one of the most common fantasies that exists) vs. fans who just don't get rape fantasies at all. Or substitute your BDSM/kinky/messed up fantasy trope of choice. Covertly radical feminist attitudes towards kink and power are on the rise in fandom, and as a naturally kinky person, boy do I notice it!

I know that it feels like crucial activism to share these insights about why the ratio of top!Joe is hurtful, and the pain you feel is real. But it's also the case that it's a big ask to want people to listen. (Not me. Obviously, I routinely choose to engage with discourse. I mean overall.) The reason for that is that you're only seeing a fraction of what they do or who they are, and you don't know how many previous people they've listened to how many previous times. It's a very different situation from someone whose job is making some major TV series or movie or something. That person does, in my opinion, owe you some amount of listening.

Now, I'm not saying no top Joe fan was ever a jerk. I'll bet they were. There's a tendency to be rude and to publicly air your schadenfreude when you feel like everyone has been yelling at you. What I am saying is that a lot of the problem here boils down to conflicting needs, and that means there isn't a good solution. It's a situation where people are genuinely hurt, but I don't necessarily agree that other people have harmed them.

I like that you did an actual count of the explicit fics, btw. It's good to look at the real numbers. I see too little of that in these situations. My off the cuff reaction is that 2/3 to 1/3 is not a bad ratio at all compared to many fandoms, but yeah, it definitely shows a strong trend, and that can be painful. (I have a fandom where I think there's maybe like 1 bottom so-and-so fic in the entire zine era fandom. One. It's pretty extreme.)

I guess my thinking here overall is: What is the practical solution? What are we hoping to gain? What is reasonable to ask of people?

And it can't be "Well, if they would just listen..." That's just a sneaky way of saying "If you haven't done it my way, it's because you haven't listened to me yet."

So the question I would ask of people is this:

What does a non-racist fic where Joe tops look like?

What does a non-racist sex pollen, dubcon, or even noncon fic where Joe tops look like?

And if you say the latter is impossible... well... sadists exist everywhere in the world. So do doms. So do people who prefer to top in a purely physical sense. People with rape fantasies where they're the rapist exist (people who are not actually rapists, I mean). None of this is restricted to any one group. We can't categorically say fic like that about Joe is coming from a place of racism without denying the fundamental humanity of kinky MENA people who'd want to make Joe like themselves or like their ideal partner. (Yes, I agree this won't be the majority of fic writers writing top!Joe, but this is a place to start for figuring out what the better version would look like.)

IDK, maybe you're that kinkster yourself, but your asks gave me the vibe that you don't really get the drive towards those darker kinds of fics and what might be motivating it besides stereotypes and shittiness.

If we can answer these kinds of questions, we can better critique the way people write what they write without telling them all of their taste is bad and they should just stop writing. Even if we think the latter is true, it isn't going to get us anywhere. Figuring out how to make Joe more multidimensional in the fic they already want to write or finding very specific wording that should be avoided might actually work.

Beyond that, the actions I think are productive would be running prompt fests, exchanges, or other events for bottom!Joe or for top!Joe where he's the main character and the fics are required to be from his POV. Themed collections and recs lists are great. (I've seen a bit of this going around in TOG fandom in the past, and that's an excellent approach! Keep it up!) Positive actions tend to work better here. Make more of what you want. Promote what you want to see.

I don't mean this in some fluffy magical thinking way: you aren't going to change that ratio radically just by the power of positivity. But I've seen this kind of thing play out in many, many fandoms, and going after the people who write what you don't like, even in a well-intentioned effort to educate and even in a polite, kind way doesn't do much. A few people feel guilty. A few feel defensive. A lot ignore you. The overall fic doesn't change. It's not a good use of your limited time and energy.

I'm off to look up that fic to see what I think of it in practice, but I'm going to post this before tumblr manages to eat it.

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scaramouche-bully · 3 years

Note

i hope this isn't rude to ask, but why do you write dark content topics like noncon and abuse? i'm a s/a and abuse survivor who had no problem with these things before my trauma but afterwards i became angry at people who made such content. now i'm trying to remember that people have different reasons for writing these things and i've been asking writers what their thoughts are. i've been following you for a while and i know you're kind and not ill intentioned in your writing, so i was wondering what your views are. this isn't meant to be hateful at all and i am just curious and want to understand. if this makes you uncomfortable feel free to delete it!

Hello anon,

Don't worry, this isn't rude to ask at all. I respect that you want to understand and this is from curiosity rather than being hateful (which I don't take your ask as such) and that you remember that there's a person behind the work. To be honest, I don't really know how to answer your question so I might go on a tangent. I hope you don't take my words as fact or my entire thought process but I just want to say:

I don't support rape or abuse. I don't want anyone to think that just because I write it, I fantasize about it or condone it in any way. I don't. I'm not trying to offend or make anyone angry, that's why I tag everything twice and add a read more. It's your choice whether to believe me or not, I just ask that you don't harass me under those assumptions.

To put it bluntly, it's just writing to me. When you see people write or do something really obscure or relating to dark content, you're completely right to assume it's because they're interested in those topics. But that's not necessarily the same for everything and everyone. I can't speak on the behalf of every single writer out there but personally, it's just something to explore from an omniscient point of view. I'm not going to bullshit you or sugarcoat my words, I'm not a survivor and the harassment and abuse that I have suffered aren't traumatic to me. That's why I can think that way and it's not because I have any ill-intent or I'm trying to undermine or pretend that those issues aren't serious. They are. Personally, I would get very upset as well because, in my mind, someone is taking something very personal and traumatic and doing what? Writing about it with fictional characters that they want to fuck? It feels insulting in a way. Naturally, I have no idea what you feel but that's how I would react.

But it's similar to any murder/mafia au or even yandere. Does that mean I like killing people or obsessive behaviour? No, absolutely not. When I write a character or direct a movie and someone is shooting someone, does that mean I'm into violence or condone guns? No, that was not the intention at all. We can say it's "not the same thing" and you're totally valid to think that way. But for me, it is. I'm not pretending as if murder or abuse doesn't exist or it's something to want. When it's in shows or books, no one really bats an eye to that. Maybe it's the stigma with fanfic authors that we're all 13-year old quotev writers/readers (I used to be one so I'm really just making fun of myself here) that we rightfully assume it's because we like those topics or we fantasize about being in those situations. Because why else would I want to read or write about x reader fics with those topics?

You don't need me to tell you that it's reasonable to be angry at people that make dark content. I myself, don't really like dark content that much either. I don't daydream about being used and I don't like feeling upset. Which I guess doesn't make sense especially for the type of fics I write. But when I actually write, there's a major disconnect between fiction and reality and I understand that it's not like that for everyone else. Writers pov compared to a reader's pov I feel is very different. I can be a selfish person and write this way because I've never been through it. But it's never from a place of disrespect and I apologize if it feels that way but I can't control what you feel. All I ask is that you read the tags and determine whether or not you want to associate with it. To me, it's just words on a paper and action queues I'm giving to imaginary characters. I'm not fantasizing about anything, I don't even like sex that much. I just think it's something to write that I feel like doing. For example, I don't care for Venti at all. He's cute I guess but I don't want to fuck him. But I still write for him and how I write makes it seem as if I actually look at Venti that way. I don't, it's just writing. I guess it's the same question as to why do you write in general. Because it's fun? I wouldn't really call it "fun" and more of a hobby that I like to do. This doesn't really make sense since people that do anything as a hobby naturally assume they have a passion or like it. In a sense, it's kind of like this: You enjoy drawing but if someone asked you to draw a monster, yes you could do it because you like to draw but it's not like you're putting your heart or deep emotional thoughts into it. It's just a drawing of a monster. You've never had an experience with a monster (in a fictional sense) so there's nothing for you to be traumatized with. There might be some aspects, spikes or tentacles, that make you uncomfortable, sure. And people can find deeper meanings in your work and make assumptions when there isn't, to you it's just an image.

I know this is an incredibly shitty way to explain why I write dark content because it sounds like I don't care or I think abuse/noncon subjects don't matter because it's "just words on a paper". I get it, in movies when the protagonist is abused or has been a survivor of rape and that doesn't go anywhere. That it's just a way for the movie to pity the main character or to explain why they act a certain way, it feels cheap and manufactured and I hate it. But I always believe that as long as you aren't doing anything illegal or endangering yourself + others, I don't care what you do. When I see topics that I personally find disgusting or don't like, I just move on. They aren't hurting me in any way and they're allowed to write what they want to write. I know that isn't the same for everyone and that kind of thinking is very romanticized but I like to think that I'm smart enough to know when that thinking breaks or isn't acceptable.

Sorry that I keep drawing comparisons, it's just how I like to explain things and it's easier for me to explain my thoughts that way. My writing is like a snow globe. Sure it has some real connotations with the snow that comes from nature, but it's not real snow. It's an overly pretty, dream-like world, that can never be cold and doesn't show how awful living with a lot of snow does to you. People that have never seen snow, they'll love it because it doesn't remind them of actual snow since they've never experienced it. But I have, I live in NA. Except I understand that it's just a snow globe. Sure it might make someone uncomfortable for any reason, but it doesn't for me and at the end of the day, it's just an object to me. You can take that as a very selfish way of thinking but I'm not going to throw my snowglobe in the trash just because someone doesn't like it. I know for a fact that anything I write isn't meant to trigger or make anyone upset, I write it because I want to explore those topics. I don't think it's hot, I don't think it's okay, and I don't condone it in real life. But it's just writing to me, it's just fiction, it's a way for me to explore those topics in a way that I am comfortable. If you don't like it and it triggers you, that is completely okay and understandable, but that wasn't my intention and I'm not going to stop.

I hope that answers your question and gives you a bit of insight into my views. I know my way of thinking isn't for everyone and you're allowed to disagree with it. Dark content is a very thin line that a lot of people aren't comfortable with and I acknowledge that. I don't even like dark content that much but I'm not going to stop writing about it. I'll tag everything, crop away topics that trigger people, and to be honest, I don't find myself writing about dark content ever unless an anon asks for it. But if you don't like me or disagree with what I've said, the block button is right there.

- 🐑

#tw dark content #sheep talks #anon ask

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szchaql · 3 years

Text

Total Opposite (part 4)

PAUL LAHOTE X SWAN READER

Part 3 Masterlist

(Y/n)'s POV

The journey home with Jacob full of silence. He didn't say anything, just driving the car. The memories of big grey wolf, baring his teeth, growling, keep appearing on my mind. What exactly happened? I glance at Jacob who focus on driving, trying to ask him.

"It'a okay, (y/n)... it's fine. We all will be waiting for you until you are ready to listen the whole story. And Paul didn't have any intention on hurting you.. you are too precious for him..." Jacob beat me in breaking the silence.

"But the look on his face was like he want to murder someone.... will i be fine??"

"He just angry.. Paul is known for his hot head and short tempered man. But he really try his best not to let his temper exploded when he near you. But today, i think he just couldn't help it and phase..." Jacob glance at me. "I may not like Paul... but i know he will protect you at all cost... believe me.. you will be safe with him rather than with any of us."

I raise my eyebrow, confused. "Why??"

He shake his head. "It's not my place to tell you that. Be patient. Right now, all you have to do is calm down and take all of this slowly.. we will tell you when you're ready.. don't force youself to understand it in one day.."

"Take a hot shower and calm down, okay?? I have to go pick up Bella and maybe tell her about it." He said as we arrive at my home.

I nod and get inside, luckily Dad isn't home yet. I immediately go to my room and lay down the bed. There's must be something, and it's a serious one. But why Jake said that i'll be safe with Paul? He nearly killed me today...

I decided to take a hot shower to clear up my mind. Taking a hot shower help me to calm myself. I drift myself to sleep soon after my body hit the bed after shower.

In the next 2 weeks, i totally ignored Bella, Jacob and all of the wolves. Seeing them just keep reminding me of that grey wolf. I just keep hanging with the Clearwaters and Tiffany. Even at school, when Jared, Paul, Jacob and Bella try to approach me, i always took different path and avoided them. I'm not ready yet.

Today, having nothing to do at home, i decided to walk on the forest. I know it's stupid because it's dangerous, but i need some quite moment. Seth and Leah are having a short vacation to Washington with Sue and Harry, Tiffany is having a family day. Bella is out with Jacob, as i keep refusing to talk to her. Part because what happened that day at Jacob's and part because she's having a relationship with vampires despite she knew about my traumatized. I bet Edward is a vampire, knowing they had a relationship before.

I keep walking deeper into the forest while thinking about everything that happened to me. Not realize that a massive creature are walking behind me, watching me. Until the sound of a broken twig that i immediately look behind. My breath hitch when i see the same grey wolf, standing not to far, eyes lock at me.

I gulp and freeze. What should i do? If i run, will he chase after me? Or should i just stand here? Without realize, i step back slowly.

Seeing me like that make the wolf whine loudly while he lay down on his stomach, ears flat, slowly crawling into me, eyes keep looking at me. When he close enough, he poke my leg with his large snout. He whimpered when i didn't give a respones.

"You won't hurt me, right? You won't kill me, right?" I ask as the wolf shake his head, whimpered. I slowly reach his head. When his suprisingly soft fur meet my hand, i can't help but to stroke it and without realize, i smile. He lean more into me and whimper softly, enjoying the interaction.

After quite some moments, he retreat and walk into behind one of the tree. The sound of bones make me flinch and short after Paul walk with his human form, shirtless, wearing a cut short jeans, and old shoes.

I look into my feets, embarased. "Hey..." his soft voice make my look up at him. He smile softly at me, hands on his pocket.

"Hey..."

"What are you doing in here, alone? You know that it's dangerous." He scolded me softly.

"Sorry... i just want to have some quite time and forest is always my place to think too.. so.. yeah... Bella is out with Jake, the Clearwater are out to Washington. And i'm alone." I chuckle and look up at him.

I realised that i'm so short compared to him, just barely reach his wide shoulder. He has this brown eyes that confusingly full of love and adoration.

"Mind if we walk together? I can't leave you alone on the woods, there're so much dangers.. and i know some amazing place." He ask, blushing.

I nod at him and we walk side by side in the forest.

"Mind to tell me what exactly happened? What are you guys?" I look at him. He look hesitated. "Is this really a serious matter?"

"More or less.. are you sure about this? We can wait until you are ready. No pressure at all.. we decided to ask Harry to tell you all about this thing.."

"Uncle Harry?"

"He is one of our tribe elders, alongside Billy, Sue and Old Quil. Since you are close to the Clearwaters, we thought that it best to have him tell you about the legend and the tribe." He explained, looking slightly hope that i listen to him.

"I think it's better you who tell me first. Later i'll ask Uncle Harry if i have questions that you can't answers. Okay?" He nod.

Paul tell me the tribe legend and everything behind the shifting into wolf. How they are decendants of the first shape-shifters. The Quileute.

"So, you are all wolves? Shape-shifters?"

"Only the lucky one who have the gene that can phase."

"Then... Seth and Leah can shift too?"

"Yeah.. maybe not with Leah, since we never have a female shape-shifter. Seth can phase one day, even if we don't want that to happen."

"Poor, Seth... but isn't it great to have an ability to shift into wolf? It's cool, you know.." i chuckle softly.

"Yeah, but we always put our life in dangerous, to protect people and the tribe. And imagine children shifting into one.. how hard is it for them. It's already hard for us, but the children.. can't even imagine it."

"Anything else? About the tribe or the wolf thing?"

"Then there is one more thing about being a shape-shifters..."

"I'm still listening."

"There's something called an imprinting. It's not like love at first sight, really. It's more like… gravity moves… suddenly. It's not the earth holding you here anymore, she does… You become whatever she needs you to be, whether that's a protector, or a lover, or a friend. To sum it up, it's like our way of finding a soulmate." He look down at me as we stop walking, standing in the middle of a forest.

"Why are you telling me all of this? All of this are secrets, right?"

"Yeah. But you are part of our tribe member. Since the day on the beach..."

The beach? What happened at the beach?

"You are my imprint, (y/n).. when we looked each other at the eyes on the beach.. it'a the day that i imprinted on you... as an imprint, you have the right to know everything about us, the world around us. Even the vampires thing.. you have to know about all of this, so you are aware of the world you are living as an imprint." The word imprint shock me even more.

Me? An imprint? How? Why?

"Why me? How?"

"We don't know.. and we can't help who we imprinted on.." he shrug and we continue walking.

"I want to ask about something.." i look down at my feet as we walk. He hum as response.

"Maybe this is a little out of topic, but is... Edward.. a vampire??"

"Yeah.. all his family, the Cullen are vampires.. but they considered themself as vegetarian. They only drink animal blood..." Paul explain about the Cullen.

So, Bella was having a relationship with a family of vampires. I want to be mad at her, but i can't. The way she so heartbroken when Edward leave her, they must be had a very good relationship before. And most importantly she's happy.

"Bella want to tell you about the Cullen.. but she never found the time to explain it. You already find it by yourself, so maybe it'll be easier for her to explain. She want you to be safe, (y/n).. don't be mad at her. Yes, she was wrong to had a relationship with vampires, when she alone is a human. But the reason she didn't tell you is because you past. She afraid that you can't accept it and she didn't want to loose you."

"Even if i want to be mad at her, i just can't. She's happy with Edward and to me, her happiness is everything.." Paul chuckle softly.

Short after, we arrive at a beautiful sceneries, the cliff. The ocean beneath it is so beautiful. "We used to cliff diving in here. But when we walk toward the other side, it have the most beautiful sceneries. Come on, hold on to me, okay. It's dangerous." He strecth out his hand and i take it. The warm from his hand make me comfortable and feel safe. No wonder Jacob said that i'll be more safe around him. Even if he has an anger issue, I believe that he don't have any intention to hurt me. The way he talk and treat me with so much love and adoration is great.

"Here we are." He said after we walk about 10 minutes. My eyes lit up when i see the scenery. We can see the mountains around us and forests beneath us. It's so beautiful. Well, beside the cold wind, everything is great.

We both sit down, near the edge. Paul sit really close to me, giving his warmth to me. "Do you like it?" He look over me, smiling softly.

I smile back at him. "Totally.. how did you guys found this place?"

He shrug. "When we are doing patrol, Embry found this. But we rarely gather in here, we usually doing cliff diving. But never going alone, okay? The road is rocky and steep. Ask the boys if you want to come here, if i'm unavailable. Okay?"

I chuckle softly. "Is all of you always this protective? Not in a bad way, though.."

"Of course. Imprintee is always our number one priority. They are our everything. Even alpha order didn't work on us if it regarding of our imprint. And after what happened to Emily, we usually always be careful around them."

"I never knew we are this valuable... what if the imprint die? Or reject you?"

"We cannot live without them. We will be so heartbroken, so lost. It's like we lost our other half... that bad.." he look at the scenery ahead us, looking serious.

Even though imprinting is an amazing thing, it also hold a very important factor on the shape-shifter life. I can't imagine how much it hurt if their imprintee reject them or die.

We talk with each other, getting to know each other well and enjoying each other presences, until it's dawn and we head back home. Paul walk me back to my house as it almost dark.

"Let's see each other again?" I ask as i look into his beautiful brown eyes.

He nod. "Tomorrow i'll pick you up? Let's go to Emily's and since tomorrow is Sunday, we always have picnic at the beach. Want to come?"

"Of course."

He smile softly and kiss my forehead. "I'll pick you up at 8, in the morning. Okay?" I nod, smile at his behaviour. "Get inside. Don't forget to eat okay? And sleep well."

"Okay.. see you tomorrow, Paul. And thank you for today, for everything.. i totally enjoyed it." I said as we then say goodbye and part ways.

As i lay i bed after took a shower and did my homework, i can't help but smile at what happened today. First i was so scared around Paul, but now i totally love being with him. Maybe it'a the imprinting thing, i don't know. I should ask Emily about this.

Tag : @calling-dips-on-j-hope @ivettt

#paul lahote x reader #paul lahote #paul lahote imagine #twilight imagine #twilight #new moon

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equestrianwritingsstuff · 3 years

Note

Drowning 6 pretttttry please. Your writing is amazing, honest to god. Wish I had your talent. Keep writing!!!!

Thank you for the ask and lovely message ❤

Drowning Part 6

Masterlist

This one is a tad different that the other parts, some segments are in from Supervillain's POV which are very vague because they are meant have an altered state feel to them. You also learn a lot about Villain and Hero's past in this one.

@shydragonrider @asrasmysoulmate

Warnings: unreality, wheelchair, schizophrenia, elecric shocking, hallucinations, hate towards another, possessiveness, restraints, drugged whumpee, sick whumpee

Supervillain emerged from whatever fluid contraption held him in place. His body went numb, pins and needles filling every limb, every muscle like wildfire.

But, nearly as quick as he broke the surface, he fell back in...

Falling...

His body seized up, a ringing in his ears... then he hit solid ground, his body going slack. Nearly immediately, he felt conscious of the tubes and moniters embellishing him like ornaments and garland on a Christmas tree.

His lead-filled mouth yanked open on its own free will, trying to force a scream out, but his tongue only managed a hoarse whimper.

He jerked his head about, finding it laid nearly on a pillow, but another trap locked his head in. He clenched his hands, but his body was already falling back into the sea- all feeling washed away by the waves.

Sand. He felt sand in his body, dehydrating and numbing, as consciousness was snatched away from him once again. The tubes faded, as did the traps- leaving Supervillain with an empty void.

He had a sense, but couldn't remember what happened in brief moments of waking like this. He hardly recognized the difference between unconsciousness and consciousness and if he did, it wouldn't matter. He never could escape. Never could escape the agonizing water in and around his body.

All he could do was fall.

Fall back into the water.

《~~》

"Mistakes are always forgivable, if one has the courage to admit them," a voice spoke. Hero had given up on trying to tell apart the various differences between the countless heroes and doctors that spoke to her on a daily basis. Trying to just intoxicated her mind with a weird feeling of displeasure and annoyance that couldn't be placed. It was right in between her eyebrows, where she would have a unibrow if she didn't wax it all the time in highschool.

"Do you know who wrote that quote, Hero? Hmm?"

Hero didn't respond. Why would she? It gave her no clearance, no escape, no epic prison break that one may expect from such a person of stengths and wits. She just sat there, limbs tied to the ground by unrelenting steel, her head angled to watch the suffering man on the bed slowly fade away with persistent illness and everyday drugs.

"Bruce Lee," the speaker answered the question after quickly realizing that Hero wasn't going to.

Hero tuned out of the conversation, leaving it as background noise as she studied the scene in front of her. Supervillain was hooked up so many moniters, it was as if he was in a coma. Hero twitched her jaw. Maybe he was. The ventilation and feeding tube stuck all the way down his nose and mouth, opening it forcibly, definitely made that thought come alive.

Hero did this a lot, zoning out whenever someone tried to talk to her. Her once vibrant personality and optimism was dampered, replaced by a dull depression. Even Villain, who watched Hero daily, was getting nervous of this rapid decline in attitude- not that Hero knew of her betrayer's thoughts and emotions. To her, in this foggy hole of misery, Villain was an outcasted shadow, adding depth to the painting, but never a main topic. Heck, if she didn't concentrate, she didn't even see the light shade on the white surface.

There was only Supervillain.

But even that has changed, and not just in the extra moniters and tubes, but her whole aspect of him. He was the cause of her pain, he was the cause of the insufferable cloud that ascended over her.

There was no fondness in the way she viewed him anymore, just resentment. The deepest kind of resentment that could also be described as despising.

But even that was an understatement.

One day, a movement drew Hero out of her hate-filled thoughts and back into reality. It was Villain, playing with something by her wrist.

"Back off," she snarled, her voice sounding unnaturally deep and cracky.

"And so she speaks." The glint in his eyes revealed the sarcasm that his monotonous voice hid. "How are you Hero?"

Hero snarled, raising her lips in an animalistic manner, but didn't reply. Once her wrist was let go, the unused muscles allowed it to flop aimlessly against her equally thining thigh. She was fed yes, a vile piece of bland, moist garbage that gave her body its much needed vitamins, minerals, and nutrients, but lack of use degraded the once hefty muscle.

Villain worked on each of the restraints. Each arm fell limp as her legs splayed out, thankful for the break from the locked position they were kept in. When her head was let free, it flopped, her neck unable to keep it up.

Villain steadied her, putting his hand unceremoniously against the base of her neck. Hero squirmed, aware of her vulnerability.

"The door with the exit sign is unlocked," he whispered, so close to her ear that Hero cringed.

At first, her brain using its old habit, began to block out his words, but suddenly stopped and rewinded, shoving them back to the front of her mind.

Unlocked...

She could get out.

Villain helped her into a nearby wheelchair and was about to wheel her away when a strand of her empathetic nature fought against the newfound distant demeanor.

"What 'bout Supervillain?" She asked, her voice a weak whisper.

"This is for you," Villain replied casually grinning down at Hero, happy that she was back to somewhat normal.

Hero sunk into the plushy cushioning of the seat and looked at Supervillain's still figure and snarled. Ha, he didn't get to leave. She did. She got to escape the inhumane confines that kept her bound up like a trapped goat.

He didn't. He could now pay for his crimes.

Yet, as stubborn as this thoughts of retribution sounded, they weren't. That sympathizing portion of her protested against the new arrangement. And, being the stronger of the two opposites, it left her tongue in forms of coherent words.

"I won't leave him," she said, her heart bursting. Whether the internal explosion was due to anticipation or exaltation, it don't matter. It felt natural, like herself.

"You really don't have a choice."

"Why do you want me free?" Hero asked.

"This place is the definition of boring."

Hero was silent and contemplated Villain's statement. He really didn't care about her levels of bore and joy, never did. Any interaction or any relationship that the two once cherished was borne of platonic care of the other's well-being. Nothing too deep, and barely held any real intent. Are you alive? Are you dead? Were the only two questions that brought along any vowels of conversing.

It was weird, abnormal. Hero might've even went as far as to say suspicious.

But it was also promising. Very, very promising. It held the possibility of freedom that the chair did not.

But he was Villain. He did not have one ounce of good will or honesty in his cold veins. He was a liar, a cheat, and as much as she would've loved to call them friends, it was close to impossible. They couldn't build a relationship off of trickery as much as the two once wanted to.

This was a scheme, a lie, to get to Hero and make her mess up. Mess up and then she gets hurt.

Or worse, Supervillain does.

That thought stood out from the rush of others in her brain for it held an interesting style to it. As close as she was to the old Hero and away from the shadow that "choosing who gets hurt" made her into, she wasn't it yet.

Not yet.

"Boring, but I am alive," Hero retorted, rolling her eyes as well as the stiff rectus muscles in her eyes allowed.

"That is otherwise obvious." Villain placed a hand on the barred door that only purpose served as an aesthetic.

"Yeah, in a way I suppose, but Supervillain isn't."

"He's breathing."

"He sleeps all day and when he does manage to wake, he passes out almost immediately. I need to stay with him!"

"You do nothing but glare daggers at him. You are released dear."

"No, you are not helping me escape from this damn place!"

Villain was silent, paused in the motion of pushing the door open.

"Amidst your utter hate for him, you still have the decency to protect him; Hero there is nothing to protect. With one simple flick of a switch, he is dead," Villain pointed out, turning to Hero with tears in his icy blue eyes that Hero once found gloriously gorgeous. Ones that she used to gaze into as they fought, unable to tear herself away. She lost many fights that way by being too distracted to actually land a punch.

But the innocence of that gaze was really just hiding the fact that Villain was a scandalous bastard- only giving half-truths and fake emotions about everything.

"Then why do you give him the serum. You guys know that I won't hurt those civilians," Hero pointed out with a shrug.

Villaim remained silent and wheeled Hero out of the room.

《~~》

Supervillain seemed to always arouse when the nurses swarmed him to administer the vile liquid that plagued his veins with nauseating adrenaline. He felt the hot- not warm, but scorching hot- drug enter his veins.

But it wasn't the beginning, the actual pain of the procedure, that caused Supervillain his horrifying misery. It was afterwards and he wasn't thinking of the dizzying fatigue that usually pushed him into another deep sleep, but the memories it brought.

Some were nostalgic, others taut with grief. Others held regret while some even had remnants of agonizing torture he once endured.

Or gave.

But they were never happy, nor comforting to any degree.

So, when a reverie of kind touch swarmed Supervillain's sensations, his lethargic heart started to pump in rocket speed, motorizing the boat to accelerate...

"Go to sleep."

Hero's voice. One that brought him so much comfort. Hands scratched at his scalp and he felt his heavy eyelids drop.

"I'll be hear when you wake up," Hero lulled, humming softly as the sweet scent of vanilla hit Supervillain's scent receptors. He smiled, the tiniest of grins and nuzzled his nose into her warm, fleece sweater.

But, even delirous as he was, in the back of his head, Supervillain knew this was a vision. A hallucination. The model of schizophrenia that the drug brought upon his mind.

But it was just so real.

So he gave in, purposely allowing himself to be washed away by the unreality of the dream.

Because he loved it. He loved the touch as if it was actually real.

A warm figure slid next to his body wrapping its- her- arms around his shivering body. Phony yes, it gave stability as the fatigue pushed itself to its maximum.

As consciousness dripped away, Supervillain hummed slightly, happy with the feeling.

《~~》

Hero's hand buzzed over the door, considering the possibilities of opening it, but in the end, she blatantly refused.

"No," she said, her old self returning. "I am not going to leave Supervillain."

Villain's eyes widened, chin shaking.

"You care for him?" He asked, voice slightly elevated like a flute's pitch. Such a change from the droning audibles that usually slugged off his tongue. "Like actually."

Hero's brows crunched together as she read Villain's new face expressions. Blond hair draped down to his pointed eyebrows where it slightly curled. Tears seemed to well in his azure eyes.

"Are you crying?" Hero asked, scoffing, but in reality, she cared.

Cared a whole bunch.

"It's just," Villain stepped forward, leaning down and resting his hand on Hero's shoulder. His other hand balanced delicately against the holster of whatever weapon he carried.

Suddenly, without warning, his hand shot up and an bolt of electricity flashed through her body. Hero fell forward, screaming and withering on the floor.

Villain leaned forward, breath warm against her sweaty cheek. "You are mine Hero. I won't ever let you hold, or care for Supervillain again," he growled, bringing thr taser back to Hero's neck. "Goodnight, my love."

The electric shock came again, and the world descended into blackness.

#supervillain whumpee #hero whumpee #villain whumper #retrained #hero x supervillain #hero whumper #heros and villains #delirious whumpee #drugged whumpee #shizophrenia

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johaerys-writes · 3 years

Text

Fandom: The Song of Achilles

Pairing: Achilles/Patroclus

Chapter 13: I Would Know Him of High-Flying Birds is up! The boys’ reunion in Skyros, from Achilles’ POV :)

Read here or on AO3! Read from the beginning

The white fabric of Achilles’ dress snapped around his ankles, and the petals on the flowers of the garland around his neck rustled as the wind blew over the plains and jagged hills of Skyros. It whipped up the dust of the long and narrow track field that had been prepared in Poseidon's honour, sending it flying in swirls above the ground.

The celebrations had been going on for most of the day, with prayers and sacrifices to the god. The priests were now burning leaves in the lit braziers by the temple, and blessing each runner that would take part in the race. Young boys, no older than Achilles himself, their dark skin gleaming with oil, their hair oiled and bound; they all knelt before the priests now, waiting to be blessed with the god’s favour.

Achilles envied them. It wasn’t too long ago that he, too, was competing in festivals like these. The thrill of his victories had always been exhilarating, even when anticipated. Yet now he was watching from the sidelines, standing amongst the maidens, concealed under layer upon layer of fabric. Other men, lesser than he, had a chance at competing, at showing their worth, while he was safely hidden from view.

The acid thought did nothing to improve his mood, and the day was still young.

The sun hung bright and hot in the middle of the sky, while the priests still said their prayers. Sweat had started to bead on Achilles’ forehead, despite the chill breeze that was blowing. The maidens were supposed to dance in honour of Poseidon after the trials were over, but Achilles had already had enough. As soon as the race started, and the sound of the runners’ feet tapping the hard packed ground mingled with the music from the lyre and the cymbals, he slipped away, unnoticed.

The shade underneath the thicket of pine trees surrounding the stadium was thick and cool, and the cliff beyond that was empty and quiet, overlooking the Aegean that glittered blue and gold in the distance. He pulled the scarf from his hair with a sigh, and let the breeze comb through his hair. It brought with it the scent of saltwater, of fir and pine, of wet sand. It was a scent Achilles had come to know well, in the months he had stayed in Skyros.

It was almost months now. While he had been on the island, the moon had already waned and waxed once, and was slowly moving through the next cycle. Close to two months that he had spent there, without Patroclus.

The days flowed by in a never ending stream, the one blending into the next until he couldn’t tell them apart. His daily activities felt like chores to him. The walls of the palace were a prison, his women’s clothes the ropes that tied him there. His appetite was all but gone, and it was becoming harder and harder to find the will to join the girls each morning, knowing that Deidameia would be among them.

He was wasting away.

The realisation left a sour taste in his mouth, a bitterness that was steadily boiling within him, seeping into his bones. The war chiefs of the Greeks would all have gathered in Mycenae now. Perhaps they had already set off for Troy with their armies, while he was there, dressed in women’s clothes and pretending like he had no worries other than spinning wool and practicing his dancing. They would all talk about him, wonder where he was. They would talk amongst themselves, about the one that was born to be the greatest warrior, the one destined for battle and glory unmatched by any hero who had ever lived, yet when glory had called, he was absent.

Achilles had come to terms with that. He had. He had accepted it, because to go there would mean taking Patroclus with him, placing him in danger, having him fight in a war he did not care for. It just wasn’t time yet; Patroclus wasn’t ready, and neither was he. There will still be wars to be fought, his mother kept telling him, and Achilles believed her. He would have a chance to claim his birthright, when the time was right. Both for him, and Patroclus. And for now, they would both be safe, away from it all, together.

And yet.

They were not together. Months had passed, and Patroclus still hadn’t come.

The thought was poison, eating away at his insides. His mother had promised, she had given him her word that she would tell Patroclus where he was. Yet the days kept flowing by, and Patroclus hadn’t arrived. His mother would have kept her end of the bargain, he was sure, but for all of Achilles’ wishing and hoping and waiting, no ship had reached the small bay below the palace.

What if something had happened to him on his journey? What if he’d been hurt, or worse, while trying to reach him?

Achilles’ hands tightened were they rested on his forearms, stomach twisting with unease. Patroclus would come. Achilles was sure of it. He was well, and he would come, and they would be together once more. No other possibility could exist within Achilles’ mind, there was no place for anything else. Patroclus would come because… because he had to.

It was a childish notion, yet Achilles felt no shame for thinking it. They were meant to be together. After Patroclus came, nothing would ever come between them, ever again. Achilles would make sure of it this time.

The sound of approaching footsteps made him tense. He didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.

“Pyrrha,” Deidameia said quietly. Almost timidly. She had been that way around him ever since… that night. Achilles did not want to think of it as more than ‘that night’. It was enough to remember it had happened at all.

His fingers balled into fists, and he forced himself to relax them. “You don’t have to call me that here,” he replied. “There is no one around to hear.”

She came to stand beside him, her footsteps muffled by the dry grass beneath her feet. She looked out into the sea, and the languidly moving shadows from the canopy of leaves overhead carved harsh lines across her features, hiding her expression from him.

Achilles looked away, blocking her from his vision.

“It never hurts to be cautious," she said. "Does it?”

Achilles made no reply. Deidameia took in a breath, then slowly let it out. At times, it seemed to Achilles like she held back her words when he was around. Her behaviour around him had changed. She was no longer pouting and stomping her feet when something displeased her, nor did she laugh and jest with him, or ask to braid his hair. She would sit quietly beside him and listen when he played the lyre, but her dark eyes had a forlorn look in them now, like he was far away from her even though he was right there. When they spoke, their conversations were short and tense, hanging in midtones.

Deidameia had changed, that was sure. But then again, so had he. It was a new and unfamiliar thing for him, this uneasiness that spread within him whenever she was near. He would look at her hands, and remember how small they had looked when illuminated by the shifting light of the candle in his room, how cold they had felt when they had been on him. She would practice her dancing, and he couldn't help but remember how she had looked when she had slipped free of her nightgown and lain beside him on his bed. She was small and thin like a child beneath the layers of fabric of her dress, fragile like a doll. Achilles had been scared to touch her, at first. She had insisted he hadn’t hurt her, though he was quite certain he had. He had seen how her brow had furrowed, how her teeth had left marks on her lips when she’d bitten down on them, how she had held her breath. She could not have liked it.

But then again, neither had he.

“You’re so quiet these days, Pyrrha,” Deidameia said shyly beside him. She was fidgeting with the flowers on her garland, picking at the velvet petals.

“So are you.”

She glanced up at him, surprised. She averted her gaze when their eyes met, her cheeks growing a flushed pink. “Yes, but…” She worried her lip, “You hardly speak to me anymore.”

“Only fools speak when they have nothing to say.”

Achilles hadn’t meant for his words to smart, but Deidameia winced as if he’d cut her with a whetted blade. She turned away from him, her small hands balling into fists at her sides. “I am your wife,” she said with a trembling voice. “Who will you speak to, if not to me?”

You are not my wife, Achilles almost said, yet knew the words to be untrue. He had agreed to be her husband, however little he had relished the notion. It was a bargain poorly struck; yet it had been struck. To not honour it would bring shame upon him, upon his name.

He let out a soft sigh as he uncrossed his arms and turned to face her, as was proper. “What would you like to speak of, Princess Deidameia?”

Hope kindled in her tear-filled eyes, and her crimson lips parted in a sharp intake of breath. “Anything,” she said, her cheeks flushing even more, “anything you would like. Prince Achilles.” She curtsied before him, bowing her head. The sun caught on the glossy black waves of her hair.

He stood straight before her, clasping his hands behind his back. It was not easy, finding a topic of conversation that would interest them both. But then his gaze fell upon the cyclamens and violets of the garland that hung about her neck, and he remembered how Patroclus and he had gathered them in Pelion, hung them and dried them and worked them into dusts and pastes under Chiron’s instruction. Patroclus and he always used to talk about plants and their uses, would make a game of coming up with as many as they could whenever they went walking beyond the olive grove, past the stream, through the winding paths of the forest. The sycamore trees would be turning red and gold now with the ripening autumn, their fallen foliage covering the forest floor in a thick carpet of leaves.

A pang of longing drove through him at the memories. How long would it be, until he could see Mount Pelion again? Until he could walk those same mountain paths, gather herbs and swim in the stream, sleep under the glittering rose quartz crystals of their cave with Patroclus by his side again?

Deidameia blinked up at him, expectant. Achilles drew a slow breath.

“Have you any knowledge of herbs?” he asked.

The sweet notes of the lyre drifted into the quiet morning, a timbre that vibrated through the half-empty dancer’s hall. It was followed by Deidameia’s laugh, sharp and fleeting like quicksilver.

“Do it again, Pyrrha!” She was sitting beside him, her dark eyes alight with excitement as she watched his fingers move along the strings. Her own lyre was in her lap, forgotten. “One more time. I wish to see it again.”

Achilles plucked the same notes, slower this time, then waited for Deidameia to follow his example. She had decided earlier that week that she wished to learn how to play the lyre as well as he did, and she had barely left his side since then. She had quickly reverted back to her old, highly excitable and tempestuous self shortly after their talk at Poseidon’s festival, yet her behaviour was still changed. The other maidens seemed to have sensed it; Deidameia hardly had any interest in spending time with anyone but him, and they all took care to keep out of her way- and the sharp edge of her tongue.

“Look at your hands, how beautifully they move,” she crooned, watching his fingers with a sort of hunger. “Phoebus Apollo himself must have blessed you, Pyrrha, when you were born.”

Achilles did not reply. He simply focused on the act of playing, letting the music thrum through him, brushing all thoughts aside. It always had this effect on him, the trilling sound of the lyre; it would ease away any tiredness or ache, it would imbue his mind with calm and serenity. There was no room for outside distractions when he played; that other people enjoyed it mattered not. The lyre that was now cradled in his hands was a well-made one, of carved walnut wood, smoothed and polished to a high shine, yet the sound was almost hollow, almost dull. The sounds that came from Patroclus' lyre were deep and clear; this lyre, however well-made, could never hope to compare.

“You try it now,” he told Deidameia when the piece was over. “As I showed you.”

Deidameia blinked, as if waking up. Her gaze was dreamy and distracted while she watched him play, yet now she straightened in her seat. She tossed her head back, sending the dark curls that hung down her back swinging.

“Like this?” she asked. Her fingers, when she placed them over the strings, were the wrong shape, despite Achilles only having shown her how to properly position them moments before. Her eyes flicked up to his own, dark eyes regarding him carefully through her eyelashes.

“No,” Achilles said, his voice only slightly tinged with exasperation, “that is not how I showed you.” He set his own lyre to the side and sat close beside her, guiding her hand. It was not so complicated a hand position, yet Deidameia seemed to be particularly slow in picking up his instruction. Patroclus had learnt it perfectly in less than a day. “This. This is how you do it.”

Deidameia’s arm brushed his own, so close were they sitting, and Achilles thought he felt her shivering, though the window behind them was shut and the coals were hot and glowing in the brazier. She plucked the strings one by one, holding her breath. The sound was harsh and strained, but at least the chords were somewhat correct this time.

“How about this?” she asked softly. “Is that better?”

“Yes, slightly. You need to practice more.”

She beamed at him, the colour in her cheeks rising to a bright cherry pink. “Oh, I will. I’ll practice day and night, until I do it perfectly. Then we can play together, and everyone will be so envious of our song.” Her head tilted towards him ever so slightly, a sweet floral scent wafting from her curls when she tossed them back. “You are the best instructor I could hope for, Pyrrha.” She batted her eyelashes at him.

Achilles simply stared at her for a moment in puzzlement. “Thank you,” he finally said as he returned to his seat. “If you say so.”

Deidameia seemed faintly disappointed at the distance that Achilles put between them. Yet before she could say anything, once of her maids appeared at the door. Deidameia’s quick, dark eyes fell on her, and the girl cowered at the annoyance that flashed in them at having interrupted the lyre lesson.

“Forgive me, my lady,” the girl said, curtsying, “but a visitor has arrived. He wished to speak with your father, but he is indisposed, so—”

“A visitor?” Achilles’ heart fluttered with hope at the words. The palace of Skyros hardly ever got any visitors, so it was unusual enough an occasion to make all the maidens in the hall abandon their embroidery and their skeins of spun wool to stare at the maid. Achilles stood up.

“Who is this visitor?” he demanded of the girl, who gaped at him. “What is his name?”

“It is surely nothing, Pyrrha!” Deidameia said hastily, abandoning her lyre and springing to her feet. “Nothing to concern yourself with.” She shot a fiery glare to the maidens, who averted their gazes and returned to their work. “One of my father’s friends that has come to visit, I am sure. Or perhaps a prince or king who wishes for his daughter to join my dancers. We do get those quite often, remember?” She set her small hand on his arm, in a gesture that Achilles vaguely registered was supposed to be soothing. He glanced down at her, and she gave him a small smile, which was only a little tense. “I’ll go see who it is. You girls should not alarm yourselves. I’ll be back shortly.”

While Deidameia was away, Achilles sat on hot coals. His hands on the lyre were stiff, his knee jerking underneath the fabric of his skirt. Could it be? Could it be that Patroclus was finally there? His stomach twisted with anticipation, a swarm of bees buzzing in his chest.

He would see him again. He would hear his voice again. He would touch, kiss, hold him again. The thought was enough to make his head swim.

Achilles anxiously searched Deidameia’s face when she returned to the dancer’s hall. Her air was different than before she had left; the skin on her forehead was just a little tight, her lips pursed, her hands clutching at the fabric of her dress where she stood. She noticed his gaze on her, and gave him a smile that little belied her thoughts.

“A very special guest has arrived,” she announced to all the maidens in the hall. “A scrumptious feast is being prepared for him. Of course, no feast would be complete without Deidameia’s women. We shall perform our finest choreia for him.”

While the maidens were casting off their embroideries and finishing coiling their skeins of wool, Achilles approached Deidameia to quietly ask her, “Who is this guest?”

She looked up at him, and he thought he saw a shadow darken her features. It was gone in an instant as her lips widened in a sweet smile and she said, “Oh, you wouldn’t know him.”

The maidens practiced their dance all morning, and most of the afternoon under Deidameia’s watchful eye. She was uncharacteristically thorough in her instruction that day, and more than once did she snap at one of the girls, even Pagona and Phrasikleia who were among the most adept, for not performing the steps correctly. She also refused to practice the paired dances with any one other than Achilles, though he had somewhat come to expect this.

“Of all my women,” Deidameia announced while the girls were putting on their finest dresses with the most lavish embroidery, their most colourful scarves, gilded bracelets and anklets rattling as they moved, “Pyrrha is the most graceful, the most fleet-footed. None of you could hope to match her.” She flashed him a bright smile as she took his hand, then stepped into the torch-lit corridors beyond the dancer’s hall.

The smell of cooking meat, spiced bread and the rich scent of wine being mixed with water in the wide brass bowls reached them as they made their way towards the throne room. As the princess, Deidameia was leading the procession, with the rest following behind her. Her dark, glossy hair was expertly curled and delicately perfumed; her red lips had been tinted scarlet with crushed rose petals; rows upon rows of golden bracelets and rings caught the torchlight as she walked ahead. Just before entering the throne room, she stopped, turning to face them.

“Do not enter unless I call for you,” she ordered, and left them in the half dark of the corridor.

From the gap in the door, Achilles peered at the crowded room. Rows of tables had already been set, laden with food and drink. King Lycomedes was there too, taking his seat at the highest table with Deidameia by his side. Servants were moving about left and right, bringing in yet more bowls of fruit and meat, platters of cheeses and steaming loaves of bread, or mixing wine and pouring it. It had been weeks since such a lavish feast had been prepared.

The question had never left Achilles’ mind. Who was this guest?

“Stranger from Pelion,” Deidameia’s silvery voice cut through the din and the chatter. “Never again will you be able to say that you have not heard of Deidameia’s women.”

A wave of her hand was their cue. Achilles stepped into the hall, carefully lifting the hem of his skirts as he walked. The soft notes of the flute, the lyre and the cymbals accompanied them as each dancer moved to position. Deidameia stepped around the table, coming to take Achilles’ hand. It was cold around his, holding just a little too tightly.

Achilles flowed effortlessly through the practiced movements. His feet tapped the earth in the rhythm of the cymbals, his arms lifted in time with the trill of the lyre; he tossed his head back when the flute reached its high notes, then ducked his eyes when it quietened. The dance Deidameia had chosen was one of the most elaborate, with each movement being mirrored almost precisely by each dancer’s partner. Deidameia smiled encouragingly at him every time their steps met, her eyes flashed every time they parted. She reached out to touch him, her beringed fingers skimming his wrist as they danced.

When the music drew to a close, she came to stand beside him, her hand still reaching for his. They curtsied and bowed their heads in perfect sync, then straightened. Achilles lifted his head.

Somewhere in the silently watching crowd, the sound of a single intake of breath.

Achilles’ heart ceased beating, the world around him coming to sudden halt. He knew that breath. He knew it, better than his own. He would know it in the dark, amidst countless others. He would know it in madness, in death, if the sun never rose and the mists of oblivion swallowed the earth. He would know it.

He would know him.

Achilles’ limbs moved before thought reached them. The crowd parted before him as he stepped, then walked, then ran, closing the distance between them.

“Patroclus,” he whispered, voice thick and strained, catching in his throat. His arms wrapped around familiar, slender shoulders, his nose sank in familiar dark curls, his lungs swelled with that familiar, comforting scent: jasmine blossoms, salt and sea, warm earth still wet with early morning dew.

Home. He smelt like home.

“Patroclus,” he said again, eyes stinging with tears, “Patroclus—”

“Pyrrha!”

The voice reached him as if through a cloud; the name unknown to him now, incomprehensible. There was no room for it, not when he had Patroclus in his arms. He drew back to look upon him, cradled his face in his hands. Honey brown eyes peered back at him in disbelief, gleaming in the light from the fires in the braziers. His brow was tanned and weather beaten, his plush bottom lip chafed from the wind and the salt. Achilles traced the outline of those lips with his thumb, drinking in the sight of him, the feel of him. He caressed the faint dark circles underneath his eyes with the pad of his fingertips, and thought of all the long and fretful nights they had spent apart, reaching for each other in their dreams.

“My mother,” Achilles whispered, searching for the right words. He had to tell him, to explain. “My mother, she—”

“Pyrrha!” Deidameia clutched his arm, pulling him away, at the same time that King Lycomedes asked, “Who is this man, Pyrrha?”

Achilles reluctantly peeled his eyes away from Patroclus to look at the King. The hall was empty now, void of dancers, musicians, servants, the crowd that had gathered. The king must have sent them away.

“No one,” Deidameia shrieked, still tugging at his arm. “He is no one—”

“My husband.” Achilles held Patroclus’ hand tightly, never letting go. “He is my husband. He has come for me, and now I may leave your court.”

Deidameia went silent. Her hold on him went slack, and she looked up at him with wide, uncomprehending eyes. “You cannot,” she said breathlessly. “You cannot do this to me.”

Achilles regarded her coolly. A distant part of him was surprised at how little her reaction mattered to him. He had agreed to marry her only so that he could see Patroclus again; now that he was there, there was nothing holding him to her anymore. He had honoured his end of the bargain. Nothing that she did now was any of his concern.

“Sir,” King Lycomedes asked Patroclus, his disbelieving expression mirroring his daughter’s. “Is this true?”

Achilles squeezed Patroclus’ fingers.

“Yes,” Patroclus said, and a shiver ran up Achilles’ spine upon hearing him speak. Gods, how he had missed the sound of his voice.

The next few moments washed over Achilles like the icy waters of a violent, rushing river.

You have betrayed me! Apathes!

We are married. You are my husband.

I have lain with him.

I am pregnant.

He stood, frozen and numb, before the onslaught of Deidameia’s wrath, her anguish, her defeat. In the midst of his shock, he felt Patroclus’ fingers slipping from his own, his sandaled feet padding to the door.

“Patroclus!” Achilles ran after him, leaving Deidameia and the old king behind. His mother, who had appeared at the first sign of the commotion, made as if to reach for him, but he swerved past her. He cursed when the hem of his dress caught around his ankles; he jerkingly tugged at the fabric as he followed Patroclus out of the room. “Wait!” he cried, and caught him by the arm.

Patroclus stood perfectly still. He did not turn to look at him when he said, “Let go.”

Achilles started at the emptiness in his voice, the detachment. Patroclus had never spoken like this to him before.

“My mother,” he uttered hastily, “she made me. She led the girl to my room. She—” He scrambled for words, yet the consonants and vowels tangled on his tongue. A sudden coldness crept within him, a strange sort of despair. It startled him, how quick it was to steal his thoughts away, to turn them to dust.

“I did it for you,” he said, helpless. “For us. I had to— I had to see you. She said that if I did as she said, she would tell you where I was.”

Patroclus was still not looking at him; it felt as if he never would. Achilles cupped his cheek, brought his gaze up to his own. He searched his eyes, his face, his expression for any sign of recognition, of forgiveness. “Patroclus.” His heart thumped painfully, clawing at his chest as he searched, and searched. “Please, say something.”

“You did it for nothing.”

Achilles blinked, frozen. “What do you mean?”

“Your mother did not tell me where you were. It was Peleus.”

The breath that had been gliding down his throat caught, dandelion puffs trapped in the thorns of a prickly pear tree. His voice sounded as if coming from far away when he asked, “She did not tell you?”

“No,” Patroclus answered, and the harshness in his tone was so sharp and foreign that Achilles winced. “Did you truly expect she would?”

“Yes,” Achilles whispered, and the sudden emptiness left him breathless. The magnitude of his mother’s betrayal stung. It was deep, bottomless; Achilles could not find where it ended, where it began. Had everything she told him been a lie? Had she lied about keeping him safe, keeping them both safe? Had the last two months been for nothing at all?

It did not matter now. What was done was done, but Patroclus was there. He was right there before him, yet looked at him as if he could not see him. Achilles counted his heartbeats as he gazed at Patroclus, searching his eyes, searching.

“Forgive me,” he said, his voice engulfed by the oppressive silence of the corridor. He reached for him once more; his palm cradled the curve of his cheek, fingers brushing the shell of his ear. Every fibre of his being ached for him. He could not stay away. “I did not want it. It was not you. I did not— I did not like it.”

Something in his words seemed to pierce the invisible veil that had settled between them. Patroclus looked at him then, really looked at him, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“There is nothing to forgive,” he whispered, and leaned into Achilles’ touch.

They embraced then, like they never had before. They reached for each other as if through a fog; Patroclus’ arms wound around his middle, Achilles’ fingers threaded through dark curls, unruly and dishevelled from countless days of the sea breeze combing through it. Achilles leaned down to capture his lips in a kiss, to feel him, taste him on his tongue. He held him close, drew breath from his lungs, drank him in as if he were sweet summer rain falling on dry, parched earth.

“I missed you,” Achilles said against his lips, breathless, reeling, “I missed you—”

“I missed you, too.” Patroclus clutched him fiercely, his voice steady despite the tears that were coursing down his cheeks. Achilles kissed his damp eyelashes, wiped the tears away with his thumb, his throat burning with the effort of holding his own back.

When Patroclus' tears had ebbed, Achilles edged back to look at him, at the outline of that beloved face. The trembling torchlight cast shifting shadows on his cheekbones, his jaw, the slope of his nose, the hollow of his eyes. Achilles traced them with his fingertips, slowly and deliberately, followed those same pathways he knew like the back of his hand. He did not need that feeble glow to see him; he would know him even without it, the way one knows their heart is beating even if they cannot see it, knows their blood is coursing through their veins even when they cannot touch it.

He would know him blind. He would know him in death. He would know him at the end of the world.

#the song of achilles #tsoa #patrochilles #achilles x patroclus #patroclus x achilles #Patroclus #achilles #high-flying birds #high flying birds #johaerys writes #tsoa fanfic #tsoa fanfiction

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backtobackbakubabe · 3 years

Text

I am the Alpha Now Part 17

Bakugo X Reader

Words : 2431

Masterlist

Reader is from America and somewhat of a delinquent with an alpha quirk that allows her to turn into a wolf as well as bond with dogs. She is sent to UA to straighten out her attitude. She ends up in a power struggle with none other than our favorite hot head. Words in Italics are words said telepathically.

************************************************************************

When you woke up you felt like you had a hangover. Your whole body ached, your mouth was dry, your head was pounding, and to top it off you wanted to hurl. Lucky for you, you didn’t really have enough in your stomach to throw up.

So instead you just laid still, curled up on your side, doing your best to pretend the last 48 hours weren’t real. Pretending that you were back in your room at UA and any minute now Katsuki was going to turn over and wrap you in his arms. Maybe he’d scold you for sleeping in. Or maybe he’d be in a good mood and bring you coffee, just the way he knows you like it.

You were ripped away from your little fantasy as the sound of the door slamming. “Wake up brat, it’s time to eat.” Dabi plopped down rather roughly next to you with a bag in hand. “You’re American right? So, I figured this would work.”

You cracked an eye open to see a McDonalds bag and your stomach started to roll just looking at it. “I think I’m going to be sick…”

Dabi scoffed, “What you too good for fast food or something?” He pulled out a box of nuggets and some fries.

Honestly it had been a while since you had the greasy food. Katsuki had made it a habit to cook for you whenever he could. He was a master meal prepper and his cooking was always healthy. Delicious for sure, but he would never give you junk food.

You hummed as you tried to sit up. Clenching your eyes shut the entire time. “I’m pretty sure if I eat anything right now, I’ll just throw it up.”

“And I’m pretty sure you won’t feel any better until you get some food in your stomach. Now stop being such a child and eat.” He pulled out a gallon jug of water, “And drink this. You’re probably a little dehydrated from sweating so much earlier.”

He caught you looking at him like he had two heads and he growled. “Look just because I’m pretty much a villain, and I basically kidnapped you, doesn’t mean I’m completely heartless. And I’m definitely not stupid. If you’re going to be in any kind of fighting condition, we need to at least try to take care of you.”

You glared at him, “Do you usually take care of people by beating the shit out of them?”

He shoved the box of nuggets into your hands, “No, I don’t usually take care of anyone at all. Be happy I’m even trying. Just fucking eat already we have more work to do.”

You froze with a nugget halfway to your mouth. “I-I can’t take anymore today.”

He just rolled his eyes, “God you’re such a weenie. We’re just going over some files. Besides I thought you weren’t scared of me…”

Your eyebrows knitted together, “I’m not scared of you. If I wanted to leave right now I could! The only thing keeping me here is the blackmail…” Your voice got quieter, “And the fact that my body doesn’t seem to want to move…”

You took a small nibble of your chicken nugget and you had to admit it was actually helping a little bit. Dabi gave you a knowing smirk, “Atta girl. Eat up, we have a lot to go over and I don’t like repeating myself.”

He spread a few files open on the table in front of you. You noticed one belonged to you and you really hoped he wouldn’t be going into that one. The rest however seemed to be everything they knew about Shigaraki. On top there where several pictures of people that he had killed. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears as your vision blurred and your head swam with those images you would never be able to unsee. How was Dabi so casual about this?

Speaking of Dabi he was currently snapping in your face, “Seriously? Pay attention would ya? …..Fucking zombie”

You tried to return your attention back to what he was saying. Honestly, a lot of it you already knew from what you learned about him at UA. The league of villains was a hot topic. The league had a weird obsession with the students that attended there so naturally UA made sure to prepare them for worst case scenario.

You weren’t going to tell Dabi that though. Firstly, because he doesn’t need to know how much you already knew about him, and secondly… the longer he talks about this shit, the longer you don’t have to “train” with him.

Dabi had been absolutely brutal. He had broken your bones, burned you, stabbed you, and at one point you were sure he gave you a concussion. The worst part was you couldn’t even defend yourself. You were expected to sit there and voluntarily let him hurt you over and over again. It was no wonder why you felt like shit now.

You continued to nibble on your nuggets as Dabi drowned on, pointing to words on a page that you couldn’t even focus on. You hugged your knees to your chest, and for the hundredth time since you left UA, you felt empty. There was this constant nagging feeling at the back of your mind. No doubt it was Katsuki or Mercy doing everything in their power to open up the bond on their end. It was starting to give you a headache.

You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed. Dabi without missing a beat continued talking while pushing the water jug towards you.

When you didn’t drink anything, he rolled his eyes, “You have a headache because you’re dehydrated. Fucking drink some water.”

A deep growl rolled through your chest, “No… I have a headache because in the last 48 hours a certain someone has bashed my skull in… Twice!” You winced as a sharp but brief pain ripped through your head.

To your disgust Dabi just chuckled at your pain. “You’ll heal. Besides it’s probably just a migraine. Don’t be dramatic.” He stood up and dimmed the lights. “There, now quit your bitchin, drink your water, and fucking pay attention would ya?”

*****************BAKUGO’S POV*****************************

He was never known to be a patient man. So, it was no surprise that he had been pacing for the past twenty minutes, waiting for Hawks. There was no reason he should have beaten Hawks here… the fucker had wings!

He was running an angry hand through his hair when he felt a light breeze followed by the thud of feet hitting the ground.

“About fucking time! What? Did you stop to get your nails done on the way here? I told you I’m in a hurry!” Bakugo’s eyes narrowed as Hawks took his time approaching him.

“Calm down dude. I told you I was in the middle of hero business. I even did an extra sweep on the way here looking for her. If you could just pull the stick out of your ass for two sec-“

Bakugo grabbed Hawks by his stupid jacket. For as tightly as he was gripping him, his voice somehow remained calm “That stick up my ass, is the fact that my girlfriend is missing. I’m sorry if that doesn’t seem to be a priority for you, but I refuse to give up until I find her. Now… are you going to listen to what I have to say, or am I just wasting my time?”

Hawks eyes went from surprised, to angry, to soft in the matter of seconds. But that’s what he does best right? Bakugo’s heard stories about how sneaky and manipulative Hawks can be. “Look I get it, you’re worried. I can’t even pretend to understand how deep this goes. Aizawa told me about your little link to her or whatever… sounds intense.”

Bakugo’s dropped his hands back to his sides and grunted, “It is. And it’s also none of your business So, are you going to help or what?”

Hawks put his hand on Bakugo’s shoulder and tried to give it a reassuring squeeze. “I promise you. I’ll do everything I can to bring her home safe.”

**************** Y/N POV*******************************

“You want me to what?”

You were currently wrapped in a blanket looking at Dabi as if he had lost his mind. Which in your defense he probably had.

“Exactly what I said. I want you to try and heal yourself as you’re getting hurt. Do your freaky little eye glowy thing you do when you heal yourself before I actually hurt you. See if it helps counteract it.” He was reaching a hand out to you now, and you noticed they were starting to smoke a little.

You jumped away from him, “Please don’t. I thought you said we were done with that for today?” You frantically looked around for a place you could hide from him. You could lock yourself in the bathroom. But then he’d probably just kick the door down… or melt the handle.

Your gaze snapped back to his, he looked like he was having fun. “Besides it’s hard to stop my shift once I start to go into Alpha mode.”

Dabi smirked at you, “Okay well as much as I’m dying to see what that looks like. Can you just…not? I mean you said you heal faster as a human right?”

You shook your head, “I mean, technically I do. But I think that’s just because my human body is easier to hurt. My wolf form is more… I don’t know. Durable, I guess. Katsuki collapsed a whole ass mountain on me once during training. Sure, it hurt like a bitch, but I survived.”

Dabi nodded as he uncharacteristically took interest in what you were saying. “Ok so your wolf form can take more damage, but you heal faster human… And this has nothing to do with your “Alpha mode” or whatever?”

You quirked an eyebrow at him. “You look like you have an idea… and usually your ideas hurt.”

“Relax weenie. I’m just trying to think this through. I’m trying to find out if there is a way to combine your wolf strength, with your human healing. Can you go into Alpha mode without shifting?”

You scoffed, “Where you not just listening. Going into Alpha mode is what triggers my shift. I can do it for small bursts of time as long as I reign it back in fast enough. But no longer than a minute.”

He threw his hands in the air in exasperation, “You say that as if it’s a well known fact. I fucking met you like two days ago. I don’t even know what the difference between Alpha mode and the rest of you even is.”

You pulled the blanket tighter around you, “If it’s not something that I do through the pack bond then I need to use Alpha mode. So shifting. Alpha commands. My senses are already naturally heightened but they’re even more so in Alpha Mode. Then there’s the speed, strength, and like I said the durability. And yes, technically healing is a part of that, but that’s something that over time just became a subconscious thing. Hence why I do it more in my human form.”

He walked over to you and tugged on the blanket, “Okay, well you said you could use it in short bursts. Do you think you could focus on just the durability part? Could you make that a subconscious thing too?” He yanked the blanket away from and pressed a hot palm on your bicep and squeezed.

You squeezed your eyes shut as they began to water. It wasn’t burning, not yet, but it was hot enough to be uncomfortable. “Look I’m getting really sick of your shit. You keep pushing me like this and one of us is going to end up dead, and it’s not going to be the one who can heal themselves.” When you opened your eyes again they were glowing. Your anger was quickly becoming the only emotion you could feel.

“Good girl. Now-“

“NO!” You snapped at him. “You don’t get to call me a good girl.” You grabbed his hand and yanked it back away from your arm. “You don’t get to beat me and berate me, and then buy me chicken nuggets and think everything is okay.” You could feel yourself start to slowly shift, your teeth coming to a point, your claws start to poke through your fingernails. “Because I am NOT YOUR GOOD GIRL!” You felt the familiar tingle go down your spine, signally you were about to shift.

“Whatever you do, don’t shift! Hold that as long as possible.” He was totally ignoring your outburst. “Start trying to heal yourself.”

You growled, “Heal myself? I’m not hurt you lunatic.”

A burning sensation engulfed the hand you were using to hold his wrist. “You are now… Now try again. Start healing yourself. Before I do anything. I want to test something out.”

****************BAKUGO POV***********************************

The whole meeting has just been one big game. Hawks fed Bakugo lies about the progress he’s made looking for you. While Bakugo lied about his suspicions of you packing up for America. Both men secretly trying to get the other to slip up and admit what they know.

Bakugo’s teeth were grinding so hard he was surprised his teeth hadn’t cracked.

Hawks was in the middle of another bullshit lie when two familiar people approached the table and took a seat on either side of Bakugo. “Oi! What the fuck are you doing here?”

Hawks smirked, “Oh I hope you don’t mind. They were worried about you, so I asked them to meet us.”

Kirishima and Midoriya were both giving him worried, sympathetic looks to which Bakugo rolled his eyes. “I told you idiots I would check in later tonight.”

Kirishima rubbed the back of his neck, “Yeah, but you didn’t look so hot when we left you this morning. Plus, we feel bad for ditching you for graduation.”

Midoriya pipped in, “What kind of hero’s would we be if we can’t even help find our own friend. But we’re here now and we’re ready to help in any way we can.”

Bakugo’s nerves were already too fried to even start to argue with Midoriya. He closed his eyes and counted to ten, knowing otherwise he was going to blow the building up. When he opened his eyes though, Hawks was gone. “WHAT THE FUCK?! WHERE DID THE CHICKEN SHIT GO?!”

**********************************************************************

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#bakugo #bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #mha bakugou #bhna bakugou #mha #mha x reader #mha imagines #my hero academia #bakugou x fem!reader

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aetherthemasked · 3 years

Text

Lost Memories Of The Underworld

⚠️Warning: this deals with heavy topics such as abuse, self-doubt and swearing⚠️

*Aether's POV*

I groan in pain as I keep making my way down the nearest alleyway. I place my left hand onto the brick wall and transfer all of my weight to that side. I carefully move my fragile body down the dark space. My hearing is getting more and more faint. I hear a high pitched ringing in my ear. I can barely see the path ahead of me. I groan as I feel a sharp pain from my left side. I clasp my free hand to my side and fall to my knees.

I faintly hear a voice calling out to me. I turn and see a tall person with orange eyes and black to silver hair. They kneel down beside me.

"Hey, Are you ok?" They says in a worried voice that sounds faintly of a females but a little deeper so it's closer to a mans.

'Why does their voice sound so familiar?' I think to myself.

"Yeah, I'm fine" I say in a voice that holds slight pain to it. I slowly rise from the ground, a sharp pain rockets through my body again. I kneel back on the ground and turn my body so I'm sitting against the wall.

"Ok, maybe I'm not as fine as I might have thought" I say while my breathing gets heavier and faster slightly. I feel my eyes start to close.

*Dream*

I can hear the faint screaming of words from downstairs.

'Why can they never get along?'

'Why do they always have to fight?'

'This is all because of me'

'I'm the reason their fighting'

My thoughts got interrupted by the sound of something breaking. I wrap my arms around my knees and bring them up to my chest. I feel a hot stream of tears roll down my face as I sob quietly.

Through my panicked state, I can hear the banging of footsteps coming towards my room. I quickly get up and dash to my closet. I open it and drop to the floor, crawling into the little space behind my clothes and shoes.

Finx found this spot a few months ago. He told me, if I ever heard or felt something that scared me, to run and hide here. I never understood why I had to hide until I heard my bedroom door crash into the wall. I cowered with my hands and knees to my chest and leaned more into the closet back next to me. I squeeze my eyes shut.

"Lilith!" I hear Finx' voice call for me. I slowly flutter my eyes open and see Finx in the centre of my room looking around with a worried expression. His eyebrows are wrinkled together and his eyes show he's scared.

"Over here" I replied in almost a whisper but still loud enough for him to hear me. He races towards me and kneels down, put out his hand for me to take.

"Grab a bag and grab everything you need, ok?" He says quickly but slow enough for me to understand. I nod and go to grab my backpack and Finx leaves the room to get, what I'm assuming, is his own bag.

I start grabbing clothes and my little demon and phoenix plushies in my tiny hands. I shove everything into my dark grey backpack. I hear someone running towards my room. I turn and see Finx standing at my door and breathing heavily. He silently rushes in, grabbing my small hand and my bag. He places the bag on my back. I notice he has his light grey one filled with his stuff.

He pulls me to the window, at the far end of my room and tells me to climb through and down until my feet touch the ground.

When I am about halfway down, I hear heavy footsteps coming up the stairs and I look up to see Finx being thrown away from the window. I climb quicker down the side of the house. I was too scared to go back up so I ran to the front garden and waited anxiously for my big brother to appear from the depths of the house.

After a couple of minutes later, I hear the front door open revealing a bloodied and bruised Finx. He's slowly limps towards me and I can hear the yelling from our mother inside.

"No matter where you hide!... I will always find you!" We hear her yell, slightly out of breath, from the front porch as we walk down the street as fast as we can.

"Hey" I hear Finx say and I look up to stare him in his grey eyes.

"Hey, wake up" I look at him confused. I then start to realise everything got darker. I close my eyes tight, I grip onto Finx' shirt with all the strength my tiny body had.

"Hey!" I shot my eyes open as I sharply lift my back off the soft surface under me, feeling slightly dizzy. I accidentally hit who ever was sitting next to me in the head.

"Fuck!" They say in pain, my eyes dart towards the person next to me.

'It's him! The person from the alley!' I stare at him with wide eyes.

'Wait, where's my mask?!' My attention then turns to trying to find my mask. The panic setting in.

I dart my eyes around the dimly lit room, searching for a white and purple full face mask.

"If you're looking for your mask, it's on the table" they say, still slightly in pain while carefully lifting themselves of the ground and onto their feet.

I dart my eyes to the small table next to the bed. My mask was laying their peacefully with multiple scratches all over it. I reach my hand over but I stop for a second as I feel something tight around my waist. I look down to where my wound is supposed to be. I carefully lift my shirt up to reveal that my wound has been covered in a white bandage. I look back to my mask and notice that it's sitting on a metal tray that looks to have been recently cleaned.

"So, are you gonna tell me your name or...?" They ask while picking up my mask and handing it to me. I take it and place it on my face, tying the two strings together behind my head. I nod to them as a way to say 'thank you'.

"No problem" they give me a nod back. Their face then lifted in surprise, like he just remembered something.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" They say while putting their hand out for me to shake.

"I'm Finx and I'm male if you're wondering" I hesitantly place my hand in his and shake it. I pull my hand away and place it in my lap with my other.

"So..." he pauses for a second before asking.

"What's your name?" He waits a couple minutes for my reply but it never comes. He clears his throat to try and fill the awkward silence.

"Umm... So do you need anything?" There's a pause before he continues.

"Like a glass of water? Something to eat?" He asks with slight awkwardness in his voice. I shake my head from side to side. He slowly nods and turns to walk out the door, disappearing from my view.

I place my hands behind me and slowly lower myself so I'm laying on my back. I wince in pain as a sharp pain shot through my body.

I lay there for a few minutes before feeling my eye lids becoming heavy. I drift off to sleep with the comforting silence of the room

*Dream*

It's been a few years since Finx and I ran from our abusive mother. I'm thirteen now and me and Finx have our own apartment. It's not much but it's home. I'm currently sitting in my room working on homework.

I suddenly hear the sound of glass shuttering from the living room. I shot up from my place and run to the corner of my room where a small door lays, leading to a crawl space. I open the door and start going in when I hear the loud footsteps of someone running around, throwing open any, and all doors, they see. They're getting closer to my room.

I crawl in and shut the door behind me. I continue crawling into the walls and turn a left. The footsteps get quieter and eventually come to a stop.

Everything's quiet now.

I stop moving thinking it's safe to take a break, but I'm still a little on edge.

The air around me goes still.

The only noise I can hear is the air leaving and entering my lungs at a rapid pace.

'I can't see a thing! It's to dark in here' I complain as my head is pounding.

My heart is beating at a rapid pace, there's a slight ringing in my ears.

I feel something grab my shoulders from in front of me. I look to see who it is.

It's Finx!

'Why is he smiling like that?'

*Part 1 End*

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hereformcdonaldshonestly · 3 years

Text

Mini Series!

Prompt: How the Class 1-A Students and Mack and Hannah Would Get Along

Paring: Mack x Class of 1-A (Platonic!)

Summary: How will Mack and Hannah get along with the members of Class 1-A? This is talk about what they like about each character, what they don’t, and how they get along together.

Genre: Fluff 💖

Notes: This is a mini-series I’ll be doing with @onlyherefordrpepper! She’ll be doing a version of her own with the MCYT members. This is how the characters react to our OCs(self-inserts so everything is pretty close to us in real life) Hannah and Mackenzie (or Mack)! There will be more information on the OC’s before the headcanon is started! This is Part 1A so that means we’ll be doing Mack first!

TW(?): This does have mentions of blood in it due to Mack's quirk!

Background info!: Mackenzie is probably more on the organized and focused side of things. She's a huge introvert, but she will talk to people! She tends to be competitive and reserved. She is academically and athletically focused, but she is very intelligent. Her best friend is Hannah, you'll get to read more about her soon, and they tend to act as if they were sisters. She has long blonde hair and green eyes. Her cheeks tend to stay red, so basically blushing! Now onto the fun part, her hero name is Redd! Mack's quirk is Blood Manipulation, its type is emitter. The quirk allows the user to control their own blood and harden, some drawbacks are that is too much blood loss can be fatal and the user can heal their own skin if cut by themselves but cannot if someone else cuts it. Her ultimate move is the Red Reaper! It can make a scythe out of her blood and harden it to make it a powerful weapon temporarily, can make wings and weapons out of blood, harden blood, can use blood as a shield against anything, user can have up to 5 cuts before it gets fatal. She usually wears a pair of skinny jeans or jean shorts with a cute shirt or crop top, but her hero suit is here! (I couldn't find the artist, I'm sorry!!)

Yuga Aoyama

Mack wouldn't mind being around Yuga! He would help her anytime she needed fashion advice and honestly, he would probably pick up on her bad days. While they may not be that close, they would consider each other friends! Since he is easily frightened, he would probably hide behind her if he got scared! She would try and help him be less insecure about his quirk by telling him "sparkle beams are awesome!"

Mina Ashido

Mack and Mina would be good friends! Since she is more on the goofy side, Mack can open up a bit to her and have a good time! Mina and her usually go shopping together and hang out with friends, or they'll have a small get-together. Now here's the fun part, Mina tried to teach her how to dance and it failed miserably! With Mack having two left feet at times, this caused her to almost fall many, many times.

Tsuyu Asui

In a way, Tsuyu and Mack are both very blunt. This can cause some problems but overall, they're still good friends! They rarely argue based on the fact they are both mature, but they do have a lot of great moments together! Anytime Mack does have bad days, Tsuyu always listens and if Tsu is ever having a rough day, she knows Mack is there for her! One of their favorite things to do together is hiking, with Mack liking nature anyways, it was a great combination!

Tenya Iida

She and Tenya are pretty close! She usually tries to talk to him every day, they study together and hang out together! With her being mature and him being very determined about academics, it works out! He is one of the few people that she'll open up to besides Hannah, Katsuki, and Momo. She would in a way consider him a best friend.

Ochaco Uraraka

Mack and Ochaco are okay with each other! While the two may not talk often, they don't mind hanging out. Whether it's at a social friend or hanging out with close friends. She wishes she would be able to talk to her more but still is content with the friendship she has with Uraraka.

Denki Kaminari

She and Denki would definitely be good friends! I feel like anytime he tries to "flirt" she would bug him about it and make fun of him slightly. He would laugh with it about it, never taking offense. They both would joke around and probably be chaotic together, but she would be more of the responsible one and making sure he was okay.

Eijirou Kirishima

Mack and Eijirou would definitely be good friends! He and her would probably get into all kinds of stuff together! The main thing would be training, and going against each other! They both agreed that he would probably be the hardest to go against based on her quirk, so they agreed to help each other improve.

Koji Koda

Koji and Mack would get along great! They both love animals and nature! She always talks about her two dogs at home and they'll take walks by the river to see how many animals they can find! Once Mack talks about wanting to learn sign language, he wants to help! He'll spend time with her, teaching her sign language, and will help her improve on it!

Rikido Sato

Rikido and Mack would be okay with each other! They don't talk often but when they do it's about different baking recipes. She expressed how she wants to learn how to bake better and he offered to help. They did make a cake one time for the entire Class 1A! He taught her different cupcake recipes!

Mezo Shoji

Mack and Mezo would get along great! While they may not be close, they still are good friends! He's very sweet and even was willing to take a hit during a mission. She always tells him that if he needs someone to talk to, she's there for him. She even told him that she would take a hit for him, while they may not talk a lot but they care about each other. She even admitted that she wasn't scared of him, he could feel his heart melt at that.

Kyoka Jirou

Kyoka and Mack get along pretty well! While they are not close friends, you will catch them both talking about different bands and music! One of the main things that got them talking was her love for music! Mack expressed how she used to play drums when she was younger and trying to work on guitar, that made Kyoka super excited and they even spent one evening teaching each other about the drums and guitar!

Hanta Sero

Hanta and Mack have a pretty good relationship! While he is loud and showy at times, she puts up with it, even if it gets on her nerves. But overall they have a pretty laid-back friendship, they hang out but they still do their own thing. Whenever they were on a mission, Mack ended up falling, shocking I know, one of the most clumsiest people fell, but he used his tape to patch up that tiny scratch. At the time he thought it was necessary while Mack just laughed and let him do it, not trying to crush his dreams.

Fumikage Tokyami

Mack and Fumikage are friends! They're not close, with Tokyami not talking to many people, but they can hold a conversation! They will talk about different horror series, books, movies, anything really! She wishes they could talk more but she knows he's pretty quiet and won't force it. He does talk about his quirk to her, expressing his insecurities and she's there to listen.

Shoto Todoroki

Shoto and Mack are pretty good friends! While they don't talk every day, they would still be considered as close. At first, she thought he was cold, but as he warmed up to her they started talking more. He would consider her as one of his close friends! She even got him something for his birthday, while it wasn't a lot, he does appreciate it very much. It was a book, something he was talking about for a while. So whenever her birthday rolled around, he got her one as well! Their relationship is simple yet meaningful.

Toru Hagakure

She and Mack talk sometimes! While yes they don't talk often, but they don't mind hanging out together! They usually find topics to talk about, like how Toru collects plushies and Mack talked about some of her older ones she's had since she was young. They have tried to plan more days for them to hang out to get to know each other!

Katsuki Bakugou

Oh boy here we go! Mack and Katsuki get along great, or as best as one could with Katsuki Bakugou. She's one of the only ones to challenge him and try to outdo him, but he cares about her greatly. Whether he likes to admit it or not, he is developing feelings for her while she is doing the same! They'll hang out and talk every day, or whenever they can, and she feels that she can always go to him. She's one of the only people he doesn't blow up on, well not too bad at least. It does make it interesting to see two hot-headed people going head to head in a competition!

Izuku Midoriya

She and Izuku talk sometimes! While sometimes he does get on her nerves, just a tiny bit, she still is nice and respectful to him. He always wishes they could hang out more so she helped him with training. Anytime they do hang out, he always tries to learn more about her quirk and how it works! She listens through his rambles of heroes and their quirks.

Minoru Mineta

Ew, god no. Mack HATES him, one of the only people she hates. He tries to make comments and tries to terribly flirt like Mineta does. She usually asks him how big his balls are, he says huge, she picks on him saying "not on your head!" he usually gets all red and storms off. She hates anytime he does try to "flirt" and honestly even trying to talk to her. She tries to avoid him as much as possible because if she doesn't, you might see a tiny grape man flying across the field.

Momo Yaoyorozu

She and Momo are really good friends! Since they are so much alike, with academics and her determination. They train together, study together, and just hanging out! She does help Mack with insecurities and honestly is there for her no matter what. While she doesn't approve of her crush on Katsuki, Momo is always there to support her. Whenever the final exams occurred, Mack helped encourage Momo, along with Todoroki's help, and let her know that she's badass and always will be!

Mack's POV

"....and I guess that's why I'm the mom of the group. No matter how weird or hotheaded they are, they're my friends and my family. I wouldn't trade it for anything, and I hope they feel the same." I write, finally putting my pen down and closing my notebook. I smile as I look at the picture of me and my friends, standing up and stretching. "Come on Mack! We're going to be late, I want my boba! Bakugou and Kiri will drink it all!" I hear Hannah calling from outside my door. I laugh and grab my jacket. I'm so glad to have them in my life.

I hope you have a great day!

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hanaridulsetcheese · 4 years

Text

Coffee Shop~ Bang Chan

Reader's POV

I walked into the coffee shop and headed to the back room. I changed into my work clothes and walked to my boss' office. I saw her behind her desk with mounds of paper piled high.

"Miss K? " I called out to her.

Her head snapped up in my direction, she gave me a kind smile but it didn't reach her eyes.

"(Y/N)! You're here, thank god. " She walked over to me and pulled me into a desperate hug.

"What's wrong? " I asked, patting her back.

"Jihoo called in sick and I just got an emergency call from my sister, I need to go urgently, can I leave you alone here? "

My eyes widened and I looked at her in shock. "You want to leave me alone? It's my first day, what it I screw up? "

"You'll be fine, I trust you. Plus, I will only be a phone call away. Please tell me you'll do it! "

I looked at her, she was really desperate and I didn't want to let her down. I smile at her and nodded.

"Oh thank you! " I squeezed me tightly.

"You're w-welcome. " I say, gasping for breath as she let go of me.

"I really need to go now, I made a list of everything you would need to do, I will be back just be closing time, my sister's on the other side of Seoul. " she says handing me the list as well as the keys for the shop.

"I'll make sure everything goes well. " I say.

A few minutes after she explained everything to me, she left and I was left to open the shop. I made sure everything was set and ready before I prepared myself for the day ahead.

•=•=Time Skip=•=•

The shop wasn't so busy so I was able to relax a bit, there were a few customers sitting and going about their business normally.

I say down at the register and pulled out my phone, playing random games I didn't know I had installed.

A few minutes later, I hear the bells above the door jingle so I put my phone away ready to tend to the new customer.

"Welcome to Tea Time, can I help you? " I asked, getting off the chair to tend to the customer.

I look up and see a really tall male in front of me, he was looking at the menu board above me, his black clothes were lightly damp with the rain from outside.

His face was hidden with the hood of his jacket and huge sunglasses despite the fact that there was a lack of sunlight.

"Can I get a regular hot chocolate? " He looked down at me. He had a thick Australian accent that was honestly really cool.

"Sure, anything else? " I asked, punching in his order.

"Just a hot chocolate thank you. " He smiled, dimples formed on his cheeks.

"That will be $2,50. " I said.

He reached into his laptop back that I didn't notice before, probably because it was black and pulled out some notes. He handed it to me and I placed it in the register.

"Would this be to-go? " I asked him.

"No, I'll be here. I'll be at that booth over there. " He points to the last booth in the shop, near the window, I nod and turn to make his order.

When I was done, I went to go and give him his drink, I took this time to notice that it was only the two of us and another man in the shop, everyone else had left.

I walked towards him, not really paying attention to what I was doing, the other man had bumped into me harshly making me spill the hit chocolate on to the Australian man's notebook.

"Sorry! " said the guy as he rushed out of the shop.

"Are you okay? " the Australian man asked.

"I'm fine, I'm so sorry about your book, I'll get you a new one. " I said, looking at the page now covered in the brown drink.

"It's okay, don't worry about it. " He takes of his sunglasses.

The first thing that came to my head was, 'Wow, he's really good-looking. '

"Thanks. " he chuckled.

I realise why he said this and blushed, I said it out loud.

"I'm s-sorry, I'll just go get something to clean this up. " I rushed to the supply closet and shut the door.

I leaned against it and took several deep breaths, trying to bring my bright red face back to it's normal colour.

I got the mop from the closet and walked back to the Australian man.

"You're back, I thought your disappeared. "

"I, er- couldn't find the mop. " I blushed again.

"Well there's no need for that, I fixed the problem. " He gestured towards the now spotless floor, the cup layed on the table next him.

"How did you- "

"Baby wipes. " He picked up a pack of baby wipes and showed them to me. "Mum always told me to carry a pack of these wherever I went, now I see why. "

"I'm sorry about that whole scene. Let me get you another cup. "

I prepared another cup of hot chocolate for him and retrieved the money he gave me for it.

"Here you go. " I hand him the drink and money. "It's on the house, makes up partly for the book. "

"You didn't have to. " he says. "What would your boss say? "

"She kind of owes me for leaving me alone today, so it's cool-eh " I say.

"Chan. " he says, giving me a dimpled smile.

"(Y/N). " I reply.

"Nice to meet you. " He says.

"Same here. " I blush as he looks at me.

"You sure blush a lot. " he says.

"I'm not blushing, it's just- cold in here. "

"With the thermostat at the warmest temperature, I find it hard to believe. " he says.

"I just- "

"It's okay. I'm just messing with you. " he laughs. "So what's girl like you doing here working when you could be out there? "

"Girl like me? "

"You know, young, pretty- "

"Oh, I- " I look at him. "I'm trying to earn some money and get some experience. You know, makes my chances of getting into college better. "

"I see, I wish I could go to college. " He said.

"Why can't you? " I ask.

"Let's just say, I don't have the time to. " He says. I looked at him Inna confused way but decide to dropped the topic.

"So what do you want to study? " he asked.

"Music. " I said, with a tone of admiration.

"Big interest in the music industry I guess? "

"Very big interest. " I say.

"That's funny because, I'm in the music industry. " he says.

"Seriously?! " I take a seat opposite him. "How is it? What do you do? It's it fun? "

"Woah, one question at a time. " he chuckled.

"Sorry. " I apologized.

"I'm still training but I want to be able to produce music soon. " he says.

"That's the same with me! I really want to be able to produce my own songs, the feeling of having your song play of the radio is something I want to experience. "

"I know what you mean, being able to express your feelings your own way through something you created, that's amazing. "

"It is. " I smile. "Have you come up with any tracks yet? "

"I have a few, I'm almost done with my current one. " he says.

"Can I hear? " I ask shyly.

"Sure. " he turns the laptop and hands me the headphones, it place it on and press play on song. Instantly the beat fills my ears and I find my self indulged in the song.

"This is really good, I love the background beat, and the vibe it has- it's brilliant. " I say when the song is over. "Was that you rapping? "

"Yeah, and two of my other friends, we're in like a temporary band I guess. "

"It's really good, that fast rap part at the end was the highlight. "

"Thank you. I feel like it is missing something though. "

"Maybe more reverb, to really highlight some parts. " I say.

"More reverb? "

"Yeah see. " I highlight the parts that had the fast rap parts and more reverb to it making it stand out more.

"Here, listen. " I hand the headphones back to him.

He listening to the song again and a look of satisfaction comes into his handsome features.

"(Y/N) you're a genius! " he high fived me.

"Reverb makes everything much better, it's like the mother's hug or music. "

"Smart. " He says, he does a few more things to the song and smiles brightly. "I sent the song to my boss, he's gonna give it a listen, you saved me so much if time, thank you. " he said.

"You're welcome. " I say.

The bell on the door chimmed again and I look towards the door.

"Miss K, you're back. " I say, bowing to my boss. I didn't realise that it was almost closing time.

"Thank you for taking care of the shop, I owe you one. " she said, noticing Chan at the corner.

He got up and walked over to us, "Thank you for today, I will definitely be coming here more often. " he said walking out.

"A friend? " Miss K asked.

"It's a long story. " I sigh.

"Well, thank you again, I'll let you go now. I'll lock up. " she said.

I bowed to her again and got ready to go home. I hung up my apron in my locker and put on my jacket. I bid Miss K goodbye before stepping out.

A felt a shoulder on my hand so I turned around and was met with Chan.

"Chan, you're still here. "

"Yeah I was wondering if we could hang out sometime, I feel like I could use your knowledge. " he says.

"Uh sure, I love to. " I say and we exchange phone numbers.

"See you around (Y/N). " he said as we parted ways.

I went home that day smiling like a weirdo, I had a feeling that spilling that hot chocolate was the best thing I could've ever done in my life.

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astudyinfreewill · 4 years

Note

What do you think of Blue? I actually dislike her but thats cool if you dont!

i actually quite like blue!!

but i should qualify that it’s not uncritical and unconditional: yes, i like blue as a character, while having problems with her character arc; and i like blue as a “person”, but i have issues with some of the iffy stuff she does.

i just feel like the key word for blue, ironically, is “potential”. the blue we meet in trb had a lot of promise... that isn’t necessarily followed through on in the other books.

some of the problems i have with blue’s character arc:

first of all... what character arc?

no, seriously. we are told from the start that she wants something different, something special, something more. but... does she get it?

blue is set up to be the “protagonist” of trb, but she gets quickly sidelined in favour of characters with more active storylines (ronan and adam both have plot-heavy story arcs, but even gansey arguably gets more development than her, even if it’s just dying and being reborn)

which is... bitterly ironic for a character whose main magical power is to support others’ powers (there’s nothing wrong with supporting others, but there’s something very annoying when the only female character in the group is stuck with a magical version of ~emotional support~ for the male characters around her)

i had high hopes for her -- and i mean, buzzing-with-excitement high hopes -- when gwenllian introduced the whole “mirrors are witches” plot thread... which went absolutely nowhere (but i know that stiefvater was struggling with serious health issues while writing the raven king, so... i’m gonna give it a pass).

we find out that she is literally half-tree... and nothing else gets done with that. like, that’s why she loves trees... i guess...?

even her more “ordinary” dreams, like going to college and studying conservation/ecology, are kind of nixed by the end? she basically gets told by the narrative, “yeah but you have two rich boyfriends now, you can just travel with them”. and while i’m all for blue spending the shit out of gansey’s republican money, that’s not quite satisfying from a narrative point of view.

in short, blue has a ton of untapped potential -- she is truly the page of cups -- and in another world, we get a book where she’s free to explore her tir e e’lintes heritage, to discover her actual powers as a witch, and to follow her dreams. in this world, that’s not the book we got, and at this point i’m kind of beyond caring, because both ronan and adam have been given far more compelling story arcs that i am actually invested in.

now, as for blue as a “person”, or rather as a character, irrespective of story arc... blue is far from perfect. that’s actually not a problem for me - she’s not always a great person, which makes her a great character. blue is brave, generous, kind, accepting, resourceful, smart, curious; but blue is also hypocritical, dishonest, impulsive, and opportunistic.

the negatives don’t erase the positives: humans are flawed, and a flawed character is realistic. but i feel like the problem with this fandom is that often it does the opposite -- it erases the negatives to only focus on blue’s positives, which essentially turns her into a manic pixie dream girl, and even more of an accessory to the boys’ development.

see, i don’t want blue’s negative traits to magically disappear; it would be nice if she could grow and improve on some of them, but since personal growth is a gruelling, time-consuming process, i would have settled for her reaching self-awareness of her mistakes and taking accountability for them... which unfortunately the narrative never gives us (again, lots of stuff happening in the raven king, written and re-written in difficult circumstances -- i have accepted it; it’s just still kind of disappointing, is all).

some of the problems i have with blue’s character:

blue’s feminism is performative at best and damaging at worst, as i have discussed at length in this post. please note: this is not uncommon or unrealistic for a teenage girl. but i wish she had been given a chance to work on it, by bonding with one - one - female character she’s not related to. hell, even orla would be a start.

blue has a lot of internalised classism -- which, again, is realistic; adam has a lot too. the difference is he gets to acknowledge and analyse it, even though he clearly hasn’t overcome it yet. we see blue have a lot of resentment for rich people while at the same time subconsciously looking down on the “wrong kind” of poverty (adam’s) and she never reflects on that bias. we have so many discussions in adam’s pov of how he both envies and resents rich boys, yet in the end he comes to realise that even though he thought he wanted to be one of them, in reality he doesn’t want the kind of superficial, oppressive, entitled life they live.

meanwhile, the only “enlightenment” blue reaches in the final book is that oh hey, she actually kind of likes rich people (the same begrudging awareness adam had pre-series and then outgrew) and in fact she’s fine with hanging out with them. blue, babe, i hate to break it to you, but you have been hanging out with them for 4 books and loving it... how is this a revelation?!

and last but not least, the hot topic: blue’s treatment of adam. blue refused over and over to be honest with him about the curse; actively cheated on him -- both emotionally, with gansey, and literally, with noah -- yet refused to break up with him; and when he finally confronted her, reacted not with honesty but by getting angry and trying to turn the issue around on him and how much he liked gansey (see above: hypocrisy)

now, again: this is not unrealistic or ooc. it’s bad behaviour, but it doesn’t make blue a bad character, nor overall a bad person. it’s something that could have happened and she could have moved on from... the issue, again, is that she never reflects on this. her immediate reaction is to start seeing gansey behind adam’s back, and neither of them tell adam the truth until they are basically forced to

essentially, blue runs into the same issue that gansey does: they’re good, but flawed, people, who are very bad at self-reflection, and so never quite understand why they’re hurting the people around them. i can buy that. i can love a character in spite of it. my issue is that the narrative lets them get away with it. and perhaps that’s just due to time-constraints and the fact that there is more of a focus on adam and ronan’s growth -- but it leaves gansey and blue as characters who never fulfill their potential. and while that doesn’t mean i dislike them, it means that unfortunately i just don’t care as much.

#this got long sorry!#blue sargent #trc #meta #mp #anonymous #answer #my meta

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emy-loves-you · 4 years

Text

Sanders Sides AU-gust Day 20: Single Parent

Logan needs a nanny to watch his 3 sons. Patton wants to take care of kids. Sparks fly and chaos ensues. Patton POV, logicality with creativitwins, familial Intruprinxiety and dad!Logan Ages: Logan(37), Patton(35), Remus and Roman(7), Virgil(10)

Day 19 | Masterlist | Day 21

Patton smiled at the cheery tune the chimes played as he stepped into the cafe. He checked his phone again to reread the email he had been given just a few minutes ago. He said he was sitting at one of the tables wearing a black polo, blue tie, and glasses. Patton fought back a giggle as he scanned the tables. This reminds me more of a blind date than a job interview- there he is! Patton quickly made his way over to the small table in the back of the cafe. His potential employer was hunched over his phone, reading an article of some sort. Patton stopped when he was a foot away from the table and spoke up. “Mr. Sanders?” The man’s head shot up, and Patton fought down a blush. He had assumed that Mr. Sanders would be an older man, in his late 40s or early 50s. He didn’t look a day over 30. No time for gay panicking! Patton fiddled with the sleeves of his cardigan. “I’m Patton Hart. The one applying for the nanny position?”

Mr. Sanders nodded. “Of course. Take a seat.” He gestured to the seat across from him and Patton sat down eagerly, trying not to let his nervousness show. As far as Patton was aware, he basically already had the job, and this was just a customary interview to make sure that Patton didn’t lie about anything in his application. Still, Patton couldn’t help but fear nervous. Patton tried to ignore his anxiety and focus on what Mr. Sanders was saying. “So, Mr. Hart-”

“Please, Mr. Hart’s my father. Call me Patton, please.” If Mr. Sanders noticed the was that Patton nervously tugged on his cardigan sleeves, he didn’t say anything.

“Patton, then.” Patton smiled appreciatively. “Would you like to order a beverage before we begin?” Mr. Sanders used his coffee cup to gesture towards the front of the cafe.

Patton blushed. “No thank you. I tend to talk more with my hands when I’m excited or nervous. I’ve learned from past experience to not have hot drinks around when that happens” Patton used his head to gesture towards his hands as he spoke, which were gesturing as he spoke.

Mr. Sanders gave him a look before continuing. “Alright. I will go over your application and ask a series of questions. If you feel as if a question is too invasive, please let me know.” Patton nodded, and with that, the interview began. “Patton Sanders, 35 years old. Raised in North Carolina. According to your previous employers, you’ve done extremely well with children in the past. You’ve dealt with kids at almost every age. You’ve been shown to successfully perform both the Heimlich Maneuver and CPR. You have also been employed as a tutor and have multiple years of volunteer work at shelters and public schools. It says here that you recently moved here a few weeks ago. Are you intending on pursuing any other job while employed as a caretaker?”

Patton shook his head. “The original offer you gave should be enough for me to afford my apartment.”

Mr. Sanders blinked, and Patton suddenly felt like he’d done something wrong. “I’m afraid there was a communication error somewhere. Allow me to clarify: you would be staying in my house while working for me.”

Now it was Patton’s turn to blink. “What?”

Mr. Sanders frowned, adjusting his glasses as he spoke. “I am very dedicated to my job, Patton. Sadly, my job requires me to have extremely flexible hours. It would be incredibly redundant to have you stay from 8 AM to 5 PM, then have to hire a sitter from 5 PM to 11 PM. There would also be several benefits on your end. Unless you started using an excessive amount of food or utilities, you would not have to pay for food or housing. You would be staying in the guest bedroom, and you would have every Sunday off, which is my day off as well.”

Patton rubbed the back of the neck sheepishly. “I think I remember reading that in the advertisement, but I assumed it was less of a requirement and more of an option.”

Mr. Sanders steepled his fingers as he stared at Patton. “I apologize, but it would be necessary for you to stay in the guest bedroom in order to ensure that my children have constant adult supervision. If you do not wish to be employed, I completely understand-”

“No!” Both men were surprised by Patton’s shouting. Patton blushed as he continued. “I still want the job, I just didn’t want to waste your living space if it was optional. If it’s mandatory then I’ll take the room. I’ll just have to wait for my lease to end in a few weeks.”

Mr. Sanders nodded. “Alright. Next question: why do you wear your cardigan around your neck?”

Patton smiled. “I don’t get cold very easily, but I always have my cardigan on me just in case. Besides, it makes me look more friendly and fun. Kids like to call it my superhero cape!” He struck a dramatic pose, and he felt a surge of triumph when Mr. Sanders' mouth quirked up slightly.

They went through several more questions before Mr. Sanders smiled, holding out his hand. “I believe you would get along well with my children. I understand that you would like to wait until your lease ends to move in, but I would appreciate it if you start a daily shift on Sunday. I will be there to make sure that you interact well with them. Does that sound satisfactory?”

Patton nodded, shaking Mr. Sanders' hand. “Sound’s like a plan, Mr. Sanders!”

“Please, call me Logan.” Patton smiled as he heard the name. Logan. It’s fitting.

“Well, Logan, what are your kids like? I was given general ages and names, but nothing else. What are their favorite colors and activities? Any allergies or disliked food? Any mental illnesses, disorders, or sensitive topics that I should know about?”

Logan took out his phone and showed Patton the lock screen. It was a photo of Logan with three children. Two identical twins posed in red and green respectively, while the third child looked slightly older with a baggy purple hoodie. “The twins are Roman and Remus, 7 years old. Roman always dresses in red, while Remus dresses in green. They both have extremely vivid imaginations, and they get upset when you don’t participate. Roman has some confidence issues, while Remus suffers from intrusive thoughts from time-to-time. Virgil is 10. He’s almost always wearing that hoodie. He says that his favorite color is black, but it’s actually dark purple. He has been known to suffer through anxiety attacks, and he tends to have trust issues towards strangers. Virgil prefers to be left to his own devices, and music tends to help when he’s stressed. The twins tend to find amusement in pulling pranks on Virgil, though he does not appreciate the sentiment. They all enjoy watching Disney movies and all have artistic talent. There are no food allergies to speak of. All of them were closed adoptions, so I would appreciate it if you don’t bring up their birth parents. That is all you should need to know before you meet them.”

Patton smiled as he listened to Logan describing his kids. It was clear from the tone of his voice that he deeply cared about his kids. “I’m sure they’re lovely. I can’t wait to meet them!”

Logan nodded, moving to stand up. “I assure you they’re just as excited to meet you. I’ll email you my address.”

“Oh, wait!” Patton reached into his pocket and pulled out an ink pen. He then grabbed a clean napkin from the table and scribbled his number onto it. He handed the napkin to Logan. “Here’s my phone number. It would be best if we have each other’s numbers in case of an emergency.”

Logan took the napkin, and Patton suppressed the shiver he felt from where their fingers met. “I’ll be sure to contact you with my address as soon as I get home.”

Patton blushed, moving to leave. “Alrighty then. See you on Sunday!”

Logan nodded. “Farewell.”

Patton smiled before hurrying out of the cafe. He quickly drove to his apartment, not stopping until he was inside of his (soon to not be) home. He gently caressed his own fingers, blushing as he remembered the electricity he’d felt from their fingers touching.

Patton shook his head, but the grin and blush he had never faded. “Logan Sanders.” He whispered to himself. Patton then tilted his head curiously. Logan Sanders…where have I heard of that name before?

Patton went over to his bed and pulled out his laptop. Search: Logan Sanders. Patton flipped through several websites until he saw Logan’s face. He quickly clicked on the article and gasped.

Logan Sanders, 37 years old, was just appointed as the CEO of Logic Tech two months ago. That’s where I recognize his name! I can’t believe he works for Logic Tech. Isn’t that the same company that he used to work for?

Bzzz.

Patton slammed his laptop shut, suddenly feeling like he’d done something wrong. Was this technically invading Logan’s privacy? It was an article that Patton could easily access at any time (he was pretty sure he’d read it before), but did that mean it was okay? Was Patton in the wrong for searching for Logan’s name?

Patton’s phone buzzed again and he nearly threw his laptop. He tried to calm his racing heartbeat as he checked his phone.

?- (4:13 PM) Salutations. This is Logan Sanders.

?- (4:14 PM) Is this the correct number?

P- (4:14 PM) Patton Hart here! You have the right number

L- (4:14 PM) That is good

Patton was then sent an address.

P- (4:15 PM) You want me to start on Sunday, right? What time?

L- (4:15 PM) 3:00 sounds amenable. Since it is my day off, you won’t need to be there in the morning.

P- (4:16 PM) Alrighty then! I’ll see you on Sunday!

Patton smiled as he turned off his phone. He was going to meet the children on Sunday! And seeing Logan again would be a nice bonus.

#sanders sides #AU_gust_2020 #single parents #logicality #patton sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders

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