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bellaswanxoxo · 1 year

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BFishTober - Prompt One: "It's not too late, let's go."

I'm posting this late as hell, but here. Oops.

Banana Fish - Eiji Okumura/Ash Lynx - TW: Blood

It’s 5:30 pm, and Ash isn’t at the airport. Eiji bites his lip and swallows heavily, doing whatever he can to try and bury the emotions rising in him. Some part of him had held out hope, trying to find excuses for why Ash might be late. Sing had texted him some time ago, letting him know that Ash had received the letter, so he knew. Ash really wasn’t coming.

Ibe slides a hand across his back, landing on his shoulder in some semblance of a hug.

“Eiji. We have to go and get checked in.” He has a sympathetic tone to his voice, with an expression to match.

Eiji’s lip starts trembling without his permission, and he masks the tear that slides down his cheek by pretending to scratch his eye. “Right.” He says, despite feeling like his world was crashing and burning around him. He stares into nothingness for a beat.

“Right.” He repeated.

Ibe sighs and squeezes his shoulder before letting go. Wordlessly, he takes a hold of Eiji’s luggage for him. Distantly, he wishes that he hadn't tried to help him. He felt like holding onto his suitcase was one of the only things keeping him grounded.

They start at a slow pace and head for their terminal. His feet are making what is probably an annoying noise as he drags them reluctantly.

Someone brushes against him as they join the queue, and he jolts so abruptly that it takes his breath. He whips his head to the side, hoping and praying that he would be met with a blonde-headed man.

Instead, he is met with a stranger who’s giving him a strange look. Eiji swallows against the lump in his throat and whispers a half-assed apology. The man doesn’t respond, and so he turns to stare at Ibe’s blurry back. He swipes quickly at his eyes.

They're at their terminal, and his heart is starting to pound so hard that he’s genuinely a little unsure if he’s having a heart attack or not.

“Eiji, do you have your ticket ready?” Ibe’s face fades back into focus, and Eiji nods wordlessly.

He reaches into his jacket pocket mindlessly and pulls the slightly crumpled paper out. They’re third in line now.

Shit. What is he doing? Did he really think that this was all going to work?

I mean, cmon. What was he meant to do? Go back to Japan and pretend everything was normal, that Ash never existed? There was nothing waiting for him in Japan. His family, sure, but beyond that there was nothing. He would never be able to forget his time in New York, and with no future waiting for him at home… Pole vaulting wasn’t an option anymore, and he’s not the college-type. His future was here. With Ash.

Ibe is handing his ticket over, and then he’s through. Eiji thinks he might be hyperventilating.

Damnit.

His feet slap against the linoleum tiles, and he’s aware that sprinting away from security right before going through is definitely suspicious as hell, but he has to do this.

He can’t board that plane, he can't go back to Japan. He wonders if Ibe has noticed his escape yet.

At some point he realizes that he doesn’t even have his suitcase, but he doesn’t stop to look for it. In fact, he only stops once he’s outside the airport and hailing a taxi. He’s… not really sure where he’s going.

Ash could quite literally be anywhere. Where does he even start looking?

He starts with the old apartment. A good twenty-minute drive later and he’s paying for the taxi. He thanks every god he can think of that the apartment staff remember his face, but even after being let in it’s no use. Ash wasn’t here with no clue as to where he was.

If he wasn’t at the apartment he was probably out on some job, which meant Eiji would never find him. At this rate he wonders if he should just wait in the apartment and see if he returns.

With no other plan, he takes a seat outside the apartment door and catches his breath for the first time in the past hour. He’s in the middle of counting his own breaths when he remembers he can call Sing. Sing was one of the last people that he knows for sure saw Ash. His phone is in his hand and ringing before he knows it.

“Eiji? The hell are you doing? Ibe is freaking the fuck out looking for you!” Sing manages to get his sentence out before Eiji, and he winces a bit.

“Uhm. Well, it’s a little complicated. Can you tell me where Ash is?”

There’s silence on the other line, and then cursing. Distantly, Eiji is a little impressed with how many curse words Sing strings together.

“Eiji we ain’t doin this again. You got to go back to Japan. Seriously.”

“Sing, if you can’t tell me where he is, tell me, but I’m not going anywhere without Ash. You should know me well enough by now to know I’m serious.” Eiji feels a little guilty for snapping like that, but he has to find him and Sing is only delaying the inevitable.

Honestly, why is anyone surprised it turned out like this? Ash and I are a package deal. Everyone knows that.

A hint of guilt pings in his mind.

I almost left him. I was gonna leave Ash.

Sing let's out a heavy sigh, “Last I saw ‘em he was off of 6th Avenu-”

Oh shit! Of course.

“The library! Of course he went there. Thank you, Sing!”

Eiji hangs up and is stumbling to the elevator before he can even get his phone back in his pocket.

The ride in the taxi felt like it lasted forever, but finally, finally he is getting out in front of the library.

It’s a familiar sight, and he has no doubt in his mind that Ash is in his regular seat.

The library looks the same as it always does, and across the reading room Eiji can already see him. His head is pillowed in his arms, with the sun beaming down to illuminate his blonde hair.

Eiji exhales deeply and makes his way over, and as he approaches he can see his own letter. A flush creeps its way onto his face and he tries to shove away the embarrassment. It’s good that he read the letter at all, he tells himself.

He pulls a chair over and pokes Ash’s cheek roughly. He knows there’s no point going gentle, this man sleeps like the dead.

He doesn’t wake up yet, so he pokes him again.

And again.

He’s shaking him now, roughly jostling him by his shoulder.

“Ash, wake up. It’s me, I… I came back. Did you finish the letter? We have a lot to talk about.”

No response.

Eiji feels something bubbling up in his chest, not quite fear but something close to it.

“Ash? I'm not going back to Japan. What…” Ash’s arms fall away. His shirt is sticky and wet with blood. Fresh.

Eiji sucks in a breath and flounders a bit, his hands starting to shake. He shoves his shoulder much rougher now, trying to get a response.

It doesn’t work, his eyes still shut tight to the world. Hesitantly, so hesitantly, Eiji presses two fingers to the side of Ash’s neck like he’s seen in movies. He holds his breath and presses harder than he may have needed to.

Distantly, faintly, he felt it. A barely there thrumming that rises to meet his fingers. He imagines that it’s reaching out for help, begging him to save him.

He gulps in air, feeling a piece of him come back to life, and reaches down to Ash’s shirt.

He’s not skilled enough to know what kind of wound this is, but it doesn’t take a genius to know that there’s too much blood. He applies pressure and sobs in relief at the slight wince on Ash’s face.

The way his fingers slide across his phone screen as he dials 911 makes him feel sick.

The lady on the other end instructs him on what to do, but all he can hear is the slight breathing coming from Ash’s body. All he can see is the way his eyelashes flutter if he presses too hard. All he can smell is the scent of metal and blood.

Eiji is distantly aware that people are noticing what’s happening around him, but it doesn't matter. Nobody does, except Ash. Ash, whose eyes are fluttering open to groggily stare at him. Eiji cracks a tearful grin at him in response, and rubs a blood-soaked thumb across his pale cheekbone. The paramedics are crowding around them now, trying to pull his hands away from the wound.

“It’s not too late, Ash. Let’s go, yeah?"

#banana fish #eiji okumura #ash lynx #aslan callenreese #bfishtober #fictober23 #whumptober 2023 #BF #fanfic

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slickchickchocolatier · 1 year

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Heethans reaction to y/n getting jumped by bitches in a alleyway behind the school who are jealous of her relationship with Heethan

yooooooooo..... (mentions of murder and physical harm in the answer below)

so this is a good question bc i'm pretty sure alot of you may think that heethan only will attack guys....but um....remember what he did to tiff?

so generally, he wont really use violence against women...unless they cross the line. and believe me, that line is not too hard to cross. if a girl gives you mean looks or lashes out at you, he'll glare at them, tell them to fuck off, or just take you away while he gives them the death stare (ethan's death stare) and take you to your favorite cafe or pastry shop.

now......if a group of girls...(for some reason i got an image of those bitches from that show Glory...such a good show but man...it really pissed me off in the first episodes bc of what they did to to that poor girl with the curling iron) lets say we get those same girls, and they have a hot iron that they intend to do burn you with (just like in the show) of course we all know, that when you're not in class, heethan is always going to be there with you. he wont let you go anywhere without him, so i can't foresee you being in an alleyway by yourself...however....lets say it's after class, he's waiting for you, and just like in his heethan fashion, he gives it literally 1 minute after the bell sounds off, he'll watch as everyone exits the building because he's always parked along the curb that's outside the front entrance....if he doesnt see you or hear from you, he's walking in.

lets say you were assigned after class clean up for that day and you were in the classroom by yourself, going inside the storage close to put away the cleaning supplies as you wrap things up. and these bitches come up and they have a hot iron and say some terrible things to you because they're jealous (like tiff was). heethan, being prompt as ever (bc again....unless you're in class with your peers and teacher, he's never leaving you alone) he walks in and sees whats going on.

now, just popping up in my mind without even thinking about, he will handle this in one of two ways....

1.) he'll glare at them, walk right pass them and take you away back home. leaving the group terrified from his glare. as soon as he gets you back home, he'll put you on the bed and make you go to sleep, whether its by cuddling you to sleep or by giving you some melatonin to have you drift off......so he can make sure you stay put while he goes out and rest assured (again...line was crossed....heethan normally wouldn't resort to murder buuuuuuut....) anyone who means to do you harm, they're going to get it. just like scott and his crew. and in heethan fashion, probably will use his family influence to have that shit covered up, (again like he did with scott) if for some reason he can't pull off murdering those bitches, then he'll FUCK THEM UP in the worst way possible and let them know to keep their mouths shut otherwise he will go and kill them. man does not play around when it comes to ppl messing with you.

2.) he'll walk in, glare, walk right up the leader of the group, and will probably do exactly what he did to tiff. he'll ruin her face or disable some part of her, like her limbs or some shit. maybe will even take said curling iron and will burn her face off, ofc he'll be in his ethan mode bc thats the sadistic, twisted, and violent side of him taht he suppresses on the regular. I see this option being the likely one bc it would be very hard to get away with murder, but in this universe, he comes from such a well off and powerful family, that has such strong connections, it wouldn't be too hard for him, just i think he wouldn't find it necessary to actually kill them off unless they had actually burned you....at that point, game over.

#yandere heeseung #heeseung yandere #yandere!heeseung

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marielittlelou · 1 year

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♡"𝙎𝙤𝙛𝙩."♡

: ̗̀➛ SYNOPSIS: After a long day of villanious work from the league, your boyfriend Touya comes home to you all soft and Clingy.

: ̗̀➛Character(s): Touya Todoroki/Dabi

: ̗̀➛WARNING: None, just pure fluff 🥰💙 also OOC Dabi, Uses of nicknames such as Baby and Babydoll

: ̗̀➛CW:// Use of You/Your. Gender Nuetral unless stated otherwise.

: ̗̀➛GENRE:// Fluff 🍰

A/N:// DJRJJDJFKFKF Hopefully, this makes it up for the angst fic today 💀🙏🏻 LISTEN I HAD TO WRITE ABOUT IT SJFJJV THE LEAKS CAUSE ME ABSOLOUTE GODDAMN PAIN OKAY

Normally, you'd be working at your shift right about now, but your boss was kind enough to let you have a week off, though, that wasn't the same for your softie of a boyfriend, Touya.

See, Touya was a villain, and obviously he couldn't work at a normal job, or for that matter, be seen anywhere considering he was quite literally a wanted criminal. And also he was in none other than the famous League of Villains. So, there's also that.

Now, when others think of the Villain Dabi, they think of him as someone evil, selfish, and unredeemable, as they've seen him on the news multiple times, either burning his victims or doing unspeakable things inside the league that heroes and civilians, including the commission, consider villainous. And while in their eyes, it's true, for you, you only see a man who's touched-Starved and desperete to be loved.

Which was also true, he lacked the affection as a child. His childhood was horrible, horrifying- all the words you couldn't even describe it, his father, Endeavor in a quirk marriage and breeding Rei children for the purpose of having a perfect child with a perfect combination quirk, both ice and fire- in order to surpass AllMight.

As a child, Touya once longed for the attention from his father, to train, just like his father, to become a hero, just like him.

But then his quirk, Blueflame, hurt him. And in Endeavor's eyes, Touya wasn't fit, continuing to make Rei have children until the last child was born, with the quirk Endeavor so desired, Shoto Todoroki. It was then when Touya lost that attention, and in an attempt, Touya would train at sekoto peak, train his flames, which would only burn him more, would only end up burning himself once he knew he would never gain the attention of his father.

Obviously, Touya had trusted you enough to tell you all that, and it broke your heart and made you furious at the same time. Although you didn't quite agree with his actions, you could understand why.

from the outsiders perspective, the Villain Dabi was a monster. But to you? He was nothing but a sweetheart who only needed the love and affection he deserved he never received as a child, and he showed it well.

He separated his villain persona to his softer persona only you know and can see, Touya always tired of putting up said villain persona, trusting you enough to show you his more domestic side.

Currently, the sun was setting in the horizon. Meanwhile, you were inside the kitchen setting up what you needed for dinner, before you heard the door open and heard familiar footsteps, you smiled to yourself, knowing exactly who it was.

Just walking in, Touya took off his boots as well as his infamous leather blue jacket he wears as 'Dabi', lazily throwing it onto the sofa and making his way to the kitchen, his face immediantly softening at the sight of you.

While you smiled to yourself and setting things up, you felt a taller presence behind you, who wrapped their arms around you and their head digging gently into your neck.

You smile became soft and domestic, one of your hands maneuvering to gently scratch his scalp of his snowy-white locks, Touya making a low but gentle noise in approval.

"Why hello there," You whispered while petting his hair, "Welcome home," you softly spoke, Touya mumbling quietly. "Exausted?" You ask, only receiving another quiet mumble from Touya.

You giggled, "You can take a short nap while I cook dinner Touya," You said, noticing Touya started to gently pull you away.

"...Cuddles.." He whispers, his eyes softening as he looks at you lazily.

"But I have to cook dinner Touya," You reply, before speaking again, "Besides I rather not let you go hungry after a long day at the League, my love," You finished gently, and the nickname made Touya's chest flutter, even if he wouldn't admit it, continuing to slowly pull you away as he pouts.

Touya's eyes stare at yours, his head now resting on your shoulder, "....Please?" He whines, your heart fluttering as you couldn't deny his precious pouty face.

You sigh, "Okay, let's go cuddle," You softly say, taking his hand as you walk over to the couch, taking off your shoes and getting comfortable as you laid on the soft sofa, your arms open for Touya.

Touya, eager but cautious, climbed on top of you, gently laying on your body, his head laying at the crook of your neck, making sure his weight isn't crushing you. It was sweet how aware he was of himself and how tall he was, not wanting to crush you. "Comfy?" You asked softly, as Touya huffs in approval.

Being able to smell your sweet vanilla-like scent relaxed him, his arms wrapping around your torso as you played with his soft white hair, one of your hands maneuvering again to brush your fingers through his hair, hearing a satisfied sigh.

"Mph..comfy.." He mumbled as to which made you smile, continuously brushing your fingers through his hair, "Tough day, love?" You asked, Touya's heart doing a flip at the nickname. He's always loved your nicknames, but would never say it out loud.

Touya digged his head into the crook of your neck more, not really wanting to talk about it, which was okay, of course. You'd never want to force him to talk about it if he didn't want to. And that's what he loved about you. "That's okay," you whispered, as you continued to soothe the man.

Touya really appreciated it, and loved it when you'd never pry or ask about the league and what happened, another thing he loved about you. Most of the people he worked with would constantly try to get into his buisness or bother him about the league- so he'd simply burn them. But with you? That'd never happen.

So he pampered you with kisses on your face as you giggled, "Touya!" You laughed, which gave Touya the butterflies, he loved hearing you laugh, especially when it came from him. So he continued to pamper you with soft, butterfly kisses, being sure to be gentle with his movements to not crush you.

"You deserve the whole world, Babydoll," He spoke, which made you blush. He smirked. "And m'gonna give it to you," he whispers, which made you shiver and blush again, smiling softly at him, as Touya's own face softens.

"So do you, Touya," You reply softly, cupping the man's face and rubbing his face with your thumbs softly, and if that didn't make Touya lean in and melt. He was absoloutly smitten. "You've always deserved the world," you spoke again, before you replied, "And I'm sorry you didn't get that before," You say soberly, while you still cupped his face.

Touya, knowing what you were referring to, gently lured your lips against his, as you'd both melted into the sweet kiss before you. And you could tell he was smiling in the kiss as your thumbs were rubbing against his scarred face and staples carefully.

"Baby, don't apologize for my past," Touya muffles, his head still digged into the crook of your neck before you spoke again.

"I know.." You sigh, "But it really isn't fair you didn't get the love you deserved," you spoke soberly, earning another soft kiss from Touya.

"Still," Touya replies, "Don't apologize for my past, it's not yours, it's mine," "Besides," Touya continues, "Aren't I getting love right now, Babydoll?" He smirks, earning a smile from you, "I didn't know an S-Tier Villain could be so cheesy," you giggle.

Touya bites your cheek playfully, earning another giggle from you. "Only for you, Babydoll," Touya whispers, while you cup his face again, your thumbs gently rubbing his face, careful not to rub his staples.

"Did you have to bite my cheek, you rascal?" You ask playfully, smiling as Touya gave you a sneaky and mischievous smirk.

"Oh, Absolutely," Touya playfully replies, before going back to bite your cheek again to tease you.

"Touya!" You giggle.

If there was anything in the world that would be Touya's favorite, it was your laugh. Your soft and sweet laugh that he could never seem to get enough of, and never would as long as he was alive.

A/N:// SCREAMING, CRYING, THROWING UP, I ACTUALLY CANNOT DO THIS THE FLUFF IS TOO MUCH NOOOOO I DONT WANT HIM TO DIE BUT I KNOW HE HAS TOO 😭😭😭💔💔💔

#touya todoroki fluff #MyHeroAcademia #DabiFluff #bnha dabi #TouyaTodoroki #Fluff #MyHeroAcademiaFluff #bnha fic #MyHeroAcademiaFic #TouyaTodorokiFic #DabiFic #ICANTDOTHIS #THEFLUFFITHURTS

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slightlyaboveaverageiq · 1 year

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The whisperer: Part 7 (Wally Clark Fic)

”One of the band ghosties said that you’ve been stuck here since you died, that you can’t leave the school. Like you’ve really been stuck here for decades?” I asked my group of ghosties at my lunch table before I bit into my pasta. Luckily I had gotten good at hiding the fact I looked like I was talking to myself and no one thought I was bat shit insane. Yet.

“That’s right cherry pop, we can go anywhere on school grounds but the minute we try to leave we’re jumped back to where we died. The first time isn’t too bad, after the 5th time or so is when it starts to hurt.” Well damn no wonder Rhonda seemed like a raging bitchy goth she had been stuck in teenage hell for decades. I’d probably be a demonic bitch too.

“Damn and I thought 4 years filled with horny teenage boys and hormones was bad, you guys have been living it every day up until your death and after your death.” Suddenly the thought of food wasn’t as appetizing once I realized that at the end of the day I got to go home and see my friends and family and they were all stuck here. Of course I know spirits can’t go home and see their friends and family but it seems especially fucked up considering these ghosties have basically adopted me into their little ghost family.

“I watch every day from the fence to make sure you make it across the street. I can’t see much further past the first block but I don’t go to your locker until I see you coming in now.” Well I’ll be damned that’s why I don’t see Dawn whenever I first come in anymore, she’s literally appearing once she sees me enter the school, which means she’s got a place she’s watching in the school yard to make sure I make it here every day. Honestly that’s more than half of siblings have ever done for me and my fondness for my little cocker spaniel ghost intensifies.

“As sweet as that is Dawn you don’t have to watch for me every day. If I died I would just come and tell you I died.”

“I don’t think it works that way, I know you’ve seen ghosts at places besides school but did it ever occur to you that maybe those people also died there?” Wally’s words hit me like a wave of cold water but he had a good point. Did that mean that if I died all alone in my house and didn’t cross over I would be stuck there and couldn’t see anyone else for all of eternity? He seemed to sense that he had said the wrong thing and put his hand on my arm and I felt a surge of wetness in between my thighs. Jesus Christ this was so not the time.

“I’ve gotta go.” I jumped up and pulled away from Wally like he was on fire. I grabbed my bag and raced out the cafeteria doors not even caring to look behind to see if my ghosties had followed me. If I had hurt Wally’s feelings. I couldn’t afford to look at Wally’s face because I was sure if I did I would tell me exactly what was written in that note.

“Mori-Mori wait!” I was vaguely aware of Dawn running after me but I kept going. I needed to be away from all of them right now, even Dawn. I needed to get home and…and then what? Just keep going home and thinking about Wally every time we cross paths? “Mori!” Shit the ghost was fast but I was almost to the fence and she wouldn’t be able to follow. She would just pull that said puppy look and I would feel bad but she would forgive me as soon as she saw me the next day. “Mori!” I felt a hand clasp around my shoulder. There was no fucking way.

“Dawn!” I turned and her eyes were as wide as mine, but of us turned back to the school. The school that I had run from, from the hell that my ghosties were trapped in. The school that somehow Dawn had ran away from chasing me because she sure as fuck was outside the fence standing there, touching me, not screaming or burning into flame.

“Oh what the hell.” I walked back to the group and Dawn followed. “Dawn how did you do that?” I didn’t mean to sound so harsh the poor girl look terrified at what she had just done.

“I-I don’t know I was just running after you and then I just kept going and going. I didn’t even realize I was out of the school yard.”

“What if Mo is the reason you made it through?” I ignored the gruffness of Wally’s voice, the fact he called me Mo instead of Mori and what both of those things were currently doing to me. “We already know she’s gifted, what if you were able to leave because you were with her?” Dawn started walking towards the fence but was thrown back quite violently.

“Dawn!” I ran over and helped her up checking her over before reminding myself she was a ghost and it wouldn’t have done any lethal damage to her.

“Wally was right, I can’t leave without you.” Well I’ll be damned.

“Guess we’re going on a field trip Cherry pop, let’s see how far we can go from the school with you.” I was about to say no because under no circumstances did I want them knowing where I lived. Nor did I want them to wait at my house while I took a cold shower but they all looked so excited about being able to leave the school.

“…Alright let’s go.”

#wally clark #rhonda #school spirits #fanfic

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nefelibcta · 2 years

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KANG HEI RAN ( ”SCYLLA” ). 25. SHE/HER. ORDER OF THE GRIM FOX

❝ sometimes i imagine what it’d be like to / show you i’m alive. the thrill of it. the sharp / inhale. the nerve exposed. the bone. ❞

will probably make this prettier / more detailed later, but have this run-down for now:

she isn’t too sure who she was meant to replace — and it never quite mattered. because as soon as she started speaking, hei ran was heralded as better than her original. a genius, a prodigy — a weapon that the order raised with iron fists, miracle invention that somehow had been tenderly kissed by god’s grace during her making.

for most of her childhood, hei ran was locked within study rooms, made to consume every bit of knowledge the order deemed useful. from physics to art to social niceties, who she was nothing compared to what she could become.

for her part, hei ran never thought to complain, merely working harder to grab whatever glimpses of the outside world she could, no matter that this world was one full of deception and violence. even blood red was welcome to the greyscale printed pages of her books.

when the order fell apart, she grasped the opportunity with both hands, traveling the world — but never quite leaving the one she had been accustomed to, living within the shadows with a rotating roster of names, forgetting to wash fingertips stained red. crime was a comfort of sorts, something solid to hold onto when the rest of her life had been carefully erased and forgotten.

she was also too glad to wipe away the label of genius, instead leaning into her innocent looks and playing up the role of airhead. it was almost too easy — to shout the wrong answers when she knew exactly what the right one was; to act the opposite of society’s expectations and burn common courtesy altogether. she had spent the majority of her life following expectations, after all — it was only fair that she could now choose to break them.

MISC:

specialized in art forgery in her time under the order of the grim fox.

moved to anchorage about two years ago, and spent the first year couch surfing. now, she has her own place at kingpin trailer park, though she’s known to be able to fall asleep anywhere and rarely chooses to be home alone when she could be wandering the streets.

honestly just a lil wormie. she’s 5′0 but can pack a mean punch if bothered. literally kirby with a knife

chaotic evil

truly so bad at keeping relationships. will disappear without a word only to show up a couple months or years later like “get in loser, we’re going to commit sin”

adrenaline junkie. will do anything to drown out her own thoughts.

has money but you could never tell from the way she chooses to steal your fries instead of simply getting her own

cookie monster !! always eating sweets, loves lollipops especially

will fight at the scaredy cat club if you dare her. tbh would fight even if you don’t

a child that was forced to grow up too quickly

#anchorintro #⁺ 𝐇𝐄𝐈 𝐑𝐀𝐍 › intro.

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harringtown · 2 years

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the road not taken

this became much longer than I was planning so it took a while but!!! no joke i was plotting this fic and had a moment of ‘wait they storm into the road, literally the road not taken cuz its outside steve’s house’ and had to sit back for a second cuz I impressed my own damn self w that one. anyways I hope u enjoy anon!!!

requested by anonymous

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: au based on tis the damn season by Taylor Swift (aka the reader left Hawkins, and Steve, but the past is hard to run from, aka some second chance almost romance w a happy ending)

word count: 6.8k

Hawkins hasn’t changed much in eight months.

Last August, when you left—when you fled, if you’re being technical—the town was slipping into fall. Bare trees and chilly winds saw you off, but now, spring is poking its head up like the flowers sticking out of the concrete sidewalks.

The train station drops you at the far end of main street. Eight months ago, when you made this walk in the other direction, you kept your eyes down and your breath held, like Hawkins might get stuck in your lungs.

Now, you walk slowly, dragging your suitcase behind you, and sweep your gaze around a place you swore you wouldn’t come back to.

Time is funny like that. It couldn’t have predicted you coming home from college for spring break to surprise your family. But it probably couldn’t have predicted you running in the first place.

Starcourt’s destruction has rejuvenated the main square, and the once abandoned shops are back in full gear. Residents mill about in front of stores and restaurants, kids amble around the grass, cars pull by. Hawkins is alive again. After everything it, and everyone who lives here, have been through, it still always manages to bounce back.

You pass the diner, and the general store. The post office. The arcade, and the video store.

A familiar bike is chained up against one of the poles in front of the video store. Affection swells in your chest.

Robin.

You may have cut off Hawkins and Steve Harrington when you left, but you didn’t burn all your bridges. Not with Robin, or Nancy.

And if you’re going to survive this week, you’ll need more than your family to do it. You’ll need friends, and you don’t have a whole lot of those left here.

So, you head for the video store. The lot is full, probably arcade overflow, but none of the other vehicles are familiar.

You pull on the front door’s handle, a bell chiming inside, and in the half step you take, red flashes in your peripheral vision.

You’d know that car anywhere. And the only reason you missed it was because it’s parked on the side of the building.

A red BMW. You even remember the damn license plate number.

Your train of thought careens into a wall of curses, but the bell rang, you’re standing halfway in the store already, and there will be no escaping now. Not unless you literally sprint away like some scared kid.

Please, let him be on break. Or in the back. Or absolutely fucking anywhere else.

You take a breath and step all the way into the store, letting the door swing shut behind you.

“No way,” says a familiar, feminine voice, and you’ve barely clocked Robin behind the counter before she’s pushing around it and rushing you. “Are you actually here right now?”

You grin, and say, “I’m here,” a second before she hauls you into a tight hug. And you can barely breathe, but you don’t mind, because you’re squeezing her just as tight.

Robin pulls back, shaking her head. “Nancy and Jonathan bet five dollars you wouldn’t set foot in this town again, but I knew you’d be back.” She steps back, gesturing to the store around her, with its funky-patterned floor and peeling wallpaper. “I mean, who could resist the charm of our lovely town?”

“Charm is a word for it,” you say, and Robin laughs, slinging an arm around your shoulder.

“So,” she says. “How long do we get you for?” And her smile falters, just for a second, after the word we, like she considers correcting, and decides not to. You’re grateful to once again be around people who know what subjects to avoid. “Please tell me you dropped out of college.” Her nose scrunches. “And ignore how horrible that sounds.”

You snort. “Just here for the week. Unfortunately, I’m still enrolled.”

Robin breaks away from you to round the counter again, retaking her place, and you lean into the ledge across from her.

“I missed the hell out of you,” she says. “Seriously. It’s not the same without you. No one else gets my movie references or will agree to take me to the snow cone stand out in Rockwood.”

That familiar ache, the one that showed up when you got on the train last fall, pulses in your chest.

“I missed you, too.” You lean into the counter. “It’s nice out there, and the people are great, but there’s no Robin Buckley in Indianapolis, which makes it pretty much intolerable. And they don’t even have the Rockwood snow cone place.”

Robin grins, and she opens her mouth to speak, but a sharp inhale from the doorway to the back hall sucks the words out of her mouth.

It sucks all the air out of the room, too.

It’s as if you sense him before you see him. The knot in your chest pushes on your lungs, and it takes everything in you to control your expression as you meet his eyes.

Steve Harrington.

Eight months older, his hair a little longer. Grown into himself, a little more. The bruises and wounds he wore when you left him are nowhere to be found.

Your mouth falls open, though you’re not sure what you plan on saying. If you plan on saying anything at all.

What could you possibly say that would ever be enough?

He’s wearing a pair of light wash jeans and a deep navy Y-neck Henley, and he’s still frustratingly handsome, and he’s still your Steve. Which makes no sense, because he was never actually yours. That was the problem.

His eyes widen, just a bit, and a dozen emotions flicker across his face—shock and confusion and anger and hurt and more—before he shoves an invisible wall up between you. His lips pull into a thin line and his jaw tightens.

“What are you doing here?” he asks. Like it’s a nuisance. Like it’s an inconvenience.

You swallow the icy hurt. Two can play at that game.

“Renting a movie.” You jerk a chin at the aisles of films. “This is a video rental store.”

His brows twitch. He comes up beside Robin at the counter, leaning casually into the corner, and his show of false confidence isn’t lost on you. Eight months haven’t changed him that much. And you spent much longer memorizing him.

“Fine.” He shrugs a shoulder. “What are you doing in Hawkins?”

“My parents live here. Am I not allowed to visit?”

“You are,” Robin says, gaze flicking between you. “And we’re happy to see you. Even if we have a hard time showing it.”

Steve huffs. “Yeah. Happy.” He meets your eyes and lifts his brows. “So much for escape, I guess.”

You narrow your eyes, irritation prickling across your skin like needles, and you open your mouth to snap at him, but before you can, the bell dings over the door. A handful of teens who have just snuffed out a firecracker without even realizing it.

“I’ve got ‘em,” Robin says. To Steve, “And finish sorting those files, because if it’s not done by the time Keith gets in tomorrow, I swear, he’ll actually have an aneurysm, and I really don’t want to deal with it.”

Steve frowns, like he’s considering making a fuss, but in the end, he just tosses a look your way, and heads for the back of the store without another word.

And as much as you’d secretly been waiting for the moment you laid eyes on him again, you’re relieved to see him go.

Something you’d never admit to anyone, even Robin: on cold, lonely nights, you imagined coming home to Hawkins. Coming home to him. You imagined showing up at his doorstep and telling him you were sorry—telling him everything. And in your fantasies, he let you in with open arms.

But this is reality, and in reality, you didn’t make a clean break from this town. It’d be silly of you to expect to come back and find anything but scars.

It’s going to be hell cleaning the blood out of Steve’s seats, but he doesn’t comment on it as he, you, and Robin pile into the car. The blankets handed out by the EMT—which made no sense, because it’s July in Hawkins, and you survived a fire, not a winter storm—form half of a fourth person in Steve’s backseat.

Once Robin is dropped off, it’s just you and Steve in the front, and the tan blankets in the back. Steve drives away from her house, but he slows the car and parks it just down the road, next to a huge chunk of forest, safe from anyone who might be driving this time of night.

You don’t ask why he didn’t just drive you home. You don’t really want to go home.

The EMTs said dozens of people died in the fire that wasn’t a fire. Dozens. Your parents will have questions, and after a day being interrogated by Russian soldiers, you’re in no mood for it.

Steve drops his hands from the wheel.

��We almost died today,” you say softly. “Again.”

“But we didn’t.”

“But we could have.”

He lets out a rattling breath. A second passes, and his fingers slide across the bench seat to bump yours. Another second, and he places his hand atop yours. You flip your palm up, threading your fingers together and squeezing once.

Steve exhales again, but it’s relieved, not strained. Like your touch is pulling some of the horrible day out of his limbs.

“Yeah,” he says. “We could have.”

“How many times can we almost die before we—”

“Don’t,” he interrupts. “Don’t even say that.”

“You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

Steve closes his eyes. When he opens them, he pulls his hand from yours. He doesn’t say anything, but somehow, that says enough.

With the promise to call Robin later, you slip out of the video store and into the warm, early evening. Your suitcase wheels rattle over the concrete. It’s not a short walk home, but you’re in no hurry, and after an hour of avoiding Steve, you’d walk ten miles if it got you out of that store.

It’s like the universe can read your thoughts. A beat later, red flashes in your peripheral, and a familiar BMW slows beside you where you hug the curb, almost to the parking lot exit.

Steve reaches over and rolls down the passenger window, a hand on the back of the headrest as he peers out at you.

“Are you walking home?” he asks.

“What does it look like?”

He gives you a patronizing look. For a second, he chews on the inside of his cheek. Dread coils in your stomach—whatever he’s gearing up to, it can’t be good.

With a sharp sigh, he says, “Get in the car.”

Your stomach tumbles. It takes more strength than you’d like to admit keeping your face even as you say, “No,” and continue walking.

Steve’s frustrated curse carries through the window, and he puts just enough gas on the Beemer to catch up to you before he slows down again.

“Get in the car, Y/N.”

“I said no.”

“For the love of—its two miles to your house.”

“I am aware of that, yes,” you say. You and your already worn sneakers are soon to be even more aware. Painfully aware. But that’s better than the alternative.

“You’re being ridiculous. You realize that, right? This is ridiculous,” Steve says.

You keep walking.

Another colorful curse comes from inside the car, and then, the tires skid as he jerks the car to the right, half up on the curb. A few feet to the right, and he’d have tagged you. Except, he wouldn’t, because it’s Steve, and his driving may be reckless, but it’s also impressive, and he knows it. And he knows that you know it.

Screw him for still knowing you. And for assuming you still know him.

He slams the car into park, snaps his head up, and says, “Get in the goddamn car, y/n.”

For a long second, you do nothing but gape at him.

“You almost hit me,” you say.

“No, I didn’t,” he says.

Another second to consider how long this walk will actually be.

Damn it and damn him.

You drag your suitcase toward his car, reaching for the back handle, but Steve is out of the driver’s seat and around the back bumper in a blink, popping open the door. It’s so frustratingly Steve that you can do nothing but toss your suitcase inside. He nudges the back door shut and opens the passenger side, but he doesn’t look at you as he does it. And you don’t look at him as you climb into the car.

Steve pushes the door shut. Hesitates. You see him take a deep breath and return to the driver’s side. He climbs back in, shuts the door harder than you think is necessary, and puts the car into reverse.

“What the hell was that about?” you snap as he pulls the car onto the road, heading toward your neighborhood.

“This is still Hawkins,” Steve says. “And I’m not about to let you wander around at night by yourself.”

“The Mind Flayer is dead,” you say. “Isn’t it?”

A muscle clicks in his jaw. His grip on the wheel tightens.

“Yeah. It’s dead.”

“But… ?”

He flicks a glance your way, like he’s surprised.

“But I have a bad feeling,” he says.

“Don’t you always.”

“Says the one who rode a bad feeling right out of town,” Steve retorts.

He’s right, and he also tends to be right when it comes to anything monster related. But those are sticky subjects, and you’re trying to avoid sticky subjects.

So, instead of taking the bait, you turn up the radio.

When no one is talking, it feels just like it used to. You lost count of the nights you spent in this very spot, driving to nowhere, Steve at the wheel.

And here you are again, in Steve Harrington’s car. Like you were always going to end up back here. Like you never left at all.

“I thought you told them no,” Steve says. He’s been slouched back on the couch for the better part of the afternoon, but the moment you broke the news, he straightened like a rod.

“I did,” you say. You can’t look at him, so you look at the shag carpet, counting the individual threads. “But I guess they saw the reports about the mall and figured having the survivor of such a tragedy at their school was a good look. So, they called and asked if I’d reconsidered. Offered more scholarship money, too.” You risk a glance his way. Every inch of him is rigid. “And I said yes.”

Steve pushes to his feet. The abrupt movement makes him wince and reach for his still-healing ribs.

“You’re leaving?” he asks.

“My move in date is August 21st,” you say. Steve twists to peer at the calendar hanging in your kitchen.

Today is August 7th.

Steve shakes his head and paces in front of the couch. On the settee across from him, you’re immobile, digging your nails into your palms.

“Two weeks ago, the plan was to take classes at the community college this fall and save up,” he says. “What happened to waiting for Robin to graduate? Getting some shitty apartment for the three of us in Indianapolis?” He fixes his stare on you. “What changed?”

You let out a rattling breath. You’ve been planning out this speech since you accepted a spot at the university, but now that it’s here, all the words are out of reach.

“I have to get out of here, Steve,” you say. “If I don’t go now, while I still can, I don’t think I’ll ever escape it.”

“Escape what?”

All of it. The monsters and the tombstones and the empty seats in every cafeteria or arena. The ghosts. The loss. The pain.

And him. You’d be lying if you said part of your reason for going wasn’t him.

Him, and everything you’ve spent so much time wishing you could be—everything you will clearly never be. And regardless of whoever’s fault that is, it has to end with you.

But you can’t tell him that. The fact that you can’t is only another reason to go.

“I just…” You rake a hand through your hair. “I just have this feeling that if I don’t get out of this town, it’s going to kill me.”

Or you’re going to kill me, Steve Harrington, and you won't even know you pulled the trigger.

Steve’s lips form the inevitable beginning of a protest, but you don’t give him the chance.

“Look at me, Steve,” you say, lifting your arms and gesturing to yourself. Coated in bruises and scabs, bandaged and bound. “Look at me and tell me that if I stay, you can guarantee it’ll never get any worse than this.”

He hesitates. And you know he’s thinking about being down in that base, you and Steve and Robin being beaten to bloody pulps—about how you barely made it through this alive.

“The Mind Flayer is dead. It’s over. There’s nothing to run from,” Steve says. And you wish like hell that was true.

“It’s been over before. And then it wasn’t.”

He shakes his head. “Even if it does come back, you’re really okay with just… leaving? Ditching us?”

“I’m not… ditching anyone,” you say, which is definitely a lie. “It’s college. I’ll be home for Thanksgiving.” Another lie.

“Bullshit,” Steve says. “You’re running.”

And he’s right. And you are. Add it to the list of things you won’t admit to Steve Harrington. Already, the list is miles long. What’s another bullet point?

Your driveway is empty. Steve says nothing as he pulls his car up to the curb and puts it in park, but you know what he’s thinking.

There’s always at least one car in the driveway.

He doesn’t say anything as he gets out of the car with you, either, and you’re grateful. You don’t have the guts to ask him to come inside with you. Even if it’s probably nothing, in this town, it could be something. And somethingwas always a lot less scary with Steve at your side.

As you fish your house keys out of your bag, Steve waits at your back, hands in his pockets, humming absently.

He’s nervous. Whether it’s about the empty house or something else, you’re not sure.

You unlock the front door and nudge it open, stepping into the foyer. Steve is close behind, trailing you all the way into the kitchen.

The calendar hanging next to the cabinets pulls your attention.

March 19th to March 26th is highlighted, and BLOOMINGTON is scrawled in your mother’s handwriting.

Shit.

Of course, the one time you try to do something nice and surprise your family after avoiding this town like the plague for almost a year, it’s the week they’re out of town visiting your grandparents.

“Shit,” Steve says, right at your shoulder. You jump, not having heard him approach. He takes two steps back.

Shame burns under your skin. You clear your throat.

“I wanted to surprise them. My parents were so bummed when I didn’t come home for Thanksgiving, or Christmas,” you say.

“Yeah, well, they weren’t the only ones,” Steve says. The dark, empty house only makes his sarcasm drip thicker. “I think you took the surprise thing a bit too far.”

“You really don’t have to rub it in.”

He pouts. “I think I’ve earned the right.”

“You didn’t earn anything,” you snap. “That’s kind of the whole point.”

His eyes go wide, confused and frustrated all at once. “Wait, what—”

“Thanks for the ride,” you say. “But you should probably get going.”

He folds his arms over his chest. “You’re not seriously going to stay here by yourself.”

“I can survive a week in my own house, Steve. And your bad vibes, or whatever, aren’t exactly worthy of me forking over the cash to change my train ticket back. Besides, the next train isn’t until tomorrow. Whether you like it or not, I’m staying in Hawkins tonight.”

“Is your pride worth dying over?”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” you snap. “And if it’s that big of a deal, I can just stay with Robin.”

Steve snorts. “Where, on her bedroom floor? She’s got four sisters. There’s not a spare square foot in that house.”

You scrunch your nose. Stare at him for a long minute.

“You’re not suggesting—”

“My house.”

“Not a chance.”

He scoffs and says, “What, worried you can’t resist jumping my bones the second the lights go out?”

“If I’m jumping your bones, Harrington, it’s to lock my fingers around your throat.”

Steve’s lips turn up in a lopsided grin, and he bats his eyes.

“Is that a promise?”

You exhale sharply, letting out a curse.

“You’re sleeping on the couch,” you say, jabbing a finger at him.

“Obviously,” he says, and he looks bored as he does, which means he’s anything but.

Harriet Williams’ going away party falls three days before your own departure, and though neither of you are in the party mood, Robin drags you and Steve there, anyway, with the promise of shitty mixed drinks and even shittier music.

And it’s better than sitting in your room thinking, so you agree.

Four cups of whatever concoction is in the kitchen later, you’re glad you came. The house is too full of people, and it’s much too hot, much too loud, and every surface is sticky, but you don’t care. You’re dancing with Steve, and you’re too drunk to feel guilty, and he’s too drunk to be angry at you.

It happens in the silence between songs—no more than five seconds. But it happens. Your lips meet his, and his fingers curl into your waist, and he tastes like cheap tequila and orange juice.

And then he shifts away. And you’re dancing again. And the next day, either Steve doesn’t remember, or he doesn’t want to, because he doesn’t bring it up.

That night, that moment, gets caught in the wind and drifts away.

Steve’s house isn’t deserted. His parents are home, along with his aunt and younger cousins, which means he really will be sleeping on the couch, and not in one of the guest rooms. You’ve only seen his house this full a few times in your life, and it’s almost odd. To tiptoe through his halls instead of just walking.

But even with the packed house, it all feels so normal. Like you’ve slipped back into some ancient orbit.

Steve sets you up in his room, only leaving to change into a pair of sweats and a tee shirt you and Robin bought him as a joke. Two sizes too big, with a massive eagle spread across the marbled blue fabric, it is undeniably horrendous, but he’s wearing it. And from the looks of the worn fabric, it isn’t the first time.

He doesn’t say much before he heads downstairs. As if he’s afraid speaking will break this tenuous peace you’ve found in the silence.

You’ve both been walking in a memory since leaving your house. You don’t want to step out of it, either. Not yet.

It takes you ten minutes of pacing before you gather the courage to get into the bed. He isn’t even in it, but it’s Steve’s bed. You’ve slept in it a handful of times, mostly after parties in high school, but somehow, it’s more intimate without him in it.

You turn out the lamp and slide under the covers, and you can feel the slightest groove in the mattress formed by years of him sleeping in the same spot.

His scent envelopes you in a second blanket, and tears well in your eyes before you can stop them. You squeeze your eyes shut against them, but one escapes, trailing down your cheek and onto the pillow.

It’s another ten minutes before you can open your eyes without the threat of tears. Thirty more tossing and turning and thinking.

Then, the knob turns on the door. Panic leaps into your throat—it still does, even two hundred miles away at school—and you jerk into a sitting position.

Steve leans into the doorway, his lips pressed together. Seeing you’re awake, he slips inside, closing the door behind him.

“To the shock of nobody, my dad got booted from he and my mom’s room. I’d rather sleep on the floor here than have a shame sleepover with my father in the living room,” he says. He clears his throat. “If that’s cool.”

“Yeah,” you say, and it comes out as more of a squeak. You try again. “Of course.”

“Thanks,” Steve says.

“It is your bedroom,” you say. A smile drifts over his lips, but it’s gone as fast as it comes. He heads for his closet, opening the doors and kneeling to dig out a pile of folded blankets from the back.

“Steve.”

He stills. “Yeah?”

The words are out of your mouth too quick for you to stop them. “You don’t have to sleep on the floor.”

Now he’s really frozen. “What, are you volunteering to swap?”

Your laugh is thin and hollow. It doesn’t even sound like your voice as you say, “Just get in the bed before I change my mind.”

He stands. Turns your way. Looks at you for a long moment, likely trying to decide whether you’re serious. Eventually, he crosses the room, leaving the blankets behind.

You scooch to the side, toward the wall, so he has room. The moonlight streaming in through the window flashes over his clenched jaw.

He climbs into the bed beside you, the mattress sinking just a bit with the added weight.

“Thanks,” he says for the second time since entering the room.

“You’re welcome,” you say, even though it’s his bed in the first place.

Silence hangs in the air, fluttering like sheets on a line, and you lay in wait, praying Steve will fall asleep so you can relax.

But he doesn’t. Instead, you lay side by side, flat on your backs, hands folded over both your stomachs, like matching Victorian children in some twisted double funeral.

Steve whispers your name.

“Hmm?”

“Are you awake?”

“No.”

A pause.

“Can I ask you something?” he asks.

“Can I stop you?”

He laughs softly, but it dies out halfway through.

“Why didn’t you call?”

Your stomach drops.

“Steve—“

“You and me, we used to talk about just taking off and leaving everything behind,” Steve says softly, “but I never actually thought you’d do it.” He shakes his head. “Or I figured you’d at least take me with you. Stupid of me, I guess.”

“Steve—” You say again, as if it’ll make up for what you’ve done.

“Just tell me why,” he says. “Tell me what the hell I did to you, to piss you off so much.”

“You’re serious?”

“As a heart attack,” he says.

“You can’t honestly tell me that you didn’t know how I felt about you,” you say, without meaning to. The subsequent silence is thicker than the first.

“I…” He trails off.

“Yeah,” you say. “That’s what I thought.”

“I was an idiot,” he says, and it’s as if he’s talking to himself, not to you.

“I know,” you say. “Which time are you talking about?”

He laughs, but it’s a little sad. He hesitates a moment before he speaks again.

“The day you left…” He pauses. Like he’s trying to organize his words. “The second you left my house after saying goodbye, I felt this pit in my stomach, and I realized it wasn’t new. It’d been there a long time. And it just kept getting worse.” He laces his hands behind his head. “I actually called Robin, at like, midnight that night, told her I thought I was dying, and she just said, ‘You’re not dying, dingus, your heart is broken.’” Another long pause follows. “I don’t even think I realized until right then that I—” He stops. He always stops.

Or you do. But you always end up here, a foot from the finish line, neither of you brave enough to cross it.

And you’re not sure what to say to all that, or what it means, so you just say his name again, softly, almost a plea.

“You know, I wasn’t mad at you for leaving Hawkins,” he goes on. “I mean, I’d have to be a complete and total asshole to be angry that my best friend got a killer scholarship to a college far the hell away from this place.”

“You seemed pretty angry,” you say.

“Yeah, well, I was angry, but I wasn’t angry about that. I was pissed that you ditched me, like we didn’t spend ten years surviving this town together.” In your peripheral vision, his chest rises and falls rapidly, like he’s angry or nervous or some combination. “Like none of it mattered.”

“It all mattered,” you say, fiercer than you intend. “That was why I had to go.”

“What?” He’s looking at you now, and you force yourself to meet his eyes. You’ve braved scarier creatures than the truth.

“I told you that I left Hawkins because I had to get away from the monsters. And that was mostly true. But I wasn’t just running from monsters. I was running from you.”

His mouth opens, and abruptly shuts.

“I spent ten years loving you, Steve. Ten years waiting for you to figure it out, or do something, but you never did, and I… I couldn’t do it anymore.”

“Couldn’t do what?”

“Pretend not to,” you say. “Pretend that you did. Pretend that one day you could. I don’t know. All I know is that every time you called me and asked me for help, I dropped everything and came running. I couldn’t keep dropping everything for someone who didn’t even want to carry it in the first place.”

He chews on his cheek for a beat, and now, he’s the one avoiding your gaze.

“When we were younger, I thought that maybe you—” He lets out a sigh. “But then we got older, and it seemed like you didn’t anymore, and then we got to high school, and Eleven ripped open a hole to another universe, and then you were gone. I mean, I waited weeks for you to call. Told myself you just hadn’t set up your new number yet.”

He’s circling his own admission like a shark around chum, and you’ve known him long enough to see that, but the gap in time has robbed you of the ability to tell what it is.

“I got it wrong,” you say. “I got scared, and I didn’t know what to do, and it was like… like I couldn’t even think. I just had to run. But I was wrong. I was wrong, and I should have just come to you, told you what I felt, but I didn’t.” You roll onto your side to face him. “But what would it have changed, anyway?”

He mirrors your position.

“Everything,” he says. “Something. I don’t know. I don’t know because you never said anything.” He inhales. “But I never said anything, either.”

Shock renders you silent. Steve catches your gaze, and immediately looks away.

“You know, sometimes, I wonder what it’d have been like if we did things the right way. I think maybe it could have worked out, if I met you in Biology class and not on some battlefield.”

Your stomach churns. “And by it…?”

“I mean us,” he says. Shakes his head. “But we didn’t meet in Biology. And we sure as hell didn’t do things the right way. We—I—royally fucked it up, actually. I know it’s too late to mean anything, but I’ll never stop being sorry for everything that went wrong with you. ”

Some of your anger softens, revealing what lies beneath it—sadness. Because you’re not really angry at Steve, not the way he or you would think. Because you were young and stupid, and you still are, in a lot of ways. Because sometimes you can be angry just because.

“It wasn’t all your fault,” you say. “We were just kids. We were already dealing with… well, not the end of the world, but pretty close to it. And it’s not like I can be mad at you for… for anything, after what I did.”

“Still,” Steve says.

“Yeah,” you say. “Still.”

Because what more is there? You fucked up, or he did, or you both did, and now, here you are, on the other side of the wreckage. And you’re not sure whether or not it's salvageable. If you even want it to be.

“Promise you’ll call,” Steve says, his voice muffled by your hair. He pulls back, and his expression is sincere, so Steve it hurts to look at. “Promise you won’t forget about me.”

Tears well in your eyes, but you don’t force them away. Instead, you let them fall and hope that Steve believes them as something different than they are. And you tell him, “I promise,” even though you’ve already made yourself a very different promise.

To leave Steve Harrington and Hawkins behind.

He pulls you in for another hug, this one tighter than the last, and when you pull back, neither of you moves back all the way, and your forehead finds his, and your noses bump, and you can almost taste the kiss, and—

Steve shifts away.

Your eyes snap open in time to see his Adam's apple bob. You clear your throat and extricate yourself from his arms.

“I gotta go,” you say. “I have a train to catch.”

Steve’s lips part.

You want him to ask you to stay. You want it more than you’ve ever wanted anything.

But he doesn’t. So you don’t.

You wake up to the soft, steady rhythm of a heartbeat and a warm arm slung loosely over your waist. Before you open your eyes, your brain registers the scent as Steve, and though it should be surprising to wake up like this, for some reason, it doesn’t feel weird.

And when he opens his eyes, when he sees you, he acts like it isn’t weird, either.

“Tell me about school,” Steve says, as if you’ve done this a hundred times, in this very spot, with his hand on your hip. “Do you like it? Do you live in a dorm with, like, five roommates?”

A smile pulls on your lips. You’re not sure what magic spell you’ve both stumbled into, but for the moment, you don’t want to break it. To be honest, you’re not entirely sure you’re awake.

So, you tell him. You tell him about your classes, and about the friends you’ve made, and about your roommates, of which there are two, not five, who are actually very nice. All the time you talk, he doesn’t pull his arm away from you, and you don’t pull back.

It feels like everything it could have been.

Then, he asks you another question.

“Are you happy?”

And you hesitate.

“I’m… getting there,” you say. “But nobody there knows me like Hawkins does—” You lift your eyes to his, and you know he’s thinking the same thing you are. Nobody knows me like you do. “—and I’m worried that they never will.”

Steve stills. Shifts back, taking his arm with him and leaving cold in its absence. You’re not even sure what you said to make him move back, or if the magic spell just broke.

He sits up, and the marbled shirt has ridden halfway up his back, revealing a stretch of tan, scarred skin.

“You know why that is, don’t you?” he asks. He turns his face just enough for you to see his profile, jaw clenched and brows furrowed.

It’s your turn to sit up.

“What are you trying to say?”

He shifts all the way toward you. “I’m saying, there’s a reason you weren’t happy in Hawkins, and there’s a reason you aren’t happy in Indianapolis.” You haven’t heard him talk like this in a long time, since high school, but unlike high school, he doesn’t sound mean. It’s just that confidence, but now, it’s real. “I played my part in what happened with us, or didn’t happen, or whatever, but it takes two to tango.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

He presses his lips together.

“The day you left, if I had asked you to stay in Hawkins, what would you have said?” he asks.

“I—” The words evaporate on your tongue. You would have what? Would you have stayed? Was the version of you that dropped everything and fled even ready to be asked that question, let alone answer it?

“You don’t let anybody get close enough to love you,” he says. “And I’m sorry I didn’t try hard enough, but you can’t say it was just me, or just us being dumb kids. And you sure as hell can’t outrun that. ” He inhales sharply, but the words are out, and there is no taking them back.

You throw the covers off and climb out of his bed, jamming your feet into your sneakers and grabbing the first hoodie you see off the top of your suitcase.

“Screw you, Harrington,” you snap.

“Wait—” Steve scrambles out of bed behind you, but you don’t wait to hear the rest of what he has to say.

You push through his door and into the hall, storming down the hall and the stairs, ignoring the chatter coming from the kitchen and Steve’s family, out the front door into a literal storm.

Thunder cracks over your head, and the rain falls in cold sheets, but you’d rather walk through the storm than stay a minute longer. You trudge down the porch and the driveway, Steve’s words ringing in your ears.

You sure as hell can’t outrun that.

You come to a stop in the middle of the pot-holed lined street in front of the Harrington house. Running. That’s exactly what you’re doing. Again.

The front door swings open, and Steve runs down the porch, wearing just his sweats, horrible animal shirt, and an untied pair of sneakers. Panic lines his face until his eyes find yours, and he relaxes, just for a second, before his expression twists again.

He jogs into the road, just off the curb.

“Steve, I’m not—”

“No,” Steve says. “Wait. I need to say something. It’s something I should have said a long time ago.” He swipes the hair and water out of his eyes, closing the distance between you, until you’re barely a foot apart. His chest heaves.

“Eight months ago, when you told me you were leaving, I should have asked you to stay. And every day for eight months, I’ve regretted it. So, I’m asking you now. Please, stay.” He licks his lips, and you get caught on the droplets of rain lining his mouth. “I mean, don’t drop out of college, because that’d be crazy, but… you know what I mean.” He shakes his head. “I’ve been in love with you since we were fourteen, and I should have told you a lot longer than eight months ago, but I—“

It should take more than that, but you’ve been waiting longer than eight months to hear it, and you’re moving before you consciously decide to.

You press your lips to his, and his mouth parts under yours, and he tastes like rain and a little like morning breath, but you don’t care. You wrap your arms around his neck, and his wind around your waist, and you’re pressed so close together that even the rain can’t get through.

When Steve pulls back, his pupils blown and his breathing uneven, he just dips his forehead against yours, never releasing you from his arms.

“I know we always talked about Indianapolis,” you whisper. “But do you think Robin might be willing to move to Indianapolis instead? I can move off campus next year.”

Steve shifts away, eyes snapping open, a wide smile spreading across his face. He presses a kiss to your forehead, and says, “I think she could be convinced.”

“And you?”

“I’m all yours,” he says. “If you’ll have me.”

You smile, and lean in to kiss him again. And though it took you a while to get back to it, the road you almost didn’t take looks pretty good now.

taglist: @milkiane @spideyboipete @robiin-buckley @robinbuckleyssgf @la-fille-en-aiguilles @sunlitide @cityofidek

#brooke writes fic #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #Steve Harrington x gn!reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington au #stranger things #stranger things au #stranger things imagine #x reader

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kakashissimp · 2 years

Note

Request NSFW

Prompt 11” have it your way, then. just be prepared for the consequences.”

Scenario 76 with Shikamaru pretty pretty plz💚💚💚

Alright, lets gooo. Thanks for the request!<3

Warnings: NSFW, mentions of drugs/alcohol, unresolved sexual tension, 18+, fem!reader, long as fuck.

I really ran with this one, phew. Sorry this took literally forever.

When The Party’s Over | Shikamaru x Reader | NSFW

“I don’t get why you won’t just admit it,” Shikamaru says after taking a long pull from his blunt, flicking it between his fingers absently. He leans back against the curve of the rooftop, arm folded behind his neck. Thin wisps of vapour seep past his lips. “This would be way easier.”

You sit cross-legged next to Shikamaru, feeling the slight angle of the rooftop beneath you. Just like one of the village cats, Shikamaru spends a lot of his free time watching the sun set from above—he certainly spends more time doing so than you.

Still, with Shikamaru nearby, you can’t help but feel calm. Heavy bass from the pounding music inside rumbles through the shingles, attempting to reach you outside.

Neither you nor Shikamaru really wanted to come to the party, but the others wouldn’t have it any other way. Ino, Lee, and Naruto practically begged you to show up.

It didn’t take long for you and Shika to disappear outside, in search of peace and quiet.

You take in Shikamaru’s relaxed form, capable of making himself at home anywhere. He looks out across the village, eyes on the distant lights. All signs of worry or discomfort leave Shika’s features entirely.

“What?”

A small chuckle comes from Shika’s chest, and he offers the blunt to you. His dark eyes flick up to meet yours. “We’ve been friends since I can remember, it’s a wonder nothing has happened yet.”

Eyeing the blunt nestled between Shika’s fingers, you take it from him, letting your gaze fall on Shika again, puzzled. “Shika, what are you talking about?”

Shikamaru watches how you take a long drag, almost satisfied by how willing you are to entertain his shenanigans. His grin shifts to an almost expectant look. “C’mon, you can’t seriously be that blind.”

Exhaling the vapour, it scratches your throat, making you forcibly cough into your sleeve. Shikamaru pats your back absently, sporting a humoured look. “Its been a while, huh?”

The last cough slips from you, finally able to compose yourself again. You quickly rub the tears from your eyes, nodding. “Not since the last party. You’re the pothead, not me.”

Shikamaru laughs at this, letting his fingers brush against your arm before taking the half burned blunt back from you. “Right.”

When his skin touches your fingers then, a spark runs up the length of your arm. A shiver trails down your back, startled by the sensation. Your eyes don’t leave Shika’s, despite being completely oblivious to his accusations.

“Cough all you want, but I’m not letting you off that easily,” Shika hums, setting the blunt in between two shingles for the time being. His arms return to their place behind his head, completely nonchalant as the faint smoke rises beside him.

Running a hand through your hair, you give Shikamaru a perplexed look. “How fried are you, Shika? Just get to the point.”

A tantalizing smirk appears on Shika’s face after he closes his eyes, more aware of the tension than you apparently. “Fine. I’m saying we should just fuck and see what it’s like.”

You deadpan at this, hesitating within your silence to figure out whether you imagined it, or if he was serious. “Wha—”

Cutting yourself off, you know there aren’t proper words to describe how it makes you feel. Your stomach flip-flops at the thought, more intrigued than you thought possible.

“I know you’ve thought about it before. I’m not judging,” Shikamaru says lightly, body language a stark contrast to the directness of his words. “If we like it, then cool. If not, we won’t do it ever again. It’s up to you.”

Trying so hard to form any words, you place an elbow on your knee, chin finding its place in your palm. Your disbelief doesn’t quite break through Shikamaru’s relaxed exterior.

“That’s a lot of assuming you’re doing over there, Nara.” You return coolly, playing off how fast your heart is beating, and the way a warmth fills your cheeks despite the cool air.

Shikamaru snickers to himself, opening an eye to peer over at you. “You practically jumped out of your skin when I touched you.”

More heat crawls up your neck at this, and you adjust yourself to pull your knees up to your chest, hugging them. “Whatever. Your hands were just cold.”

“Mhm, sure,” Shika coos, finally pulling himself out of his lazy position. He crosses his own legs and looks at you fully, trying his best to keep a straight face.

You study him, wondering what he’s up to. God, sometimes that smug look is just so punchable. But he’s Shikamaru. Your Shika. “What is it now?”

“I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me you’re not interested. Tell me you don’t want me to touch you again.”

Swallowing discreetly, you take a deep breath. For whatever reason, your pride won’t let you say it. It won’t allow you to admit just how long you’ve been waiting for a moment like this—for Shikamaru to make his move so you don’t have to.

The conflicting feelings pull at your heart.

Dropping your knees to the same position, you rest your elbows on your legs, leaning closer to Shika. You look up at him innocently. “Shikamaru, you’re baked out of your mind.”

Shikamaru’s eyes narrow, and he mirrors you entirely. “I’m fine. Quit avoiding it.”

“What if I told you I was interested in someone else here? What if I said I wasn’t into you at all?” You ask suddenly, willing to challenge Shikamaru at his own game. “What would happen to us then?”

The light in Shikamaru’s eyes dulls at the very mention of it, yet he pulls himself together with a steady breath. “If that were the case, you wouldn’t be flustered right now.”

Your heart stammers at every syllable that comes from Shika’s mouth, itching to feel his skin against yours again. To your equal dismay and excitement, Shikamaru puts his hands out, palms open to you. Your eyes meet, and he cocks a brow.

“Well?”

Not willing to give in to Shikamaru, you place your hands in his, immediately feeling as the warmth from his skin travels up your arms. Your chest burns with the confusing feelings. You try to hide just how flustered it makes you.

“You don’t feel anything, right?” Shika begins, allowing that expectant look to creep back in again. His thumbs reach up to caress the back of your hands, touch light and soft, but carrying the weight of all the unspoken tension between you.

You close your eyes at this, wishing you could just rewind and forget about it all. The complications. The possibility of losing Shika to awkwardness. The chance that Shika is right.

“That’s what I thought,” Shikamaru murmurs lowly, letting his fingers lace with yours. He gazes at you, taking in how beautiful you look, almost copying his earlier disposition. “Besides, you’re out here with me—not in there with some loser who doesn’t deserve you.”

“Fine,” you blurt suddenly, opening your eyes once again. Noticing Shika’s slightly startled look, you continue. “Believe what you want. Maybe I have thought about it, and maybe I’m thinking about it right now. But I won’t say it. Not right now. I won’t willingly admit it and let you feel that satisfaction.”

Shikamaru searches your eyes, finding the longing he was hoping for all along. He plays with your fingers absently, letting his smirk grow slowly. The smug lift in his voice makes your skin crawl. “Have it your way, then. Just be prepared for the consequences when the tension’s so strong you can’t ignore it anymore.”

You chew the inside of your lip, already feeling the warmth as it floods your insides. “Shika—”

A nearby window slides open, making you jump, and Shikamaru smoothly pulls his arms back, passing it off as him giving you something. The party sounds flood outside like a siren song.

Kiba pops his head through the window, visibly buzzed. “Come on, you stoners! Get in here!”

Kiba is suddenly pushed to the side, with Ino squeezing her shoulders through the small space just enough to see you. “Shikamaru! Stop hogging y/n all night. Join us!”

“What a drag,” Shika mumbles, grabbing what’s left of the joint and grinding it into the dark shingles. He stands up and holds a hand out for you, eyes still carrying his hope and deepest feelings within them. “C’mon then, y/n.”

Taking his hand, Shika helps you back inside once Kiba and Ino move, and soon enough, you’re back in the thick of it with only your best friend on your mind. Ino and TenTen dance with you in the living room, surrounded by the others from the leaf.

Music blares from the speakers, eliciting your swinging hips and every movement that frees you. You laugh and dance with your friends, trying your best to forget about the way Shika looked at you, and the way your stomach filled with nerves each time he spoke.

It wasn’t bad nerves of course, but ones of anticipation. Of want.

Even as he stands against the wall ignoring whatever Lee tries to tell him, his eyes are on you. Waiting. Shikamaru lifts a cup to his mouth again and again, wondering if what he said was helpful in any way. Did he make you feel better—or worse about the obvious sexual tension between you?

You know better.

Shikamaru was right about everything, but a small part of you is too scared to take the leap.

Until you have a drink and let loose with your girls. When the music shifts to something quieter, and the small group drifts apart to either relax, chat, or grab another drink, you find Shika easily.

With his arms crossed, he holds his empty cup lazily to the side, noticing how you approach him at last. His brow cocks.

“Can I help you?”

“Shika, I—” you stumble over to him, laying it on thick for the sake of it. When you nearly trip over the carpet, Shikamaru puts his hands out to catch you, gentle grip securing around your forearms.

“Whoa, you’re a lot more inebriated than I thought. Are you gonna live through the rest of the night?” His brows knit together while he searches your face for any kind of discomfort, concerned despite his passive tone.

You nod absently, reaching for the zipper on his jacket. A hazy smile takes over your lips. “I’m fine, Shika, I—”

“Okay,” Shikamaru sighs, swatting your hand away lightly before putting an arm against your back to guide you through the room. “We’re gonna find a spot to sober you up, alright?”

You let Shikamaru lead you through the house, where he stops in the kitchen to rinse out his cup and replace it with water. Then, he pulls you into a spare bedroom, out of reach from the rest of the party.

Sitting on the bed, you watch as Shika closes the door behind him, then holds the cup out to you. The room is almost deafeningly quiet compared to the rest of the house.

“Here, drink some of this. You’ll feel better.”

Taking the cup from Shikamaru, you laugh quietly against the rim and take a sip. The mattress shifts under the weight of Shika sitting next to you, arm propping himself up.

He narrows his eyes at you, close enough for his shoulder to brush against your own. The heat radiating from his body makes your head spin—not because of the alcohol. “What’s so funny?”

“I really am fine, Shika. I had one drink,” you say with amusement laced in your voice. Looking at him through your lashes, you can’t help but find his puzzled look amusing. “But I appreciate you going all mother hen on me.”

Shikamaru stares at you a moment longer, studying you further. “What are you going on about?”

“I was pretending to be drunk as an excuse for you to slip away from the party. It went pretty smoothly if you ask me.”

Shikamaru wipes the deadpanned expression from his face and cracks into a small laugh as well, finally understanding. He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. “You could’ve said anything and I would’ve left, you know that right?”

A blush deepens in your cheeks, suddenly wearing down your more confident exterior. “I mean, yeah. But I saw how intently Lee was talking to you—or, at you.”

Shikamaru scoffs, taking the cup from you smoothly to set it on the floor. When he faces you again, Shika places a cool hand against your cheek, watching how you shudder under his touch.

A grin plays on his lips. “Lee was saying all kinds of things, but I wasn’t listening. I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

Chewing the inside of your lip, you can’t help but feel the arousal swimming within you, soaking your underwear easily. You lean into Shika’s comforting hand. Your lashes flutter together as your eyes close. “What were you thinking about?”

Shikamaru considers his words carefully before saying them, letting the adoration sprawl across his cheeks. His thumb carefully strokes your skin. “How you looked so free and beautiful with the girls, not caring about anything else. I was wondering if I fucked things up between us. What if I killed the special thing we had?”

“No, Shika. You didn’t,” you hum quietly, just above a whisper, looking up at Shikamaru. “I was too busy worrying about what could go wrong if we gave in, rather than how much better this could be. I realized we might be capable of being more than friends.”

Shikamaru’s eyes search yours, soaking in the potential of what you said. His hand moves to cup your jaw, just barely pulling you closer. “For the record, I don’t want to just fuck and get it over with. I wanna see where this can go between us—for real.”

Your heart leaps at this, noting how sweet and vulnerable Shika seems, being a contrast to his usual self. It almost sounds too good to be true.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you hurry your lips against Shika’s, catching him off guard. Brushing against him, you feel how Shikamaru relaxes under the affection, pulling you closer.

Your lips move in perfect sync, surprised by how right it feels. You deepen the kiss, more urgent than before.

Shika mirrors your desire as he shifts on the mattress, caging you against it with both arms, leaning into the kiss. He carefully pushes you back, allowing you to land on the mattress. His lips merge perfectly with your own, stoking the fire between you.

“Goddamn,” Shika mutters against your lower lip before leaving kisses down your neck.

You try your best to catch your breath, despite how the soft whimpers leave your mouth with each one of his careful affections. Your eyes flutter shut once more, leaning into the bed. “Shika...”

“I told you it would be too much,” Shikamaru murmurs huskily into your skin, trailing a finger down your body, reaching the hem of your bottoms. “The tension. The need.”

Shivers travel down your body in Shika’s wake, pausing just above the place you want him most. Your arms snake around his neck, pulling his mouth back to your own. You both moan into the kiss, not holding back anymore. It heats up quickly, urging Shika to unbutton your bottoms.

You swallow back the anticipation of his fingers creeping just above your panty line, so worked up you can’t help but tremble beneath him.

Your breath hitches once his fingertips slip beneath the lace fabric, drifting toward your soaked core. Gasping at the initial touch, your back arches to push yourself closer to Shika’s hand.

“Oh my god, Shika!” You heave, biting your lip at the burst of pleasure his fingertips give you with each careful roll against your clit. His lips hover just above yours, teasing you further.

“Mmm, so wet for me already, huh?” Shika taunts lightly, catching your bottom lip between his teeth.

You groan loudly, feeling as his fingers dip inside you, just enough to gather your arousal, spreading it across the length of your pussy. Each stroke of his fingers is enough to drive you wild, beyond the point of needing any foreplay.

You cup Shikamaru’s cheeks with your hands, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before you speak bluntly. He stares at you, panting. “Shika, I swear to christ. Just fuck me already.”

Shika’s demeanour switches immediately, struck by your words. His eyes darken, and he pulls back enough to yank your pants down your legs, eyeing those lace panties. Shikamaru works his own clothes off while you remove your shirt and bra, leaving him speechless.

Shikamaru edges his boxers down his legs before he grabs your calves, pulling you to the edge of the bed. “So beautiful,” he murmurs, catching a moan in his throat as he strokes himself a few times.

You’re left to salivate at the sight of him, gripping his own cock while he stands before you, perfectly chiseled with his head thrown back. When his eyes land on you again, your cheeks burn, alongside the desire in your belly.

With a hand against the side of your thigh, he uses the other to line himself up, pressing his knees into the mattress. His chest heaves, overwhelmed by the sight of you. He pushes your panties to the side and presses his swollen tip into your soaked heat.

Shikamaru’s jaw immediately falls open at the pressure of your lush walls around him, welcoming his cock with fervour. He slowly sinks into you, watching how your body reacts to his every movement.

“You’re so tight,” Shika gasps, leaning closer to the mattress, lips inches from yours. He swallows back a groan, stiffening at the intensity of your pussy.

“S-Shika...” you trail off, noting once he bottoms out, filling you completely. Your back arches, allowing one of his arms to slip underneath you, bringing your bodies closer. The breath is pulled straight from your chest.

Shikamaru begins a careful, lewd rhythm in and out of your perfect body, clutching onto your thigh for support. He rocks his hips into you, face pinched with pleasure. “Fuck!”

Your hands trail down Shika’s muscled chest, pausing the moment his thrusts pick up in pace, frozen by the sudden influx of pleasure. The moans tumble from your lips, triggered by Shika’s deliciously filthy movements.

Shika’s groans fills the room alongside your own sounds, and he grips both thighs, slamming into you with more ferocity, made desperate by the way your body moves for him, demanding more each time.

You whimper with every slap of his skin against your own, caught off guard by Shikamaru’s force, and how he won’t stop until you’re both maxed out.

He fucks into you with everything he has, leaning in to swallow back your moans. Your breaths synchronize, too wrapped up in the ministrations to care about your volume.

The moans tear from your throat like a chant, allowing his name to fall from your lips again and again. Your fingers dig into his back, urging him to keep the pace, feeling the coil tighten within your belly.

“Fuck, you feel so good, baby,” Shikamaru hums in your ear, burying his face in your neck, focusing on his unrelenting thrusts.

Shikamaru bucks into you, sensing as your high threatens, looming overhead. Feeling the tension in your body once the moan catches in your throat, he brings a hand down to stroke your clit in time with his thrusts.

Blinded by the sudden bliss, you clench around Shika’s cock, unknowingly milking him of everything he’s worth. You cry out for him, clutching his body for dear life. Everything is wiped from your vision while you hit cloud nine, letting the wave of pleasure cascade over your body.

Shikamaru’s thrusts grow sloppy through your orgasm, until he can’t take it any longer. Your perfect sounds push Shika over the edge, and he pulls out quickly, shooting his load on your belly. He grunts, flexing with each wave of euphoria.

Shikamaru drops down, barely holding himself up above you, panting heavily. He rests his forehead against yours, running a hand through your dishevelled hair. Shika swallows hard, blown away by the whole experience.

“Worth trying again?”

You nod quickly, peppering Shika’s face with kisses. “Obviously.”

You both chuckle at your spent states, and Shika eventually finds something to clean you up with, wrapping you both up in a blanket. Shikamaru holds you close, waiting until the party’s over.

#shikamaru x y/n #shikamaru oneshot #shikamaru x reader #naruto shikamaru #shikamaru nara #shikamaru fluff #shikamaru smut #shikamaru fanfiction #shikamaru imagines

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moldymacrodose · 3 years

Text

Jinx x gn!Reader

Next Story ->

Writing Masterlist ->

a/n: I got this idea while laying around in bed and stayed up late to write it. Enjoy!

Prompt: You're one of Silco's underlings and notice that Jinx doesn't have a jacket on.

You step out onto the roof of The Last Drop. You take out a cigarette and place it between your lips. You press the button on your lighter and hear the sound of metal scraping against metal, but the flame doesn't flicker. You let out an exasperated sigh.

"Come. On", you groan in annoyance. You try again and your face finally lights up in the orange flame of the lighter. You let it lick at the tip of your cigarette for a second and then slip the lighter back into your pocket.

The air outside is cold and as crisp as it can get in Zaun. You close your eyes for a second, savouring the taste of your cancer stick and the feeling of a light wind blowing in your face from the left. You can almost imagine being anywhere else but here.

You've done that since you've been a kid. You'd close your eyes and imagine yourself on a pirate ship sailing trough the seas or as a bird flying freely above Piltover. You'd take in all the sensations around you and try to fit them into the fantasy. Except most of the time, the illusion shattered when the sounds of your home would reach your ears. It wasn't different this time.

Some drunkards arguing with the bouncers downstairs are about to get their asses handed to them. You open your eyes and chuckle at the thought. God, you haven't gotten to kick some ass in a while, have you?

Protecting Silco's shimmer shipments wasn't always the most interesting job. Sure, sometimes the flying cock roaches would show up, but ever since Jinx started coming with, the attacks were less frequent. It probably had to do with so many of them dying at her hands. That girl was a complete nut case.

You walk over to the edge and start tiptoeing along the line of the building. You're peaking down in hopes of getting to see the action.

"If you want to jump, you should just do it. The suspense is killing me."

You freeze right where you are and look over in the direction the voice came from. You notice Jinx standing with her back to a wall, arms folded on her chest.

"Oh, it's you", you say and jump off the ledge back onto the proper roof. Your cigarette is almost all burned out, so you spit it out and step on it. You look the girl up and down and raise an eyebrow. "Where's your jacket, huh?"

"Don't need one", she shrugs.

'Yeah, right.', you think. You stuff the pack of cigarettes and the lighter into your pants pocket and then shrug your own leather jacket from your shoulders. You throw it at her. The girl catches it effortlessly and shoots you a questioning look.

"Silco will feed me to the sharks, if you catch a cold like this. Put it on."

She rolls her eyes at you. "Stop acting like you're not literally my age."

"I don't have a rich, powerful daddy to take care of me. It makes you grow up faster."

Her face scrunches in annoyance at your words. You're honestly surprised that she lets you talk to her like this. She's not the type of person to take shit from anyone. She eventually scoffs and puts the jacket on. The leather fits well around her slim torso. You have a similar build after all.

You suddenly hear the click of a gun and you realize that you're being aimed at with a gun. "I should shoot you in the face one of these days. I bet you'll look funny", she says with a smirk, her head tilted a bit to the side.

You glance at the hand she's holding the gun with. Her finger isn't even on the trigger, so you step forward in her direction until the barrel is pressed tight against your chest. You stand there like this for a while staring the girl down. She won't hurt you.

She would've already done it, if she wanted to. You know that she had plenty of chances in the past. One stray bullet would've done the trick. Yet, for some reason, the girl only ever spat empty threats at you. If this would go on for any longer, you'd start to think that she liked you or something.

"You look surprisingly good in this", you smile. "You can keep it."

Without waiting for a response you take a step back and start heading towards the door back to the bar.

"Yeah, like I'd wear your old rags!", she shouts after you.

"You're welcome!"

A few days pass before you meet her again on one of the jobs you're running for Silco. You notice her wearing the jacket you gave her and wink at her. She shows you her middle finger, but later that day you catch her hugging the jacket close around herself. Maybe she did like you. And maybe you liked her back.

Next Story ->

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#jinx #jinx x reader #jinx arcane #arcane #netflix #arcane netflix #i wrote this just for fun #no judging!#mold writes #arcane x reader

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tommyspeakycap · 3 years

Note

Please could you write one with Grealish where you’re a Chelsea fan so refuse to wear a Villa shirt with his name on, and for bants Mount gets you a Chelsea shirt with his name and Jack gets all pouty?

omg I love this idea!! gets very smutty at the end ;) enjoy!

Villa Boy

A love for Chelsea had been something you adapted and grew to into as a young girl. Your dad was never entirely sure how to bond with his only daughter and your mother told him just to include you in what he loved. And so came your season pass with a little lanyard that still hung proudly in your childhood room right next to a shirt mounted in a glass photo frame with Frank Lampard's signature scrawled along the eight on the back.

It was actually how you met Jack in the first place, which is the only one single reason that he has for liking your club affiliation. Otherwise, it was one of the most annoying things in his world. It was often a source of teasing and taunting, you saying your team was better than his and him swaggering home and gloating for weeks when Aston Villa take a win over Chelsea. It was the bane of his life that he couldn't get you into that claret and blue. Not even to sleep in or wear around the house, you just would not dare put it on.

"I would feel my dad's shame emanate through the walls, maybe it would kill him. And then I'd lose every morsel of self respect I have, so not a chance." You'd snort, not even giving him a window for more persuasion.

His England shirt? that was fair game. You'd wear that with pride, to the shops, round the house, walking the dog and especially at his games but there was just absolutely no chance of getting you into his Villa shirt.

Though Jack may never admit it, it was one of his biggest wants. Seeing you in his England short was nothing short revolutionary - he'd said. It only made him want to see you in the Villa shirt more. That was his childhood club, getting to captain that was one of his biggest achievements and while he knew you were absolutely proud of him. You were the most proud and encouraging person in his life and there were no ifs buts or maybes in that.

But my god he knew you'd look fit in that claret and blue.

No matter how much it annoyed him, he wouldn't get you out of the darker blue home jersey of your favourite club no matter what he did. It was something he had come to accept over the course of your relationship, it was by and large fine.

Until that jersey said someone else's name across the back.

"Awh come on!" He yelps, mouth dropped open as you emerge into the kitchen with your toothbrush hanging out your mouth and only one shoe on. Jack knows you slept in because he switched off your alarm last night in hopes you'd miss the game, but Jack dropped a bowl when he tripped over the dog and woke you up anyway.

You going to the Villa v Chelsea game in a Chelsea shirt was bad enough, but now he's just clocked something that's sent his mind firing a mile a minute.

MOUNT

Not a fucking chance.

"Oi, you!" He calls out, throwing himself off the chair at the kitchen island, his feet fumbling over one another to get after you as quickly as possible. "What's up, Jack?" You hum innocently, a sweet smile playing on your lips as you stand in the doorway shoving on your other shoe. "Is something the matter?"

Jack gawks, opening and closing his mouth awaiting words to find his frazzled brain. "Yes!" He squeaks, a tone you'd never heard from a man before, let along your very deep voiced man. "There's no way that you're- what are you doing? Come back." He groans, his feet shuffling after you as you walk back through the house to find your car keys. "We're going to be late if you don't hurry up." You note sweetly, Jack drops his jaw. "We're not going anywhere until-"

"Hi Mason, yeah I got it. Fits like glove actually. Yeah, we're just leaving now. I'll meet you in the car park."

Jack's face was literally priceless. His agape, eye's wild, brows furrowed. A pout settles itself firmly into his lips the second he sits in the car with his arms folded over his chest like a toddler. You have to physically stifle a laugh at him as you beam the entire drive to Villa Park.

"M' gonna burn that." He states. You cast him a glance out the corner of your eye as you pull into the players parking. A snigger escapes despite your very best efforts and Jack resumes his frontward glare at the dashboard with his lips in a firm line. "Gonna win this game, burn that shirt and knock Mount flat."

You know he's not being serious about Mason. He's very fond of the player when they're on the same side. But you had become very close friends with him through the mutual love for the club he plays at and Jack absolutely despised that. He wasn't the kind to be bothered by your friends even to a moderate degree and even here he trusted you, he just fucking hated the concept of another club and another mans name over your back. It ticked him right off.

You know this very well. You knew what you were getting into the second Mason handed you that dark blue shirt. It was all fun and games really. You loved the club but you only wore the Mount shirt to get under Jack's skin. You thought it might even throw off his game a little.

The second he stormed onto the pitch and scored a goal 5 minutes into the game, you figured that might not be the case.

Every opportunity, every goal, every opening and every single tackle, Jack turned to you. He turned to you with fire in those brown eyes, sending you a cheeky wink. His passion, the very serious look etched onto his features and the way he was looking at you was fuelling a very different kind of fire in you.

Jack played the whole 90 minutes and he took Mason Mount down at every single given opportunity in a careful way that just evaded him getting a yellow card. He finished hot, sweaty and with a man of the match trophy for 2 goals and one assist with a majority of the game spent with the ball at his feet.

The 3 nil win should have been a lot more disappointing that it was, but he just looked so fucking good. The sweat stuck his hair to his temples, his muscles tight and protruding through exertion as he walks off the field after shaking every hand.

You're standing just outside the tunnel with Mason and John McGinn standing with you, talking about the match mostly. John makes a joke about you wearing that top more often, seems to be a good luck charm for Villa even if it's the opposing team. Mason scoffs and says; "More like an angry boyfriend wants to murder me charm."

That's when Jack appears and John barely gets his mouth open to greet him before Jack shoulders through the two footballers. His mouth finds your immediately. Hot, passionate, fiery and filled with his dominance.

He pulls back and grabs onto your hand tightly with his back to the two midfielders. Jack twists his body round with a daggering glare.

"Nobody," Jack growls, "fucks around with girl."

His tone, deep and gravelly, only serves to dampen your panties further in a way that makes your clench your legs together.

Jack's done with pouting, the teasing can resume later. For now, he's dragging you by the hand to a darkened conference room. Hiking you up his body before setting you on the table that sits at a miraculously perfect height that places you right against his bulge.

He wastes no time whatsoever ripping down your leggings and panties, his fingers finding you immediately to swirl pressured motions around your sensitive clit. "Ahh, who's got you moaning like that baby?" He rumbles, words vibrating through your lips.

"You Jack, oh god, you!" You pant as his fingers leave you feeling empty and needy. Jack easily tugs down his shorts and pulls himself out of his boxers to line up with your entrance. His victory sex is hot always, but usually there was a dry spell after a Villa v Chelsea game, so it had never been this hot.

"And who am I?" He grunts, pushing himself into you to hear your shuddering squeak of pleasure. He lays you down over the table, hands following you under your shirt to carefully and tentatively swirl his fingers over your nipples from under your bra. "Oh god, Jack," you move your hands to the hem of the blue shirt to lift it over your head, but Jack's hands stop them before you have the chance.

"No, no, no," he chastises with a smirk, "Want to fuck you in their colours," He continues to thrust roughly into you with each heavy breath, mouth and squeak that escapes you only spurring him on. "Want to fuck you with his name on your back, baby. Remind you who you belong to."

You shudder in pleasure with the feeling of his lips attaching to your neck, letting out a shaky, heavy breath as he snakes a hand down between you to swirl those circles around your more pleasureful spot once again. He knows the intricate details of your body better than any man ever has and he always ensures he uses it to his advantage, but nothing like today. His lips on the sweet spot of your neck, hitting and stretching you perfect between your legs with masterful work of his fingers pushing you closer and closer with each second that passed.

"Fuck , I'm so close-"

"Who's making you feel so good, baby?" He pants, skin slapping and heavy breathing echoing around the room. "You, Jack. You!"

"Not a Chelsea boy eh?" He grunts, teeth nibbling down over your collarbone. "Not a Chelsea boy baby is it?" He reiterates, pairing the movements of his hand only until you snap open your eyes again, "No Jack, it's all you. not a- oh god!"

Jack breathes a chuckle into your ear with an appreciative hum to follow.

"Yeah, Villa Captain isn't it? You're screaming out for a Villa boy, ain't ya?" He coaxes, edging you further and further as he speeds up to a pace he's never quite hit you with before. The adrenaline of the match, the irritation of that blue jersey and the passion for the win colliding to give him an energy he's never yet had. Watching your eyes roll beneath him wearing that stupid blue entices him on, only makes him want to pleasure you more if even possible. "Yes! Yes, I am, oh god just don't stop."

"Go on then," he encourages, voice deep in your ear. "Come undone for the Villa Captain baby."

He didn't have to tell you twice, that was for sure. The sight of your eyes fluttering, the feeling of you clenching around him with a steam of, "Fuck yes Jack!" sends him tumbling over the edge of his orgasm right after you, a strangle cry out of your name as it wracks through him.

When he lays down beside you in the table that very surpassingly withstood the pace of your antics, you're both breathless and shining with sweat. Your legs feel like jelly as you still throb from the pleasure. Jack turns his head to you with a lazy smirk, brushing some hair off your forehead as you turn to look at him.

"Well, I certainly do love a Villa boy."

#jack grealish smut #jack grealish prompt #jack grealish imagines #jack grealish x reader #jack grealish imagine #england national team imagine #england national team #footballer fics #football fics #footie fics

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just-dreaming-marvel · 3 years

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Safe

MAIN MASTERLIST

Tony Stark x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3,870ish

Request: Hi so this is my first time actually talking about this but I have PTSD from when I went to a party and 2 guys sexually assaulted me. I think about it a lot epically when I'm in crowds and such thinking they may be near me. I know Tony deals with PTSD but from a different situations and I was wondering how he would help his girlfriend with it? & I just really wanna feel safe when it's so hard for me to right now

Warnings: sexual assault (not explicit), mention of rape and rape kit, PTSD

Notes: I hope that did this request justice. Please read carefully. The first “section” (divided by the ~~~) tells about the sexual assault incident. It doesn’t go too in depth. But if you don’t feel comfortable reading it, please skip that part and read the rest. (If you chose to skip that part, begin reading after the first ~~~.)

You couldn’t stop the tears from cascading down your cheeks. Even though you knew how it looked, especially as you sat in the corner of the subway car. Trying to get yourself to disappear from the world. Mascara had joined your tears cause you hadn’t thought to wear a waterproof type. Why would you? You never thought that it would happen to you. Yes, you’ve heard the stories, you’d been warned, and you even knew people who had it happen to you. But maybe you didn’t think it could ever since you became an Avenger. Ever since you’d meet Tony and he promised to protect you forever.

You went to the party knowing that you couldn’t drink, at least not very much. There was an important mission tomorrow, everyone on the team was needed. That was also the reason why you didn’t want to go to the party at first. But Tony had convinced you, saying that you needed to hang out with your old friends.

The old friends had met you in front of where the party was. Greeting you with large smiles and hugs. The first few hours were fine. But the people got drunker and the music got louder. And before you knew it you had been separated from your friends. Two guys were next to you, basically on top of you because of how crowded the space was.

They both tried to get you to go someplace else with them. You kept refusing. They kept pushing. Eventually, they didn’t care to get you into a more secluded setting. They shoved a drink down your throat, almost immediately putting you in a dazed state. One of them went behind you while the other stayed in front. They sexually assaulted you right then and there. With no one caring. One was always holding you up with a hand around your mouth, so that the other could be inside you. Then they would switch or join the other.

Slowly, they were moving you to the side of the room. You didn’t know what to do, how to react. You were in such a state of shock that all your training went out the window. Whatever they gave you wasn’t helping as well. They enjoyed you for far too long before literally tossing you in the alley outside of where you were.

There you laid, trying to get yourself to move. Eventually you did. As you got up, you noted your lack of undergarments. All you had on was your dress. Your purse was missing as well. Your whole body was shaking as you headed out of the alley to the nearest subway station.

You hadn’t even noticed the tears until you were sitting in the subway car. Getting weird looks. You didn’t care though. All you wanted to do was go home and wash this night away.

~~~

“Sir, it appears Miss L/N is back,” JARVIS informed Tony. He was up late in his lab, not being able to sleep without you safely in the Tower.

“Thanks, J,” Tony responded. “Tell her—“

“There’s something wrong.” Tony’s head snapped up. JARVIS had never spoken like that. Spoken with just concern. “I’m bringing her to you.”

Tony rushed to the elevator, already knowing not to question JARVIS. He waited anxiously for the elevator to open. And when it did, his heart completely shattered. You were hugging yourself, pushed up against the corner of the elevator. You were on the ground, your face a mess.

“Y/N!” Tony exclaimed.

You flinched. You looked up at him, but you weren’t seeing him. Your eyes were red and glassed over, and not just because of the tears you were shedding. Tony crouched down in front of you, careful not to get into your space.

“Honey… wanna tell me what’s going on?” You shook your head, still not looking at him. “Alright, that’s okay. Can I help you up? I think you need to be checked out.”

“No!” You squeaked, pushing yourself further into the corner.

“Y/N, I’m not going to hurt you. Have I ever?”

You breathed raggedly, trying to get your brain to form coherent thoughts. “N-noo…”

“Then can I carry you out of the elevator?”

It took you a moment, but eventually you nodded. Tony let out a breath of relief before quickly getting his arms situated to pick you up. As he did, your dress moved up, revealing that you had no underwear on. Tony’s heart clenched and he had to repress a growl building in his throat. You didn’t need to tell him what happened anymore, he could easily guess. And after he was done helping you, he was going to make sure whoever did this to you paid.

You were trembling in his arms as he carried you out of the elevator and into his lab. Tony set you down on a clean work bench and watched you curl in on yourself. He turned to his monitors, taking a deep breath before he freaked out. He typed quickly on his keyboard, notifying Wanda and Natasha of the situation and to hurry on up to the lab. He then contacted the Tower’s female doctor, requesting her to the lab immediately.

Wanda and Natasha were in the lab faster than Tony had expected. He had moved to your side, trying to figure out what to do. You were still crying and partially dazed.

“Y/N,” Wanda called sweetly, appearing next to your head. “You’re in shock. May I help you?”

“I… I don’t know…” you mumbled.

“I won’t do anything without your permission. I just want you to feel some peace, get some rest.”

“….okay….”

“Before Wanda does anything,” Natasha cut in. She paused, briefly glancing at the other two. “We need your verbal consent to do a rape kit.”

You clenched your eyes shut as a sob tore through your whole being. Your heart was racing dangerously as you began to struggle to breath.

“Sir, it seems that Y/N is panicking,” JARVIS said.

“No, shit, J!” Tony responded. “Hey, honey, hey.” He bent down to be closer to your face. “I need you to breath or to allow Wanda to help you. It’s your choice. Nothing will be done without your consent.”

Tony gripped your hands close and ever so lovingly. You allowed yourself to look into Tony’s pleading brown eyes. You knew that he would never hurt you, he never had. Shakily, you nodded.

“Yes,” you rasped. “Help me.”

Tony pulled your hands to his lips, kissing them. “Of course, sweetheart.”

“Y/N, we need your verbal consent for the rape kit,” Natasha reminded, gently.

“Okay,” you breathed out. “You can do the rape kit.”

Wanda’s red streams of power floated around your head, putting you into a peaceful, dreamless sleep. And that’s when Tony let loose. He turned around and threw the items off his desk with a shout.

“Tony! Tony!” Natasha exclaimed, moving to stop the billionaire. She grabbed him from behind, turning him around and pulling him in for a hug.

“I failed her,” Tony cried softly. “I failed to protect her.”

“You didn’t do anything. No one could have seen this coming.”

“Excuse me,” the doctor exited the elevator. “I was called up here.”

“Yes, yes,” Tony nodded, putting his sunglasses over his eyes. “The patient, Y/N, is on the table. She’s given verbal consent for a rape kit and I would like her blood to be drawn. I want to see if she was drugged.”

“Cause there should have been more bruises and fight marks,” Natasha whispered, putting the pieces together.

She knew you. She trained with you. You were capable of taking down Steve and Bucky on your best day. How did you not fight this? Natasha and Tony both knew you would have, so there had to be something that prevented you from doing so.

“Alright, I’ll get right to work.”

~~~

When you began coming to, you noticed how badly your head was pounding. You were confused initially, at your surroundings. The white and gray walls. The twin bed and the monitors beeping. But then it all came flooding back to you. You gasped, sitting up dramatically and frantically looking around the room. The monitor beside you began beeping faster and louder.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey,” Tony said, rushing into the room. He sat on the edge of your bed and set his hands on your upper arms. “Breathe, honey, breathe. You’re in the med-bay, you’re safe.”

“I… they…” You stuttered as you tried to catch your breath and your racing thoughts. “I should have… I could have…”

“Whatever you’re thinking, sweetheart, I need you to stop. It was not your fault. You were drugged.”

“I-I know… they stuffed it down my throat… I… I kept saying no… But there was two of them…”

“You don’t have to talk about it right now,” Tony cupped your cheeks, brushing his calloused thumbs across your cheeks to catch the tears. “I don’t want you to get worked up when you’ve just gone through a trauma.”

“I… I… they…” You were getting worked up, which was definitely something you did not need right now.

“Sssshhhh,” Tony coed. “You’re okay, you’re safe now.”

“Good morning,” the doctor greeted, walking into the room. “How are we feeling this morning?”

“I… I don’t know how to answer that,” you responded quietly.

The doctor gave a sympathetic smile. “That’s to be expected. Are you hurting anywhere?”

You sucked in your lip and thought about it. You did hurt. Your heart, your head. Every area they touched burned, like a phantom pain. But do you tell them that? Do you freak them out and worry them more? Or do you lie?

“I… uh…” You stuttered. “It…” The doctor and Tony eyed each other, worriedly. “Um… y-yes…”

Both the doctor and Tony were surprised at how you were actually honest with them. But they weren’t going to question it.

“Okay,” the doctor jot something down on the tablet she was holding. “Do you mind sharing where exactly you’re feeling the pain?”

“I… um… no…” you said.

“That’s okay. I’ll just order you a general painkiller, hopefully that will help.”

“Is it okay if I take her to our room?” Tony wondered.

“Yes, I can check in on her there and she would be more comfortable, I’m guessing.”

“Please,” you pleaded quietly.

You needed some place more private and where you felt safe. Tony and yours shared room had always been your safe place. Tony had even shared with you that he felt the same after you had moved in. In that room you two had shared very intimate moments. Physically, emotionally, mentally. It was a place where both of you could let your guard down and completely be yourselves.

Tony leaned down and placed a kiss to the top of your head. “I’ll go get a wheelchair, sweetheart.”

Tony quickly grabbed a wheelchair and gently placed you in the chair. He took the blanket that he had laid on you when you were on the table, and placed it on you. You curled onto the chair, pulling the blanket around you. He thanked the doctor before pushing you to the bedroom.

Once you were there, Tony placed you onto the bed. He helped you under the covers before sitting beside you.

“What can I help you with, dear?” Tony asked softly. He took your hand, rubbing his thumb along the top of it. “Do you need anything? Food? Water?”

“Actually… a shower…” you responded. “I need to wash all this off me.”

“Okay, okay. Let me go get it all set up and started and then I’ll help you.”

He rushed off before you could get the courage to tell him that you didn’t want his help. Not that you didn’t appreciate it. But you couldn’t stand the thought of him, or any other man for that matter, touching your skin or see you naked. Tony was back faster than you thought he would be. He didn’t take any notice of your glossy eyes as he picked you up, took you into the bathroom, and set you on the edge of the tub.

“I’m going to help you out of your clothes, okay?” Tony was careful, making sure that he had your permission before he did anything.

“N-noo,” you squeaked. “I… sorry…”

Every time Tony thought his heart couldn’t shatter anymore, you’d do something to prove him wrong. “Okay, honey. That’s okay. I’ll just leave the door ajar and be outside if you need anything.” He placed a quick kiss on your forehead. “Right outside.”

Then he left you. You slowly removed your clothes, hating seeing the dress you used to love. And the skin you used to be so confident in and let Tony worship didn’t physical look different, but it sure felt different.

When you stepped under the streaming, hot water, you let it pound against your back. You were unable to move for longer than you cared to admit, so stuck inside your mind. Reliving those horrific memories that were last night.

“Honey,” Tony’s voice filled the shower, with help from JARVIS, “your heart rate is escalating. Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah-h,” you replied.

“Are you sure?”

No, you thought. But you weren’t about to tell him that. “I’ll be out in a minute!”

You washed your hair before you began to scrub your body. And scrub and scrub. Until your skin was red. You turned off the water before stepping out and drying yourself. Thankfully, Tony had left clothes for you. A pair of his boxers and your favorite shirt of his.

While you had been in the shower, Tony was leaning his back against the wall next to the door. Trying to keep his tears at bay. He couldn’t let you know how this was effecting him, because he couldn’t imagine how bad this was all effecting you.

When you finally came out of the bathroom, the emptiness in your eyes scared Tony the most. He wordlessly helped you into bed before getting into the bed himself. He moved over to you and tried to bring you into him, only for you to immediately tense up.

“I’m sorry,” you rasped. You clenched your eyes shut as you tried not to release any tears. “I’m so sorry.”

Tony’s arms immediately retracted. “Please don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s going to take time and I’ll be here every step of the way.”

~~~

The nightmares that occurred made you feel so bad. You woke up Tony every night. But all he would say is that you did the same for him, so he’s just returning the favor. It was the truth. Tony’s PTSD used to keep him up at night, but with you and therapy he had been gaining positive strides. So he was determined to help you do the same. He found you a therapist, which took some time for you to open up to, but you did. He didn’t touch you without your permission, and made sure everyone else did the same.

It took you almost six months for you to get physical with Tony again. But there was no funny business about it, you two were still taking it slow. You were slowly healing, slowly feeling safe again. Though sometimes for every step forward you took, you felt like you would then take four steps back. There was one thing you hadn’t made progress with at all yet. Crowds.

Crowds had you terrified. Always checking your surroundings for the men that had harmed you. Or for any person that might think of doing the same. That had gotten you taken off missions, for the foreseeable future. You had barely left the tower since that night. Only getting fresh air from the balconies and rooftop. Tony, because of you, had even stopped hosting parties. Team movie nights even took a while to start back up. Not wanting to rush you. But you had finally began to warm up to the team as a whole again.

You had successfully avoided crowds, parties, and galas of any sorts for months. Well, until the government had decided to honor the Avengers and it became a requirement for you to show up to the celebration gala.

“I’m going to be by your side all night,” Tony promised.

He had a hand above your knee as you two sat close together in one of the limos taking the Avengers to the gala. You two were decked out in some of your best attire, which could usually lift your mood because of how extremely handsome Tony looked. But it was failing to tonight. Your palms were sweaty, you kept having to wipe them against your dress. Your heart was trying to not race and you were trying to keep your mind from spiraling out of control.

“Hey, look at me,” Tony gently directed. You let out a shaky breath as you did. He could see the fear in your eyes, while you could see the overwhelming love in his. “Natasha and Clint have done a sweep of the building. JARVIS, Maria, and I have checked over the guest list. Everything’s going to me alright.”

“I… I don’t know—“

“We don’t have to stay long. After they hand us that bloody paperweight, we’re out, okay? I have Happy on stand-by with the limo to take us wherever you want. Plus, I won’t leave your side.”

You swallowed. “Let’s get out of this car before I change my mind.”

Tony pecked your lips. “You got it.”

Tony exited out the door on his side, the flashing lights of the paparazzi beginning. You took another shaky, deep breath as Tony ran around to your side to open the door. He held his hand out to you, firmly taking yours once it was placed. He pulled you from the car and guided you through the crowd of people. Yes, they were all behind barriers. But they were shouting your name, shouting questions. It wasn’t a secret that you hadn’t appeared on a mission, let alone outside the Tower, in months.

Tony paused you two a few times for pictures. Always keeping you tightly to his side. He’d press a kiss somewhere on your open skin and whisper about how good you were doing and how proud he was of you. You kept taking deep breaths and tried to focus solely on Tony. He noticed each breath, responded with a gentle squeeze or a kiss.

Finally, you arrived inside. It was a large area, very grand with a stage and set tables on the other end of it. With a dance floor in the middle and a bar on the side. You would have appreciated it all more if there weren’t so many people. The further you entered, the harder time you had not checking your surroundings. The itch to do so was driving you mad. The moment you turned your head to check over your shoulder, Tony turned it to face him.

“Your breathings picking up, sweetheart,” he whispered. “I need you to match mine.”

“I—I—I can’t… we need to go home,” you stammered, letting your fears get the best of you.

“Yes, you can. We’ve been working on this, we’ll be gone within the hour.”

“I…” Your head snapped towards the sound of a booming voice, causing you to almost jump out of your skin.

“Woah there.” Tony held onto you. “It’s just Thor telling the congress people a story. You’re okay.”

“I really don’t think I can do this, Tony.”

“What do you always say when I begin to panic?”

“That’s different. You—“

“No arguing. What do you tell me?”

“I tell you that you can get through it. That I will go through it will you.”

“And?”

“I tell you how proud I am of you and how much I love you.”

“And what do I tell you?”

“That I can do it. That you’re proud of how far I’ve come and how you’re going through it with me.”

“Exactly. The fact that you got out of the limo was a huge accomplishment. And that you’re standing in this building with people all around you is an even bigger one. Honey, you have made so much progress even just tonight. That makes me so very proud of you.”

“But I still don’t know how much longer I can do this for.”

“That’s fine. Completely fine. How about we see if a dance will help? We’ll be able to see the whole room together, keep an eye out. If that doesn’t work, then we’ll leave. Who cares about this dumb award anyway?”

“One dance… I’ll try one dance.”

Tony smiled as he pulled you onto the dance floor. He held you close as he twirled you around. The both of you checked your surroundings. You knew that nothing would happen with Tony with you, your brain just didn’t want to believe it. No matter what.

“Tony,” you rasped once the next song started. Your head was spiraling and your heart was still on the verge of racing. “I… I really think I need to go.”

“Okay, okay. We’ll send a message to the team in the car,” Tony responded. “Let’s go.”

He led you out, calling Happy on the way. You let out a breath of relief at the fact he was taking you the back way so that no one would make a fuss over it. Thankfully, Happy was already ready and waiting. He opened the door for the two of you. You sent him a grateful smile, which he reciprocated. The moment Happy shut the door, you leaned heavily into Tony. You hadn’t realized how much of your energy was being used to try and keep yourself calm.

“Just relax, baby,” Tony whispered, holding you close. “Nothing’s going to happen to you in here. I’ve got you.”

“Where to Boss?” Happy asked.

Tony looked down at you. He smirked when he realized that you had passed out. “Home, Hap. Let’s go home.”

~~~

Tony carried you into the bedroom. Before the incident, he would have been able to change you out of your clothes without permission. But now he needed to ask you, he didn’t want to push you over the edge.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered, gently shaking you. You groaned. “I need you to wake up, baby. You need to get changed so that we can go to bed.”

“M’kay,” you mumbled, eyes fluttering, failing to open.

“Just wait here, I’ll grab everything.”

All you could do was nod in response. Tony rushed around, changing himself before grabbing the things he needed for you. He told you every move he was going to make before he made it, not wanting to freak you out. Once you were all ready, he pulled you into bed with him. He pressed a kiss to your head and held you close, thinking that you were already asleep.

“Thank you, Tones,” you murmured, practically moving to lay yourself on top of him, “for always keeping me safe.”

“Of course, honey, of course.”

TAGLIST INFORMATION

#tony stark x reader #tony stark #Tony Stark fanfiction #tony stark imagine #tony stark x fem!reader #tony stark x female reader #tony stark x female!reader #iron man fanfiction #iron man imagine #iron man x reader #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #avengers x reader #the avengers x reader

365 notes · View notes

lonely-lost-soul · 4 years

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Under The Floorboards pt. IIII

(Technoblade X Reader): Pt. I, Pt. II, Pt. III, Pt. IIII, Pt. V

Whipping the sweat off your brow you placed the honey jars you collected on the ground, Phil really built this farm efficiently. However, that didn’t stop you needing to collect honey pots here and there, now that the vault was complete you could actually use the honey for normal things. Technoblade would never admit it but he loved when you put honey in his tea, contrary to popular belief he wasn’t a fan of plain black tea or coffee. You rolled up your sleeves and adjusted the sunhat that sat lazily on your head against your better judgment you had left your armor inside. The only thing on your person was a netherite ax Techno had enchanted for you, it was an effective weapon but without your armor, you were a bit of a sitting duck. As the bees buzzed and bumped lazily into each other, you couldn’t help but smile fondly at the sight. They were just so silly. You picked up the crate of jars and turned around, your eyes narrowed as you saw some movement by the trees, it was still too early for Tommy and Technoblade to be back...so just who was snooping around the property. You felt very naked in your sun hat and overalls, especially if it was Dream himself that you were about to encounter. Your worry only increased as you noticed four men all in netherite armor walking towards the house, their swords were drawn. You had a feeling that these were the men who took Technoblade the day prior. They were like a little gang all dressed the same way, bloody aprons and all they really had the executioner vibes down.

“Hello, gentlemen.” You smiled giving them a wave while you adjusted the box of honey, “beautiful day isn’t it?”

The first to answer was a man who had a scar from the tip of his eyebrow down to the bottom of his lip. He sent you a smile and you noticed a tooth missing from the upper row, a navy blue beanie held his dark hair in place.

“Very beautiful, it’s always a good day when the sun is shining.” He mused the sun in question reflected beautifully across all their netherite armor. The one thing you decided to leave inside, you weren’t intimidated nope not at all. “What’s your name sweetheart?”

“(Y/N).” You responded with a hum, “Is there something that I can help you all with today?” Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed two of the men moved to surround you, they thought they were slick. The only one who didn’t move was the tallest of the children there, he looked to be half Enderman. He also looked like he wanted to be anywhere but where he was right now poor thing. Drawing your gaze back to the other three men, you noticed one was Tommy’s age and had small horns atop his head, along with goat-like ears. A burn scar also took up half of his face. It made you frown distastefully, what was with these kids getting traumatized? First Tommy and now the half enderman and the goat kid, you couldn’t adopt all of them, well you could but it’d be a lot of work. The other looked to be part fox after all the big orange ears and the fluffy tail was dead give away, wait didn’t Ghostbur say his son was a fox. “Are you Fundy?” You asked, suddenly tilting your head to the side.

“How do you know my name?” Fundy’s face flushed a little and he shuffled on his feet, his hand twitching to grab the sword that was at his side.

“I talked to your father earlier today. I’m assuming that’s how you found me?” You took the hat off your head and rested it on Carl’s stable. The fox gave a reluctant nod of confirmation you licked your lips and put your hands behind your back. “So? Do you have a problem with Technoblade or just me specifically?”

“Wow, she’s not even a little bit ashamed.” Quackity mused and you frowned, “We’re here because your boyfriend blew up our country. He also disgraced our President right Tubbo? Don’t know if you’re aware of that or not but he escaped his punishment. So we intend to make him repent.” He walked towards you and you took a step away from him.

“That’s far enough thank you.” You held up your hand in hopes it would stop his trek towards you, Quackity did pause for a moment. He let out a chuckle and smiled. He thought your tough attitude was cute, but he was clearly mocking you.

Jackass.

“Quackity maybe we should leave her be...she didn’t do anything.” The young goat kid murmured his ears flicking as he looked up at you.

“Quiet Tubbo. Let the adults speak,” Quackity snapped at him before clearing his throat and looking back at you. “Listen (Y/N) was it? We’re going to have to ask that you come with us. If you don’t we’ll have to take you by force.”

“Wait, couldn't Technoblade have trained her?” The half enderman spoke holding up his finger in the air but no one seemed to pay him any attention.

“I guess force it is. Although the fight is a little unfair.” You took out your ax and twirled it in your hand, “Something tells me you don’t exactly like fair fights.” Fundy took a hesitant step backward not really wanting to lose a life for this of all things, but he pulled out his sword just in case. Clicking your tongue in distaste you sent a bloodthirsty smile their way, one that rivaled Technoblade, “Come at me.”

Without hesitation, Quackity charged at you with his sword he didn’t aim to kill, just disarm or injure. You blocked the swing with the wooden part of your ax and spun around just in time to dodge an attack from Tubbo. You managed to elbow him in the back and he stumbled forward into Quackity, the man made a grunting sound before shoving Tubbo off of him and into the snow. Fundy moved next and managed to land a hit on the side of your arm, you hissed loudly glaring daggers at the fox. His ears pressed against his head and he let out a small whimper, “sorry!”

“Don’t apologize to her!” Quackity groaned, “You guys are the worst gang ever.” He slapped his forehead as you readjusted your posture, “I have to do everything myself.” Quackity snarled charging at you again you sidestepped out of the way. As he stumbled trying to regain himself he knocked over the honey pots and they shattered against the ground. You swung your ax and managed to land a hit on him in the back of the legs, he let out a strangled yelp and fell on his face into the snow like Tubbo had done earlier. Yanking out the ax out of the leader of the gang blood splattered all over the ground and stained the snow. Little red beads dripped off the ax as you held it by your side, the man only let out another scream as it was torn out of him.

“Back. Off.” You repeated again baring your teeth with a hiss, “Turn around and go back to L’manburg and I won’t kill you. Got it.” The ax was pointed at all of them, you saw the half enderman nod vigorously,

“Yes ma’am.” He nodded rapidly grabbing Tubbo and Fundy by the arm and pulled them back, the three of them watched as Quackity snarled and backed up to join them. You watched them cower and you dropped your ax on the ground so you could press the palm of your hand into the wound on your arm. You quickly turned and ran back into your home to collect bandages and fix yourself up, blood speckled the floor as you made your way into the bathroom. You tore off your overalls and shirt, washing out the wound before wrapping your arm in bandages. You didn’t know how long you stood there in front of the mirror but you looked worse for wear.

Technoblade was going to lose his shit.

---

All Technoblade could think about on their way back to his retirement home, was you. He could only put up with Tommy for so many hours until he needed to talk to literally anyone else. He was ready to get your relaxing date night underway; he could already feel your fingers running through his hair braiding his as you went. He hummed fondly listening as the voices called him simp repeatedly, he didn’t mind this time considering he was when it came to you.

“That’s still cringe chat.” He murmured to himself as Tommy continued to scream about something in the background, “Yeah, yeah I love her.” He heard the chat flip their shit and he fondly chuckled, intermixed with their happy cries there was a distinct sound of ‘E’ as well as ‘nerd.’ He almost didn’t hear Tommy’s worried shouting. He frowned and rolled his eyes back into his skull,

“What Tommy?”

“Technoblade! Technoblade!” The teen bumped back into him, Technoblade grunted and looked down at him. He followed Tommy’s eyes and spotted the blood littered snow outside his house. Technoblade paused and his vision went red around the edges, his eyes stayed trained on the bloodstains as the voices began to roar within his skull. His head shot up and he saw the honey box spilled over on the ground, glass littered the snow, your hat hanging loosely on Carl’s old stable.

“T-Technoblade.” Tommy stuttered again looking up at the pig-man, seeing how glazed over his eyes looked. He swore steam was coming out of Technoblade’s nose and his hand drew out his pickaxe gripping it so tight his knuckles turned white. He felt his tusks grow in size and his face began to shift into his pig form. Tommy’s voice was drowned out by the flood that was the voices in his head:

‘SHE’S GONE. THEY HAVE HER. KILL THEM ALL. BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD. WE DEMAND BLOOD. E. SAVE HER. YOU’RE A FAILURE. YOU DIDN’T PROTECT HER. SLAUGHTER ALL OF THEM. SHE DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG. SHE NEVER HURT ANYBODY. YOU BROKE YOUR PROMISE. BLOOD. BLOOD. BLOOD. BLOOD.’

Technoblade took a step forward to which Tommy rapidly backed up in response. He’s never seen Techno this gone before, oh shit he has it bad for (Y/N). However, Tommy didn’t make a move to stop Technoblade; he didn’t want him to release that rage on him. Technoblade walked into the house, stepping on his glasses that fell off his face. He threw his door open with a loud slam, he needed potions and he needed a new sword.

Whoever did this all their cannon lives were gone he’d make it long and torturous.

A soft voice broke him out of his stupor his entire body went rigid.

“Bubs…” He slowly turned around and came face to face with you, you looked so small, so delicate standing in the doorway. You were wearing your pajamas, soft blue with little sheep all over them. His ears twitched and his shoulders softened considerably seeing you standing safe in the doorway, however, he tensed again the minute he saw the bandages tied around your arm. Blood leaking through them, he growled eyes locking in on the spot as you made soft shushing sounds at him.

‘SHE’S HURT. SHE’S ALIVE THOUGH. BUT SHE’S HURT, THEY NEED TO PAY. ATONE FOR WHAT THEY DID TO HER. BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD. SPILL THEIR BLOOD THEN MAKE OUT WITH HER. SHE’LL LOVE YOU MORE IF YOU DO. BLOOD. BLOOD. BLOOD.’

Technoblade jumped feeling her hand caress his cheek, “Bubs it’s alright I’m okay.” Your voice was smooth and soothing, his eyes dilated as you spoke to him. His face shifting back to normal as he breathed heavily through his nose, “See?” You brought his head down to rest against your chest, it looked uncomfortable the way that he was bending. However, he could feel your heart beating in your chest, he made a soft whimper and grabbed onto your shoulders his pink hair tickled your chin. You brought your hands up to run his fingers through his hair as he finally calmed down enough to ignore the voices for the time being. Right now they were just commenting on how nice and warm her hands were anyway.

“What happened to you? There was blood everywhere I was so scared.” His voice broke a little bit as he pulled away from you. Your heart twisted painfully in your chest Technoblade had never looked so broken.

“The butcher squad came and attacked me. They wanted to use me to get to you but I fought them off just like you taught me.” You couldn’t help but smile proudly at him and he let out a disbelieving laugh. His hands moved from your shoulders to your back as he cradled you gently in his arms, you both stood there rocking back and forth together until Technoblade was satisfied.

“That’s my girl.” He finally murmured backing away from you, you flushed at the compliment. Whenever he called you that it made you flush all over, you let out a loud flustered whine and whacked him on the chest. Technoblade laughed at your flustered expression, it was a rare moment the tables were flipped like this and Technoblade was going to take full advantage of the situation. “Princess what’s with that look? Am I, thee Technoblade, making you flustered? I know I’m a lot to handle, I beat Dream once, I never die, I’m not homeless. Guess what?”

“What?” You couldn’t help but let out a giggle as he circles you eyeing you up and down.

“I’m single.”

“Oh really?” You cocked an eyebrow, “I thought you had a girlfriend.” You twirled your hair around your fingers and you felt his strong hands rest on your waist.

“Hm I don’t think so. You might need to refresh my memory,” Technoblade mused kissing your neck tenderly.

“Well she’s stunningly gorgeous, and tough as nails,” Your eyes fluttered closed as you leaned back against him. “She absolutely adores you and how protective you are of her, and how much of a gentle giant you are.” He made a noise of protest and rested his chin on the top of your head. You could tell he was pouting at you,

“See, not only is that super cringe but also factually incorrect. I am not a gentle giant, I just committed vast sums of minor terrorism and I also kill orphans so what would my girlfreind say to that huh?” He huffed clicking his tongue distastefully.

“She would say that you’re right but also she sees the way you take care of Carl, and how you put up with Tommy. You’re totally brothers. That makes you at least a little bit soft”

“Not brothers and I don’t like him.”

“Right sure,” You giggled a little and kissed his chin lightly.

Technoblade let out an indignant sound before muttering, “Oh we should probably tell Tommy you aren’t kidnapped. Also discuss what to do about L’manburg now that they know you exist.” You blocked out that last part and made a beeline outside to find Tommy. The teenager in question was fumbling with his hands over by his cobblestone tower, you ran over to him and engulfed him in a hug.

“(Y/N)!” He shouted letting out a disbelieving laugh hugging you back with a childish smile. “You’re okay! Holy fuck I totally thought you were dead and shit! Technoblade was going fucking apeshit! His face went all pig like n’ shit totally thought he was gonna kill everyone for you! Not that I was worried.” He added quickly shoving you away crossing his arms.

“Of course you weren’t THE Tommy is never worried.”

“Yeah exactly Miss Blade you get me.” You smiled fondly at him and you ruffled his hair and he shouted at you to stop. You did so sensing Technoblade approach the both of you, Techno interlocked your hand with his own and squeezed it tightly. “You chill now Big T?”

“I’m always chill Tommy. Only nerds aren’t chill.” He mused with a scoff, “Hence why I always call you a nerd.”

“WHAT THE FUCK TECHNOBLADE! I AM ALWAYS CHILL! I’M THE CHILLEST MAN ALIVE I’LL HAVE YOU KNOW!”

“Stop shouting,” Technoblade groaned burying his face in your hair as you laughed fondly at their antics. Although L’manburg knew about your existence now, and although you knew Dream probably wasn’t too far behind in learning that knowledge either, you felt everything was going to be okay.

All you needed was each other, Technoblde, Tommy, Phil and you. Together you four were gonna do great things, you just knew it.

~~~

I do plan on making another part because people seem to be enjoying this story a lot more than I originally thought when I first posted it. Which is amazing thank you for all the love and support! New stuff is also in the works, thanks again for reading and enjoying! Stay safe guys! 🥰✨

#dream smp #dreamsmp x reader #technoblade x reader #technoblade x you #mcyt x you #mcyt x reader #mcyt #minecraft fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #blood for the blood god #rp

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

Text

Black

Prompts: After POF, Roman takes over the abandoned color black. He becomes the hated side that Virgil used to be. By most, anyway. Janus and Virgil are concered. Patton chooses to ignore it. Romans room is really cold? and boy is he touch starved - anon

(Sanders sides Prompt) Any one of the sides is touch starved. fluff. (You dont have to do this just thought I might ask) - anon

Hello there!! I just wanna say that I love your work and I think you’re such a talented writer. Idk if this is a weird ask but would you consider writing Roman angst with the song “it’s OK I wouldn’t remember me either” by crywank as like inspiration? Thank you so much <3 -anon

buckel up babes this one's a doozy

Read on Ao3

Warnings: implied/reference self-harm by way of self-negligence, pretty intense self-hatred and neglect that could verge on suicidal, but NO ONE DIES, everyone's fine at the end, we don't break shit and not fix it in my house

Pairings: it is platonic found family hours

Word Count: 5697

Do you know what no one ever tells you about the color black?

It’s seamless.

There are no cracks, no tears, no imperfections, because everything’s so dark you can’t tell what’s a trick of the light and what isn’t. Everything blends together. At first, second, even third glance, it’s perfect. Pristine, even. It hides absolutely everything. It’s intimidating, honestly, that level of deception. The way it can make anything look like it’s meant to be there, as if to live the colorless and lightless life is all it was ever destined for.

Darkness has always found a way of feeling like home, even to the ones who are afraid of it.

You either die the hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain.

Roman hadn’t wanted to go to the wedding. He didn’t want to go, but it’s what Patton wanted. It’s what Thomas would’ve wanted. If Roman hadn’t been so loud. But it hurt, it did, when they said that they shouldn’t go to the callback because there was such a slim likelihood of Thomas winning. Because Roman couldn’t win. But Roman wasn’t supposed to be the villain and do something bad so he sent Thomas to the wedding.

Bruises were supposed to be yellow, or green, or purple, not black.

But if he had yellow, green, or purple bruises, he would’ve blamed a yellow, green, or purple Side. And that was bad.

So he hid them, because as he learned, no one was looking for them anyway. Patton cared when he didn’t show up to the video and then he was there and oh, having someone there, even if they only cared a little, was like rainfall in a desert, it was wonderful, Roman would’ve sung if he thought it wouldn’t make everything worse. But Roman was good, so he never complained, and he did his job to the best of his ability.

But what if his job was bad?

But there are two Creativities, a Roman and a Remus. And no one else liked Remus, because Remus was bad and Roman was good. But Remus isn’t bad, he’s just the opposite of Roman. And Roman didn’t want to be Remus because Remus was bad. But Remus isn’t bad.

Creativity isn’t bad.

Bruises aren’t supposed to be black but they can’t be red.

Roman isn’t supposed to be the villain but what else do you call someone who laughs at vulnerability, who scorns people’s earnest attempts to help, who single-handedly ruins someone’s life?

Roman isn’t supposed to be the villain, but bruises aren’t supposed to cover every inch of his skin unless he deserves it.

His skin burns. It crawls and aches and screams and darkens into bruises. His throat aches from the wordless screams and the horrible things he’s said to everyone. He’s been so selfish, he’s tried to make everything go his way, tried to make it about him, not about Thomas, because everything they do is supposed to help Thomas, help Thomas, that’s what they’re supposed to do, they’re supposed to help Thomas, not themselves, why is he doing this, why is he doing this?

Because he’s the villain.

Roman cries.

What else is he supposed to do?

He cries until the tears grow thick, sluggish, oozing out of his eyes until he can’t see anything but them, until his breath grows thick and his chest heavy. He cries until he has to struggle to open his eyes because of how swollen they are, how globulous the tears have become on the ends of his lashes. He cries until his head splits and his chest wails from the pain he isn’t supposed to have but deserves, deserves every little bit. He cries until his body is consumed by the bruises.

His costume is a straightjacket. He needs it off. The white hurts now, it burns his arms and cuffs his wrists. He doesn’t deserve it so he rips it off. Every seam that he ruins is another bruise. The rips are so loud they burrow into some soft part of his brain and live there. The white is still imperfect because it’s on him.

Only when his costume lies in tatters around him, his sash torn off and thrown away, far away, does the white look pure.

He cries himself to sleep with a smile on his face.

Far, far away, a black hoodie is tugged back into the Conscious Mindscape.

When Roman wakes, his head is full of static.

His lungs inflate and collapse on autopilot, driven by the merciless pump of some distant machine, turning the crank to draw air in and out, in and out.

His hands are numb, fingertips rubbed raw and inflamed from tearing relentlessly at fabric. He turns them slowly and it’s like watching himself in a video game.

His face is cold. He paws at his cheeks and feels sticky residue, etched into his skin. His eyes stick slightly when he blinks and he doesn’t know if that’s just his face or if there’s something else.

He is swathed in black fabric, an old threadbare hoodie that has gone years unloved, untouched, unseen. It’s selfishness that makes him tug it closer, feel a faint bubble of pressure on his screaming body.

He should get up, he should go make sure he hasn’t hurt anyone else with his tantrum again, he should apologize.

But…what would be the point?

Like Patton asked, does there come a point when someone keeps apologizing so much that you just have to admit they’re bad?

Roman isn’t good. Has he ever been?

Something interrupts the pleasant numbness and it shoots from his chest to the soft points at the base of his wrists, making his hands tingle. He decides he doesn’t like it. He doesn’t want it. He wants everything to stop.

He’s selfish, they all know that, he’s just going to end up hurting them anyway, so why bother trying to fix it?

Apathy, his tired brain supplies when he lies there, unmoving, on the ground, for hours and hours and hours, unwilling and uncaring to fix things.

But that can’t be right. Roman is here because he cared too much, he did too much, he was too much. How can he now be the epitome of not caring at all?

If only he never cared, if only he wasn’t so attached, if only.

If only he had been Apathy, maybe he wouldn’t have been so hurt.

His pride got him here. His pride, his wants, his his his. He wanted everything and burned down the things that would’ve helped him get there because he couldn’t do it right. He is the villain and villains always have too much pride.

Pride. Apathy.

Prapathy.

Apride.

I’m not Creativity anymore, he thinks to himself as he lies there, still on the floor as his chest aches and his eyes sting and the sticky residue drips down his cheeks onto the bruises. He stares and stares and stares at the wall and a faint part of his mind that exists outside of the static realizes he never did get around to fixing that crack in the baseboard.

Pride, apathy. It doesn’t matter. There’s a much easier word that he can use to describe both of them.

Wrong.

—————————————————————

“I don’t know, Thomas,” Logan sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I don’t think that’s a valid solution either.”

“But it makes sense,” Virgil protests, shoving his hands into his pockets, “all we have to do is not talk to anybody else—“

“But that will hurt their feelings!”

“But we won’t hurt ourselves.”

Janus and Patton look at each other for a moment before Patton sighs and scratches the back of his head.

“I—I don’t know, this…this feels weird.”

“None of us are happy about this, Padre,” Virgil mutters, “but it’s the best solution we’ve got.”

“Real high bar we’re setting there, isn’t it?”

“Listen, Snake Face, if you’ve got a better idea—“

“Virgil, enough.” Logan shakes his head. “We need to keep thinking.”

“We’ve been at this for an hour, Logan,” Thomas says cautiously, “I don’t know what else you think we’re gonna get to.”

“We’ve already passed the optimal point for productivity, yes.”

“Oh, well, we can’t just give up now!” Patton puts his hands on his hips. “I’m sure if we just keep at it for a little longer—“

“You said that half an hour ago, Patton.”

“And I’ll say it again!”

“Because that’s going to make everything go much easier.”

Thomas sighs as the Sides fall back into bickering. Normally, this wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary—pretty much all they do is argue back and forth—but Logan’s right. They’ve made almost no progress. He finds himself staring at the TV.

Why is he staring at the TV?

He frowns, tilting his head. It’s literally just his TV. Why is he so fixated on it right now? It’s not like it’s gone anywhere, it’s sitting right where it always is. He stares at it most of the day, why is it so weird that he’s looking at it now?

Wait—

“Guys,” he interrupts, still staring at the thing he’s not supposed to be able to see like this, “where’s Roman?”

The room pauses. Then Logan sighs.

“Oh, of course, that’s why we’ve been having such a hard time coming up with solutions, we don’t have Roman.”

At Virgil’s side-eye, he glances around to see similar looks of disbelief on the other’s faces.

“What?”

“Did you…did you just admit we need Roman?”

“He is Creativity, it makes sense that if we are struggling to be creative, he isn’t here.”

“Okay, that makes more sense.” Virgil shakes his head. “Thought you were admitting he was important or something.”

“Please, his head is big enough as it is.”

Janus hides a snort.

“Why didn’t he show up earlier,” Thomas asks, “he’s normally one of the first of you to get here.”

Virgil shrugs. “I dunno, I haven’t seen that much of him lately.”

“Is he…okay?”

“Who the hell knows, he’s Roman.”

“My guess is he’s been in his room,” Logan says, glancing at Roman’s usual spot, “I haven’t seen him either.”

Thomas doesn’t miss the way Janus and Patton glance at each other. “If you two have information now might be the time to share it.”

“Roman…hasn’t come out of his room,” Patton says after a beat, “not since…”

“Wait, he hasn’t come out since the wedding?”

Janus shakes his head. “I’ve barely seen him open his door.”

“That doesn’t…normally happen, does it?”

“No,” Patton says, “and, uh, he doesn’t normally ignore us either.”

“Ignore you?”

“We’ve tried knocking. It doesn’t work.”

“Perhaps Thomas can summon him,” Logan offers, “you have more power than any of us do, he’d have to answer you.”

“Well, here goes nothing. Creativity!”

Someone pops up in front of the TV.

Someone in a white costume with green embellishments and a mustache.

“Remus?”

Remus glares at them, his Morningstar at his side, his costume white, pristine, and light.

“What the fuck have you done with my brother?”

—————————————————————

It’s been weeks.

The fans have accepted Remus as Creativity. They think that the videos are better than ever. They think this was Thomas’s plan from the beginning.

There is one end card where the Sides are watching a movie and some of them spot a dark figure in the corner. Who could this be? Is this the mysterious orange Side everyone has been waiting for? Is this the Side that’s been hurting Thomas so much?

Zoom and enhance. It’s Virgil’s old hoodie. They’re sitting where Remus used to sit. They’re not staring at the screen, they’re looking at the others. What could this mean?

Someone spots the faint outline of a tiny crown perched atop the figure’s head.

And then, well, then it all makes sense.

There was always one Side that messed up everything, that made everything more complicated. There was always one Side that, if you thought about it, you could trace everything back to. There was always one Side that was told he was making the bad choice and yet, never seemed to learn.

They start to put together timelines, evidence, essay-length meta posts on how of course, this is the plan, why didn’t they see it before? Those that had disliked him from the start crow about how they were right, how everyone doubted them but look who’s laughing now. They point out how he’s become a Dark Side, maybe he was always a Dark Side, and how incredible would that storytelling be? To warn against the pressures of society’s expectations, the idea of good versus bad, or authentic versus forced. How of course, they’re wearing Virgil’s old hoodie because they’re the hated Side now. How they’re not looking at the screen because that’s not what they want, they want to be a part of the famILY.

Vitriolic rants. Accusations. Vent fics. The unsympathetic tag is overflowing.

Because who else could the villain be?

—————————————————————

Roman lives in the cold now.

His fireplace isn’t lit anymore. The door to the Imagination doesn’t work anymore. The blankets on his bed aren’t thick enough anymore. He drifts through a haze where only the emergency systems in his brain are online, where only the awareness needed to sleep, breathe, and move the little bits he needs to move are present.

He doesn’t know that there’s nothing behind the red door anymore, that when Janus and Virgil come to knock on it, worried, or when Remus storms through the Imagination and tries to knock it down by force, there’s nothing for them to find.

He doesn’t know that a new door, a black door, leads from his room to the hallway, far away from any of the other rooms. He doesn’t know that it’s so dark back here that no one would be able to tell there was a door if they didn’t put their nose right up against it.

He doesn’t know and he doesn’t care.

A new kind of ache settles in his bones now. Pain is an old friend, but he’s yet to give suffering a proper handshake.

He misses when he could go and ask someone for help.

He misses when Patton would turn to him without any judgment in his eyes, without any ‘well, you know, kiddo—‘, without any ‘let’s start off with—‘, just the soft words of I’m here, I’ll help you. He misses being able to walk up to Patton’s door and knock on it and know that he would be safe on the other side.

Patton would open the door and soften, his mouth curling up into a small smile as he says hey, kiddo, come in. He would sit Roman down on the bed and press a glass of water into his hands. He would rub his back as he drank, taking the empty glass gently and cupping Roman’s face in his hands. He would ask what’s wrong, sweetheart, what can I do? And Roman would say he just wants a hug, he just wants to not be alone for a bit. And Patton would smile and coo about how Roman was always welcome here, sweetheart, I’m right here, I’ll take care of you. And Roman could fall asleep with his head on Patton’s chest and believe that everything was okay.

He misses when he could walk up to Logan and ask for help and he wouldn’t be scoffed at or turned away, he wouldn’t be looked at suspiciously and asked what he really wanted. He misses when Logan could come to him too and just spend time together.

Logan would knock on his door and ask if you have a moment, would you like to walk with me? And Roman would smile and say, of course, he always has time for Logan, and they could go somewhere in the Imagination and just talk. And Logan would say that’s an interesting idea, I wonder if—and they would walk and talk for hours. And Roman could bustle up to Logan’s door and say I’ve just thought of something, and Logan would open his door and be happy to talk with Roman and it would be okay.

Roman curls up tighter and feels nothing.

He wishes he could have something to miss for Virgil. He wishes they could have bonded over their love of Disney, their want to talk about the things they’re interested in, or even the need to just have someone else in the room with them for a bit. He wishes their relationship wasn’t just spitting barbs at each other, each hoping to hit the bullseye first and knock the other one out of the race. He wishes he could’ve done better.

He wishes he could have something to miss for Janus. He wishes they could’ve done this right, that they could’ve bonded over the want to keep Thomas safe but also have him be himself. He wishes that he hadn’t laughed, hadn’t scorned, hadn’t fallen back on his pride to keep himself safe at the expense of Thomas. He wishes that maybe, just maybe, if he had been a better puppet, then he wouldn’t have been dropped so suddenly.

But as it stands now, more than anything he wishes he could hear them when they say the things they say about him because then he could figure out which bruises were theirs and take comfort in knowing that they still touch him in some way.

The bruises are a constant now. From the online hate to the casual remarks from the others to the way that Patton hasn’t even tried to come find him anymore—he can hear that, you know—he can’t turn over without landing on a new smattering of bruises. The hoodie helps to cushion the blow a little bit.

He misses Remus.

Remus was…

…Remus was everything.

Roman misses his other half. Roman misses his brother. Roman misses his Creativity.

When they were small they would curl around each other as if they could fuse if they focused hard enough. They would wrap their arms around each other so tightly that it would be a pleasant ache when they woke, never minding because they were tighter. Remus was always so warm and Roman hoarded every single bit he could get.

Roman was cruel to push his brother away and now he understands how it feels.

He misses Thomas.

He misses when he was allowed to go and see Thomas. When he could talk to Thomas. When his presence was celebrated or at the very least, tolerated. He misses it. He misses helping.

But he’s helping now, by staying away.

He’s cold.

He’s so cold.

—————————————————————

do you remember what it felt like

to be touched?

press of fingertips against shoulders

bump of a forehead against yours

palms meeting and parting a mere second later

in days gone by

do you remember

warm?

humans thrive off physical contact,

we’re not built to hold each other

at arms’ length.

infants will die

if they aren’t held enough.

and I am so

cold

—————————————————————

Something is wrong and even Patton can’t ignore it anymore.

The Sides shuffle uneasily in front of the red door until Remus raises his hand to knock against it.

“Roman?”

Silence.

“Roman, please, please, just—just say something.”

Silence.

“Where the fuck are you, Roman?”

“Don’t yell,” Logan mumbles, “you’ll make him think we’re angry at him.”

Remus takes a deep breath.

“We’re not angry, Ro-bro, we’re just—just please make some noise.”

Silence.

“…we’re coming in, Roman.”

But they can’t. Because as Remus turns the knob on the door, it falls forward. The entire door comes off just to reveal—

A blank wall. With no sign that there was ever a room behind it.

Thomas can hear the scream.

—————————————————————

Roman hears the scream and can’t move. But he can close his eyes and reach out and see what’s going on. After all, he hasn’t done anything, so something must be wrong if someone else is screaming.

He feels something in his chest twist and snap.

“Re?”

Across the Mindscape, Remus’s head jerks up.

“Ro,” he breathes, getting to his feet and rushing off down the hall as the others hurry after him, “Ro!”

“Remus, what’s going on?”

“Why isn’t Roman’s room there anymore?”

“Where are you going?”

They barrel into the hallway and smack into a black door. Logan’s eyes widen as he realizes what’s happened.

“Roman’s become a Dark Side,” he says, fingers scrabbling where the door meets the wall, “he’s—he’s really hurt, we have to help—“

“Move, L, I’m gonna break the door down.”

“You’re not gonna do it without me.”

“Roman!”

Roman turns his head to look at the door. Are they…here? The hoodie rasps against his undead skin and he winces. There are still bruises.

“Roman!”

The door shudders its frame. He could open it. He could. He just has to reach out and—

“Ro!”

Remus.

The door unlatches and his brother pours into the room, letting out a wail when he spots Roman in the bed.

Janus hisses as soon as he crosses the threshold, this room is freezing. It feels as if no one’s moved for years inside, as if the heat has been sucked out entirely. His gaze flies to Remus, who’s over on the bed, his hands scrabbling at something in black material.

Roman.

“Oh, little prince,” he whispers, horrified, “no, no, no—“

“We have to get him out,” Logan orders, startling Remus into action as he scoops Roman into his arms, “we have to get him warm. His core temperature is too low.”

“Shower? Bath?”

“No, if we shock his system we could make it worse. Janus, I need your heating pads, Patton, something warm to drink.”

Janus and Patton vanish.

“Virgil, weighted blankets, Remus—“

“I’m here.” As Virgil ducks away as well, Remus helps Logan cradle the limp and freezing form of his brother in their arms as they begin to rush out of that horrible, horrible room. “You thinking bathroom?”

“Get him to Janus’s, that’ll be the safest place.”

“Got it.”

Sure enough, Janus has no objection and sweeps them inside, setting down the heating pads as Patton bustles in with two thermos flasks and a mug. Virgil pops back with thick blankets as they lay the cold form on the ground. Roman’s eyes blink sluggishly as he stares up at Remus.

“...Re?”

“Yeah, Roro, it’s me, I’m right here, I’m so sorry I wasn’t here faster.”

“What’s…wha’s going on?”

“You’re too cold, Roman,” Logan says gently, “we need to get you warmed up.”

“Oh…”

“It will be easier if we take a few of the layers off,” he explains, still careful to keep his voice low and even as the others scurry around, “is that alright?”

“Okay.”

“I’m going to unzip the hoodie.” Logan works slowly, patiently, stopping when any flicker crosses Roman’s face. “That’s it, you’re doing very well, I’m almost done.”

By the time he’s coaxed the hoodie off of Roman’s shoulders, there’s a little bit of color back in his cheeks.

“Very good, Roman, you did well. Virgil’s brought a few warm blankets and Janus has heating pads for you, do you think you can sit up?”

“Don’t know.”

“That’s alright, you’re doing alright.” Logan glances up at Janus.

“Little prince,” Janus murmurs, sitting by Roman’s head, “if you can sit up, I can sit behind you and help warm you up, does that sound alright?”

“Okay.”

“Thank you, sweetie, we’re going to sit you up now.”

Logan and Janus sit Roman up slowly, only to pause when the long sleeves of his shirt fall down.

“Roman,” Logan asks, trying frantically to keep his voice calm, “are you hurt?”

“Mhm.”

He bites back the fearful response and patiently asks where, how bad, can he see?

“Everywhere.” Roman lifts his arms weakly. “’S all bruises.”

“…can we see?”

“Okay.”

Logan’s hands begin to tremble as he works the shirt over Roman’s head. He wasn’t kidding when he said everywhere.

There’s barely an inch of skin that doesn’t look bruised black and blue. Patton stifles a cry as he drops to his knees next to them, looking at Roman like he’s never seen it this bad before.

Oh, Roman, how did they not know? How could he just ignore him like that?

“Get him covered,” comes Virgil’s voice, “he’s still too cold.”

Janus grabs one of the blankets and wraps it carefully around Roman’s form. It should help distribute whatever pressure they apply so it won’t aggravate his injuries too severely. He takes one heating pad and scoots forward, bracketing Roman’s legs with his own and wrapping one pair of arms around him to press the pad to his chest.

“Can you feel that, sweetie,” he asks softly, “is that too warm?”

“No.”

“Good, good, little prince, you’re being very brave.” He turns away to reach for another and so misses the little shudder that goes through Roman. “Do you think you can handle another if I press it to the back of your neck?”

“Mm.”

“Let’s try, little prince, and if it’s too much, I’ll stop.”

“Okay.”

“Here we go, sweetie—“ Janus presses it carefully to the base of Roman’s skull, just at the edge of the blanket— “there, does that feel okay?”

“Mm.”

“Good, sweetie, you’re doing so well, so good for us, that’s it, you relax now.”

Roman starts to tremble.

“That’s alright,” Logan soothes, “you’re warming up, it means you’re going to shiver a little more, you’re alright, Roman, you’re safe. You’re doing well.”

It certainly doesn’t seem that way once Roman’s breath starts to come in gasps. Virgil nudges Patton out of the way and sits, gently calling Roman’s name until his gaze snaps to Virgil’s.

“Hey, Princey,” Virgil says slowly, “you gotta stay with me now, okay? We’re right here, no one’s angry, nothing’s going to hurt you. Just focus on me.”

He ignores the startled noises when Roman starts to cry thick, black tears.

“Eyes on me, Princey, that’s it, stay here. We’re just gonna sit here and breathe for a moment, okay?” Roman nods and Virgil starts to take big, exaggerated breaths. “Good. That’s it, Princey, you focus on me and you breathe. It’s okay. You’re doing great. Just stay here.”

When the viscous black liquid slows, Virgil reaches out and begins to tuck Roman’s hair back. A moment longer and he pauses, noting how the scratch on Roman’s face is covered in the thick black tears.

“Princey, can I clean your face off for you? You’re doing really well at breathing, I’m proud of you. Can I help you with the rest of it?”

“O-okay.”

There’s a bottle of micellar water and a pack of cotton circles pressed into his hands. He moves in slow, careful strokes, changing out the circles as often as he needs to. A pile of them grows beside him as he works, doing his best to get all the black off of Roman’s face. Roman just cries.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” Patton murmurs when Roman’s cry gives way to a wail, “it’s okay, you cry all you need to, we’re not going anywhere, it’ll be alright.”

“We have you, sweetie,” Janus says against Roman’s neck, “we’re here.”

Remus lets out a broken noise.

“Oh, Roman, you didn’t…”

Logan’s head whips sharply around to scold Remus only for his mouth to fall open in shock.

Remus’s costume is bleeding too. The same black that drips down Roman’s face is slowly coloring Remus’s costume again, back to what it normally looks like. Remus’s mouth is agape, staring horrified at Roman.

“Oh, Ro—“

“What’s going on?”

“Check the bruises on his neck,” Remus orders as Janus pulls back the blanket, “are they still there?”

“They’re here, but they’re…lighter, how is that—?”

“Roman is the Ego,” Patton mumbles, “he gets bruised when—when—“

“Oh, shit,” Virgil curses, before quickly hushing Roman’s discontented mumble, “and with all the hate that’s been gunning for him—“

“Oh, sweetheart—“

Roman lets out another sob and the tears run clear.

“The Ego is kept healthy by positive attention,” Logan says softly, scooting closer and rubbing Roman’s shoulder through the blanket, “you’ve been starving, haven’t you?”

“He’s not cold because he’s hypothermic,” Remus blusters, “he’s touch starved.”

“It’s still not safe to introduce him to direct contact all at once,” Logan warns when Patton and Remus look like they want to rip the blanket off, “we have to take it slow.”

“So what do we do?”

Janus just leans down and presses a kiss to Roman’s temple. “You’re so brave, sweetie, you’ve been so strong.”

They watch as Roman’s tears begin to wash away the black.

“We love you, sweetheart, you’re so important to us.”

“Stay with us, Princey, we need you.”

“You’re doing very well, Roman, we’re very proud of you.”

Roman cries, ducking his head into Virgil’s waiting hands as Remus’s costume colors itself black again.

After a long while, when Remus looks like he normally does, Roman shakes his head and looks up at them.

“Where am I,” and he sounds like Roman again, “what’s happened?”

“You were starving, sweetheart,” Patton mumbles, “and we didn’t notice until it was too late.”

“O-oh,” Roman blinks, “is that…is that why I’m so cold?”

“You’re touch starved too,” Virgil adds, “and we, uh, L said it wasn’t a good idea to try and shock you out of it.”

“Try and drink something,” Logan says quickly as Patton reaches for the mug, “you’ve been crying for a while and you’re dehydrated.”

“Is that…hot chocolate?”

“Your favorite, kiddo.”

Remus sits down at Roman’s side as he drinks, staring at him like he’s not seen him in ages. Which, well, none of them have, really.

“I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” Roman repeats, looking sheepishly at all of them, “I, uh, well, the last video I messed up a lot. I, uh, I shouldn’t have laughed at your name, Jan—where are you?”

“Right here,” Janus mumbles, giving him a gentle squeeze, “and you’re forgiven.”

“Oh. Uh, that was easy…are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Yes, it wasn’t great of you to do, but I’m not exactly blameless either and…”

He squeezes him again.

“…you’ve been hurting enough.”

“Logan, you too, I—I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, Roman, but I agree. It’s alright.”

“Why are you all forgiving me so fast?”

“Because,” Remus mumbles, cupping Roman’s head and resting their foreheads together, “this happened.”

They all watch as Roman shudders as Remus shows him what happened.

“Oh—oh—I—oh no—“

“It’s over now, sweetie,” Janus reassures, “we’ve got you. You’re okay, you’re safe.”

“C-can I have a hug?”

“Of course, honey, come here—“

“Let’s get the blanket out of the way, L, is he—“

“It should be safe now, yes.”

“Remus, I—oof!”

“I gotcha, Ro-Bro.”

“It’s still—I’m still—“

“Patton, grab that end of the blanket.”

“This one?”

“That’s it, yes.”

The Sides end up swaddled in the blanket, their heads poking out, as each of them pulls a little bit of Roman into their arms to warm up. Janus and Remus wrap around his upper body, mindful of the few bruises that haven’t been healed yet. His legs are in Patton’s lap, as Logan and Virgil each hold on to his hands. The poor thing is still shivering, still shaking, still a little overwhelmed.

But Janus coos into his ear as his head lolls back, Remus holding him tightly. Logan’s thumb strokes over his palm as Virgil lets him squeeze as tight as he needs to. Patton makes sure he’s off the cold tile and he’s warm.

They’re going to have to work out what to do about the fans, about the videos, but right now they need to worry about Roman.

Speaking of Roman—

“I—I need to apologize to Thomas.”

A cry goes up as he says so, Patton reaching up to pat his knee. “You don’t have to do that right now, sweetheart, rest, it’s okay—“

“I won’t—he won’t be able to rest until he knows what’s happened.”

As if he can hear them, they feel the familiar tug of one of them being summoned. A quick glance around shows that if one of them is going, all of them are, so they appear on the floor of the living room, swaddled in the blanket.

Thomas’s mouth drops open and he rushes to their side.

“I was gonna ask if you found Roman, but I—Roman, buddy, are you okay?”

“I…I don’t know,” Roman mumbles, “but I’m sorry.”

“For what, buddy?”

As Roman begins to apologize, for being away, for hurting Thomas, for being selfish, Thomas just shakes his head.

“No, buddy, that’s not all on you. You—yeah, okay, some things happened, but it’s not entirely your fault. You don’t need to think of it like that.”

“Well said,” Logan mutters, “now help us get Roman to rest.”

“So what Disney movie are we watching and how many pillows do we need?”

A lot, as it turns out, is the answer. And they have to bite back laughs at the way Thomas makes a noise when he’s swept into the blanket too. But Thomas is warm and Roman is still cold and the movie plays on the screen.

“Hey, Roman?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re my hero.”

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#sanders sides #dragonbabbles #fic #roman sanders #roman angst #roman sanders angst #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #sympathetic remus #remus sanders

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manchasama · 2 years

Note

Melli is hated unfairly in my mind. Of COURSE the diamond clan warden would be suspicious/distrustful of you. The only thing you did for the diamond clan was save a single life. For the pearl clan you repaired their broken temple, you restored their missing noble, they were the FIRST of the frenzied nobles to cure...

He has a cause to be suspicious/think you have a bias.

my guess is also the ride pokemon don't have set territories/homes, while the noble pokemon did. So they sorta have ideas/places where they meet like that cliff-tree for Wrydeer, but wrydeer could be literally anywhere, at any time.

I imagine the nobles are respected but they care more about the environment then the actual people, kinda? like if a diamond clan person was in danger from a fire at the coastland, The noble arcanine probably isn't going to lift a paw to save them. But they might save their Warden, because they are friends?

I do imagine part of it was how the clans are supposed to slowly be unifying /becoming one clan, so it might not be so weird eventually. Its just right now you can imagine that history was rough/dangerous for Hisui. (For example most of the game has Very distinct 'this character's the ancestor of a canon character later in the game'. Barry doesn't have one, but his hair style, personality, and storyline arcs ARE a mix between Adaman and Irida's hairstyle/personality/storyline arcs. Sorta implying he's their eventual descendent. )

To be fair, Adaman is the first clan leader to support you. Irida is very distrustful of you, but Adaman is like "Wyrdeer approves of them so I will throw my support to them" right away. He even implores you in Irida's stead, to keep the peace between the clans from devolving back into fighting.

On the other hand, Adaman also excludes Melli from a discussion about the fate of his noble. Melli has to barge in on his own when you are being assigned to quell Electrode's frenzy. Adaman does try to "show" Melli that he should put his trust in the MC afterwards, but that still seems like a dick move, no matter how "annoying" someone is.

On the other other hand, we only get that information from Melli, so it could also be an exaggeration as to what really happened, if he was really excluded.

On the other other other hand, it's very important in their beliefs (both clans) that the nobles are to be respected. The frenzy could be a gift from god. It could be a test from god. Either way, the lightning came from the rift to the other world where they believe their god resides. It's very much an important event in their lives, in their religion, in their duties.

And they have to let an outsider mess with things. They are in fact ordered by their leaders to let an outsider take care of things their way. That's really got to burn. Imagine dedicating yourself to a cause for your people for most if not all of your life, only for a foreign exchange student to come in and grab the glory of fixing things for you.

Anyway I do like Melli. He's fun. :>

It's funny you say the ride pokemon don't have a set place, because the event with Mai was that Wyrdeer's place was being invaded by an alpha pokemon (the kriketune). But once you take care of the alpha, then galaxy team sets up camp there. Like...hello?? *laughs* Laventon does express concern that it's really okay, but I guess it is!

With Kleaver's frenzy, Irida talks about how the hero's cohorts (actually, she says the ancestors of Kleavor, Wyrdeer, and their cohort. Again, not differentiating between ride pokemon and the others lol) drew on almighty Sinnoh's power to protect pokemon and people alike. I thought they said something specific to Kleaver protecting people and pokemon, but I guess not.

I think Arcanine would try to save a diamond clan person. Didn't he die in a story trying to protect someone? *googles* Oh, another pokemon. Welp, still. That does tell you a lot about his character.

It's funny, even after going through some of the dialogue the same day, the impressions I get from it vs what they actually said is almost always different. How does it do that? It's so weird.

#personal opinions ahead #pokemon #pokemon arceus #it's fascinating really #i would swear one thing was said #only to check the dialogue of the scene to find it never was #or something similar but fundamentally different was said #i've been trying to get a feel for the people in the world again #with the intent to write but ahahaha #we'll see :<

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im-juggling-fandoms · 4 years

Text

She never learns, does she?

A Resident Evil fanfic of reader who is a former lover of Albert Wesker but is now on the run from him when she discovered his involvement in the Raccoon City incident. She is terrified of him and what he’s capable of and at the same time angry with herself for not being capable to suppress her feelings towards the man. She’s also determined that he is obsessed with her, it doesn’t matter where she hides, he always finds her and he just won’t stop. So far, reader has been lucky to get away just in time before his arrival. This time, she’s taken by surprise.

Rated mature. 18+ for language, deaths and sexual content.

Long time no see, dear heart..

It has been three years, four months and seven days since the last time Y/N felt herself at home. Now, the closest thing she got to feel like home was the people she surrendered herself with. The people who gave up their own lives to make sure of your safety. What would you have done without their sacrifices? You didn’t need much time to think over the possibilities. You knew you would’ve been dead.

You were a loose end that knew too damn much and Albert wouldn’t stop until he silenced you for good.

After all these years, it still hurt you. The two of you once shared everything together. Or so, you thought. One day you had stumbled upon his underground laboratory that had been hidden from your view for two years behind a massive mahogany bookcase. You found his research, you found an entire life he had been living in a city called Raccoon City not far from where you had built up your life. You found everything. It terrified you how gullible you had been about everything. You believed him when he said he was working at the bank downtown, why wouldn’t you?

It was all a lie. He had been creating horrific viruses and killing people to the left and right before he came home to your bed and ravished your body with his.

It made you sick.

But it made you hurt even more.

You kind of liked the little bed and breakfast you had been calling home for three days now who had an incredible view of the Swiss mountains from your room. It was peaceful and the landscape alone made you hope for a brighter future. Maybe you could finally settle down? It surely would help your mental state to have some peace and quiet. Well, it had been quiet for you and your friends for several weeks now and they told you over and over again not to let your guard down but you just couldn’t help yourself as you peeked over to your sleeping friends before you turned back to the window you where standing in front of. The sun made its way up over the mountains and it cast such a mesmerizing view over the little village. You knew you should be careful but you really wanted to go outside by yourself, if only for a few minutes.

You put your coat over your red nightgown and the silk was so smooth to your skin it almost felt like you were naked underneath.

Before you exited, you made sure to at least pack a gun into your hip holster. You hurried out, careful not to make any sound when closing the door behind you. There was a small hallway with a few rooms and a long stairwell leading down to the lobby. You walked with your hands in your pockets as you exited the B&B and felt the cool spring wind kiss your face. This, this was exactly what you had been needing, some peace and quiet.

You took a stroll around the village that began to wake up. You took in every smell, every sound.. it almost felt as you were vibrating.

Wait

You put your hand in your pocket and retrieved your phone who was buzzing like crazy.

Jeez.. you thought, you hadn’t been out more than maybe a little over ten minutes and Jessica was already buzzing up your phone.

Where the hell are you? Come back right now! You know we don’t go anywhere alone! She wrote.

Jesus Christ, Y/N! What are you thinking?! Jared wrote you.

You couldn’t help but feel ashamed and guilty. What where you thinking? These people had offered everything to go underground with you and yet, you jeopardize everything by taking a goddamned stroll..

You sighed loudly and turned your little stroll back to the B&B. As you walked hurriedly, you went over in your head the best way to explain to your friends why you went out but every outcome was the same. It made you sound stuck up and ungrateful. You decided it was for the best to just apologize and own your mistake. You told yourself that you would promise them to never do anything like this ever again and you meant it.

The lady at the front desk was sitting with her back towards you as you entered the lobby. You wondered if you should bid her good morning but she seemed devoured in that book of hers so you decided to just leave her be. You walked past her but something in the corner of your eye made you stop in your tracks immediately.

You turned your head slowly in her direction and what you feared the most, became reality.

She wasn’t devoured in a book as it first had seemed. She was lying with her face into the open book. The pages that once must’ve been white was colored red and she was as still as a statue.

You grabbed your gun from your holster and called out for your friends to come downstairs as you walked towards the dead woman.

It was as quiet as a graveyard.

Nothing.

A not in your stomach began to build and you abandoned the dead woman and bolted up the stairs as fast as you possibly could and kicked the door to your room open, only to reveal it abandoned.

You began to panic. Where the hell where your friends? It couldn’t have been more than five minutes ago they blew up your phone.

Maybe they got so worried that they decided to go out and look for you? Maybe they had found the woman at the front desk and was at the police station? You had to find them.

You walked down the stairs once again, this time the peace you earlier felt was long gone. When you rounded the crook of the stairwell you completely froze. This time, you literally could feel the ice slithering up your spine.

Albert sat down in one of the armchairs that faced the stairwell, his face were stoic and calm and he had one of his legs over the other which made him look like he was waiting for someone.

He’s waiting for you.

You knew that your gun couldn’t do him any harm. Jared had fired multiple shots at him three years ago during our time in Japan but Albert had dodged every single bullet like he was some kind of a super human. You where lucky you got out of there alive. That was the last time he got this close as he was now.

Your insides were in raging, burning agony. You were so terrified that you trembled but at the same time, your heart hurt with the memories of your love years ago.

“Long time, no see, dear heart.” He spoke and you had forgotten about what a velvety voice that man possessed. Every word rolled of his tongue with absolute expertise. You wouldn’t let him fog up your brain anymore so you stood tall, the gun in your hand pointed directly at his beautiful face even though you knew it was useless, you wouldn’t let him think you would give up so easily.

“Where are my friends, Albert?” You asked. Your hand which held the gun were shaking and you tried to steady it the best you could but to no avail. You were so scared and it was displayed openly for him to see.

Before you could even register that it had happened, Albert had got up from the armchair and made his way over to you. You have no idea how he did it but he had managed to do it in shorter than a second. Now, he stood towering before you, mere inches between the two of you. He was so close that you could inhale his scent. The scent that you had forgot made its way up your nostrils and an raging battle began taking form inside of you. A part of you wanted to run, as far away as you could from this monster of a man or whatever the hell he was and the other part wanted to forget everything that has happened over the years and pull him in for one of those kisses that made your mind all foggy.

You looked up at him hesitantly, his sunglasses was covering his eyes, covering those magical light greys you so well remembered. The eyes you spend so many nights gazing into while you were making sweet love to each other. You didn’t need to see them to have all of those memories pool into your mind immediately, his presence did it all.

He grabbed your wrist of the hand that held the gun and you tried to make him let go of you but he was so strong that it barely even phased him. Without any trouble on his behalf, he took the gun out of your trembling hand and tossed it carelessly to the side.

“Where are my friends?” You tried again, this time your voice broke mid-sentence and you could feel the tears burning behind your eyes, threatening to break free and make you look even smaller than you already did.

“Three years, Y/N.” He began without any hint of emotions in his velvety voice, “You had me turning upside down on half the world for three years.” He finally stated.

“Just let them go, Albert, it’s me you want, isn’t it? They-“ you began sobbing, “They don’t know anything, I swear!” You exclaimed.

He pushed you up against the wall of the stairwell with his hands firmly on yours above your head. He leaned in closer to your tear filled face, so close that you felt his breath ghost over your skin ever so lightly.

“Don’t lie to me, Y/N.”

“I’m not lying, they don’t know anything about-“ you began hysterically but was cut off as he pushed you deeper into the wall and it made your backside ache profusely.

“Don’t. Lie. To. Me.” He pronounced every word with spitting venom. Now, you could feel how angry he was with you. The stoicism from before was a good act, you thought.

“Please, don’t hurt them.” You begged. “Do whatever you want with me but please, just let them go. They won’t tell anyone anything, I am sure of it. I can make them promise to not say anything to anyone! Please!” You were desperate. Every passing minute could mean that your friends lives were closer to an end and you had to do everything you could to help them. Just as they had helped you.

He chuckled.

You looked up at him in confusion under your wet eyelashes, the tears blurring your vision ever so slightly.

“I am not interested in making conversation about your little friends.” He spoke up sternly before he lightened the hold he had on you. You were still pushed up against the wall but it hurt less than it did before.

“I just need to know they’re okay.” Your voice were merely above an whisper.

“They are, for now.” Albert confirmed. Jesus Christ, he was too damn close to you. You could see every little pore in his skin, his scent filled you up like a balloon that was going to pop any second. You knew that he was going to kill you and you felt nowhere near being ready to die but his mere presence awoke something inside of you. The thing that you had been trying to bury deep, deep within. The undeniably eternal love you felt for him with the strength of a thousand elephants. It was blind and it was more forgiving than it was wise. It was so intense it made your skin burn and your insides too, you felt like a hot burning mess. It almost felt unnatural. Mainly because of what it did to you. You had never felt this with anyone else, not ever. It felt like you belonged together. You still knew better, though. Hence why you left and had been on the run for years.

You felt weak and tired. All of this, all of these years had made you so tired. You just wanted it to stop. You were done. There was no use to try and fight him, he was way too strong now. It’ll only make you end up dying in more pain than necessary and you felt obligated to save yourself from that.

“Just get it over with. For old time’s sake, make it quick.” You said, your voice was on the verge of a new wave of tears but you managed to keep them at bay.

His hands let go off yours and you felt his body leave yours, the warmth disappearing by the second. You closed your eyes, ready for the fatal strike.

It never came.

You held your eyes closed for what felt like minutes but nothing happened.

You battle with yourself if you would dare to open them and see what was going on and after a while, you decided that you had to.

He was just standing there, a feet or so from you, with his back against you. His gloved hands were clasped neatly behind his straight back and it appeared as if he was in deep thought. You could tell that, even with his back to you. It was your bond that told you.

Should you try to run?

No.

You wouldn’t get far and you were so tired of this cat and mouse bullshit.

You just wanted it to end.

“Albert, please..” you softly spoke, almost begging him to put you out of your misery.

“You never learn, do you?” He said as he turned to you.

Your confused expression spoke for you and he smirked hastily.

“If I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t be standing here after all this time.”

You felt weak, confused and at the same time irritated. It felt as if you were back at square one. You had been running for your life only because you sincerely thought that he wanted to end it. All of the ruckus he had been making hadn’t exactly told you otherwise but it was true now when you actually thought about it, you had never once been harmed under these 3 years. All of your friends had been but never you.

“What do you want, Albert?”

“Isn’t it perfectly clear what I want, Y/N?”

You gave him a sour look. It really wasn’t. With all the information you now had on him, you had come to learn that he wasn’t that quiet but passionate lover you once thought you were dealing with. You’ve come to know that he was a sociopath and was capable to do about anything to preserve his goal which seemed to be collecting viruses from around the globe. You didn’t want to know what he was planning to do with them.

“Dear heart,” he began, that smirk upon his face for a few seconds before he continued, “I want what’s mine. I want you.”

If you thought you were confused before, it was nothing compared to what was going on inside your head right now.

“But you, you almost-You sent fucking mercenaries after us! You bombed one of the houses we were inside of, we just barely got out in time!” You fumed, your hand gesturing angrily with every word.

“You left without a word, Y/N, it made me very angry.”

“Oh, it made you angry?” You spat at him, every fear and tremble as blown away. “It made me angry when I found out you were a fucking liar! And not to mention a full blown psychopath!”

He briskly walked over to you and grabbed you by the shoulders roughly.

“You watch that tongue with me, Y/N, before I change my mind.”

“I’m done with these games, Albert! I’m done! Just get it over with, I can’t bear another second with this.” You said, refusing to face him. His face made you want to jump him right here right now. Your hormones were going crazy and you were equally angry as you were a hot, horny mess. The last time you orgasmed by another hand than yours was with Albert. You still remember it as if it was yesterday..

You had been slow cooking some fancy meat on the stove and had some baked potatoes filled with cheese and paprika in the oven. You were working on a side salad when he entered the kitchen freshly showered in nothing but a towel around his waist. He began kissing your neck and one thing led to another and before you knew it, you were sprawled out on one of the counters with his head between your legs, his tongue skillfully massaging your little bundle of nerves while two of his fingers were massaging the inside of your pussy and it didn’t take long before you clenched down on his fingers with a loud moan.

You needed to get your head straight. You couldn’t be thinking about things like that right now. You could literally feel the wetness pouring out of you.

“Hmm...” he hummed with a smirk. You couldn’t see his eyes but you felt how intense they were ravaging you right now.

“I can smell you.” He said, that damn smirk still plastered on his beautiful features. “You are aching for me Y/N, aren’t you?”

“No,” you said hastily, “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, yes you are.” Albert took one of his gloved hands to his face and removed the glove with his pearly white teeth. His naked hand snaked between your exposed legs and traveled up to your clothed pussy. You should slap him right across the face for taking such freedom to touch you like this and yet, you couldn’t do anything. You just stood there, looking up into his face, as if to get some reassuring that this wasn’t as wrong as it actually was.

He didn’t waste any time, he ripped the cloth from your skin with a growl. It probably would’ve stung your sensitive skin if it wasn’t for your arousal. You were dripping and you were desperately longing for the man that you deep down knew was the love of your life.

You grabbed his face with your soft hands and you tried to pull him into a kiss but he wouldn’t succumb to your wishes. He simply undid his belt, opened his trousers and pulled them down to his knees to reveal that he was already hard. You mouth watered and your pussy ached painfully at the sight of his cock. The same exact cock that you had been fantasizing about every time you pleased yourself nowadays.

Albert pushed you once again against the wall of the stairwell but this time he lifted you up as well with his hands at your hips. He didn’t leave you any time to comprehend a single thing, he buried himself to the hilt into your tight, wet cave with a deep, deep groan. It sounded as he had been holding that inside of him for a very long time. You, on the other hand moaned out loudly for everyone to hear as the two of you finally were connected as one.

You had almost forgotten about how good he actually was in bed but all of that came right back to you as he demonstrated his skills by pounding into you evenly, he squeezed your soft hips with every movement.

You clawed desperately at the fabric on his chest as he pounded roughly into you. You didn’t mind him being a little rough, it were a long time since you last made love and if he was anywhere close to as desperate and aroused as you were, he probably couldn’t contain himself.

“Oh, Albert..” you moaned as a wave of pure pleasure washed over you, “I’ve missed you so much.” You confessed openly.

He didn’t answer.

Sure, he was a man of few words but he would always praise you and shower you with affection while making love, now he was all quiet except a grunt here and there.

It was extremely hard for you to get anything from his eyes since those sunglasses covered them and left you to look at your own reflection instead. You had no idea what he felt right now and it made you wary.

You reached for his glasses and removed them as best as you could while he was pounding into you tirelessly. What met you behind those glasses was nothing you were prepared for.

His light grey eyes were a distant memory and now replaced with the eyes of a demon. Red swam around tight slits and you almost didn’t believe what you were seeing. This wasn’t the Albert you remembered.

He was angry. So, so angry. You could feel it vibrating from his furious eyes.

You should be frightened, you should’ve ran away from him but something inside of you made you remain in place with nothing but shame for what you had done to the man you loved.

You had hurt him. You had most likely broken his heart by leaving him without so much as a letter. You had done this to him, you thought.

“I’m so sorry, baby.” You said, tears forming in your eyes as you leaned your forehead against his.

“You are mine.” He growled back,

“Yes.” You nodded in agreement.

“You will never betray me ever again.” Behind his anger you could detect the pain, the pain that you were responsible for.

“Never, baby, never. I’ve been so foolish.”

He slowed down his ministrations and captured your lips with his, the kiss became desperate very quickly, both of your tongues massaging each other in your mouths. You tugged at the locks at the back of his neck as you moaned into the kiss, giving yourself over to him completely.

You were still kissing passionately as he fucked you, and you knew that if he kept moving his hips like that together with his hot, wet mouth, you weren’t going to last very long.

You knew that he also knew.

Your legs began to shake from the intense, burning pleasure between your legs, your nails found his neck where you scratched helplessly as moan after moan escaped your lips.

Albert kissed your face and then went over to your neck affectionely, humming while doing so. Never breaking the rhythm in his thrusts.

“I’m-, I’m so close..” your voice were raspy and low, “Oh god, Albert..”

“That’s it, my sweet” he huskily whispered in your ear before he kissed the curve of your ear, “Come for me..”

You did so, your legs shaking with the same intensity as your screams that left your lips as you rode out the exquisite orgasm eagerly. Every fiber of your body felt as if it was on fire and you couldn’t do anything besides moaning and holding him tightly to you, afraid that he might disappear if you didn’t.

The orgasm left you weak to the bones but Albert didn’t let you rest. He withdrew himself from inside you and lead you upstairs, into the first room that was in sight.

Albert undressed the rest of your clothing and laid you down on the bed softly and positioned himself between your legs, this time with his face.

The first contact with his lips and tongue to your pussy made you moan out with eyes closed, your fingers finding their way down your stomach and onto his blonde locks.

This was one of the best things you know and you’ve been longing for it for three years, it didn’t matter that you had just had an orgasm minutes ago, because when he began using his fingers on you and sucking your clit between his delicate lips, you came undone for the second time today.

He kissed your thighs feathery light and traveled up your now naked body. He kissed and licked every inch of skin on your torso, your breasts he sucked and licked softly, which earned him a moan from you.

He crawled on top of you and spread your legs a little wider for the comfort of both of you. You wasn’t satisfied just yet, though.

“Please, remove your clothes.” You said, looking deeply into his red swirls. “I want to feel you on my skin. I’ve longed so for you, my love.”

He hesitated for a moment but complied to your request and removed his clothes in a blur, it didn’t take more than a few seconds before he was in between your legs again, now in his full naked glory.

You trailed your hands down his hard chest and down his hard washboard abs. You sighed deeply in fulfillment when he entered you once again.

He held you possessively by the neck as he was thrusting into you, his face mere inches from yours as your eyes were locked in each other’s gazes. You had your arms around his back, because you wanted to get as close to him as you possibly could.

You shared a few kisses as the love making grew hotter and closer to the edge for the both of you. It gave you such immense pleasure to see his own pleasure in those eyes of his. You wanted him to feel good, to unwrap himself completely inside of you.

The connection the two of you shared only made the sex even better, more intense than any sex you’ve ever had with anyone else. You didn’t only shared each other’s bodies but each other’s minds and souls as well. He didn’t need to tell you that he loved you, you could feel it with every kiss, every thrust, every single touch he laid upon you. It was magical and brought you straight over the edge for the third time, you were a moaning mess and you chanted over and over again how much you loved him. It didn’t take long after your release for him to find his own. With a deep grunt he filled you up right to the hilt but he remained inside of you just for a little longer.

You shared each other’s lips, and you caressed each other’s faces softly, lovingly.

“If you ever do something like this again, I’m going to have to kill you, Y/N.” He spoke softly but gravely.

“I know.” You responded as you kissed him on his forehead.

You knew that he wouldn’t forgive you a second time. You still had some questions you wanted answers to but you had already decided to stop fighting him. You loved each other, deeply and eternally. That’s all that matters to you. At least for now.

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