Text
once again I wish there were more fics where WWX stayed at Lotus Pier. I wanna see the rebuilding and the political fuckery and prolonged after effect of him still being a part of Yunmeng Jiang.
#mdzs#wei wuxian#like an AU where maybe something like 5 years pass between war and seeing Wen Qing#maybe a missing golden core reveal?#just fic about people seeing yunmeng Jiang rebuilding and doing so quickly (as jc did in canon)#but with the added level of WWX with his reputation hanging around#okay maybe I also just want fic that’s JC and WWX playing up WWX as this semi feral thing under Jiang control#aus and ideas
17 notes
·
View notes
Text
"You're going to need a compelling reason to gain entry to Inazuma..."
My compelling reason is I need wood from there to make a purple bed for my teapot house.
#ghostprince posts#Genshin Impact#videogames#Very behind on story stuff obviously but after several days of avoiding it I finally finished the Dainslief quest (by using Amber to solo a#Ruin Hunter. Took forever but I'm proud of her) saw the Lumine reveal and now we're finally on our way to the next region!#Gonna be 2024 by the time I get to Sumeru since I still want to 100% Mondstat and Liyue + I don't wanna do the regions out of order/go to#Sumeru without it being time for it in the story. I've already technically done some stuff out of order since I did the Chasm before#Dainslief's quest and event cutscenes + character stories have been on a timeline thats innacurate to me + assumed knowledge of events/#characters/regions/etc that I don't (/canonically) have.#We're sort of getting on track though!#Glad I stopped playing this game when I did since it was causing problems for me. But also wish I'd started again sooner cuz I've missed so#much. But also glad I started again now since it gave me another chance to pick up where I left off in getting my favourite character and#being able to play as him has made this a lot of fun for me outside of the story elements. So... one step at a time in trying to just#enjoy myself at my own pace and hopefully ward off the stress of missing out on various limited-time events/rewards/characters.#+ I'm maybe in a bit of a better position to self-regulate what the problem was in the first place now? Let's assume I'm 'more mature'?#I have a lot of issues but I'm... maybe not working on them but I guess trying to not be overcome by some specific ones? And also trying to#stop spamming the discord server with updates about my every move in this game or go off about it to anyone who's willing to pretend they'r#listening ahaha. Trying to be less annoying basically. Might start talking outloud to the cat again. But! For now: New region that I#actually haven't seen any of the gameplay or visuals of (I don't think) so this should be interesting!#And purple :)#This has been my videogame update on Tumblr.com
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
— Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin' On
Hancock (FO4) x Sole Survivor!F!Reader
Rated E - 5.8k
Tags - 3rd person very loose pov, sole survivor!f!reader (no descriptors), canon-typical raider violence & death, mutual pining, teasing, partners to lovers, two idiots in love, waiting out a storm, mention of food/eating, SS!reader gets dicked down wearing Hancock’s coat, the hat stays on, fingering, oral (f receiving), spitting, manual restraints, multiple orgasms, PiV, creampie, mention of a cigarette/smoking, references to chems
started this while doing research for wasteland, baby - and was consumed with thoughts of a slightly softer “oh fuck, I’m in love” Hancock
It’s a dangerous thing - to have feelings for the person you’re traveling with. Too many things can go wrong in an instant and yet… here they are. Steadfastly ignoring the something that has been building, thick enough to taste.
Luckily, an incoming rad storm might just be the push they need.
He’s fucked.
Figuratively, not literally. Unfortunately.
That’s part of the problem, if he could call it that. And he probably shouldn’t - because it’s not her fault. Just his.
It was a rookie move, falling for his traveling companion. Should have kept it just professional - strictly business. No ‘get to know you’s, no inside jokes.
But he had never been the professional type. Not his style.
And somewhere along the way - between getting the shit kicked out of them, the close calls, the long miles of barren road - something had started to grow. Curling around his ribs and filling his guts up like ripe tarberries.
Letting it grow and flourish.
Unable to shake it.
It hadn’t been long before he had known something was up.
That it was something besides that urge to get away from it all, to wander, that kept him sticking with her.
That along the way, the idea of this stranger having his back became comforting. That he knew he had hers - even if he half-thinks she have a death wish, with the way she rushs into things half-cocked.
He can’t understand, but he tries. The bits he’s gleaned from late nights - passing the bottle of whisky back and forth even though it makes her grimace. The pieces of her past that have slowly been revealed, forming a half-completed picture.
It’s enough to make his blood boil, that scorching feeling of vengeance curling in his chest, eating up his insides. It’s been a long time since he felt that way - making him think back to the night where he had stained his hands with all that red.
He’d do it again, for her.
It’s that realization made him think that just maybe - he cares.
And not just in a friendly kind of way.
He thinks it began in the middle of a firefight.
Bullet whizzing past their heads. A nest of raiders flowing out from a jutting wreck of scaffolding they had missed.
Several downed already, lost among the ruins. A souped-up pistol in her hand, as the other shielded shrapnel from a hand-made grenade.
Missing the two that snuck up, flanking them.
He had taken one down. A nasty shot to the gut, the Raider gurlging as his legs gave out. Her shot going wide - he can still remember the look on her face as she reached for the gun on her back.
The other Raider taking the moment to bowl him over, a padded shoulder to the chest. Knocking them both against a piece of metal fencing that creaked under their weight - his shotgun clattering to the pavement.
An arm pressed against his throat, choking him - as the other fumbled for a knife. Ironic, he thought, that he’d be gutted, after all he’s done.
But she had swooped down. Fingers twisted around the barrel and forestock of her rifle. Bringing it down on the raiders head like it was a louisville slugger, snarling like she herself had gone feral.
Her hand, warm in his as she hauled him up, the other splaying across his chest. Face streaked with grease and splattered with blood but in that moment, she was the prettiest thing he had ever seen.
“Thanks, sunshine.” He had murmured.
Her smile had been small, as she pressed the gun back into his hand, “Can’t have you getting stabbed. I’d miss that mouth of yours.”
Such a small thing - her own joke. The way he filled the space with chatter on the road. But he’d been smitten.
He had been good looking, before. He wasn’t half-bad now. Charisma could get you a long way, and his silver tongue hadn’t rotted like the rest of him.
Charming words - flirty and sometimes filthy - slid easily from him in the heat of battle, the wind-down after. When he was feeling good about things, the words coming without thought.
Choking on them, when she turned to give him a look - embarrassed, sometimes. So goddamn cute and flustered, it made him want to do it more.
Other times - a look, that was soft and lingering.
“Yeah?”
Almost a challenge in the way she said it.
He could never follow it up.
Follow through.
Because back home, it wasn’t an issue. A rejection meant nothing other than a soft blow to his ego. Brushed off with a hit of a favorite indulgence, finding company in another.
But here - it had a weight. It could ruin something he truly has enjoyed. Throwing in with her had been one of the best decisions he had made. He couldn’t fuck that up. Not this time.
So he swallowed his words - before she was racing off, and he was following at her heels. Off to trouble that could be their last, and here he was - that clever tongue tied in a knot.
That’s when he knew that he had it bad.
Bad enough that out of the two of them, he had been the one peering up at the sky overhead. Where the muted hazy grey was rolling into a sickly green, rain starting to drop down. A rumble of thunder.
The first to suggest stopping at the next place they could, as the spaces between the raindrops started to dwindle.
“We can make it.” She had shrugged, as his jog slowed to a walk.
Catching her arm at the elbow, gesturing with the muzzle of his shotgun to the side.
“Not if you don’t want to end up like me, sister.”
Ignoring - but not missing - the chastising look she shot him. His head tilting towards the roof that looms just over the ridge.
An old diner - rusting chrome and shattered windows, but it would do. Well past soaked by the time they scrambled over the hill and down. Grateful to find that it was abandoned.
Picked over, for sure - but as long as there was a roof over their heads, he hadn’t cared. Combing through junk was her thing, anyways. He was just the pack mule.
Now - he’s multi-tasking. Trying not to think about what he’s thinking about.
About her changing in the room behind him. Peeling the patchwork raider gear off her curves. All that soft, smooth skin underneath.
Distracting himself by eyeing the radroach that is skittering across the pavement outside the front door - just out of range of his shotgun.
Because of course, out of everything in the wasteland, that was the thing she was scared of. Not super mutants, not even the pack of mirelucks that had them cornered, just the week before.
A goddamn bug.
He laughs, a soft hushed thing. Catching himself with a grimace.
Because, like he said.
He’s fucked.
The rain that patters overhead would be calming - if it had been 200 years ago, and not dripping with radiation.
She shivers, draping the tattered pants and worn shirt over the back of two rotting, wooden chairs - a makeshift drying rack. Missing that insulated warmth of her Vault Suit, trading it back at Sanctuary for worn clothes - old and salvaged Raider gear.
It had become hard to blend in, in all that blue.
It had made sense at the time, but in the dark and chilly backroom, she finds herself regretting it. Thinking that next time - she’ll pack it with her.
Trying to find the dampest parts of the packed gear to lay out, next. Lining up the bedroll next to the glow of the lantern.
Don’t need any more must or mold than there already was.
Pawing through her bag afterwards, coming up with something to pass for dinner. A can of cram, their only good fork wedged between two knuckles. A sweet roll split in two - the sticky crumbs clinging to her fingers as she nudged the door open.
Feeling vulnerable in the faded undergarments she wore underneath. Dreading facing him, not because of what he’ll say - that part, she is actually curious to hear.
She’d given up on the idea of modesty long ago. Traveling on the road and through the dirt and blood and grime will do that.
It was almost freeing.
No. It’s because - it makes her hope. Makes her think that dressing down might actually get him to notice her, in a way that’s more than the surface-level, flirty conversation she’s seen him have with dozens of people.
In the old world, maybe she’d wear a dress for him. Something red and cut low in the front - bare arms and legs.
Now, it’s faded cotton and vulnerability.
A “I can trust you like this” and a “Maybe if you like it, it will make me brave enough to ask.”
Rejection dressed like this would sting, surely. Even if it’s her fault, for having a crush on someone who doesn’t see her that way.
Her eyes linger on his back, where he stands watch. Where he hadn’t heard her open the door just yet, drifting to the other side of the counter to watch the rumbling, green storm roll in.
The tin clatters on the counter, drawing his attention. A flicker of lightning illuminating his profile as he turns, eyes widening.
Hancock’s eyes drop automatically. Quickly and then a slow drag - it’s like watching him after she’s taken a hit of Psycho.
Dark and glittering under her own careful watch, before they’re snapping back up, and he’s blinking.
Pulling himself back.
“Is that dinner?” He asks, clearing his throat when the words come out rough and low.
Her face falls, just for an instant. A small smile replacing it, as she scoops up the tin of cram before tossing it his way. He catches it neatly - popping the lid open, plucking the fork from her fingers.
She should have known better.
Hancock was just a flirt, never taking her bait. It was a good thing, she thought. Honorable, despite the grey that’s soaked into both of their moral codes.
He digs the fork in, breaking off a piece of the preserved meat. Handing the first bite to her, unable to help another quick look as he lowers himself to one of the stools that curves around the diner countertop.
Not that he hasn’t seen her before. Never quite this bare - but close enough, from the quick times they’ve had to change clothes.
It didn’t mean anything.
“So uh, what’s with the getup?” Hancock can’t resist asking, his tone deceptively light, “Or should I say, lack thereof?
“Clothes are soaked,” She snorts around the mouthful, trying to sound disinterested, “Besides, you’re always telling me it’s not good to let the rads soak in.”
He’s curious now, catching that slight edge. Not usually so defensive - that expression she makes when she’s flustered. It makes him want to nudge at it, poke at that little crack.
“Hey, you don’t hear me complain’, sister.” Hancock grins, taking the fork back, “That’s a real good look for you.”
Always a joke.
Her eyes roll as she sits down on the stool to his left, her knee knocking against his. The halves of sweet roll balanced on the curling, discarded tin, for after.
They share the makeshift dinner. Passing the fork back and forth, trying not to think about how easy it feels to be like this.
Companionable silence, beneath the rumbling, dark green sky. Tucked away and sheltered from the storm.
She stares out across the wasteland, lost in thought. Moving on to other things, already planning for the morning. If there’s any stops they need to make on the way back to Sanctuary.
While his eyes wander - a sideways glance that drifts down her form greedily, only to shift away when her own lift.
A breeze cuts through the building where windows once lived, making her shiver. Arms moving from the countertop to wrap around a bare middle, curling in on herself.
“You cold, sunshine?” He asks with concern, bringing her back.
She hadn’t noticed, but now she does. The chill starting to sink in, now that she’s not moving, not covered in the layers and padded armor.
Goosebumps raise on her skin. Arms crossing tighter across her chest, as her lips part to answer.
But Hancock is already shrugging off his maroon frock, swiveling in his seat to swing it around her shoulders.
She rarely seen him without it. Fuck, he even sleeps in the damn thing - a prized possession, if he ever had one.
“Thanks.” The word is layered with sincerity, as she pulls it close around her, the high collar brushing her cheek.
Warmer already. The inside is soft against her skin, the fabric worn and stained and smelling like him.
Silence lingers for a moment, as they stare at the darkening sky. The heavy blanket of rain that still patters on the rooftop, a slow drip down to the tile floor on the other side of the room.
"Hope this lets up by morning," She says as she leans, warmer now - elbows pressing into the stained laminate counter.
Eyes out of focus, thoughts already running off without her. "Stop by Sanctuary, pick up some things for Tenpines. Haven't been there in a bit, been wondering how they've been holding up."
He mirrors her - feeling bare without his coat. A heavy lean on his left elbow, the swivel of the chair bumping his knee against hers, "’m sure they're fine. Gotta be better off than they were before."
A smirk crosses his features, a glance from the corner of his eye, "'Sides, not every day you get saved by the fearless leader of the Minutemen. That oughta keep 'em going for a while."
There's a groan as she slumps, the heels of her hands pressing into her eyes. Garvey's enthusiasm and her recent promotion to General a source of embarrassment, even if she bore the weight of it well.
"Yes, the fearless leader," She mocks, her head turning his way. Pushing herself up, her arms spreading wide, "If only they could see me now."
And they might not be able to, but he can.
Not just the soft expanse of her skin, peeking out from beneath his coat. The hollow of her throat, the curve of her breast and the strain of her tits against worn fabric that will be forever seared into his mind.
Not only just that, though. That something that he can see inside her - that was there when he had decided to leave Goodneighbor. That lingers with him, tethering them together as he follows at her side. And yes, he does stretch the truth - who doesn’t? He wouldn’t make half as many deals, otherwise.
But he’s isn’t, now.
She is unaware of the thoughts that tumble through his mind, quick as old snapshots. A curling amber film strip, tucked into a canister.
Instead, there’s a roll of her eyes as her comment of "really, only you could pull this coat off" lands on ears that had been muted, in the way his mind drifts. How the low pooling of warmth in his belly turns sharp and cramps, at the thought of Preston Garvey spending time in such company. Like this - without him.
"I wouldn’t say that." He hears himself saying. Voice a little lower, raspier, than usual.
Maybe it's bravery. Maybe it's him finally seeing her intent - maybe it's the moment where he's realizing that after tonight, she's no longer just his again.
His eyes drag over her again, slower this time. And he lets her catch them.
"From here, things are looking pretty good."
She stills, eyes rounding. A swivel of her chair until knee-to-knee becomes thigh-to-thigh- something akin to hope slipping into her tone.
“Yeah?”
He reaches - fingers tracing the collar of his coat, thumb rubbing against the hollow of her throat.
“I’d say so.” Hancock tells her, “Look like a goddamn dream, if I’m being honest.”
She’s tired of waiting. She’s done enough of it. Eyes on his as her chin tilts up, just hovering.
He’s tired, too.
With a lean, he takes the offering. Ruined lips press against soft ones. Ones that part for him, a soft sound at the greedy dart and swipe of his tongue, until she’s meeting him.
She’s sweet - he can taste the sugar on her tongue, melding with the taste of her. Fingers press against his chest, where his heart hammers. Sliding over lithe shoulders until they’re wrapping around, pulling him closer.
He’s stronger than he looks. The seat squeaks when he leans, his palms tracing her waist, her hips. Tucking beneath her thighs - right against the curve of her ass as Hancock lifts his hips, taking her with him.
She moves, his name a soft sound in her throat. Letting him lead, letting him ease her onto the edge of the counter. A sense of relief and hope floods through her, dripping down to settle warm and wanting between the thighs that spread open so he can step between them.
His cock swells, where it’s trapped inside his pants. Easing the ache with a roll of his hips, pressing himself against the thin fabric covering her core. The breath she inhales in response is shaky. Another soft sound, so different than the assured tone he’s used to.
He wants to hear it again.
It’s easy to set the pace - the pointed press of his hips. Her hand finding his, drawing it up to her breast. Letting him cup her, the soft weight. Letting him press his thumb against that tight peak, catch it between his fingers until she’s gasping against his grinning mouth.
Her mouth drops, catching his chin. The tip of a tongue between parted lips press against his cheek, warmth breath against his jaw making him growl.
“Please-” She’s murmuring, against his skin. Against muscle and sinew, as his own lips follow.
Fingers biting into his skin, as his teeth graze her jaw. Her head tilting back, baring her throat to him, as her hips rock to meet his. Eyes fluttering shut as her chest heaves, as his other hand curls against the curve of her hip, keeping her close.
His tongue peeks out, dragging against sweat and rain-dewed skin. A groan rattles in his throat, his own voice distant and rasping.
“Fuck, I need to taste you.” He can feel her moan, against his lips at his words, “Lean back for me, doll.”
She’s soft, pliable. Unwinding herself from him as she obeys, only for those hazy eyes to open - meeting his beetle-black ones.
“Wait,” She’s protesting, hands slipping to press flat against on his chest. A sudden realization - shoulder curling back so his coat slides off it, “Let me take this off.”
“Leave it.” Hancock’s head lifts to kiss her again, his hand curling around the back of her neck.
She huffs against his mouth, before it turns into a sigh. His tongue brushing against her lower lip, before she pulls back again.
Not wanting to forget her train of thought.
“What if I make a mess on your coat?”
He groans at that, the hand on her hip drifting lower. Cupping her over the thin piece of fabric, fingers pressing down.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” He husks, “I’d fuckin’ love that. Never gonna take it off.”
It makes her scoff, cheeks burning, “You never do, anyways. You-”
He shuts her up with his fingers - tugging at the elastic waistband, pulling them down until she’s bare. Letting her kick them off, before he’s pushing her back against the counter.
Arching over her soft form as his mouth wanders, his hips grinding against hers. Teeth nipping at her throat, lips brushing where her heartbeat flutters. Clever fingers tracing the seam of her sex, brushing over soft lips - teasing.
She’s so fucking wet, he can feel how his fingers glide over her skin. How it smears on her thighs, as they spread wider for him.
“What do you want?”
It makes her sigh - that voice, so low and rasping - and she’s clenching around nothing already.
“You,” She’s unable to help but whine, “Please, you-”
His laugh is rough, a rattling chuckle in his throat, “You have me, sunshine.”
Middle finger parting her, teasing at her entrance, the calloused pad of his thumb circling around the bud of her clit. Sinking into the wet heat as she groans, starting a slow pump of his textured finger.
Pressing deep with a slow thrust. Another, and then another, until she’s taking a second. Stretching her wide, as her fingers twist in his stained shirt. Grasping for his shoulders as her hips buck into his touch.
“Should say how do you want it?” The kiss he presses against her throat is almost reverent, “Because I don’t think I have it in me to go slow right now.”
“Slow, later.,” She moans, as his fingers press deep, “Need you.”
He grins, “Love how you think, sweetheart.”
Hancock’s head ducks, moving down to her collarbone, then lower. She’s already reaching to tug the cups of her bra down, baring the curves of her breasts to him.
“Fuckin’ beautiful.” He hums, fingers brushing over the soft weight again, cupping one in his hand. Still fucking her open with the other, curling and stroking until she’s panting.
Tongue peeking out to flatten, and then drag across the tight peak of her nipple. Her hands grasping for him again, as there’s the briefest pinch of teeth.
“Hancock.” She grits out, a swivel of her hips against his, grinding into his fingers.
His own rocking against the back of his hand, where he’s hard and aching. Never thinking he’d know what it’s like to have his partner begging like this.
He wants to hear more. Every little sound she makes, as his mouth moves lower. Licking wet stripes against her stomach and abdomen.
Until he’s plunking down on the padded chrome stool he’s been straddling. Gazing at where she’s wrapped around his glossy fingers.
Watching how she twitches and bucks and gasps when his thumb swipes across her clit, his name on parted lips again.
“Love hearin’ you say my name like that.” He purrs, “Can’t wait to hear how it sounds when you come.”
Leaning forward, inhaling her scent before his tongue swipes above his fingers. Her hips leave the countertop, the moan loud as he laughs - his other hand pressing flat against her stomach.
Holding her down, as he teases her again. Short, pointed licks against her throbbing clit. Her cunt is as sweet as her mouth, his own groan caught in his throat as his tongue dips inside her.
Mourning all the nights he could have spent like this. Spending the time as evening turns to night, then again as night turns to dawn. Drowning in the taste of her instead of clenching his teeth until his jaw aches, as he tries to keep quiet. Dreaming of this.
He leans back, just enough to press a wet kiss against her clit. The soft suck a sharp contrast with the texture of his rough fingers as he fucks her open.
She was right - it’s messy. Dripping down the curve of her thighs, the damp stain mixing with others on his weathered coat.
Everything is so dry, in the wasteland. Dirt roads and dead trees. He relishes in the wet suck of her cunt, how it’s this way right now because of him.
His cheeks hollow, a swirl of his tongue before he’s adding to it. Leaning back to let his spit drip down, his thumb dragging it across the tight bud.
She’s whimpering. It’s been ages since she’s had anyone - the low throb in her belly swiftly building.
In the before - she thinks she’d be embarrassed to be splayed out like this. Stripped near-bare on the counter of a diner, thighs spread wide as his fingers pump into her aching cunt.
But he eats her like a meal, left hand moving from her belly. Wrapping around a thigh to tug her closer, hiking it over a shoulder.
Groaning into her pussy as his tongue flicks against her clit, smearing slick across his chin. Pressing closer, unhindered by the usual curve of cartilage and flesh as he molds himself against her.
“Hancock.” His name is a sharp gasp, as she clenches around him. Breath held in her throat as she watched with half-lidded eyes.
Focused on the tight string that winds with each careful curl of his fingers. He slips in a third and she all but sobs, chasing her pleasure with a needy rock of her hips.
Chanting him name as it curls low in her belly.
“Hancock. Hancock-”
And then, the prettiest of all.
“John. Fuck, John, I’m going to come-”
It’s goddamn music to his metaphorical ears. Better than that - better than the sing of gunfire in his favor, of the sweet rush and hum of that first hit of Jet.
He watches through those dark eyes as she falls apart. Her cry loud in the empty diner, as she’s struck - the livewire crackle of her orgasm ripping through her.
Better than she can ever remember. Thighs squeeze around his neck but it only makes him moan - breath hot against her cunt as his fingers continue to pump. And his tongue dips to taste her, slipping between knuckles.
The pleasure throbs - the stained ceiling spinning, looking like the clouded stars high above them to her hazy mind.
A disbelieving and dazed laugh caught in her throat as his mouth moves. Pressing against her mound, the sensitive curve where thigh meets hip.
It’s only then that she’s unhooking her thighs - a heat blazing in her cheeks at the brazenness. Too caught up in the moment to see herself - splayed out across the countertop, heels digging into his spine.
But she does see him - the need etched across his face under the tip of his hat, the wet shine against his lips and chin. Deadly in a new kind of way, mixing with the prowess he shows on the battlefield.
There’s another low throb, deep inside her. The lithe way he moves, rising - a hand planting next to her hip, the other working the heavy buckle open.
She meets him - pushing herself up. A hand coming to cup him, feeling the hard length that strains against his trousers. Tasting herself on his tongue when her head ducks to kiss him, swallowing his groan as her fingers palm and squeeze.
“Drivin’ me crazy, sunshine.” His voice is like gravel, as he works at the zipper - her fingers slipping past to wrap around hot skin, “Enough to make a ghoul go feral, you know that?”
Her smile is pretty - pleasure-drunk, and he hasn’t even fucked her yet. Her hand soft and warm where she eases him out, the brush of her thumb over the head making his cock throb.
“Me too. I need you.” She begs, and he knows it’s more than that just that.
That it’s not just fucking, right now. That a line has been crossed, that they’ll never be able to not want this again. More than ready to tumble over into the unknown, together.
“My mouth wasn’t enough?” Hancock grins. Fully intending to have her every way she’ll let him. Unable to resist making her squirm.
The look she gives him makes him chuckle - the gentle pull of her fist, the little frown. The way her thighs spread again, aiming the flushed tip of his cock over slick skin. Against the tight nub of her clit as she shivers, lips parting with a gasp.
“Hancock, don’t tease-” Some of that bite is back, desperate. Not begging but it’s close, as her hips lift against him again.
“I’ll give you anything you want.” He promises, “Just like hearing you say it. Come on, sweetheart.”
It’s hard to hold himself back, when she’s notching him against her opening. His hands sliding to her hips, liking the way his fingers sink into her skin.
How it dents around his calloused ones, soft as the rest of her.
“Fuck me.” Her eyes are on his, watching where they drag from his fingers to her pussy. Watching how his chest heaves beneath his vest, where his chest peeks from loosened buttons.
“I need you in me. I need you to fuck me, I want to come on your cock-”
“Fuck.” He groans, and then his hips are snapping forward. Feeling the tight, warm squeeze as he buries himself in her, as she cries out at the intrusion.
“Goddamn, sunshine.” He has to hold himself there for a moment, hilted inside her. Feeling the way she clenches down around him, fingers mirroring it where they wrap in his shirt.
Almost sharing a breath as he inches out, only to press deep again. Again, and then again - until there’s the slick slap, the creak of the floorboards beneath his heavy boots as his feet spread wider.
It’s better than his fingers. He’s deeper, filling her completely, stealing her breath. Those hands tugging at her hips, urging her to meet each thrust, as he picks up speed.
Hearing the changes in her pretty sounds - the gasps and the scrape of fingernails against his skin. Spearing her on his cock, where she can feel the worn and rough ridges gliding against a spot that has been sighing.
But, he wants more. Wants her like before - splayed out. At his mercy, in a way that he knows she’d only do for him. Knowing that she trusts him - wondering if he would be worried that the thought makes his cock jerk inside her.
“Give me your hands.” He rasps - and slowly, her finger uncurl from the edge of the counter, the vice-like grip on his shirt.
Hancock grasps at her wrists, joining them together with one of his own. Pushing her back, dragging them above her head and pressing them down hard against the countertop.
Arching over her as his eyes sweep over soft curves and bare skin. His coat spread out beneath her, the worn red so pretty next to her skin. Better than his best fantasy, and he’s already thinking about a next time.
The choked out “oh!” she makes with the next rock of his hips shoots straight to his cock - knowing full-well she could break free if she wanted.
Instead, she lets him take.
Giving up the control as he ruts into her, spearing his cock deep again and again. Trying to meet the messy swipe of his fingertips that drifted down to press against the bundle of nerves - her pleasure in his hands.
“Look good like this, sunshine.” His eyes drag over her breasts, still shining from his tongue.
“Real fuckin’ good.”
Down to where her thighs tighten around his hips, arching into him, “Should keep you like this all the time. Just in my coat. Wear it better than I do.”
A sharp edge to his voice, one that fuels the aching pressure that builds and builds. Her head thunks back against the laminate counter, eyes falling shut.
The words starting slow, growing louder, then running together.
“Feels so good-”
“Hancock don’t stop. Oh my god-”
There’s an electricity in the air that has nothing to do with the storm. His hand biting into her wrists so hard that it hurts, but the pain only loops into her mounting pleasure.
It’s different than his dalliances before.
Before, it had filled his time. Finding someone to spend the night with a couple times a week, enjoying the shared company with another.
That frequency dwindling after they joined up, though he hadn’t been the type to stop. He just no longer had the time, that same desire.
Finding that he no longer focused on chasing his own pleasure. His interest shifting - until there was only one face that drifts through his mind, in the stolen moments at night when his hand slipped beneath his trousers.
Embracing the crave of a new kind of addiction, the urge hooking its claws into his brain.
“Say my name again.” He tells her, feeling his own release winding and tightening. Trying to stave it off, as he tries to think about anything else, “Fuckin’ scream it for me.”
Her eyes are on his when she says it.
“John.”
First soft, and then pitching up - louder.
And in the moment, he’s just John. The John before and the John now, man and ghoul and so focused on the circle of his fingers, on her cries.
It’s too much - all she can do is lean into it. Never realizing how much she’d like letting go for him, knowing that just like in the Wasteland, he had her.
Always liking his quips and rasping tone but never experiencing it like this - honey-sweet and hungry.
Learning so quickly what she likes - how quick he was to adjust the angle, the slick swirl of his fingers.
His name is on her lips again as he brings her over the brink. More like a prayer this time, her body stringing taut beneath him, eyes wide. Mouth rounding on a high gasp as the pleasure shudders through her, radiating up her spine and down her limbs.
Seeming to reach across from where they’re joined, that steady rhythm stuttering as she flutters tight and warm around him.
“Fuck. Fuck, sunshine. You feel so fucking good, gonna make me come-” His teeth grit, a silent question.
Her answer coming in the way her thighs tighten around him. Keeping him pressed deep inside her, until his thrusts turn short and sloppy.
“Oh, fuck yes.” His grin is closer to a snarl, “Thank you-”
His fingers bite into her hip. Her name hissed through clenched teeth as the pressure builds, before spilling over.
As his hips rut until he’s pressed as deep as he can, a choked groan as he comes. His cock twitching with each throb of his orgasm, as he fills her. Emptying himself into her heat - until she’s milked him dry. Until he slows, leaving himself buried, deep and warm.
His eyes drop, as he comes back down. Where she’s watching, just as hungry as he was.
Leaving them staring at each other. His back arched over where his hand has slipped. Loosening on her wrist, until her fingers has twined with his.
There’s no going back.
His cock hangs heavy between his thighs. It’s night - dark now, but the flickering of lightning following the peals of thunder cast green shadows over her body. Eyes drifting up to where the rain patters on the metal roof.
A languid exhale, breathing out the smoke from the cigarette he fished out of the coat pocket. Dangling between two fingers, the cherry gleaming in the dim light.
Then back down, to where she still rests - beautifully drowsy and limp-limbed. Thighs still parted, where she gleams with him.
He’s certain he’ll be dripping into those clothes of hers for days.
It does something to him, an interested twitch from his cock. Stepping closer to fit himself back between those thighs, where they close to bracket his hips again.
“Didn’t you say somethin’ ‘bout slow, later?” Hancock asks, his hand petting down a hip, thumb brushing against her skin.
Stubbing the rest of his smoke out on the counter, letting it fall to the tile below.
Her smile is sweet as she pushes herself up. No use leaving while the storm raged on - and she’s pretty sure the bedroll was well on its way to dry by now.
Fingers catch on the collar of his ruffled shirt, starting to push it from his shoulders. His own hands tugging at her, until he pressed snug against her again.
“Mm. Is it later, now?” She asks - as more of him is a bared - her hands running across rough skin.
Hancock grins.
“I sure as hell hope so.”
I know this dropped out of nowhere for a 9 year old game but I can’t get the mayor out of my mind 💕 thanks for reading!!!
#the tags on this are going to sound cursed ->#john hancock x reader#John Hancock x sole#John Hancock x Sole Survivor#hancock x sole survivor#hancock x reader#john hancock#fallout 4
2K notes
·
View notes
Note
I wonder what change would've you make Gabriel if he was an actual effective sympathetic villain the show seem to think instead of the pathetic display of canon. On the other note, what would've you make to actually have Emilie be this saint like character the show keep saying she is
To start, there'd have to be lines that Gabriel just *wouldn't* cross. No akumas that target his son, for starters, no "Chat Blanc" scenario where he finds out Chat's identity and then beats the shit out of him, and no making ridiculous decisions for Adrien like deciding his girlfriend.
Season 5 Gabriel cannot exist, it was actually inSANE of the writer's to put the worst version of him on display...and then play him off as the hero. Like, wut? WHAT?!
I fully admit that in the earlier seasons, I didn't consider Gabriel an abuser. I considered him a dick, but abuser felt too...top shelf of a word to use, though I also contend that his behavior felt like the starting signs. Mostly I just considered him pathetic and like Kids Tv Exaggerated Version of a Strict Parent.
But Season 5??? Uh, yeah, no discussion, this guy is an abusive dickbag and can burn in hell.
Just make it so the reason Hawkmoth fails as often as he does is because sometimes he holds back. Sometimes he gets close to the line and remembers his wife and just can't make himself do something SO heinous that his wife would be disappointed.
As for ACTUALLY selling the Emilie is a Saint Mom, it's super easy. Just have flashbacks. Where she's interacting with her husband and child and sorta not girlfriend? Like, they revealed these video recordings of Emilie in SEASON 5! It took FIVE SEASONS for us to hear Emilie's voice from Emilie herself! (Amelie doesn't count)
And, uh, maybe as a writer think about what you're implying with the things you include in your story. Like, maybe EITHER have Adrien not ever have a birthday party OR have his mom missing for only a year, so it doesn't seem like Emilie *also* didn't care about his birthday. Just, you know. Little things like that that don't accidentally inform us of her character.
797 notes
·
View notes
Text
Mask On
How the boys react to their new ally who is more adamant on wearing their mask than Ghost himself.
Characters: Captain John Price, Simon “Ghost” Riley, Johnny “Soap” MacTavish, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick
GN!Reader w/ no physical descriptions (except shorter than Ghost)
Genre: Fluff
Word Count: 3.1 (~0.8 each)
Warning: Canon-Typical Violence, Mentions of Reader potentially having insecurities, Not Proof Read
A/N: You know what maybe I want to be the badass masked character 😤
Captain John Price
The captain is thorough, and he immediately knew something was up when he looked up your file only to be greeted with no photo. He’s honestly a little peeved that his rank doesn’t grant him this confidential information, he’s known Simon before he took up the mask so this is the first time he’s genuinely had a faceless ally
But ultimately, as long as he can trust that you’ll be following orders, he doesn’t care if you have a mask or not. But his concern is only that for a fellow soldier
It takes a little longer for him to warm up to you - facial expressions tell a lot about someone’s character. He’s a bit prickly around you, he learns about you indirectly with how you interact with the rest of the 141
But over time there’s a shift. He can’t pinpoint when exactly but the sight of your mask relaxes him. After days separated on a mission, high stakes and adrenaline has Price snapping his head at the faintest of foreign sounds. But upon the familiar sight of your signature mask, he feels at ease
Price is fiercely protective of you and your mask. He likens it to his hat, only far more important - that mask is part of your identity and he knows just how important a soldier’s psyche is. If the enemy manages to take off your mask, he’ll stop at nothing to get it back on your behalf, even if you reluctantly tell him to abandon it
If he can’t salvage your mask, Price has now made it a habit to carry a balaclava for you in one of his pockets. If that’s not available, he’ll even offer you his hat, tipping it down far enough to obscure your eyes
Off duty he finds himself staring at your visage more these days. Looking at how the mask curves over your features, or the small slivers of skin that reveal themselves. He catches himself before you notice but he’s still disappointed in himself, he feels like a Victorian-era prude hyperventilating at the sight of an ankle
“Looking fresh, sergeant.”
You let out an audible chortle at Price’s words. The last mission was a success but at great costs, one of them being your mask damaged beyond repair during melee combat. Your face still wasn’t revealed, but slashes against fabric embedded with dirt and ash have made your signature mask look unrecognisable. Immediately upon returning to base and after debriefing, you were out of commission until you could don a new mask.
Price would be lying if said he didn’t miss your presence for the last few days, hiding away from the rest of the soldiers in base. He has no doubt you’ve still maintained your training and visiting the infirmary for mandatory checkups, but he’s gotten far too used to you being at his beck and call. The famed sight of your mask is no longer in his periphery, giving a nod of approval (not that he ever needed your approval, but he does enjoy your attention).
And now here you are with a new mask, the highlights glowing under the overhead lights and the darks swallowing up the lightwaves like an animal starved. Your updated look had you noticeably confident, shoulders square and head tall.
“Thanks, Captain.”
He can hear your smile and he ends up sitting next to you. Did he need to sit so close? No, but he acts as though his thigh brushing against yours was pure coincidence.
“What are you going to do with the old one?”
“I don’t know,” you shrug, giving a light pat to a pocket in your cargo pants that your past mask currently resides in. “I know there’s a lot of memories in this… it’s my first mask… but I don’t know what to do with it.”
“I’ll keep it.”
You look at him. Price now has the uncanny ability to read your mood purely through your body language. From the speed at which you turn your head, the inclination of the neck, how your shoulders slant, he’s surprised that such a vicious soldier can act so endearingly in these moments.
“For what?”
“Safekeeping,” he says simply. “I’m proud of my soldiers, sergeant - want to remember their accomplishments.”
You shrug in agreement and fish your mask out of your pocket. You don’t need to know how much Price truly values you, how having your mask will be like having a part of you by his side to motivate him when he’s working alone.
Simon “Ghost” Riley
You’ve got a mask? Cool, so does he. Simon really doesn’t care when he first met you. He offers a simple nod of acknowledgement to you and then it’s all mission talk. If anything, the mask makes him respect you more, like him it’s always the masked ones who’ve seen shit and can get shit done
Even before you two became friends, you two were often paired together for operations. Perhaps it was just assumed the two masked people were on the same wavelength and to be fair, they were right. It didn’t take long for Ghost to admire your prowess on the battlefield
However as the two of you start to get closer, Simon gets a bit of a eureka moment. So this is how all his allies feel when trying to get along with a masked figure, unable to see any of their expressions. Oh how the tables have turned. It’s not daunting for him, more just amusing
He knows the struggles of having a mask so he helps out where he can. He reminds you if it’s been some time since you last washed your mask (advice he does not follow himself) and he’ll offer you some of his obsidian powder he uses to obscure any uncovered patches of skin
Price often has the two of you accompany him for interrogations, he calls it “mask pressure”. There’s nothing more terrifying to a target than having two imposing faceless figures standing on either side of them, unreadable and unpredictable
It’s clear you don’t want to show your face to anyone and Simon doesn’t question it. His natural curiosity is not worth your discomfort and he makes that abundantly clear. If on the rare occasion you catch him without a mask, he’ll sometimes put it back on so that you don’t have to be the only one with their face covered
If your mask is ever compromised, Simon covers you with his hulking figure. No one dares get on the bad side of Ghost who shoots the most terrifying glares towards anyone looking in his - and consequently your - way. He stands in front of you, back rigid and shoulders square, his posture only slacking if he feels you hold onto his back, seeking comfort
A few weeks ago, when left in a briefing, you finally noticed Simon was staring at you from across the room. He had been staring for a good while now, but you - ever the diligent soldier - were distracted discussing tactics with a corporal. So there he was, standing and observing in the corner of the room - his “observing” being drinking the sight of you. And that was when he noticed, among all the glory that was you, that your mask was slightly off alignment. Cue his eyes being trained on your head for you to get the idea that something was wrong.
When your head stayed still - probably challenging his gaze - he tried to change tactics. He added the occasional upward jerk of the head - miming an attempt to shake the mask back in place - but your head only tilted in confusion. You still could not figure out what he was doing.
Eventually he gave up and walked up to you. He lifted a tentative hand, silently asking for permission and you nodded. He pinched at the fabric on the side of your face.
“Your mask’s slippin’,” he said gruffly. It wasn’t the end of the world, only a small adjustment that only someone as observant as him could notice. Still, he felt satisfied at your heavy exhale, you must’ve noticed it’s a little easier to breathe with everything in alignment now.
“Thanks.”
Today, Simon finds your gaze trained on him, head following whenever he moves across the room. You used to stare when you first met, you probably found him intimidating and he doesn’t blame you. He thought you’d be over that though, you two were closer than that. At least he hoped.
“Penny for your thoughts?” He eventually asks and that spurs you into action.
Standing in front of him, you reach up, your hand grabbing the top half of the skull that overlays his balaclava. Your thumb lightly hooks into the skull’s eye socket - a little close to Simon’s actual eye but he trusts you. He feels you tug upwards, and Simon now realises that the skull had been sinking down his face, the peripheral around his brow no longer obscured. He’ll need to reapply the glue for the mask later.
“We really need a hand sign for this,” you mutter.
And so you two make one. It’s discreet, a closed fist with a thumb poking out, dragged from the jawline up to the hairline. The rest of the 141 just look at the two of you in confusion whenever you use it though, your little secret.
Johnny “Soap” MacTavish
Johnny’s generally a good judge of character. Although it’s a little uncanny being unable to see your features, he’s used to it because of Simon. One conversation is all he needs to reach a conclusion as to what type of person you are and now he treats you as if you’re good friends
Yes, he is curious about what you look like under the mask. He used to make comments about it occasionally until he caught you on a bad day
“C’mon Sarge, just a peek.” “Not happening, Johnny.” “What, you ugly?” “… that’s not for you to speculate, MacTavish.” “Shit, sorry. I- I’d never think that of you, or care. I know you’re a looker.”
And Johnny stands by his statement. Even if he’s never seen your face he quickly developed a little crush on you. How you conduct yourself in battle has him watching you with stars in his eyes and he just knows you’ll take his breath away if you ever show your face
When Johnny’s bored, he likes doodling your mask and potential alternative designs in his journal which he’ll show you sometimes. He’s not an artist but he gets the idea across. He’s created a “happy” design, an “angry” one, and the “when I see Soap” design which is just your standard mask with a whole lot of shoddily drawn love hearts on it (you haven't seen that design yet)
He’s genuinely surprised at how determined you are at keeping your mask on in all circumstances - you’re worse than Simon at this point - but he’ll never ask because he doesn’t want to potentially open up old wounds. Despite his curiosity for what you could look like, Johnny will never invade your privacy and ensures no one else does either. If you’re in your room he’ll knock once, twice, thrice, until he’s absolutely sure you’re ready for him to enter
If something goes wrong and your mask falls off he’s looking away and shoving everyone else to look away as well. He’s like a guard dog, shouting and name-shaming anyone who dares look in your direction. No one except other members of the 141 will be able to approach you until you’re covered
Was it smart to have you and Soap - combined to be the most disruptive and obnoxious soldiers on the field - alone to handle a stealth mission that was off the books? No, but you sure as hell weren’t going to disappoint Price or Laswell. The objective was clear and the rules of engagement were even clearer; under no circumstance can the enemy know you’re from 141.
“We’re gonna need to cover our faces,” Johnny mutters absentmindedly beside you. You pull your binoculars down to send him an incredulous look and he chuckles. “I need to cover my face.”
“You got a mask?”
There’s a pause and Johnny’s looking at you, eyes glinting in that familiar mischief. That was never good news.
“You bet.”
You offer a tentative nod of encouragement before lifting your binoculars back up to observe the target site. You hear the repeated shuffles of fabric against fabric and clothes sliding against skin. It’s prolonged, you swear it’s enough time for Johnny to change his entire uniform. His breaths become muted, mouth now covered until it eventually falls to complete silence. It’s unnerving, the designated demolitions expert is not known for his silence, and you have to look back at him yet again.
Of course you expected Johnny to be wearing a mask, but it was the mask itself that took you by surprise.
“Is that… mine?”
“Was yours.”
You squint and somewhere in the depths of your mind, you vaguely recall Soap asking if he could have one of your spare masks back at the base. You humoured him, and said your wardrobe was his.
That was your first mistake.
You figured he was just going to take the piss, wear your mask to scare some privates around the base. You didn’t think he’d actually wear it on a mission. It was unexpected, but it felt like an honour. How he was so willing to identify with you in some of the most dangerous of situations.
But your silence has Johnny getting fidgety. He’s already reaching up to pull the mask off.
“I have a normal balaclava. If you don’t like this I can-”
“Wear it.”
You can’t see Johnny’s face but you see him pull his head back in surprise. Then he smiles, one so wide, expanding his cheeks you can see it stretch your mask. In that moment you’re glad your mask obscures your features as you feel yourself grin at his own joy.
“We’re a team, aye?”
“You bet.”
Kyle “Gaz” Garrick
Kyle’s may be close to Simon but he's not entirely used to masked allies. When you first arrived he shot Captain Price a cautious look, a silent conversation between them finished by Price’s definitive nod. Eventually he relents and puts up with you
Subconsciously, without seeing your face he ends up reducing you to a weapon. He respects you like a soldier, a robot. His language is restrained, only issuing orders and you recite them back
It’s only when another soldier cracks a joke on the mission and you laugh does it flick a switch in Kyle’s mind. You weren’t all orders, you weren’t a machine, you were a human (with a damn nice voice might he add). He feels terrible for reducing you to a tool simply because he can’t see your face but he’ll make up for it now
He becomes a bit of a menace in the sparse quiet moments of a mission. He makes the occasional one liner about how you wear the mask so others aren’t distracted by your good looks, but then changes the topic so quickly you’re not even sure he said it
Yes, Kyle’s a little obsessed with your voice. He can’t see you and he doesn’t have the experience like Price or Simon to read body language accurately. Instead, he can read your mood near perfectly with the inflections in your voice (which is arguably more impressive). While he doesn’t want you to ever be upset or angry, sometimes how you taunt the enemy has a shiver running down his spine
Because your mouth is blocked by a mask, many allies don’t offer you food or drinks. Not Kyle though, if he’s grabbed refreshments, he always ensures he has extra for you. At first he just gives them to you and then leaves. But when you said it was okay for him to stay - trusting him enough to just look away when you lift you mask - Kyle’s heart soared
If anything happens to reveal your face, Kyle is immediately by your side. He pulls you close to provide comfort, while also guiding your head into his neck or shoulder to block anyone from seeing you. Another member of the 141 will find a solution to cover your face, you are Kyle’s first priority and he’ll gladly hold you all day
After a long mission, you and Kyle are finally safe upon reaching exfil. Sitting on a helicopter Kyle slumps against his seat, and you do the same beside him. Although he could finally relax, he feels absolutely filthy, swamped in his own sweat under multiple layers. Dirt and mud caked his boots and crept all the way up to his thighs. Some even sneaked up into under his tactical vest.
He spares a look and sometimes he thinks you can’t possibly be human. The heat is suffocating enough without a mask, Kyle has long forgone his signature cap to let his head breathe. If your body language was any indicator, you weren’t handling the sweltering heat of the helicopter engine or Al Mazrah’s temperament. Your chest notably heaving under the weight of your tactical gear, breaths so laboured it sent the fabric around your mouth pulling and billowing with each inhale and exhale.
There isn’t much Kyle can do for comfort, but he tries. He shifts a little closer to you. Your head shifts to look at him, the movement was far too slow, like your head was too heavy and his heart tugs a little.
With one hand, Kyle gently tilts your face up to him. With the other he lightly pinches the fabric of your mask at the junction between your jawline and ear. Teasing it between his fingers, when he pulls his hand away there’s gunk on his fingertips. Dust, dirt and as he squints at your mask he realises that some of the stains are likely the dried blood of an unidentified enemy.
The hand he’s resting on your chin is about to pull away until he notices how you’re resting your head on it. He can’t see your face but he has no doubt that your eyes are near shut, almost drifting off to dreamland. He occupies himself by gently brushing away loose debris off your mask which has you relaxing further into his touch.
“We gotta wash this,” he murmurs defeatedly.
“... yeah, we do,” you grumble, voice thick with fatigue. Kyle does not stop his ministrations - even pulling some fluff off of the cotton of your mask. It does little to actually clean your mask - at this rate it’s going to need pure bleach to clean it - but he can’t bring himself to stop. Not when you trust him this much, leaning into his touch, entrusting him to be the respite from your mission.
Masked Reader Masterlist Call of Duty Masterlist
#cod x reader#call of duty x reader#cod x you#task force 141 x reader#captain price x reader#john price x reader#ghost x reader#simon riley x you#john mactavish x reader#soap x reader#gaz x reader#kyle garrick x reader#/*avery actually writes*/#/*cod x masked reader*/
5K notes
·
View notes
Text
so there's a lot of speculation whether or not they're gonna have mike be michael or not in the fnaf movie. and so far even i thought it was pretty unlikely considering the little things we've been shown. but now that the full trailers been revealed there's something that caught my eye. and maybe i'm puling a matpat here and over analyzing one little frame but. just hear me out alright. so in the little snippet we see of a phone call between mike and william, it's pretty normal and well, there's nothing to show that they know each other. clearly mike doesn't know who he's talking to, he just wants a job.
and honestly for me i was losing hope that they were gonna have mike be revealed to be michael. since initially i thought this was just them confirming that he's not since, surely if he was michael then he'd recognize his fathers voice? but. that might not be the case.
my theory/speculation for the route they're going (again, emphasis on the theory i'm not saying this is 100% canon) is that it's heavily implied there's going to be SOME kind of flashback with mike as a young teenager, since a boy was cast and listed as "young mike" too. and this information about his character given back when casting for the roles were announced.
"riddled with guilt over a tragedy in his past" which only further strengthens the possibility of a flashback to the bite of 83 where michael pranked his brother and inadvertently caused his death. it's the aftermath of this event with determines how this theory could work. either, william and his wife divorced shortly after, and his wife got custody of mike - they married into another family, the schmidt's. this could lead to abby either being his step-sister or his half-sister.
OR. mike was taken away from william either because of the bite or because the police were heavily suspicious that william was responsible for the missing children. he was put into the system and adopted by - again - the schmidt's. and the reason he doesn't remember anything is because the trauma and the guilt from the bite of 83 and the death of his little brother caused him to heavily repress those memories and in turn, a lot of others (william) without realizing.
so mike doesn't recognize william's voice here. but william?
this is the frame that caught me here. his expression, the subtle smile on his face. the gears are turning in his head, something clicked.
what if william was keeping tabs on mike this whole time? and he carefully plotted to ensure he got the job at freddy's. for reasons unknown. maybe he just wanted to mess with him, make him remember everything he repressed from his childhood - he's trying to get him to remember by bringing him back to the place where it all started. he remembers his son, but mike doesn't remember his father.
BUT that's just me i'm a little insane. anyway i needed to make this post and write down my thoughts or i'd explode.
#i think theyre making us think mike isnt michael#theyre misleading us on purpose#so that when it is revealed. it hits a little harder#thats just me anyway#fnaf#five nights at freddy's#fnaf movie#william afton#michael afton#mike schmidt#fnaf theory#sorry guys idk what happened here i think i got possessed by matpat#pre fnaf movie#pre fnaf movie theory
6K notes
·
View notes
Text
My Sundown
Summary: You’ve been a Hydra agent for as long as you can remember, when Wanda Maximoff and her brother, Pietro, volunteers for Hydra's human experiments.
Word count: 10K+ | Tags: Wanda Maximoff x GN!Reader | Warnings: Only mentions of smut. Hurt/comfort. Reader is a little older than Wanda. Some angst. | A/N: I missed writing for Wanda, and have always wanted to write canon-ish oneshots for the MCU character. Main Masterlist
-
When they first bring her in, she looks like she's been through hell—eyes hollow, skin pale, a storm simmering just beneath the surface. Her hands tremble, not from fear, but from the sheer, unbridled power flowing through her veins. The room seems to shrink under the weight of it, as if even the walls are aware of what she’s capable of. The other recruits are scared and jittery, but she’s different. Her brother too—both rough around the edges, like two sides of the same scarred coin.
“Where did they round up these rats now?” you mutter to Lev, who’s standing dutifully beside you—the only person you've let close enough to be called a friend in all your years with Hydra.
“Sokovian volunteers,” he corrects you, eyes fixed straight ahead, mirroring your own unblinking focus on the twins. Maybe he feels the strange energy coming off them too, or maybe it’s just the routine numbness that sets in after years of blindly following orders.
You nod slightly, though the term volunteer feels like a cruel joke. No one truly volunteers for this.
“Agent.”
Dr. List’s voice yanks you out of your thoughts, dreary and impersonal. He calls everyone that way, as if you're just another tool, interchangeable and anonymous. It’s an intentional tactic—strip away the names, and you strip any sense of humanity. Without a name, you’re not a person; you’re just a weapon at their disposal.
But you know he means you.
You step forward. “Sir,” you reply, maintaining a ramrod straight posture, your eyes fixed on a spot just beside his perpetually scowling face. It seems all villains share that same dour expression, but if this woman—this girl—makes it through the experiments and officially joins the ranks, she might just break the mold, looking more like an angel than a monster. You quickly shake off the thought, stifling a grimace at the odd turn your thoughts have taken.
When you risk a quick glance at her, you catch a ghost of a smirk playing on her lips, as if she knows exactly what you were just thinking.
“You’re to oversee Wanda Maximoff’s progress,” Dr. List continues without sparing you a second glance. “Ensure she complies. If she doesn’t…” He lets the threat hang, but you don't need him to spell it out. You know what Hydra does to those who don't meet expectations.
“And the boy?” you ask, genuinely curious about the other twin.
Dr. List gives you a sharp look, like he suspects something. Questions are frowned upon here, but ever since you laid eyes on Wanda, a persistent tingling has crept up the back of your neck.
To put it bluntly, she unnerves you, and you'd much prefer to deal with her brother.
“Strucker decided to…take a more hands-on approach with him,” Dr. List says.
“Understood, sir,” you reply crisply, reaffirming your commitment to your orders. You steal another glance at Wanda, only to feel a rush of heat when you realize she’s been watching you the entire time.
-
Wanda looks even more formidable once she’s showered and changed into fresh clothes. You can’t decide if it’s because the sinister gleam in her eyes remains untouched or because the grime and hardships of life on the streets have been washed away, revealing a haunting beauty beneath the dirt. Clean, she’s striking—but that beauty only makes her more dangerous. You’ve tried to delay any direct interaction with her, but this morning, Dr. List visited to follow up on the initial assessment, leaving you no more time to postpone. After a week of stalling, you’re out of excuses, and there’s a lot of ground to cover.
As she steps out of the small bathroom, her damp hair clings to her shoulders, softening her otherwise sharp features. The moment she becomes aware of your presence, her gaze locks onto you, and she begins to comb the wet tendrils back with her slender fingers. Your hand tightens around your keycard involuntarily as you take a deep breath, reminding yourself that Wanda is just like any other volunteer who entered the organization and never left its walls to see the light of day. Besides, you’re armed, and Wanda is not. It’s ridiculous to be this on edge around someone who's at a disadvantage.
“You,” Wanda murmurs, her accent rolling off her tongue like a slow, winding river.
“Shall we begin?” you ask, keeping your tone even and detached. You can’t afford to let her see how much she frighte—affects you.
Wanda ignores your request. Instead, she tilts her head slightly, studying you with a keenness that makes your skin prickle. You meet her stare, determined not to show any cracks, even though your heart's hammering away.
Finally, she nods—a small, almost imperceptible movement.
You clear your throat and motion towards the small cot given to them as beds. “Please, have a seat,” you say.
This time, Wanda complies without a word.
You glance around the room, searching for a seat, and silently berate yourself for not arranging one beforehand. It’s a small oversight, but it makes you feel foolish. With no other option, you settle against the farthest wall, opposite her, and lean against it, though it doesn’t make you feel any more grounded than you did a second ago.
In your hand is a file detailing everything Hydra knows about her, which isn’t much. You open it with a practiced ease, flipping through the pages, but you’re aptly aware of her eyes on you, watching your every move.
“Wanda Maximoff,” you start. “The procedures you're about to undergo are highly experimental. Hydra won't be held responsible for any injuries, no matter if they're permanent or temporary.”
Including death. But you are prohibited from disclosing this to avoid causing panic or stress among the subjects.
Wanda says nothing, her expression unreadable, but you can sense she’s lingering on a thought. Not sure what it is, you go on, falling back on the lines you've memorized these last few months.
“These procedures will enhance your natural abilities, giving you powers beyond what you may or may not currently possess. However, there are risks involved. Do you understand the nature of these risks?”
Wanda nods again. It’s the same answer you’ve received from countless other volunteers, most of whom had no idea what they were truly signing up for. But there’s something different about her, something in the way she holds herself that tells you she knows exactly what she’s getting into—and she’s not afraid.
“There will be a series of physical and psychological evaluations. We will push you to your breaking point and beyond. It is crucial that you cooperate fully. Resistance will only make the process more difficult, both for you and for us.”
You scan her face for any sign of fear or hesitation, but she's a blank slate. It’s as if she’s made peace with whatever fate awaits her here. That bothers you more than you’d care to admit.
“We will also be conducting interviews throughout the process,” you continue. “These will assess your mental state, your thoughts, your fears. Everything you say will be documented, and nothing will be private.”
Wanda's eyes narrow a touch, the first sign of any emotion since she sat down. It’s subtle, but you notice it. Maybe the thought of her mind being picked apart like a lab specimen is getting to her more than the threat of physical harm. Or it could be something else entirely.
“We’ll begin the physical tests tomorrow,” you say, closing the file and hugging it to your chest. “For now, you should rest and eat as much as you like. Your room is monitored constantly. If you need anything, just ask, though your movement around the facility will be restricted.”
The mask of indifference slips back into place. Wanda leans back on the bed, propping herself up on her elbows in a display of casual ease.
“Do you have any questions?” you ask, mostly because you have to, not because you really want to know. You figure she won't ask anything—most are too scared or too defeated to speak up.
But Wanda Maximoff isn't most people.
“Why do you do this?”
You can’t help it—a faint smile begins to creep across your face at her question. Most volunteers, when they ask anything at all, are fixated on their own impending ordeal, too scared of what's coming.
But Wanda isn't asking about herself; she's asking about you. It feels like forever since anyone showed that kind of interest.
Pausing at the doorway, you turn your head just enough for her to see the profile of your face.
“I do what I'm told,” you say, dodging the deeper question she posed—the real why behind your actions. The truth is, you stopped asking why a long time ago. Reasons tend to blur into excuses when moral lines are crossed in an organization you once trusted.
You're already tapping your keycard against the scanner when Wanda speaks again.
“Will doing what you're told bring them back?”
Her question spins you around so fast it's almost like whiplash. How did Wanda know about that? Was it just a wild guess meant to throw you off? Whatever it was, it worked.
You open your mouth to reply, but the words stick in your throat. You don’t even remember the last time you even thought about them. You've never shared this with anyone—not even Lev. Only a handful of Hydra figures were ever privy to your past.
Wanda couldn't possibly know. Unless—
“Good night, Y/N,” Wanda says, her tone dismissive as she curls into a fetal position, turning her back to you.
If your theory holds, Wanda might be the key Hydra has been searching for—the one who can unlock the powers of the scepter that have eluded so many others. Her apparent ability to read minds could be the very breakthrough Dr. List has been waiting for.
Finding yourself hesitating to report this discovery surprises you. It’s almost ironic how your conscience decides to kick in now, just when Hydra's goal seems tantalizingly close with the acquisition of the twins. You know what Hydra would do if they realized just how special she is, and the thought of them twisting her into something monstrous is something you can’t even begin to imagine.
-
In the days that follow, you keep quiet about your suspicions regarding Wanda’s innate abilities. You tell yourself that Dr. List will probably uncover them through his experiments soon enough. It’s definitely not because you're worried about what they might do if they decide to fast-track her program.
Yes, you’re just staying out of it, certainly not because you want to protect her.
At least, that's what you keep telling yourself.
-
Your next face-to-face with Wanda comes a week later.
Though you have merely been observing her through a two-way mirror, you've been plagued by sleepless nights since your last meeting, and not even the strongest sedatives at your disposal have helped. Thoughts of her well-being nag at you, despite Hydra's strict rules limiting interaction between volunteers and handlers to prevent any emotional attachments. Such attachments have formed before, and Hydra has always dealt with them ruthlessly.
When you enter her room, she's in the same position as before—curled up on her cot, making herself appear small and almost childlike. She looks up as the door closes behind you, her eyes meeting yours with a quiet recognition.
As you step closer, the hollowness of her cheeks, the dark circles under her eyes, and her pale complexion are unmistakable. The word weathered hardly does justice to the toll her first week has taken. You know exactly what she’s been through. The tests here aren’t just tests—they’re torture, meant to break people down, body and mind. Even with her powers and confidence, Wanda shows the same signs of strain. She's slight, frail, and clearly, she's had as rough a time as anyone else here.
This time, you come prepared with a metal chair and a freshly prepared tea set next to it, and take a seat across from her.
“How are you holding up?” you ask, although the answer seems painfully obvious.
Wanda shrugs, barely moving, as if the effort to appear okay is too much for her. But then she surprises you.
“How long until Hydra enhances my powers?”
You weren’t expecting that. After everything she’s been through, she’s asking for more? You thought she’d be wary, maybe even broken by now. But the question says otherwise. She’s been through hell, and she’s still pushing forward, demanding more. Is she courting death?
“You seem in a hurry,” you say, hiding your worry behind a soft chuckle.
Her eyes narrow. “I didn’t come here to wait around. If they want to use me, they need to make me stronger.”
Use me.
How disconcerting. She’s asking for more—more pain, more trials. As if everything she’s endured isn’t enough, as if she needs it to become something greater. It’s reckless and foolish, to say the least.
“We’re moving as fast as we can—”
“Move faster.”
“Wanda,” you say quietly. “What you’re asking for... it could break you.”
“I’m already broken,” she declares, cold and matter-of-fact. “If I weren’t, I wouldn’t be here.”
It’s only when you notice the disgust in her eyes that you realize you’ve been looking at her with pity. Wanda is about to snap back, likely to tell you she doesn’t need your sympathy, when her expression shifts abruptly to one of curiosity.
She tilts her head, studying you—or maybe, with the mirth in her eye, it’s more like she’s mocking you.
“You look at me like that again, and I’ll ask you a question,” Wanda says, her voice low, almost a whisper.
You stiffen, uncertain of what's coming next, but before you can say anything, she continues.
“Do you want to fuck me?”
The question startles a laugh out of you, abrupt and a bit too loud—almost like you're trying to convince both yourself and Wanda how absurd she’s being. But as the laughter dies down, you feel your face heat up, your cheeks flushing a telltale red that you can't hide.
“No,” you say, your gaze dropping to the floor as you shake your head. You clasp your hands behind your back, one finger nervously picking at a cuticle. “This isn’t what this is about.”
Wanda smirks slightly, her lips twitching, amused by your discomfort. “Isn't it?”
For a split second, you start to doubt everything. Did you really want to sleep with her? It's been ages since you've even considered intimacy with anyone—maybe too long. Life here doesn't leave space for that kind of thinking, and even if it did, the situation wouldn't allow it. Your heart's been shattered so often you're sure there's nothing left to give—especially not to someone you've only known for a week.
Wait—love?
This is, at best, lust—nothing more.
“No,” you repeat with more conviction.
Wanda’s smirk fades into a slow, knowing smile. “Fine. Just know the offer stands if you ever change your mind.”
A proposition. It’s not the first time you’ve received one, but this offer sticks with you longer than you’d like. Wanda’s already spent too much time in your thoughts, and you’re desperate to shake her off and get back to the task at hand. But she makes it maddeningly hard to do so.
Without looking at her, you clear your throat and begin the routine interview. You refuse to focus on the fact that she’s just openly considered a physical encounter with you—and you’re definitely not considering it in return.
“Have you noticed any unusual side effects since the last session? Headaches, nausea, dizziness?” you ask, skipping the pleasantries.
“No,” she says dryly. “No headaches. No nausea. No dizziness.”
You jot down her answers, ignoring her evident disinterest in the proceedings.
“Any changes in your sleep pattern?” you continue.
“No.”
“Any unusual pain or discomfort?” you ask, forcing yourself to meet her gaze, but her focus is on the rings on her fingers. The prisoners—volunteers, you correct yourself—aren't supposed to keep any personal items. It baffles you how she managed to hold on to those cheap pieces of metal and silver.
It takes Wanda a moment to respond. “Just the usual soreness.”
You suspect it's more than just soreness. She’s probably downplaying the pain, so you make a note beside her answer.
“Alright, we’ll keep an eye on that. Any changes in your mood? Irritability, anxiety, anything like that?”
Wanda shrugs. “Depends on the company, I suppose.”
You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Noted. We’ll stick with the same regimen for now. Any concerns or questions about the next phase?”
“What happened to them?” Wanda asks, steering the interview off course.
Annoyance flares up as she probes again, prying into your business. “Don’t you already know?” you snap, your patience wearing thin.
But Wanda doesn’t even blink. She isn’t scared, and that just irks you even more. She should be, if she knew what you’ve done to others who’ve pushed your buttons. You’ve never hesitated to throw your weight around with those who make your job harder.
“Sometimes what really happened and how we remember it are two entirely different stories,” she says, taking a deep breath before she continues. “Our mind protects us from the truth. It obscures what’s real, and what’s not becomes all we remember.”
You're stone-still, your mind drifting back to the past Wanda keeps prodding at. You don't even have a picture of your family anymore. Their voices are gone from your memory, and you're barely holding onto their faces. It used to tear you apart, thinking about them, but now there's just emptiness. You realize Wanda can’t rattle you—she has no leverage because there’s nothing left inside you to disrupt.
You’ve got nothing.
“Y/N?” Wanda presses, her features tightening with concern.
You consider throwing her blunt words right back at her, but you hold off. Instead, you set the clipboard down on the counter with a soft clack. Turning to the medical cart, you grab a tray of needles and tools, then bring it over to her bed. Wanda's eyes widen slightly, and she scoots back as you sit down on the edge of the mattress. It’s satisfying to finally see her react with something other than that usual smug, unshakable attitude. You pick up a syringe, fill it with a bright yellow liquid from an unmarked bottle, and swipe a cotton ball soaked in alcohol over the top.
“What’s that?” Wanda asks evenly, though you can detect traces of doubt in it that suggest she’s trying to put up a brave front.
“Supplements.”
Wanda raises a skeptical brow.
You lift the syringe slightly, letting it catch the light so she can see exactly what you’re holding.
“May I?” you gesture toward her arm.
Wanda eyes you warily, then gives a quick nod.
With her consent, you scoot closer until your knees almost touch. You gently roll up the sleeve of her scrubs, exposing her arm. This close, you can see the goosebumps on her skin and feel the slight tremors running through her. You hadn't noticed before, but she's shivering—not from the cold, but probably from a fever.
Instinctively, you press your palm against her forehead. Wanda flinches but doesn’t pull away. Slowly, she settles into your touch and lets out a small sigh.
“You're hot,” you blurt out, and then quickly realize the unintended double entendre. Fortunately, Wanda lets it pass without comment. You retract your hand and hold the syringe up to her arm, poised but something stops you.
“What are you waiting for?” Wanda prompts impatiently.
You're thinking of straying from the usual protocol, knowing the yellow meds might worsen Wanda's condition, especially with her fever spiking. Deciding against it, you put the syringe down and grab another bottle off the cart, this one filled with a clear liquid.
“Change of plans,” you murmur, prepping the new syringe. You nod at her for her arm, and she shifts closer, making it easier for you. When you depress the plunger, it's quick—so quick that Wanda barely feels the needle's prick.
You pull out the needle and press a small bandage onto the spot. “All done,” you announce.
Wanda massages her arm, feeling no real pain at the injection site. “T-Thanks,” she murmurs softly.
You acknowledge her gratitude with a nod and start collecting your notebook and tools. As you rise to leave, Wanda's hand shoots out, her fingers wrapping around your wrist urgently. You turn, meeting her striking, green eyes.
“I’m sorry about your family,” she murmurs quietly. Her words solidify your suspicion: she came to Hydra with powers already in tow. Mind reading or memory extraction would be invaluable to Hydra, and now, with even more power at your fingertips, you find yourself hesitating to use it.
If Dr. List catches wind of your hesitations, the reprisals will be brutal.
You glance down pointedly at where she's holding your hand, but Wanda doesn’t let go.
“It was a long time ago,” you whisper.
“Time doesn't really heal that kind of loss,” she says, still holding onto you.
“No, but you learn to live with it,” you reply, feeling the truth of your own words.
Wanda's hold slackens but remains. You feel awkward standing there, yet something holds you back from pulling away. You hadn't realized until now how starved you were for such a simple, human connection.
“I lost my parents the same way,” she shares.
“I'm sorry,” you say, and you really mean it. You can't read Wanda like she seems to read you, but in this brief moment, with the walls down, you decide to ask, “Is that why you came to us? To avenge your parents?”
Wanda's grip loosens completely, and she lets go of your wrist. You rub the spot where her fingers were, still feeling the warmth she left behind.
“‘Avenge’,” she spits out. She draws her knees to her chest and hugs them close. “I hate that word. Pietro and I, we're here to stop them. I wish… I wish they’d just leave Sokovia alone. They won’t leave because we can’t fight back.”
Your own past with Hydra comes to mind as she speaks. Back then, you joined because you were out of options. No country to fight for, no people to call yours. It strikes you how different Wanda's motivations are—rooted in something far more personal and noble. She deserves more than what Hydra can offer.
Wanda looks at you, waiting for an answer. When you don't say anything, she pushes, “Do you think we made the right decision coming here?”
You're all too aware of Hydra’s real agenda. They're not about peace. They're here to extend their control, to bend the world around their so-called divine mission.
“Sometimes, you don't know if it’s the right choice until it's too late to change it,” you say, knowing it’s not much of an answer. It's just the bitter truth you've come to know. It's all you can offer Wanda.
“Can you do me a favor, Y/N? Will you look after Pietro?”
The same way you’ve been looking out for me, Wanda thinks to herself, relieved that there’s only one telepath in the room.
“No promises,” you say.
Wanda gives a slight nod and starts to withdraw again. She settles back down on the cot, turning away from you, the conversation clearly over.
-
Lev sneaks into your room just before midnight, the door giving a soft creak as it swings open. Though friends, you typically keep to your own spaces. You blink sleepily at him, fighting to sit up and shake off the grogginess.
“Dr. List decided to skip ahead,” Lev says in a rush, closing the door with a gentle click. “He’s moved forward with exposing the twins to the scepter.”
“When?” You're wide awake now, sitting bolt upright in bed.
Lev’s eyes dart to the small window in your room before returning to you, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows hard. “An hour ago.”
That can’t be good. It’s far sooner than anyone had anticipated. Dr. List’s decision to advance the timeline without further testing could have unpredictable consequences. You swing your legs off the bed, your brain ticking through the possible scenarios.
“What’s the status now? How did Wan—the twins react?” you ask, grabbing your jacket and shoes and throwing them on without taking your eyes off Lev.
He shakes his head. “I don’t know. They rushed them to the Observation Chamber right after the exposure. Everything’s been kept under wraps.”
You pace a few steps, mulling over your next move. Exposure to the scepter has been lethal for everyone. Even with Wanda's unique abilities, there’s no guarantee she’ll pull through when others haven't.
“We need more information. Can you get access to the observation logs?”
Lev nods, though his expression shows his apprehension. “I’ll try. But security has been tighter since the exposure.”
You catch the anxious twist of his mouth at the idea of sneaking around, and choose to spare him the risk. His relief is palpable when you tell him, “I'll handle it myself.”
He sighs in relief. “Be careful…”
Only a select few can get into the Observation Chamber, and your badge isn’t on that list. You're going to need something stronger than just caution.
-
You slip your underwear back on, feeling Laura’s eyes tracing the contours of your body.
After Lev left, you headed straight for her. Laura Brown, the Hydra director's daughter, hadn't seen you in almost a year, but the nature of your previous encounters left little doubt she'd be open to reconnecting.
Laura reclines on the bed, a sheet loosely draped around her, smirking as she watches you. “I knew you'd come back eventually,” she purrs, a gleam of satisfaction in her eyes.
You straighten up, deliberately avoiding her eyes as you button your shirt. “I need a favor, Laura.”
She leans back against the headboard, the sheet falling to her waist and revealing her bare chest. “This sounds serious.”
“I need to get into the Observation Chamber. Tonight,” you say. You despise asking her—or anyone, really—for favors, but you need to see Wanda. It's imperative.
Laura's eyebrows go up, her smile growing. “Direct and desperate. What's in it for me?”
“What do you want?” you ask, even though you already know the answer.
She thinks it over, then answers, “Keep me company tonight, no strings attached. Just like the old days.”
“Done.”
Laura claps her hands, clearly pleased, and tosses you the badge from the bedside table.
You pick it up, feeling a bit degraded, like you're picking up coins someone's thrown your way. “I'll be right back,” you promise.
-
The guards give you weird looks as you show up at the Observation Chamber. They had clear orders: only Dr. List or Baron Strucker can go in. But dropping the director’s daughter’s name does the trick. You flash her badge and they let you pass, no more questions asked.
The hallway is pitch-black. This place had been sleeping until now, woken up by the fact that Pietro and Wanda Maximoff hadn’t died like the others who met the scepter. Clearly labeled doors mark the new, grim function of the space.
You think about heading straight to Wanda's room, but you remember her earlier request and decide to check on Pietro first.
The soft beeping of monitors greets you as soon as you step inside his room. He's in rough shape, alive but barely hanging on. You quickly check the chart posted next to the door—it shows low blood pressure and a high dosage of Epinephrine administered, with a note that his chances of survival stand at only 57% as of 11:30 PM.
He looks much thinner and more worn than the last time you saw him, his condition evidently worse. His eyes are bloodshot, his skin pale and stretched tight over his bones. As you move closer, you notice his body trembling, a sheen of sweat covering him despite the room's chill.
Quickly, you pull the extra covers from beneath his bed and wrap them around him, trying to stabilize his shivering. Then, you snag a water bottle from a nearby stand, helping him take slow, measured sips.
Pietro looks at you, his eyes filled with confusion and pain, struggling to form the words. “Who are you?”
“Just someone who made your sister a promise,” you say, scooping up some water in your palm and gently drizzling it over his head. Pietro sighs in relief. “Get some rest now, and try not to die.”
His eyes flutter shut in seconds, his breath smoothing out as sleep claims him. You linger just a moment to make sure he's really out, then hurry off towards Wanda's room. Your heart pounds in your chest, fear pulsing through you. Pietro was in rough shape; how bad might Wanda be? You cling to a shred of hope that she's holding up better.
The air stays heavy as you enter Wanda’s quarters. You tread lightly, making sure not to disturb her sleep, and check the medical chart by her bed. Unlike Pietro’s dire prognosis, Wanda's stats are steady, but still troubling. Her breaths are regular, without the distressing shivers that torment her brother.
What strikes you is how normal, how peacefully she's sleeping, despite her recent exposure to Loki’s scepter.
Relieved to see her condition isn’t more severe, you end up at the foot of her bed. There isn’t much to do after confirming she’s stable, and you know you should head back to Laura. But leaving Wanda’s side proves difficult once you're there. Almost immediately, your mind floods with ideas on how to get her out of Hydra’s clutches. If they fully realized her potential, it wouldn't just be dangerous for her—it'd be catastrophic for anyone in their path. Internally, you start plotting escape routes and thinking about who might be willing to help.
It’s strange to think how you went from one of Hydra’s most devoted agents to scheming against them.
Lost in your plans, you're jolted back to the present when you feel a gentle nudge against your thigh. Wanda's foot is pressing against you. She's awake. You look up to find her eyes open, wary and searching.
“Y/N,” she murmurs, her voice raspy from lack of use. “What—what happened?”
You subtly shift on the bed, making sure her toes aren't touching you anymore. You're not sure when you became so acutely aware of Wanda’s proximity, or of the points where your bodies meet.
“What do you remember before all this?” you ask.
She rubs her forehead, straining to recall. “There was a room... a stone emerging from the scepter. Bright lights… then nothing.”
You nod, already knowing half of what Wanda just told you. This is the first time anyone has lived to tell about their experience with the scepter, and you were hoping for more insights into how it unleashes its power. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about trying it yourself, wondering if you could resist its effects. Being Hydra, curiosity about power was a constant temptation.
“You weren't supposed to be exposed to the scepter yet,” you admit quietly. “Dr. List sped things up, maybe because he suspected—”
“Pietro,” she cuts in, her thoughts finally catching up. “Was he exposed to it too?”
“Yes.”
Her eyes widen, clouded with worry. “Is he okay?”
“He’s alive,” you say. “I just saw him before coming here. He's stable, but it’s precarious.”
Wanda’s face crumples as soon as the words leave your lips. Before you can react, she throws her arms around you, her face buried in your shoulder. You freeze for a moment, uncertain how to respond. It’s been so long since you’ve held someone like this, since you’ve allowed yourself to care enough to even consider it. But then you feel it—tears, warm and wet against your neck. She’s crying.
After a moment, you hesitantly wrap your arms around her, holding her as she trembles against you. You can feel her fear, her desperation. It cuts through your defenses, the ones you’ve built so carefully over the years.
You tighten your hold on her, offering what little comfort you can, but inside, you’re battling your own fear. You can’t afford to care about her this much—not here, not now. But as you hold her, feeling every shake of her body, you know it’s already too late.
Wanda's sobs slowly subside, and you pull back slightly, intent on offering some kind of reassurance despite how foreign it feels to you. You reach up, brushing away her tears with your thumb, trying to find the right words, but they don’t come. Instead, as your hand lingers on her cheek, she pins you with a quiet stare. Before you realize what’s happening, Wanda leans in and presses her lips softly against yours.
The kiss is brief, just a fraction of a second, but it leaves you utterly breathless. She pulls back almost immediately, watching you, waiting to see how you’ll react. For a heartbeat, you're stunned, but then something ignites inside you, something you’ve been holding back without even recognizing it.
Acting on pure impulse, you reach up, grasp the back of her neck, and pull her in for another kiss. In an instant, you take control effortlessly, letting the animalistic and Hydra part of you come to the forefront. Your thumb presses roughly against her chin, coaxing her mouth open, and you slide your tongue in, staking your claim. Wanda responds with a gasp, her hands clutching at your shoulders, but you’re too far gone to think about anything except the taste of her, the way her body molds against yours.
You tilt her head back, deepening the kiss further, your other hand sliding down to grip her waist, pulling her closer still. The feel of her, the heat of her skin under your fingers, it’s intoxicating, and you can’t get enough. You've never allowed yourself to want someone this much. Just as you think you can't hold back any longer, Wanda's hand captures yours and guides it under her shirt. You're startled to find out she's wearing nothing underneath when your knuckles brush against her hardened nipple. That unexpected discovery is what compels you to pull back.
Wanda's lips leave yours with a wet sound, and she begins kissing down your jaw to your neck.
“Wanda, wait—”
“It’s okay, Y/N,” she says. Her breath is hot against your skin, and you feel her tongue trace a line up to your pulse point, leaving a fiery trail that makes you shiver. “You can claim your reward, you can have me.”
Her words snap you out of the haze, that single word—reward—ringing in your ears like a warning bell. You quickly place your hands on her shoulders, pushing her back gently but firmly.
Wanda blinks, confusion and hurt flashing in her eyes as she looks up at you. “What’s wrong?” She knows she’s attractive and has already glimpsed your desire for her during your visits, reading it in your thoughts. It’s why she finds your rejection so absurd—frustrating, even, given her openness.
“I'm not here for that,” you say, your voice coming out rougher than you intended.
“Then why are you here?”
You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks, unaccustomed to openly discussing your feelings. “I came to see how you're doing after... after the scepter.”
“I'm fine,” she answers flatly.
You nod, still feeling the residual heat of her closeness. “Do you feel any different?” you ask, partly out of concern but mostly to shift the conversation elsewhere.
“I'm just tired,” Wanda says, closing her eyes and running a hand through her tousled dark hair. “Can we do this tomorrow?” She sounds a bit let down, assuming you're here just for a routine check—looking for any new powers or changes—as if she had hoped for something more personal.
“I'm sorry,” you quickly say. “I’m not here on any official orders. In fact, I shouldn't even be here.”
This revelation softens her look, her eyes narrowing slightly with renewed interest.
Taking a deep breath, you continue, “I'm working on getting you and Pietro out of here. It's not set yet, but—”
“Out of here?” Wanda cuts in, her eyebrows knitting together in puzzlement. “Why would I want to leave?”
“You got what you came for, right? The power of the scepter? Now you can leave. Hydra isn’t what you think,” you explain, trying to make her see the danger.
“Look who's acting all self-righteous all of a sudden. You've been here for years, and I've seen you do things,” she retorts sharply.
“Stop looking into my mind,” you snap, irritated by her knack for sifting through your thoughts without permission and using your past against you. Just because she can doesn’t mean she should.
“You’re saying I’m wrong?” she sneers.
You shake your head. “Look, I’m just trying to help—”
“If you really want to help, just do your job.”
Her words hit you harder than any physical blow could. You knew better than to let someone get this close, to allow your emotions to cloud your judgment. But there’s no one to blame here but yourself. Wanda didn't even have to do much to earn your solicitude; it was your own doing, your own need to make things right that led you here.
Hydra’s training kicks in like second nature, and you shut down the emotions before they can show, your face hardening into a mask.
“Alright, Wanda. I'll do just that.”
-
It’s easier the second time you’re with Laura that night.
After Wanda's dismissal, you find Laura’s body to be the comfort you need. You lose yourself in her, the way she responds to every touch, every move you make. Pushing everything else from your mind, you focus solely on her, making her come again and again until she’s too bone-tired to do anything but black out beside you.
After it's over, you slip out of her bed, leaving her to sleep off the night’s weariness, and return to your room. You don't think about Wanda. Not even once.
In the following days, Wanda's recovery is swift—too swift for your level of clearance. Dr. List decides she’s beyond your oversight and assigns her to a higher clearance team. You’re left dealing with new recruits, volunteers who are eager yet naïve, none of whom survive the brutal exposure to the scepter. Each failure hardens you a little more, cements the necessity of detachment.
But even with countless deaths on their hands, Hydra doesn't back down. If anything, they’re more driven now, hungry for more power, spurred on by the success of the twins. Pietro develops superhuman speed, a skill Hydra quickly puts to use by dispatching him to enemy territories for intel. Wanda’s abilities become more varied, showing signs of what could be categorized as psionic powers. She demonstrates capabilities that suggest telekinesis, manipulating objects without touching them, and telepathy—which she employs at her whim.
Sometimes you wonder if she ever peeks into your mind anymore. But then, with the kind of power she wields, why would she even bother with what you're thinking? You're not special. Not even your badge, which doesn't get you into sections of the base without currying favor with Laura Brown first.
The Sokovian base is sprawling, and encounters with either of the Maximoff twins are rare but unavoidable. Pietro remembers your visit that night. Now and then, he nods at you politely. Wanda, on the other hand, acts as if you don’t exist. If you pass her in the hallways, she looks through you as if you're invisible. So, you make it a point to stay out of her way, blending into the dull walls and shadows as much as you can.
This detachment suits you in a way. It allows you to focus on your duties, on surviving one day at a time in an environment where the stakes are always high and the consequences often lethal.
It leaves you with nothing to lose, because there's no one left to lose.
-
Weeks pass quietly until rumors start floating around that Wanda's been seeing someone inside the complex. It’s hard to call it dating, really, since concepts like love and trust struggle to take root in a place as bleak as this. It’s probably just two people keeping each other company through the colder nights. Still, you can’t shake off how much this bothers you.
But it's not surprising. The twins' popularity has only grown, especially since, months later, no one else has matched their extraordinary feat of surviving an Infinity Stone—a term you picked up only after Hydra discovered what was really behind Loki's scepter.
Sometimes, you find yourself observing Wanda from afar, trying to figure out if there’s any substance to the rumors. Who makes her laugh? Who does she choose to sit with at meals? The more you notice your own scrutiny, the more you recognize a feeling of jealousy stirring within you, an emotion that’s prevalent among your peers but not in this regard. You're bewildered and annoyed by your own reaction—why should who Wanda spends time with matter to you? Whatever she does, whoever she fucks—it's none of your business.
You hate this feeling, but you combat it by heading to Laura’s room every night, as if she’s the cure you need to keep yourself in check.
-
“They’ll betray us someday,” Lev murmurs as you both amble through the dense woods, taking a rare break from the base for a smoke. He breathes out slowly, watching the smoke curl upwards. You don’t have to ask to know he’s talking about the twins.
“No sooner than Hydra will throw us under the bus when the Avengers show up,” you reply, stepping around a fallen branch. “We’re all expendable. You know that, right?”
Lev takes a deep drag, his gaze fixed on the trail ahead. “Yeah, I know,” he says at last, releasing a plume of smoke. There’s something in his eyes, a look that tells you he’s not saying all he could about the twins.
You eye him suspiciously. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”
Lev glances at you, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he's deciding how much to share. After a moment, he nods.
“Okay, I wasn't planning on telling you this yet, but I've been handed a special assignment—the Maximoff Contingency Plan,” he reveals.
You scoff at him. “You’re the contingency plan?”
“No, not just me,” Lev chuckles darkly as he tosses his cigarette to the ground and stomps it out. “I'm involved, but it's more than that. We're working on a weapon, one that borrows from the tech of the Infinity Stone.”
The seriousness of what he's saying sinks in. Leveraging the power of an Infinity Stone means they're not messing around.
“And what's this weapon supposed to do?” you ask, not sure if you want to hear the answer.
Lev’s expression darkens. “You know what weapons are supposed to do,” he says tersely, turning to head back. “Let’s go.”
Hydra does not tolerate treachery. Even the mildest punishment is a swift death—a quick end, but an end all the same.
-
It’s only a matter of time before the Avengers find the Sokovian Base. Tensions had been mounting and Hydra's movements had become increasingly aggressive, drawing unwanted attention. When it all goes down, you’re in your room, scrambling to suit up and arm yourself with pistols—not to confront the Avengers, who are essentially gods, but to fight for your way out.
As the base descends into turmoil, you hear that Wanda and Pietro are attempting to escape. Hydra has a ruthless protocol for such situations: eliminate the entire unit to prevent any leaks. It's cleaner to destroy and rebuild than to let loose ends compromise the organization. Knowing about the contingency plan to eliminate the twins, you grab your radio and contact Lev, asking where he is.
“You’re just in time. I need backup. I've got Wanda Maximoff in my sights, waiting for the right moment to take her down,” he radios back.
“On it, I’m with you,” you reply, feeling the sweat bead on your forehead as you move toward his location. When you get there, you find Lev, poised and ready, his eyes fixed on the target through the scope of his rifle. You scan the surroundings, looking for hazards until you spot Wanda among the debris. Iron Man's missiles have turned the area into a deadly maze of flying rocks. From her fingertips, streams of red magic swirl, skillfully steering the massive boulders away from crushing both Hydra agents and civilians.
Wanda isn’t trying to escape—she’s helping fend them off. Seeing her save these lives, something inside you breaks. Lev has his rifle aimed at her, ready to pull the trigger while she's busy playing the hero. The possible outcomes flash through your mind: Wanda dead or imprisoned by the Avengers. The thought is unbearable. You've spent months pretending you didn't care, but now, faced with the reality of losing her, you realize all you want is for her to live, to be free—something you've long given up for yourself.
You're about to dissuade Lev, to argue her worth, her potential, anything to stall, when an explosion nearby startles Wanda. She turns, momentarily distracted, and Lev's finger tightens on the trigger, ready to end it all.
But you're faster.
He collapses with a shocked gasp, the life leaving his eyes as he hits the ground. The noise of his body falling draws Wanda’s attention. She turns just in time to see what you've done—for her. Her eyes, wide and questioning, boring into yours.
Why did you save me? They seem to ask you, those green orbs that have hunted you ever since you looked into them. There's no time for lengthy explanations—not that you have a solid one anyway. But with each passing second, the chance of escaping undetected by these so-called superheroes dwindles.
“You need to leave, now!” you yell at her, but she doesn't budge. Instead, she looks at you, really looks at you, for the first time with something other than disdain. It’s the same look she gave you the night the scepter awakened her powers. It’s a look that tells you that maybe she’s been pretending too, these past few months.
You’re about to sprint toward her, to drag her to safety if you have to, when a blur of motion sweeps her away. Pietro appears out of nowhere, whisking them both out of the base before the Avengers close in.
For a second, you're left standing there, surrounded by the wreckage and the friend you just betrayed and killed. There's no time to grieve, no time to second-guess leaving his body behind—it's pure instinct that forces you to move quickly. You head towards an exit known only to the most important figures of the organization, a piece of information you picked up from Laura. She wouldn’t have given it away if you weren’t frequently sleeping together, those personal liaisons caused by trying to forget Wanda.
It’s strange, in a way, how you both just ended up saving each other.
-
Several weeks after the Avengers demolish the Sokovian base, Wanda finds you at a small cabin you own on the outskirts of Novi Grad. The modest structure sits on a 2-acre plot near the woods—a spot you picked up when your stint in Sokovia stretched past thirteen months. You never really planned on settling here; you thought you’d be moved to another location and sell this land at a profit eventually. But life, it seems, had other plans.
You’re chopping wood beside the cabin when you feel her presence. Dropping the axe, you straighten up and spot her at the edge of the clearing. Your eyes quickly sweep her surroundings for any sign of Pietro, but it appears she has come alone.
“Why did you do it?” she asks once she's close enough. You take a few moments to take her in, hardly believing she's actually here, and touched by the thought that she sought you out. You've missed her presence, even though the last few months have only found you both inhabiting the same compound, breathing the same air but never speaking.
Sometimes, lying in bed at night, you wonder why you can’t shake Wanda from your thoughts. You’ve even entertained the idea that she might have hexed you, that her magic has somehow ensnared your mind and… maybe your heart. It seems like the only logical explanation, because since the day you met, Wanda has never really left your mind.
“I did what I thought was right,” you finally answer, tucking your hands inside your pockets, not knowing what else to do with them.
“He was your friend,” Wanda points out softly.
Your lips curl into a strained smile; of course, she’d know. She knows things about you that you'd never voice out loud. Wanda’s ability to read minds makes hiding anything impossible. Does she understand how deeply you care for her? She must. Wanda has always seen right through you, so why does she need to ask?
“Did you ever think about me after that night?” she asks out of nowhere. The night the Infinity Stone changed everything, when you were closer to her than you’d ever been before.
You're taken aback by her directness. This, too, she probably knows the answer to because you've thought of little else.
“Everyday,” you say.
That night, you invite her to your home, the first person ever to share the space you once believed would always be just yours. Your living room is snug, with a three-seater couch and a medium-sized TV mounted on the wall. There’s also a fireplace that lights up the space with an amber glow as you hand Wanda a cup of hot chocolate.
You and Wanda find yourselves chatting about lighter topics. She shares her favorite shows from childhood, and you're surprised to learn she’s a big fan of American sitcoms. You enjoyed them too when you were younger, but not to the extent that you'd watch entire seasons over and over like Wanda did. Your preference leaned more toward books, gobbling up Agatha Christie novels when you were younger.
While you're in the middle of sharing a particularly funny memory from one of those old sitcom episodes, Wanda suddenly leans in and kisses you. Though your first instinct is to dive back into the kiss, you pull back instead. The last time you were this close, things escalated quickly before they crashed and burned.
“Are you sure?” you ask, searching her eyes for an answer. Learning from past mistakes, you want to make sure it's what she really wants.
She nods, her eyes steady and invitingly dark. “I’m sure.”
You close the distance between you, kissing her to your heart’s content. Before long, clothes are discarded, and you move from the couch to the bed, leisurely exploring each other, discovering how to bring one another to new heights of pleasure.
As you lie next to her afterward, breathless and tangled in the sheets, you realize there’s no way to pretend anymore—you care too much to go back.
-
The quiet doesn’t last long.
Tony Stark’s experiment goes awry, giving rise to Ultron—a global threat with ambitions that soon become clear. It seeks to bring about what he perceives as peace, by any means necessary. And just when you thought you and Wanda might have found some peace, she tells you she’s joining Ultron.
“It’s too dangerous,” you tell her. The twins and a robot against the entire Avengers team? The numbers alone put the odds against them. “We can stay here, help the people around us, and actually make a real difference.”
She shakes her head, her jaw set. “You don’t get it,” she argues. “You never will. You’re not…”
Special. Go ahead, Wanda, say it. Say what you really think of me.
“...you don’t have powers. You don’t know what it’s like to be able to change things and then just stand by, powerless.”
You were bracing for it, but it hurts all the same.
“So what am I then, Wanda? Just a bystander? Someone not worth listening to because I don't have powers?”
“I’m saying I have to do this,” Wanda mutters solemnly. “I’m the only one who can do this.”
You can see in her eyes that she’s already made up her mind. You’re still racking up your brain for something that might make a difference but she speaks again.
“I’m doing this for Sokovia,” she says quietly. “For everyone who's suffered because of Stark.”
You say nothing. Her fierce loyalty is one of the things you adore about her.
Wanda steps closer, her hand reaching out to touch your face, her thumb tracing the line of your jaw. “I’ll come back,” she promises. “When this is over, I’ll come back to you.”
You nod, resigned to the reality that you must let her go. “I’ll be here,” you say, your voice thick with regret that you can’t do more to protect her, to make sure she’s safe. “Waiting for you, right here.”
-
Pietro Maximoff dies riddled with bullet wounds—over a dozen of them. You learn the details of his death through a tabloid, days after witnessing Novi Grad being torn from the ground.
A week later, Wanda comes back to you, just as she promised, but she’s not the same. The light in her eyes is gone, replaced by a ghostly void. It’s a look you know all too well, the same one you’ve seen staring back at you in the mirror for years.
A loss of purpose.
In the days that follow, you try to restore some normalcy, but nothing feels right. You cook meals she barely touches, sit beside her during long stretches of silence, and listen when she occasionally finds the strength to talk. It's tough, seeing her struggle, but you stay by her side, hoping things will begin to heal.
But they don’t.
Every day, you see it—the guilt, the pain, the loss. She tries to find reasons to keep going, but nothing seems to hold. And as much as you want to be the one to help her, to pull her out of this darkness, you know you're not enough. Not this time.
Wanda is adrift, and no matter how hard you try, you can’t anchor her to this life you’re trying to build. She’s lost her brother, her home, and whatever sense of justice she thought she could achieve by joining Ultron. And you—you’ve been running from your past for so long, and you’re simply tired of it.
You start thinking about what’s best for her, about what she needs to move on and find a new purpose. Deep down, you recognize that maybe the best way for her to truly heal is if you step aside.
-
Like Wanda, you don’t trust Stark. So, with the skills you’ve honed during your time with Hydra, you manage to find a way to contact Steve Rogers instead.
The conversation happens one afternoon, over a phone call. You tell him everything—your past with Hydra, the things you’ve done, and why you’re ready to turn yourself in. He listens without interrupting, letting you confess everything. You mention that Wanda's with you, and make it clear this isn't about trying to reclaim some lost sense of patriotism. You're doing it for her.
“You did the right thing by coming to me,” Steve says when you finish. “Wanda has so much potential. She deserves a chance to become who she’s meant to be.”
“I know,” you reply, your voice dropping to a whisper. You’ve known it all along, perhaps better than anyone. It’s why you’re doing this, even though it feels like tearing yourself apart.
Over the course of the conversation, you and Steve work out an agreement. You’ll serve a reduced sentence in exchange for all the intel you have on the remaining Hydra heads still out there. You’ll act as an informant, helping to bring them to an end, once and for all. And maybe, after you’ve paid your dues, there’ll be a chance for you to live something close to a normal life. When the call ends, you're washed over with a feeling of real freedom, despite knowing it might cost you Wanda all over again.
Later that night, you find Wanda in the kitchen, stirring a pot and humming a tune you don't recognize, looking more alive than she has in weeks. Seeing her like this is bittersweet; she’s here, but soon, you might not be.
She notices you and gives a small, relieved smile. “You’re back,” she says.
“Yeah, I had a craving for this specific brand of red wine…” You say, tossing out a casual lie since you did swing by the grocery store, and errands are a regular part of your routine.
“Red wine?” Wanda perks up. “Perfect, I’m just about done with dinner. It should pair nicely.”
The kitchen smells foreign but amazing, and you can't help but compliment her. “It smells incredible in here,” you say as you start setting the table.
Wanda smiles softly as she turns down the stove and grabs a bowl to serve. You set out two wine glasses and place them on the table.
You pour a generous amount of red wine into each glass and watch as Wanda carries the meal over.
“Thanks for dinner,” you say with genuine appreciation.
“Try it and tell me what you think,” she urges, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she watches you with anticipation.
You take a bite, the flavors unique and perfectly blended. Looking up, you see her watching you, eager for your reaction.
“Well?” she asks impatiently.
You laugh, then wipe the corners of your mouth with your thumb. “Don't you already know?” you tease, hinting at her telepathic abilities.
Wanda pretends to be offended, crossing her arms. “I haven’t read your mind in a long time.”
You can’t help but be a little skeptical of her claim. “Since when?”
Wanda blinks, her gaze veering away as she hesitates, clearly not eager to revisit the memory.
You give her a gentle nudge, mimicking her earlier prodding “Well?”
Wanda turns to face you, her bottom lip pushed out slightly in a pout. “Since I saw you were sleeping with the director’s daughter.”
Saw? Did she see everything I did with Laura? The thought that Wanda witnessed it all like a scene playing out in front of her makes your stomach twist. You blush, mortified. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” you mumble, looking away.
Wanda shakes her head, trying to dispel her lingering jealousy. “I shouldn't have been peering into your head that much to begin with,” she says softly.
Your ears catch on a particular phrase. “‘That much’?”
It’s Wanda’s turn to blush, her cheeks flushing deeper as she quickly downs the rest of her wine and then holds out her glass for a refill. Deciding to show some mercy, you pour her another glass without prying further. The conversation stalls into an awkward silence until you finally decide to break it by giving your verdict on the dinner.
“By the way, this is delicious,” you say, adding another serving to your plate.
Wanda's face lights up, her smile stretching so wide that she looks almost like a giddy child. But then, she is young. You can’t help but imagine how she'll fit in with them. Steve, in particular, seems like he’d be good for her. Even though you don't know him well, that one phone call was enough to get a sense of his character and leadership. He seems like the kind of guy who'd really look out for Wanda, in ways you can't.
“Are you doing anything tomorrow?” Wanda suddenly asks.
Your smile falls a little, but you manage to keep it there. You wish she could read your mind now, that she could understand the choices you’ve made today better than you could ever explain them. You’re not abandoning her—you’re setting her free from this life. You've done too many unspeakable things to ever truly deserve a quiet life with her. Eventually, your past will catch up to you, and the opportunity for Wanda to do something good might slip away if she’s still tied to you. You wish she could see how much you care for her, how much she’s changed you. Because of her, you’ve felt the desire to be good again, to be human again. To open yourself not just to grief, but also to love.
You wish—
“Maybe we can visit that lake you mentioned? I've spent my whole life in Sokovia but never really left Novi Grad,” Wanda suggests.
“Rain check?” you say, trying your best to sound like tomorrow isn’t goodbye. Steve wanted to move quickly, and you’ll be expecting him and a small squad tomorrow, no later than noon. “I’m thinking I might just stay in, catch up on some reading.”
Wanda cocks her head, a puzzled look on her face. You’ve been the one pushing her to get out of the cabin more, so your answer isn’t what she’s expecting. But she likes the idea. She just wants to spend time with you. The hole Pietro left in her heart is only bearable when she’s with you.
“Okay,” she mumbles, starting to clear the dishes. You place a hand over hers, silently telling her you’ll take care of it later. Leaning in, you plant a soft kiss on her lips.
“You want to go to bed early?” you whisper quietly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
She looks up at you, a playful gasp escaping her lips.
“Just to sleep,” you add quickly. I just want to hold you all night, one last time.
“I might not be sleepy right off the bat, maybe if you tire me out—”
“Naughty,” you chuckle softly, giving her nose a gentle tap.
“You love it.”
“I—” Love you. You want to say it, but you don’t want to make it harder for you both when the time comes.
Without another word, you grab her hand, holding on to this moment, to her, for as long as you can.
#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff imagine#wanda maximoff x you#wanda x you#wanda maximoff#unbetad#my writing#my fic#elizabeth olsen x reader#elizabeth olsen#wanda maximoff fanfiction#pietro maximoff#gender neutral reader#hydra#avengers age of ultron#Steve Rogers
669 notes
·
View notes
Text
Let’s start over.
Sneak peek: Aaron and Reader were together back when she was finishing her bachelor’s degree. It went on for a bit until Aaron started to pull away – after confronting him, you called things off. Years later you return to Quantico to streamline the new child crimes unit which will work directly with the BAU. Aaron is surprised to see you and asks you to dinner…some shocking secrets are revealed. (There are timeline edits to this story to fit my vision okay?!)
Aaron Hotchner x (Fem) Reader
Angst/Fluff
Word count: 5301
Part 2: bonus scenes
REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!
Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, age gap (reader is in their 20’s and Hotch is in his 40’s), explicit language, keeping a child a secret, Hotch not being the best partner (past), description of BAU and other FBI units – some canon typical subject matter, OC’s Nora (child) Theo and Leila (agents), mention of hospitals, and mention of febrile seizure, mention of Jack, mention of Haley (their relationship timeline was adjusted to make this work – they separated when Jack was like 2-3 y/o) let me know if I missed any!
I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.
** 5 Years Ago, **
“Aaron would you please just tell me what’s going on!” You pleaded.
“Nothing. I told you to just drop it. Nothing is wrong.” Aaron snapped.
Things had been like this for the past few weeks. Aaron was being short with you, snippy about menial things that had never bothered him before. You couldn’t figure out what was going on, it had truly begun to weigh heavily on your relationship.
“We both know that’s bullshit. Why won’t you just talk to me?” You were practically begging him at this point.
“Jesus Christ, would you just let it the fuck go. I said I don’t want to talk. Why is that so hard for you to understand?” Aaron shouted. “Maybe Dave was right.” He mumbled.
“Right about what?” Your voice came out much smaller than intended.
“Maybe you’re too young, too immature. You just don’t understand the stress I’m under.” Aaron huffed out a sigh.
Aaron and you had been together for nearly two years. Initially it had been more of a fling due to the fact that he was teaching a course you were taking to complete your bachelor’s degree. He and you took things to the next level once you’d graduated and now you were about to complete your master’s degree. You loved Aaron, but with how things had been going for the last few months, you couldn’t help but wonder if that was enough.
“I don’t know if I can do this anymore.” You whispered.
“So what? We get in a little fight and you’re going to throw a tantrum?” Aaron spat pure venom.
“A tantrum?” You said, exasperated. “Aaron I’m not a toddler kicking and screaming because I am not getting my way. I’m a grown ass woman asking for some healthy communication in our relationship. We haven’t had a real conversation in months, and I don’t think I can go on like this.” You gasped, the realization finally hitting you…this had to end.
“Sweetheart, we can work this out. I’m sorry okay?” Aaron reached for you.
“No…” You took a retreating step, your back making contact with the back of your sofa. “I think it’s too late Aaron. And honestly it’s rich that you called me immature, when you are so emotionally stunted. You refuse to act your own age and talk things through. Instead, you bottle things up and push away anyone who cares about you. I won’t be your punching bag anymore, I have too much respect for myself.” Your tears had finally broken free, trailing down your cheeks clouded with black from your mascara.
“So that’s it then? We’re done?” Aaron scoffed.
“I guess that’s it.” You gasped.
With that, Aaron grabbed his bag and left. Pausing for a second, before shaking his head and making his leave. The moment you heard the lock click, your knees gave out and you collapsed to the floor as sobs ripped through your body. You laid there for what felt like days, broken and devastated by the loss of what you presumed was your forever. He was gone and you’d have to move on, something you weren’t sure was possible in that moment.
** Present Day **
“Hello? … This is she … Oh! Director Cruz … yes I am getting everything ready. … I can’t thank you enough for this opportunity, truly. … Of course, thank you. … Alright, I will see you Monday. … Thank you … Bye.” You were practically buzzing as you hung up the phone.
“Was that bossman?” Hestia questioned.
“Yes it was! He was checking in and making sure I have everything I need before I start on Monday!” You gushed.
“I can’t believe you are moving back to Virginia. I am going to miss you so, so much!” Hestia whined.
“I am going to miss you too! But it’ll only be like a month until you join me…right?” You inquired.
“Yes! My lease is up then and as long as you’re still cool with us staying with you guys until we find our own place, we will be there!” She explained.
“Ummm of course you guys can stay with us! Free childcare…I’d be an idiot to pass that up!” You laughed as Hestia threw a pillow at you.
You were actively packing up your life and preparing to move back to Virginia. You hadn’t been back there in nearly five years. After breaking things off with Aaron and completing your master’s degree, you’d looked into PhD programs around the U.S. and had ultimately decided on the child psychology program at Colombia University, and while New York wasn’t too far from Virgina, it at least put space between you and Aaron.
About eight months after you and Aaron had broken things off, Nora had come as quite a surprise. Despite the shock that was brought on by your pregnancy, Nora had become the greatest gift you could’ve asked for. Having Hestia around to make up for your lack in baby daddy had brought the two of you incredibly close together.
You had met Hestia in a pretty unconventional way, she was one year into her residency for general surgery, and you had appendicitis. So, she worked hand-in-hand with the surgeon who removed your appendix, and well, the rest had been history. She’s been with you through everything in the last four years, most importantly, she’s helped you raise Nora. You’d been sure to repay the favor, especially within the last year…Hestia’s mom had passed, leaving her 15-year-old sister in her care. The four of you had become your own little family.
“So, what’s your plan tomorrow?” Hestia asked.
“Oh, my parents flew in last week and they drove most of my stuff down on Tuesday. My mom said she wanted it to be set up for us, so we’d be able to move right in, especially since I start work immediately. So, I am just getting the last few things together today and we will head down tomorrow, and I guess we will finish getting everything set up this weekend. They’re staying with me, pretty much until you and Selene can come out. They don’t want me to have to put Nora in daycare.” You explained.
“Aw, I’m so glad they’re able to do that! I know by then you’ll be ready to have them out of your hair, but it is nice that you won’t have to leave her with strangers right away.” Hestia patted your leg. “I do have a question for you though…are you at all worried about running into your ex?”
“I don’t even know if he still works there Hes, it’s a huge place. Who’s to say we even see each other at all?” You shrug.
“You are so full of shit!” Hestia laughs. “Don’t act like you didn’t check to see if he’s still there.”
“Ugh! Yes he’s still the unit chief of the BAU! Of course I looked. And yes. I am terrified, Director Cruz said my unit will most likely work with the BAU more than any other team and I’m not sure I can handle that.” You groaned.
“You can’t avoid him forever babe. Are you going to tell him about Nora?”
“Hes, I don’t even know how I would begin to tell him.” You shook your head. “We ended horribly and she’s four now. What if he freaks out?”
“I mean he might. Hon, you have to tell him, she’s his daughter you know… I don’t think there’s an easy way to do it. Like it’s gonna be ugly no matter what. But at least you’re telling him.” Hestia reasons.
You knew she was right, you had to tell Aaron about Nora, but honestly it could wait. You had an entire unit to run, and you couldn’t let your fear of seeing him and having that conversation distract you from the important work you’d be doing.
Monday came far too quickly. Your parents had been a huge help, and the house was almost completely unpacked. Nora had settled in well with them being there with you both, and you were incredibly grateful to them for supporting you.
You had gotten up early to make breakfast and eat with Nora before heading into the office. When you walked into the FBI building, you made your way to the front desk to get your ID and then headed to the director’s office.
“Welcome! We are so glad to have you and your team joining us at the FBI. Child crimes is something that has needed an official unit for far too long, I am just happy to have you leading it.” Director Cruz greeted you.
“Thank you Director, it is truly an honor to have been asked to lead this team. From my understanding, Theo and Leila will be here tomorrow to begin officially.”
“That’s correct. I want to go over some logistics with you before I show you to your office. As of right now your team will just be the three of you, if we see a need to expand, we will. I am going to assign you and your agents each a specific unit for if you are needed in more than one place. You will be the point person for the Behavioral Analysis Unit and the Sex Crimes Unit, Leila will take point with Violent Crimes and Theo will take point with Cybercrimes. I anticipate that your team will work closest with the BAU and SCU.” Director Cruz explained.
“That all sounds good sir. Are the Unit Chiefs of these departments all aware of our arrival? I just want to ensure they will be prepared to work with us and that there won’t be too much pushback.” You posed.
“I understand. Yes, they have all been informed of your team’s arrival and I have made it very clear that their cooperation is nonnegotiable. At the end of the day, we all have the same goal, so hopefully there will be very little pushback from our agents.” Director Cruz reassured you. “Are you ready to see your office now?”
“Yes sir, thank you.”
Stepping off the elevator onto the sixth floor, you immediately took note of the directory sign listing that the BAU was housed on this floor. It made your stomach churn, knowing that you would most definitely see Aaron every day… not to mention in like the next few minutes.
“Okay so, through this door here is where the BAU is, as I mentioned before. There are two open desks down in the bullpen there for Theo and Leila, and your office is just there. You will be between agents Hotchner and Rossi.” Director Cruz noted as you entered your office. “I’d like to introduce you to agent Hotchner before I let you settle in; I think it is important given how frequently you’ll be working together.”
“Of course, sir.” You nodded.
The ten steps it took to get from your office to his felt like an eternity. You felt sick knowing that you’d have to face the man that had broken you all those years ago. You may have ended things with him officially, but he had truly ended it when he decided that you weren’t worthy of communicating with. At this point you were just hoping that he’d grown up in that area, because you really needed him to take the news of Nora well.
“Agent Hotchner, I have the new child crimes unit chief here for you to meet.” And before Director Cruz could give Aaron your name, it escaped his own lips, framed by his shocked expression. “Oh, you two know each other?”
“Agent Hotchner was a guest lecturer for one of my undergrad courses. He was my inspiration for entering this field.” You supplied.
It wasn’t a total lie…
“Yes, she was a bright student. I’m not surprised to see that she made it to the FBI.” Aaron added.
“Alright then, I will leave you to catch up then.” With that, the Director made his way back to his office.
“How um…how are you?” Aaron inquired.
“I’m well Aaron. I don’t really think anymore small talk is necessary. I should go get settled into my office.” You huffed out a breath before exiting the room.
You made sure to take your time getting settled. Placing some personal things out on your desk and shelves. You had a few plants, some of your favorite pens, some file folders, you hung up your degrees, you organized your psychology books on the shelves along with some law books, and the last, most important detail was a framed photo of you and Nora that you sat next to your lamp.
The day had sped by as you made yourself comfortable on the couch in your office while reading through some emails from other units and some case files of theirs from previous cases to see how they typically ran things. You had been trekking along just fine until a quite knock broke your concentration. Looking up, you weren’t entirely surprised to see it was Aaron standing there.
“I just wanted to check in and see how you were doing. It’s almost eight.” Aaron informed you.
“Oh shit! I didn’t even realize!” You scrambled to check your phone.
“I know that you said small talk wasn’t necessary, and I agree. I would however really like to take you to dinner to catch up, and maybe I can explain some things.” Aaron requested.
“Oh, I um. I’m not sure that’s a good idea…I uh-”
“Please. I really need to explain myself, for how awful I was back then. No excuses, just maybe it’ll help you see my point of view. I’ve worked on myself a lot since then.” Aaron pleaded.
“I have to make a call first.” You conceded.
“Of course. I’ll give you some privacy.” He exited your office.
You quickly called your mom, letting her know that you were going to dinner with a coworker, asking her to take care of the remainder of Nora’s bedtime routine. You also had to inform her you wouldn’t need to be picked up. After which you spoke to Nora wishing her a good night and giving her a kiss through the phone. You then gathered your belongings and met Aaron in the bullpen.
“So, I don’t have my car. My parents are in town, they helped me move, so I left my car with them.” You explained sheepishly.
“No worries, if you’re comfortable with it, I can drive us. I can take you home after as well.” Aaron offered.
“Yeah, that would be great. Thank you.” You offered a gentle smile.
Aaron gestured you to the elevator and you made your way down to the parking garage. Aaron, ever the gentleman made sure to open the car door for you, both in the garage and again at the restaurant. There was a tinge of sadness that flooded your mind as you noticed where Aaron took you.
It had been your go to for date nights back when you were together. It was a recommendation from Dave – who you couldn’t help but feel a bit of resentment toward given the “too young” comment. You wondered if Aaron brought you here on purpose, and he must’ve picked up on your thought.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I drove us here. I guess it was muscle memory.” He shook his head.
“It’s okay. I’ve missed the food honestly.” You let out a little chuckle.
“I have too. I uh, I haven’t been here since we ended.” Aaron’s voice trailed off toward the end of his statement.
You were relieved that the night hadn’t been filled with awkward silence. It had, however, been a lot of catching up while Aaron avoided the main reason he brought you here and you avoided talking about Nora. You were both saved by the waiter when he came by to get your order.
“Would you like to see the wine list?”
“No thank you. I’ll just have water.” You were quick to answer.
“Water is fine for me also.” Aaron added.
“Are you ready to order your entrees then?”
“I will have the Mezzi Rigatoni, and she will have the Ricotta Cavatelli.” Aaron declared.
The waiter nodded and walked off. You couldn’t help but look at Aaron with a bit of shock. It is what you always ordered, so you couldn’t be mad, but it felt foreign and all too familiar at the same time. He always ordered for you when you used to go out, he used to know you better than you knew yourself…but that was then.
“I’m so sorry – I don’t know why I did that” Aaron was quick to apologize “Maybe coming here was a bad idea. It’s all too familiar.”
“It’s okay Aaron. I was going to order it anyway. Maybe we should talk about why we’re here.” You suggested.
“Of course. I want to explicitly state that I am not trying to make excuses for how I acted then, because I know I was horrible to you in the end. I do just want to give you some insight as to what I was going through at that time. I really want to communicate now what I didn’t then.” He began.
You nodded for him to continue as the waiter brought your food and drinks.
“So, you know that Haley and I divorced before you and I got together officially. Well once you and I became serious and my time was either spent at work or with you and Jack, Haley didn’t seem to like that. She uh, she tried to fight me for primary custody of Jack.” Aaron explained.
“What? Aaron why didn’t you tell me?”
“Honestly, because I knew you’d take a step back in our relationship. I knew that with how selfless you are, you’d offer to back off and give me more time with Jack and I didn’t want that. I wanted to have you and Jack, so I kept it to myself. Which broke us anyway.” He concluded.
“I really wish you would’ve told me; things may have been different Aaron. I am glad you’re telling me now though.” You desperately wanted to reach for his hand but ultimately decided against it.
Now was as good a time as any, you had to tell him about Nora. He confessed something and it was your turn. And just as you were about to open your mouth, a shrill ring sounded from Aaron’s coat pocket.
“Hotchner. Yes…CCU as well? Yes – I’m with their unit chief now. We’re on our way.” Aaron hung up the phone and looked over at you. “Is your team here in Virginia?”
“Yes, they’re not meant to start until tomorrow.” You provided.
“Call them in, we have a case. Time is of the essence.” Aaron signaled for the check.
The two of you contacted your respective teams as you made your way back to the car. Aaron once again opened your door for you and drove you back to the office. You texted your parents and informed them of the case and asked your mom to let Nora know you’d be home as soon as you could.
30 minutes later you were on a private jet to Chicago with your team and the entirety of the BAU. You had unintentionally sat beside Aaron and began going over the case details with everyone. Aaron had begun explaining the preliminary profile, and you couldn’t help but chime in. Everyone was watching how the two of you riffed and bounced ideas off of one another so naturally.
“Just a reminder, there are new protocols for entry into the crime scene when we are locating the children. We need to follow those exactly to ensure we don’t harm these children more so than they are already. If you have any questions about those procedures feel free to ask me or my agents.” You instructed.
“Right. Now for assignments, Dave, JJ and Theo I’d like you to interview the family of the latest victim –”
“Molly Leland.” You corrected.
“Apologies. Dave, JJ, Theo go to the Leland’s and find out anything you can. Morgan, Prentiss and Leila, you three go to the abduction site, I want to ensure CSU didn’t miss anything. And Reid you’ll be with us at the station to start on the geographical profile.” Aaron finished, gesturing to the two of you.
Six days. It had been six days, and you still hadn’t made any progress on this case. Another child had gone missing, and things were incredibly tense. Both teams had been in the designated room within the precinct going over theories.
“I think we’re looking at this all wrong…” Leila began, “I think the person abducting these kids is younger than initially profiled.”
“Given their disorganization and the lack of consistent victimology, I’d say that’s a pretty plausible theory.” Spencer validated.
“Okay, Leila what were you thinking?” You inquired.
“What if it is a teenager? My thoughts were a kid who grew up in foster care – hence the random victimology. They just want siblings, and that’s why there aren’t any bodies.” Leila suggested.
“I think she’s onto something. If it was a young adult who was newly alone in the world, they’d be looking to find people to surround themselves with.” Morgan continued.
“Garcia, run a search for kids that just aged out of group homes and foster care.” Aaron called to their technical analyst.
“Within the geographical limits I just sent over to you.” Spencer added.
When your phone rang, you excused yourself from the room, answering the call from your mom. You could immediately tell something was wrong given the slight lilt to her voice.
“Mom, what’s wrong?...Why do you need the children’s Tylenol. … Fever? What’s her temperature? … 103? MOM! You need to take her to the ER. … I’m serious! … I’m coming home. … Yes! … I’ll be there as soon as I can. … Take her straight to Bethesda. …Ok. Bye.”
You turned and jumped in surprise at Aaron standing there behind you.
“I just came to let you know we’re splitting up to check out a few leads. Is everything okay?” He asked.
You could tell he had more questions and that he’d more than likely heard the entirety of your conversation but was holding back in asking them.
“Um no. My daughter is sick. She has a pretty high fever. I uh, I need to get home.” You panicked.
“Okay. We will get you home then. I’ll send the teams out and I will make some calls. For now, just try to stay positive okay?” Aaron had always been the calm in the storm.
He sent three separate groups out to find the unsub and had made a few calls back to the director to get you on an emergency flight home. He went as far as to drive you to the hotel and then to the hangar.
“Aaron.”
“Get home to your daughter.” He offered a small smile.
“Thank you.”
Leila had texted to update you that they had caught the unsub and would be heading home in the next hour or so. You had been grateful that the team had successfully closed the case. What was killing you, was the state of your baby girl. She had an excessively high fever, and it just wouldn’t break.
“Miss, there’s someone here to see you.” The nurse informed you.
You looked over at your mom who gave you a nod and you exited the room. Following the nurse to the waiting room, you were surprised to see Aaron standing there.
“I just wanted to see how she’s doing, and how you are.” He declared.
“I um. I’m…” You couldn’t help but break down.
Aaron immediately pulled you into his arms and moved you both over to a couch in the waiting area. He let his hand brush over your hair and whispered reassurances to you. The two of you sat like this for a while before you slowly pulled away.
“Sorry. She just has this fever, and it won’t break, and they don’t know what’s wrong.”
“Sweetheart it’s okay. She will be okay.” Aaron grabbed your hand.
A moment went by and then an alarm sounded. Your gaze shot up as you watched medical staff make their way to Nora’s room. You got up and ran to her room, with Aaron hot on your heels.
“What’s happening? What is going on? Somebody tell me what is going on!” You were practically shouting as Aaron pulled you from the room.
Your mom was pacing in the hallway as Aaron held you back from storming back in. It was killing him to see you this distraught.
“It was a febrile seizure. This can happen when children have such a high fever. We’ve given her a sedative to try and help her rest and we pushed some more Tylenol to aid in breaking the fever.” The doctor explained.
“Is she going to be okay?” You questioned.
“We’re doing everything we can. A nurse will be by soon to take her temperature again.” The doctor walked away.
“I’m going to go find your dad. That way you two can have some privacy.” Your mom said pulling you into a hug.
“This is Nora.” You told Aaron as you ran your hand over her forehead, brushing her curls away from her face.
“She’s beautiful.” He complimented.
You sat in silence for a bit with him just watching Nora. You could tell part of him was itching to ask, but you also knew that Nora was a bit small for her age so he couldn’t be sure that she was his. This moment of avoidance was terminated the second the billing staff came in to get all of your information.
“Hey there, I wanted to confirm all of the info for billing. Do you have your driver’s license and insurance card?” The staff requested.
“Yes, here it is.” You passed her the card.
She filled in all of your information, clicking away on her keyboard while the rest of the room sat with a looming silence. You could feel the question coming. You had been an idiot to give Nora her father’s last name.
“Okay and can you confirm the patient’s name and date of birth for me?”
“Yes, it’s uh…Nora Leigh Hotchner. That’s H-O-T-C-H-N-E-R. Date of birth is 10/4/2019.” You could feel Aaron’s gaze burning into you.
“Alright, here are those cards back. Thank you.” She made her leave.
“Seriously?”
“Aaron, let me explain.”
“Not here.” He motioned toward Nora.
He swiftly made his way out of the room, and you were quick to follow. In noticing your parents, you signaled for them to sit with Nora as you practically chased after Aaron. He didn’t stop until he was in a private waiting room, it was only then that he turned to face you.
“Are you fucking kidding me? She’s mine? And what, you didn’t think to tell me…I don’t know, FOUR YEARS AGO?” Aaron was fuming.
A part of you understood his response, but another part of you was furious that he wasn’t allowing you to explain before flying off the handle.
“Don’t yell at me. If we’re going to do this, we will talk like adults. I will not sit here and allow you to berate me.” You held your ground.
“Okay.”
“I found out I was pregnant after I left for New York. And at that point Aaron, I was so devastated by our breakup, and I just didn’t think I could be around you. I know that’s not fair, but I had thought you and I were forever and then we’d just ended. I was going to tell you last week at dinner, but then we got called in. Aaron I am so sorry, and I know that doesn’t make up for the time you’ve lost, but I also need you to know that I did what I felt like I had to do.” You let your gaze fall to the floor in guilt.
“I understand. I’m not happy, but I get it.” He reached for your hand.
You accepted the gesture and furthered it by pulling him into an embrace. He wrapped his arms around you and rested his head atop your own.
“I’ve told her about you.” You whispered.
“What?”
“I’ve told her about you. She’s seen pictures and heard stories. She knows you Aaron.”
He held you a little tighter and you nuzzled a little closer. After a few moments he suggested that you both get back to your girl. You both sat with her all night, letting your parents go home. At three in the morning, the night nurse gave you the good news, her fever had finally broken. The next day, Aaron drove the two of you home, leaving with a scheduled family day where you would introduce Jack and Nora. You had also discussed talking to the kids about their birthday party (since their birthday’s are only 3 days apart). With Jack turning seven and Nora turning 5 in a little more than a month, you wanted to plan something big for the two of them.
** One Month Later **
“Okay, the bounce house is set up and the petting zoo guy just arrived. Where should he set up?” Penelope asked.
“On the southeast side!” Dave hollered.
You were setting up the last of the hors d’oeuvres, while the members of both the CCU and BAU helped get Dave’s backyard set up for the kids birthday party. You were so incredibly grateful for this family you’d come to have.
“We’re here with cake!” Hestia announced.
“Hes! Selene! Hey guys, you can set that up on that round table over there.” You pointed.
Selene came over and gave you a hug, you snuck a snack into her hand and nodded over to your bag.
“My iPad is in there with the Twilight movies all downloaded. Dave has a sitting room down the hall to the right.” You winked at her.
“Thanks mom!” Selene said hugging you once more before heading off.
“Do you have another kid I don’t know about?” Aaron joked, wrapping his arms around you from behind.
“Ha ha! No, Selene just calls me mom. We’ve both taken care of her since their mom passed, but it became an inside joke that I acted as the mom to Nora, Selene and Hestia.” You huffed a laugh.
“It’s true!” Hestia confirmed, before taking a case of juice boxes outside to the cooler.
“You know, I wouldn’t be opposed to it.” Aaron murmured, pressing a kiss to your neck.
“Opposed to what?” You giggled.
“More kids.”
“Aaron! We only just got back together, and we are at our children’s birthday party! Behave yourself.” You hissed.
“I know, but this time around, I’m not letting you go. I plan on marrying you and I just want you to know that I’m open to more children, one day, when and if you’re ready.” He punctuates it with a kiss to your lips.
“Well, I’m open to it too. And whenever you ask, my answer is yes Aaron. You’ve proven to me that you’ve grown since we ended before and I can’t stand the thought of going without you again so, I’m in this, for as long as you’ll have me.” You kissed him once more before carrying a tray outside to the party.
Aaron smiled and grabbed his phone, opening it to check the status of his order. There on his screen was confirmation that your ring had been customized, made, sized, quality checked, and would be shipping out soon.
He couldn’t wait to spend forever with you.
#aaron hotchner#aaron hotch hotchner#hotch#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner x reader#ssa aaron hotchner#criminal minds#aaron x reader#hotch x reader#hotch x you#hotch x y/n#criminal minds fandom#thomas gibson#jack hotchner#haley hotchner#aaron hotch x you#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotch imagine#aaron hotch fluff#aaron hotch fic#aaron hotch fanfiction#aaron hotchner x you#agent hotchner#criminal minds fic#hotch thoughts#hotchner#criminal minds x reader#x reader#aaron hotchner one shot#aaron hotch
931 notes
·
View notes
Text
Klaus Mikaelson x Reader!Soulmate x Elijah Mikaelson PART 10
Word Count- 7.2k
Warnings- Swearing, blood, violence, death, Damon’s ass/Damon BEING an ass, shitty Google translate, spelling mistakes(I'm wayyy too tired to edit this rn)
A/N- some of this is not canon just because I love a character too much and she deserved better in the show.
“Are you just going to keep sulking in here,” I ask from my position in Damon’s doorway.
Damon answers me back with a loud groan mixed with what I believe to be a growl, “Tell me again why you’re here. And why I haven’t killed you yet?”
If I had just met Damon I would be scared of what he just asked me, but after these past weeks of knowing him, I’ve realized most of his threats are half-assed. So I just shrug and walk into his room.
“My mother and brother are away for the week visiting family, leaving me home alone. And, well, I don’t feel like having “he who shall not be named,” come and kill me in my sleep. And you haven’t killed me because you don’t want to. I’ve called you many bad names to your face, and yet I stand here, unharmed."
“Here you stand annoying the hell out of me. Again.”
I roll my eyes and sit on the edge of Damon’s bed. Damon still hasn’t moved from his position under the covers.
“Damon,” I turn over my shoulder to look at him and he lets out yet another groan to acknowledge he’s listening, “I’m going to be honest with you.”
“Nothing new there,” I hear him say under his breath sarcastically.
“You’re kind of embarrassing to watch right now,” I turn to see him fully glaring at me now, “You’re how old? Like five thousand years or something like that? It’s time you grew up.”
“Says the high schooler.”
“Says the man in love with a high schooler,” I bite back which has him shutting up momentarily.
“You don't know anything,” He says as he finally sits up in his bed. His white sheet falling down, revealing his naked chest. I quickly avert my eyes, not because I’m attracted to him but because seeing Damon half-naked would be like seeing my annoying ass distant cousin naked. No, thank you.
“Don’t bullshit me, Demon-spawn,” I point an accusing finger at him resulting in him glaring at me some more.
“I know you have feelings for Elena, everyone and their bloody mothers knows. And as much as I like Stefan, I also don’t think it should be something you need to feel bad for,” I think momentarily and tap my chin in thought, “Well, okay. Maybe a little bad because she’s 17 and you’re like 1,000 and she��s also your little brother’s girlfriend,” I catch Damon’s deadly look and stop rambling, “Moving along…What I’m trying to say is that we can’t control who we catch feelings for. And honestly, Elena’s pretty and nice as hell so I don’t blame you there. But what we can control is how we choose to express those feelings.”
Damon just stares blankly at me and I feel like I’d be better off giving a toddler this speech.
“What you’re doing right now, sulking and getting mad at everyone around you for something that is out of our control isn’t helping anyone. It’s only making things worse. Elena’s my best friend and I know she’s scared out of her mind right now but doesn’t want to say it because it'll cause more stress for the people she loves. What she needs right now is all of us. After tonight is over and Elijah’s elixir brings her back then you can go back to your hissy fits but right now,” I stand up and face him, planting my hands on my hips in a power pose, “You need to get your ass out of bed and get a fucking grip.”
Damon and I hold each other’s glares for a straight minute before he huffs, throws his blanket off of him, and gets out of bed. I have to fight a smirk as I get overly proud of my pep talk.
“I’m really starting to miss when it was just puke coming out of that mouth of yours,” Damon growls as he walks to the bathroom and pulls down his boxers without a second thought. My eyes fly out of my head as I get a full look at Damon’s white ass. I quickly turn around and gag.
“Dude! Seriously, warn a girl!”
---
“I don’t remember you being so…talky,” Damon’s voice yells from over the water of his shower.
I frown as I think about his comment and sit back down on the edge of his bed facing the front door and not the bathroom. Not wanting to get a face full of his behind again, or worse…ugh.
“I…don’t think I’ve ever been talky. There has never been a reason for me to be,” I say back to him not really caring if he hears or not.
A moment later I hear the shower water stop and his footsteps padding around behind me.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean,” Damon says from next to me and I slowly turn hoping he’s at least half decent.
Thankfully, he has covered his behind with jeans and is currently slipping a shirt over his chest.
I think about his question and then shrug my shoulders, “I’ve never really had friends to talk to, and whenever I had tried talking to people they just hadn’t cared. So I never really saw the point in talking.”
Damon stops fixing the buttons on his shirt momentarily to look at me. His eyebrows are drawn together and the look in his eyes isn’t one I think I’ve seen from him before. Something about it almost seems kind of…human. But within another second it’s gone and his lip upturns into a smirk.
“People are a waste of time anyway. The only good thing about them…,” He takes a step closer to me and leans down so he’s in my face, “Is there blood.”
I huff as I stand up and push past him heading towards the door, “And here I thought I could actually have a half-decent conversation with you. My mistake.”
I start walking through the halls toward the living room where Elena, Stefan, and Elijah are. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Damon catch up to me so we’re walking side by side.
“You’re kind of annoying,” He says and I have to fight the urge to not punch him.
“Gee, thanks,” I go to walk faster but he catches up to me again.
“What I mean is…,” He pauses for a moment trying to find his words, “You may be annoying but that doesn’t mean what you have to say is pointless or something that shouldn’t be heard. Screw anyone who tells you otherwise…or just kill them.”
I look at him with a confused look matching the confused feelings I now have, “Thank you? I think.”
“Don’t mention it,” He leans down and glares at me, “Seriously, I will kill you if you tell anyone what I just said.”
I suck on my teeth and then nod my head, “And there’s the Demon we all know and loathe.”
“Right, back at you, Pukey.”
I watch as Damon’s eyebrows furrow as we get closer to the living room and as we enter he speaks up, “Then why are we letting him break the curse?”
I follow Damon into the living room and see Elena and Stefan sitting together on a sofa and Elijah standing before them. Elijah’s eyes lock onto mine and I acknowledge him by sending him a small smile which he just returns with a nod. Okay, Rude.
“We can kill him today. With Bonnie,” Damon says and I realize we’re talking about him. At the mention of him, I begin to clench my fists as a surge of anger rises through me but stop myself since I don’t feel like accidentally cutting myself in a room of vampires. I take my seat on a loveseat next to Elena, who sends me a warm smile before turning towards Damon.
“No. Bonnie can’t use that much power without dying.”
“I’ll write her a great eulogy,” Damon’s words have me turning in my seat and glaring at him. So much for my speech getting to him.
“It’s not an option Damon,” You tell him, Elena.
Stefan sighs, “Alright, how do we break this curse?”
“Well, the ritual itself is relatively straightforward. The ingredients, so to speak you already know,” Elijah answers.
“The moonstone,” Stefan says.
“A witch will channel the power of the full moon to release the spell that’s bound within the stone. After that Klaus, being both a werewolf and a vampire, will sacrifice one of each.”
“And where do I fit into it,” Elena asks him.
“The final part of the ritual. Klaus must drink the blood of the doppelganger…to the point of your death.”
Elijah’s words have both Stefan and I taking deep breaths.
“And that’s where you come in.”
Elijah goes to the shelf behind him and opens a little wooden box, “This is an elixir that I acquired some 500 years ago for Katerina. It possesses the mystical properties of resuscitation.”
“So I’ll be dead..”
“And then you won’t.”
Damon the grouch speaks up, “That’s your plan? A magical witch potion with no expiration date,” He turns to Elena, “You want to come back to life, what…What about John’s ring?”
“Those rings only work on humans. The doppelganger is a supernatural occurrence. Odds are…the ring won’t work.”
“I’ll take those odds over your elixir. What if it doesn’t work Elena?”
“Then I guess I’ll just be dead.”
Damon shoots his brother a look, but knowing Stefan, he’ll go with whatever Elena wants. Even if he doesn’t agree. Damon realizes this too before shooting another glare at the group before leaving the living room back to where we originally came from.
“Do we know if Klaus has everything he needs to do this? Does he have a werewolf?”
“Klaus has been waiting over a thousand years to break this curse. If he doesn’t already have a werewolf my guess is by tonight, he will.”
—
I watch from my position on the couch as Stefan follows his brother outside. That’s going to be a fun conversation.
Elena approaches Elijah, “You’d think he’d understand why I’m willing to do this.”
“Why are you?”
“I’m the key to breaking the curse. Klaus is here because of me. If I don’t stop him, then he’s gonna hurt people. It’s that simple.”
I frown sadly to myself and fight back the watering that has started in my eyes. This isn’t fair. None of this is.
“You know, there’s a possibility this elixir won’t work. I don't want to mislead you.”
“I know the chance I’m taking.”
The tense atmosphere is broken by a door slamming shut and a woman yelling from the foyer.
“Jenna, Jenna!”
“Get out!”
I quickly rise from my seat and go to follow behind Elena to check on Jenna, but a hand grabs my own, pulling me back.
“Wait here,” Elijah’s stern voice says to me as he drops my hand and follows behind Elena. I watch his retreating figure and shake my head. Who tf does this guy think he’s talking to?
I run towards the foyer and freeze when I see Ric standing there. Or Klaus, I guess. My breathing gets faster and I’m debating on whether to swing on him or pass out.
“Jenna, put the cross-bow down, okay? It’s me.”
Stefan joins us and Elijah comes to stand in front of me, not before shooting me a disapproving look.
“What’s going on,” Elena asks the two adults.
“It’s me, Elena, I swear, okay? He let me go. Klaus let me go,” I frown at Ric’s words and look to Elijah to see if he can tell if Ric is telling the truth or not but his face is completely still.
“Prove it,” Damon who has now joined says.
“Okay, uh, the first night you and I spent together Jeremy walked in right when-”
“Ok! It’s him,” Jenna exclaims as she drops her weapon. Ew. Everyone in the room throws glances at each other before turning back towards Ric.
“Why did he let you go,” Stefan asks.
“He wanted me to deliver a message. The sacrifice happens tonight.”
—-
“Katherine was there,” Ric says from his position on the couch. We all moved back into the living room to keep discussing our plans for tonight.
“She’s under compulsion. Damon snuck her vervain but she can't leave until Klaus tells her she can.”
“Where is Damon,” Elena questions, and I get a bit unnerved. Not knowing where Damon is is not an ideal situation.
“I saw him go upstairs,” Jenna says.
Elena stands up and goes towards his room and I go to follow her but Elijah grabs my upper arm, “I need to speak with you,” I begin to argue back as he pulls me into the next room.
“Dude let go of me,” I hiss at him and he drops my arm and stares blankly at me.
“Do not dude me, Elskan,” Elijah says with that stupid monotone voice of his that makes me want to wrap my hands around his throat.
“You don’t get to tell me what to do Elijah,” I whisper yell to him so the others don’t overhear us, “And stop with that stupid nickname.”
Elijah narrows his eyes at me, “You are making it incredibly hard for me to protect you.”
“Oh I’m sorry,” I roll my eyes sarcastically, “I didn’t realize you actually cared, since you’ve been acting like you don't.”
Elijah’s narrowed eyes morph into ones of confusion, “What are you talking about?”
“Seriously! One second you’re making all these promises to protect me and being all nice and stuff and then the next moment you won’t even acknowledge my existence.”
“It would be impossible for me to not acknowledge your existence, Y/n. There is not a single moment where I am not searching for you. This situation,” He gestures between us, “Is not something I take lightly. And keeping you safe is now my most important mission in this life. So I apologize if I have hurt your feelings whilst doing that.”
I’m frozen as I listen to Elijah and he takes a single step towards me. He reaches his hand up and brushes a stray hair behind my ear.
“You have no idea how long I have waited for you,” His words have me frowning in confusion as he brushes his finger across my cheek, “But, I fear that if I let myself get too close then it will only put you in more danger and I would rather dagger myself before ever letting that happen.”
My chest and my brain don't seem to be working properly as I just stare wide-eyed at the man in front of me. I try to think of something, anything really to say but I can’t seem to get my mouth to form a sentence.
A loud bang comes from upstairs and Elijah gives me one more look before exiting. I feel like I’m on autopilot as I walk towards the noise, catching sight of Ric and Jenna running towards it as well. I make my way up to Damon’s room and gasp as I see Stefan with a very big piece of wood through his stomach. Ric tries to grab Damon but the ladder pushes him off him before walking out of the room.
“Okay, Jenna, downstairs in the basement are some blood bags,” Ric tells Jenna who is standing in front of me, “Go get them, now. Go!”
Jenna leaves as Elena rips the wood out of Stefan. I walk over and kneel next to them as Elena holds and tries to comfort her hurt boyfriend.
“I’m so sorry,” Stefan groans out.
I frown, confused, “Why is he sorry? He’s the one who got stabbed?”
I’m ignored for a moment as Elena shushes Stefan until he passes out and with tearful eyes, she looks over to me, “Damon he…he fed me his blood. Y/n, I don’t want to be a vampire”
'My chest practically caves in on itself as I hear my friend's small sobs and shake my head in denial, “No…no. There has to be another way. There has to be Elena,” I stand up and look at her once more, “You’re not going to be a vampire.”
—
I storm through the halls and down the stairs until I see Damon in the living room pouring himself a glass of whatever alcohol he has on hand. That anger from before rises at the idea of what he just did.
“You selfish bastard,” I storm over to him and I see Elijah try to stop me from the corner of my eye, only to receive my hand in his face. And as Damon turns around to look at me he receives my fist in his face.
Damon hisses as my fist flies across his cheekbone and I fight back tears at the pain in my knuckles. I’ve never thrown a punch before but I didn’t realize it would hurt this much. Jesus.
Damon looks back at me as if my punch did nothing to him, which it probably didn’t and I expect him to charge at me, and I’m assuming Elijah does as well because he moves next to me. But all Damon does is stare at me, raise his glass to his lips, downs it, and then exits the living room.
“You’ve never thrown a punch before have you,” Elijah’s voice has me turning my gaze over to him.
I look at him sheepishly, “Is it that obvious?”
Elijah stares at me and from his face I think he's trying to debate whether to be amused by me or scold me, “A bit, but I applaud you for the effort,” Elijah’s eyes dart towards my hurting hand and he picks it up with his own and inspects it.
“You’ll have some bruising but thankfully there appears to be no breakage.”
I let out a pained hiss as one of his fingers brushed against my middle knuckle. He instantly stops and looks at me.
“I can heal you if you’d like,” He asks me and I remember back to when he healed me the first time. It feels like another lifetime ago.
“I’ll be fine,” I dismiss him and he nods but doesn’t drop my hand. He does reach his other hand up and uses his thumb to wipe a stray tear off my cheek.
“I’m sorry about Elena,” I quickly remember why I punched Damon in the first place and go to question about the elixir but he shakes his head as if he already knows what I’m thinking, “It won’t work any longer. Damon made sure of that when he fed her his blood. When Elena dies she’ll wake up as a vampire."
I shake my head in denial and feel the tears reach my eyes again, “No... Elijah. There has to be another way! Please tell me there’s another way.”
Elijah’s features form to one of sorrow as if he can feel the pain I’m in, “I’m sorry, Elskan. I truly am.”
I shake my head and bite down hard on my lip to try to stop my tears. Elijah reaches up his hand though and frees my bottom lip from my teeth with his thumb.
“Come here,” Elijah says as he pulls me into him and wraps his arms around my body. The smell of something masculine, almost smoky, surrounds me as he rests his chin on my head. After everything that has happened, if I were to die like this in his embrace, I don’t think I would regret it.
—
I wipe the remnants of my smeared mascara as I look at myself in my car mirror. After Elijah left the Salvatore’s saying he had some loose ends to clean up before tonight and to not get myself into any more trouble, I went to check on Elena.
She hugged me for about ten minutes straight and I just rubbed her back as she cried into my shoulder. And I may or may not have cried along with her, feeling heartbroken for my friend.
Elena and Stefan then left together to go spend her last day as a human together, which is as bittersweet as it is heartbreaking. And after bidding Jenna and Ric a goodbye I found myself driving to the Mystic Grill. That’s why I am now sitting in it’s parking lot trying to collect myself and trying to keep myself busy for what is to happen tonight.
I open my car door and hold my bruised hand tentatively as I push through the front door to the Grill. I had seen a “Help Wanted,” sign here the other day and if I hopefully survive the night I’ll need a job for the summer. Not being a trust fund baby really sucks ass sometimes.
Matt Donovan sends me a warm smile as I walk past him. I'd never really talked to the guy other than the few times in class where he’d ask to borrow a pencil or if I could help him with some math equation, but he always seemed sweet. Unlike the stupid jock stereotype, I’ve gotten used to seeing in this town. After being told by Elena what happened to his sister and that now he lives by himself as a 17-year-old because his mom’s a deadbeat, I feel bad for the guy.
I let out a low groan as I stop my walk towards the bar which is currently occupied by the demon overlord himself. I debate to myself if I should just turn around, but a hand on my shoulder shocks me.
Ric stands there with his hands raised up in apology, “My bad Y/N. Didn’t mean to scare you. Just wanted to check on you and see how you’re doing.”
I look at Ric and sigh, “I’m just glad you’re you again.”
Ric nods his head in agreement, “Ya, me too. I didn’t hurt you while I was Klaus right?”
I shake my head, “No Ric, and even if you did it wouldn’t have been your fault. You had no control over yourself.”
Ric sends me a warm smile and nods, “I feel kind of violated, to be honest.”
I snort at his joke, “I don’t blame you.”
“I need a drink,” Ric says as he walks with me up towards the bar and my knuckles start to burn as I stare at the hair on the back of Demon’s head.
“I’ll have the same as him,” Ric says to the waiter as he sits on Damon’s right and I sit down on his left. The waiter then looks at me for my drink order, “A Shirley Temple, please. And a job application?”
The waiter, a half-decent-looking man, smirks as he pulls out a pad of papers from behind the bar and hands them to me before going back to making drinks.
“Job searching, Pukey,” Damon asks from beside me and I stare forward not looking at him.
“Ric,” I call to him and he turns to look at me, “If Damon’s here who do you think is guarding the gates of hell?”
Rics snorts out a deep laugh and I can see Damon scowling from beside me. The waiter comes back and gives Ric his bourbon and me my Shirley Temple. I accidentally grab it with my injured hand and try to cover the hiss I let out, with a cough.
“How’s your hand,” Damon asks from next to me. I’m surprised that his voice doesn’t sound completely sarcastic.
I turn and glare at him, “How’s your face?”
Damon sends me a smirk and gestures to his unmarked face, “Perfect.”
I roll my eyes and take a sip of my Shirley Temple ignoring whatever the two men next to me are talking about. That is until a voice that has my heart doing a fucking backflip in my chest calls from behind us.
“Gentlemen? Why so glum,” A deep British voice asks and I could’ve sworn goosebumps went up my arms at the sound. What the fuck?
All three of us turn to match the voice to the face and…Holy shit.
A tall dark-blond man stands about a foot length from me. At this distance, I can see the different shades of blue in his eyes and the small freckles that decorate his perfect nose.
I hear Damon groan from behind me and I’m not sure why as I’m too busy ogling the pretty man before me.
“Klaus, I presume.”
I blink. And then I blink again. And then once more as I’m frozen staring at Klaus. The Shirley Temple in my hands starts to shake as I can’t take my eyes off the man.
“In the flesh. Thanks for the loner, mate,” Klaus smirks at Ric and if I wasn’t in total shock right now I’d defend him. But the man I’ve thought of killing for the past week is standing right in front of me and I was counting how many fucking freckles I could see on his goddamned nose. There’s thirteen.
Shut tf up Y/n?!
Klaus hasn’t looked my way once and although I should be glad about that a part of my lower stomach drops at the fact.
Damon stands from his seat and goes to face the man, “Any reason you stopped by to say hi?”
“I’m told you and your brother fancy my doppelganger. Just thought I’d remind you not to do anything you’ll regret,” Klaus’ warning doesn’t seem to sway Damon as the ladder lets out a laugh.
“Thanks for the advice. I don’t supposed I could talk you into a postponement by any chance, huh?”
Klaus lets out a chuckle and I swear my heart just skipped a beat. What the fuck Y/n?!?!??
“You are kidding,” Klaus asks and then turns to Ric, “He is kidding, right?”
“No, not really.”
“I mean, come on, what’s one month in the whole grand scheme of things,” Damon asks and I realize that he’s doing this because he doesn’t want Elena to die with vampire blood in her system.
“Ya, I mean one month is like,” I pretend to count on my fingers, “Like thirty days. I don’t see why you can’t wait that long. You’ve already waited over a thousand years, what’s thirty days?”
I ask the man and this finally has Klaus acknowledging my presence. But honestly, from the way he’s looking at me, I wish I would’ve kept quiet. His eyebrows are drawn together and his lips curve upwards into what I hope isn’t a snarl. Damon must’ve noticed the look too because he moves in front of me blocking me from Klaus’ vision and him from mine.
“Let me be clear,” I hear Klaus’ deep voice say, “I have my vampire, I have my werewolf. I have everything I need. The ritual will happen tonight. So if you want to live to see tomorrow don’t screw it up.”
I catch sight of Klaus’ back as he strolls away.
“Would I be a bad person to say I kind of hope his werewolf was the Jules’ chick,” I see Ric shoot me an “Are you serious” look and I shrug, “Hey, she was the one who tortured me. I still got the little knife scare on my leg to prove it.”
Damon doesn’t say anything as he sits back down and sighs.
“You’re gonna screw it up, aren’t you?”
“You think if I took his werewolf out of the equation she might…get over the fact that I tried to turn her into a vampire?”
“Nope,” I say popping the p.
“I think it won’t matter, because you’ll be dead.”
“But without the werewolf he can’t preform the ritual tonight which means I would have bought her one month before the next full moon.”
Ric shakes his head, “But you’ll still be dead.”
Damon leans into him, “Are you gonna help me or what?”
Ric looks at him for a moment, “What do you want me to do?”
I slurp up the rest of my drink, throw a five onto the counter, and jump up as the two men next to me watch me wearily.
“Alright gentlemen, dream team time!”
Ric raises an eyebrow while Damon shoots me a look of disgust, “I don’t know what the hell that was, but you’re not coming along.”
I frown as I grab my application and follow behind the two men, “Why the hell not? I want to help.”
Damon whips around to me, “Look kid, not happening. There’s already too much shit going down and I can’t be babysitting you, making sure you don’t get killed on my watch. So go back home and we’ll see you tonight. Capiche?”
Damon turns back around and walks to his car. Ric sends me one last smile and a shrug of his shoulders before following behind. I watch the two men drive off and I sigh as I stand in the middle of the parking lot. Anger and sadness building in me, when I realize just how useless I truly am.
—
I try to give Elijah a smile as he opens the SUV door for me. But with the mood I’m in I think the smile comes out more like a frown than anything else. Elijah must notice this too as he reaches his hand out for me to take. I debate it for a moment, 1. Not being a big fan of PDA, and 2. Stefan and Ric are with us and I don’t want them to be angry with me. But then I remember that my best friend is going to die tonight so a little PDA isn’t that huge in the grand scheme of things.
Elijah seems elated as I place my hand in his and he guides Stefan and I through the woods toward the creepy ass witch house where Bonnie, Jeremy, and Ric are.
“The sacrifice is completed in stages as the full moon sets,” Elijah explains to us. I feel his hand squeeze mine in comfort and I squeeze his back, “First the werewolf is killed, then the vampire’ and finally the doppelganger. Once Elena dies, the curse will be broken. Klaus will become a hybrid.”
Stefan comes to walk next to us. His eyes go down to Elijah and I’s intertwined hands briefly before looking back up to me. When I send him a weary smile, he sends me a small one in return calming down my nerves.
“So when do we attack,” Ric asks from behind us.
“Elena’s death will activate his dormant werewolf side. He’ll be vulnerable during the transformation. That’s when Bonnie comes in.”
“And you’re sure Bonnie will survive this,” Stefan asks and I’m thankful at least one of the Salvatore brothers has a heart.
“If she can deliver him to the brink of death I’ll finish the job myself.”
Stefan and Ric nod.
“Could I talk to Elijah for a moment,” I ask the two men who share a look before nodding and moving towards the house.
Elijah turns towards me, “What is wrong, Elskan?”
“Are you going to be able to do it?”
Elijah frowns and shakes his head, “What do you mean?”
“Elijah you’re going to be killing your brother. I know siblings are a pain in the ass,” I think back to Theo and thank whatever higher being is out there that he left town this week, “but even when you hate them…you still love them. I’m not judging you for what you have to do. I’m just asking, are you ready for what you’re about to do?”
Elijah’s face is solemn as he processes what I asked, “Klaus wasn’t my only sibling,” I frown as he continues, “There once was a time when we were all together. But Klaus ruined that when he dumped their bodies in the middle of the Pacific.”
I let out a strangled gasp at Elijah’s confession. His pain evident on his face.
“Elijah…I didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Elijah steps forward and holds the side of my face with his free hand, “You’re so good. So…pure. I didn’t want to strangle out the light you have inside you with my demons.”
“Elijah, you’re not the only one with skeletons in their closet. Trust me. But I want you to be honest with me. I need you to be. If this,” I gesture between us, “whatever this is. Is going to work. I’d never judge you. I know sometimes I can be a lot but that doesn’t mean I don’t anything but happiness for you. I don’t know what this means but you make me feel something I’d never felt with another human being.”
Elijah stares at me and something in his eyes tugs at my chest, “What is that?”
“Safe. You make me feel safe, Elijah. And I know I’m not some supernatural immortal and I can’t throw a punch to save my life. But, I want to make you feel that way too. However, I can.”
I start to get embarrassed as Elijah stares at me silently and I really wish I would’ve just kept my mouth closed.
“ᛁ ᚹᚨᛚᛚ ᛚᛟᚡᛖ ᛇᚢ ᚢᚾᛏᛁᛚ ᚦᛖ ᛋᚢᚾ ᛖᛗᛈᛚᛟᛞᛖᛋ, ᚦᛖ ᛟᚲᛖᚨᚾᛋ ᛞᚱᛁ ᚢᛈ, ᚺᚢᛗᚨᚾ ᛚᛁᚠᛖ ᚺᚨᛋ ᛚᛟᚾᚷ ᛋᛖᚾᚲᛖ ᚷᛟᚾᛖ ᚨᚾᛞ ᛁ ᚨᛗ ᚾᛟᛏᚺᛁᚾᚷ ᛒᚢᛏ ᛗᚣ ᛋᛟᚢᛚ. ᛒᚢᛏ ᛖᚡᛖᚾ ᛏᚺᛖᚾ ᛁ ᚹᛁᛚᛚ ᛋᛏᛁᛚᛚ ᛒᛖᛚᛟᚾᚷ ᛏᛟ ᚢ. ᛖᚡᛖᚱᚢᛏᚦᛁᚾᚷ ᛁ ᚨᛗ ᛁᛊ ᚢ,” Elijah says in some old language I can’t place.
“What exactly did you just say to me,” I ask, expecting the worst.
Elijah smiles and places a kiss on my temple, “I feel safe with you as well, Elskan.”
“I’m going now,” Stefan interrupts us and I move away from Elijah shocked.
The sense of warmth and peace I just had completely washed away as soon as those words left Stefan’s mouth.
“You should get inside Y/N. Bonnie needs you,” Stefan says to me making me frown. But I nod as I walk through the threshold of the house. Elijah follows me as I stand next to Ric. After a moment Bonnie and Damon walk up the basement stairs and out the front door. I frown as Ric and I follow them and Elijah squeezes my hand once more before dropping it as he passes through the threshold. Ric and I are pushed back though.
“What the hell?”
Ric yells from next to me, “Bonnie! What is this?”
Bonnie turns back towards us, “I can’t put anyone else at risk. I’m sorry.”
“You can’t do this! What if he goes after Jenna,” Ric asks angry.
“Jenna safe locked in at the Salvatore’s.”
“Damon?”
Damon sends us a look, “Sorry buddy. She’s right.”
I look to Elijah for help but from the look on his face he doesn’t seem surprised.
“You knew.”
Elijah turns to me one last time, “I meant what I said about protecting you. If I have to kill my brother to do that, I will. I’m sorry, Elskan. I will see you soon.”
I watch silently, as he turns his back on me and disappears into the woods. So much for trust.
—-
I watch as my history teacher paces in front of me. Jeremy’s unconscious body lay on the couch next to me and Elena's estranged bald father who looks like Charlie Brown watches us wearily. If you had told me I’d be in this situation a month ago I would’ve called you crazy and set up an appointment for you with my therapist mother. But here I am. Yippee.
I stand up, and both of the grown men watch me, “Just using the bathroom. Wait…Does this place even have a bathroom,” I ask but groan when I get no answer. I’m about to make my way out of the room when a piercing pain slices through my chest.
It only takes one scream from my lips before Ric is at my side. His mouth is moving but the sheer pain I’m experiencing makes it so I can’t process his words. I watch with teary eyes and sobs coming out of my mouth as Ric lifts his hand from my chest and his eyes widen. The crimson liquid coating his hand is the last thing I see before the world goes black.
—
3rd Person POV-
Bonnie screams out her spell as she crushes Klaus’s body. Fire burns around them as the once powerful Original lay in agonising pain. From the shadows, Elijah stalks towards his younger brother.
Elijah stands above him. A mask of anger covers his face as he leans down to stare at the man he once called a brother and a friend.
“Elijah?”
Klaus stares up at the man he once saw as his protector, and for the first time in centuries, Klaus feels true fear.
“Hello, brother.”
Stefan and Bonnie watch from afar as Elijah plunges his arm into his brother’s chest. Wrapping his hand around his still-beating heart.
“In the name of our family…Niklaus…”
“I didn’t bury them at sea,” Klaus’ desperate voice halts Elijah momentarily before shaking off what he believes to be a trick.
“I know about Y/n,” Those four words have Elijah pausing, “I know what she is to you. And I know she's the same to me.”
The hand that was once clenched around Klaus’ heart slacks as Elijah stares at his brother in horror.
“You’re lying,” Elijah snarls.
Klaus shakes his head, “I wish I was, brother. But I’m not. And if you kill me what do you think will happen to her. Are you really going to take that risk?”
Elijah’s once cool face breaks and turns into one of horror as he looks at his hand that is in his brother’s chest.
Stefan noticing this lapse of judgement speaks up, “Elijah, don’t listen to him.”
“Elijah,” Klaus says, “Think of her.”
“Do it and I’ll take you both out,” The Bennet witch threatens.
Elijah looks up to her, “You’ll die.”
“I don’t care.”
Stefan and Bonnie watch in horror as Elijah speeds himself and his brother out of the flames and into the night, leaving only silence and heartbreak.
—
“Why are we going to this again,” My brother asks from the hallway outside my room as I fix my black dress in my mirror. My hands freeze for a moment as they land on the spot on my chest that was bleeding just the night before.
-Flashback-
I woke with a gasp and before I could get a second to breathe I felt someone grasp my shoulders into a hug.
“You’ve really got to stop freaking me out like this,” A soft voice says into my ear.
I pull back and my eyes widen to see Elena with glossy eyes staring back at me.
I shake my head confused, “What happened? Did the ritual happen? Who died? Are you a…,” I pause before finishing my last question.
Elena sends me a smile and shakes her head, “They found another way.”
I feel a smile break out onto my face and I go to sit up to hug her but a sharp pain in my chest stops me.
“Don’t move ok. Just lay still,” Elena coaxes me back onto the coach I’m lying on.
“What happened?”
-End of Flashback-
In Elena and Ric’s spark notes version of the night, about 20 minutes after Stefan, Bonnie, and, Elijah left for the ritual I fell down to the ground in pain, screaming and yelling, and when Ric went to check on me I had blood spilling from my chest. Right above where my heart is. Ric said there was so much blood he couldn’t find where it was coming from but after holding pressure on it for another ten minutes the bleeding had stopped and when he moved his hands from my chest I had no wounds that showed I had been wounded.
Alaric told me he was surprised that I was still breathing after losing the blood that I did. He also told me that while I was unconscious he found Damon slipping me some of my blood. And if I wasn’t as sore as I was I’d have bitched him out. I’ll just put that on the back burner for now. As well as figuring out what the hell is wrong with me. Bonnie said she couldn’t feel any spells or curses on me so at least that’s a plus. I guess. Also, I haven’t seen Elijah in over a day. Honestly, I don’t know if I could face him right now anyway. I’m pissed that he betrayed us, but there’s a part of me that is happy he didn’t kill his brother. A part I’m not telling the public because right now I’m off to a funeral for Elena’s dad who did die.
Elena told me he had Bonnie do some spell that switched his life for hers. And as much as I disliked the guy, I got to give it to him he showed up in the end. RIP Charlie Brown.
“We’re going because Elena’s my friend and her dad died, Theo. Try to not be an asshole for the afternoon please,” I say as I meet my brother at the front door of our house. My mother and he came back early last night because she had to get home for some work thing. Typical. But that also means I get to be with Theo for the day and after almost dying yesterday, I realized that I wouldn’t have gotten the chance to say goodbye to him, and today could’ve been my funeral he’d be going to. A chill runs down my spine at the thought and I fight back a set of tears.
“Okay, I promise. I’m sorry,” Theo says as he notices a tear fall down my face.
I smile at my little brother and pull him into a hug.
“I knew you missed me,” I can hear the smirk in his voice as I laugh into his suit jacket.
“Ya, whatever loser let’s go.”
—
I watch with tear-filled eyes as Elena places a rose on her biological father’s grave and then walks over to her parent's matching graves and places roses on them. Theo stands next to me with a solemn expression on his face, Jeremy is next to him, Bonnie, Caroline, and Tyler stand behind us, and Jenna is on my left as she holds Ric’s hand. I turn to look over my shoulder and I catch Damon’s eye as he stands against a tree. And for the first time ever I almost swore he smiled at me. Damn, maybe he’s dying too.
—
“I’ll be in the car,” Theo says to me and begins to walk away but not before bringing Jeremy in for a bro hug. I watch as my brother safely gets to the car and then I begin to walk over to Elena but see her already crowded with our friends. My gaze goes towards Damon who stands facing the graveyard and I frown.
“I have a bone to pick with you. You can’t just go and put blood into people’s mouths while they’re-” I say as I approach him.
“I’m happy you’re ok, Y/N.”
Damon’s interruption and the sincerity in his voice make me halt as I approach him.
“Wait…I think I’m hallucinating because I could’ve sworn you just called me by my actual name,” I walk up to him and jokingly smirk, “You dying or something?”
“Tyler Lockwood bit me.”
Oh. Fuck.
Translation-
“I will love you until the sun explodes, the oceans dry up, human life has long since gone and I am nothing but my soul. But even then I will still belong to you. Everything I am is you.”
#klaus mikaelson#damon salvatore#thecwshows#elijah mikaelson#the originals#klaus x reader#athenamikaelson#klaus mikaleson imagine#author#the vampire diares imagine#the vampire diaries#thevampirediaries#alaric saltzman#stefan x elena#elijah mikaelson x reader#elena gilbert#elijah mikaelson imagine#kol mikaelson x daughter!reader#davina claire#damon salvatore imagine#tvd x reader#tvd fanfiction#tvd klaus#klaus mikealson x reader#x reader#rebekah mikaelson#reader#kol mikaelson imagine#kol mikaelson x reader#kol mikaelson icons
496 notes
·
View notes
Text
posting about this au cause i like it
more about it under here
timeline time!!
(This part is also like, a headcanon for the canon timeline) so wanda and cosmo leave for vacation, its pretty soon after they stop living with timmy, so maybe when peri is 9-10. they leave him in the care of Cosmo's parents, however it can be difficult for them so other fairies (probably some of the main ones we see outside of the family) would look after him. there were lots of expectations set on him due to how powerful he was at birth and his family history so he always pushed himself to do as good as he could! He even got a scholarship into a really good school!
now, here is where the timeline diverges, while for the canon timeline, Peri keeps trying, gets into a good college/university, becomes a fairy godparents, ect. ect. but not here, when he's about 16 he's tired of all the pressure put on him, he wants out, he envies the humans and wishes he could have a life like that. so why doesn't he? he packs his stuff and leaves. he's figured out how to give himself more human proportions but he has to wear a beanie and a jacket to hide his wings and crown. he manages to find a new family (he says his bio parents are dead), goes to a normal school and starts living a normal, "human" life.
eventually he is able to move out of home and into the apartment complex along with 3 roommates (will design them soon, probably). he gets into college/university and is able to do an online course (of what? idk). his life is good! he hasn't seen anything magical in years! nobody knows where he is (they are aware he is missing in fairy world but have no idea where he could be, not even Irep [or, still Foop since he doesn't know that Peri changed his name] knows where he is)! everything is good. everything is peaceful.
he has no idea that his parents have moved in a floor below him, he only finds out once he runs into the new family in town. Peri bumps into Hazel in her family, that's where the first comic takes place. They keep bumping into him and decide to invite him over for dinner since he seems like such a nice guy and has been very welcoming, Hazel suggests that they invite Wanda and Cosmo too since they've also been very welcoming and they decide, sure why not! By this point Hazel knows that Cosmo and Wanda think that Peri might be their kid since they have told her, and she's gonna give them the opportunity to talk to him! The dinner is a nightmare for Peri, dodging every single question that could reveal his identity, they can't know that he's their son, he can't go back to fairy world! luckily Hazel's parents don't really leave so they can't ask him directly, but the questions do get close. eventually the dinner ends and he can go home.
Que his parents constantly looking for him and Peri hiding, so many occasions of them just missing him. They've probably told others in Fairy World about how they've found him, even Irep finds out (who is now pissed at the name change). So eventually not only is he hiding from his parents, but sometimes others will also try to find him because like dude you went missing as a teenager of course they are looking for you.
also, Peri needs a job and gets hired as a babysitter to look after Dev. Dev and Hazel becoming friends is a nightmare for him.
#my art#fop fanart#fop au#fop a new wish#the fairly oddparents#a new wish#fairly oddparents a new wish#fop#fairly oddparents#peri fairly oddparents#peri fanart#fop peri#peri#peri fairywinkle cosma#fairly odd parents a new wish#peri fop#fop cosmo#cosmo fop#wanda fop#fop wanda#fop hazel#hazel fop#peri human world au
423 notes
·
View notes
Text
A Legacies Secret |1|
Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader
Summary: You just wanted a happy life with your girlfriend but then Ghostface attacks, revealing long thought to be buried family secrets.
Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Stabbing, Break in
Word Count: 3.3k+
Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15
“Hey babe, what’s up?” you asked.
Tara smiled, even while at work you still managed to answer her calls. She could hear you moving around, the clanging of glasses and the sound of patrons on the other end of the phone. “I miss you,” Tara said. She hadn’t seen you all day and she was home alone and bored.
You chuckled. Tara couldn’t make out the words, you sounded far away but she could tell you were talking to a customer. “Sorry,” you said, coming back to the phone. “We saw each other yesterday.” Tara didn’t say anything, pouting as she grabbed a pot to make dinner. “But,” you sighed, but Tara knew you were smiling. “I missed you too.”
“You didn’t spend the night last night,” Tara pouted, even though you couldn’t see her she wanted to make you feel guilty. “I’m home all alone.”
“You’re always home alone.” Tara’s pout turned into a frown, she glared at you through the phone. “Besides I have an apartment, we could literally be alone together whenever you want.”
“Your apartment is tiny.”
Tara couldn’t help but smile, imagining the eye roll you’d surely give her. “Is that your way of saying when we get out of this hellhole, you’re not going to live with me?” Tara rolled her eyes; you always made everything so dramatic. “It’s fine. You’ll be going to college, living on campus, and I’ll be living in a shoebox all alone wherever you decide to go.”
“I’d love to live in a shoebox with you,” Tara giggled. “Sounds cozy.”
“Yeah?” you teased. “I thought my apartment was too small.”
“It is.” Your apartment truly was tiny. There was a living room, a kitchen, a bedroom, and a bathroom. It was tiny but it was all you. Tara knew it was the best you could do and still save money and since you were on your own it was actually incredible how well you were doing. She still loved giving you shit about your tiny apartment though. “But I like the idea of being in close quarters with you.”
It seemed you had taken the phone away from your ear again. Tara heard you mumbling and someone else, they had a deeper voice, she assumed it was your boss. “I have to go,” you sighed. “I’ve been informed this has counted as my break.”
Tara rolled her eyes; your boss could be an ass at times. “Tell them you’re dealing with an emergency. Your girlfriend is needy and wants your attention.”
You chuckled again. Tara bit her lip, she didn’t need to see you, just hearing your laugh was everything. “I’m not really sure he cares about that.”
“Ugh, fine.”
“I’ll come over after I get off.”
“I’ll wait up.”
“It’ll be late.”
“I’ll wait up,” Tara said again. She always tried to wait up for you. You worked at a bar and usually didn’t get off till well after midnight, almost early morning the next day at times. There were days you’d get off and come over and you’d be in bed for maybe an hour at most before Tara was getting up for school, those days you were always still in bed by the time she got home.
“Off the phone!” an angry voice came. They were clearly a good distance away, but Tara could hear them clear as day.
“Two seconds!” you screamed back. “I really have to go,” your voice went back to being soft, like it always was when you spoke to Tara. “I love you.”
“Love you too,” Tara smiled as she hung up. You’d been dating for almost two years and had said ‘I love you’ a long time ago but it never failed to make Tara blush.
Tara smiled to herself, swaying back and forth in the kitchen. You and her always casually talked about the future together. It wasn’t anything crazy, it wasn’t talks about marriage and getting a house together. It was simple, it was talking about moving in together once Tara graduated. It might seem rushed to most people, moving in together right after high school, especially since you were a few years older, but Tara was eighteen and she knew what she wanted.
Some of the people who thought she was crazy were her best friends, they didn’t have a problem saying it either. Tara didn’t listen to them though, you and her had a plan. Tara would graduate and once she heard back from the schools she applied to, she’d choose, hopefully she’d get into her number one choice, then the two of you would find a little place by campus and you’d work, she’d go to school, and she’d get to come home to you and wake up next to you every day.
Since she couldn’t talk to you, she decided to text Amber. She was bored and though she only needed to entertain herself for a few hours she didn’t want to do it alone. She would just have to make sure Amber didn’t spend the night. You and Amber didn’t get along to put it lightly. You basically hated each other but tolerated each other’s presence, to an extent, for Tara’s sake. Tara honestly wasn’t sure why you didn’t like each other. It was more Amber than you, you kind of just reciprocated her hatred. Amber was never fond of you though. Tara has tried to ask a few times what the deal was, and Amber only ever said she just didn’t think you were good enough.
Tara: Wanna come over? We can binge watch movies
Amber: Where’s the girlfriend?
Tara rolled her eyes. Amber always started off hostile when it came to you. Ever since Tara introduced you, even before the two of you started dating. Amber has always had attitude. Tara tried to avoid talking about you but in times like this it was hard when Amber was the one bringing you up for no reason.
Tara: Work
Amber: Glad to know I’m the second choice
Tara: Stop
Tara: Do you want to hangout or not?
Tara: I’ll make the popcorn
Amber: You can do better than that
The phone on the counter started to ring. Tara looked up from her phone, scrunching her eyebrows at the ringing. No one ever called the landline, if someone wanted to talk to her or her mom, they had their cell. Hell, Tara wasn’t even sure she knew the home phone number. She shook her head and went back to texting Amber.
Tara: You get first pick of the movie?
Amber: I got some homework to finish up
Tara rolled her eyes, of course Amber was going to be difficult. The landline continued to ring. Tara was doing her best to ignore it, whoever was calling seemed persistent though.
Tara: Open liquor cabinet
Amber: Sold!
Tara: Fucking landline won’t stop ringing
“Hello?” Tara answered the landline with an eyeroll, not being able to stand the ringing any longer and hoping to get rid of whoever was on the other end quickly.
“Hello, is Christina there?” A man asked.
Tara rolled her eyes again, of course it was someone asking for her mom. “No, she’s not available. May I take a message?”
“Oh, uhh, yeah, sorry,” he stumbled over his words. Tara didn’t pay him much mind as she got the footrest and made her way over to get the key to the liquor cabinet. “I’m a friend of hers from group. Shit,” he whispered, clearly not meaning to say that.
“From her shit?” Tara smiled to herself, suddenly much more interested in the conversation.
“Just tell her I’m from group, I’m Charlie, she’s got my number.”
“Oh, she goes to group?” Tara asked, not believing for a second her mom was going to any sort of group.
“I shouldn’t have-look can you just tell her Charlie called?”
“And I’ll do exactly that Charlie, once you tell me what kind of group we’re talking about. Is it AA? NA?”
“Well, you sound exactly like she described you.”
“She talks about me in group?” Tara couldn’t believe that either, that definitely didn’t sound like her mom.
“Look, I don’t think I can really talk about that.”
Tara sighed, pulling out her phone again. She needed to tell Amber about this. Amber knew exactly what her mom was like and there was no way she wouldn’t enjoy this.
Tara: Dude I think it’s my mom’s new BF
Amber: Seriously???
“What did she say about me?” there was an edge of hostility in her tone, she wanted to hear all about what her mother possibly said about her in this group.
“Well, she loves you very much.”
“Oh, what does she love about me?” Tara asked, her sarcasm coming back.
“She loves that you’re creative, you love art and TV and movies.”
“Okay, lots of people love movies,” she shook her head, dismissing him.
“But she said you love scary movies and that you guys have that in common. She’s proud at making a fan out of you.”
“She is?” Tara slowed her movements, she used to watch scary movies with her mom all the time, but she’d never heard her mom say she was proud of her for anything before.
“Yeah, she told me the other day she wonders, what’s your favorite scary movie?” Tara ignored the way the man’s voice changed, still focusing on the fact that her mom was apparently proud of her.
“Uhh, The Babadook, it’s an amazing meditation on motherhood and grief.”
“Isn’t that a little fancy pants?” the man asked with a chuckle.
“Well, it’s elevated horror.”
“What does that mean, elevated horror?”
“You know, it’s like scary but with complex emotional and thematic underpinning, it’s not just some schlocky cheeseball nonsense with wall-to-wall jump scares.”
The man hummed, not seeming very interested in her answer. “That seems kind of boring to me. Have you ever seen Stab?” his tone changed again when he asked her the question, but once again Tara didn’t think much of it.
“Once, I think, at a sleepover, when I was like twelve.”
The man laughed at that. “You live in Woodsboro, and you don’t know Stab? Well, your mother loves that movie, she talks about it all the time in group. How well do you remember the original?”
“I don’t know, and it was like super 90s, it was really over lit, and everyone had weird hair.”
“Do you remember the beginning?”
“Not really, I mean it started with a kill scene, right? They always started with a kill scene.”
“Yeah, that’s right. That’s right,” he tone shifted again. “It’s a girl at home alone, she answers the wrong number and starts talking with the killer who makes her play a game.” Tara slowed her movements again, thinking the conversation was treading into weird territory. “Would you like to play a game, Tara?” he whispered her name. A chill went down her spine and she quickly hung up, not bothering to answer him.
Tara tossed the phone on the counter, watching it as if it would ring again. Her eyes darted around the house, looking for anything that shouldn’t be there. She pulled out her phone and locked all the doors, arming the alarm. She knew it was Woodsboro and someone always liked to make prank calls, especially around this time of year but she wasn’t taking her chances. Tara looked out the window, not seeing anyone creeping around her yard as she closed the curtains.
Tara checked the time on her phone. Only several minutes had passed since she had talked to you. She still had a few hours before you’d get off and get to the house. Her thumb hovered over your contact, wanting nothing more than to hear your voice. Tara knew she was just being paranoid, but she just wanted your comfort, you’d calm her down within seconds. She didn’t want to bother you though, she knew you were at work, you were busy, and you’d already been yelled at for just talking to her.
She left your contact and went to text Amber. She just needed to be talking to someone. It was clearly a stupid prank, but she just wanted someone to help keep her sane otherwise her imagination would drive her crazy.
Tara: It was some psycho. I’m locking the doors.
Amber: WTF??? You okay?
Tara started to type out she was fine and just a little jumpy. She knew it was probably a prank but that didn’t mean it wasn’t freaking her out. Before she could finish typing her text though the phone started ringing again, making her jump.
Amber: You should answer it.
Tara scrunched her eyebrows looking at Ambers text, she slowly lifted her eyes to look at the ringing phone again, then back down at her cell. Her thumb hesitated over the letters as she typed out her message.
Tara: How did you know my landline was ringing?
Tara: Amber?
Amber: This isn’t Amber
Amber: ANSWER THE PHONE BITCH
Tara moved to call the police; she had nine dialed, tears slowly began to fill her eyes, when another message appeared.
Amber: ANSWER THE PHONE OR AMBER DIES
Tara ran back to the counter, picking up the phone. “This isn’t fucking funny Amber,” she said but couldn’t keep the fear out of her voice.
“I told you, this isn’t Amber,” the same voice as before said, this time sounding much more sinister. Just then a video was sent to Tara, when she opened it, she saw footage of Amber, sitting in her room and brushing her hair. “Amber’s looking particularly fetching tonight. She really shouldn’t leave her phone lying around for anyone to clone.”
“What do you want?”
“I told you, I want to play a game,” he talked to her as if she was a child. “Stab movie trivia, three rounds, you call the cops, she dies, you get a question wrong, she dies, her parents aren’t home, I can be in that room in fifteen seconds. You want a warm-up question?”
“I told you, I don’t know these movies,” came out in a whine, tears already getting ready to fall. “I don’t! Ask me about something I do know,” she tried to bargain. “Ask me about It Follows, ask me about Hereditary, ask me about The Witch.”
“In the first Stab movie,” he continued, completely ignoring Tara’s pleas. “What Woodsboro native was introduced as the franchise’s main character?”
“It’s Sidney Prescott! It’s Sidney Prescott and she lived on Elm.”
“Correct. You see, you’re gonna do great at this. Okay, question one.”
“Nonono, I got that one right, it should count.”
“Anyone could have gotten that one right, Sidney’s in every movie but the last one. Question one, who wrote the original book the Stab movies are based on?”
“The chick from TV,” Tara struggled to remember her name. She had never read any of the books and she certainly didn’t watch the morning show the lady did.
“The chick from TV is not going to cut it Tara,” they let out a disappointed sigh.
“Oh! Gale Weathers! It’s Gale Weathers you motherfucker.”
“Correct. Amber might live to see the sunrise. Question two, who played the dumb bitch at the beginning of Stab one who answers the phone and gets carved up by the killer?”
“Fuck you.”
“Is that the answer you’re going with?” Tara quickly typed on her phone, going to IMDB and looking at the cast for Stab. “A non-answer counts as a wrong answer Tara. Time’s running out.” He continuously repeated the words tick tock, getting faster and faster as the seconds passed, making Tara more anxious and scroll faster.
“Maybe I made a mistake,” he continued, causing Tara to halt her scrolling for a second. “Maybe Amber isn’t enough motivation.” Tara let out a shaky breath, preparing herself for his next words. “Maybe I should have gone after your little girlfriend,” he spit out, not able to hide is clear hatred. “It’d be much easier, I mean it’s late, there’s no one around. No one would even hear her scream.”
“She has nothing to do with this!” Tara screamed, sobbing into the phone. She couldn’t get the image out of her head of you leaving the bar and getting jumped by Ghostface, getting stabbed and left to bleed out in the street with no one to help.
“She has everything to do with this,” the voice snapped. Tara didn’t even have time to process the clearly emotional outburst. “Tick tock Tara,” they snapped again. “Or should I just kill both? I’m sure I can gut Amber and then make it to-”
“Heather Graham!” Tara screamed finally finding the name, cutting the killer off before he could threaten you again.
“Correct,” he said, going right back to his calmer demeanor. “You pulled that one out, now for the final question, who was the killer in Stab one?”
“Oh, I know this one you fuck,” Tara gasped, realizing she knew the answer. “It’s Billy Loomis! It’s Billy Loomis and he was Sidney’s boyfriend, and he was played by Luke Wilson, and I got you asshole,” Tara couldn’t help but chuckle, relieved at getting the answer right. “I got it! I got it right!”
“Oh, I’m sorry Tara,” he almost sounded sympathetic. “But that’s just not correct.”
“What?” Tara whispered, confused, and not believing what she was hearing. “No no no no it is, that is right.”
"The correct answer is Billy Loomis and Stu Macher, there are two killers in the original Stab. I’m afraid someone’s gotta die now.”
“Nono, Amber I’m coming!” she shouts as she sets down the phone and grabs a kitchen knife, running for her front door.
When Tara threw open her door, she was met with the sight of Ghostface who quickly slashed their knife across her left side. Tara punched them in the face and slammed the door. She fought against Ghostface as he tried to shove his way in but eventually, she got the door shut, quickly locking it.
Tara pulled out her phone again, arming the system again and hitting the button to alert the authorities. She picked up her knife, slowly backing up down the hallway as she heard Ghostface relentlessly banging on the door trying to get in when suddenly the banging stopped. Tara’s heart dropped when she heard the alarm system say it was disarmed, Ghostface had access to her system somehow. Tara quickly armed it again, but Ghostface was ready, disarming it once again. They went back and forth arming and disarming the alarm system until it finally landed on armed.
Tara stood at the end of the hallway gasping for breath as she continued to sob. The landline rang again, startling her and making her swing the knife. She held the wall, sobbing as she made her way back to the landline.
“Hello?” Tara said, her words shaky as she stood in the middle of the kitchen, keeping the hand holding the knife raised.
“Bonus question Tara,” Ghostface whispered.
“Please stop,” she begged.
“Do you think I made it inside your house before you could re-arm?”
Just as Tara’s eyes widened with the realization, Ghostface came out from behind her, stabbing her in the stomach. Tara let out a scream of pain. When Ghostface pushed her into the kitchen island she turned around, smacking him across the head before he could stab her again.
Ghostface grabbed her by the head and shoved her to the floor. Tara rolled over, kicking Ghostface in the stomach. Ghostface brought down their boot, snapping Tara’s leg. Tara rolled over, sobbing from the pain.
Ghostface brought down his knife towards her face, but she reached up, causing the knife to go through her left hand. Tara screamed, holding Ghostface’s arm up as he continued to try and push the knife towards her face despite it still being in her hand. He finally pulled the knife out and Tara kicked him, making him lose his balance and crash to the floor.
Unable to walk, Tara crawled her way to the front door, screaming for help. Just as Tara reached the door and she could hear the police sirens, Ghostface yanked her back, stabbing her in the side several more times.
“Nononononono,” Tara screamed as Ghostface brought his knife down onto her again.
#tara carpenter#tara carpenter x reader#tara carpenter x you#tara carpenter x fem!reader#tara carpenter imagine#jenna ortega x reader#jenna ortega#scream#scream 5#scream v#a legacies secret
533 notes
·
View notes
Note
Fugk shigrli LSOEE LOSER SHIGARAKI PLZ PLS SAVE MEEUGHHHH...can yu do..like THIS SOUNDS CRINGE BUT READER ISEKAI AND THEY R OBSESSD W SHIGARAKI,,, like, they get plopped down into his bar, they explain his lore to him, his fanarts, shiparts ALL OF THAT🙏🎀
Love u munch plz dont die
love u too munch!! hope u enjoy <3
i died violently in a car crash and all i got was this weirdo virgin!
shigaraki x isekai!reader
cw: no use of "y/n" (i used "______" instead!), fem reader, loser shigaraki (aka early chapter shiggy), virgin!shigaraki, isekai, tw: implications of death/major trauma, car crash, oral (male rec), loss of virginity, slight musk kink if you squint, kinda canon shiggy? rough sex, unprotected, pathetic virgin moment lol, teasing, missionary, p/v sex, choking implied for a few seconds, desperation, premature ejaculation, sliiiiiight breeding kink? if u squint
not proofread! pls dont eat me im sorry but its 5am i dont have the energy to edit rn!!!!!!!
you don't know how it happened. there was a sharp, hollow static, paired with the feeling of drowning, choking, sputtering. you could hear screaming, you could feel the branches interlocking with your innards, pinning you to the car seat. but...everything was so soft, so light...
until it wasn't.
you figured heaven would be a little less daunting than this. even atheists could dream up a place better than this.
but here you were, plopped onto a worn stool, a long mahogany bartop splayed in front of you. maybe it was a sick joke, maybe this bartop was the tree you lost your life to. maybe it was one big metaphor. either way, the leather was sticking to your legs already, a loose nail prodding at your thigh as you shifted in your seat. there was a strange smell here, a mixture of sweat and blood and something smoky, and you couldn't place whether you liked it or not. you tapped your fingers against the worn wood for a moment before glancing around the sullen room.
it looked so very familiar. worn furniture, brick walls, and a dingy carpet splattered the room like dollhouse furniture. the bar was fully stocked, but no one was tending to it. there were a few rooms down a hall, but nothing you could recognize. across from you, a little tv sat, with a torn poster of something you felt on the tip of your tongue. you forced yourself to move, standing from the seat and rubbing your eyes as you approached the wall. with a shaky hand, you wiped dust from the ripped paper, revealing a heroic-looking man. little holes scattered the image, as if it had been used as a dart board. bold writing splayed beneath his portrait read: "ALL-MIGHT", and like a crashing wave, everything came flooding back. your favorite manga series, my hero academia, had a bar similar as the base for the league of villains. you sucked in a sharp, excited breath as your eyes took in another look of the room. maybe this was heaven.
but...this shit doesn't happen in real life. isekai's were a favorite trope of yours, like re:zero or konosuba, yes, now you remembered- you had loved the idea of another world rather than death or rebirth. maybe it was your version of heaven. you bit your nail at the idea of being able to see the base for yourself. sure, it wasn't at all what you had imagined it to be- it wasn't as enchanting, per se, as you had thought. but it was...all in front of you. as you swallowed your discoveries, a squeal of joy erupted from your core. shit, your core. your body, fuck, was it okay? you lifted your shirt, expecting to see the gory visual of your death still imprinted on your skin...but it was gone. as if it had never happened. shit. this isnt so bad then, right?
but something surely was missing. and no, it wasn't your life. well, technically yes it was, but fuck that, who cares? what you really were missing was them. if this was a true isekai...
the sound of metal clanging sends a freezing shock through your bones. you whip around in time to see a very battered and bloody league stumbling in, kurogiri rushing to the bar to grab supplies. you stay silent as you watch them all individually groaning and pushing each other for a seat, too scared to say a fucking word. sure, your obsession was there, but it was all-too-intimidating when they're right in front of you. your breath is stuck in your chest, until a voice shatters your glass-persona.
"boss? who the FUCK is that?" a raspy voice slices the air and you feel everyone's stares fall onto you.
your eyes widen as shigaraki slumps out of his seat wordlessly and slinks over to you, hand extended. he's much larger than you thought he'd be. his frame towers over you slightly as he approaches, a sinister smile creeping up on his cracked lips.
"good question, spinner" his teeth are bared, and he's inches from you now as you shake. "who the FUCK are you?" he repeats the question, a sickening twist in his voice that shows he's really not in the mood to talk. without hesitation, you slip underneath him and head for the door, but he grabs you before you reach it. he yanks you back with four fingers, his grip deadly on the back of your shirt. in a panic, you blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.
"please! i'm sorry! fuck, i'm your biggest fan i promise! i don't know how the fuck i got here i just died and woke up here pleasedon'tturnmeintoashesi'msorry!" your voice is rushed and trembling, but he releases you onto the ground with a thud. you catch your breath as you stand, wiping the dirt from your legs.
"...the fuck?" dabi's voice rings through the thick silence, and the group breaks into a bellowing laughter. except for shigaraki. he stands over you, a wide, confused expression on his face.
"fan? so you've heard of us?" his smirk reappears as he couches down into your face, and you nod rapidly.
"yes, yes, i know all of you, you're my favorite characters!" you point at all of them, reciting their names. toga's smile consumes her entire face as you do so, and grabs onto twice's arm as she squeals.
"characters? tch, what are we to you?" shigaraki shakes his head as he looks down at you.
your expression falls as you realize they all have no fucking idea what the hell you're talking about. you take a deep breath and begin infodumping about "my hero academia", your favorite manga. everything from deku and his quirk, to all might, to the league itself. shigaraki finally backs up a step and offers you space to stand, and you do so. he nods as you recite the plot, his eyes widening in confusion and anticipation. when you run out of breath, he raises a finger to you, and you go silent.
"she sounds fucking crazy..." twice mutters sing-songy through his teeth. you chuckle nervously as shigaraki glances to the rest of the group, still bleeding and beaten.
"tend to your wounds elsewhere. i want a minute alone with...this thing." he gestures with a curled lip to you and you wave awkwardly. the group sighs and exits to their own spaces, toga examining you head-to-toe before bouncing away, exclaiming: "okay, but i want her when you're done!".
you cant help the anxious fiddling as he guides you to the worn stools again. he throws himself in one next to you, poppy irises still fixated on you with furrowed brow. he scowls at you, but says with a hint of amusement, "tell the truth now". his voice has a twinge of agitation to it, and you smile weakly at him.
"that's the truth, i swear" you start, and he shakes his head. you can feel the annoyance leeching off of him, and you start your next sentence very carefully.
"have you ever heard of an isekai?" you drag the words as if it would prevent your death, and he nods. "okay okay, good. so i think that's what happened. see, i'm not from here, as you can tell...and i died in a car crash, really brutal shit man, like literal sticks in my lower intestines and shit, that sucked balls." you trail off as you describe the fatality and he sighs.
"sorry, i got carried away. but yeah, basically, no need for an introduction on your part, i already know everything about you". you smile gingerly as he raises an eyebrow at you and scratches at his neck.
"mhm. everything, eh?" he leans into you again now and your breath hitches. you can smell him now, and it's unlike anything you could have imagined. the smell of sweat is combined with a faint sugared citrus scent. it's strange, honestly you didn't imagine he'd smell like anything more than a general stink, but he isn't unpleasant in the slightest. he's also all-too-close to your face, and you're able to see every patch of dry skin, scar, and scrape on his delicate pale face. strands of powdery blue hair drape around his face, and he pushes it back with a brutish movement as he takes in the image of you. you fight the urge to reach out and touch him as he speaks again, his breath on your face.
"what else do you know about me then, hmm?"
him being that close to you was overwhelming as fuck, and it takes a minute to reboot your brain and respond.
"well, fuck i don't have my phone" you exclaim as you pat your pockets down.
"need mine?" he slips his out of his hoodie pocket with two fingers and you shake your head shyly. "no thank you" you creak out, and shrug.
"well, basically, you're like, all over social media. and people really love you" you start, and a smirk forms on his face again.
"so, in another world i'm...people like me? in this other world...do i kill all might?" he says excitedly, snaking his long fingers together with a clap.
"well," you start, "sometimes?" you bite your lip, thinking of how to phrase it. "people write stories about you, and draw you, hell, some people even cosplay you..."
"cosplay? like...dress up? like me?" he says shocked, and you respond with a content "mhm!"
"...in your other world, do i win?" he smiles manically and you frown. you know his fate in your world. but maybe, in his, it's different. maybe you can lie to him.
"yes." you recall the recent manga leaks and chapters, and force a smile out. "you win, victoriously. and...you're the best villain!"
he leans back in his seat, a cocky look on his face as he folds his arms. "and society...does it fall?"
"you make it yours, shigaraki" you nod, distracting yourself from the blatant display of his death that replays in your mind.
"excellent" he hisses out. "tell me how i do it".
you shake your head. "i promise i can!" a look of determination overcomes you, your confidence way too high for someone who just got obliterated by a fucking tree branch. "if...if i can join you, i can show you everything from my world and help you" you propose, fighting off the aching in your chest. he glares at you for a moment and purses his lips.
"hmph. i'll consider it" he raises a brow and you respond with a tight, flat grin. he rolls his eyes as you shimmy closer to him. at this point, he hasn't killed you, and fuck it, if you die again, who knows where you'll go.
"did you know that a lot of people want to fuck you?" you blurt out, and he chokes on air.
"WHAT?"
"yeah, and they write about it all the time. and draw it, too. they also think you and dabi are together, sometimes you and spinner, hell i've even seen you and eraserhea-"
"WHAT THE FUCK?" he shouts out, and you laugh. you feel the excitement from before come rushing back, making you slightly delirious next to this definitely unstable and unhealthy villain.
"yeah! in my world, you're like, so hot" you giggle.
"i'm going to need you to shut the fuck up while i process that" he raises a hand and takes a deep breath.
he takes a few seconds, rubbing his temples and sighing. "...in what world would i fuck dabi?"
you laugh, violently, and he grimaces. you cant reply, so you just shrug as your laughter continues to startle him.
"well, a lot of people also think you're," you whisper the next part, "a virgin". he scowls at this and flattens his lips. he doesn't respond, which causes you in your delusional state to scooch closer to him.
"...is that true?" you ask quietly, and he glares at you. you take his silence as a yes, and nod.
"hmm. thought so" you reply with approval, slightly satisfied your favorite headcanon was very much true. he grits his teeth and stands from his seat, stretching a bit before walking away with a huff. you immediately fling yourself off your own seat and follow him.
"you know, that's not a bad thing!" you say behind as he trudges down the hall. he flings open a door and slams it in your face, sending you back a bit. you frown, not realizing how far you've been pushing it. you reach for the doorhandle and somehow, it's not locked. you push the old wood and enter slowly, the smell of dirty laundry and that same citrus smell enveloping your senses. he groans as he meets your gaze and you smile sheepishly.
"hey, sorry, i'm not sure why that of all things bothered you..."
he rolls his eyes and flops onto his bed. the springs creak with exasperation as his weight squishes against the old frame.
"of course an idiot like you wouldn't understand. even in your world i'm still somehow seen as a loser" he grumbles and you bite your cheek. you close and lock the handle behind you, and shuffle over to the bed. you dont sit, but you sway slightly as you watch him. his body is more defined from this angle, you can see the gentle muscles under his tshirt-his hoodie has been flung onto the floor with the rest of the clothes-and his baggy pants fall just low enough to expose his porcelain skin just above the waistband of his boxers. you take him in with a greedy stare as you plan your next response.
"...well, yes, but...we all think it's hot." the words startle him and he sits up slightly.
"we??" his eyes narrow, "you're one of them?"
you cringe and nod slowly. "sorry, shiggy, but if its any consolation" he cuts you off with a snap-
"i should kill you right now and send you back to your other world".
your hands fidget uncomfortably at your sides and you fight the urge to take off sprinting again. seems as though when you died, your proper judgement died with you. you sit slowly on the edge of his worn mattress and raise your hands in defeat.
"i don't think that's how it works. if i die again here, i'll just be sent somewhere else, and then i can't help you". he interjects with a quiet "ughhh", and you shrug. "like i was saying, if its any consolation, everyone who does think you're a virgin just wants to fuck you all the more. so in my world you get like, infinite bitches" you grin, and he frowns again.
"are you also one of those freaks?" he retorts, and you wince.
"hmph. checks out. mystery girl from mystery world shows up and says i, quote, get infinite bitches, and allegedly wants to fuck me" he throws his hands up in defeat. "i don't suppose you actually want that, just the idea of it, hm? i'm sure you get off on your world's portrayal of me. for all i know though, you could be lying, you could be a narc little NPC that works for the heroes, and they sent you to weaken me. i don't think i'll fall for it this time, idiot. get out." he points furiously at the door and you pout, folding your arms.
"fair assumption, but with all due respect, even if i were a spy, i don't think i'd be so stupid as to lock myself in a room with you" you motion to the locked door, and he huffs.
"prove you aren't then." he challenges, and you very quickly oblige. at this rate, you're living a fanfiction fantasy and you're thanking that tree branch more and more. you yank your shirt off and climb into his lap, choking out an exclamation from him. you straddle him and almost immediately feel him harden underneath you, eyes blown wide in shock as you wrap your arms around his frame and plant your lips on his. they're cracked and dry, but you couldn't care less. it feels like death all over again, the swirling static enveloping you as you taste him on you. a sweet twinge of blood and candy and salt coats your tongue as you slip it in past his lips, swallowing him whole. he whines as you tug on his tangled hair, rutting into you from below desperately. his body is already shaking, a silent plea as you grind down into him again, the friction of his rock-hard dick against your already throbbing center causing you to both moan. you cant hide your excitement and desperation as you claw at his back. he pulls away for a moment and shakily points to his hoodie on the floor.
"g-gloves" he chokes out, and you nod. you spring up and reach for the pocket, pulling out two artists gloves and tossing them to him. your hands brush against Father in his pocket and you suck air in through your teeth, completely forgetting about that weird fucking thing. you shake off the strange feeling and turn your attention back to him. he's hastily strapping the gloves on and fiddling with the button on his jeans. you lower yourself down to his crotch, the fabric strained against his length. with a surge of newfound confidence, you bite the button and undo the zip with your teeth, and he gasps at the sudden motion. you silently fist-bump yourself as he shimmies the jeans down his legs, tossing them off the bed. you follow, peeling the fabric off your own body and placing yourself back on top of him. he finally reaches up and squeezes your tits with his gloved hands, groaning at the feeling of them in his hands. his eyes are lit up like stars as he ogles your chest, yanking them out of your bra. you silently chuckle and completely lift the article off of you, and his jaw drops. he looks absolutely blown away, and as he greedily cups your tits and squeezes them, he whimpers underneath you. you feel his cock twitch and you grind slightly against it, and within seconds, he's panting and cumming all over you and himself, crying out a string of vulgarities. you kiss him again as he coats you both in slick, hot beads of cum and he bites your lip in pure craze. you remove yourself from his wet lap and look at him with a soft expression.
"aww, you've made a mess already. your boxers arent even off, shiggy" you whisper out and he balls his fists.
"mmf, fuck you, mystery girl" he mumbles out, and you help him pull his boxers off.
"call me by my name, _________". you plant a chaste kiss to his cheek. as his cock springs free, you audibly gasp.
its much bigger, and much angrier right now, than you typically read about. you take it in your hand and feel it, the soft, delicate skin feeling almost out of place on him. it's surrounded by thick baby blue hair, going up to his navel in a sparse trail. its heavier than you expected, too, as it switches in your palm. the creamy skin of his length is offset by a very sensitive silvery-pink tip, already leaking precum again as you thumb over it, sending pathetic whimpers to escape his lips in a fury. you blink away your greater morals and bring your mouth to it, licking a thick stripe from the base, tasting the slightly salty precum against your lips. he shakes as you slip him into your mouth, stretching your jaw out more then you expected you'd have to.
you begin slowly, keeping a hand twisting around the base as your mouth adjusts to the sheer size of it. slowly, you gain comfort and confidence in your actions, and you let your hand go. you take him further into your mouth with a sharp exhale through your nose, and he grips at your hair. he pushes you down, shuddering, and you bury your nose into the mass of hair, breathing in the aroma of his sweat and warmth. you feel yourself slicken more at this, and you bob your head up and down graciously as he whimpers, your name spilling from his lips a few times between labored breaths. you feel the blood pulsing in his shaft, and you wrap your hand around his balls as they tighten, squeezing them as he shatters into you again, thick ropes streaming into your mouth. his grip tightens on your hair and he shoves you all the way down, gagging you slightly as his cum drips down your throat.
"hnng, f-fuck" he drools as his seed fills your mouth generously, adn you pull off with a sloppy mixture of saliva and cum dripping from your lips. you swallow it feverishly and he shakes, watching as you collapse next to him.
it takes him a moment to speak, and its barely above a whisper when he does.
"_______?" his voice is raspier than before as he says your name, and is thick with desire still. you turn to him, still aching for your own orgasm.
"i'm going to fuck you now" he says, a little louder than before. you look at him with wide eyes and nod, spreading your legs are he peels his tshirt off and centers himself between them. he grips a thigh with his calloused fingers, digging his dirty nails into your skin. you hiss slightly but your back arches at the contact.
"why aren't you afraid of me?" he presses himself against your soaking cunt, leaning in to bite your neck. you gasp and grab his face, bringing him to your lips. waves of desire crash over you as he throbs against you. for a virgin, his stamina is something else.
"because i know that if i die again, i'll at least die happy this time" you admit, and reach a hand down to grab his cock. you center it to your opening, and nod. he presses himself in sharply, without warning, and you shriek out in pain.
"gah, fuck, okay, shigaraki" you put a hand to his chest to slow him, "easy, slow, please". he shakes his head and rams himself back into you, snaking a hand to your throat as he pumps inside of you haphazardly. there's no real rhythm to it yet, and you do your best to adjust to the size of him stretching your tight hole hungrily.
"tomura" he replies through grit teeth, and you moan.
"tomura," you repeat with a desperate sob, "please"
his eyes glaze over and with a newfound glimmer of faith, he grips your hips and begins to slowly rut into you, allowing the both of you to finally adjust. he exhales slowly as he rocks his hips into you, and you grab one of his hands, dragging it to your core.
"try...fuck, tomura, touch me" you plead, and he immediately presses his middle finger to your clit. its hard, almost too forceful, and you pull his hand back. he loses concentration and falls out of rhythm for a moment as you guide his hand around, showing him what feels good. you recall a few stories you had read and get an idea.
"like an analog. thumbstick. fuck. you know what i mean" you stumble out, and he very quickly nods.
"so not like a trigger." he follows, and suddenly, his movements are a lot more fluid. he smirks as he rubs your clit steadily. he begins to thrust back into you shakily, then with harder, longer strokes. he follows your directions as you moan and squirm under him, beads of sweat forming on his forehead and shoulders as he gains momentum, the mattress squeaking rapidly under the both of you.
you feel yourself at your own breaking point, the fire inside of you melting like metal as it fills you, and you sink your nails into his back as you clench even tighter around his merciless cock. he snaps out with a cry and thrusts into you faster, becoming a little unsteady as you soak his length. your body splinters in ecstasy as he drives himself relentlessly into you, orgasm ripping your body like a hurricane. you call his name out like an unholy prayer as you fall from your high, and he throws his head back as his own climax tears through him. you feel it as he rams himself as deep as he can, filling you with sticky cum furiously. his jaw slackens as he huffs and pants, the most angelic sounds emanating from the villain's flustered body.
as you both crash hard, he pulls out slowly with a hiss. his arms turn to jelly as he collapses on top of you, the weight of him crushing the air from you slightly, and you giggle breathlessly. you wrap your arms around his sweaty, shaking frame and kiss the top of his head as he hyperventilates.
he gathers the strength to push himself off of you and rolls onto his back next to you.
"was that real?" he asks, and you chuckle lightly.
"well, as real as i am, i suppose". he shrugs and closes his eyes.
"did you read about this? in your other world?" he asks gingerly, and you turn to him.
"something like this, yeah" you admit, and he nods slowly.
"you can stay, mystery girl, so long as you keep telling me about those things you read. or just show me" he says, and you smile. "oh, and help me kill that all-might fucker."
your eyes flutter shut in pure bliss as his visage interrupts your greater thoughts. if this is what your new life would be like, then perhaps the violent death was worth it.
===============================================
this took me like 3 hours to write tbh, i hope its good! i think im gonna cross-post this to ao3 to get the ball rollin. thank u sm for the ask! it was a pleasure (literally) to write this :)
#myposts#mha#bnha#my hero academia#tomura shigaraki#mha shigaraki#tenko shimura#shigaraki x reader#myfics#myoneshots#bnha shigaraki#shigaraki smut
343 notes
·
View notes
Note
Can you do (Platonic) Homelander X reader. Like in S4E4, you were the only scientist that actually treated homelander as a actual human child and not a experiment, but then were fire for interfering with an experiment. And years later when he grows up and invite everyone back to the lab including the reader
Consequence || The Boys Imagine
(Platonic) Homelander x Scientist!GN!Reader
Summary: You are one of the scientists who worked on Homelander many years ago. One day he brings you back to the lab, for old times' sake, he says.
Warning: Canon typical violence and gore (not explicit)
Author's Note: Im so sorry but i dont fully understand your request! I hope this is close enough to what you're asking for :]
Masterlist
You recall the elevator ride from many years ago. It didn't use to be this long. Or maybe that's because you just witnessed Homelander shooting lasers at the security guards upstairs, all that to let you and him into the old lab. He probably can hear your heart beating abnormally fast.
"Do you think everyone will be there?" He asks.
You take a long breath, "Maybe not. Some of them probably don't work for the company anymore."
There is a moment of silence before he asks again, "Do you miss them?"
You think about it for a minute. His question feels like a test somehow. But, you've always been honest with him, and you're not going to stop now. "Not really, since they fired me."
"Right."
Homelander is a ticking time bomb. Since the beginning, you knew he was going to grow up with so much negativity from all that experimentation, and eventually explode. The least you could do was be kind to him, considering he was a literal child. Even now, you still feel a little bit of sympathy for him. But, it probably doesn't matter since he might have just brought you there to end your life along with the other scientists'. After all, there's no denying that you did work in that lab.
You sigh quietly. You didn't even get to say goodbye to your family when he picked you up at your current workplace.
The elevator dings, and the door opens, revealing the very same lab that you remember working in. The old faces try so hard to look delighted, but you can tell that they're as horrified as you.
"John?" Marty exclaimed in surprise.
"Homelander." The supe corrects him with an unending smile. "Just, Homelander." He then glances at you, putting an arm on your shoulder. "But [Y/N] is here too, y'know? You should greet them too."
You and Marty exchange a look. It's been years since the last time you talked to him. Though he's glad to see you after all these years, it is far outweighed by the horror of Homelander's presence.
Marty gives you a nod, "[Y/N]."
You return the nod, "Good to see you again, Marty."
"Well, well, well," Homelander steps forward with the box of cake while looking around, "I see that this place hasn't changed much."
He starts to talk and talk about his days in the lab. To the others, it might be an enlightening experience as he exposes their faults and... avenge it. Even if they didn't believe in god, they start praying inside their heads. Frank is the first to go, then Marty second. Thankfully, Barbara shows up before a third victim comes. But, oh, how wrong you are.
You stand there, breathing heavily, as Homelander closes the door to the Red Room. There's blood everywhere on his suit and hair, then as he turns around, his face is also covered in blood. But, the most terrifying part? His smile.
You hide your trembling hands behind your back. As much as you dislike how the other scientists treated him, you'd never think they'd end up like this.
"You alright?" You attempt to be nice to him, even if it's the last thing you do.
He laughs and approaches you slowly, "There should be more people like you in this world."
"You're one of a kind." He continues. "Most people are inconsistent. They're very prone to change, depending on where they are in the wheel of life- up or down- but, you? You're the same all around, then and now. That's great!"
He pats you on the back, leaving red stains on it, and guides you out. Apparently, he respects you enough to let you live, and not lock you in that room of corpses with Barbara.
As you arrive home safe and intact (physically, at least), you sigh in relief, feeling indebted to your alma mater for forcing you to take a class in ethics.
#homelander#the boys homelander#homelander x reader#homelander x you#homelander x y/n#homelander imagine#the boys x reader#the boys x you#the boys x y/n#gender neutral reader#gender neutral y/n#gender neutral insert#the boys imagine#the boys fanfic#the boys fic#platonic x reader#platonic imagine#platonic the boys imagine#the boys#gn reader#xreader
262 notes
·
View notes
Text
Crocodad analysis~
I've finished my reread of Impel Down and Marineford and spent most of today typing up this Crocodile analysis applying Crocodad theory ;3
Under the cut I went through Iva's threats, what info we have on when they met and what Iva might have done for him, then I go on to track Crocodile across the battlefield of Marineford. It's just text, no images, but it does have the chapters mentioned so you can go check it out.
I tried to structure these 3000 words a bit but don’t expect a clean essay.
Also, there is nothing new under the sun, I'm sure all of his has been said before by Crocodad scholars, I'm just sorting through it for myself.
(Disclaimer: I read an English scanlation so there’s a chance that there is a mistranslation or missing nuance.)
Iva’s powers
I'm generally someone who likes to work within the parameters provided by canon. But in terms of Iva's power I have been letting fandom (which displays an interest in a more real world depiction of transitioning) guide me more than canon. But Iva’s powers are not a reflection of the real world (other than maybe wishes that it could be so easy), neither do they even try to be.
Iva says that they can rework a person from the "inside out" (chapter 538) and there doesn't seem to be much of a limit to what they can do to someone’s body, apart from the cost of the healing powers.
If we go with the idea that Iva used their powers on Crocodile, it's likely that it would have been an instant effect. Therefore, the potential switch from female to male would have been complete and it would have been a one time application of Iva’s powers. Since we know what Crocodile looked like as a child, we know that they did not completely change his appearance.
The blackmail
When Luffy protests the suggestion that they free Crocodile, Iva says that they knew Crocodile “a little (…) back when you could still call him a rookie” (chapter 540) and that they are aware of one of Crocodile’s weaknesses which they will use against him/ reveal if he betrays them. Let’s first look at this secret weakness.
Since I have seen it mentioned before, I checked out the vivre card information that has been provided by thelibraryofohara (https://thelibraryofohara.com/2019/01/12/vivre-card-databook-vol-5-all-the-new-information/) in the January 2019 card releases. I quote:
“[Crocodile]’s got a “weakness” when it comes to his past that he can’t oppose. He definitely owes something that Ivankov gave him.”
I don’t know if the word choice is a matter of translation but it is rather ambiguous. That weakness is in quotation implies that it is most likely not an actual physical weakness like his weakness to water. Instead, it might be comparable to how Dragon calls Luffy his weakness. Additionally, what does “oppose” mean in the context of a weakness? Does it mean that if Iva revealed it, he would have no chance to refute it. Does it mean that the weakness is of such a nature that Crocodile would do what he can to avoid Iva from saying it? Maybe both? Considering the context the threat was uttered in, this would mean that he will not betray Iva and Luffy’s interests. (Which he doesn’t. When he goes off to attack WB and Luffy stops him, he calmly states that they had an arrangement (chapter 557). While Luffy forbids him from touching WB, Iva doesn’t threaten him into obedience, so Crocodile does pursue his attack on WB once Luffy is gone.)
Continuing with the vivre card quote, there’s also the fact that Crocodile owes something that Iva gave him – which can either mean that Iva gave him something that he’ll have to give back or that Crocodile has something that he only has thanks to Iva. I assume it’s the latter. What could Iva possibly have to give to Crocodile more than 20 years ago that Crocodile doesn’t want to be known (and can expect not to be known unless Iva shares it)? And, maybe more importantly, is it something that Iva can take back?
I am going to say yes, a reveal of the secret might as well come with Iva taking back what he has given Crocodile. Considering that Crocodile in prison has pretty much nothing but his hook, we can assume that what Iva gave this young pirate just starting out, was something to do with their powers. A change to his body in one way or another which of course means that Iva can undo it, revealing things about Crocodile that he doesn’t want to be known.
Considering what we’ve seen Iva’s power do, it does not take a big stretch of the imagination to wonder if he might have been a girl in the past. There’s of course the option that Crocodile has always been a boy, aware of his transness from the beginning. But even if that wasn’t the case, there are other reasons to want to change. The seas of One Piece are tricky to navigate and while there are successful female pirates, we have also been shown certain limitations and prejudices. How was it nearly 30 years ago, when Crocodile was just starting out? When there were pirates such as WB who would not have women on his crew? What did other men’s limited faith in a girl’s capabilities do to a teenager who wanted to chase her dreams? But that’s another layer of speculation. Let’s just assume that Iva gave Crocodile the body he now has.
Timeline
The complete female to male switch makes sense with Iva’s skills as I’ve mentioned above, but the timing is arguably tricky for Crocodad purposes. To repeat: Iva knew Crocodile “a little (…) back when you could still call him a rookie” (chapter 540). It’s unclear to me whether Iva’s comment that they know Crocodile “a little” is meant to be taken as an understatement and they do know each other well or if we should take it at face value. But even the offered time “when you could still call him a rookie” is very vague.
If they only knew each other when Crocodile was a rookie, then Iva would most likely have used their powers on Crocodile back then, turning him before he had properly ended up on the marine’s radar and before he could have had Luffy. What exactly counts as Crocodile’s rookie years isn’t particularly clear. At this point in the manga we do not know anything about Crocodile – his age, how long he’s been a Warlord, when he used to be a rookie, etc. However, we do know now that he became a Warlord in his 20s and challenged Whitebeard and lost to him shortly after (SBS, Volume 78). So his rookie years must refer to the time before that where “similar to Luffy (…) Crocodile's name spread across the seas with incredible momentum.” (SBS, Volume 78) It’s possible that at that time, due to the vastness of the ocean and the slower spread of news, people in general did not know what he looked like (even 30 years on it took a while for all the Strawhat crewmembers to get recognizable bounty posters). Due to that it’s possible that the meeting with Iva could have taken place during the time that he was gaining fame, but before he really got on he marine’s radar enough to make him a Warlord in his early 20s.
Interestingly (for me), around the same time as Crocodile’s was starting out, Iva and Dragon gained notoriety with their Freedom Fighter group (according to the Wiki’s timeline, it became the Revolutionary Army after the Ohara Incident, when Crocodile was 24), so it is likely that when Iva and Crocodile knew each other, Crocodile also met Dragon. (He might even have been part of the Freedom Fighters, but I think if his name was spread across the sea in connection to the Freedom Fighters, a link between Crocodile, Iva and Dragon would have been mentioned or taken into consideration by Sengoku. Sengoku did know of the history between Crocodile and WB and thought it would work in their favor. If he knew about a potential connection between Crocodile and Luffy – via Iva and Dragon – he would have been more wary I assume.)
As an aside, how did they even meet? Did Crocodile hear about Iva’s powers and seek them out? Was their meeting purely by chance and Crocodile seized the moment?
Long story short, if Iva only knew Crocodile while he was still a rookie and used their powers on him then, it would have been years before Luffy was conceived.
However! One could argue that Iva did not have the same control over their powers 20 years ago as they do now, so that the change was mostly external, affecting how Crocodile presented without changing him “inside out.” Which would still have meant that he could get pregnant if Dragon and Crocodile continued seeing each other (or at least saw each other one more time, 19 years ago.)
Now, since Crocodile at Marineford is somewhat of a part 2 of the Crocodile theories, I kept my Crocodad goggles on.
A look of Crocodile’s movement across the battlefield
One of the main arguments for Crocodad are his actions on the battlefield. Judged by the reactions of the other characters, all of Crocodile’s actions on the battle field of Marineford apart from his attack on WB are surprising.
The reason we are given by Crocodile for joining the prison break is that he wants to take Whitebeard’s head. (Crocodile could have escaped from the holding prison, but chose to go to Impel Down instead. However, Iva claims in chapter 538 that Crocodile isn’t too happy about ending up in level six.)
We know from the above mentioned SBS that Crocodile challenged WB shortly after he received his Warlord title. During this battle Crocodile was “completely and utterly crushed by him.” Whether that defeat is the main motivation to challenge him is unclear.
Just like he announced, the first thing that Crocodile does after posing for a group shot, is to go straight for Whitebeard’s head.
So far so predictable.
What are often seen as hints for Crocodad is a series of events that go like this: Dragon is revealed to be Luffy’s father (chapter 558). Everybody and their pet clown gets to have a reaction shot to that, but Crocodile does not. Crocodile is one of the first after Luffy to charge into the plaza after they’ve got the siege walls up and stops Ace’s execution (chapter 566.) He orders Daz to protect Luffy and one Daz is down he himself stops Mihawk from attacking Luffy (chapter 570). After Ace’s death he steps in between Akainu and Jinbei, making Luffy’s escape possible (chapter 578). He eventually joins a line of Whitebeard pirates to protect Luffy.
Now, Crocodile’s change of plans doesn’t present as an instant switch the moment Sengoku announces who Luffy’s father is. While he might have had an off-screen “oh shit, that’s my baby” reaction, it didn’t immediately make him drop everything to protect him.
I do of course believe that Luffy IS his baby because I find joy in that, but I generally see Crocodile as a pragmatic character. On one hand there is Luffy, a reckless but resilient kid that shares his blood (that he spilled and Luffy used against him) that is charging across a battlefield with a group of people protecting him. On the other hand here is Whitebeard right in front of him and other than the baby that has slipped out of his fingers, he held on to that grudge for 20 years.
Tracking Crocodile across the battlefield leaves plenty of gaps, but it still offers insights into why he changes direction. I’m presenting it here and then we can think if this hurts or helps the Crocodad agenda.
Tracking Crocodile
As mentioned the first thing we see him do on the battle field is to go for Whitebeard who is on the ship next to them. Luffy stops him and then he is approached by Whitebeard pirates, their weapons drawn. Luffy then leaves and takes the point of view away with him. When we see Crocodile again, two chapters after the reveal that Luffy is Dragon’s son, he is on the ice in front of Whitebeard’s ship. He must have been pushed back or retreated to join up with Daz, as they are fighting off masses of WB pirates, trying to get closer to the man himself. After he sends a lot of them flying with a sandstorm he is stopped by Yozu. The force of the attack makes him fly back (he is injured and loses his cigar) where he lands right next to Doflamingo. The man is of course not passing up the opportunity to be chaotic – he stops Yozu and asks Crocodile to join up with him which Crocodile rejects (chapter 560 – 561). When we next see him he is fighting off some invisible force (most likely more WB pirates) but at least he has a new cigar.
When WB is stabbed in chapter 563 he is still on the ice in front of WB’s ship. He has an agitated reaction, revealing that he has lost to Whitebeard in the past (“I didn’t lose to such a weak man!!!”)
Even though Sengoku tries to get the other fleets under WB’s command to turn against him, WB proves his integrity and power. And he also gives a speech about how even if he is attacked by his son, he still loves him and he also explains that the son does not bear the sins of the father. It is either this absolute display of love and appreciation of his sons no matter whose blood they have and what they do OR it is his display of power and integrity that Crocodile reacts to, visibly distressed, but no longer showing the explosive shock and anger of his previous outburst (I’m not horrible at reading facial expressions but I’m not great at describing them. Look for yourselves in chapter 563). Also, following right after the panel showing Crocodile’s face we get Whitebeard thinking to himself: “A “weak man,” am I…? What an insolent man… I’m only one man, with one heart… And you’re the same… They call me a demon and a monster… But I won’t always be the “strongest” out there…!!! If I can bring one young life into the future, isn’t that enough…!?” And then he joins the battle.
He now focuses on bringing that young life into the future (saving Ace) and this is the point where Crocodile’s unusual actions start. After a talk about unconditional love for his sons and the statement that protecting a son is worth much more than being the strongest. Could Crocodile too have decided that protecting Luffy (his son?) and Luffy’s interests is more important than his grudge against Whitebeard?
The answer seems to be yes, because in chapter 566 he is the first one to follow Luffy across the siege wall and into the plaza where Ace’s execution was supposed to happen. And he stops it after Luffy is pushed back by the Admirals. The reason he gives to Sengoku for his unexpected action is that he “wants to wipe the smile from your faces.” After Doflamingo chops off Crocodile’s head they engage in a fight.
It is after Luffy uses conqueror’s Haki, which again seems to confirm his relation to Dragon, WB gives the order for everyone to support Luffy in chapter 570. Whether Crocodile has chosen to follow Whitebeard’s lead or if he is acting for himself, he gave Daz the order to protect Luffy. Daz stops Mihawk’s attack and once Mihawk cuts him down and goes for Luffy again, Crocodile is there to stop him and allow Luffy to continue one. He must have shaken off Doflamingo in the meantime.
And then Ace and Whitebeard die (chapters 574 and 576 respectively).
And while the battlefield descends into further chaos and Luffy is unable to protect himself, we get a panel of Crocodile (chapter 577), apparently standing still in the chaos that is around him. He does not seem to face the same way as the retreating WB forces or the Warlords and Pacifista in pursuit of the retreating pirates. Maybe he is looking at Whitebeard one last time.
And then he’s off, apparently crossing the entire battlefield in an instant to stop Akainu from dealing Luffy the killing blow. And after that he gets physically between Akainu and Jinbei and Luffy before he sends them flying out of reach with his sands (chapter 578.) He yells the order for someone to grab them and get them to a ship, followed by one of my favourite lines directed at Jinbei who has tasked himself with protecting Luffy: “If you want to protect something, do it right!!!” Since we generally speculate that Luffy’s parents (or Dragon at least) chose to sacrifice their chance of raising Luffy in order to protect him from exactly what is happening on this battlefield, that line suits the Crocodad theory well. Whether Crocodile left behind his child to protect it from being punished for the sins of his fathers or if he left him behind because a child would get in the way of his ambitions, right in this moment protecting Luffy is all that matters.
He then joins a group of Whitebeard pirates, forming a protective barrier against Akainu. Akainu taunts them that all of them are willing to give their lives for Luffy. Marco repeats what Whitebeard thought earlier: they will see this boy off into the new age.
All of these actions could also simply point towards Crocodile maybe having been part of Whitebeards crew at one time, but the timeline has some difficulties. It does not seem like anyone who is on the crew now treats him like they knew him or at one point cared about him like a brother. We have also not seen Crocodile or someone who looked like him in the Wano flashbacks. Teach, who joined when he was 12 (and Crocodile would have been 18) doesn’t seem to know him as a crewmate either. If he ever was on WB’s crew, he would have left as a young teenager. (And as a sidenote, WB was an old-fashioned guy, he did not want any women on his crew apart from medical staff. This would not have been a good environment for Crocodile if he had been a girl before meeting Iva. And he clearly was making a name for himself as a rookie without being attached to WB’s crew.)
It could also symbolize how great of a pirate Whitebeard was that even Crocodile, bearing a grudge against him, shows him respect by following his orders. But that seems a little bit boring to me.
That said, I do think a Crocodad reading of his actions is rewarding.
After this battle we also get to see Crocodile read about Luffy’s actions so he clearly is interested in him now. And there’s this great exchange between Daz and Crocodile in chapter 593 where Daz comments that Luffy’s scars take a while to fade which Crocodile takes as a comment on his own (old) wounds. Crocodile insists that his scars are “fully healed” and that he’s ready to return to the New World now. He has put the old wounds of his youth to rest, he is ready to return to tackle the New World once again.
And maybe any wounds and scars left on him regarding Luffy’s birth have started to heal too. The kid will be fine.
If you read through all of this you have my respect X’D
And if you have comments, additions and objections let me know~
182 notes
·
View notes
Text
random merlin episodes I wish we had:
a stuck in the same day over and over episode — where someone, obviously merlin, is somehow magically stuck living the same day again and again but only he knows that. we missed so many opportunities. so many magic reveals and so many different reactions to it, specially from arthur and perhaps the knights too.
a halloween special — with a much darker and scarier mood, with less comic relief and more horror. we have a few dark scenes along the show, a whole episode of it would be so cool
a merlin x doctor who crossover — I have this inside joke with a friend that the diamair (that alien looking creature that helps gwaine in the first two episodes of season five) was BBC's way of pushing doctor who into the show, and it would be so nice if it was true. it didn't even have to be a merlin episode, it could be a doctor who episode where the doctor and the companion (I don't remember exactly which ones would be, I guess the 11th?) get back to save the diamair and they help them find a better place to live. and then we see the doctor hiding away from gwaine and percy, and then merlin and arthur and morgana (and all the guards and all) until they can finally talk to the diamair alone. and along the episode we see the characters going as the episodes in merlin canonically did, but in the doctor's pov.
a breaking the fourth wall episode — fleabag style. maybe merlin is the only one who can break the fourth wall, but I like to imagine everyone can, but no one else knows that's a thing everyone could do it. I don't know how this would be explained in cannon, but it would be fun
a green knight episode — where we follow (merlin follows) gwaine in a cheaper version of the tale of the green knight where the writers would obviously time compress a whole year into a few days, give cheap and lazy explanations and the green knight would probably be some random morgana's ally but I would love it anyway
a knights episode — actually I would have loved a spinoff of the knights with two seasons minimum, but at least one whole episode following their pov would be so much fun. maybe something happens and now we watch each of them along their day in flashbacks or something like that, until said thing happens and they have to collect all the puzzle pieces and try to understand what is going on and what happened and why and how to solve it. bonus points if merlin solves it all off screen and they all think that they did it, so now they are all proud of themselves. merlin obviously lets them take the credit for it, but this time he doesn't feel bad about not getting the credit he's due for saving the day once again. he feels happy to see his friends all happy and proud.
an animated episode — I am a huge lover of animation and just thinking about all the characters in an animated style version of themselves makes my heart warm. I love it so much, it would have been soooooo fun and so cute. it could have been an special, didn't even have to be an actual episode. like a christmas special maybe? I don't celebrate christmas so I don't know what would happen, just that it would be animated.
one or some of the characters turn into children — I think it would so fun and so cute to have merlin, gwen, gaius and maybe leon taking care of baby/child arthur. bonus points if uther is still alive and they have to hide baby arthur from him. or worse, all the knights turn into different aged children, leon is a teenager, gwaine has around 11/12, elyan has 7 and percival has 2, and merlin is going insane trying to keep up with them at the same time he tries to solve this mess as soon as possible. I would love the absolute chaos.
a merlin's birthday episode — nothing bad happens, we just get to watch everyone doing their best to come up with a good gift for merlin. and he is so confused as to why everyone is acting so strange around him (but they think they're being stealth and doing a good job). in the end they get the date all wrong and merlin's birthday is like, in six months or something.
that's all I can think of right now, and I know most of them (maybe all of them) don't even make much sense and wouldn't be possible to make in canon, but hey I can dream.
if I ever think of something else I'll do a part 2
#this is so random i don't even know how to tag#merlin#bbc merlin#merlin bbc#the adventures of merlin#merlin au#maybe?#idk
158 notes
·
View notes
Note
I'VE GOT A SCENARIO, ok so I saw the Monty doing Roxanne with reader being jealous and got a thought. Reader is dating Monty but cheats on reader with Roxanne. They cry to Bonnie for comfort cuz he's sweet bunny but little does the reader know his idea so comfort is something else 👀. Monty catches them and is fumming cuz he knows Bonnie's been pinning for reader the whole time. Bunny boi looking at Monty while pounding reader like whatcha done do? 👀🐇👀
your prayers have been answered my sweet in this, reader calls bonnie thumper as a nickname. I will STAND WITH THAT HEAD CANON UNTIL I DIE.
GLAMROCK BONNIE x READER
tw: NSFW THEMES, cheating, mentions of panties for the feminine ppl, not read over it just finished it off this morning, mentions of vaginal parts
every day was getting more and more exhausting for you. Your pay check is slipping, your sink was leaking and your relationship was fading.
you would find yourself getting upset and just breaking down, the first person at your side would always be bonnie.
he would always hear to what you had to say, he gave great advice and if you need to cry in his embrace, hes happy to be there for you.
"its gonna be okay superstar, I promise" he held you and stroked your hair as you quietly sobbed into his bowling shirt.
"I-its not... hes going to leave me.. I-.. I just don't know what to do"
you knew deep down it was for the better. all monty ever did was insult you and ignore you. NOTHING about him screamed "caring" in any way.
"but... it'll be for the best." you stuttered, wiping your tears from your face.
you patted Bonnies leg and gave him a little smile, indicating it was time for you to finish on your check-ups with the other glamrocks. god how he loves that smile.
before you pulled the door he grabbed your waist from behind and hugged you.
"just one more before you leave, im gonna miss ya'" he said whilst resting his head into the dip of your neck.
"Awww, thumper. c'mere"
the large thump of the elevator hitting the floor woke you up from your thoughts. remembering you have to finish off the last of the glamrock checkups and then your free to roam around for a bit until opening.
your first stop was freddy;
freddy noticed your tear stained face and questioned you about it but after you said it was nothing, he didn't want to push you into telling him. so he stayed quiet until you finished.
"alright! all done. you seem to be operating fine."
you gave the brown bear a smile, closing his stomach hatch.
"I best be on my way now".
and with that, you made your way to Roxy's greenroom but to your surprise, she wasn't there.
"that's strange... maybe she's in her raceway. ill check it later"
you grabbed your tools and headed to your gators greenroom.
you where absolutely terrified, why wouldn't you be? he has a short temper and isn't really fond of you DESPITE you being his significant other.
as you where about to place your fist onto his door, you heard something.
"fuckkk..roxyy"
you heard grunts and several slurs mumbling all coming from monty's room.
you felt dread bubbling in the pit of your stomach.
without hesitation, you slammed the door open to reveal a heartbreaking scene.
"what. the. fuck" you dropped your bags to the floor and stood in shock.
"ah- shit babe! its not what it looks like!"
monty tried to cover Roxy whilst trying to put his pants back on, knocking over a few objects thrown across his room.
"oh so you weren't just balls fucking deep in Roxy then huh?! do you think im a fucking idiot?!" you frantically waved your arms around, your head raging at the thought of your best friend FUCKING your boyfriend.
"no I-"
"so this is why you where so distant from me. you where screwing around with her!" you cut him off.
monty was silent. he knew you where right and you could see it on his face
Roxanne stood up and moved towards you
"im sorry y/n-"
"I don't want to hear anything from you."
and with that you slammed the door shut, walking back to the elevator you came from. you where too distracted to go check on Chica or the others. you had one destination you where gonna go to and that was it.
you felt your anger slowly melt into sadness and the aching in your chest started to become more apparent. tears started to run down your face.
"shit.."
bonnie was sat on foxy's stage, head in his hands and dying of boredom.
"why didn't I just tell her, kiss her.. or DO ANYTHING! god she's gonna get played by that dick-"
"b-bonnie.."
his head instantly turned.
"o-oh my sweet thing, what happened?"
he quickly ran to your side, putting your head in his hands.
"monty he...he.. I think he grew fonder to Roxanne.."
bonnie gave you a sad look, cupping your cheek in his hand.
"aw darlin'... im sorry you had to see that"
his hands ran down to your waist, pulling you into his chest.
"its going to be alright, love"
you wiped you tears and sat down, putting you head into your hands. Bonnie lifted your face up to meet him, giving you a soft smirk.
"I can treat you better than he ever could, y'know?"
your eyes never left his, getting lost in the sight that was in front of you. you felt your insides bubbling in excitement.
you knew there was always something there between you two but you always thought it was a misunderstanding. but now you realise that hes always been the one there for you, always been the one to keep you company on lonely night shifts, always been the one to understand and listen to you, hes always been the one.
"do you want me to treat you better?" his hands slowly slid up your thighs, rubbing the inside of your legs.
"y-yes..please" you stuttered, you heart was beating so fast. you couldn't actually believe this was happening.
"atta' girl" he said with a soft melodic tone.
NSFW UNDER THE LINEEE
bonnie's hands started to wonder all over you whilst he kissed your neck, touching all of your sensitive parts.
he was a bit hesitant a first but the noises you made encouraged him to feel more.
His hands tugged at the waist line of your pants, eagerly wanting to see the beauty between your legs.
"you sure you want this sweetheart?" he gave you a look of concern, making sure that this was the right moment for you.
"I am positive my little thumper, you're too sweet"
his foot pounded lightly in the floor from the little nickname you gave him. he felt as if he was under your spell, no matter what, all he could think about was you.
he pulled your pants off, revealing the laced panties you wore.
his hand glided over the heat between your legs, feeling your wetness and admiring the state that you where in. the state he caused you to be in.
"my, my baby. you look so adorable" he purred, his head going closer to your lower regions
"and you're all mine"
he pulled you panties off, staring down your dripping mess between your legs. his hands caressed your inner thighs, making your heat throb in anticipation.
even in such a desperate situation, he still made you feel special. it still made your stomach bubble butterflies.
"please just fuck me bon... I need you"
That lit something in him. Within seconds he’s picking you up and placing you on top of his lap, kissing your shoulders whilst his hands roamed the bottom half of your body.
You’re body was warm, soft, his hands gave you such a euphoric feeling. You knew in that moment that he’s what you want, your face grew redder and your heart beat increased.
You felt him slowly lift up your body as you felt something poking at your puffy core. A few whimpers left your mouth as you felt him enter inside of you.
“Fuckk, hon…”
His voice sounded so melodic, filling your stomach with butterflies, making you feel as if you’re a teenager again with a high school crush.
Your head naturally fell onto Bonnies shoulder as he started to bounce you up and down on his cock. He was slow and passionate. Not rough or mean like Monty was.
Your hands wrapped around him as your mouth opened, letting out the sweetest of noises, sending him over the edge, he was loving every second of it and you could tell.
“..’feels so good Bon..”
He smiled, he loved hearing you, especially like this.
“I know sweets, let Bonnie take care of ya’”
And with that, you’re riding up and down on him, filling your senses with a euphoric pleasure as he fucked you right to the edge.
By this point your legs had started to shake, you was clearly close and he wanted to get you to finish, all he wanted was for you to feel good.
His hands move as he moves one of them to your lower back and the other one straight to your puffy clit. As soon as his fingers made contact, your head flung back as the overwhelming feeling whipped straight to your core.
“O-oh my goddd… Bon..’mgonna cum..”
You mumbled as your body grew limp.
“That’s it clover, feel good on me, please”
And with that, you both felt your gummy walls tighten around him. Your body heaved as your clenched your fists and screamed for him, gifting him a small smirk on his face.
He pulled you off of him, not caring that he hadn’t finished, more of that he needed to take care of you. Pulling you into his chest, he moved a strand of hair from your face. You smiled at him. God. He loved that smile.
“God.. be mine hon, please”.
Sorry for the fact that it was rushed, its 3:56 and I’m tryna get all my drafts finished and I know y’all are back on the FNAF band waggon again so why not throw a few out there for you guys, love ya <3
Also please give me more requests, I’ve got no inspiration 😭
#fnaf#fnaf security breach#fnaf x reader#fnaf monty x reader#fnaf x afab reader#fnafsb#fnaf Bonnie#fnaf Bonnie x reader#bonnie x reader#glamrock freddy x reader#fnaf glamrock bonnie#glamrock bonnie#glamrock bonnie x reader
1K notes
·
View notes