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madamevirgo · 2 years

Note

Hiya! Would you write a “rot your teeth it’s so sweet” fluff fic with Thena and reader, where Reader helps Thena with her Mahd Wy’ry by using their powers/touch? Thank you!

Stay, and let your love ground me

Pairing: Thena x reader

Warning: Angst with a happy ending, mention of violence, fluff, none?

Words: 2989

A/N: I took this request and ran with it lmao. Hopefully it lives up to your expectations. But even so, I really enjoyed writing it. I tried to correct as many mistake as i could, but its 2am so if I missed any, I'm sorry. Also, I wrote this while watching the movie for literally the 100th time. I can’t believe how much hate this movie gets. Only the elite understands to sheer perfection that it is. That’s the hill I’ll die on.

Looking back, you handled the whole ‘We are the Eternals, near-immortal synthetic beings’ situation pretty well. You’d been working with Dane and Sersi for three years and you had become quite close. Hanging around Sersi so often also meant becoming friends with Sprite, meaning that you, just like Dane, were privy to her outlandish stories. Of course, you’d always believed them, why wouldn’t you? It’s not like a giant purple eggplant had erased half of the population; and a group of superheroes which included a talking raccoon, a god, a 100 years old super soldier and a bunch of assassins walked around in skin-tight clothes trying to save the planet earth on the daily. Oh - wait.

So yeah, you handled the whole thing pretty well. You have to say you really weren’t all that impressed, and have to admit you were slightly bitter with the fact that they hadn’t tried to stop Thanos - you had been one of the people who blipped and while you were gone, you had lost some loved ones. So no, you weren’t a fan. But once you got over your anger, you found out they were pretty cool people.

You had not had the chance to meet Ikaris and Ajak before they died. But you got along with the remaining ones pretty well. You remember when you first walked into the building they called home. You and Dane had insisted on helping Sersi and Sprite move in. It was bright and early and you still hadn’t had your coffee, so you were slightly drowsy and unstable on your feet. Pair that with your usual clumsiness and a stack of boxes stopping you from seeing your steps, it wasn’t long before you ran into something, or rather someone.

You hate to sound like a lovesick fool, but it was love at first sight. From the moment you met Thena, you were smitten. Her smirk, her eyes, her sarcasm, her entire being, it all pulled you in. Later on, you asked Sersi if she was sure that Druig was the one with mind control and not Thena; because whenever you found yourself in her presence, you simply couldn’t govern your actions and would have done anything she asked you to, or just to keep her attention on you. You wanted to know her. To know what it felt like to have her fingers run on your skin, to see her every day for the rest of your life; to make her happy.

Your lack of special abilities had never fazed you. That is until the first Mahd Wy’ry episode that you witnessed. You and Dane were at their house, and you were all watching a movie. You couldn’t remember the title, as you had been too focused on staring at Thena who was sitting on the couch opposite yours, while they were fighting over which movie to watch. All you knew was that it was an action one. A bad choice, you’d later come to find.

You were the first to notice her change of behaviour. Her stiff posture which would seize every few seconds, her empty white eyes, and the gold energy coursing through her veins, you instantly knew that something was wrong.

“Thena?” you whispered, making the rest of the occupant look at you and then her.

After that, all hell broke loose. Gilgamesh approached her and when you tried to get up to your feet to see how you could help, Makkari quickly got you and Dane out of the way. The screams of the blonde beauty broke your heart.

—----------------------

The second time it happened, you and Thena had created a sort of tentative friendship, albeit against her will. You had asked Sersi if you had offended Thena in any way, as it seemed like she was the only one who still kept her distance from you. She had taken to physically removing herself from any room or situation you were in, and it was hurting more than you let on. Your best friend assured you that it had nothing to do with you, and all to do with Thena.

“She’s scared of hurting you. She’s doing much better with her episodes only occurring when triggered, but she doesn’t want to risk injuring you. Dane has some form of abilities, so in her eyes, you’re the only… fragile one around.” you deflated. Your lack of powers wasn’t something you could change. Sure, you could learn how to fight, but what good would that do?

Still, you didn’t give up. You didn’t let Thena get away from you. And although she still thought you were a fragile human, she allowed herself to get closer to you. Meaning that she had stopped avoiding you and you were now, one of the victims of her teasing. It was a tentative friendship, but it was a start and you’d take anything you could get.

You were in the kitchen, helping Gilgamesh bake a cake. Thena was sitting at the counter reading a book, although you’d sometimes catch her smiling as she listened in to yours and Gilgamesh’s conversation. The others were out and about, leaving the three of you in the big house. A moment of silence was interrupted by a loud noise, making you jump. You giggled slightly at your reaction once you registered that it was just fireworks. A few more followed while you and Gilgamesh returned your focus to the task at hand. You went to the sink to wash some dishes when you heard a scream.

“THENA, NO!”

You quickly turned around in time to see Gilgamesh tackle Thena to the ground. You stayed still as they wrestled on the ground for a few minutes while he tried to bring her back.

“Remember who you are, Thena. Remember!” he then whispered something that you weren’t able to hear. It must have worked because her eyes instantly came back to normal and you made eye contact before she looked away. In shame, no doubt.

Once she was settled, you approached her with a cup of tea.

“Here. To help you calm down.” You said with a small smile. She looked at you for a second before cautiously taking the cup, still avoiding your stare.

“Why are you still here? Aren’t you scared of me,” she whispered, looking at the cup in her hands.

“Of course not Thena. I know you’d never hurt me intentionally,” you said, squeezing her shoulder. She shrugged it off as she jumped to her feet.

“That’s the point Y/n! Nothing I do during my episodes is intentional. I don’t even remember my own family during them. Don’t you understand? It's not safe for you here. You need to leave.” you stared at each other.

You had not given her the satisfaction of backing away during her outburst, which means you were impossibly close. You could see the fire in her eyes and feel her laboured breathing on your skin. Her breath smelled like honey, you couldn’t help but notice. She was at her breaking point, but you wouldn't be so easily deterred.

“Thena I-”

“NOW!” she screamed, making you wince.

“I think you’d better go Y/n,” said Gilgamesh as he put a hand on your shoulder. At that point, the rest of the family had arrived and were standing at the door trying to piece together what was happening. After a second, you grabbed your stuff before making your way to the door without another word. It wasn’t until you got into your car and saw the house disappear from your rearview mirror that you let the tears fall.

Later, you now lay on your bed in the dark, staring at the ceiling. The doorbell had been ringing for a while now, but you paid it no mind. Then it stopped, and you breathed a sigh of relief, which didn’t last long as you heard the door unlock and open.

“Not sure you’re aware, but this is called breaking and entering,” you said, not moving from your position.

“Or really just entering, since I have a key,” replied Sersi as she lay on the bed next to you. It was quiet for a few seconds.

“How is she?” you whispered in the dark.

“She’s…Thena? I can never really tell. But I know she feels guilty about the way she spoke to you.” you didn’t say anything. The scene that occurred earlier still replayed in your mind, making your heart ache. “Do you know how Gilgamesh was able to bring her back this time around?” she persisted.

“By asking her to remember?” you said with a shrug. Remember what? you weren’t sure, but that always seemed to do the trick.

“Usually that would work. But not this time. It’s only when Gilgamesh told her that she may risk harming you that she snapped out of it. She cares about you, Y/n,” she replied as she leaned her head on her hand to look at you for a reaction.

“If she cares so much, why does she keep pushing me away when all I want to do is get closer to her?” Sersi had caught on pretty quickly to your feelings for Thena, so you spoke freely.

“Thena is- well, she gets confused sometimes. Specifically about her feelings.” She waited for you to say something, but you didn’t give her the satisfaction of doing so. “She was right about one thing though, which I can get behind. It’s not safe for you to be around right now. You could get hurt, and I would never forgive myself if something happened to you. Neither would she.” she said before laying back down.

“What are you saying?” you ask, suddenly finding it hard to breathe.

“I think it's best if you stay away from the house for some time.” you didn’t speak after that, and after a while, you felt her breathing even out as she fell asleep. you soon followed.

—-----------------------------------------------

For the first time in a month, you were walking into the Eternals’ house. They were celebrating Sprite’s birthday and you had been invited. You and Dane drove there straight after work, and you were thankful for his presence because it helped lessen your nerves. You entered the house and were greeted by Druig and Makkari. The latter quickly pulled you into a hug and began signing.

“Where have you been Y/n! We were beginning to think we ran you off.” translated Druig as he handed you a drink that must have been his. You had formed a tight bond and didn’t realize how much you’d missed them until this very moment.

“No way! I still need a rematch on that chess match and you Makkari, still need to deliver on your promise to take me for a run,” you said with a laugh. You spoke some more before they excused themselves. Dane had already made his way to Sersi.

You entered the kitchen and saw them both along with Sprite.

“Here’s the woman of the hour! Happy birthday, Sprite. How does it feel to be getting old?” you asked after releasing her from the hug into which you had pulled her.

“Fucking amazing! Is that for me?” she pointed to the wrapped box in your hand, to which you nodded before handing it to her.

Soon enough, the party was in full swing. Some of Sprite’s friends from boarding school had made the trip and they were having fun in the backyard by the pool. You were sitting in a corner of the yard, sipping your drink. The rest of the Eternals were scattered all around the house, Gilgamesh of course was keeping the food coming, feeding the bottomless holes that the teenagers and Druig called stomach.

You were lost in your thoughts when you heard the leaves rustling behind you, making you turn your head. After a month of not seeing Thena, it was safe to say that you were still very much smitten. But as much as your heart pulled at its strings, wanting to reach out to her, you were so very angry. You stared at each other for a moment, before you faced forward once more. You heard her move and she soon settled next to you, keeping some space between you. Like she always did.

“I was looking for you,” she said after a while.

“That’s funny, considering the last time we spoke, you told me to leave,” you said bitterly, before getting up to leave. She quickly grabbed your wrist to hold you in place but released it just as fast.

“Y/n! I’m trying to apologize here.”

“And what good would this apology do when I know for a fact you will make the same mistake? I want to be here for you Thena. But I can’t stand this push and pull game you’ve made me an unwilling player of. Either you want me to stay or you want me to go. Make up your mind and then we’ll talk.” You said, walking away before she could say anything else.

—-----------------

The party had ended. After your encounter with Thena, you had found Makkari and Druig and spent some time with them. After a while, they had left and you had walked back to Dane and Sersi. You were talking aimlessly when Dane excused himself to go to the bathroom.

“A certain goddess of war has been looking your way the entire night.” she suddenly said, interrupting you. From the corner of your eye, you looked to where she and Gilgamesh were seated.

“Let her stare. I made myself clear,” you said.

“Oh, and what did you say exactly to make her look like you not only kicked her puppy but ran it over twice with your car?” she asked with a smirk.

Before you could reply, you heard a grunt and looked up to see Gilgamesh trying to restrain Thena as she was in the middle of an episode. You looked around. It was only the four of you. Gilgamesh being the only one around with enough strength to hold her. Just as you thought that, Thena knocked him unconscious and looked towards Sersi and you.

Sersi quickly pulled you behind her and stood in a protective stance which you knew was as far as her skills went. She wasn’t a fighter.

“Y/n, get inside. Now!” she said before running towards Thena.

You made no move to leave. There was no way you were leaving her there. Neither of them. You watched as Thena backhanded Sersi into a tree and she fell unconscious. ‘Good fight’ you thought sarcastically before you noticed the predicament you found yourself in. The blonde warrior now stood in front of you; eyes white, gold energy flowing beneath her skin and her body seizing occasionally. She looked terrifying, and maybe you were crazy, but you’d never been more in love. Slowly, you reached for her hand and placed it on your heart.

Sense had left your body and you were simply doing what felt right.

“Thena…focus on my heart. Do you feel it beating?” you whispered softly.

“Heart.” she struggled to say after a few seconds.

“That’s right. You can do this. Just focus on the beating of my heart. Regulate yours to mine.” Slowly, as to not trigger her any further, you put your hand on her cheek. When she closed her eyes, you did as well and touched your forehead with hers. “Focus on me. My heart, my touch, and come back to me. Let my love ground you.” you whispered. You felt more than you heard her breathing slow down.

You don’t know how long you stood there, but after a while, she stopped seizing and her breathing, although still laboured, was now close to normal. You still kept your eyes closed. One hand was caressing her cheek softly - your foreheads still touching, while the other hand, held hers in place over your heart. Time stood still.

“Y/n…” she suddenly whispered, making you open your eyes to stare into hers. You let out a sigh of relief once you saw that she was back.

“How are you feeling?” you asked softly. Your hand was still on her cheek. She looked around to Sersi and Gilgamesh's unconscious bodies, and when you saw the tears starting to form in her eyes, you made her face you once more. “Hey, none of that. They’ll be okay, and so will you,” you said softly.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n.” she cried.

“What did I say about apologizing?” you said with a small laugh.

“Stay. Stay with me Y/n.” she suddenly said, making you look at her in shock.

“Then-” you started

“No! I mean it. I was a fool to think that I could push you away. But the thought of losing you, it's sending me over the edge. Fighting my feelings for you, being scared of what they mean, it’s killing me. So I release myself to you Y/n. Please stay, and let your love ground me.” She was looking at you, and her eyes which were usually so guarded showed you nothing but love and sincerity.

“Okay.” you finally said.

“Okay?” she asked, making you nod once again. Suddenly, her lips were on yours and she took over all of your senses.

She kissed you harder and you realized that you weren’t kissing her back, so putting your hands behind her neck, you released yourself to her.

“Uhhh, could someone please explain what’s going on?” Thena and you separated from each other to look at where Kingo had just spoken from. Next to him stood Sprite, while Dane helped Sersi up, and Makkari and Druig supported Gilgamesh.

You looked at Thena and after a second, you burst out laughing. You didn’t have any special abilities, and you didn’t need them. Your love and your touch would be enough to keep Thena grounded.

#MadameVirgoWrites #thena eternals #the eternals #thena x reader #thena x y/n #thena #mcu #angelina jolie x reader #angelina jolie

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jomiddlemarch · 3 years

Text

Silly things do cease to be silly

Someone, a tall, dark-haired someone in what at a glance appeared to be a perfectly tailored Italian linen suit, was sitting on Alina’s bench.

Of course on the hottest day of the summer when her wall unit AC had gone far beyond on the fritz into full-on death rattle, making her fifth floor walk-up studio into an antechamber of Hell itself, one that could only be approached by two subways and a cross-town bus, of course the one cool, green, delectable spot in the city that she relied on to maintain her sanity was taken. By what looked like a finance bro with a taste for designer clothes.

She should have walked further along the path around the lake or changed course altogether and headed back to her stuffy closet of an office with a lukewarm bottle of Snapple lemonade, but instead, she sat down on the bench across from the occupant of the bench she’d claimed for herself the first week she moved to the City, crossed her arms in front of her and glared at him. She didn’t expect a response, so she was a little surprised when he said,

“Excuse me, are you okay?”

“No. You’re on my bench,” she declared.

“I beg your pardon,” the man said, pretty politely given that she hadn’t introduced herself or given any explanation for what she admitted probably sounded like a batshit crazy remark. He also didn’t look hot, temperature-wise, (only and very much aesthetically, Lord have mercy!) while she felt her own cheeks flushed bright red like the china doll she hated to be told she looked like. The tendrils of hair sticking to her sweaty neck did what they could to dispel the doll resemblance, but not in a way she would have chosen. Slattern was the word that popped into her mind, like she needed the additional critique.

“You’re on my bench. The one I sit on every day. Can’t you, I don’t know, just get up and go find another bench of your own?” she said.

“I’m sorry, I’m not quite grasping how this bench, in a public park, belongs to you and thus, why I should or would relinquish it to you,” he said. If the situation were reversed, she probably wouldn’t have been nearly so civil but then, if a strange man came up to her and demanded she leave, she would have arguably been in a threatening situation. There was no evidence that the man found her threatening in the least, which was probably because of the black ballet flats, the petal pink cardigan Gen had given her and the fishtail braid Zoya insisted was not too young-looking.

“Look, can you just go to that bench over there? It’s got a better view of the lake and it’s not right next to a garbage can, so there are fewer yellow-jackets. It’s a better bench in nearly every respect,” she said.

“It sounds like you should go to the better bench. Treat yourself, if you will, and let me stay where I am, bothering no one,” he answered. He crossed his legs and had the gall to stretch one arm out along the back of her beloved bench.

“You’re bothering me,” she muttered, then added in a louder voice, “That is my bench. I come here for lunch every day, I sit for twenty-five minutes and then I go back to the rest of my soul-crushing life. Can’t you just, I don’t know, be the bigger person and do me a solid, let me have the bench?”

“I am the bigger person,” he said. If before he’d been being politely snarky, he was now full on enjoying himself at her expense which made her want to kick him in the shin. “Literally and figuratively, because I’m not the one claiming public property is mine and haranguing an innocent bystander who just wants to be an innocent bench-sitter.”

“That’s not a thing, an innocent bench-sitter,” Alina said.

“No? Isn’t that what you purport to be?”

“I don’t purport to be anything. Who even talks like that?” Alina said. “I get it. You’re not going to do a random act of kindness to a stranger and you’re not going to honor the social contract by politely acquiescing to my request. Just spare me any pedantic lectures about Ayn Rand or libertarianism—”

“It’s that big a deal to you,” he said. “The bench.”

“No, I could care less about the bench, I just couldn’t pass up the chance to argue with yet another douchecanoe Chad who thinks the world revolves around him,” Alina said acidly. The man laughed, a low, delighted chuckle that was both attractive and supremely annoying.

“My name’s not Chad,” he said, standing up and gesturing at the bench. “You win. Take it, it’s yours.”

“Okay, not-Chad,” Alina said, wrong-footed now but not willing to give up the bench she’d fought for.

“I’m Alexander, but my friends call me Sasha,” he said. His tone was warm and amiable and designed to make her want to be his friend. It didn’t work. Alina sat down.

“That’s nice for them, not-Chad,” she said. He laughed again.

“You’re not going to tell me your name?”

“No, I’m not,” she answered. She hadn’t picked up anything to eat on the way over, not even the usual lukewarm Snapple but she couldn’t exactly get up and leave the bench. Not until not-Chad-Alexander-Sasha left. She’d have to subsist on air and her victory. It would be at least as satisfying as ramen, possibly more since it was approximately nine million degrees out.

“That’s all right,” he said. “You’ve made it clear where I can find you again.”

#shadow and bone #darklina #meet-cute at the park #darklinadaily #darklinafallfest2021 #day 2 #humor #rom-com #alina x aleksander #modern au #sassy Alina

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ilovebeing-weird · 3 years

Text

The bats' secrets

Tim Drake was a duck, no he was three ducks impersonating a human. He was the ducks you saw in duck tales covered by a trench coat. Contrary to popular belief he wasn't a human. Wanna know why he is a genius? Because he is three ducks as one human. And ducks are intelligent apparently.

Wanna know why is she so awkward? Because duck! He didn't know what to do in the human world! He lived with animals all his life.

Shocked? That's what Marinette was feeling right now. Her boyfriend wanted to tell her a big secret and she didn't know what could be a bigger secret than him being Red Robin, but there was! He wasn't a human!

Now what's next? Huh? Jason's Donald? Here to take care of his three nephews, and went ape shit when he saw his nephews nowhere. He must've thought that "Tim" had eaten them. This actually made sense. Donald did have a hell of a temper.

One of the ducks whom Marinette presumed was Lui stepped forward. "I know that it must be hard for you to process Marinette but I wanted to be honest with you. I couldn't lie anymore. I am really sorry."

Marinette actually didn't know how to process that so she ran away. She knew that Ti- no, the ducks must've expected it because they didn't follow herher or tried to stop her and she was thankful for it. She ran to her and Tim's shared room before deciding against it and running to a guest room. (She could've walked but that wouldn't have been dramatic enough)

Marinette collapsed against a wall (dramatically) and sat there not knowing what to feel. She wanted to cry and scream but she also wanted to laugh. Because if you remove the whole 'my boyfriend lied to me about being a human which is actually the weirdest lie I have heard in my life and I don't know what's real anymore and what's fake' this situation was actually really funny.

Before Marinette could figure out her thoughts a knock sounded at her door. She opened the door expecting the ducks or anyone but Bruce. He awkwardly stood there for a while and they just stared at each other for a while before Bruce spoke, "I-uh-heard what happened between you and Ti-." Before Bruce could finish his sentence, Marinette interrupted him.

"Please don't call them that." Marinette averted her eyes. Bruce nodded, understanding her feelings. What the fuck was even happening anymore. Marinette had no idea. Life actually stopped making sense when she discovered that her boyfriend was Red Robin.

Marinette motioned for Bruce to come in and sit down and he began speaking again "So yeah, I heard that you know who, isn't a human? I know that it must be hard. Because you loved him. And uh, I won't say that I understand all of this because I obviously don't, and um. I don't think I have anything else to say." Bruce said, getting up. Marinette got up too and slipped on him. Bruce caught her but Marinette fell on him and before she could comprehend what happened Bruce, or the bats, flew out from the cloak he wore.

Bruce wasn't real either! He was also a bat. Not one bat, 100 bats! what the fuck is happening!? Marinette couldn't contain her scream this time and she screamed and ran away. She wanted to just go home. She wanted to forget about all of this. Just wanted to sleep and wake up to everything normal. No duck boyfriend, no vampire bat human and no Donald Jason. Well, the last one hasn't been proven yet but given the circumstances it may as well be true.

She was about to run out of the manor Alfred stopped her. "Ms. Marinette, please sit down. Dinner would be served soon."

"I-uh, I have to go." Marinette said, fiddling with the hem of shirt. Alfred raised an eyebrow.

"It's very late right now Ms. Marinette, I can't let you go out in this dangerous city alone." Marinette couldn't disagree with Alfred and if she doesn't include the whole duck and bats situation, it was a win. Alfred's cooking was to die for. Marinette sighed and went to the dining table.

There she saw that the ducks (again in the costume) and the bats (also in the costume) were already seated. She almost went to her usual seat next to Tim but decided against it and got seated leaving a gap of two seats between them. Alfred raised an eyebrow but didn't comment otherwise.

One by one everyone (they were all staying at the manor for a while, even Jason. Courtesy of Dick) shuffled in the room. They all looked at her but didn't say anything. Well unless Jason came.

Jason whistled "What's up Replacement? What did you do to anger Pixie-Pop? Huh? You two are not being all sickenly sweet and lovey dovey like usual."

The ducks scowled at him, "I don't wanna talk about it." They glanced at her but went back to their food. Marinette felt kinda bad for them, but then remembered that they hid something so big from her.

Marinette didn't feel like eating, the food Alfred made was obviously delicious but she just wasn't hungry anymore. The occupants in this house were, she didn't even know what to say anymore. Not human? Why would someone lie about being human? That's just, kwami she didn't know what to say. Like, ducks and bats are cool but there's a fucking line. You don't pretend to be human.

Marinette wanted to groan loudly, what the fuck was happening!? This is all so weird. She was snapped out of her thoughts by Damian and the duck's voice fighting "They won't let me pet them father!"

"Damian, what the hell are you talking about!?" The bats were done.

"Drake is three ducks in a trench coat!"

"Get off me!"

"Let me pet you!"

"Damian! Get off Tim!" Dick rushed to his side trying to detach them. He pulled a thrashing Damian and Tim straightened his clothes. "Grayson, let me go!" Damian started kicking Dick but he kept his grip strong. "Dupain-Cheng! Drake is lying to you! He is not a human!"

"What are you talking about Damian?" Dick was confused, really confused. Damian always fought with Tim but he never said something like this. How can Tim not be a human!? "Damian, are you okay?"

"I think you should get some sleep demon spawn, you're behaving weird."

"Shut up Todd!" Damian snarled at Jason. Jason rolled his eyes, used to it all. Marinette had a turmoil growing inside her. Damian knew? All this time, Damian knew!? And he was mad because the ducks won't let him pet them?

Okay, her life couldn't be anymore fucked up now. "Master Tim, are you okay?" Alfred helped them get up from the floor.

"Yeah, yeah, thanks." They smiled at Alfred and went back to the table. Everyone was soon settled back.

"You've been awfully quiet today Sunshine. Is everything okay?" Dick looked at her concerned.

"Let her chill Goldie. She and Timbo had a fight." Marinette sighed internally. This wasn't true but it stopped Dick from pestering her. As soon as she had finished her meal she stood up and went to the guest room she was in before. This earned her some weird looks but they let it slide.

She sat there, her head was spinning, she felt overwhelmed from all of this. Nothing was making sense. Her head was spinning so fast that she blacked out.

Marinette woke up with a start. Tim's arms were wrapped around her protectively. Thankfully, that was all a very weird nightmare. Or was it? What if she wasn't dreaming and they used a machine on her to make it seem like it!?

She heard a groan from her side. "Bean, what happened?" Tim asked groggily. Tim was sleeping, that's a sign of danger if she had ever seen one.

"Nothing mon canard, go back to sleep. I just had a very weird dream." Tim hummed and hugged her tighter. She also went back to sleep. She needed it.

When they woke up the second time Marinette had some questions prepared. "Sooo Tim, have you been craving any bread recently?" Tim gave her a weird look.

"Bean, you okay? You know I don't like bread. Why would I crave bread?"

"Nothing, just had a thought."

"O…kay"

"Well, wanna go swimming in a pond? Have the urge to quack?"

"Mari, is this some kind of weird joke? I get it that my last name means duck but I am not a real duck." Tim asked, glaring at her. Marinette just cheekily smiled at him and went to search for Bruce.

"So, Bruce, I had some questions." Bruce raised an eyebrow at her.

"Go ahead."

"Do you like blood? As in its taste?" Bruce spat out the coffee he was drinking and started coughing.

"Marinette, are you okay?"

"Yep! Anyways, have you been hitting any blood banks recently? Have the urge to tangle your feet in someone's hair? Can you like, see or do you use echolocation?"

Bruce gave her a look which said 'are you okay? Do we need to get you checked? Did you hit your head somewhere?' Marinette just smiled at him.

Bruce just called for Tim and he came rushing down minutes after. "Bruce what happened?" Tim asked, concerned. When Bruce pointed at Mari, Tim knew what was the case.

"Come on Bean, you are gonna stay in bed all day." Tim put one hand on her shoulder and started leading her back to their room. On their way they bumped into Damian.

"Hey Damian!" Marinette chirply waved to him.

"Dupain-Cheng." Damian nodded in acknowledgement.

"Can I ask you something?" Marinette asked. Tim's face paled.

"No, Bean you're sick, let's go to bed. You need sleep." Tim said, pulling her.

"Just one question?" Marinette looked at him with those puppy eyes that he couldn't resist. He sighed and gave in.

"You may ask your question, Dupain-Cheng."

"Is there any particular reason you hate Tim? Do you secretly like him?" Damian glared at Marinette.

"I hate Drake because he is incompetent and not worthy of father's time. Do you want any other reason?"

"Bean, let's just go." Tim finally dragged her to the room and settled her onto the bed.

"What are your thoughts about trench coats? Would you ever wear one?" Tim knew that something was wrong with his girlfriend. He just jumped on the bed with her and cuddled her back to sleep. That's really the only thing he could do.

🐕 dog emoji to apologize

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alwaysmychoices · 3 years

Text

Ski Resort

Synopsis: After declaring her intention to leave medicine forever, Charlie must join the Diagnostics Team for one more case before Ethan will let her retire. But once they’re trapped in the ski resort, Charlie gets tangled in the mystery, and she begins to wonder if she should really leave medicine or if it’s time to come back.

Chapter 26 of the “with and without” series

Previous Series: “a weekend with dr. ramsey”

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x MC (Charlotte “Charlie” Greene)

Words: 5.5k (sorry, I tried so hard to cut it down)

Rating: Teen

Also available on AO3 & Wattpad (link in Masterlist)

The drive to the ski resort was uncomfortably quiet. Ethan and Charlie didn't speak a word, not even when Baz tried to play car games or entertain the captive group with stories.

No, Ethan and Charlie weren't going to speak – or rather, Ethan wasn't going to speak until Charlie did, and Charlie wasn't going to say a thing.

The fight in Ethan's office had cooled to begrudging acceptance. Despite her objections, Charlie put on her coat, read the patient information, and piled in the car with the rest of the diagnostics team just as Ethan insisted. But her cooperation extended only that far.

Ethan was sure that she was furious in the back seat – so sure that he kept looking back to her in the rearview to see if her expression had soured any further.

But Ethan wasn't right about everything.

Charlie wasn't angry – or if she was, it was secondarily not primarily.

She was anxious.

Anxious to be back at work and interacting with critical patients when her confidence in herself and her skills had never been lower. Anxious to stand on the precipice of her entire future – for if she failed today, she wouldn't be a doctor, and if she didn't, she'd have to face fears buried deep in her soul.

It wasn't that she held her tongue because she would have hurled insults otherwise. She held her tongue because she simply couldn't bear to say anything at all.

June and Baz sensed the discomfort, though they were kind enough to not comment on it. Baz tried his best to lessen the uneasiness with music and diverting conversion, none of which stuck. June was more intrigued, maybe even suspicious.

They'd both been surprised when Charlie joined the expedition after her long absence, but Baz was much more willing to accept the sudden return and be thankful for it. June couldn't shake her curiosity.

After all, why had Charlie suddenly returned from leave for this one case? Why was the relationship between Charlie and Ethan, which had once been friendly, now so tense?

Being scrutinized only made Charlie feel worse.

It was a relief for all parties when they arrived at the ski resort.

Any other day, Charlie would have stopped and marveled at the sight.

Perfect, white snow coated the landscape and the resort. Smoke billowed from the central fireplace, promising warmth and comfort inside. Snow-capped trees climbed Mount Dagger and dotted the landscape. Even with layers and layers of footprints marring the snow and a large resort looming in the background, this place felt serene and untouched somehow.

It was so different from the heat and sunshine Charlie had grown up with.

Part of her wished she could have leaned into Ethan and marveled at the place, letting him tease her for her unfamiliarity and inexperience with snow. She realized that winter had only been pain and survival for them. She had the urge to change that somehow – to throw a snowball or challenge him to make snow angels.

But instead, Charlie just trudged along, keeping the urges to herself and remaining silent.

The owner, Rodney, was a friend of Ethan's. He greeted them all warmly and thanked them for their time. On the way to the patient's room, he offered charming anecdotes about Ethan's childhood and their friendship. Charlie wished she could have engaged more, but it was all becoming too real. In mere moments, she would be a working doctor again – a dream that had become a nightmare.

Paula and her son, Timothy, waited in their hotel room.

In the end, they weren't nearly as frightening as Charlie had imagined them. The entire drive, she morphed her patient experience into that of death and destruction, and she'd forgotten how mundane interactions could really be. Even Paula's defiance and complaints felt tame in the face of all Charlie had been through.

During the initial interview, Charlie didn't resume the active role she'd once had on the team. Instead, it was Ethan who drove the questioning, with June acting as his secondary. The team had found their new rhythm in her absence, and they seemed to know that Charlie was purposefully not stepping into her old shoes.

Ethan was disappointed.

To an outsider, she would have looked like a student rather than a member of the team. She stood in the back of the group, her mouth closed and ideas kept to herself. It could have read as disinterest, though Ethan highly doubted Charlie could confront a mystery and not be enthralled. No, it must have been something else. Anger maybe. Perhaps she wasn't ready, just as she'd warned him in the hospital.

During the interview, Ethan managed to look back at Charlie and examine her without anyone noticing.

And what he found prompted a sigh of relief.

She wasn't disinterested.

Charlie's eyes were bright and alive with curiosity. She was listening attentively, her expression changing slightly with each new piece of information. She must be cataloging it, saving it, and allowing it to simmer until it attached to a theory. Even if she wasn't speaking, she was here. She was part of the team, part of the future solution. He could see it in her now– the passion and empathy he'd recognized in her so early in her intern year.

He found himself hoping it would be enough to make her stay.

Enough to make her realize she wanted to stay.

It distracted him from the interview.

Not that he was missing much anyway. Paula, the patient, was particularly uncooperative. It took considerable prodding – and her son’s insistence – to get Paula to say anything at all.

But Ethan’s attention quickly returned when Paula's behavior suddenly shifted.

June and Baz talking to each other, quietly exposing the confusion amongst the team about Paula's bizarre symptoms. Nothing about the conversation was particularly unusual, but to a distrustful woman like Paula, it was enough to prove incompetence on the team's part.

With an eerie light in her eyes, Paula interrupted to say, "It sounds like you have no idea what you're talking about."

She said it with such airy mirth that the comment was unsettling.

Then, to the horror of everyone in the room, the formerly austere Paula's face split into a wild, frenzied laugh. Her posture had changed – so had her facial expressions. Ethan took a step closer and realized that the disturbing glimmer in her eyes was the dark of her pupil as it dilated.

The team looked at each other in horror and shock.

"Paula, are you feeling alright?" Charlie asked. These were the first unprompted words she'd spoken since the introductions.

"I feel great! Why the hell wouldn't I? I'm stuck on a mountain with a load of incompetent doctors!" Paula's voice dissolved into laughter. It was too loud. Too open. Too long.

The diagnostics team looked to each other, and in a silent consensus, they followed Ethan's lead to the hallway. Once the door closed behind them, they abandoned their polite, neutral expressions to show their true concern.

"It looks like a manic episode. If her brain trauma is extensive enough to cause that…." Ethan trailed off, only for Charlie to finish.

"We need to get her to a hospital as soon as possible. Can we call for a helicopter?"

“Doubtful,” Baz frowned, “During the interview, the storm was upgraded to a blizzard. We wouldn’t have time for a helicopter, and the roads are already being shut down.”

“But we just got here!” Charlie fought it, not that she was sure why she did. The entire drive up, the snow had gotten progressively worse. Even from inside Paula’s room, she could tell the weather was turning.

“Then we’re stuck here,” June announced, ignoring Charlie’s outburst, “We’ll have to monitor Paula all night in case her condition worsens.”

Charlie frowned.

This was not how she wanted her first case back to go.

The patient showed unusual symptoms and potential mania, all while they were trapped in a ski resort by a blizzard? This had death and destruction written all over it.

Had Ethan taken the time to consider it, he would have reached the same dim conclusion.

But fortunately for him, he was more distracted by managing the crisis. With little time before the snow made movement impossible to leave the lodge, Ethan decided to find the source of Paula’s rash on the mountain. Charlie objected on safety grounds, but Ethan went out anyway. In his absence, the team conducted a few tests and settled the room arrangements with Rodney. Ethan returned safely, just a bit cold and damp from the snow, and with the cause of the rash. It was poison sumac, he announced. Unrelated to the other symptoms, unfortunately, but at least they could rule other things out.

Only moments later, the blizzard captured the resort captured the resort and trapped the occupants inside.

To his surprise, Charlie wasn’t impressed by his discovery or his quick return. She was annoyed he’d gone out in the first place. And he suspected she was irritated to be here at all.

He wondered if he was pushing her too far, if his plan to show her the best parts of their job had been flawed. If he had been flawed.

If he was doing more harm than good.

Then June pulled out the hotel keys to present them to everyone.

There were four.

The extra room key stung.

It shouldn’t have.

Of course, they couldn’t stay in the same room on a work trip. He shouldn’t have expected anything different.

But something about it made him feel… distant from her.

Like he’d created a wall between them in this whole endeavor, a wall made physical by the separate rooms. Though he’d done it thousands of nights before, Ethan suddenly couldn’t imagine sleeping without her, her body warm beside him and her fragrant curls straying to his side of the bed. He wanted her to forgive him, though he wasn’t sure what for.

In an ideal world, they would have talked about it.

He would have checked on her.

But instead, in a whirlwind of arrangements and discussions, Ethan began his shift, and Charlie followed Baz and June to find their rooms.

Charlie hadn’t planned on staying, so she had nothing to unpack except for a phone charger from her purse and a laptop borrowed from Edenbrook. She didn’t relish the idea of sleeping in her bulky jeans or shivering in the cold night, but there was nothing she could do about that in a blizzard.

It was a relief to warm herself in a hot shower, but after, the room felt too lonely. Unsure what to do with herself, she searched for Baz and June. She found them both at the bar, which fortunately hadn’t been affected by the outside storm.

They sat by the fire with medical journals and drinks – and smores, in Baz’s case. When Charlie entered, they gave her their full attention.

They were genuinely happy to see her return.

They still believed in her, it seemed.

Not that she should be surprised, she reminded herself.

But she was a little.

She’d forgotten how it felt to be the prodigy, not the shattered impersonation of one.

Baz couldn’t contain his excitement and even went as far as to buy her bourbon in celebration, “I’m so happy you’re back! We’ve missed you, Charlie. It hasn’t been the same without you.”

“He tells the truth,” June confirmed, looking a little amused with her colleague’s enthusiasm.

Charlie didn’t know what to say, so she blushed and let Baz fill in the silence – not that he noticed. He had lots to say.

“To our star resident! You’ve been through hell and back, and we’re so proud of how far you’ve come. For you to have survived that and stand here ready to be a doctor again is brave, Charlie,” Baz emphasized in his toast, oblivious to the fact he was only making Charlie more nervous.

Charlie weakly raised her glass, tapping it against June’s and Baz’s.

June’s eyes settled on Charlie’s unsteady smile.

Which only made Charlie more unsteady.

“I can’t believe you’re really back and that Ethan didn’t even give us a warning! For weeks, he said you needed more time, and then, he surprised us. You two were probably in on it together,” Baz laughed good-naturedly, “So, are you back permanently now?”

I have no idea, she thought.

She didn’t know if she’d make it through this case, let alone if she’d take on another.

Her future was too uncertain, her confidence too shaken to answer.

“Um,” Charlie stammered, looking for an answer that didn’t expose her as a nervous wreck, “We’ll see how it works out with my remaining leave, I guess,” she answered noncommittally.

It was the wrong answer.

Too uncommitted. Not enough enthusiasm. Recognizable nerves.

It exposed something that Charlie wanted to hide. It showed how little she controlled this situation, how little she controlled everything. She didn’t know what would happen or what she wanted to happen. It was such a stark contrast from the determined, headstrong intern she’d once been.

If Baz noticed, he took it in stride and said he hoped she would be back full time soon. Then, he started telling her about all she’d missed – leaving out Levi, of course.

June noticed, though.

She sensed Charlie’s unease, and as a result, she stared. And studied.

Charlie became increasingly uncomfortable as the subject of June’s fascination. She felt like she might crack, like June would see through her if she was given enough time.

She began to feel like an imposter trying to fill her old role, and the deception of it all made her sick.

Charlie couldn’t stay for the rest of the evening, not if she was going to survive the night.

So, Charlie finished her bourbon a little too quickly, and to Baz’s disappointment, she excused herself to review online journals on her laptop. June wasn’t surprised she was leaving, though she politely said goodnight anyway.

Maybe June suspected Charlie’s weakness all along.

Maybe she was the smart one. Maybe she saw the truth that Ethan and Baz couldn’t – that Charlie was irreparably broken.

Even with the distance of a few floors separating them, Charlie felt haunted by the exchange – and maybe even still watched by June.

Charlie wanted to prove herself. She wanted to be the old star resident again, though she wondered if she had it in her.

The research proved fascinating, though research had never been a problem for Charlie. She loved learning, and she was always captivated by cases like this. Still, Paula’s case was an enigma, and Charlie went between journals, online textbooks, and her own observations over and over until her eyes burned. When she couldn’t focus anymore, she decided to take a walk and check on Paula. With any luck, she’d gain valuable information through questioning or observation. Even if learned nothing, it would be nice to see Ethan, someone who knew about her trauma and still believed in her enough to bring her here.

Charlie was halfway to Paula’s room when she spotted a familiar face.

“Timothy?” Charlie called out.

Timothy, the patient’s son, stopped mid-stride in shock. He probably didn’t think that anyone else in this hotel knew him.

“I’m one of your mom’s doctors,” Charlie explained quickly, hoping to put him at ease.

It worked. Timothy relaxed a bit, though he remained rigid enough to protect the cup of herbal tea he was carrying. Another mug for his mom, Charlie suspected. She worried that this meant her symptoms were getting worse.

“I’m on your way to your mother’s room. Do you mind if I walk with you?” Charlie asked. During the interview, Timothy had been more forthcoming than his mother, and if Paula became more uncooperative, he would be their only hope. And she worried for the boy. It had to be scary to watch something like this happen to your mother.

Timothy agreed, and they walked together quietly. After a few quiet moments, Charlie commented, “That’s very sweet of you to bring your mother some tea. You’ve been a very good caretaker, Timothy. That’s brave of you, and I want you to know you’re doing a good job, though you should also take care of yourself tonight.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. I’m used to it,” Timothy said sheepishly, looking into the cup of tea with a shy smile.

Charlie’s interest was piqued.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just mom and me at home, so I take care of her.”

“What do you take care of, Timothy?”

Timothy frowned like he’d said something wrong.

“We’re here to help,” Charlie assured him, “So if she has a condition you’ve been helping her with, it’s okay. Just let us know. It may be interacting with or causing her current ailment.”

Timothy looked at Charlie thoughtfully. Almost too thoughtfully.

Charlie was sure there was something he wanted to tell her, or at least something he should tell her.

But all he said was, “It’s nothing really. We’re doing better now.”

Better from what? she thought.

Timothy suddenly looked down and frowned further.

“Is something wrong?”

“I forgot my bag in the lobby when I went to make the tea….”

“I can go get it for you.”

“No,” Timothy insisted too quickly.

Charlie was startled.

“Well, I can bring the tea if you want….” Charlie offered, her voice soft.

“She wouldn’t take it from you,” Timothy shook his head, his eyes softer now. Almost like he was apologetic for his mom’s violent dislike of doctors.

Charlie didn’t want to let Timothy go, especially when he was clearly hiding something, but he insisted she go ahead to the room without him. Not wanting to alienate him, Charlie reluctantly complied.

Once Charlie was in Paula’s room, she almost forgot about her strange encounter with Timothy. The change in Paula was drastic. Her boisterous laughter had faded into dreary silence. She laid in the bed silent and unmoving, her face blank and cold. Even the room felt darker, like all of the energy had been drained as depression gripped the primary occupant.

Ethan was stationed in the corner of the room, and he greeted Charlie with a silent nod.

“How long has this been going on?” Charlie whispered as she approached.

“About an hour,” Ethan frowned.

“I ran into the son in the hallway. I think there’s a preexisting condition they’re hiding from us,” Charlie lowered her voice even further to keep from being heard.

“Hmm,” Ethan raised his eyebrows with intrigue.

“I’m working on it,” she assured him.

Before they could talk any further, Timothy entered with a cup of tea and a bookbag in tow. He dropped the bag by the door, letting it slouch near Ethan and Charlie as he rushed to his mother’s side to deliver the tea. His bag’s zipper was half-undone, revealing some of the contents.

Charlie couldn’t help but look.

A notebook. Headphones. Pencils and pens. What looked like a few pages of math homework. Teabags, presumably from the herbal tea.

All normal stuff for a high schooler.

Still, she tilted her head just a bit more.

Some socks. A bag of –

A bag of pills.

Charlie’s head jerked to attention.

Why would he have a bag of pills? Was he abusing them?

Charlie was about to elbow Ethan and draw his attention to it when Timothy returned for the bag, zipping it back up and slinging it over his shoulder. If he noticed her stare, he didn’t let on.

Everything that was said after that was a blur. Charlie was wracking her brain trying to mentally identify the pill, but she didn’t recognize it. If only she knew what it was, maybe she could help.

When June arrived to take her shift, Charlie took it as her opportunity to return to her room to research medications commonly used or abused by teenagers.

Ethan, oblivious to her new mission, was disappointed by how quickly she ran away. He’d been excited when she came to check on Paula. He thought she was getting back into medicine, but now she was running away from it – and him.

He’d hoped to talk to her once he was off duty.

But Charlie didn’t even realize she’d slighted him.

She spent the next forty-five minutes trying to find a match for the pill.

Nothing jumped out at her. The pill she saw didn’t seem to be commonly abused, nor was it coming up in her research. Could it be a regular vitamin? If so, why would he have it in a bag? Or was it a street drug not listed in these databases?

Without interruption, she might have spent the whole night in this fruitless search.

She was lucky Ethan knocked on the door.

Knock. Knock.

Her train of thought was rudely interrupted, she thought, and she was reluctant to abandon her computer and greet the intruder. Had there not been a patient, she might have been annoyed enough to wait for a second knock.

When she saw Ethan, her mind went back to that room – to Paula.

She forgot that there was any other reason he might be coming to see her.

Like the fact that this was her first time back to work or that he was her boyfriend.

“Are Paula and Timothy alright?” Charlie blurted out, skipping introductions as she assumed the worst.

“Oh…” Ethan was a little knocked back, “Yes. They’re fine.”

“Oh,” Charlie was relieved but now a bit confused.

He stared at her.

Didn’t she understand why he was here? Why wasn’t she inviting him inside?

For a second, she’d gotten so into her job that she’d forgotten everything else – even how much her job terrified her.

“I came to check on you,” Ethan announced finally.

This jolted Charlie’s memory, and she quickly moved back from the door, letting him enter.

Her room was smaller than his, he noted. He found himself hoping she wouldn’t sleep in it tonight. He wanted her by his side. He wanted the assurance that he hadn’t lost her by pushing her too hard.

“How are you doing?” Ethan asked as he crossed the room, silently appraising her living arrangements. By the state of the crumbled comforter, it looked like she’d been researching on her laptop for most of the night.

“Alright, I guess” Charlie murmured, a little unsure of herself.

Their case was an enigma, and their patient was rapidly detreating in a blizzard. A teen had mystery pills in his backpack. June was now studying her. All day, Charlie had been teetering between genuine passion for her job and the feeling of insufficiently filling her old role.

How well could she really be doing?

But she also couldn’t say that she was miserable. She wasn’t as sure of her decision to leave as she had been this morning, nor was she convinced that medicine was all death and destruction.

The best way to describe Charlie was unsteady. Unsure, even.

She just had to survive this case.

Ethan, unsatisfied with her answer, awkwardly paced her small hotel room. She watched.

Finally, he turned to her, and finding the courage to say the words he’d prepared for the last hour, he said, “I’ve been thinking, and I wanted to apologize. I pushed you a lot today. At the time, I thought it was right. In fact, I still think it was right, but… it wasn’t fair.”

Charlie couldn’t believe Ethan was apologizing. Any other day, she might have even gloated. But today, she squirmed, equally unnerved by the situation. Maybe even more so.

Ethan waited for her response, trying so hard to be patient but failing miserably. He couldn’t fathom that he might have misjudged her limits and ruined everything.

It felt like an eternity before she spoke.

“It’s okay… I needed to come back before I decided. Maybe not so abruptly but…” Charlie trailed off, the edge of a smile on her lips. There was a glint in her eyes, and he realized she was poking fun at him.

He was relieved.

“You’ve done really well today,” Ethan ventured, “I’m proud of you.”

Charlie shook her head sheepishly, “I barely spoke.”

“But you were listening.”

“You can’t pretend I’m the same as I was.”

“You don’t have to be the same to be a good doctor, Charlie.”

Charlie bit her lower lip as she averted her gaze.

He took that as an invitation to be bolder, “I think you should come back permanently.”

“What?” Charlie’s eyes shot back to him, the shock in her eyes verging on indignation.

“The team agrees. It’s time, Charlie,” Ethan knew he was stuck now. He couldn’t take it back or soothe the storm that was brewing.

“You spoke to the team?” her gaze grew harder.

“I wanted you to know that you had full faith in you!” Ethan explained.

“June’s already watching me like there’s something wrong with me! Now you’ve just given her more reason to study me,” Charlie shook her head, frustration rising through her veins, “Why would you do that before talking to me?”

“You need to know that we believe in you, Charlotte,” Ethan said quite defensively, “We want you on the team.”

“I haven’t even made it through this case. What makes you think I’m ready to take on another?”

“Because you’re you. You’re not even out of residency yet, and you’re pulling your weight among experts. You’re discovering preexisting conditions none of us ever knew about-“

“Of which we have no proof!” Charlie interrupted.

“You’re still closer to an answer than any of us are,” Ethan said firmly, “And even when you’re scared, like you are now, you still care. You’re a good doctor. Great, even. You’ll be better than me one day. But you’re giving up-“

“Giving up?” Charlie repeated incredulously, “That’s what you think I’m doing?”

“You have a gift!”

“I almost died,” Charlie emphasized, “Every time a patient comes in with a mystery illness and no hope, I know what that feels like. I relive the worst day of my life through their eyes, and I know I can’t save them all. And you think I’m just giving up?”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Charlie,” Ethan said, suddenly ashamed, “I’m trying to help you. I love you, and I know you love medicine. I don’t want you to lose that because of a premature decision.”

“So, you think you’re helping me by making me do what I don’t want?”

Ethan frowned, “When it feels like it’s for the best, yes… But it’ll get better.”

Charlie paused.

And then something clicked.

And the fight – and Ethan’s dumb words – were forgotten.

“Wait,” she mumbled, “Making me do what I don’t want…”

“Yes, I know, and I’m sorry. But I really am trying to help,” Ethan tried, oblivious to the shift in Charlie’s mind.

She ignored him, rushing to her computer.

“What are you doing?” Ethan asked incredulously, watching as she frantically typed something into her computer. Again, she ignored him.

Her eyes the screen until they landed on the pill she’d seen in Timothy’s bag.

“I know what’s wrong with Paula.”

Ethan dropped his defensive stance and rushed to her side, hoping he’d understand by looking at her screen. But all he saw was a medication.

“There’s a bag of lithium in Timothy’s backpack. He said he’s been taking care of her for a long time but that she got better recently. I think he’s drugging her with this.”

“Her mood swings…” Ethan’s jaw almost dropped.

“He’s probably been trying to treat her for bipolar disorder on his own. You saw how she was with doctors. I doubt she would have gone in for treatment,” Charlie felt a knot form in her stomach. Even though she was sure of her hypothesis, she hoped it wasn’t true.

“And they gave her ibuprofen to treat her head injury,” Ethan swallowed heavily.

“We have to get her to a hospital.”

“And talk to Timothy.”

As if reading each other’s minds, they abandoned the laptop in Charlie’s room and raced to Paula’s room where they found Timothy waiting by his sleeping mother, looking exhausted but sleepless with worry.

Unfortunately, Charlie’s theory was correct.

Timothy confessed, and Charlie’s heart broke as they explained the repercussions of his actions as well as the severity of what he had done wrong. She felt for him, for what he must have gone through to think such action was necessary. But she couldn’t excuse his decision to medicate her without her consent, especially given the consequences. The lithium and ibuprofen combined to form a disastrous chain reaction, one that lasted even after they discovered the cause.

It took hours for the storm to clear enough for the helicopters to take Paula to the hospital.

While they waited, Charlie and Ethan sat in his room – a romantic suite with a view of the snowy mountains. It felt like a waste now. A romantic night they could have had, if Charlie hadn’t solved such a sad mystery. She was tired, though she wouldn’t admit it. At some point, she drifted to sleep, and Ethan held her, his fingers running through her hair as he kissed her temple and quietly congratulated her on her solve.

“I always knew you’d be the one to solve it,” he whispered.

“Why?” she murmured, “Were you holding back?”

“No, because you’re smarter than me,” he chuckled.

Charlie was smiling when she fell asleep.

When she woke up, the mood had shifted back to panic.

The helicopter on its way, and the team needed to follow. June and Baz took the helicopter with Paula and Timothy, and Ethan and Charlie drove the car back once the roads opened. The team called a few times to share updates and ask for advice.

But for most of the drive, Ethan held Charlie’s hand in silence.

The case was over.

She could back to her life in the apartment where she hid from the world and pushed herself just a little day by day, building her tolerance safely. She could tell Ethan he was wrong. Or she could stay.

And the truth was… she couldn’t imagine going back now.

Not now that she remembered what it was like on the good days – ones where she made the solve and saved the day. Ones where she realized she made a difference, that she solved things other people couldn’t.

It was okay to be scared.

Even as the words were on the tip of her tongue, she was terrified.

“My answer is yes.”

Ethan’s eyes momentarily drifted from the road to her, “What?”

“To your question last night. I want to come back permanently.”

Ethan felt like he could crash the car out of pure shock.

“Are you sure?”

“I mean… not really. I’m scared, but I think it’s time,” Charlie nodded her head, trying to project the confidence she wanted to once more possess.

“We can wait for you if you need more time,” Ethan assured her, struggling to keep his eyes on the highway and not right at her.

“I know,” Charlie confirmed, “But now is the time. I can’t retire, and I can’t wait forever to go back. I’ll never be 100% ready, so I just have to jump in.”

Ethan’s heart was beating so fast that Charlie felt it as she held his hand.

“Are you really, really sure?” Ethan clarified just one more time.

“Yes,” Charlie laughed, a smile lingering on her lips.

He looked at her. Briefly, of course. He was driving, after all.

And then his face broke out in a face-splitting grin.

“I’m so proud of you, Rookie,” he brought her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles, “You’re amazing! I love you! I love you so much.”

His happiness was infectious. So infectious that she forgot about the fear.

And she laughed.

“You haven’t called me Rookie in a long time,” she squeezed his hand softly, and he cast a sideways glance at her.

“Do you still like being called Rookie?”

“Yes,” she smiled so warmly it practically radiated off of her.

And he loved her. He really did.

“Well then, I love you, Rookie,” he smirked, “And I owe you a romantic ski vacation.”

“Bold of you to assume I know how to ski.”

“And I owe you ski lessons, I suppose,” he murmured affectionately.

“You also owe me a kiss when we stop this car,” Charlie added.

He looked over at her – and quite recklessly because they were doctors and knew what could happen when young lovers were stupid on highways – he kissed her. Quickly, of course. Softly. But lovingly.

And even if she regretted it tomorrow and the world caved again, she was glad she was back today.

#Ethan ramsey #choices #ethan ramsey x mc #dr. ethan ramsey #pixelbery #choices stories you play #open heart #open heart fanfiction #with and without #fics #dr. ethan ramsey x mc

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tomhardydallasstarsgirl · 3 years

Text

FUCK.YOU.ANGEL.REYES.

Chapter 8

Angel Reyes x Black Reader

Warnings: Language, Angst Secrets coming to a head, Death and Clayton Cardenas making his debut.

"Dr. Helena to Surgery 3, Dr. Helena to Surgery 3", goes over the PA as you pace back and forth waiting in the waiting room.

Your Mayans brothers as you now call them are there with you for moral support as you all are patiently waiting for her Doctor to speak with you.

"Colibri, have a seat please", whispers Angel stopping you in your tracks.

"I can't Angel. I can get over this just that easy".

"I feel like I'm somewhat responsible for this".

"I haven't come to see her in a while and it's caught up with me for not doing so", as you break down and cry in front of everyone.

"Hey now, I won't have any of that now my beautiful sister, and I'm sure that bad ass in there who is your Granny won't have that foolishness either", says Naomi as she wipes away your tears.

"She knows you're an adult and have a lot of things on you plate right now. So don't feel guilty about not seeing her like you want to. Besides Bishop and I along with everyone else has been keeping her company as well too sugar", as your head rests on Naomi's shoulder.

Just then the doctor walks into the waiting room putting everyone on alert.

"Hello Ms. L/N. I just wanted to fill you in on your grandmother's condition. She's stable for the moment right now but, she will need surgery to repair the fracture in her hip".

"Wait a minute she'll need surgery? Will she survive this?", as a lump forms in your throat as Taza rests his hands on your shoulders.

"It's touch and go from here on out. Also, I will be performing the surgery along with Dr. Anders so we'll keep you all posted as she's getting prepped for surgery. Now if you'll excuse me I'm gonna scrub in".

"Can we see her now please?", you ask.

"Oh, yes you can. But, please don't bombard her all at once", says the doctor as he leaves to prepare for Mama Sadie's surgery.

Taza and Angel escort you to your grandmother's room as everyone else waits behind.

"Hey, Y/F/N", you hear being called behind you as you turn around seeing Margo and Neron together holding hands.

"Hey, Margo. Hey Creeper. What's going on you two", you say in a sing-song tone as Angel chuckles to himself.

She walks up to you giving you a hug as you eye Angel over her shoulder as he shrugs his shoulders like he's innocent as Taza suppresses a laugh.

"Lo siento Y/N", says Creeper kissing your cheek.

"We'll be in the waiting room okay", says Margo.

"Yes, we will. Anything for you my Mayan sister", says Creeper as they head towards the waiting area.

"Margo and Creep?", says you and your grandfather simultaneously drawing a smile on Angel's face.

"I'll tell you both later", says Angel as you all finally reach your grandmother's room.

"Hey let me get some air first okay? Then I'll be back to see her okay", you whisper to Angel.

"Want me to come with you mi dulce?", he asks not letting your hand go at the moment.

"No my King. I'll be fine", you say tip-toeing a kiss from Angel as he finally let's you go before stepping outside into the cool air.

Walking through the door to a seated area outside you breath a heavy sigh as you sit down on a bench in the well lit area. You take this time to respond to emails, texts and calls as you hear voices shouting. You walk to the corner of the building as you peek around it.

"Look he's is busy right now. Why do you keep coming around looking to start some shit. He's with his girl right now so just get the fuck out of here before he sees you", shouts Coco to the other person.

"You all know why I'm fucking here Coco. He needs to know and no one is going to stop me from telling him", speaks the female with a heavy accent", as you hear Gilly telling the female to leave.

"It's like what they say nowadays. What happens in Mexico stays in fucking Mexico. Now get the fuck out of here", says Coco gritting those words through his teeth.

The woman says nothing more as she takes her exit to leave. You accidentally step on a twig as your brothers look towards your general direction. You suddenly hear fast footfalls to the ground as you quietly ease your way back inside the hospital heading towards the ladies room where its empty of other occupants. You step into a stall as you sit on the toilet seat. You attempt to wrack your brain about what you just heard from outside between Coco and this female. You notice Bishop speaking quietly to what seemed to a be another doctor. You couldn't make out the entire conversation but, the only words you could make out was "paternity" and "DNA Test" causing you to almost stutter step in your tracks.

A nurse was just wrapping up checking vitals and making her comfortable as she quietly leaves the room. No words are spoken as the sounds of her heart being monitored beeps and your grandfather says a prayer in Native American Tongue.

Your body was stiff as you stood in the threshold of her room as Angel and Taza looked on with patience. You felt a bit queasy and dizzy as you swore the room suddenly begins to spin.

"Whoa, little one. Are you alright my dear", asks Taza with concern as he looks toward you.

"Angel", you shout as he catches you picking you up.

"Hey nurse, please help. My girl almost fainted", shouts Angel as you girls come running to check on you.

A male nurse brings a wheel chair for you to sit in as you grandmother's doctor approaches.

"Honey, are you okay?", asks Scarlett as they watch the doctor check you as Angel holds your hand.

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

"Have you been eating well?"

"Not really".

"And what what about your sleeping Y/N? Has it been good for you?"

"No, it hasn't

"When was your last period?"

"Period?", your girls whispering looking at each other.

"Whoa dude!!! What you asking her that for?",says Angel grabbing the doctor by the collar.

"Goddammit Angel, STOP!!!. Let him do his job please", you say as Angel releases him straightening his collar back to normal.

"I'm so sorry doc. Didn't mean to do that to you sir.

"Oh, it's alright son", says the doctor letting out an uneasy chuckle as he continued to check on you.

"My last period was the week of April 20th", you spoke calmly to the doctor as your friends eyed each other with suspicion as Taza and glared in Angel's direction as he suddenly felt hot and nervous under the collar.

BUZZ BUZZ BUUUUUZZZZZ!!! Goes your friends phones as they all check them simultaneously.

"Biiiiitch, that was over two months ago", as your girls read Scarlett's group text as they all eye each in agreement as Bishop, EZ and Ariza walk up behind them quietly peaking over their shoulders without them noticing.

"Girl, I had a feeling Angel was back to waxing that ass", says Naomi responding next in the group text.

"No wonder she been all Minnie Ripperton "Looooooving Yooooouuu" and shit", goes Danielle next as your girls share a giggle.

"LA LA LA LA LA, LA LA LA LA LA, LA LA LA LA LA, LA LA LA LA LAAAAAAAAAA", responds Scarlett.

You became dismissive of the thought of possibly being pregnant. You didn't have time to be a mother right now since you were more concerned about the well-being of your grandmother.

"You know what it's probably just stress Doctor. No need to do a test. I have been under a lot of pressure lately. With work, getting ready for this show that's coming up in a couple of weeks. Hell my girls been working their fingers to the bone as well getting this show together for the whole world to see", you say as you quickly dropped the subject. The doctor pleaded with you as you said no.

"Sir, im here for Mama Sadie right now. Not me. So can I spend time with her before she has surgery please.

The doctor doesn't argue as he respects your wishes leaving her room. You lay beside in her bed lacing her fingers with yours as you fall asleep.

"Colibri. Wake up Colibri. They're here to prep her for surgery", says Angel.

You give your grandmother a kiss as she's being wheeled away towards the operating room. Dr. Anders gives you words of comfort before heading off to the O.R. for your grandmother's surgery.

You're pacing back and forth in the waiting room as you wait for Mama Sadie. At that point you receive a text message:

CC: Hey babygirl, I heard about Mama Sadie from Margot. Im so sorry to hear that. I was thinking of coming there to see you all. Is that okay?

You contemplate on what exactly to say back to Clayton. At the time you didn't think it was a big deal so you answered his question.

Y/N: Sure no problem.

CC: Okay I will see you all tomorrow evening sweetheart. 😘⚘⚘

Y/N: Thank you. See you then. 😊

Its the next day as the sun is skimming the clouds when everyone was still waiting as you were asleep with Angel's arm around you. Well when you woke up with a jolt it wasn't Angel's arm around you it was Coco.

"Hey Coco? Where's Angel?".

"He's outside taking a smoke break".

Taking a long stretch you survey the waiting as you see all the couples fast asleep. All except for Angel. You decided to stretch your legs a bit as you grab your jacket. You was about to step outside as you bumped into Angel who looks upset.

"Hey, I was just looking for you. Are you okay baby?".

"Yeah, I'm good Colibri", as he grabs your hand pulling you away to leave the hospital.

"Whoa, wait a minute where are we going?"

"I need a shower and I'm hungry. Then we can come back".

"Okay well let me get my purse okay".

You head back to the waiting room to retrieve your purse without disturbing anyone. You made sure to tell the nurse at the front desk that you will be back shortly.

You were in the shower singing as Angel was cooking something quick for you both. You step out if the shower feeling good. You get dressed as you walk towards the living room hearing hushed tones of an argument. You didn't turn the corner as between Angel and the other person.

"Look it's not my fucking baby. And stop calling me. Stay away from my fucking brothers. I. DON'T. FUCKING. WANT. YOU", you hear as he tosses his cell phone across the room landing on the couch.

You put your biggest smile on your face as you come around the corner. You hug him from behind as he turns around to give you a deep kiss. You were about to say something when both of your phones go off simultaneously.

You both arrive at the hospital hand in hand running towards everyone else. Suddenly you stop in your tracks as you feel something fly right through you. As if another spirit touched your soul giving you a warm hug.

"Baby what's wrong?", asks Angel.

"Oh nothing im fine", you say as you finally see your grandfather being consoled by Hank and Bishop.

"Hey what's happening? How is Mama Sadie doing?", you ask Dr. Anders as you approach him

"I'm sorry Y/N. We tried everything but, your grandmother suffered an aneurysm and we couldn't get to it in time".

"So, are you telling me that my grandmother is dead?", you say raising your voices catching everyone's attention.

"Yes, Ms. L/N", as you began to wail and cry as your girls are there to comfort you.

Angel approaches you offering you hug as you stop him.

"I hope it was worth it Reyes. Since you have a baby on the way by some chick named Adelita", you say giving him a shove.

"Or as Coco called it "What happens in Mexico stays in Mexico".

"Babygirl, just calm down. I know your upset right let's just go somewhere we can talk and make arrangements", says Bishop attempting to calm you down.

"Oh, here you go Obispo. How is that paternity test coming along huh? I'm curious to find out what kid will you be fathering along with Angel?", you shout wiping tears away.

"He could be your father Y/N", goes a voice as you turn around to see that its your life long best friend Naomi.

"What do you mean Bishop could be my father", you ask with disbelief on your face.

"Bishop told me this a while back. He confessed to me with tears in his eyes saying that he could be the father of my best friend".

"That's not true Philip is my father to me and my baby brother" you shout as you run off.

"Give her some space Hermano", says EZ grabbing his older brother's shoulder.

Clearing the hospital front door you see Clayton walking to those same doors. You run toward him jumping into his arms as you break down and cry. Angel walks out first with his brothers in tow catching a glimpse.

"Hey Hey Hey, what's the matter babygirl", says Clayton comforting you.

"Can we get out of here Jonathan?".

@nxxstybrat @angelreyesgirl @blue-angel-wings @calif0rnia-lovers @phantomnae @ljstraightnochaser @mayans-sauce @basickassandra @basickayreblogs @berberriescorner @rosieposie0624 @mrsmarvelous1995 @amorestevens @bigsisbria @crossfitjesusinblackskinnyjeans @no-cheese-please @emmaveale123 @pananegra @kijahslove @spnaquakindgdom @cydhouseofgryffindor @skyofficialxx @spookys-girl @sesamepancakes @trulysuccubus @brattyfics @bigchoose @manuphantom

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furikakyo · 3 years

Text

a return to roots | 4

pairing: kita shinsuke x f!reader

summary: y/n is a rising star in the music industry, having almost everything you could have ever hoped for as a small-town country girl. now after releasing two triple platinum albums in consecutive years, you face the dreaded artist’s burnout… in order to recover, your manager suggests, you should return to your hometown in hyōgo for a long-deserved break.

genre: socmed/smau, slice of life

warnings/tags: timeskip!, mutual pining, slow burn? more like rekindling, slight canon divergence

masterpost

If you were to be completely honest, you'd wanted to wear a dress you’d been allowed to keep after a photoshoot. However, it wasn't a good look for someone of your status to re-wear outfits, especially statement pieces. You couldn't remember who had designed it, but it had been mostly tulle and made you feel like a princess... all things that could not be used to describe what you were wearing now. For your dinner plans, you chose to wear a simple yet smart-looking bodycon dress, one that you were regretting as you stepped out of the car. You pulled at the hem from over the long coat you wore, conscious of the fact that there could potentially be paparazzi waiting to snap a photo of you from an unfortunate angle if you weren't paying close attention. Unlike American paparazzi, reporters here didn't flock at the entrances of exclusive clubs or restaurants, but it never hurt to be cautious.

"I won't need a ride home," you told Ichiro, who nodded stiffly and then shut the door of the car after you got out, “I can get a ride home."

You adjusted the sunglasses on the bridge of your nose, aware that you looked out of place in the nightlife, and then walked to the doors of the hotel. A concierge opened the door to greet you and Ichiro, who trailed behind, scanning the area. "Welcome, Miss. Your party called ahead and made us aware of the arrangements to be made. You can follow me to the elevator, where I will escort you to your destination."

"Thank you," you said coolly, then took after them. While in the elevator, the concierge spoke nervously, emphasizing how much of an honor it was for someone like you to visit their establishment. You smiled politely, silently willing the elevator to reach the right floor faster.

A restaurant specializing in molecular gastronomy, Kuroo had explained to you on the phone the night before. He'd sounded probably the most excited you'd ever heard him. You had looked it up yourself after the call had ended. It was on the 29th floor of a luxurious hotel, one that you had never been to yourself. Only eight people max were allowed to dine in, and the chef made all of the food in front of you, four courses.

You were dragged out of your thoughts when the elevator finally dinged and the concierge guided you to the glass doors of the restaurant, where Ichiro recognized the occupants and left you alone to be greeted by Kuroo, Lev, his sister Alisa, and, surprisingly, Kenma. You took off your sunglasses and slipped them into the pocket of your coat before that too was taken by a waitress, who calmly swept them away from you and into a closet, presumably.

"Hi, guys!" you gave a bright smile and then slipped into the empty seat in between Kenma and Alisa.

"We thought you might want to sit next to Alisa," Kenma explained quietly, tugging on the collar of his dress shirt.

You smiled again, settling into the chair. "Thanks," you nodded your head. "You look nice, too, Kenma! You're all dressed up!"

Kuroo leaned back to make eye contact with you, laughing. "He almost cancelled on dinner plans with us when he heard that he couldn't wear his sweatpants. He lives in sweatpants exclusively."

Kenma sighed, muttering under his breath, "Maybe I wouldn't if you didn't make a big deal about whenever I'm not." Only you heard his comment, since he was on the edge of the table, but you didn't have any time to reply because the head chef came out of the kitchen, accompanied by a couple of workers behind him, holding the ingredients.

One by one, each round of dishes came and went. Earlier, you'd been worried about wearing a bodycon dress because of the impending food baby you were sure to conceive, but with only dessert left, your stomach felt hardly filled with the sizes of the previous dishes. The process of making each one was mesmerizing to watch, and the flavor profile of each small bite was beyond anything you could have initially imagined when the plates were gently placed in front of you-

You watched the chef spoon generous amounts of black caviar onto the dish. Not dessert, you corrected yourself. Why did you assume to get a deconstructed piece of fried dough when they had called the dish "Donut"? You eyed the tweezers which carefully placed tiny, delicate flowers on top of the spread. A single waiter poured out flutes of champagne and then distributed them to you and your friends, the only noise in the room the fizzing of bubbles in your drink. In fact, the entire affair had been silent aside from the head chef, who explained each meal to your group.

Once the waiter and chef cleared the room, Lev was finally the brave soul to break the silence, who cleared his throat and then, turning to you, asked, "So Y/N, you're moving back home, huh? Is there anything to even do there?”

You knew Lev didn’t mean to say anything offensive, but it still stung a little. He was just blunt to a fault sometimes, you reminded yourself, instead giggling and sending some witty remark back at him which made everyone burst into laughter. You shivered a little, finished the last of your remaining champagne in one undignified gulp, then stared out at Tokyo's skyline, shining and glittering like stars. It was cold in the room, you decided. Ridiculously air-conditioned to the point where you would be glad when you got your coat back and could leave.

The rest of the get-together flew by, only spending a little longer in the restaurant before exiting into the lobby. Kuroo had agreed to drive you back to your apartment, since he'd taken his own car and hadn't drank a lot. Lev gave you a bear hug and told you he would miss you, and that he would try to visit if his modeling schedule worked out in favor of it, but he wasn't sure. Alisa also hugged you tightly, telling you to take care of yourself in the countryside, to which she wrinkled her nose at playfully. When it came to Kenma you refrained from a hug, knowing that he didn't like physical contact. He gave a small smile, appreciative. "I might visit sometime; we can play Animal Crossing."

Then, just like that, the three of them left, Lev and Alisa taking the same car and Kenma having a driver. Kuroo turned to you and raised an eyebrow. "Well? Ready to go?"

You nodded, following him to the front where a valet had already pulled Kuroo's car to the curb, waiting for the two of you. Once inside, you pressed your forehead to the cool window, your breath fogging up the glass. Kuroo made no comment, the only sound to be heard the traffic in the streets.

For what seemed like a few minutes later, you felt yourself being gently shaken awake. "Y/N?" Slowly, you roused, rubbing at your eyes sleepily. You froze, sitting up. Shit, you'd had mascara on.

"Y/N?"

You turned to see Kuroo looking slightly concerned, but you just waved your hand at him. "I'm awake now. Thanks for the ride."

He stared at you, opened his mouth, then shut it promptly, stopping you from opening the car door. You rarely saw him speechless or without something to say. "What's wrong?" You frowned, trying to think of what could be worrying him or making him act like this.

Kuroo shook his head then leaned back in his seat. He scratched the back of his head and looked down. "I'm not sure how to say it, so I'm just going to say it." Immediately you felt dread in the pit of your stomach. Oh, god. Did he have, like, a middle-school crush on her? Was he tongue-tied? You did not want to lose one of your closest guy friends; plus, if you weren't friends with him anymore then you couldn't really be friends with Kenma-

"I'm worried about you, Y/N. Just... take care of yourself in Hyōgo, alright? You're there for a reason; to take a break." He ran a hand through his hair again, nervously. "You know what I'm saying? So just take care of yourself. Don't eat junk food all the time, it's not good for you. Also don't stay indoors all the time, it's good to get outside. You need to synthesize vitamin D," Kuroo rambled, "it's good for your skin, too-"

Finally you broke your silence, smiling and laughing at him. "Aw, Kuroo, you nerrrd," you socked him on the arm, evoking an 'ow' from him. "You're so sweet, what the hell? And don't worry, I'll be fine! I'm great at taking care of myself!" You gave him a thumbs up. When he looked at you dubiously, you added on, "Kaa-san and Tou-san don't live too far from where we used to live, so I can go to them if I need to, too." After a pause, more giggles bubbled out. "I thought- I was really scared that you liked me," you cackled, going into hysterics when he made a face. "I know, I know- I just got worried because I didn't know what you were going to say."

Kuroo rolled his eyes. "Uh, no, I don't like you. Not even platonically, after this," he grumbled, already getting into his theatrics. "I can't believe you're harassing me for caring. You're awful, Y/N!"

You opened your car door, still laughing. "Ok, ok, I'm awful, I'll admit it." You shut the door, and Kuroo rolled down the window.

"Whatever. Just make sure Osamu is driving safely. And text us when you get there. And," he levelled his gaze with yours, "do whatever you feel is best about Kita. Hopefully you take this break to sort through your feelings." Without giving you any time to retort something, Kuroo peeled off in his car, leaving you alone.

Quickly, you made your way into your apartment and finally took off your heels, leaving them near the entrance and sighing when you could walk flat-footed on the cool floor. Next you took off your coat and threw it on the couch, and instead of getting ready to sleep, jumped into your bed and face-planted into the pillows.

You fell asleep in less than five minutes.

You sent your Hyōgo address to Kenma and then flopped on your bed, accidentally banging your head on the headboard. “Fuck,” you hissed, clutching the back of your head. You sat there for a few moments, lamenting why you had to jump onto the bed and how the consequences of your action hurt so bad.

Then your stomach rumbled, begging to be filled, and you forgot everything you had been thinking about, making your way into the kitchen. You opened the fridge, peering in at the contents- or rather lack thereof. At least you didn’t have to worry about clearing your fridge by tonight, right?

Your stomach growled again as you shut the door, instead looking to the freezer. What did you have in there…? It slid open and you were glad to see that it wasn’t as empty as your fridge, rummaging through the frozen meals you had for a late-breakfast-early-lunch.

You pulled out a twelve pack of frozen gyoza and set it aside on the counter, pushing all of the other stuff back into the freezer. When you finally slid it shut again, you sighed in relief, and turned back to the food in question. You read the instructions on the back even though you were pretty sure it was easy to heat them up, and then turned the stove on. Pulling out a pot from your cabinet, you filled it with water and then set it on the stove, topping it with a lid to make the process faster.

Then you got to cleaning. Your apartment wasn’t all that messy since you didn’t spend a lot of time in it before going on hiatus, just a few stacks of paper filled with lyrics: some you’d tried working out, others hadn’t fit your two previous albums, but most you just didn’t like.

You checked on the pot of water to make sure it wasn’t boiling, and after seeing it wasn’t, you continued cleaning, moving into the kitchen once more. You scrubbed the plates and bowls you’d left in the sink for a couple days. Most of the stuff in the sink was silverware from eating takeout or having frozen meals, though.

When you heard and saw that the water was boiling, you added the gyoza and lowered the heat before going back to drying the dishes. By the time you were done with the task, your dumplings were ready, and so you turned off the stove and took the pot off. With a pair of chopsticks, you scooped up the gyoza and placed them onto a plate. You’d eat six and then leave the other half for dinner, you decided, putting them in a bento box for storage and then the fridge.

“Ah…” You sat down on the couch with your food and then turned on the TV, watching mindlessly and eating your gyoza one by one. After a couple of hours, you got up, washed and dried the dishes you’d just used, and then finally went to your room to pack.

Should you take all of your clothes with you? It’s not like you knew how long you were planning to stay in Hyōgo, so should you just pack everything, then? You opened up your closet all the way, clearing out the sections of your regular clothing and placing them on your bed. You turned back to your closet, now significantly emptier. All that was left were things you’d worn on tours or designer pieces you’d been allowed to keep. Most of them you could look at and remember the venues you’d worn them to; recall the quality of your performance and how big the crowd was. It would be pointless to take them with you, right? You couldn’t wear a custom Versace piece to the middle of nowhere.

You sighed and shut the closet door with a resounding thud, and then turned to face the monster pile of clothes you were going to try to fit into two large suitcases…

Ah shit, and you hadn’t even begun to think about shoes.

a/n: help the chapters keep getting longer even though i outline for this fic????? h o w

taglist (pm me to ask to be added): @papiibuprofen, @duhsies, @succulentmom

some ~fun facts~

- lev and alisa are models, as in canon

-the food was served in test tubes and other scientist apparatuses LMAO (kuroo got really excited because he’s a chem nerd)

- i based the restaurant off of an actual one in japan but changed some things about it... so for legal reasons™️ all similarities are a coincidence 🧍‍♂️

- i hope y/n doesn’t sound whiny but i find molecular gastronomy to be super esoteric,,, reminds me of that bar scene in parks and rec lmao

- kenma tucks his sweatpants into his socks like the wrestlers at my old high school do... this is unfortunately also canon...

- yaku couldn’t make it to the dinner event because he’s still in russia, playing volleyball there. he will be coming back to play for japan in the olympics!

- kuroo drives even though he drank a little... don’t do this

- kuroo is NOT interested in y/n romantically

- i made two kita shirts with my friends during a haikyuu watch party we had… my favorite one got a little messed up and i’m sad 😃 edit: i fucking hate it here they got put in the dryer without my consent and now they’re both ruined ❤️

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steepgan · 4 years

Text

someone dear (i) — d. ragnvindr x f!reader

PART I - PART II - PART III

bye i created this on a whim ive always wanted to write an mc who just likes money yet still carries the “happiness/freedom” ideals of mondstadt.. essentially its an mc whos like hell yeah i love money <3 and fun..!!! okay also i did not edit this at all i was just like <3 writing time baby..

Of course, working for the wealthiest gentleman in Mondstadt was no easy task. There were two places you could work: Dawn Winery or Angel’s Share. The winery, settled in the countryside, was a cozy job with friendly workers who saw rolling hills of green every day; however, the only available occupation within your skillset was being a maid. So you worked at Angel’s Share which was planted in the city, and there you were greeted with weary workers and angry people. It was plenty more fun, anyway.

Your boss was as impassive as a tree, giving you your pay and leaving you be. He kept a strange emotional distance. Which was fine. Totally fine. But whenever you wanted a raise, his aloof attitude warded you off and you’d tell yourself you’d try next time.

Growing up in a household where money was a prominent figure in your life, you had materialistic values and a great love for money. So during your employment at the tavern, you picked up more shifts than anyone else and seldom splurged. You were stuck giving your laments to your friends and returning customers who were kind enough to humor wails.

“One of these days, Lisa, I’m actually going to lose it,” you said to the librarian of the knights. You slumped your body on the bar, clearly in a professional fashion. “What do you want to drink?”

Lisa gave you a pitying look. “You could always become a knight or an adventurer. They receive plenty of pay through commissions.”

“No, thank you! I kind of want to live.”

“I don’t think I’ll have anything to drink,” Lisa said. She laughed at your sullen expression. “Today, at least. I have to explore these ruins later today. I really, really don’t want to, but Jean is making me.”

You slid a tin can labelled TIPS to Lisa. “Every time you don’t want to do something it’s five mora.”

“Since when did this become a thing?”

“It’s always been a thing. I was just giving you a family-friend discount up until now.”

Lisa dropped the coins into the can. You smiled at the sound of click-clank. Lisa rested her cheek on the palm of her hand and said, “have you ever thought about… not working for the tavern? I’m sure there are other places in the world that’ll appreciate your pleasant company.”

“Yeah, but Master Diluc pays the best in Mondstadt if you don’t have a decent education under your belt,” you said dryly. “I’d have to travel out of Mondstadt to find a better opportunity.”

“There’s always the cathedral,” Lisa offered.

“Do you see me as a devout follower to any god other than money? [Name], Humble Follower of Barbatos Since The Beginning! Engrave that on my tombstone, would you?”

“I don’t really want to do that.”

You pushed the tin can toward the librarian.

Lo and behold, the man of the hour strutted in with his typical apathy. If he carried himself with a more open chest and with his chin up, you’d find him more agreeable, more approachable. He’d be knightly, even. But Diluc hated knights. He hated small talk, too. He hated a lot of things.

He was a man of good looks and good fortune, in addition to being Mondstradt’s most eligible brooding bachelor bastard, donning a nice black coat with golden trimmings and tassels. A coat that’d fetch a nice price if you were to pawn it off. Not that you were thinking about selling your boss’ clothes. He stood at a decent height with his vermillion messy hair tied back and narrow eyes framed with thick lashes.

When Diluc walked through the doors, he didn’t spare you a glance before climbing up the stairs to deal with some other matters. As long as you did your job, he didn’t bother you.

Lisa whistled. “He’s so cold.”

“Pays well, though,” you murmured absentmindedly. Lisa looked as if she wanted to say something. Maybe it was something about how money didn’t exactly suffice for human relationships. Or something about her future job for the knights. Whatever was on the tip of her tongue, she chose not to say it, and dropped a few more mora coins into your little tin can.

Your relationship with Diluc was strange. You took enough shifts to be one of the most well-compensated workers under him, but you didn’t exactly know Diluc outside of his cool exterior. You didn’t know if you’d wanted to, either. Some nights, he’d come home right before the tavern’s opening, his clothes tattered and dirty and a grim feature coating his pretty features.

Typically you’d be working and cleaning, and you’d nod to him. Diluc would then take off to the second floor of the tavern. You never questioned it. You never would, either, unless you were paid to do so.

One late night, it was just you cleaning up for the night and Diluc sitting at the bar, going through some papers. Diluc offered to take Charles’ shift for the day, to which the man was grateful for. As you were wiping down the bar, Diluc said, “I never knew we had a tip jar.”

“It’s an ongoing gag with Lisa,” you said. “Please don’t mind it.” It wasn’t a lie, exactly. It was a joke with Lisa! You simply kept it out on the counter for every customer to see all day and all night. If they happen to drop mora in there for your charming smile and excellent service, who were you to stop them?

Diluc said nothing. You hadn’t expected him to. He’d let it slide, you supposed. If the tavern had a best employee of the month award, you would have won it consecutively for the last few years you’d been employed under the pretty man. However, Diluc was no great lover of trivial awards that were actually poorly concealed incentives, and as long as you were paid accordingly, you didn’t care about awards, either.

“If you needed a raise then say it,” he said suddenly. And you were surprised.

“Thank you,” you said.

“No need.”

When you left the tavern you squealed. Patton, the caller, awoke from his nap from a chair supposedly for customers. His legs had been propped on the accompanying table, which you had cleaned earlier so you didn’t have to deal with a certain customer who had too much to drink inside.

Patton rubbed his eyes groggily. “What’s up, [Name]?”

“I got a raise!” you exclaimed. “I’m so happy I could kiss you right now, Patton.”

“Please don’t,” he said. “What’s that in your hand?”

“Oh, leftovers.” You gave the small bag you were holding a good jostle. “It’s for the dog up there. I have a habit of feeding him every once in a while whenever there’s good scraps.”

Patton eyed you. “If you get bit and infected with rabies, maybe I’ll take your raise. Try and pet it for me, would you?”

“In your dreams, Patton.”

After a few taunts and banter, you left Patton alone. In a few hours, you’d come back to the tavern to work more. Before your mom had been hospitalized, you’d maybe put your extra money to treat yourself to Good Hunter or to buy new clothes.

Of course, while money was one of your many goals, you had other aspirations as well. More than anything, you’d like to resume a humble life in Mondstadt. If you could afford it, then you’d travel to Liyue and sightsee. And then maybe a little further. But you’d always return to Mondstadt. It was just home to you, and you liked home.

You crouched and fed the dog. He pressed his snout into your palm, warm and comforting. You giggled and finished the leftovers from your little sack. As much as Patton wanted you to die of infection, the dog was very tame and kind toward you. He let you brush his fur and scratch behind his ears. If you had enough patience and enough time, you’d teach him to bite Patton.

The next day, you were working with Charles, as per usual. He’d been working here far longer than any of you. You’d been employed here for a while now, and you’d come to know the man quite well after rowdy nights and quiet days in the tavern. He despised a drunk customer as much as you, but whenever you were on shift with him, he always offered to take care of it.

If not you, then Charles would get the nonexistent employee of the year award.

“Just put up a work wanted poster,” Charles said, cleaning a glass. “Judging by our usuals, we won’t get an honest inquiry for it in a while.”

You, who’d been making an apple cider, said, “oh, for the boars?” While you did want to work at the winery for its pleasant view and people, there were boars who’d been uprooting vines and you did not want to tussle with a boar.

“Say, [Name], you heard of the Darknight Hero?”

“Who hasn’t?” you asked. “My friends talk about him all the time. Everyone likes a good mystery around these parts. Have you seen the library? Oh, and the idea of him being handsome isn’t that bad… Do you think he’s rich, Charles?”

Charles snorted. “If he can afford to leave at night to protect Mondstadt, then he must be rich. He’s no worker like us, but he’s definitely noteworthy. He may as well just be an urban rumor, though, so don’t go around trying to seduce him only to get into his pockets.”

“I would never!”

“I saw you make eyes at a customer who was wearing very fine jewelry that could be pawned off for a high price.”

“I liked her eyes. They were kind. Reminded me of a princess from a fairytale.”

Diluc came from upstairs to the first floor. He was the same as he’d always been—closed off, calm, and collected. Fitting. He cast a quick glance at you and Charles before disappearing outside onto the streets of Mondstadt.

“That’s Master Diluc for you,” Charles said. “So elusive you could call him a ghost. A handsome, ghost, that is.”

“I barely know anything about him,” you said. “Elusive is correct, if not absolutely distant.”

“Really? You should talk to him more often.”

There was already a set difference between you and Charles. Firstly, it would be the years working at Angel’s Share. Charles knew Diluc more than you did. You wanted to point this out, but instead you slumped your shoulders. “He’s just so unapproachable, Charles. You wouldn’t understand. That mustache of yours makes you look amicable and agreeable.”

Charles self-consciously twirled the end of his mustache. He looked as if he wanted to say something. He turned back to his work, setting the clean glass down. “You and Master Diluc seem to complement each other, that’s all.”

You were very friendly and a good person underneath all your materialistic values. Had it not been for Diluc’s offstandish personality, maybe you and Diluc would be a little more than boss and employee. Maybe you and Diluc would be friends.

Of course, your main focus was your happiness and sanity. If you’d interacted with Diluc outside of work, you might’ve gone insane. Oh! And money. It was always money. You watched a customer drop a few mora into the tip jar.

PART I - PART II - PART III

#diluc #diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr #diluc ragnvindr x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact diluc #x reader #PLEASEEEE IM LOSING IT ITS ACTUALLY SO BAD IM NOT HAPPY AT ALL #genshin impact fluff

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andavs · 4 years

Text

So I watched Bumblebee...

...

The jeep was bright blue and the most obnoxious vehicle Derek had ever seen, but it was perfect. It was a 1980 CJ5 and once the list of defects was read aloud, he was the only bidder so he got it for next to nothing. Not that the price could’ve kept him from buying it, because Laura had a thing for jeeps.

Specifically older jeeps, none of that Cherokee or Sahara or SUV kind of models—she liked Jeeps. And she also liked to rant about shoddy craftsmanship of modern models and how they weren’t really jeeps… Derek usually tuned her out by the time she got to the wave hierarchy.

For someone who didn’t actually own a jeep and never actually had, she really liked jeeps.

And she would really like this one.

There was the expected wear of a vehicle over thirty years old and some body damage from an accident; the leather seat was ripped, and it looked like there was a scorch mark near the driver’s side door, a sizable dent in the passenger side. Aside from that, it seemed as though the jeep was relatively well taken care of, until it ended up in a county abandoned vehicle auction.

It would definitely take some work, and he'd probably have to replace everything under the hood, but it was worth it to see Laura happy and excited.

It had been a long time since she was happy and excited.

Now he just had to get it home to get it fixed up, without it breaking down on the side of the road. And despite the fact that he was going to have to fix every part of it in some way, that seemed like the much greater challenge at the moment.

The jeep lurched violently as he shifted, and he struggled briefly to get it into gear. That was where he could really feel the age of the car; he never had any difficulty shifting in his Camaro.

"Clutch, dude."

He slammed on the brakes and the jeep swerved violently to the side of the empty highway. Derek twisted around in his seat to threaten whoever the hell stowed away in the back seat, eyes glowing and furious—

But the back seat was empty.

There were no other heartbeats, no muffled breathing, and the trunk was far too small for anyone to fit into, even if they did somehow manage to conceal the sounds of a living, breathing person.

"First clutch, then gas—seriously have you never driven stick?"

That time the voice came from the other direction, and he turned back towards the front.

The radio was off, his phone was in his pocket...

“Oh, and there’s a weird kind of delay? So wait a second before the gas or it stalls, and you gotta put some muscle into it.”

Derek did as the disembodied voice instructed and the car jerkily started forward again.

So the jeep was haunted. Cool.

The ghost’s name was Stiles, and he was the most obnoxious person, living or dead, that Derek had ever met. He never thought he could have such disdain for a disembodied voice, but the very sound of it was starting to fill him with such a deep-seated rage and irritation that there were new claw holes in the side of the leather seat.

Okay, not entirely true. He’d grown to hate a lot of radio personalities over the years, but at least there were music breaks and they were limited to the hours of their show. They babbled for an hour and then they stopped.

Stiles had no such limitations. If the car was on, he was talking.

And talking.

“I was stuck in an impound lot for who knows how long! Of course I want to talk!”

Derek rolled his eyes, thankful that Stiles didn’t seem to be able to see anything, because he would probably have something to say about that too.

“Well I don’t,” Derek said flatly, hoping his tone conveyed just how much he didn’t want to talk, “so shut up.”

His tone did nothing.

“Was that supposed to be threatening?” He wasn’t laughing, but Stiles sounded entirely too amused, which just pissed Derek off even more. “What are you going to do, hit me?” He taunted. “Punch the dashboard? Run into a tree? I’m dead, dude, you can’t hurt a ghost!”

“Are you sure about that? Because I’m sure I could find a way.”

“Please do, I’d love to watch you fail.”

Derek turned onto his street. He was almost home. In just a few short seconds, he could turn the car off.

“You can’t even see.”

“But I have a very vivid imagination.”

He turned into his driveway.

“That sounds like a brooding silence,” Stiles continued. “Deep frown, furrowed brow, are you clenching your jaw? I think I can hear teeth grinding.”

As if he could hear anything over the deafening, rattling roar of the shitty jeep.

Derek said nothing as he unclenched his jaw.

“Do you have prominent cheekbones? I’m picturing cheekbones, maybe some artfully tousled—”

“Oh look, we’re home,” Derek interrupted, deadpan, and parked the jeep in his garage.

“Oh no, don’t you dare turn me off! Derek! Der—”

He turned the key and breathed a sigh of relief at the blissful sound of silence.

It was a full week and a half before he turned the jeep on again.

A week and a half of standing in the door of the garage, staring at it for three minutes, and then closing the door and walking away.

A week and a half of opening the driver’s side door, hesitating, and slamming it shut again (because the lock didn’t catch properly unless he slammed it).

A week and a half of steadily mounting guilt eating away at his stomach until he couldn’t take it any longer and stormed out to the garage at four in the morning to turn the damn car on, only to be greeted by an irate Stiles calling him a dick and a number of other colorful names. Followed by the deafening squeal of audio feedback in retaliation.

They finally reached a tentative truce; Derek would start the jeep every day, and Stiles would learn to shut the hell up when Derek needed a break.

Starting the jeep daily turned into taking it out for a drive daily, usually to the auto parts store so he could get some advice from the employees about what he needed to buy for it.

“Everything,” was the answer he got, so he sighed and handed over his credit card, silently wondering if this stupid jeep was even worth it.

He wasn’t giving it to Laura with a ghost, so why even bother fixing it up? He asked himself that a lot, late at night while he stared up at the ceiling in bed. He didn’t need a jeep, especially one with so little room for anything more than two people. His Camaro had a larger backseat, a larger trunk, more power—it was better than the old blue jeep in pretty much every way except getting up a steep driveway without scraping the front bumper.

Except his Camaro didn’t contain the last remaining consciousness of a person.

His Camaro wasn’t the one thing keeping that person from fading from existence.

It wasn’t the one thing he enjoyed talking to.

Well, not talking to—bickering with, more like. Arguing. Insulting. Their conversations were usually just shy of mutual verbal abuse, and for some reason, Derek kind of enjoyed it. He was spending thousands of dollars and hours of labor to continue interacting with a single person, in a manner that could barely be considered more eloquent than a YouTube comments section.

Maybe it was because no matter how nasty he got, Stiles gave it right back. Stiles didn’t walk away and cut off contact. He didn’t let Derek’s shitty moods linger in his mind and poison their next conversation. He didn’t drag it up to use it against him. He called him a dick, a tool, a monumental douchebag, and moved on to his next thought.

Except it wasn’t just bickering and insults. Not anymore.

Because Stiles got it. He understood. He understood when Derek went quiet for days at a time and drove through the neighborhood for hours without saying a word. He understood when Derek started the car and just sat there in the driver’s seat in his garage, staring at the unfinished drywall he’d put up and never painted. He never even taped the seams.

“I get it, dude,” Stiles said during one of those days. “So I’m just going to keep talking and you can jump in whenever you’re ready.”

And oddly enough, it helped. When Stiles rambled on from one topic to the next, spewing facts and anecdotes he’d read at some point, it dragged Derek out of his spiraling thoughts and guilt and grief and gave him something to focus on that wasn’t his own self-loathing. His pity parties, as Stiles had dismissively named them, but even that helped in some twisted way.

“I’m not going to be the goody bag at your pity party,” he’d said like he was quoting something, and then given Derek entirely too much information about the bathroom situation in Versailles.

“You’re going to have to replace the transmission as soon as possible if you’re going to keep driving this,” Dave said, shaking his head at the mess under the hood of the jeep.

Derek nodded, resigned, and handed over his credit card.

For all that Stiles talked, he never talked about himself. Derek wasn’t really sure how the whole ghost thing worked, but if Stiles could remember the entire history of the imperial system of measurement, it seemed like he should remember his own life. And yet, he never mentioned it. The entire history of the Genovese crime family, yes, Derek had heard it twice, but nothing personal about Stiles.

The few times Derek had asked, he got vague answers. The kind of answers that made it sound like he was hiding something big. Talking around specifics, not referencing any names, occupations, locations—anything that could be used to identify him.

Normally, this would be a giant red flag and send Derek running into the night, but Stiles was a ghost. He was dead. He couldn’t even change the radio station, let alone hurt someone, so Derek let it slide. Plus, he was fun. And Derek couldn’t remember the last time he’d used that word to describe anything in his life.

“You’re going to have to pound this out,” Dave said, gesturing to the pretty significant dent on the passenger side of the jeep. “What happened? Did you hit a tree or something?”

Derek shrugged, told him it was there when he bought it, and accepted his recommendations for a few body shops in the area. But the thought lingered.

It had crossed his mind before, plenty of times, but never more than a passing thought. It felt strangely invasive, asking a ghost how they died. Was there etiquette for that? How did one approach that subject this far into a relationship?

“Did you die in this car?” Derek asked bluntly one afternoon, ripping off the bandaid with all of the tact and finesse he usually showed in social situations.

Luckily Stiles was used to that by now and didn’t bat a proverbial eye.

“Probably? Don’t remember.”

Derek frowned at the freeway in front of him, letting the roar of the jeep’s new engine fill the silence. “You don’t remember your death?” That seemed like the kind of thing that would leave an impression.

“Weird, right? Kind of seems like a major milestone in someone’s life.”

To say the least.

“Dude, you have to look me up!” Stiles said excitedly, like the idea just came to him. “Stiles Stilinski, with an I.”

Derek didn’t exactly jump for his phone, and not just because he was driving.

“Where’s the I?”

“Everywhere, it’s like the only vowel in my name. Just do it. I need to know if my death was as embarrassingly pathetic as the rest of my life.”

Well that was depressing. And a very effective guilt trip.

When he got home and parked the jeep in his garage, he pulled his phone out of his back pocket and guessed how to spell Stiles’ name. He guessed wrong, and even when he corrected it, he didn’t find anything. Just an old voter record website and some totally locked down social media profiles that didn’t even have a picture of his face.

“Wow, so I made zero impact even in death.”

Derek shifted uncomfortably and kept himself from pointing out darkly that even if Stiles hadn’t, his jeep had made a big one. Into something very hard.

“Okay hang on,” he bounced back quickly, “if my jeep was in an accident, there would be an accident report! That should say what happened!”

This was turning into a much bigger project than Derek expected.

“How am I supposed to find that? You don’t know where it happened, and even if you did, I don’t think the cops give out accident reports to anyone who asks.”

Stiles sighed dramatically. “Just get a laptop.”

Derek wasn’t sure which law he’d broken by using a sheriff’s login to access a national law enforcement database, but he was pretty sure he could go to jail for it.

“It’s fine, I do it all the time,” Stiles had assured him, but he had a feeling a sheriff was much more likely to overlook his own son committing fraud with his account than a complete stranger. Even if his son was directing all of it. As a disembodied voice through his car.

Derek glared at the radio and adjusted the computer on his lap. It was a bit of a tight fit with the steering wheel in the way. And also because it was a jeep from the eighties and was roughly the size of an oven.

Stiles stepped him through the search process. When the license plate and VIN number came up with nothing (and who knew their VIN off the top of their head, even in death?), he got more creative until finally, there was one, single result.

“It says here there was a car accident, a hit and run,” Derek summarized as he scanned through the report. “The jeep was found on the side of the road, no plates, no VIN, no witnesses. The unidentified driver was unconscious and taken to the hospital.”

“Unconscious,” Stiles repeated, immediately latching onto the same point Derek did. “So I’m not dead!”

“Would it say if you died later at the hospital?”

“Probably depends on how much later it was. When did the accident happen?”

Derek scrolled up to the date. “About a year ago. You don’t remember any of this?”

“Conveniently, it’s a total blank. Where did it happen?” Derek read off the county name, just two over from where he lived, and not the one he’d bought the jeep in. “Great! Just a few hours from Beacon Hills!”

Derek froze, heart starting to pound. It couldn't be...

“California?” It was a stupid question; the state was huge, everything a few hours away from them was still in California.

“Yeah, you know it?”

“No,” he lied, and if Stiles heard the lie, he didn’t push it.

There was no way this was a coincidence, Derek thought frantically. Beacon Hills wasn’t that big and since he left, he’d never met anyone who knew where it was, let alone someone who came from there.

"You have to find me, Derek, I need to know!" Stiles was practically yelling to get his attention, and when Derek still didn’t respond, he sighed dramatically. "I know it's a pain in the ass, and I'd do it myself, but I’m literally a disembodied voice in a jeep.”

Making him feel bad about the fact that he had a body. Annoyingly effective strategy.

“And how exactly am I supposed to find you?” Derek asked, giving in but telling himself he was just playing along. Warning alarms were going off at the back of his mind, every part of him screaming not to go back to the place where he’d lost everything. But he couldn’t bring himself to outright refuse this one thing for Stiles. The only thing he’d outright asked him to do since buying the jeep.

“You know where the crash happened, right? Look for the closest hospital and start there.”

Derek glared at the radio, not appreciating his condescending tone in the least. Stiles was such a dick sometimes.

Most of the time.

The moments he wasn’t a dick were the real anomalies.

“And say I find you,” Derek returned in his own snotty tone, “how exactly am I supposed to identify you? I don’t know what you look like!”

Stiles scoffed like that was somehow Derek’s fault. “Caucasian male, twenty-five, brown hair, brown eyes, five ten, roughly a hundred and fifty-seven pounds, tattoo sleeves on both arms.”

Derek blinked at how quickly he’d rattled that off, but most importantly,

“Tattoos?”

“What, I don’t sound like I have tattoos?”

“You’re trapped in my car, you don’t sound like you have a body at all.”

“Watch it, buddy. We don’t know that I’m dead, so this isn’t your car yet.”

Derek had a receipt from the auction and a very large credit card balance that said otherwise.

As it turned out, the county of the car accident wasn’t exactly a metropolitan area, so there weren’t very many hospitals to search. In fact, there was exactly one within an hour of the crash site.

“You have to go! Even if I died, they’ll at least have the record,” Stiles said like that was an upside. Like Derek wasn’t about to stroll into a hospital and start asking questions about unidentified dead people like some kind of creep.

“And then I get to be the one to call your family and tell them,” Derek muttered quietly under his breath, and if Stiles heard him, he didn’t respond.

He pulled into a parking spot at the back of the lot, even though there were plenty of open spots closer to the hospital, and sat there for a while, psyching himself up for what was about to happen. He was about to walk into a hospital and ask about the probably protected private information of the man whose ghost was haunting the jeep he bought in a county auction.

Totally normal.

“So are you going in, or…?” Stiles asked after a long few minutes of silence.

"Not if you keep bothering me," Derek snapped, but took off his seatbelt anyway. There was no way he wasn’t going in.

“Be fast!” Stiles yelled at the last second before he turned off the car.

He dragged his feet a bit to the front desk in the lobby, rehearsing how exactly he was going to phrase this, but the woman behind the computer saw him coming and smiled welcomingly and he couldn't turn back after that.

“Can I help you?” she asked with a cheerful smile.

Derek plastered on his best charming smile in return. His approximation of a functioning human being with basic social skills.

“Yeah, I’m looking for a friend of mine. He was in a car accident last June, in a blue jeep.” He rambled on about a disappearance, devastated family, and how they’d been scouring nearby hospitals for any unidentified patients.

“Oh, of course,” she said sympathetically. “Can you describe him?”

He rattled off the description Stiles gave him as she typed them into the computer, and waited (somewhat) patiently while the system searched. His claws were leaving impatient pinpricks in the wooden desk, but they would probably wouldn’t be too noticeable.

“And you said this was last June?” she asked, clicking around a few times. “We had one John Doe admitted after a car accident that month, a white male in his twenties, with tattoos.”

Derek’s heart started pounding. That had to be Stiles.

“What happened to him?”

He was having a hard time interpreting her professionally neutral yet still pitying expression. “Oh, sweetie. He’s still here.”

John Doe 24, was what the name tag outside the door said, and through the blinds in the window, Derek could see the room was filled with machines, blocking his view of the man lying inside. There was a steady beeping, the mechanical whirs and hisses of a ventilator, something dripping from an IV bag.

The social worker who led him there opened the door and stepped aside for him to enter.

The first impression Derek had was that underneath the smell of hospital and sterile medical equipment, he could smell the jeep. Or the person who had driven the jeep for so many years that the scent of him was permanently embedded in the interior.

His second impression was, once the face under all of the wires and tubes and tape registered…

He didn’t know what he expected Stiles to look like. His voice sounded young, a little high and scratchy, he knew a lot about a lot of things—a nerd, was what Derek would say if pressed. Someone who spent way too much time reading Wikipedia and had a “fun fact of the day” calendar for every year since he learned how to read.

Stiles did not look like a nerd.

He was skinny, his cheekbones prominent, but he’d been in a coma for a year. A little weight loss was probably normal, as was the messy, amateur haircut. Brown hair, moles, an upturned nose, but the real identifying trait was the tattoo sleeves. Runes and symbols, starting at his wrists and continuing up under the sleeves of his hospital gown. Most of the symbols Derek had never seen before, but the ones he did recognize…

The triskele.

On its own, it could be nothing. A complete coincidence. But paired with everything else around it...

Stiles knew about werewolves.

“Is this your friend?” the social worker asked, looking hopeful.

Derek swallowed. “That’s Stiles.”

Derek slammed the jeep’s door behind him and started the engine.

“Well?” Stiles immediately asked. “What happened?”

“You know about werewolves,” Derek found himself saying, even though he intended to work that in a little later. After the whole I found your comatose body in the ICU reveal.

There was a beat of silence before a slightly high-pitched and unconvincing, “What?”

“Your tattoos. You know about werewolves?”

“Well that explains why you took this whole haunted car thing so well.” He didn’t elaborate. “But you saw my tattoos? You found me?”

“Yes, I found you,” Derek snapped. “You’re in a coma and you have symbols from werewolf lore tattooed on your body, including the symbol of my dead pack. Why.” Stiles wasn’t a wolf, he could feel that much from seeing him in person. But the only other group that studied werewolf lore so closely were hunters, and if Stiles turned out to be a hunter…

“I’m in a pack, okay?” He paused, and if he had lungs, he would probably be taking a steadying breath. “I’m an emissary, and now you need to call them and tell them where I am, so they can get me out of this coma!”

“What makes you think they can?” Derek snapped, still on edge and maybe a little scared of losing the most intimate connection he’d made with anyone in years. Which was really just sad.

“My consciousness is trapped inside my jeep, Derek, this clearly isn’t your average coma!”

Valid point, Derek admitted with a bitter eyeroll. He could also admit to himself, bitterly, that he couldn’t keep Stiles in a coma forever so he could keep talking to his car. It was selfish and cruel and probably sadistic on some level. The fact that he was completely inept at connecting to real, live humans wasn’t Stiles’ cross to bear and it shouldn’t keep him from potentially waking up and living his life.

“Fine,” Derek said after a long, loaded pause. “Who should I call?”

“My dad, sheriff of Beacon Hills. He’ll handle the rest.”

The McCall pack rolled into town like an army and hadn't stopped working since.

Now that they'd found him, there was always someone at Stiles' bedside at the hospital, while everyone else had set up camp in Derek's garage to work through the problem. They'd brought a mountain of books, computers, all types of occult paraphernalia—anything they could possibly need to fix this.

Meanwhile, Derek was going through an absurd amount of money buying gas for the damn jeep, because now that they had Stiles back, in any kind of form, the pack didn't want to turn off the car and lose him again.

Derek tried to explain that he’d turned the car off and on countless times and Stiles was still there, nagging him constantly, but they didn’t want to risk it. He wanted his garage to stop stinking of exhaust, but there was no way he could deny a father the chance to talk to the son he believed to be dead for over a year.

(Though he definitely wished there was a way he could deny Stiles’ desire to sing ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall, screaming it into the garage in the middle of the night over the roar of the jeep’s engine.)

Beyond setting up their base of operations in his living room and taking over most of his home, the McCall pack was also able to fill in a lot of gaps and answer a lot of questions. Namely, what the hell happened to Stiles.

A rogue faction of the Argent family had been closing in on the McCall pack at the time he went missing, and given the way both he and his car had been scrubbed of his identity, it wasn't much of a leap to suspect the hunters were responsible.

"But why not just kill you?" Lydia mused aloud. She was settled in the passenger seat of the jeep with four open books stacked in her lap. "Why go to so much trouble to hide your identity when they could've just killed you and dumped the body? We're right by the mountains, there's plenty of places to do it."

"Why does it sound like you've considered doing this before?" Stiles asked, sounding insulted and a little wary.

"Because you really piss me off sometimes," she said dismissively, and moved right along. "There's no way what they did is neater, especially with the risk of you waking up at the hospital."

"It’s because even hunters wouldn't kill an emissary," Derek cut in from the doorway, stepping forward and putting himself out of his misery. It was actually painful listening to young and inexperienced packs try to navigate the intricacies of the culture. "Emissaries are considered neutral and vital to maintaining the balance, and killing one is like declaring all out war, even as a hunter."

"Ha! See? I'm vital!"

Derek ignored Stiles’ interruption. "Leaving him in a hospital to die from his wounds, completely anonymous, is probably the cleanest way they could’ve handled it. If they killed him outright and his body was identified, it would only be a matter of time before his pack traced it back to them.”

Lydia looked at him thoughtfully for a long moment, processing. Then her eyes hardened.

“Then that’s what we’ll do.” She closed the book at the top of her stack with a threatening finality Derek had never mastered. “We’re going to war.”

Considering that up until recently, Stiles had become something of an emotional crutch and coping mechanism for Derek, it was ironic that he suddenly found himself filling that roll for all of Stiles’ pack.

Scott, the impossibly young alpha sought him out on the back porch almost every evening, and spent an hour picking his brain on everything from werewolf culture to the guilt he felt for not finding Stiles himself sooner.

“I never felt him die, but after so many months…” Lydia confessed quietly one morning in the kitchen, her hands clasped tightly around a mug of coffee that had turned lukewarm an hour ago. Her eyes were haunted with a grief Derek knew all too well. “It was easier. To accept that I was wrong. It was easier to give up.”

He ran into Stiles’ father just outside the garage door at four in the morning, leaning against the wall with red-rimmed eyes.

“I had alerts for his name, the plates…” he started, and Derek could remember that regret. The constant, unrelenting scream at the back of his mind that he should’ve known. That he should’ve done more. That he should’ve been able to stop her.

“The plates were removed,” Derek explained, hoping to save the man from some tiny bit of what he’d gone through. “The VIN, all of the insurance information, his wallet—anything that could identify him or the car.”

"But he was a—” He swallowed, cutting himself off before his voice got loud enough for Stiles to hear through the garage door. “If he didn't have any ID, it's standard procedure to do a search for missing persons, I should've gotten an alert, I should've found him!"

"Hunters have people everywhere. It's possible the police kept it under the radar for them."

The Sheriff rubbed a hand over his mouth, practically vibrating with emotion.

"My son has been sitting here for a year, as a John Doe. Just three hours away."

Derek had nothing to say to that.

"Is he hot? He sounds hot."

Derek froze outside the garage door at Stiles’ question. He would deny to anyone who asked and himself that he in any way cared about the answer.

"He's very hot," Lydia said with an uncomfortably approving tone. "Muscles, stubble, a great ass."

Derek wanted to die.

In the end, it was a simple fix.

In his last moments of consciousness, when the hunters were approaching the crashed jeep to drag Stiles off, he’d run. Not physically, his body had been too broken for that, but mentally. His consciousness fled, and aided by his emissary magic, it jumped to the closest thing capable of housing it.

“At least there wasn’t like, a skunk walking by,” Stiles joked, and Derek was the only one who grinned at the thought.

“Both his body and consciousness need to be in the same place,” Lydia explained, and she made it sound like that alone would allow Stiles to return to his body. A simple fix.

So Derek disconnected the radio from the dashboard, and the pack took it to the hospital, and Derek was left sitting there in a silent car, staring at the loose wires dangling from the dash and suddenly feeling more alone than he had in years.

The pack hadn’t asked if he wanted to go and he wasn’t about to impose on such a monumental and emotional moment, but he wanted to. He wanted to be there when Stiles opened his eyes. He wanted to see how he looked when he was happy or annoyed, how he looked when he called Derek a dick, if his eyes went distant in those rare moments he went quiet. He wanted to see the recognition on his face.

But would he recognize him?

Would he remember him at all?

Did a ghostly consciousness retain memories of what happened outside of its body, stuck in a car radio?

He started the car once more, a new habit when he wanted to just stop thinking and live in the now, but aside from the rumble of the brand new, powerful engine, it was quiet.

Stiles was gone.

“He wants to see you,” Lydia said with some judgment two days later. This time her coffee was still warm and the bags under her eyes and lightened. A book on werewolf traditions was open in front of her, to the chapter on formal declarations of war, so she was clearly intending to make good on her promise of justice for Stiles.

Derek couldn’t say how Scott and the Sheriff were handling things because he was pretty sure they’d been sleeping at the hospital since Stiles opened his eyes. He hadn’t seen them once.

Derek concentrated on pouring himself the perfect amount of coffee and retreated to the garage. The new radio arrived that morning.

He was being an idiot, Derek told himself, sitting there in the jeep in the hospital parking lot. The new radio was still in its box in the passenger seat, because though he’d gone out to the garage to install it, he ended up at the hospital.

Stiles wanted to see him, so he clearly remembered him. He wasn’t going to walk into the room and meet the eyes of a stranger.

But he didn’t think he could handle seeing the recognition and then being looked over for something better. Stiles had his friends and family, the people he loved and who loved him, the most important people in his life right there at his side. Derek had a strained and distant relationship with his sister across the country and an unhealthy attachment to the disembodied voice of a ghost that used to live in his jeep.

Stiles’ jeep.

He would probably be wanting his car back now that he wasn’t dead, and Derek wouldn’t deny him that. He couldn’t even if he wanted to, not after everything Stiles had done for him. Put up with for him. He had a stupid, deeply ingrained impulse to repay debts out of self-defense, and restoring the jeep Stiles loved so much could only account for a fraction of what Derek owed him.

“That might be the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” Stiles said, and Derek’s eyes flicked over to the loose wires hanging from the dashboard.

Great, now he was hearing his voice in his mind. Would he ever escape Stiles’ commentary on every thought he had?

“No,” Stiles answered, matter of factly. “So are you going in, or…?”

Derek glared out through the windshield at the Subaru parked in across from him, telling himself he wasn’t going to let the phantom of Stiles’ judgment dictate his life. He lasted all of twenty seconds before he turned off the car and got out.

The John Doe name tag had been replaced with one that said Stiles Stilinski, was the first thing Derek noticed approaching Stiles’ new room. There was also a slightly creepy illustration of a rabbit with a basket of Easter eggs taped up next to it, even though they were nowhere near Easter.

Derek really took his time staring at it, shamefully stalling but refusing to give in to the soulless, judgmental eyes of the smiling rabbit. He wasn’t being a coward, he just wasn’t going to lose to that damn rabbit.

“Creepy, right?” Scott said as he came up beside him, and Derek nodded. “His dad and I are about to go grab some lunch, but you can go in.”

Derek nodded again, and as the Sheriff passed him, he squeezed his arm reassuringly. Or sympathetically. Derek didn’t know him well enough to know how to interpret that.

A full two minutes after they left, Derek pushed open the door and walked into Stiles’ room.

Stiles didn’t notice him at first; he was frowning down at the remote to the TV, and stabbing at the buttons, trying to change the channel from a sappy Lifetime movie. It looked like he hadn’t quite found his coordination yet, but given that he’d been in a coma for a year, Derek was amazed he was moving at all. Magic probably had something to do with that.

He still looked small in his hospital bed, but his shoulders were broad and suggested he wouldn’t look very small at all once he regained his strength and muscles. There were dark circles under his eyes and a scar in his hairline that was hard to ignore, but he was sitting up and the breathing tube was gone and when he finally changed the channel and sneered down at the remote in victory, his brow crinkled.

Derek’s life would’ve been a lot easier if he’d been ugly.

Stiles looked up to the TV to see what channel he’d landed on, his tongue poking out through his lips in concentration, and froze when he noticed Derek standing in the doorway. Silently, without announcing his presence, like some kind of stalker.

They stared at each other for probably a solid minute, Stiles totally confused and Derek suddenly at a complete loss for anything to say after a month of saying whatever the hell he wanted to Stiles through the radio. Then it visibly clicked on Stiles’ face and he smiled crookedly and reached out, and Derek had no choice but to step forward and take his slightly shaky hand.

A month of talking and driving, arguing, bickering, fighting, and sitting in stubborn, angry silence, and now finally, they were touching.

“Hey, Derek.”

His voice was quiet and scratchy, still regaining its strength after a year of silence, but that was definitely Stiles’ voice.

Stiles was back.

#who knew a transformers movie would be so inspiring?#also that movie was way better than it had any business being #sterek #ficlet

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megatontiddies · 3 years

Text

Your fallout OC as a companion taken from @goovat ask meme except I'm using it as a writing prompt/ oc development? I guess? because I think it's cool and I'm bored and want to write it all anyways

Anywhompst this is for Alwine and since it's pretty long (like really long you've been warned) I'll throw 'er under the cut

What perk would they give the player?

Occam's Laser

While Alwine is an active companion the player gets +40% damage with laser weapons and +25% headshot accuracy in VATS with scoped laser weapons. One shot kills produce 2X the XP.

How do you recruit them? are there multiple methods?

After the player levels past level 10, or alternatively, upon finding Paladin Danses Recon team Alwine will be found as a new recruit for the BOS. Once the player does the first two repeat quests by Haylen and Rhys and The Lost Patrol quest begins she is available to assist the player in the mission. After the mission is complete she may offer to follow the player as a companion if the player has chosen the more diplomatic speech options with Brandis and Danse. If the player chose the more aggressive/ rude options while speaking with the two then it will require a small speech check in order to be a companion.

What raises and lowers their affinity?

Raises: Minutemen/ Helping Settlement quests, Stealing from wealthy NPCs, BOS quests up until BB, Helping Anyone, Honorable Actions, Amicable Dialogue Choices (for the most part)

Lowers: Murdering innocents, Stealing From Settlers/ Not Well Off NPCs, Unnecessarily Rude Dialogue Options

How do they react to certain things? what do they say? (eg. lockpicking, grabbing junk, killing?)

Lockpicking:

(nostalgic/ thinking to self out loud/ amused) " Really coulda used a trick like that when I got locked outta my house that one time..."

(humorous/ surprised) " And here I was ready to blow 'er open"

(thinking to self out loud/ amused) " Hell o' a lot quieter than kickn' er open"

Grabbing Junk:

(blanket statement/ flatly) "it's amazing what you can build outta junk"

(enthusiastic/ bubbly) "It might be radioactive but if ya render it down with a bit ah castor oil it makes a great paint for glow sights"

(humorous/ matter of factly) "I'd rather carry 40 pounds ah junk than fork up an arm and a leg to buy the same shit later from Crazy Myrna"

Player Overencumbered:

(genuine concern) "If ya keep pickin' shit up you'll slip a disc"

(teasing/ amused/ worried) "Jeeesus look at yah! You look like a pack brahmin!"

(teasing/ amused) "With yer pack so stuffed if ya fall on yer face you'll never get up again"

Murder:

[Alwine Hated That]

(angry/ surprised) "What the fuck is wrong with you!?"

(angry/ confrontationally) "You better spit out a good reason for that and fast"

(angry/ bewildered) "Are you for real?"

notes: Alwines reaction to murder is exclusive to people she genuinely feels are innocent. She's comfortable with deaths she deems necessary (or if the person made themselves known as a pretty awful person).

Cannibalism:

[Alwine Disliked That]

(disgusted/ shocked) "oh? OH. Great, like there wasn't enough nightmare fuel out here"

(disgusted/ worried) "In't there, like, a brainworm or sumn' you can get from doin that?"

(disgusted but still attempting to be light hearted/ humorous) "Like it blue eh? I prefer mine rare... a lil less peopley too..."

Stealing in general:

[Alwine Disliked That]

(irritated) "Hope that wasn't somethin important"

(irritated) "Should I be sleeping with one eye open round you?"

(irritated) "Like people don't have enough shit to worry 'bout out here..."

Stealing/Pick Pocketing (but from wealthy/etc NPCs):

[Alwine Liked That]

(approving) "Lord knows they have more than nuff' to share"

(approving) "Doubt they'll even notice it's missing"

(approving/ musing aloud) "The unyielding greed and ignorance of the wealthy was the catalyst of Armageddon"

Pick Pocketing:

[Alwine Disliked That]

(surprised/irritated) "Why don't you spit in his eye while you're at it"

(irritated/ humorous) "I feel like I should put a cat bell on ya"

(irritated) ~audible scoff~ The player is likely being glowered at

Enemies Found:

(Shocked/ Excitably) "Y' ello!"

(loudly/ warning) "On yer flank!"

(loudly/ shocked) [weirdish sound presumably before lashing out a punch of hit of some form] " GWEHHK!"

Enemies Lost:

(quietly/ nervous) " shit... where'd you go you bastard"

(quietly/ nervous) " Lost 'em"

(quietly/ to self/ nervous) " I swear to lord if ya jump out at me..."

Enemies Killed:

(satisfied/ calmly) "good riddance to bad rubbish"

(loudly/ excitable) "Bingo!"

(quietly/ almost a whisper/ to self) [only if player is sneaking] "...bingo bango bongo..."

Player stops talking mid conversation:

(sympathetic/ lighthearted) "Sometimes I loose track of my thoughts too"

(genuine worry) "Ya good? Take yer time."

(humorous/ teasing) "Not a thought between those eyes is there?"

Player removes all garb:

(shocked but also amused/ between light laughs) "oh?"

(mindless banter/ avoidance) " This would probably be a good stun tactic if y'aint fraid of gettin yer tidbits shot"

(humorous/ almost scolding) "Y'aint invisible... just so ya know"

Player loots a corpse:

(plainly) "Any ammo?"

(joking/ light hearted) "Guess they won't be needing that anymore"

(statement/ plainly) "Grim business but you can find some good stuff sometimes."

Player starts swimming:

(plainly/ matter o factly) "Ain't no way I'm going in there"

(humorous but fear is present in voice) "If a big fish decides you look like lunch I ain't gonna be able to help ya"

(almost nostalgic/ sarcastic) "Yeah me and the brick tied for the swimming contest back in 63... I'll just stay on the shore"

Player jumps from high place:

(genuine concern) "ouch! you good?"

(soft yell/ concerned/ as if watching player fall) "aaAAaaa!?"

(oblivious to the player falling) "Where'd ya go?"

Do they periodically give the player items? what kind of items?

Bowls of various soups if player interacts between 5 and 9 PM. Every other time she'll give the player Fusion Cells.

Would they be able to do specialized task? (eg. repairs, hacking)

Not necessarily a task but if the player was to put various junk/ weapons in her inventory then she will periodically/ randomly mod them.

Would they be romancable?

Yeah probably? I think? In my AU she romances Paladin Danse but that would probably not be something that could happen as an NPC in Fallout 4 so??

If it were something like Mass Effect it would probably be like a Garrus/ Tali situation where if the player never romanced either characters then they would form a romance.

Do they have a unique outfit or weapon?

Alwine wears a black BOS jumpsuit for the first half of the game up until BB. After that she'll wear military fatigues. She'll wear the same over armor (BOS heavy armor) for both but after BB the BOS symbols are sanded off. It would be a unique unremovable armor set.

What would be their personal quest, if they have one?

This one is a bit weird since the player would be taking the role of the Sole Survivor. That being said I've always found that one empty cryo-chamber at the end of the vault hall interesting. There probably is a reason for that (like it just wasn't occupied or the occupant died before vault scientists had their spit) but for the sake of this AU/ prompt we'll say that she had a similar entrance to the vault as the sosu, bringing her babe into the vault and getting frozen with Kellogg snatchin both their children (this is lazy writing I know but I don't know how to write this without fundamentally changing her character). The only difference is that somehow maybe Alwine was released/ thawed earlier and got a bit of a head start. Because Alwine is no longer the sosu she wouldn't of encountered Preston at Concord and Codsworth likely either wouldn't of recognized her or simply acted like it was prewar and spoke to her only as if that was the same narrative giving her no sense to what was happening or how much time has elapsed. Alwine would of wandered out on her own and then stumbled onto Paladin Danses recon team and eventually got inducted in hopes of finding her child.

For her personal quest it would likely be trying to find evidence on what happened to her child. The quest would start with the player character going into the institute, and since companions can't follow the player there (minus X6), she would request that they find out what happened. After some digging the player will discover that Alwines child was killed in experimentation over 60 years ago in trials to make experimentation safer for 'father'. The player can bring this information back and Alwine will be devastated but grateful for the player finding this out for her. Despite being fairly amicable with the player she insists she needs time to grieve and that following the player is a cold reminder of the pain. Regardless of what the player says she parts ways with the player and goes back to the Prydwen and will idle there until the Liberty Reprimed quest where she will disappear from the map. Alwine will remain missing from the map until Blind Betrayal where she will be standing outside the bunker blocking Elder Maxon, as well as arguing with him, from entering the building. The player's choices will affect how Alwine responds.

- If the player executed Paladin Danse within the bunker then Alwine will become immediately hostile to the player. She will be forced to be killed by either the player or Maxon.

- If the player spares Danse then chooses to execute him when confronted by Maxon then Alwine will make it clear that she will not hesitate to become hostile to defend her friend. With a red speech check the player can convince her to stand down but she will be remorseful and refuse to follow the player afterwards and disappear off the map. Her body surrounded by a myriad of dead raiders will then be a random encounter while wandering the commonwealth. If the speech check is failed she will become hostile forcing the player, or Maxon, to execute her.

- If the player spares Danse then convinces Maxon to spare him then Alwine will express gratitude and her perk will become available. Unfortunately for Alwine her disobedience and willingness to become hostile towards the elder causes him to kick her out of the brotherhood. She will remain at the bunker with Danse until the player completes the quest and then upon the player returning Danse will disclose that she has gone to the Castle in order to join the Minutemen where she can be reobtained as a companion.

What are their opinions on certain factions? (eg. brotherhood, NCR)

Minutemen:

Genuinely believes that they have the best interests for the Commonwealth. Worries that they lack the men and firepower to take on the Institute or any other large faction that could pose a threat. This Worry is dissuaded after The Nuclear Option and her affirmation towards them only increases. With time, resources, and good leadership, Alwine believes they could become a major player even outside of the Commonwealth.

BOS:

At first is amazed by their technological advancements and firepower especially compared to the rest of the Commonwealth. The comradery is nostalgic and comforting for Alwine as it reminds her of her days in the US Military as a Power Armor Mechanic. After some time she realizes that they're a bit lost for direction grasping at straws for purpose and that their idea of "freeing the Commonwealth" might be misinformed well intention fueled by fear and dogma. When she was new to the commonwealth and didn't understand much about anything really the fearmongering and racism towards ghouls and synths were more tolerable (but still uncomfortable) it eventually become almost intolerable the longer she stayed and the more informed she became about the natures of both.

Railroad:

At first is weary of them. Alwine is careful around people who keep secrets and after spending so much time in the Brotherhood interacting with the Railroad pushes her hackles up. She does like how they work to help the synths, especially after BB, despite being mostly associated with the BOS. She becomes more comfortable after becoming more educated about synths, between the Railroad themselves informing her and the data collected by the player at the Institute itself, and eventually embraces the Railroad as a necessity after BB.

Gunners:

Heavily dislikes them. To her they're essentially just militarized raiders.

Institute:

Has a hate towards them that just strengthens over time. Their ignorance and misuse of technology is both a tragedy and crime. For the most part she pities them but strongly believes that their destruction is absolutely necessary.

Nuka World:

They're raiders so Alwine is pretty hostile towards them. Despite this their organization and brutality makes Alwine careful about making them enemies. If possible she would work to keep them out of the Commonwealth as much as possible or at the very least work to create some kind of truce of sorts to prevent a major confrontation (which would likely be devastating to both sides).

Atom Cats:

They remind her a lot of her friends prewar with the way they talk and their fondness for power armor. She likes them.

Children of Atom:

Alwine believes in freedom of belief as long as said belief does not infringe on the beliefs and freedoms of others. As long as they are respectful of herself and others she will act the same. Alwine is also a bit curious about them she would likely ask a bunch of questions if they allowed it. Other than that she would keep her distance, mostly due to the rads.

General voice lines? (in reaction to companion wheel selections)

Talk:

(friendly/ bubbly) "What's crackalacin"

(friendly/ inquisitive) "You okay?"

(spacy/ broken out of thought) "Hmm?"

Trade:

(friendly/ bubbly) "What's mine is yours"

(joking/ teasing) "finally got tired of carrying that junk eh?"

(joking within a genuine question) "Hey maybe I can carry the big guns instead of the junk for once....no? maybe?"

Follow:

(plain/ firm statement) "Got it"

(bubbly) "Comin!"

(bubbly/ softly) "Oke Doke"

Wait:

(plainly) "alrighty"

(plainly/ softly) "I'll just sit tight"

(masking nervousness through humor) "Don't leave me here too long... might forget what I'm waitin' for and wander off"

Where would you find them in the world?

She would be located at the Cambridge Police Station. Then later at the Castle.

Which game would they be from?

Fallout 4

Miscellaneous facts?

If the player puts alcohol in her inventory and the player gets 'drunk' she will match the player for drinks and her basic dialogue will be slurred for a short time after

Alwine will loot the entirety of corpses, clothes and all, when asked to loot bodies.

Alwine will periodically build weapon and armor mods which can be taken out of her inventory by the player

Alwine refuses to go in water and a hit box specifically for her prevents her from entering. This results in a glitch that has Alwine swimming in the air several feet above the water while the player is swimming.

If the player uses console commands to force Alwine into the water she will sink to the bottom similar to if she were wearing power armor. Note: This does not affect her health she will just idle at the waterbed.

#alwine #good lord this took forever #read at your own risk #might post the perk on it's own I'm proud of that one lol #fallout #fallout 4 #fallout oc #my oc

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mxvladdy · 3 years

Text

Shake On It

This is an older original work I wrote for a writing prompt given to me on a writing discord I’m on. I really liked it!

Ironically it also pertains to the Christian mythos and such, but is in no way affiliated with Obey Me lmao

Prompt: traveling bible salesman, death of a family member and bouns round- a time machine.

Hope y’all like! I might add to this later on. I got a lot of fanfics and original projects I’m working on as it lol.

Down on your luck? At the end of your rope? Sister's funeral not going as planned?

We've all been there.

Perhaps I can offer you a hand? Promise it's worth it.

Thin smiles and fake condolences. It was all really one could expect under the circumstances, really. You and your sister hadn’t-well- weren’t the most well-received individuals on your family tree. But she deserved better than this, some stale flowers and a note. You had stormed from the viewing room near tears, the only two relatives who had shown looking after you. They had been less than tactful in saying that no one else was coming. Not even your parents were there. So, instead of watching over your twin’s ashes, you sat crying next to the funeral home's rusty dumpster.

How fitting.

Did no one care that familial blood had been spilt? A cold body and no leads and they just shrug it off? You sniff, lips trembling around an unlit cigarette, numb and lost as to what to do next.

“Need a light?” Reedy fingers flick out beneath your nose and pluck the stick from your slack lips.

You jerk your chin up in shock, more surprised that you hadn’t heard them approaching. “Oi!” Your eyes squint as they snap up toward the setting sun. Your uninvited visitor is perfectly shadowed by the low light. They tisk, ignoring you in favor of sniffing your cheap smoke before flicking it to the ground as if it had personally offended them.

“I swear,” they scoff, fumbling in their pockets. Their soft accent is unrecognizable to your ear. “On a day like this. You deserve better, no?” Their hand stops at their chest with a soft gasp. “Ah! Here we are, here we are!” The stranger’s silhouette produces something from an unseen pocket with a grant flourish, offering it out to you.

“A lolli?” You take it from them in a daze, twirling the bright yellow candy between your fingers. You eye them quizzically. It seemed like an odd practice for a funeral home to do. You knew they hadn’t been at the wake. Their form was taller and lankier than the few guests or staff that had been milling about. Did they work in the back with the bodies, perhaps? Out on their 15? You eye their scuffed oxfords and old mud clinging to their khaki pants.

The stranger chuckles, an oddly deep one for their stature. “But of course! Better for you in the long run. Believe you me, lungs full of ash are quite unpleasant.” You stare blankly up at them. What? “Might I join you for a tick? You look like you could use some company.” They continue nodding their head toward the empty space beside you.

“Can’t stop you.” You sigh popping the sickly yellow lolli into your mouth. The flavor catches you off guard. Hands flying up flap uselessly at your burning cheeks. You gag, only swallowing down your initial shock. Chili and lemon? Who the hell…

“Shock to the system huh?” They laugh at your teary-eyed glare. “I find a bit of contrast clears the mind.”

“I guess.” You cough as you thump your chest hard. Wiping at your teary eyes, you get a better look at them. You were correct in your assumption that you had never seen this person till now.

They smile at you patiently, knowing exactly what you were doing. They seemed normal enough. Unkempt hair and thick glasses. Gangly knees draw close to their chest. A rumpled white button-up tent like on their frame. Sleeves pushed up to show off their knobby elbows. Their tawny skin was spattered with freckles, crossing from high cheekbone to high cheekbone. The freckles were interrupted in their smooth transition across their face by a jagged edge on the wide bridge of their nose. From a distance, the crook of their nose wouldn’t have been noticeable. But this close, you recognize the look of a break long since healed. Its off-centered placement only emphasizes their lopsided grin. Their teeth, though, are surprisingly flawless. Their canines flash predatorily off of the security lights as the sun finally sets.

“My condolences.” They cut through your musing, popping a candy in their mouth as well. “I assume you are part of the party inside?” You follow their pointed finger to the door.

“Yes.” You nod and readjust your posture, mind back on your sorrows. They hum noncommittally, finger tapping their nose deep in thought. “It’s my sister- was- my sister.” You explain. “Her landlord found her last week in her bathroom. Coroner says the wounds were self-inflicted.”

“You don’t believe it?”

“Not in a million years.” You scowl. You were gonna make it big together, if for no other reason than to thumb your noses at the family that threw you aside. Didn’t know how yet, but you thought you had all the time in the world to figure it out. “We had a plan. Leaving all our work unfinished? It isn’t like her.” They nod, letting the silence draw out between you. The cicadas filling the emptiness.

“What are you planning now?” they ask. The words tickle in your ear, temping thoughts you had long since buried. You knew what you wanted. You wanted revenge, to find and destroy whoever took her away from you. To take your family to task and prove to them that you both had been worth a damn.

“Therapy and a potted plant.” You lie easily, resting your back on the chain link fence. They laugh loudly head thrown back from the power of it. It grates at you.

“Oh, my dear~” They wipe at their eyes, chortling. “I haven’t had a laugh like that in a millennium.” They clear their throat after a bit, brushing at some imaginary dust on their arm. “No need to lie to me. Such peace is not in human nature.” You bristle, wanting to argue, but something holds your tongue. “Perhaps I might have what you seek?” They pull an old briefcase out from behind them. You gape, brows threatening to disappear into your hairline.

It all clicks, as sudden as a blown light bulb. The clothes and glasses. The aversion to smoking. The pushiness. Unbelievable. “You aren’t-no. No!” It was your turn to laugh, the sound bouncing around the back alley. “A freakin’ Bible salesman!?” You lose it, slapping their knee while clutching your stomach and gasping in the sour air. “Oh my God! What, did you get lost on your way to a 60’s convention?”

“Yes, yes. It is quite out of vogue in these times, isn’t it? We had to take a more hands-on approach in recent years. The old lore just doesn’t hold up like it used to.” Their chuckle patting the case, thumbs popping the locks. “But I assure you my book is just what you need.” You stop laughing. A little nagging feeling in the back of your head finally starting to take over.

“Listen- with all due respect."

“Please,” they snap, their tone turning sharp and businesslike. “Lying just insults both of us here.” They hand you the case, nodding at you to open it. “Give it a look. I know you want to.” They lean close then, placing a hand on top of yours. The shadows of the overhead light elongate the digits. Candy sweet breath tickles the fine hairs on your face. “And if the book doesn’t entice you, perhaps a deal might?”

You pop the lid.

The sole occupant of the case lounges on an ornate cushion. The rich blue velvet is inlaid with silver thread and beads, the ornate geometric stitching painstakingly done by some poor sod years ago. Frankly, it looked like a lot of flash and theatrics for a rather ugly book. The leather bound cover is bereft of any discernible writing or art. Despite its apparent age, the paper within is crisp. It's bone white color contrasts harshly with the gold ink used on it.

“I can’t read this.” You look up confused by the random string of symbols and letters. The Bible salesman shrugs, picking at a cuticle.

“You sure? Try again.” Their nonchalant demeanor befuddles you.

“Yes, I’m sure. What kind of mor-'' You glance down at the book again, the leather warming in your palm despite the cool night air. The symbols are the same but it all seems so familiar to you now. Book of The Dawnstar.

“Is this a joke?” You already know the answer. The unnatural warmth and pulsing from the book bring the nerves in your stomach to a sickening curl, tipping you off. But, you don't want to say the word. Magic was a stupid fairy tale made for the big screen.

“Does it feel like a joke?” They ask, lips curling.

“What do you want?” You shut the book with a snap, placing it back in its case. You weren't liking where this was going, but were intrigued all the same.

“Well~ I thought it was self-explanatory.” They take the book back out, fingers going over the front’s cover in odd swirls and dips. Your eyes follow the trail left by their fingers. “Striking deals used to be so much easier, I swear.” They point at you, then at themselves. “I can feel the rage. It called me here. You want answers; more importantly to me, you want revenge. I can help. All you need to do is make a deal with me. You know the saying.”

“For-for real?” You can hardly believe it. This is a prank-or a fever dream. It’s the only explanation. No demon or devils, or stupid magic bullshit. Someone would find you soon, passed out from the stress back here.

“Dream or not, what would it hurt to try?”

“What would it hurt!” you laugh in disbelief. “You know in Bible school they say not to make deals with devils.”

“Pfft.” They wave off the comment. “I’m wounded! Half those fools get the language twisted anyway. Devil, Satan, and my name are not interchangeable . I’m not some low level sprite begging for souls.”

“Why come to me then?” you ask. They shrug, fingers slowing to a stop over their book. “Wouldn’t some--I don’t know--Christian soul be tastier or something?” You begin to panic. The look of exasperation you get in return stops you from losing it completely.

“Is that what they teach these days? Heh, Gabriel must be ringing his halo. But if those stupid little superstitions are whats stopping you from what we both know you desire, let me rectify that.” They rise to their feet, far more elegantly then their appearance would lead you to believe was possible. A haze covers them, the shadows around you seemingly clinging to their body as they turn. “A formal introduction then. Dawnstar, Lucifer. The light bringer, rebel, and protector of those under my eyes.” They bow, baggy clothes replaced with elegant robes of navy. All gangly awkwardness gone in the wake of sheer power. “And you are exactly the entertainment I’m looking for.”

“Entertainment?” You sputter, sinking back as far as you can into the fence behind you. You were sure if you should be insulted or not by the notion. “So you don’t want my soul?”

Lucifer rolls two of their many eyes. “I have bigger, quite frankly purer souls, for that. But they are all rather boring to follow around till they croak. Besides, despite what sweet old pastor Dale says, I am empathetic--to a certain degree. You are right in your assumption that your twin did not take her own life. So I’m offering you a chance to meddle.”

You ponder over the words, mind racing as your spirit soars. This was impossible. “So I can-- what, like wish her back? A soul for a soul?” You rise to your feet, knees shaking as the heavy gaze of the fallen angel bares into you.

“Ugh. Figured you’d say something like that,” Lucifer groans, rolling their neck. “And the answer is no.”

“What? Why!” you snap, heart seizing. You jab a finger at their chest. The cold radiating off of them stops you from getting any closer. “You said you would help!”

They step back, smirking as you rub at your frostbitten finger. “Live and learn, I guess?” Lucifer turns, looking up into the bug-infested sky. “You humans always try that martyr shtick. ‘Oh, trade me for them, please!’. Turns into a never ending headache I’m contractually obligated to help with. Plus, it’s rather boring.”

You sputter. “Excuse me?” Lucifer looks at you, blinking coyly.

“When you’ve been around as long as I have, such clichés get grating every couple of centuries. You, my girl, just have the misfortune of being in one of those centuries. Try something more creative. Make me work for it.”

“Seriously?” You throw your hands up exasperatedly.

“As serious as your great aunt's coming heart attack.” They reply deadpan.

“Fine!” You purse your lips, not evening wanting to think about that last statement. “Help me prevent it.” You fume, all the little thoughts and wishes since the day you got the call boiling over. “I wanna look that fucker in the eyes before they can get to her. I want them to pay for even thinking they could take her from me!”

Lucifer grins, cold dead eyes warming over like coals on an open flame. “Oh yes, now that I will do. Time distortion is such a pain to undo. By the time they catch on, Michael will be up to their necks in timelines to untangle to get to you.” They unfurl a long clawed hand from beneath their robes. You see a symbol glowing, hot and white, on the skeletal palm. “Is that what you truly want?”

“Yes.” You nod, your throat clicking dryly as you approach them again. You hand inches from theirs before stopping. “Can you do that?”

Their smile is all teeth. “With ease. I look forward to watching the mess you make.”

#Vladdy original works #be gentle with me #lol

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justcafewriter · 4 years

Text

Bittersweet

pairing : Oda Sakunosuke x Reader

genre : a mix of fluff and angst (only a little bit of angst i guess ^^;)

warning : contain death

prompt : roasting sweet potato

summary : a bittersweet memory always find its way to you whenever winter come

word count : 2.4K

a/n : another story from a different prompt for the 12 days of cheer collab. the general idea was to have Makoto as the main character and fluff as the genre but I recently have Oda brainrot thanks to my dear friend, Clio :') so here we go.

The sound of your kitchen timer ringed loudly, making you swiftly walk to the kitchen and stop where the oven is and turn it off before you put on your kitchen gloves and open the oven's lid. The smell of roasted sweet potato filled your nostrils, a satisfactory smile appeared on your face as you're checking if it's properly roasted and it did. You look at the clock, it's now 9am and you just need to change your clothes before you're finally ready to go. 15 minutes later, you're already in your bestest outfit, a necklace with a home-shaped pendant decorating your outfit nicely, you're wearing a bit of makeup and let your hair loose. You look at your reflection, smiling as you think that you look the way someone you'll meet like.

After you put on your shoes, you're ready to go with a box of roasted potato in one hand and a bouquet of flowers that you've already arranged yourself in another. A mix of Pink Camelia, Pink Carnation, Red Chrysanthemum and Forget-Me-Not. You look at the bouquet in your hand before your eyes drift to the frames that's standing on the table not too far from the entrance of your apartment.

One of the frames contained a photo of a young man with reddish-brown hair, his azure eyes seemed so gentle as he was smiling happily. Another frame contained a photo of you and that young man, there's a little scribble on that photo saying "first date with Oda ♡". You smile upon seeing those photos, a warm feeling crept inside your heart as you see the smiles both of you wore in that sacred moment.

With a heavy sigh you finally get out from your apartment. The weather is not that nice but you can say that it's not bad either, especially since it's December now. As you're walking, you see a lot of people around, some busying themselves buying gifts for Christmas and you're giving note to yourself to not forget searching for one.

It doesn't take long until you finally arrive at your destination. You're walking toward a big tree and lay a small blanket before you sit on it. You're smiling as you see the one who you want to see resting there.

"I'm here, Oda." You whispered as a gentle smile appeared on your beautiful face. "And I bring roasted potatoes too!"

Suddenly, your mind traced on the first day he finally has courage to talk to you.

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7 years ago

You were eating your favorite curry at your favorite small shop like you usually do when suddenly a tall man with stubble came and asking for 'usual'. You look at his figure before you try to continue eating your food. Yes, try. Because the man who just came was also the reason why you keep coming back to the shop. He gave you this mysterious aura which told you to not get too close to him but also at the same time you drew to him and your eyes landed on nothing but him.

Silent filled the room, only the sound of the chef (also the owner) cooking could be heard when suddenly the man beside you asked, "How's the kids?" which was answered with, "Like usual." By the chef.

Again, silence filled the room. You try to continue to eat when suddenly the man beside you said, "Do you like sweet potatoes?" You paid him no mind since you thought that he was probably talking to the chef again but then you felt a pair of eyes looking at you, so you were looking at your right only to be watched by a pair of beautiful azure eyes. You tried your best to not spit on your food because you swear that the curry seems like entering the wrong hole.You tried to gulp down that damn curry before you sipped the cold water beside your plates.

"You're asking me?" You asked, looking at him with your doe eyes, you saw a tint of pink appear on his cheeks.

"Ah, sorry if I'm being rude and yes I was asking you." He said as he rubbed his hair.

"I.. I like sweet potatoes." You said again, you weren't lying, it's not like you love them by lots but you enjoy eating them.

"Good. So you wouldn't mind to join us later? If you have time of course." A sheepishly smile appeared on his face.

Your face brightened at the invitation, not gonna lie, you were so interested at this man so having him inviting you was something that you'd like to have.

"Well, what time is later?" You asked, no matter how happy you feel you need to play it cool.

"Uhm.. later as in after we finished our meal." He answered. "I heard a saying that said, 'women have another stomach for dessert'."

"Well it's very much true and I feel like I need to accept your invitation, especially if it's coming from a gentleman like you." You said and the moment you said it, that man knew that you were a very special person and he knew that you would change him in any way possible.

"My name is Oda Sakunosuke." That man said while stretching out his hand.

"My name is Y/N." You said, while gripping that man's hand. The moment his large hand wrapping yours, you knew that you couldn't escape to fall for him more deeply.

-✿-✿-✿-✿-✿-✿-✿-✿-✿-✿-✿-✿-✿-✿-✿-✿-

"Y/N-san! Odasaku! come here, come here. Sakura has practiced her singing skill and she will sing for us!" Kousuke, the oldest kid of orphaned children who Oda adopted said as he was welcoming you and Oda. It has been a year since you were dating Oda and you've met the kids countless times so they already welcomed you like you're always belonged there. Oda never knew why he introduced the kids to you and told you that he adopted them all. Well, he knew why. He wanted to know how your reaction would be. He was glad when he saw that you were very much okay with him having kids despite he was only 21 years old at that time.

"Oh, Y/N-san! You brought a lot of sweet potatoes!" Another child named Katsumi said after he appeared from nowhere.

"Yes, I'm gonna make roasted sweet potatoes because Odasaku said that you guys like them and we couldn't enjoy them that much last year."

"Your roasted potatoes taste so delicious." The youngest kid, Sakura, said as she approached you. The rest of two kids also joined you and Oda while they were agreeing to what Sakura said.

"Okay, okay. Odasaku and I will clean the sweet potatoes before we roast them so you all can prepare things in the living room and clean it up a bit. You say you will help uncle right?" You said and all the kids accepting your guidance before they stormed into the living room.

"How can they listen to you so well?" Oda said once the kids left the kitchen as he approached you. He wrapped his hands around your waist before he inhaled your scent and put his lip close to your jawline before he kissed it, that gesture made you turn around so you were facing him and process to kiss his lips before saying, "It's a secret."

A laugh erupted from both of you. Oda then pulled you closer to him before he planted a kiss on your lips, a passionate one if you could tell. The kiss made your feet feel like jelly and your lips burned in sensation of his sweet, honey taste lips. His stubble roughly rubbed the skin around your mouth but it didn't give you any effect to pull away.

"Uhm!!" You heard someone try to disturb the moment you have with Oda so you broke the kiss only to find the oldest kid, Kousuke gave you a 'what-the-hell-are-you-doing' look. "Sorry to interrupt but the potatoes won't roast themselves aren't they?" He snickered.

You and Oda were stuttering as you both tried to reasoning your action. Fast forward, all the seven of you were already in the living room with a warm roasted potato on the table and warm green tea accompanied it.

You were listening to Sakura singing a Christmas song then after that you were just listening to the kids rumbling about their days before finally the show that the kid wanted to watch has started. It was suddenly quiet, you were sitting in the back with Oda sitting beside you and his hand was around your waist. You put your head on his shoulder as you also lingered your hands around his torso. Both of you sit there in silence, watching the kids immersed in the movie that they watched.

After the movie finished, you saw the kids were all sleeping. Oda then moved them one by one to their bedroom with you helping him by preparing their bed and tucked them once Oda put them on their bed. After you tucked the last kid, both of you look at the sight of five angelic kids sleeping figures and you couldn't help but feel the warmness inside your heart and you knew Oda felt the same because you felt a pair of strong arms lingering around your waist as he hugged you from behind.

"One day… One day we will move from this town, we'll move to another place near the beach, where the kids can run as far as possible, where the kids can enjoy much sunshine while they're playing outside, where they will have baby siblings and play with them and teach them one thing or two. I, I'm sorry for being so selfish but please bear with me a little more. I promise you everything will be better." You heard Oda say those words before he kissed your crown. You, on the other side felt your tears run down to your cheeks.You knew about his occupation yet you still accept him and love him with all your might. Mafia who doesn't kill. That was what his colleagues called him. And you knew the reason why, he told you about it, about his dream, about how he wanted to be a writer, how he wanted to have a house with a window facing the ocean as he wrote the continuation of his favorite book. He shared his dream with you, shared his obsession and you were very much so supporting to his idea.

"I will wait as much as possible if it's come to you. To the kids that I thought of my own. That's how much I love you, Oda." You whispered but it was loud enough for Oda to hear.

You felt Oda broke the hug before he asked you to close your eyes and you did. Suddenly you felt a cold metal at the crook of your neck, then he told you to open your eyes. The first thing you did was to look down and there you saw a necklace with a house-shaped pendant. You ask him what it was about and he told you that it was a token, a token to what he promised to you; the next stage of relationship.

You couldn't help but crying at his explanation, he was so shocked because that wasn't the reaction that he expected.

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It was less than a year when you heard news from Oda's friend, Dazai, that Oda was seriously injured. Your head was spinning like crazy and your heart was beating so fast it felt like it'd burst out from your body anytime. The time when you come to where Dazai told you, Oda was long gone, his body already cold and lifeless. That was when your world sinked into hell, when your heart broke into pieces it couldn't be repaired, when you couldn't even scream in pain as you saw a lifeless body that belonged to a man who you loved dearly.

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A single tear escapes from your eyes as you reminisce the memory of your now deceased fiance. You saw his name engraved on the tombstone in front of you before you put the bouquet that you bring on top of his grave. It has been 4 years since Oda left you, and you also learnt about the kids he adopted, that they were also already dead because they caught up in Oda's last mission. Another tears escapes and run down to your cheeks, you try to hold it because you already swore to only show Oda your happy side, to not make him worry when he's watching you from heaven above.

"It's okay to cry." You hear a familiar voice of Oda's friend, Dazai. "I bet that's what Oda would say to you." He says again as he's walking towards your direction.

You saw him holding a small bouquet of flowers.

"Zinnia. Thoughts of absent friends." You say as you look at the flower.

"Longing for you, I'll never forget you, I love you and True love memories." Dazai says after he placed his bouquet next to yours. "Odasaku was so lucky to meet you." He says again.

"Both of us are lucky to meet each other, but not lucky enough to be together in this life." You smile bitterly as you spit on your last words. The words are surely hurt and the reality you're facing now is surely cruel and Dazai knew what kind of hell you've been through after you learnt a sadistic truth 4 years ago, after you learnt the fact that you lost the most important person in your life.

"I still feel thankful that you live your life to your best, that you carry out Oda's dream and even you're doing more than he can do. You build an orphanage, you're taking care of unfortunate children and I'm sure Oda is gonna be proud of you." Dazai says as he pat your head, like a big bro he is.

"That's the only thing I can do." You say.

"It's getting cold now, let me take you home." Dazai offers and you decide that it's the time you need to go.

"Till then, Oda." You says before you rub his tombstone and accepting Dazai's offer to take your hand and walk with him, leaving a bittersweet memory behind you as you leave the cemeteries.

collab taglist: @animatedarchives @azxmii @yamaguchi-stan

#oda sakunosuke #odasaku #oda x reader #bsd #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs x reader

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jkl-fff · 3 years

Note

Dipper and Norman, #50

Thanks for the prompt!

Comedy Golem

It was a rest stop like any other in the Northeast. Just a gas station with some picnic tables, surrounded by deciduous woodlands. But the car pulled into it all the same. Two young men—partners in work, partners in life, and partners not infrequently in actions of questionable legality (although “crime” was such a strong word)—then set themselves up at one of the picnic tables, producing sodas and sandwiches from a cooler.

Laying out a map of the Northeast, Dipper gestured towards a sizeable splotch of green in upper Pennsylvania. It was labeled “Alleghany National Forest”, its shape vaguely reminded Norman of an elephant’s head (with an upraised trunk), and it was clearly the epicenter of a wide swath of red post-its marked with names and some rather recent dates. “As you can see, we’ve got its—his? her? their? whatever—probable location pretty well pinned down.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Norman replied around a bite of sandwich. His tone was deadpan, as it usually was (perhaps an occupational hazard of being a Medium … or of spending most of his time around the Pines family and their own special brand of insanity). “Practically pinpoint accuracy, in fact. Only … 1000 square miles of untamed woodlands for us to search.”

“Pff! Untamed,” Dipper scoffed with the kind of elitist scorn only heard from people who hail from west of the Rockies whenever the subject of Appalachia’s wilderness is broached. “Right. Which means we might get as low as three bars during our investigation. How perilous. Besides, it’s barely even 800 square miles—I checked.”

“Of course you did.”

“But, nah, I think I’ve actually narrowed down the location even further. To riiiiiight … here.”

Norman craned his neck to read the spot his friend tapped (after lifting aside the veritable blanket of red post-its covering it, as it was the center of the epicenter). “… Squirrely Stars Campground. Huh. That why they call this thing ‘the Squirrel Hill Golem’?”

“Nah, that’s because the first sighting was in a neighborhood of Pittsburgh called Squirrel Hill.”

“… You’re yanking my chain. You’ve gotta be.”

“Nope.” Dipper gestured to that segment of the map. “Read it and gape in bewilderment. But, considering Pittsburgh has a massive Jewish population and that’s one of its major sectors, sorta makes sense a Golem would first come outta there. My research suggests it was a Rabbi named Mahara Chelmman who made it back in 1997 (although she wasn’t a Rabbi at the time she made the Golem), but that’s not 100% verified; could’ve been two other people.”

Norman considered that, and it all sounded reasonable enough. For a given value of reasonable, at any rate, since he was dealing with a Pines here. A very negotiable given value of reasonable. “… So did the Golem run off from Pittsburgh a la f-Frankenstein’s Monster upon being rejected by its … Um. How ‘bout we just use a Third-Person, Singular ‘they’ for now?”

“Works for me.”

“Okay. Yada-yada, Frankenstein’s Monster rejected by their creator?”

That got a shrug in response. “Hard to say. Most accounts suggest everyone was cool with them. They might’ve just, like, decided they wanted to live their own life? It was the 90s …”

“So they ran off into the woods of Northern Pennsylvania for the next … twenty-ish years. Sure. Why not? Lots of mud out here—Golems do need m-mud, right?”

“It helps. Makes it easier for them to, like, heal or regenerate and such. Anyway, I’m thinking you will infiltrate the camp and blend in there—”

“Squirrely Stars,” Norman couldn’t help but smirk at the dumb name.

“—to find out what the people there know, maybe interview some Ghosts, too, if there are any. It’s where the highest concentration of sightings are clustered, so someone’s gotta be able to give us something workable.”

Norman nodded his assent. “Makes sense. I’m g-generally better at talking to people—”

“Right? Those were my thoughts exactly!” Dipper hastened to agree.

“—and not like you can communicate with Ghosts 97% of the time, anyway. What about you, though? If I’m doing the people-work at camp, what’re you gonna be doing?”

“Trek around the area out a ways from the camp. See what traces of the Golem I can forestry up. Footprints, magical energies, that sorta thing. Leg-work while you do the people-work. Also makes sense, right, since I’m better at that kinda stuff anyway?” Dipper asked. In a tone of voice that was … almost leading.

Which instantly made Norman a bit suspicious. But there wasn’t anything in that assessment either of them could disagree with, so he had to concede, “… I suppose you’re better at all the, um, stuff out in the woods—”

“Great!” Dipper was already halfway back to the car. “Let’s get moving! I’ll drop you off there.”

***TWO HOURS LATER*** PARKED OUTSIDE THE ENTRANCE TO A DIRT ROAD BENEATH A SIGN READING “SQUIRRELY STARS CAMPGROUND WARNING: NATURIST PROPERTY”

“Okay, but WHY do I have to be NAKED?!” Norman shrilled at the young man he had, until roughly five seconds ago, thought would always be his partner in life. Whereas now he was thinking that young man was about to be his former partner in life. Because he might kill him. Just straight-up murder him with a hefty tree branch or a sharp rock or maybe his bare hands.

Being a Medium meant their relationship wouldn’t have to end at death, true, but you couldn’t exactly call someone your “life partner” if they were dead. Especially if because you killed them by repeatedly smacking their face into the steering wheel or hurling them right into the sun or strangling them with their own seatbelt. That tended to sour most relationships.

“Look, I realize—”

“WHY does ANYONE have to be NAKED?!”

“Because it’s a nudist colony. Or … Well, maybe ‘nudist resort’ is more accurate?” Dipper mused aloud to himself. “Meh. Either way, ‘cause that’s the no-dress code here.”

“But WHY do I have to be NAKED?!”

“How else are you gonna infiltrate and then blend in at a nudist colony and/or resort? C’mon, man, you gotta think logically about this.”

“Yeah, but … WHY does ANYONE who is ME have to be NAKED?!”

“They prob’ly won’t talk to you if you’re not,” Dipper explained, his manner reasonable enough. For a given value of reasonable, at any rate. A very negotiable given value of reasonable. “Like, you’d make them uncomfortable .”

“Oh, well, I c-certainly wouldn’t want them to be uncomfortable!” Norman retorted witheringly.

“It won’t be for long. Just long enough to, y’know, fit in a little and scrounge some info.”

“Never worried about fitting in before,” Norman grumbled. “Don’t see why I should start now. Anyway, if this’s so easy, why aren’t y-you doing it?”

“You said it yourself: You’re better at talking to people, I’m better at ‘all the stuff in the woods’.” And Dipper couldn’t keep a grin from spreading across his face as he quoted him.

“… I hate you soo much right now.”

Dipper shrugged. “That’s fair. But, seriously though, it’s safer this way, too, ‘cause I’m Jewish.”

Norman blinked. Then he blinked again. “… What?”

“I’m Jewish, so the Golem won’t try to hurt me if they’re acting, like, confrontational.”

Norman shook his head. “Okay, no, I’m calling bullshit on that.”

“Dude, you know I’m Jew—”

“No, yes, I know you’re Jewish,” Norman snapped impatiently. “I mean I’m calling b-bullshit on that being some sorta, like, pseudo-mystical-religious-ethnic protection from Golems.”

“Golems exist to protect Jewish people,” Dipper countered, a little condescendingly. “They, like, physically can’t hurt us. Everybody knows that—it’s the first thing you learn about Golems.”

“Even assuming that’s true—and I don’t assume it, in fact, I contest it—how in the 79 Hells’re you supposed, like, to prove your Jewishness (especially to a vaguely humanoid shape made outta mud)? You gotta yarmulke on under that stupid cap of yours I don’t know about?”

“First of all: screw you, my cap is iconic.” Dipper even took a moment to admire his reflection in the rearview mirror, straightened his cap ever so slightly, and made fingerguns at himself. “Second of all: I’ll just say a birkhot or something. Ooo! Maybe even one of the secret ones from the Kabballah! Though a regular one’d prob’ly work fine.”

“Oh, please, I c-could do that. Doesn’t prove anyth—”

“No, you could not. You don’t even know what a birkhot is.”

“It’s like … a prayer and magic incantation rolled into one,” Norman replied (albeit hesitantly).

“Pff! No, that’s not what a bir—”

“In fact, I’m 100% certain I’ve heard you describe birkhots exactly that way,” Norman asserted, not hesitant any longer. “Same way you d-describe the other (and I quote) ‘sorta pseudo-mystical-religious-ethnic spells and incantations and stuff’ you’ve got memorized in pre-Catholic Latin and Ancient Greek and Old Nordic for whenever we gotta deal with a … y’know, with a demon-adjacent, supernatural entity.”

Dipper considered that a moment. Then he admitted, “Okay, maybe yeah, that does sound like something I’d say. But the point—”

“HA! Vindication!” And Norman pounded the dashboard in triumph.

“But the point is, I can recite ‘בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה ה' אֱ-לֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הַעוֹלָם, דָיַן הַאֱמֶת׃’ at the drop of a hat—wait! the drop of a freakin’ kippah—with all the additional, apotropaic hand signs … Whereas you can’t even do a basic exorcism or protective spell in any language.”

Norman crossed his arms and sulkily looked out the passenger window. “Well, s-some of us just t-talk to the spirits and such. Like a n-normal, polite person … w-works just fine … ” Eventually, he huffed, “Why in the 79 Hells is a Golem even hanging around a n-nudist colony?!”

“A resort, I think.”

“I will murder you,” Norman stated, as if making a solemn vow. “With … an ice cream scoop.”

“Heh! Love you, too. Soo … does that mean you’ll do it?”

“You haven’t even answered my question.”

“Honestly? No clue. I just kinda assumed the Golem turned out to be, like, a pervert? But maybe they feel more at home among other people who aren’t wearing clothes? But, anyway, will you? … C’mon, Normy-warmy,” Dipper wheedled, his voice taking on a cutesy, coaxing, pleadingly singsong tone. “Pleeeease, Normy-warmy?”

“… That is ch-cheating, and you know it.”

“Pleeeease help me with this Monster Hunt? You just gotta talk to some people (and/or Ghosts). It won’t even take that long. Heck, if the people in there are anything like me, once they see you naked, their brains’ll stop working due to awestruck amazement—”

Norman grumbled, “S-soo much cheating.”

“—and they’ll be soo mesmerized by your sexy body (and beautiful smile)—”

“Why am I dating such an honorless cheater?” But, despite his protests, Norman was blushing.

“—that they’ll be compelled to do whatever you want for, like, the rest of their lives. It’ll be quick and easy. I promise.”

Feebly, Norman made one final attempt. “…But I sunburn so easy—”

Dipper reached over to open the glove compartment. Inside was a bottle of SPF100 sunscreen.

“… Fffffine. But you owe me big.”

“Deal!”

“I’m talking, like, a solid w-week of pampering.”

“Deal!”

“Romantic dates. Fancy cooking. Back rubs on demand—”

“Deal!” And Dipper punctuated that with a kiss to Norman’s cheek. “Now strip! Oh, but you can leave your shoes and socks on (the nudists aren’t idiots, even if they are sorta nuts). And, also, they usually use backpacks for holding onto all their stuff. What with not having pockets.”

Pulling off his shirt, Norman sighed. “Why do I keep letting you talk me into stuff like this?”

#parapines #gravity falls #paranorman #dipper pines #norman babcock #dipper #norman #jewish #writing prompt #writing #magic #golem #comedy #humor #linguistics #language #folklore #arneyblay2

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mind-of-a-hardstan · 5 years

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Leather & Velvet

This gorgeous moodboard was made by the lovely @meispace as a prompt for the In The Mood project.

Also on AO3

Pairing: Taehyung x reader

Genre: smut, demon au, brothel au

Warnings: oh boy, exhibitionism, voyeurism, demon Taehyung, human reader, brothel au, dom/sub, dominant Taehyung, submissive reader, bondage, spanking, use of a riding crop, oral (female receiving), Taehyung has a forked tongue, unprotected sex, Taehyung has a ridged dick, slight blood play, over stimulation, multiple orgasms, biting, sensory deprivation

Summary: Curious as you are, you decide to check out the demon brothel that people have been whispering about. You get a bit more than you bargained for when the owner of the place decides he wants to play with you.

Word count: 3K

A/N: First off, I’m probably going to hell. Secondly, this is part of the In The Mood project by our network, @bangtansmutcentral. It was so cool to write something off of this (seriously gorgeous) moodboard and definitely a fun challenge. I look forward to the next project :) Don’t be shy to leave a comment/ask if you liked it, you know I like the attention :)

From the outside, the building actually looked quite plain. A normal red brick building with a black front door, but it was shrouded in an intimidating aura. It was like the building itself screamed that it housed power.

The outside was nothing compared to the inside, though. The moment you opened the door, your mouth fell open.

The place was… rich. Lush red carpets, leather and velvet couches, wooden walls and high, domed ceilings. It looked nothing like what you would expect from the outside, but it was fitting for a place of sin where demons exchanged sex for energy. It was filled with smoke from both incense and the various hookahs stationed around the couches. Music played just loud enough for you to unconsciously sway to the slow beat.

The occupants of the place were what really caught your attention, though. Some were sitting quietly, smoking. Others smoked in a ring, together. Some grinded against each other, some made out, some outright fucked. Some watched and some didn’t. The smell of sex hung in the air, just beneath the incense and smoke.

Not all were human. There were demons of all kind among them with a variety of horns and tails and claws that they used to their advantage.

One demon with thick lips and wicked eyes had his tail wrapped around a human’s dick. The human seemed lost in pleasure with his head thrown back and his lips wrapped around the demon’s fingers. The demon was keeping him in place by roughly fisting his hair and pinning him with his thighs.

You would be lying if you said the sight didn’t turn you on.

You moved further inside, trying not to stare at the couples on the couches, but not denying yourself a glance every now and then. Some of them looked at you with want, others like they wanted to eat you alive.

“You look like fresh meat,” a deep voice drawled from one of the sofas. Your eyes snapped toward the sound, and landed on a man, sitting alone with a hookah held loosely in his hand.

Not a man.

Definitely not a man. He was too beautiful to be a man, features too sharp and eyes too deep. He had an aura of confidence that made it clear that he was above everyone in this building.

He looked like the devil; sin incarnate.

“And what makes you think that?” you said with a tone of defiance. The man – creature – arched his eyebrow and an amused smile played on his lips. He stood up and only took two steps with his long legs to invade your space.

“Well, for starters, you’re gawking like a fish. You’ve never seen demons fuck before. And secondly, that adorable little tone you take with me. You clearly don’t know who you’re talking to.” His voice was deeper than it had any right to be. It sounded like velvet and dark chocolate and you hated the shivers that travelled down your spine.

“I’m sure you’d like to enlighten me.” The man laughed and shook his head. There was a wickedness in his eyes that both terrified and intrigued you.

“I own this place, darling. I’m the king of this little kingdom.”

“You’re Kim Taehyung,” the realisation struck. He wasn’t a man at all, you were right. He was a demon. The most powerful demon in the building. Heck, in the country. You’d sassed the most powerful demon in the country.

The thought somehow didn’t scare you as much.

“Indeed,” he said, “and I’m curious to know what a stray little kitten like you is doing in a lion’s den.”

“A girl can be curious, can she not?” you said with a raised eyebrow.

Taehyung hummed deeply, although it sounded more like deep growl. You bit your lip.

“Yes,” he said, “but remember that curiosity killed our little cat.” You smiled sweetly.

“But satisfaction brought it back,” you replied. Those wicked eyes were filled with a sort of want that you weren’t sure you were ready for, but you sure as hell wanted a taste.

“So our little kitten wants to get fucked by a demon, does she?”

“That depends if our big bad demon is up for the challenge.”

You weren’t prepared for the smirk that matched the wickedness in his eyes, and it took your breath away.

Before you realised what was happening, Taehyung had you naked, tied up and on your knees on a velvet sofa, somewhat secluded by heavy velvet curtains.

It happened with the snap of a finger, and you were facing a wall while you heard a belt buckle being undone behind you, along with knuckles cracking loudly. You didn’t dare turn your head, not when he’d explicitly told you to sit still.

You licked your lips in anticipation. The movements behind you were slow and you could tell it was deliberate. The tension – mixed with the intoxicating smells and the still audible moans from behind the curtains – had you on edge, to say the least.

“Do you have a safe word, kitten?” Taehyung said. His lips were closer than you expected and your breath hitched.

“Yes.”

“What is it?”

“It’s ‘Ginger,’” you breathed.

“Alright,” he said, “are you ready?”

For what, you didn’t know, but you knew that if he waited any longer, you might just explode. So you said, “Yes.”

“Keep your eyes down on the couch if you know what’s good for you.”

And with that, a loud smack echoed through the room, followed by a harsh sting on your ass. You gasped in shock, but you couldn’t supress a moan when the sting caused pleasure to run up your spine. Taehyung chuckled behind you.

“You’re such a dirty girl for moaning like that, kitten. This was supposed to be a punishment,” he said, and hit you again. The sting caused your body to jolt, but it sent heat right to your core. He wasn’t hitting you with his hand, you realised. It felt like leather.

Maybe a riding crop?

“Puh – punishment for what?” you stuttered out and Taehyung laughed wickedly.

“You challenged me –” smack – “and sassed me –” smack – “and disrespected me in my own house –” smack.

You flinched with each hit, body arched and hands straining against the ropes around your wrists. Warmth was spreading throughout your entire body and your ass felt on fire. Taehyung growled loudly behind you, an inhuman, animalistic sound.

“You look fucking edible, kitten.”

You moaned at the words, at the roughness of it. You didn’t doubt that he would devour you, either literally or figuratively, and at this point you couldn’t care less. You just wanted him to touch you.

He dealt a few more hits to your ass and you didn’t bother to stop your moans from spilling out. You didn’t care that multiple people could hear you. You only cared about the pleasure and pain that Taehyung was giving you with that piece of leather in his hand.

“Kitten…” Taehyung said, amusement and lust thick in his voice.

“Yes?” you breathed, voice barely audible.

“You’re dripping on my furniture.” The smirk was evident in his voice and your whole body flushed red with embarrassment. Your shoulders curved in and you ducked you head in shame.

You hadn’t realised how wet you were, but sure enough, your slick was sliding down your thighs and dripping on his sofa. You whimpered out what apology you could muster and Taehyung laughed again, clearly enjoying the show.

“Bend over,” he demanded and you did as he said with a whimper. You were fully exposed to him now, but still not allowed to look at him. The power dynamic did something to you.

The riding crop fell next to you with a thud and you jumped. Taehyung ran his hands over your abused ass cheeks, squeezing and rubbing them harshly. You made noises at the back of your throat, unable and unwilling to contain them.

“Gonna eat you up.” And with that, Taehyung’s mouth was on you. He licked a broad stripe over your dripping hole and then down your leg, licking up your juices. You moaned obscenely. The feeling was in stark contrast with the hits. It felt strange, his tongue was too long and –

Forked. His tongue was forked.

You gasped at the realisation, but didn’t have too much time to think about it. He nipped at your inner thigh gently and dug his fingers into them, spreading your legs to get better access. He sucked at your hole again, making obscene slurping noises, before plunging his abnormally long tongue into you.

The feeling was strange, but so good. You could barely think straight. He reached places inside of you that his fingers probably never could. He groaned against you, sending shudders up and down your shivering body.

“Hgn, fuck, Tae – Taehyung!” you moaned when he reached around to rub at your clit. It was getting too much with his tongue nudging against your g-spot and his slender fingers on your clit. Not to mention how deep he got and how bad your ass still stung.

You were so close it was almost embarrassing.

“Taehyung, I’m gonna – I’m gonna – please, please!” you cried out, face buried in the soft velvet beneath you. He growled against your dripping hole and smacked your ass hard and plunged his tongue deeper and that was the last straw.

The coil that was winding tighter and tighter in your stomach finally snapped and your body went rigged, back arched and mouth open in a silent scream.

He worked you through it, let you buck your hips against his tongue and kept rubbing your clit in tight circles until you were shivering with oversensitivity. He finally pulled his tongue out and it made you whimper.

The moment his touch left your body, you collapsed onto your stomach. You were thoroughly spent.

But Taehyung was having none of it. He spanked your ass hard, hard enough for you to mewl loudly, and said, “Ass up, kitten. I’m not done with you yet.”

You did as he said, albeit on shaky legs that barely kept you upright.

“Or do you not want my cock?”

“No!” you cried out, louder than you meant to. Taehyung laughed and a blush crept onto your cheeks. You couldn’t bring yourself to be too embarrassed, though. You just wanted his cock, and honestly, who could blame you?

“I thought so. Do you think you can handle it?” his tone was playful and teasing and you didn’t appreciate it one bit.

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

He chuckled deeply, almost dangerously at your impatient tone. With harsh fingers, Taehyung pulled your legs apart, completely baring your dripping hole once more. He ran a finger over your wetness which caused another shiver to run down your spine.

And then you felt the head of his cock pushing past your entrance.

You shuddered violently, a whimper pushing past your lips. He pushed further and something caught on your rim. Again and again, something caught on the rim of your hole and you couldn’t help whimpering and you realised –

Taehyung had a ridged cock.

“Fuck,” you moaned, drawing the word out as kept pushing his thick cock deeper until you felt thoroughly stuffed and he bottomed out.

He released a stuttered breath behind you, a sound close to a moan. He paused, letting you adjust to his size. You let out an impatient whine and he softly chuckled again.

“You’re so tight baby. Took my cock so well. How’s it feel, hm?” he said. His voice was so deep it almost sounded inhuman. It sounded like he was growling rather than speaking. It made you clench around his cock and he hissed.

“Good, so good. Move, please, please move, Taehyung, please,” you were babbling by now. Taehyung let out another uneven breath and delivered another hard spank to your red and abused ass.

Then he slowly, so fucking slowly, started to pull out. The ridges on his cock made you squirm and make a variety of noises but you kept your face buried in the soft velvet and took it.

Taehyung kept the pace slow for a while and it was damn near agonising. He let out those soft grunts and growls, digging his fingers so deep into your hips you knew there were going to be bruises. And slowly, he started to pick up the pace.

His cock was so big. You felt full, stuffed to the brink. And the ridges on his cock, Christ, you didn’t see it coming. It felt strange to say the least, but so good that you were drooling on his couch.

“You’re dripping,” he said, voice rough and deep and guttural and not fucking human. Your hands strained against the rough rope still around your wrists.

His cock was dragging against your walls so deliciously you felt like you were becoming delirious with pleasure. He rubbed against your g-spot so good and before you knew what was happening, you were coming.

“There you go, kitten. You’re creaming on my cock.”

Your body pulled tight as a bowstring and you bit the velvet to help ground you as Taehyung kept plunging his cock into you with so much force it would have hurt if you weren’t so far gone. Tears were streaming down your face as Taehyung rode out your high.

But he didn’t stop.

Your body was pulled tight and shivering with the over stimulation and your voice was hoarse, but he didn’t stop.

Instead, he gripped your hips tighter, pounded into you faster.

“Taehyung!” you cried out. Every nerve in your body felt on fire and it felt like the oxygen was punched right out of your body, but he didn’t stop.

His grunts and guttural moans became louder and more frequent as he chased his own pleasure. He reached out and grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling you up so your back was to his chest. He kept his hand over your eyes, covering them as your head rested on his shoulder.

He circled his other hand around your hips and rubbed tight circles over your sensitive clit. It made you shiver in his hold, more noises tumbling from your lips. Your hands were pressed to his lower abdomen; you could feel every muscle move as he thrust his hips into you.

He never stopped relentlessly fucking his ridged cock into your hole and you were clenching tightly, your body trying to force him out but you just wanted more more more.

“So tight. So fucking tight, fuck.”

Taehyung latched his teeth onto your exposed neck. Sharp – pointed. He drew blood and you cried out, toes curling. He licked a stripe up your neck, catching the stray droplet with his forked tongue and you shivered.

“You taste so good. Everything about you tastes so fucking good,” Taehyung said and his breath fanned over your neck and he started to suckle on your shoulder, leaving marks everywhere he touched. Blood still dripped down your neck, and he licked the stray droplets before sucking more marks.

With his fingers still rubbing your clit and his dick abusing your hole, the sucking became too much and it was enough to push you over the edge for the third time

You clenched tight on Taehyung’s dick and he moaned loudly into your neck. Electricity coursed through your entire body, every tired limb going rigged with pleasure one more time and you cried out his name before you went limp against him.

“So tight. Fuck, love it when you scream my name like that.”

Taehyung held you up, still fucking into your dripping hole. His thrusts became sloppier and more erratic, but harder. You could only whimper and take it, too drained to even moan out loud anymore.

It only took a few more thrusts before Taehyung’s hips stilled. He let out a deep moan right into your ear, causing you to whimper, before his load painted your insides. His hips bucked up a few more times before he went completely still.

“Fuck,” he said, and you gave a breathless, fucked out giggle. Because yes. Fuck.

Taehyung pulled out and a shudder wracked through your body. He kept his hand over your eyes and whispered in your ear, “Keep ‘em closed ‘till I say so.”

He moved from behind you and you did as he said, confusion painted all over your tired face. A series of cracks filled the room, like the knuckle-cracking from earlier, only louder. You jumped at the sound, not expecting it.

“What was that?” you breathed when Taehyung’s deft hands started working the knots around your wrists.

“Shifting. You can open up now.”

You opened your eyes and looked behind you to see Taehyung already fully clothed with a satisfied smirk on his face.

“Shifting?” you questioned. You ribbed your raw wrists when they were finally free, trying to soothe the ache. Taehyung’s smirk widened and he locked eyes with you as you moved to sit on the couch to finally take the weight off your knees.

“Yes. Wouldn’t want my shiny new toy to run off now, would we?”

Oh.

That made sense. The forked tongue and sharp teeth were nowhere to see now. Taehyung was a demon. He fucked like a demon and you can’t fuck like a demon when you look like a human.

“You underestimate my boundaries. Maybe you should risk it next time, I might just like seeing it,” you said, now wearing a smirk of your own. Taehyung arched his eyebrow, that same amusement colouring his features as before.

“I remember you being a lot less mouthy with my dick in your cunt.”

“Try harder next time, and it might last longer.”

Taehyung’s eyes darkened to a full out black, and the look on his face was downright wicked.

“You just might regret that.”

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imlostinsantacarla · 4 years

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@brideofcthulhu10: Hey hey, I love you imagines and headcanons! So awesome, I love reading them! Could I maybe get some fluff and angst with the boys after getting into a motorcycle accident with their human!S/O. Maybe she's barely alive (of course the boys would be fine) and they have to choose whether or not to turn her, and there's already so much blood.

(a/n: hey love! i can’t believe the queen of writing for the lost boys has requested something from me, ahh! thanks for requesting this, it was awesome to write. i influenced this heavy off of the idea you gave to me, which i’ll be incorporating into the other boys pieces also. i did promise more than 2k words and i doubled it! the whole time i wrote and edited this i was listening to “People Are Strange” from The Lost Boys soundtrack, so i sneakily and vaguely placed it in there, haha. i hope you enjoy this piece! - admin kat 🌙❣)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Title: A Night To Remember (David x Reader)

Summary: A night to remember, so vivid and fun. What in the hell could go wrong? A ride on the back of your boyfriends bike on a familiar street in Santa Carla was never the place you’d thought everything would go south...

Disclaimer: This was inspired by @brideofcthulhu10‘s post on turning ➡ here. She also provided me with an idea very similar to this one, which I will be basing the other boys parts on also! so without her help i wouldn’t have been able to create this.

Word Count: 4,130

Warnings: GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF BLOOD AND VIOLENCE!!! THIS PIECE CONTAINS DETAILS ON BLOOD, FEEDING, FITS, NEAR DEATH EXPERIENCES, DEATH, TURNING, ETC. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO GORE AND SO ON!!! (Please let me know if I forgot anything else!)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

A glorious high encased you in a giddy box, leaving you slightly lightheaded as you rode on the back of Davids’ motorbike. The swift speed morphed your surroundings into a wind whipped experience, something so psychedelic that no drug in the world could provide you with. The once swaying palm trees became nothing more than tall flashes of muddy brown and muted green as nighttime swallowed their colors within it’s deep grasp. Bleeding them dry of any relevance to you.

The speed in which the pair of you were going was a reasonably hasty speed: Not enough to get you to fling off of the back of the bike, but just the right amount to pull excited squeals from your form. The sound of your imminent joy caused the blond vampire to simper wildly to himself, his own hoots and hollers echoing your elation.

In your very mortal perspective, this particular night had unfolded to be one of greatness. You had spent the better part of the evening on the Board Walk of Santa Carla with your four most favorite people on this entire planet. Nothing was capable of dampening this victorious ado!

Behind the pair of you came the thunderous roars that belonged to a trio of motorcycles, which alerted you that the other boys were eager to catch up. The three motorcycles occupants were wild eyed, animal-like from the high the speed in which they traveled at provided them with. Goofy grins were sloppily plastered onto their handsome countenances as they hurtled towards you and David. Dwayne, Paul and Marko appeared to possess a candid enjoyment from the experience, their shouts of excitement ringing shrilly in your delicate human ears. Anything speed related got these boys to geek out in such a passionate fashion that it almost made you physically cringe in response. Instead you laughed in vivid amusement at them and their antics.

Your primary focus was fixated behind you with the boys and their childish shenanigans of one-upping each other. The sight of them was more than enough to propel you into fits of laughter. David was fully aware of your attention having been stolen by the boys, though he minded very little as his focus was intent on the road ahead of him. He hadn’t exactly bagged on the idea of scanning for anything dangerous, but he wasn’t stupid enough to take his eyes away for a second, - particularly since you were perched on the back of his bike, clutching onto him tightly -.

In an unforeseen flash of one single flickering headlight turning onto the road just up ahead of you and David, there came a shrill screech of rubber on asphalt and a horrendous streak of zooming metal hurtling towards you both on your side of the road! A thick plume of black exhaust thundered from the bikes exhaust pipes. David’s impeccable reflexes were suddenly called into question whilst the man continued to bound on his bike towards you, pushing past 150 miles per hour.

The sight alone caused David to cuss exponentially, his arms yanking the handle bars of his sturdy bike to the right, followed by his full body weight. A millimetre or two was left for the drunk asshole to pass you, the mere wind of it further knocking David’s beast of a ride off balance. The pair of you had almost been smeared road kill across the street.

The bike flung across the road and into a precipitous ditch at it’s side. Trepidation leaped at and swallowed you whole, your mouth agape as you struggled to breathe from the sheer force of the entire predicament. The violence of the bikes movements were so strong that they tore your arms off of David’s waist and threw your body through the air and off to the side, as though you were a piece of trash to be discarded. The entire experience warped your sense of time and reality, causing time to appear much slower than it actually was. You hardly had the reflexes or mental capacity to brace yourself for impact as your body crashed into a large bolder. And darkness encompassed you in it’s death-like wings.

The other boys on the road had barely escaped unscathed themselves, though not before they witnessed the terrifying reality of what occurred to yourself and David.

Maybe it was Dwayne who’d managed to skid to a squealing stop first as he threw himself from his bike, allowing the meaningless hunk of metal to smash onto the ground with a deafening crash. He bounded towards the ditch where David and yourself laid, Marko and Paul hot on his heels.

"Jesus Christ, man!” Paul shouted, slipping down the dusty sides of the hole, barely just catching himself from falling flat on his face. “Oh fuck!” His ocean orbs widened at the terror before him, eyes scanning for you as David attempted to compose his disoriented self. “Where the fuck is she, man?!” The lion’s voice broke as he skidded to a stop, the scent of sickly sweet blood entered his flared nostrils.

During the entire event, David had miraculously managed to stay glued to his bike, a credit to his immense strength. He’d slid to a definite halt with the bike trapping his legs underneath it. His wounds having healed as soon as they had appeared.

As though he were in limbo, the blond leader of the group could hear shouting, though it was impossible to make out who it was coming from and what the context was. The aroma of something sweet and familiar coaxed him from his discombobulated state just like the cool night air flooding around his torn ankles did. He found himself spread flat out on his back, Dwayne and Marko having just heaved his busted bike off of him.

“Oh fuck, man!” Paul breathed out desperately, his wild blond hair in a disarray due to his fingers bunching chunks of it viciously in a stressful pattern. His entire body had come to a stand still, back facing the trio behind him. The typically well-witted and smart mouthed vampire was experiencing consternation at it’s most alarming peak. The poor boy felt as though he was about to vomit on the spot. David slowly followed his gaze and the sight before him created such a forceful pang of rushing emotions to slam into his chest it left him absolutely winded. David knew that if his heart was still beating that it would have stopped altogether there and then.

There you laid, limbs bent in gruesomely awkward angles, surely broken whilst a pool of blood seeped from the rear of your skull. Never in all of David’s existence had he experienced panic quite so potent. This scene was something that belonged in an R rated horror movie, it couldn’t be real! He had to be dreaming. David blinked, shaking his noggin a few times as though it would erase the sight of you all mangled and barely alive.

Before he even was cognizant of his actions, David was by your side, humming brokenly down at you, “No, no, no!” His gloved fingers barely fluttered over your breakable flesh, a newfound fear created in him. He was too afraid to touch in case any amount of pressure worsened your state.

“Fuck!” Marko cursed from behind David, anger pouring from his entire being as he thrust his foot into a large rock to his left, shattering the entire thing into a billion specs of dust. A nausea developed in the other boy, knocking the wind out him. You were one of them! You couldn’t be dying. These string of events never occurred to them any more. It was never meant to happen to you.

Anger encompassed David, vulnerability belting him straight in the gut. His intent wasn’t to shout at them whilst his orbs glowed a fiery red, like the menacing pits of Hell. “Will you idiots get out of the way and shut your traps?!” His voice echoed in the still night. He sucked in an enormous breath before he held it. The scent of your blood was driving him into a frenzy he dared not to jump into. After all, he was pitching to save you, not eat you.

He could recognize that you were beating against the dark currents of unconsciousness to the best of your dwindling capabilities. Though you were unable to move even a muscle due to the phenomenal pain that pulsated all over your body, the loss of blood creating a numb feeling in all of your shattered and twisted limbs. He could hear the wheezing of your lungs as you attempted to keep yourself above the surface. Your fight to keep yourself alive was slipping through your fingers and time was working against David: And for the first time in many years, David felt utterly helpless. His usual ability to make sound decisions was clouded by the shock of the events that had just occurred.

But somehow he managed to swallow the tears that had welled up in his usually acerbic eyes, leaning towards you from a place of love. Love? No, he was a creature of the night so gruesome and cruel- he wasn’t capable of such a profoundly light emotion. Love opened up a brand new door to vulnerability. Vulnerability was something so foreign to David that he had shunned it ever since the woman in his previous life had come to her demise. This hadn’t been the plan. To fall for you, that is. But even as his inner monologue argued with himself, he knew deep down that his feelings weren’t betraying him. He could only do one thing to make this right.

David’s leather fingers peeled the cloth off of your shoulder as though you were porcelain, something so delicate that he could effortlessly break. His beautiful full lips parted as he bent over your dying form, teeth sinking sharply into your shoulder with the mental anguish that if he moved your neck, it would break in two and then you really would be dead. He wasn’t a doctor. He was a goddamn vampire! Who knew what unimaginable trauma could have lurked beneath the surface of your skin in this moment. Based upon his swift assessment on the outside of you, he was sure that your insides were a hundred times worse.

Besides, he was more than certain that biting you ensured the most expeditious way of turning you. His movements were halted, his teeth scraping the splintering bones beneath the flesh. He wanted to ensure that enough venom entered your system in order for it to work it’s instantaneous magic. And thus he pulled apart from you with the silent prayer that he hadn’t been too late.

A brief moment of silence seemed to have etched on for what felt like a thousand years before your breathing halted altogether. David felt hot tears begin to sting at the corners of his eyes like prickling needles. He was too late. Too late and too sluggish to save you.

However, your breath hitched tenderly, the windows to your beautiful soul fluttering open so delicately he almost felt as though he imagined it. The pain that engulfed you was greedy, radiating a searing hot white all throughout your system. The bones in your body cracked and snapped back into their sockets, tiny clicks reconnecting smaller fragments together whilst the nerves in your whole being were signalling to your brain that you were burning up! Then came the shifting of your bones, a dull groan emitting from your throat. The sounds made David feel sick. He hadn’t ever felt guilty before, but now he did whilst he witnessed you begin to morph into what he was. Yet he refused to touch you, an act appearing so cold yet he was doing it all for you. All because he could not stand the thought of the rest of eternity without you by his side.

Instead he murmured sweetly to you, a low humming rumble. A sweet song so encouraging that it almost sounded as though he were pleading with you to stop screaming, because he knew the pain you were experiencing all too well. It’s so vivid and hot. But he had had no other choice. You begged him between gargled breaths, begging him for deaths cold embrace but he was too selfish and could not fulfill this desire of yours spurred on by the delirium of anguish. “The pain will be over soon,” he promised you.

Though something peculiar was occurring, an event that he’d never encountered prior to this very moment. It hadn’t happened to him or the other boys when they had been turned. You were seeming to grow far more alert than previously with each passing second. Your heart having drummed sluggishly before, now it spurted into a bounding gallop until it froze altogether. The choked sob that fell from your now dead lips rung in David’s mind like a torturous gong.

There was no movement coming from you and his hands began to shudder, leather fingers desperately yet ardently sliding across your cheek to brush away the sticky hair from your face. “No! No, you can’t be-” He automatically feared the most catastrophic thing. How could you be gone? He’d bit you! It was supposed to have guaranteed you immortality!

Failure implodes in his brain whilst he slumps back onto his backside, a defeated sigh flowing from his mouth and beckoning his head down. You laid there motionless, crimson having stopped pooling beneath you both. Your eyes were glazed over with the look of grotesque lifelessness. He had failed. Failure had never been an option for him, he’d always kept you so safe. Yet one nightly drive that was nothing more than routine had cost you your precious life. And David wished perilously that you were here with him. Breathing and with your heart beating. He never registered how much he’d miss that thumping heart of yours. He’d grown attached, even though you had been a human.

Red flooded his vision as he cried out violently, balled fist striking the ground as the mighty Norse God Thor would strike his hammer down upon Earth. He was going to find that sorry bastard that had done this to you and he’d rip his limbs off and beat him with them! That David was sure of.

Yet even with his vision induced with the crimson color of his enemies blood, David could not bring himself to rise from the ground and fulfill his imaginations desires. Instead, he sat next to you, eyes never leaving your form whilst grief struck him like a stake to the heart. He’d forgotten that the boys were still there, watching silently as he’d asked. They too felt the devastating grief of having lost one of them. That’s what you had always been to them. You were one of them. Watching you pass on struck them with a feeling of dreadful melancholy. This whole ordeal was heartbreaking.

Suddenly a tremendously deep gasp flooded into your lungs, whilst your arms flailed sporadically and your body twisted in vicious convulsions. It frightened David to begin with, his hands grasping onto your body with purpose, bringing you close with a sigh of relief. You quaked in his arms whilst he cradled you, lips pressing themselves to your hairline on your forehead. “Shhh babe, it’s me.” David murmured calmly into your hair, your terrified form sobbing into his powerful chest, the after effects of your cells dying leaving you delirious. “You remember me, princess?” He inquired coolly, his head cocked to the side as you peered up at him with tear filled eyes. Your were so bewildered with all the intensely vivid sights, sounds and smells, it made your head swim. It sounded as though he were screaming at you. These highly sensitive senses would take some time to adjust to.

“D-David?” You inquired softly, your brow creased sweetly in the middle as it typically did whenever you were scared or perplexed. As if by habit, David’s leather thumb placed itself on top of it, softly pushing down and smoothing it out. You had nothing to be frightened about. He was he with you. He wouldn’t let anything like this happen to you ever again. Yet as his gaze wandered over your face, your orbs darted around swiftly, the burning sensation in your throat driving you wild with an animalistic hunger!

“It’s okay, princess. You’re alright. Don’t be afraid.” He cooed mellifluously down at you, a smile gracing his usually smug lips. Even though you were all covered in your own blood, there was a beauty to you that nothing else could compare to. You were now all his for eternity, and he would never let you go.

“What happened?” You croaked questionably, your fingers darting up to his face at a speed he was not yet used to. Though he allowed your blood covered fingers to smooth across his fare cheek, just this once. Your once welcoming warmth had now disappeared, replaced with a coldness just like his. Although your body temperature had vanished, the warmth of your soul still radiated from you, welcoming him in just like it always had.

“You don’t remember?” He inquired, pushing your blood matted hair from your breathtaking face, his forehead leaning against your own. You shook your head no, to which he swiftly pulled back from you. Eyes ablaze like an inferno. “Some jerk easy pushing 150 came bottling down the road towards us. I had to take us off the road otherwise you’d have ended up being road kill. You weren’t doing so good. I had to turn you, princess.” The way he explained it was soothing, as though he were speaking lowly to a rather confused child. It was certain that you probably still possessed nasty after shocks of a severe concussion, your mind attempting to make logic of the events that had occurred earlier in the night.

“Turn me?”

“Yes, turn you.” A slight edge of derision dripped from his mouth and into your ears, the man didn’t possess a whole lot of patience, though he was trying his best. Besides, any thought of you suddenly wanting to reject your new life created apprehension to ruffle David’s feathers. “You would be dead if I hadn’t have bit you.” He clarified further.

You swallowed thickly in response to him, throat barren like a sandy cracked desert. Your hand brought itself up to your throat, tenderly clutching it to which your lover cocked his head to the side, amusement rampant on his face. He knew all too well what you were going through. “You’re thirsty.” He stated it matter-of-factly.

“Thirsty. Yes.” You nodded in sincere agreement, the sight of your innocence made David chortle before he got to his feet. Yet you remained on the blood soaked ground, staring up at him like a deer in head lights. Uncertainty blossomed in your gut as he offered you his infamous gloved hand to take, yet you hesitated, orbs sweeping around as you took in the other boys shyly. Relief was painted on their faces.

“Do you trust me, sunshine?” David inquired down at you candidly, a lightning strike of mischief twinkling within his blue eyes. Your fingers answered for you, instinctively smoothing over the worn leather on his hand and clutching ever so softly whilst he hoisted you up onto your feet as though you were royalty.

“Yes,” You breathed softly, voice scratching with thirst.

Satisfaction was painted colorfully on David’s face and he leaned closer to you, icy eyes filled with a fiery desire that you’d never encountered in him before. “Then follow me.” He stated, leading you up the steep dusty hill of the ditch with little effort before bringing you back onto the road that had caused this all to occur.

You took in the familiar street you and the boys had always driven down with a new pair of eyes. Everything seemed crisper, tiny details that you had never noted before came popping out. The road was practically deserted since night had settled fully on the small town of Santa Carla. Yet in the distance you could hear a tender thrumming, a melodic rhythm that was all too enticing for your newborn state to resist.

Your eyes captured the teenage girl walking on the cracked sidewalk on the opposite end of the street. She was strolling towards you, her black hair a fluffy pixie cut, swept into disarray by the wind cast from the beach. She smelt of ocean and salt. It made your mouth water steadily. You could tell that her mind was preoccupied, a headset nestled over her ears and a velvet voice oozing from the speakers and into her small ears. Her Walk-man clicked in her small bag strapped to her side. She appeared in deep thought, eyes staring straight ahead, however, she did not seem to notice yourself, David or the other boys. You were meaningless to her, so she carried on walking, safe in her imagination. Her silky skin glowed under the moonlight, head bopping to the music she listened to, her neck bare.

Your throat burned intensely as though a red hot glowing poker was being wedged down it. You couldn’t resist and released David’s large hand with enthusiasm, to which he allowed.

All you were aware of next was being right in front of the girl, terrorizing her out of her contemplation. She let out a blood curdling scream, flinging backwards onto the ground. You could not blame her because unbeknownst to you, you were covered head to toe in blood, your clothes shredded to assorted ribbons and your orbs were a bright orange, face contorted into that of a monsters.

The poor girl hardly stood a chance against you. You did the only logical thing and pounced on her, teeth tearing and ripping into her throat like a savage bear. Streaks of red flooded into your mouth, pouring down her front as you drank her dry. Her headphones were intent on a song, it’s lyrics speaking of the strangeness of strangers when one was alone.

The young girl gargled and fought, nails digging and ripping into your durable flesh, attempting feebly at getting you off of her. Though as soon as she had begun she stopped altogether, falling limp in your iron clad grasp. A bolt of euphoria slid through your veins as you drew away from her. Her glassy eyes stared up at the stars and the moon vacantly. You panted wildly, desiring more. Needing more.

A chorus of boyish snickers came from behind you, alerting you once more that you weren’t alone. Yet you stayed in place, a high overcoming you that rivaled the one that you had experienced on the back of David’s bike. There was an immense part of you that wished desperately for that feeling to stay persistent. It was addicting and already you craved more, licking your lips to take in every last drop of the metallic bitterness of the red elixir.

“Welcome to the club, y/n!” Paul grinned in your ear, his nimble fingers grasping your shoulders comfortingly. He was buzzing with particular excitement. The sight of you utterly comical to him. He understood your desperation though. The desperation for more, to quench the aching hunger of human blood.

“Yeah, welcome!” Marko sneered infamously beside Paul, your head tipping up and backwards to see the blonde duo grinning down at you like hungry wolves. Although they were so nonchalant about this ordeal, you were still basking in the deep glow of your high, feeling nourished already.

Dwayne hung back from the other boys, stood next to David, his hulking hands shoved into his jacket pockets. He had an amused grin on him as well. The sight of you covered in blood almost laughable. As a human, you had always voiced your opinion of how much the sight of blood turned your stomach nauseously. To see you enjoying the experience of feeding was something rather hilarious to the raven haired boy.

You’d now taken the final pledge and thrown yourself into a new way of life. Their way of life. This was where you belonged. You belonged with the band of boys and it was where you would stay, forever and ever.

David stood there, wedging a cigarette coolly between his lips and lighting it. He inhaled the smoke with need, eyes glued to you. Although you had pulled through, there was vengeance brewing in his gut. He’d get the man who had caused this entire incident. He’d get him in the cruelest of fashions. Maybe not tonight, but he’d start looking for him tomorrow. Oh, he definitely would...

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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