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lilixloveswhump · 4 years

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“Everything is okay.”

Whumptober Day 6 (Prompts: “Get it out”, “Stop, please”)

Fandom: X-Men

Characters: Erik Lehnsherr, Peter Maximoff, Charles Xavier, Raven Darkholme, Hank McCoy, Kurt Wagner

Word Count: 1980

A/N: IHATETHISSOMUCHOMGGG and it’s FUCKING LATE it’s 12:12 AM and I have a class tomorrow at 9:05 AM and I still need to shower and I might have a breakdown so much for getting this out on time hAhA. bUT aT lEaSt iTs dOnE!!1! I didn’t proofread because I hated it while writing it and I go back and read it in the state I am I might really actually cry :) So please excuse any errors, my mental health and self confidence literally cannot handle fixing them right now. We will try again tomorrow :)))

TW: blood (like a lot, but not all that graphic cuz i got lazy with description), guns? bullets? one swear word (poop), peter gets shot

He swore to God he was cursed. Why else was everyone around him constantly dying? It was God’s punishment for something, he just wished it didn’t always have to involve the people he loved; His mother, his wife, his daughter, and now…

Erik was going to watch his son die too.

It was supposed to be a simple mission. Some mutant children were being held hostage by a group of Purifiers; they were just supposed to grab them and get out. Kurt, Raven, and Peter had volunteered to go first and Charles was happy to send them. The only reason Erik was sent along was that the kidnappers were armed, Charles had said with guns. For once, Erik was there just in case things got out there hand.

Of course, he didn't let it get that far, disarming them as soon as they'd arrived but restraining himself from aiming their weapons back at them, as he didn't want to traumatize the children anymore than they already had been. The underdeveloped mind was a fragile one, and Erik thought it important to look out for the kids.

Turned out he was focused on the wrong ones.

How could he have not felt it? The one, lone gun hidden in the bushes on the edge of the woods, why didn't he check the woods? He didn't even know it had fired until Peter cried out in pain, clutching at his calf as Kurt was bamfing them all back to the jet. He was immediately checked on once inside, but he insisted he was fine, instead concerned with getting the children buckled safely in their seats. There was a little blood, but Peter barely seemed to be affected, so they believed him.

That is, until his leg gave out. Right out from under him, he crumpled to the ground, seeming just as surprised as everyone else by the paralysis. Panic had slowly begun to take over his face as Kurt and Erik moved him to a chair, and by the time he was strapped in he was sweating bullets. They hadn't been in the air for longer than ten minutes before he'd started seizing.

Hank met them when they landed, though Erik would have preferred Kurt to bamf Peter straight to the medbay, the blue mutant was tasked with settling the rescued children.

It was quite the monstrous task, wrestling Peter onto the stretcher as he squirmed and shook, seemingly completely out of control of his body. Raven helped to push it, as did Erik despite their constant complaint of him going too fast. In his opinion, they weren't moving nearly fast enough.

He was cut off by Charles, nearly tripping over his chair as he came zooming around the corner. Raven and Hank raced on, and Erik scoffed as his attempts to follow were constantly thwarted by Charles's maneuvering. It was when the doors to the medbay closed when he got desperate, a devastated gasp leaping from his tongue and he was suddenly acutely aware of the layer of sweat on his palms.

"Get out of my way!" Erik shouted, taking another step to the side, his path immediately being blocked. "Charles-"

"Erik, I'm sorry, if you're in there-"

"Charles, he's my son!"

"Which is exactly why you shouldn't be in there with them. You want Hank to be able without you breathing down his neck-"

"CHARLES, PLEASE!" His plead clawed its way past his throat, leaving the extent of his vulnerability on full display. A rational Erik Lehnsherr would never dare let anyone perceive him to be weak or emotional, but right now that was the furthest thing from his mind.

Something changed in Charles’s eyes before he moved to the side, finally allowing Erik to pass through. Not that it mattered, if he’d said no, Erik would have simply moved him himself.

They had the doors open in a matter of seconds, and Erik was quickly at Peter’s side, though Charles seemed hesitant to allow him in the room. Raven pressed another sticky pad to Peter’s face, lighting up yet another machine before moving on to the next. Hank on the other hand was rushing around doing God knows what, Erik wished he was paying more attention to his son.

“Hank, what are you doing? Put him out!” Raven scolded the doctor, clearly struggling to clip the restraints as Peter thrashed on the table.

“I can’t! His blood pressure is too high!” Hank shook his head, scoffing as he pulled the thermometer away from Peter’s forehead. “His temperature is 104, Erik what the hell happened out there?”

“I...I don’t know. He was shot-” Erik breathed, suddenly faced with the difficulty to form a coherent sentence.

“And you didn’t stop the bullet?!” Hank whipped around, preparing a syringe as Raven finally tightened the buckle on Peter’s left arm.

“I didn’t…” Erik whispered, flashes of the scene playing out in front of him like a projector screen. He could never stop anything, not when it mattered most. He only ever brought pain to the people he cared about.

“You can.” He couldn’t.

“Everything is okay.” No, it wasn’t. It never was, and it never would be no matter what he did. Peace, war, pacifism, genocide, it all ended the same: with the people he loved caught in the crossfire.

“ERIK!” Hank snapped at him, adjusting the IV bag as it rapidly filled with Peter’s blood. “Did you see what hit him?”

“No, I-” Erik shook his head maniacally, his fingers finding themselves ripping away at his scalp. Didn’t Hank think that if he’d seen what hit him he would have stopped it?

“Did the bullet come out?” Hank asked, turning his attention to the makeshift tourniquet on Peter’s calf, blood dripping from the ends onto the floor.

“I...I don’t-”

“Come on, Erik! What the hell am I working with here?!” God, how Erik would have quite literally killed to know.

“Erik, think.” Charles’s hand on his arm brought him a bit of clarity, and he momentarily wondered if Charles was in his head, but his mind was too much of a mess to tell.

“I-I...no. No! No, it didn’t.”

“There’s no exit wound.” Raven said, Hank working at the knot of the gauze they’d wrapped around Peter’s leg, and though he was tied down, Hank’s fingers continued to slip as he writhed in agony.

“Hank, why is there so much blood?” Charles asked and Hank huffed, a shrug falling off of his shoulders.

“I-I don’t know. There aren’t any major arteries the bullet should have hit. He shouldn’t be bleeding this much unless he was on blood thinners, o-or maybe...bitten by a snake or-”

“Wait!” Raven silenced him, and they all turned to her, eager to hear her input. “Like...like poison?”

There was pause...then, “Shit.” Hank tore off the tourniquet, stuffing Peter’s oozing wound with gauze. “How long has this been in his system?”

Erik and Raven exchanged a glance, neither of them seemed able to latch onto a sense of time since Peter had been showing sign of decay.

“How long, Raven?!” Hank snapped, the panic in his voice doing absolutely nothing to quell Erik’s continuously rising anxiety.

“I don’t know, maybe twenty…?” Raven stammered, blinking down at Peter rolling his head around in pain as anguished moans tumbled from his mouth. Charles moved to sit behind him, shushing him quietly as he placed his fingers to the boys temples and shut his eyes, likely in an attempt to provide him some kind of comfort.

“Thirty.” Erik jumped in with confidence at the sight of his son’s face screwed up in pain. “It took about ten minutes for him to show symptoms.”

Charles flinched, a quiet gasp escaping his mouth as Peter’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, his jaw clenching up with the rest of his muscles as he quaked severely on the table. “He’s seizing!”

Hank cursed, waving Raven over to take over where he was putting pressure on Peter’s leg before springing up and rushing back over to his desk. He yanked open drawer after drawer, slamming each closed before moving on to the next.

“Hank, what are you doing? Get it out!” Raven shouted and Hank growled, slamming his fists on the desk after yet again searching through another useless drawer.

“I can’t just take it out, it obviously wasn’t a normal bullet. It could have attached itself to multiple arteries and veins, he’s already lost too much blood, we can’t risk anymore he might go into shock.”

“Well, how long does he have left? If you don’t do something now, the poison will kill him before you can even worry about the bullet.” At her words, Peter’s body went limp, and Erik felt his heart stop. Charles placed his fingers on his head again, the room completely silent before a Peter gasped shakily, his heart rate monitor screaming as it raced to keep up with his pulse. The boy began to sob, his silver locks sticking wetly to his forehead as he banged it into the cold table beneath him, glassy eyes flying open to desperately search the room for help. They land on Erik, whose heart shatters when the lost look in them grabs hold of his soul, even more so when the words that follow leave Peter’s mouth in a tortured sob.

“Please, make it stop.”

It froze him for a second, their locked gaze slowing the entire world around him as Erik moved his feet, his calloused hand falling to Peter’s hair and his thumb brushing away the stray tear running down his cheek to his ear. The boy whimpered creakily at his touch, and Erik pressed his forehead to his son’s, shutting his eyes and taking a deep breath before whispering so that only Peter could hear, “Everything is okay.”

He pulled away, eyes still shut as he relocated to that place Charles had helped him find so many years ago, the pull from his hand to bullet buried in Peter’s leg like that of a magnet. “Hank.” He started, tuning in on the feeling, emptying his lungs of air and stilling the shaking that had raked through his veins. “Get his bleeding under control.” Before any questions could be asked, Erik gripped onto the bullet, enveloping it in his magnetic field and ripped it out of Peter’s leg, with it a hoarse shriek straight from the boy’s core. Multiple “ERIK”s rose from his friends, Peter once again falling limp as an ocean of blood poured out onto the floor. It was all blur after that, lots of shouting and moving and the beeping of Peter’s heart rate monitor slowly growing slower until Erik found himself in a shroud of indigo smoke outside of the emergency room.

“Hey man!” A pair of golden eyes stared up at him, his head bobbling as the blue mutant jostled him about. “Wake up!” Kurt snapped in his face and Erik knocked away his wrist. He glanced around the hallway before stumbling over to the wall and leaning back onto it, sinking to the ground as his hands dug their way into his hair. He heard footsteps approach before catching a blur of blue in the corner of his eye as Kurt sat down next to him.

“...It’s my fault if he dies.” Erik whispered, and he could see Kurt turn to look at him before he pushed himself up on his knees, bowed his head, and pressed his hands together.

“Our father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name…” He mumbled, just loud enough for Erik to hear and join in if he so wished, but not too loud as to be overbearing.

And for the first time in a long time, Erik was glad that someone had faith. Even if it wasn’t his own.

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maandags · 5 years

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Eidolon (Angel!Keith x Demon!reader) {part iv}

i have no excuse for the wait except that im an idiot who took this school year too lightly yeet

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Summary: Keith is an angel, and he’s completed mission after mission for the Upper Hand, the organisation controlling all of the Above. He’s only failed a mission once: when he was assigned to kill you, a surprisingly charismatic demon. He roamed Earth–Middle Ground–for years before he was caught by the Upper Hand again, and things quickly go south.

Genre: angst. because whats new

Word count: 8.7K

Notes: CW: graphic violence/blood, emotional manipulation - masterlist - {previous} -- {next }

-- -- --

if heaven's grief brings hell's rain

then i’d trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday

~ Just One Yesterday, Fall Out Boy

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You wake up from a deep, dreamless sleep, disoriented and shivering despite the multiple layers you have on and thick comforter stacked upon you. It takes a moment before the events of the previous night rush back into your mind and cloud your thoughts, and you throw an arm over your face, inhaling deeply.

A huge weight has fallen off your shoulders. Last night, you didn't realise as much, your tired 3 A.M. mind already struggling to focus with the fact that Keith--who had been deathly sick only hours before--was up and about and sitting at your kitchen table and eating chinese takeout. But now that you had the quiet of the early morning to yourself you could feel the knots in your shoulders loosen and the lead seep out of your limbs.

You slowly shift your legs out of bed, still slightly dazed. Sunlight peeks out through the cracks in the shutters covering your window, and you cast a look at the alarm clock sitting on your nightstand. It's barely 7 A.M. And it's also a Saturday. While that doesn't matter much in terms of noise–a city is a city, after all, and this one certainly is never quiet–your neighbours' kids aren't allowed out of bed before nine on Saturdays, which gives you at least two small hours of peace and quiet.

You stagger to the bathroom and let the hot shower water beat down your stiff muscles, trying to draw out the permanent chill that seems to have settled deep into your bones. It works a little bit, but when you get out of the steamy little cell and wrap a towel around your torso you can feel it trickle back into the pit of your stomach, like an icy worm that's decided to make your body its home. It's more of a discomfort than a true pain, though, so you decide to ignore it.

Your hair is still damp when you pull an extra thick sweater over your head, stick your feet in warm socks and tiptoe your way over to the living room.

Keith is still asleep. You don't blame him–he's still recovering, even though he already looks so much better than the previous night. The colour is back in his cheeks. The dark circles and the hollowness under his eyes have started to fade away. He's still thin, and he doesn't smell too good, but you decide against waking him just yet.

In the kitchen, you put on the kettle and pull open the fridge in search of something to eat. The unfinished boxes of chinese sit in front, half-open from when you hastily stowed them away. You pull one out, sniff it, then shrug as you grab for a spoon.

The kitchen windowsill is probably not the spot a lot of people would pick to lounge on, an early Saturday morning. But you've always liked to watch the sun rise over the tall buildings, and the soft orange glow you're treated with today is worth waking up so early for. You rest your face on the knee you've pulled up beside you as you shovel another spoonful of rice into your mouth.

The orange slowly fades out into yellow, then into blue. It's soothing to watch, and you find yourself slow your breathing and close your eyes as the city wakes up beneath you. Noises of starting cars and motorbikes drift up to your window, and chattering fills the street. People exit their homes, throwing delightful glances up at the sunny sky; unexpected after the heavy rain of the previous night.

You finish your takeout, do some chores around the house. Change your bedsheets. Prepare a change of clothes for when Keith finally wakes up. Open the windows to let in some fresh air. Prepare a cup of tea and claim back your spot on the windowsill. It's a peaceful morning, and the air doesn't feel quite as heavy as usual.

And then there's a rustling in the room beside you, and a crash as–you assume–Keith tumbles off your sofa and hits the ground. A faint groan floats past the kitchen doorway and you try to hide your grin. A couple of seconds later a very dishevelled-looking Keith stumbles into the kitchen.

"Morning," you tell him, rolling your shoulders once so they won't go stiff against the windowsill. He nods at you, dark eyes bleary. "Feel better?"

He sniffs. "I don't feel like I just got struck by lightning and dragged behind a racecar over an especially rocky road. So I guess that's improvement."

You blow on the hot tea in your hands. "I'm glad. Would have hated to have gone through all that trouble for nothing. You're quite the guest, you know."

Keith winces at the words, despite your light tone. For some reason, his frown and pained expression tug at your stomach. "But I don't mind it," you add hurriedly. "I mean–it was my own choice to take you in. I very well could not have done that. But–but I did." Shut up, shut up, shut up, you shouted internally.

The corners of Keith's mouth lift ever so slightly. "Lucky for me."

"Lucky for you," you agree with a grin.

It's silent for a while, and in the sunlight, you can clearly see how thin Keith really is. His shirt hangs from his frame in a shapeless lump of cloth, his trousers sagging and almost slipping from his bony hips. While he does look better–the life has returned to his eyes–he still doesn't look good, and the sight of him makes your guts twist. You point to the fridge. "There's leftovers from yesterday. Grab whatever you want–but be careful not to eat too much. I don't want you puking all over my kitchen."

But Keith has already found the other chinese box, and you show him which drawers contain cutlery and in which cupboard are stashed the glasses. He scarfs down the rice in ten minutes flat, and you shake your head in silent judgement. "I'm going to find a way to make you pay back everything you'll cost me, food-wise. You're in debt, starting today."

He gives you a shy grin, but his attention is quickly taken up once more by the food in front of him. You quietly sip your tea, staring out of the window, occasionally glancing at the angel sitting at your kitchen table.

That's when it truly hits you how much of an idiot you're being.

Last night, it had been late. Five days of nothing on your mind but the thought of trying to keep him alive, and finally finding a way to do so, had left you shaky and dazed. Seeing him up and about after getting used to the sound of his ragged, unsteady breathing floating through your apartment had been a shock.

But now the full weight of what you'd done–and what you hadn't done–crashes into you, and you realise you have absolutely no idea how to feel. The air charges with tension, and the angel leans back in his seat. He looks about as uncomfortable as you feel. Your mind whirls with thoughts, all seeming to want something different–the part of you that's curious where this whole situation would lead and is whispering to you to let him stay; the part of you that's still a loyal soldier to the Below and is screaming at you to turn him in; the part of you that wants nothing to do with any of this and is growling to throw him back out on the street. You shake your head, downing the last of your tea and hopping off the counter.

"Take a shower when you're done with that," you mutter. "I have to get back to work soon. My co-workers are gonna ask questions and I need to be prepared."

Keith nods. Your phone is already in your hands and you fire off a quick text to the shelter's manager to inform him you'd be in this afternoon. You don't know Anthony that well–he mostly keeps to the side and handles potential adopters. You prefer to stay with the animals. Almost immediately you receive a reply: he says he's delighted that you've decided to return so soon after taking your unexpected leave. You resist the urge to roll your eyes at the barely-veiled passive-aggressiveness.

"Oh, yeah." You turn and point at Keith with your phone. "You can stay for as long as you need to, like, get your bearings and feel somewhat okay again, but then I'm kicking you out. I don't know if you have any idea of how much of a risk I'm taking here, but–"

"I get it," he cuts you off, and you can tell he means it. He needs to work on concealing his emotions, you think off-handedly. He's an open book. It's distracting. "Thank you. Seriously."

The tension builds until it's almost tangible. You shake your head, trying to shake the dizziness away. "It's–yeah. My pleasure, or whatever. I'm locking the door behind me." He gives a brief incline of his head to show he understands. "All right then. Later, I guess. Make–make sure you've showered. You kind of smell," you say apologetically. "No offence."

"None taken," he laughs. "You're right, anyway."

You make a gesture that's in between a nod and a headshake, then make a blind grab for your coat and your scarf before pulling the door closed behind you and locking it.

The shelter's lights are on, and its illuminated windows stand out starkly in the dim grimness of the gloomy street. It doesn't rain, for once, but grey clouds hang overhead and block the sun, the little light that makes it past them flimsy and thin. You pull the door closed behind you. The little bell above the doorway rings once, softly, and barking immediately pipes up from the next room over. You smile.

"Hey, loves," you mutter to each animal as you pass their cages, stopping here and there and sticking your fingers through the bars to give a furry face a pat, or to scratch a scaly butt, or to stroke a feathered head. "I missed you guys."

"They missed you too, I think," comes a quiet voice from behind you. You crouch and open a cage, plucking out a small cat and scritching it behind the ears. "They've been rather unruly in the days you weren't here. Restless, you know."

"Hi, Tony."

"Y/N." He inclines his head. "Did you have a nice leave?" It's a question purely out of politeness, you know, because he's your employer and he's supposed to be polite. As far as employers go, Tony really isn't the worst of them. But you can't shake the feeling that he's fishing for something.

"I did. I've been busy," you say cautiously, not taking your eyes off of the kitten you're cradling. "Sorry for it being so unexpected."

"Oh, not at all," Tony replies smoothly, sailing over to where you sit and leaning on the wall behind you, "We've managed. It was your week off, anyway, and just because you've insisted on working in your free time before doesn't mean that you always will." But it doesn't take amazing detective skills to hear the suspicious edge to his voice.

"That's right," you say, maybe a little too sharply. You can almost smell Tony's raised eyebrow behind you. "Sorry. I've just–I've been a little on edge, lately. I'll–" You scramble up, depositing the kitten back in its cage and dusting fur off your t-shirt. "I'll be in the back." You have the weird urge to salute, but you manage to suppress it. He's already suspicious, you remind yourself. Don't make it worse by acting weird.

It is a shame you can't spend more time with the animals, but you're not the only one who decided to come in today–it's actually quite crowded for a Saturday–so you get storage room duty and instead spend your afternoon putting away boxes of food and medicine and cleaning products. Emmie, one of your co-workers, sticks her head around the corner of your door at the end of the day.

"Hey. We're gonna go get milkshakes, wanna come?"

Your back screams when you push off the chair, eager for an excuse to cut your day short. "You're a godsend." The expression is actually used exclusively as an insult in the Below, but you find you like the Middle Ground version better. "Let me just grab my shoes, I'll be right there."

Hopping on one foot as you finish tying your laces, you join Emmie, Nirina, Adam and Zach as they stride out the door, Emmie and Zach's arms linked. In the back of your mind you recognise that's strange: Emmie and Zach can't stand each other. A smile curls the corners of your lips. You did miss quite a lot this past week, didn't you?

"We're going to this new place a few blocks down," Emmie shouts over her shoulder. You try to chat with Nirina for a bit, but she's more silent than usual, barely saying a word, and eventually she retreats to walk next to Adam behind you. When you don't focus on it, a black, vaguely animal-shaped shadow seems to sit on her shoulder, but when you look directly at it nothing's there.

Something isn't right here.

The feeling creeps into your very bones, making the hairs on your neck stand on edge and your shoulder blades tingle. The sense that you're being watched, and more–as you realise that with Nirina and Adam behind you and Emmie and Zach in front of you, it almost feels like you're being escorted. Guarded.

"Hey, Em," you call. Your hand creeps towards your pocket, but with a start you remember you left your knife at home. Stupid, stupid, stupid. "What's the place we're going called?"

Emmie turns around and flashes you a fanged grin. Your blood turns to ice. "So Above, So Below." And then she pounces--and pushes you straight through the pavement. You don't even have time to scream.

You lose all sense of direction. Up is down and left is right as you fall, fall, fall through a black hole, Emmie's nails still digging into your shoulders, though you're sure if you actually opened your eyes you'd see they're claws. You try to tug yourself loose, but her grip immediately tightens. You hiss when you feel her talons draw blood.

"No getting away, Y/N dear," she giggles into your ear.

Well, at least you know what she–and the others too, by the sound of it–is. Only Bountyhunters can get to the Below or the Above without using one of the doors or passages, instead creating their own temporary ones. You've travelled by Bounty Tunnel before. It's not a memory you cherish. The only thing you can do is close your eyes and hope it'll be over soon.

When you finally make contact, all the air is knocked out of you and for a moment you see nothing but black spots dancing in front of your eyes. Then you suck in a scorching breath and blink, and the familiar stark white ceiling of the Offices comes into view. You groan, and when you try to sit up, your hands catch in ashy grey feathers: your wings have popped. You flush, already feeling Haggar's disapproving scowl digging into your back. How unprofessional, she'd mumble.

Haggar has always hated your guts–even back when you were still loyal to the Below.

Emmie–except she looks nothing like Emmie anymore–tosses her long dark ponytail over her shoulder and sighs. "That was almost too easy. We were told you'd be a challenge."

"I haven't been feeling well," you reply, voice icy as you stand up and shake out your wings. You don't miss the way Emmie's expression sours and suppress a smirk. Bounties don't have wings, and they'll never stop being salty about it. "Also, four against one? That seems a little unfair, even for Management." You pause. "I'm assuming you got hired by Management."

"Of course we got hired by Management, demon," Zach snarls. He runs his fingers through his hair and glares at you, his fangs growing by the second and soon touching his chin. And then his face begins to change, his jaw softening (though not by much), his eyes growing more cat-like, his lips plumping. You frown, because you know this face. You know her.

Zethrid grins, fangs shining in the white LED light. "Long time no see, Y/N." You give a sarcastic wave.

"Yes, Y/N," comes an icy voice from behind you. Your shoulders tense, and your feathers puff involuntarily. "Long time no see indeed."

Haggar glides out of her office doors, and you feel all the stony calm and resistance leave you in one fell swoop. Her yellow eyes bore into yours, and it takes every ounce of willpower inside you not to look away. She nods her head, once. "My office, Y/N. Now."

"You're so dead," mutters Zethrid as you pass her.

"When I get out of here, you're the first person whose throat I'll slit," you hiss in return.

Haggar slumps in her seat and plucks her looking glass from its stand, making it levitate over her hand and glaring like she has a personal vendetta against it. "If it were up to me, I would already have you burning and hanging from the Grand Hall ceiling," she says, vanishing the mirror in a cloud of smoke. You try to ignore the pang of fear stabbing into your chest. You're gonna be fine, you tell yourself. You're going to be okay. But you find it hard to believe the words.

"But–" the mirror reappears in her other hand– "a certain Prince insisted on keeping you alive." She whirls the looking glass around and it floats in front of your face. Prince Lotor of the Below looks at you with a scrutinising gaze, as if gauging how much you'd be worth on the night market.

"Y/N," he says in a clear voice. You nod, then quickly incline your head in a slight bow. Watch your tongue, Y/N. Watch. Your. Tongue. "No need for that." Lotor snaps his fingers, and you look up again, eyes fixed on the rim of the looking glass, determined not to meet Lotor's. You're afraid of what you might see.

It's silent for a moment, and you keep your mouth shut for as long as you can, but you eventually break. "Forgive me, Lord, but–"

"Shut up." It takes all of your willpower not to cock your head and narrow your eyes in indignation. Lotor leans forward, elbows perched on his desk and fingertips pressed together. His cold gaze is calculating and cruel, and your entire body reels with disgust and hatred. "I didn't keep you alive because I care about what happens to you. Because I don't," he clarifies with a raised eyebrow, and this time you can't keep the grimly sarcastic smile at bay. "I kept you alive because I need you to do a job."

"With all due respect, sir, I don't think I'm the right person for any job." You try to keep your voice light and your fists unclenched, but it's a harder task than you want to admit.

"Told him so," Haggar mutters from behind the mirror. You can tell she thoroughly disagrees with being used as a TV-stand. "There are so much more competent candidates for this assignment who actually want to prove themselves and their loyalty to us." You have the feeling she's talking directly to Lotor now. "But no, you just had to get the one rogue who'll do everything in their power to get out from this–"

"Enough," Lotor says coolly, and Haggar clamps her jaw shut, though her eyes flash with murder. You don't know who she wants to kill more at the moment: you or Lotor. "Y/N will do the job, and they'll do it without complaining."

"You sound awfully sure." You've since given up on trying to be respectful. Lotor might be the Prince of the Below, but you had wriggled yourself out of more difficult situations than these before. You're already carefully plotting an escape.

Because the mistake most people make when they see you is that they underestimate you. They think they have you pinned down, and then they loosen their hold and up till now, that has always worked out in your favour–you know how to manipulate people and you know how to get out of the Below. You know every single of the dozens and dozens of passageways leading out onto Middle Ground, and from there on you know how to hide. You've done it before, and managed to keep off their radar for quite a while.

In fact, the only reason they caught you now was because you had been too preoccupied with a certain angel to keep your thoughts straight. A mistake, and one you won't be making again.

"I am sure," Lotor's clear voice cuts through your thoughts and pulls you back to the present. "There's a contract on the desk. Sign it, and we'll give you the details."

You can't stop the startled laugh that bursts past your lips. "A Blank Contract? You expect me to sign a Blank Contract?"

Lotor merely cocks his head and smiles that lazy smile of his.

And then the little looking glass shatters and you yelp, taking a step backwards in surprise, feeling your muscles tense. "I do," his voice says from behind you, and you whirl around just in time to see Lotor sail into Haggar's office.

Haggar gives a sharp sigh and brushes shattered glass off her uniform. "Do you always have to do that? Those mirrors are expensive, you know. I'm gonna have you pay for them if you insist on making a dramatic entrance every time."

Lotor ignores her, his gaze fixed on you. He waves his hand, and a piece of paper appears between his fingers. It's mostly blank, save for one thickly outlined black square with an inscription you can't read from where you stand, but you know what they say: Candidate's signature. "I'm not signing." But your voice has a tremor to it, and you suddenly feel a lot smaller as Lotor strides towards you. It was a lot easier to disrespect the Prince of the Below through a looking glass.

His eyes flash with irritation. "You will." Somehow, those two words hold more threat to them than all the insults the Bounties threw at you earlier.

But you set your jaw and clench your fists. "I'd rather die. I'm. Not. Signing." You had vowed to not ever help the Below in any way, shape or form again. It wasn't worth it.

"Told you so," Haggar sing-songs from behind her desk, a maniacal glint to her eye. "Just take one of the actually competent ones. Let me string them up."

Lotor gives a sharp sigh. "Touch them and I'll be stringing you up." Haggar pouts and crosses her arms. He turns to you, and the coolness in his eyes sends shivers up your spine. The realisation hits you like a freight train. He's done something. He knows something. He would never be this sure of himself if he didn't have an absolutely airtight plan.

Then Lotor waves his hand again, and another mirror you hadn't noticed before–a looking glass spanning from the floor to the ceiling, partially hidden by a black curtain–lights up, and the image you see has all the colour drain from your face and your heart skip a beat.

Allura is tied to a chair and breathing hard, her nurse's scrubs hanging crookedly, torn and dirty. A nasty cut spans from her cheekbone to her eyebrow, and blood runs down the side of her face. Tears mix with the grime and blood smearing her cheeks. Behind her stand Emmie and Zethrid the Bountyhunters, crazed smiles painted upon both their faces.

As soon as she sees you, Allura lets out a strangled cry that is muffled by the gag strung over her mouth. Her eyes widen, and you rush forward, stopping just short of the mirror's surface, afraid to break it. Your shaking fingertips hover just shy of the surface before you pull them back to your chest. Tears threaten to spill past your eyes, so you push them down and try to take a breath.

"Is this real?" You know how hallucinations work. You know how powerful illusions can be, and you know exactly how useful of a tool they can be in manipluation. It's a tool you've used yourself.

"Maybe. Maybe not," says Lotor's soft voice. His breath washes over the side of your face, and you can feel sick rise in your throat. All compusure is lost. It's all or nothing now. Thoughts muddle and get mixed up in your mind until all you can focus on is Allura, terrified and hurt, sitting in front of you yet separated by a thin sheet of glass and who knows how many miles.

A crazy thought of Maybe I can free her pops up, but you beat it down immediately again. You don't know where she is. You don't know if this is even real. Lotor would immediately order her killed if you attempted anything remotely similar to a breakout. Then kill Lotor, a ragged voice in your mind screams.

"Come, come, no rash decisions now," Lotor says as if he just read your thoughts. His hands ghost over your shoulders, sliding down until they reach your elbows. He gently forces them to your sides, and you don't even have the strength in you to resist. A fresh stream of tears runs down Allura's cheeks, and she weakly thrashes against her bonds, and in the end, that's what yanks you out of your stupor.

Your chin snaps up. "So you'll let her go if I sign the contract?"

Lotor rolls his eyes. "Look whose wits have returned to them." He lets go of your elbows and takes a step toward the mirror, hands clasped behind his back and his hungry gaze raking across Allura's form. She looks up at him with a mix of hatred and fear in her eyes. She's given up struggling against the ropes, but her jaw is set, and her eyes are steely; terrified, but determined. Her gaze flicks back to you and she gives the tiniest shake of her head.

Lotor reels back and laughs, the sound booming within the office walls. He shakes his head, still chuckling, his long silvery hair swishing behind him as he stalks back to the desk and swoops up the contract. "Feisty. I like that. Doesn't have the slightest clue of what's going on but still tells you to not do the thing you obviously don't want to do." He flashes you a fanged grin that makes your blood run cold. "I just might pay her a visit later myself."

"That's Middle Ground, my Prince," you manage through gritted teeth. "I'll find and kill you before you even have a chance to knock on her door."

"That's some confidence you've got right there, Y/N. Keep it for the job."

"I haven't signed your contract yet."

Lotor cocks his head and his grin widens. "Yet being the keyword here."

You turn back to the mirror, scanning Allura for any sign that she might not be real, looking for something that might hint that her image is off. Something. Anything. But your manic brain is running in circles, looking for loopholes that might not even be there, and you know you're not making sense, because the chance that she's just an illusion is there, but on the off-chance that she isn't, that she actually is in danger–

You would never forgive yourself if she were to get hurt and you could have put a stop to it.

"It's possible," you breathe, your hands curling to fists. "It's possible that none of this is real."

Lotor nods as if your words are perfectly reasonable. "True." There's a beat of silence, and his feverish eyes bore into yours. "But are you willing to take that risk?"

Anyone else–any proper demon–would have laughed in his face and torn the contract to shreds, watching gleefully as Allura got tortured in front of their eyes. But you had left behind your demon ways a good while ago, and you had always been a rotten pupil anyway. So you bite your tongue and snatch the contract and pen from Lotor's waiting fingers, scribbling your signature down hard enough that you pierce the paper.

"See, I knew you'd come around in the end!" He claps his hands in delight and throws a triumphant glance Haggar's way. "I told you so."

"Yeah, yeah," she mumbles, waving a hand as if to dismiss his words. She gives you a slightly disapppointed stare. "I was rooting for you, kiddo. Show some spine next time."

You fight the tears threatening to spill and slap the now-signed contract back onto the desk. "All right. Details, Lotor. What's the assignment?"

His eyes flash. Business; there's something he knows. "We received word that one of the Above's most prized angels has just gone rogue." He starts pacing, and your eyes keep finding Allura's behind him–but she looks at you with pity and something that's almost disappointment, and you have to look away before you break down completely. "It came out of nowhere, too: stellar record, followed orders without a second thought. A great soldier." You don't miss the punch behind the words.

"And you want me to do, what, kill him?" That wouldn't be too hard. At least, you think. Your mind is still a bit muddy, but something ugly and twisted inside you is still desperate for Management's approval. Still eager to prove yourself. I can be a good soldier too.

"Oh no, no," Lotor says with a dismissive wave of his hand, "I just want you to find him and bring him in. It shouldn't be that hard to do–after all, who better to track a rogue than another rogue themselves?"

There's still something else. Something he isn't telling you. Sure, you're good at what you do–at what you used to do–but was it worth going through all the trouble just to get you to sign the stupid contract? As much as you loathed to do it, you silently had to agree with Haggar on this one. There were so many young demons scrambling for their chance to prove themselves and their worth–why not let them take this assignment?

"That–that's it?"

Lotor cocks a brow. "I mean, unless you wanted more work, I guess that's it.'

You give a cautious nod. "Okay. So what do we know about this guy?"

"Not much. My sources weren't able to provide very recent information–"

"Get better sources."

"–But what they do know is that this particular angel has been off the map for years. Quite like you," he adds as he raises his other eyebrow. You roll your eyes. "He's impossible to find, quite hard to track, and a very skilled fighter. Rumour has it he's scouring your city's streets at the moment."

You resist a frown. If this guy has been prowling your streets and you haven't noticed, something is definitely amiss. Might just be that you've been preoccupied with Keith and everything that happened around him, but if this has been going on for as long as Lotor is implying it has... this just might prove an actual challenge.

The old feeling of excitement and anticipation starts to run through your very bones again, and you hate the way it makes you feel–energised. As if you can handle anything thrown your way. Ready. It's a feeling you haven't known in years, and one you haven't missed, though now that it courses through your veins again there's no point in denying that you're enjoying it. The thrill of the chase.

But then Lotor speaks the name of the angel you're supposed to bring in, and everything falls into place, only to shatter into a million pieces a split second after.

You see his lips move. Hear the words spoken, though they take a moment to get processed, and when they do they leave behind an emptiness that has you stare at him, too dumbfounded and untrusting of yourself to speak.

It can't be. This must be the universe's idea of a cruel joke. The very guy you'd risked everything for–the very angel that had caused your distractedness and is the reason you were here in the first place–is the same rogue angel about whom you had just signed a contract.

The crushing weight of it settles on your shoulders. All five days of you struggling to keep him breathing, for nothing. The weird excursion to Coran's shop, for nothing. The goddamn chinese takeout you'd bought for him, for fucking nothing.

But somehow you manage to keep your face straight, and Lotor hadn't been watching you as he said it, instead gazing intently at something over your head, so you can only hope he hasn't noticed the lurch in your expression at the mention of Keith Kogane.

"All right." You're almost shocked at how steady your voice is. "Okay. I've agreed. You got what you want. Now, free Allura." Even though your voice is pretty steady, you curl your hands into fists to hide their shaking.

Lotor doesn't move for a moment, and you seriously begin to think he's having a seizure until he snaps his fingers and Emmie lunges forward.

In her hand is a knife, and she plunges it into Allura's chest without a second of hesitation.

You rush toward the mirror, a strangled "No!" ripped from your throat. Your fingers claw at the smooth glass surface and you watch her slump, blood gushing from the wound and staining her scrubs a dark crimson. Your knees buckle, and your eyes stay glued to her form as she convulses, coughs up blood twice, then goes limp. Her head falls back...

And snaps back up, and you lurch back with a startled cry. Allura's eyes have gone red and are shining with mania. Her skin turns the colour of wet ash, and her hair falls out of its updo and cascades down her shoulders, tendrils black and writhing as if they have a mind of their own...

Demon.

Shapeshifter.

Your breathing comes in short and shallow rasps as the full realisation of things settles in. Allura was never in danger. You were right all along. If only you had put your foot down. If only you hadn't let your feelings cloud your mind.

It doesn't matter now. You signed a contract–and there's no going back from that.

Lotor fingers through the file that bears your signature in black ink. Slowly, the words explaining just what you signed start to appear on the sheets, snaking their way along the curves of the paper as if written in by an invisible hand. A steel fist clenches around your heart, and you struggle to stand up, your muscles turned to jelly. The surface of the mirror has gone black again.

A shaking hand comes up to cover your mouth, and your teeth clench down on your lower lip so hard that they draw blood. Lotor flicks his wrist, and the contract disappears. The fingers of your free hand twitch as if they wanted to grab at the file. You level your gaze with Lotor's, and evidently your years of training finally paid off in the end, because in his eyes you can see how passive your expression is. You'd be a good poker player, your fleeting mind thinks randomly. The only thing giving away your current emotions is the hand mindlessly tugging at your bottom lip, and the fact that your breathing is still rather fast.

"Now," Lotor drawls in his honey-coated voice–sugary sweet, sticky, suffocating–and snakes an arm around your shoulders, "that wasn't so hard, was it?"

And you know you should keep your mouth shut, because he is the Prince of the Below, and Haggar has already expressed her desire to string you up and set you on fire in the Grand Hall for every new recruit to see–but on the other hand, you just signed a contract, and that makes you technically untouchable until Lotor has reason to believe you won't be able to complete the task set out for you.

The very foundation of a plan starts coming together in your mind. You jut up your chin and break free from his grasp. "So do I get assignment-issue gear? A blade? A gun, maybe? If this angel is as good as you make him out to be, perhaps I should need some more useful weapons than your average kitchen knife."

Lotor scrutinises you for a moment, then waves his hand. A set of gleaming double blades appear on Haggar's desk, along with their sheaths and long black gloves. Haggar huffs with an indignant mutter of Sure, use my desk as your summoning surface. Don't mind at all. You ignore her and lift an eyebrow. "That's all you're going to give me?"

"If you're as good as you say, this is all you will need," Lotor replies in that smooth tone of his. His eyes glint; he's gotten what he wanted. He's already won.

But that's fine. Lotor may have won this battle, and you need to make him feel like he has, but in the end you'll do everything in your power to win the war. And Lotor just handed you the weapons that just might be able to get you there.

"Fine," you mutter, snatching up the knives, pointedly refusing to strap them to your back like is procedure, instead securing the harnesses to your thighs as a small act of defiance. Irritation flashes in his eyes. "I'll report to you how often?"

"No reports," Lotor says with a wave of his hand. "We don't want to make any potential spies of the Above suspicious. Just make sure you find him, and when you do..." He tosses you a little disk about the size of a large coin, and you startle at how heavy it is. It's pleasantly warm to the touch, and you have a creeping suspicion as to what it is that is only confirmed with Lotor's next words. "Portal pass. Use it wisely."

You turn the pass over and over in your hands, the familiar weight of the knives at your thighs comforting and seeming to pull you down to the ground at the same time. "Is that–will that be all?" Risky words, risky questions–you're going out on a limb and assume Lotor won't have you hanged for running your mouth: he did just pretend to torture your best friend to coerce a signature out of you, so you suppose he has to give you some slack.

He sails to a halt in front of you, face so close his nose almost touches yours, and you have to stop yourself from recoiling. His expression is cold, his gaze calculating–and the smile that creeps up his lips sends shivers up our spine. "Yes. I think that will be all." He raises a brow and throws a glance Haggar's way, which you find comical as he didn't seem to give a solid fuck about her opinions when he used her office as his personal torture chamber.

Haggar shrugs. "I still think we should string them up and burn them to a crisp."

"Yes, Haggar, I know. Why did I even bother." He gives you a lazy flick of his hand, but you've already turned and your hand is resting on the doorknob, when something occurs to you and you cast a look at him over your shoulder.

"My Prince?" The title feels like hot oil searing down your throat, but you expect the words you're about to say require this small bit of courtesy. He raises a brow and nods. "I'm going to kill the Bounties that brought me here." Your voice sounds oddly bored.

Lotor chuckles. "They're no demons. They don't have a place in the Below." It's like his gaze issues a challenge, and a fresh wave of loathing for this Prince washes over your being. "Go right ahead."

You flash a cold smile and slam the door shut.

– – –

You wipe your blades with some wet wipes and discard them in the trashcan beside you when they get too filthy with blood (the store clerk barely looked up when you came in and purchased a single packet of wet wipes and a duffel bag–apparently the average cashier sees weirder stuff than a maniac with bloodied hunting knives the size of their forearms slamming a pack of wet wipes on the counter on a daily basis). Emmie, Adam, Zethrid and Nirina's bodies have long since turned to dust, and you have to work to keep your breathing steady and to stop your eyes from glowing red as the phone wedged between your ear and your shoulder rings.

Allura picks up on the fourth ring. "'Sup?"

It was just a check. Just to make sure. But if Allura truly did just get tortured, you have a feeling she wouldn't pick up a phone call with a simple 'Sup?

"Hey. How was your day?" Your speech comes out slightly slurred, and Allura laughs on the other side of the line.

"Fine. Work, you know. Routine." You can almost hear the grin on her face as she says, "And you? Weren't you supposed to be at work too, today?"

Work. Work feels like such a long time ago--when it was in reality only a couple of hours back. You nod slowly, though it's more to convince yourself than anything else. "Yeah. I was. Some co-workers and I went to get smoothies afterwards. To welcome me back," you joke.

"Did they pay?"

"Yeah."

"Good for you. Free milkshake. I'm jealous."

You laugh, but it feels hollow in your chest. "Hey--I need to run now, but I'll call you later, okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Sweet of you to check in, Y/N."

You eye the gleaming blade, running a finger along its razor-sharp edge. "No problem."

After you hang up, you sit back against the wall digging into your back, forcing down the pumping feeling in your limbs.

It's something you've missed, and you can't deny it. The absolute exhilaration you feel when your blades make contact, the thrumming of adrenaline in your veins as you dodge to avoid the blows that four individual enemies are throwing at you. The fear in Zethrid's eyes when she realises she is the only one left standing, and the life seeping from her eyes as you slit her throat.

It doesn't make you feel good, exactly–especially now that the thrill of the moment has worn off and you just feel tired and there's an ache that has burrowed itself deep into your bones–but there's no replicating the rush of power that courses through your very being when you're the one in control.

When the blades of death are yours to wield.

The knives are now securely stored in your new black duffel, and you try and figure out how you're going to pull off bringing two huge knives home without rousing suspicion from Keith. You internally debate whether you shouldn't just find a safe space to stash the duffel until you need it. There are quite a few nooks and crannies you know no one in their right mind would look, but then again, this was a big city. There were plenty of creepier people prawling these streets than the occasional demon.

And then you pass a gym, and an idea sparks in your head.

After casually shoplifting a bunch of sportswear from the nearest Nike store, you return to the gym with the knives in your bag hidden by the copious amounts of t-shirts and trainers stacked on top of them. You get a locker and stuff the bag inside before making your way outside again, smiling at the desk guy as you leisurely stroll out of the gym. The guy narrows his eyes at you–your clothes are still slightly torn and dirty, and you're pretty sure you have a bruise forming on the right side of your cheek, but you don't pay him any mind. He works at a gym. He's seen stranger than you.

But the closer you get to your apartment, the heavier the portal pass starts to feel in your pocket, and the more insecure your steps become. The sun hangs low over the city skyline, but hasn't completely started to set yet, and soft golden light washes over the streets, making them look... wrong. Bleak. Colour in a place where colour shouldn't be. You had just killed in these streets, and nobody noticed.

The thought makes you feel kind of sorry for the Bounties. They would be missed by no one.

You're still lost in thought when you almost hit a door and you snap back to reality. Your feet had carried you all the way up to your apartment. You blinked hard, rubbed a hand over your face and fumbled for your keys.

"Hey. It's me. Did you burn the house down while I was gone?"

Keith looks up from where he sits on an armchair–your armchair, but you understand he wouldn't want to spend another minute on the couch he spent five days on, hallucinating out of his mind–and grins, and your heart does a leap. And then he frowns, and you freeze, and your immediate thought is Oh fuck, he's found me out, he knows everything, he's going to call the other angels and he's going to kill me–

But the words he speaks are soft with concern. "What happened to your face?" And it takes all of your willpower not to break down right then and there.

He puts down the book he was reading and walks over to you, eyebrows knotted with worry, and reaches out to touch your forehead. Only then does he seem to realise how close to you he's standing, and he quickly pulls his fingers back to his chest. They're red with blood. "Let's get that disinfected, yeah?"

Before you can answer, he's already started towards your kitchen. You blink, still stunned, before following him like you're in a daze. He looks over his shoulder and points to a kitchen chair. You plop down, and it's when the weight is taken off your legs that the exhaustion comes crashing into you at breakneck speed, and it takes all your strength not to plunk your head down on the kitchen table and just pass out.

"Where do you keep your first aid kit?"

You vaguely point to a cabinet below the sink, and moments later Keith plops the kit down beside you on the table and plucks out a wad of cotton and disinfecting spray. You don't even feel it sting when he gently dabs at the cut on your forehead and cheekbone. His eyes are firmly trained on the cotton, his dark brows furrowed–there's a little crease between them that your foggy self finds most endearing–and he's chewing absent-mindedly on his bottom lip.

With a shock, you realise this is the closest you've been to him. Ever. This is the first time you can properly study his face, and you can always blame your muddy mind later if he brings up how blatantly you were staring at him, so you let yourself drink in every feature of his face. You find yourself drawn to his eyes most; they're a stunning deep violet, the colour of the sky at twilight, when the sun has just set and the last rays of light streak the heavens with purple. Most of all, they're soft with concern and simultaneously fierce with a kind of fire you haven't seen on him before.

"Aren't you going to ask what happened?" you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

Keith's eyes briefly flicker to yours, and he gives an awkward shrug before going back to gently rubbing at your wounds. "It's none of my business. You haven't asked me about what I was doing on Middle Ground in the first place, and I won't stick my nose into what doesn't concern me." But the words sound like he's reciting them; like a lesson he learned at school. You can see in his eyes that he is in fact curious, but also that he isn't going to press further. How very angelic of him.

You purse your lips, fingering the portal pass in your jacket pocket.

Your mind is a jumble of thoughts, like someone took all your emotions and threw them in a blender. Every moment you spend with Keith in your kitchen–how is it you always end up in the kitchen?–you grow more sure that you can't turn him in. But the contract pulls at your insides, and you know that if you keep ignoring its contents it will keep gnawing at you until you can't take it anymore and snap.

The contract is the contract. Binding and eternal.

"Keith."

His hand freezes, and you carefully guide it to the table, gently forcing him to put down the cotton. "Thank you, really. But I'm okay. I promise."

He nods. Slowly. "Okay."

And oh, how you want to wrap your arms around his neck and press your lips against his, but that would make things a thousand times more complicated than they already are–

Your breath leaves you in one fell swoop. It's the exhaustion talking, you firmly tell yourself, before you yank your fingers back and stand. You're a bit wobbly, but you manage. Keith wisely doesn't attempt to help you, but you can feel his eyes boring into your back as you make your way to your bedroom.

You change. You brush your teeth. You splash some water in your face to clear your head. Everything happens in a haze, your mind too tired to think about anything at all.

But then your eye falls on a piece of paper resting on your pillow. You frown and pick it up, and your eyes widen when you recognise your own scraggly handwriting littering the little parchment card. A hand flies up to your mouth to muffle your startled scream, and you drop the card as if it just burned your fingertips, though your eyes stay glued to its surface.

The words I want Keith to be okay stare back up at you, and with every passing second your breathing gets quicker and more ragged. Your fingers tingle, and as you draw a tentative breath you sink down onto the mattress. Your fingers tingle, but they tingle with warmth, and the feeling is not unpleasant.

Where Keith's own skin brushed yours, the chill that had seeped into your very core and had burrowed there for days, leaving you in a constant state of stiff cold, dissipated. The feeling is so weirdly foreign after having only felt cold for days that you dumbly stare out into nothingness, trying to shake the heat out of your hand. It doesn't work. It feels good, and you want more of it.

For a moment, the contract leaves your mind, replaced by Keith's eyes, the way he'd looked up at you, all softness and worry; the gentleness of his fingers as they cleaned the shallow cuts on your face. You close your eyes and lean back, the little parchment card on the floor seeming to beg for your attention. You never knew paper could be this loud.

For just a moment, you allow yourself to think of Keith and not just see an angel–but something more.

#keith x reader #keith kogane x reader #keith voltron #keith voltron x reader #keith vld #keith vld x reader #vld keith #vld keith x reader #voltron keith #voltron keith x reader #voltron keith kogane #vld keith kogane #voltron keith kogane x reader #vld keith kogane x reader #keith kogane #keith fic #keith fanfic #keith voltron fic #keith voltron fanfic

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geewithluv · 4 years

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ESOTERIC [two]

ESOTERIC: intended for or likely to be understood by only a small number of people with a specialized knowledge or interest.

The ins and outs of the prominent gang, Bangtan, can seem esoteric to the general population that is most affected by their actions.

Ｓｙｎｏｐｓｉｓ： ❝ Jimin is going to take over Bangtan after Hitman falls ill. Not feeling confident that Jimin is ready, Hitman pulls in the pacifistic daughter of a (now deceased) close associate. Kit hasn’t been around Bangtan for years, but now she’s forced to in order to help the remaining members of her family. ❞

Ｐａｉｒｉｎｇ：Jimin x Female OC (ft. the rest of BTS, Bang PD, members of Seventeen & BlackPink)

Ｇｅｎｒｅ：mafia!au, some fluff & some angst

Ｗａｒｎｉｎｇｓ： cursing, death from illness, mentions of death by gun violence, anxiety attack

ＷｏｒｄＣｏｕｎｔ：4k

ｍａｓｔｅｒｌｉｓｔ [part one]

Kit woke up later than she would have preferred. As much as she tried to keep her sleep schedule consistent no matter when she was working, her body always seemed to betray her wishes for a stable sleep cycle. With a yawn, she stumbled into her kitchen, turning the TV on as she passed it. “I could’ve sworn I bought more tea.” Kit grumbled to herself as she glared at the empty glass jar that should contain packets of teabags. But not a single packet sat in that jar, not even the tea she had disliked but kept around for when she had seemingly forgotten her addiction-esque need for the beverage.

“Late last night popular restaurant, Ossu Seiromushi, went up in flames and the local fire department is still trying to contain the situation. The cause is currently unknown. Please be sure to avoid 4th street during your morning commute as it will be blocked off while firefighters attempt to control the blaze.”

Kit hated the morning news anchors voice but this time she let herself drown in the soundwaves coming from her television. She rubbed any remaining sleep from her eyes to look at the video playing and the headline written in the bold black text at the bottom of the screen. “Holy shit.” She whispered as she realized she wasn’t dreaming. The restaurant is burning to the ground. Bangtan’s restaurant. Who knew what else was in there besides food and very expensive cutlery?

“There’s at least a 5 grand in cash currently taking its final form as a pile of ashes on the damn floor! That’s not even mentioning all the other shit that’s gone because of this! I don’t know if I should hope everything in there is completely burned beyond recognition because the last thing we need is a federal investigation.” Jimin paced around the spacious office in the Bangtan estate. It’s not even 7:30 A.M. and they’re already being reminded that they’re sustained by crime. Taehyung holds the firm belief that it’s much more of a 10 A.M. reminder.

“Who the hell set Ossu Seiromushi on fire?” Yoongi was hardly awake, trying not to completely slump over in the cushioned armchair.

Namjoon speaks up. “No one knows if it was even set on fire or if it just--”

“Don’t even finish that sentence.” Jimin is quick to cut him off. “We all know a fully up-to-code and functional restaurant doesn’t just start randomly burning to the ground at 2 A.M..” The shrill sound of his cell phone ringing makes Jimin groan as he presses the green button. “What is it?”

“I know it’s 7 in the morning, but would it kill you to sound a little more pleasant?” Kit’s voice came through the other line as Jimin sits down in the leather chair behind the large custom wooden desk. “What the hell is going on at the restaurant?” Kit continued realizing Jimin wasn’t going to answer her remark.

“You tell me. Seokjin, Jungkook, and Hoseok are there now waiting for an answer.” Jimin glides his hand across the sleek surface as Yoongi, Taehyung, and Namjoon watch him intently. “You’re only a few blocks over aren’t you? You didn’t hear or see anything?”

“A few blocks is pretty far, Jimin.” Kit scoffed. “And I didn’t because I was sound asleep at 2 A.M.. Some of us have actual jobs that require us to have a schedule and--”

“Save your 8 to 10 hours and circadian rhythm rant. I’m coming over.” Jimin stood up, making the three other men jump up as Jimin yanked open a desk drawer, grabbing a few things and shoving them in various pockets.

“You absolutely are not! What makes you think that you can just come over whenever you feel like it?” Kit huffed, Jimin smirked imagining her practically stomping around her apartment trying to put things away and ‘clean up’ for him despite her apartment being cleaner than any private residence he had ever been to.

“The fact that you’re a few blocks away from where I need to be right now, the fact that I won’t take no for an answer and the overwhelming fact that you only pretend to be annoyed when I invite myself over.” Jimin grabbed his car keys as he left the office. “You guys stay here, wait for the others to give word. If anything happens, call me. ASAP.” Jimin pointed at the three men who were silently hoping he stayed a little longer so they could hear more of his conversation with Kit. How often did he go over to see her anyway? Nevertheless, the slam of the front door shutting, meant they weren’t going to get any more information.

“Think they’re fucking?” Yoongi crossed his arms before slumping back in the armchair, he runs his fingers through bleach blonde strands of hair falling into his heavy eyes.

“Kit? Having casual sex? Didn’t think you were a comedian.” Taehyung laughed.

“Maybe it’s not so casual.” Namjoon suggested with a shrug, sitting across from Yoongi.

“You think Jimin’s going to commit to one pussy?” Yoongi moved one of his rings around his finger, a pathetic attempt to stay distracted from sleep calling his name.

“Maybe, he’s gotta mature if he’s going to run this thing.” Namjoon was correct but no one would admit that it would eventually become time for Jimin to really commit to leading, and that meant he needed to think more about everything he did. Every decision could be life or death for over a dozen people.

No one wanted to think about that.

“You’re obviously sleep deprived.” Taehyung snickered.

Kit and Jimin stand in her bedroom looking out the window. They were able to see smoke rising just off in the distance.

“How much do you think you guys lost?” She asked after a few minutes of standing in silence.

“We. You’re in this thing too, even if you refuse to say it aloud.” He glanced over at her quickly before he cleared his throat. “In dollars, we’ve lost 10 grand at the very least. Probably much more. A new shipment just came in.”

“Is Jin okay? I know he really loved it. Front for deals or not. It was still a working restaurant.” Jimin nearly winced, she was too nice. He worried about it being a downfall. He also winced as he realized that he had not even thought to ask Jin how he felt.

“He’ll get over it. He can’t afford to dwell. None of us can. We found out who did it, we make them pay, we move on.” He stated simply. Kit turned on her heel to face him. “Don’t look at me like that.” Jimin sighed.

“Like what? Like I don’t want anyone to get hurt?” Her dark eyebrows furrowed.

“Don’t look at me like you think you can stop me from doing what I have to do. Don’t look at me like you think I’m better than this.”

“You are better than this, though. You don’t have to hurt anyone.”

“How can you think the world is so simple, kitten?” Jimin turned to face her. “You’re so…” he trailed off, thinking for a moment as a hundred words to describe her flood his brain and threaten to pour out his mouth, “optimistic.”

“Maybe you’re just a pessimist.”

A flicker of a smile as he looks into her eyes. “Maybe.” He let out a deep breath. “I don’t know how the hell you’re going to handle this shit. This is light work.”

“I can handle a whole lot more than you’d think.” Kit looked at the ground, her hair falling into her face. There’s an implication that doesn’t get to be addressed as the ding of Jimin’s phone fills the otherwise silent room.

“I need to get back, you coming?”

“You know I don’t like--” Kit cuts herself off, something in my mind tells her to go against the usual. “Yeah. I’ll come.” She said. Jimin raised an eyebrow in surprise as she grabbed a pair of shoes.

Kit finds the meetings to be more than boring. They’re worse than the ones at the hospital when the protocol changes. So, instead, she finds something else to do. Usually opting to clean up around the large home since the guys won’t do it themselves and had apparently had a recent bad experience with a cleaning crew. So they’ve settled for hardly cleaning.

She hummed softly to herself as she passed the master bedroom, well, almost passed it. She had become used to passing it and hearing the steady beeping of the heart monitor and the IV drips.

Nothing.

Complete and utter silence as she walked by except for her own mindless humming. She felt a sinking feeling, the same one that made her stop working the ICU and Trauma floors at the hospital. The feeling of knowing that it’s over. She knows, she knows before she actually knows, before she opened the door and stood in the room and looked at the heart monitor that had been unplugged by the man who wanted to spend his final moments in silence. She couldn’t blame him, who would want to die having to hear their heart slow to a stop.

She knew he was dead before she saw all these things. She had known it was coming. Everyone knew it was coming. She didn’t even like the man all that much. She had blamed him for years for the way her life had played out. But she still found herself on the floor and a scream leaving her body because it’s the only sound she could make before her face became drenched in wet sadness.

“Kit! Kit!” Her name is being called throughout the house as 7 men fear for the girl’s safety only to realize that she might be the safest she’s ever been. On the ground gasping for air as she sobs. Namjoon is the first one in the room before he calls out to the others. He knows there’s nothing to be done so he moves to Kit, grabbing her by her waist and pulling her up and out of the room as 6 other people run in.

“He’s dead!” She shrieked, thrashing around in the tall man’s arms as he takes her into the front of the house, nearly tossing her onto the sofa.

Jungkook and Hoseok don’t even enter the room, opting to stay in the doorway. They stared at the bed where the man who had controlled their entire lives, now lay lifeless.

Jungkook had never known a life that didn’t consist of being reprimanded and ordered around by Hitman Bang. Even in his final days, Jungkook still felt like the kid who nearly fell over the first time he shot a gun, not prepared for the recoil. Hitman had laughed before telling him he’d get used to it, stabilizing him, and making him shoot again.

Hoseok was well aware this time was coming, but it didn’t sink in until now that there wasn’t another option. And now it’s here, he’s too late to prepare for a reaction, so his body stills.

Yoongi chewed on his inner cheek, standing near the foot of the bed. “Fuck.” He mutters to himself, he’s pretty sure this is the first time he’s ever seen someone dead that wasn’t murdered or otherwise injured. And somehow, it hurt so much more knowing his own body did this to him. His body decided to kill him. The ultimate betrayal.

Taehyung leaves the room, pushing past Hoseok and Jungkook and walking until he gets to the living room. He pretended he wanted to help calm Kit down. But he really just couldn’t bear being in the room without vomiting.

Jimin and Jin stand on the side of the bed. Jimin starts casually dumping pill bottles and wrappings from needles filled with morphine into a nearby trash can. Jin tries to talk to him but Jimin quickly cuts him off. “It’s over. He’s dead. Now you can either help me clean this shit up or you can go call the morgue. One or the other. I’m in charge now.”

Jin decides to call the morgue, coming to the conclusion that Jimin needed that bit of time to himself. And honestly, Jin needed some distraction and a second to breathe fresh air.

Jimin takes Kit back to her house before anyone even shows up to remove the body. He claims it’s just so Kit doesn’t have to be there and watch. But it’s for his sake too, because he spends the rest of the day lying in her bed, holding her. Only moving to answer a few texts. “You can go home, Jimin.” She had told him more than a couple of times, only getting a hum of ‘I’m fine’ or some excuse in response. She doesn’t want him to leave, she finds resting her head on his chest with his arm around her to be more than comfortable, but she wants to keep enforcing the fact that he’s there because he wants to be in her bed cuddling her, not because he feels that he needs to be. So they held each other in her bed for hours, the television nearly muted. Only interrupted by two phone calls telling Kit that her mother was approved for transfer to the better hospital in the city and that her brother had a bed reserved for him in a rehab facility in Arizona.

Bang Sihyuk was a lot of things, but he was a man of his word.

“Go to sleep, kitten.” Jimin whispered just before 10 p.m., slowly rubbing her back. They had nearly finished a full season of Grey’s Anatomy.

“You need to sleep too.” She told him.

“I can handle myself.” Kit shifted her body, somehow moving even closer to him, resting a leg over his.

“It’s okay to be sad, you know? It’s normal to be upset. It’s not good for your mind to pretend you’re okay when you’re not.” She said softly, tracing the ink of his tattoo with her finger. He doesn’t respond, not sure what to say. She wasn’t really expecting a response anyway. “Goodnight, Jimin.” She presses a kiss to his shoulder.

“You don’t have to take me to work.” Kit said with a huff as she climbed into the passenger seat of Jimin’s car.

“You keep mentioning how long the walk from the hospital to the garage is. No telling who might be out there waiting for a pretty little thing like you to come walking all alone.” He started the car and drives out of the complex’s parking lot.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to leave so fast! The super already came to scold me, saying you’re gonna ruin the pavement.” Kit scolded. The pavement has been in dire need of repair but no one wanted to pay for it so the superintendent decided that suing would be the best way to collect money.

“I didn’t get a nice car and sit with Yoongi for a month to customize it so I could drive the speed limit.”

“You’re so annoying sometimes.” Kit rolled her eyes as Jimin laughed, resting a hand on her thigh. “I work a 12 today, are you gonna be able to get me?”

“Course I am, kitten. What do ya take me for?”

“A very busy man? Especially at 9 o’clock on a Friday night.”

“If you’re implying what I think you are, you’re wrong.” He slides his hand further up her leg before wrapping it back around the steering wheel. She doesn’t push further but has a soft smile on her face for the rest of the ride.

“Took you long enough, my god, thought some psycho patient got ahold of you.” Jimin turned the key as Kit starts buckling up.

“Sorry,” she whined, “you would not believe the shift I had. All to end with some 15-year-old telling me they went into cardiac arrest and I’m too stupid to figure it out.”

“Let me guess, she consulted doctor google?” He raised an eyebrow as he started driving.

“Isn’t it always?” Kit sighed as she leaned back in the seat. “What have you been doing?”

“Cleaning up the restaurant.” He stated, a curious hum leaves Kit’s body. “Well, hiring other people to do it and watching over them.”

“Did the police finally say it was arson?”

“Nope, they didn’t say anything. Made sure they didn’t.”

“Well, don’t you think the police should investigate?” Kit turned her body as much as she could to face him.

“Are you-- my god, you’re still so innocent.” Jimin kept his focus on the road, fearing what he’d do if he saw that innocent look in her brown eyes.

“I just don’t get it. If you can pay them to say it wasn’t arson, just pay them not to arrest you all.”

“It’s not that simple, babygirl.” Jimin sighed, thanking God that his phone happened to ding and end the conversation. “Shit, shit, shit.” He muttered reading the text.

“What is it? Jimin!” Kit nearly screamed as Jimin made a very illegal U-turn.

“These dumb fucks! I can’t leave them alone for an hour!” He slams his hand down on the edge of the wheel. He pulls into a dark street, stopping short of what seemed to be a warehouse.

“Where are we?” She looked around, unable to even figure out what street they were on.

“Just…” He huffed as he opened the door. “Just stay in the car.” He got out without another word, slamming the door shut, leaving Kit in a state somewhere between confusion and frustration and on the border of a panic attack as she sees him run around the corner of the building. She started hearing some yelling but she couldn’t make out what anyone was saying. She wanted to get out, be a little nosy, help in some way. But Jimin’s words rang in her head and the look on his face as he got the text, it was better to do as he said. This was confirmed when a loud pop hurt her ears. Then another, a couple of seconds later another pop. Her body stiffened and her eyes widened. She feared the worst. She wasn’t sure if Jimin was the cause of the gunshots or the recipient. She didn’t even know who else was there.

“Get in the fucking car!” A voice yells, managing to be so loud the soundwaves penetrate the car and she hears it clearly. She sees Jimin, Jin, and Jungkook run towards the car, she lets out a breath when she realizes they’re all fine, but she soon is filled with worry again as the guys scramble into the car. Jimin doesn’t say anything as he speeds out.

“What happened to you all?” Kit looks toward a panting Jin and Jungkook, realizing Jimin wasn’t going to say answer even if he could unlock his jaw for long enough to talk.

“Those dumbasses from Seventeen.” Jin groans. “They had a couple girls with them, didn’t even know they had girls in their gang!”

“I cannot believe you two almost got killed trying to get laid!” Jimin yelled and Kit thought she might not ever be able to hear properly again.

“Well not all of us can bang the only girl in our circle.” Jungkook attempted to defend himself. Kit stumbles over words for a moment before Jimin shoots him a glare in the rear-view mirror.

“I’m going to assume you said that out of agony and aren’t in a state to know better.” He growled. “Say that shit again and see if I don’t feed you back to Seungcheol.” For once, Kit is thankful for Jimin’s temper.

Kit is sat in the living room of the estate as the guys talk, knees up to her chest. Jimin is pacing, she wished he would pick another habit because it only made her more anxious.

“Maybe they’ll change their name to Sixteen.” Hoseok tried to lighten the situation with a joke.

“Fifteen.” Jin laughed.

“Nah, I heard Mingyu made it out. Probably wishes he didn’t.” Hoseok nudged Namjoon next to him as he laughed. But Namjoon isn’t listening. His attention was focused solely on Kit, he watched her expression change as the guys talked.

“Breathe, Kit.” Namjoon stood up, making his way toward the girl.

“What’s wrong?” Jimin stopped in his tracks, looking between Namjoon and Kit. Kit doesn’t speak, her chest raises and lowers rapidly.

“She’s having a panic attack.” Namjoon spoke calmly, knowing that if he worried it would only make her worse. He lowered to his knees in front of her. “Kit, Kit, look at me.” She grabbed hold on Namjoon’s hands as she looked into his eyes, anxiety clear on her face as her body shook with her breaths.

“Why is she having a panic attack?” Jimin rubbed his hands over his face. And why didn’t I notice before? He thought to himself.

“Is it because we talked about murdering the guys from Seventeen?” Jungkook furrowed his eyebrows.

“Of course it’s because we mentioned how we killed someone, you idiot.” Taehyung snapped, making Kit sob loudly. Namjoon starts speaking softly to her.

“Everyone needs to leave right now.” Namjoon’s smooth voice replaces the murmurs.

“You don’t get to make the orders around here.” Jimin responded before glancing back over at Kit, her brown skin turning red as cries leave her mouth. Her hands moved to clench the fabric of her shirt. “Everyone out.” He nearly whispered. For a moment he’s not sure if anyone even heard him. But they soon start leaving. Namjoon gives a small smile to the leader as he follows behind them.

“You’re gonna be okay, everyone panicked a little at first.” Namjoon sat down beside Kit when the door closed. She didn’t respond, so he continued. “My girlfriend freaked out the first time I ever mentioned it.” He chuckled a little remembering that day. “I forget sometimes that my life isn’t normal.”

“You have a girlfriend?” Kit mumbled, wiping her nose on the back of her hand. Namjoon nodded, a big smile on his face that helped calm her.

“Yeah, I do. That’s usually why I’m not here. I’d much rather spend my time reading in her living room than taking orders from Jimin.” He said, getting a soft giggle from Kit.

“He’s a little bossy sometimes.” She said, looking up at him. Her body was still shaking a little, her breathing not quite steady but she seemed to be calming.

“He is, he means well though. You don’t have to keep doing this, staying here and helping out. Jimin’s got it covered. Hitman just wasn’t sure he could.” Namjoon explained. He was sure it wasn’t her first panic attack steeming from the gang and it probably wouldn’t be her last.

“I’m not sure he really does have it covered.” Kit sniffled, Namjoon raised his eyebrows, motioning her to explain. “The amount of times I’ve talked to him about his concerns over a situation means he’s not sure. I’ve calmed him down way too many times. He won’t even admit that he’s worried, he doesn’t want anyone to know. But I know.”

“Well… then... I’m glad you’re helping.” Namjoon was a little shocked. He, for once, wasn’t quite sure what to say. “Maybe I could link you up with my girl. You guys could talk about how dumb we all are.” He placed a hand on her shoulder as Kit nodded giving him a smile before she wrapped her arms around him.

“Thanks, Joonie.” He pulled her closer into him, the nickname warmed his heart in a way he couldn’t explain. He hadn’t heard it in a while, not since Kit left Bangtan years ago. It was a stark contrast from the harsh yell of ‘Namjoon’ he had become used to.

“Anytime.” He whispered.

End of Part Two. I’m going to try and get this up once a week by the way! Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think?

#bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts reaction #bts scenario #btswriterscollective #bangtanhq #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts imagine #my writing

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macbookpro-hard-drive · 5 years

Text

control [jeremy h. x squipped!reader] pt.2

now to give y’all what you truly only follow me for: more writing about musical characters. catch me sitting here thinking abt hadestown amongst all of this. the longer its been since ive seen it, the more in love with it i fall, i s2g.

warnings: squip bein a piece of shit (so just... manipulation n the like). thts rly about it but let me kno if i need to tag anything else!

All in a moment, you were seeing stars. Rich’s arm had been clasped tightly around your waist, his other hand covering your mouth in an attempt to muffle the screams of anguish that had crashed over you in waves and dragged you under. There was a stinging in your hand, and as you went quiet, you felt Rich tense behind you. Slowly, he drew his hand back from your mouth, letting you go and, regretfully, watching you collapse onto the ground. And then you were seeing stars again - real ones, twinkling overhead as you breathed heavily. The pain tapered off, bit by bit by bit, while fatigue settled in it’s place. All you could do was lay there in the cold dirt, staring up at the the night sky as your chest heaved. Rich finally offered you a hand, waiting until you finally managed to muster up the strength to take it. In a swift movement, he pulled you back onto your feet with ease - and you noticed how buff he was compared to how he was in the past. Dirt covered your clothes, and you noticed that the sting in your hand had been due to it being sliced open by a rock that cut into it during your struggles. Fuck, you were going to have to make sure that was taken care of as soon as you were home. Finally, your gaze fell back to Rich, the headlights of his truck illuminating the entire scene in front of you. Before you could even fathom a thought, you reacted, swinging a punch at his arm and catching him off-guard. Immediately he stepped back, staring at you as he rubbed his arm, brow furrowed in confusion and anger.

“What the fuck was that for?” He asked, voice running a little high for a moment. “Also what the fuck, you throw a pretty mean punch for a-”

You didn’t give him time to finish the thought, curling your hands into fists and ignoring the stinging in your palm. “What the fuck, Rich - you said it’d hurt a bit-”

“I said it’d hurt for a bit- you didn’t ask how bad-”

“He is correct. Reviewing your memories shows that he did say it would hurt for “a bit” and not that the pain would be minor-”

“-What the fuck?” You stumbled back slightly, looking around for the source of this new voice for a moment. “Holy shit.”

Rich cracked a smile as you straightened up slightly. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“I.. think?” You said, voice oozing with uncertainty.

“It did.” The voice said, “like I previously stated, I am your Super Quantum Unit Intel Processor. Your SQUIP.”

Was that annoyance? You frowned, looking back to Rich with uncertainty oozing from every movement. “You... you weren’t scamming me-” And you cut yourself off there, “holy shit.” You stood there, processing the events that had just occurred. It wasn’t until Rich glanced to his phone with wide eyes that you realized how late it was.

“Hey, shit, uh - we should get going,” Rich said, “you can... deal with that later,” he picked up the box, “c’mon. I said I’d give you a ride.”

With a slow nod, you followed him back to his truck, and pulled yourself up into the passenger seat with a small leap while Rich rambled off an apology. The whole seizing you and trying to quiet you down because, y’know, you’d been screaming and he didn’t really know how to explain that kind of shit to people without getting arrested. On one hand, you were bothered by that - the immediate instinct being to grab and hold you down - but... you understood. The thoughts of what could have came flood into your head, and - fuck, you didn’t need for the police to show up. He followed every direction you gave him, getting him to stop down the street from your house in order to make your sneaking in easier. With a quick thanks, you hopped out of his truck and shut his door as quietly as you could before crossing your front yard. As you reached your doorstep, you heard his car pulling off, and you glanced over your shoulder to watch him make a u-turn before driving away.

“You need to bandage your hand before it gets infected.” Your SQUIP said. You shut the door behind you, locking it back as you pressed your back against it.

Lowering your voice down to a whisper, you respond. “You kinda sound like-”

“I know. My default setting. Of course, if you dislike it, I have other modes for your perusal-”

You shook your head, “that’s... fine. You’re fine.” Glancing down at your bleeding palm, you head towards the bathroom to find the first aid kit tucked underneath the sink. The sting of disinfectant made you let out a hiss of pain, and you internally cursed the fact that it happened to be your writing hand that got hurt. Note-talking was going to be the highlight of your day, that was certain.

“You should wrap it and keep the wound dry.” Your SQUIP said, right as you were about to unwrap a band-aid.

You found the bandages, and nodded a little. “Okay.”

“You should also avoid speaking aloud when responding to me.”

Pausing, the bandage loosens slightly around your palm, and you looked up into the mirror for a moment. “Then how do I-”

“Think at me.” It said, “like... telepathy.”

You resumed your work for a moment, before going to respond. “Like-” You stopped, “like this?”

“Indeed. I can sense some discomfort whenever you’re responding to me.”

“Yeah,” you wrapped the bandage tight, wiggling your fingers, “I guess... it’s just... it’s kinda weird to just talk to a voice in my head.”

“Think at me.” You frowned at the command, but it continued on with it’s thought nonetheless, “would you prefer something visual? I’m capable of manipulating your senses in order to create something for you to see - albeit a bit more holographic in order to differentiate myself from those around you.” There was a pause, before it finally spoke again, “but it would still be a visual nonetheless.”

Processing the information, you nodded slightly. “That’d be nice but... You could still turn it off, right?”

For a moment, you’re sure that you disappointed it - speaking aloud again. But it finally spoke once more, almost sounding resigned for that night.“Yes. You need to change. You’re still covered in dirt.” You looked down at your dirt-stained sweatpants and shirt. So you were.

Throwing everything back into the kit, you tucked it back underneath the sink and head to your room, glad to be back in this little sanctuary. You stripped off the shirt and sweatpants, kicking them underneath your bed for the time being, making a mental note to throw that in with the rest of your laundry on Sunday, and searched through your drawers for something else to wear. You snatched up an oversize t-shirt, slipping it on before curling up underneath your blankets. Everything felt quiet. You tugged the blankets closer to you as you turned over, and soon you felt drowsiness take over, sooner than you expected. Nonetheless, you were asleep within minutes.

The next morning, you woke up to quiet and found yourself wondering if the night before had been some fucked-up dream. Then you noticed the bandage around your hand, stretching and popping your fingers as you stared at the covered palm. Not a dream, then - but you felt alone, no voice in your head. Maybe it was broken? You scowled a little at the thought - fucking Rich Goranski who scammed you out of six-hundred dollars for a faulty pill that worked for, what, a few hours? What the fuck kind of drugs did he-

A figure glitched into being in front of you. “Good morning.”

You let out a shriek, hand clasping over your mouth as you jumped at the sudden sight and sound before staring at this strange holographic figure in front of you - glitching slightly with it’s movement. You opened your mouth to speak, before closing it, remembering the whole ‘telepathy’ shit. “Good morning?”

“Is this to your liking?” Your SQUIP walked over towards your door, and you just sort of sat there staring at it’s newfound presence. “I can adjust as necessary, but-”

“It’s fine.”

It shot a small frown at you, but looked toward your closet. “We need to discuss this Jeremy that you’re into.”

“What about him?” You bit the inside of your cheek, combing your fingers through your hair. There... was honestly a lot to unpack about Jeremy, if you were honest.

The figure glitched before you, staring at your closet doors. Taking the hint, you walked over, pulling the doors open as you swore you saw a small smirk play upon it’s lips - and, to be honest, you weren’t sure why. “Why Jeremy? There are far more popular boys and girls at Middleborough that would benefit you more to date. For example,” it paused, analyzing as you watched the faintest trace of binary flash through it’s eyes, “Jake Dillinger: kicker for the football team, very attractive, popular... or Brooke Lohst: popular, pretty, and...” It paused again, “... Jake would be better for you.”

Had you thought about dating Jake Dillinger? Sure - a lot of people fantasized about it at least once or twice, because he was Jake Dillinger. But nonetheless, you never had a connection with Jake. Not like you did with Jeremy. “I don’t... I don’t want to date Jake. He’s cute and all, but... I like Jeremy. I want to talk to him again.” Shifting your weight, you stared into the back of your closet absentmindedly. “I miss him.”

Your SQUIP reached past you, fingers fazing through the articles of clothing hanging up before finally withdrawing it’s hands. Slowly, it extended its arm once more, tapping towards a piece of clothing, “take this out. You need to put all of this away - it isn’t cold enough for you to wear things this heavy,” it glanced back at you as you reached out, pulling article after article out of your closet, “once the weather gets colder, then you can bring back... this. But for now, you need to dress to accentuate your figure, [y/n]. Stop hiding.” Over the next few minutes, your hands begun to move on their own as the SQUIP took control, tired of your slowness compared to its own movements. Soon enough, your closet was thinned out a fair amount. How many hoodies did you own? “Too many. We need to buy you more clothing.”

“You do realize I spent all my money on you, right?” You turned to your bed, the mountain of clothes sitting there. As you moved to take care of it, you watched your SQUIP process info once more.

“Thrift shops are an alternative.”

“I know, but have you considered...” You stopped folding one of your hoodies, looking back to the SQUIP, “I literally just spent all my money on you?”

“Save up.”

You stopped what you’d been doing. “What?”

“You receive a weekly allowance. Besides...” It paused, a small smirk playing at the corner of its lips, “if my calculations are correct, you may have work lined up for you right about-”

As if on cue, your phone buzzed against your nightstand. Your gaze didn’t leave your SQUIP’s form as you reached to pick it up, finding your aunt’s name scrawled across the screen. You answered, pulling the phone up to your ear only to have a request: babysitting, because somebody got into another fight and she can’t trust him to stay there alone - and then rattled off more information, talking about how Sarah has a ballet recital, and Katherine’s science project is due Monday, and in an attempt to break away from the phone call, you quickly informed her you’d be over whenever she needed you. Delighted, she gave you a time and thanked you a thousand times before saying she’d see you later.

Immediately, your focus was on your SQUIP. “How the fuck did you know that?”

“I see possible routes and events. This was just one of them, as, judging by your memories, there was a note about your cousin’s upcoming recital - and, knowing Thomas and Katherine would have their own reasons to not go, your aunts would call you to babysit.” You furrowed your brow, trying to process what it’d just told you before it finally let out a sigh. “Try not to think of it. I’ll take care of conjuring these things. All you need to do is listen.”

You hesitated to agree.

Babysitting your cousins earned you roughly fifty bucks - which was enough for you to dip into a thrift store and find a few things that your SQUIP approved of. Come Monday, you were sporting a pretty sweet jean jacket-hoodie combo and you’d found a pair of black jeans that fit rather nicely. It wasn’t much, but it was a difference from the you that hid themself as best as they could. You looked... different. You felt different, staring at yourself in the mirror, your Hylian shield pin gleaming in the light and reminding you of the battle you had over it with the SQUIP - it advocating against, and you for in an attempt to have some sort of familiarity - that you were surprised to have won. In exchange, your SQUIP directed you away from the cafeteria come lunch time.

“You’ll still have time to eat,” it clarified, “we just have some business to take care of first.”

“Okay,” you watched as it trailed in front of you, hands folded behind its back, shoulders squared and just oozing confidence you wish you had. “What business?”

It peered over it’s shoulder at you, before turning it’s attention back to where you were going. “We need to get you involved in the show. If you want to get close to Jeremy, you have to spend time with him first.”

“Wait - but it was already cast a few weeks ago, it’s not like I can-”

“There’s more to a play than acting, [y/n].” Your SQUIP faltered in it’s gait for a moment, “Perhaps it’s useful you’re an artist.”

The two of you neared Reyes’s classroom, chatter loud and clear. Mr.Reyes with his strong, clear voice - and then you could hear Christine Canigula, chipper as ever, and you couldn’t fight back a small smile at the mere passion she held for theatre. Standing out of sight, you gathered your confidence as best as you - it was only Mr.Reyes and Christine, after all. You could handle talking to them, finding a place for you to help out. This was going to be fine-

And then you heard him, The moment Jeremy’s voice rang out, you turned on your heel and ducked into a bathroom - your SQUIP rematerializing in front of you as you checked the stalls. Once you confirmed you were alone, you turned to face your SQUIP, its eyes pinned to you with utmost boredom.

“What the fuck!” You hissed, keeping your voice quiet and low. “I can’t go in there if Jeremy’s - did you know he was going to be here?”

“Stop speaking aloud.” It chided you, before pressing its lips together. “And... Yes. The probability was high, but this is good for us. Now Jeremy will see you’re serious about this - he’ll see that you’re passionate about art. And theatre, I suppose. Calm down,” it’s voice goes softer, “you’ll do fine. I’m here.”

You nodded slowly, turning and walking towards the sink, staring at yourself in the mirror. With a sigh, you turned back to your SQUIP, fingers grazing the cold porcelain as you nodded. “Alright,” you finally said, “what’s the plan?”

It smiled. “As I said before - we need you to be involved in the show. Perhaps you could put those art skills of you to good use and paint scenery - or you could be running crew. Both gives you a good excuse to stay in the auditorium and near Jeremy.” It walked behind you, pressing a hand against your back, “straighten up. You need to be confident. You’ve got this.”

You turned, looking up at it. “And if I don’t?”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

After a moment of hesitating, you finally nodded. What do you have to be afraid of? You took a deep breath, slowly exhaling as you stepped out of the bathroom and towards the classroom. Once more, you hesitated outside of the door, your SQUIP giving you a small nod as you finally knocked. When you stepped in, Jeremy’s eyes widened.

“[y/n]?” He said, brows furrowed as you walked closer into the room.

You uttered some sort of greeting, Mr.Reyes making some quip about not having any money for cookies as you grew nearer. You forced a laugh.

Your SQUIP’s laid a hand on your shoulder. “Ask.”

So you did. “I was wondering if there’s anything I could do for the play?” You fought to keep your voice steady, anxiety already biting at you. Your hands slowly drifted towards one another, only for a small shock to tear your fingers apart before your habit could bubble up.

“...Really?” Mr.Reyes said, watching you - as if this was some weird prank. Maybe drama wasn’t nearly as popular here as you thought, considering what you’d heard about the cast....

With a nod, you spoke again, “I haven’t really been into theatre for long-”

“But you’ve always wanted to try.” Your SQUIP said, and you nearly nodded except for the thought of how weird that would make you look. Gently, it’s hand landed on your shoulder. “Calm down. I’m right here.”

“I’ve always wanted to try, though. And I thought that maybe-”

“You’d start with crew and audition for the spring show.”

“-I’d, uh, start with backstage stuff and, uh, audition for the spring show?” You tried to make your words flow together effortlessly, as if you weren’t being fed lines - and, somehow, they bought it.

Mr.Reyes nodded slowly, before looking over to Christine and smiling as he turned back to you and launched into an oddly dramatic speech about the importance of a production team, and how - if you’re interested - there’s a few zombies that they’ll need stage makeup for. But his words began to fall into meaningless dribble behind you as you caught a glimpse of your SQUIP trailing around to where Jeremy sat, giving him a slow once over. And slowly, it’s gaze turned to Christine, lips pressed into a thin line. Part of you was terrified of whatever it was thinking, about what judgement it was passing on Jeremy... the other was merely curious. Perhaps it had a better idea about-

“As soon as you’ll need me,” the words were out of your mouth before you could even process what happened. The blend of your voice alongside your SQUIP’s as it spoke for you, and then the soft whisper of a “you’re welcome” was enough to give you goosebumps. But then Jeremy smiled at you, and everything that felt wrong melted away in an instant.

After school, you’d typically be driving to the mall or driving home to sit around and either play video games or draw until your homework became too pressing. But this time you shoved your books into your bag and walked from your last class to the auditorium at the request of Mr.Reyes - who wanted you to watch rehearsal and get a feel for the show. When you nearly asked if that could wait until tomorrow, your SQUIP chastised you immediately - this was a chance to get close to Jeremy. So you smiled and agreed, shooting a quick text to your parents so they wouldn’t worry if rehearsal ran late, and hesitated outside of the doors for a moment. Gathering your courage, you pulled the door open to find the room completely empty as you walked down towards the front row, slinging your bag into a chair and sitting in wait for anyone to show up. Part of you hoped it’d be Rich first, because then at least it’d be a friendly face - and you could maybe ask some questions if you had them, considering he knew more about SQUIPs than you did.

Your SQUIP materialized in front of you, arms folded across it’s chest. “Jeremy will be arriving soon. You have approximately four minutes and twenty seconds alone with him.” When you snorted, it merely glared before looking past you.

“Sorry.” Then you felt a shock travel to your fingers, tearing them away from one another as you looked up. “What the fuck-”

“You were picking at your nails again. You need to stop.” It sighed as it looked back to you, “we need to make the most of this time alone. It is imperative you make a good impression.” It trailed past you, aimlessly wandering back and forth as you stopped paying attention for a moment.

The sound of the doors opening with a screech caught your attention, the loud whine making you turn to see Jeremy hesitating for a moment upon seeing that the room wasn’t empty. But the moment you laid eyes on him, he continued down, fingers curled tightly around the straps of his bag. Ever so slightly, he relaxed as he drew nearer to you.

“Hey,” you called out with a smile, “how are you?”

He was caught off-guard for a moment. “Fine. Why are you here?” He stopped near you, swinging his backpack into a seat and unzipping it.

“Reyes asked-”

“No, I know that - I just- I mean- why are you here?” He paused for a moment, fishing around in his bag, before tacking on “I thought you weren’t into theatre.”

Shit. “I, uh-”

“It’s a recent interest. You’re exploring your options.”

You swallowed your panic. “It’s, uh, a recent thing. I, uh, wanted to maybe try something new...”

Jeremy looked over at you, still suspicious, before he looked back to his bag. Shit. “Okaaaaay,” he said, obviously not entirely convinced by your answer. He paused, finally finding what he was looking for as he pulled out a thick script with pages tabbed with different colors, and then he looked back at you. “Shit, sorry, I just- I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“No, it’s - it’s fine, Jeremy,” you insisted. The SQUIP phased through him, side-stepping and nodding towards his script. You continued on, “So, uh, who are you?”

For a moment he stood there, just staring at you with furrowed brow and utter confusion written on his face before he finally glanced down to what he was holding. “Oh! Uh, Lysander.”

“That’s great!” You chirped, trying to play it off as if you knew who that was.

“Ask him if he needs help with lines.”

“So, uh, Jeremy,” you started, “if you ever need help running lines - I’m, uh, I’m here.”

“I’m fine.” He said, “I’m sorry, I just - you never mentioned being into this stuff before, so...”

“I mean - it’s been a while...” You trailed off. Uncertainty began to leak in as the conversation died down, and then before you could process what was happening, you were speaking. “I’m really excited to see you perform, Jeremy. I’m sure you’ll be amazing.”

His cheeks grew pink as he fumbled with the script slightly, looking away from you in some attempt to compose himself. “Oh. Uh. Thanks, I guess. But you should really see Christine,” he began to smile, face red, “I mean - she’s the real star, y’know?” He looked back at you, completely starry-eyed. “Have you seen her act?” Fuck. “She’s just - she’s amazing, [y/n]...”

The door screeching open was your cue to bolt out of your seat, coming up with some excuse as you tore past Brooke and Jenna and down the hall. Your breath caught in your chest, as you turned a corner and pressed your back against the lockers as panic filled your every thought. Your SQUIP materialized in front of you once more, watching as your breath grew quick and tears began to stream down your face. Fuck, you should have known Jeremy would still be in love with her - but you didn’t think he’d forget you were with him the first time he saw her perform. It had been you and him and Michael. Just as it always was. And now, when you need someone, your SQUIP stood idly by, staring down at the ground with furrowed brow and jaw clenched, arms folded tightly over it’s chest. You focused on slowing your breathing, trying to calm down for a moment - just a moment to resurface yourself back to reality.

You finally looked back at your SQUIP, growing frustrated. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

“I’m processing.” It merely stated, “are you certain you want to keep pursuing Jeremy? There are other students at this school who don’t harbor feelings for Christine Canigula. Jake Dillinger, from my calculations - or that boy in broadcasting, Link. He’s also attractive. Brooke Lohst is also attractive and would be more than willing to-”

“No!” You snapped, before calming down. “Are you - you’re saying this is hopeless, isn’t it?”

Your SQUIP pinched the bridge of it’s nose, growing more frustrated and leaving you to grow more anxious. “No. I’m saying pursuing Jeremy will be difficult considering we have to account for his feelings for Christine. We just have to show him that you would be a much better match for him,” your SQUIP said, staring at you.

“But how-”

The moment you heard footsteps echoing from around the corner, your SQUIP looked back at you - and, for a split second, you thought you saw a smirk. “Tear ducts, activate.”

That was the moment everything in your world started to tumble down.

#mj's writing corner #bmc imagine #bmc reader insert #bmc x reader #be more chill imagine #be more chill reader insert #be more chill x reader #jeremy heere #jeremy heere x reader #jeremy heere imagine

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wongpuppy · 5 years

Text

FATED, huang xuxi

↳ Rating lots of fluff + slight crack

↳ Pairing player!Xuxi x Y/N

↳ Word count 5k [ one-shot / soulmate!au ]

↳ Summary the red thread of fate was real after all, managing to make something out of nothing

Red Thread of Fate: ancient Chinese mythology about the lunar matchmaking god Yuè Lâo tying a red thread around the ankles of destined lovers at the age of 21; regardless of place, time, or circumstances.

The DJ played hectic, bass heavy EDM tracks that contrasted drastically to the semi formal themed party. You down the red of the alcoholic contents in the red solo cup with a wide smile, turning to your best friend Ella.

“Thank you for forcing me to come! I’m having the time of my life!”

Stress has been your closest best friend lately, with all the exams and projects being thrown at you. So when Ella asked you to go out with her, you were definitely more than hesitant at first.

You throw your hands in the air and Ella smirks at you. “I told you you’d have a blast.”

The sea breeze flows through your hair when you close your eyes and throw your head back, appreciating the open decked yacht and everything this extravagant party had to offer. You were on some random yacht off the coast, still close enough to be able to see the city. The moon was completely full tonight, high and dominating the entire sky.

Your tipsy mind free from troubles and bad thoughts. You felt reborn the moment the time went past midnight.

The DJ announces that it was midnight and the crowd cheers heavily and you join, not really knowing why exactly the mass of people were going crazy.

“You never did tell me what club this is or event this was, you know.” You take another cup of beer from the bar and chug the whole thing down in one go.

Ella’s eyes widen at your question and she laughs nervously, sipping on the cup in her hands. “Funny story, Y/N.”

You motion for her to go along whilst nodding and dancing to the song the DJ played, not really focused on what she was saying.

“This isn’t a club or event.” She sighs and avoids your gaze. Eun says the next sentence quick and all in one breath, knowing exactly how you’re gonna take it. “Its Xuxi’s yacht, and he’s now officially 21!”

Your best friends throws her hands in the air as if to cheers, but you felt every ounce of alcohol fade once she mentions the younger boys name. Whether it was the tequila shots or just how much you hated him, your hearts been racing ever since Xuxi was brought into the conversation.

You knew you could never date a guy younger than you, even if it was just a few months younger like him.

“Are you fucking with me?” Your arms are immediately crossed against your chest as you stare at Ella with a narrow gaze.

Needless to say, Xuxi and your relationship was pretty worse for wear. You loathed him, his intensely cocky personality and ‘i’m richer and better than you’ attitude was a complete turn off. Everything about Huang Xuxi was a complete turn off.

“He invited us.” She shrugged. “You were having so much fun before I mentioned it was his party.”

Invited us? Give me a break. As far as you could tell, Xuxi hated you almost just as much as you hated him. He sneered at you whenever he saw you and even gave you the nickname Top Bitch. Which, to be honest, didn’t really sound all that bad to you.

“Exactly.” You sigh and feel a headache come out of nowhere, leaving you clutching your right temple. “I’m allergic to even the slightest mention of him, I just got a headache. I’ll be back, don’t think you’re in the green.”

You move past the crowd to get towards the bathroom, or anywhere that was at least somewhat quiet. Going inside the large living room, you walk towards a bathroom but when you knock and only hear explicit noises on the other side; you cringe and leave. So you go towards the main bedroom instead, walking in when no one answers your knock.

The empty and quiet room let you release a sigh in happiness, massaging your temples. Contemplating laying down on the large and inviting white bed, you go to the bathroom instead; only feeling your temples throb even more.

You wince as you walk towards and pull open the door to the bathroom only to jump back and shriek at the sight.

None other than Huang Xuxi was leaning against the sleek marble sink, clutching his forehead until he jumped at the sound of the door opening and a girly squeal. You watch him groan and wince before turning to you.

But, amazingly once you connect eyes, the throbbing pain is gone and all you feel is relief. Your shoulders relax, your head feels light, its like a wave of serenity flows all through your body. You couldn’t help but feel so at ease, its like you forgot who you were currently gawking at.

“Y/N?” Xuxi looks at you with dazed, confused eyes before looking you up and down, iris’ doubling size at the sight of your feet. “Oh my god.”

You quickly look down and you instantly get why, mouth falling open.

Your black minidress and strappy black heels allowed for a thin, glowing red thread to wrap and tie itself around your ankle. But it didn’t stop there, you watched in horror as it continued onto the bathrooms tilled floors and under Xuxi’s pants, presumably to tie around his ankle.

You swallow thickly. The string felt like nothing but Xuxi and you could definitely see it, the vibrant red surrounded by a bright white light.

“What the hell is going on? Did you do this? Is this some sort of joke?” You stare at the last visible end of the thread before it disappears under the tall, irritating boys pants. He sighs, still staring at your ankle and the ribbon with a disbelieving look.

“No, princess, its a stupid fairytale my dad used to tell me. Guess its fucking real, huh.” Xuxi squeezes his eyes shut and you’re stood there in the doorway between the bedroom and bathroom still in shook. “Red thread of fate, a Chinese myth about a string that ties around two fated lovers ankles. We’re... We’re soulmates.”

The two of you stare at each other with disbelief written all over your faces, before you burst into laughter. “Thats a joke right? You’re definitely messing with me.”

When Xuxi continues to stare at you with his wide brown eyes, your laughter soon fades when you realize his facial expression wasn’t changing at all. Your face falls and you quickly reach down to your ankle, trying to pull at the string. Your hand just goes through it, as if it was just a hologram.

Your jaw drops. “H-How?”

“I don’t know.” Xuxi replies, eyes watching your hand go through the thread, yet the thread followed your foot wherever it went. “This... This is so fucked up.”

You grumble and give up, sitting on the floor and careful not to flash that guy-your soulmate your undies. Crossing your arms across your chest, the both of your eyes set on the thread connecting the two of you. You swallow thickly when a thought comes to your mind.

“Why aren’t you calling me Top Bitch?”

Thats when you fully take notice that this whole hour consisted of a very different Xuxi, one that hasn’t called you any names or threw a comment at you. He hasn’t cursed at you, hasn’t given you any looks, this was definitely unusual for Xuxi. This Xuxi was full of big, brown eyes that seemed to be permanently dazed. His words were softer, almost as if Xuxi’s voice got gentler the second he turned 21.

Xuxi’s eyes whip to yours and they’re obviously wide. “Holy shit. I haven’t called you that.” He swallows thickly and quickly looks away from your gaze with pink on his cheeks. “I don’t feel like I want to anymore.”

For the first time in the whole three years you’ve known Xuxi, your heart flutters for a second. But that one second is so profound it leaves you clutching your chest and shaking your head slowly.

“What is going on with me?”

“You’re falling for me, Y/N.” Xuxi lightly smirks for the first time since the two of you locked eyes, which is very surprising. He sighs a second later and taps the sink.

“Shut the fuck up.” You sneer at him and scrunch your face. “This is all my drunk mind and everything will wear off in an hour or two.”

Xuxi sits on the floor leaning against the sinks drawers. “Enjoying my party?” He’s sitting across from you and the end of his feet reach your knees where the ends of yours reach the middle of his calf. You take a quick inhale and look away.

“I guess. Then this crazy migraine came out of nowhere and now I’m here.”

“Same here. But its completely gone now.”

That definitely meant your headaches were connected. There was no way the both of you could get a headache at the same time then have it leave at the same time.

The red thread.

Your eyes narrow and you go to nudge his calf, but once your foot touches his leg, it was like adrenaline flew through your bodies, goosebumps instantly rising. And when you looked at the thread, it started to slowly loose its vibrancy. Your eyes widened.

“Xuxi, look, if we’re touching the string gets dimmer and fades really slowly. If I pull away it stops.” You show him and nod to yourself with a small grin. “So it should fade away the more we’re touching.”

When you look up at Xuxi, he looks as if he was daydreaming but looking directly at you. His lips were in a small side smile and eyes low. The way he managed to look at you pretty intimately made your cheeks pink. “I think that’s the first time you’ve said my name.”

“Thats definitely not true.” You scoff and can’t help but laugh under your breath. Xuxi’s grin widens just a little at the sight.

“Lets just say it was then.”

Your grin is unbearably wide and you couldn’t believe it, never once thinking Xuxi of all people would be making you blush. But then you remember that it was Xuxi and you clear your throat and rolled your eyes. “Please, Xuxi, how many other girls have you used that on?”

“If I’m being completely honest, a lot.” Xuxi twists the rings on his fingers and you scoff loudly. When you sit up to leave, he leans forward and lightly grasps the back of your calf and you let out an audible gasp.

It was crazy, it felt like butterflies that took a lot of steroids.

“But up until an hour ago, I’ve only been thinking about one girl and its only been you.” You’re standing up and you swallow thickly at the honesty in his voice and big, brown eyes. “Which is fucking insane because we’re supposed to hate each other... right?”

You run your hands through your hair and sigh. “Its this red string thing. But the feelings aren’t real, it’ll all fade, look.”

You point to your ankles and the slightly faded string but Xuxi keeps his eyes on you, swallowing thickly at your sentence.

“Don’t you... don’t you feel like this is something more?”

Your eyes snap back up to Xuxi’s and your throat goes dry. He immediately gets up and motions between the two of you. “I don’t know about you but I’ve never felt anything like this before and I’ve been in love, so, this is different.”

You narrow your eyes at him. Xuxi? In love? That was an idea you never would’ve connected. Yet, you couldn’t help but agree. Even if you’ve never really been in love, you’ve felt it and knowing exactly how much you hated Xuxi, whatever was still keeping you in the bathroom with him was powerful.

“Why us?” You sigh and squeeze your eyes shut. “I’m soulmates with a guy who sleeps with a different girl every night!”

“Hey.” Xuxi frowns and takes a few steps towards you. “Thats not true. You know I won’t do that to you, I’m not that type of guy in relationsh-“

This Xuxi was definitely one that you aren’t used to, seeing him in a completely different light. It was as if he really did care.

“I don’t know that you wouldn’t do that to me!” You point a finger to his chest and ignore the sparks that go off from the smallest contact. “And don’t talk about us in a relationship, take a few steps back.”

He rolls his eyes and holds his hands up, moving back and away from you. And even though you know you asked him to move back, you couldn’t help but feel a loss of comfort the more steps Xuxi took. You groan at the feeling.

“I need air.” You mutter, taking one last fleeting look across Xuxi and his big, wide eyes before walking out of the bathroom and bedroom, and out towards the empty front deck. The entire walk your eyes were focused on the red string around your ankle.

No one else seemed to notice the string, as it followed your ankle through the mass of people. When you got to the deck, you take a deep breath and sigh. The three years of unfortunate encounters with Xuxi and you could be compared to a cat and dog type of relationship. The two of you went at it back and forth, ever since you first met.

Three years ago

You and your friends were at some random dorm hall on campus, playing pool and chilling in the community game room. It was around 9:36pm on a Sunday so campus was almost empty, save for the guys playing pool casually next to you.

Not gonna lie, you noticed them the minute you walked in the room, talking to your roommate Ella. Especially the taller, blonde one. He was probably the most beautiful guy you’ve ever seen, with full lips and broad shoulders, he was definitely gonna be stuck in your head for a few days.

But when he caught you staring, he gave you a cocky smirk that had you rolling your eyes. If theres one thing you hated, it was a conceited guy who played girls with that exact smirk.

You’ve had too much experience and you were sure this wouldn’t add to it. In the corner of your eye you watch him and a couple of his friends walk over and you groan, nudging Ella. “They’re coming over.”

“Sheesh, blondies a looker. I caught you rolling your eyes when you saw him.” She sneaks a look at him and turns back to you with a satisfied grin.

“Not my type.” You cross your arms across your chest and boldly turn to watch him and his friends get closer. “He’s way to cocky for me, I feel it.”

“I like them confident.” Ella eyes you. “Can I go for him?”

“Go for it.” You shrug at her and turn back when the guy in question and his friends are in front of you and your friends.

“I don’t think we’ve seen any of you before.” The blonde guy keeps his gaze and smirk locked securely on you. “Do you live in the hall?”

“We live in Beacon across campus.” Even if Ella’s the one that spoke up and answered, Xuxi takes his time looking away from you to her. You scoff.

“Interesting.” He turns back to you with a cheeky grin. “I’m Xuxi.”

“My names Ella.” She holds out her hand towards him and he looks away from you with a little wink. You shake your head and turn to his friends instead. They seemed a lot calmer than Xuxi, the two boys now turned to you with warm grins.

“Hey, I’m Y/N.” You nod your head at them and they nod back. The one with light brown hair and a pretty smile answers first.

“My names Kun, I’m Xuxi’s roommate.”

“Sicheng, nice to meet you.” The boy with flawless features and light blonde hair replies.

“Nice to meet you guys too, both of you freshman?”

“No, Sicheng and I are sophomores. This is your first semester here?” Kun replies and you nod grinning at him.

“And you aren’t caught up by the force that is Huang Xuxi, impressive.” Sicheng smirks and you laugh a little, shrugging.

“Theres a lot more to a pretty face.” You look back over to Xuxi and where he stood with your friends a couple feet away. You turn back to them with a grin. “So what’re you guys’ majors?”

“Xuxi and I are both business majors.” Kun replies with a shrug. “I’m not really into it, more into editing and videography, which I do on the side.”

“I’m a theatre major.” Theres a faint pink hue that spreads across Sicheng’s face until he shrugs it off. “My parents wouldn’t let me go to acting school so this is the closest thing to that.”

You laugh loudly and shake your head at the two of them, already knowing you’re going to like them. “That’s really cool. I’m a bio major, but I might switch because it’s already getting hard and I don’t like that.”

Kun visibly cringes while Sicheng shrugs. The lighter blonde boy smirks at you, nudging Kun. “He failed intro to bio twice in his freshman year, it was pretty sad.”

You laugh again and when your eyes fleet across the room for a second, you catch Xuxi’s eyes. He turns back to you with another smirk.

“I don’t think I got your name.” Xuxi excuses himself from the girls before walking over to you without another word.

“It’s Y/N.” You give him an unimpressed look when he looks you up and down. He grins wolfishly.

“Thats a lovely name and, do I hear an accent?”

“Get her whole life story then her snapchat, bro, always works.” Kun scoffs and you grin at him. You pull out your phone towards Kun and Sicheng, away from Xuxi.

“Speaking of, can I get the both of yours?”

Both their eyes widen slightly before nodding and pulling out their phones and exchanging codes. Behind you, you can hear Ella and the girls hounding Xuxi for his snapchat and you release a sigh of relief.

Until Kun turns to the girls and asks for their usernames. Whilst Kun and Sicheng were getting the girls’ codes, it left you and yours truly free.

“So, Y/N,” Xuxi takes a few steps towards you, “my snapchats h-u-a-x-u-x-i.”

You raise a brow. “I don’t remember asking for it, do you?”

He looks confused for a second before his smirk grows. “You’re feisty, huh. Don’t worry, babe, I love a challenge.”

You scrunch your face in disgust, wondering how such pretty looks can be obscured by such a narrow personality. But before you could say anything, Ella’s voice calls Xuxi’s name and you sigh in relief.

“I’ll catch you in a bit, Y/N.” He winks at you while walking backwards and towards Ella. You wave with a fake smile before turning away with a roll of your eyes. You turn to Kun and Sicheng instead, enjoying their company much more than Xuxi’s.

Later that night you get a notification on your phone and its a request from none other than ‘huaxuxi’ himself. You nibble on your bottom lip for a few minutes before accepting it. And you already felt like you would regret this.

Xuxi: Kun spilled and told me your username :)

Y/N: tell kun i dont like him anymore

Xuxi: Does that mean you like me more?

Y/N: that would require me to like you in the first place :)

It only takes Xuxi a week before he realizes that you actually didn’t like him and decided that you thought of yourself too highly. From then came Top Bitch and the countless sneers and scoffs.

And thats just how it was for the both of you, never any different.

You’re sitting in the cafeteria with the girls when some of the NCT boys walk by, making you roll your eyes and sink in your seat lower catching a glimpse of who was there. But instead of walking up to your table, Xuxi just walks by and doesn’t even say hi making you furrow your brows.

“Did Xuxi just ignore me?” You mutter to Ella once he’s a good distance away. You keep looking at him sneakily behind her shoulder and when he catches your gaze, instead of smirk or wink, Xuxi glares at you. “Holy shit he just glared at me.”

“Maybe he gave up, isn’t that what you wanted?” Ella replies, shrugging at you.

“Yeah.” You say quietly, swallowing thickly when your throat goes a little dry. “Yeah, it is.”

⇝⇝⇝

It isn’t until that moment that you realized you completely ditched Ella. You groan and quickly pull out your phone from the back of your tight, strapless dress. Texting her where you were, you at least knew she would still be on the boat.

You put away your phone and sigh, leaning against the yacht railing and watching the moonlight play against the water, the full moon still bright and powerful. The cities colorful and lit skyline looks almost animated and magical.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

You turn your head to the sound of your best friends voice, Ella walking towards you with narrowed eyes. You sigh and shake your head.

“You wouldn’t believe what I went through.”

Ella raises a brow at you once she’s beside you. “Oh? Do tell.”

You nibble on your bottom lip and realize you didn’t even know where to begin. How do you tell someone that a magical, mythical Chinese fable about soulmates happened to you?

“Remember three years ago when we met Xuxi?”

Ella’s eyes get a bit widened, noticing the way you say his name without cringing. She nods and motions for you to go on.

“Why didn’t you ever go for him?”

“Oh, honey,” she sighs and rolls her eyes, “I tried. He was just too... preoccupied, I guess.”

“Preoccupied?” You furrow your brows and turn back to the view.

“Y/N, he was like hooked on you the minute he saw you. Theres no way you didn’t notice.”

You sigh loudly and face her with a stressed look.

“Do you see anything tied around my ankle?”

Ella gives you a funny look before looking down and confusedly on your ankle. “No? It’s too dark, here let me put flash on.”

You look down at the still half vibrant red thread that stood out in the darkness with a sigh. “Never mind, it’s okay.”

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Your best friend gives you a worried look, never seeing you like this before.

Your chin wobbles and you close your eyes. “Xuxi and I, we’re soulmates.”

Ella stares at you, waiting for you to shout ‘JK’ or to laugh it off. But your straight face doesn’t falter, making your best friends eyes widen.

“How do you know? Xuxi? Soulmates?”

Your eyes pull open and you sigh at her. “Its hard to explain but yeah it’s true.”

“Is it true to you though?”

You look at Ella’s face and hesitates before nodding a little. Now that you were apart from Xuxi, your mind was clear but there was an obvious divide. When you were with him there was electricity in the air, sparks flying from the slightest look. It felt like something else completely being around him, it felt nice. Inviting.

“Yeah, Ella, I do.”

⇝⇝⇝

Xuxi collapses on his bed with a loud sigh, already feeling his headache coming back. He knew you were walking further and further, spending three minutes earlier just watching the red thread twist and turn.

Theres no time for him to be alone with his thoughts as his best friend Sicheng walks in a few seconds later. “Xuxi, bro, why are you still in here? The parties outside!”

Xuxi sits up on his bed and rubs his hands over his face. “Have your parents told you about that myth about the red thread of fate? About the soulmates?”

Sicheng furrows his brows and gets up from his place where he was leaning against a desk table. His confused face was obvious, Xuxi never being the one to talk anything about love, feelings, or soulmates. “Yeah, why?”

“Its true, bro.” Xuxi sighs and avoids Sicheng’s eyes, focusing on the floor. “Y/N and I...”

Sicheng’s eyes snap down to the exact placement of the thread and he comes closer. “I don’t see anything, Xux.”

“Obviously.” The taller boy motions for the vibrant red string. “But Y/N and I definitely do.”

“No fucking way.” The other Chinese guy shakes his head staring at Xuxi’s ankle. Until a smirk blooms on his face. “Y/N, though? I’m not surprised.”

“Right?!” Xuxi groans and stops, realizing Sicheng said the complete opposite of what he thought the guy would say. “Wait, what do you mean? We hated each other.”

“In the whole three years we’ve known each other, Y/N’s the only girl thats been consistently in your life that isn’t family.” Sicheng shrugs and continues to smirk at the boy sitting on the bed. “Which is insane because, you know, it’s you. And I am now 30 dollars richer thanks to you and Mr. Kun.”

Xuxi completely skips over the second sentence once Sicheng finishes talking, turning to the boy with wide eyes and an incredulous look. “The both of you bet on Y/N and me?!”

“To date, yeah, but this whole fate thing is basically the same thing, right?” Sicheng laughs loudly and winks at Xuxi. “I’m joking, man. But, knowing Y/N, she isn’t too happy with this?”

“That’s an understatement. She’s outside getting air.” Xuxi lays back down with a groan. “When it went past midnight, its like my feelings towards Y/N flipped. I feel so different towards her, like, I don’t mind this whole... situation, you know? The whole soulmates thing?”

“Then what the fuck are you doing here?” Sicheng claps loudly, instantly pulling him out of his reverie and forces Xuxi on his feet. “Go and tell her that!”

“Are you sure?” Xuxi gives him a small look, not really knowing what to do in this position at all. He was used to girls but you were something completely different, not like any girl he’s ever dealt with. The last thing Xuxi wanted to do was piss you off, knowing how heated you would get.

“One hundred percent.” The shorter boy shrugs with a smirk. “When am I ever wrong, Xux? Now, go!”

Xuxi hurriedly runs out of the bedroom without a second thought, racing to find you. It was clear as day in his mind now, Xuxi realized that all these years of detesting you was nothing but a hoax, because if you were ever somehow out of his life; Xuxi wouldn’t know what to do.

He doesn’t stop to wink or talk to girls, only thanking and waving at the people who told him happy birthday. Xuxi was a man on a mission, racing through his yacht to get you.

“Y/N.” He gets to the front deck and slows his steps when you aren’t alone. Your best friend, Ella, he recognized, stood beside you with dear in headlights eyes. “Oh, shit, sorry, I thought you were alone.”

“Oh! Its okay, I was just asking about rides back home.” Ella laughs nervously, nudging you low key. “I’ll see you in a bit, okay?”

You nod and watch your best friend leave, not without throwing you a thumbs up and wink before she was gone. When its just you and Xuxi, the electricity is back and the headache is gone.

“Your headache stopped too?” You ask him and he nods at first before he realizes what you asked and Xuxi’s eyes widened.

“How did you know my head hurt?”

You shrug and the corner of your lips pull up. “Soulmate thing.”

Xuxi’s eyes focus on your smile for a second longer then bubbling laughter flows out of him. He takes some steps closer to you, reaching forward to hold your hand. Theres the feeling of pop rocks the second your hands touch and its addictive.

“The feelings aren’t fake or gonna fade in a day or two.” Xuxi clears his throat and blushes a little, the tops of his ears turning red. “They’ve always been there. This whole string thing just made me realize it.”

The moonlight, colorful city lights, and fairy lights decked throughout the yacht made this moment so magical, for the first time that night, you fully believed in the old Chinese wise tale.

“You piss me off a lot but I don’t know what I’d do without it.” You say with a shrug, smirking not long after. Xuxi chuckles and bites down on his lip, looking down at you.

“Are you willing to give it a shot, Y/N?”

You sigh and playfully roll your eyes, standing closer to him. “I guess I will, Xuxi.”

The red thread between the two of you dissolves almost all together the longer the two of you keep smiling at each other. Seconds later, fireworks go off in the backdrop and scares you, making you shriek and jump. Xuxi laughs loudly and holds you against his chest, watching the colorful lights in the sky.

“I forgot the fireworks went off at 2am.”

“Why 2 in the morning?” You laugh loudly, unable to stop yourself from clutching onto his chest to get closer. The warmth Xuxi gave off was so inviting.

“So people don’t forget it’s my birthday.” Xuxi smirks to himself, obviously proud of himself. You roll your eyes but laugh none the less.

“You’re unbelievable, Xuxi.”

#xuxi is my soulmate im convinced #i also loveee this chinese myth i lowkey want to write more with it for other members but idk #neowritingsnet #huang xuxi #nct xuxi #lucas wong #nct lucas #wong yukhei #nct yukhei #nct fluff #nct angst #nct smut #soulmate au #nct soulmate au #lucas soulmate au #nct writing #nct lucas fluff

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lilulo-12fanfiction · 5 years

Text

Nothing Breaks Like A Heart- 3

So this took me about 8 years to write. I’m not sure why. But it’s unedited so please ignore the mistakes. The spacing looks off but I’m posting this on mobile so I’ll look at it on my laptop mañana. Likes, comments and reblogs are much appreciated!

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@fanfictionjunkie1112 @shreddedparchment

“Uncle Tony! Uncle Tony!” A 6 year old Nora ran to her Uncle and he scooped her up in his arms. “I missed you!” Nora repeatedly kissed her young uncle’s clean shaven face.

“I missed you too baby doll. Why don’t you go over and see Grandpa Obe. I think he has a present for you.” Tony set Nora down and she ran down the hall.

Nora was dreaming. She knew she was. She was standing there watching her memory unfold. It was the strangest dream. She had never had one like this.

“Hello Nora.” Nora slowly turned as her hands trembled. She knew the voice. She took a shaky breath and came face to face with Loki.

“How are you in my dream?” Loki gave Nora a smirk.

“I’m a God Nora Stark. There are many things I can do.”

“Then why are you here?”

“We had so little time together. There is much you don’t know. Things your father hid from you and your Uncle. I’m here to lead you to the truth. Pay attention to this.” Loki turned you back to the scene before you. This couldn’t be your memory. You had left the room.

“Grant- it’s her birthday and every year you leave her here and vanish for days. Eventually she’s not going to be okay with it. You lost your wife. But she lost her mother.”

“Her mother is gone and it’s my job to protect her from what’s to come. I leave to protect her. You don’t understand.”

“Then make me understand.”

“If Nora here infringes on your extra curricular activities, I can get a Nanny.”

“Don’t be stupid. This has nothing to do with her being here. I look forward to this all year. But I’m worried that some day she’s going to resent you and it will be too late.”

“She’s not you. And I’m not our father so just stop. I’ll see you in a week.” Tony stood staring blankly as his brother stormed out. He had no idea what he was hiding. He had left without even saying goodbye to Nora.

“Protect me from what’s to come? What does that mean?!” Nora demanded answers from Loki.

“You have to put it together on your own. I can guide you Nora but you must put the pieces together. “

Before Nora could respond she jolted awake. Her heart was pounding and she couldn’t catch her breath. She felt like she was in a bad version of a Dickens Novel

“That must have been some dream” A deep voice came from her right. She looked over and saw Steve Rogers sitting in the chair next to her bed in the med wing.

“It was intense.” Nora started to regain her bearings.

“Look. I know you don’t want to see me and you think I’m the bad guy. But I had to make that decision. Tony knew what he was doing. I couldn’t risk everything he was willing to sacrifice. I wouldn’t have made that choice if”

“Steve. Steve. I know. I was a bitch. I was emotional and upset and I took it out on you. I’m sorry I spoke to you like that. It was just a lot and I think the poison in my system is making me delirious or something but I know you made the right decision. My uncle wouldn’t able to live with himself if people died to save him.” Steve took Nora’s hand. He could tell she was getting upset again.

“It’s forgotten. It was a difficult day. I’m just glad you and Tony are okay.”

“I think okay is stretch.” Nora laughed.

"Well physically okay." Steve squeezed Nora's hand as the door to her room opened. Bruce walked in, seemingly surprised to see Steve sitting there.

"You ready to get out of here?" Bruce had a strange look on his face.

"I thought you said I'd be here for longer?" Nora furrowed her brow.

"Well, we originally thought you would need IV Antibiotics for longer. It seemed like a nasty infection. But apparently it is healing a lot quicker than anticipated. You aren’t out of the woods but we can switch you to oral antibiotics now. You're still going to be sore and the stitches may give you some trouble but we should be able to take them out soon. There's no reason for you to stay in this bed any longer. But Nora, you need to take it easy for a bit."

“Define take it easy” Bruce looked exasperated as he ran his palm down his face.

“You need to stay in the building for now. We don’t want you exposed to any other bacteria. We don’t know how this will affect your immune system. You’re going to have to keep your leg elevated and the swelling down and crutches to walk.

“So really just like being here but in my own bed or on my ass wheeling around. Bruce I have work to do. The tower is a mess. The city is a mess.”

“It’s not up to you to fix it. You need to take care of yourself.” Nora’s lips were pursed. “Don’t look at me like you’re trying to appease me. You have

to follow instructions.” Bruce was pleading. “Or I’ll call Tony and you’ll stay here.”

“She’ll follow directions Dr. Banner. I’ll make sure of it.” Steve had his arms crossed in front of his chest with authority. Nora’s nostrils flared. Before she could attempt to argue Steve continued talking. “You’re going to need help. Tony needs to recover himself. I, however, am already healed. Let me help you.”

“Must be nice being a Super Soldier, but fine.” Nora threw her hands up. “But don’t even think about trying to treat me like a child.” Nora pointed her finger at Steve with raised eyebrows.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾

Steve wheeled Nora into her apartment. Both he and Bruce insisted on her using it to get to her wing of the tower and use it to go anywhere else in the tower except around her loft.

"Now what?' Nora sighed. Steve could tell she was upset but was trying not to show it.

"Now, I'm going to order some dinner. I don't think you want to be poisoned by my cooking on top of everything else. And then we can watch a movie or whatever you want to do."

"I need to shower, I feel disgusting." Steve nodded and was about to wheel her down to her room. "No, give me the crutches. I'm not an invalid" Steve rolled his eyes and handed her the crutches. He didn't attempt to help her to her feet, he knew she wouldn't let him. He watched her hobble down the hall to her bedroom. He opened a few drawers in her kitchen until he found some menus and pulled them out to decide what to get them for dinner.

Behind the door of her bathroom, Nora let a sob escape from her mouth. She was trying so hard to keep her emotions tucked inside, but after what had just happened she was floored. Aliens, Gods, more aliens. She had no idea what she would have done if she had lost her Uncle. She let her tears flow as she hobbled over to her dresser and pulled out a grey t-shirt and a pair of lavender and grey striped shorts. She struggled for a few moments to figure out how to get changed. She couldn't put any pressure on her leg without horrifying pain. She took a deep breath to center herself and went to the door. "Steve?" she called out. She heard his heavy foot steps and soon he was at her door. "Can you see if you can get Nat or Pepper in here?"

"Nat isn't here, she's at SHEILD. Pepper is doing a press conference right now. Are you okay?" Nora didn't want to open the door for Steve to see her tear stained face.

"I just." She paused. "I can't get changed to get into the shower."

"Do you...do you want my help?" Nora groaned. She didn't want to wait until Pepper would be done. It could be hours. She'd have to swallow her pride and let him help her. She wiped her face as best she could and opened the door. "Nora...you're crying." She clearly she hadn't done a good enough job.

"I'm fine." She stepped back so Steve could walk in. He enveloped her in a hug. She stood there shocked for a moment and then hugged him back and then she felt the damn of tears burst open. He slipped his arm behind her knees and picked her up like she was a feather and walked over to her bed so they could sit. He held her as she cried. "I'm sorry. I don’t know why I’m so damn emotional” She sobbed. "I don't normally break down and cry in front of people. I just..."

"Shhh...don't you dare apologize. And don't hold this all in. I've got you. You're safe with me. These past couple of days have been a lot.” Nora took a deep breath. They sat like that for a while. Nora across Steve’s lap as he had his arms wrapped around her torso and hers around his neck. Finally Nora pulled back.

“I really need to shower but I need help.” Her face turned pink.

“I can help you. I won’t look. It’s okay.” Steve helped her stand up and into her bathroom. She grabbed a towel from her linen cabinet and set it on the counter. Steve opened her shower door and started the water. “How hot do you want it?”

“So hot it almost melts my face off?” Steve laughed.

“I’m not going to turn it that hot. You can adjust it once you get in.” Nora nodded.

“Okay, this is awkward, let’s just power through. I can’t balance to take my pants on or off.” Steve nodded. “I’m going to turn around. I feel like my bare ass is less embarrassing. I mean an ass is ass.”

“However you’re most comfortable “‘Steve laughed. Nora turned around and pulled her t-shirt off and threw it in the hamper. Steve felt his mouth go dry. Nora felt his hands on her hips. “Okay I’m going to slide them off.” Nora nodded. She felt the heat burning on her cheeks. She felt like someone was blowing bubbles in her stomach. She was painfully aware of how firm Steve was holding her waste. His calloused hands were hot against her skin. Suddenly she was painfully aware that she was completely naked. “Can you step in by yourself?” Nora nodded unable to speak. She stepped in and quickly shut the door behind her. “I’m going to go back into your room. The towel is right here. Call me when you’re ready for me.

“Okay. Thanks Steve.” Nora felt her heart pounding.

“Of course. I’ll be right outside”. Steve ran his hands down his face. He spent the entire time thinking of the most non-sexual thoughts he could to avoid being turned on. He was attracted to Nora, she was beautiful, but there was something about her that was magnatizing.

He looked around her room. The walls were a grayish purple. The room wasn’t as big as he thought it would be, but it was still bigger than any room he had ever slept in. There was a slanted ceiling near the bathroom that created a large alcove where an oak roll top desk and chair was located. She had a matching chest of drawers that matched the desk as well as a large bookshelf that was loaded with books. Nora being a bookworm made him smile. Her king sized bed was in the middle of the room with an oak nightstand on one side and on the other was an elaborate lamp. It was built like a tree and was covered with glass flowers that all had tiny light bulbs in the middle. There was a smaller black lamp on the night stand.

Parallel to the wall with the door was a set of glass french doors with trim painted the black. It led out to a substantial balcony. Steve imagined Nora spent a lot of time out there. Her glanced over at her bluish purple bed spread that was a soft chenille. It was simple and loaded with pillows. He wondered how she fit in the bed with that many pillows. He walked over to the bookshelf and took a picture off to study it. It had

to be her parents. Grant was the spitting imagine of Howard Stark, even more than Tony. He knew the woman was her mother, although her hair was blonde it hung in spirals like Nora’s. She also had the same captivating sea green eyes as her daughter. Next to that was a picture of an older Howard and he assumed Maria who was holding a little bundle he was sure was Nora. Steve knew they didn’t live much longer after the picture had been taken. He glanced at a few photos of Nora and Grant. There was one of Nora, maybe 12, with Pepper. There was then an onslaught of photos of Nora and Tony. Ones with a young Tony and a toddler Nora. He saw her grow up in the photos. Her High School graduation, prom, a Christmas photo. Despite all of her loss, Tony has given her the best life possible. Not with his money, but with how much he loved her. The pride in his eyes in each photo jumped out at you. His favorite picture was of her and Tony, she was holding a cello and happiness was radiating from her.

Steve jumped and put the photo with back when he heard the bathroom door open. Nora hobbled out wearing her towel and holding her clothes. “I’m all done.” Her voice was quiet and sheepish.

“Here, sit down on the edge of the bed.” Steve helped her over as she sat. He took the black cotton boy short panties and slid them up to her knees and did The same with her shorts. “If you stand will you be able to pull them up the rest of the way?” Nora nodded. Steve tried to ignore her blazingly red face. “Okay, I’ll help you stand and then you can finish getting dressed. Your crutches are right there on the bed.” Steve helped her stand and then headed towards her door.

“Steve?” He heard her say in almost a whisper. “Thank you.” He nodded at her with a smile and headed back out to the living room.

♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾♾

Nora used her crutches to get back out to the main area. Her large apartment started with an open floor plan. The substantial kitchen and living room were what you saw when you walked in. Dark hardwood floors throughout. Parallel to her door was a long hallway with 5 doors. On the right hand side was first the guest bedroom and the master bedroom at the end of the hall. On the other side there were two more doors with a half bath in the middle. Each bedroom had its own bathroom.

“So I ordered some pizza and wings. I figured it was a safe bet.”

“That’s fine, but I’m not really hungry to be honest.”

“You definitely have to eat Nora. All of that medicine will kill your stomach.” She nodded and hobbled over to the living room. She had a large taupe microfiber couch with ottoman at each end and two over sized chairs on each side. There was an antique looking entertainment center and above it, mounted to the wall was a large flat screen TV. About 6 feet back from the couch was a large wooden table with a marble top. It had a long bench on the side closest to the wall with 3 large chairs Across from it and 2 on each end. There was a wall of floor to ceiling windows. Across from the large table right next to the windows was a baby grand piano. Nora sat on the couch propping her leg up on the ottoman.

“You really don’t have to stay Steve. I’ll be fine.” Nora finally said. Steve had been studying her profile after she sat down. She looked overwhelmed and slightly sad.

“I know you’d be fine but you really shouldn’t be alone. Something could happen and you’re not at 100%. Unless you don’t want me here, I could call Nat.”

“No that’s not it. I just feel bad that I’m hijacking your life.” Steve walked over and sat next to Nora and faced her.

“You’re not hijacking anything. There’s no place else I’d rather be.” His warm smile set her at ease. His hand was next to hers and she linked her pinky with his. Steve was amazed that a tiny little touch could send his heart racing. Before either of them could say or do anything else there was a knock on the door. Steve jumped up to open it and was greeted by Tony’s confused face. He walked past Steve into the apartment. Steve could tell he was trying to appear uninjured but his movements said otherwise. Even after a few days since the battle his face was bruised up.

“Wasn’t expecting to see you here Cap.” Tony glanced over his shoulder with a knowing look at Steve. He looked guilty and Nora looked flustered.

“Uh Dr. Banner had some stipulations on letting Nora out of the med bay so I told him I’d stick around to help.”

“Jarvis- have some clothes sent over for the Captain if he’s staying here. Don’t need him smelling up the place.” Tony ordered his A.I. He smiled at Nora and kissed her on the cheek and sat down next to her. “Hi babydoll, how’s my girl?” Steve stepped into the kitchen to give them some privacy. He sat at the large island on one of the stools. The marble top on the island and the rest of the counters matched the table. The color of the cabinets matched the color of her furniture. Her french door refrigerator and 6 burner stove as well as the dish washer were black. He looked at the walls of the entire area. The color was a very pale turquoise. Almost so pale it was white. One wall on the living room side behind the table and piano was exposed brick. Her tastes were simple and clean.

“I’m okay. Really tired still. How are you? Shouldn’t you be resting?”

“Oh honey I’m fine. I’ve had worse than this.”

Nora gave him a skeptical look. “I came over once I heard you were back over here to see if you wanted to stay on my floor so you weren’t alone, but I see you aren’t.”

“You need to take care of yourself and not worry about me. You fell out of the sky!”

“Banner broke my fall.” Tony gave his signature smirk. “But I see you’re in good hands here so I’m going to head back over before Pepper comes hunting for me. Call me if you need anything.” Tony kissed her forehead. “Love you Nori. Keep that leg up and don’t try to over do it.”

“Ditto, on all accounts.” She smiled adoringly up at her Uncle. He gave her a shrug.

“My legs are fine.” He turned to Steve and nodded “Captain.” After a second glance, he headed out the door.

Steve managed to get Nora to eat a piece of pizza and a couple of wings. He took it as a victory. He walked back over to the couch and handed Nora her antibiotics and some of her pain medication. She swallowed it quickly with her water. Steve sat down next to her as she picked another movie.

“You look exhausted. Why don’t we call it a night.”

“I don’t want to sleep” Nora confessed.

“You need some rest. It’ll help you heal.”

“If I sleep, I’ll dream and I’d like to avoid that.” Concern was draped over Steve’s face.

“Nightmares?”

“Among other things.”

“Here lean forward.” As Nora moved he slid behind her so she could rest her torso on his and stretch her legs out across the couch. It took Nora a moment to settle back, taken by surprise. Once she was resting against him Steve covered them with the large blanket that was on the back of the couch. “Rest, go to sleep. If you start having a nightmare I’ll wake you up.” Nora nodded and then started the movie. About 15 minutes after the movie started her head fell back against Steve’s shoulder. Steve leaned his head back and closed his eyes, the sweet smell of Nora’s shampoo helping him drift off to sleep.

#steve rogers x stark oc #steve rogers x oc #captain america x oc #captain american imagine #captain america #steve rogers #stark oc #tony stark x oc #tony stark #tony stark x stark!OC #avengers fic #avengers fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfiction #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america fanfiction #steve rogers imagine

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thisdiscontentedwinter · 5 years

Text

Re: Plot Holes The things I do for you Disco. So Laura’s death and story in season 1 (I’m having Twin Peaks flashbacks lol). All of this can be found at: transcripts http://transcripts.foreverdreaming.org/viewforum.php?f=137&sid=b1a956839b5916e7cb7432de7e028092 Scripts https://sites.google.com/site/tvwriting/us-drama/show-collections/teen-wolf

So we start in episode 1.01: Stiles: A pre - I - wha - look, I know it’s late, but you gotta hear this. I saw my dad leave 20 minutes ago. Dispatch called. They’re bringing in every officer from the Beacon Department, and even State Police. Scott: For what? Stiles: Two joggers found a body in the woods. Scott: A dead body? Stiles: No, a body of water. Yes, dumb - ass, a dead body. Scott: You mean like murdered? Stiles: Nobody knows yet. Just that it was a girl, probably in her 20s. Scott: Hold on, if they found the body, then what are they looking for? Stiles: That’s the best part. They only found half. We’re going. – Stiles: Just hold on, okay? I overheard my dad on the phone. The fiber analysis came back from the lab in L.A. They found animal hairs on the body from the woods! Scott: Stiles, I gotta go. Stiles: Wait, no! Scott! You’re not gonna believe what the animal was! It was a wolf. – Scott: Oh, is this about the body? Did they find out who did it? Stiles: No, they’re still questioning people, even Derek Hale. – Scott: No! Listen, you gotta find Allison. Stiles: She’s fine, all right? I saw her get a ride from the party. She’s - she’s totally fine, all right? Scott: No, I think I know who it is. Stiles: You just let me in. We can try - Scott: It’s Derek. Derek Hale is the werewolf. He’s the one that bit me. He’s the one that killed the girl in the woods. Stiles: Scott - Derek’s the one who drove Allison from the party. – Scott: Who were they? Derek: Hunters. The kind that have been hunting us for centuries. Scott: Us? You mean you! You did this to me! Derek: Is it really so bad, Scott? That you can see better - Hear more clearly, move faster than any human could ever hope? You’ve been given something that most people would kill for. The bite is a gift. [So not much about Laura (also lol Derek not telling Scott “*I* didn’t bite you” immediately)]

Then 1.02: Scott: Curfew because of the body. Stiles: Unbelievable. My dad’s out looking for a rabid animal, while the jerk - off who actually killed the girl is just hangin’ out, doing whatever he wants. Scott: Well, you can’t exactly tell your dad the truth about Derek. – Stiles: What did you find? How did you find it? Where did you find it? And, yes, I’ve had a lot of Adderall, so- Scott: I found something at Derek Hale’s. Stiles: Are you kidding? What? Scott: There’s something buried there - I could smell blood. Stiles: That’s awesome! I mean, that’s terrible. Whose blood? Scott: I don’t know. But when we do, your dad nails Derek for the murder. And then you help me figure out how to play lacrosse without changing. – “Scott covers his mouth while gazing down at the lower half of the body. He slowly pulls the drawer open to where the sheet finally flattens out just above the severed hip.Removing his hand from his mouth, Scott pulls the sheet up to reveal the decayed and rotted feet. Then, unable to stand anymore, the sight or the smell, Scott covers up the body and slides the drawer shut.” – Scott: The scent was the same. Stiles: You sure? Scott: Yes. Stiles: So he did bury the other half of the body on his property? Scott: Which means we have proof he killed the girl. Stiles: I say we use it. Scott: How? Stiles: Tell me something first. Are you doing this because you want to stop Derek, or because you want to play in the game, and he said you couldn’t? Scott: There are bite marks on the legs, Stiles - bite marks. – “Dropping the shovel, Stiles clambers down into the hole. He feels around and finds a dark FABRIC in the dirt. Both of them now digging with their hands they finally uncover– A BLACK BAG, DRAWSTRING tied in tight knots. Stiles digs at the knot with his fingers.” “Both of them claw at the drawstring, almost frantically trying to get the knot to come undone. And then finally it loosens. The black bag flutters open to reveal the body inside–Except it’s not a dead girl. It’s the body of a WOLF. Stiles and Scott both HOLLER, jumping back.” Stiles: What the hell is that? Scott: It’s a wolf. Stiles: Yeah, I can see that. I thought you said you smelled blood, as in human blood. Scott: I told you something was different. Stiles: This doesn’t make sense. Scott: We gotta get out of here. Stiles: Yeah. Okay, help me cover this up. Scott: What’s wrong? Stiles: You see that flower? Scott: What about it? Stiles: I think it’s wolfsbane. – [Every Sterek knows this one :-)] Stiles: Okay, just so you know, I’m not afraid of you. Okay, maybe I am. Doesn’t matter. I just wanna know something. The girl you killed - she was a werewolf. She was a different kind, wasn’t she? I mean, she could turn herself into an actual wolf, and I know Scott can’t do that. Is that why you killed her? Derek: Why are you so worried about me when it’s your friend who’s the problem? When he shifts on the field, what do you think they’re gonna do. Just keep cheering him on? I can’t stop him from playing, but you can. And, trust me - you want to. – Stiles: The, uh, medical examiner looked at the other half of the body we found. Scott: And - Stiles: Well, I’ll keep it simple. Medical examiner determines killer of girl to be animal, not human. Derek’s human, not animal. Derek not killer. Derek let out of jail. Scott: Are you kidding? Stiles: No, and here’s a bigger kick in the ass. My dad I.D.’d the dead girl. Both halves. Her name was Laura Hale. Scott: Hale? Stiles: Derek’s sister.

Then 1.03: Sheriff: Hey, listen, while I’m here, you mind taking a look at those pictures I was telling you about? Sacramento still can’t determine an animal. Deaton: I’m not exactly an expert. This is the guy who was attacked in the bus? Sheriff: Yeah. And we found wolf hairs on Laura Hale’s body. Scott: A wolf? I mean, I think I read somewhere that wolves haven’t been in California for, like, 60 years. Deaton: True enough, but wolves are highly migratory. They could have wandered in from another state driven by impulse or strong enough memory. Scott: Wolves have memories? Deaton: Longer - term memories, yes. Associated with a primal drive. See this one here? Sheriff: Yeah. Deaton: Those are claw marks. A wolf would have gone for the throat or the spinal cord with its teeth. Sheriff: So what do you think, it’s a mountain lion? Deaton: I don’t know. A wolf could chase down its prey, hobbling it by tearing at the ankles. And then the throat. – [not necessarily about Laura, but part of a patern with Scott lol] Stiles: Did it work? Did you remember? Scott: Yeah, I was there last night. And the blood - a lot of it was mine. Stiles: So you did attack him? Scott: No. I saw glowing eyes in the bus, but they weren’t mine. It was Derek. Stiles: What about the driver? Scott: I think I was actually trying to protect him. Stiles: Wait, why would Derek help you remember that he attacked the driver? Scott: That’s what I don’t get. – “WE PULL BACK, moving from the bank of monitors, past the IV tree to GARY MEYERS lying in his hospital bed. His breathing is shallow and even in this dim light, he doesn’t look good. CAMERA CONTINUES MOVING around the bed to REVEAL someone standing in the shadows over the injured man. The Figure steps forward and we see it’s–Derek. He makes no threatening motions. Rather, he just stares down at the man until Meyer’s eyelids flutter. They open, sensing the presence in the room. He looks around until he sees Derek over him. He blinks to focus.” Derek: Open your eyes. Open your eyes. Look at me. What do you remember? Bus driver: Hale. Derek: How do you know my name? Bus driver: I’m sorry. Derek: How do you know me? Bus driver: I’m sorry. – Scott: Derek! I know you’re here! I know what you did! Derek: I didn’t do anything. Scott: You killed him! Derek: He died. Scott: Like your sister died? Derek: My sister was missing. I came here looking for her. Scott: You found her. Derek: I found her in pieces, being used as bait to catch me. Scott: I think you killed them both. I’m gonna tell everyone, starting with the sheriff. – Derek: I didn’t kill him. Neither of us did. It’s not your fault, and it’s not mine. Scott: This? This is all your fault! You ruined my life! Derek: No, I didn’t. Scott: You’re the one who bit me. Derek: No, I’m not. Scott: What? Derek: I’m not the one that bit you. Scott: There’s another. Derek: It’s called an Alpha. It’s the most dangerous of our kind. You and I, we’re betas. This thing is more powerful, more animal than either of us. My sister came here looking for him. Now I’m trying to find him. But I don’t think I can do it without you. Scott: Why me? Derek: Because he’s the one that bit you. You’re part of his pack. It’s you, Scott. You’re the one he wants.

1.04: Stiles: If Derek isn’t the Alpha, if he’s not the one who bit you, then who did? Scott: I don’t know. Stiles: Did the Alpha kill the bus driver? Scott: I don’t know. – “Derek ushers Scott into the dark hospital room, quietly closing the door behind them. He pulls the curtain back from the window to let in the MOONLIGHT which reveals–A MAN IN A WHEELCHAIR sitting nearby. Only one side of his body can be seen, a blank, catatonic expression on his face.” Scott: Who is he? Derek: My uncle. Peter Hale. Scott: Is he - like you, a werewolf? Derek: He was. Now he’s barely even human. Six years ago, my sister and I were at school, and our house caught fire. 11 people were trapped inside. He was the only survivor. Scott: So - What makes you so sure that they set the fire? Derek: ‘Cause they’re the only ones that knew about us. Scott: Well, then - They had a reason. Derek: Like what? You tell me what justifies this. They say they’ll only kill an adult, and only with absolute proof, but there were people in my family that were perfectly ordinary in that fire. This is what they do. And it’s what Allison will do “Derek pauses, sensing something. He takes a step back as the door opens, a NIGHT NURSE, named JENNIFER, looking in.” Nurse: What are you doing? How did you get in here? Derek: We were just leaving.

1.05: Derek: Starting to get it? Scott: Uh, I get that he’s killing people, but I don’t get why. I mean, this isn’t standard practice, right? We don’t go out in the middle of the night murdering everyone, do we? Derek: No. We’re predators. We don’t have to be killers. Scott: Then why is he a killer? Derek: That’s what we’re gonna find out. “They turn for the opposite edge of the roof while below them is something they would never notice: an ODD PATTERN carved into the gravel of the rooftop. A SPIRAL” – Scott: You know what else is a rite of passage? Graduating from high school. And you don’t have to kill anyone to do it! Why can’t you just find him yourself? Why can’t you just sniff him out when he’s a human? Derek: Because his human scent could be entirely different. It has to be you. You have a connection with him, a link that you can’t understand. If I can teach you to control your abilities, you can find him. Scott: So if I help you - you can stop him? Derek: Not alone. We’re stronger in numbers. A pack makes the individual more powerful. – Kate: Really? A dog joke? We’re going there, and that’s the best you got? If you wanna provoke him, say something like, “Too bad your sister 'bit it’ before she had her first litter.” Too bad she howled like a bitch when we cut her in half – Kate: 900,000 volts. You never were good with electricity, were you? Or fire. Which is why I’m gonna let you in on a little secret. And, well, maybe we can help each other out. Yes, your sister was severed into pieces and used as bait to try to catch you. Unpleasant, and frankly, a little too Texas chainsaw massacre for my taste, but quite true. Now, here’s the part that might really kick you in your new balls - We didn’t kill her. You think I’m lying? Derek: Wouldn’t be the first time. Kate: Tsk, sweetie - Well - Why don’t you just listen to my heart and tell me if I am. Okay? We - didn’t - kill - your - sister. Do you hear that? There’s no blips or upticks. Just the steady beat of the cold, hard truth. Found bite marks on your sister’s body, Derek. What do you think did that? A mountain lion? Why aren’t we helping each other out? You might as well admit what you’ve been guessing all along, which is - The Alpha killed your sister. And all you have to do is tell us who he is, and we’ll take care of it for you. Problem solved, everybody goes home happy. Unless - You don’t know who he is either. Wow. Guess who just became totally useless? – Sheriff: Listen, I hate to bother you, but, uh, I’m having a bitch of a time getting a consensus on what this is we’re dealing with. Deaton: I’m really flattered you’ve come to me for help, but, like I said before, I’m no expert. Sheriff: But you were pretty certain the other day about our attacker being a mountain lion. Deaton: That’s right. Sheriff: I wanna show you something. We got a little lucky here. Uh, the video store didn’t have any cameras, but a security camera that was watching another parking lot happened to grab a few frames. Take a look at our mountain lion. Here’s another. Deaton: It’s interesting. Sheriff: Actually, uh, this is the interesting one. Deaton: I see what you mean. “He slowly lifts the picture up to bring it closer to his eyes. The photo shows the dark shape. Except it’s now running on two legs instead of four.” Sheriff: I’ve never seen a mountain lion do that. Deaton: Can’t say I have either. You’ve got a problem here. Sheriff: My first instinct was it was a bear, but bears don’t walk on two legs. “A DOG IN THE BACK begins to BAY. Deaton looks back. A very different quality about him now. Nervous. He won’t look Stilinski in the eye.” Deaton: No, they drop to all fours. Look, like I said, you really need an expert here. Sheriff: Yeah, yeah, but - Could this still be a mountain lion? Deaton: I’m sorry. I’ve got a sick Doberman that needs my attention. Sheriff: No other ideas? Deaton: I’m sorry. Really, I wish I could help you, but I’ve got a sick - Sheriff: Yeah. Dog. I heard you. Thanks for humoring me again.

1.06: “Something presses against the steamed window causing Scott to flinch back. It’s a clawed fingertip. It begins to move, drawing something in the moisture.Scott watches, staring through the window as the hand pulls back into the darkness. A moment later the Alpha is gone, having left a simple yet mysterious sign in the condensation.Drawn into the steamed glass is a perfect SPIRAL…” – Derek: So what happened? Did he talk to you? Scott: Yeah. We had a nice conversation about the weather. No, he didn’t talk. Derek: Well, did you get anything off of him? An impression. Scott: What do you mean? Derek: Remember your other senses are heightened. Communication doesn’t have to be spoken. What kind of feeling did you get from him? Scott: Anger. Derek: Focused on you? Scott: No, not - not me. But it was definitely anger. I could feel it. Especially when he drew the spiral. Derek: Wait, the what? What’d you just say? Scott: He drew this spiral on the window of my car, in the condensation, you know? What? You have this look like you know what it means. Derek: No, it’s - it’s nothing. Scott: Wait - wait - wait - wait a second. You can’t do that. You can’t ask me to trust you and then just keep things to yourself. Derek: Doesn’t mean anything. Scott: You buried your sister under a spiral. What does it mean? Derek: You don’t wanna know. – Derek: I need your help. If you can hear me, I need you to give me a sign. Blink. Raise a finger. Anything. Just - Just something to point me in the right direction, okay? Someone killed Laura. Your niece. Laura? Whoever he is, he’s an Alpha now. But he’s one without a pack. Which means he’s not as strong. I can take him. But I have to find him first. Look, if you know something, just give me a sign. Is it one of us? Someone else make it out of the fire? Just give me anything. Blink. Raise a finger. Anything. Say something! Nurse: Let him go. You think after six years of this, yelling at him is going to get a response? Derek: Got a better method? Nurse: Patience. He’ll respond if you give him the time. Derek: I don’t have any more time. “As Jennifer turns to watch him go, as his shoes fall lightly on the tiled floor of the hospital corridor, neither of them look back to notice Peter slowly and shakily raising an index finger off the chair…” – “Derek quickly heads to his Camaro in the parking lot of the hospital. Unlocking it, he reaches for the door when he notices A PIECE OF PAPER slipped under the windshield wiper.He pulls it out, slowly unfolding it, then reading with interest. He looks up, turning back to the hospital as if trying to find someone watching him. Then crumpling the paper in his hand, he moves quickly, faster than ever.A second later, his car ROARS out of the lot and into the street.” – Deaton: Scott, you’re late again. I hope this isn’t getting to be a habit. Can I help you? Derek: Hope so. Want to know about the animal you found with the spiral on its side? Deaton: Excuse me? What animal? Derek: Three months ago. The deer. You remember this? “He unfolds the piece of paper left on his windshield. It’s a report and photograph of a dead deer with A SPIRAL carved into its side.” Deaton: Oh, yes. It’s just a deer. And I didn’t find it. They called me because they wanted to know if I’d ever seen anything like it. Derek: What’d you tell 'em? Deaton: I told them no. Derek: Did you hear that? Deaton: Hear what? Derek: The sound of your heartbeat rising. Deaton: Excuse me? Derek: It’s the sound of you lying. – Deaton: Oh, God. Derek: Are you protecting someone? Deaton: All right. The key to the drug locker is in my pocket. Derek: I don’t want drugs. I want to know why you’re lying. Deaton: I don’t know what you’re talking about. What are you doing to me? What do you want? Derek: I want to know who you are or who you’re protecting. – Derek: Look, when he’s conscious, he can keep himself from healing, but unconscious, he can’t. Scott: Are you out of your mind? What are you talking about? Derek: You want to know what the spiral means, Scott? It’s our sign for a vendetta, for revenge. It means he won’t stop killing until he’s satisfied. Scott: You think he’s the Alpha? Derek: We’re about to find out.

1.07: Stiles: It’s your boss. Scott: What? Stiles: Deaton, the alpha? Your boss. Scott: No. Stiles: Yes, murdering psycho werewolf. Scott: That can’t be. Stiles: Oh come on. He disappears, and that thing shows up ten seconds later to toss Derek 20 feet through the air? That’s not convenient timing? Scott: It’s not him. Stiles: He killed Derek. Scott: No, Derek’s not dead. He can’t be dead. Stiles: Blood spurted out of his mouth, okay? That doesn’t exactly qualify as a minor injury. He’s dead, and we’re next. [Bottle episode, not much else beside Scott accusing Derek again]

1.08: [Scott acts like a dick, Kate gets suspicious about there being a 3rd werewolf, nothing about the alpha or Laura, skip]

1.09: “Harris picks up his notebook from his desk, about to put it in his briefcase, when something catches his eye–A CRINKLED PIECE OF PAPER. He gazes at it, head tilting in confusion. Written on the paper are names and addresses. The first one is David M. Harris, name and address crossed off. The second is Lionel B. Harris. Also crossed off.Grant S. Harris, Thomas M. Harris, and on and on until down at the bottom his eyes pause on a name that isn’t crossed off: Adrian R. Harris.” Harris: Please don’t kill me. Peter: Do you know who wrote that list? Harris: Laura - Laura Hale. Peter: Do you know why she was looking for you? I know why. Turn around, Adrian. Turn around and I’ll show you. Turn around! Harris: No. Please. Peter: Look at me. Look at what you’ve done! Derek: Get down! – Stiles: All right. How did you find him? Scott: Can you try to trust us for at least half a second? Stiles: Yeah, both of us. Or just him. I’ll be back here. Derek: Look the last time I talked to my sister, she was close to figuring something out. She found two things. The first was a guy named Harris. Stiles: Our chemistry teacher? Scott: Why him? Derek: I don’t know yet. Scott: What’s the second? Derek: Some kind of symbol. What? You know what this is? Scott: I’ve seen it on a necklace. Allison’s necklace. – Stiles: Yeah, I said I can’t find her. Derek: Look, ask for Jennifer. She’s been looking after my uncle. Stiles: Yeah, well, he’s not here either. Derek: What? Stiles: He’s not here. He’s gone, Derek. Derek: Stiles, get out of there right now - it’s him! He’s the Alpha! Get out! Peter: You must be Stiles. – Peter: You think I killed Laura on purpose? One of my own family? My mind, my personality were literally burned out of me. I was being driven by pure instinct. Derek: You want forgiveness? Peter: I want understanding. Do you have any idea - What it was like for me during those years? Slowly healing, cell by cell. Even more slowly coming back to consciousness. Yes, becoming an Alpha, taking that from Laura pushed me over a plateau in the healing process. I can’t help that. I tried to tell you what was happening. I tried to warn you. – Sheriff: So you don’t know her name or where she was from? Harris: No! Which is exactly what Laura Hale asked. I’ll point you in the same direction that I pointed her. Sheriff: What is this? Harris: The necklace the girl was wearing. That’s the symbol on it. I asked her about it. She said it was a family thing. You find the girl wearing that necklace, she’s your arsonist.

1.10: Scott: You’re on his side? Are you forgetting the part where he killed your sister? Derek: It was a mistake. Scott: What? Derek: It happens. Peter: Scott - I think you’re getting the wrong impression of us. We really just want to help you reach your full potential. Scott: By killing my friends. Peter: Sometimes the people closest to you - can be the ones holding you back the most. Scott: If they’re holding me back from becoming a psychotic nut job like you, I’m okay with that. Peter: Maybe - you could try and see things - from my perspective. “His hand moves like a cobra striking, latching onto Scott. Fingernails rapidly extending to CLAWS, they sink right into the back of the boy’s neck. For a brief second, Scott’s eyes FLASH YELLOW. Then Peter yanks his hand back, letting him tumble to the floor. Blinking furiously, strange IMAGES FLASH into Scott’s head– A dark room fills with black smoke, men and women trying to cover their mouths, coughing and screaming as–Reddick and Unger, visible through a dirty basement window, toss liquid from five gallon jugs onto the house. They douse the windows, their images BLURRING as–Hands desperately grab for a door, trying to push it open while black, roiling smoke covers everything– Nurses gently lay Peter back onto a hospital bed. One undamaged eye blinks out from a face covered in white gauze bandages. Light seeps over his face, the brilliant white glow from a FULL MOON. A now un-bandaged Peter sits up in bed, the moon almost seeming to pull at him, drawing him up to his feet. At the door stands his nurse, Jennifer, watching in astonishment as– Someone steps through the woods, boots crushing leaves underneath her. LAURA HALE looks through the shadows to see– A STRANGE FIGURE in a hospital robe standing between the trees. He turns around to reveal one half of his face is covered in horrible burns. She steps toward him, reaching for him while he gazes back at her almost in a trance. And then he opens his mouth revealing razor-sharp FANGS as–” – Sheriff: Stiles, there’s just so many questions. Stiles: Like what? Sheriff: Like if Derek - wanted to kill everyone involved with the fire. Then why start with his sister? I mean, she had nothing to do with it. Why make it look like some kind of animal did it? When that cougar ended up in the parking lot - I checked with animal control. You know the instances of wild animal reports were up 70% over the past few months? It’s like they’re just going crazy, running out of the woods. I don’t know.

1.11: Kate: Come on, Derek. He killed your sister. Now - either you’re not telling me because, well, you want to kill him yourself, or for some reason - You’re protecting him. Look at that sour face. I bet you always used to get people coming up to you saying, “Smile, Derek.” “Why don’t you smile more?” Don’t you just wanna - kick those people in the face? Derek: I can think of one. Kate: Promise? 'cause if I thought you’d be that much fun - I’d let you go. All right, let’s see. Nothing, nothing, nothing. God, I hate this detective crap. – Kate: Unfortunately, Derek, if you’re not gonna talk - I’m just gonna have to kill you. So say hi to your sister for me. You did tell her about me, didn’t you? The truth about the fire? Or did you? Did you tell anybody? Oh, sweetie - That’s just a lot of guilt to keep buried. It’s not all your fault. You got tricked by a pretty face. It happens! Handsome young werewolf mistakenly falls in love with a super - hot girl who comes from a family that kills the werewolves. Is that ironic? Is it - ironic - That you’re inadvertently helping me track down the rest of the pack - again? Or just a little bit of history repeating. History repeating. It’s not Jackson, is it? Oh, no, no, no, he’s got a little scratch on the back of his neck, but - he’s not in love with Allison. Not like Scott.

1.12: Scott: This is what brought your sister back to beacon hills, right? Derek: Where did you get that? Scott: My boss told me three months ago someone came into the clinic asking for a copy of this picture. Do you wanna know who it was? Peter’s nurse. They brought your sister here so that Peter could kill her and become the Alpha, and that’s why you’re going to help me. Just say you’ll help me, and I’ll help you unlock your other - And there you have it! I found *nothing* that said the hunters actually cut Laura in half, Kate only taunts Derek but immediately admits it. Maybe there’s something in season 2 BUT I’M NOT DOING SEASON 2! At least not today!

DW: You’re a hero, anon!

So we’re back where we started, right? With Derek knowing from the start that the alpha killed Laura? And somehow being surprised by it at the end, lol!

#DWvsTW #submission

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soaimagines · 7 years

Text

Blind Threats

Request: Jax imagine based on a dream that @homicidalteenagedream had.

Hope you like this boo, I changed a couple things. Sorry it took so long.

I don't really know what timeline i was going with here, except Tara doesn’t exist (YAAASS) & Thomas is older and in school.

~~~~~~~~~~~

You gripped the wheel tightly as you pulled into the lot. To say you were under pressure lately was an understatement and the last thing you wanted to see was that white mercedes , belonging to SAMCROs favourite porn slut Ima, sitting in your usual spot. Your jaw clenched and you swung your car into an empty spot, your tyres screeching. You were so blinded by your anger that you didn’t see the tow truck parked in front of the garage. and the prospects unloading the bike. The bike that belonged to you old man. You had just slammed your door shut when you finally noticed the bike, with the fresh dents and scratches. Your heart dropped and all your anger left you, only to be replaced with guilt and worry. Jax saw you step around your car and he stepped out of the office and headed towards you. As soon as you saw him a sense of relief washed over you and you adjusted the strap of your bag on your shoulder as you walked across the lot. “Hey babe.” “What happened?” Jax sighed and ran a hand through his blond hair, slicking it back out of his face. “Had a run in with a 12 wheeler.” Jax told you. “Had to put her down.” “Are you fucking kidding me?” “Im fine, thanks for asking.” “God as if its not bad enough that I gotta worry about you coming home filled with bullets, now I gotta worry about you being crushed under a wheel too?!” “Hey,” Jax reached for your hand and he squeezed it comfortingly. “It was an accident. You don’t need to worry bout me.” He met your gaze an under those blue eyes you softened, but only slightly. “So whats the damage?” “Bit of road rash, nothin major.” You nodded. Jax threw his arm over your shoulder and pulled you into his side as he led you to the garage. You knew he was only doing it to comfort you and keep you from nagging him about road safety but you relished in the contact; it was the most he’d touched you in what felt like years. Clay was inspecting the bike while Gemma leant against the workbench in the garage. “Hows she looking?” Jax called as you approached. He slid his arm off your shoulder and walked towards his bike. He stopped in front of it and ran his hand across the seat, his eyes studying the scratched paint work. You leant against the workbench next to Gemma. “Give Lowell couple hours and she’ll be good. Its mostly cosmetic.” Jax grinned and slicked his hair back once more. “Thank god. Im hard for my Harley already.” Clay laughed and you rolled your eyes. Gemma smirked. “Maybe she can help you with that.” Jax glanced in your direction briefly before looking away. He pulled his cigarettes from the pocket of his kutte and began to walk away. “Nah, Im good.” He muttered under his breath. “Whats that about?” Gemma asked hastily, her dark eyes burning into you. “Forget it.” You gulped and walked away, heading swiftly back to your car. Gemma pursed her lips and crossed her arms as she watched you both, walking away in different directions.

TWO WEEKS LATER

“Chucky, why don’t you take the boys out to play on the swings?” “I accept that.” Chuck nodded to Gemma and you thanked him, only just managing to ruffle Thomas’ blond hair before he leapt off of your lap and chased after Abel who was already half way out the door. Your daughter giggled in Gemmas arms, cooing and gurgling in her own baby language that only she understood. “God, how much longer are they gonna be in there?” You glared at the closed doors, wishing that Church would be over so you could head home. Gemma raised an eye brow and kissed the tip of your daughters nose, earning another giggle. “You got somewhere to be, mama?” “I wish.” You sighed and rapped your fingertips against the wooden table. Lyla shared a sympathetic smile with you and you pushed back your chair and stood. Maybe some fresh air would help your mood. The clubhouse was crowded tonight. Jax had requested that everyone related to the club attend. Whether it be through family or an old lady. Everyone that knew the Redwood Boys was here. Everywhere you looked there were faces, and all you wanted was to be alone. You ran your hand through your daughters soft dark hair and headed for the door. Abel and Thomas had taken after their father. All blonde hair and blue eyes. But your daughter had taken after you and her dark hair matched yours exactly. She was only young but you knew she would be a spitting image of you in a few years. It was less crowded outside. Chucky was pushing the boys on the swings, their angelic laughter travelling through the cool evening air. You perched on top of the picnic table and laid back against the old wood. The faint sound of Guns N Roses playing through the speakers and muffled banter travelled through the walls and you blocked it out as you pulled your cigarettes out of your pocket. The nicotine filled your lungs and you exhaled deeply when you heard the door to the clubhouse open. “You gonna tell me whats going on between you and my son?” You didn’t even need to look. You would know that voice anywhere. “Nothings going on, Gem.” You sighed. “So you’ve just been a grumpy bitch all week for nothin, huh sweetheart?” You sat up and glared at her. She had her hands on her hips and that knowing, Gemma Teller smile plastered all over her face. “C’mon, baby. Tell me whats going on.” You sighed again and ran your hand trough your hair, trying to figure out where to start. “I dunno, Gem. Everything was fine a few weeks ago.” “So whats changed?” You shrugged. “Ever since he laid down his bike everything just sorta.. fallen apart.” Gemma stepped closer and sat atop the picnic table next to you. She lit her own cigarette and took a long drag as she listened to you speak. “He barely speaks to me, let alone touches me. Fuck he hasn’t even kissed me in god knows how long.” Your voice began to shake and you shoved down the uproar that threatened to escape you from rising in your throat. “When I wake up he’s gone, thats if he’s even come home at all.” You blew out your smoke. “He doesn’t say good morning to me, he’s gone before the kids are up for school.” “Honey give him time, he’ll come round.” “Really? Cause I cant help but notice Imas cars been here nearly everyday and I gotta feeling he’s fucking that bitch again.” Gemma shook her head. “Naw, he don’t want that rancid pussy.” You sighed and tapped your cigarette, watching the ash crumble off the end and flutter to the ground. “It will be okay, sweetheart. You just gotta hang in there. He loves you. You’re good for him.” Both of you looked up as the door opened and Jax walked out. He glanced in your direction but his face never formed a smile. He took a puff of the joint between his lips and looked away and walked towards the office, a cloud of smoke billowing out behind him. Gemmas eyes narrowed as she watched her son saunter his way too the office. “I’ll be back later.” You slid off the table and flicked your butt to the ground and headed inside. Your daughter was on Opies lap, her finger wrapped in his beard and you thanked him for looking after her and lifted her onto your hip. You carried her outside and rounded up the boys and loaded them into the car. Jax watched from the office as you pulled out of the lot and headed home.

The kids were all finally asleep and you tiptoed your way around their rooms, pulling clothes from their drawers and wardrobes. You would just get everything ready. Thats all. That was the plan. You kept telling yourself you were doing the right thing. Things couldn’t go on like this any longer. And so you would pack enough for the kids and for yourself and you would keep them ready. They would be hidden away , ready for when you finally had the courage to do what you’d been considering doing for weeks. If only you weren’t so in love with him. Then maybe you’d be gone tonight. But you did love him and so you would give him three days. Three days to change things, three days to make things better. Three days to convince you to stay. You finished packing and you stashed their bags in the back of your wardrobe, along with your suitcase. There was a bottle of whiskey waiting for you on top of the refrigerator and you poured yourself a glass before curling up on the sofa. You had taken your third sip when you heard Jax’s bike pull into the driveway. You took a deep breath and glued your eyes to the television screen. The last season of The Bachelor was playing and you tried to focus on that. The front door opened and a thump could be heard as Jax kicked his sneakers off his feet. He watched you as he pulled off his gloves and his kutte. Your feet tucked up beneath you, wine glass in one hand and the tv remote in the other, watching the screen as it flashed images of red roses and girls in pretty dresses. You didn’t look up as he crossed the room or when he stopped in front of you. It was only when he took the remote from your hands and turned the volume down that you finally looked up at your old man. Jax sat on the sofa next to you and placed the remote on the coffee table. Only the sound of your breathing could be heard and you took a sip of your whiskey. “I’m sorry.” His voice broke the silence and he fumbled with the rings on his fingers as he searched his mind for the right words to say. You ran your finger around the rim of your glass as you waited for him to continue. “”I’ve been pushing you away.” “No shit.” You scoffed. Jax sighed and ran his hand through his hair before turning to you. “Look, maybe I was wrong to do it. But I was trying to protect you.” You arched an eyebrow. “Ive got dead bodies all around me, babe. This shit thats been going on.. I don’t know how to get out of it. I don’t know how to keep you and the kids away from it.” “These last two weeks Ive been trying to push you away. I’m terrified of hurting you. Im terrified of hurting our kids.” “You think I’m not used to this shit, Jax?” “We have never been this deep before.” You rolled your eyes and placed your glass on the table. “Look, I get the whole ‘trying to protect you bullshit’. I do. But you know it doesn’t work on me. Its never worked on me. And to say you don’t want to hurt me?!” You laughed bitterly and stood, lifting the bottle of whiskey off the table. “You just spent the last two weeks hurting me, babe.” You spun on your heels and marched to the bathroom. You perched on the edge of the tub and turned the faucet on full, letting the hot water fill the bath. Jax watched you walk out of the living room and he buried his face in his hands. How did everything turn so wrong?

You slid down into the warm water, letting your head sink below the surface and blocking out all sound. You wished that the walls of the tub could fold down, that the tub could expand and you could swim below the surface the way you used to when you were young and your mother would take you swimming in the lake. You wished you could feel as free as you did when you’d dive into that lake. But when you came up for air you were reminded of the pain in your chest and the same four walls of the bathroom surrounded you. Sobs took over your body and you trembled as your tears fell, mixing with the bath water. It was more than crying. It was the kind of desolate sobbing that comes from a person drained of all hope. You pulled your knees to your chest and wrapped your arms around them, as tears rolled down your cheeks. Eventually the water turned cold around you and your tears ran dry. You stood, letting the water run down your body and you grabbed the towel off the heated rail and wrapped it around your body. Stepping out of the bath you caught a glimpse in the mirror of your reflection. You looked deflated and gulped. You weren’t sure who you were anymore. The whiskey bottle sat on the counter beside the basin and you took a swig of the honey coloured liquid, letting it burn down your throat. You placed it back on the counter and left the bathroom, your dripping body leaving a trail of marks along the carpet. You headed for your bedroom but when you opened the door you froze. Jax was perched on the edge of the bed you shared with him, his head buried in his hands and his shoulders shaking as he cried. You gulped, your mind racing as you tried to work out what had brought on this sudden emotion from the man who was normally so strong. And then you saw it. You saw your suitcase lying in front of the wardrobe, you saw your kids bags, unzipped and showing the contents you had packed earlier that evening. He didn’t notice you had entered the room and you crossed the room silently and knelt by the bags, quietly repacking the items of clothing he had pulled out. The sound of you pulling the zip shut on your sons bag alerted him and he looked up to see you kneeling in your towel, fumbling with the bags. “Stop,” He said softly. You gulped and kept packing, reaching for the strewn clothes he had torn out, your hands moving faster now. “Please, babe. Please don’t leave me.” Your breathing hitched in your throat but you kept going, zipping up the final bag. “(y/n), please. Don’t leave me, I love you.” He was begging you now and tears rolled down your cheeks. The bags were all repacked and you hung your head over them as you listened to him pleading. It took every ounce of you to lift yourself to your feet and you turned to him. His bloodshot eyes were glistening with unshed tears, making the colour of his eyes shine bluer that you thought possible. “I need you.” His whisper echoed loudly in your head and you took a deep breath. Your adjusted the towel wrapped around your body. He watched you as you fumbled with your damp hair and the towel, anything you could do to keep your eyes away from his. He stepped forward and cupped your face, lifting your face to meet his gaze. The look in his eyes broke you. The pain, the pleading, the hope. “Things need to change, Jackson.” “They will babe. I promise.” You nodded slowly. His hands left your face and he wrapped them around your body and pulled you closer to him. He crashed his lips against yours and kissed you deeply, a sudden passion and urgency surging through his lips. He pulled you to the bed and laid you down beneath him. You weren’t sure if you ever would have had the courage to leave him. But as he made love to you like he never had before, you knew that you would always be right beside him.

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