#s2e6 spin | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

edoro · 2 years

Text

S2E9 Hunter-Belos Interaction Analysis

And here I am again with the meta analysis of s2e9, as foretold in the ancient prophecies. (Aoyama BNHA voice) I Cannot Stop Talking About Belos And Hunter.

As I said in the other essay, I think that the exchange at the beginning of this episode really exposes the heart of the relationship between Belos and Hunter.

S2e6 lays a foundation for us, and it’s an extremely compelling foundation, but it’s also nothing we haven’t seen before. Villainous ruler has a lackey who also turns out to be a terrorized younger relative who does their dirty work out of devotion and fear - we’ve all seen A:TLA, we all remember Zuko. S2e9 is where we realize that, for the purposes of the comparison I have just made, Hunter is Azula.

(This is neither an exact comparison nor meant to belittle the work TOH puts into its characters and plots. I find that type of relationship dynamic extremely fascinating and enjoy the unique spin TOH puts it. But it’s a useful and well-known cultural touchstone.)

He’s the golden child, the Emperor’s Special Little Boy, the genius teen prodigy who is destined for greatness, and it’s by holding that approval (or the threat of having it withdrawn as punishment for a disappointing performance) over Hunter’s head that Belos manipulates him and keeps him loyal and desperate to prove himself.

Belos isn’t simply cruel, distant, and emotionally unavailable. He hides his cruelty under a veneer of warmth and kindness and he manipulates the level of emotional distance and intimacy between the two of them depending on the situation and what kind of tone he wants to establish. He offers conditional and unpredictable access to emotional intimacy as a reward and withholds it as a punishment, trapping Hunter in this constant cycle of compulsive seeking and anxious avoidance where he’s just sort of always frantically doing things almost at random in the hopes that they will prove he’s good and make Belos love him.

The episode opens with Belos alone and unmasked, up late fiddling with the portal door he’s worked so hard to rebuild. This is the first time we’ve actually seen him on his own; every single other glimpse of him was filtered through the viewpoint of another character, defined by his interactions with them.

We’ve seen, at various points, how carefully Belos constructs himself for others. He’s clearly a man very conscious of his image, which I think the s1 finale demonstrates especially well with the way he spins letting Eda go for the assembled citizens. We can try to reverse engineer a sense of personality and purpose from how he acts in those scenes, sure, but the fact is that every time we’ve seen him up until now, we’ve seen what he wants the other people in the scene to see. We really know very little about his actual motivations or feelings about basically anything at this point.

In the beginning of this scene, though, before Hunter comes in, we get as close as we’ve gotten so far to the real Belos. There’s no one else in the room for him to need to manipulate or cultivate a certain impression of himself for. It’s just him and this project he’s spent who knows how long working towards, and the anticipation and frustration.

He hesitates before he puts that recently made substitute key into the lock. There could be plenty of reasons behind that - checking to make sure everything’s in order, nervousness that it might not work, nervousness that it might, a sense of triumph at getting so far, a very practical concern that this might quite literally blow up in his face, I could go on. We still don’t know what’s going on in his head here.

But he hesitates - and in the original storyboards, when it doesn’t work, he punches the door, which is an interesting show of frustrated petulance. That doesn’t happen in the final version. He just stands there instead, staring at it, his expression obscured, and we cut to Hunter watching him.

Hunter’s lurking, hanging back and watching Belos from behind a convenient bit of architecture. He looks very uncertain here. This is an ongoing thing throughout this entire scene - Hunter never seems to quite know where he stands, and the way he looks at Belos is at once fixated and fearful.

To me, this bit feels like he’s waiting for Belos to finish what he’s doing so as not to interrupt him. It comes across very much like another little bit of mood-reading from Hunter; he comes in to see that Belos is busy, so he waits, and then he watches as whatever Belos is doing doesn’t work, so now he’s waiting to see how Belos reacts, whether he seems frustrated enough that it’s a bad idea to approach him.

A second or so after this, Hunter says he wasn’t trying to hide, but honestly, he clearly was. He shooed the palisman off in a furious whisper and stayed lurking there, watching to see how Belos reacted. He’s obviously very startled to be directly addressed, but he can’t keep pretending he’s not there or slip off quietly without saying anything, so he has to go ahead and have this interaction.

That sort of tentativeness around interacting with one’s guardian is quite a tell. Hunter’s used to having to read, predict, and manage his uncle’s moods and adjust how he acts to account for them. Sure, everyone has bad days or times when they’re less patient, and it’s not necessarily abnormal to gauge what kind of mood someone’s in before you have a difficult conversation with them, but there’s very much a sense here that Hunter’s used to doing this and fearful of what might happen if Belos isn’t in a good mood.

There’s also the matter of how he addresses Belos. Here, Belos is ‘Emperor Belos’. Hunter’s form of address is very formal, even though it’s a relatively informal setting - late, no one else around, Belos stripped of his outer layers and his mask, though Hunter’s still in uniform.

There could be a number of interpretations for that. I can see it as being a way of Hunter trying to sort of preemptively make up for having sneaking around here, as well as him being nervous because he’s planning to ask Belos something related to his recent performance, so he’s slipping into formality as a way of coming across more serious and professional.

But it’s interesting that the way Hunter addresses Belos seems to be based on how Hunter is feeling or what kind of tone he’s trying to take, rather than the signifiers of the actual context they’re in. It goes well with the idea, I think, that Belos tends to be the one to set the tone here and that Hunter doesn’t necessarily know what it’s going to be until Belos does.

It also speaks to an aspect of Hunter’s character we get more insight into later on in the episode, that he seems to relate to other people heavily through the lens of his own feelings and experiences. He seems to have a skill for reading people or picking up on the dynamics in a situation, but not necessarily for interpreting them unless he personally understands them.

People have talked about the face reveal before, but it really is an interesting moment. It’s dramatic for us because we’ve built this guy up over the course of a season and a half as the ultimate big bad, the spooky faceless evil emperor, and suddenly he has a face, and he’s just some kindly-looking old man - but it’s not dramatic for Hunter, because he’s seen this face before.

The casualness of it really hits home. Belos is just a person. He’s just some guy. He doesn’t look evil. He looks fond and approachable, in direct contrast to how nervous Hunter seems to be.

This, too, is a form of intimacy between them. How many people have seen the emperor unmasked? It’s probably not a list that only includes Hunter, but it’s surely a very exclusive one.

(Especially considering how jacked up his ears are there. This is not the place to go into “Belos is a human man” theories, but those are not normal witch ears, and he has a vested interest in presenting himself not only as a witch but as the most gifted and powerful witch of all. Letting Hunter see him like this is another way of making Hunter feel special, like his relationship with Belos is a privilege.)

The mask also serves the purpose of - similarly to how the Golden Guard’s mask does for Hunter - allowing Belos to disguise his emotions and reactions. All anyone who sees him masked has to go on is the deliberately expressionless mask and his tone. Even his body language is cloaked under all the layers of robes. It’s a very deliberate way of cultivating an inscrutable sort of presence.

Without it, we see some interesting things. Whatever his face might have looked before, when he turns to look at Hunter, he’s smiling warmly, inviting…

But when he turns to look back at the door, that expression drops right off his face. We get what I can really only describe as petulance. His wording, too, is interesting here: “Without the power of the real key, it refuses to open.”

Not that the door didn’t open or won’t work, it refuses to. The door is framed as not just nonfunctional but defiant, like it’s willfully disobeying him rather than being, you know, an inanimate fucking object.

The way he expresses himself to Hunter is as much a performance as it is with anyone else, but I think this is a glimpse into his real feelings. He very much wants this door to work and he’s feeling angry and thwarted that it’s not, and blaming the door itself for not doing what he wants it to do. We can easily extrapolate this attitude towards how he treats the people in his life - in fact, we’ve seen it, with both Hunter and Lilith.

Hunter’s expression here really kills me. He spends most of this scene staring at Belos with exactly this face, this mixture of fear and worship. Belos is the central fixture in this scene to which Hunter is drawn and around which he orbits. He never takes his eyes off Belos and aside from a brief bit at the end of Belos’s little speech coming up, his face never changes.

It’s the sort of expression one might expect a much younger child to direct at an adult guardian who, in their eyes, is as big as God and controls the world. On Hunter, a sixteen year old, it comes across as somewhat developmentally odd, but it fits - Belos does control his entire world. Belos is the ultimate authority to Hunter, able to shape and reshape Hunter’s reality with nothing more than a word.

When Hunter asks about the rain in the Human Realm, Belos’s expression goes from that frustrated petulance to something that almost looks a little startled, like he wasn’t entirely expectring Hunter to interject. Then, once Hunter’s finished, he turns to look at him properly and once again he’s smiling as he shares a personal anecdote.

Every time he directly addresses Hunter, it’s in that same warm, pleasant way. Everything about how he’s talking to Hunter in this scene suggests a comfortable, familial sort of intimacy. He’s friendly, smiling, sharing stories about his life - when he asks, “Have I ever told you that before?” it suggests he thinks he might have, because he’s told Hunter other things about himself.

The single, tiny, silent shake of the head Hunter does also always gets me. He’s so quiet, so still, so tentative in his movements, not wanting to interrupt this moment, this intimacy being handed to him. He comes across as painfully hungry for any scrap of closeness, any further insight into Belos. These moments come at unpredictable intervals, subject to Belos’s own unreadable internal whims, and so when they do come along, Hunter must grab onto them tightly.

But then the moment ends, and Belos brings the subject back around to what exactly it is that Hunter’s there for.

“Are you spying on me to hear these boring old stories?” Obviously they’re quite fascinating to Hunter, but here I want to focus on his use of the word ‘spying’. It’s a bit loaded, and I think this is one of our first glimpses of how he slips in these little conversational barbs with that same fond look and warm tone.

As soon as Belos turns around to directly address him, Hunter straightens up, coming to a sort of attention. Belos is relaxed, playful even, but Hunter’s taking it very seriously, and it seems to me that he heard that teasing question as an accusation. And indeed, what Belos is asking here is: “Why are you here?” with an emphasis on the fact that Hunter was sneaking around.

Once more Hunter is tentative and unsure. He doesn’t really seem to want to bring this up. I get the impression he had to work himself up to coming in here in the first place, and then the conversation seemed to be going so well, with Belos being open and telling him stories, but now he’s got to bring the mood down by bringing up the thing he’s worried about - why Belos switched him out with Kikimora.

But as little as he wants to bring it up, he needs to know. He wants to understand why, wants the chance to try to prove himself, and also, he was asked a direct question - and we have seen that Hunter isn’t very good at lying. Omitting information or misdirecting, sure, but not outright lying.

And then, of course, we get to That Fucking Speech. This is where the scene got really good for me, because the next thirty seconds or so are just pure, weapons-grade compressed emotional cruelty.

Right here, though, this is important. “Everyone has a use, Hunter.” This is a belief we see Belos operate by in a lot of different circumstances. People are tools to him, and he manipulates and wields them in order to get what he wants, then discards them when he’s done.

It’s also the guiding principle of Hunter’s life. He believes entirely in this idea, that everyone has a use, that he specifically has a use, and he sees it simultaneously as a gift Belos has bestowed on him - a purpose and a future for a boy who didn’t ever think he’d have either - and a cage he’s been placed in. Having a use is a dual-edged sword, because it gives him a place and makes him worthy, but also means there are expectations he has to meet and therefore consequences if he doesn’t meet them.

We see just how thoroughly he’s been conditioned to believe that later on in this episode with how he talks and acts during the trip to Eclipse Lake. But this, right here, it isn’t just that Belos says this to him, reinforcing the lesson: it’s how he says it that’s important too.

This entire time, he’s approached Hunter with fondness and warmth. He’s treated him like a family member, like someone who he cares about. This interaction has been intimate and casual. When he says that everyone has a use, he doesn’t speak harshly or coldly. He smiles, he puts his hand on Hunter’s shoulder, he speaks in the tone of a teacher imparting a lesson.

Hunter has come to believe that he only has worth when he is fulfilling a purpose which Belos defines, but this isn’t because Belos tells him he’s worthless if he doesn’t. It’s because Belos tells him he has a purpose, in the manner of a man passing on the wisdom of his age, and then offers a reward for living up to that purpose. He doesn’t simply punish Hunter for failing to, but offers Hunter the promise of greater care and affection and approval if he succeeds, which is much more powerful.

Before I get into the rest of this speech, I also want to talk about Belos’s use of physical contact as a tool of manipulation. Belos changes the emotional distance between the two of them frequently during their interactions in order to set a certain tone, and physical touch is one way he does it. He doesn’t come across as particularly distant or withholding in that way - he actually touches Hunter in two out of the three scenes we see them interact in!

Sure, he’s not pulling Hunter in for a big hug, but he’s physically affectionate. The thing is, though, that it occurs entirely according to what Belos wants. Hunter doesn’t get to initiate or ask for touch; he simply receives it. It’s something that happens to him.

In s2e6, at the beginning, Belos puts his hand on Hunter’s shoulder in a similar way while looming over him, to lean on the sense of an emotional connection between them while he tells Hunter to be careful and not get hurt because of wild magic.

Then in this scene here, he repeats the gesture as he delivers his lesson. He then shortly deepens the touch from a hand on the shoulder - fond but distant - to an arm around the shoulders, which he uses to physically control Hunter by walking him down the stairs and out of the room. Hunter has no choice but to move with him, and so Belos exerts both physical and emotional control over him with this single gesture.

So it isn’t necessarily that Hunter is starved of affection or touch, but rather that he receives them conditionally and without any control over them. Any form of intimacy is at Belos’s discretion to give or withhold, and Hunter simply has to guess what mood Belos is in and what actions will bring about the result he wants. Since it’s unpredictable, and Belos can change the rules at any time without telling him, he never knows where he stands and he can’t settle into stable patterns of behavior.

This makes it much harder for him to understand the patterns he’s stuck in. There is no pattern, except that Belos will do whatever he feels is most effective to manipulate and destabilize Hunter at any given time. Hunter is trying to put together a puzzle with a handful of pieces that don’t match, and Belos has the box image.

Unpredictable stimulus like this makes it almost impossible to respond rationally or in a consistent manner. If it’s negative, like an unpredictable punishment, then the person subjected to it simply becomes anxiously avoidant. They live in constant fear of a punishment that they can’t predict or plan for. Because it could happen at any time, they feel like it will happen at any time, and they have to always be prepared for it.

So you get Hunter being nervous, trying to read Belos’s mood, trying to interpret the doublespeak and hidden implications he knows are in Belos’s speech, trying to suss out some hint or sign of what it is he’s meant to be doing and how to act correctly and therefore avoid punishment.

When the stimulus is positive, you basically get gambling. Hunter knows he can get a reward - his uncle’s love and approval - but he never quite knows when or how he’s going to get it. Sometimes, when he thinks he needs to be stiff and formal, Belos is intimate and warm. Sometimes, when he’s speaking from a place of love and concern, Belos demands distance and formality.

The most reliable way he knows to get it is to succeed, but he only vaguely knows what Belos expects of him, so he just tries to frantically come up with anything that sounds plausibly like a success or in line with what he knows Belos wants or has wanted in the past and then do that in the hopes that it’ll work.

That’s much harder to break away from than if he reliably knew he would not get rewarded. It’s much harder to plan for than if he reliably knew when and for what and how he would be rewarded. It’s an abuse tactic designed to keep the victim incredibly disoriented and off-balance, unable to comprehend the patterns of behavior they’re being subjected to, blaming themself and trying to alter their own actions to try and gain some sense of control over their circumstances - but control isn’t possible.

So, anyway, onto the rest of that speech. Remember, this is Belos’s answer to “Why did you switch me out with Kikimora?”

“Everyone has a use. Kikimora has her intricate little plans, the scouts carry out orders…” I find the line about Kikimora interesting. At first, I interpreted it be Belos subtly saying that he knows Kikimora’s been plotting against Hunter, and that he isn’t planning to do anything about it. That Hunter needs to be able to handle it, and if he can’t, then he isn’t worthy.

I don’t think that anymore - I think that Belos intentionally sent Kikimora to Eclipse Lake knowing it was a fool’s errand as a way of punishing or potentially getting rid of her for having tried to kill Hunter, who he needs around and in one piece - but I think Hunter may have interpreted it that way.

Hunter, after all, knows that Belos doesn’t strictly mean exactly what he says here, but he’s also not always that good at accurately reading the subtext. He also, later, takes “stay safe in the castle” to mean “go do something to prove yourself or I’m replacing you”, and I’m pretty sure Belos did indeed want him to stay the fuck home. That’s the danger of cultivating an environment of mind-reading - sometimes your mind doesn’t get read correctly.

Then we get to this line: “And as for you, well…”

Look at Hunter’s face and body language. As he has been throughout the entire scene, he’s so incredibly attentive to Belos, like Belos is the only thing that exists. He’s afraid, too. He desperately wants to know what his purpose is, what his use is, how he can prove himself.

And Belos knows it. He’s drawing it out, teasing Hunter again. He’s being deliberately very cruel, pushing buttons that he himself has spent who knows how long installing to throw Hunter into a panic. And then he’s still very vague!

Hunter obviously wants concrete answers. He wants to know why he was switched out, he wants to know if he’s being punished, he wants to know what his purpose is and what he’s meant to do. He wants to know how to act. He needs firm, specific directions, but instead he’s left to struggle through a sucking swamp of implication and misdirection, left to intuit Belos’s desires and punished for his failure to.

(And, of course, the beauty of this sort of treatment is that even if he does do everything exactly right, if it isn’t convenient for Belos to praise or reward him at that moment, then he can just invent an infraction. How is Hunter going to know the difference?)

Instead, Belos simply reiterates that the Titan - an entity only Belos can speak to - has ‘big plans’ for Hunter. They’re very important, yes, but Hunter doesn’t get to know what they are. Belos is the keeper of that information. Belos is the one who molds Hunter into who and what he’s supposed to be to live up to those plans, and Hunter simply has to try to grow as he’s instructed.

And then of course we have this shit. “It would be such a hassle to find a replacement.” That’s just pure intentional emotional terrorism. He knows Hunter is afraid of being replaced and constantly trying to live up to his vague, unexplained expectations. He intentionally cultivates the atmosphere of competition and backstabbing in his coven, encouraging people to fight with each other for his attention.

The message there is very clear: he could replace Hunter, and in fact has already spent enough time thinking about doing so that he has an idea of what he would have to do. He doesn’t want to, because it would be a hardship, but it’s completely within the realm of possibility.

Furthermore, because it would be a hassle, that means that if Hunter does fail badly enough to warrant replacing, his failure is, in and of itself, causing problems for Belos. One last disappointment.

This threat is not particularly veiled at all. Hunter reacts visibly and intensely to it, absolutely panicked. And yet Belos delivers it in that exact same fond, warm tone he’s said everything else in! He could almost be making a joke, the sort of teasing “I’ll give you away/get a new one” type of joke that some parents make, that in a different relationship might indeed land as one.

It doesn’t here, though, because it’s not. It’s a threat. It’s manipulative cruelty. It’s of a piece with “These outbursts are painful, and so is watching you fail.” There is a point past which not even Belos can keep giving Hunter chances, and it would hurt Belos to have to reach that point and dispose of Hunter - but he will if he has to.

This is why I think that while Hunter definitely needed to hear Amity tell him that there are people who won’t make him feel worthless, he’s not actually ready to hear it or really apply it to himself. It’s not that Belos makes him feel worthless, it’s that if he screws up, he will be worthless. Belos is only telling him directly what will happen. He’s making both his expectations and the consequences clear. If Hunter brings those consequences on himself through his own poor behavior, then that’s not really something Belos did, now is it?

Ironically, I think Belos really does want Hunter to stay in the castle. He does need him. I think he was genuinely rattled to hear Hunter was presumed dead for a period of time, because it would have disrupted his plans. (Also, maybe he does care about his nephew, maybe not.)

Hunter, however, doesn’t even assume for a moment that that’s the case. Which is extremely sad in its own way, but, then, he clearly learns well from example, and he’s been shown plenty of times that his physical health and safety aren’t really that important to Belos.

I think he’s pretty desperate here, too, to have been pushed to being so blunt. He tries to interpret and understand the implications, but here he’s been driven to just outright asking if this is emotional punishment for his failures.

Which earns him this chilling and sudden departure from the avuncular warmth of the entire rest of the scene. He spoke out of turn, refused to accept what he was told, and correctly identified the abusive dynamic going on of how Belos is manipulating him - none of which Belos likes.

So now Belos is a bit more overt with the stick. He lets that look of cold disapproval and disappointment linger for a silent beat or two, then slowly and deliberately smiles a much less kind smile and simply tells Hunter, “Good night” before shutting the door in his face.

So, in a way, that’s an answer. Yes, Hunter, this is punishment for your failure. No, you’re not going to be handed a chance to make up for it. Go to bed.

He’s also, in essence, saying, “Guess.” He won’t confirm or deny. He’ll leave it as subtext, up to Hunter to interpret the nuances of tone and expression and precise word choice for any possible meaning he can extrapolate. He doesn’t have to be overtly cruel to Hunter, because he can just do this, and then Hunter will torture himself.

And that’s what makes Belos so insidious an abuser to me. He knows exactly what he’s doing here and he does it incredibly well. The damage from this sort of treatment is absolutely debilitating; it takes years to even begin to understand the extent to which one was manipulated and abused, much less figure out how to process and reverse it and develop healthy patterns of relating to others.

And it’s so hard to identify. You can’t tell Hunter his uncle doesn’t love him, it’s just not true. His uncle smiles at him and puts his arm around him. His uncle tells him stories about his life and his travels in the Human Realm. His uncle teases him. His uncle speaks to him with fondness and warmth. His uncle teaches him how to live in the world. His uncle believes in him, his uncle knows he’s special, his uncle knows he can be better.

You can see throughout that Hunter is hurt. He feels the knives Belos is sliding between his ribs here. But he doesn’t realize he’s bleeding. He doesn’t understand that Belos is being cruel, because Belos does it so gently and kindly, and Hunter’s been taught that this, right here, is what being loved feels like. This is how family treats you.

And on the surface, it is. I have seen plenty of people say that this scene made Belos seem softer, more personable, more relatable. That’s not just because they’re misinterpreting it, it’s because he’s doing that on purpose.

He’s trying to come across that way. He’s presenting the appearance of a loving family member to Hunter and using that to manipulate him with. Someone who hasn’t been emotionally abused in this way or doesn’t have the context for this relationship would see this and think it was perfectly normal, because it looks and sounds that way on so many different levels, and that’s something Belos is doing on purpose.

(Whether or not he truly does love or care for Hunter is honestly beside the point. As I mentioned, I find it reductive to assume abuse and love cannot coexist, because it’s my experience that they almost always do. Additionally, I find it just more interesting to assume Belos does love him, but is still willing to hurt and use him for his own goals. But the point really isn’t what Belos feels, but how his actions make Hunter feel.)

So that’s how we get Hunter in the state he’s in for the rest of this episode, rushing frantically to do exactly what he was told not to do because he’s so afraid of being replaced and so desperate to prove himself. Belos winds him up and Hunter goes marching, abusing himself on Belos’s behalf.

Meanwhile, Belos hasn’t said or done a single thing that an outsider who isn’t familiar with this type of abuse or someone who’s privy to their other private conversations could find objectionable. He especially hasn’t said or done anything Hunter could concretely point to and say that it was done to hurt him. Hunter knows the end result is that he is hurt, yes, but that’s not his uncle’s fault, it’s the consequences of his own behavior.

It’s just incredibly insidious and very densely layered. The folks on the writing team here really knew what they were doing with this.

Thank you for coming to my TEDTalk.

#hunter toh #emperor belos #the owl house #long post #meta #emotional abuse #oh boy is it ever #the experience of writing this was just going 'i want to put belos in a jar and not poke any airholes in the lid' every 20 seconds #somehow this one is longer than the other one. how is it longer. help me

113 notes · View notes

codenamewitcher · 3 years

Text

Wicked Games

This oneshot is based off the song “Wicked Games” by The Weeknd and it is recommended to listen to it while reading!

Summary: The Mandalorian and the Reader have a long standing game to see who breaks first.

Word Count: 3.9k

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: 18+

Warnings: smut, language, nudity, blindfold usage, dirty talk/slight downgrading name usage, teasing, dry humping, rough sex, choking, p in v sex, unprotected sex (please use protection!!), creampie, slight cockwarming, pain kink, kinda OCC!Din, its implied that the reader is a sex worker, and dom/sub undertones.

There isn’t Y/n usage in this, this hasn’t been proof read, and there is no spoilers in this.

A/N: I had I had planned on releasing this, this weekend and almost didn’t because S2E6 was brutal af and I just wanted fluff but @stars-trash-18 convinced me other wise. So here it, probably the filthiest things I’ve written.

Red.

It was the color of anger, hatred, revenge, and danger, but also love, power, confidence, passion, lust, and sin. Red was one of my favorites for this reason.

It was the color of the silk and sheer dress I wore.

It was also the color of the room the Mandalorian and I were in.

“It’s been awhile.” I purred, bending my knee and placing my heel against the door behind me. Skin peaked out of the dress’s slit, but not enough to show leg, just enough to tease.

“I’ve been busy.” He rasped, leaning back into the couch cushions, arms spread out across the sofa top, legs opened wide for me to step in between. For anyone else, he may look relaxed, but I knew he was waiting for me to pounce.

I hummed and pushed off the door I was leaned up against. I didn’t step that much closer to him, keeping the room’s stage between the two of us. I wasn’t going to give into him that easily.

It was silent between us, both of us waiting to see who’d break first. I crocked my head to the side, studying the way the red lights shimmered on the shiny reflection of the beskar helmet he wore.

I held my gaze at his vizor as I slowly climbed the stage, heels clicking on the polished wood.

It was a game that we played, seeing who would break first from my teasing or his lack of response to it. I’d won 27 times; he’d won 14 times.

I began swaying my hips as I stepped in front of him, his helmet following my movements. My hands started following the curves of my body. They started at my thighs and traveled up my hips, waist, and chest. Fingers slid across the exposed skin of chest from the dress’s deep v-cut. They danced from my collarbones down the valley of my breast and stopping at the red leather belt holding the dress in place. They skimmed the silver buckle as I slowly unbuckled the belt.

The movements were always slow, deliberate, and sensual to push the right buttons.

The belt fell to the floor with a soft clatter, the dress opened to reveal my abdomen, the lacy red underwear that hugged my hips, legs, and the garter on my right thigh that held a small blaster pistol. The dress opened up enough to show just that as the material on my shoulders kept my shoulders covered.

A growl escaped from beneath his helmet while my fingers brushed the skin on my hips and abdomen.

Satisfied with his reaction, I turned around to go to the pole at the stage center, but his hand wrapped around my wrist, stopping me in my tracks. A smirk found its way on my painted red lips.

I won.

He placed his hand at my hip, spinning me around so that my body pressed up against the cold beskar that covered his. Goosebumps prickled all over my skin while my nipples puckered from the contract of my body heat and the cold metal. A puddle of arousal began to form between my legs.

He pulled me down from the stage as he stepped down and continued to do so by pulling me into his lap once he seated himself, my legs straddling his. While I sat in his lap, his hands found their place at my ass and used it to pull my body closer to his where my core hovered over his erection. I couldn’t help the moan that escaped my lips from the feel of him and the lace rubbing up against my clit.

His right hand left my ass, his thumb dragging along my jaw only to stop so he could lay his index finger on my bottom lip. I opened my mouth up to take the tip of his glove between my teeth. The taste of salt, blaster residue, and leather flooded the taste buds in my mouth when the tip of my tongue brushed up against it while I leaned my head back to slide the glove off his hand.

Once the glove was off, I let it fall from my teeth to land between us on his lap. The calluses on his fingers scratched across my skin as he traced my collarbone and onto my shoulder, pushing the left side of my dress down in the process, exposing my breast.

I placed my hands on his shoulders for leverage as I began rolling my hips down on his while his hand fell to cup my breast. I threw my head back as a gasp left my lips when he took my nipple between his thumb and forefinger and squeezed while he bucked his hips up into mine.

If the boner he had wasn’t enough of an indicator that I was affecting his like he was me, the heavy breathing coming out from his modulator was.

His other hand left my ass and dug in his pocket until he found what he was looking for.

“Put it on.” He demanded. I looked down to find a black strip of cloth resting in his opened palm. I looked back up at his vizor of his helmet as I moved my hands from his shoulders and picked the blindfold up out of his hand. My eyes stayed on him up until the cloth covered my vision.

When this first started between us, I hated the blindfold. Putting it on meant that I had to give up control and had to have complete trust in him, it was something that took years for me to get to, so instead we used to settle for no lights or him not even removing the helmet.

My hands fell in my lap after I tied the blindfold around my head, waiting.

I heard the hiss of his helmet from coming off and not long after two bare and calloused hands wondered my body. His lips brushed over mine while his hands stopped at my hips, forcing them to roll against his faster and harder.

A whimper left my lips, my forehead knocking into his as my body tried to curl in on itself from the intense pressure on my clit from the lace and his clothed dick. His pants mingled with mine, my hands grabbing onto and squeezing the muscles above the crock of his elbow and below his pauldron., looking for some form of release while the coil in my pelvis started to tighten.

He used his nose to nudge at my chin, exposing my neck to him. I jumped as he dived right in for the kill, his teeth nipping at the skin. All I could think about was the pain from his teeth shooting down to my core and the abuse that was being delivered to my clit with the rough rubbing of fabric and his cock against it. After trailing down my neck, his teeth tugged on my earlobe and didn’t stop until the skin escaped his grasp, a small yelp left my lips from the pinch his teeth gave.

“You’re so fucking wet you’re soaking though my clothes.” He whispered in my ear. I hadn’t even noticed as I was too consumed by the pain and pleasure but now that my attention was brought to it, I’d definitely soaked my underwear. A smirk spread across my lips as I thought about it.

“What are you going to do about it?” I gasped out as one of his hands traveled underneath my dress and up the skin of my spine in feather light touches while the other squeezed my hip hard enough to burse. My toes started to curl into my heels as he started dragging nails across my skin.

“You’ll find out soon enough but,” He stopped and captured my bottom lip between his teeth, doing the same thing he did to my earlobe but soft enough not to make my lip bleed. “You’re doing to cum for me first, understood?”

I nodded my head, not trusting my voice. It seemed like he didn’t like that though as his hands stopped my hips from rolling and his own stilling themselves. I hated the whimper that escaped.

“Use your words.” I really fucking hated him sometimes.

“Y-yes, I understand.”

“Good girl.” He started back up on pushing my hips down against his, but he didn’t build back up to his previous pace. Instead he went right back to it immediately, it nearly sent me over that edge just teetering at it. No, what sent me over it and caused sparks to appear in my vision and ringing in my ears was when a hand slipped beneath the lace and delivered a harsh pinch to my clit.

My body smashed right into his as I could no longer hold myself up while waves of euphoria crashed over me, my cunt fluttering over nothing, and a mixture of moans and whimpers leaving my lips

He held me in his arms while he waited for me to calm down, it was one of the small mercies I was thankful for, the other being the coldness of his beskar that helped cool my burning skin.

It was rarely soft between us. It was a competition, a game that we played to not only see who couldn’t resist the other – a game I was winning in – and to see who could ruin the other, who could reduce the other into a mess of tears and moans. That was the game that he excelled in as I’ve only won five times. I blamed the blindfold for that as the lack of sight heightened everything. Then there was also the matter that he didn’t like to give up control, I only managed to take it those five times.

My thoughts were cut short by his hands slowly slipping my dress off from my arms, shivers racking through my body from the cold air hitting my sweaty back once the dress fell away. My body curled further into his trying to find warmth for my back. His arms wrapped back around me, shushes falling from his lips as he did so.

Eventually I caught my breath and he continued to hold me to his body as he lifted me up while he stood. My heart rate sped up from the sudden movement and my arms wrapped around his neck and legs around his waist to make sure I didn’t fall out of his grasp. My back hit soft, plush cushions as he laid me down, hands unwrapping my arms and legs from around his body.

I knew he was undressing by the soft clatter of metal against wood, but stars I hated laying here, waiting, not seeing. However, I controlled myself enough not to visibly show my frustration knowing that the asshole he could be would take longer with undressing himself.

I heard a chuckle come from above me and felt bare skin touch my own. His fingers hooked around the elastic of my underwear, slowly pulling my underwear down my legs. My hand hits a cushion and a gasp slips from my lips as the cold air hit my soaking pussy.

Lips drag their way up my leg, the cushion sinking every time his hand hit the cushion while he climbed his way up my body. I couldn’t help my body jerking from the light touches of his lips and the slight scratch from the stubble that covered his jaw. He used his hands to spread my legs apart as his lips got closer and closer to my core.

My breathing speed up and so did my heartbeat in anticipation for the events that were about to come. I could feel the smirk on his lips, he knew what he was doing to me with the teasing.

Without warning, his tongue is licking a strip up through my folds. My hand shot down to his hair, tangling itself in his soft curls. His lips wrapped around my clit and sucked, my back arched off the couch, moans slipping from my lips. The sensation was a mixture of pain and pleasure from the abuse it received earlier and the only thing grounding me was the hand tangled in his hair.

My back only hit the cushions once again when he stopped sucking on my clit for his lips to trail kisses up my body until he reached my own lips.

“You taste so sweet, don’t you baby?” He whispered after placing a kiss on my lips. My tongue darted out over my lip tasting a hint of the sweetness and saltiness of my arousal, I hummed.

“You’re such a dirty little slut, aren’t you?” His nose pushed against my cheek while I felt his hard on poke at my thigh as he started to situate himself between my legs.

I gave him another hum while a smirk slipped on my lips. “And what does that make you if I’m the dirty little slut?”

I probably shouldn’t have said that, but I couldn’t stand letting him have full control, I had to play with him, I had to be a brat as he liked to call it. Even if I was going to pay for it and I knew I was the moment his hand wrapped around my throat.

“You really don’t want to know the answer to that.” He growled in my ear, his dick prodding at my entrance. His grip on my neck slowly tightened and once it tightened just enough to make me dizzy, his slowly pushed his dick in, making me gasp out for air as he did so.

He loosened his grip on my throat and a deep moan coming out of his as he continued to push in, stuffing and stretching me out all at the same time. It burned slightly as I hadn’t been fucked since he was last here, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the stretch.

His body hoovered over me, an arm bracing against the cushion above my head to hold himself up while his head fell in the crock of my neck, pants of air leaving his lips and onto my shoulder from him bottoming out and my walls fluttering around his cock.

“You’re so fucking tight, mesh’la.” He rasped, his hand flexing around my neck for emphasis while my hands run along his arms and over the scars there in search of his shoulders, wanting something to grip onto.

“Din,” I whispered, turning my head towards his. “Fuck me, please.”

A growl rumbles from his chest against mine and in my ear as it leaves his lips. I feel him move him move where he’s able to fuck me better and my hands slip from his shoulders to his chest as his sits up, his hand still at my throat though but the other is now at my hip.

He slowly starts to pull out and slams his hips back against mine, the only thing keeping my body in push from the force being the hand at my hip and the other at my neck. He sets a bruising pace, moans falling from both of our lips from the rolling of our hips.

The hand at my neck starts to tighten a little bit and the one at my hip moved, following the line for my hip down to my clit where he starts to rub slow circles with his thumb. I push my head back further into the couch cushion and drag my nails down his chest, overstimulation starting to take its hold on me, blood felt like it was rushing everywhere beneath my skin as my orgasm started to build up yet again.

The hand at my throat gave one more squeeze before moving and I felt the dip in the cushion as he placed his hand next to my head. I felt him lean down to hover over my body yet again, but his hips never relented in their pace as he did so. A kiss was placed in the valley of my breast before he moved up to capture my lips in his. His tongue slipped in my mouth and easily took over dominance seeing as I didn’t even put up much of a fight.

My hands slipped back up to his shoulders squeezing them and then moving to run across the muscles along his shoulders in the process of my arms wrapping around his neck to bring his body closer to mine.

His thumb rubbing circles on my clit started to speed up and he broke the kiss only to trail his lips down my neck. My back arched up causing my chest to press into his at the increase in pressure.

“I’m really fucking close Din.” I gasped out, throat sore from my moans and him choking me earlier.

“I know you are, baby.” His lips brushed along the shell of my ear, his stubble slightly scrapping against my jaw as he did so. “I am too.”

I pressed my forehead into his shoulder as he sped up the pace a little bit, trying to chase our release. He increased the pressure on my clit and pushed me over the edge in the process. I bit down on his shoulder to muffle the loud moan of his name that was more on the borderline of becoming a scream while my body trembled beneath him.

His orgasm followed right after mine, my walls squeezing around him while his cum coated them. His body collapsed on top of me, monas of my name filling my ears, but he still managed not to crush me under his weight. I continued to hold onto him while aftershocks run through my body, he ended up sliding the arm that was between us underneath my back, pulling me even closer to his body.

Nothing was said between as we laid there catching our breath, my fingers twirling the hairs at the base of his neck and his thumb rubbing at my waist while he continued to hold onto me.

It was in these softer moments that I sometimes wished there was more to our relationship than fucking. We did have something more than just fucking as over the years trust was built between us. With him trusting me enough to take his helmet off and me not to peak out of the blindfold, me trusting him enough to put the blindfold on me and give up control, and finally him trusting me enough with his name I knew there was something else there besides fucking.

But we were both shit with communication, plus he was busy running around the galaxy chasing after bounties while I was here running the business. So, we only got to see each other when he had the time and was nearby, sometimes there was only a few weeks in between seeing each other, and other times it was months.

I slid my legs down from around his waist down to his legs. It was getting harder for me to keep my eyes open as I felt safe and warm in his arms, I was worn out, and the feeling of being filled was nice.

“I’m falling asleep.” I whispered into his shoulder, he let out a large sigh.

“I am too, but we need to move.” He whispered, starting to pull away from me. I groaned.

I instantly shivered when he pulled away from me and slipped out, getting up off the couch. I held out a hand, hoping that he would help me sit up as I was too exhausted to do myself.

His hand engulfed mine when he wrapped it around mine and pulled me up. I was a little dizzy from the sudden and quick movement and still not being able to see anything. It wasn’t long either when I heard the soft rustling of clothes being picked up.

I sat and waited, my head leaning against the sofa top cushions trying to stay awake. Then I felt his hands on my legs, lifting them slightly, lace brushing up against my skin as he put my underwear around my ankles and pulled them up my legs and around hips once I lifted them.

He then grabbed my hand, pulling me up so that I was standing, and held onto me while I regained my balance. It was really a pain being pulled to stand up in heels while also not being able to see.

I keep my hands on his shoulders, the fabric of his long sleeve stretching while he leaned down and picked something up from the ground. I guessed it to be my dress as I felt the silky fabric brush across my shoulders while he helped me to slip it back on.

Once my dress was one and it’s belt secured around my waist, Din placed a kiss on my lips and then stepped away from me momentarily. A click filled the silent room and then his hand was at the knot of my blindfold, pulling at it and the fabric fell away.

The room’s red lights filled my vision and after blinking the bleariness away a few times, the room and the Mandalorian standing before me came into focus.

He wasn’t in any of his armor yet, just in the black long sleeve shirt, black pants, and the boots that he wore, his helmet covering his face. I helped him strap his armor back onto his body in return for helping me get dressed.

It continued to stay silent between us as we completed the process of putting his armor on. It stayed like that all away from me unlocking the door to the room and him walking me home even with me ungracefully stumbling from exhaustion.

Once we reached my front door, we stopped and stared at each other for a bit, until a finally broke the silence by asking a risky question.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” I leaned against my front door, watching for his reaction.

“If I do, I’ll have to leave in the morning.” I sighed, shifting his feet.

“I know,” I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to protect the exposed and bruised skin from the night chill. “It’s only for tonight.”

“Okay,” He nodded his head and watched as I turned around and unlocked the door. He shut and locked the door behind himself after following me in, this wasn’t the first time he’d been in my house, and I hoped that it wouldn’t be the last.

I headed straight for my room letting the dress and belt fall to the floor and kicking my shoes off once I got in there and to my closet where I pulled a big shirt out and slipped it over my head. I heard Din’s armor fall to the floor as he took it, only leaving him shirt, underwear, and helmet on. I quickly changed into a more comfortable pair of underwear, not really caring that they were going to have cum stains on them in the morning.

I crawled into bed, cuddling into Din’s side while exhaustion drugged my body down. I laid my head down on his chest while he pulled the covers up and an arm around my shoulders.

“Goodnight, Din.” I whispered as my eyes started to grow heavy once again.

“Goodnight cyar’ika.” He whispered back just in time before sleep pulled me in its depths.

When I woke the next day, the bed was empty, and he was gone like promised.

A/N: I do have a Masterlist (link is in my bio) but I’m not linking it seeing as Tumblr has yet to fix the tagging system when links are added.

Thank you for taking the time to read this!

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x you #din djarin imagine #din djarin smut #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x y/n #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian smut #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x y/n #mandalorian x you #mandalorian smut #the mandalorian #din djarin #star wars x reader

215 notes · View notes

rickygina · 3 years

Note

Top five Rina moments??

AAAAA okay HM... this is tough bc there are so many good ones..

1. id have to say for my first one is the classic car scene. it was the first scene where i saw how good their chemistry was, and how they understood each other. it was PERFECT. the framing, the music, the cheek kiss, the ROMANCE, and ricky going like 'nah, you're not that scary' like HELLO??? it's so beautiful

2. for the second, even though it's angsty as fuck, it's the flashback scene. LIKE WHEW sofia's acting blew me away, and when she said 'i wouldn't quit on us' it MADE ME INSANE!!! also when ricky went 'say it' and the little hum ricky made when he hugged her????? pressing his head against her shoulder??? literally i wanted to d*e it was so fucking good

3. their hug in the school cafeteria. it was CUTE it was ADORABLE the way they were both smiling at each other and SO HAPPY!! the way ricky spinned her is so so adorable i'll never stop thinking about it

4. when ricky sang that song to her!! it was soooooo sweet, they were so smiley it was so cute.

5. to be honest, i really really loved the scenes in s2e6 where ricky was trying to make gina pay attention to her where he turned to look at her (with nini right beside him lol) when they were gonna do improv, and when he said 'hey g'. like??? ricky misses being with her so bad. and that FULL HEAD TURN when gina left LIKE SLDJF?? it wasn't subtle. and where ashlyn is asking gina 'what is your heart telling you?' *PANS TO RICKY* like hello??? that was a top notch episode

#thanks for the ask :D #this was fun to do hehe #rina #ricky x gina #asks #sabi answers

25 notes · View notes

atomicradiogirl · 4 months

Text

The Best House MD Scene

"You'd be surprised what you can live with."

In season 2, episode 6 of House MD “Spin” written by Sara Hess, there is a scene that I consider to be one of the best, if not the best, scenes of House. In the scene, Cameron is talking to Wilson alone in House’s office about how she cheated on her dying husband with his best friend while he was in the hospital. A conversation that is related to Wilson’s adulterous behavior and plethora of divorces. To relate to her story, Wilson tells Cameron that his relationship with his second wife, Bonnie, ended not because she was sick and he needed someone to cling to, but because he met someone that made him feel funny and good and he didn’t want to let that feeling go. Cameron looks at him in understanding. Wilson goes on to say that Cameron isn’t to blame for cheating on her husband since she couldn’t control her emotions, to which Cameron replies “No, just my actions.” When Wilson realizes that she didn’t sleep with him. Cameron says that she couldn’t live with herself if she did. Wilson gives a devilish smile in response, a silence that speaks volumes, and says, “You’d be surprised what you can live with,” and leaves the office.

This scene is so impactful, not because of any angst or emotional weight but because of the parallel and implications of this scene. Cameron and Wilson are characters who both interact but don’t really have a close relationship. This is one of the only instances where they seem to have a genuine emotional understanding of each other. There is also a very strong parallel between them, as they are both emotional and caring people who thrive on being needed by others. But most importantly, they both love broken people and the ultimate broken person, House. Cameron is still grappling with her feelings for House and the lack of gendered language used by Wilson as well as the general knowledge that there is no one else he could possibly be talking about, along with the fact that this conversation is literally happening in House’s office, solidly proves that this “mystery person” Wilson is talking about is House. “You’d be surprised what you can live with” might not necessarily mean that he slept with House, but it definitely confirms that there was at least a level of emotional cheating on his ex-wife with him. Something that is actually proven as the reason his second marriage with Bonnie ended. His being too devoted to helping House after his infarction was a primary reason. House making Wilson feel “funny” could be a way of Wilson saying he fell in love with House, or maybe House just made him feel needed in a way that Wilson couldn’t resist.

Regardless of how you read between the lines, the implication here is clear. Both Cameron and Wilson love House, and both of them are bonding in this scene over not having control over their emotions, especially over House. To me, “You’d be surprised what you can live with” is Wilson saying he can live with his feelings for House and he can live with knowing that he would do anything for him as well as a general acceptance that he could live with emotionally or physically cheating on his ex-wife with House. Cameron says nothing to this statement, and there is no follow-up to this conversation in the rest of the episode or the show. But it alone sets up an understanding in the audience of why Cameron cheated on her husband as well as why Wilson drops everything for House at any whim. It isn’t confirmed until 6 seasons later, but this is the start of the many cleverly placed obvious hints that Wilson loves House, despite his feelings being deeply repressed and seemingly unreciprocated for the majority of the show or throughout their relationship that we, the audience get to see. This scene stands out as a rare moment of cross-character connections that we don’t often get to see in House. From side characters. Yes, it is about House and what he means to both of them, but it delves into the shared inner experiences of these two characters, whom we get pieces of understanding throughout the show. This scene is my favorite scene of House, and while it might not be the most flashy or cinematic, it is the pure example of the show’s outstanding writing.

#house md #s2e6 spin #yes i wrote a whole 800 words about this scene #literal essay posting #in this essay i will #allison cameron #james wilson #hilson #gregory house #my thoughts #this scene makes me lose my marbles

171 notes · View notes

itsonlystrange · 3 years

Text

Since it’s the end of November, (literally 11:55pm as I’m writing this)

Here are my stranger things Hot Takes for No Nuance November!

Please respect my opinion :)

1. Billy is a racist and I don’t understand how ppl love him so much. He shouldn’t be idolized at all.

2. Steve would never date Billy after Billy assaulted Lucas, Max, and verbally assaulted almost everyone else. They’re enemies. Not enemies to lovers, just enemies

3. Btw Billy is dead lol, atleast I think he is.

4. Mike loves Will more than Will loves Mike

5. Season 3 wasn’t scary at all and I honestly wasn’t on the edge of my seat like i had been in prior seasons

6. Season 2 is superior. Not because of Byler. But because of the development we get, Bob, Max, autumn vibes, El being her own person, Kali, etc.

7. Season 3 is my least favorite. It just really missed the nail on the head for me.

8. Mileven would have been cute if season 3 never existed. I was fine with them being canon but then s3 ruined them

9. Hopper and Joyce would never work out as a married couple irl

10. Hopper was a horrible character In season 3 and a misogynist

11. Bob only died so that Joyce could end up with Hopper

12. Lucas is the most underrated party member

13. Lucas is Lowkey a misogynist

14. I love Lumax but it’s toxic that they’ve broken up six times in 6 months. I can’t see them getting married or being end game

15. We deserve Dr Brenner flash backs

16. Season 2 had the best monsters

17. Will’s bowl cut is adorable

18. El shouldn’t be in a relationship when she didn’t even know what a friend was when she was 12

19. Nobody is the main character. It’s an ensemble show

20. If el didn’t have powers most of the fandom wouldnt like her as much as they do

21. El is a phenomenal character but she gets stunted when she’s with Mike

22. If any of the kids are gonna do drugs, it’s gonna be Max or Mike

23. Will already has powers. Sensing the MF is literally a superpower how are we all ignoring that

24. Byler isn’t just a “fanon” ship that could never be canon. It has a huge possibility and it’s v possible.

25. Why does suzie even exist in the first place??

26. Dustin is the smartest out of the party

27. Dustin and Steve In s3 was basically just comic relief and I really wish they dug deeper into their characters

28. S1 e4, s2e6, s3e7 are the best episodes of stranger things

29. Season 1 was the scariest, season 2 was the most captivating, and season 3 was the saddest

30. I want Mike to be the next one to get possessed

31. Nancy can be a bit of a priss and she acts v privileged at times

32. The best sibling is Jonathon 100%

33. The best mom is Joyce

34. The best dad is Hopper (if that counts?)

35. Erica deserves to be more than just comic relief. She became a little repetitive

36. Season 3 feels more of a parody or a spin off instead of an actual continuation of seasons 1 and 2

37. The aesthetic and colors of s3 DO NOT fit the show at all. It felt so cheesy

38. Max is bisexual

39. Mike and Will are gay. I’m still unsure if Mike is bisexual or not but for now I believe he is gay

40. If el can’t decide what type of clothes she likes she shouldn’t be able to decide if she likes mike

41. One of the kids will die by the end of season 5. I have a feeling it’ll be El or Dustin

42. One of the teenagers will die by the end of s4 I think. (Robin, Steve, Nancy, Jonathon)

43. Every couple has had a cute moment but that doesn’t mean they aren’t toxic for eachother

44. Mike loves el but he isn’t IN love with her

45. El doesn’t have to die for Mileven to not be end game

46. I don’t think any of the Byers will die ever. I could be wrong, but they’ve just been through so much already.

47. Ok maybe Lonnie will die

48. My least favorite sibling is probably Erica or Holly

48 my least favorite mom is probably Terry- just bc we don’t know a ton abt her

49. My least favorite dad is ofc Lonnie

50. El Max was one of the best friendships of s3

51. El and hoppers reunion will be better than Hopper and Joyce’s

52. El and Max’s reunion will be better than Mike and El’s

53. Mike and Will’s reunion will be better than Mike and El’s

54. The four main boys reunion will be adorable oh my god

55. Mike is Christian, Lucas is catholic, Dustin is atheist, Max is atheist/Catholic, El is atheist, and Will is Jewish/Christian/atheist. Idk those are the vibes I get

56. Lucas and Dustin are straight

57. And finally, WE NEED MORE PETS IN STRANGER THINGS. GIVE DUSTIN A NEW CAT

#stranger things #stranger things 4 #byler #mike wheeler #will byers #lucas sinclair #dustin henderson #eleven #max mayfield #st4

51 notes · View notes

ask-runaan-anything · 4 years

Note

2 questions. 1: Why are half of the posts on your blog cuddling with Ethari? 2: did you teach Rayla the balisong trick in S2E6 (the open into a icepick, the y2k and lastly the basic aerial)

My what now? a blog is just a venomous bog frog with an Earth arcanum

I answer what I am asked, little shadow. unless it’s rude And apparently many people wish to hear about my soft time with my husband. I think it pleases them to know that someone as stabby and intense as I am is capable of being gentle and affectionate. And also that imperfect people can still find true love, and hold onto it for years and years, and be truly and deeply happy.

Rayla’s swordplay idling is partially my training and partly Ethari’s playfulness. I’ve some familiarity with her butterfly blades, but I have to spin my manually. I suppose that makes hers an upgraded version, doesn’t it? Once Ethari finished her swords, she barely put them down, even to sleep.

We each took a blade and experimented with them until we found various ways for her to open and grip the sword, but Rayla, being Rayla, took it several steps further. While she was training to familiarize herself with practical moves, Ethari and I also had to endure all manner of stabby shenanigans.

The y2k was one of her favorites to break out at the breakfast table because its showy dexterity made Ethari happy every time she did it for him. I couldn’t really object, either, since she’d always offer to slice the breakfast fruit for delicacy training. She’s always known how to impress me.

And sword-cut breakfast is best breakfast.

#ask runaan #runaan answers #snuggles and swords #that's me #preferably in that order #but i rarely get a say #rayla's balisong tricks

6 notes · View notes

ellewritesathing · 4 years

Text

So Close - S.S. XXII

Summary: The universe has a funny way of putting the things you want right in front of you, but just out of reach. Stiles and Y/N have been best friends ever since Scott brought him home, but when Stiles realizes that he might want to be something other than best friends, she leaves to go to some fancy private school up North. Now that she’s back though … maybe he’s got a shot? A Teen Wolf AU in which the reader has always been so close to Stiles and yet so far.

Prologue - S2E1 Part 1 - S2E2 + S2E3 Part 2 - S2E4 + S2E5 + S2E6 Part 3 - S2E7 +S2E8 Part 4 - S2E9 + S2E10 Part 5 - S2E11 + S2E12 Part 6 Part 7 - S3AE1 Part 8 - S3AE2 + S3AE3 Part 9 - S3AE4 Part 10 - S3AE5 + S3AE6 Part 11 - S3AE7 + S3AE8 Part 12 - S3AE9 + S3AE10 + S3AE11 Part 13 - S3AE11 + S3AE12 Part 14 Part 15 - S3BE1 + S3BE2 Part 16 - S3BE3 + S3BE4 Part 17 - S3BE5 + S3BE6 Part 18 - S3BE7 + S3BE8 + S3BE9 Part 19 - S3BE10 + S3BE11 Part 20 - S3BE11 + S3BE12 Part 21 Part 22 - S4E1 + S4E2

Word-count: 6.9k+

A/N: happy 2020 guys!! i hope it’s a good one. also i edited like two lines of dialogue in Part 21 during the Misteltoe Fiasco but it’s nothing major. and just a warning there are two swearwords in this part. hope you enjoy :)

Security followed them almost as soon as they entered the bar, and you knew that Stiles and Lydia could handle themselves but that didn’t keep you from worrying. You didn’t need to look over to know that Scott felt the same; instead you got up, took one of the free shots on promotion, and went to dance with Malia. If the cover was dumb teenagers on winter break, then by god were you going to act like a dumb teenager on winter break.

Once Stiles and Lydia were in the back, it didn’t take long for security to start looking out for you. Kira hurried up to where you and Malia were to ask what you guys should do, and Malia told her to blend in before pulling her into a dance. You grabbed each of their hands and twirled them around.

The spinning let you notice when Scott disappeared and the confused looks on the security guards’ faces before they started whispering.

“Can you hear what they’re saying?” you asked Malia when you leaned in again.

She shook her head and moved closer to Kira as a small crowd started forming around you. You excused yourself when you noticed the guards getting closer than you liked. Malia and Kira took out the guards that were onto them and you took out the guy on the perimeter. You grabbed his gun and pulled him closer when he aimed it at you. You elbowed him in the face as he fell forward, aiming another blow to the area between his shoulder blades as you took the gun out of his hands. Scott came back before you got the chance and knocked him out.

“I had it under control,” you huffed, moving your hair out of your face and sliding the gun into the back of your jeans. You moved your shirt over to cover it.

“I know,” he said with a smile and a small shrug. He turned and nodded at Kira before making his way to the back, you and the others close on his heels.

The hallway seemed to go on forever, with Scott and Kira taking up the lead and Malia behind you. They turned when they heard something in the club that you couldn’t, but that meant that you were the first to see the smoke coming in from the ducts.

“Uh, guys?” you said, pointing to the smoke drifting on the floor.

Scott started walking slowly towards it when more smoke started pouring out from the ceiling. “Wolfsbane!” he yelled. “It’s wolfsbane! Get out of here!”

“I’m not leaving you!” you yelled, rushing closer to grab his arm. His eyes flashed red as he yelled something else, but you got distracted by the sound of a fight behind you. Kira managed to take out one of the guards and you hit the other one with the butt of your gun on their temple before you ran out.

The club felt far too loud when you stumbled in again, but it wasn’t nearly as loud as the sound of your racing heartbeat. Kira wasn’t behind you anymore. You looked for an exit and ran when you found one, dodging someone who tried to make a grab at you. You weren’t even sure if they were a guard or not, but they were definitely going to have some bruises in the morning.

Even after a few blocks, it still felt like someone was following you, so you ducked into an alleyway to lure them out. You engaged your knife as you waited and got ready with the gun. The second they came around the corner, you pulled them forward and slammed them into the wall, holding the knife to their throat.

“Nice reflexes,” someone said behind you. It sounded familiar but your adrenaline was making it hard to focus. Nevertheless, you swung your arm out and aimed the gun squarely at their chest, still applying pressure with the knife to the other one. “Woah, calm down. It’s just me.”

She held up her hands to show that she wasn’t a threat and you blinked at her.

“Cora?” You turned to the person you had pinned against the wall. A sheepish smile and head of curls looked back at you. “Isaac? What the hell are you-”

“I think the more important question,” Isaac said as he straightened up, “Is why do you still have your knife to my throat?”

You broke into a grin as you pulled the knife away and gave him a hug. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you,” you rushed out. You turned and barrelled into Cora as you hugged her. “Scott’s been taken and the others-”

“We know,” she said, stepping out of your grip. “I’d recognize that piece of crap Jeep anywhere.”

You laughed as you disengaged the knife and put the safety on the gun. Taking a breath, you shook your head. “So you guys will help me?”

“I mean I’m still kinda upset you didn’t tell me you were coming to South America so-” Isaac started. Cora smacked his arm lightly and he feigned being hurt. “Of course we’ll help you.”

Despite your arguing, you knew it was too dangerous to go back that night. Cora and Isaac took you to the tiny apartment they were staying in so you could come up with a plan. Cora told you about the week that Derek spent with them and how he was supposed to call when he made it back to Beacon Hills but he never did. They’d been making their way back up the route he took, stopping at all the towns to search for him, when they found the Jeep and Scott’s bike. Then they started looking for you.

It was surreal, seeing the life they had now and how much they’d changed. Even as you made your way back to the Calaveras - during the day because you refused to wait until nightfall - they were in sync. They had a rhythm that they fell into. You wanted to have that one day, preferably with someone who wasn’t dating a werecoyote that they promised they didn’t have feelings for.

There was more security than before, but it was easier to get through with Isaac and Cora by your side. She took the lead and Isaac made sure nothing followed you, but she stopped in front of a door. She could hear Stiles.

Isaac said something about hearing Scott as you knelt down and picked the lock, opening the door to find him and Malia huddled together by the grossest set of sinks you’d ever seen.

“-Focus on the sound of my voice,” he said. “All you have to do is concentrate. Concentrate-”

Malia pulled him close and kissed him.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you said as you stood and turned to Isaac. “Let’s get Scott. Cora, you- god, I don’t know. Make sure they don’t get killed.”

You walked away, breaking into a run, as you ignored the sound of Stiles’ voice behind you. The lights were flickering as you and Isaac broke into one of the rooms. Isaac collapsed and covered his ears as you did, because you found Scott but he was turning, and the growl was strong enough to affect any of the wolves that heard it.

He broke free of the chains as a guard came at you, only you didn’t see them. They tackled you to the ground as you heard Scott say, breathless and tired, “Kate.”

---

The group stood by Stiles’ Jeep as Scott finished up with Araya, partially talking about the plan but mostly catching up. Cora and Lydia were talking to one another in low voices and you were nestled under Isaac’s arm, moping and watching your brother in the distance.

You turned your head to find Stiles talking to you. “Hey, you okay? I was worried when we got taken and you weren’t there.”

“Yeah, I went to get reinforcements,” you said. You didn’t mean to be as distant with him as you were, but you couldn’t help it. You shifted under Isaac’s arm. “I’m okay.”

“Okay,” Stiles exhaled. He reached for the back of his neck when you didn’t answer. “Well, uh, good talk.”

He took a few steps away, sighing and rubbing his head, and Isaac lifted his arm and pulled away to look at you. “What was that about?” he asked.

“What was what about?” you asked. He rolled his eyes. “He’s dating Malia. What do you want me to do?”

Isaac stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know. Maybe stop blowing him off and-”

He stopped talking when Scott started making his way over and Stiles met him in the middle. “So what now?”

“She thinks she knows where we can find Derek,” Scott said. He sounded like he was still wrapping his head around something Araya had said.

“Is she gonna tell us where?” Malia asked.

“Uh, actually, she’s giving us a guide,” Scott said.

He was about to go on when someone rode over on a motorcycle. She took off her helmet and you recognized her. The one that saved Isaac.

“You know her?” Stiles asked, tapping Scott’s shoulder.

“Braeden,” he said, almost as disbelieving as when he said Kate’s name.

“Who’s Braedon?” Kira asked.

It felt like she’d been a part of the group so long that you forgot she didn’t know everything. You wondered if that’s what it felt like for Scott and Stiles when you had to ask about Kate.

“She’s a mercenary,” Isaac said. “A pretty good one, too.”

Braedon smiled at him slightly before responding, “Right now, I’m the only one who’s gonna take you to La Iglesia.”

“The Church?” Lydia asked hesitantly.

“What’s the church?” Stiles asked over eagerly.

“It’s not a place you’ll find God,” Braedon answered. Ah, vaguely threatening answers, how you didn’t miss them. “We should leave if you want to get there before the sun sets.”

“Alright,” Stiles sighed. “Well, the Jeep can take five people so-”

“I can ride with Braedon,” Scott interrupted.

“And I can go with Cora and Isaac,” you said. “We’ll follow behind you guys.”

“Listen, I’m not really sure if the Porsche is made for off-roading,” Stiles said, taking steps closer to you. “So I think you should just-”

“I’m not backing out of this until we find my brother,” Cora said, matching Stiles steps toward the middle of the group. “So if Y/N wants to come with us, it’s fine. We’re all going to the same place.”

“No, see, you and The Scarf don’t get to just pack up and leave and then pop back in whenever you’re little wolf-instincts tell you to,” Stiles argued. “You left so why don’t you-”

“Stiles,” Scott interrupted, hand on his shoulder. “If they wanna help, let them help. They’ve done a pretty good job so far.”

Stiles was going to argue but you reached forward and grabbed Cora’s hand, already interlacing your other one with Isaac’s. “So it’s settled,” you said. “Scott and Braedon take up the lead and we’ll follow behind Stiles and the others.”

It had been a pretty good plan - except for the fact that Stiles pulled Scott into the passenger seat of the Jeep almost as soon as you were out of their line of sight - until Stiles hit something and had to pull over. You’d spent the time up until that point talking things out with Isaac and Cora.

None of you knew Kate personally, but Cora hated her for what she did to her family. You and Isaac hated her by default. And though it might not have been the most helpful brainstorming session ever, you did get to catch them up on everything happening back home. Especially Stiles and Malia. But you were definitely, completely, 100% not still holding a grudge.

“What happened?” Braedon asked as she walked closer to the Jeep.

You were still climbing out of the Porsche but you heard Stiles say that it felt like they hit something. The three of you had made your way to the group by the time Braedon finished telling Scott that they needed to get to La Iglesia before nightfall, otherwise it would be too dangerous.

“Go,” you said after a few seconds of no one saying anything. “Take Isaac with you. Cora and I can stay here to take care of everyone.”

“But we’re a team,” Scott argued.

“Yeah, and right now the Alpha Team - that would be you - needs to find Derek,” you said. “The Beta Team - us - will stay here and meet up with you later.”

“But, I-”

“Dude,” Stiles cut him off. “Seriously, just go. We’ll figure something out.”

So he did, after an awkward goodbye with Kira. They seriously just needed to make out and get it over with. Months of mutual pining and not doing anything about it except a few chaste kisses - who would want to sit through all that?

You had been too distracted to help figure out what was wrong with the Jeep, but Malia was crouched down by one of the front tires. “I don’t think we hit something,” she said before pulling out what looked like a horn carved into a blade with decorative twining around the handle. “Something hit us.”

You looked over at Cora and she seemed tense at the new discovery. She knew something but judging by her posture, it wasn’t anything that she wanted to share. “Okay,” you said as you walked closer. “Stiles, do you have a spare tire in the back? I can change it while you check out the engine.”

“You know how to change a tire?” he asked.

You tilted your head to the side. “You don’t?”

After guessing your way through changing a tire because you were too stubborn to admit that you didn’t know how and Stiles spending way too long messing around in the engine, the sun started setting and Lydia sighed. “Maybe we should just walk,” she said.

“Hey, I will never abandon this jeep!” Stiles said, taking a screwdriver out of his mouth. “You understand me? Never. Ever.”

You reached out and put a hand on his back, looking over him to see what the car looked like. A lot of duct tape and zip ties. “We know, Stiles, but-” you started gently.

“Work faster, Stiles,” Malia interrupted. After a few seconds, she added, “There’s something out here with us.”

“What do you mean there’s something out here with us?” you asked.

“Does it matter? It’s a threat.” Cora asked. She’d folded her arms over her chest but softened when she saw how surprised you were by her arguing with you. “Look, maybe I should take you, Lydia, and Stiles to the hotel and then come back for the others.”

“No, we’re not splitting up,” Kira argued. But you knew splitting up wasn’t her problem; she didn’t want to leave Scott, wherever he was.

“Fine,” you said. “Stiles, work faster. We’ll keep an eye out.”

Kira and Malia took the front of the Jeep and you and Cora watched behind. Both of you were agitated but you carried it differently. Cora was completely still, jaw set and eyes peeled to watch for threats. You were full of movement, pacing and rambling on about how you knew this was a stupid idea. But you stopped in your tracks when you heard Malia growl.

“Cora-”

“Stay here,” she ordered. “Protect them. I need to go.”

“But-”

She was already gone, and so was Kira by the time you got to the front of the Jeep. Stiles had tried to go after them too, but Lydia was arguing with him and you put a hand on his arm to keep him in place.

“Finish here,” you said as sternly as you could, “And then we can leave when they get back.”

Surprisingly, he actually listened to you. You weren’t sure how long it took but soon the Jeep was up and running and the others had come back. Malia was bloody and Cora looked like she’d been hit, but Kira was fine. You fiddled with Cora’s hands as you sat in her lap, trying desperately not to listen to Stiles and Malia arguing in the front.

But you did hear. And she’d never leave him behind. The four of you in the back, she’d leave, but never Stiles. You almost threw up.

Awkward jealousy aside, you eventually made it to La Iglesia. Just as Scott, Braedon, and Isaac were dragging something out with them. You climbed out as quickly as you could once the car stopped and raced to meet them in the middle. You frowned, looking at what they were carrying between them.

“Is that him?” Malia asked. “Is that Derek?”

“Uh, sort of,” Stiles answered.

Getting over your shock, you jogged over to close the distance. He might have been a tiny teenaged boy now, but he was still Derek. You cupped his face in your hands and checked to make sure he was alright. “Hey,” you said gently. “It’s okay. We’ll figure this out.”

---

Derek had passed out almost the second that you finished talking, and you’d been holding onto him the whole way back to Beacon Hills. The only reason why you let Scott carry him inside instead of you was because you weren’t sure if he’d appreciate being dragged that far once he woke up.

“Wow,” Deaton said when you laid him on the table. He looked like he’d seen a ghost.

“Wow?” Stiles repeated. “Wow as in ‘I’ve seen this before and I know exactly what to do,’ kind of wow?”

“Or wow as in ‘Congratulations! It’s a beautiful baby boy’?” you asked, leaning over the table.

“I’m not sure,” Deaton said.

Stiles was ready to make a smartass comment when Lydia reached for Derek’s hand. “He’s cold,” she said. “Really cold.”

Deaton checked his pulse while you and Scott exchanged worried looks.

“Do you think it’s permanent?” Scott asked.

Deaton shined a light in Derek’s eyes to check his reactions, but he was frowning. “I’m not sure a medical diagnosis is even adequate,” he said. “This is well beyond my experience.”

“So is there anything we can do to help him?” you asked.

“Until he wakes up? Probably not much,” Deaton said. “It might be best to leave him with me. He’ll be safe here.”

“I’m not leaving him,” you said, at the same time that Stiles asked: “You mean safe from Kate?”

“If she’s alive and she is what you say she is, she won’t be able to walk past that gate,” Deaton said. “And I can keep an eye on him.”

“Why would she want to do this to him?” Lydia asked.

“Knowing Kate, it’s probably for a reason that won’t be any good for anyone but her,” Deaton said.

“And bad for everyone else,” Stiles scoffed.

After a moment everyone getting lost in thought, Deaton said, “You guys should probably go home. He doesn’t look to be in any danger, so maybe the rest of you should get some sleep. It’s a school night … and you all need to start taking care of your own lives again.”

“I’m not leaving him,” you repeated.

“I can stay too,” Lydia offered. She was still holding Derek’s hand. “My grades are fine … despite missing a few classes.”

“I am so not okay with this,” Stiles said.

“Guys …” Lydia drew the word out as she looked between them. “Go.”

“No.” You hated how stubborn he was.

“Text us if anything happens?” Scott asked you gently.

You and Lydia both nodded. You leaned up and kissed his cheek before telling him to cover for you with Melissa.

“Nope,” Stiles said. “Still not okay with it. Not going anywhere.” Scott started dragging him outside. “Alright, just ‘cause you’re stronger …”

You sighed after they left and moved some of Derek’s hair out of his face. “So, anyone read any good books lately?”

Lydia was the first person to fall asleep, resting her head on your shoulder. Against every fiber of your being that was trying to stay awake, your body was too tired to stay up much longer. When you woke up again, Deaton was checking Derek’s pulse again. You squeezed Lydia’s hand lightly to wake her up.

“How is he doing?” she asked, sounding like she could have used some more sleep.

“His heart rate is alarmingly high,” Deaton said, causing both of you to get up and check on him.

Lydia reached for his hand again. “He’s a lot warmer now,” she said.

“Lydia, I’m going to try something. I want you to keep holding his hand, if that’s okay,” he said. She nodded and Deaton reached over for a scalpel. He made a smooth incision down Derek’s forearm, but the cut healed almost instantaneously.

“That looks like it’s healing pretty fast,” Lydia said, sounding uncertain.

“Unusually fast,” Deaton agreed.

“Isn’t that a bad thing?” you asked. “Like his body is in hyperdrive or something?”

“I’m not sure,” he said. “Let me try something else.”

He and Lydia went to get a syringe from the drawers and whatever else they needed to run more tests. You sighed and gripped the ends of the table as you tried to think of something to help. As you looked down, you noticed that Derek’s claws were coming in.

“Uh, guys?” you called out. He started moving and was fully upright by the time that Lydia and Deaton turned around. He turned and pushed himself off the table. “Hey, buddy,” you said gently, walking slowly to meet him on the other side of the table. “You doing okay?”

“Derek, are you alright?” Lydia asked.

Both her and Deaton started talking when Derek wasn’t responding, but it was just making him even more overwhelmed. Like Isaac got when you tried to resurface his memories all those months ago. He was shifting.

“Guys,” you said quietly. Derek was gripping his head in his hands. “You need to stop talk-”

But it was too late. You ducked when you saw him reach back, pulling Lydia down with you, but that didn’t stop him from scratching Deaton and taking off. Lydia rushed to his side but you jumped to your feet and raced after Derek, ignoring Lydia’s screams to stop.

“Derek!” you yelled once you got outside. He stopped for a second, looking back at you. “Derek, I know you’re scared but I can help. I promise that we can figure this out if you just take my hand, okay?”

There was still a lot of distance between you, but you took a step closer with every word you spoke. For a second you thought he was going to reach out and take your hand, but he just turned and ran off. You would have followed if it weren’t for the huge truck that went past as soon as he crossed the road.

---

After making sure that Derek didn’t hurt you, Lydia started patching up Deaton’s arm. Scott and Stiles got there maybe five minutes after you got back inside, and you caught them up on what happened while Lydia worked.

“I don’t think he’s just younger in body,” Deaton said once you finished. “I think he’s younger in his mind too.”

“He didn’t recognize any of us,” Lydia said with a sigh. She scratched her head after finishing with Deaton and turned to Scott and Stiles. “And he looked like he was scared out of his mind.”

“So if you’re a teenage werewolf and you’re scared, where do you go?” Stiles asked.

“If you’re a Hale, you go back home,” you said quietly. “If he can’t control himself, then this is before the fire, right?”

You looked to Deaton for confirmation because he was the only one that knew the Hales as well as you did. “He wouldn’t remember it because it wouldn’t have happened yet,” he said.

“Okay, let’s go,” Scott said, turning around as he spoke. “We gotta find him before anyone else does.”

“Hold on,” Lydia said. “Say you do manage to catch up to him, what are you going to say to him? That his whole family is dead?”

“No,” you said instantly. Derek had looked after you ever since you came back to Beacon Hills, and now it was your turn to look after him. Besides, his whole family wasn’t dead. Some of them were just in another country. That’s different.

Scott frowned. “But we’re gonna have to.”

“Good luck with that,” Lydia said sarcastically.

“They’re probably right; maybe you shouldn’t,” Stiles said. Scott looked like he was going to argue, so he added, “You know, at least until we figure out how to get him back to normal.”

“I can’t lie to him,” Scott said.

“Then I’ll do it,” you said. “We already have a connection. I think he’s starting to trust me.”

“No, I don’t think any of us can,” Scott said. You started arguing again but he cut you off, “Remember, he can hear a heartbeat rising?” You fell quiet. Keeping a steady heart rate wasn’t a skill you’d mastered yet. “So when we find him, we tell him the truth.”

“If he gets to the house first, you won’t have to,” Deaton said.

You, Scott, and Stiles were already halfway to the house when you pointed out that maybe one of you should try the police station, to warn Noah at the very least to keep his eye out. Stiles made a u-turn and the three of you rushed inside. It was a good thing too because Noah and two deputies were scrutinizing Derek when you walked in.

You were so distracted by the sad little boy they were staring at that when Stiles stopped so abruptly, you crashed into him. You held onto his shoulder to steady yourself and for a second it felt like the old days. You found yourself almost reaching for his hand.

Then you heard Noah’s sigh and snapped out of it, your hand falling to your side and straightening up. “I’ll handle this,” he said before calling the three of you into his office.

“You guys go ahead,” you said quietly. “I’m gonna see if I can talk to him.”

Stiles wanted to argue but he didn’t have time and Scott already said it was okay. After they rushed into the office, you took a breath and went to sit with Derek on the bench. He looked almost like the photos you’d seen of Peter at that age.

“Hey,” you said with a small smile. “I don’t think you remember me but we used to be friends.”

“Friends?” he repeated. He looked at you for a second before laughing and shaking his head. At least he wasn’t attacking you again. “If you’re my friend, then why were you trying to keep me in that animal clinic?”

“Because it’s a little more complicated than that,” you said, choosing your words carefully. “Look, kid, I-”

“Y/N?” Noah called, standing outside his office. “They want to talk to the two of you.”

“Right, thanks,” you smiled. You turned back to Derek when Noah started walking away. “I need you to trust me, okay? I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I promise.” You stood up and held out a hand to lead him into the office.

He went into the office with you, but even if he was learning to trust you, he definitely didn’t trust Scott or Stiles. “Why would I go anywhere with you?” he asked them.

“There was an accident. You lost your memory but we can help you get it back,” Scott explained.

You and Stiles were sitting next to one another on Noah’s desk, but where you were trying to focus on Derek, you noticed Stiles looking down at something that caught his attention. A pile of mail.

“How much memory?” Derek asked, pulling you out of your focus.

“Maybe ten years, give or take,” you said. Derek looked ready to cry and you instantly regretted your words. “You’re pretty elusive about your age, but you do have great skin so I’m thinking maybe-”

“You can trust us,” Scott interrupted. He knelt down in front of Derek and, judging by Derek’s face, showed him his alpha eyes. “You can trust me.”

“You’re an alpha,” Derek said. “Who are you? And who’s he?” He pointed at Stiles, who was still entranced by the mail. Derek was glaring at him. “Who are you?”

You bumped your knee against Stiles’ leg and he looked over at you and hummed. You nodded your head in Derek’s direction. “Oh, we’re the guys keeping you out of jail,” he said.

“Let us help you,” Scott pleaded.

Derek shook his head, still looking like he was about to cry, and stood up. “No.”

“Okay, dude, you almost tore apart two cops back there,” Stiles said. “You need to listen to us, and that starts with-” he started counting on his fingers “-no fangs, no claws, no wolfman. You got that?”

You reached for his hands to stop him and started scolding him. “Stiles-”

“I’m fine as long as it’s not on a full moon,” Derek interrupted.

“You still have trouble with the full moon?” you and Scott asked at the same time. In your distraction, you hadn’t moved your hands off of Stiles’.

“I said I’m fine,” Derek insisted.

“Alright, well, you’re still coming with us,” Stiles said.

“You want me to trust you?” Derek asked. He looked back at Scott. “Where’s my family?”

“Cora’s in South America,” you said. Not technically a lie. “I think Peter’s down there with her, but he doesn’t really like me so …”

“South America?” Derek repeated, staring at you. You nodded. “And the rest of them?”

Scott took a deep breath. “There was a fire and …” maybe it was the look on Derek’s face or the sound of your heart breaking, but then he said, “They’re not here anymore. They’re fine, but they had to move out of Beacon Hills.” You felt yourself relax, still not noticing that you’d been gripping onto Stiles’ hand until then. You pulled away and stood up while Scott finished, “And we’re going to take you to them as soon as we figure out how to get your memories back.”

Derek took a shaky breath, but he agreed to let you guys help him. You took him to get processed for release and left Scott and Stiles to talk it out. When you got back, they told you that the new plan was Scott talking to Peter and you and Stiles taking Derek back to your house.

---

“We’re going to wait here for Scott,” Stiles told Derek as you walked into the house. You started flipping on lightswitches as he spoke. “We’re going to sit quietly. We're not going to call or talk to anyone.”

“Do I talk to you?” Derek asked him.

You shrugged off your jacket as Stiles scoffed. “No.”

“Fine,” Derek said. Stiles was still in the middle of his ‘good’ when Derek turned to you and you gave you one of those winning Hale smiles. “Can I talk to you?”

“Yeah, of course,” you smiled. “Any time.”

Stiles was trying to cut you off by arguing and telling Derek that no, he absolutely cannot talk to you when he turned and saw your dad carrying in takeout food. “You got that? Under no circumstance can you- Ah! Are you getting taller?” he asked. “I-”

“Hey, dad,” you said, putting a hand on Stiles’ shoulder to get him to put his hand down. “How’s it going?”

“What are you guys doing here?” he asked. His skepticism wasn’t unusual for anything involving Stiles.

“Well, I live here,” you said. He didn’t seem satisfied with that answer. “Scott was supposed to work on a science project with Stiles but he’s running a little late. And this is-”

“My cousin,” Stiles interrupted. “Miguel.”

Rafael frowned but set the takeout on the dining table. “Well, Scott and I were supposed to have dinner and I brought extra. You guys hungry?”

“Yeah,” Derek said, at the same time that Stiles said: “No, we’re not hungry.”

“No, I’m starving,” Derek went on.

“None of us are hungry,” Stiles said, waving his index finger at the three of you. You tilted your head to the side. Was he always such a bad liar? “Thanks, though.”

“Okay, well if you’re not hungry, Stiles, your cousin can still eat with us,” Rafael said. “Miguel, where are you from?”

“From Mexico,” Stiles said, before any of you could come up with something better.

Rafael started speaking to him in Spanish and you felt Stiles tense under your hand, mumbling some profanity under his breath. And then the most amazing thing happened: Derek replied in Spanish, saving everyone’s asses.

“Fantastic,” Rafael said, as you laughed and pulled your hand away to cover your face. “Egg roll?”

“Hell yeah,” Derek said, already walking toward the food.

You were still smiling as you reached out and ruffled his hair before heading to the kitchen to grab plates. When you looked over your shoulder, Stiles was still staring at Derek with a mixture of confusion and disgust on his face. You shook your head. It was going to be a long dinner.

“So, Miguel, what did you say your last name was again?” Rafael asked about halfway into dinner.

“Oh, it’s Juarez,” Stiles lied. You pulled a face into your noodles. “Cinqua … Tiago.”

“That’s, uh, that’s a mouthful,” Rafael said. “How do you spell that?”

Derek shrugged at Stiles when he looked at him for help, so Stiles said anxiously, between bites of food, “Phonetically.”

You kicked him under the table. “So, Dad,” you said, ignoring Stiles’ cry of pain, “How was your day?”

“Yeah,” Derek said, looking down at his badge on the table, “You’re an FBI Agent, Mr. McCall?”

“He’s low level,” Stiles said. It was painful to watch. “Very low level. He doesn’t even have a voice.”

“So do you investigate murders?” Derek asked.

“Sometimes,” Rafael answered around his food. “When it’s a Federal crime.”

“What about fires?” Derek asked.

“Oh my god,” Stiles mumbled through a full mouth of food. “I wonder where Scott is. Shouldn’t Scott be here by now? We should call Scott!”

“Yeah, the food was really great but that science paper isn’t going to write itself,” you said as you got up. But it wasn’t enough of a distraction for your dad or Derek.

“What kind of fires are you talking about?” he asked, while Stiles laughed nervously.

“Do you know anything about the Hale family?” Derek asked.

Rafael told him about what happened and the rest of dinner - all five minutes of it - was painfully awkward. Derek asked to speak to Stiles in private while you and our dad cleared the plates.

“So Miguel seems nice,” he said. “How old is he again?”

“Don’t worry, Dad. Way too young for me,” you teased, hoping that talking about dating would make the conversation too awkward to continue. You were right.

“I, uh, didn’t mean it like that ...” he exhaled. “Just that, uh- you know what? You’re right. Those papers aren’t gonna write themselves. So why don’t you go work on that and I’ll finish up here?”

“Great,” you smiled. “Thanks.”

When you got upstairs, Stiles was storming down the hallway, rolling out his shoulder. “That kid is a menace,” he told you.

“Yeah, yeah-” you rolled your eyes. “You’re just mad that my dad likes him more than you.”

“Your dad does not like him more than me!” Stiles huffed.

You rolled your eyes again and opened the door to Scott’s room. “Hey, buddy, I didn’t know you spoke Spanish,” you said, closing the door behind you.

“Your boyfriend’s an idiot,” was all he said.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you said, sitting on Scott’s desk. “But he can be an idiot sometimes.” That made him smile at least. “Hey, you know I wasn’t lying before, right? Cora and Peter are still alive. I’ve got photos of us together- photos with you.”

“Why should I believe anything you say?” he asked.

“I can call her if you don’t believe me,” you said. “I just … didn’t want to hurt you. I figured you’d know everything when you got back to normal, but for now … maybe you could just be a kid again.”

“You know I’m not that much younger than you, right?” he asked, an almost teasing smile on his face.

You rolled your eyes and pulled out your phone, looking for Cora’s number and calling it. “She usually takes a little while to answer,” you said quietly.

You watched him sitting on the bed, still tense, when suddenly he stood up. “Kate.”

“Hey, handsome,” she said, stepping out of the bathroom. You grabbed something to hit her with - the best you could see was a pair of scissors - and aimed it at her chest. She caught your hand and pulled it behind your back. “Quick reflexes,” she said, “Scott’s little sister? I don’t think we’ve met.”

You didn’t have time to answer before she pulled you back slightly and then slammed your head into the table. You tried to get up and get to Derek, but everything was blurry and your body felt too heavy to move.

---

“Y/N?” someone asked. They sounded far away, but they threw water on you, bringing you back to reality. It was cold and harsh and made you bolt upright before groaning because of your head. “Atta girl,” they said. You looked up to find Stiles. “You okay?”

He started helping you sit up straight as you spoke, “Kate took Derek. I- I tried to stop her but-”

“Yeah,” he said. He touched your forehead lightly and you winced. His hand came away red. “We should get you to the hospital.”

“No way,” you said, pushing him away. “I’ve gotta get Derek.”

“Y/N-”

“Stiles, you don’t get it. He’s my responsibility,” you said. “You can take me to the hospital after I get him back.”

He sighed, weighing his options. Eventually, he gave in but he wasn’t happy about it. “Fine. But we’ve got to sneak out back because if your dad sees you like this, he’ll shoot me.”

“Thank you,” you said quietly, a small smile on your lips. He started moving, arm wrapped around your waist for support, when you stopped him. “And, Stiles, I- Malia’s a great girl. I’m really happy for you and I’m sorry I haven’t been here for you.”

He looked at you for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face. “Y/N, I’m not- I’m not dating Malia.”

“You’re not?” you echoed. He nodded. “You never said anything.”

“You didn’t really give me the chance,” he said. He sighed when you didn’t say anything and moved slightly. “She’s just … determined. It’s like she’s me and I’m her you. And she keeps doing dumb shit to try to impress me without getting it in her head that I don’t want anything to do with her in that way and-”

“You think I don’t want anything to do with you?” you asked softly, hand going up to his face.

His voice was so quiet when he spoke again. “Well … yeah.”

“Stiles, I love you. I’ve always-” you took a breath. “Listen, we need to get Derek. We can talk about this later, okay? Promise.”

He just nodded and helped shuffle you into the Jeep.

The two of you got to the school at the same time as Lydia and Kira. She had her katana out and was ready to fight whatever was out there. You had your electrified baton and were about to follow her when Stiles grabbed your arm.

“No,” he said. “No way. You’re already injured.”

“Stiles, I swear to God that I don’t want to hurt you but you and I both know that I will taze you if it means saving Derek,” you said.

He must have realized how serious you were because he let go of your wrist and watched you run after Kira. It sounded like he was going to go with you, but you heard Lydia arguing with him not to leave her alone. Whatever, it’s not like his baseball bat could do anything that your baton couldn’t.

Between the pounding in your head slowing you down and all the breaks you had to take to keep from throwing up, the fight was over by the time you got there. Scott, Malia, and Kira were getting to their feet, which meant they were okay, and Derek was a little way ahead of them. His back was to you but, even in the dark, you could tell he wasn’t the same little kid you were babysitting an hour ago.

“Derek?” Scott asked.

He turned to face you and you were so happy to see that he was back to normal. Except for his eyes, which were glowing a bright yellow. But you hardly noticed as you shuffled past everyone and pulled him into a hug.

He seemed confused as you did, but you held onto him even as he pulled away - partly for balance and partly because you were still worried he’d disappear.

“If another one of girlfriends attacks me, do I get a free t-shirt?” you asked. “Because that would make it three times. I’ll also accept frozen yogurt but I think a t-shirt would look cooler.”

Part 23

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles slow burn #so close #mccall!reader #teen wolf #teen wolf au #teen wolf rewrite

109 notes · View notes

ratchedspeach · 4 years

Note

hello! can u write some firby angst, hurt/comfort based on the episode where Fallon is scared about the storm? and maybe talk about why she's so scared :3

Yeehaw

Cloudy with a Chance — set after S2E6, slight AU with certain details to help the plot line

Culhane leaves not long after she’s awake — slipping back into the shadows of whatever secrets it is that he’s keeping from her. When he asks if she’s mad, Fallon offers him a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes, and promises she’s not. He knows its a lie for his benefit, but he pretends he doesn’t.

Kirby doesn’t see her get hit, but she sees the fallout. Culhane came barreling into the cellar with a limp Fallon in her arms. A bruise had already formed on the side of her cheekbone next to her hairline and her face was contorted even in her unconscious state, and Kirby doesn’t think she’s ever seen the woman look so … fragile.

“We have to get her to a hospital.” Kirby orders when she realizes that Fallon’s fiancee was rendered useless by a fit of panic.

“Men and their emotions.” Kirby can’t help but smile when she remembers the catchphrase, but the brief moment of levity is short lived, because Fallon moans lowly and shifts on the ground. The redhead puts a sweater underneath her head, and Fallon’s eyes flutter.

She doesn’t plan on checking on her, but when she sees Culhane slip out the front door of the manor, her stomach drops. Kirby’s eyes travel to the larger than life stairwell in the foyer, and she’s scaling it before she can fully cognate what it is that she’s doing.

Fallon is awake, much to her surprise, holding an ice pack to her forehead, and staring at the wall across from her. Kirby raps on the doorframe twice, and it makes the other woman jump.

“You know better than to sneak up on me.” She whines, shifting her fingers around the ice pack and wincing as it agitates her bruise.

“I knocked.”

“So?”

“So that’s literally the opposite of sneaking up on you.” Kirby roles her eyes and comes to perch on the corner of her bed. “How’re you feeling?”

“Head hurts.” Fallon responds curtly, tensing her jaw in an attempt to seem more alright than she is.

She know that’s not what Kirby’s asking — knows that she’s wondering about Culhane, and the storm, and …

Fallon exhales heavily, placing the ice pack on her bedside table, and bringing her gaze to meet her friend. Kirby can’t help but grimace a little when she sees that what was once a mere bruise had started to swell. The other woman notices, and it turns her cheeks flush.

“You don’t have to stare.” Fallon snarls, her hair falling across her profile. “I know it’s ugly.”

“It isn’t ugly! It’s just …” Kirby trails off, not really sure where she’s taking her justification. “I’m sorry.”

She doesn’t respond — just heaves a sigh and grasps the hem of her satin sheets. If she wanted Kirby gone, she would say it, so Kirby takes it as a win and kicks her shoes off before sitting crosslegged on the all-too-large bed. Fallon feels her studying her, watching her like she’s trying to decipher the rosetta stone, and it makes the color rise in her cheeks further and her stomach churn. It isn’t like Kirby not to push, not to be utterly intrusive and desperate for every detail, and its more disconcerting than it is anything else.

“What’re you doing here, Kirby?” Fallon asks, her eyes glistening with what she can only assume is both physical and emotional turmoil.

It catches her off guard, because … fuck what was she doing? She had seen Culhane leave, true, but she wasn’t sure what brought her to the other woman’s room — to make herself comfortable on her bed.

“I …”

Her brow furrows, lips pursing, and she looks like she’s about to say something, but there’s a clap of thunder from outside and it startles her. Fallon shrieks, jumping so far that Kirby is surprised she doesn’t land on the floor. When they were young, thunderstorms would bring her into Kirby’s bed. She remembered the way Fallon’s eyes would squeeze shut as she clutched herself into a ball. The brunette would never initiate touch — would never admit to being afraid, but Kirby knew.

She would pull her into her arms, stroking her hair and singing her lullabies that her mother had sung to her as a child. More often than not, they would fall asleep like that. She was always gone the next morning, and were she to ever ask, Fallon would deny being there — calling her crazy or obsessed or just shooting her a ruthless glare.

“Shit.” Fallon hissed, pulling the other woman out of the memory.

She hadn’t fallen off the bed, but she had managed to smash the back of her skull into her wooden headboard, and now she was bent over at the waist, her fingers delicately prodding the spot where it had made contact. Fallon groaned as she detected the spots in her vision. As if being hit with a plaster fucking cow wasn’t enough trauma for her head to go through that night, she was now almost positive that she had given herself a full-blown concussion.

“You ok?” Kirby jumped off the bed and sprinted around to the other side, grabbing the icepack from where it was on the bedside table and placing it gingerly where Fallon’s hands had been not moments before.

She winces when it makes contact with the already tender area — snatching the pack from Kirby’s clumsy hands, and slowly pulling herself upright. The redhead couldn’t help but noticed the fog that had come to settle in her eyes, or the way Fallon looked up like she couldn’t register where she was. After she was sent away, Kirby would wonder what she did during storms, and vaguely assumed that she would eventually grow out of her silly phobia.

Clearly, that wasn’t the case.

“I can call the doctor again, if you —“

“No.” Fallon mumbled, shaking her head before the motion made her feel a little nauseous. “That’s ok, I’m … It’s fine don’t worry.”

A flash of lightning forced her eyes shut — partially because it spooked her, but mostly because the light it elicited hurt her brain. Kirby had never understood her friend’s fear of weather, granted, she had never bothered to ask. She teased her mercilessly for it, sure, but she had never really tried to understand. Then again, she countered silently, she assumed that even if she had asked, she wouldn’t get a straight answer from the easily bristled brunette.

Typical Carrington — all bark, even more bite.

“Shit.” Fallon exclaims for the second time that evening as she slowly lets her eyes open again.

Kirby can’t help the giggle that forms in her throat, but oh she’ll wish she had, because it earns her Fallon’s most dangerous glare. It hits more like a silent plea for help than it does a reckoning, though when the redhead recognizing the way her chest is rising and falling with shallow breath. Slowly, Kirby places a hand on her shoulder, and the touch seems to steady her, or at the very least make Fallon cognizant of what she must look like.

“This is ridiculous.” She snaps, and Kirby assumes she means her fear, until Fallon adds, “I mean you’d think that with how far modern science has come, someone would have figured out how the hell to stop a tornado. We can do surgery on a goddamn grape, but we can’t stop some damn weather.”

Kirby roles her eyes, this time succeeding in stifling the smile that threatens the corners of her lips. Yeah … there she is. She thinks as she comes back around the other side of the bed and flops down on her stomach.

“Maybe you’re in the wrong industry.” She muses, playing the little star pendant on her necklace.

Now its Fallon’s turn to role her eyes, sucking in a breath and holding it until she feels her chest loosen, and Kirby can’t help but think that it feels like a win, because … because she’s not pushing her away or attacking her for teasing her. If anything, she thinks she sees a light smile grace her lips, and Kirby’s chest flutters. She pushes the levity down, her eyes flicking to the corners of the bedroom, before landing on the lit fireplace.

“Where’d he go?” She murmurs, keeping her tone even.

Fallon tenses, tensing her jaw as much as her newly bruised cheekbone allows, and that’s more like it. She had known it was only a matter of time before the Australian asked, but she had started thinking that maybe, just maybe she’d let it slide. No such luck.

“What do you mean?” Fallon tries, her tone careful, her gaze fixed on her engagement ring as she spins it.

Part of her wishes she hadn’t asked, but its out there now, and … well … here goes nothing.

“I saw him leave.” She intones, her voice dripping with so much pity, Fallon thinks she’ll need a towel.

It started raining. No, not raining … fucking monsooning before she could answer. Fallon’s eyes flick towards the ceiling, her head starting to pulse with the introduction of the incessant patter of droplets to her already tired brain. Vaguely she felt herself wonder if Culhane was driving, and if so, how the hell he could see through this storm, and how fucking stupid he was for going out directly after a tornado in the first fucking place.

“He’s just … out.” Fallon placated, her lips pursing, and that’s when it hits Kirby.

“You don’t know where he went, do you?” She breaths, her deep brown eyes practically popping out of her head.

“What, like I have a tracking device on him?” The other woman bristled.

“No … I just … I don’t know, Fal.” Kirby conceded, and she’s about to push herself off the bed when she feels Fallon’s hand on hers.

She doesn’t say a word — just looks at her, her blue eyes ambivalent with a million different indiscernible thoughts. It makes Kirby’s breath hitch in her throat, because … its not … all negative, and fuck maybe she even wanted her there …

“You just can’t help but push, can you?”

… at least in her own, quintessentially Fallon way.

She’s right, though (not that she’s ever wrong) — she can’t. She wishes she could bring herself to not care, hell part of her even wonders why it matters, but … it does. It just does. Kirby runs her hands through her hair, making the scent of her shampoo radiate through the space.

Truth be told, she was trying to find Stephen’s room, but the panic induced by the thunderstorm had clouded her judgement, and she slipped into the wrong room. She had practically sprinted into Kirby’s bed, covering her head with her covers, and screaming as a clap of thunder boomed. Fallon didn’t realize where she was until the the honey and citrus scent of the redhead’s shampoo flares in her nostrils. Only then did the ten year old peak her head out from beneath the sheets, looking up sheepishly at an utterly bewildered, nine year old Kirby.

Kirby watches Fallon study her. She’s looking at her like she’s a vessel — a catalyst for some other person, or thing, and its just so typical of her to be looking at her and not really seeing her. The redhead feels frustration rise in her stomach, but before she can do anything about it —

“You looked so terrified when I came in.” Fallon smiled, and Kirby couldn’t tell if she knew what she was talking about. The brunette rolled her eyes melodramatically. “When there were thunderstorms, and I would … you know.”

Kirby couldn’t help but smile — delicate and precarious and fully aware that she was changing the subject, but still there.

“How could I forget?” She muses, nodding and tucking a few pieces of hair behind her ear. “You used to snore.”

It earns her a slap on the arm, and a horrified “I did not!”, which only makes her smile grow. Kirby chalks it up to her concussion when it elicits a giggle from Fallon. She vaguely wonders if brain damage can make a person … kinder? The thought is lost, though when she feels the usually icy businesswoman’s eyes on her, and she turns to see her staring like she’s lost, or confused, or …

“You’ve always been there.”

Oh. Oh. It hits her out of left field — practically knocks the wind out of her. Kirby’s mouth gapes for a moment at the admission, her eyes blinking rapidly as she processes the admission.

“I mean you’ve known me the longest out of anyone … it’s not like your psychic or something.” Fallon retreats when she feels the color in her cheeks start to rise.

Kirby roles her eyes and stifles a chuckle. “Yeah, well … it’s not like you were ever that hard to read.”

“Oh?” Fallon quirks an eyebrow, a pang of embarrassment twisting in her already muddle stomach.

Kirby was sixteen when she first saw her cry. It was right after Alexis had left. No … more specifically it was while an adolescent Fallon was clinging to her mother’s coat, apologizing and begging her to just tell her why. Alexis would barely look at her as she attempted to pry free of the girl’s grasp on her white cashmere coat. When she finally broke free, Fallon had fallen in a heap of tears on the marble floor, her entire body vibrating with the force of her sobbing. Kirby had looked around, expecting to see someone — her father, Blake, or at the very least Stephen — come to console the devastated teen, but there was no one.

Well, there was her … shit.

She had expected her to push her away — maybe violently but at the very least with a mirthless jab, but … when Kirby helps the girl into sitting position, Fallon hugs her like its the only thing grounding her to reality. She can’t do anything but hug back. Hug, and stroke her hair, and whisper that she was so so sorry. Kirby wished that she could feel fully sorry for the girl, but it just … it wasn’t that simple. Instead she was uncomfortable, and fixated on the fact that she had never seen her cry before, much less this, and just wished that Fallon would would stop crying. That night, it would rain, but Fallon wouldn’t come.

The next day, Kirby knew better than to ask.

“Yeah well … I’m no physic, right?” She says, and if Fallon didn’t know any better, she would think she was flirting.

Another crack of thunder — this one louder and longer, and it sent the brunette barreling into Kirby’s chest before she can realize what she’s doing. The redhead let out an a soft ‘oof’ as Fallon made contact with her chest, her arms coming to grip around the back of her flannel shirt. She smiled, bringing her fingers to gently stroke the back of her head, but it made Fallon wince, and so she pulls away, smiling dissonantly and murmuring her apology. Fallon’s hair smells like lavender and primrose, and it makes her breath stammer. She tries to play it off, exhaling softly and straightening her shoulders.

They were in downtown Atlanta when the thirteen year olds heard the warning sirens begin to sound. Kirby didn’t know what it was at first, crooning her neck to listen to the message blaring over the city. Fallon, on the other hand, knew immediately. Her heart dropped into her stomach as she grabbed the other girl’s hand and dragged her into the closest shop and down into the owner’s basement. They would stay there for what as actually only forty minutes, but would feel like hours thanks to Fallon’s incessant babbling. She had completely unhinged — blue eyes wide and streaked with panic, breath hitching heavily in her throat with each inhalation. When it was cleared as a false alarm, Kirby would tease her, only for Fallon to pretend that she had no idea what she was talking about. She would see the panic still streaked behind her eyes, so she wouldn’t push.

There was a beat — long and uncomfortable and filled with enough prolonged eye contact to last both women a lifetime, until Kirby couldn’t take it anymore, and —

“What are you so afraid of?”

She hates the way it makes the other girl falter — hesitating in a way that is so, completely the opposite of who Kirby knows her to be. Fallon averts her gaze, sucking her lower lip between her teeth, and crossing her arms over her chest. It reminds Kirby of a child pouting over being told to go do her homework.

“I’ve never liked weather.” Fallon shrugs, her voice low and tired and cautious, because she knows that’s not what the other woman means.

“No, I mean with Culhane.” Kirby confirms her suspicions. “Why are you letting him do … whatever it is he’s doing?”

“I’m not his keeper.” She snaps, but it hits more nervous than it does bold.

Fallon sighs, pressing the palms of her hands to her eyes before they travel up into her hair, and it’s all so … human. More human than she’s ever seen her, and it sparks something deep and yearning in the pit of Kirby’s stomach. She places a hand on the brunette’s shoulder like she’s trying to make sure she’s tangible. Fallon’s breath hitches when she feels her thumb accidentally graze her collarbone. She places her blue eyes on Kirby, and it strikes the redhead just how scared she looks. No, not scared … I mean that’s part of it, but … Kirby knows this look. It’s the look she gives clients when she’s about to close a deal — it’s an intoxicating anticipation that comes with playing with fire, it’s —

It isn’t Fallon that initiates the action — it’s Kirby, and oh …! She doesn’t know how to respond, so she just sort of sits, hands clamping down on the pink satin bedsheets, eyes wide. The kiss doesn’t last longer than five seconds. Kirby presses into her, leaving her right hand where it is on her shoulder like they’re at some goddamn high school dance.

When Jeff was a no show to pick her up, Fallon showed up stag (much to her mother’s disapproval). Kirby saw her immediately, marveling at her custom made gown, and the way the blue lights of the winter themed formal dappled her pale complexion. Her wonder would give way to concern when she sees the uncertainty painted across the teen’s face, and the way she’s wringing her hands. She would make it to her just as she spins on her heels to leave, grasping her hand and offering her a smile. Much to her surprise, Fallon smiled back, and allows her to lead them onto the dance floor.

She sees the puzzlement on her face, and Kirby can’t help but apologize, and then proceed to babble about hoping that she isn’t offended or angry or … shit … I mean … fuck!

“It’s … ok.” Fallon rasps without really moving or seeing her or anything at all.

Her vision goes sort of silver — she sees light dance in front of her eyes, and she sees the dip of shadows, and the outline of silhouettes, but not much more. At first she thinks its the concussion, and that her brain is hemorrhaging, and she’s going to die because she just got kissed by Kirby fucking Anders. It isn’t, of course, but then, what the hell else can it be? Fallon brings a finger to trace down the center of her lips, her lower lip dipping slightly as her index finger hits the slight gap between them before bouncing back into place.

“Fallon. Fallon?” Kirby’s voice cuts through the inch of fog that’s muddling her cranium.

Her blue eyes flicker up to meet her gaze, but there’s no certainty in it, just a blank bewilderment. “What?”

Kirby pulls an arm across her chest, bringing her hand to clasp delicately across her forearm. There’s turbulence behind her already dark eyes, they breach as tears glistening at her lash line.

“You’re scaring me.” She breaths, wiping desperately at her eyes. “C-can you just say something? Please?”

Fallon’s lips purse, then relax, then gape, then close, and it happens probably four times before she shakes her head and her vision is reverted back to her hands. It hits Kirby like a ton of bricks, because … she … why did she … what have I done? She starts to leave, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and muttering an apology, and it stirs something in Fallon.

“Why did you do that?”

Kirby looks at her over her shoulder, and its like she’s worried that if she moves too quickly, she’ll shatter. “I …”

Fallon’s brows knit, her face contorted in some amalgam of betrayal and … Jesus is that pleasure? Kirby shakes her head, remembering that her first leap of faith had succeeded in nothing more than a crash landing. Not to mention, she had a right to ask, Kirby conceded, shifting her position on the bed so that she’s facing her.

“I … Jesus this is hard.” Kirby relents, huffing perilously. “I couldn’t … help it.”

There’s a beat as both of them let that sink in, and really? That’s the best she can come up with? Fallon scowls, biting the inside of her left cheek — and

“My life is a goddamn soap opera.” She fumes, rolling her eyes. “I mean Jesus, Kirby. What kind of offhand, melodramatic bullshit is that?”

Kirby doesn’t respond, too taken aback by her explosion to see through he debris. It only pisses Fallon off more. She flies into a rage (or at least … the composed, calculated, Fallon version of a rage), spewing a string of mockeries at the redhead, and ending with the suggestion that if she can’t articulate what the hell it was that she just did, then she could “get out!”

“Because you deserve better.” Kirby blurts, and oh … oh. “Because … Because ever since we were like teenagers, I haven’t … I just … Fallon I’ve had a crush on you since we were sixteen, and you forced me to help you alphabetize your CD collection.”

Fallon tries to giggle, but it’s muddled the start of her own tears, and it comes out more as a choke. Her smile drops, lips pursing the way they do when she’s trying to level her composure.

“I’m engaged, Kirb.” She whispers, for fear that her voice will crack if it’s anything louder. “You … you could’ve picked a better time.”

Kirby smiles sadly, wringing her hands and nodding. She’s right, of course. This was impeccably unorganized — even by her standards. They had planned their weddings when they were twelve — their heads hanging off the edge of Fallon’s bed, legs dangling in the air above them. Fallon had wanted the traditional, big, white wedding that was expected of her. Kirby had dreamed up an utterly new, completely untraditional ceremony fit with a bouncy castle and Panera Bread catering. Fallon would smile, eyes clinging with amusement, because she thought the other girl was joking. She learned quickly that she was not, when they played pretend wedding and upon being cast as the groom (obviously), Kirby insisted on playing air guitar down the aisle.

“I messed everything up, didn’t I?” Kirby wavers, her eyes screaming a silent apology.

Fallon doesn’t know how to respond, because … damnit this feels like a breakup, which is ridiculous but it also isn’t and just … just … !

Their lips crash together, and Kirby practically jumps out of her skin. Fallon’s fingers come to run through her hair, tugging lightly on the pieces at the base of her skull, making the redhead’s eyes flutter closed. Kirby places her hands on the woman’s waist, pulling herself closer and pushing the brunette onto her back, and wanting to do more, but Fallon’s eyes pop open as her head makes contact with the bed a little too fast, and she’s hissing in pain, rolling onto her side.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” Kirby apologizes for the umpteenth time, scrambling from her perch above her.

“I’m fine.” Fallon grits her teeth, her eyes squeezing shut for a moment.

She opens them again when the room stops spinning and her stomach doesn’t feel like its about to lurch. Kirby is glaring at her with wide eyes, and a face so pale it looks like she might throw up.

“Jesus, Kirb, I don’t know what you’re freaking out about.” Fallon huffs. “I mean … you kissed me first, remember?”

The redhead nods as the last of her stun wears off, and she realizes that she hasn’t blinked in the last ten seconds.

“Right. No, yeah, I know. I’m just …” The words topple over Kirby’s lips until she can finally stammer herself into silence for long enough to suck in a long, deep breath. “What about … you know …?”

The light behind Fallon’s eyes flicker out for a moment, replaced with a sort of flat dread that makes Kirby wish she’d never asked. The brunette’s jaw tenses, and it looks like she’s playing tug of war with herself.

“It was just a kiss, Kirby.” Her voice grates against the back of her throat like its a physical effort to get them out. “It’s … just a kiss.”

Kirby feels like she’s been buried alive, like the oxygen around her is sucked out and replaced with smoke. Her devastation gives way to annoyance, then hatred, and she thinks she’s done when suddenly its just … resignation. Fallon can’t help but flinch when the other woman takes her hand, bringing her thumb to stroke delicately on her palm, and observing her with a sort of saturnine despair.

“I know.” Kirby relinquishes, which only makes it worse, then repeats, “You’re engaged.”

The brunette thinks she’s going to explode, or maybe melt, or just fall through the gates of hell right on the spot. Her lower lip trembles dangerously, and part of her wants to lean in and kiss her again, but there’s a knock at the door, and fucking hell its Culhane.

“Kirby, what’re you doing here?”

“Culhane. Just … making sure she’s ok.” Kirby snatches her hand away, bringing it to run through her hair in an attempt to get it as far away from her as possible.

Fallon hated storms because when she was nine, she’d gotten caught in the woods on the outskirts of the Carrington property. Her mother had warned her not to ride alone, but it had only fueled the young girl more. There was a role of thunder, and her horse jolted, bucking her off and bolting deeper into the forest. Fallon had no clue where she was, or subsequently how to get back. The storm lasted two hours — lighting and thunder and heavy winds. Her would find her curled in on herself, caked in mud, and utterly stunned. He carried her back to the manor before calling for a maid to help her change into something dry.

Kirby practically scrambles out of the bed, offering Culhane a tight smile. Fallon watches her with so much desperation that Kirby feels like she’ll need scissors to cut the strain. Kirby doesn’t look at her when she leaves, not even when a flash of lighting comes streaming through every window in the manor, not even when Fallon whimpers and sucks in a sharp breath.

#ok ok this is long #and really sad so like get ready #dynasty #firby #kirby anders #Fallon Carrington #liz gillies #dynasty fic #long fic #nat writes #firbyfic #dynastyfic #angst #angst comfort #hurt comfort #fanfic #I wrote this instead of sleeping #michael culhane

34 notes · View notes