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dekus-afro-pic · 4 years

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Reunited

Touya Todoroki/Dabi x fem!villan Reader

Summary: You were the only outside person to witness your best friends death. You grew up watching his murderer walk around and call himself the number two hero. While causing trouble on the wrong side of town you’re confronted by a familiar stranger.

Warnings: HUGE BIG BIG BIG BNHA290 SPOILERS, Cursing, blood, murder, mentions of suicide, a heated make out session at the end

“Touya when are you coming back to schoo-”your soft voice was cut off by a warm hug.

“I’m leaving soon y/n” he mumbled.

You wrapped your arms around his bandaged body. “Where are you going?”

“Somewhere fun. Somewhere safe” he pulled away. You stared at his glossy eyes, tears forming in your own.

“Your running away? I’ll come with the you.”

“Not exactly” he puts something in your hand. “I’ll see you soon Y/n”

You looked down and saw that it was a bracelet with a blue flame. You looked back up and he was already gone. Disappearing into the wooded area. You walked away, bracelet still clutched into your smal hands.

You looked back at the wooded area, only to see it was engulfed in blue flames. You run back towards the boy, smoke filling your lungs.

“TOUYA” You scream, emotions taking over. Your natural disaster quirk activates, trying to put out the flames with water. But the flames were too hot. Smoke blurring your vision and clouded your lungs. You heard tree branches falling all around you. One hits your arm, burning your soft flesh. “God DAMN IT TOUYA” you choked.

“Go home y/n” a deep voice told you. You turned to see the number two hero standing over you. “He’s gone”

“HE COULD STILL BE IN THERE! YOU’RE NOT EVEN TRYING TO HELP HIM. YOURE HIS FATHER, DO SOMETHING” You screamed at the man. Your limbs started to feel heavy and your vision was blurring. You tried to take another step but was met with the hard cement ground.

You never forgot that day. You even have dreams of it on the rare occasion of you sleeping. You knew one thing for a fact: you despised heroes.

———————————

Years later you still held the same hatred for heroes. Especially Endeavor. Every time you saw a hero you scoffed. Nothing but selfish bastards.

“Awwwn look at you all.” you tease at a group of tourists. “I almost feel guilty....almost. Where are your precious heroes now hmm? Your heroes that you love oh so much are nowhere to be found. Oh well guess you guys have to-”

You send a small tornado their way stopping it mere inches away from them. “Die” you smirked.

“Oi” you hear an oddly familiar voice speak. “What are you doing on this side of town”

You turn around and see a rather tall and handsome man. His hair was dark and he wore a long coat.

“Oh look. The infamous Dabi. May I please get your autograph” you mocked

“Watch it doll. Don’t want to barbecue you” he threatened with bright blue flames.

You froze. You haven’t seen blue flames since Touya died.

“That’s a pretty bracelet you have there” he inched closer “mind if I swipe it?”

“Over my dead body” you spat, snapping back into reality.

“That can be arranged brat” He spat back. He made his way towards you but stopped at the outburst by one of your hostages.

“HEROES!” One of the hostages yelled.

You looked pass the ravenette to see one of Endevour’s side kicks. You knew this because you’ve been studying the mans every move. Every person he’s hired. You even know where his youngest son goes to school. That poor child, having to be forced into hero studies.

“The number 1 Hero sure does sit on his ass all day. He’s never made an attempt to show up to one of my parties” you pout.

“He has better things to do than-”

“Blah blah blah oh shut up” you interrupt, striking him with a strong bolt of lightning. Surely killing him. “I never get to have any fun”

You turn to see that the man had left the store. You look back at your hostages and smirked “guess I’ll get going now. Not before I give you guys a gift” You stomp your foot on the ground hard, causing a mild earthquake. You walk out of the store laughing at the hostages screams.

You make your way to a nearby alleyway. Climbing up the fire escape, you make your way to the roof. You sit on the edge, watching how the city lights up at night. You watched as hero’s quickly made way to your ex hostages. Some being brought out on ambulance stretchers.

“Pathetic” you mumbled, playing with your blue flame bracelet “They weren’t there for you Touya. You see this shit? It’s not fair”

“Not fair at all” a voice said behind you.

You quickly stood to your feet to face the stranger. But, it was just the same raven haired man from before.

“What do you want man” you groaned. “I already told you I’m not giving you my bracelet”

“But it’s mine” Dabi teased. Part of him wanted you to remember him. To hug you and tell you how much he missed you. The other part wanted to hide. He was dead to you after all.

“Please” you sassed “This isn’t yours. I had it since I was a kid. Either fight me or get off my rooftop”

The man, oblivious to you, already knew how long you had the bracelet. “Look at the bracelet y/n”

You glared at him, looked down at your bracelet and back up to him. He held out a small blue fire in his palm. Almost identical to the one on your wrist.

“I swear to you I will scream if this means what I think it means” you whispered, slightly shaking your head.

“Don’t scream. We’ll both get caught up here and sent to prison”

“Right. No screaming. Can I...” your voice was shakey as you inches closer to your best friend “Can I hug you?”

He nodded his head opening his arms, waiting for your embrace. He didn’t expect you to jump on him so when you did, the both of you fell to the ground.

“Touya oh god I missed you so much. You look so different. Stronger and just so different” you ramble. You hold him tight, scared that he’ll leave again. Then you remember he left in the first place. You looked down at him and electrocute his leg.

“Shit y/n what was that for” he growled pushing you off of him.

“That’s for leaving me alone for so long” you spat. “I thought you were dead. For so long I’ve tried to kill myself so I could be with you. For so long I’ve been killing people who got in my way of killing Endevour. AND YOU WERE ALIVE ALL THIS TIME?”

“I know. I’ve been watching you” he groaned “I told you I’d come back for you didn’t I?”

He reached out his right hand. Waiting for you to place your hand in his.

“If you’re going to kill me-“

“God y/n” he took hold of your hand and dragged you back to the fire escape.

——————————

He led you to an old bar. At least that’s what it looked like on the outside. You were surprised when he led you to the back, where the rest of the group resigned.

“Everyone this is Y/N. Y/N this is everyone” Dabi “introduced”.

You waved at the group of people who all said their own version of greetings. Your eyes wandered to the group’s leader. Well, more like his back.

“Hey Shigi. Did you ever get that cream I recommend?” You snorted.

He turned to glare at you. He flipped you off while he went back to playing his video game. You and him have butt heads on numerous occasions. The two of you always running into eachother while recking havoc on the city.

“Come on” Dabi whispered in your ear. “I’ll show you to my room”

The room wasn’t small but it wasn’t quite big either. It had a bathroom attached to it and one of those closets that have the sliding door. The room smelt like cigarettes and cologne. In other words: Dabi.

“You smell just like your room,” You joked, making your way to his bed. “Burnt”

“Your jokes are hilarious as always Y/N” he retorted sarcastically “ go take a shower. You stink”

“Ouch my feelings. What will I wear?”

He pulled out a shirt and some boxers and handed them to you.

“Skinny legend” you snorted, lifting up the underwear.

“I bought those after Tomura told me he ran into you. I was planning on kidnapping you then. But I got sidetracked” he rubbed his neck nervously. He sat on his bed and turned on his tv. “Now hurry up and shower”

———————————

You stepped out of the hot shower and slipped the shirt over your head. As expected, it was too big. You opened the bathroom door cautiously just in case Dabi was asleep.

The lights were off, along with the tv, as light snores filled the room. You set your dirty clothes on a vacant chair and crawled into his bed.

“It took you long enough” the man mumbled. He hooked one of his arms around your leg and pulled you closer. His body was soothingly hot, no doubt due to his quirk.

“I had to rinse the stink off of me” you jabbed back at him. You buried your face into his neck “Go back to sleep”

You waited until his snores resumed to get a closer look at his body. Tracing a finger along his staples you took note of how he reacted to it. You traced his nose piercings before kissing his cheek.

“You missed” he mumbled, awoken out of his sleep for a second time.

“I did not. You get no smooches until you tell me you love me” you smirked.

Dabi glared at you and sighed. “I love you y/n. Now can I kiss you? I’ve waited too many years to do so”

You leaned foward and placed a soft kiss on his dual textured lips. He grabbed your hips and sat you on top of him. Running his hands along your sides, he slipped his tongue into your mouth. His grip on your ass hardened as your hands tugged at his hair.

The two of you pulled away for air, panting. You looked him in his eyes and smiled.

“I love you too”

#mha #mha bakugo x reader #mha fanfiction #mha headcanons #mha x reader #hitoshi x reader #mha x y/n #my hero academia #kirishima x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader smut #dabi x female reader #dabi x reader #dabi fanfic #dabi headcanons #bnha dabi #dabi imagine #bnha fanfiction #bnha fluff

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pomegranates-and-blood · 4 years

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νοσταλγία (Chapter 20)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Summary: This is a retelling/romantization of the Greek myth of Persephone’s abduction with Ivar as Hades and you as Persephone. The Reader character is a Byzantine woman, follower of the Greek Pantheon/Religion, and a devoted follower of Persephone. This takes place after 5A, but the universe of this is a little changed in relation with the series, of course. Thank you for giving it a chance, hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: The usual

A/N: So, here’s hoping you guys don’t hate this lol. Really, thank you for reading, hope you like it, and I look forward to hearing from you guys!

Sorry for posting this kinda early (just as it becomes saturday lol) but I suck at scheduling on tumblr and I can’t upload it tomorrow today morning. Thank you for understanding!

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 @toe-vind-ek-jou @xbellaxcarolinax @pieces-by-me @angelofthorr @samsationalwilson

“I haven’t gotten a chance to congratulate you in person.” Freydis tells you as you approach a smiling Valdís and a few other women from the apothecary.

You offer a side smile, “You could have earlier,” You point out, meaning her previous approach to the throne. “But you were too busy reminding Ivar of what rewards pain brings, so I understand.

She stops on her tracks, and you turn around with a raised eyebrow. She doesn’t deny it, you will grant her that.

For once, being the one with the knowledge, being the one certain and with solid ground under their feet; it feels like a small victory, you won’t lie.

“Don’t keep secrets from me, Freydis.” You warn her.

“Witch!” Valdís calls you over the ruckus of the ongoing feast, before ducking out of the way of an elder woman’s hit. The shieldmaiden smirks, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I meant my Queen.”

You shake your head with a laugh, and when you approach the shieldmaiden stands. She embraces you before you can react, and how you almost don’t reach her chin makes you feel once again like you are in a land of giants.

“Congratulations, may the Gods bless you both,” She whispers, honest and caring and utterly motherly in that brash way of hers. “For the woman you are, witch, I don’t think there could be a better man. Nor a better woman for the man he is.”

“You seem sure.”

Valdís shrugs, as if the answer is simple, obvious to all.

“He’d step over a less prideful woman, but a dumber one would get killed before long,” She whispers, face close to yours and eyes knowing as she smirks, “You’d shake off the fool that tried silencing you, but would scorn the one that didn’t challenge you.”

You remember when Sieghild heard of your betrothal to Narses, how she told you to fight, to fight the men in Greece, to fight the notions they had of you, to fight Narses; and you how retorted he was a good man that loved you, and that you wouldn’t fight him. Your mother’s words from that day echo in your head, certain and prophetic, you wouldn’t give your love without a fight.

You only look at Valdís with a slowly growing smile on your face, before questioning, “You speak so surely, yet I’m the arrogant little witch?”

“Well, you are small.”

She laughs at your affronted expression, and with an arm over your shoulders guides you to the table where the other women you’ve come to know and care for sit, who congratulate you and bow their heads in greeting. Before long the conversation between the women continues on other topics, and you allow yourself to drink and laugh and forget you are supposed to feel chained.

When you return to Ivar’s side, you find his eyes trained somewhere behind you, and even a blind woman would know his gaze -and his thoughts- linger on the stranger that embraced you.

“Who was that?”

You sit at his side and thank a thrall that hands you a goblet of mead with a smile, before answering, “Valdís, a shieldmaiden. A…a friend.”

“I don’t recognize her.”

“But you do recognize Freydis.” You blurt out before you can trap the words behind your lips, and Ivar turns his eyes to you.

“The slave.” He states, but it is a question. You nod, and adjust in your seat, trying to rid yourself of the nervous energy.

“She’s beautiful, surely not easy to forget. You’ve seen her with me before, yet you never told me you knew her,” You insist, careful eyes watching over the ongoing feast. When Ivar stays silent, you turn your gaze to him and find him smiling at you, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

From his throne, Ivar leans towards you, his hand moving your hair out of the way and his mouth almost by your ear as he whispers,

“If I didn’t know better, wife, I’d think you are jealous.”

“But you do know better.” You bite out and Gods, even a deaf man would hear the truth behind your words.

____

You are escorted in a truly bizarre fashion to your now shared room with Ivar, but you write it off to being some Norse tradition you couldn’t for the life of you understand, and try only not to flinch when the door to the rooms closes behind the last of the warriors, leaving you alone with your husband.

For the first time since you arrived in this kingdom of cold and death, you allow yourself to look at the bed in the King’s rooms.

It looks warmer than yours, spacious and surrounded in dark wood posters, with a leather panel on top. Are those chains hanging over it?

“Wife.” Ivar calls, taking your eyes off the bed and stalling the panic that started to set in your heart. You are still wondering what the chains are for, though.

You turn to him, joining your hands in front of you so you can make them stop shaking. He only signals for you to approach him where he stands, and you hesitate for a moment before you do so, taking him in.

He is a handsome man, and ever since Aneridge, much to your chagrin, you have known you want him. Even after he has imprisoned you, it would be a lie if you said you didn’t wonder what it would take to have the Viking underneath you, or the different ways you could make his proud façade crumble. If only, at times, in fantasies when you can be the one in power, or in rarer ones when you imagined what he could do to try and make you surrender to him.

Gods, infuriating and terrifying a man as he proves to be, you want him, like you have wanted no other.

Still, your father taught you the first sign of a people enslaved and defeated is when they go willingly to their enemies’ temples, to their enemies’ beds. You refuse to admit that you willingly lay with the man that took you captive, that forced you to be his wife.

When you walk in shaky legs until you stand before him, he says nothing, but a hand on your shoulder makes you turn your back to him.

It is with awkward gentleness that he moves your hair to the side. Not the tenderness of a cruel man failing at pretending, no; but rather the uncertain one of a man that knows nothing but war.

His fingers start making quick work of the laces at the back of your dress, and hoping you can make him ignore the tremble of your breath at his touch, the goosebumps on your skin at the ghost of a caress that goes down your spine; you ask,

“W-What do you Vikings do?” He hums in question, and you explain yourself, “For…for a bedding ceremony, or whatever it is.”

“We just went through it.”

“Your people have a reputation. Forgive me for thinking the loosening of a dress seems…tame.”

Ivar chuckles at your words, lowering his head and closing his eyes for a moment. Few times you’ve been able to make him laugh, and you’ve counted and cherished each one, but you do realize there’s something different about this time.

He’s tense, uncomfortable. Uncertain.

“Will you make me lay with you?” You ask, startling yourself at the brashness. Ivar shakes his head, a guarded coldness taking over his expression as he steps away from you. Still, against your every instinct, you push on, “You surely don’t have any qualms about forcing yourself upon me.

The way he says your name, a warning and a threat all in one, it makes your breath falter. You’ve never heard your name on his lips like that, like the warning sound a cornered beast makes before striking.

But you will sooner die than let a man make you fear him. So, you press,

“You abducted me and forced me to become your wife, you’ve shown you care not for my freedom to make a choice. Your honor or your desire to have me want you to aren’t stopping you.

An honest and shame-filled part of you knows you are only being like this because you hate being reminded of how close to surrender you’ve allowed to come. Wanting the man that took you captive, softening your heart for the King that forced you to be his wife, letting yourself feel something for the monster that took you from your people and home...you have no choice left but to remind him -and yourself- that you are no willing wife, no enamoured maiden.

“I can’t.”

You lift your eyebrows, the simple words stealing all words from your head.

“What do y-…?”

“Useless legs and useless cock,” He interrupts, tone disdainful as he gestures to his own body, “Boneless. Don’t tell me you haven’t heard the rumors.”

You shake your head mutely, for it is true no one has spoken of them to you.

He shrugs, the movement forced and unnatural.

“Well, it does not matter, now you know,” Oh, but it matters quite a lot, you gather. Still, you will say nothing of it, partly because you truly don’t know what you are supposed to say. Ivar doesn’t seem to want any words either, for he gestures towards you, “It is late and you are tired, go change.”

Who would have thought your wedding night would be the one night you actually obey him. You slip past him quietly until you are behind one of the partitions, and hear the telltale sounds of him settling in a seat by the hearth at the side of the bed as you start untangling your hair from the crown of flowers.

Shaking fingers trace over the dying and bloodied petals, and the reminder that, through a cruel twist of Fate, your Gods were here with you today; it calms you, it comforts you. It makes a small and easily quietened part of you regret the outburst.

You shrug off the red dress and leave it carefully folded for the thralls to pick up tomorrow, and put on the thin nightgown that will do nothing to protect you from Kattegat’s cold.

Your return to the King and find him sitting, with his hand by his mouth clearly thinking about something. When he sees you, he gestures with his hand to the bed.

“You can go ahead and sleep,” He instructs, and you nod your head and, with heavy limbs, move to the bed. But he stops you before you can move far with a call of your name, “If you dare try to divorce me on grounds of me not sleeping with you, I-…don’t.”

“Could I?”

“I’ll kill you if you ever try.” He promises, and it is a threat not for a second you believe to be a lie.

You accept his words with a curt nod, and realize you hadn’t actually thought of that. Being able to divorce him, not him killing you, of course.

That should have been your first thought, the rope thrown over the side of the boat that could help you climb to freedom. But you didn’t think of that, you didn’t think that at all, and it frightens you, the possibility of not seeing opportunities to escape for something as fickle as…

Never mind that. You close your eyes and, after considering your next words carefully, you insist,

“You know you don’t need a cock to sleep with a woman.”

“I will not lay with another woman that cannot stand to even touch me,” He states without hesitation, and though a part of you is dying to ask the story behind the words he speaks, you bite your tongue. “That is not what I want.”

“What is it you want, then?” You ask, turning around. And for the first time you do not demand to know the answer, you don’t intertwine accusations with the question. Your eyes search his and your voice hushes, “What did you marry me for? What do you want from me, Ivar?”

“I wanted to keep you at my side, make you my wife.”

But you shake your head stepping closer before you realize what you are doing. Your voice is quiet, soft, true, as you ask,

“Tell me, please. What do you want from me?”

His jaw clenches, and you notice his hands stay stiffly grasping at the armrest of his chair. His eyes search yours and the vulnerability in them shatters at something within you.

“Kiss me.” He whispers. A dare, a command, a plea.

It is not an answer to your question. And yet, Gods, is as honest an answer as you could ever get.

Your breath leaves your lungs in a shaky exhale, but you still step forward, closer, with certain steps.

Ivar stays still, as still as a marble statue and you reminisce of those first days in Aneridge, and how you thought you could shatter him with but a flick of your wrist.

But the realization that he could do the same to you settles within you like a rock on your stomach. No wrath, no fury, no cruelty, no King may have been able to make you cave, but…the vulnerability in his expression, the longing in his voice, the feeling of being lost written in his eyes, Ivar; makes your walls crumble and your heart stutter its beat.

You search his eyes and with one last shaky breath you lean down and press your lips to his.

He stiffens under your touch even if it wasn’t unexpected, he lets you lead his mouth moving against yours even if today he kissed you in front of a whole kingdom.

And you think of how many times you wanted to be the one to kiss him. There’s no use for lying, not anymore, not to yourself.

You think of Aneridge, and the foreign man you met when you lived in that fantasy where neither of you had names or lives outside of the two of you; and you know that if you had caved, if you had felt his kiss, you would have followed that man to the end of the world.

You think of those weeks of living in a limbo, where you could pretend there was no escape and yet lived without the invisible binds that today he set upon you; and you know it was only pride and shame what kept you from admitting you felt unburdened.

You think of the time since the certainty of this being Fate has set upon you, of what laid beyond the endless fight against the titles he wanted you to accept; and you know even if it lacerates at your heart and defies your very nature, you have felt safe, free.

Ivar chases after your lips when you pull away, tilting his head as if unwilling to part from your kiss. His eyes open and meet yours, and you lean closer once again, and kiss him again.

Not because he made you, not because anyone made you, because you choose to.

And with your choice comes a truth. What was it the witch said? It is easy to choose, it is not easy to live with what the choice we made says about us.

When you part a second time, your forehead rests against his and your breaths are one for a few moments.

And with your voice a hoarse whisper, you confess,

“If you had asked, I would have said yes.”

____

So...thoughts? Hope you liked this, really hope I don’t dissapoint with my writing that drags on and on.

Btw, ‘bedding’ traditions in Viking Age Scandinavia, as far as I could find, centered around the couple being escorted to their rooms/bed. Hence, the ‘we just went through it’ dialogue line. There’s so many Viking wedding things (and almost as many Ancient/Byzantine Greek wedding things) that I wish I could have included, but alas, I already ramble a lot with my writing, I don’t wanna bore you.

Thank you for reading, hope you have a nice day/night! Ik this chapter is kinda short and kinda open-ended, but this tuesday as scheduled chapter 21 us up :)

Love you all! <3

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar the boneless #vikings #νοσταλγία masterlist

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myheartrevealedocs · 3 years

Text

Untouchable Ch 29: Amplification (S4E24)

Warnings: swearing (a lot of it), illness, hospitals

Ch 28 | Ch 30

~ ~ ~

“I’m picking you up from work. Now.”

Lydia sighed, glad that it was her break and she wasn’t in the middle of teaching class. But then again… Spencer already knew that. “Just once I’d like to get a case and be told ‘you can drop by when you’re done with what you’re working on.’ No worries. Sending out emails now.”

“Sorry. It’s local, if that helps.”

Lydia’s eyebrows knit together suspiciously. “Local? Local cases are never my cases. If it were, I probably would have heard something, right?”

“I don’t know anything about the case,” he admitted. “Hotch called and he said he needed everyone now, you included.”

Lydia shut her laptop, already stuffing it into her work bag. “I’ll meet you out front.”

~ ~ ~

Lydia had stuffed herself into the back of the elevator with Spence, Morgan, and Prentiss, so when the doors opened, she didn’t immediately see what made the three of them stop.

“What’s the army doing here?” Morgan said.

Lydia stepped to the side to get a better look at the crowd of people rushing through the BAU office.

“What the hell is going on?” Emily muttered.

Spencer was the first to set off for the conference room, Lydia joining him immediately if only to get away from the insane amount of people in the bullpen.

Inside were Hotch, Rossi, JJ, and a woman.

“Guys, this is Dr. Linda Kimura, Chief of Special Pathogens with the CDC.”

“Hello,” Emily said.

“Hello. I’m sorry to meet under these circumstances.”

“What circumstances?” Reid inquired, but Hotch stopped him.

“We need to get started.”

JJ cleared her throat, ready to take over the briefing. Lydia could tell it was going to be a quick summary, with no slides, few files to share, and no time to sit down.

“Last night, 25 people checked into emergency rooms in and around Annapolis. They were all at the same park after 2pm yesterday. Within 10 hours, the first victim died. It’s now just past 7am the next day, we have 12 dead.”

Looking over her boyfriend’s shoulder, Lydia could see large welts across the victims faces and necks. Purple rings lined the deads’ eyes.

“Lung failure and black lesions,” Morgan read aloud. “Anthrax?”

Spencer shook his head. “Anthrax doesn’t kill this fast.”

“This strain does,” Dr. Kimura admitted.

Lydia’s eyes shot to their expert. She could see why Hotch felt the need to bring her in, but a new strain of anthrax was far out of her comfort zone, especially in a time when people were dying quickly. This would take a team of people in a lab running trial after trial to find a cure. These poor people were doomed.

Lydia wouldn’t know anything about the strain, she could only come up with a vague idea about what sort of background a person would need to create this, and there were so many people already involved in whatever this was.

“What are we doing about potential mass targets?” Prentiss inquired. “Airports, malls, trains?”

“There’s a media blackout,” Hotch replied.

“We’re not telling the public?”

“We’d have a mass exodus,” Morgan explained.

“Psychology of group panic would cause more deaths than this last attack.”

“Yeah, and if it does get out, whoever did it might go underground or destroy their samples.”

“Or,” Emily tried to argue, “if they wanted attention and didn’t get it, they might attack again. Doesn’t the public have a right to know that?”

“If there is another attack, there’s no way we’ll be able to keep it quiet,” Hotch assured her. “Our best chance of protecting the public is by building a profile as quickly as we can.”

“What do we know about this strain?” Lydia interrupted, grabbing the files from Spencer to get a closer look.

Dr. Kimura answered, “the spores are weaponized, reduced to a respiral ideal that attacks deep in the lungs. Odorless and invisible.”

“A sophisticated strain,” Rossi reasoned. “Only a scientist would know how to do that.”

Lydia nodded.

“These lesions are doubling in size in a matter of hours.”

“It’s not the lesions I’m worried about,” Dr. Kimura warned. “It’s the lungs. We don’t know how to combat the toxins once they’re inside. And the reality is, we may lose them all.”

“Reid, Ambers, go to the hospital with Dr. Kimura. Reid will interview victims. Ambers, I want you in the lab updating us on blood tests and toxicology reports.”

They nodded, Spencer throwing his satchel over his shoulder.

“Morgan and Prentiss, there’s a hazmat team that will accompany you to the crime scene. There’s cipro. Everybody needs to take it before we go.”

Dr. Kimura grabbed a tray of pills from a desk along the side of the room. “We don’t know if it’s effective against this strain, but it’s something.”

Lydia picked up a plastic cup with two pills inside and glanced around. Everyone hesitated, knowing that for the rest of this case, they’d be risking a lot. This wasn’t chasing down bad guys with guns, but rather with immunity. Their kevlar vests wouldn’t protect them from the air.

“Jin dan,” Rossi said, raising his cup. “May you live 100 years.”

~ ~ ~

Spencer was fidgeting in the passenger seat of the car as they drove to Walter Reed hospital with Dr. Kimura. “What did you tell your students, Lydia?”

She shrugged. “What I normally do. Just that I was called into work by the FBI. They don’t normally ask where I’m headed or why. It’s strange. For the first time since I became a professor, I’m worried about them.”

“I guess you’re right,” he mumbled. “This is going to affect everyone in the DC area.”

“I mean, what would a cure for this even look like? The only person who has any idea how it differs from normal anthrax is our unsub. He’s got to have some kind of antidote, right?”

“Let’s hope he does,” Spencer replied. “For now, building the profile is Hotch and Rossi’s doing. Our job is to find out what we can about the victims and their symptoms.”

~ ~ ~

“How many more have died since this morning?”

“Five,” Spencer admitted. “We’re up to 17 dead.”

“It’s no good,” she sighed, having stepped out of the lab momentarily to call him. “The drug combinations are useless. We don’t know anymore about this strain than they did this morning.”

“Dr. Kimura says the strain duplicates every 30-45 minutes, poisoning the lungs and causing organ failure.”

“Extreme bacterial amplification,” she replied. “That’s insane.”

“I’m thinking whoever created this had to have gone through the trouble of testing it.”

“That would make sense, but who’s to say the park wasn’t his test run?”

“It’s too risky. Human tests are done on a much smaller scale. What do you know about illnesses that have similar symptoms to anthrax poisoning?”

“Not much,” she admitted. “I’ll talk to Garcia and do some digging about weird medical deaths in the area.”

“Thanks.”

~ ~ ~

“Tell me you got something good, Spice.”

“I rarely find myself giving out good news, Sugar,” Garcia admitted. “However, I did find some strange deaths for you. Two days ago, three people in the Baltimore area checked into 3 different ERs, slipping into comas and dying within 3 hours. The COD on all three was meningitis, but they were never tested for anthrax. Is that what you were looking for?”

“Possibly. The respiratory problems would be similar, but the lesions would have definitely signalled to the doctors it was something else. You said they died within 3 hours?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“That’s fast. They likely had to have inhaled a high concentration of anthrax if that were the case. But, it would also make it harder to identify. See if those three were in the same place that day and contact Hotch.”

“On it.”

~ ~ ~

“Lydia?”

She huffed. “What’s up, Derek?”

“Don’t get pissy on me,” he teased.

“All I’ve done all day is answer calls and get told once an hour that someone else has died. My mood has limits.”

“I’m pulling you from the hospital. We’re going to the house of a Dr. Lawrence Nichols. Fits our profile.”

“Great.” As she spoke she slipped out of the hospital lab and towards the elevator. “What’s this profile?”

“Fanatical,” he summarized. “Dr. Nichols got booted from Fort Detrick after the Amerithrax case. He was afraid of anthrax being weaponized against the US and was preaching stronger protection from the government.”

“If he was against anthrax, what makes you think he’d use it?”

“A warning. He was told that we couldn’t spend billions of dollars to fight against an attack that may never happen. This is his way of saying, ‘You should have listened to me. Now it’s too late.’”

“Got it. I’ll meet you outside Walter Reed.”

“Good.”

Hanging up, she sent a quick message to Spencer to let him know she was leaving the hospital, then made a break for the front entrance.

~ ~ ~

“It’s quaint,” Lydia said, stepping out of the SUV and waiting for Morgan to walk around the car and join her.

The Nichols house had cute rose bushes around the front and all the windows had white trim. Classic suburban look.

“Nicer than a hospital, I bet.”

She huffed. “I cannot thank you enough for getting me out of there. I don’t know how Reid is able to talk to these people, knowing that they’re doomed.”

“That’s why we’re here,” Morgan countered. “To make sure they aren’t doomed.”

A team in protective gear had arrived before them to search the house. There was no one there, luckily enough, as Nichols was supposedly at work. And the team had yet to notify them of any contamination, but until they were certain, she and Morgan had to stay outside.

The two of them wandered towards the backyard, looking at all the greenery and sweeping for anything suspicious, but frankly, if Nichols was harboring anthrax, he would have kept it at his lab. As soon as the team inside was done, all she and Morgan had to do was the usual profiling stuff. Does this man have a motive to commit mass murder and all that jazz.

Lydia was so caught up in the difference between the well trimmed front lawn to the overgrown backyard that she didn’t hear Morgan’s cell start ringing, nor did she take notice of the fact that he stopped walking to answer it.

There was a small stone fountain, which was completely dry, in front of a decaying garage in the back. The shed was designed exactly like the house, but its paint was faded and chipping and the plants clung to it like it had been long abandoned in the weeds.

It didn’t look like anyone had been in there for years, and yet all the doors and windows were open.

As she crept towards the sliding glass door along the side, her hand went to the gun at her belt. He should be at work, but frankly, unsubs were never where you expected them to be. So, to be careful, she unclipped her weapon and kept a hand on it as she leaned inside.

“Hello? Dr. Nichols? It’s the FBI!”

Nothing…

Hesitantly, she stepped inside and didn’t take a moment to realize how bad of an idea that was. Directly across from the door was clearly a work desk, and yet, she didn’t take into consideration that he might have worked on his toxins at his house.

And so, as she stepped around the corner to find Dr. Nichols’s body with a shattered tube of white powder on the floor, it took her a moment to process what this meant.

Powder… anthrax… deadly. The AC was on, meaning the toxin was circulating the air and she had most certainly been exposed.

Deadly.

Her hand shot up to her mouth, quickly covering it with the fabric of her shirt to filter out some of the powder from the air. Funny enough, the dead body was the furthest thing from her mind. Her next plan of action was to cover the broken pieces of glass so that whatever powder was left on the floor wouldn’t be swept up into the air. She could worry about the AC in a second.

“Ambers?”

Fuck, Morgan.

She couldn’t let him inside. It was too dangerous. But if she left, the BAU might never get the chance to search the lab before the rest of the infected died. It would take too long to clear the garage. No, she had to stay, even if it meant increasing the concentration in her lungs.

Flipping around, she shut the sliding door, locking it just as Morgan appeared.

“Ambers!”

“Get back!” she insisted, looking around wildly for the closest open window to shut, one hand still holding her shirt over her face. “Get out of here!”

“What are you doing?! What’s wrong?”

He rushed over to the window with her, but wasn’t fast enough. “Don’t! STAY AWAY, MORGAN!”

“Tell me what’s going on!”

“I’VE BEEN EXPOSED!”

His face and Lydia’s heart both dropped at the same time.

What had she done?

“Morgan,” she started, trying to keep her mind off of her death sentence, “I need you to tell the team that Nichols is dead.”

“He’s what?!”

“He’s been murdered,” she explained, stepping away from the window so that he could see the body behind her. “Blunt force trauma to the head. I have to stop the anthrax circulation in the room and then I can start to profile what happened.”

“What? No! Lydia, you have to get out of there so we can take you to the hospital!”

“Derek, Dr. Kimura said the only thing they can do at the hospital is give me morphine! If we wait for a team to clear the room before we profile, those people at the hospital will die. I might die. If I stay here, maybe I can find a cure.”

“I don’t like this, Lydia,” he grumbled. “Think about Spencer-”

“I am! We’ve seen what this toxin does to people. I have a few hours before I become incapable of doing my job. My chances of surviving increase tremendously if I spend those hours doing work. Trust me. I can do nothing from the hospital.”

He nervously gave her a once over, as if he’d be able to see how bad it was, before pulling out his cell and stepping away from the garage.

~ ~ ~

By the time Hotch got there, Lydia had turned off the AC unit, found a lab mask to cover her face, and given Morgan a rundown on the state of Nichols’s body. There was no way he was responsible for the attack at the part, because he had been dead for at least 2 days. The fact that he had anthrax here likely meant someone had murdered him to take his samples.

“Ambers,” Hotch answered his phone from across the backyard, looking at her through the window.

“Does Spencer know yet?” she demanded.

“Yes. He’s on his way now.”

“How did he take it?”

“How do you expect, Lydia?” Morgan hissed, clearly listening in on the conversation.

“I didn’t mean to do this,” she argued, glancing around the room. “But I’m going to stay and look for a cure, or at the very least, some more information on this strain and I’ll try to figure out who killed Dr. Nichols.”

Hotch took over once more. “Okay, we’re going to get a suit and mask in to you right away.”

“Don’t bother. I’m already infected. I’ve stopped the airflow for now, so my condition won’t get worse. I need to spend my time working the case.”

“Alright. What do you see?”

“He has cages stacked against the back wall, filled with dead animals,” she began, getting into work mode. “He struggled before he died. Um… there’s some oddly empty spots on shelves, which leads me to believe the murderer robbed him as well. Nothing personal in here, clearly it was only meant to be a workshop or lab of sorts. There are two desks. One is a mess but the other totally organized…”

“Two different work spaces?” It was Derek’s voice again.

“Yeah, um…” She started to flip through a journal on one of the desks and paused. “I think our unsub was working here with Nichols. These look like research notes. Stuff that Nichols would already know, considering he has a doctorate.” She ran back to the cluttered desk to look over some loose papers. “Yep. Two clearly different sets of handwriting. Maybe he took on a protege?”

“Ambers, Morgan is going to stay with you and help profile Nichols. I’m going to go back to the BAU and try to figure out who this protege might be.”

“Don’t worry about me, Hotch,” she said, hearing the edge in his voice. He didn’t want to leave her here. “I feel fine. I’m good at this stuff. If there’s a cure, I’ll find it.”

~ ~ ~

Lydia prepared herself for the worst as Spencer grew closer. Reckless together. That was her promise. Getting herself into this situation was exactly what he was talking about after the Colorado case. But she really hadn’t meant to end up here. She felt like there was no better way after being exposed. She was being as careful as she could. But their last fight hadn’t been good.

She was listing excuses in her mind. Building up a strong argument for when he got here and inevitably lost his shit on her.

It was almost ironic that their last fight had been about her putting up walls between them and now, she was quite literally locking him out. But as she had promised to be careful, he had promised not to rush in to save her. And that included walking into a building of toxic air.

Her phone began to buzz in her pocket and she took several deep breaths before looking at the caller ID.

Spencer was here.

“Hey, love,” she said softly, not wanting to look outside and see him there. With Morgan. Probably pissed as hell.

But he matched her tone perfectly: gentle and concerned. “Lydia, how are you feeling?”

Her breath caught on all the things she was planning to say when he yelled at her. She wasn’t sure where to go with that response. “The… um… The fever’s kicking in. I’m unnaturally warm. But I’ve been super careful to lower my exposure, I promise! I didn’t mean to-”

“I know, honey. I know. Stay calm. Keep working. You’re gonna be alright.”

God, she never really knew with him, did she? Of course he wasn’t happy she was there, but he kept his promise. He was trusting her. And for the first time today, she didn’t feel like she had to convince everyone that everything was normal. They both knew her odds were unfortunately low at the moment and they weren’t going to spend this time arguing.

“Dr. Kimura came with me. She’s suiting up to come in with the decon team.”

“Good.”

There was a long pause, before he said, “Lydia, come to the window.”

She originally had thought she was avoiding his gaze because she had expected him to be angry, but stepping up to the glass and seeing him at the edge of the lawn, as close as the CDC would allow him to get, brought a new meaning to the word guilt.

She didn’t just break her promise of being with him when the bad things happened. There was a chance that in a few hours, a few painful, painful hours, she might leave him. She might die. And Spencer… he didn’t deserve that.

“Lydia,” he began, looking her over carefully. “I love you so, so much, you hear me?”

She nodded, feeling tears begin to well up in the back of her throat.

“You keep fighting in there, alright? Fight and fight until we find a cure.”

“I know,” she gulped. “I know. I- I- I-”

She froze as a violent chill ran up her spine, causing her to lose her train of thought. Spencer's face broke momentarily, giving away his fear and anguish.

“I’m sorry. I… love you, too, Spence,” she finally forced out. “More than you will ever know.”

“Hopefully in an hour you’ll be out of there and you can try to tell me.”

“Of course,” she smiled, halfheartedly. “I will.”

She had to hang up the call as she heard the decon team start to file in.

She turned around to find Dr. Kimura approaching her directly. “Dr. Ambers.”

“Dr. Kimura,” she smiled, trying to hide how nauseous she was beginning to feel. “You look nice.”

She glanced down at the red and grey suit she wore and laughed along. “I haven’t been in this outfit in a while.”

“How are the patients doing?” she asked, before mentally kicking herself. She didn’t want to know how many more had died. She didn’t need that weighing her down.

Luckily, Dr. Kimura seemed to think the same. “Let's worry about you.”

“I feel fine,” she deflected. “I don’t think I’ve inhaled that much.”

“I see you’re being careful,” she noted with a nod to Lydia’s mask, “but if you feel any pain, I can give you something.”

“Oh, I don’t think giving me morphine is a good idea.”

Dr. Kimura raised an eyebrow in her direction. “Are you sure? Some pain medication might make you feel more comfortable.”

Lydia shook her head quickly. “Don’t worry. In my line of work, you learn to focus despite your discomfort.”

Dr. Kimura still looked hesitant to let go of the subject.

“I feel fine,” she tried again. “I should work at the task at hand.”

“Ok. Tell me how I can help.”

Thank god. She could get back on track. Between Morgan, Hotch, Spence, and Dr. Kimura, she would never find the cure. Everyone would be too busy worrying about her condition.

“The team believes that there’s a cure for this strain within this lab,” she explained. “Our profile for Nichols says he’s secretive, and likely, he’s paranoid. So he would be protective of the cure. Probably hid it from his partner. Look for something totally unsuspicious.”

“Alright…” Dr. Kimura hesitated, knowing that those instructions were too broad. But Lydia didn’t have anything else. Her profiling skills didn’t go as far as the others. And she didn’t have the same information on Nichols or the partner that the others might be getting from Quantico.

Her phone rang sharply and she almost jumped at the vibrations in her pocket.

Fuck, she was succumbing quickly. Disoriented, panicked, nauseous.

“Hello?” she asked, trying not to cough violently after saying it. Her throat was starting to dry.

“How’s it going in there, kiddo?” Morgan replied.

“I’ve seen better days,” she admitted, hoarsely.

“Well, you’ve got me, Reid, and Garcia.”

“Hey, Sugar.”

Lydia couldn’t stop herself from smiling and was almost through the word “Spice” when the coughing fit finally took over.

“Lydia, stick with me. Listen, Rossi and Prentiss don’t think the partner is a coworker. Can you tell us anything else about him?”

God, she was hot. She wiped her brow and tried to run her fingers through the tangled, sweaty mess that was her hair. “I don’t… I’m not sure. I looked through all the drawers, but I can’t-”

“Come on now, kiddo. I know you’re not thinking straight, but the Lydia I know would not stop looking.”

All she wanted to do was sleep. She didn’t care if Morgan called her lazy. She didn’t care if it wasn’t like her to quit. But then she remembered all those people at the hospital who were dying. They needed a break in the case. Now. She had to at least try to give that to them.

“Alright,” she mumbled, headed straight for the partner’s desk. “We think this partner is more like a protege, right? He clearly doesn’t know as much about the chemistry of anthrax than Nichols would. So maybe he was one of Nichols’s students?”

“Nichols stopped teaching ages ago. Any of his students would likely be far more advanced now than what you described from the partner’s notes.”

She flipped through everything she had left on the desk from her last search through the doors. “You’re right. These look more like my freshman year of college notes. Basics…” A large huff escaped her lips as she desperately attempted to swallow more air. Could you drown in your own sweat? “Wait, wait- I’m looking at something here. My best guess is it’s a thesis and based on the marks in red along the sides, Nichols has been correcting it. So maybe, not one of his students, but a local PhD student, looking for help on their thesis about anthrax?”

“I can look up local PhD students,” Garcia cut in.

“Yeah, check the sciences,” Morgan told her. “Biochemistry, microbi-”

“No, wait-” Lydia cut in through another coughing fit. “A science PhD student wouldn’t have all these other notes. It’s the only part that doesn’t line up with…” She trailed off, trying to skim what he had written, but it was so hard to concentrate.

“Lydia?”

Spencer… finally.

“Lydia, you’re almost done. We’re so close to getting you out of there. Is there anything else you can tell us about this student?”

She closed her eyes, soaking in his voice, without really considering what he was asking of her. “Okay...okay…” Eyes open again, she turned the thesis back to the opening page, a table of contents. “The chapters are on setting up mobile emergencies-” She fumbled for her words. “Emergency rooms. That’s not… Science students don’t care about city preparedness.”

“Garcia, check with students in the social studies,” Spence ordered. “Public policy, urban planning. And cross check those with-”

“-Former employees and customers with grievances at the bookstore,” she finished for him. “Hot to trot. There’s a Chad Brown, school of public policy at U of M. Matches a Chad Brown, former employee at the book front.”

“That’s gotta be him,” Morgan said

“Totally. He’s been in the doctoral program on and off for five years. Nix on a steady job. Was slapped with a restraining order from his former girlfriend and has been arrested and released twice at protest rallies in DC. I’ll tell Hotch.”

Garcia spoke so fast that by the time Lydia had put Brown’s thesis down, she had already dropped off the call.

“You did good, kiddo.”

“Thanks, Morgan,” she rasped.

“Now it’s time for you to get the hell out of there,” Spencer demanded.

It wasn’t a cure, but Lydia was feeling so sick, she didn’t care. She’d done her best. Maybe it really was time to hit the hospital and succumb to the morphine.

“Yeah. Bye.”

She started to move towards the exit, knowing that they would have to decontaminate her before getting her into the ambulance, but was stopped on her way.

“Dr. Ambers!” Dr. Kimura called. “You said the cure would be hidden somewhere we wouldn’t suspect. What about Nichols’s inhaler?”

...smart.

Very smart.

“Bag it as evidence,” she ordered. “I have to hope this is it. But I can’t stay.”

The older woman nodded, likely seeing the sway as Lydia stood before her, or the sweat slipping down her neck. “Let’s get you to the hospital and I’ll have this sent to your lab.”

“Thank you,” Lydia said, smiling through the pain.

~ ~ ~

The rest of the day was a blur. Lydia had small snippets of memory: the moment Derek left to help the rest of the team, having the get hosed down and changed into a hospital gown outside of Nichols’s house, Spencer promising to meet her at the hospital. But after the fog cleared up from her mind she was positive that those would disappear as well.

She let her eyes crack open and swallowed a groan. Her nose was burning and itchy from the plastic tubes connecting her to a breathing machine and her voice was practically gone. She didn’t want to open her eyes fully because at the moment, her head was a dull ache, but she was sure the lights would cause a full blown migraine.

Spencer was holding onto her left hand with his right, his own left arm a makeshift pillow underneath his head.

On the opposite side of the room, Derek and Penelope were leaning against a wall, talking quietly. Morgan had a red Jell-O cup in his hand.

“You know, Derek,” she mumbled, softly, “I think hospital Jell-O is meant for the patients.”

They both looked over at her smiles spreading across their faces.

“Hey, kiddo,” Morgan said, matching her vocal level to not wake Spencer. “Hey doc,” he directed outside the room. “Look who’s back.”

Dr. Kimura wandered in next, standing at the edge of Lydia’s bed to speak to her. “Hey, Dr. Ambers. How are you feeling?”

“What happened?” she asked, glancing between her friends and the doctor.

“You’re gonna be alright,” Morgan prefaced. “And we got Brown. It’s over.”

“And the other patients? Did any of them…?”

“The four who were still alive are on the mend,” Garcia finally said, anxious to spread joy after the day she’d had. “You were right, Lydia. You saved them.”

“I didn’t-”

“Uh-uh,” Morgan interrupted. “I will have none of that. You put a lot on the line to find that cure. To find Brown. We all got a happy ending after what you did. Bask in it for a minute.”

She rolled her eyes teasingly and turned to check in on her boyfriend once more. He was still peacefully sleeping across his elbow, his long hair shielding his eyes from her.

“He was very worried for you,” Dr. Kimura told her.

“I was worried about him,” was all Lydia said, gently squeezing his hand.

“How long do you think you two are going to do this back and forth thing?” Morgan teased. “One of you is always worried about the other.”

“When we lose our impulse control,” Lydia replied, but stopped, thinking of something better. “When we lose our hearts.”

Tags: @kris-stuff, @wooya1224, @bispences, @anotherr-fine-mess, @eddysocs

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yeniayofnymeria · 4 years

Text

Which Stark daughter needed special attention? Arya or Sansa?

After Ned and His Love For His Children, i wanted to discuss about Arya’s and Sansa’s KL life...

I have read that some Sansa fans often claim that Sansa was traumatized at KL and Ned was a terrible father as he preferred to constantly take care of Arya instead of this daughter in need of attention.

The main reason for Sansa's alleged trauma is often attributed to the Lady's death. So, who is the Stark girl who was traumatized and depressed after the Mycah and Lady incident? Is it Sansa or Arya?

For this we will do something very simple, we will read the books (please don't read the pirate book where the character names are replaced, I'm talking about real books).

Just after the incident ...

When she saw him, she cried out and began to sob.

Ned went to one knee and took her in his arms. She was shaking. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“I know,” he said. She felt so tiny in his arms, nothing but a scrawny little girl. It was hard to see how she had caused so much trouble. “Are you hurt?”

After Mycah incident, Arya escapes the Lannister men alone in the forest for 3 days. She's hungry, scared and doesn't know what to do. Imagine being the star of a witch hunt when you were 8 years old, she probably even thought she would be killed when caught.

She blinked at her sister, then at the young prince. “I don’t know,” she said tearfully, looking as though she wanted to bolt. “I don’t remember. Everything happened so fast, I didn’t see...”

“You rotten!” Arya shrieked. She flew at her sister like an arrow, knocking Sansa down to the ground, pummeling her. “Liar, liar, liar, liar.”

“Arya, stop it!” Ned shouted. Jory pulled her off her sister, kicking. Sansa was pale and shaking as Ned lifted her back to her feet. “Are you hurt?” he asked, but she was staring at Arya, and she did not seem to hear.

Sansa was brought into the hall by her father to verify Arya. There is no doubt that Sansa was scared by this incident. We know she told her father everything when things were just happening, but now Sansa doesn't want to be here and is in a difficult situation ... because she has a sister on the one hand and her fiance on the other. She has to make a choice between the two, and this is emotionally challenging for Sansa, of course, this why there is tears in her eyes. As a result, though, Sansa chooses Joffrey and lies. This causes the Lady's death, and the slander on Mycah and Arya is not cleared. Arya, too, is enraged by her sister's betrayal of her and attacks her.

That was when Sansa finally seemed to comprehend. Her eyes were frightened as they went to her father. “He doesn’t mean Lady, does he?” She saw the truth on his face. “No,” she said. “No, not Lady, Lady didn’t bite anybody, she’s good...”

“Lady wasn’t there,” Arya shouted angrily. “You leave her alone!”

“Stop them,” Sansa pleaded, “don’t let them do it, please, please, it wasn’t Lady, it was Nymeria, Arya did it, you can’t, it wasn’t Lady, don’t let them hurt Lady, I’l make her be good, I promise, I promise...” She started to cry.

The reaction of the two sisters for the Lady. Naturally, Sansa reacts more to the harm to Lady because Lady is her wolf and innocent. As a result, Mycah and Lady die. This situation is very bad and sad for both Stark daughters.

What happened after the Stark girls came to KL? How long has this situation left them permanently damaged?

Sansa’s eyes had grown wide as the plates. “A tourney,” she breathed. She was seated between Septa Mordane and Jeyne Poole, as far from Arya as she could get without drawing a reproach from Father. “Wil we be permitted to go, Father?”

“You know my feelings, Sansa. It seems I must arrange Robert’s games and pretend to be honored for his sake. That does not mean I must subject my daughters to this fol y.”

“Oh, please,” Sansa said. “I want to see.”

Our first view of the two sisters after Trident. After hearing the news of the King's Hand tournament, Sansa is excited and wants to participate. After all, it is one of the places where knights play a leading role in songs and stories ...

What about Arya?

“I don’t care about their stupid tourney,” Arya said. She knew Prince Joffrey would be there, and she hated Prince Joffrey.

Sansa lifted her head. “It will be a splendid event. You shan’t be wanted.”

Anger flashed across Father’s face. “Enough, Sansa. More of that and you will change my mind. I am weary unto death of this endless war you two are fighting. You are sisters. I expect you to behave like sisters, is that understood?”

Sansa bit her lip and nodded. Arya lowered her face to stare sullenly at her plate. She could feel tears stinging her eyes. She rubbed them away angrily, determined not to cry.

The only sound was the clatter of knives and forks. “Pray excuse me,” her father announced to the table. “I find I have smal appetite tonight.” He walked from the hall.

After he was gone, Sansa exchanged excited whispers with Jeyne Poole.

...

No one talked to Arya. She didn’t care. She liked it that way. She would have eaten her meals alone in her bedchamber if they let her. Sometimes they did, when Father had to dine with the king or some lord or the envoys from this place or that place. The rest of the time, they ate in his solar, just him and her and Sansa. That was when Arya missed her brothers most. She wanted to tease Bran and play with baby Rickon and have Robb smile at her. She wanted Jon to muss up her hair and cal her “little sister” and finish her sentences with her. But al of them were gone.

She had no one left but Sansa, and Sansa wouldn’t even talk to her unless Father made her.

...

This was the first time they had supped with the men since arriving in King’s Landing. Arya hated it. She hated the sounds of their voices now, the way they laughed, the stories they told. They’d been her friends, she’d felt safe around them, but now she knew that was a lie. They’d let the queen kill Lady, that was horrible enough, but then the Hound found Mycah. Jeyne Poole had told Arya that he’d cut him up in so many pieces that they’d given him back to the butcher in a bag, and at first the poor man had thought it was a pig they’d slaughtered. And no one had raised a voice or drawn a blade or anything, not Harwin who always talked so bold, or Alyn who was going to be a knight, or Jory who was captain of the guard. Not even her father.

“He was my friend,” Arya whispered into her plate, so low that no one could hear. Her ribs sat there untouched, grown cold now, a thin film of grease congealing beneath them on the plate. Arya looked at them and felt il .

She pushed away from the table.“Pray, where do you think you are going, young lady?” Septa Mordane asked.

“I’m not hungry.” Arya found it an effort to remember her courtesies. “May I be excused, please?” she recited stiffly.

...

When the bar was down, Arya finally felt safe enough to cry.

She went to the window seat and sat there, sniffling, hating them all, and herself most of all. It was al her fault, everything bad that had happened. Sansa said so, and Jeyne too.

Arya isn't as excited about the tournament and her KL life as Sansa, and unlike her older sister, she doesn't want to be here. Arya is feeling very lonely right now because she feels so alone after what happened, Sansa prefers not to talk to her unless she has to. At such moments, Arya misses her other siblings.

In general, we see Arya trying to isolate herself from other people, and we often read that she is on the brink of crying crisis. These are often signs of the onset of depression; low interest in activities, deep sadness, pessimism, desire to cry, not enjoying anything, guilt, desire to be with loved ones again, loss of appetite ... In short, we see that Arya is in a very bad emotional situation.

Arya desperately wanted to explain, to make him see. “I was trying to learn, but...” Her eyes filled with tears. “I asked Mycah to practice with me.” The grief came on her al at once. She turned away, shaking. “I asked him,” she cried. “It was my fault, it was me...”

Suddenly her father’s arms were around her. He held her gently as she turned to him and sobbed against his chest. “No, sweet one,” he murmured. “Grieve for your friend, but never blame yourself. You did not kil the butcher’s boy. That murder lies at the Hound’s door, him and the cruel woman he serves.”

“I hate them,” Arya confided, red-faced, sniffling. “The Hound and the queen and the king and Prince Joffrey. I hate al of them. Joffrey lied, it wasn’t the way he said. I hate Sansa too. She did remember, she just lied so Joffrey would like her.”

...

“Let me tel you something about wolves, child. When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives. Summer is the time for squabbles. In winter, we must protect one another, keep each other warm, share our strengths. So if you must hate, Arya, hate those who would truly do us harm. Septa Mordane is a good woman, and Sansa... Sansa is your sister. You may be as different as the sun and the moon, but the same blood flows through both your hearts. You need her, as she needs you... and I need both of you, gods help me.”

He sounded so tired that it made Arya sad. “I don’t hate Sansa,” she told him. “Not truly.” It was only half a lie.

“I do not mean to frighten you, but neither will I lie to you. We have come to a dark dangerous place, child. This is not Winterfel . We have enemies who mean us ill. We cannot fight a war among ourselves. This willfulness of yours, the running off, the angry words, the disobedience... at home, these were only the summer games of a child. Here and now, with winter soon upon us, that is a different matter. It is time to begin growing up.”

“I will,” Arya vowed. She had never loved him so much as she did in that instant. “I can be strong too. I can be as strong as Robb.”

He held Needle out to her, hilt first. “Here.. ”

She looked at the sword with wonder in her eyes. For a moment she was afraid to touch it, afraid that if she reached for it it would be snatched away again, but then her father said, “Go on, it’s yours,” and she took it in her hand.

“I can keep it?” she said. “For true?”

“For true.” He smiled. “If I took it away, no doubt I’d find a morningstar hidden under your pillow within the fortnight. Try not to stab your sister, whatever the provocation.”

“I won’t. I promise.” Arya clutched Needle tightly to her chest as her father took his leave.

The next morning, as they broke their fast, she apologized to Septa Mordane and asked for her pardon. The septa peered at her suspiciously, but Father nodded.

Arya was on the verge of depression after a traumatic event as I mentioned above during her early days in KL. She was emotionally damaged. The result was that her friend was murdered terribly, the Lady was killed despite her innocence, and she had to drive Nymeria away from her, and Sansa never spoke properly to Arya again. It wouldn't be entirely wrong to say that Sansa and Jeyne also fed Arya's depression. They were constantly blaming Arya for everything that was going on, and Arya begins to blame herself on everything because she was emotionally traumatized.

She only gets out of this situation after her father realizes and speaks to her... Ned also allows Arya to take sword lessons to help her recover.

During this time, Sansa ...

Sansa rode to the Hand’s tourney with Septa Mordane and Jeyne Poole, in a litter with curtains of yellow silk so fine she could see right through them. They turned the whole world gold. Beyond the city walls, a hundred pavilions had been raised beside the river, and the common folk came out in the thousands to watch the games. The splendor of it al took Sansa’s breath away; the shining armor, the great chargers caparisoned in silver and gold, the shouts of the crowd, the banners snapping in the wind... and the knights themselves, the knights most of all.

“It is better than the songs,” she whispered when they found the places that her father had promised her, among the high lords and ladies. Sansa was dressed beautiful y that day, in a green gown that brought out the auburn of her hair, and she knew they were looking at her and smiling.

Sansa fulfills one of her dreams and gets the chance to watch the knights and heroes in the stories she heard. So happy and excited.

When Prince Joffrey seated himself to her right, she felt her throat tighten. He had not spoken a word to her since the awful thing had happened, and she had not dared to speak to him. At first she thought she hated him for what they’d done to Lady, but after Sansa had wept her eyes dry, she told herself that it had not been Joffrey’s doing, not truly. The queen had done it; she was the one to hate, her and Arya. Nothing bad would have happened except for Arya.

She could not hate Joffrey tonight. He was too beautiful to hate.

Do I have to make a special comment for this, I don't know. We have no doubt that Sansa felt sorry and cried for what happened and she was very sad that day too, and she even hated Cersei for a while and thought to hate Joffrey too, but then (she gave up because he was so beautiful) she was just hated Arya. She decided to hate her, it was all her fault. This is a typical mechanism of denial and reflection ... Actually the main culprits are Joffrey and Cersei, but the people Sansa preferred to blame are Arya and Mycah.

The servants kept the cups filled all night, yet afterward Sansa could not recall ever tasting the wine. She needed no wine. She was drunk on the magic of the night, giddy with glamour, swept away by beauties she had dreamt of al her life and never dared hope to know. Singers sat before the king’s pavilion, filling the dusk with music. A juggler kept a cascade of burning clubs spinning through the air. The king’s own fool, the pie-faced simpleton called Moon Boy, danced about on stilts, al in motley, making mock of everyone with such deft cruelty that Sansa wondered if he was simple after al . Even Septa Mordane was helpless before him; when he sang his little song about the High Septon, she laughed so hard she spilled wine on herself.

And Joffrey was the soul of courtesy. He talked to Sansa all night, showering her with compliments, making her laugh, sharing little bits of court gossip, explaining Moon Boy’s japes.

Sansa was so captivated that she quite forgot all her courtesies and ignored Septa Mordane, seated to her left.

This last quote reveals Sansa's mental state more clearly. His situation is fine, he is happy, excited, living in his dreams ... he has forgotten everything and everyone. In short, Sansa does not have a traumatic situation, emotionally, like Arya, she has not received any long-term damage.

Sansa didn't care for Mycah anyway, so she never thinks of him, and Lady ... cried a lot for her but now she is happy. Do not misunderstanding, there is no one who says that Sansa should live in grief forever, of course she has to leave this bad incident behind and look forward, but if there are claims like she was traumatized because of the Lady, depressed because of her, then we need to see Sansa is always in sorrow, pessimistic and constantly crying. We did not see. Sansa seems to have gotten through all that quickly, my KL is quickly caught up in her magical world and floating in her dreams ...

As a result, we saw that the two Stark girls were saddened, cried and grieved at the time of the incident, but it is not Sansa, who suffer trauma for a long time, it's Arya. So it is natural for Ned to be more concerned with the traumatized Arya, because she needs more special attention. After talking to Arya, Arya's situation quickly improves, and Ned does not need to pay special attention after that. How does that make Ned a terrible father? We are talking about a father who comes to the aid of his daughters when needed.

Please don't make unfair criticism about Ned. No doubt Ned had mistakes like everyone else, but he was a good father who loved his children wholeheartedly and took care of them as much as he could, just as Cat was a good mother, despite her faults.

Like Sansa, stop blaming everyone for everything except Sansa. Thank you.

#asoiaf #grrmartin #Arya Stark #ned stark #Sansa Stark #anti sansa stans #a game of thrones #anti arya stark stans

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sxveme-2 · 3 years

Text

hidden // din djarin

description: the life of nobility wasn't one for everyone. some would rather duck under the shadows around them, especially after a great betrayal to the name of a planet but despite being hidden, not everyone can avoid the blinding lights of danger. whether it be those after those who had escaped, or the poor bounty hunter who ended up picking her up. both with a large bounty on their heads. follow Cloak as she lives the days as an escaped noble, hiding from the eyes of serenno after the fall of count dooku, shacking up with one of the most sought after child and the mandalorian unfortunate enough to have a big heart.

chapter four: the one with a new title

warnings: violence, fight scenes

word count: 3000

"you know I shouldn't be teaching you these ways, princess." the commander chuckled as the young girl jogged towards him after the proper training session of new recruits was let out.

"commander boudir, what am I supposed to do if the castle is attacked though?" she sighed, placing her hands on her hips, tilting her head to the side.

"allow the guards to do their jobs, princess." he sighed, looking down at the young girl, "your father would have my neck if he found out I had even considered teaching you the ways of the soldiers." the man huffed, turning his attention back to bandaging his knuckles.

the tan skinned girl lowered her eyes and shook her head, loose brown curls dancing across her shoulders. she was prepared to train. she wore a pair of brown cargo pants and a simple white top, comfortable combat boots covering her feet. she was gifted the garments from a few of the vendors she would go see whenever she escaped from the castle or when the royal family did their rounds into the local village. they were her favourite things to wear, but she wasn't allowed to wear them around the royal family. she'd be absolutely shunned if she was found in something other than an unbearably heavy and uncomfortable dress.

widening her eyes and giving a signature pout, "please?" she asked, rocking back and fourth on the balls of her feet.

sighing, the man nodded and glanced down at the girl, "alright then. not for too long though, alright?"

grinning, the young girl took a few steps back and standing in the stance that he had taught her before. she had come to learn over the past while they had been training that she was quite the acrobat. and he had helped her hone those skills and use them to advantage when they would spar or practice. she just wanted to know how to defend herself for possible future instances, because maker knows that her father had a tendency to upset people. it wouldn't surprise her if there was an attack on the monarch.

"have you been practicing, princess?" he taunted.

the nineteen year old shrugged and tucked a stray piece of hair that had fallen from her braid, grinning up at the man. she loosened her shoulders and gripped her hands into fists. and the sparring began. the man went to strike and she ducked down, summersaulting between his legs, kicking the mans tailbone. she grinned as he stumbled forward, only catching himself on his hands. a laugh escaped his lips as he turned and looked over at the dark haired princess.

"not bad. you've always been good at thinking quickly." he taunted, motioning her forward, "alright, you haven't won yet. you know the rules, princess, you've gotta get me to fall."

-----

her eyes fixated on the dark pools of the attackers eyes. putting aside any reservations, she launched forward into action. she grabbed the woman's forearm and yanked her forward, stretching her opposite arm, pulling the serennian directly into the crook of her arm. the other girl hopped back up and kicked at the back of her knee, causing her to stumble forward. letting out a huff of annoyance, she turned back towards her. loosening her shoulders and gripping her hands into fists, she cocked her head in a menacing and taunting way.

rushing forward, the cloaked woman dropped down and swiped her legs sideways, taking the girl down as she grabbed the blaster on her hip, tossing it over her shoulder and out of her reach. she was quick to recover however, and jumped up and went to grab at her waist. but she was quicker, and gripped the commanders arm and twisted, snapping it over her shoulder before bending down and tossing her over her shoulder. flipping forward, she slammed the heel of her foot down into the olive skinned girl's back, a sick crack echoing through the area.

"you're good." the woman spat, coughing as she struggled to stand. using a magma rock to heave herself up, she chuckled, "you fight like a serennian."

lowering her eyes beneath her goggles, she launched once more. the other woman went to punch, but she took the opportunity to summersault between her legs and kick her lower back. but she didn't fall, but caught herself on the same magma rock that had helped her stand. muttering a curse, she used the rock to gain leverage and wrapped her arm around the others neck, kicking her leg around her waist and flipping forward, ending with tossing the dark haired opponent into a rock. not hard enough to kill, just hard enough to maim.

a sputtering cough came from the girl, as she struggled to stand once more, "maybe a bit dirtier than a serennian." she whispered, rolling onto her butt and leaning back against the rock, "seems like your pals may be having a few more issues though."

glancing over her shoulder, she scoffed at a few of the guards heading towards cara and mando with their backs pressed against one another. but luckily, there were only five soldiers left standing. glancing behind her, and then over at the child once more, she went charging forward. she slid forward on her hip and kicked out the back of one of their knees, before twisting and grabbing at his ankle, snapping it forward. grabbing a blaster that had fallen, she jumped onto her feet and shot it in the fallen soldiers chest. this caused a bit more of a distraction, and gave cara and mando a moment to attack the others.

before long, the only living member was that of her sister from the past. the woman that used to be her sister, more so. someone who she left and forgot about. a beacon of venom that followed her around like an unwanted pet. someone that if she could wipe from her memory, she would. and that sick, poison filled laugh echoed through the field, catching everyone's attention as they turned to her.

"what's so funny?" cara asked, placing her hand on her hip.

"mm nothing." she sputtered, wiping the blood from her chin, "she just fights like someone I haven't seen in a while." leta sighed, gesturing towards the cloaked girl standing next to mando.

"alright, let's get you off this planet." greef karga muttered as him and cara walked forward to handcuff the girl.

she lowered her eyes at the serennian's gaze. it sent a shiver down her spine, despite the multiple layers she wore to hide her true identity. clearing her throat, she wandered over towards the child, popping his hatch and smiling slightly under her mask at the beaming face that looked up at her. bending down, she plucked the small green creature from his blankets and cradled him into her shoulder, rocking back and fourth as he cooed softly at her.

"you're a good fighter." mando's voice echoed through his mask, as he walked up behind her, "why don't we update your job title."

turning, she looked up at the man with a quizzical look hidden underneath her mask, "and what would we update it to? ass kicking nanny?"

"how about partner. you can help me with the kid obviously, but also with the jobs. you're quick, you move quieter and faster than I do. it could be a benefit for everyone." he answered.

nodding, she agreed, "alright. doesn't sound too bad. do I get a pay raise?"

"don't push it."

"it would make sense!"

-----

"so what do you plan on doing with her?" mando asked as the two were walked back to the razor crest the day after the ambush.

apart of her wished she had spoken up and said that they would take the leader of the attack. that they'd turn her over to serenno, but she also knew that there was no punishment on that planet for leta, especially. the only real repercussions would be because of her failure to raid the area, and the loss of men. but they'd quickly move on, and begin the planning of the next raid. planning the next lives they'd take on their attempt to regain empire territory. but instead, she was only left to trust what the two had in mind for her sister. no say or opinion in the matter. which, she was slightly grateful for. since her emotions may cloud her judgement.

"might turn her over to the resistance," cara sighed, leaning on her left foot, "but she's serennian royalty. there might not be much that can be done."

"how do you know?" mando asked, shifting his own weight at the new piece of information.

"she has the tattoo on her arm," karga explained, "the house symbol of her father, and then an image depicting the meaning of her name. hers means joyful, though she seems to be anything but...why don't you guys take her? if you're heading that way."

she tensed up as he beckoned a few people forward. two men were holding onto the bruised princess, who had a sick grin still on her swollen lips. she shifted slightly where she stood, unable to meet the eyes of the raven haired girl that was being brought forward. she knew that she would be able to overpower her if she tried to step out of line, if they did take her with them in the end. but still, it created risks for her identity to be found out. especially when it was someone she had spent fifteen years with before she escaped. someone who probably knew even she smallest of her mannerisms. from the picking at her gloves to the touching of her covered cheek.

"sure. but if she acts up or mouths off I may have to put her in carbonite." mando sighed, grabbing the girls arm and tugging her over towards the ship, "thank you. we'll be off then."

waving one last time, the small group wandered up onto the ship. she wanted nothing more than to immediately shove the girl into the carbonite and keep her silent. but she knew that wouldn't end with a very pretty scene on serenno. if they were to return with the sole princess left, and the next heir to the throne since her own absence, she and mando would be in for a whirlwind of problems. serennian's aren't known for their kindness and their mercy. especially when it came to the already fragile system that was their new monarchy.

"you ever been to serenno?" mando asked as the lot climbed up to the upper story of the ship, all walking into the cockpit.

"no." she stated simply. if she talked too much, she knew that leta would pick up on her familiar tone. the melodic sounds of words and her accent.

but knowing mando, he would make her life a living hell for the trip and actually talk to her. something she despised. it had only been a few days since the two began their travels together, and already, she hated being in the same room as him without grogu or something of similar interest to discuss. she wasn't sure what it was about him, he just rubbed her the wrong way. and she'd be damned if he would make conversation with her the one time she needed to be silent. because that's just who he was.

"maker, you two should just have it out at one another with the amount of tension in this room." the princess huffed, readjusting her wrists in the shackles.

both crewmates whipped out a blaster and pointed it at the girls head. neither seemed to be in much of a joking mood, especially when it came to something as outlandish as the two of them getting together in that way. typically, it wouldn't be too big of a deal. but there was truly just something about mando that made her want to shove his own beskar staff right up his behind. maybe it was their first interaction with one another, or their seemingly similar personality types. she wasn't sure. she just knew she'd never view him in that way.

"alright let's relax there. wouldn't want whatever that womp rat thing is to see you two kill someone." she chidded, rolling her eyes.

"he's seen worse." mando retorted, starting the ship. he fell silent after that, as if waiting for the insult from the masked girl to come flying back, "wow. now sarcastic comment. is this growth?"

lowering her eyes beneath her goggles, she stood. her hands wrapped around grogu's torso and lifted the child from his carrier, tucking him into her side. sending a quick middle finger to the back of mando's head, she left the cockpit without a single word. she wanted to give him a jab back, it pained her she couldn't. but she did have a fairly noticeable tone to her voice, one she was sure the princess would pick up on. five years, she had gone without a single scare of who she was coming to the surface. but the moment she becomes connected to the one and only mandalorian she had seen, things start popping up. the first being her sister, and she could only guess what would be next.

"why don't we get you fed." she whispered when she was sure she was out of range of the others. she chuckled at the noises the child made in agreement with her statement, "what're we feeling today? portion bread?" she teased, grimacing at the idea of it. nodding at his obviously disgusted face, she turned back to the food storage, "how about some food rations?"

with a grin in return from the child, she sat him down and took out the container, straining her ears to try and pick up if any conversation was happening in the cockpit. but with the hum of the razor crest and the distance, she knew it was a long shot. the thing that pulled her back, however, was the small tug on her thumb from the child, urging her to continue feeding him.

"you're a needy little one aren't you buddy?"

-----

she knew it wouldn't take too long to arrive on serenno. but the day it took wasn't enough to prepare her for what she was going to see. it wasn't much different from when she left, which may have been the thing that set her on edge the most. she wanted to see some sort of change, that her father may have taken her leaving as a wakeup call. to change the ways of the monarchy, and better the system. but instead, it was the same. same guards, same poverty issues. the same dictatorship her father had sworn to change when he created the new system.

"you seem tense." mando stated, coming up behind the girl as she readjusted the light green cloak she would wear for the day, deciding the dark blue could cause a head or two to turn.

"well I heard your voice and it ruined my day." she retorted simply, glancing over her shoulder at him, "how is she?"

"surprisingly more enjoyable to sit in silence with than you." he quipped, closing the child's hatch and opening the ships.

"mm maybe you should make her your partner then. would you pay her more?"

"probably."

"mee waba u two doe best." I wish you two the best, she remarked in huttese, winking at the taller man before pulling her goggles over her eyes, walking down the ramp with the child's carrier following close behind her.

the air of serenno smacked her in the face like something from a nightmare. one of her reliving the days she would have while running through the trees after escaping from her father's intense control. the feeling of the soft land beneath her feet caused a wave of nausea to hit her like a train, knowing that she never planned on returning back to this place. she swore to live in isolation away from the horrid planet for the rest of her days. as far from the life of a royal as she could get, which is why she had landed in tatooine. but now...the same planet that had saved her, lead her right back home.

"seem familiar?" the sick voice of leta cooed as she walked down the ramp, being led by the mandalorian, "you seem a bit awe struck." she tanted, chuckling as she grabbed at her blaster.

"don't. you'll be executed if you kill her here." mando chidded, gesturing for her to follow him towards the large castle that stood at the top of the highest point in the planet.

"mee'd prefer da than hearing cheekta speak." I'd prefer that than hearing her speak, she scoffed in huttese once more. hoping the foreign language would mask that of her typical voice and accent.

"if you're going to keep speaking huttese I may just drop you off back on tatooine." mando threatened, earning a shrug from the girl. without another word from anyone, the three began their walk through the vast forest towards the large building.

where hopefully, they'd have a peaceful drop off. but then again, when had she ever gotten what she wanted? from being an escaped royal, to landing on a burnt planet with a destroyed ship, and then being unable to properly make a life on the planet, and then being picked up by a mandalorian and having her sister pop up. and now, she was back on her home planet. somewhere where she had nightmares about. reliving the traumatic experiences she was forced to live through at a young age. the same traumatic events she found herself reliving any moment she could. because they hurt more than any wound she may have felt throughout those same years. or any hunger pain she felt on tatooine, struggling to help peli provide and live.

so yeah, she wasn't expecting things to go well.

#din djarin #din dijarin fanfic #the mandalorian #mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian spoilers #original female character #the mandalorian fanfic #original character #grogu #baby yoda #star wars #star wars fanfic #angst #enemies to lovers #pedro pascal fanfic #fanfiction

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welcometoyournewhell · 5 years

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Feelings of Guilt

Bakugou feels that it’s his fault one of his and Kirishima’s twins are quirkless. He begins to contemplate why and compare his life to Midoriya’s. After a long, emotional break down, the two dads decide to relax a little.

“Okay man, your starting to scare me.” Bakugou looked up from the television as the other male entered the room. “I don’t have an obsession,” the other huffed as he lowered the volume. Another day was saved thanks to Deku... childless bastard!

Kirishima rolled his eyes before sitting on the couch next to him. His hair was wet from the shower and fell to his back. Taking a brush he shook his head. “Not that... and yes you are. I meant with the doctor’s apointment. You haven’t said much since, and I think you really upset Kieski.”

The blonde sighed as he took the brush. “Your doing it wrong.” The other stopped him. “Answer me.” He knew something was wrong. Wanting to brush his hair, dodging the questions. “I know this was why you wanted genetic children Bakugou. Do you hate her now or something?”

Taking the brush, the blonde looked down. “Of course not, idiot.” He refused to make eye contact with that other, nor did he comment about the lack of shirt.... or pants. He really did come straight from the shower. A single towel wrapped Kirishima’s lower half as they talked.

“I talked to her at dinner, I fed her. How would that equal hatred?” He was slowly working on a knot. “You did it to make her feel better, not because of your own feelings. You wanted her to stop feeling like you hate her, for her to smile. What are you thinking, Bakugou?”

Quirkless.... it was a word the blonde hated. He hated those weaker than him, he hated Deku especially. The other surpassed him by all means, he met Bakugou’s goal of becoming batter than All Might! And where did Ground Zero end up, married to his best friend and having twins while trying to hero on the side lines.

Even with both being employed... they didn’t bring home all that much. They weren’t rich. They had pretty normal jobs as Bakugou couldn’t control his temper and.... well... Kirishima didn’t stand out too much. He’d become what he hated the most, weak.

He was mad at his best friend for a while. He knew Kirishima made him weak, that’s why he never would call him a friend. Even dating they never called each other anything, same with now. “Ow.” Red met red before the blonde looked back down. He’d snagged a knot. “Sorry.”

He hadn’t answered the question. He wanted his kids to grow strong and kick ass! But... he should have known it wouldn’t happen. Hikari came out heavier than most babies, and nearly killed the surrogate. Whereas Kieski was so small... they thought she was going to die in Bakugou’s arms.

The doctor thought it may have something to do with the fact Hikari had both quirks.... and Kieski was quirkless. Not being sure how quirks really work as it was, the doctor could only make assumptions for twins and so on. The girl was so upset when they said she’d be quirkless that she wouldn’t talk.

The red head was gleaming though, she felt so proud to carry both parents’ quirks! They were so proud of her, so proud of both of them! But... he couldn't help but think back to Deku. But this wasn’t that damn nerd.... this was his baby. “I love her, a lot. She’s my baby, they both are.” He stopped brushing again.

“You’ve been starring off into space since we found out,” Kirishima stated softly. “It’s not a big deal, you said that to her. I.... I need you to be honest with me Baku. She’s our child, quirkless or not.” The other looked up in disgust. “What, you think I’ll disown her?”

The red head shrugged as he tried to take the brush back. “Well.... worse? I know you’d never go out of your way to hurt them... but look what you did to Midoriya. Look how you treat those with weak or no quirks.” He frowned a bit as the brush moved away from his hand. “Kitsuki.” Shit, first names were coming out.

“The only reason I think you let me near was because I could take your heat, and I don’t just mean your temper. Sure I’m not All Might powerful but... still.” The other wasn’t answering him. The brush started to separate the insane red locks again. “You said it yourself, I changed after they were born.” That wasn’t the response he needed to hear. Kirishma frowned as he looked back to the television.

Midoriya and Todoroki stood beside eachother triumphantly, the lives Kirishima and Bakugou had wanted. “You became nicer to me, you joke around a little and your more... motherly.” He shrugged a bit. “I.... dude your my best friend. Especially when it involves our kids, you can tell me.”

The brush stopped again as the blonde tilted Kirishima’s head down. “I don’t hate her, because it’s not her fault. It’s mine.”

Wait.... what? “Huh? How the hell is it your fault?” Always bashing on those below him... sure Bakugou wasn’t religious but maybe there was something out their punishing him. Or maybe it was because of his side of the family. Both he and Kirishima had kick ass quirks... and he wasn’t about to blame the other.

“It just seems it.” The name calling had pretty much stopped at this point. “Universe punishing me, family genetics, whatever it is... it feels like it’s my fault. I can’t describe it.” The other hummed a bit as he moved closer. “Kitsuki... you can talk to me.”

The other scoffed a bit. “I am, idiot! I’ve been. It just feels like it’s my fault she’s probably going to fucking die!” Tears were in his eyes. “Whoa, no one said anything about death!” The blonde moved into the damp, bare chest. “In this fucking world... there’s no room for those with out quirks. They’ll get killed by villains, or just natural shit. I... we almost lost her once. She can’t defend herself against ass holes like Hikari can.

“Like you, me, hell even fucking Deku! She’s going to die in this world. That’s why I’‘m upset. It’s my fault!” The red head held him close, shushing his sobs softly. “You have no control over what gentics are put where. Just because she has your hair... doesn’t mean it’s your fault.” Oh right... that was a thing too.

“She’s not going to die. Come on man, your Zero Ground! Yeah, that could put them both in more danger... but your her dad. We both are, and we’re both heroes!” Kirishima just wanted to cheer him up. He was glad to know Bakugou didn’t hate her.

The other shook his head, violently clawing at his face to stop the tears. Thedistraction came when lips met his. He felt grvity push him back as he fell on the couch, the red head following him quickly. Arms wrapped around his torso as lip found his face. “Your fine. You didn’t do anything. She’s safe. Kitsuki... please relax.”

He hadn’t seen Bakugou sob like this in years, it hurt like hell to watch. “She’s not going to die, it’s not your fault. We’re heroes you dummy, we can protect her.” They graduated from UA, they just... didn’t make the cut for paid heroism. The blonde peeked up at him before looking away.

The picture box showed images of Deku still. From the looks of it.. he had a family starting, and the paparazzi knew. Those kids would be in more danger than his own. It didn’t help any.... but he started to relax. Being held by Kirishima, burying his face into the calming scent. “I love you,” he muttered.

“I love you too.” After about an hour the blonde was totally calm. He gave up trying to “preserve his image” after he balled his eyes out while holding Kieski for the first time. Besides.... Kirishima has seen every part of his mind at this point. “Hey.” Red met red as the blonde looked up.

“Hm?” He was met with another kiss. It was soft... and pretty sweet. He smirked softly. “Your hair is so knotted now.” Kirishima huffed a bit. “Well who’s fault is that, Mr. I won’t let you do your own hair?!” He snorted a bit as he sat up so he was on the other’s lap.

“Yours, because your rip the shit out of it. If you want it long, you have to take care of it,” Bakugou retorted as he fixed the towel on the other. The red head giggled as the blonde purposely brushed against his sides. The areas hardened in preperation as hands found the towel.

“What, didn’t like the view?” Bakugou smirked a bit before flipping their positions. Kirishima knew he was screwed. “Don’t,” he squealed. His body was loosing the battle. His quirk failed him as his nerves prepped for torment. “Don’t you dare! No, no, noahahah!”

Shit! Man down, man down! The red head’s legs kicked out as he fought for freedom. Fingers played with his ribs, making him berserk. “Bakugou, you ass!” The blonde smiled as he started to tease his best friend. “Isn’t it a little unmanly to laugh and squeal so giddly?” The other blushed as he shoved at his husband.

“Don’t you start!” Oh... but he started. “All it takes is a brief movement of my fingers, or a look in my eye.... and you crumble. Though... maybe you enjoy being at my mercy. Perhaps you enjoy loosing all control to me.” With arms clamped to his sides, Kirishima covered his flustered face, screaming into his hands.

“You prick,” he muffly cried out. “What was that? The hands are making it a bit hard to hear shit hair. Maybe... you wanna move them?” Evil hands pulled back the shaking ones as an eviler grin made the red head shriek. “Your shshahahauch a fuckin’ thahaickle monster! Nahahah I hahate it!” Unlike the rest of UA... or a good portion of them, Kirishima’s quirk didn’t act up when he was being tickled.

It would save him in many fights if that was the case. His body had the reverse affect as it completely vanished if fingers scribbled anywhere near him. His brain and nerves messed with it somehow. “Bakugou!” The explosion man started to nibble on his love’s neck. “Yeah?”

Kirishima shook his head helplessly. “Too much, too much!” So manly. The blonde thought to tease him on it, but coming back up he blushed a bit. The red head looked so... god dammit. Bakugou hid his face in the smaller chest. Smal breathless giggles left the hardening man’s mouth.

His face was pink, his eyes glistened and were half lidded.... he looked adorable. It didn’t help his hair was played around his head. He just looked... so cute! “You are going to kill me one day with that.” The other ignored him... until he felt fingers on his own sides.

“Gah!” He collapsed on his husband best friend. “Yhahaou ass,” Bakugou squealed as fingers quickly took to his back. He was too ticklish there and the other knew it. It didn’t take long to reduce him to helples, breathless squeals and shrieks.

His arms were trapped about thirty minutes into their tickle fight. Childhood... well “teen-hood” memories kicking in as Kirishima didn’t skip a beat. He pinned the arms to his chest and hardened as the heat in Bakugou’s face and hands started to rise. His torso was completely exposed and fully taken advantage of.

Armpits tweaked, scratched at, and vibrated in. The ladders on either side of his body were slowly climbed and toyed with. His sides squeezed as and poked, and teh bit of tummy the red head could reach was mercilessly played with.

“Fhahahucking hell Kirishima!” He swore the other was out for blood. “It tickles, sthahahop!” Only with him would Bakugou ever yell such a thing. Only with the man he called family would he ever beg, ever let his walls down, and ever... do really anything with. Even his kids didn’t get to see this side of him.

Well... until now anyway. “Daddy, papa?” Shit! Oh wait, fuck the towel! Bakugou was released quickly, being shoved up as to check that everything was covered. as it was confirmed to be so, he let the breathless man collapse on him once more.

“Go back to bed Hikari, we’re just having a tickle fight.” They must have gotten too loud. Kirishima was a bit glad it wasn’t a school night. The smaller red head walked over anyway. Her little footie pajamas looked so cute! He wanted to just cuddle her!

Not very manly but... neither was playing dress up and tea parties. Both dads had to do it, there wasn’t a choice. She glared at them from behind one of Bakugou’s old shirts, waiting for the to move. The older red head sighed before he moved Bakugou over and placed one of his girl’s on the couch beside him.

“I’m gonna go change.” He played with his love’s blonde hair before walking back to the couch, a smaller child in his arms. A small smile came onto his face as the hot head took her, and just held her close. Upon coming back down... his heart melted. His little family had passed out on the couch, a large cuddle pile.

#bnha #my hero acadamia #ocs #kiribaku #domestic #family #tickling #kirishima eijirou #katsuki bakugou

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wizardsnwookies · 6 years

Text

FOC122817 - Smash and Grab

“I’m thinking we hit them hard and fast, rush in before anyone has a chance to understand what’s happening.” Vrssl’s face was tinted a pale green from the holo reconstruction of the club pieced together from the droid footage. Thanks to their new toy they now had mapped every inch of the building.

What they couldn’t see from the social media photos was the two hallways on either side of the bar. To the Right was nothing special, refreshers and an emergency fire door at the end of the hall. The Left was were all the goodies were.

Just past the VIP lounge was the storage room, Rugor knew from his crash course upon hire that this was where all the alcohol stock was. It also had a red light just above the door jamb, Karl told him this was lit whenever they were “entertaining” and if he saw it on, it would be best if he found something else to do.

Further down the hall was another fire door, just opposite a flight of stairs that led up to a short hallway and eventually a door on your right leading into the small office where Kara was being held.

“So what are we thinking? Distraction?” Rugor leaned back and examined the floor plan. The Whiphids downstairs would have to be taken out of the equation, otherwise upstairs would be a death trap.

GRROOOONK

“Normally I’d say go for it. But your face is all over the holo net after your fight with the Rancor. You step foot in there it may cause more problems than solve.” Vrssl shook his head, it was a shame too. Graalbar was usually their go to for this kind of thing, it would make things much more difficult if they had to bench him.

“What if we cut the power.” Vrssl perked as the idea struck him. “Where do you need to be to do that?”

“There’s a power box in the storage room, not a problem.” Rugor smiled.

“Ok, now we’re getting somewhere.” Vrssl leaned in and placed a finger into the hologram, distorting the image near the end of the hallway. “We cut the power. This is our entry, blow the fire door, go up the stairs and overwhelm them.”

“We have to make sure both the Zabrak and Aisha are upstairs before we do this. Best we do this after closing.”

“Right.” Vrssl nodded and pulled out his comm link. “I’ll get my explosives guy to hook us up with remote charges, should have them before you start your shift.”

Rugor stood and sighed to himself. An honest night’s work as a barback was far less exciting, and clean, as a scoundrel. They had come to the ship straight from the club and he still smelled of back water, syrup, and death-stick smoke.

“I’m going to hit the refreshers than get some sleep, wake me when we’re ready to go.”

The evening passed in much a similar fashion as the previous night had. Rugor did his duties as bar back, and during trips to grab more stock from in back he took the opportunity to plant the charges. The electrical box was easy enough, he had a valid excuse to be there, but the fire door was a little more tricky. It was just the briefest of moments when he should be collecting another bottle of sparkling Corellian wine that he chose. When the Whiphids were occupied keeping an eye on one of Aisha’s visitors, he found a blind spot in the camera system (as guided by Vrssl and his spy droid) and made the drop.

He watched the VIP lounge while he worked. Aisha rarely left, when she did it was either to the refreshers or upstairs to the office. But she had plenty of visitors. All night, people of all species came and went, welcomed up to the lounge for a brief chat in hushed tones, sometimes an exchange, but never more than a few minutes before leaving. Business conducted in plain sight. The Zabrak made only the briefest of appearances from upstairs, but when he did Rugor was careful to notice what appeared to be the hilt of a vibrblade on his hip.

Slowly the crowd lessened after last call was announced, the lights were turned on, and the cleaning began. He was wiping one of the tables clean when the last of the Whiphids on the floor disappeared into the security room.

“It’s go time.” He whispered in his comm link before pocketing it and braced himself.

---

Jan Van Eyre crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the woman on the lounge couch. This would be the third night in a row he would be camping out on the floor of the office just to keep an eye on her. He missed his bed, and he wished Aisha would make up her mind what to do.

The Togruta sat in the office chair and bit on her thumbnail, a bad habit she picked up somewhere, it was a signal she was thinking things through. Overthinking, most likely, but he wasn’t about to question her now.

“I don’t know why you’re fussing over this so much. Just kill me so I don’t have to look at you two for another night.” Kara was only half kidding, she was bored, cramped from the bindings, and was wondering when the rest of her crew were going to-

BOOM!!

The entire room shook and the lights went out overhead. Wafting in from the open door Kara could smell the distinct burn of explosive charge. One further, it had just a hint of spice to it. It really didn’t serve any purpose, it was an ego thing among bomb enthusiasts. Each maker had their own signature, something to tell others in the know that “I was here.” The hint of spice, specifically Kessel spice from the northern hemisphere, that was Vrssl’s.

“What was that?”

“What do you think Jan, it’s a raid!” Aisha drew her pistol and grabbed Kara by the collar and yanked her on her feet. “Take care of it.”

Jan nodded and took a deep breath, trying to find his “wind.” It was there, he was connected to it. Time to go to work.

The Zabrak drew his vibroblade and peered around the corner, the single whiphid guard in the office with them nervously follwed a few convenient paces behind. The smoke and dust from the explosion was still settling, but he could see light pouring in from the alley. They had blown down the fire door. He would see them soon.

Clank.

Clank

Droids. Jan readied himself before the shined, rounded torsos crested the stairs. Strange looking droids at that, although somewhat familiar. In unison they stepped up and lowered their right arms, fist clenched, and red light exploded from their wrists.

Jan felt his body jerk to one side, almost like an involuntary twitch. That tended to happen sometimes, he figured it was an extension of his instincts. Whatever it was, it saved his hide more often then not, so he learned to go with it. He followed the jerk and threw himself against the opposite wall and a scorched hole exploded from where he would have been.

His ears were ringing as the droids kept firing. Some kind of arm mounted repeater. A custom job, no way these are legal. Either way, his trembled in his hand and reminded him that all it would take was one swift cut and the threat would be over.

Jan was already running towards the droids when a third form towered from the darkness, uttering a beastly roar that hit him in his chest and told him something was very wrong. At first he thought it was a double cross, one of his own men had come to kill them and clean the whole place out. When the vibroaxe cut through his armor and bit into his chest he stumbled and in the glow of blaster fire saw that it was no Whipid he faced, but a Wookie.

Behind him the guard fired off round feebly trying to fend them off, doing what he was paid to, not to think. If he did, he would know his energy would probably be better spent running. Jan reached out and arm and let his “wind” explode out of him, it was all he could think to do. The air rippled, settling dust and smoke was pushed back into the air, a horrible THUNK sounded as both droids were dented horrible before they and the Wookie toppled over.

��Alright,” he though. “Let’s see if we can turn this around.”

---

Aisha huddled on the floor where she had thrown herself and her captive after what sounded like a small explosion hit just outside the door. No smoke, but the air pressure seemed to spike for a moment, and a gust of wind blew in through the open door.

“Alright, Jan’s got this. Just breath, we’re not done yet.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.”

Aisha turned and pointed her blaster at a small figure that already had his own repeating pistol trained on her.

“Impossible...how did you-”

“You should tell your buddy to be more aware of what happens below his knees, that is after you call him off.” Vrssl smiled and nodded to Kara who was grinning ear to ear.

“It’s about time you guys got here. They kept me in binders the entire time, even when I used the refresher! Seriously, who does that to someone?”

Outside another spike of air pressure blew in and a more sizable explosion was heard, only this time it was accompanied by the smell of acrid smoke. Vrssl sniffed and frowned, digging the barrel of the blaster into the top of the Togruta’s head.

“Ok, seriously. Call him off now, or I blow your brains out.”

Aisha looked into the creatures eyes and saw no bluff there. She was cornered. What killed her most was not knowing if Jan had the upper hand or not outside. She could roll the dice, call his bluff and hope Jan made his way back in before the worst could happen. Aisha let out a heavy sigh, knowing she was never much of a gambler.

“Jan, stand down. They’ve got the upper hand it seems.” Aisha glared back at Kara. This woman had been nothing but trouble for her.

A few moments passed before Jan entered the room, sword sheithed, and with a heavy gash across his chest. Behind him a lumbering wookie and...the bar back from the other night?

“What’s going on boss?” Rugor hung onto his pistol but had it lowered to keep the show going. Just before Aisha called the standoff he approached Graalbar from behind posing as if shoot him, hopefully get the Zabrak’s trust enough to get close for a fatal shot.

“It’s fine, just some business.” Aisha said.

“I wasn’t talking to you.” Rugor smiled and turned to Vrssl, much to the surprise of both Jan and Aisha.

“Well, Aisha was about to tell us where our money is.” Vrssl popped out a small pocket blade and tossed it to the gungan. “But first I think Kara would appreciate getting out of those binders.”

Aisha’s eyes darted between them all, trying to piece things together. She knew the wookie well enough, the fighter from the holos. Which meant Kara was in league with all three of them.

“Ah, so I take it you are the crew that took out Nik?”

“What does this have to do with our money?”

“I apologize, I was merely trying to re compensate a client.” Aisha let herself sit up a little straighter. They were talking, now this was a situation she could maneuver, maybe even get control over.

GRAAAAH ROOOONK

“He’s getting very impatient.”

“Right. The desk, there’s a button hidden on the edge of the top. Push it and a panel on the right side will open. It’s all there...I hadn’t gotten a chance to deposit it yet.”

Vrssl kept the blaster trained on her while Graalbar followed instructions. From inside the desk he pulled out a large soft bag that appeared to just barely be able to zip closed.

“That’s my duffel.” Kara acknowledged.

“OK, that’s a start, now let’s talk about compensation for our troubles.” Vrssl had no smile to offer, he knew what the acrid smoke meant. His droids were most likely scrap. After all that time and work...

“Of course. I’m willing to offer you fifty thousand if we can all just walk away from this.” Aisha felt the tension in the room ease a bit, credits had a tendency to do that.

Rugor looked at Vrrsl with a raised eyebrow. “That about cover it?”

“Kara? You were the one who was stuck here for three days.” Vrssl nodded her way and before he could finish his sentence the woman walked up and in a fluid movement threw her fist against Aisha’s draw, sending her sprawling onto the floor.

“EVEN IN THE REFRESHER!!!” Kara stood over her and yelled out her frustrations, satisfied to see a trail of blood appearing at the edge of Aisha’s lips.

“OK, yeah I deserved that. Again, nothing personal, I was just doing right by a client.” Aisha sat up, not bothering to wipe the blood from her lip. “He pays me quite a bit to keep his collection stocked.”

“A collector? Of Jedi and Sith artifacts...” This got Vrssl’s attention. Graakus’s little hobby didn’t bother him, it was something to inflate his ego. He didn’t plan on doing anything with them, someone else however might not be so inclined to be so passive. “Who?”

“I don’t know, and you know I wouldn’t tell you if I did.”

“So, you’re totally fine with handing off items of power to someone you have no idea about?”

“Credits are credits.” Aisha shrugged.

“So, you sent Nik?”

“I delegated the job to him, I have an organization to run. He said he had some connections he could work to get tips.”

The group exchanged glances. “One of them by the name of ‘Charmer?’”

“I wouldn’t know, you’d have to ask Nik.” Aisha was starting to get tired of this line of questioning. She needed to get things back on her own terms. “So, what happens now?”

“Now, you work for Graakus.”

Whatever Aisha was expecting out of this whole thing, it wasn’t this. “Then you might as well kill me. I would never work for that slime.”

“Don’t be dramatic, so you take a pay cut, big deal.” Vrssl rolled his eyes and put away his blaster for the moment. With Graalbar in the room he wasn’t worried about anyone trying anything stupid.

“It’s more than that.” Aisha’s eyes filled with a fire and her posture became rigid and erect. Behind him, Graalbar noticed the Zabrak mime her attributes instinctively. “Graakus deals with slaves. He deals in drugs. He deals with the Empire. There is nothing he won’t do just to keep him wallowing in his opulence, and look where that has taken the city around him. Huttown is a slum.

“Meanwhile, my organization works to keep the slavers and drug runners out of the metropolitan area. Our protection racket keeps them safe from the gangs that spill over from huttown. And we would never stoop so low as to sell our souls to the empire.”

Vrssl put his hands on his knees and knelt down, crooking his head curiously at her. “Are you a rebel sympathizer?”

“The rebels are idealistic fools. A ragtag group of people who got lucky and now have all hell reigning down on them. While I have no faith in them, I have sympathize with their cause.”

Vrssl stood and paced the room for a moment. She was an odd breed of crime lord, at least out of the ones he had encountered.

“So tell me, would you be willing to offer something else?”

Rugor raised his eyebrows at Vrssl in surprise and even the wookie through all his fur looked shocked at the question.

“After seeing what you have to offer here tonight. Absolutely, and I have your first job at that.” Aisha stood to her full height and settled her clothing. She was back on top again. “Kill Numb Nib!”

#Star Wars Saga Edition #role playing games #campaign diary #fistful of credits

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crankpendletonplays-blog · 7 years

Text

The Playbook- Jughead Jones

Pairing: Jughead x Reader

Description: Chuck asks Reader to homecoming, Jughead thinks its a bad idea. Turns out, he was right.

Warnings: Swearing, reader has sort of a mild panic attack, but nothing too serious. This was a request from an anon who liked one of the headcanons in the non-asexual Jughead list. Hope you guys like it!!!

----------------------------------------------------

I sat at a table in the student lounge by myself, waiting for my best friend Jughead. I had my sketch pad out, messing around and trying to keep myself busy.I didn’t really like sitting alone, because usually Reggie and his gang of man-children would take the attention of the student lounge, and I would be subjected to the torture that is their awful and offensive banter.I glanced around the room, uninterested, until my eyes caught the gaze of another, Chuck Clayton.

Chuck was caption of the football team, formerly co-caption with Jason Blossom before he was killed. I had never heard anything bad about him, and he sat next to me in my math class. I helped him out a bit with his schoolwork once in a while.He was actually a really kind person from what I could tell. Chuck stood up, walking towards me. I froze, wondering why in the hell anybody like Chuck Clayton would give me the time of day.

“Hey, y/n.” Chuck stood in front of me, smiling brightly.

“Uh, hey Chuck, are you having any trouble with the geometry homework?” I asked him, beginning to pull out my textbook from my bag.

“No, uh, I actually wanted to ask you something.” Chuck stopped me.“I was wondering if, maybe you’d like to uh, go to homecoming with me?” I froze again, taken back at his question.

“Me?“I looked around the room as if he may be confusing me with someone else.

"Yeah, you.” Chuck confirmed, chuckling a bit.

“Uh, o-ok, yeah, I’ll go with you.” I blushed, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. I didn’t see the harm in saying yes, he was a nice guy, and it wasn’t like anybody else would ever ask me.

“Great! Uh, are you free tomorrow? Maybe we could meet up after school and hang out or something?” Chuck offered.

“Alright, yeah, I can do that.”

“Cool, I’ll see you then.” Chuck grinned, walking back to his group of friends. ——————

“Hey, Juggie.” I smiled warmly at my friend, sliding in to the booth next to him. I laid my head on his shoulder, his screen open as he typed.

“Hey, y/n.” Jughead pressed a quick kiss to the top of my head before returning his attention to his novel.

“How was your day?” I asked him, looping my arm around his and scooting closer to cuddle in to his side.

“Oh, same old same old.Nothing interesting.” Jughead hummed, leaning his head against mine. Jughead wasn’t huge on showing affection in public, but he put up with me always cuddling in to his side.“How was yours?”

"Well, it was…interesting, to say the least."I sighed, taking a sip of the Jughead’s root beer.

"How so?”

“Well, Chuck Clayton asked me to homecoming.”

I felt Jughead tense before looking down at me with a shocked look on his face.

“What did you say?”

“I said sure.” I shrugged, taking another sip of his root beer.

“Are you feeling alright?” Jughead placed his hand over my forehead, as if he was checking to see if I had a fever. I swatted his hands away and slid over to the opposite booth seat.

"Quit it, Jug."I warned.

"This is a big deal!"Jughead fired, his hands waving wildly.

"It’s not!” I shot back.

"It’s the captain of the football team!”

"And?”

"And?Y/n, he’s only one of the biggest players at our whole school!You know about The Playbook!”

"Jughead, that’s just a silly rumor."I argued.Jughead slammed his laptop shut.

"I can’t believe you’re actually going to go to homecoming with that….that….that imbecile!”

"Jughead!Just because "that imbecile” is on the football team, doesn’t make him a bad person!“ I stood up, grabbing my backpack.

"Wait, y/n."Jughead reached for my wrist but I pulled away.

"I won’t be here tomorrow, I’m seeing Chuck after school.“ I paced out of the diner, ignoring Jughead’s protests. ——————– I hadn’t talk to Jughead all day, or Betty, or Veronica.The girls, Jughead, and Kevin seemed to be on some kind of mission, and I wasn’t going to talk to them anyways. I was sure Jughead told them all about Chuck asking me to homecoming.

When school was over, I waited in the library, where Chuck had texted me, asking me to meet up with him. I sat at a table in the corner, working on a book report until he showed. 10 minutes passed, which turned in to 20, then 30, then an hour, and I soon realized that I had been stood up. I gathered all my stuff and compiled it in to my backpack neatly, before zipping it up and swinging it over my shoulder. I pushed the bridge of my glasses up my nose and began to make my way out of the library. Jughead was going to gloat in all of his glory when I told him about what happened.

As I turned opened the door of the library, cold liquid was thrown in my face, drenching my front from head to toe. I gasped loudly, my eyes burning as I wiped the slush-like substance from my face.

"How’s your slushie, freak?!” I opened my eyes to Reggie holding a slushie cup, with about 5 or 6 guys laughing at m, one of them being Chuck.One of the jocks was holding a phone, recording the whole scene.

“Do you really think Chuck would ever ask a weirdo like you to homecoming?"One of the jocks laughed.

"News flash, nobody would ask you out even if you were the last girl on earth, you frigid bitch.”I looked at Chuck, hurt in my eyes.Chuck just smiled, before opening his mouth.

“Don’t take it too personal, y/n, it’s just-” Chuck kicked off the wall he was leaning against, strolling over to me.He leaned down so he was eye level to me."Nobody would ever waste their time on you.You’re not worth it.”

I shoved past Chuck, tears falling down my face. I ran down the hallways of the school, shoving the front doors open and running home as fast as I could.I swung my front door open, running past my mom and up the stairs.I heard my mother shout for me, but I just wanted to take a shower and crawl in to a hole and die.

I stripped off all my clothes and got in, rinsing the sticky drink out of my hair. After I was finished, I threw on some comfy clothes and wrapped a blanket around me, sitting on the edge of my bed.

“Honey.” My mom knocked on my door, opening it slowly.“You’ve gotta get ready, the football game is soon.” She took one look at me and knew something was wrong, sitting next to me on my bed.“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?"My mom rubbed my back soothingly.I fessed up, telling her everything, from yesterday when Chuck asked me out, to Jughead and I’s fight, to the slushie incident.

"Oh honey, I’m so so sorry."My mom pulled me in to her chest, embracing me tightly."If you don’t wanna go tonight, I completely understand.” My mom ran her fingers through my hair while my tears stained her shirt.

“No, I have to go, I promised Josie I’d sing with her tonight.” I wiped away my tears, taking a deep breath and calming myself down. After a few more minutes and my mom making promises to call the principal and “kick Chuck where the sun don’t shine”, she left my room so I could get ready for tonight.

I threw on the outfit I was wearing tonight and grabbed my coat, setting it on my bed with my purse and doing my hair.I did only a little bit of makeup, enough to cover up the fact that I had cried alone in my room for 3 hours, and then I slipped on my boots and went downstairs.

Archie was sat on my couch, swinging his keys around his finger. I loved on the other side of Betty, so he always offered to drive me to games, since he would be heading there anyways.

“Hey, Arch.” I smiled. Archie looked at me sadly before getting up and hugging me tightly.

“Okay, who died.” I joked, hugging my friend back.

“I know what Chuck did to you.” Archie whispered. My fingers clenched around the fabric of his varsity jacket.

“It’s okay.” I moved away so I could look at Archie.“Arch, it’s ok.”

“It’s not ok, it’s-” Archie began to yell and I caught his face in my hands, turning him to look at me.

“I’m.Ok.See?” I stood back and twirled a bit.“ No bumps, no bruises, just a stupid boy who thought he could get to me.” He had gotten to me, but I wasn’t going to let Archie, or anyone for that matter, know.

“Alright, well, Jughead and Betty are doing stuff for the blue and gold with Veronica and Kevin. They said they would meet us at the game, so…”

“Alright, well let’s get going!” I hugged my mom goodbye before leaving out my front door and climbing in to Mr. Andrews truck. —————– It was the third quarter of the game and the rest of my friends still hadn’t shown up, contrary to what Archie had told me earlier. I had long since performed on stage with Josie and was sitting alone on the bleachers. “Wow, you’re pathetic!” A girl called out to me, laughing with her friend while she pointed at her phone. I saw a video playing of me getting slushied, except on a loop, and Chuck’s words repeating in the background.

“Nobody would ever waste their time on you” “You’re not worth it” “You’re not worth it” “You’re not worth it”

I stood from the bleachers, running down the steps as fast as I could. Apparently, Chuck humiliating me in front of half the football team wasn’t enough?

I started hyperventilating, feeling everybody’s eyes on me as phones started to beep, the same video being sent to the whole school. People started laughing and whispering as they looked at me and I couldn’t stop myself from bursting in to tears.My vision was blurred and I started to feel trapped in a hole that was just getting smaller, and smaller, and smal-

“Y/n!"Somebody gripped my shoulders tightly, and I saw Veronica standing in front of me. she looked at me with concern on her face, her eyebrows raised as if looking for answers.

"Chuck…he…he…oh god, Ronnie, the whole school knows.” I wrapped my arms around her neck, collapsing in to her arms.

“Shhh, I know, I know.” Ronnie hugged me back, running her hand down my hair gently to calm me down as my body racked with sobs.

“We gotta go, ok? I don’t think Kevin can hold off Jughead much longer, and-”

“Wait, what?” I gave her the concerned look this time.

Listen, the reason we’re late is because we found the playbook.Its real, and it’s got almost every girl in it, you and I the newest victims.”

“Who put you in it?"I asked her.

"Chuck and I went on a date last night, and he sticky mapled me."Veronica explained.

"Sticky maple? What’s a sticky Ma-”

“Listen, I can tell you all about it later, but right now w-”

“We gotta go, like, now, Jughead is pissed.” Betty came running up the stairs.“I’ve never seen him like this, like, ever.”I followed Betty and Veronica down the bleachers, to the football fence where Kevin stood, his back facing us and his hands wrapped tightly around Jughead’s shoulders.Jughead himself looked like a raging bull seeing red, his nostrils flaring and his jaw clenched.When he saw me, he shoved Kevin out of the way, jogging towards me.

“Why didn’t you tell me what happened right away?!?!” Jughead cried.His palms went to my cheeks, wiping away the tears still falling down my face.

“I-I don’t know, we had gotten in to a fight, and I had left it off bad, and I-”

“Y/n, it’s ok, it’s ok, alright?I’m always here for you, always, I-”

“Well, well, well, looks like you can’t keep the freaks away from each other.Let me guess, it was you that helped him hide the body, right, weirdo?” Chuck leaned against the fence, helmet resting between his hip and forearm.

Jughead wrapped his hands around my shoulders and moved me gently so I wasn’t in front of him anymore before walking calmly up to Chuck, pulling his arm back, and clocking Chuck right in the jaw. Chuck went tumbling down, falling on his ass.

“Hey, freak show, wanna tussle?” Reggie came marching over, seeing the commotion.

“Listen, we all know you get your sexist views from the 50’s, but can you not use their lingo too? It kinda makes you look like a-"Reggie punched Jughead and I gasped. Jughead wiped the blood now coming from his mouth, spitting the rest at Reggie’s feet.

"A tool.” Jughead finished.

Reggie shoved Jughead and I came running forward, trying to block Reggie from Jughead. Reggie pushed me out of the way and I fell on my back.Jughead was already knocking his fists in to Reggie’s face, Reggie trying to block him. I began to go in again and was lifted in the air by Chuck, being thrown over his shoulder.

“Time to take out the trash!"Chuck laughed, hauling me off.I started screaming and thrashing in his arms, kicking my legs and waving my arms.

"Put her down!” Veronica screamed, shoving Chuck’s chest. Chuck pushed her down and Betty yelped, running over to help Ronnie up.

Archie began pulling Reggie off of Jughead, and he turned around to see me thrown over Chuck’s shoulder.Jug ran towards Chuck, doing anything he could to grab me from his arms.He kicked Chuck in the stomach, which caused him to stumble backward, and took the opportunity to grab me from his arms and pulling me away from Chuck.

“You’re fucking insane!” Chuck screamed.

“Says the one who tried to haul off with y/n!” Betty screamed back. Betty, Jughead, Kevin, and Archie now stood protectively around Veronica and I.

“What the hell is going on?” Principal Weatherbee hollered from the football field gate, Coach Clayton and the Mayor behind him.

“Chuck, you are in serious trouble!” The coach spoke to his son in a loud tone.

“Dad, they were the ones who-”

“Son, I know about the playbook.” The coach interrupted.“ And I’ve seen the video of what you did to that poor girl.Come on!” The coach grabbed Reggie and Chuck by the shoulders, dragging them back inside the football field and towards the school.The mayor and principal Weatherbee followed. —————– After the whole commotion at the game, Archie was benched, because he had a bloody nose after the fight with Reggie. Jughead had it way worse, a black eye now adorning the right side of his face and a swollen lip, as well as a busted nose to match that of his best friends. He had a few cuts and bruises on his upper body, but nothing a little first aid couldn’t help.

Jughead now stood in front of me in his pajamas. Archie had drove everyone back to Betty’s, and I immediately dragged Jughead to my house to clean him up while the girls and Kevin set up an impromptu movie night/sleepover to make up for the shitty events earlier on in the night.

“You’ve been eerily silent."Jughead broke the silence as I wiped the cut on his chin with hydrogen peroxide.Jughead hissed at the discomfort.

"I’m just-” I sighed, setting down the napkin in the counter next to me.“I’m an idiot.”

“Y/n, you’re not an idiot.”

“I should have listened to you though.You were right about Chuck and I still went through with it anyways and-” I trailed off, not wanting to relive this afternoon.

“As much as I love hearing you say I was right.” Jughead smiled proudly. “What you need to know is that, everything Chuck said about you is a lie.”

“It’s wasn’t, Jug, he was right."I shook my head, beginning to cry once more.

"No, y/n, don’t say that.” Jughead rested his hands on the counter by either side of my thighs, capturing me in his lean and firm frame.I looked up at him, my eyes red and puffy.

“Jughead, I’m not worth it. None of this was worth it. You getting a black eye and a busted lip and a bloody nose wasn’t worth it!I��m pathetic! I’m a freak, I’m-” I waved my hands around wildly, and Jughead caught my wrists with my hands, holding on to them firmly but gently.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Jughead spoke softly, yet loud enough to get my attention.I stopped, looking at him.“You are worth it, ok? In my mind, in my..my everything, you’re worth it.You have always been worth it and you always will be worth it.” Jughead’s hands went around my cheeks, his thumbs stroking the sides of my face lovingly.

And then I was kissing Jughead.

My fingers were tangled in his hair, his beanie cap knocked off and long forgotten on the tile floor somewhere, his arms pulling me flush to his body. My legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him even closer, and the only time we stopped was to catch our breath for a second before kissing again.

A muffled shout was heard and I tore away from Jughead, to see the girls standing at Betty’s kitchen window, their phones in hand, taking pictures of us. Archie appeared behind them, two thumbs up being thrown in the air.

“We have an audience.” I hid my face in the crook of his neck, my nervous laughs muffled.

“I noticed.” Jughead flipped them off and they giggled, shutting the curtains quickly.

“When we get over there, they’re in for it.” Jughead mumbled, dipping his head back down to kiss me again.

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