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selfignitingimagines · 3 years

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Stiles- Gone (Obsessed Part 2)

TW: Stalking

A/N- As I said in my last post, I wrote Obsessed almost two years ago. I always wanted to finish the story, but I never got around to it and fell off from posting for a long time. I decided to split this next part into two, because it was getting pretty long. Part 3 should be out soon. Part 1 is linked here.

“Where is everyone?”

Your quiet whisper caused your brother and Stiles to glance over at you. They seemed to be thinking the same thing.

Lydia’s birthday party was the event of the year. Actually, all of her parties were popular enough that she usually had to turn someone away. Now, as you stared out at her deserted back patio, the opposite seemed to be true. No one had even shown up, save for a couple people who had disappeared into the house a few minutes ago.

The deck surrounding Lydia’s pool had been artfully decorated with string lights. Several tables nearby were stacked with snacks and drinks, and she had even ordered a silver fountain that contained some kind of bright pink punch.

It was a shame that the only people out there to appreciate the hard work were you, Stiles, and Scott. You knew Allison was coming because you had gotten ready at her house with Lydia, but you had left separately and she had yet to show up.

Suddenly the sliding glass door opened behind you, and Allison stepped out onto the patio. Her dark hair was done up in an intricate braid, similar to the one Lydia had threaded your own hair into. She smiled at you as she walked over, but it didn’t meet her eyes.

“Jackson’s not here,” she informed the three of you.

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed. “No one’s here.”

“Maybe it’s just early,” Scott suggested.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Or maybe nobody’s coming because Lydia’s turned into the town whackjob.”

“Well we have to do something,” Allison insisted. “Because we’ve completely ignored her for the past two weeks.”

“She’s completely ignored Stiles for the past ten years.”

“I prefer to think of it as me not being on her radar,” Stiles told Scott.

Scott sighed. “We don’t owe her a party.”

“What about the chance to get back to normal?” you asked. “I mean, she wouldn’t be the town whackjob if it wasn’t for us.”

Scott’s face softened. “I guess I could use my co-captain status to get the lacrosse team here.”

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed. “Me and Y/n also know some people who can get this thing going. Like, really going.”

You grinned at him, knowing exactly what he was thinking, and Allison stared at the two of you in confusion. “Who?”

“We met them the other night,” you explained. “Let’s just say they know how to party.”

About half an hour later, Lydia’s house was filled to the brim with people. The entire lacrosse team arrived fashionably late, along with half the school. Even the drag queens you and Stiles met at Jungle had shown up.

As it turned out, no one cared if Lydia had run naked through the woods for several days. She still knew how to throw one hell of a party.

You were currently helping her hand out drinks near the back door as people continued to flow in. Stiles watched you longingly from across the pool. He thought you were beautiful all the time, but with your hair done up and the party lights shining down on you, he felt the undeniable urge to walk over and kiss you.

“What are you looking at?” Scott asked, following his gaze over to you.

“Uh, n-nothing,” Stiles sputtered. “Are you going to apologize to Allison?”

Scott frowned. “Why should I apologize?”

“Because you’re the guy,” Stiles reminded him. “It’s, like, what we do.”

“But I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then you should definitely apologize. See, anytime a dude thinks he hasn’t done anything wrong, it means he’s definitely done something wrong.”

“I’m not apologizing.”

Stiles raised his eyebrows. “Is that the full moon talking, buddy?”

“Probably,” Scott grumbled. “Why do you care anyway?”

Stiles threw up his hands in exasperation. “Because, Scott, something’s gotta go right here! I mean, we’re getting our asses royally kicked here, if you haven’t noticed. People are dying, I got my dad fired, you’re gonna be held back in school, I’m in love with your sister-”

Stiles suddenly let out a choking sound, realizing what he had just said. Scott stared at him with raised eyebrows, and then he let out a soft laugh. “I know, dude.”

“You...you do?”

Scott was looking at Stiles like he was stupid. “It’s pretty obvious. Plus, I heard you talking together in her room last night. You do remember I have super hearing, right?”

Stiles scratched the back of his neck. “Oh...right. Why didn’t you call us out on it?”

Scott shrugged. “I could tell something was wrong. I’m just glad she has you to talk to about it.”

Stiles nodded. “Everything’s so crazy right now. I don’t even know how we’d make it work, but if I don’t get the chance to find out, I’m going to stab myself in the face.”

“Don’t stab yourself in the face,” Scott said suddenly.

“Why not?”

“Because Jackson’s here,” Scott told him.

Stiles glanced over to the door. Sure enough, Jackson was walking into the party. Lydia smiled at him and placed a glass of punch in his hand.

“Glad you could make it,” she told him.

He simply nodded at her and walked over toward the pool, closer to Stiles and Scott. You watched as Lydia’s lips turned into an ugly frown, but she quickly plastered a smile back on her face.

“Maybe you should talk to him,” you suggested quietly.

Lydia let out a short laugh. “Please. He’s going to come talk to me by the end of the night. I refuse to chase after him...but I know he’ll probably be chasing after me later.”

You nervously glanced over at Jackson. If he was here, the person controlling him probably was too. Lydia had no idea how right she was.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that this party was going to end in disaster. The last thing you and the boys wanted was another dead body, but that seemed inevitable at this point.

“I’m going to bring some punch to Scott,” Lydia told you, scooping another cup off the clothed table. “I wanna figure out what’s going on with him and Allison.”

You nodded, and as she walked away, you saw the back door open once more. You put down the glass of punch you had been sipping on. It was almost finished anyway, and you had to take over giving them out now that Lydia was gone.

That was when you realized the figure walking through the door was Matt. You froze when his eyes landed on you. He stepped closer, and you wanted to turn away, but you were rooted to the spot.

“Can we talk?” he asked.

He looked sheepish, and you felt a twinge of sympathy. Matt didn’t look threatening. He had his hands nervously stuffed into his pockets, and he was rocking back on his heels.

Besides, you were in a house full of people. What could he possibly do to you?

You nodded, and walked into the house, gesturing for him to follow. “You get two minutes.”

You headed toward one of Lydia’s spare bedrooms in the packed hallway, weaving through the crowded house. When you stepped into the room, Matt reached out to close the doors. When he saw you eyeing him, he stopped.

“Right,” he muttered, propping the door back open. “So I know I took some pictures of you that I probably should have told you about...but is it really bad that I think you’re beautiful? And that I think you should be the subject of a perfect photograph?”

“Matt...I don’t even know how you got some of those pictures.”

“ A telephoto lens,” he informed you. “I mean, come on, Y/n. Photographers call them candids.”

“Well Stiles’ dad would call it stalking.”

Matt scoffed. “Stalking? So I’m a stalker now, is that it? You think my bedroom is wallpapered with your photos? You think I’m the type of guy that’s gonna say something like ‘If I can’t have her, no one can.’?”

A flash of bright red hair caught your attention as you looked past Matt. Lydia was weaving through the halls, pulling Stiles behind her as he grasped one of her hands. You felt your stomach flip.

You looked back to Matt, who was still talking. “Well you know what? Get over yourself, because there’s another pretty girl walking through the room every five minutes.”

You held up your hands. “Well then all you have to do is wait another three.”

“Y/n, wait!”

You strode past him, but he grabbed your arm, yanking you back to face him. The hair on the back of your neck stood up when you met Matt’s eyes. They were cold and angry, and they didn’t leave your face once.

Suddenly, he let you go. “Hey, I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. You must think I’m such a freak.”

He was back to being sheepish, self-deprecating Matt, but you weren’t sticking around to fall for the act any longer. You had to find Stiles and tell him what happened. The first chance you got, you were going to take his advice and go to the police.

You rushed out of the spare room and headed in the direction of Lydia and Stiles. They had disappeared down a deserted hall, and when you turned down it, you saw the two of them tucked into a corner.

Lydia had her hands resting on Stiles’ chest. He was leaning down and kissing her as his hands tangled in her strawberry blonde curls. You swallowed, and started to back up, but then he looked up at you.

His lips curled into a cruel smirk, and Lydia glanced over her shoulder at you.

“What?” he asked with a sharp laugh. “You actually thought I’d choose you instead of Lydia?”

Your throat went dry. You wanted to say something, to tell him that you thought he had cared about you the other night, but you couldn’t speak.

“Come on, Y/n,” Lydia chimed in. “You really think you could compete with me?”

“You’re Scott’s little sister,” Stiles continued. “Your little crush was never going to turn into anything.”

Stiles turned back to Lydia, and the two of them began to make out again. You stumbled back, bumping right into someone else.

“Hey, watch where you’re going!” A blonde girl in a tube top snapped.

You blinked, suddenly realizing that there were other people flowing through the hallway. When you looked back into the corner Stiles and Lydia had been in, it was empty, as if they had never been there at all.

You shook your head, trying to shake off what you had just seen. It wasn’t real, but it definitely felt like it. You stumbled back toward the pool, wanting to find the others. You had only had one full cup of that punch, but there was definitely something wrong with it.

You had only been drunk a few times before, but you had never hallucinated an entire conversation with two people. This had to be something else.

You tried to make your way back toward the living room, but you only made it as far as the kitchen. Lydia’s house seemed to blur before your eyes, and you realized that the punch had hit you harder than you thought.

You leaned back against the counter, but you ended up slowly sinking down to sit on the kitchen floor, too dizzy to stand up. You were probably only sitting there for a few minutes, but it felt like hours until you heard a familiar voice say your name.

“Y/n?”

It was Lydia. She was kneeling in front of you, clearly concerned. You felt a twinge of jealousy as you thought back to that scene in the hallway. You wanted to tell her to leave you alone, but you knew you had no real reason to be mad at her. Lydia didn’t actually have feelings for Stiles.

“Are you okay?” she asked. “Should I get Scott?” “No,” you said quickly. “He’ll be upset at me. What did you put in that punch?”

Lydia’s lips quirked up. “It’s a secret recipe. You should really be more careful, Y/n.”

“Is she okay?” you heard someone else ask.

You glanced up, but the other figure blurred as your head began to spin.

“I think I can handle this on my own, Jackson.”

“Do you want me to get her a bottle of water?”

“Uh, yeah, that would be great.”

A couple minutes later, a blurry hand was holding a water bottle in your face.

“Can you stay with her for a second? I actually have something I need to take care of.”

He must have said yes, because Jackson sat down next to you and opened the bottle. “You need to drink as much of this as you can.”

You eyed him carefully, and even in your drunken state, you managed to be suspicious.

“What?” he asked. “I can’t do something nice?”

You were silent, and he rolled his eyes. “Fine. Have a killer hangover in the morning. See if I care.”

The more you thought about it though, the more you realized Scott would be disappointed if you couldn’t sober up. So you took the bottle from Jackson’s hand and began to drink.

You didn’t know how long you were sitting there, but Lydia never came back, and Jackson eventually got up and left. Even after drinking the water, you felt terrible. In fact, you might have even felt worse.

The room was blurring around you, and you were getting sleepier by the second. When a pair of legs came into your view and stopped, you weren’t even concerned that you didn’t recognize them. You didn’t protest as arms came around your waist to steady you and pull you to your feet.

You felt something wet soaking into your dress, and you flinched away.

“It’s just water. I fell in the pool.”

“Stiles?” you mumbled, as you were led out of Lydia’s house.

“It’s okay,” a voice was telling you, but you were too out of it to realize who was talking. “We’re going to the jeep.”

Your head lolled onto the figure’s wet sleeve, and you caught sight of the stars, blurring above your head in the night sky.

“It’s pretty,” you mumbled.

“It is,” the voice agreed.

Stiles laid you in the passenger seat. He clicked the seatbelt across your chest and shut the doors. You ran your fingers along the seat and the door, feeling the smooth leather interior.

“This isn’t the jeep,” you realized sleepily.

The car was too sleek. It was too nice to be Stiles’.

“It’s okay, we’re just going home.”

Steady fingers tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. You felt sicker by the second, and it wasn’t just because of the alcohol. “Where’s Stiles?”

When you heard the driver’s side door shut, you looked over to see who had rescued you. You felt your stomach drop.

“Matt,” you choked.

He looked over at you and smiled. You reached up, weakly fumbling with the door handle, but your fingers kept slipping. Everything was too blurry, and Matt wasn’t offering any help either.

“No,” you whispered. “Please let me out.”

He laughed softly and hushed you, reaching out to grab your hand. He squeezed your trembling fingers and smiled. “It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

“No,” you kept mumbling, but as Matt started the car, you began to fade.

You watched as the streetlights passed through the window, blurring into gold and white blobs. With your eyes slowly drifting shut, you wondered where your brother was. How long would it take Scott and Stiles to realize you were gone? Would they be able to find you? And if they weren’t, what would Matt do to you?

-----

“The cops are here!”

All of Lydia’s guests scattered from around the pool. Scott grabbed Stiles by the arm and tugged him back from the panicking crowd.

“Where’s Matt?” he demanded. “Where did he go?”

They scanned the crowd, but Matt, along with Jackson, was gone.

“Wait, Scott, have you seen your sister?” Stiles asked.

“Not for a while.”

Stiles went pale. “We need to find her.”

“Why?” Scott demanded, grabbing Stiles’ shoulder before he could turn away. “What do you know that I don’t?” The horrified look in his friend’s eyes sent an uneasy chill through Scott. “Stiles?”

“Matt was watching her,” Stiles admitted. “She told me last night that he was taking pictures, stalking her. She saw them when he left his camera in the car. I wanted to tell you, but there wasn’t time…”

Scott felt the air leave his lungs. If Matt was controlling the Kanima and he got his hands on you, there was nothing you could do to protect yourself.

Together, he and Stiles searched through Lydia’s house, narrowly avoiding the cops outside. His attempts to catch a scent failed, and they had no idea where Matt would have taken you.

Allison had left a few minutes before the cops showed up with no explanation. Scott never got the chance to ask her about it, but he was willing to bet it had something to do with her family. His texts to her had gone unanswered, so he had to assume she hadn’t seen you.

Lydia was nowhere to be found either, but Scott was able to track her scent to the treeline at the edge of her property. It was strange, though she could have just been taking a walk to clear her head. You were his biggest priority right now, and neither he or Stiles could find any trace of you.

“We have to call the police,” Scott told him after they finished. “She’s gone.”

Stiles nodded, running a nervous hand through his hair. They were standing in Lydia’s driveway, gazing out into the dark neighborhood. The cops were long gone by now, but Stiles had a feeling they wouldn’t take your disappearance seriously. It was a party, you had been drinking, and everyone had scattered.

Stiles had grown up with most of the police officers at the station. He knew the way they thought. He knew how plausible it was for them to assume you were just laying low for a while, trying to avoid getting busted for underage drinking.

“No,” Stiles told Scott. “We have to call my dad.”

“Isn’t he still mad at you?”

“It doesn’t matter. If Matt’s willing to kill the people who piss him off, what do you think he’s gonna do to Y/n when she rejects him?”

Scott didn’t answer. All he could think about was the way Matt’s victims had been ripped apart by the Kanima. If he was really obsessed with you, maybe he wouldn’t hurt you, but they had no way of knowing for sure. They could only hope that you were clever enough to stay alive as they raced to find you.

#tw stalking #teen wolf #selfignitingimagines #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski imagines #Teen Wolf Ships #teen wolf imagines

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merlinistheredheadedstepchild · 4 years

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10 Co-Captain – August 1, 2011

They won the lacrosse game but Stiles never showed Scott is very concerned But this means they’re going to state

Allison congratulates him and then they have a moment and then Chris makes her leave

Its three days until Jackson’s deadline but its also three days until winter formal and Jackson says if he gets the bite he’ll help Scott get Allison back

Every time Scott got the ball he passed it to Danny So Danny accepts his apology For bashing his head in

Then the lights go out and things get spooky and Scott does not respond like a guy who knows he lives in a horror movie even though a lacrosse ball rolls creepily across the room

It’s just Derek Lurking in the showers Of the boys locker room Totally normal

Peter reveals that when he was in high school they played basket ball

“I am not helping you kill people” “Well I don’t wanna kill all of them”

“You’re on his side? Are you forgetting the part where he killed your sister” “It was a mistake. it happens”

Does Derek actually believe that or does he need to believe it or is he just hoping to stay alive long enough to fix things His face says trust issues

So he shows Scott his perspective and we see a bunch of people trying to escape out of the barred basement windows in the Hale house and we get the only time Laura ever speaks on the show

Is she name Laura because of twin peaks? probably

This song is very peppy for Scott being mentally tortured And in bursts Stiles freaked out and with some news Scott already knows

And then we cut to Allison sleeping and the really beautifully shot dream sequence

And then Allison wakes up and realizes she’s lost her necklace And when she goes to her car to check Kate and her dad come in and she hides to listen to them talk Kate thinks it’s past time to teach Allison Chris keeps saying not yet

Jackson is blowing off some steam doing donuts in a parking lot and his car goes haywire And of course Chris is there to help

Then Allison and Lydia are walking through the woods with archery gear and Allison is very willing to go to the formal with Jackson because Lydia made out with Scott in the coaches office

Chris gets his creep on asking Jackson about the claw marks and now that Jackson knows he’s a hunter he is not keeping his cool Stiles and Scott ride in with some heavy metal to the rescue Chris removes his little, what is it, an emp device? And starts the car

Scott tells Jackson that Chris thinks that Jackson is the second beta Scott is worried about keeping Jackson alive Stiles is worried about his jeep And Scott is worried about stiles And it’s sweet That Stiles doesn’t see it

“It ruins your life” “It ruined your life”

Scott really hates being a werewolf Jackson really hates being human

Allison’s learning about incendiary arrows in the woods

“What if that nothing is something and the something is something dangerous?” “Shoot it.” And then she lets out a little squeak

Allison ends up shoot Scott with the stun gun He returns her necklace and she’s so happy

I love this song

She’s so infatuated with him but she cant handle the lying

God, Stiles even moves like that in his house He wants to help his dad with police work The Sheriff asks for an ounce of whiskey and Stiles over serves him hoping to find things out He is instant drunk Derek would apparently be easier to find if they had a picture of him We get to see Derek’s mug shot

The bus driver was the insurance investigator Terminated under suspicion of fraud The video store clerk who got his throat slashed Convicted felon history of arson The two guys in the wood Priors including arson What about the janitor?

Stiles feels like a bad person because he is a bad person getting his dad drunk

Allison comes over to talk to Scott

The sheriff gets drunk

“If Derek Hale wanted to kill all the people involved with the fire why start with his sister and why make them look like animal attacks?”

“Wild animal reports have gone up 70% over the last few months.”

“Like something’s scaring them out.”

And then he gets nostalgic and he misses spending time with his kid and fucking kill me, I’m thirty and I think this dad is my favorite character. And Stiles needs to make a phone call and the Sheriff says ‘I miss your mom’ and goes to pour more whiskey and Stiles stops him and this song is killing me with the Stilinski family feels The fucking wedding ring!

Allison tells scott that she thinks her family is lying to her and she starts to say something about Derek But then Melissa comes in all ready for her date and scott goes to get the door And it’s Peter Surprise, bitch

“The top five most impotent sounding threats”

How old is Melisa? How old is Peter? I thought he was supposed to be like, 28, 29 But they’re going on a date and she’s late 30’s Get it girl

Peter is trying to manipulate and threaten Scott into joining him by using Melissa God Peter has a great smile

And Jackson pumping iron to What is that? Heavy techno?

And then Derek gets his creep on by appearing yet again and changing Jackson’s music to something so fucking upbeat it shouldn’t even be in the same room as him

Jackson tries to front He’s bad at it

Hoechlin may have the world’s most perfect jaw

Derek psycho analyzes the shit out of him He’s recruiting for Peter And he’s smiling And I’m fucking shook

And of course Kate’s following them

Peter’s façade slips and he gets all weird about Melissa’s skin and goes a little red eyed And then Stiles rear ends them Cause sometimes Scotty’s got skills

“Whiplash! You hit us!”

Peter lets Scott know that he’s also after Jackson So he runs to help

Derek takes Jackson to the Hale house and tells him to go in Jackson’s worrying about the building collapsing Derek looks like somebody who’s trying to convince someone to enter a building to die with out letting on about the dying part

“It’s gonna be alright. Trust me”

Derek no one should trust you when you say that

Jackson tells him that he dreamt the house And realizes that he’s probably about to die and starts crying

Derek points out that the reason Jackson deserves it (is it the bite or to die?) is because no one cares that he’s alone in the woods with a serial killer

Fucking dramatic Scott

“Fine I’ll kill you too”

So was he planning on just straight up murdering Jackson to keep their secret?

And hunters

Derek was ready to kill you and three seconds later he’s willing to die for you He’s a complicated fellow

Scott gets shot in the chest and is immediately bleeding black Where exactly did Jackson go? Scott made it out the back and Derek went out the front

And then Deaton finds Scott and carries him out of the woods to the clinic and fixes him He says 90% of the time he’s treating cats and dogs Is a doctor for other supes?

Kate takes Allison to a serial killer dungeon Which I think is the hale house basement

Again Excellent song choice

End episode ten

#teen wolf #tw s1 #tw rewatch #co-captain #1.10

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musicalluna · 5 years

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it happens

this is for @arukou-arukou and it too me much longer than I intended but! steve-centric team fluff with Steve having a panic attack

The asphalt beneath Steve's boots is so hot he can feel it on his face. The police are wrapping up the scene around him, two hundred yards up the street in either direction, and the rest of the team is reporting their movements as they reassemble. He's surveying everything, taking his first easy breath after the action, when a sudden rush of heat that has nothing to do with the weather boils up in his chest and into his face. His heart starts to race.

The fight's been over for almost twenty minutes and there's no ongoing threat. The officers are relaxed, ambling along while they work.

Meanwhile, Steve stands in the middle of an empty street, heart pounding harder than it ever did during the fight. His whole body locks up, and he abruptly can't breathe.

–

Natasha emerges from between two police cruisers and spots Steve standing in the middle of the street. There's something very wrong in his posture. She keys her comm.

“Cap?”

He doesn't answer and even from a hundred yards away she can see his chest heaving. She breaks into a jog.

“Cap,” she calls again over the comm, trying to keep her movements casual. She doesn't want to attract unnecessary attention.

Then Steve folds to the street and she stops caring, breaking into a sprint.

“Steve!”

Thor touches down midway between them and Natasha races straight past him, dropping to her knees at Steve's side. His eyes snap up to her face and he reaches out, hands shaking. His face is starting to glisten with sweat, his blue eyes huge.

“Nat,” he gasps. “Nat, I think—” His hands drop to the asphalt, curling into fists. “Something's wrong.”

“Stark, get down here, now,” she barks into the comm.

“What has happened?” Thor asks. “Are you not well?”

She puts a hand on Steve's knee, suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that, while he’s technically older than her, he's lived less years than she has. He's only twenty-six. Right now, hunched over and gasping, with terror written all over his face he looks even younger.

Natasha realizes she's never seen him scared before. She's never wanted to take care of anyone as badly as she does right now.

“It's okay,” she assures him. “Steve, you're going to be okay. Breathe with me.”

“What's going on?” Tony demands, touching down carefully next to them. “Cap? Were you hit?”

Steve shakes his head, but it's barely noticeable with the way he's quivering from head to toe.

“He says something's wrong,” Natasha tells Tony. “Can you do a scan?”

“Already on it,” Tony replies grimly. Despite the suit's voice modulation, Natasha can tell he's anxious.

Steve hunches forward, curling over his knees. “Oh, god,” he says in a small voice. “Nat. I think—I think it’s bad.”

That scares her. Steve has literally been at death’s door and said nothing. She grabs his hand, squeezes it. “We are not going to let that happen, Steve.”

“Certainly not,” Thor adds, crouching down. He’s keeping his distance, giving Steve space.

Clint jogs up and bends over, hands on his knees. “What’s going on?” he pants. Natasha ignores him because Steve looks petrified.

“You're not dying,” Tony says decisively.

“Dying, what the hell did I miss?” Clint demands.

“I'm not?” Steve starts to shake his head, obviously not believing it.

“No.” Natasha's only slightly surprised when Tony kneels down next to them, the faceplate retracting so he can look Steve in the eye. “Steve, you’re having a panic attack.”

The knot in Natasha’s stomach unwinds, the relief making her muscles weak. This they can handle.

“What?” Steve's brow furrows. “That can't be—check—check again, Tony, are you sure? I can't breathe—”

“Yes, you can,” she and Tony say at the same time.

“Hey, listen, the first time I had a panic attack I thought I'd been poisoned, okay? I get it. This is the worst feeling. But I promise you, J scanned your vitals and aside from an elevated heart rate, you're golden. This sucks ass, but it’ll pass.”

“Why is this happening?” Steve asks miserably.

That makes Tony shrug helplessly. “Sometimes our brains just suck.”

“This has happened to you?”

Tony huffs. “Yeah, more than a few times. Thanks, New York.”

Steve looks up at him, concern briefly beating out the fear on his face. “That caused it?”

Tony half shrugs. “Seeing what I saw? Yeah.”

Behind them, Clint and Thor have headed off some first responders who have noticed something is up.

“This is awful,” Steve mutters, head dropping forward. “I had no idea you went through that.”

Tony cups the back of Steve’s neck, his smile going a little crooked. “Well, yeah, that was kind of the point.”

Steve looks pained. “You don’t have to do that, Tony.”

Natasha elbows him, even though he probably can’t even feel it through the armor. “Yeah, Tony.”

“Uh, last I checked we were talking about Steve. How you doing, huh?”

With a little surprise in his voice, Steve says, “Better. Wiped. Feels like I’ve been on a marathon mission.”

“Yeah, takes it out of you doesn’t it?”

Steve doesn’t answer, his attention drifting to the busy street around them. The first responders are keeping their distance, but they’re getting looks from every direction. Steve grimaces, drawing himself up.

“Ignore them,” Natasha instructs him.

“They saw,” he mutters.

“No one’s gonna risk being the asshole judging Captain America,” Clint says breezily. “Forget it.”

“Come on,” Tony says, rising. “Let’s go home.” He gives Steve a hand up and Thor puts a steadying hand on his back, rising with them. Natasha gets to her feet.

“I’ll take care of things here.”

Steve looks around the street again, obviously reluctant—he hates leaving a job unfinished—but he’s leaning heavily into Tony and the exhaustion wins out. “Report back.”

“Of course,” Nat says with a nod.

Tony loops an arm around Steve’s waist and Steve steps onto his boot. “We won’t wait up,” Tony says lightly.

They take off at a sedate pace, Tony obviously taking care with his cargo. Natasha imagines they’ll go home and get changed into something comfortable and Steve will ask more questions about Tony’s panic attacks, less embarrassed without the rest of them there. Just the two of them, Tony will be more serious in his replies, more blatantly vulnerable. Then they’ll sprawl on the couch because Steve won’t want to be alone and that’s where she and the others will find them when they get home, Steve probably passed out and drooling on Tony’s shoulder, and they’ll join them.

Because that’s what they do.

–

Turns out she’s right about the drool, but wrong about the location. Steve’s drooling on Tony’s thigh where his head’s pillowed.

“How long have you been like this?” she asks.

Tony shrugs. “He’s less freaked out. Worth it.”

Natasha smiles.

#Natasha romanova #Steve rogers #Tony stark #team fic #emotional hurt/comfort #panic attack #hurt!steve rogers #kinda #captain america #black widow #iron man #fluff #arukou arukou

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millicent231-watt · 5 years

Text

(AoT) You Dummy - Jean X Reader

Anime / Crossover: Attack on Titan

Songs: None

Request: None

Modern AU: No

NSFW/R-18: No

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SPOILER FOR START OF FIRST SEASON

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Your POV

My horse, Nephthys (who was named after the Egyptian goddess), rubs her snout against my hand as I reached up and patted her. She licked my hand and I grab her a carrot. Us Scouts had just come back from surveying the area and were waiting for the new recruits arrive at HQ. "I hate people." I say to myself without caring if anyone had heard me. "Y/N!" I hear Corporal Levi yell at me and I turn to him, saluting. "Yes, Sir?" I ask and he waves off my salute. "Don't say things like that around the rest of the cadets. They already have enough mental problems going on with all their comrades dying, they don't need you against them." I nod my head and lower it. "I'm sorry Sir. Thank you for letting me know. I'll try my best to improve my mood." I say before bowing and he walks away.

Captain's right, I need to be more positive around others. I think to myself before I hear a horses whinny and we all turn our heads to the carts carrying all new faces that were probably gonna be dead within the next 2 weeks. I watch as Eren smiles after waving to them. He must know them. I snarl at some two-tone haired fucker who was staring at me. I feel someone nudge my side and I turn back to see who it was. "What did I say?" Captain Levi asks me and I turn back to the horse I was scowling at and smile at him.

Jean's POV

I sat in the back of an old, wooden cart along with Sasha, Connie and the rest of the cadets who decided to join the scouts. I see Eren smiling and running over to Mikasa's cart as it pulls up to a stop. Damn you, you titan bastard. I think before turning my head to get out and landing my eyes on the most perfect girl I've ever seen. More perfect than Mikasa, which I thought was impossible. She was short with long black hair, actually, she was shorter than Humanities shortest- I mean strongest. She turns around and she scowls at me, even so, she was beautiful. It wasn't long before Captain Levi nudged her and she sighed, turned to me and smiled. An angel? I hear Connie laughing at me and I turn to him angrily. "What?!' I yell at him, but he just laughs harder. "Your face!" He says before Sasha walks over and starts laughing as well. "It's so red!" I storm off while telling them to shut up.

Your POV

I shrug off his angry exit before patting my horse again. "Go help the cadets Eren." I hear corporal say before a 'Yes, Sir!' was heard. "Y/N." He says and I turn to him. "You may go back to your room and finish off those reports on your ODM gear." I nod my head, salute him and begin walking off. "Actually, I want you to go around to each of the new rooms and make sure that the new recruits are getting on well. I'll give you an extension on the paperwork. The new recruits are nervous, fix that." I nod my head and salute him again before walking off to the area of the building that held all the rooms for the cadets. I sigh as I hear crying and murmuring, but it was nothing new in the scouts. I open the door to the Cadet room hallway and everyone turns to face me, girls on one side and boys on the other.

"How is everyone?" I ask and they all turn their heads with a look of guilt and sadness. "Everyone getting on alright?" I ask, but yet again, no answer. I sigh and cross my arms. "Everyone put your things down." I order and they all obey. "Outside, come on." I say as I gesture them outside to a small garden that was mainly used for us cats to recollect our selves if we were freaking out after or before an expedition, and it proved helpful. Everyone slumps outside and I follow behind them, making sure they don't go anywhere else. Once everyone is outside I hear a few gasps as they look around. "This is where you can come and calm down if you are feeling stressed. Before or after an expedition expect a lot of people in here." I say and they all begin walking around the garden.

"We can't be out here too long, you're supposed to be getting settled in." I say and they all turn to me. "Sorry for making you take us out here, we'll go back in now." Two-tone says before I push him back into the group. "You can go back soon, but not yet." I say and they all look at me, confused about what I was doing. "It's obvious that you're all nervous and scared to be here, I could tell just by looking at you when you arrived. Corporal Levi noticed it too." I say before sighing. "Listen, I know you think you've made the wrong choice, and you probably think that joining one of the other regiments would have been better, but you're wrong." I say as they look at me in disbelief. "You're all brave soldiers for offering up your hearts and lives for humanity and your lost friends."

"You-" I say as I point to baldy. "You were in the top 10 and aiming to join the Military Police, am I right?" I ask and he nods. "I...I want people to respect me and I want to be safe from the Titan's." He admits and I sigh. "No one respects the Military Police. They just care about themselves, they don't even care about their comrades. They'd gladly sacrifice you so they could live, without a second thought." I say, and by his expression, I see he was reconsidering what he said. "What about you?" I ask as I point to the next person. Each one of them explains why they didn't want to be here and wanted to join another regiment, except one, two-tone.

"Why did you join the Scouts instead of one of the other regiments?" I ask him and he squeezes his right hand. "I...I have to avenge someone." I see everyone else about to cry. He must have been someone important. "Who?" I ask, trying to get a real answer. "A friend...we were going to join the Military Police together but a Titan ripped him in half..." He trails off before looking down in shame. "Marco Bott." I say and their heads flick up to me. "H..how-" "I was friends with his family, so when the military informed them I got informed as well." I say with a sympathetic smile. They all look down uncomfortably. "He didn't die pointlessly. His death brought you all here, didn't it?" They all nod. "Then don't make his death meaningless and help humanity." I say and some of them begin breaking down. "As long as you don't give up, living isn't as hard as people make it out to be." I say as I kneel down onto the ground to help one of them up. "Our friends did not die in vain, we won't let them." I say as the little blonde stands up with my help. "No, we won't." Says two-tone and I smile at him. "Good. Now go get unpacked and come here in exactly 2 hours. Commander Erwin is going to talk to you all." I say and they nod, salute and walk away.

2 hours later

"And lastly, this is Y/N. Some of you may know her as Humanities Second Strongest, only being outdone by Captain Levi. She will be here to help you through any problems and will also be dealing with personal training. If we think you could improve any of your Titan-fighting skills we will send you to her." I hear Dancho explain as I stand in between Captain Levi and Section Commander Hange. I see two-tone staring at me again, so I decide to confront him about this after. As the cadets are walking back to their dorm I catch up horse face and tap him on the shoulder. He turns around to me and I ask him to come to the garden later. I see his face redden slightly before nodding and walking off. He's kinda cute actually... I think to myself with a smirk.I turn around and begin talking to Hange.

Later that night

I send up from my paperwork and walk out to the garden, where I promised to meet horseface. "Still awake Y/N?" I hear corporal ask. "You should know by now that I have trouble sleeping at night, Captain." I say and he just nods. "I understand. I go through the same thing as well. It's alright, just try not to wake the new recruits." He says before I nod and he walks off. I chuckle as I see two-tone struggling to stay awake as he sat on the edge of the small fountain. "You're early." I say to him before his head snaps up to me. "Yeah, I...couldn't sleep." He says as he looks to the ground. "How funny, you seemed pretty tired to me." I joke, causing him to blush slightly. "Is it because of Marco?" I ask as I sit next to him. He nods sadly and I sigh. "I'm sorry for bringing him up." I say as I put my hand not his knee.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" He asks as he looks away from me. "I noticed that you've been staring at me almost all day, is there something you need to tell me?" I ask and he blushes harder. "N...no." He says and I chuckle. "What's your name?" I ask as I pull his chin to face me. "J...Jean. Jean Kirschtein." He stutters as I remove my hand from his chin. "It's nice to meet you, Jean, now is there anything you need or want to tell or ask me?" I ask again and he just shakes his head. "I know you're lying Jean, maybe it's because you don't know me well enough yet." I say and he just shyly nods his head a little. I giggle and ask what he wants to know about me. I answer all his random questions about my favourite colour or season until the full moon circles right into the middle of the sky.

"Ah, it's so pretty." I sigh happily as I look up at the glowing sphere. "Yeah." Jean says as he looks up as well. "Sometimes I'm glad that I suffer from insomnia. It’s things like this that you miss when you sleep." I say. "You suffer from insomnia?" I hear Jean ask and I look at him. "Yeah, it's nothing too serious, I can fall asleep some nights but most nights I can't. It started when everyone I loved was killed, be it by Titans or Bandits." I reply before he wraps his arm around my shoulder gently. "I'm sure they're happy where they are now." He says with a sad smile before I break down. As tears flooded from my eyes he hugs me tighter. I bawl and bawl and bawl my heart out, letting go of all the emotions I had held in for all these years. "It's alright." Jean whisper and he hugs me tightly.

Once I finish crying I stay in his arms. "Jean?" I ask and he hums. "IF you were gonna ask me out, now would be a good time..." I say as I look up at his blushing, surprised face. "Y...you know what I'm gonna ask..." He mumbles as he looks away. I grab his chin and pull his face towards me before kissing him gently. I feel him tense up extremely before relaxing and kissing me back. I pull away and smile at him. "Is...is that a yes then?" He asks and I playfully hit his head.

Of course, you dummy!

#aot #attack on titan #snk #shingeki no kyojin #jean kirstein #jean kirschstein #x reader #reader insert #spoiler

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esuerc · 6 years

Text

Turncoat: Chapter 25 -- Pallas’ Fall is up!

Read on AO3 (in the source link below!)

Or read here under the “keep reading” line!

---

The view from aboard the vertibird was spectacular.

The landscape sped past them as the VTOL flew through the sky high above the remains of Boston, the side doors left open so Turner could keep watch for any accompanying vertibirds. If they were to avoid as much conflict as possible, they would have to keep a low profile—no mid-air tricks or funny business from Deacon and Tom.

Turner took a deep breath and held the frigid air in the base of her chest, exhaling through her nose slowly when the pressure proved too much.

From the cockpit, the sounds of Deacon and Tom could be heard. At first, they’d bickered over who would be captain, then they “fought” over the position of the pilot, in which chair they would sit, and then they slapped at each other’s hands over who could play with the various knobs and dials spread across the dashboard, even if they didn’t know what the dials themselves did.

When they first entered the vertibird, after the first girlish slap-fight between the two Railroad agents, Deacon found himself a T51-B power helmet stashed away toward the back, thrown haphazardly in an unlocked metal crate. Whether the helmet was there as a replacement for the Paladin, Danse, they left behind in the police station, or as a general precaution, Deacon nevertheless plopped it upon his head. He then declared himself captain and demanded with a rather muffled voice “to speak with your leader”.

It wobbled from side-to-side as he made his way from the back of the vertibird to the front, brushing past Turner and Nick as they readied themselves for the journey. He relinquished the helmet to Turner, however, when he realized he couldn’t see the controls in front of him, placing the helmet on a hook not far from where she held fast to the VTOL.

Seated next to the doorway, Turner was glad most of the noise was lost to the winds.

Down below, she followed a group of super mutants as they tried in vain to throw bricks at their vertibird, and missed by a longshot. At least they made an attempt, even as the group continued undeterred to the south.

The mutants’ shouts could be heard, followed by the tell-tale beeping of a triggered mini-nuke, but they’d already traveled far enough away that the mutants proved no threat, nuke or otherwise.

Popping her lips, Turner glanced over at Nick, who clung to the handle at the edge of the doorway, his ragged coat waving about in the tumultuous winds. He held firmly to his hat and met her eyes when he felt them upon him.

“Nervous? He questioned loudly over the gale.

Turner nodded and adjusted her feet when the vertibird listed to the left somewhat, “Yeah—when I find Hancock,” Alive or dead, she thought, “I’ll bring him back to the vertibird. If Maxson gets in the way, I’ll deal with him.”

The plans of the mission were flimsy at best, bound to change at a moment’s notice depending on situation. What if Hancock wasn’t even on the Prydwen, and the rescue was all for naught? She would still try to bring an end to the Brotherhood’s interference in the Commonwealth, even if it meant one of her closest friends was truly lost in the process—she knew it could be an inevitability she would have to accept.

Turner faced into the vertibird and cupped a hand around her mouth to yell at Deacon and Tom, “I want you guys to get in contact with the guys on the ground. Don’t fire on the Prydwen unless we’ve made it down or I give the go-ahead.”

“Don’t wanna go down with the ship, captain?” Deacon questioned when he was met with Turner’s less than pleased expression. He knew the situation was tense, but he couldn’t help his inherent sarcasm from leaking out.

“I’d rather she didn’t.” Nick finished for her, “I’d like to have her home in one piece.”

Turner would have blushed bashfully if her cheeks hadn’t already been dyed red, raw from the winds that blew against her face.

It was a comfort to know there could be something after everything was said and done, that the destruction of the Institute and potentially the Brotherhood didn’t mean the end of her new life, of her new family. That even when things “calmed down” in the Commonwealth after all this commotion, that maybe she could forge something deeper with Nick, and even Hancock.

Broken from her thoughts of the future, Turner steadied herself and let her brows furrow in determination, “When we approach the Prydwen, you’re gonna want to fly up from the bottom into the hangar. Me and Nick will take off from there.”

“Sure you don’t wanna go in guns-blazing?” Deacon asked, his knee propped up dangerously on the console, his sunglasses hiding the bemused look in his eyes.

Merely shaking her head, Turner returned her gaze to the Commonwealth below. She would let the two pilots handle the rest of the journey without comment… which was probably for the best when Deacon was involved.

“I remember when these vertibirds used to frighten the Brotherhood.” She reminisced aloud after realizing where she was, and it piqued Nick’s curiosity.

He gave her an inquisitive stare that begged her to continue.

“Back in D.C., I think I was twelve or something, the Enclave used to pilot these things. Wasn’t much we could do about them until we got the original Liberty Prime up and running. Thing hurled nukes like you couldn’t believe.”

Nick didn’t much know what a “Liberty Prime” was, but if the thing could “hurl nukes” like some kind of pre-war quarterback, then maybe he didn’t want to know. “What’s the Enclave, then?” he questioned, having never heard of the group.

“Pre-war military kinda like the Brotherhood, but they were trying to bring a system of government back into power. Presidents and stuff.” Turner spied into the distance where she knew the airport was located, squinting her eyes against the cold, “Sometimes, I used to listen to Eden’s broadcasts when we were in the yard of the Citadel. The older knights would keep them on. Used to call it ‘lazy reconnaissance’.”

Nick didn’t have much to talk about when it came to pre-war politics. He, or at least human Nick, hadn’t thought much of the presidency at the time, and he didn’t much concern himself with the affairs outside the United States. Tensions had been terribly high, and not just with Eddie Winter and his gang causing trouble for Boston, but the looming nuclear crisis, outrageous petroleum costs, and general “red-scare” paranoia.

All-in-all, Nick would have rather not thought about it.

“Someone from the vault helped out the Brotherhood, though. I don’t remember too much from ten years ago, but I do remember the vault thing. One-oh-one, I think.” Turner went to wipe the moisture from her nose, but shook her head when thick, metal fingers scraped at her skin. She was already acclimated to the suit, it seemed.

“Thought you were like a steel trap?” Nick joked, nodding his head at Turner’s inability to remember things from only a decade ago. Maybe she chose not to remember.

“I wasn’t allowed out of the Citadel unless it was to train with the recon teams. They were pushing for me to be a scribe like my dad.” Turner pushed her nose into the air and let out a sharp snort, “You stop growing at age ten, and they ask you ‘aren’t you a little short for a knight?’.”

“Not one for the desk job, then?” The synth tried to imagine Turner stuck in a dim, subterranean lab somewhere, surrounded by terminals, books, and mountains of paperwork. Oh, and short. He couldn’t forget short.

It didn’t suit her.

Not one bit.

And not the short part.

“But that vault-dweller helped us take down the Enclave, on the east coast, at least. Dunno about the west—Navarro didn’t go too well for them, or so I hear. But we got most of our vertibirds from them.” Turner shifted her shoulders and cleared her throat nervously, “Riddik’s armour is Enclave, too. It’s like a trophy for them, back from when the Jefferson Memorial was cleared out.”

Wanting to hear more about Turner’s past, about her time in the Brotherhood (before it became a scourge to the Commonwealth), if only to let her vent a bit, Nick snapped back to reality when Deacon interrupted the two of them.

Luck would have it no other way.

“Comin’ up on the airport, lovebirds.” Deacon removed his knee from the controls and threw an instructional manual over at Tom, “Get ready. Put your big girl panties on.”

“Not if you’re the one wearing them.” Turner spat back under her breath, but Deacon heard her unsurprisingly.

“What can I say? I like lace.”

Despite the mental imagery of Deacon sporting a pair of ladies’ undergarments, Turner couldn’t help but laugh.

Her anxiety grew, however, when the bow of the Prydwen drew near, the expanse of the ocean laid out behind it. The sun was drawing onto the horizon, the sky aglow in murky greys and oranges. It would have been a pretty sight, if Turner didn’t feel fear bubbling up in her throat.

It was a vile sensation, like an oncoming panic attack—but she steadied her breath, begging for the tightness in her chest to loosen.

There was no time for hesitation.

They were about to enter the hornets’ nest, for better or worse, and the idea of Maxson wearing a comically large stinger on his bottom didn’t help matters much.

Hopefully, no one save a guard would be in the hangar when they entered. It was common for at least one knight to be stuck with the miserable job of guard duty, left alone to stare out at the expanse of the hangar bay and airport beneath it. If so, they would have to be dealt with swiftly and quietly, if such a thing were possible.

“Get behind me.” Turner told Nick as she took the helmet off the hook and locked it into place on her head. Immediately, the synth detective complied and hid behind her currently-large frame, spying out from around her arm at the scope of the dirigible before them.

The Prydwen was massive, up close and far-away, the main body of the pre-war airship aged and blackened. The colour of it, which once would have been a brilliant red under all the dust and grime of years past was now a faded umber, lightened by the sun and the elements where it could even be seen. The tether that held it to the body of the airport’s main terminal made a strange, almost alien metal sound as it swayed in the wind, an odd echo made by the line being held under such high tension with smaller tethers slapping against it.

Nick would have said it sounded like laser fire if he had a mind to, but it wasn’t the time for idle commentary—not with the hangar in sight.

The dirigible would have been an even more formidable sight if lit by the nauseous green hue of a radiation storm, something that looked to be brewing off to the west just over the Glowing Sea. Give it an hour or two, and that storm would be right over them.

Deacon made a face the nearer they grew to the gangway, the blades of the vertibird turning to allow the VTOL to slide its way up into the hangar bay. The side of the vertibird knocked slightly against the metal walkway as a metal hook kept the whirlybird in place, Turner cringing at the obvious sound.

The knight stationed at the door that led into the interior of the Prydwen left their post for a moment and approached the curious vertibird, the barrel of their minigun aimed at the ground. To them, it might have just been an inexperienced pilot learning the ropes… or perhaps an experienced pilot who just so happened to be more experienced in the drinking department.

Turner kept her gaze low to the ground as the knight approached, her helmet hiding her face and her armour hiding the now very nervous Nick behind her.

“I wasn’t expecting a team to come back so soon. Paladin Riddik was just out here.” The knight started, “Got that storm brewin’, though. Any problems?”

The knight must have been relatively new. Usually, when a vertibird checked in at the hangar, the pilot and reporting knight would record resources, losses, and such, but this one didn’t seem to know any better.

“We have a, uh… synth! Yeah! We captured a synth!” Deacon lowered the pitch of his voice from the cockpit, Nick’s eyes going wide at the bold-faced lie. Turner was glad she had a helmet to hide her features, because her jaw dropped at the unplanned confession by her associate.

Nick wasn’t beyond letting himself be used as a temporary scapegoat. He just wished they talked over it first.

The knight took a step back as Turner jumped from the vertibird onto the gangway, his minigun raised to aim squarely at the synthetic man in a messy trench coat and fedora, “You brought that thing here?” he questioned angrily. “What if it’s a bomb?”

Turner made her way around the knight so that she stood at his back, her hands hovering around the handwheel positioned around his fusion core.

Nick stared at her anxiously, but remained silent, his hand raised to indicate he wasn’t a threat. Turner was up to something, he knew, he just wished he could read her expression at the very least.

With the knight distracted, Turner spun the handwheel on the knight’s back and released the seal on his armour, the joints locking into place as the seams split apart unwillingly. The knight yelled as he was yanked back out of his shell, kicking and punching furiously as Turner’s armoured legs and arms as she held him aloft.

Nick leapt from the vertibird and made his way around the barrel of the still-raised minigun, and watched as Turner lifted a balled fist.

From the doorway, Deacon appeared with Tom, a smirk plastered on his unshaven, scruffy face, “Already going off plan, huh?” he asked sarcastically, knowing he’d done it himself moments before.

“What’s the meaning of this, knight?!” The Brotherhood soldier continued, and was cut short when Turner slammed her raised fist against the top of his head.

Unlike Danse, the knight went silent, his head falling forward, unconscious.

Turner waddled over to Deacon and threw the limp knight up onto the vertibird, pushing him in until he and Tom could seat him in one of the empty chairs.

Belted in tightly, he wouldn’t be going anywhere any time soon.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she turned around and pushed against Nick’s back, urging him forward to the now empty suit of power armour. “I know you don’t have any training for one of these, but if a raider can climb into one, so can you, Tin Man.” She insisted when the synth dug his heels into the metal grate under him.

“We’re already at the ‘matching outfit’ portion of the relationship, huh, kid?” he joked, and pried himself away from Turner’s shoving.

Nick took it upon himself to stand at the back of the armour, the three Railroad agents staring him down expectantly. It would certainly be an experience, he knew, but he wasn’t so sure if he could readily control the suit of armour before him—synthetic or not.

Pulling his mouth into a thin line, he pulled the hat from his head and threw it over to Deacon. It wouldn’t fit into the helmet, no matter how much he wished it. He then pulled himself forward into the empty armour until his chest fell against the metal front of the cuirass, his hands sliding comfortably into place.

The armour rode a bit, just as Turner joked before back at Home Plate, though he supposed it was worse for her, organic and all that entailed. “Gonna ruin my coat wearin’ this thing.”

Coming around to his rear, Turner lifted the tails of his coat, pulled the back of the cuirass down, and turned the handwheel into place, securing Nick inside with a small near-hermetic hiss. “As if it didn’t look torn enough. We’ll get you a new one.” Giving the back of the armour a slap, she stepped away and let him acclimate, “You okay?”

Nick stood frozen in place for a few seconds, watching the way the light of his optics shone against the inside of the helmet’s lenses. He tried flexing his fingers first, the bare metal of his right hand scraping against the pulleys awkwardly—he would just have to make do. Next, he shifted his head, pushed his chest forward, and forced one leg out.

The armour refused to move at first, but after he gave a slightly stronger push, the hips of the power armour shifted and he lurched forward. In reality, it wasn’t Turner who needed a suit of baby’s first power armour, but Nick. “I won’t give ya flack ever again for wearin’ this damn thing. Feels like when I forget to lube my joints.”

“Lube.” Deacon snorted, and earned stares from both Turner and Nick, though he could hardly see their expressions.

He knew they were less than enthused.

From inside, Tom appeared with a flare gun spinning around his finger, and threw it to Turner when the silence grew a bit too much even for him. “Shoot that off when you guys are ready to go, yeah? We’ve got another in the glove compartment right next to the road maps and registration.”

Whether this was the truth or not, she had no way of knowing—neither Deacon nor Tom would tell her even if she asked nicely.

“You two head down and meet up with the others, if they’ve made it yet.” Turner ordered as she took the abandoned minigun left on the gangway and gave Nick the flare gun. There was no sense in letting Nick have the bigger of the two, not while he was still acclimating.

Nick followed Turner down the gangway without a word and toward the bulkhead that led inside. Deacon and Tom scurried back into position, the knight still unconscious in his seat, and began their exit from the hangar. Their “good lucks” were nearly inaudible under the loud boom of the approaching radiation storm, growing near faster than anticipated.

“How ‘bout that horsepower?” Turner asked now they were alone, her voice muffled by the audio receptor in front of her face. She had to admit, the synth detective got used to the armour far quicker than she would have thought. Maybe she hadn’t been talking out of her ass when she said, “if a raider could do it”.

Nick let out a breathy laugh and raised his hands in mock accomplishment, his fingers curled, “A guy could get used to this short of thing. Might not want to leave.” He jostled his helmet a bit, “Can’t say there’s an easy way to smoke in this sort of thing, though I guess that means I’ll have to kick the habit.”

“I don’t think they make ties or fedoras big enough for these things. You might have to get a new job, too.” Turner let out a yelp as Nick slapped the back of her armour, entirely unexpected, and much less expected given the situation. “C’mon, you wouldn’t fit through the agency door, and you know it.”

It was odd to look through the lenses, Nick could admit, and he watched as many of the suit’s internal monitors sounded off that something wasn’t quite right about its current occupant.

Despite resting on the peripherals of his vision, he did his best to ignore them as Turner opened the bulkhead door. She placed the minigun next to it where the knight stood moments before—it would only slow them down if she carried it inside.

“You ready?” she whispered, and headed in first when Nick nodded in return.

She quickly adjusted Nick’s helmet and gave it a pat on top—it would do them no good if they stuck out too much. Turner could walk relatively normal, but her companion was still as wobbly as a freshly-born radstag.

The bulkhead was heavy and squealed loudly when Nick pulled it shut behind him, his hand refusing to unclasp for a moment from the handle of the door. Together, they trudged inside, to the quiet interior of the lower deck. Or it would have been quiet, were it not for the various computers and consoles on the floor below.

The room was lit by red guide lights around the ceiling of the interior, eerie shadows sent this way and that as the light struggled to bounce through the space.

Far ahead, in a room adorned with windows that overlooked the terminal structure of the airport, stood Maxson, his back turned to them. He seemed to contemplate the approach of the storm down the coast, his gloved fingers caught in his neatly-trimmed beard.

Naturally, Turner led Nick up the walkway that bled into the main body of the dirigible, and poked her head out into the landing before they walked into the open.

Nick chose to stay silent, and let Turner lead him to where they needed to go. This was uncharted territory for him, not matter how much he would like to say he knew better. The young woman in front of him was in charge, and he would be damned if he thought or told her otherwise.

Stopped before a large room that served as the canteen, Turner changed course and headed toward a stairwell that led to the floor above, to what looked to be a barracks of sorts. There, soldiers slept, their wool blankets, thin with age, some of them taken from other bunks to compensate, their footlockers left open and catawampus at the foot of their cots.

Nick was surprised, though he knew he shouldn’t have been, when none of them woke to the sounds and rumbles of their heavy footfalls. He supposed they were used to the commotion by now.

Even on the Prydwen, it was a bit out of place for a group of knights to be seen in the specimen area, but the scribes at work merely sent Turner and Nick annoyed glances before they returned to their tasks.

Together, they looked down over the safety railing and into the small cluster of cells below. Situated in one were several emaciated mole rats, their bellies distended as they lay lethargic on the floor. Their wheezes were the only indication they were still alive.

Next to them, in another block, was a bundle of red and black, the unmistakable figure of Hancock seated in the corner farthest away from the door.

Turner gripped the railing tightly, the metal crimping between her fingers. She knew the ghoul had always been as thin as a twig, as he spent far more time with his chems than he did with any amount of food. But she knew the scribes wouldn’t dare waste food or water on a “mutant”, if only in the name of research.

They scarcely did it back in the Capital, so they certainly wouldn’t try now.

She stood there silently and calculated their next move, Nick at her side, waiting and watching.

Turner could go down there, request the door be opened to dispose of the ghoul, drag Hancock down to the hangar, reveal herself, and signal for Deacon and Tom to return. But what if they refused to let him out? What if Riddik or Maxson happened by? There’s no way the obvious, red IX on the chest of her armour wouldn’t be a dead giveaway.

She bit her lip and struggled to even her breathing, the rumble of thunder heard outside the walls of the airship. Maybe they could use the coming storm as a means of distraction if and when they made it back into the hangar? Many wouldn’t dare fly during such inclement conditions, even some of the most well-seasoned pilots… though she supposed trusting Deacon and Tom to do what a senior pilot couldn’t would be less than wise.

“What’s the plan, kid?” Nick whispered after he took a quick look behind them, sure that no one heard him.

Turner thought back to only a short time ago, when she found herself on a rescue mission much like this one of her own making. The Railroad agents she went to rescue had been dealt with long before her arrival at Maxson’s behest. It would do her no good to try the same tactic, to boldly walk up to the cells.

No, she needed to speak to someone first, make it official.

And the scribes behind them would do just the trick.

“Stay here for a sec.” she replied at last, a hand on Nick’s pauldron. Without another word, she spun to walk toward the scribes across the room, her stride heavy and confident.

“Be authoritative.” Turner told herself quietly in the confines of her helmet, “Just act like a knight, like you used to.” her eyes screwed shut for a moment as she neared one of the scribes, his back hunched away from her over a lab table. “Tell him Maxson wants the ghoul disposed of… that the ghoul wasn’t meant to be brought here, and should be transported to the ground for Riddik to—”

“Can I help you, knight?” The scribe drawled over his glasses, now facing the awkwardly silent Turner. He flipped up several loupes meant for magnification and stared her down, his eyes blinking rapidly to adjust to the change in light. “Or has Riddik sent you to observe us again?”

The scribe’s mouth was fallen into a permanent scowl, the bags under his eyes heavy with lack of proper sleep. He must have been in his late thirties, but looked to be nearing fifty with the way he carried himself: shoulders sagging heavily, his skin pale, the veins just beneath prominent in the unnatural light of the lab.

Turner vaguely recognized him from a year or so ago, back when she spent her time on the Prydwen when not out on reconnaissance missions. The scribe had been the head doctor at the time—Doctor Horrigan, maybe? Now scuttled back to the very ass-end of the Prydwen for research and dissection, while another, more charismatic doctor took his place.

He was tired, and not at all privy to idle chit-chat.

An opening had presented itself, however.

“Yes.” Turner answered simply, her back suddenly ramrod straight. “Riddik… Paladin Riddik sent me and my associate,” she paused and motioned to Nick behind her, “to request the ghoul in Cell A be moved down into the terminal.” She placed a metal fist against her chest, the clang sending Horrigan back with a less than pleased face, “We’ve heard reports of Railroad activity. The ghoul was taken from a Railroad safehouse, and we believe they may be staging an attack.”

Not necessarily a lie.

The scribe stared at her skeptically, and the look on his face aged him nearer to sixty. No doubt he recognized the red Roman numeral on her chest, knew the armour belonged to one of the infamous Paladin’s knights. To talk back to them would be to talk back to Riddik—something that was ill-advised even when Turner was with the Brotherhood.

“And I suppose they sent you to carry out the trash rather than do it themselves? To no one’s surprise?” Horrigan had a sharp tongue, Turner couldn’t help but notice. No wonder he’d been sent as far from everyone as possible.

“Fine. But do it quietly. The other scribes and I have delicate procedures in the process.” He stood straight, his back cracking loudly, and headed to a flight of stairs at the edge of the platform, situated between two lab tables.

Nick hurried after Turner when she waved him forward, and tried his best to ignore the two immobile synths that lay on either table, many of their parts scattered and destroyed.

If they’d arrived any later, the synths might have been Hancock, instead.

---

Turner descended the stairs with Nick in tow, Horrigan at the front of their group.

He pulled down his glasses and rubbed at his eyes, the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

Horrigan didn’t much care for the smell of ghouls, especially not ones who thought themselves particularly witty and charming, and especially not ones who dressed themselves like pre-war freedom fighters. And he found himself cursing under his breath now that he had to deal with said ghoul for the second time that day. To look at that crooked smile and blackened stare.

Earlier, it was to stop the ghoul’s incessant singing—purposefully off-key and caw-like.

And now? To kowtow to Paladin Riddik’s fickle whims.

Railroad threat be damned—if helping the two knights behind him meant he could be given some peace and quiet for once in the past few days, then so be it.

Turner kept quiet and resolute, Nick following her lead as they approached the cell at the end of the row. In front, Horrigan shuffled up to the cell door and fumbled in his coat pocket for what must have been the keys.

How hard would it be to figure out which key went where when there were only two cells was beyond Turner, but to her own chagrin the key ring he pulled out had to have a key to every lock on the Prydwen.

Because of course it did.

Who else would carry them? Maxson?

The only thing keeping him afloat was all that hot air in his head. Last thing he needed was a counterweight.

But Horrigan seemed to know exactly which key fit into the lock, and on the first try he slid the door open and allowed Turner inside with the wave of an arm.

His hand fell to his side unceremoniously a second later, a dull thud against the fabric of his coat. His work was done, and now he could return to his other work. Important work. Scientific work.

Work where he could be left alone.

Turner stood at the doorway of the cell and stared inside, at the ghoul who looked to be asleep in the far corner. She could only think such as his tricorn was pulled low over his face, his legs crossed at the ankle, and his hands laid out on his lap. It would be just like Hancock to not take the situation too seriously, not when life or death was involved.

At least his own life or death.

“Thanks, doc.” Nick started out from around Turner, if only so Horrigan could see him. “That’ll be all.” He tapped the side of Turner’s arm and broke her from her one-sided staring contest with the ghoul in the cell.

“Yes! Thank you.” Her head danced from Nick to Horrigan, “Thank you. That’s all we needed. Thank you.”

“Say ‘thank you’ again,” she thought dismissively, glad that her scrunched face was hidden, “I’m sure it will sound totally natural and not at all suspicious. That’s just the way a knight under Riddik’s command would talk.”

Horrigan let out a derisive snort through his nose, thoroughly displeased with the events that transpired and how much potential time he’d lost with his experiments. Now that it was over, though, he excused himself without a word and shoved past the two of them toward the stairs.

He disappeared soon after, and together Turner and Nick exchanged looks.

“Shoulda given him a curtsey, while you’re at it.” Nick joked when Turner appeared physically uncomfortable, neither of them aware that the ghoul was watching from under the wide brim of his hat. “Didn’t know ‘thank you’ was in your vocabulary.”

“I said ‘thank you’ for the bear you gave me.” She whispered in retort, short with the disguised synth that was readily betraying their identities.

From the corner, a short laugh escaped the too-thin ghoul, a devilish smile splayed on what remained of his lips, “Thought I recognized that voice.” Hancock drawled, stifling a yawn under his loose coat sleeve. “You were never good at saying ‘sorry’, either, Sunshine.”

Turner stepped into the cell fully and approached Hancock, who still hadn’t pulled himself up from the floor. He cradled his arm with a wince, his smile having not left yet. “You alright?” she questioned quietly, as if the volume of her voice would break the rest of him.

With a roll of his shoulders, the ghoul let his head fall back against the corner of the cell, his hat popping off his brow, “Been better, but I ain’t complainin’. Wouldn’t mind see ya without the helmet, but I get what you’re goin’ for.” His gaze shifted to Nick, who stood waiting at the door just in case someone else happened by, “You got her back safe and sound, then? I owe you a drink, Nick.”

“You can owe me when we get outta here.” Nick peeked over his shoulder, and found the area devoid of any wandering eyes, “Let’s get goin’, kid. This place is making my skin crawl.”

“Can you get up?” Turner asked as she dropped onto one knee. Nick was right—the longer they stayed in the open, the quicker someone would catch on that they weren’t quite Brotherhood material.

A grin found its way onto Hancock’s cheeks, “You know better than to ask me if I can ‘get up’.” He clicked his teeth to emphasize his point (a point that would have made her blush at any other time), but Turner didn’t take the bait. “Alright, alright.” He waited a beat, “Later, though.”

A shaky hand found its way onto the chain link wall of the cell, and with a bit of a struggle, Hancock stood… for a moment.

Down he went onto his knees, a groan escaping him as his arm hung limp at his side.

Turner was quick to keep him upright, her arms wrapped under the lanky ghoul as he let out a weak chuckle. “We can take the lower level past the canteen, take the walkway down back into the hangar, and signal for the others.” With a practiced ease, she lifted Hancock up and turned toward Nick, “If anyone asks, we’re disposing of you.”

Hancock’s face became unreadable. Not disappointed, but more bemused if anything. “Disposing? What, like throwing me in the trash? The prick with the cape already tried rattling my cage; ain’t much these guys can do to scare me.”

“They would have put you in front of a firing squad eventually.” Turner added, if only to make a point. The idea of Hancock laughing his way to his inevitable death at the hands of a bunch of knights made a boulder form in the pit of her stomach. He would never let them have the satisfaction of cowering, of begging for his life.

He joked now, thought the Brotherhood wouldn’t do everything within their power to see that he suffered until he expired—Riddik was playing a waiting game, and nothing more—but if Turner and Nick hadn’t showed up when they did, the ghoul wouldn’t have lasted much longer.

“Who would Goodneighbor look up to, then, huh?” With a jostle to make Hancock pay attention, Turner struck home, right where it truly hurt, “Or would you rather someone like Vic take over again?”

The ghoul’s face fell then, his eyes half-lidded as reality suddenly slapped him. And not in a fun way. “Alright, alright, you made your point.”

With a nod in the direction of a stairwell that led to the lowest level of the Prydwen, Turner carried Hancock away from the cell block, Nick following in tow with his eyes trained every which way. They were making progress, and it wouldn’t be long before they found themselves back outside and on solid ground.

---

The metal floor of the walkway groaned under the considerable weight of Riddik as they made their way toward the back of the Prydwen. Their thoughts were abuzz with ideas on how to best deal with Maxson, on how to depose of an Elder of the Brotherhood without being branded a traitor much like Turner.

For now, though, only one thing interested them—and that was the ghoul.

Riddik gripped at the handle of their powered sledge tightly, all-too prepared to vent their frustration on the object of Turner’s affection. It wasn’t that damn synth, that would-be detective who thought himself a man, but the ghoul for whom she had a particular fondness.

The synth would have to come later, with something a little more elaborate. More elaborate than what they’d done with Turner’s previous beau, Metro, at least.

They passed through the canteen, many of the soldiers within giving pause to stare the massive Paladin down as they trudged through wordlessly, without apology when they knocked into a small scribe.

It didn’t matter in the end. None of it did.

If any one of them supported their Elder and what he stood for, then Riddik would strike them down equally. They had to return the Brotherhood to its western glory, to the brutal history they’d established so long ago.

No more soldiers taken in out of the wastes. No more fraternizing with those born out of the circles. No more sullying the Brotherhood of Steel’s legacy.

Riddik stomped into the cell block, the stench of the mole rats leaking in through their armour: putrid and fetid.

Immediately, they saw something was amiss.

The door to the ghoul’s cell was open and unguarded, Riddik’s gait increasing until they practically ran up to the cell. The handle of their hammer squealed as they gripped it even tighter, their eyes trained on the now empty space within.

The ghoul was gone.

The door of the cell flew from its frame, ripped from its tracks and thrown across the room in a fury. The mole rats in the next cell shrieked with fear, gathered into the corner away from Riddik and their rampage as a guttural yell escaped them. Several of the soldiers in the canteen poked their heads out to spy at the commotion, but disappeared when the Paladin slammed their sledge down against the floor.

Above, Horrigan tried his best to ignore whatever temper tantrum the two knights were having—no doubt dealing with the ghoul in the confines of the Prydwen rather than taking it outside like they’d been ordered.

With an exasperated sigh, he slapped his hands against his lab table and ripped the gloves from his fingers. Would there be no quiet that day?!

Across the lab, Horrigan huffed, until they made it to the railing at the edge of the platform. Not waiting to see what the commotion was, he clung to the metal rail and bellowed to the floor below, “Do you mind?! Some of us are trying to work, you—”

The blood in Horrigan’s veins froze when he realized who stood in the wreckage of what was once a cell.

Golden lenses turned slowly to train on him, the unmistakable armour of Paladin Riddik sending shivers down his spine.

Horrigan swallowed the lump in his throat and pushed away from the rail as Riddik’s ire was now trained on him. And with no care to his fellow scribes, he began to race down the walkway toward the bunk area, if only to hide himself away somewhere.

The Paladin was notoriously short tempered, and it would do the scribe well to make himself scarce.

Riddik, however, was faster—much, much faster.

Up the stairwell they went, slamming the lab tables aside that stood in their path, and charged after Horrigan. The soldiers that were asleep not too long ago popped from their bunks and watched the Paladin donned in X0-1 armour plow through a standing locker on their way after the scribe, unaware of what just transpired.

Horrigan tripped up the steps that led to the forecastle, and clutched at their chest. It had been too long since they exercised, and now certainly wasn’t the time they wanted to start!

What had possessed Paladin Riddik so? Hadn’t they ordered the ghoul to be taken from the cell? To be taken to the ground and disposed of?

A trick! It had to have been a prank! It was always him! Who better to pick on than the doctor stripped of his title and thrown to the farthest recesses of the Prydwen?

Horrigan had been goaded into gaining the ire of the Paladin, and to what end? Those two knights wouldn’t hear the end of this, that was for damned sure!

He took a sharp turn and hid behind one of the large ballasts that lined the top half of the Prydwen, a refuge away from the anger that radiated from the Paladin not far from his trail. Horrigan caught his breath and listened as the heavy footfalls faded for a moment, perhaps going in a different direction, away from him.

He would write a report and hand it to the Elder himself if he had to! This was inexcusable behaviour on the behalf of a Paladin. Where was Danse? Ingram? Someone who possessed a lick of sense that could knock some into Riddik?

The trembles in the floor grew nearer again, and before Horrigan had a chance to react, a hand flashed from around the ballast and gripped at the front of his uniform. It yanked him forward and into the face of Riddik, who now held him aloft several feet from the floor.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Horrigan yelled as Riddik moved forward toward the door that led to the outside of the forecastle, “You’re going to lose rank for this, you hear me?!”

Icy winds struck at Horrigan’s face as the door flew open, and out the two of them went. With their foot, Riddik slammed the door shut and threw the scribe to the floor unceremoniously. The head of their hammer came up to rest in their now free hand, their cape aflutter in the wind.

Horrigan scurried from the Paladin, and backed away on his bottom until he could put several feet between them. Out in the distance, the radioactive storm grew even nearer, the tingle of radiation buzzing through the air like electricity.

If he had a Geiger counter, the little machine would have been tittering madly.

“If you’re going to be mad at someone, punish those knights of yours!” Horrigan shouted over the winds, “I know they were yours—that girl with the IX on her chest—and the other! You punish them, not me for doing my damn job!”

This gave Riddik pause. They stopped their advance on Horrigan and stood staring down at the scribe.

That girl with the IX on her chest? The knights under Riddik’s command who wore roman numerals on their armour were down to all but one. XI was the only knight who remained.

And Nine had been left behind in Diamond City, in the Railroad Safehouse.

The girl could have been anyone, any of those insufferable Railroad agents looking to seek revenge on the Brotherhood for the destruction of their base at North End Church. Or she could have been…

Ridley Turner—there to save the ghoul, just as they’d thought.

Riddik shook with unheard laughter, their arms trembling as they struggled to contain their amusement. Horrigan could only watch as the Paladin bowed somewhat, their pauldrons falling forward when they cradled their power sledge to their chest.

The scribe could hear as the Paladin took in a deep breath and straightened themselves back to their full height.

Taking a step forward, Riddik continued their advancement, their hands coiled insanely tight around the metal grip of their hammer.

“What are you doing?” Horrigan demanded, and scurried back another foot to escape the Paladin.

Riddik stopped him with a heavy foot on his leg, and the bone beneath cracked loudly under the weight. Horrigan let out a scream when the Paladin let the brunt of their weight down, their body angled to hover over the fallen scribe.

Through tears and laboured breaths, Horrigan stared up at Riddik as they positioned the head of their sledge against the scribe’s nose—a light, almost playful tap.

Like a golf champ with a nine iron, Riddik pulled back and hoisted their hammer high into the air. And with one full sweep, the sledge snapped against Horrigan’s face with a sickening crack of bone, the scribe fallen back against the floor with a gurgle.

Riddik continued their assault even as the noises Horrigan made came to an end, their sledge coming down and down again, this way and that, the small rocket on the end of the head alight with a flame that burned a hot white.

They took a step back from what remained of Horrigan’s head, now a smear of red across the deck. More pressing matters had to be attended to now that Riddik was certain Turner made her way onto the Prydwen.

Gather Eleven, find the traitor with her pet ghoul and synth, confront Maxson, save the Brotherhood.

Riddik rolled their neck at the list that was building up before them. So much to do in such little time, and every second counted.

On the coast, the rad storm was nearly overhead, the sky a deep green. Lit by bouts of lightning, Riddik watched the sky roll, the waves not far from the Prydwen crashing up onto the shore violently.

Turner couldn’t have gone too far, not with the ghoul to carry out.

But maybe Maxson could come first? There weren’t many who would try to reason with the girl, and the Elder had been one of them—letting emotion control his actions instead of killing Turner when he had the chance—letting Riddik be done with it instead of bringing her back for a trial.

Riddik turned from the remains of Horrigan and headed to the bulkhead of the forecastle, their mind set on the Elder’s chambers.

No more waiting, no more thinking.

Riddik would show Maxson what it meant to be Elder of the Brotherhood of Steel! Show him how an Elder dealt with traitors!

---

The storm had Arthur Maxson worried. He’d seen many times before what the storms from the Glowing Sea could do, but none as big as the one that loomed over them. There would be radiation sickness, a loss of supplies, not enough medicine—too many problems to count.

Maxson placed a hand against his forehead and made another round in front of the large window that was set at the bow of the Prydwen. At the base of the couch situated against the wall, several empty bottles of bourbon sat.

He tried not to drink when problems arose, but having been given the mantle of Elder at such an early age, he found it hard to cope. If it wasn’t the worry of carrying on his legacy, it was inciting anger against the Brotherhood, of alienating the people of the Commonwealth.

And then Riddik brought that ghoul onboard, daring the Railroad to strike back against them. Even in a small group, given a missile launcher or two, a few farmhands could chip away at the Brotherhood’s defenses.

He regretted giving the Paladin the job of capturing Turner, and was near to dismissing the whole idea. With the lives of several knights lost, and trust across the Commonwealth destroyed, Maxson worried their work had increased tenfold all because of some firebrand.

The door to the body of the Prydwen opened, and behind him Maxson could hear someone enter. With a sigh, he let his hand fall and he collected himself.

The Elder couldn’t be seen with a weary brow.

Turning to face the newcomer, Maxson wasn’t surprised to see Paladin Riddik in the doorway, the head of their hammer on the ground.

He was irked, though, when he noticed the shine of crimson splattered across the worn metal of the weapon, and along the curves of Riddik’s armour. It hadn’t looked that way when the Paladin returned from the wastes, and he thought perhaps some of the specimens had escaped the lab.

“What is it you need now, Paladin?” Maxson asked tiredly. He’d already dealt with them enough that day, and the headache he had earlier threatened to return.

Riddik approached silently, their power sledge held inches away from the floor. Up close, Maxson could tell the red on their armour was blood, still wet and shining, the odour that wafted around them thick and unpleasant.

Maxson was a large man, but stood before Riddik he may as well have been a toddler. The Paladin towered over him, and even though there was no face to see, the Elder could feel cold eyes upon him.

With a dull thud, Riddik placed their hammer back on the floor and stepped away from it, continuing toward Maxson, until at last he had to take a step back.

“State your business, Riddik.” The Elder barked, his hand ready to take the pistol from his hip.

In a flash, Riddik lunged forward, their heavy arm swinging past Maxson as he dodged at the last second. Gun drawn and readied, he fired at the Paladin’s helmet, missing the golden lenses that adorned it.

The bullet ricocheted through the room until it shot out the window, Riddik sending another fist toward Maxson’s head.

The heavy punch landed against the reinforced glass, cracking it down to the metal inside. Riddik pulled away when a bullet struck at the mesh at the back of their knee, and spun to face Maxson across the room.

In a few short steps, the Paladin crossed the gap and took Maxson’s wrist. With a pained groan, the Elder relinquished his weapon as Riddik twisted his arm around near to breaking. And with their free hand, they slammed their fist up into his ribs.

Maxson wheezed as he fell to the floor, the urge to vomit rising in his throat.

To think he’d faced a deathclaw when he was young, and got away with the scar across his cheek to tell the tale. And now, a Paladin under his command sought to finish the job.

Hardly able to take a breath, Maxson couldn’t demand to know why Riddik fought him, threw him across the room like a ragdoll.

He rolled to a stop and clambered to his feet, the taste of blood on his tongue.

Before he could prepare himself, Riddik raced forward and grabbed hold of Maxson’s head, slamming it into the glass behind him.

The Paladin watched the Elder go still, not dead, but very much unconscious. No, Riddik wanted to make a lesson of Maxson, to all the Brotherhood.

And if it meant throwing Maxson’s head at Turner’s feet, they would make her see!

---

Up next!

Chapter 26: Fall of the Brotherhood

#esuerc #Ridley Turner #Fallout 4: Turncoat #Nick Valentine #John Hancock #Paladin Riddik #Turncoat #Fallout #Fallout 4 #Arthur Maxson #Deacon

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whydoyouwantmyname · 7 years

Text

Imagine taking a case in your home town

This post is Triggering! I am warning you all now that please don’t read if you are easily triggered. (Lots of death, suicide and just shitty mom)

The roar of the impala under you was the only thing keeping you grounded as you rolled down the open black strip of tar with the man you loved and his younger brother. Your head leaned against the window as the millions of trees passed you by, each one bringing you closer to your own personal hell...

“Babe.” the sound of Dean’s voice echoed through the hall as Dean approached your shared room where you had currently been laying down, your eyes glued to the illuminated screen of the small internet portal you held in your hands, “Babe you gotta get dressed, and pack a bag.”

“Why?” You whined as you looked at him, fully comfortable in the memory foam that was swallowing you up. A smile etched onto his face as he looked at you with complete love in his eyes.

“Cause we gotta case, four officers dead in a small town in Georgia, looks like a ghost. We figured we would go check it out.”

“Oh.” The realization hitting you as though it was a 18 wheeler going far too fast.

“Didn’t you say you had family in Georgia, maybe we can stop and say...”

“I think my mother is far too busy to accommodate a visit from her daughter, who has not become a lawyer like her brother or a environmentalist like her other sister.” You interrupted, knowing that your mother never was a huge fan of yours, and you doubted she would take a visit from you and the boys as a pleasant occurrence.

“Okay, well meet me at Baby in 15,” He instructed, as you nodded in reply, before quickly turning your attention back to the article you were scanning for familiar names, the same article Dean and Sam had just gotten your next case from.

“Well here we are.” Dean said pleasantly as he carefully pulled the impala into the parking space outside the police station, the memories flooding back to you as the purring of the engine died away.

“So we have the fake Id.....” you failed to hear the rest of the sentence however by the slamming of your own door, your legs carrying you into the building, as Dean watched your hips sway. It took several seconds for both men to establish which fake FBI ids to use, and then they let themselves into the building. Dean’s eyes already sweeping over the layout, however they soon caught an interruption when they noticed your back. You were seated on the desk of one of the elder officers, who seemed to be smiling up at you as he chattered away. In your hand they could both see that you were holding a picture frame, as though you had previously been looking at it.

“Hey, did [Y/N] ever tell you where exactly in Georgia she grew up?” Sam whispered as the sound of your own laughter filled the air.

“No, but I have a feeling we just found out.” Dean replied as he started towards you, and the older gentleman, who was clearly the one in charge.

“Excuse me, we were looking for Chief Gebel?” Sam asked another officer, who looked as though he was in his mid thirties, and an ex football player.

“Yeah, he is right over there. HEY CHIEF, Feds are here.” He snapped quickly as the attention of both you and Gebel’s was drawn towards the sound of the man.

“Thank you Eric. Tell me [Y/N] , how long ya in town for?”

“Oh depends on how fast these two get the case closed.” You replied with a smile as you pointed toward the Winchesters.

“Well make sure ‘fore ya go ya come around again. It ain’t been the same since...”

“It was nice to see ya Ernie and I am real sorry again about Herman.” You smiled at the boys before politely hopping from the desk and escorted yourself to the front door, where you sat your ass on the park bench you and the previous chief used to eat ice cream on when you were a child.

Dean’s POV

“Agents, it is mighty nice of you both to come down here.” Officer Gebel smiled at us both after the swing door of the office shut behind [Y/N].

“Of course sir, we are sorry to interrupt your visit, was she your daughter?” Sam asked as I looked the man up and down, she never mentioned her parents, so who knew if this old guy could be her dad, he looked like he could be dad age.

“[Y/N] isn’t my daughter, her pa used to be the old chief here, however something went terribly wrong on a case, we were working it together. He, ummmm,” Gebel’s started to tear up a bit, and after a sniffle he continued, “sorry, you see Hank used to be my best friend, the girl might as well be my own, it really hit her hard when her daddy died. Even harder when her mother acted like nothing happened. She left when she was 17, and she never looked back, not even when her sister passed away.”

“I am so sorry to hear about your loss, well if you....”

“You mind telling me how her sister died?” I asked, Sam glaring at me, as though to tell me not to prey, that if my girlfriend wanted to tell me about it she would have.

“Well ya see, when her dad died the children took it pretty hard, each child processed it differently. For [Y/N] it was dreamin’ of leaving, for her brother Grant it was signing up for the army, and for Kathleen, well she went from a popular cheerleader to an outcast, stopped talking to her friends. The only people she really spoke to were [Y/N] and Grant. Grant was 18 when it happened, the girls were both still in high school, Grant was gone for maybe a year or so when the letter came. Mary was devastated, first her divorce was becoming public, then her husband died in the line of duty, then her son. It was shortly after the funeral for him that [y/N] left town. She left a note saying she was never coming back, said she was tired of living in a cursed family. About three months later, Mary came home to Kathleen died in the parlor. Suicide, hung herself from the ceiling fan, remember having to take the body down myself. We tried to reach out to [Y/N], tell her about the funeral, but she never responded. Her mother became cold after that, and is now the mayor of the town, best mayor we have ever had actually.”

“Oh... Well do you think...”

“Excuse me Agent Anka, but the case.” Sam snapped, stopping me from my futhur investigation into [y/n]’s past.

“Sorry Agent Stevens, So tell me...” And as I asked about the case, my mind still lingered on the lie [Y/N] was living in.

y/n’s POV

You had found yourself wandering from the bench, and standing outside the stone steps of the town hall, your eyes looking at the windows which were all open, and the curtains billowed out of the openings. You soon found yourself walking up the steps and taking a deep breath before you opened the door and was greeted by the silence of the front office.

“Welcome to the Senoia town hall, if you would like to meet with the mayor.... OH MY GOSH [Y/N]!” the tall blonde behind the front desk greeted as she looked at you, her eyes widening at the site, as you sighed.

“Oh hey Heather.” You said unexcited as she stood up and started around the desk, wrapping her arms around you as you lightly tapped her covered arm.

“How have you been bestie? I feel like it has been....”

“12 years... yeah cause it has been.”

“Well I can see you have changed, what happened to the captain of the cheer squad who used to be so cheery?” Heather pouted as you looked at her in annoyane.

“Why did I even stop here, I remember the way up.” You huffed as you started towards the stair, stopping only for a second to snap, “And she died 13 years ago.”

The doors were still the same, and felt the same as you pushed them open revealing the office of an OCD official. Every paper was neatly piled, and sorted into color piles. the cabinets all were labeled alphabetically, and the room looked as though it was fully polished and cleaned several moments earlier, and the neurotic woman who was this insanely organized was standing with her back to the door, chattering away on her phone, as she examined her perfectly manicured nails in the sunlight. The hints of grey now visible in her hair, and her thin frame covered in a bright yellow pant suit. Her voice flowed in the air as it reached your ears, “Give me a second Sherry I think the airhead just came in with my low fat, soy, latte with two pumps of cream, and a dash of that addicting vanilla flavoring.”

When she turned you could see the fake youth in her face, her skin pulled on her face, exposing her high cheekbones, and the slight crows feet forming at her made up eyes, her lips were thin and cracking, however still were covered in a sicking shade of pink, which matched the overuse of blush on her face. At the sight of you in the door her eyes widened, and her hand went to the small bump in her suit “I have to call you back Sherry, my runaway has finally come begging for money.”

“Begging for your money is the last thing I want.” You snapped as she hung up and looked at you, her shock turning into disgust as she glared you up and down.

“Well I can think of no other reason you would be standing before me, unless to tell me you are finally dying too.”

“Now why would I ever give you the satisfaction of hearing that?” You laughed as you shut the door behind you.

“Well for your information...”

“I know you are married to Eric, the same Eric who was Grant’s best friend. Tell me how are the kids?”

“How did you...”

“Ernie told me, so did Eric, since the first thing out of his mouth was, hey look guys my stepkid is here. So that was it, Daddy died, then your children either die or leave and you decide that instead of grieving like a normal widow, or looking for your daughter, you replace us all, like we were nothing to you. You really are shallow.”

“Is that why you came, after 12 years you finally wanted to see that I made something of my life unlike you, who judging by that outfit is unemployeed and probably living under a bridge somewhere.”

You started to chuckle, “Yeah Mary, whatever helps you sleep at night. I just hope that Eric is happy with that cobwebbed thing. Wonder if he is scared seeing how the first police academy boy you slept with Andrew is dead, along with Officer Nelson, Herman, and Charlies. Tell me if Grant was still alive and knew you were cheating on Dad with all his friends who were going to be police with him you think....”

“YOU ARE JUST A SAD LITTLE GIRL WHO CAN’T ACCEPT THAT HER FATHER WAS A DUMBASS AND WAS TOO STUPID TO SAVE HIMSELF AND WERE TOO SCARED TO FACE THE FACT THAT YOUR SIBLINGS ARE DEAD AND IT IS ALL BECAUSE OF YOUR DUMBASS FATHER’S DRUNKEN MISTAKES WHILE ON DUTY!”

“Well at least he wasn’t a whore like you!” And with that you swung the door open again and slammed it behind you, and as you marched yourself down the stairs, you came face to face with two agents of the FBI.

“I’ll be in the car.” You growled as you stormed past.

“So when were you planning on telling us that this is the town you grew up in?” Sam asked that night as you all sat in the motel room, Sam on the couch with his eyes glued to the screen of the laptop, Dean sat at the table looking over files of the victims. and you were laying on the bed, staring at the yellowing ceiling as you drew a short breath.

“I knew you two would find out sooner or later, specially after we went in the police station.”

“And you were planning on telling us that your mom ran the whole town, or that your dad....”

“How do you know about my father and mother?” You asked, your body going from the laying down position to sitting up and looking at Dean, whose face was reddening at the sound of the springs.

“Well your mom and you share...”

“She has a different last name, it is Fanzine, like the deputy down at the station, you know the football looking one. So I will ask you again, how did you know my mother runs the town and my father was the old chief.”

Dean was silent for a few minutes, you could see the lie forming in his brain as he processed the words he should say, however Sam was far quicker at responding, “Dean asked Ernie about it, however Ernie was not one who needed much convincing, seeing how he wasn’t even prompted at first to tell us. After that he...”

“Yeah Ernie is like that, well what do you want to know?”

“About the case or about you?” Dean asked as you looked at him, and saw the loving, protective nature pouring from them.

“Either.”

“Well what do you think about the case, the only theme I can find with the victims are that they were all roughly the same age, and had the same occupation. Did you know them?”

“Andrew Livingstone, Nelson Remington, Herman Grebel, and Charlies Greenbert were best friends, their close friend group also consisted of two other boys, Eric Fanzine, and Grant [Y/L/N]. All of them wanted to join the Senoia police force and work under my dad, and Herman’s uncle. They all were just punks, played minor pranks here or there, went fishing, hunted, were just boys.”

“Other then the friendship can you think of something else that linked them?” Sam asked as you took another deep breath.

“I am sure Ernie mentioned the failing of the marriage when he was oversharing our family history. Well the marriage was failing because of my mother, whom I am sure you met already and saw her true form.”

“Yeah, I can see why you never mentioned her before.” Dean added as you smiled slightly

“Yes well she hides a whole lot of bitch under those pantsuits. She also however hides a cougar magnet. The marriage failing was no one’s fault but my whore mother’s. She was having an affair with Andrew Livingstone. Twice a week they would hook up in this hotel, in room 55B. It had been happening for almost a year, and while my father didn’t want my mother’s name to be slandered, since she was preparing to run for mayor again, we all knew about the affair. That was the start of what lead Grant to wanting to leave, the thought of this happening scarred him and ruined the very friend group he clung to. Dad dying was the second thing, and the big push. After that the remaining members of the group join the academy and were not doing well enough to join the force here, since the standards were set so high by the previous mayor. So to join the force they each slept with the current mayor of the time, hoping she would grant them entrance. It worked and with a strong referral from my mother, they got in. It was also during this time that Grant got killed in battle and when attending the funeral of her own son she arrived on the arm of his best friend, whom she was sleeping with. However no one knew of the relations between the group and the mayor except for the two girls who were forced to listen to it, seeing how the sex occurred in the bed her and my father shared. That is the main reason I left,I was tired of it, and soon so was Kathleen. She was the only one who had my number when I left. She said Mom was marrying Eric and she couldn’t live with the thought of her and Eric marrying so soon after everything, and the date of the wedding was set for the day my father died. I told her to come meet me, and I would take her away, but my message was too late, and was replied with, “I hope you are happy shank, cause your only sister is dead. NEVER show your face here again.”

“Woah.” Was all either of the men before you could say, the tears running down your eyes as you wiped them away.

“Yeah. My family was one shitshow.” You giggled as Dean stood up and sat next to you, taking your frame in his arms as he pulled you close.

“I see now why you lied about them, I am so sorry.”

“It is fine. But I don’t know how this link could help. I mean the only thing I could think of was a ghost....”

“Wait, why did you think Ghost, we were thinking....”

“Did you guys not feel how cold the entire building was, it felt like the whole heating system was broken, even though it said it was 75 degrees in the room. Also before I left for the town hall, I did a sweep and the EMF was going nuts around the whole perimeter, and in the doorway.”

“You my love are a saint.” Dean said, kissing your temple as you smiled, and watched Dean go back to the files at the table, where he sat for a while more before the phone went into a frenzy.

“Agent Stevens speaking.” Sam replied as he looked at you again, as you watched in wonder as his eyes widened.

“We will get there in a second, DON’T touch anything till both I and my partner arrive.” He emphasized before he closed the phone and looked at the two of you, “Eric Fanzine is dead.”

“I wanna go see.” you replied, as both boys leapt into action, both reaching for the FBI suit jackets as you rose as well, pulling your duffle out to collect the pencil skirt and button down you always wore when playing the female FBI role.

“No, I think...”

“Well if I go with you, then I have an alliby that the police will believe, I can just say I was with you two, helping research the case, since I am an....”

“And when they decide to look up the fact that you aren’t a Feb, and then take you in for this, since I am assuming that is what you think will happen, then we all are screwed. So please princess, stay here.” Dean whispered as he leaned over to kiss you, before leaving out the door with Sam, as you pouted slightly, and laid down on the creaky mattress.

Dean POV

When the boys returned it was early morning, and you were curled up on the bed, the sunrise rays slowly dancing on your face. I slowly walked to the side of bed she was facing and lifted my hand to brush the hair from the front of her face. She smiled slightly as she hummed in her sleep.

“So tell me Dean, what the fuck was that back there?” Sammy snapped as he threw the jacket onto the couch before flopping down onto the other bed, and looked at me.

“Sammy I am sorry, but I couldn’t just let them talk shit about my girlfriend like that.”

“Oh thank God you two are here. I accidentally left my wife’s Tupperware here, and I was coming back to get it. That is when I walked in and I.... I don’t know what I saw.” Gebel rambled as Sam and I entered the station, which was covered in police tape and investigators.

“Well can you try to word it as best as you can?” Sam asked as I took my time looking at the desk that Eric had been seated at earlier, which was decorated with a few photographs, one of a little girl with big blue eyes, one of him and [Y/N]’s mother, and another of a group of football players, one who looked as though he could be the male version of [y/n].

“Well I thought.... I saw Hank.” He shakily whispered as his face paled, my head turning towards him, “Like with his hand in his torso.”

“Well that sounds....”

“OH MY ERICBOO!” A high pitch scream came from the doorway, the source dressed in silk pajamas, and a pair of sneakers as she raced towards the body. Gebel quickly reached out and stopped her from racing into the scene as my teeth tightened.

“My Husband!” She wailed as she crumbled in Gebel’s embrace

“I am so sorry Mary. Eric was a good kid, everyone....”

“Where is my daughter, I demand she be brought in for questioning!”

“Excuse me ma’am but why would your’s and Eric’s child be guilty, for one is not even born yet and the other is 4.”

“Not them, my other ungrateful child, who hated my husband and was jealous of my success.”

“And why would she be jealous of you. You just look like a miserable old woman who only got a young husband because you promised him mind blowing sex probably and a young looking hag.” I barked as she looked at me with reddened eyes.

“How DARE YOU! I am GRIEVING!” Mary snapped as she placed a hand upon her stomach, “Oh My darling Eric.”

“You can’t believe the [Y/N] would have done something like this. This is awful, and...”

“I want to know where she is! I want her...”

“She was with me!.” I yelled, the woman and officer glaring at me as I sighed, “I am her husband, and when I told her that I was taking a case here, she wanted to come and visit her hometown, maybe show me the sights. We were keeping it a secret from you all because she didn’t want to boast that she married an agent. At the time the murder occurred we were having sexual intercourse, we are trying for a baby. My partner can confirm this, since we were making him sit in the car at the time of the act.”

“You and my daughter.... are married.” Mary asked, her face in shock as she looked at him blankly.

“Yes. Now Chief Gebel, if you can please escort Mrs. Fanzine home so we can work.” Sam instructed as he slowly took her out of the room and into an meeting office, as I left the station.

“Well I suggest that you go to bed, and hope that you didn’t throw the whole case.”

“Yeah but Sammy, it makes sense doesn’t it, I mean all the victims were involved with [Y/N]’s mom, and Gebel said he saw her ex husband, who was a cop. What if...”

“Dean, we will talk about it later, right now, I just want an hour of sleep.” Sam yawned as he turned away, my feet carrying me to the empty side of the bed, where I laid next to [y/n], praying for her sake the killer wasn’t the ghost to her dead father.

Part 2

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euphoriaprblm-blog · 6 years

Text

Dancing With Fire

Summary:Dan awakes from a one thousand year sleep and meets Phil who looks like someone from Dans mysterious past. See what happens as Dan and Phil build a relationship and shit goes awry

Rating: R

Words:2704

Warnings:Blood, Gore, smut

Read on Wattpad

read Part 1

Part 2 - The Agreement

When Phil opened his eyes he could hear birds singing right outside his window perched on a small tree, the bright shining sun was letting in a beautiful warm glow that casted over his blue bedroom. He knew today would be an amazing day, at least he thought so until he heard a loud voice in the living room. It was too muffled by the walls to be able to make anything out, but obviously someone in his pack was in distress and as the alpha of the pack, Phil raced to see what the problem was. Forgetting he was only in his boxers, and that his hair probably looked straight out of Frankenstein, the tall boy ran into the living at full speed looking like a hot mess. Standing in the door way he could see that three of his pack mates where huddled around the T.V. with looks of horror covering their faces.

“You guys, what’s wrong, by the way you sounded Christian I would have thought somebody died.”

Christian was one of the omegas of Phil’s pack, He was known for being very loud an overdramatic so Phil immediately felt the sense danger dissipate. Looking over their shoulders he could see the T.V. was on the news station, a news reporter was standing in front of a house that Phil could recognize as being only a few miles down the road. His blood ran cold as he reminded himself of yesterday, meeting Dan and then him being on his way. Dan had to be behind whatever happened to his neighbors, he just hoped it wouldn’t be too bad.

“After authorities were notified when nobody from the Jenkins family made it to work this morning patrol units were sent to their Michigan home in hopes to get in contact with the family. After arriving police were baffled to find both Bob and their daughter, Lucy’s cars still in the drive way. Upon further inspection authorities say their front and back doors where left wide open but that isn’t what brought all of Genesee police to this location, what did was what detective lance refers to as an utter blood bath. We warn some viewers the images we are about to show you are very disturbing.”

The news women panned out as an array of pictures swamped the screen. Blood, so much blood. Phil is almost certain in his entire life he’s never seen this much blood. The images were enough to have Christian throwing up into the small trash can next to their lazy boy while his mate PJ rubbed small circles into his back tenderly.

“Who could have done something like this?” asked PJ while he continue to comfort his omega.

Phil could feel the hair on the back of his neck begin to sweat as while as his large palms. Just as the alpha was about to confess Chris was already on an uproar.

“It has to be some fucking newborn vampire, those damn blood suckers never care about shit, we are gunna have to go find this piece of shit and kill it before it can cause more harm.” Raged Chris, who then slumped back into his seat with a huff.

Phil knew he had to tell them who did this, but the thought of hurting Dan made his knees weak. Dan couldn’t have done this, he was such a small pretty thing, with beautiful golden eyes that pierced into his soul and also had abs like a god. Yet Phil also had to realize the probability of it not being Dan and he hated to say it, but it was slim, very slim.

Walking in front of his pack mates with no courage, Phil hanged his head slightly to not meet their eyes before he spoke timidly, “Well I might have met this vampire yesterday, I think it was him, or might have been hi-.”

“What do you mean you met a vampire, how, why and where were you?” questioned PJ, with a look of disbelief in his eyes.

It wasn’t that vampires weren’t very common, but they rarely let werewolves be close enough to them to live in the same city, let alone to meet. Vampires were very aware that werewolves where stronger and faster than they were after the Great War, but they were also much more cunning, and could heal their wounds in minutes, not to mention that immortality thing.

“Well I was at the cemetery visiting… well you know who, and I could hear somebody screaming from under the ground a few rows over so I ran to where I was hearing it and I started digging. I dug down to this weird looking black and gold casket and when I opened it there was a vampire inside. He was dying so I let him drink a little blood and I brought him back here for a shower but he left right after. He was super small and tiny I didn’t think he could even harm a human he was so tiny let alone do any of that!”

Phil could see that PJs face was scrunched with pure anger and knew he was about to get blown up at by the beta. “Phil, so you’re telling me not only did you let a vampire drink from you, you showed him to our home, our home where we live, also you’re telling me this vampire was inside a fucking coffin buried in the cemetery what the fuck is all that? Sounds straight out of a movies to me, you sure this wasn’t a dream?”

Phil could only nod leaving to the laundry room to retrieve the vampire’s now clean clothes from yesterday.

Showing the clothing to his pack mates Phil continued, “Not only that but his grave depicted that he was born in the 900’s! When I asked him about it he said he wasn’t born then, and that the reason he was buried in the ground was because he was sleeping, sleeping you guys!”

Chris, PJ and Christian where now studying the pieces of clothing like it was new found treasure, the clothing looked oddly fancy as if Dan might have been a part of some royal blood line.

Chris was the first to reply with a serious look on his face, “This guy sounds like bad new, we should leave it to the vampire counsel. I’m sure one of their minions has seen this news report and they are already on their way to exterminate him.”

PJ nodded his head towards Chris, agreeing with his words entirely. The Larger Werewolf out of the three understood their concerns, but still couldn’t wrap his mind around the little vampire doing something like this. Sure he didn’t know Dan very well, but he needed to speak to him, hear his side of the story. Surely there had to be some sort of explanation for what had happened.

“A vampire who is over a thousand years old sounds like very bad news, we need to tell the rest of the pack mates to stay on guard. Not to mention I find it very odd that no bodies were found at the crime scene don’t you?” questioned PJ.

“Yes, especially since there were clear indications the bodies were dragged out the back door and into the back yard, yet the trail of blood stopped right there. I wonder what happened.” Replied Chris who then stood from his chair and walked over to phil. “Also by the way you should put some pants on captain.” And with that Chris left the room, to go warn the rest of the pack. The alphas face became red and hot with embarrassment before he darted off to his room. What he thought was going to be a good day, had already become the worst and he had only been awake for an hour.

Off in the city in a small apartment Dan was causally sipping a glass of scotch in a luxurious leather seat while a newborn vampire frolicked around him. He had decided to let this one entertain him for the time being until it was closer to dusk to reunite with Phil. The strong liquid burned his throat as he sipped it admiring the newborn in front of him. He was moving his hips in an exotic way, keeping up with the rhythm of the music. The older vampire found it very enticing and waved him over with a sly smirk. The blond haired boy sauntered over to him sexually, placing a knee on each side of the elder while grinding on him softly. With drink still in hand Dan placed his other hand on the small of the shirtless boy, grinding his own small hips into the ones above him. Dan motioned for him to take a place between his legs soon after the grinding began, using his spare hand to entwine in the newborn’s hair, Dan directed his face into his awaiting crotch.

“You know what to do, don’t you my toy?” Purred Dan.

The boy quickly took Dan’s length out of his pants sliding his tongue from the base to tip in one slow motion before putting the head into his mouth. His tongue swirled around the tip while he massaged his balls delicately. Dan hummed as a warm feeling engulfed his body and took a small sip of his drink. The vampire could tell the boy wanted to please him greatly for the new life he had been given, but he didn’t know his fate was sealed the moment Dan walked through his door.

The newborn vampire sucked hungrily at Dan’s rock hard cock, spit was pooling at the base of his dick as the vampire sloppily pleased him. His tightened his hand in the boy between his legs hair holding his head firmly to his groin while he shot white streams down his throat. The newborn grew scared when even after he was pulled away from Dan’s cock the grip in his hair stayed secured. When he looked up at his maker a demonic aura was pouring out from him and the boy could only feel death emanating from him. Too scared to move the vampire stared helpless into Dan’s eyes while the older vampire grinned. In a quick motion that the boy couldn’t even comprehend, there were fangs on his neck drinking his blood supply quickly, and before he knew it darkness had engulfed him. After he had drained every drop of blood from the blond boy Dan watched as he fell limply to the ground.

A deep red blushed covered the vampires cheeks as he fell back into the leather seat. Soft moans and gasps passed his slightly swollen lips as he rode out the feeding high. His small hips bucked into the air as he gripped his hoodie tightly, and small tears appeared at the edge of his eyes. Ignoring the overwhelming sexual urge after feeding was impossible to Dan, and left him momentarily helpless as he struggled to not get lost in the pleasure.

The euphoric feeling in his veins eventually subsided and all he could now think about was phil. Taking a small peak outside Dan figured it was still light enough to dispose of the body, but dark enough that by the time he arrived at the alphas house he wouldn’t seem suspicious. The vampire took note as he lifted the cold body that this kill had been much cleaner than the last, without so much as a single drop not making it into his hungry mouth. Calmly leaving the apartment the vampire was glad none of its other residents were lingering in the hallways, not that they would be difficult for him to deal with. Although just as he though they made it out without wasting extra energy a man walked in threw the front door to the complex and stared horrifically at the body in Dan’s arms.

In a flash Dan was centimeters from the man’s face peering deeply into his eyes, “You will go to your house, you will forget seeing me, you will forget seeing this body, now go.”

Dan giggled with amusement as the man walked away in a zombie like trance up the stairs, he loved toying with humans. Walking out the front of the complex he lazily tossed the body into the sun and watched as the figure immediately caught fire and burned to ashes. With his mess cleaned up the vampire happily wandered towards Phil’s house. By the time he arrived night had fallen peacefully around him, his walk there was silent with only the stars to keep him company. Though Dan was instantly displeased as the smell of other werewolves invaded his sensitive nose. Phil’s pack was home, great. All the small vampire wanted to do was spend time with Phil, but it looks like it won’t be that simple. Before he could make it up the cement path to the front door the tall alpha Dan had came over to see ran out of the house with two other werewolves behind him. He could tell instantly from their demeanor they were angry, but why, he did not know.

“You! You where the one who killed those people, you monster!” Shouted some curly brown haired boy from Phil’s left. Dan noticed Phil’s expression was pained as they stared into eachother eyes. The vampire didn’t understand what the big deal was, or why the werewolves even cared.

“What does it matter to you if I did? They were just humans.”

Dan noticed the way Phil’s pained expression turned to sadness in realization that it was him who ruthlessly killed those people.

Surprisingly the alpha took a step towards Dan with his hands slightly reached out, “You probably don’t know this, but vampires don’t kill humans anymore, they go through the blood banks, what you did last night Dan... was terrible, and the vampire counsel will want to destroy you for what you did!”

Phil watched as the little vampire snickered at what he had to say walking closer to phil. Putting his hands out in front of his pack mates who grew rowdy as the vampire drew closer to their alpha. They backed off but still stayed in a protective stance ready to pounce on the vampire in an instant if need be. They all watched as Dan stood on his tippy toes and wrapped his arm around Phil’s soft white neck, who still had to bend down slightly for him to reach.

Staring into the alphas eyes Dan spoke softly, “those fools from the vampire counsel wouldn’t dare come for me, you have nothing to worry about, and if my dear Phil has such a problem with me drinking from humans, perhaps you could offer your blood to me instead?”

Phil’s pale face blushed deeply as he felt Dan’s cool breath on his neck as he hushed his worries. It was almost as if the vampire could read his thoughts, Phil yearned for the vampire to feed off him again. The pleasure the taller man felt the last time was insane and couldn’t believe he could feel as good as he did that day. Dan let go of Phil and stared into his deep blue eyes as his own wracked over the small form in front of him. The vampire looked much different than when they first met. Dan’s skin was a milky white with an almost silver glow to it, his eyes were much brighter and shined a sunny golden glow. Dan’s beautiful brown hair was now in lushes waves that fell just above his shoulders with a soft silky look to them. Even the vampire’s voice was smoother as he spoke to him, the pull Phil felt for the vampire was immense, of course he couldn’t turn this adorable things offer down. While PJ and Chris yelled something towards the werewolf, he filtered them out and so did Dan, both of them getting lost in each other’s eyes.

“You can have my blood” answered Phil, and he knew right there that he had made the crazies decision of his life, and boy did it feel oh so right.

#phanfiction #Phanfic #phanfic au #smut #vampire!dan #short!dan

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nurseperriestyles-blog · 7 years

Text

Useless

“I still don’t understand why Perrie is here..” Eren grumbled, causing Perrie to roll her eyes.

Perrie slid off of Mikasa’s back and immediately sank down, refusing to look anywhere but at her shoes.

“I’m a nurse.” she shrugged, and Eren rolled his eyes back at her.

“What do you think you’ll be able to do? You had to get a piggy back from Mikasa just to get here, and you can’t even stand up.” he countered, and Perrie put her hands on her hips and scrunched her nose.

“My knees are busted and I’m afraid of heights!”

“You’re such a baby!”

“And you’re being ungrateful...again!”

The two sounded like children arguing, and the Garrison soldiers around them exchanged irritated glances.

“Hey, we have bigger things to worry about here.” Rico snapped, causing the two to shut up.

“Alright, let’s go then!” Eren and the rest jumped from the Wall, while Perrie and Rico stayed behind.

“Hold your ears, this will be loud.” Rico instructed as she pulled out the signal gun. Perrie did as she was told and the emerald smoke flew high above them, letting the other group know the mission had begun. “Okay, stay here for now. It’s too dangerous for you to be down there with no gear. We’ll send someone to get you when the mission is over.”

Perrie nodded and watched as Rico shot off in the direction of Eren and the others.

“Good luck!” she called after them, her fingers crossed.

After a few minutes, she lost sight of them, but when a brilliant flash of lightning bathed everything in bright yellow light, she knew about where they were.

A thunderous roar permeated the air, and Perrie saw Eren’s Titan form burst through the plume of smoke. Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open as the Titan’s glowing green eyes scanned its surroundings, but she immediately felt as if something was wrong.

He stood slightly hunched forward, his shoulders squared and his chest bowed out. Perrie recognized that stance from the infirmary; hysterical or violent patients took that stance right before they attacked a nurse..

“Shit!” Perrie hissed as Eren punched a hole through a building. Though she couldn’t see, she knew he had took a swing at one of the soldiers.

She felt completely useless as she watched him jump around, punching and kicking the buildings. Suddenly, she saw him punch himself in the face, knocking him into a building. Shortly after, a red flare sliced through the sky.

Goddamnit, all I can do is sit and wait..

All she could do was stare in their direction, hoping that Eren would stand up and complete the mission. She wished she could get down there and make sure he was okay..

She wished that none of this was even happening.

So many lives were going to end because of this mission, and the thought made Perrie sick. Sending people to die, watching helplessly as they did so..those were the things Perrie stood completely against. It killed her to watch people die.

She remembered Grisha telling her that every life was precious..that she should always try her hardest and her best to save someone..but she pushed the thought of him aside; it only made her heart ache and her jaw clench.

Doctor Yeager, what did you do?

Several minutes later, after sitting there watching and waiting, she heard footsteps running towards her. When she looked up, she saw Armin approaching.

“Where are they? What happened?” he asked through labored breaths.

“There. I don’t know what happened, I couldn’t see very well. I just saw him attacking them all of a sudden, and now Titans are heading towards them.” Armin’s eyes went wide as she spoke, and he ran a hand through his hair.

“Stay here!” he ordered as he shot off towards the others.

“Well, where the fuck else would I go!” she yelled after him, throwing her arms up in frustration.

Her irritation melted away quickly, though, as she noticed a swarm of Titans slowly marching towards the group. Her heart stopped at the sight, and she felt like crying.

I’m so fucking useless! What if they’re all killed? I’m just sitting here watching!

Slowly but surely the Titans started to fall, but still more came.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, a familiar roar met Perrie’s ears, and she saw Eren stand.

“Yes!!” she cheered, jumping to her feet.

Over the rooftops, she could see the boulder slowly inching closer and closer to the hole. Hope drenched Perrie’s entire being and she felt light headed. It didn’t even matter that she was standing on top of a fifty meter high wall, or that Eren was a Titan...humanity was about to win its first victory over the Titans, and Perrie was watching it happen.

As they got closer, Perrie could see all of the soldiers assisting Eren. More had joined since the mission had started, and Perrie’s heart swelled with pride..

Until she saw them dying.

There was blood everywhere. Perrie watched as Titans plucked the soldiers from the ground and from the sky and swallowed them whole. She watched them crush them, stomp on them, and pull them apart..

She slowly sank to her knees, her lips slightly parted, her hands hanging limply at her sides.

There was nothing she could do except watch them die.

She watched as Mikasa and Rico sliced through them, she watched as Armin shouted at Eren through tears, she watched as Eren slammed the boulder down, fitting it perfectly into the hole. She watched as yellow smoke shot into the air.

She sobbed as she realized they had won.

“Why are you here? And why are you blubbering like a baby?”

Perrie hadn’t even heard him approach her over her crying, so when she looked up and saw Captain Levi, she jumped a little.

“E-Eren plugged the wall.” she stuttered dumbly, limply pointing down.

Levi glanced down and nodded.

“He’s a Titan, then?” he asked.

“He’s a Titan.” she confirmed.

“Are you alright? You look like shit.”

Perrie bristled and almost argued with him, until she heard screaming from below.

“Shouldn’t you be helping them?” she demanded, finding her strength.

Levi stared at her for just a bit longer, then, without a word, he was gone.

“Perrie?!”

Perrie was suddenly pulled to her feet with Ty’s hands gripping her shoulders. His eyes were wide with confusion.

“Why are you here?” He questioned.

Perrie was too elated to reply. Anytime the Survey Corps went on expeditions, she worried about Ty constantly. And after the day she was having, the sight of him alive and unhurt brought her unfathomable joy.

When she heard screams from below, she was pulled back to reality.

“You have to take me down there!” Perrie tried to rush to the edge of the wall to look down, but Ty wouldn’t let her go. When she looked back at him, she was startled.

The only time she had ever seen him look scared was the day he and his father picked her and Desmond up from the refugee camp after the wall fell. His eyes seemed to drink every bit of her in, relishing in the fact that she was okay. For the rest of the day, Ty held her hand, only letting it go when she went to sleep that night.

He had that look now, for some reason.

“Why are you here?! This is absolutely no place for a civilian.” His voice was even, but there was a hint of something lingering inside...anger, maybe? Fear?

Perrie shook her head impatiently.

“Look, I get that, but you need to take me down there right now, Ty.” She tried to keep calm, but the thought of Eren coming out of his Titan body..she didn’t have time to argue.

“Perrie, you need to get out of—“

“I’ll jump and you’ll have to take me then.” She cut in, stepping away from him. Ty’s face was white and incredulous.

“What is going on, Perrie? Have you lost your mind?”

“Just take me down there, goddamnit! Eren needs me and Commander Pyxis gave me express permission to aid Eren!” Perrie used her firm, no nonsense nurse voice that she saved only for difficult patients. She didn’t have time for this.

Ty gaped at her, unable to formulate and answer. Finally, he clamped his mouth shut, clenched his jaw and grabbed her roughly.

Perrie had never seen Ty act in such a manner. He was always laughing and smiling, making jokes and never taking anything seriously. His lazy smile and bright eyes were Perrie’s favorite things in the world.

Perrie didn’t recognize this Ty.

Once on the ground, Ty let her go as if she were burning his hands and he zipped off to help his fellow scouts kill the few Titans remaining. Perrie ran to Eren’s side, where Armin and Mikasa we’re trying to wake him up. Captain Levi was standing on the back of a slain Titan, cleaning it’s steaming blood from his blades.

“He’s burning the fuck up.” Perrie muttered, her hands roaming over his face and neck. “He probably stayed inside the Titan too long. Transforming twice in one day for such extended periods of time probably isn’t good for him. He’s completely over exerted himself. Shit.”

Levi watched as the nurse examined the boy, her face a stony mask of determination. She showed no fear in her face, just in her hands, which shook softly.

“So that’s why you’re here.” He said, walking over to where she crouched beside Eren. “You know, we’re going to have to take him into military custody. The military police are probably salivating at the thought of hanging him.”

“They’re not going to touch him.” Perrie said matter of factly, not even looking at him. Her reply caused Levi to snort.

“Oh? And I suppose you’ll be the one to stop them?”

Perrie glared up at him, but knew better than to argue. There were more important things to do at the moment, and she couldn’t get her temper cloud her judgment.

“Let’s get out of here, then. They’ll need to begin cleaning this place up, and Eren will need to be put into custody.” Levi jumped down from the Titan and sheathed his blades. Mikasa stepped between him and Eren, causing Levi to glare at her.

“Look, I am not your enemy here, girl. If you want to keep him safe, you have to trust me.” he said coolly. “And you,” he looked at Perrie. “You look like death. Go home and clean yourself up.”

“What? No! I’m not leaving him!” Perrie argued, standing up and taking a step towards the captain.

There was a flash of green and Ty was suddenly beside her, grabbing her arm. He was breathing hard and had steaming blood on his cape.

“I’m taking you home, like it or not, Pear.” his voice was steel, and Perrie stared at him with wide eyes and a furrowed brow.

“It’s Eren, Ty! I can’t--”

“I don’t care. Your dad is going to kill us both when he finds out you were in the middle of a Titan battle. Imagine how he’d feel if you got killed down here, Perrie!”

Ty’s words struck Perrie so hard she took a step back from him. Shame pinched her heart at the thought of her father being left all alone, and frustration flashed in her eyes at Ty for being so mean.

“Why are you acting like this?” she demanded softly.

“Because imagine how I’d feel if you got killed down here.” his voice was soft, back to it’s usual self, but a strange smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.

Perrie faltered then, and looked back down at Eren, and then to Levi, who looked completely unamused by the exchange.

“Promise he’ll be okay.” Perrie said, pointing at Eren.

Levi quirked a brow.

“Promise that you won’t let them kill him, and promise I’ll be able to see him again--”

“I don’t make promises I can’t keep, nurse.” Levi cut in, causing Perrie to wince slightly.

Perrie watched as he walked away from her, and she felt Ty’s hand curl around her wrist.

“Tell them goodbye and let’s go.” he whispered.

Perrie spun around and went to Mikasa and Armin, who were kneeling beside Eren. She hugged Armin first, and then Mikasa, who actually returned it.

“Stick together and be safe.” Perrie said.

She looked down at Eren and brushed the hair from his forehead.

“Don’t cause too much trouble, kid.” she whispered before kissing his forehead.

Perrie gave them one last smile before walking back to Ty, who picked her up gently.

“You’re going to be the death of me, Pear.”

#perrie styles #snk fic #snk oc #aot fic #aot oc #oc x canon #levi x oc

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