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soaringthroughthegalaxy · 2 months

Note

hi!! just read both of your wrecker works and rineicbeijcwjkdjs LOVED THEM!! wrecker’s my fav of tbb and i really feel like he needs more love😭 i'm gonna be checking out some of your other works later lol

anyways i saw that you were taking requests, so i went through your prompt list and saw two that caught my eye. they're 24. “You need to wake up because I can't do this without you.” and 18. “I almost lost you.”

i was wondering if you could write something with those prompts for wrecker please? like tbb + reader were able to rescue omega, crosshair, and tech (i am believer in tech surviving season 2 finale), but the reader got seriously injured during the rescue and is now in a coma. wrecker would be the one to say the prompts and it would be angsty like wrecker thinking the reader might die. but please let this end happily.

other than those details i trust your writing skills and process for anything! take your time writing, there's absolutely no rush!! and again your writing is soooo awesome!!😊😊

Well hello there!

I'm so glad you enjoyed those fics, and thank you for popping this request in - so sorry it's taken me so long to write it! I had a lot of fun with this one, and I hope it hits the spot 😁

I guess it's also technically canon divergent now S3 is out, haha 😅

Through the Darkness

No one said rescuing the rest of the Batch from Mount Tantiss would be easy - you just didn't expect it to go like this.

Pairing: Wrecker x F!reader

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: canon typical violence, reader in a coma for a bit, little bit of angst, but also dashes of hope, happily ever after.

Translations: sarad - flower

Hemlock has his hands on you, his blaster pressed to your temple. The sounds of fighting cease. Dead TK Troopers litter the floor. Wrecker and his siblings freeze, slowly lowering their weapons.

Your back is pressed to Hemlock’s chest, and there isn’t a clean shot at him.

“Anyone moves and your dear liaison will pay the price,” Hemlock states.

Rage flows through Wrecker. You were in danger, too far for him to grab and shield, and he had no idea what to do. He glances at his siblings – Omega curled against Hunter’s side with weariness painted on her face, Tech leaning heavily against Echo for support as his body protests the prolonged time standing. Crosshair had peeled off from the group earlier, searching for what or who none of them was sure. They were all back together again. A family again. He wasn’t about to let Hemlock take you from them.

Shakes start in your thighs, slowly creeping up your body until your arms and hands tremble, too. You’ve been in dangerous situations before, had your life threatened before - but you’re certain Hemlock would do it. The man is crazy and will stop at nothing to get his hands on your family. The sound of his verbal back and forth with Hunter is like white noise.

The slightest movement in the rafters above catches your attention, and your eyes dart up. Battered and bruised, Crosshair has found a vantage point and a rifle. Those hawkish eyes meet yours, and a silent conversation is shared. You do the maths. There’s only one way out of this. Thank the Maker you still trust him, even after everything.

You give an almost imperceivable nod, knowing he’ll catch it. You flick your gaze to the others, taking one last look, just in case. Echo, who’d joined you all near the end of the war and had so seamlessly slipped into the fold of your family. Tech, worse for wear after his fall on Eriadu, but with that same solid determination in his eyes. Hunter, the man who’d welcomed you into the squad all those years ago, listened when you shared your thoughts and didn’t make a fuss when you broke terrible news to them about the next mission. Omega, trying to hide her fear through bravery – so much for a young girl with such a pure heart to endure. And Wrecker, the imposing force of a man who’d always put himself between you and danger, who reached for you at every opportunity and consoled you when things had gotten too much – the man you’d quietly loved for some time.

With a shaky breath, you close your eyes, placing all your faith in Crosshair. The quiet sniper who’d at first sneered at you and flicked toothpicks in your face before he’d thawed out and helped perfect your aim, taught you how to use his rifle, and what to look out for when scouting.

The sound of his shot reverberates around the hanger, and milliseconds later, searing pain tears through your shoulder, pulling a piercing cry from your lips. Legs giving out, you crumple, welcoming the cold durasteel you hit.

You don’t know if they all made it out, but you pray they did.

Wrecker hasn’t moved in weeks, refusing to leave you alone. The memory of you being shot won’t leave him; the sound of your agony is stuck on repeat. You’d been in bacta for what felt like forever, the shiny skin on your shoulder a testament to its healing power, but it wasn’t enough to wake you from the coma you’d slipped into. Pabu’s only Doctor had insisted on removing you from the tank once your physical wounds had healed, transferring you to a standard medical bed.

Crosshair’s shot had torn through your shoulder, but the angle had been perfect. Wrecker hadn’t expected any less from his little brother. The bolt had exited you and entered Hemlock, hitting him straight in the chest. A kill shot. That hadn’t killed you. Or so Wrecker hoped. Even if you woke, your shoulder would likely ache for the rest of your life, and your arm would not be as strong as before.

The sound of the door opening pulls Wrecker’s gaze from your prone form and across the small room in Pabu’s clinic. Crosshair slides through the crack in the door, thin lips pressed together, brow pinched. He visits often, guilt in his eyes every time he looks you over. You might’ve okayed the shot, but it still tore at the sniper’s soul to have hurt you.

“Nothing?” Crosshair rasps, sticking close to the door as he glances between you and his brother. He’d never admit it, but fear was starting to settle in his gut. If you didn’t wake…

“Nothin’.” Wrecker confirms, shoulders slumped. “Been talkin’ to her. Doc said she might be able to hear us. Not that it’s doin’ much good.” He sighs, gaze shifting back to you. “Told her we all got out okay. That you and Tech and the kid are alright. Don’t want her worryin’.”

Crosshair makes a slight noise, acknowledging his brother’s words as his gaze lingers on your prone form.

“You stayin’ a bit?” Wrecker asks, using one foot to push out the spare chair at his side – the rest of their siblings often visited, too.

Hesitating, Crosshair lets out a small sigh as he moves across the room, lowering himself silently into the chair. He hadn’t stayed before, preferring to flit in for any news before disappearing. It hurt too much to see you this way, knowing he’d caused it. That and he was still working through everything that had happened during his time with the Empire, trying to fix his relationships with his siblings. But Wrecker needed him, so he’d stay.

You’d always hated the dark.

The shadows surround you, pressing in from all sides. Yet amidst the inky darkness, you find yourself standing in a solitary spot of light, its glow offering a semblance of warmth amidst the chill of the void. The lights kept appearing, and you’d learned quickly that when a new one glistened on the horizon, you had to run for it before the light you were already standing in disappeared.

You’d lost track of how many lights you’d chased so far.

Each one varied in intensity – sometimes brilliant beacons, other times mere flickers barely piercing the gloom. Yet, regardless of their brightness, they all held a magnetic pull, drawing you forward with an unyielding force. And each time you reached one, a brief respite washed over you, a fleeting moment before the next journey into the unknown began.

Scanning the horizon, you spot another light starting to beckon, its faint glow a promise of safety. With a heavy heart, you know what you need to do.

Taking a deep breath, you burst into a sprint. Each step forward is a battle against the darkness, its tendrils reaching out like icy fingers, eager to drag you into its embrace. Goosebumps prickle your arms, heart pounding as fear gnaws at your insides, but a stubborn determination fuels your movements. You can’t afford to falter, to succumb to the darkness, not after everything.

Worry lingers at the edge of your consciousness, a constant reminder of uncertainty. What lay beyond the lights? Will you ever find your way back to the world you once knew? The questions taunt you, echoing in your mind relentlessly the longer you spend here.

Yet, a glimmer of hope remains amidst the fear and uncertainty. Though the darkness threatens to overwhelm you, there must be a reason for the light. There has to be something causing it. Blessing you with it. Giving you these small moments of respite and keeping you in one piece.

You keep going. One foot in front of the other.

A shove yanks Wrecker out of sleep, and the big man jolts awake with a small yelp.

Crosshair snickers, leaning back in his seat, drawing his hand back towards his chest. “Sleeping on the job, vod.” He can’t help but jibe, his smirk melting into a frown at the sound of Wrecker’s stomach growling. “When’s the last time you ate?” He asks. He hadn’t wanted to wake him, seeing him finally getting some rest, but the sun was high in the sky now, and Crosshair knew it wouldn’t be long until Omega and Hunter swung by.

Blinking, Wrecker’s mind takes a moment to catch up with the fact he’s awake. “Urm, yesterday? Maybe?” He guesses, not really sure. The days were starting to blend together.

With a huff, Crosshair stands, long legs unfolding. “Will get you something. Can’t wither away before she wakes.” He mutters, grateful for the opportunity to leave and not have to sit any longer in silence with his feelings – he’d done enough of that for the day.

With a slight nod of appreciation, Wrecker watches as Crosshair heads out the door, hearing the gentle click of it shutting behind him. Hand wiping over his face, Wrecker shifts in the chair, stretching a little. But he can’t avoid the inevitable forever, and although it pains him, he looks you over for what feels like the millionth time.

Despite his imposing stature, he feels powerless.

He hadn’t been able to protect you - the woman he loves. He’s loved you since the moment he first met you in the hanger of a Venator, as you’d been assigned to him and his brothers as their liaison. You’d offered them a smile that had rendered him speechless, and his booming laughter had then filled the hanger when you’d quipped back at Crosshair as he'd sneered about them not needing a babysitter.

You kept them on their toes and blended in so seamlessly with their chaotic lives.

Without an audience, Wrecker clears his throat, leaning forward in his seat to gently take your tiny hand in his much larger one. “I hope ya can hear me, sarad.” He starts, voice mellow. “Been a few weeks now since we got ’em back.” He’s not sure how much you’re aware of, if the passing of time is something you’re experiencing. “Cross was just here. Finally sat for a bit. Think he feels guilty.” Wrecker pauses, brows furrowing, face pinching. “I feel guilty. Should have protected ya, kept ya close.” Wrecker’s voice cracks a little, emotion seeping through.

“We’re all here, though. Ain’t leavin’ ya, no matter what. Can’t wait for ya to wake up and tell us all how much trouble we’re in.” He chuckles softly, a hint of sadness in the sound. “Just...ya need to wake up ’cause I can’t do this without you.” He admits, a well of emotion pressing down on his chest.

Wrecker’s words hang heavy in the air, the weight of his emotions palpable even in the silence of the clinic. He wishes he could shake this feeling of helplessness and do more than just sit by your side, waiting for a sign of life. But for now, all he can offer is his unwavering presence and a steady stream of conversation, hoping against hope that somewhere within your subconscious, you can hear him.

Keep going. You need to keep going.

The darkness claws at you, desperate to slow you down and draw you into its embrace. But the light grows closer with every step you take, with every thud of your heart as you race forward. Amidst your footsteps echoing in the void is the faintest whisper of something familiar.

No.

Not something.

Someone.

“Wreck!” You cry out into the darkness, feet faltering for a second as you recognise the deep voice. The darkness tries to take advantage of your momentary hiccup, but with a yelp, you pick up your pace. The hope that lingers in your heart explodes. As you draw closer to the light, Wrecker’s voice comes into focus. “Ain’t leavin’ ya, no matter what.”

With renewed determination, you push yourself harder, every muscle in your body screaming for rest, but you refuse to give in. The light grows brighter, its warmth now palpable against your skin.

And then, just as you’re on the verge of stepping into the light, a sudden force knocks you off balance, sending you sprawling onto the cold, hard ground. Panic grips your chest as you scramble, desperate to continue your pursuit.

But the darkness has other plans, closing in around you like a suffocating blanket, obscuring the light. Amidst the coldness creeping through your body, you cling to the memory of Wrecker’s voice, a lifeline in the darkness.

Body straining, you crawl forward, ignoring the pain and exhaustion, determination burning bright within you. You don’t belong in the darkness. You belong in the light. With them. With him.

Straining, you reach out an arm, trembling fingers skimming the edge of the light as Wrecker’s voice comes through loud and clear. “…ya need to wake up ’cause I can’t do this without you.”

The darkness recoils.

With a final surge of strength, you propel yourself forward, breaking free from the suffocating grip of the void. The light envelops you, wrapping you in its warm embrace as the shadows recede into the distance, getting further and further away. Relief floods through you, tears of joy mingling with sweat on your cheeks.

Head tilting back, you look up at the light, a bubble of laughter escaping as you bask in the glow. Eyes fluttering shut, you savour the moment. Yet this time, when you open your eyes, there’s no darkness or blinding light anymore.

You blink. Once. Twice. The soft hum of medical equipment fills the air. And there, beside you, is Wrecker, head bowed, the weight of his hand wrapped around yours.

Everything seems to freeze except the frantic thudding of your heart. “Wreck…” You whisper, your voice hoarse from disuse as you dare to hope you’re back. Really back.

Wrecker’s head jolts up at the rasped sound of his name, his good eye widening as he meets your gaze, your name falling from his lips as his features crumple, a heaving sob of relief escaping him.

You slowly sit up, wincing at the ache that shoots through your shoulder. It’s still tender, but the pain is nothing compared to the overwhelming flood of emotions that wash over you at the sight of Wrecker’s tear-streaked face.

You reach out, cupping his cheek in your hand, the warmth of his skin grounding you in reality. “I’m here.” You murmur softly, your voice barely above a whisper, unsure if you’re trying to convince yourself or him.

Wrecker’s grip tightens around your hand as if afraid you might slip away again if he lets go. He leans into your touch, his words catching in his throat momentarily before he stands, leaning over the bed to envelop you in an embrace, protective yet gentle, conscious of your shoulder. “You’re back.” He murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “Thought I almost lost ya.”

Weak but grateful, you return his embrace, feeling the warmth of his presence washing over you, grounding you in reality. A lump forms in your throat at the thought of him worrying about you, thinking he would lose you. “Not going anywhere, big guy.” You reassure him, sniffling as you try to keep a lid on your emotions. “The others?” You ask cautiously, dread curling in your gut.

“All made it,” Wrecker confirms, arms slowly uncurling from around you as he sits back in his chair, hand scooping up yours so he can maintain some contact.

Your dread is swept away and replaced immediately by relief; this time, you don’t bother holding back your sobs.

“No cryin’, pretty girl. Please.” Wrecker’s heart aches at the sight, his free hand moving to cup your face and wipe away the tears.

You smile through your tears, overwhelmed by the flood of emotions. Wrecker’s touch is like a lifeline. “Sorry.” You manage to choke out between sobs, trying to reign in your feelings. “Just...so relieved.”

Wrecker offers you a tender smile. “No need to apologise, sarad,” he murmurs softly, his voice filled with warmth and reassurance. A bolt of courage has him leaning forward to gently kiss your forehead.

As Wrecker’s lips meet your forehead, warmth seeps through you, chasing away the last remnants of the dark coldness. He pulls back a little, his gaze meeting yours, and the air feels electric. Without a word, you lean forward, closing the distance between you as your lips finally meet his in a soft, tentative kiss.

And you realize that amidst the chaos and darkness, love has always been the guiding light, leading you back to where you belong.

Tag list: @clonethirstingisreal @starrylothcat @cw80831 @dreamie411 @issa-me-bry-blog @leftealeaf @isaidonyourknees

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goosewriting · 1 year

Note

Purple 13 but Leo is the one saying it to reader? I think the irony of Leo being the one to tell the reader to be serious would be funny (in an angsty kinda way lol)

When in doubt, use a one-liner (rottmnt Leo x reader)

prompt 13: “You almost died and you’re making jokes?”

summary: even after being flung through the air, reader still has jokes. Leo is not amused.

relationship: Rise!Leo x GN reader

warnings: canon-like violence, turtles vs. foot clan, mention of reader getting hurt but nothing graphic

word count: ~970

A/N: i slightly changed the dialogue prompt to fit better. this one was really fun to write lol

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

– – –

Leo cursed under his breath at the current situation. You had begged him several times to tag along for patrol with the guys. Every time he had said no, because of how dangerous it was. It gave him much more peace of mind knowing you were at a safe place to come back to after patrol than having you with them, where a fight could break out at any moment.

He reprimanded himself mentally for having given in on you earlier that day and letting you come along. He just couldn’t resist your begging puppy eyes. Your happy face when he had finally budged was almost worth it, if it wasn’t for the current events. Right now you were crouching behind some wooden crates, hiding from the Foot soldiers. They had crossed paths with the turtle brothers and a fight at a construction site had erupted.

Shooting glances in your direction every so often that it almost cost him a punch in the face, Leo tried to keep tabs on you as well as kick some serious butt. In the corner of his eye he could see a Foot soldier being launched by one of his brothers through the air.

You were also regretting tagging along now. Not so much because of the fight in itself but more so because of you not being able to support the brothers. You had no knowledge of martial arts and the like, and you felt like you were being a burden to Leo right now, as well as a liability. The last thing you wanted was for a Foot soldier to find you and hold you hostage or something, hence why you were trying to hide. And up until now, your presence seemed to have gone unnoticed by the enemy.

That is, until an unconscious ninja from the opposing team came crashing down on the stack of crates. You shrieked in surprise, throwing yourself back so as to not be crushed under the now cracked wood pieces.

“You okay?!” Leo asked before using his sword to teleport behind a Foot member and throwing a punch.

“Yeah, I’m fine!” you answered from where you now sat, very exposed.

Looking around frantically for a new hiding spot, you saw that the Foot was being cornered back by the turtle brothers, and were very likely about to retreat. You held still where you sat. Maybe if I don’t move, they won’t see me, you thought.

In immediate retrospect, that was a dumb thought.

The Foot Lieutenant, now climbing up on a crane and thus gaining a higher viewpoint, made eye contact with you, and you felt how you froze on the spot.

“Get them!” he ordered in a raspy voice, his arm extended and finger pointing at you.

You heard someone call your name, but you felt like a deer in headlights, watching the remaining Foot members starting to move towards you.

“Run!” you heard the voice call again; it was Donnie. He picked you up with one of his metal spider arms and gave you a light push away from them.

Stumbling forward, you found your balance and dashed across the dusty ground. Where to, you didn’t exactly know. You turned around and saw the turtle brothers hold off the Foot soldiers from coming nearer, except for one that sneaked around the group and was about to attack Leo from behind, who was approaching you to ask if you were okay. With his back to the enemy, Leo didn’t see him.

Your legs moved faster than your brain. With a “Watch out!” you pushed Leo out of the way, taking the full blow of the Foot soldier’s kick into your side which was meant for the turtle. The force sent you flying and you crashed into a pile of sand with a grunt. Better than the pile of pebbles, you thought to yourself with a grimace, seeing other building materials around you which would have been much more painful to land in.

Leo called your name with panic in his voice, quickly dealing with the Foot member that had kicked you, and came running to where you inelegantly lied in the dirt.

“Are you out of your mind?!” he asked you angrily, and you felt like it was a rhetorical question. “What were you thinking?”

You tried sitting up but winced at the sharp pain in your abdomen, and plopped back down onto the sand. Leo’s eyes darted back and forth on your body, not sure what to do first. He turned around and saw that his brothers had dealt with the rest of the Foot, who were now retreating, and allowed himself to relax a bit at that. At least they were dealt with.

Turning back to you and sheathing his sword he sighed deeply. Now the anger in his voice and eyes were gone, replaced by worry.

“Can you stand? Are you hurt anywhere?” he asked, his hands roaming over you, not sure where to hold on to help you up.

You lifted your arm to cover your face with your forearm.

“I think there’s something wrong with my eyes” you said with a groan.

“Did you get sand in them?” Leo asked with almost mother-like worry, and reached up to remove your arm so he could see your face. Instead of pain or a squint, he was met with a smirk on your face.

“Because I can’t get them off you” you said and gave him your best seductive wink you could muster given your aching state.

You had never seen Leo make such a deadpan face, and you heard Mikey and Raph chuckling behind him.

“You could have died and you’re making jokes?” Leo said incredulously, unsure how to feel at the moment.

“Learned from the best” you said and double finger-gunned him.

~~~~~

A/N: alternatively, reader could have ended up saying: “Heh, I guess you could say… I fell for you.” lol

~~~~~

🐥 taglist: [more info in my pinned post!] @hearteyedracoon, @koalaray, @maribatshipper, @whygz

#goose feathers #500 goslings event #rottmnt #save rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the tmnt x reader #tmnt x reader #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt leo x reader #leonardo x reader #tmnt 2018

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devil-doll13 · 1 year

Text

Wax & Wane

(Part 3)

Tw: Violence, Blood, Gun, Swearing, References To Scars/Past Wounds, Medical Stitching, Bo being Bo, also Bo & Percy get ever so slightly suggestive w/ their PDA lol.

Ellie who is mentioned here belongs to @rottent33th!

Percy belongs to @the-pinstriped-hood, also thankyou Pin for your help in writing her and all the great ideas and excerpts you offered to me in this!

Summary: Percy awakes to find an invader in her home and must bargain with her in order to survive. In turn, she finds herself connecting with the mysterious girl.

Part 1

Part 2

Dividers by firefly-graphics

A loud door slam from downstairs woke her rather suddenly from her peaceful dreaming, and the psychedelic mountain biking trip she’d been taking gave way to the fine grain of a table and darkened rows of books. A familiar sight.

Percy looked up from where her cheek was nestled on the silver laptop and, rubbing her bleary eyes, saw how her dashing hero Halloran had gone from wittily chatting up her newest femme fatale character to babbling incoherently, including various numbers, hash signs and exclamation marks.

Well, she always said that he’d developed a mind of his own. Turns out he’d learned to speak in tongues.

Clicking on an antique lamp she once scavenged from one of the old abandoned houses, she roused herself from the wooden chair she’d pulled up in the library, stretching luxuriously. Her glasses had left a thin indent on the side of her head where they’d been left askew. Readjusting them now, she realised she couldn’t see Macavity anywhere… Maybe he was snoozing on her and Bo’s shared bed? Percy stifled a yawn as she leaned back against the well-loved bookshelves. She had gotten up from her seat a little too quick and now she felt slightly lightheaded and dizzy. Her vision swam around for a while.

She clapped her laptop shut and wandered into the dimly-lit landing, joints still popping. Her work ethic meant falling asleep at the desk wasn’t rare for her, but it always left her with a not-so-pleasant ache afterward.

“...Honey?” She called out sleepily.

Percy peaked around various doorways upstairs, searching for her bad-tempered lover. She supposed he was still down in the kitchen or living room…

The door slamming didn’t worry her - Bo had his stormy moods at times but he would never be violent or abusive towards her - but she did feel a twinge of motherly concern tug at her heartstrings. Was it a victim? An argument with Vincent? It was usually at least one of those two things, in her experience. She'd learned her Bo-ology so well by now.

She descended the creaking staircase, still wiping the post-nap gunk from her eyes. It was one of those old fancy ones done in a winding spiral; something Percy had always liked about this house. A yellowy fluorescent light coming from the kitchen told her Bo was probably raiding the fridge right about now.

I wonder if he found my gift yet?

She grinned to herself cheekily, remembering the big sandwich she told him she would prepare for him earlier. Had all of his favourites in it and everything; mayo, onion, tomato, lettuce, all the fancy meats, she had even made the bread from scratch herself. Percy knew he would love it. All she could think about was lounging in his lap like a spoiled cat and having him all to herself for the night…

There was no time to prepare for it. Percy swallowed thickly as a large kitchen knife pressed harshly against her throat, and her blood froze. She felt her windpipe constrict as her body was immobilised, arms forced behind her back.

I’m being held hostage. By an intruder. Breathe.

"Excuse me..?" She asked in the gentlest voice she could muster. "Can I help you?"

“Yes, you can.” A sharp voice hissed from behind her ear like a serpent; blowing an icy puff of air that caused her to shiver. “Be my little flesh shield.”

The lightbulb surged a vile green up above, blinding.

So bright. Bo. Everyone… Is this how Ellie felt?

“You don’t have to kill me.” She began, her mind racing with panicked thoughts.

The woman’s body felt eerily like a stiff, gelid corpse.

Be diplomatic. Be smart. Like Halloran…

“I can fix this, I’m part of the family, I-I know they’re after you. I can convince them to stop…”

The air was dead; putrid, necrotic.

“No. No.”

Her refusal chilled Percy in shock.

“See, here’s what’s going to happen here.”

Percy squeezed her eyes shut, wary of the lethal tip of the blade looming ever closer to her neck. If only she had her baseball bat right now, if only…

“When those two break down that door…”

It’s too cold. A vice grip clamped down on her shoulder like the bite of a viper. The dining table and chairs stacked were up against the other door. Oh. Bo’ll have to-

“I’m the only one who’s getting out alive.”

Her mouth went dry. It seemed all her eloquence as an author left her now. The situation was dire; perhaps this would be it, this would be her end…

Then, Percy was made faintly aware of something warm seeping into the back of her flannel.

“You’re bleeding...” She licked her lips, pouncing on the opportunity. “Does it hurt?”

“…”

Percy couldn’t tell if the silence was a good sign or not, but she pressed it, her voice dipping into the warm, maternal tones she used on her ‘kids.’

If logic and rationality won’t get through to her, maybe emotional appeals will… She clung to hope that the invader wasn’t entirely heartless.

“It’s alright… I know it probably does. There’s a soothing balm in my bathroom cabinet that could help once we get it properly cleaned up.”

Her heart leapt as she felt the blade waver; unsure.

“If, if it’s a bad wound then it probably needs proper attention and stitches, or you’ll lose a lot of blood… There’s no clinic for miles around, so-“

She almost yelped as her grip twisted painfully, an almost electric crack flashing in the atmosphere as the lightbulb flickered a bright, sickly green again.

“You’re saying it would be better for me to let you do it, let you near me with a needle, is that what this is?” Percy could hear the incredulous sneer in her voice.

“So I should just let you sew me up?”

“…Yes.” Percy carefully kept herself calm, trying to ignore the sharpness pricking her neck.

“It would be safer for you. if you’ve already lost that much, you could g-get dizzy and faint before you even get to a hospital…”

“…”

“…I’d worry.” She added hastily.

That statement was preposterous considering the circumstances, but she found herself genuinely empathising with her. After all, if she hadn’t been lucky and made a deal with the devil, wouldn’t she have been in the exact same position back then?

A mixture of logic and emotion.

There was a weighty stillness as Percy waited with bated breath for her response. She hoped that she was at the very least contemplating her offer.

“And I promise not to do anything else but patch you up, okay?” She reassured gently, feeling the woman slightly loosen her hold on her.

“You can even keep the knife.”

While this bargain was fairly risky for her, it seemed to be the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Her body screamed out in relief as her arms were released from the uncomfortable entanglement and she felt like she could actually breathe again. She blinked back her numbness as the Louisiana heat returned slowly to the kitchen, melting the frost that had glazed over the walls and countertops.

How…? It’s Summer…

That question lingered hazily in her mind, but her gladness for freedom soon overtook it. She had barely registered the strange phenomena from earlier…

It was then Percy slowly rotated her position and got her first glimpse of the other woman. It was a disturbing sight: she was hunched over and gaunt, much shorter than she expected, with green eyes, dark, knotted hair and grey-ish, pasty skin; a sort of unhealthy pallor she misattributed to blood loss.

“Stay there,” the corpse-like stranger instructed, still holding up her knife menacingly towards Percy as she moved to shut the door she had come through. “And don’t move.”

“Alright…” She obeyed, holding up both her hands in willing surrender.

Percy watched the steel handle of her baseball bat, sitting ready in the hall, disappear from view. The intruder retrieved one of the dining table chairs from her barrier and, that unsettling gaze never leaving the other woman’s form, sat down rigidly.

“I’ll sit,” her captor said quietly, noticeably wincing as she did so, “and you…”

“…I’ll go get the medkit.” Percy finished for her, nodding in agreement.

Percy saw a vast array of scattered medical supplies spread over the kitchen countertops, which told her that the intruder had obviously found their stash, but she clearly wasn’t an effective nurse. She allowed herself to relax a little now that she was no longer under direct pressure from the weapon, and then proceeded to inspect her new patient: she was gruesomely scratched and bruised; crimson stained bandages wrapped were haphazardly around her arms and thighs, which had already had a nauseating amount of scars carved out of them to begin with.

She cautiously tip-toed over to the supply, taking care not to make any sudden movements, as if trying not to startle a wild, wounded animal.

In a sense, that is what she is…

Percy approached her with the needle and thread in her open palms to show she was not concealing anything, but when she tried to gently pry open her crossed arms to look at her injuries, she flinched violently away from her hands as if burned, and silently threatened a stabbing.

“Look, I only want to help you…”

Her words were met with a suspicious glower.

The woman’s behaviour reminded her distinctly of a dog who had been frequently beaten, now accustomed only to painful and contemptuous touch. With that comparison, she no longer seemed like someone to fear, but rather more sadly pathetic.

With a weary sigh, her captor eventually relented. Slowly, Percy was allowed to gain access to her knife wound, which was ironically located by the same arm whose hand held her own blade, jabbing out warningly near her hip.

“If it helps, my name is-“

“Don’t,” the intruder interrupted, twitching her fingers restlessly around the handle.

“Names have… Power. It’s not wise to give them away so freely to someone like me.” She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, as if fighting off a migraine.

…Someone like you?

“…You’ll probably figure it out soon anyway.” Percy argued back gently, reminding herself that Bo was probably still scouring over Ambrose for her…

She watched the black-clad woman hack a ragged cough, her free hand flying to her mouth to contain blood and spittle.

Does she have an internal injury too?

“But I would not receive it from your own words. That is the difference…” She wheezed hoarsely.

Percy furrowed her brow as she continued to meticulously thread the needle through her wounded flesh, minding her occasional sharp intake of breath. She proceeded to dab away the dribbles of blood that would trickle out of the cut with a tissue.

Then… Is there any hope I will learn hers?

For a brief moment the future seemed uncertain, and she puzzled in her head for ways to reconcile all the conflicting persons at war here. Of course her immediate goal was survival and so far she had achieved that, but as she finished the suture on the woman’s knife wound, her sympathy grew further. Percy’s empathy was one her finest traits, and there was indeed a side to her that wanted to adopt yet another little waif; certainly everyone in Ambrose had their own story to tell, without her family to take her in, she herself wouldn’t have found her place here.

A brilliant idea revealed itself to Percy then.

“So…” She began, switching places to tend to the bullet graze on her other arm. “Do you like to read?”

“…Do I like to read?” She echoed back, blinking owlishly. It was a sort of childlike reaction that almost made her chuckle, despite her situation.

“Yeah!” Percy replied.

The girl knit her brows in deep thought for a moment, peering at her askance before seemingly deciding that this would not be overly sensitive intel.

“…I do. But why ask this?”

Is it so strange to want to know more about the person currently holding me hostage?

“Because,” Percy cleared her throat, brushing stray strands of hair away from her face as she finished patching up her other wound. “I’m a novelist.”

Her captor gave her a dubious stare, but Percy thought she detected a hint of rising curiosity in her eyes.

“I write noir style mysteries, if that rings any bells?”

She shook her head in response.

“Be more specific.”

Percy smiled a little. “Well, I was just wondering… If I told you the title of my book series, would you be able to guess my name from that?”

“…Maybe.”

She let her grin grow wider. Her interest was piqued; maybe talking about Percy’s favourite pursuit would ease the uncomfortable atmosphere.

“It’ll be better for you to sit down, in that case.”

Percy was then surprisingly allowed to retrieve her own dining chair, (under the obvious condition that she would not use it to bash her brains in) and pulled it up beside her in the kitchen. Now the knife lay harmlessly on the floor, just beside the woman’s scuffed boot.

“Actually,” her captor began, and Percy’s heart sank a little before she continued: “Telling me the answer would be too simple. I’d prefer to solve it with clues.”

…So first you hold me at knifepoint, and now we’re playing games? Percy was frazzled for a moment. This was… really not the turn of events she was expecting. The girl’s wan face held a grimly serious countenance, revealing no hints of playfulness or amusement. Once more, she was reminded of a sort of overgrown child, albeit a dangerous one.

“That’s fine.” She decided with a shrug, glad for her strange enthusiasm. That was better than a threat. “I guess I can make it into a puzzle for you.”

The woman’s green eyes narrowed slightly. “Yes. A mystery novelist should find no difficulty in that.”

“No, I guess she shouldn’t.”

“Then go ahead.”

Percy sucked in a breath. “The protagonist… Is considered very attractive.”

Just like Bo… His blue eyes flashed in her mind.

The girl clicked her tongue in a sort of defeated annoyance. “Well, that rules out ‘Phantom Jar.’”

Oh, I remember that series, we were neck and neck in book sales for a while…

“…It’s not ‘Donovan Fletcher?’”

“No.” Percy shook her head, smirking.

J.C. Price has nothing on me, sorry.

“They’ve been a suspect before,” she offered.

“‘Sub Rosa?’ ‘Void Library?’ ‘The Scarred Poet?’”

“None of those!”

She appeared to be deep in thought for a moment. Percy was mildly impressed by this selection, remembering sifting through them herself. The formidable talent that made up her competition was not to be scoffed at; and all writers are avid readers.

Although TSP was kind of a flop, Sub Rosa is practically a cult novel…

The intruder gripped the bottom of her chair like she was being asked to solve some kind of impossible maths question. Percy decided to throw her a bone.

“I’ll give you another hint: ‘Ice Drops‘”

This obscure reference seemed to click with her.

“It’s Midnight Papertrail…” She murmured, a sort of awe-filled realisation dawning on her face as she looked back up at Percy.

“…By Persephone Jones.”

“Yep! That’s me.” Percy smiled back happily. It was then she had realised she’d almost relaxed all tension from her body, and her captor mirrored this.

The intruder tilted forward, holding her knees.

“You’re Persephone Jones?”

“Yeah, I am, though most here just call me ‘Percy.’” She pushed up her faltering glasses. “I came here about… A couple of years ago?”

Percy saw her shocked expression and laughed.

“You’re probably wondering how I survived, right?”

Her captor nodded soberly, evidently finding no lack of things to criticise about the Sinclairs’ rather unique concept of ‘Southern Hospitality.’

“Let’s just say… I made a deal with the devil.” Percy leaned back in her chair, for now content to leave it at that. Eventually she’d figure that one out…

Then the dark-haired woman cast her a weighty gaze that struck Percy, again, as unusually grave.

“…A deal with which De-“

Then, a raucous slamming from the hallway, the stomping of boots, and a heavy weight banged hard on the door, followed by a masculine yell and beside her clattering of wood on tiles as her captor shot instantly to her feet, knife in hand!

Percy jumped from her seat in fright, her breath stolen so abruptly from her lungs…

“Percy! Percy!” Bo’s voice shouted out as a series of fierce kicks assaulted the door so viciously that it rattled the dining table pushed against it across the kitchen floor. A terrible silence followed and Percy’s gut dropped, knowing that if he had his shotgun, she’d be caught in the blast!

“Bo!” Percy yelled quickly, “I’m in here!”

“PERCY!”

She could hear the raw desperation in his voice as he screamed, pounding the wood even harder now, frantically jiggling the knob.

“N-no, It’s fine, I’m fine!”

Percy shot a glance at the other woman, who had now abandoned her chair as it lay sideways on the floor. Her venomous green eyes were fixed intensely on the handle, fingers still curled tightly around the large knife.

I don’t know why, but that lock has something to do with you, doesn’t it?

“Stop!” She ordered, no longer afraid of her wrath. “You’re only making things worse!”

Percy came to stand in front of her, blocking her line of sight with her taller figure. “Listen, I can fix this situation, but I need you to cooperate!”

“Will he?!” The girl spat through gritted teeth.

“Yes, he will because it’s me!”

Then, the raucous shattering of glass as a large hand punched through the kitchen window, and Vincent’s waxy visage appeared.

They must have staged a pincer attack…

His black boot kicked away the remaining shards as he attempted to vault the newly created opening. The woman ducked behind Percy and threw her knife straight at him, which he deflected smoothly, his blue eye blazing with protective fury.

She snatched up a knife block and drew up another, notably serrated blade. Though her negligence led the kitchen door flying open and revealing Bo with his double-barrel shotgun, she faced down both twins as if ready to fight to the death.

“You witch, you get the fuck away from her!” He hollered, brandishing his shotgun in rage. His nostrils flared in realising Percy was close enough to be hurt!

“Bo, stop!” Percy waved her hands, hurrying to stand between all of them. “She’s fine!”

“…What?!” He gawked at her in complete disbelief.

Bo had no choice but to halt his plan to fire with Percy shielding his target, who consequently looked as dazed and confused as he did.

“She‘s fine,” Percy repeated, strangely out of breath. “Bo, Vincent, stop, she’s not going to go to the police!”

Well, I don’t know that yet, but…

“I’m not hurt, look!” She urged, gesturing to herself.

There was no concealing the worry that lined his face as he did so, and Vincent himself stood stock still, muscles still taut as if to strike.

“I… Wha…”

He seemed at a loss for words as he looked to his brother, then to his would-be-victim, then back to Percy, his aim faltering somewhat.

“Look, everyone, it’s all going to be fine,” Percy repeated, “Just calm down…”

The woman drew in a sharp breath behind her.

“No need for fighting.”

It was Vincent who broke the standoff first, lowering his knife, though still tense and poised for action. Percy noticed his clothes were scratched and frayed somewhat, but he did not appear injured in any capacity. He loomed menacingly over the intruder, who mirrored his black hair and pallor so much she almost looked like his little sister.

“… I … Perc, what the hell is goin’ on, here?” Bo spoke again, not daring to lower his gun. He was similarly unhurt, though sweating hard from exertion. His dark hair curled against his damp forehead, his mechanic’s coveralls soaked with wet spots.

Oh, he still looks far too handsome…

The intruder peered suspiciously over her shoulder at the two men, and Percy gave her a stern glance.

“Put the knife block away.” She ordered.

Percy knew that, exhausted as she probably was, it would be wiser to take this opportunity while it was still available. Clearly, she was smart enough to take it, and dropped the block where she stood, her narrowed eyes never leaving Bo’s. A selection of knives spilled out, clattering on the kitchen tiles.

Honestly, she’s just like a cat or something…

Still, she was mildly shocked that she held so much sway over her. Already, she appeared to have tamed this wayward child.

“See?” Percy looked to her fiancé again, watching him try to work out the situation in his head. His shotgun wavered slightly.

With a hitch of her breath, the girl concealed another cough, as if any sign of weakness would doom her, and lifted up her chair again. She seemed unable to relax, still glaring at the twins with unrestrained malice. Vincent retreated back into the shade, his long curtain of hair concealing his masked face.

Then Bo’s broad shoulders slumped in defeat, exhaling a shaky sigh. He seemed to start to speak once, then threw his hands up helplessly. Instead, he turned around and sluggishly opened the fridge.

His handsome features once again contorted in rage.

“You ate my fuckin’ sandwich?!” Bo whirled around to yell at the unnamed woman.

The intruder’s eyes popped open momentarily in a sort of shocked realisation. Still, she sent him a sharp, venomous glare to match his own.

“You ate my fuckin’ sandwich.” He repeated through angrily gritted teeth, fuming. “That Percy made for me.”

He slammed the door, and it shook the whole fridge from the heavy impact.

“Ya’ sure got some nerve walkin’ in here, sittin’ down on our goddamn chairs eatin’ our food, ya’ fuckin freak!” He spat, jabbing a finger in her direction.

“Well how about you consider it compensation for trying to murder me?” She hissed back, coiling up like a defensive snake.

Percy tensed up again. It seemed they both found it impossible not to fight.

“Both of you, stop…” She began, but…

“Is that right?” Bo ignored her in his fury.

“And what about all those cars you destroyed, huh? Or, I don’t know, the priceless piece of artwork ya’ messed with, you with your fuckin’ godless voodoo!”

…Voodoo…?

The woman rolled her eyes; in which Percy was unwillingly reminded of a petulant teenager.

“You should be grateful I showed mercy on you.” She sneered haughtily, somehow looking down on him even from her modest place on the chair.

“Oh, mercy?” Bo scoffed, a glint of dull amusement in his eye. “So that’s whatcha wan’ call it, huh? Alright. Alright…”

He shook his head, chuckling mirthlessly.

“Me, I’d call that runnin’ away like a wounded animal. Real pathetic like, I guess I got you scared. And not a hit on me, how lucky! In spite of all yer’ big talk.”

The girl’s face fell swiftly, but she said nothing in response. Her glare was withering, as if she hoped to disintegrate him on the spot.

“Ya’ got bloodstains fuckin’ everywhere, y’know. Vincent ain’t too pleased about that, let me tell you.” Bo pounced, seeing an opening; a chink in her armour.

(The man in question sent him a look from where he was silently watching the exchange, half-hidden by the darkened doorway.)

Bo lit up with a smile, as if he’d just had the most wondrous idea. “In fact, just maybe I’ll have you personally mop it off the goddamn floor so you can compensate me! Now how about that!”

He still kept his fingers curled around the wooden underside of his shotgun, and he gestured threateningly with it now, causing Percy’s heart to jump right up through her throat.

“How’s that bullet wound doin,’ by the way?” He smirked mockingly and thrust his chin forward in a taunt.

The intruder scowled.

“Just fine, seeing as your aim was so shit.” She grumbled quietly, holding a self-conscious hand tightly over the wound on her upper arm.

A bead of sweat appeared on Percy’s forehead as her eyes darted between the two hotly bickering, very dangerous individuals. She could practically feel the taut, barbed razor wire sizzling in the air, ready to snap at any moment.

This would not end well for anyone…

“Guys, please…” She tried to interject again, but…

“You sound so very defensive.” Another sharp retort cut through instead, as the intruder seemed to have recollected herself.

Percy goggled at the woman. She was trying to help her here, did she seriously want to get herself shot!?

She smirked. “I suppose you must feel quite ashamed, letting this single unarmed woman run figure eights around you and your lackey. Not exactly something to brag about, in my books.”

(It was then Vincent came to share his brother’s angry stare)

“I think you were afraid, Bo.” She spat out his name with acidic vitriol. “You needed that shoddy tool to fend off my… What did you call it? Voodoo? Hah!”

The witch laughed; a high-pitched, shrill cackle.

“Did that little stumble earlier remind you of that fact perhaps? Hm?” She batted her eyelashes with a coy head tilt, as if mocking the girls in his magazines.

Bo tightened his jaw, gnashing his teeth together with an unpleasant grinding sound. There was a joyless grin on his face that Percy recognised as one of murderous intent, bubbling just beneath the neatly groomed surface.

Oh, no, he’s going to-

“You should be grateful I don’t blow a fuckin’ hole through your ribcage right now, you little-“ He started, raising his gun as if to actually do so…!

Percy’s eyes practically bulged out of her head.

“Stop fighting!” She suddenly yelled, loud enough that both of them jumped in reaction. It was if they’d both forgotten she was there in the midst of their vicious banter.

“…Please.”

The green-eyed woman took a breath, the wooden chair squeaking as she leaned back. She refused to look at him, as it seemed he ultimately repulsed her. Bo huffed in indignation - clearly just as disgusted by her - but he backed down as well. He turned a kinder look to Percy now, softening his gaze.

“You alright, darlin…?” He offered, drawing her closer to him and away from the interloper.

“Yes, I’m completely fine.” Percy reassured him. “I just fell asleep in the middle of a paragraph, you should see the mess it made of my dear detective.”

“And don’t worry, I’ll make you another sandwich…”

"Y'promise?" Bo’s voice fell to a hushed whisper as they blocked out their audience, pressing her flush against himself.

She giggled a little, forgetting them all.

"Of course. I'll even melt the cheese this time!”

“An ice cold beer, bubble bath..." Percy whispered enticingly in his ear, feeling the heat creep up his neck. Vincent averted his gaze respectfully, shuffling his feet as if he no longer felt it necessary to be in the room anymore. The green-eyed woman sat gaping at the two, silenced.

“…You gonna join me?" Bo gave her a subtly pleading stare, reminding her of a begging puppy dog.

"Absolutely, honey. I'm just glad you're okay.” She purred, caressing his lapel. “Now c’mere…”

They shared a loving kiss, sealing an unspoken deal.

And that was how Percy convinced her begrudging fiancé to take in another stray.

Bonus:

(Taglist: @rottent33th, @slaasherslut, @the-pinstriped-hood, @goldrose-star, @soupbabe, @bluecoolr, @flower-crowned-lady, @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better, @solmints-messyocdiary)

#I was going to do a longer part but I cut it in half to get this out because I felt like I was taking too long.#also book/author names are randomly selected don’t come after me #Abigail Williams #Abigail #Abigail Williams oc #Persephone Jones #Percy #slasher oc #horror oc #House of Wax #Bo Sinclair #Vincent Sinclair #Bo x Percy #my writing

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maggicktouched · 2 years

Text

I was in a drabble mood tonight and I’ve been wanting to write about Beck interacting with SHIELD agents for a while now. So I chose to write this with @knowseverythingaboutyou in our verse with @bokketo‘s Natasha. So thanks for letting me steal your muse for a while, I hope I did her justice buuut there’s a reason I don’t write a lot of canons so I’m sorry if not lol.

Nat you gotta quit putting Maria on witch sitting duty. I might do a second part where they do something about this but tbh dealing with fae in my lore is such a shit show idk if I wanna subject anyone to that lmao.

Also apologies for any kind of mishaps or mistakes, my glasses broke and I’m using an old pair and can’t see for shit. Fun times.

Beck peered over the front seat at the agent driving the vehicle. Maria wasn’t dressed for this. Or at least Beck assumed she wasn’t. To be fair she couldn’t be sure exactly what SHIELD agents wore on missions, but she doubted it was jeans and an old t-shirt. The fact that they had been on their way to a flea market in the middle of nowhere twenty minutes ago and not a Super Secrete Secure Site also confirmed her suspicions that they were under dressed.

“Do you have to wear a uniform?” The fox asked curiously, hopping over the back seat of the SUV and sniffing around in the rear of the vehicle. A second later, she hopped back over, dipped into the floorboard, and somehow managed to wedge her way under the front seat and popped out on the passenger side floorboard, shaking herself until her fur fluffed up again.

“Ok you don’t have to be human but you do have to pick a seat.” Maria said, not peeling her eyes away from the road. Beck stayed where she was, looking up at her with her head tilted to the side. Maria looked stressed, and Beck didn’t want to admit it was probably her fault. Both Natasha and Maria had been adamant in keeping her as far away from SHIELD and its work as possible, but in one split second of universally terrible timing, she’d received a call that forced her to whip the car around.

She hadn’t caught all of the conversation, despite her extraordinary hearing in this form. The wheels on the gravel road below were roaring in her ears, the vehicle humming, wind whistling past them, Maria’s fingers drumming irritably on the wheel. Something about a complication. Agents were hurt. It wasn’t a good time, Maria told them, and Beck knew that it was because of her. This was different, he’d said. Something they hadn’t seen before. The man had then used a phrase Beck was intimately familiar with as a witch: he needed a favor. And then the car had turned on a dime.

Maria hadn’t explained herself when she got off the phone. Probably figuring she’d heard anyway.

Beck hopped up into the passenger seat, propping her front paws up on the dash and watching out the windows. Maria’s indecipherable expression broke momentarily in favor of a glare, but after looking over at her properly, Beck almost thought she saw a hint of an amused smile on her face.

“Sometimes.”

“Sometimes what?” Beck had already forgotten her earlier question, and was inching her way up onto the dashboard. Cars made her antsy when she wasn’t driving. And when they were going 90 down a dirt road in the middle of nowhere to a destination she couldn’t be sure of to explore an unidentified and potentially deadly threat. It made her antsy. She didn’t want to sit still.

Maria made a noise—something between a frustrated sigh and a laugh—and gently reached over to push her back into the seat.

“I’ve got to get Stark to put some automatic seatbelts in this thing or something.” She muttered to herself, then, raising her voice to a level that Beck was actually meant to hear, she continued. “Sometimes we wear uniforms. Depends on the situation.”

Maria’s hand retreated as soon as Beck was sitting in the seat, but before she could, the glint of her watch drew the fox’s eye. Instinctively, before she could think to stop herself, she had the watchface clasped gingerly in her front teeth, and was trying to pull it away with insistent little tugs. It was gentle, and Maria easily shook her off despite the little squeak of protest from the witch.

“What is the situation?” She asked, not really expecting an answer.

Maria snorted, shaking her head ever so slightly, and shot her a playful look. “We don’t enforce dress codes on people who aren’t our agents—or animals, since you seem so worried about it.”

“Not worried.” Not about that at least. Beck shook her head and started to fidget in her seat again. “Curious. And if you can find a little fox-sized uniform I will totally put it on.”

Maria didn’t laugh, and she didn’t ask any more questions, but she looked a little less stressed. Her knuckles weren’t so white where they gripped the wheel. But that was all she could tell. Maria, like Nat, had a poker face that even Beck couldn’t read. And that was saying something.

She liked Maria. Maybe she would have even called them friends if they were able to actually talk to one another without someone else there to pad the space between them. When Maria came around the Tower for dinner or one of Stark’s occasional parties, they held conversations easily. Maria was quick witted and relaxed, never easily shaken or startled, and she was one of the only people in the world Beck could confidently say Natasha liked to be around. At first that had riled her. Now, she was actually grateful for it.

It was when they were alone that things got weird. Maybe it was because Nat often asked Maria or Clint to hang around her in times like this, when she was off god-knows-where and just the thought of it made Beck crazed with anxiety. Maybe. But she had a feeling it had more to do with her fear of SHIELD in general. When no one was around to draw Maria the person to the forefront of Beck’s attention, she had a hard time seeing anything but Maria the Deputy Director of SHIELD.

And that terrified her.

Especially now when they were speeding down the road headed right toward a team of agents and an undisclosed location. Beck was almost tempted to ask Maria to drop her off. She wasn’t afraid of the countryside or being lost. She wasn’t even afraid of death. It was only the thought of a cage that frightened her. And while she wanted to believe that Maria would never do that, a lifetime of pain had taught her that everyone was nice enough until the trap door slammed shut behind her.

But Maria wouldn’t have dropped her in the middle of nowhere. Natasha would have been furious.

Beck fidgeted and circled, pawing at the leather seat, and jumped when Maria’s hand passed her periphery. It wasn’t coming for her. Just the radio, which crackled to life. The station was playing old songs, the kind of music that Harper had always laughed and called cheesy shit before singing along. She looked up at Maria, wondering if she liked this music too, or if she had turned it on to be nice. Whatever the reason, and despite the fact that Beck had certainly never told her what her taste in music was, the music settled her. After circling a few more times, she curled into a ball and watched out the window.

They didn’t talk for the next fifteen minutes of the car ride. Occasionally she would thump her tail when a song she particularly enjoyed played on the radio, and once she thought she saw Maria cover up a smirk when she looked over to see if she liked it too. Finally they pulled off the noisy dirt road and onto a worn path. There were fresh tire tracks that bent the grass in two, and some of the branches of the overgrown bushes had been snapped away. Signs of other vehicles, but recent. Not enough to be continual use.

That made her feel a little less woozy.

Seven dark SUVs were parked on the open field where they stopped. There were little temporary shade tents set up and some foldable tables filled with gadgets she didn’t trust. Nearly two dozen people were scurrying around the makeshift work space; they paused to look up as Maria put the vehicle in park, but then they jerked right back into action.

Beck shook her head, blaming their gadgets for the strange buzzing in her ears and the way her fur was standing on edge.

“I don’t guess you’d stay in the car if I asked.” Maria sighed, already unbuckling.

The fox let out a low, irritable whine, her ear twitching, then shaking her head. The buzzing got even louder when she opened the door, and there was a sick feeling in her stomach, like someone had unzipped her from the side, pulled the skin apart like they were yanking open a purse, and plopped a fat, heavy stone into the roiling acid of her gut.

“Hey!” She kept her voice in Maria’s head only, and scrambled across the seat, pawing at her hip as she slid out of the car. It made the agent pause, and Beck took the chance to take the hem of her shirt in her mouth and try to pull her back. “No. No, I don't like this. We need to leave.”

“Beck.” Maria didn’t sound as annoyed as Beck had expected, and rather than shoving her back into the car and locking the doors like the witch expected, Maria scooped her up and shut the door behind them with her hip. The witch didn’t let go, and wriggled relentlessly as her friend squatted down and set her on the ground. “My agents are not going to hurt you. Relax.”

It was a fair assumption. Her fear of SHIELD wasn’t exactly a secret. But it was wrong. This wasn’t about them. It was something deep and instinctual that told her to run.

There was a tingling feeling in her toes, like little microscopic needles prickling into her paw pads and up past her claws. Plop. Another stone dropped into the pit of her stomach, and she stumbled a little, feeling nauseous. Beck searched the crowd of people, eyed the gadgets skeptically, and it only made her more certain that for once, SHIELD wasn’t the problem.

“Director Hill.” Beck recognized the man who approached them, but he didn’t immediately recognize her. He looked confused as his gaze settled on her, and then it dawned on him, and the friendly smile returned. He nodded down at her, their eyes locking. “Ms. Tandy.”

Before she could flash her teeth at him for calling her that, Maria had stepped between them. Probably afraid she’d bite him for the unknown offense. The fear wasn’t unfounded.

Maria chuckled. “Coulson. Nice to see your team is back stateside, but if you wanted to catch up I would have suggested a coffee shop, not a cow field.”

“It’s goats.” Beck said in her head, anxious and irritable. She pawed at Maria’s shoes and weaved in front of her every time she tried to step forward. Maria gave her a little look that said ‘not now’ that Beck ignored.

How could she not feel it?

“At eleven thirty on a Saturday? Think of the crowds.” Coulson shot back. He looked from Maria down to her, and Beck let out a shrill sound of protest, stepping in his way now as he attempted to lead them forward.

“We need to leave.” She said, this time to both of them, accompanying her statement with a loud yowl. “Something is wrong.”

The man’s brow furrowed, and she watched him get tense. Maybe he’d never been spoken to telepathically. Maybe he was confused. Maybe she’d stepped on his ego. Fuck him then. Fuck all of them. She was getting Maria out of here before this ended just as badly as the last trip they’d taken together.

“Give me just a second, Phil.” Maria said, motioning him on. Beck was propped with her paws planted firmly against Maria’s shins, as if she might be able to shove her back to the car. The agent didn’t budge, only squatted down again to look her in the eye. She looked calm—too calm, and that only upset the witch more. “What’s got you freaked out?”

Beck shook her head. Maria wouldn’t like her answers. They were vague and ominous in a cheesy way. She’d think that she was overreacting, likely. But Beck couldn’t always put words to feelings with ease. Especially not in animal forms.

“Ok. Look. Take these.” Maria fished her keys back out of her pocket, and offered them to the fox. “I’ll reroute the GPS. You can go to the flea market, and I’ll get a ride with Coulson when we wrap up here.”

“No! We’re leaving. We’re going back to the Tower. Right now.” The witch took the keys anyway, her ears pinned back to her skull, and tried again to shove her weight against Maria’s knees. It couldn’t do anything in this form.

Her frustration was rising, but she kept a level voice. “What if I call Clint? Maybe he can meet you out there.”

“Maria! Listen to me!” She wasn’t sure how else she could get her point across, and the panic was starting to overtake the stubbornness in her tone.

“ Beck, I know something is off. That’s why we’re here checking it out. That’s what SHIELD does.” The agent explained evenly. “So unless you can give me answers, I have to go look for them. And you need to stay well out of the way.”

Beck still didn’t have any answers for her. Not that didn’t have to do with prickling feelings and strange smells and tingles up her spine. She only knew that magic thrived off of instinct, and when something felt off like this, you were supposed to run.

The agent sighed and stood back up to step around her. If Beck were in her human form, she might have started to cry from the distress of it all. For a moment she was frozen there, trying to think. Maybe Maria was right. Maybe she should go back to the car and get a grip on herself. She could call someone. Not Clint, she wasn’t bringing any more humans out here. Someone that might have had the power to do something. Maybe Harper.

Yes. That was a good idea. Harper was good at handling dangerous magic, and technically this was her territory. It was her responsibility. Not SHIELD’s.

“Fitz says the energy readings coming from this area are off the charts but can’t explain what kind.” Coulson explained to Maria in the distance as she caught up. “To be fair he tried. Gave me a headache.”

“What’s he thinking? Asgardian? Kree?” Maria asked.

Coulson shook his head. “That’s just the thing. Nothing extraterrestrial has shown up on any of the initial testing. LiDAR imaging shows no indication of structures beneath the stone or anywhere on the property. All samples have come back consistent with the same ecological profile as the rest of the area.”

Their voices were fading off, and Beck could hear something in the distance. It was the bleating of goats and the cawing of crows crescendoing over the din of the work area.

She didn’t have time to call Harper.

Beck bolted forward, slipping through the little crowd and up the hill toward Maria and Coulson. When she crested the hill, she saw that her worst fears had come to life.

“Maria!” This time it was so loud—so frantic—that the mental intrusion must have actually hurt, because Maria winced as she turned around. Beck would feel bad about it all later, but none of that mattered now. She cut them off. “Maria, Maria! Do you remember how, a few months ago, we were stranded in the middle of nowhere and I told you that werewolves weren’t that bad, vampires were worse, and trolls were the ones you needed to watch out for the most?”

Maria held out a hand to Coulson, her eyes fixated on the scene in front of her. “You’re saying that’s a troll?”

At the bottom of the hill was a large pasture, and within it, a herd of about fifty goats were standing perfectly spaced apart in rows, forming a nearly complete circle around a singular boulder in the middle of the field. The only significant gap in them was an aisle way that led up to the rock, which was smeared with bits of crusted flesh and blood. Below the crimson streaks on the stone, the real carnage laid twitching and half alive. At least ten goats and five humans. Beck assumed they were agents. Anything that was still drawing ragged breaths and could so much as twitch, was writhing and twisting, trying to lap at the blood in the dirt and streaked on the flesh of one another: goat and human alike.

“No!” Beck shrieked, the impossibly loud and ear splitting yowl of an angry vixen accompanied the word. Maria had taken an unconscious step forward, her calm facade wavering as she watched the morbid scene across the field. Beck darted forward and sank her teeth into the agent’s leg as hard as she could. She could taste copper on her tongue and knew that she drew blood.

Blessedly, it was enough to force Maria back, cursing and clutching at the wound.

Along the wooden fence, dozens of crows were perched, and they began to caw loudly. A goat left its spot in the rows, and an agent, one standing guard at least twenty paces from the herd, dropped their weapon and stepped beside the animal in the aisle. The cawing grew louder, and the crows began to flap their wings.

“We need to go! We need to go now! Everyone!” She insisted. This time she bit the man beside Maria, then went for her hand where it was clutching her ankle. Maria saw it coming and dodged her, but Beck was frantic. She was screaming and making a horrible racket—almost blind with panic.

But the humans—Maria, Coulson, even the agents on guard, could only seem to tear their eyes away from the scene in front of them to look at her for seconds.

Both goat and man took off at a mad run down the aisle. Their heads were pointed down, and when the man made impact, he made no attempt to put his hands up to cushion his head. Louder and louder the crows cawed, louder she screeched, louder the droning buzz of a billion insects shook her down to her very being. People started screaming too. The people standing on the perimeter, other agents drawing closer to save their friend and in doing so, repeating his fatal mistake.

Beck kept nipping at the agents in front of her, trying to force them back as best she could. “This is worse than a troll. Much much much worse than a troll!”

Four more times the duo backed up and ran at the rock. The last time they were both broken and limping too hard to run properly, and to make up for the lack of impact they slammed their faces on the rocks.

The crows cawing drew out longer, less like frantic cheering as it turned to a breathy laughter. A laughter that sounded horrifyingly human as the crumpled bodies writhed and mindlessly mouthed at each other.

“Pull back!” Maria demanded, calling to the agents who had already gotten too close. She looked at Beck, her hand on her gun. “What the fuck is going on Beck?”

“Leave them. Or shoot them. It’d be a mercy.” She demanded. This time she let Maria and the other agents near them hear her.

“The hell I will. Those are my agents.” Coulson said, stepping around the witch.

Maria might have listened to her if he hadn't kept pressing on.

“What is this thing?” She asked, not looking back at Beck.

“It’s a rock. It’s what you can’t see that you need to be afraid of.” She insisted, this time when she rounded Maria, the agent stopped stiff. Not because of what she said, but because of what she was.

Her fox form was small, harmless, even when she was angry. The nip to Maria’s ankle would scab up in a day. A bite from the cougar crouched in front of her now would take a lot longer to heal.

She didn’t want to hurt anyone, especially not Maria, but they were running out of time for talking. One of the injured goats screamed as one of the humans took a bite out of its side while it still breathed. The violence was escalating. If all she could do was make herself the bigger threat, if she had to force them to obey her, then so be it. She could apologize later, when they were still alive to hear it.

Maria’s hand drifted away from the gun, raising slowly as if to keep from spooking her, even as a dozen other men leveled their weapons at her.

“We can’t just leave our men out there.” She tried to reason with the beast in front of her.

Beck only bristled further, a low, feline growl filling the air. It had fallen silent around them. No more laughter, no more screaming goats or men. But the buzzing was still strong in her head. Beck pulled back her lips to show off her canines. “I told you. They’re dead. So’s anyone that’s gotten close, and so will you too if you take another dozen steps.”

Maria shook her head to the armed men around her, and Beck was banking on her not letting them shoot her---banking on the fact that she wouldn’t do that to Natasha. It was a risky gamble, but Maria wasn’t prone to trigger-happy panic. The stakes were high. If she was wrong, it would cost her her life. But she’d have preferred a bullet to getting any closer to that stone. At least that was a quick death.

Slowly, their weapons lowered, and Maria reluctantly stepped back.

Laughter again. This time it was soft, but still collectively coming from the beaks of the crows. Bells chimed and sent a shiver down her spine.

“Little wiiitch.” The birds sang—breathless and unnerving. “Little wiiiiiiitch. Don’t you want your pets back? Come come, pretty kitty. Come close, little witch. Come and play a while.”

Everyone could hear that. And finally, blessedly, Maria made a gesture, calling the men back. Only about half of them listened. The others were too close. Now they were standing among the goats, swaying. She could smell their fear–their tears in the air.

“What is that?” This time the question was quiet, barely a whisper from Maria’s mouth.

“Gentry. Good neighbors. The fair folk.” The witch responded, following Maria with each step she took back, and showing her teeth any time the agent hesitated. When none of those names seemed to ring a bell, Beck said. “Faeries.”

“Fairies.” She parroted. Beck wasn’t sure if Maria looked pale or if it was just the light. Everything warped around a faerie stone. “Good. Great. There are fairies. That’s a thing.”

“I warned you before! You didn’t listen.” She hissed. Maria would have to let this all sink in later. When they were far away.

There was a dark shadow that passed over them, too thick and fast to be a cloud, and the murder of crows descended on them, flapping as they went round and round. The flutter of wings distorted the pace just enough that she could see the creatures shimmering in the distance. Tall and lithe, their skin a pale, iridescent purple, their hair a stark white encrusted with jewelry made of bones. But that was the only clothes they wore.

The creature reached up to stroke its twisted horn with a bloodied hand, then extended the hand to her. Its mouth moved, but the sound came from the crows around them. “Here kitty kitty. Come close. Don’t run, little witch.”

But she kept driving Maria and Coulson back. Once Phil even reached for his gun like he might shoot her and make a break for it, and Beck drew her claws across his extended hand. The gun misfired as he dropped it, and one of the crows dropped dead. But she didn’t think the other agents outside the living cloud of birds could properly see what was going on. A few opened fire, but their friends must have stopped them. Birds dropped dead out of the sky, but it had no impact on the flock.

“Can’t you talk to them?” Maria asked her, and the way she was still trying to look past her to the agents they were leaving behind suggested she couldn’t see the beings that Beck could. If she had, she wouldn’t have thought there was any chance of reasoning with them. She had a feeling Maria knew that wasn’t possible anyway, but was just desperately searching for a solution in her shock. “They want to talk to you.”

“Keep walking!” She snarled, this time her growl turned into a warning hiss as she rushed forward. “Stop looking at them! They’re getting off on it.”

“Where is your iron, little witch?” The crows sang.

The flock was thinning the further they got away. As the distance increased, her magic was able to overtake that of the fair folk, and she could release them from the oppressive hold they were under. They flew hard and fast in the opposite direction. At least animals had sense. But it was slow work; she couldn’t do it all at once, especially when her focus had to stay on the humans.

There was a spike of fear in the team of agents working at the makeshift camp where they’d pulled in. It got stronger the closer they got, and even at a distance she felt the fae delight in it.

The last few crows spoke, but it was strangled now as they were torn between the magic of the witch and the fairies. “We’ll keep them warm for you. Nice and warm like a bowl of milk, little kitty. Until you come back to play with us.”

She turned on the rest of the birds now, magically and physically, swiping out her claws and snarling at them to drive them away. The cry of alarm they let out was much more animalistic as they flew up into the sky and off into the distance.

When she turned back to Maria, the shock had left the agent’s face. She looked stern—calculating. Her arms were crossed defensively. Beck guessed that the fairies had been influencing her and the rest of the humans minds more than they’d even realized. Now with space, clarity could return and the reality of the situation could set in.

They probably thought they were safe here. But they weren’t. She could still feel the needles in her paws, her stomach still rolled. They needed miles between them, not meters.

“I want this place locked down. No one in, no one out, no one within a hundred yards of---whatever the hell that was.” She ordered, glaring sharply at the agents around her. Their eyes met for a second, Maria sizing her up, trying to guess her next move as Beck tried to come up with it herself.

The witch stepped back and shifted, standing up onto two feet instead of four. It pained her to let the rest of the agents see her for what she was, see her face and glimpse at her power, but she wanted to prove she wasn’t trying to threaten anyone.

“We still need to go, Maria.”

Ever stubborn, the agent shook her head, “That thing has to be dealt with. And until we can figure out how, we’re keeping our eye on it.”

Maria stepped away from her after that, calling orders and frantically dialing on her phone. Beck watched helplessly for a minute, then went back to the car and found her own phone in the bag she’d left on the seat. Along with her iron wand and several pieces of iron jewelry that she usually kept on her for good measure.

She found Clint’s name first, and tapped the little microphone that took her voice and sent it to people. Natasha had shown her that when she couldn’t get the hang of texting.

“If Maria calls you, don’t come.” She said into the phone speaker. “And don’t call Nat.”

There was little chance he or the other people she sent it to would listen: Stark, Rogers, Wilson, Rhodes. Anyone Beck thought SHIELD might call in. For the first time she understood why Nat had insisted she put them all in her phone with little pictures to show who they were. Not that they would listen to her over SHIELD.

She turned the phone over in her hand, shooting a look toward Maria and Coulson in the distance, talking to the agents that had clustered around them. Finally she found Harper’s picture and pressed the little phone beside it.

Harper answered in her practiced professional tone, “Hey I’m in a meeting can I call-”

“I’m in trouble.” She knew that would make Harper grind everything to a halt. In the background she heard the necromancer’s voice immediately sharpen. There was nothing gentle or apologetic in her tone when she told them to get out.

“What’s going on?” Harper demanded. Just as sharp, but farther away. She put her on the speaker talker. “Where are you? I’m texting my guys now.”

“Bring Arlatarii. We’ve got a problem. A big one. And SHIELD’s already tangled up in it.” She said, knowing even as the words came out of her mouth it would make Harper panic.

“Fuck.” She breathed, and then again. “Fuck!”

Beck heard something shatter and she wasn’t sure if Harper had thrown something or blasted the window out in her office. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Ok. Fuck my guys. Here’s what you're gonna do. You turn your phone location on, and get to the nearest body of water now. You and whatever humans are smart enough to listen to you. And you stay fucking there with Gráðr until I get to you. Understood?”

Beck wouldn’t dare argue with her. Not now. She nodded, even though Harper couldn’t see.

“Understood.”

#this started out so happy and got real fucked up lmao #at least on my scale of real fucked up #tw animal gore #tw gore #;;my drabbles #i write so many drabbles like this that just dangle #and don't end up with any decent conclusion #and it feels wrong to post them because they feel so self serving lmao #but my drafts are empty and i was in a mood so #writing is writing ig

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twinkodium · 7 months

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you made an oscar version 😩😍 lmaoooo it's perfect!!!

lol "perez who does nothing"..... i mean i won't argue against you 👀 i get why they wanna hold on to their drivers, but you also have to start building on your future... how do you do that? by keeping perez and danny? nothing against danny, i love him, but is he rbs future? or did he already have his chance? is he the one who's gonna replace max one day?... and like you say, they have a lot of juniors, and what will they do with them if not let them move up?...

yes that's exactly it, i love it esp much when i've gone to bed before you or woken up after you so u have a lot of new posts 🥰 like this morning when u were up to watch practice so i got updates from scrolling along your blog 🥰 god that sounds so scary... i never ever want someone to use my computer for anything, help 🙈

and god yes lando is the luckiest guy on earth. to witness such beauty...... when is it my turn to ice bath with oscar??? or just see him without a shirt in general 🤭 i also find the tan line so adorable aaaaaaa

alsoooo i almost laughed out loud at work bcs of the pic of oscar's watch being so high up on his arm 😩 anD one last thing: how dare you reblog pics of streamer liam without warning me.... i almost had a heart attack 🥲

Something is different with your acc.. new pfp? 👀 I’m not sure but maybe 🤔🤔

It took me 30mins to type everything and didn’t even have to check for mistakes so 🤷🏻‍♀️ but it’ll used in the near future 😏

I’m always grilling Checo but like he’s a tenth off Max most of the time and he should be the more experienced one…. And like it’s embarrassing that even Oscar is beating him on Q3 appearances 🙈 yeah I get your point. They really should combined the drivers like one more experienced and a rookie so they will have the potential driver who continues the legacy after the star drivers retire. I like Daniel too but agree. I can’t see much option for him in f1 anymore. Ofc great to see him back and I’m delighted but he’s also not that young anymore ☹️ oh I’m terrified for the rbr juniors… 6 of them in f2 and none of them will move up. Some probs will do another year there and other will be possibly sent to Japan like Liam 😐

On weekdays I’m probs the one who wakes up earlier and filling the dash with reblogs 🙈 aww you’re so sweet 🥺🥺🥺 be prepared because I’ll get up to watch practice 3 again so will be spamming the dash with posts 🤭 it was actually my fault, I got locked in into my personal drive and not using the work one so he didn’t know that 🙈 but it was awkward 😂

Google search on how to become Lando norris is still pending, I’ll come back to you when I get it all figured out so we can enjoy the view too 😏 now McLaren pls drop the shirtless footage you clearly have of him 😭😭 need to see 😮‍💨😮‍💨 TELL ME ABOUT IT! It’s both funny looking but also sexy 😩😩 I’d lick his tan lines if I have the change 🫠🫠🫠

I knew that was something weird about the pic it didn’t seem right and I saw his watch like babe what have you done and why? 😂 IM SORRY, I’ll send a warning next time I do that. I’ve been caught off guard seeing him on dash too 🫠🫠

#asks #Jackie 🧡#buttercup 🥰#nothing to see here just our casual convo about the boys and some other stuff 🤭🤭#also have you seen the new mclaren videos??#Oscar speaking Japanese??#doing origami… so many shots of his hands and thighs I lost my mind watching that video 😭😭#daily discussion with Jackie about Oscar and Liam 🥰

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scuopsie · 2 years

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i usually keep my freak outs in the tags! rarely do i comment on the post directly in a reblog. i understand both sides though. for me, as a fic writer, i love feedback and reading someone’s thoughts. it doesn’t matter where they’re shared. this is the first time i’m hearing about accounts being blocked for this though. wow :o but valid. freedom to block whoever you want. i’m also not sure why i said reblogs specifically because sometimes i’ll make my own posts and end up talking to myself lol.

also, there’s definitely been a change with reblogging. it’s so evident and sad tbh. i’ve been on tumblr since 2014/15 and started writing fics in late 2016. however, i wrote for two other fandoms before discovering kpop, so i totally saw everything you said about interactions, discourse, huge accounts, relationships between mutuals etc, but in other spaces. it’s also interesting to read what you wrote about people heading to twitter. i’ve see the exact kind of posts you mentioned there, but i didn’t consider they might’ve left tumblr. the shift is also obvious when you see someone in your notifs who doesn’t have any reblogs. do you block those accounts? i never have, and idk if i should.

(that is another can of worms indeed. i used to be active on the shawn mendes side of tumblr (yikes lol🥴) and i remember feeling so intimidated by certain blogs. i feel that way a little bit now, but it’s no comparison to how it used to be)

cheers to all those anons. y’all amused the hell out of me. i still see some with similar energy these days… oh nostalgia

please... don't even get me started on fics... i never posted my fics on tumblr (onyl links to them) but even on Ao3 it's pretty much dead... if i didn't love writing so much I would never waste a second of my life writing with the number of feedback ppl nowadays give to ff authors. which is very little. yeah... some blogs were really weird about it. believe it or not one time a blog vague posted about me because I had tagged someone under their post (it was fantaken pics) and then they went on and on about how tagging ppl under their post messed with their notes. they were so rude... I ended up blocking them. like nope. i do not want that energy on my dash idc how many followers u have. but yeah personally I don't think that's something anyone really has the right to be mad about. this is a free website and people are free to do whatever they want (so long as it doesn't include any female body parts ofc *clown emoji*) and even if it mildly annoys me I never get that heated up over it and I definitely don't block bc of it slflsd

yeah I remember how intimidating big accounts used to be... and it feels like a lifetime ago when u think about it... maybe some people just... idk, grew out of the phase? I don't want to believe that ppl who used tumblr for years would move to twitter. it makes no sense. there are definitely people who just found other interests and left and thats normal. what's not normal is those people not being replaced... this stuff usually happens in a cycle. some people leave and some more join but I don't see anyone new around here. seriously, do u know a stan account who is new? literally everyone I know here has been here since I joined this fandom if not earlier.

edit: I forgot to answer to this one!!! abt empty blogs, I don’t usually check the blogs in my notes unless they look really sketcy (/are obv a p08n bot) but ive definitely seen blogs that are completely empty and even have the default icon and stuff. i usually leave them along and give them the benefit of the doubt. maybe they’re fans who don’t want to be active and post stuff and just want to consume and keep up with their faves.

#there's no way to know how many of ur followers are still active sadly #but i can confidently tell u that I got at least twice as much interaction last year when i had about half the amount of followers as now #if u go to my archive last year and filter 'ask' tag there will be A LOT of asks in each months archive #now? maybe 2-3 a month #and it's not like our ult aren't active #when i was a vixx stan blog vixx were active for about 2-3 months in totall in the 2 years i stanned them #and we still had a TON of interactions with our moots and the big accs #starlights would make content from old videos even when there wasn't any new content and we always had so much to make discourse about #monsta x too has so much content that if they stopped releasing content right now we'd still have years worth of content to talk about #they have SO MANY VARIETIES ITS INSANE #as i mentioned the other day i blame this on streaming culture too #people literally don't know how to have fun #they think everything they do has to in some way benefit the artist and that is so messed up #ask #anon

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jamminvroomvroom · 3 years

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monaco. part one. dr.

(and ln if you squint)

read part 2 here!!

read part 3 here!!

so uhh, here you go? this is my first fic type thing so? enjoy? bon appetite? i have an outline for a continuation of this so please please please let me know what you think!

the formatting of this is so fucked up i’m so sorry in advance

warnings: 18+!! swearing, some angst, some fluff, smut lol

in which daniel is having a tricky season, you’re more than willing to make him feel better, and a certain lando has wandering hands. and eyes.

2.4k words

it was no secret that daniel was struggling this season. a new car, a new team, a new teammate. it was a lot to adjust to, and you knew this, especially after being renaults number one, their idealised hero who would lead them to victory, their “fuck you” to redbull. daniel also craved their vindication.

lando was a cool guy and sure, they got along fine. but daniel couldn’t hide the fact that his teammate’s role in the team this season infuriated him to the highest highs, and frustrated him to his lowest lows. young, loved by the media, outperforming him at every damned race, lando seemed to have it all going for him this season, while daniel struggled to get himself where he needed to be once more: in the points, back on top, a marvel who swan-dove his way to victory in monaco.

if the media shitstorm wasn’t calling daniel washed up, a driver on his way out, a lost cause, they were pitting him against his new teammate, the new daniel, if you will. curly haired and a sense of humour, lando was on his way up and daniel would never deny that; he saw himself in the rising star. but while the press poked and prodded at the young brit’s poker face and lack of enthusiasm towards his new teammate, they failed to see that daniel was the one with a bitter taste in his mouth.

you had been with daniel now for over three years. you knew the australian like the back of your hand, having spent the majority of those years glued to his side, and he to yours. you had the privilege to watch him win, curls bouncing as he elegantly fell, arms spread wide with confidence, into the swimming pool three years prior under the monaco sunshine. you had the privilege of witnessing one of his most treasured moments in his whole career, basking in his happiness and the glow that encased him.

while that glow never completely dispersed, it seemed to have dimmed. quite significantly, in fact. and it broke your heart. the man you loved was suffering a silent, incomprehensible kind of pain, that very few would ever understand. you could not claim to understand it either. sure, you had lows in your career but not to this scale, you were not torn apart by the media and the internet and every fucker with an opinion. you didn’t have to go back to the factory and feel like you had let a thousand people down every time you came home from work. you may never understand daniel’s experiences, but you knew you had to be there for him. and the way he let out his frustrations was more than fun for the both of you.

ah, monaco. you always loved to watch him race here. there was a beautiful nostalgia to it. the sun shone, the yachts bobbed in the marina, the lights endlessly flashed. there was something sensual about the environment, the air promising and charged.

you walked through the paddock, making your way to the mclaren hospitality building. you knew daniel would be worked up, qualifying yesterday not going as he had so desperately wanted, and he had left your hotel room hours earlier than necessary. you just wanted to find him before he got in the car, knowing he needed to calm down before the race or… you dreaded to think what could happen. as you climbed the steps, your eyes met a tanned man dashing down the corridor ahead.

“morning, lando,” you greeted, with a lazy wave. he stopped and waited for you to catch up.

“hey, looking for dan? seems a bit, uh, stressed this morning.” he grinned at you, tilting his curly head to the side, his tone playful. you had gotten along well with lando so far this season, and he seemed to like you, too.

“yeah, i haven’t really seen him yet.” you sighed. you missed the usual daniel.

you continued an exchange of light conversation with lando, wishing him luck, before venturing off to the left to go and hype up your boyfriend. you seemed to miss the way lando grazed his hand along your forearm as he said goodbye, a smirk oozing across his tanned face, before he sauntered away. you definitely missed your boyfriend standing across the room, waiting for you, as you climbed the stairs to his private room.

daniel was fuming.

you had never seen him so seething. he was silent, tense, sweating as he stormed away from his car. you knew he would pull himself together before the media rounds he would have to make, but right now, you weren’t sure how he would be able to. he had finished p12 and you knew he would be gutted.

you had gone to his drivers room before the race, hoping to gage his mood and cheer him up, but he wasn’t there. you had stood in the doorway, unsure of where to look for him, until you felt arms encircling your waist. his familiar scent had tingled your senses and you’d relaxed into his touch, before wriggling around in his arms to face him. you smiled softly, which he had returned, leaning down to kiss you deeply. you reciprocated, loving the feel of him against you.

“sorry for disappearing on you this morning, baby.” he mumbled against your lips. you assured him that you understood, knowing all of his focus had been on the race.

now, as he stood in front of you, you longed for the daniel that had found you this morning, hating how disappointed you could see that he was. he could hide it from the journalists that you knew would tear him apart, but he could never hide it from you.

you trailed behind him as he strutted back to his drivers room, not wanting to make him talk until he was ready. when you both made it inside, he wasted no time. you knew exactly what he needed to relieve the tension that had manifested over the weekend. hell, over the season so far.

his hands were all over you, rough and needy, lips peppering up your jaw as he forced you backwards into the shut door. his lips were hot, relentless against your sensitive skin, teeth making an appearance to nip at your neck, and he groaned deeply.

“baby,” you whimpered. “let me take care of you.” you insisted.

“quiet. be a good girl and let me enjoy myself.” he bit back, his breath hot against you. well, that told you.

you knew he needed this, so you let him continue, his hands trailing up and down your sides, groping at your breasts on the way up, grabbing at your hips on the way down. his lips travelled up your neck, back to your awaiting lips, meeting in a bruising kiss, before he pulled you into him, turning your shaking body in his hands. your front met the cool wooden door, your back meeting his toned chest. he pawed at your hips, pulling your ass into his crotch, desperate to have you against him. your eyes rolled back, as did your head, resting on his shoulder as he clung to your body. his lips resumed against your neck and you whined, the pleasure starting to build. you didn’t want him to stop, at this point you both needed this, an ache growing within you now.

you were harshly pulled out of your shared ecstasy when two knocks rapped at the door. the door you were minutes away from being fucked up against.

“yeah?” daniel called out. he was answered by his pr manager beckoning him out. it was time to face the media. daniel let out a long groan, making you giggle.

he turned you back around, eyes locking with yours. he smiled at you, sort of, his mouth barely upturned. he pecked your swollen lips, thumbs grazing your cheekbones.

“later.” it was a promise. one that sent shivers down your spine. the door slammed behind him. you smiled. you loved him.

the air was as crisp as daniel’s white dress shirt as you stood staring out at the open water, held gently against him, swaying with the breeze. you had no idea how the pair of you had ended up on the yacht, both clearly wanting to attend to each other, as opposed to interacting with his drunk team members celebrating the new golden boy and daniel’s rivals. but here you were, on one of the upper decks, fingertips of your right hand grazing the rails while he held your left tightly between his fingers. somehow, you were alone, finally. he had been yearning for you all through his interviews and now you were all his, not a soul in sight to interrupt. or so you both thought.

you could feel the gentle squeeze of his hand, so you tugged on it, coaxing him towards you. he dropped your hand, spinning you towards him, cupping your waist to bring you as close as possible. his hands travelled the dark blue satin of your thigh-skimming dress, exploring your body that he knew oh so well. your hands snuck up his chest until they looped around his neck, his curls now in reach. you pulled on them softly, earning a low moan in response. you smirked at him and he raised an eyebrow, before finally bringing your lips to his.

it wasn’t like earlier, back in his drivers room. this felt like it was for both of you, not just for him. even if you wholeheartedly believed that he deserved whatever he wanted in this moment and would happily deliver. that’s what you loved about him, though. your pleasure was everything and he made sure you knew it. you whined as his hands left your waist and travelled up, cupping your breasts and squeezing. he began to push you back, further and further, until your back hit the rails of the deck. as soon as you were trapped there, he used his knee to spread your legs, pushing it up to apply pressure to your aching core, before swiftly moving it away. your moan was full of frustration, and he finally broke your heated kiss, face plastered with a knowing smirk.

“daniel…” your voice was low, full of warning and desperation. you needed him, now, the entire weekend having taken its not so sweet toll. he laughed, mockingly.

“you act like you’re in control, sweetheart. do i need to teach you two lessons tonight, my love?” he was teasing you now.

“t-two?” you breathed out, confused, but overwhelmingly hot as his hands roamed your body, never staying still. your hands worked frantically against the buttons on his dress shirt, wrinkled from the press of your warm body.

“yeah baby. two.” he groaned as he rolled his hips against yours. “first, remember who this body belongs to, remember who is in control here, honey,” he turned you around, your back pressed to his front as it had been just mere hours before. the tip of his tongue grazed your neck. “and second,” his teeth grazed your neck, “you do not let little boys who can’t please you touch you.”

and with that, he had you bent over the rail. his tattoo littered hands worked rapidly to flip the hem of your skirt over your ass, exposing the lingerie he knew you’d be wearing, a race weekend treat. this week, it matched the blue of his helmet. he almost moaned at the sight, god, how he loved you. your panties were discarded in a flash, left to graze the heels of your shoes as they rested around your ankles.

his fingers wasted no time between your spread thighs. he ran them through your folds, teasingly, laughing lowly behind you at how fucking soaked you were. you were already moaning, head fuzzy as you looked out at the moonlit water, trying to work out what he had meant. you didn’t want anyone else apart from him touching you, and he was proving why right in that moment; his other arm snaked around your waist to play with your clit, applying all of the right pressure. you whined, pushing your ass further into him, letting him grind himself against you, as he slid two of his long fingers into your pussy. your eyes rolled into the back of your head, toes curling, knuckles white against the cool metal of the rail.

daniel couldn’t wait much longer. he needed you so badly, frustrated all through his interviews, the dominating topic of all being lando fucking norris. p-fucking-3. lando hadn’t won in monaco and he certainly wasn’t gonna feel as good this evening as daniel knew that he would. the young brit could let his hands wander as much as he wanted, he wouldn’t be the one fucking you into oblivion against the rails. and on that note, he pulled his hands away, ignoring your needy whimpering, undid his trousers and fucked into you. your body rocked against the metal bars, as he absolutely destroyed you. he smiled lazily as you cried out his name again, and again, and again underneath him.

now this, he thought, this is what it’s about, a sense of control and pride blooming across his chest. fuck monaco. fuck lando. absolutely nothing could compare to the ecstasy, the absolute elation he felt right now. you felt like honey, silky and tight, as he rammed in and out of you. heat washed over him, totally lost in the moment and the body of the woman he adored. until he heard a gasp. oh for fucks sake, he thought. daniel simply could not bring himself to care, let em all fucking watch. he might struggle to drive that stupid orange car but right now, he was in his element, no problems with his form as he slammed his hips against you, filling you perfectly. just how you liked it. he turned his head slowly to see who had interrupted.

lando stood, stunned and painfully turned on, in the doorway, looking out across the deck at the sinful sight ahead. sure, he flirted with you, quite openly he thought, but he never, ever, not in his wildest, filthiest dreams, believed he would see you like this. head thrown back, back arched, thighs spread and dripping. he was almost moaning at the sight, even though he could take zero credit for your ecstasy. the man quickly realised that his teammate was staring him straight in the eyes. lando gulped, embarrassed and ready to run. but he was stopped in his skittish tracks. lando felt heat pooling in his stomach as he watched the older man bring you to your undoing. daniel’s face was painted in arrogance, eyes telling the british lad to go fuck himself, his gigantic smirk, however, encouraging lando to stay and watch.

watch, because you will never, ever, be allowed to touch.

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo fic #daniel ricciardo imagine #lando norris #lando norris fic #lando norris imagine #lando norris smut #daniel ricciardo smut #formula 1 #f1 #can't believe i've done this LOL #daniel ricciardo x reader #lando norris x reader #f1 fic #formula1 fic #formula 1 fic

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shoichee · 3 years

Note

how would atsushi, akashi and aomine react to haizaki threatening/hitting on their s/o?? (cue that one scene where he was literally taking on himuro, kagami, kise, and alex all at once 😡... basically that, but with their s/o)

ANON…. THOSE 3???? LONG STORY SHORT…. HAIZAKI EXPERIENCES DEATH (OR AT LEAST NEAR-DEATH) 3 SEPARATE TIMES…… BUT HERE’S THE “LONG STORY” THROUGH THESE HCs

TW: attempt of physical assault, unwanted advancements… asshole Haizaki? cut under this to keep y’all safe JUST IN CASE

[Headcanons]

Aomine Daiki

you went out to look for Aomine after noticing how he hasn’t come back to his seat for too long

this was shortly after Kaijō defeated Fukuda Sōgō, and it was currently intermission before the next match rolled in

your face was met with crisp air as your eyes adjusted to the dark, scanning for any sign of your boyfriend

upon seeing no one, you decided to walk around the perimeter, just in case Aomine decided to nap for a quick moment on a whim and forgot to tell you

maybe you shouldn’t have walked out alone and in the dark of night, but you figured that in such a public event in a public area, you didn’t think anyone had the balls to start anything fishy around the stadium

oh how you were so wrong

you unfortunately bumped into Haizaki right when he was slowly strolling with his basketball shoes over his shoulder, and you immediately stopped in place, praying that he would walk past by you or perhaps not even see you

you knew that he wasn’t good news based from what Aomine told you and from watching that unpleasant game… he was bad, bad news

why did you think he wasn’t gonna see you? his senses are as sharp as a falcon, scrutinizing you before he realizes your identity

“Oh? Now what’s a pretty little thing like you doing out here… all alone?”

“I, um, I was looking for someone, but I realized it’s been getting a little too late… I think they returned back to the stadium, so that’s where I’m heading…”

your voice slowly diminishes to a soft whisper by the end, but judging from his widened eyes from glee, you knew he wasn’t going to walk past by you after this

“That so?” he drawls, licking his thumb. “The stadium ya say?”

something about his gaze turned sharp and dangerous, “the stadium” triggering unadulterated rage and frustration from the game and from his encounter with Aomine

“I… I really gotta leave,” you say in a hurry, quickly backing up. “Th-They’re impatient, so—”

“Huh?” he mocks, leaning closer to you. “I’m kinda of an impatient guy myself, yeah?” but upon even closer inspection, he realizes that he’s seen you somewhere very recently

“Hm?” he muses lowly. “Weren’t ya sitting with Daiki that game?” when you don't answer out of fear, his eyes merely shine with excitement… “Ohhhh… is that how it is?”

. . .

Aomine returns back to his seat after settling a score with Haizaki outside the stadium, but immediately becomes confused when he sees your seat empty

Sakurai immediately apologizes and quickly informs him that you went out to look for him, and Aomine immediately dashes back out… after all, who knows if you got lost in the dark or if you kept being persistent in looking for him?

imagine his visible distress when he sees Haizaki putting an arm around your shoulder while still holding his shoes and you looking absolutely fearful because you knew what he was capable of

this was a very rare moment where Aomine was not so calm and collected

but he tries to, especially when he knows that Haizaki probably relishes in the fact of “getting revenge” for that punch earlier (and probably realized the connection between you and Aomine to do so)

“Hey, asshat,” he calls out, grabbing Haizaki’s attention away from you, but Aomine notices him pulling you slightly closer to his body. “The fuck you think you’re doing with (y/n)?”

“Hehh? So (y/n)’s your name?” Haizaki merely pays attention to you, completely ignoring Aomine

“Back off,” he says lowly, almost to a growl. “I won’t be holding myself back to just a punch this time if you do anything else.”

at his hardened glare, Haizaki does a gleeful mock-surprise expression before putting his arm off of you and says: “Whoaaa there, Daiki. Never pegged you as that typa guy.”

he licks his thumb before walking away casually without a care in the world before calling out, “It ain’t fun here anymore, I’m bouncin’ out.”

by the time he leaves Aomine’s field of vision, he finally releases a pent-up sigh before calling out your name:

“... Come’ere… he didn’t do anythin’ to you right? Sheesh, I leave you alone for one second—alright, alright I guess it was more than a second… fine, it was several minutes… look, I’m sorry… okay, okay quit lecturing me… more importantly, promise me you don’t go out alone like that. It’s dangerous out there, y’know.”

when you finally ask about what he meant by his threat to Haizaki, he smugly replies, “Aw, that? I gave him a hard sock earlier. Went down pretty easily.”

Murasakibara Atsushi

it’s quite rare that Murasakibara would agree to going to Tokyo temporarily over break, let alone leave his house, but here you two are, resting on the park benches in Tokyo

shortly after, you went to the nearest arcade hall, begging and tugging him along with you to try the strength test for the jackpot prize (totally using his physique to nab home prizes and merch LOL)

he only agreed because you looked way too excited for him to turn the plan down

he still enjoyed himself, if he was being honest; it’s just you, him, his snacks, and some games you both are playing together

Murasakibara notices that the arcade also has a mini food court to the side, and he immediately pouts at you to let him go tasting galore on a food binge

and you laugh, telling him to “hurry up” to tease him and letting him know that you were staying here to try to earn more points to exchange for rewards at the end

you entered a coin into the slot and hummed before seeing a START screen, but as soon as it went black into a loading screen you saw someone’s reflection on it

Haizaki was right behind you

“Whaddya know? Would ya look at that?” he says, hands in his pockets while sneering. “If it isn’t (y/n).”

you merely pretended that you didn’t hear him, considering that the arcade was pretty crowded and noisy, and went on to playing the game in front of you

you hoped that by the time you were done with the round, he’d be gone, but his reflection was very much still there on the arcade machine screen, depicting his laid-back posture against the back of another arcade machine, watching you with complete amusement

after spending all the available coins on hand and still sensing him behind you, you promptly turned to your left to head for the coin machine and acted completely casual, but before you got too far ahead, Haizaki easily blocks your path with an outstretched arm, the hand against the arcade machine

“Whoaaa,” he drawls. “That’s pretty fucked up for you to ignore me like that.”

“... You’re blocking the way, so can you please kindly let me pass?” you flatly say, not bothering to look at his face

“What’s with the cold shoulder?” He tilts his head with a crazed look in his eyes that spelled unpredictability. “I just came and stopped by to say hello to an old friend from Teiko. Nothin’ wrong with that, hm?”

“Look,” you sigh. “You’re in the way, and I wish to spend my time here left alone. No, I’m not interested in small talk. No, I’m not in the mood for a bite with you. No, I don’t want to give you my number. Did I address everything?” you finally turned your face to look at Haizaki, but his face contorts to one of a dangerous beast

“Good, good…” he slowly says. “You haven’t changed one bit, haven’t ya? I was wonderin’ where that feisty side of yours went.”

perhaps you shouldn’t have spoken up after all; it only riled him up more

before you can formulate any further thoughts, he grabs your chin and directed it towards him, and you immediately froze up

you tried to dart your eyes around you if anyone noticed, but no one seems to pay attention

“What’s the matter?” he asks. “Cat got ya tongue?” when he looks to where your gaze was at, he chuckles before drawing closer to your face. “No one’s gonna help… not when they think we’re a little thing…”

but he instantly feels a heavy hand on his shoulder, and Haizaki turns around, ready to cuss the perpetrator out, but his eyes widen when he sees a furious Murasakibara

a giant with a very, very hostile aura… even nearby crowds dispersed out of fear for their safety

“Hands off of (y/n)-chin, pest.”

“Oho?” Haizaki releases your face and completely turns around to face him. “Well if it isn’t Atsushi… been a while hasn’t it?” he brings up a hand in a shrugging motion. “While I’d love to chat, I’m busy. Scram.”

“Touch (y/n)-chin again, and I’ll break all of your fingers.”

“Huh?” Haizaki licks his right thumb. “What’s up with ya? It’s non’ya business.”

you took this as an opportunity to run to Murasakibara’s side and seek shelter behind his back, which Haizaki raises a defiant brow

“Hmmm?” he smiles a slow smirk. “Was I really such bad company, (y/n)?”

his smile was completely wiped when he sees Murasakibara’s outstretched hand towards his head, and he deftly dodges his grasp before he walks off with a scoff

“I’m gonna crush him—”

“W-Wait! Just leave him be…” you held onto his torso in a full-attempt to stop him from going too far, and after a few moments, he relaxes with body and finally turns to face you

he doesn’t say anything but darts his eyes all over your figure to make sure there weren’t any injuries on you

he gently holds your hand before he tugs you to follow him to the food court

“Murasakibara…?”

“... You won’t be separated from me if we hold hands, (y/n)-chin.”

“I’m fine, you know.”

he doesn’t say anything more, and when you both settled into your table with your orders, he’s constantly staring at you and giving nonverbal cues that he wants to do PDA with you

becomes very protective and affectionate of you for the rest of the trip

grows very quiet and deep in thought until you reassure him that you were okay because of him stepping in to save you

Akashi Seijuro

it’d be extremely rare for you to ever bump into Haizaki, especially when the only chance you can see him is during the annual Winter Cup

Winter Cup arrives once again with the GoMs being 2nd years this time, and Akashi is still the same Oreshi ever since last Winter Cup

Haizaki definitely had seen you walking with Akashi very closely before the opening ceremony started, and it gave him ideas on how to “get back” against Akashi without directly confronting him

he was gonna mess with you

even after all those years, he still has that grudge against Akashi; the fact that he is one of the few people who has that power over him irritates him to no end

even when Akashi told Haizaki to quit long ago to help him save face, his pride was still heavily bruised

when he was sure Akashi wasn’t with you, he approached you while you were waiting outside the stadium

. . .

Akashi exits out of the locker rooms and carries his duffel bag before he heads to the entrance to greet you, excited in reuniting with you to talk about today’s games and your opinion on Rakuzan’s performance… that is, until what he saw made him beyond furious

“O-Ow…!”

“If ya want someone to blame for,” Haizaki sneers. “Ya can thank Akashi for messin’ with me, yeah? Don’t take it too hard babe, but I’m just returnin’ the favor… by proxy.”

Akashi strides over to the two of you with the intensity of death that would even surprise Bokushi himself

“Haizaki.”

at the sound of his eerily calm voice, Haizaki turns over to Akashi, and his glee is immediately wiped off his face and replaced with one of anger… and hidden fear

he suddenly drops you from his chokehold, and as you hit the ground, coughing to intake air, he turns to Akashi with a vengeful look

after a suffocating staredown between the two, Haizaki tuts and turns to leave in unspoken defeat, knowing full well the consequences from defying against Akashi; it’s something he never did in Teiko and certainly not something he would risk doing now

Akashi immediately drops his cold facade and rushes over to your side, rubbing your back and examining the slight bruises on your neck

his HIGHEST priority at that very moment was your safety, and he decided to take you to a doctor and then to your home, opting to cancelling/rescheduling any plans for today despite your objections

all the while, he coos softly at you and touches you with such care and gentleness that you managed to calm your heartbeat from that sudden attempt of assault

as soon as he feels like you’re safe, mentally and physically (and probably in a safe environment with either a GoM or at your own home), he reveals his true emotions on his face regarding the incident for the first time when he’s alone

being super considerate about your current mental state, he didn’t want to potentially scare you even more with his anger and much more negative emotions

for the first time, he allows his darker thoughts to simmer and stir… it’s one of those rare times where he wishes that Bokushi still existed within him

he eventually finds time to pay a visit to Fukuda Sōgō… to make nice… threats conversation

if you somehow figured out that he was going to do that, only when you convinced him is when he’ll decide to back down

but that’s only IF you figured out about how Akashi really felt about this…

#knb #knb headcanon #knb headcanons #knb x reader #knb x y/n #aomine daiki #aomine x reader #aomine daiki x reader #murasakibara atsushi #murasakibara x reader #murasakibara atsushi x reader #akashi seijuro #akashi x reader #akashi seijuro x reader #haizaki shougo #haizaki shogo #kuroko no basket #knb fic #knb fics

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melaaaara · 2 years

Text

That did not just happen- Do it again

Chapter 3: Too stubborn and complicated

Chap. 1 Chap. 2 Chap. 3 Chap. 4

Modern AU Camilo Madrigal x Reader || Rivals to Lovers

Word Count: 3,066 words

Warning: Foul language, some violence, Camilo acting like a jerk

Note: Since I'm not a native Spanish speaker and don't know any Spanish, Google translated all of the Spanish words in this story. This is my first fic! I hope you guys enjoy it (*꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ)

Synopsis:

Someone in the halls is making fun of your friend. You caught her look and understood her plea for help. It all happened so quickly, and before you realized it, you were standing between your friend and her tormentor. Your friend's infatuation on Camilo was the subject of public ridicule, and you, blissfully ignorant, heroically bear her humiliation. Perplexing yourself and everyone else in the audience, even the man of the hour.

You smacked Veve's face as you exited Vin's car, causing her to cry and complain. You turned to thank Vin for dropping you off and waved them off as they drove away. Your smile quickly drops as they take off and make your way back to your house. You entered the empty house, sighed, and dropped your bag. "I'm home," you mumbled quietly, and went to your room to change. After you've finished changing, you waltz yourself to the living room to begin your schoolwork. You were interrupted by a notification, which revealed a message from Vin. "Huh? I wonder what he wants?" you questioned as you inspected your phone.

walking_wallet: Hey, I'm sorry about what happened earlier

walking_wallet: told Veve not to irritate you any longer or else she'll be walking to school from now on lol :))

You smiled at his efforts to make you feel better and went back to work, but not long after, another notification popped up. You checked your phone and saw that Vin had texted you again; you rolled your eyes and saw that he had sent you multiple memes. Because you were caught up with Vin's constant texting, you didn't realize the time, and soon discovered it was dinnertime. You put your phone down and went to the kitchen to prepare something quick to eat. "Crap, I have to go get groceries soon," you grumble upon seeing an almost empty fridge, you decide to just make a sandwich and continue studying.

After a long day of studying, you decide to stretch your muscles by doing the dishes. When you returned to the living room, your phone rang, and you grimaced, thinking Vin had sent you another set of memes. You dashed to your phone and answered the call when you saw your mom's picture. You smile when you hear your mother's voice on the other end of the line, "Hello iha? Did you eat dinner yet?" You and your mom were talking about things that had happened in your lives so far when the topic you wanted to avoid came up. "Ay dear, I heard you came in second! Isn't that wonderful? I wish I could have been there to celebrate with you..." she says, her tone slightly upset. You told her it was fine and that you'd try harder the next time, but she chastised you for putting your grades first, worried that you weren't taking care of yourself. "Ay mom, I'm fineeee!" you exclaim, scratching your chin. "I just want to do better so you don't even have to work so far away!" your mother responds with a sigh. "You know iha, I'm glad you're prioritizing your studies. But not to the extent that you're losing yourself." You wanted to intervene, but she stopped you, saying, "I already lost your father..." you bit your lip at her statement, and she continues, "I wouldn't want to lose you too." she sobs. You consoled her over the phone while also stopping yourself from whimpering. "That's why I'm working here, love, for your future... Oh, and also don't forget to tell me if you ever need money ok? Mrs. Helena is always close by if you need anything ok sweetie? Mommy has to go back to work now. Don't stay up too late," she chided. You said your goodbyes and you just sat there staring at your phone.

At school you were too exhausted from studying the night before to notice that people were staring at you. You felt Mirabel's arm resting on top of your shoulder, "Ay look at you! Stop slouching and looking all gloomy in the morning!" she berates as you yawn in response, "I lost track of time last night..." you explain, and she crumples her brows at your statement. You're somewhat nervous around her, after all, what transpired yesterday was an absolute disaster. You grimace at the thought and cough, gaining her attention, and she stops scolding and turns her gaze to you. "Look, Mirabel, about what happened yesterday..." you begin, your palms sweating profusely. You literally don't know where to begin with this until you heard her chuckling, which drew your attention to her and sent a puzzled look her way. "Ay (Y/N), you look like you're asking for my blessing" she says between giggles. You groan and jokingly push her "NooOoOo Mira!" whining as you rub your face from embarrassment "I- Me and your primo would never be a thing," you snap at her. She kept laughing, but when she noticed your agitated expression, she decided to stop teasing and apologize. "Lo siento, but seriously (Y/N), you don't have to worry about it. Me and Veve were joking about this happening, and surprise, surprise, it did happen, Pretty sure we made a fanfiction about it~" she explained. You groaned knowing that they'll never believe you at this point. You were now in front of your classroom, and she waved to you as she walked to her class.

When you opened the door, you were greeted with chuckles from the boys in your class, and you noticed specks of chalk powder on your hands. You groaned and attempted to brush some of them off of yourself. You marched up to the nearest guy and kicked them in the leg, causing the poor boy to shiver on the floor. Before you attack your next victim, everyone's attention is drawn to a voice that asks, "Did we get him?" Camilo fucking Madrigal. watch me insert this line in every chapter You twisted around to face him, giving him the most venomous scowl you could muster. The guys who had been laughing earlier took a step back and shivered, unable to face your wrath any longer. "Woah- What happened to you cariño?" He chuckles as he approaches you, ruffling your hair. The students all gasp at his attempt to aggravate you further, "Is this your way of greeting me a good morning cariño?" you gritted your teeth and snapped at him. He opened his mouth to say something, but you cut him off "Fuck off will you Madrigal? I don't have the energy to bicker with you," you spoke as you lifted his hand away from your head and twisted it, making him flinch, "Ay ay ay! Watch your language jeez, is that how you show me you're interested?" he taunted. “Get fucked, asshole.” You raise your hand, making everyone flinch, as if you were about to smack the living daylights out of him. But what irritated you even more was that he just gave you that smug smirk, as if to taunt you even more. You smacked yourself, surprising everyone; Camilo's eyes widened and he rushed up to you, caressing your now-red, aching cheek, hoping to soothe it. You shivered at his touch, and yet unconsciously nuzzled your face into his palms. "Will you leave if I throw a stick at you?" you ask sarcastically, eliciting a laugh from him. The people around you gawk at the strange encounter you two were having, accustomed to seeing you two at each other's throat all the time. "Listen, dumbass, Terrence was suppo-" Camilo's sentence was interrupted as the door swung open, revealing Vin and a tall brunette behind him. Vin dashed to your side, yanking you away from Camilo's grasp. "Dude back off! You good bun? Are you hurt somewhere else?" Vin's blue eyes were filled with concern as he asked you. You told Vin you were fine while shaking off some chalk dust that had been left on you; Vin noticed this and assisted you in getting some off your head. He shoved the cheeky boy far away from the two of you, enraged at what appeared to have happened. Camilo became aware of the tension and hoped to avert it "Vin, there appears to be a misunderstanding-" he explains, trying to get closer to you, to which Vin hid you behind him. "Vin it's ok-" you pried not wanting Vin to get caught up in your mess.

People can see lightning strike between the two, as if they were dueling in eye contact. The tall girl in the doorway shivered as she saw it, remorse creeping on her back. Camilo saw your terrified expression out of the corner of his eye, and it made him back off. He sighed and backed away from Vin, mumbling, "Just get them fixed up," as he shoved his hands into his pockets and left the room.

Lira reached out to Camilo, however, the boy appeared to be too preoccupied with his thoughts and unintentionally knocked his shoulders to hers. He mumbled a quick apology and he was engulfed by the crowd in the hallways, causing the boys to follow after him. Vin quickly turned to you after he left to check for injuries, causing you to stifle a laugh, and raised his brow at you. "Hey, I'm serious, I drove over to your house to pick you up... I asked Mrs. Helena, and she said you already left," he sulks. You briefly explain what happened and assure him that you are fine; it took some convincing. The students who were watching the scene became bored and resumed their previous activities. You locked eyes with Lira at the door, all hunched up, while you were joking around with Vin. You recalled your conversation with the brunette from the day before and placed some distance between yourself and Vin, causing the poor boy to frown. "You should take Lira to her class right now! Hurry up before the professor arrives," you say, pushing the boy to Lira.

Time flies by as students crowd the corridors, eager to catch up with their friends and eat lunch. You're in the school's library because Mirabel asked you to fetch her a book. You weren't that short, but the book you wanted was at the very top of the shelves, you asked the Liberian where it was and he directed you here. You rolled over a stool and stepped on it, hoping for great leverage to help you get the book; it worked, but you had to stand on your toes. You got the book, but you stepped back too far, causing you to lose your balance and fall. Waiting for the impact you instead felt a hand on your back stopping you from your demise. 'Dear heavens above, why must I always come into contact with him?' you wondered as you made eye contact with the cheeky boy. You found a grin on his face, but before you could say anything, you were pushed forward, your face clashing with the bookshelf. He took your hands in his and dragged you away, whistling, "The nerve you have Madrigal!" you yelled at him. He handed you the book you hadn't noticed you dropped once you were outside. You looked at the book, then at his stupid face, "You should take a picture, it'll last longer- oh wait you already have one," he chuckles. You slapped him with the book, clearly irritated by his remark, but you'd rather die than make him see how red you were. You noticed a figure approaching you and, squinting, you discovered Lira. You had a brief stare-down before breaking it off and calling out to her. "Lira? What are you doin' here?" you questioned, as she walked over to you and dust her skirt. "Mirabel told me to come get you because you were taking so long, and I didn't realize you were with Camilo," she explains, her gaze darting at your clasped hands. You followed her gaze and shook Camilo's hands off of you, causing the boy to cough. You stumbled towards her, thanked Camilo, and dashed off with her, your face completely flushed red.

You push Lira through the corridors, coming to a halt when you notice her peering at the floor. "Look, Lira, that wasn't- things happened- it was nothing!" you explain frantically. She raised her head, a shy smile on her lips, "Is uhh Is there- you two seemed close?" she mumbled, scratching her cheeks. You ignore her comment and dash off to meet Mirabel, your face burning. You guys arrived at your usual spot, you sat next to Mirabel while Lira seated herself next to Veve. "Where's Vin?" Lira solicited, causing Veve to wiggle her brows at her. You and Mirabel laugh at this, and Mirabel leans in to ask the shy girl, "Why, you miss him?" The poor girl blushes at the teasing. You spare the girl from the teasing "Vin texted me that he's still at volleyball practice" you hummed while taking your lunch out of your bag. Veve then inserted "Since he's not here... Lira, why didn't you tell us you like Vin?" the tall girl sweats as she adjusts her collar, "I uhh I don't- Can we change the subject?" she stutters. Mirabel adjusts her glasses and asks, "Is it his sparkly blue eyes?" You place your hand on hers and purred, "Is it his fluffy dark hair?"

"Really can not blame you for admiring our Vin, Is it his rich status? Oh Oh Oh! Is it his dreamy hunky voice~" Veve wheezes as she leans on her side and places a hand on her head dramatically earning a smack from Lira, "It appears that you three are the ones who are into Vin," Lira asserted. “Come onnnnn! Since when did you start liking Vin?” Veve whines. You three were staring at Lira with sparkling eyes, waiting for her response. Lira coughs as she plots her escape, berating herself for lying about her feelings for the boisterous young boy. She sighs and tells a quick lie to silence the three of you. "You shouldn't be shy about telling us about it; you know we could help you out, ya'know?" Veve grinned as she ate her lunch. Your eyes sparkled when you saw Mirabel's lunch; she noticed you eyeing her delicacies and offered you some, quickly thanking her, "Don't you think we forgot about you?" Veve pointed at you, and you slapped her finger away and rolled your eyes at her. “What? " You sneered at the obnoxious girl, "How do you propose to continue? " Veve ponders. You exchanged a perplexed glance with her and asked for details, "About what?" " Veve attempted to snatch some arepas off of Mirabel's plate but was swatted by the girl, who whined, "Oww Mira!" "What are you going to do about Camilo?" she asks as she turns to you, gripping and massaging her probably bruised hand. "Is he yet to respond to you?” she added. You pushed her away from you and ate the arepas Mirabel had given you. Mirabel tapped the table and asked “Yeah, I could ask my primo for his answer-” You spat out the arepas you'd been chewing and grabbed your water bottle. “Ay! Please don’t!” you pleaded with her. "It'll be so weird..." you mumbled, your face buried in your hands. As you sank in your own self-pity, the three glanced at your slumped posture. "I'm relieved he's not making a big deal out of it... I don't want things to get awkward between us," you remark, your voice dripping with hopelessness. "I'm sure nothing will change if you guys date, you know?" Mirabel massaged your arm to comfort you, joking, earning a whine from you. "Haha... We all know (Y/N)!" Lira squirms uneasily in her seat. She's too preoccupied to date anyone-" Veve interrupts her with, "Oh please! As if dating the highest-scoring student will lower (Y/N)'s grades! They're both devoted and model students...in certain ways!" Mirabel nods her head in agreement and adds “They’re perfect for each other!” causing you to get flustered.

After you guys finish lunch, you and Veve dashed off to find Vin. definitely not ask him for free food or anything, not that he minds Mirabel asked Lira to accompany her to find her primo, and Lira reluctantly agreed. And they were off to find the boy, which wasn't difficult because he was always surrounded by people. It didn't take long for them to find him; they approached him and Mirabel spoke to him for a while. Camilo raised his brow at Lira, causing her to melt at his gaze. Mirabel noticed this and introduced the girl, saying, "I'm sure you know Lira."

"Yeah, we were partnered up in chemistry class before, right?" the boy asked, making Lira nod her head. "Yeah-yeah, we did... You also invited me to a party once," she says, moving her hair behind her ears. His ears perked up at her comment, not remembering it at all but he just smiled and diverted the topic. His ears perked up at her statement, despite the fact that he had no recollection of it, and he simply smiled and changed the subject. After a few minutes of chit-chat, the subject of (Y/N) came up, which made Lira and Camilo shudder. Mirabel folded her arms and turned to Camilo "I heard something about you messing with (Y/N) this morning" she groaned. The boy's grin was wiped off on his face as he explained the situation, Mirabel rolled her eyes and bumped her hips to his "Why do you keep messing with them? Before you had this ongoing rivalry with them, you had never cared about your grades, even when Abuela scolded you for it."

Lira observes the scene, curious as to why he does. Camilo sighs as he combs his fingers through his hair, "It's fun," he says with a smile. Mirabel scoffs, the two stare at the boy, perplexed by his response. He shoved his hands into his pockets and remarked, "I don't know myself, but that's the only way I know how to get their attention. It's fun." Lira scrunches her skirt at his response, and Mirabel cackles, "(Y/N) will flip if they heard that." eliciting a hearty laugh from the boy. "So you don't care about being the top scorer?" Lira asks. He just shrugged and winked, saying, "Yep, I just like competing with them; it's like a strange bonding experience!" Mirabel laughs at her primo's response, while Lira fumbles with her hands, awkwardly chuckling. "I know her enough from all the years of arguing with her," the boy adds, drawing Mirabel and Lira's attention to him. "They’re fucking impulsive and reckless, an over worker, and far too fucking dauntless." That sounded about right, they all agreed.

Note: I promise you guys more Camilo and (Y/N) interactions so here ya go (˵¯̴͒ꇴ¯̴͒˵) Because school has started again, it may take a while for the following chapters to be uploaded.

Saw this image on Pinterest and it screams boss (Y/N) texting malewife Camilo (◍˃̶ᗜ˂̶◍)ﾉ” Just the little “sorry” at the end I'm gonna shed a tear.

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naruto-scenarios-plus-akatsuki · 3 years

Note

Are you going to make a part 3 for the Neji one where he has a crush on the branch member and ten ten and Lee find out. You don’t have to but I really enjoy it!😁

Well it took me a lot longer than expected but I say that about all my work now, lol. Sorry everyone I’m a slow writer. But I hope you all enjoy the final piece to this fic.

Part I Part II

Welp! The secret is out, Neji: Part III

The look in Neji’s eyes of pure unfiltered irritation was a look that Tenten would never forget. The minute that you stepped out of the room, Neji had quickly fixed his glare on the two of them. His voice left a chill in the air as he told them to get out with the most even tone. Lee began to apologize, fumbling over his words in his stark surprise.

Tenten’s eyes had snapped way from the cup of tea Neji knocked over in Lee’s hands purposely while your back was turned. She couldn’t believe her eyes and her head was still trying to wrap around the events that transpired. She had to grab Lee to leave when she saw Neji’s fists tighten while he closed his eyes. She knew in that moment that Neji did not want any apologies. He was holding back his anger, so she made a quick getaway towing Lee with her, even while he was still apologizing.

Tenten could only hope that Neji would find it in his heart to forgive Lee for spilling the beans. She knew how private of an individual Neji was; especially, when it came to expressing feelings. She was afraid that this might be the last time he would trust them with his secrets. She sighed, knowing this was a delicate situation.

Lee was currently wailing about his woes while they waited in the training fields for Neji and their sensei.

“I can’t believe I spoke so carelessly.”

“It’s alright Lee,” Tenten tried to console, half-heartedly. “I’m sure Y/N didn’t catch on” at least Tenten hoped and she hoped Neji wouldn’t hold a grudge for too long about the incident either.

“How will Neji ever forgive me?” Lee continued to whine, but then jumped up at an idea. “I know! I’ll offer to do his laundry, or I could buy him some tea.”

“I don’t think Neji’s going to let you touch his laundry.” Tenten shot down, knowing Neji probably had a precise way of doing it and who’s to say if he would really let his whites be washed by Lee. “And… I don’t think tea would be a good gift after what just happened,” she mentioned thoughtfully.

Lee slapped his forehead and exclaimed, “Of course! Not tea! That would definitely remind him of my transgressions. But what can I give then? What can I do?”

“Well…” Tenten started but she was a little lost too.

Neji wasn’t much into sweets, nor was he really into gifts of any kind. Tenten had placed her hands on her hips and was continuing to think of what could appease Neji when he appeared on the training field. Both team members were surprised.

“Neji!” they both exclaimed but Tenten was the first to stutter out a response.

“You’re back so soon.” That had her worried. They barely rushed out thirty minutes ago.

“Yes.” Neji’s tone was flat.

“Is everything okay?” Lee asked, concerned.

“Perfectly,” He spoke shortly. His eyes sharp, but his expression was blank. “Lee shall we get started?”

Neji spoke so coolly that Tenten felt a chill run up the back of her neck. Lee easily agreed to start sparring with Neji; wanting to do anything to please him at that moment. However, Tenten could easily see that Neji was not at all at peace. His strikes were fierce against Lee. It was obvious that Neji wanted to pacify his anger and direct it at Lee. Training was the perfect guise for that.

Lee took everything that Neji had. He would block hits and strike with his own but there was a lack of effort on Lee’s part. He fell to the ground many times but kept getting back up to take what Neji had in store for him.

During their skirmish, Gai arrived and stood beside Tenten. He spectated his pupils with interest and noticed right away something was off.

“My intuition is telling me something is off between the two of them.”

“Your intuition is not wrong,” Tenten replied. Her brows were furrowed down in concentration. Her teammates were typically rough with each other, which is why she had little concern, but she was worried about Neji holding a grudge over them for a long time.

“Say you wouldn’t happen to know what this is about, do ya?” Gai questioned. “Neji’s attacks seems to be very targeted at Lee with blunt force and normally, Lee holds a better stance than that and seems to be putting in less effort as if he’s conflicted.” He reasoned, his voice calm.

Tenten sighed. “You’re not off point. Lee accidently confessed to Neji’s crush that he liked them. I don’t think Neji was ready to tell them yet.”

“Ah, yes. A young man’s love can often stir up the fire in his being,” Gai nodded to himself for a moment, stroking his chin. Then once he came to a decision, he patted Tenten on the shoulder and gave her a thumbs up. “I got this.”

She sweat dropped, not sure if her sensei would make things worse, but before she could say anything Gai was already breaking up Neji and Lee’s sparring session.

“Alright that’s enough. Lee why don’t you continue training with Tenten. Neji, come and walk with me,” Gai directed. He put a hand on Neji’s shoulder briefly to signal for him to follow, leaving Lee and Tenten to their own devices.

Neji followed out of respect. He was still feeling grim and annoyed on the inside. When the two of them were far enough away from his teammates, that’s when Gai addressed the issue.

“So, I hear Lee had spilled the beans to the one who has your affections”

“I think Tenten should not be repeating Lee’s mistake and learn to keep her mouth shut.” Neji’s eyes narrowed and his voice was cold once more. He knew exactly who had informed Gai about the situation and it annoyed him further.

“Tell me about the one that ignites the fire inside your being,” Gai prompted, not at all bother by Neji’s display.

“I rather much not talk about it. Especially after today's events,” Neji mumbled, his cheeks tinting slightly red. This was something he did not want to talk about with his sensei of all people.

Gai nodded, understanding Neji’s hesitancy and ignoring it. He understood how Neji operated after three years of training him and he doubt his other students meant to cause such trouble for him. Their intentions probably meant well but a small slip of the tongue probably left Neji in a very unwanted situation. Gai knew that the Hyuga clan which Neji belonged to highly respected privacy and lacked open affection.

His face was serious and did not scold or reprimand him in tone when he continued.

“When I was a young man, I found one such as you did that ignited the fire within my loins. They were beautiful and caught my eye. Not only was my eye caught, but others as well stared at their beauty. I wanted so badly to catch their attention like they caught mine, but alias, my rival had won them over before I could. Yet! I knew to not give up the chase and at least make my affections known.”

“And?” Neji asked simply, not sure where his sensei was going with this. “Did they return your affections?”

“No,” Gai answered and Neji deadpanned.

“Then what is the point of your story?” Neji asked a bit impatient due to feeling uncomfortable.

“That you never know how someone feels unless you try. The one who caught my affections never carried the same affection for me, but their affections were also not returned by Kakashi either. My courage in telling them (despite how they had felt about me) gave them courage to make known their own affections. One just has to come forward in order for any two to be together. You see what I mean Neji?”

“Yes…” He admitted.

“If you like this person, there will never be nothing more if you never tell them how you feel. You’re young and with the life we live, you never know when your last day is coming. It’s better to say all that is on your heart now, than to have it on your mind during your last breath,” Gai mentioned somber.

He stepped forward towards Neji and patted him on the shoulder, giving him an encouraging smile.

“Now why don’t you skedaddle and take a moment to reflect. Come back when you have settled what is in your heart. And try to forgive Lee and Tenten.”

With that Gai took his leave and vanished into the trees.

Neji took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He was still slightly annoyed but not so much anymore. He knew Lee didn’t mean to say what he had on purpose and he knew Tenten only wanted to help and make peace of the situation. His teammates were cavalier at times, but they were good and honest friends of his. What had really annoyed him was himself for not telling Y/N how he felt sooner and not knowing if you even felt the same.

He hated to admit it but Gai was right. He had no way of knowing how you felt unless he were to confess his own feelings first. He wouldn’t have been so bothered if he didn’t let the fear of the unknown keep him from revealing himself. He could never be with you, if he kept his feelings locked inside unless he had the courage, or you did.

With that, Neji took a slow walk back to the Hyuga compound. He was stalling as he was mauling over what to say to you. He wanted to make things right for earlier as well. He had upped and dashed. He caused a spill you had to clean up. He felt guilty and rude for doing so.

He passed by some wildflowers on his way and picked a few white and yellow daises. He twirled them in his hand, wondering if that was sufficient as his mind ran. When he got to the Hyuga compound, he headed towards his personal corridors and went to his kitchen, looking for something meaningful. He grabbed a tray and started preparing an array of snacks on said tray. He then took an extra step to start squeezing some lemons to make lemonade for you since he knew you did not care for tea. Lemonade was your favorite drink. He grabbed two cups to place on the tray next to the pitcher and the flowers he picked for you neatly placed along the snacks.

When he was ready, he took the tray and headed to your quarters. He knew exactly where you resided. He braced himself as he stood in front of your door. He knocked, trying to steel himself.

When you opened the door, you took his breath away. You weren’t dressed up, but your natural beauty and lovely lavender eyes made him lose himself slightly. You had appeared in your normal attire that you were wearing before he left, your curse seal left uncovered. Your hair was down and cascaded round you.

“Neji?” You questioned, surprised to see him at your door holding a tray out to you. “What is this?”

“An apology for earlier.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to.”

“I do, because I had created the mess earlier when my teammates were here,”

Your eyes grew wide and your mouth formed an o-shape.

“But that’s not all,” Neji continued. “I wanted to do this for you because I like you.”

“I…” You were stunned and felt your heart flutter at the confession. “I like you too, Neji.”

“Would you like to have refreshments with me?” Neji asked more confidently, but there were still butterflies flying around in his stomach.

You smiled in awe at his gesture and were overwhelmed with joy. “Yes.”

With that you followed Neji out into the courtyard, where you two sat and got to know one another better and enjoyed the fresh lemonade he made especially for you. You were finally happy to have gotten answers, that the one you always admired had you written in his heart. Both you and Neji being grateful to his teammates for letting the secret out.

#neji #neji hyuga #neji scenario #neji imagine #Neji Hyuuga #Neji Hyūga #neji x y/n #neji x reader #welp secrets out #rock lee #tenten #branch member #gai

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stephspurs · 3 years

Text

A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction

Life is beautiful and life is cruel. This is a window into the souls of the victorious and the vanquished. In a way, football did come home during the summer of 2021. Follow along Amelia’s journey, navigating the football world as a tactical analyst for the Italian football team, with a brother and father part of the three lions. Will Amelia leave Italy and come back to England? Will she leave the Serie A for the Prem? Will she set aside the bianconeri stripes for new colours, leaving behind friendship for love? Maybe she can have both...

hey girlypops! here is part 5!!! thanks for the feedback on the last part - i've gone back through and edited slight bits to make it more straightforward who her brother is and who it isn't. Nothing has been changed to the story line so no need to go back and re-read (unless you want to lol love yas). Part 5 is a whole lot of fun! As the warning suggests, you can expect a few too many drinks, some heavy flirty & a very smug italian.

Love always, Steph xx

Part 5. | parte quinta

warnings; a few too many drinks, heavy flirting and a smug italian.

word count; 1704

writing tools; third person until dashed line, first person thereafter.

next update; Wed 04/08 5pm AEST. Updates are three times/week (Monday, Wednesday & Friday)!

Tags (as requested by users); @footballffbarbiex @obsesseds-world @abysshaven

link to fic masterlist here

Day rolls into night, which rolls into the next day and before she knew it Amelia had been under the Mykonos sun for 5 days. Her brother and his teammates, who she should now probably refer to as her friends as well, did nothing but welcome her into their group with open arms and tried to include her in every activity they were doing. Most times she declined their invitation, opting to just relax on her own. She was very comfortable with her own company, she never felt like she needed another person to be able to exist. It was something she was proud of.

No doubt there were times she often missed companionship. She had her fair share of flings that gave her what kind of satisfaction she needed at the time, but she never felt like she needed someone else’s air to be able to breathe. This Mykonos trip, however, reminded her of how much she was beginning to miss her players. They had a group chat, La Cosa Nostra, which was probably a pretty poor group chat name but she was inducted into the already established group when she became close with some of the players & besides it was just Our Thing.

She missed the gentle bullying that she received on the daily from the serie a superstars, and also missed dishing it out to them so that they could keep their feet on the ground and their heads out of the clouds. Laying on her bed in a towel, after a nice shower, she contemplated taking up her brother’s offer from earlier in the evening. Does she go out and meet him and their mates at the club? Why not?

Getting up off her bed, she put on some makeup for the first time in a few days, making her feel somewhat human again, blow dried her freshly washed hair and put on her favourite Camilla bikini, covered up by a white slightly-sheer and flowy mini dress. Putting on her white sneakers and grabbing her cross body bag, comfort was the theme of tonight, and also because she wasn't in the mood to break her ankle on the grecian cobblestones.

Walking to the club that her brother had messaged her the name of, she noticed a ridiculously long line to get in which was honestly long enough for her to consider just going home, but she had committed to the plans & her brother was already expecting her - plus she had already put on her mascara and she was not wasting it. Approaching the line she went to join the back when her arm caught that of someone else walking past her.

_____________________________________________________________

“Sembra che tu non riesca a starmi lontano, vero?” (you can't seem to stay away from me, can you?) Looking up, I had linked arms with my midfield maestro, Jorginho. Who was smiling down at me with the cheeky grin that told me he saw me coming and couldn't help himself.

“Ciao! Come sei stato? Che sorpresa incontrati qui!” (Hi! How have you been? What a surprise running into you here!) I begin to say to him as I kiss both his cheeks in greeting.

“I’ve been good, enjoying time off as a double champion” He joked with me. He was right, he was a double champion and no one could take that away from him.

“Bella Amelia, this is Thiago. I play with him at Chelsea, which I'm sure you already knew. Thiago, this is the brains behind the organisation, Amelia” Jorginho introduced me to his Chelsea counterpart, which he was correct about - i did already know exactly who he was.

“Are you guys coming into Tropicana? I’m meeting up with my brother and his mates - some of them play with you guys at Chelsea. You should join us!” It took very little convincing for the two footballers, who looked like they were a couple hours into their long night, to join me in the club.

Unsurprisingly, we got let into Tropicana quite quickly. I’m sure it had nothing to do with the two mega famous and ridiculously good looking footballers I had looped around each of my arms. Walking through the club, the smell of cigarette smoke and vodka wafting around me, I managed to find the british players.

“Now now boys, no bad blood here! I know you all managed to get over my Italian affiliation so don’t hold it against my boy Jorgi here!” I address the group jokingly, as I wrap my right arm around his neck and he wraps his left around my waist.

Of course the Chelsea boys welcome him with open arms, they’ve known both Thiago and Jorgi longer than they’ve known me. The other boys offer their hellos before continuing to dance and drink with their mates. I say hi to everyone, give a big hug to my brother and Kyle (my chosen brother) before I'm wrapped into another hug I wasn't expecting.

“I’ve got to admit, you give a good hug” I say as I whisper into his ear.

“You’re a pretty easy person to hug, Mils”

“Always a smooth talker you are, Jack”

We parted and I grabbed myself a drink before spending the night dancing on top of the table with the girlfriends of the boys that I had only just been introduced to. Bonding over the fact that I was desperate for some female companionship, and also that I was the only single girl in the group, leading to the conclusion that they needed to be my wingwoman...all of them.

The night thereafter was spent finding suitable prospects for my whirlwind night of fun and romance, which I insisted wasn't necessary but also couldn't help but admit that it excited me just a little. It had been a while since I was close with a guy in that sense, and to be honest, the tequila shots that the girls had me doing was loosening me up in more ways than one.

Feeling the need for a break and some fresh air, I grabbed my purse and walked outside to sit along the retaining wall. We had reached that part of the evening where there was no chance I wasn't going to be allowed back into the club - the bouncers and security guards becoming more relaxed and carefree as it neared the time that the sun would reappear. Without thinking twice, I asked for a cigarette from some guys standing outside and a quick light, before returning to my little spot on the wall.

“They’re right bad for you, ya know” A voice to my right startled me.

“Jesus! You need to stop scaring me like that!” I shrieked.

“Nah not Jesus, just Chilly. However the beard has me thinking I do look a little bit God-like these days..no?” He says as he runs his fingers through the barely-there beard. Sure I could agree with stubble, maybe even a little bit more than stubble, but a beard? Not yet. However, I wasn't about to dim his sparkle.

“I like the beard, Chilly.” I confirmed.

“I like you, Mils” Wow ok. Straight to the point then.

“Well thanks, you’re not so bad yourself.” I tried to play it off, it was obvious we had both consumed far too much alcohol this evening and the cigarette was currently working wonders in its purpose of sobering me up.

“Ya know, the girls were out there tonight looking for your Greek Adonis to come and sweep you off your feet. They were looking a bit too hard though, if you know what i mean” he sweet talks me, and its working.

“Wow Ben, you’re really out here laying it on thick tonight - factor 50 i would say. I’m sure you’re just looking through rose coloured glasses right now” I joked back with him. I can’t say I didn't notice all of his longing looks, extra attention to me, constant protection when we would be out in public, but I knew at the end of the week that I would be going back to Turin, so there wasn’t any point.

Finishing up our little chat (read: heavy flirting session), we headed back inside together to join the group. Before long, Jorgi comes up to me with a drink and a smug smile on his face.

“Che cosa?” (what?) I questioned him in Italian, trying to limit as many people understanding our conversation as possible.

“Cosa succede a mykonos, rimane a mykonos, no?” (what happens in mykonos, stays in mykonos, no?) He says as he leans into my ear. To anyone else it would just look like two friends trying to have a conversation in a loud club, but I understood his message loud and clear.

“non sto facendo niente di male, né l'ho mai fatto. non voleva etichette, quindi è quello che ha ottenuto” (i'm not doing anything wrong, nor have i ever. he wanted no labels so that’s what he got.) I say back firmly. Jorgi let go of my shoulders and moved to stand in front of me.

“It’s ok tesoro (darling), I’m sure Federico would agree with you” He said back to me in English, it was obvious that he wanted someone around to understand the premise of our conversation. He smiled cheekily at me, before taking a swig of his drink and dancing backwards into the crowd as I shook my head at him.

Jorgi and I developed the kind of friendship that would last through time. We were equals. We listened to each other's problems, offered the advice that we needed to hear & not necessarily wanted to hear. We promoted each other's happiness and tried to get each other to not take life too seriously. This was his way of bringing me back down to earth, reminding me of what I have waiting for me back in Turin, but also making sure I knew what was right in front of me. He left the decision up to me to make, but he played his part to make sure I knew all of my options. He really was a good friend, which would make my next career decision a little bit more challenging than anticipated.

Part 6. | parte sesta

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ruby-whistler · 3 years

Note

I recently took your latest survey and I was having some thoughts like I tend to do and thought I would try to understand your POV better and give some insight into mine. I wouldn’t consider myself a “apologist” for any character and actually really hate how the term is used, but in general I disagree with the main opinion I’ve seen on your blog which is that Dream should get a redemption arc. However, my reasoning isn’t one that I see you commonly argue against. (Being that dream shouldn’t get a redemption arc because he’s done bad things.) You always ask some interesting questions, I enjoy taking your surveys, I’ve done all the ones I’ve seen on my dash. So I’d like to in turn ask for your opinion on some things and see your opinion on my POV, if that is ok with you. I just find it interesting to discuss.

the view I see a lot of Dream apologist have is that everyone should have the opportunity for a good ending, which is true.

But I feel like it kind of misses the point of well, we are discussing characters, not real people. Now of course, what we say and write about characters can still have an impact, but I feel like sometimes this fandom in particular goes too far down the route of seeing these characters as people. To the point where anything said about the character is seen as proof of that persons morals, and not something said about a story.

For example, going back to the point about how everyone should have the opportunity to heal, I think that is true. But the fact of the matter is, not everyone will. It’s not realistic. So it makes sense that in stories, not ever y antagonist will have a redemption. I think there’s a huge difference between saying you don’t want a character to heal in a story, and saying you don’t want someone to in real life. For me it completely depends on how well it would work narratively in the story, not how much I think the particular character deserves it.

There’s a reason why the whole “power of friendship” trope is often mocked. It’s because it’s anticlimactic. It takes away all the stakes, leaving you with a rather stale, and hard-to-believe ending. People who have had a considerable downward spiral often can’t be completely derailed by a simple “no, this isn’t right” or a brief act of kindness. To better explain this I think it would help to take a step back from the story and characters we are attached to and just take a look at different stories that are pretty well known. Just to kind of put what I’m trying to say into perspective better.

I’ll take Marvels Infinity war/endgame as a example here because I think a lot of parallels can be drawn from Thanos to c!dream. (And I used to be really into marvel.) What with the whole “greater good” “one big happy family” thing they want to achieve through harm, murder, and total control. Also the disc war finale was literally pulled from endgame lol. With both characters we can see they have at the very least a not terrible motive. If you look closely enough it’s possible to sympathize with them. Less so for me with c!dream simply because we haven’t gotten a real solid backstory or reasoning from him, besides pieced together fanon that we have no real way of determining the accuracy of yet. But I get that some people do really like the character. But keeping along those lines of comparing the two, they’ve both done a ton a very terrible things, and don’t seem to feel any regret for them. (Actually, scratch that, there are scenes that imply thanos at least did feel somewhat bad about what he was doing, another reason that he’s more sympathetic for me. Of course you could claim that c!dream is less emotional or just doesn’t show it, which could be true, but there’s also the claim that he just doesn’t care, which could also very well be true. Again, we sadly don’t have too much insight to his character, which is a shame in my opinion. I’d like the see more of the writers intent.)

So the reason for my comparison is to ask this question, taking away all bias. do you think that giving thanos a redemption arc would of been the right way to take the story. Again, I think both their arcs are easily comparable, seeing as the dsmp pretty much took direct inspiration from those movies in the latter part of season 2. This might be a bit harder to answer if you haven’t seen it but you could easily look up a summary if you wanted to, or just take my word for it that they are pretty similar lol.

Becuase, if the answer is no, then I’m not sure how much some of the points you’ve made on this blog hold up. Besides being based off your liking of the character, which is valid. (there’s a reason why fanfic and fanart exists) but that doesn’t mean that such a ending would be good for a story. Again, I can understand why you would want a redemption for c!dream, just like I want my favorite characters to have a happy ending, but that doesn’t mean I actually want it to happen. Above all else I want a good story.

Just to clarify, I’m not asking if you think these characters deserve redemption. I’m asking if you think it would work well narratively and give a solid conclusion. Because, like I mentioned earlier, this is a story. We arnt discussing the fate of real people here. Having a villain not be redeemed is not the same as saying people who have done really bad things should not be redeemed. Likewise, having a villain be redeemed isn’t saying what they did was ok. Villain redemptions can be well done, but they have to make sense narratively and be satisfying. In this case, I personally believe a redemption for Dream would not be interesting or compelling in the slightest, for the same reason I don’t think endgame ending in a redemption arc for thanos would be interesting or compelling in the slightest, despite the fact that I like both characters.

Part of the reason I brought up marvel at all is I want to kind of reframe the story, because I feel like this fandom has a oddly unique way of viewing the characters and story. Like I mentioned, the characters are often discussed like they are real people. Discussing c!dreams fate is treated like your discussing the fate of a real man, not a character in a story. I think there are some possible reasons for this. For one, all the characters are somewhat attached to their steamers counterpart. So, we feel more attached to them as a whole, and they feel more like real people. Another reason could be that you can watch almost any perspective you like, and leave out any ones you wish to as well. It’s a bit like a choose your own adventure book. So, in a way, pretty much every character could be considered a protagonist.

Which is where I can see a possible argument against my point. In a story where every character is the protagonist, the only satisfying outcome would be one that pleases fans of every POV. Which is where I can see this argument take place of “well, do you think ___ deserves a good ending? Then what about ___?? Surely you must think everyone does, or you just have bad morals!”. It’s a unique situation that I don’t think I’ve seen before. Of course, everyone has their favorites in a story, but the difference here is there are no supporting characters or solid antagonist.

And honestly, I think originally Wilbur saw the possibility of that problem arising, which is why he once stated that he wanted the characters to serve the narrative, not the other way around. It’s interesting that we didn’t have nearly as much discussion like this back when Wilbur was writing, because the story was much more conventional. But by the time we got to season three, that sentiment had been pretty much completely thrown out the window, leaving us with what we have today.

This is why I personally prefer the previous narrative. On one hand, this current way of story telling is very unique, and has a lot of potential, but comes with a lot of downsides. Conventional story structure just,,, doesn’t work out as well. Which is why I personally see the best course of action as using Dream as the overall antagonist. Giving Dream a tragic backstory, hidden motives, and eventual redemption arc just wouldn’t do much for the story in my opinion. Sure, it would make people who enjoy and sympathize with his character happy, but it runs into the problem of all the storylines being very separate. Like yeah we can have a separate redemption arc for each and every character, but I just don’t see how we would get an actual story out of that. I think a central villain could really pull things together, but at the moment it’s unclear if that is what they are going for. I guess we’ll just have to see where things go? Maybe there’s some answers to our questions in the aforementioned Dream lore stream? I personally believe he is being written as a central antagonistic character, but I can see where the opinion that he is not comes from, despite not personally wanting the story to take that direction.

I know this is very long, and I apologize, but seeing as you often make surveys and things asking for others povs, which I would imagine results in pages of paragraphs, I figured you wouldn’t be opposed to this. I’d like to hear your opinion/thoughts, but if you don’t want to respond I am fine with that.

alrigh, putting this one onder the ol’ cut because the ask is long enough /lh

so, i don’t actually take “everyone deserves to heal” as an argument why c!dream should have a redemption arc - more like an anti-argument for why he shouldn’t. my main reasons for why i believe he should be redeemed is 1. it’s the only thing that makes sense for the story 2. it’s the thing that makes the most sense for the character 3. he just genuinely deserves better after what he’s gone through 4. at this point anything else would send a really bad message 5. he’s the perfect character with the perfect setup to get one. it’s not just because i like him.

i don’t take what people say about characters deserving redemption as proof of their real life morals, or an example for how they’d treat real people, however i can still say these takes are atrocious, make no sense, or even upsetting and make me want to interact with the person less. they’re often born from bias and are completely illogical from both an objective and a philosophical sense, which is why i speak out about them, not for real life morality issues. this fandom has some of the most ridiculous and unsettling views of the story i’ve seen.

stories are not meant to be 100% realistic. art is supposed to have an improvement of real life - redemption arcs in stories that are well-written aren’t invalidated just because in real life, people don’t become better more often than not. if all bad people became good people, that would be cool actually - it’s not what’s gonna happen in real life, but doesn’t mean i should be opposed to it if it’s pulled off well.

alright, full disclosure, i have never watched a marvel movie in my life. i don’t plan to, really, i read books instead of watching movies most of the time. with the limited knowledge i have of thanos, i’d say some parallels can be drawn, but they’re not the same character at all, nor is their personality, story, or narrative the same. we have gotten confirmation on the fact his goal is peace and for people to get along, and i don’t know what you mean by “pieced together fanon”, but people believe or deny what they want, so whatever. i’d argue he’s easier to sympathize with, but then again, i haven’t watched marvel movies, so in my mind thanos is less a “sympathize” and more of a “understand his motives” type of guy.

i think that if thanos was a character in an environment of less than thirty people, with a home he owned and his family torn apart and divided, becoming more and more ruthless in attempts to stop people from starting long-winded conflict, who has proven again and again to care about people, but employ horrible tactics less despite and more as a result of it, and was defeated and abused in a cruel prison system for several months, while the narrative deliberately shows of his humanity - then yes, i think he should be redeemed. if that is not thanos, then perhaps you should’ve chosen a better comparison, or not used one at all.

seems very out of character to me. perhaps if you think c!dream and thanos are really the same person, you should start considering actual canon more than your own feelings about the character. just a suggestion.

i myself think that everyone on the smp deserves to heal and be redeemed, however i think c!dream will be the only person to get an arc in the upcoming months, because everything is pointing towards the fact and at this point it is pretty obvious the story has picked that option to go with. this is purely story and narrative-based, and my feelings match up with it more than the other way around.

i believe that a redemption arc for c!dream would, because of recent as well as older developments, be the only compelling and interesting writing choice in the upcoming arc. you disagreeing - well, i guess that’ll be your opinion until you’re proven wrong or not. however i strongly disagree because of the themes, narrative and characterization that seem to strongly disagree with you on the subject as well.

cc!wilbur’s literal last wish when leaving the writing was to keep all characters morally grey, no overall antagonist or protagonist. and the writers did a hell of a good job with that, however i guess the fandom wasn’t ready for darker and more philosophically difficult themes to be explored so they promptly switched to a pure black-and-white view of the story (which cc!wilbur straight up criticized them for), i think to try and gain a moral high-ground or something?? idk, they ruined the thing for themselves though, it was definitely not the writers’ fault.

there is no “the story” from a narrative stand-point. all of the characters have wildly different narratives and outlooks. if c!dream’s redemption wouldn’t do much for the story you are watching? honestly why should i care, the dream smp is more complex than that.

if you think c!dream should stay the overall antagonist, maybe you’ve already lost track of the lore. quackity at the moment seems to be the character with the most potential to make a negative impact on several characters’ narrative (hence becoming an antagonist of at least part of the overall story) while c!dream is stuck being the literal victim of his in a prison that is deliberately framed by the writers as dehumanizing and corrupt. if “this character’s vulnerability is being exposed and he is being actively traumatized and outdone by a different villainous character” doesn’t scream “extremely likely redemption arc” to you, i don’t know what will.

c!dream hasn’t been the “central antagonist” for the past six months and there are like three characters already fighting over filling in the spot. if you don’t want the narrative to take that direction? i am sorry, but i don’t think there is much you can do about it.

#my asks #anon #long post

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faebriel · 3 years

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ok ok I'm insane and couldn't pick one so have two (no need to answer both if you don't want to)

“You talk to him.” Not kindly, but he does.

“I’m used to him,” he shoots back. “I’m the only person who is.”

That makes Niki feel something, some uncomfortable tug in her chest. She mentally kicks herself. It’s not jealousy, she reminds herself, because despite the near-cliff jumping and the long nights without food and the nuclear fallout that has punctuated her last few months, being jealous of Tommy would be the least reasonable thing she’s allowed herself to be, maybe ever.

“You don’t believe me,” Tommy says flatly. “You never - eugh.” He cuts himself off with another ragged sigh, running a hand down his face. “Look, Niki, it’s - we were all together in Pogtopia, right? But I was there first. With him. And you didn’t see the start of it, it was horrible, and I’m glad no one else saw the beginning of it either but it was still just so shit and he kept saying all these terrible things about Tubbo and Fundy and you and,” he takes a shaky breath, “then, when I died, I saw him.”

Her breath catches in her throat.

Well, the voice in the back of her head whistles. If you were still wondering about all this afterlife bullshit, if you want to know where you’re going after your third life, here you go.

and

“You didn’t even - this isn’t about L’Manberg, Wilbur!” Niki shouts.

And then he stops, breathing hard, and he looks at Niki the same way he does whenever her voice is being drowned out in a crowd - the way he does when he wants to hear her, when he wants to know what she has to say.

“What else is there?” he asks.

Niki freezes. Stock still, unable to move, unable to breathe, ice threading its way through her gut, her chest, her shoulders, chilled down to the bone. With slow-dawning horror, she can feel hot tears welling up behind her eyes, sitting in her throat, threatening to spill over into a sob. She swallows - to keep her cool, to stay calm, to keep it together -

And then, something in her chest just snaps.

“You said you’d come back for me!” she cries, and her voice hitches on the lump of tears at the back of her throat and god, she sounds absolutely pathetic. Wilbur’s face softens immediately, which somehow just makes her feel even worse. “In Manberg. When Schlatt put me in prison, and you and Tommy were in Pogtopia, you said you’d break me out when it was safe. I waited for weeks , Wilbur. It was… it was horrible.”

“Niki…” a kaleidoscope of emotions flicker across his face, and he seems unsure which to settle on. “We got you out though, right? After the festival.”

“You looked for the button first,” she says quietly, and he stills.

Her sniffling sounds embarrassingly loud against the quiet background of night.

thank you sm!!! i’m gonna put these under the cut because they got a little long sorry (tw for discussion of suicidal ideation)

to preface: tommy is kind of the accidental but incredibly necessary invisible support beam for niki and wilbur’s making amends in bitter. niki cannot accept wilbur’s actions and apology without first acknowledging her own actions and making steps towards an apology, because otherwise it kind of falls flat? in that ending scene niki finally gets what wilbur is feeling and wilbur finally gets that someone else knows how he feels (it’s not perfect 100% yet, but…. that’ll get explored later)

onto the actual snippet! “tommy talks to wilbur - not kindly, but he does” was very important to me! tommy has stuck by wilbur ever since pogtopia, but the tragedy is that he is not equipped to deal with wilbur’s issues, and it shows. wilbur’s first stream after revival depicts this really clearly, where tommy tails wilbur around the whole time but insults him, is still stuck on calling him the villain, physically fights him at some point, etc. on one hand this isn’t healthy but on the other hand tommy is actually around, which is more than can be said for basically any other ally wilbur has had on the dsmp, maybe excluding his dad, who literally killed him lmfao.

this whole issue is exacerbated by the fact that tommy believes that he is the only person who properly understands wilbur, the only person who gets what happened to him, and feels like wilbur is generally his burden to bear. he failed to stop wilbur from both 1. hurting other people and 2. killing himself after the pogtopia-manberg war - and he doesn’t trust wilbur not to do either of those things again, so he’s stuck hovering around wilbur while wilbur is inadvertently setting off his own trauma and feeling responsible for any way he might fuck up and hating that but not wanting to leave. tommy’s memory isn’t perfect and he isn’t a perfect narrator, what he remembers from pogtopia the most were the scariest parts and that’s understandable but it means he’s holding wilbur to the worst expectations of behaviour (and he does so very vocally). the others showed up later, sure, but in tommy’s eyes he’s the only one who saw wilbur’s descent, and by the time they showed up wilbur had already changed irreversably. tommy tries to rationalise this by splitting the ‘different wilburs’ apart from each other in his head (he does this in canon too - there’s one quote from like late 2020 where he says he and tubbo need to keep on going for who wilbur used to be, not who he became, even though they’re,, the same person), and no one challenges that perspective, so he just keeps doing it even though it’s not healthy for him or wilbur.

and then limbo happened and, oh geez, THAT didn’t help jhfaskjjfsa

tommy is on a bit of a knife edge with niki in this fic. niki’s in this state of “ok, he’s annoying whatever, i’m moving on”, but all tommy knows is that she tried to kill him that one time, disappeared off the face of the map, joined a book club with two people who definitely do not like him, and now is just acting weirdly mellow and polite. she is not someone he wants near wilbur bc what the fuck is she gonna do? what is he gonna do? who knows. he’s frustrated that niki doesn’t seem to acknowledge how he’s feeling (especially bc once upon a time she would have been someone he trusted to acknowledge them - they were friends, they fought together) and he’s taking a big step by telling someone about his concerns here, especially bc tommy doesn’t really like talking about them at all. he wouldn’t be saying absolutely anything to niki if he didn’t truly believe she should stay away from wilbur, even if he’s wrong about him. (sometimes i think i write tommy as a little too emotionally mature here but it all goes out the window when wilbur’s brought up. idk if that balances it out)

ok onto niki: this is the first she has actually heard of limbo! she’s only just come around to the fact that resurrection is possible at all. death is kind of a touchy subject for niki both in general and re: wilbur in the fic - she’s coming off of a period in her life where suicidal ideation was, uh, a big thing (whether you want to read that into canon or not is subjective, that’s just the angle i went with in this fic). the sudden existence of a life after death, miserable as it is - and whether she really believes in such a place, when it only exists in tommy and wilbur’s words - that is a lot of information for her to absorb all at once. death is a weird connection point for tommy and niki here, coming right off of the fact that they’ve just acknowledged each other having those problems - tommy, out of, yknow, altruism, would very much like to keep niki out of that place, and niki is quietly reckoning with the fact that that is where she would have sent him. the concept of limbo from the perspective of a character with no experience of it, even secondhand, is so interesting to me like what kind of eldritch location would you feel like you’re living in asghjkl

(also - i gotta be honest the jealousy angle here but mostly when she’s talking later about dream not deserving wilbur’s companionship kinda came out after this post came across my dash while writing. whoops /j)

fun fact, this is the very first snippet of bitter that i ever wrote! all the way back in may!! this is like the moment of the fic - it's where the miscommunication that niki and wilbur have been having is shattered entirely - and so sticking the landing was uhhh kinda important to me lol.

wilbur's entire being in this fic is basically consumed by L'Manberg - he equates his self worth to it entirely. in his eyes, everyone (rightfully) hates him because of what he did to L'Manberg, because L'Manberg was corrupted and he himself with it, etc. niki tries to tell herself this, and while it definitely does form part of her issues with him, it was the betrayal that causes her this much pain - that he seemingly brushed her and their friendship off entirely when he supposedly left her for dead in manberg. because here is what we as the audience know: wilbur couldn’t leave niki in trouble when he heard her life was in danger, even when he was trying to find the button (pretty much the only thing he sees himself as having left at this point) and so he returned. here is what it looks like from niki’s perspective: wilbur told her to wait in manberg until it was safe to come to pogtopia, laid the place with TNT, went to blow up the place, and only returned when he couldn’t find the detonator (and then the first thing she saw him do in pogtopia was encourage the pit behaviour but that’s not what we’re talking about asdfgh). that is massive miscommunication and it’s been brewing between them for months - to make a quirky little reference to the title, niki has been carrying that anger with her so long it's gone bitter. it was never just about l’manberg with niki - not that anger, not her and wilbur’s friendship (hence the little flashback earlier in the fic, bc niki’s relationship to anarchism and statehood or statelessness juxtaposed with her friendships with wilbur and eret - she loves l’manberg bc she loves wilbur, but she loves eret too and those national ties don’t undermine that - is Real Interesting to me) - so when wilbur asks what else there could possibly be (because in his mind, what else could she have bothered staying around for?), she just fucking breaks.

“Niki freezes. Stock still, unable to move, unable to breathe, ice threading its way through her gut...with slow-dawning horror, she can feel hot tears welling up behind her eyes” - prose discussion time! heat and cold are two big throughlines in this fic - particularly for niki, cold is what she is. admittedly when i started with it i mostly wanted to subvert hot = angry and cold = dead but i kinda ended up enjoying this take on it for what it is instead of just as a subversion (also i like the idea of revived people running hot, their bodies r working hard to keep em going). she’s holding onto her feelings and refusing to deal with them, she’s frozen over. descriptions of cold are key to niki’s mental state throughout the fic - cold weight on her chest, feelings of frostbite when she and wilbur hug the first time, ice cold water during the dinner scene, waking up in the cold flat, etc. this was an attempt at describing a more visceral feeling of like, when you’re really mad and you can just feel the adrenaline running through your veins. always felt more cold than hot to me. when she starts to cry, the facade she’s been putting on is finally thawing out and cracking the ice she’s buried her feelings under. (also gives an excuse to write warm comforting hugs towards the end /hj). it’s a loss, it’s catharsis, it’s a whole mess.

and ofc this is all news to wilbur and he feels terrible, because as unintentional as it was, he really really hurt her - because the destruction of l’manberg fucking sucked but above all else wilbur hurt the people he loved because they loved him so much and not in spite of it, because they cared about him so deeply and his death was a massive blow to them. this hasn’t even dawned on him, because how could it? he respects deeply niki (lowkey respects her opinion more than his own at this point) so he has to listen, because it’s niki (“and he looks at Niki the same way he does whenever her voice is being drowned out in a crowd - the way he does when he wants to hear her, when he wants to know what she has to say” - because he does), and what she says fucking floors him. in his eyes, he failed her by putting her in danger and then by destroying her home - the idea that she valued him and their friendship so much flies entirely over his head until this moment, and he is forced to re-evaluate the mindset that has motivated him since… basically since pogtopia! the way i write wilbur is like… yes, he’s one of niki’s closest friends and he’s more aware of her insecurities and issues than most (which is why he does always take the time to listen to her, etc) but he does over-idealise her a bit. tbf, i think he does to some extent with everyone (calling tubbo strong on the anniversary stream, for example). also the fact that he really wasn’t around for niki’s lowest moments as a character! he still thinks of her the way she was in l’manberg - confident, steadfast, respected - and this moment shatters that for him as he realises exactly what effect he and his death had on her and everyone else, not just by his actions, but because they loved him and cared for him so deeply.

sorry that this got horrifically long!! and thank you so much for sending snippets in <3333

#ALSO SORRY THIS TOOK TWO WEEKS. LMFAO #asks #thespoonisvictory #dvd commentary #< i have successfully coerced a discord server into doing the dvd commentary on a regular basis and it is the BEST thing

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