#bench dallon | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

robinrunsfiction · 3 years

Text

Ivy - Chapter 1

Story Main Page

"Good morning, Your Highness," a pleasant voice roused (YN) from her sleep. "Big day today!"

(YN) groaned, nerves setting in the moment her eyes opened. "The day that's been a lifetime in the making."

"Are you excited, Your Highness?" Her maid Christine asked as she laid out the Princess’ gown across the bed.

"What choice do I have?" (YN) sighed. "All I've been hearing for years is it’s my duty to marry Prince Dallon. At least now I will finally meet who I'm fated to."

"Well you need to get ready, they will be arriving at any time.”

A few hours later, (YN) stood anxiously between her father and mother as the royal carriage pulled up.

“Presenting King George and Prince Dallon of Arboria,” the footman bellowed as they stepped out of the carriage and each bowed before their hosts.

(YN)’s eyebrows went up in surprise. No one had told her much about her future husband, so she was surprised to see he was tall, very tall, and quite handsome. She had been worried she’d never grow to love her husband, but at least he was good looking.

“Welcome!” (YN)’s father greeted them as they approached. “I am proud to introduce my daughter, Princess (YN).”

“Your Majesty,” she said as she curtseyed. “Your Highness.”

Dallon stepped forward and took her hand, placing a kiss on the back of it. “I am so happy to finally meet you.”

(YN) felt herself blushing. “And I you.”

“George, we have much to discuss. Let’s let these two get acquainted while we discuss terms,” (YN)’s father announced. As the elder royals proceeded into the castle, Dallon offered (YN) his arm, which she took and they headed inside as well.

“Would you like to see the gardens?” (YN) offered.

“Lead the way,” he smiled. (YN) couldn’t believe how lovely his smile was as well.

“So,” (YN) laughed nervously as they walked through the rows of flowers in the sunny courtyard. “I’ve never been to Arboria, what is it like there?”

Dallon smiled as he began to talk fondly of his homeland. He described the valley bordered by a towering mountain range, and a great sea where they boasted a large fishing industry. He talked of the people and their lives there, his friends, and other nobles. “I do believe you’ll come to love the land as your own.”

(YN) nodded. “Oh of course,” she agreed politely.

“Ravenwood is certainly beautiful though,” Dallon offered as they sat down on a bench between rose bushes.

“It is, but sadly I cannot speak about the land as well as you can of yours. My older brother is next in line to the throne, so educating me in the ways of our kingdom was never a priority sadly,” she said awkwardly, looking at her hands in her lap and a silence hung between them.

“It’s a strange situation we’re in, isn’t it?” Dallon asked, finally breaking the tension.

“I’m glad you feel the same way,” (YN) laughed in relief. This simple comment made it feel like she no longer needed to act so formally with him.

“But I suppose it’s the way things are done. Our duty and responsibility for being born into a life of privilege. I hope you aren’t disappointed with me,” he said somberly.

“Oh no! I was only surprised in the best way when I first saw you. You seem to be absolutely lovely,” she said reaching out and placing her hand on his.

He looked down at her hand and took it in his large warm one. (YN) looked up at him and his clear blue eyes and she felt a smile tug at her lips as they both leaned in, until their lips met softly. From everything (YN) had ever heard about love before, she knew that there was supposed to be a spark, that she should feel something, but she felt nothing.

‘I'm sure one day I will love him,’ she thought as they pulled back and he smiled at her sweetly.

A few days after Dallon and his father had departed, (YN) was pacing around her room when there was a knock on her door.

“Christine, I’ve been thinking,” she started as soon as the maid walked in.

“About what Your Highness?” Christine asked politely.

“I’m being married off on behalf of Ravenwood and I know nothing about it. Doesn’t that seem strange?”

"I suppose it does," Christine replied cautiously.

"So I'll be going into town," (YN) nodded resolutely.

"Oh! Are you certain? Would you like me to fetch Frank to prepare a carriage?"

"Yes I am certain, but no, I don’t want too much undue attention. And this should go without saying though, please do not breathe a word of this to anyone."

"Of course Your Highness," she nodded.

"Can you please help me leave through the side entrance, so as to avoid any unnecessary questioning from my mother or father, lest I run into them?"

"Yes, of course. How soon would you like to leave?"

"As soon as I can.”

Not much later (YN) was sneaking out of the castle and making her way up the road to the town. She'd ridden in the carriage through the town many times, but her parents never stopped to talk to, or buy directly from, the people of the town and it always made her a little sad. Now was her chance to experience the town without drawing any attention to herself with royal pomp and circumstance.

However as (YN) made her way through the market, she quickly realized that her plan to remain anonymous was futile. She didn't mind being surrounded by the townsfolk, but she had hoped to be able to observe, not be observed. She was starting to feel a bit overwhelmed by the attention when she spotted the sign for the town bookstore and ducked inside.

(YN) marveled at all the gorgeous books lining the shelves and table tops. The smell of paper, ink, and leather felt familiar and welcoming. As she ran her fingers over the leatherwork on the bindings, she marveled at the level of attention and detail that went into the craft.

“Can I help yo- oh, Your Highness,” the shopkeeper bowed.

“Please do not stand on ceremony on my behalf,” she laughed lightly. When he righted himself, it was as if her heart stopped for a moment, her breath catching in her chest. He was incredibly handsome; his eyes attentive, his jawline looked like it could cut glass, and his lips, just thinking of those made it take a moment for her to come to her senses. “Umm, this is a lovely store you have. You’re a very skilled bookbinder.”

“Thank you, but I cannot take credit. My father is the master bookbinder, and my older brother, Gerard is his apprentice. I just sell the books.”

(YN) nodded, appreciating that he did not take credit for work that was not his, when he so easily could have, she never would have known the difference. “What is your name?”

“Michael, Your Highness. Can I help you find something?” He asked, coming around the counter.

“Do you have any books about love?” She asked.

He seemed surprised for a moment. “Of course Your Highness, right here,” he led the way to the shelf.

"Ah, so the book of love is fiction," she said dryly looking at the selection.

"I'm sorry?"

(YN) shook her head. "Is there one that you recommend?"

"I enjoyed this one," he said, taking down one of the books. "It's about finding true love."

(YN) hummed and a smile tugged at her lips. "Alright, I will take it."

Michael nodded and made his way back to the counter. Before he could even tell her the price, (YN) had taken out a gold coin and placed it in his hand. "Your Highness, this is too much-" he started.

"Keep it as a thank you for your exceptional service today," she smiled.

A stunned smile spread across his face. "Thank you, Your Highness!"

"Please, call me (YN)," she smiled before making her way out of the store.

After a day purchasing trinkets, flowers, and fresh pastries, (YN) finally made her way back to the castle, quickly stealing away to her room. She had a vase brought up for the flowers, spread her new treasures out on her bed so she could admire them before diving into her new book.

“Your Highness, are you well?” (YN) heard Christine ask, pulling her out of the fictional world she’d tumbled into.

“Oh yes, I’m just engrossed in this book I bought today,” she said holding it up. “Wait, when did it get so late?” She asked, looking out the window. It had grown so dark she realized she was having trouble seeing the words on the page.

Christine just laughed lightly while lighting the lamps in the room. “What is the book about?”

“Romance! And love, and oh it’s so lovely!” (YN) swooned, flopping back against her pillows.

“Does it remind you of Prince Dallon?” Christine asked mischievously.

(YN) sighed, sitting up. “That’s why I bought the book. I was hoping it would shed light on what love feels like, but all it’s done is make me certain that I do not love Dallon.”

“It was only one meeting, maybe it will take time to grow.”

“Maybe,” she replied. "Oh, I got you this!"

Christine smiled as she took the small music box in her hands. "It's lovely, Your Highness! You didn't need to get me anything."

"I just want you to know how much I appreciate you. If it wasn't for your help, I never would have made it into town today."

"I'm always here to help you," she smiled before leaving the room.

(YN) picked up her book again, but as she gazed at the cover, she couldn't help but wonder what the bookstore keeper was doing that evening. ‘Probably going home to a lovely wife, he certainly knows something about romance based on this recommendation,’ she thought before returning to where she’d left off in the book.

Chapter 2

#mikey way x reader #mikey way fan fic #mikey way fan fiction #mikey way imagine #my chemical romance fan fic #my chemical romance fan fiction #dallon weekes fan fic #dallon weekes fan fiction #dallon weekes imagine #idkhow fan fic #idkhow fan fiction

32 notes · View notes

imdoingthismspaintadventure · 4 years

Text

Worm Interlude 2 -- In which two sisters clean up a street

There were very few things, in Victoria Dallon’s estimation, that were cooler than flying. The invisible forcefield that extended a few millimeters over her skin and clothes just made it better. The field kept the worst of the chill from touching her, but still let her feel the wind on her skin and in her hair. Bugs didn’t splat against her face like they did against car windshields, even when she was pushing eighty miles an hour.

Time for an interlude, it seems we will be getting these between arcs! From the point of view of different characters, to flesh out the world and the story. I always love when stories do that, put us in a point of view different from the main character. If done right, it adds so much richness to the setting.

It seems our interlude protagonist has the power of flight, plus some sort of force field that actively shields her against friction and particles. We learn this in the same paragraph where we also see how much she enjoys using her flight, so we both get characterization and powers at the same time. Nice!

Spotting her target, she whooped and plunged for the ground, gaining speed where anyone else would be slowing down. She hit the asphalt hard enough to crack it and send fragments of it into the air, touching ground with her knee and foot, one arm extended. She stayed in that kneeling position for just heartbeats, letting her platinum curls and the cape that was draped over one of her shoulders flutter in the wake of air that had followed her descent. She met the eyes of her quarry with a steely glare.

Superhero landing!

I would certainly be intimidated if she landed in front of me like that! She gives me lots of superhero vibes in terms of her overall alignment.

She’d practiced that landing for weeks to get it right.

Pfft. Okay she’s also a bit of a dork, and very human.

The man was a twenty something Caucasian with a shaved head, a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, jeans and work boots. He took one look at her and bolted.

You, sir, look like an underling of someone, and the way he nope’d out of there also gave me mook vibes.

Victoria grinned as he disappeared down the far end of the alley. She rose from her kneeling position, dusted herself off and ran her fingers through her hair to tidy it. Then she raised herself a foot off the ground and flew after him at an easy forty five miles an hour.

Classic superman-like superspeed / flight / superendurance is such a nice power to have. I bet you feel like a god.

It didn’t take a minute to catch him, even with the head start she had given him. She flew just past him, grazing him. An instant later, she came to a dead stop, facing him. Again, the wind made for a dramatic flourish as it stirred her hair, her cape and the skirt of her costume.

She’s really theatric with all this, and I kinda love it. I feel like this guy is thoroughly outmatched.

“The woman you attacked was named Andrea Young,” she spoke.

The man looked over his shoulder, as if gauging his escape routes.

Grunt attacked a civilian and they sent the superhero cavalry to make him super regret it?

“Don’t even think about it, fugly,” she told him, “You know I’d catch you, and trust me, I’m already pissed off enough without you wasting my time.”

“I didn’t do anything,” the man snarled.

“Andrea Young!” Victoria raised her voice. As she shouted, she exercised her power. The man quailed as though she’d slapped him. “A black college student was beaten so badly she needed medical attention! Her teeth were knocked out! You’re trying to tell me that you, a skinhead with swollen knuckles, someone who was in the crowd watching paramedics arrive with an expression bordering on glee, you didn’t do anything!?”

Oh so he’s neonazi filth. Ugh.

I was already kinda unsympathetic to him from the start, but now he can choke.

Fuck his shit up, Victoria.

“I didn’t do nothing worth caring about,” he sneered. His bravado was tempered by a second look over his shoulder, as though he’d very much like to be elsewhere right that moment.

Fuck this guy. He’s also cowering like a little bitch and trying to look all brave in front of no one, like an idiot.

She flew forward, her fists catching him by the collar. For just a moment, she contemplated slamming him up against a wall. It would have been fitting and satisfying to shove him hard enough against the brick to crack it, then drop him into the dumpster that sat at the wall’s base.

Taunting a girl who can absolutely ruin his fucking life, maybe not his best idea.

He almost got literally dumpstered.

Instead, she pulled up a little, bringing the two of them to a stop. They were now just high enough above the ground that he’d feel uncomfortable with the height. The dumpster, mostly empty, was directly below him, but she doubted he was paying attention to anything but her.

Ah, threatening him with falling from great heights! The batman strat! Or one of them anyway.

“I think it’s a safe bet to say you’re a member of Empire Eighty-Eight,” she told him, meeting his eyes with a hard stare, “or at least, you’ve got some friends who are. So here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to either tell me everything the triple-E’s have been up to, or I’m going to break your arms and legs and then you’re going to tell me everything.”

Empire Eighty-Eight huh? Since the last time I heard the name, I’ve been informed about the 1488 dogwhistle, which I had never heard in spain. So yeah this guy is definitely part of some neonazi group, and is all around human garbage.

The group seems pretty big if it has a lot of unpowered mooks, kind of reminds me of Lung and his boys. I bet them and these guys wouldn’t really get along.

As she spoke, she ratcheted up her power. She knew it was working when he started squirming just to avoid her gaze.

“Fuck you, you can’t touch me. There’s laws against that shit,” he blustered, staring fixedly over one shoulder.

She turned up her power another notch. Her body thrummed with current – waves of energy that anyone in her presence would experience as an emotional charge of awe and admiration. For those with a reason to be afraid of her, it would be a feeling of raw intimidation instead.

Oh so she not only has superman-like powers! She also has an intimidation factor! That is fascinating. It makes her enemies afraid and everyone else feel awe at her presence. ...That sounds a little creepy if it influences normal people but I see how it can give a massive advantage against villains and criminals, in conjunction with her other powers!

“Last chance,” she warned him.

Unfortunately, fear affected everyone differently. For this particular asshole, it just made him dig in his heels and become obstinate. She could see it in his body language before he opened his mouth – this was the sort of guy who reacted to anything that spooked or unsettled him with an almost mindless refusal to bend.

“Lick my hairy, sweaty balls,” he snarled, before punctuating it with a spat, “Cunt.”

It makes sense that someone like him would get defiant in a moment like this. Still probably not the best judgement. Fear (even this artificial one) is usually there for a reason.

She threw him. Since she could bench press a cement mixer, though it was hard to balance something so large and unwieldy, even a casual toss on her part could get some good distance. He flew a good twenty five or thirty yards down the back road before hitting the asphalt, and rolled for another ten.

He was utterly for still for long enough that Victoria had begun to worry that he’d somehow snapped his neck or broken his spine as he’d rolled. She was relieved when he groaned and began to pull himself to his feet.

Damn, with a power like hers she really has to be careful to not accidentally kill someone. If she can throw a grown healthy adult like that, sending him flying across the street, she could just as easily end anyone who doesn’t have super-endurance.

I wonder if that is actually a problem in this world? Accidental manslaughter via a missuse of super-strength.

“Ready to talk?” she asked him, her voice carrying down the alley. She didn’t move forward from where she hovered in the air, but she did let herself drop closer to the ground.

Pressing one hand against his leg to support himself as he straightened up, he raised his other hand and flipped her the bird, then turned and began to limp down the alley.

....what is this guy even doing? She just yeeted your ass to the other side of the street! Since when is pissing dangerous superheroines a good idea??

What was this asshole thinking? That she would just let him go? That, what, she would just bend to his witless lack of self preservation? That she was helpless to do any real harm to him? To top it off, he was going to insult her and try to walk away?

....he IS probably counting on you being a “good guy”, yeah.

But by the way her internal thoughts are going, he may have made a liiitle mistake with all this.

“Screw you too,” she hissed through her teeth. Then she kicked the dumpster below her hard enough to send it flying down the little road. It rotated lazily through the air as it arced towards the retreating figure, the trajectory and rotation barely changing as it knocked him flat. It skidded to a halt three to five yards beyond him, the metal sides of the dumpster squealing and sparking as it scraped against the asphalt.

...did she just throw an entire dumpster on top of him? Like, as a projectile weapon?? Is this poor asshole still alive???

This time, he didn’t get up.

“Fuck,” she swore, “Fuckity fuck fuck.” She flew to him and checked for a pulse. She sighed, and then headed to the nearest street. She found the street address, grabbed her cell from her belt and dialed.

Oh fuck she might have gone and done it. Used excessive force and super-murdered a suspect. What even happens in cases like this, then?

She seemed to be panicking but then calmed down when she checked for a pulse, so he’s probably still alive, even if knocked out.

It seems to have spooked her enough to make a phone call though.

“Hey sis? Yeah, I found him. That’s, uh, sort of the problem. Yeah. Look, I’m sorr- ok, can we talk about this later? Yeah. I’m at Spayder and Rock, there’s this little road that runs behind the buildings. Downtownish, yeah. Yeah? Thanks.”

Victoria returned to the unconscious skinhead, checked his pulse, and listened intently for changes in his breathing. It took a very long five minutes for her sister to arrive.

“Again, Victoria?” the voice disturbed her from her contemplations.

She called her sister for help! Does her sister have superpowers too? Maybe some sort of healing or stasis power, so they can avoid him dying, if he’s in a really critical state?

Again, huh? Oof, is excessive force a thing with you Victoria? She might not be as “purely heroic” as I thought. Seeing a lot of gray here as well. Trigger-happy or reckless heroes can be VERY dangerous in certain settings.

“Use my codename, please,” Victoria told the girl. Her sister was as different from her as night was from day. Where Victoria was beautiful, tall, gorgeous, blonde, Amy was mousy. Victoria’s costume showed off her figure, with a white one-piece dress that came to mid-thigh (with shorts underneath) an over-the shoulder cape, high boots and a golden tiara with spikes radiating from it, vaguely reminiscent of the sun’s rays or the statue of liberty. Amy’s costume, by contrast, was only a shade away from being a burka. Amy wore a robe with a large hood and a scarf that covered the lower half of her face. The robe was alabaster white and had a medic’s red cross on the chest and the back.

Oh I like both of their designs a lot! And the contrast between them!

Victoria is a white and gold goddess with statue of liberty and/or divine motifs, which matches up with both her demeanor so far, and the power itself, especially the fear/adoration part.

Amy, on the other hand, reminds me of a final fantasy white mage, so the possibility of her being a healer is even higher (she even wears a red cross!). Also, just by visual design alone, she may be more introverted in comparison to the extroverted nature of her sister. She is like a star radiating light, while Amy is hiding herself with her clothes.

“Our identities are public,” Amy retorted, pushing the hood back and scarf down to reveal brown frizzy hair and a face with freckles spaced evenly across it.

“It’s the principle of the thing,” Victoria replied.

“You want to talk about principles, Glory Girl?” Amy asked, in the most sarcastic tone she could manage, “This is the sixth – sixth! – time you’ve nearly killed someone. That I know about!”

“I’m strong enough to lift a SUV over my head,” Victoria muttered, “It’s hard to hold back all the time.”

Ooh interesting! Ok so a couple of things:

1) Amy looks cute, with her frizzy hair and freckles, in comparison to her sister’s more traditionally “beautiful” look.

2)Their identities are public??. Sooo....is that a thing particular to them, or to a group they belong to?? Cause I don’t remember very well, but I think Armsmaster kept his identity secret, didn’t he??

It’s very interesting that there are superheroes with public identities! I suppose that turns them into celebrities, even in their private lives, but isn’t that dangerous? Aren’t there villains who would attack their homes or families?

3)It seems Glory Girl is indeed a bit sketchy with the way she uses her super-strength, having six close calls with killing someone just because of an excess of force. I wonder if she can learn to regulate just how hard she needs to hit, because that seems dangerous!

“I’m sure Carol would buy that line,” Amy said, making it clear in her tone she wasn’t, “But I know you better than anyone. If you’re having trouble holding back, the problem isn’t here -” she poked Victoria in the bicep. “It’s here-” she jabbed her sister in the forehead, hard. Victoria didn’t even blink.

“Look, can you just fix him?” Victoria pleaded.

“I’m thinking I shouldn’t,” Amy said, quietly.

“What?”

“There’s consequences, Vicky. If I help you now, what’s going to stop you from doing it again? I can call the paramedics. I know some good people from the hospital. They could probably fix him up alright.”

Seems Amy is fed up with her sister dodging responsabilities for her recklessness, and wants her to learn the consequences of her behaviour and hopefully excercise more caution. This also confirms that Amy is indeed some kind of healer. Also is Carol their mother or caretaker??

Hey, hey, hey,” Victoria said, “That’s not funny. He goes to the hospital, people ask questions.”

“Yeah, I’m well aware,” Amy said, her voice hushed.

“This isn’t, like, me getting grounded. I’d get pulled into court on charges of aggravated assault and battery. That doesn’t just fuck with me. It fucks with our family, all of New Wave. Everything we’ve struggled to build.”

On the other hand, facing the consequences could mean that their whole family takes the blame.

New Wave...it seems Amy and Victoria have a whole family of superheroes, like The Incredibles! Is New Wave’s gimmick that the identities are public? The fact that excessive force threatens the founding purpose of the group leads me to think that revealing their identities is an attempt to gain the trust of the general public.

Amy frowned and looked at the fallen man..

“I know you’re not keen on the superhero thing, but you’d really go that far? You’d do that to us? To me?”

Amy pointed a finger at her sister, “That’s not me. It’s not my fault we’re at this point. It’s you. You’re crossing the line, going too far. Which is exactly what people who criticize New Wave are scared of. We’re not government sponsored. We’re not protected or organized or regulated in the same way. Everyone knows who we are under our masks. That means we have to be accountable. The responsible thing for me to do, as a member of this team, is to let the paramedics take him, and let the law do as it sees fit.”

So, New Wave is not government sponsored, like the protectorate is!

On one hand, we have the Protectorate, which is a state-funded professional justice league, with secret identities and constumed antics and such.

On the other, we have New Wave, which is a freelance family of heroes with their identities public and emphasizing accountability and probably a more modern, refreshing approach to superheroing (which kinda goes with the new wave name)

I really like the world building we’ve got going on here. It doesn’t seem to be going that well if Victoria here nearly killed a crook due to an excessive use of force though. At least it seems Amy is more level-headed and wants her sis to also be more careful.

Victoria abruptly pulled Amy into a hug. Amy resisted for a moment, then let her arms go limp at her sides.

“This isn’t just a team, Ames,” Victoria told her, “We’re a family. We’re your family.”

Heh, what Victoria is pulling here is the exact sort of emotional manipulation that a spoiled family member pulls when trying to get away with something scot-free. They’ve got a sister dinamic, that’s for sure!

The man lying just a matter of feet away stirred, then groaned, long and loud.

“My adoptive family,” Amy mumbled into Victoria’s shoulder, “And stop trying to use your frigging power to make me all squee over how amazing you are. Doesn’t work. I’ve been exposed so long I’m immune.”

Oh wow, seems like Victoria was trying literal emotional manipulation by way of her powers, but Amy has been exposed for so long she’s inmmune. So.... one can build an inmmunity to that aspect of her power?

Also it’s a bit disturbing to think of Victoria using her emotional powers to make her family subtly like her more.

And Amy is adopted! She did look very different from Victoria, based on that description we got earlier.

“It hurts,” the man moaned.

“I’m not using my power, dumbass,” Victoria told Amy, letting her go, “I’m hugging my sister. My awesome, caring and merciful sister.”

The man whined, louder, “I can’t move. I feel cold.”

Amy frowned at Victoria, “I’ll heal him. But this is the last time.”

Victoria beamed, “Thank you.”

The bastard deserves it, but it’s kind of funny how nonchalant they are being with his continued pain in the background.

Seems Amy has finally caved-in to her demands and will heal this badly wounded piece of shit. (Victoria totally acts like a spoiled brat who broke a toy during all this, which is a bit terrifying with a power combination like hers)

Amy leaned over the man and touched her hand to his cheek, “Slingshot break to his ribs, fractured clavicle, broken mandible, broken scapula, fractured sternum, bruised lung, broken ulna, broken radius -“

“I get the point,” Victoria said.

“Do you?” Amy asked. Then she sighed, “I wasn’t even halfway down the list. This is going to take a little while. Sit?”

Victoria crossed her legs and assumed a sitting position, floating a half foot above the ground. Amy just knelt where she was and rested her hand on the man’s cheek. The tension went out of his body and he relaxed.

Holy shit, Victoria really pummeled him badly! I guess that’s what happens when a superwoman toys like that with a normal human.

Also Amy can analyze and diagnose what a person has wrong in their body with just a touch? And can remove all pain, also with a single touch? On top of some form of healing?

That is ...incredible. She could revolutionize the world of healthcare and be an incredible professional doctor! Just the analysis part of it alone! It’s just ...so good.

“How’s the woman? Andrea?”

“Better than ever, physically,” Amy replied, “I grew her new teeth, fixed everything from the bruising to the scrapes, and even gave her a head to toe tune-up. Physically, she’ll feel on top of the world, like she had been to a spa and had the best nutritionist, best fitness expert and the best doctor all looking after her for a straight month.”

This power is astonishingly good.

She (and other powers like hers) would save so many lives, just by doing normal medical work.

Can she only heal injuries like these, or can she also do things like grow half a person’s body back, or even make someone younger? The posibilities with her are endless!

“Good,” Victoria said.

“Mentally? Emotionally? It’s up to her to deal with the aftermath of a beating. I can’t affect the brain.”

“Well-” Victoria started to speak.

“Yeah, yeah. Not can’t. Won’t. It’s complicated and I don’t trust myself not to screw something up when I’m tampering with someone’s head. That’s it, that’s all.”

Well it seems she couldn’t cure dementia or parkinson’s disease or any of these blights on humankind. But she’s still amazing!

It’s very interesting to see that it’s not just bam, you’re healed, with her power. She has to actually perform the healing herself. So her power would be ...what? Body scan and manipulation? Organic manipulation? Using the inherent healing sistems of the body as a tool?

Victoria started to say something, then shut her mouth. Even if they weren’t related by blood, they were sisters. Only sisters could have these sorts of recurring arguments. They had gone through a dozen different variations on this argument before. As far as she was concerned, Amy was doing herself a disservice by not practicing using her powers on the brain. It was only a matter of time before her sister found herself in a situation where she needed to do some emergency brain surgery and found herself incapable. Amy, for her part, refused to even discuss it.

Victoria has a more reckless demeanor than her sister. It’s true that Amy being able to cure brain diseases would be incredible, but how would she practice? Would there need to be people used as basically experiments until she gets the hang of it? It seems it would require some not very good means.

Also, Amy does use her powers to do medical stuff it seems! That’s good. I wonder how much certain powers have benefitted humankind in this series.

She didn’t want to raise a sensitive issue when Amy was in the process of doing her a major favor. To change the subject, Victoria asked, “Is it cool if I question him?”

“Might as well,” Amy sighed.

Victoria tapped the man a few times on the forehead to get his attention. He could barely move his head, but his eyes lolled in her direction.

“Ready to answer my questions, or do me and my sister just walk away and leave you like this?”

“I… sue you, he gasped out, then managed an added, “Whore.”

“Try it. I’d just love to see a skinhead with a few broken bones go up against a superheroine whose mom just happens to be one of the best lawyers in Brockton Bay. You know her, right?”

“Brandish,” he said.

Hmm I feel like there is an ethical conversation to be had here. Both in ransoming the healing and in flaunting that they could get away with it because their mom is a lawyer.

Would the Protectorate be ok with doing something like this? Would the citizenship be ok with something like this?

Again, it could be argued that he’s a neonazi scumbag, but what about in more general cases? Or is getting information out of him instrumental in protecting the people and saving lives, and does that justify one’s actions?

Interesting questions to be had, all in all.

“That’s her name in costume. Normally she’s Carol Dallon. She’d kick your ass in court, believe me,” Victoria said. She believed it. What the thug didn’t understand was that even if he lost the case, the media circus that would be stirred up would do more damage than anything else. But she didn’t need to inform him of that. She asked him, “So do I get my sister to leave you as you are, or are you willing to trade some information for relief from months of incredible pain and a lifetime of arthritis and stiffness in your bones?”

So Carol is indeed their mother, and also the superheroine Brandish! ...I don’t have any idea what her powers are based on that name alone.

“And erectile dysfunction,” Amy said, just loud enough for the thug to hear her, “You fractured your ninth vertebra. That’s going to affect all nerve function in extremities below your waist. If I leave you like you are, your toes will always feel a little numb, and you’ll have a hell of a time getting it up, if you know what I mean.”

The skinhead’s eyes widened a fraction, “You’re fucking with me.”

“I have an honorary medical license,” Amy told him, her expression solemn, “I’m not allowed to fuck with you about stuff like that. Hippocratic oath.”

“Isn’t that ‘do no harm’?” the thug asked. Then he groaned, long, loud and with the slightest rattle in his breath, as she removed her hand from his body.

Okay I’m kinda enjoying the way they are messing with him, ethical questions aside. Amy going straight for the erectile dysfunction! And a version of the “If I was an undercover cop, I would be obligated to tell you” kind of gambit.

Would the removing the anesthetic hand to make him comply be considered torture? Hm.

“That’s just the first part of it, like how freedom of speech and the right to bear arms is just the first part of a very long constitution. It doesn’t look like he’s cooperating, Glory Girl. Should we go?”

“Fuck!” the man shouted, then winced, tenderly touching his side with one hand, “I’ll tell you. Please, just… do what you were doing. Touch me and make the pain go away, put me back together. Fix me?”

Amy touched him. He relaxed, and then he started talking.

Looks like they got him to talk! Not so cocky in the end, against these two.

“Empire Eighty-Eight is extending into the Docks on Kaiser’s orders. Lung’s in custody, and whatever happens, the ABB is weaker than it was. That means there’s territory for grabs, and the Empire sure ain’t making progress downtown.”

Seems like Taylor accidentaly created a power vacuum! Due to Lung no longer being there, the ABB is left much weaker and other gangs are rising up to the occasion.

Kaiser huh? That’s the leader of these neonazis? Named after german emperors, so it really fits.

“Why not?” Victoria asked him.

“This guy, Coil. Don’t know what his powers are, but he’s got a private army. Ex-military, all of ’em. At least fifty, Kaiser said, and every one of ’em has top notch gear. Their armor’s better than kevlar. You shoot ’em, they’re back up in a few seconds. ‘Least when you shoot a pig, you can be pretty sure you broke a few ribs. But that’s not the fucked up thing. These guys? They’ve got these lasers hooked up to the machine guns they carry around. If they don’t think bullets are doing it, or if they’re after people who are behind cover, they fire off these purple laser beams that can cut through steel. Tear through any cover you’re standing behind and burn through you too.”

More competition! In the same way that the ABB seems to have an asian theme, and the Empire are neo-nazis, these guys seem to be some sort of paramilitary militia armed to the teeth with high-tech gear, including ...laser weapons?? So these guys are less about superpowers and more about collective strength, tactics and formations? They sound awesome.

Coil makes me think about tesla coils, so maybe some electricity power to go along with the high-tech motif and weird technology?

“Yeah. I know about him. His methods get expensive,” Victoria said, “Top of the line soldiers, top of the line gear.”

The thug nodded weakly, “But even with money to burn, he’s fighting us over Downtown territories. Constant tug of war, neither of us making much headway. Been going on for months. So Kaiser thinks we should take the Docks now that the ABB are on the outs, gain some ground somewhere easier. Don’t know any more than that, as far as his plans.”

Seems this Coil group and the Empire are about equal in power, with the ABB being now weaker but maybe stronger than both of them previously?

“Who else is up to something? Faultline?”

“The bitch with the freaks in her crew? She’s a mercenary, different goals. But maybe. If she wanted to branch out, now would be the time to do it. With her rep, she’d even do alright.”

“Then who? There’s a power vacuum in the docks. Kaiser’s declared he wants to seize it, but I’m willing to bet he’s warned you about others making a play.”

Another new player! She’s a mercenary, with a bunch of ...freaks? Are these like mutants, where the powers change their appearance and they are discriminated against? Seems like an interesting group. Faultline.... maybe some earth or earthquake-related power?

The skinhead laughed, then winced, “Are you dense, girl? Everyone’s going to make a play. It’s not just the major gangs and teams that are looking for a slice of the pie, there. It’s everyone. The Docks are ripe for the taking. The location’s worth as much money as you’d get downtown. It’s the go to place if you want to buy black market. Sex, drugs, violence. And the locals are already used to paying protection money. It’s just a matter of changing who they pay to. The Docks are rich territory, and we’re talking the potential for a full scale fucking war over it.”

He looked up at the blond superheroine and laughed. Her lips set into a firm line.

Dear god Taylor what have you done? Now we have a full-scale gang war that could spread to the whole district thanks to your actions that day. You certainly caused a big splash!

It kinda reminds me of Doflamingo’s speech in One Piece, where there is a power vacuum that is going to make everyone fight in the near future, only that is much much more high scale than this. Still, what a way to change things.

He continued, “You want to know my guess? Empire Eighty Eight is going to take the biggest slice of the Docks, because we’re strong enough to. Coil’s going to stick his thumb in just to spite us, ABB is going to hold on to some. But you’re also going to have a bunch of the little guys trying to take something for themselves. Über and Leet, Circus, the Undersiders, Squealer, Trainwreck, Stain, others you’ve never heard of? They’re going to stake out their ground, and one of two things is going to happen. Either there’s war, in which case civilians get hurt and things get bad for you, or there’s alliances between the various teams and solo villains and shit gets even worse for you.”

Woaah a loot of even more new names! This is worldbuilding, the chapter!

Uber and Leet ...I think they vaguely mentioned them once..? But they apparently were small-fries

Circus is maybe a carnaval or clown-themed villain? Those are always ...fun. I expect a lot of circus gimmicks as their powerset.

The Undersiders are that group of totally innocent teens of which Taylor might or might not be a part of now, and might or might not be planning to eventually betray.

Squealer sounds ...weird. Maybe something animal-based?

Trainwreck maybe summons trains to crash against you. That seems too silly though. (Yukari-approved! )

Stain is obviously from Mha and I don’t know how he jumped to here. On a more serious note, I have no idea what he could be about.

All of these (including our undersiders) seem to be small timers, at least compared to the big three of the ABB, the Empire and the supersoldiers. And also Faultline, which even though she was a mercenary was considered high enough to be counted outside of the smaller ones.

We’re getting to know our underworld landscape here!

He broke into laughter yet again.

“Come on, Panacea,” Victoria said as she stood up, touched ground with her boots and brushed her skirt straight, “We’ve gotten enough.”

“You sure? I’m not done yet,” Amy told her.

“You fixed the bruises and scrapes, broken bones?” Everything that could get her in trouble, in other words.

“Yeah, but I didn’t fix everything,” Amy replied.

“Good enough,” Victoria decided.

“Hey!” the skinhead shouted, “The deal was you’d fix me if I talked! Did you fix my cock?” He tried to struggle to get to his feet, but his legs buckled under him, “Hey! I can’t fuckin’ walk! I’ll fucking sue you!”

Victoria’s expression changed in an instant, and her power flooded out, blindsiding the thug. For an instant, his eyes were like those of a panicked horse, all whites, rolling around, unfocused. She grabbed him by the shirt collar, lifted him up and growled into his ear, her voice just above a whisper, “Try it. My sister just healed you… most of you, with a touch. Did you ever wonder what else she could do? Ever think, maybe, she could break you just as easily? Or change the color of your skin, you racist fuck? I’ll tell you this, I’m not half as scary as my little sister is.”

Seems the skinhead was still being a pest faking not being cured and Victoria had enough. Damn she can be scary, and that’s aside from the ability to literally make him feel fear. I think part of the scary factor to her is that she could very easily break you and she doesn’t really have that much impulse control. Imagine facing down someone like that and thanks to her power having that fear you feel towards her amplified until she is the worst thing in your world.

And that all pales in comparison to her sister. Oh god I hadn’t considered that application of her power! She has organic manipulation, not healing. Healing is just what she chooses to use her power for! She could unmake you with just her continued touch, or give you any sort of illness or deformity. She has one of the greatest and scariest powers so far.

She let him go. He collapsed in a heap on the ground.

As the two sisters walked away, Victoria pulled her cell phone out of a pouch on her belt with her free hand. Turning to Amy, she said, “Thank you.”

“Play safe, Victoria. I can’t bring people back from the dead, and once you’ve gone that far…”

“I’ll be good. I’ll be better,” Victoria promised as she dialed with one hand. She put the phone to her ear, “Hello? Emergency services? Requesting special line. New Wave, Glory Girl. Incapacitated criminal for you to pick up, no powers. No, no rush, I can hold.”

Seems this situation concluded with a minor big problem averted. Glory Girl really should be grateful for the free healer she has to get her out of her excessive use of force! They are cleaning nazis from the streets so they aren’t bad or anything, they are the good guys, just a bit too dangerous sometimes!

Looking over her shoulder, Victoria noted the thug, still floundering and half-crawling, “He’s not going to get up?”

“He’ll be numb from the waist down for another three hours. His left arm will be iffy for about that long, too, so he’s not going to move unless he can drag himself somewhere with just one limb. He’ll also have numb toes for a good month or so, too,” Amy smiled.

“You didn’t actually…”

“No. Nothing was broken, and I didn’t screw up anything, beyond a temporary numbness. But he doesn’t know that. Fear and doubt will complete the effect, and the suggestion becomes a self fulfilling prophecy.”

“Amy!” Victoria laughed, hugging her sister with one arm, “Weren’t you just saying you weren’t going to mess with people’s heads?”

Heh, I really like Amy. And Victoria too, to a degree. She’s a lil bit spoiled, but I imagine getting such awesome powers at a young age warps your perception of things.

We set up a lot of things this chapter, and it seems our protagonist may have destabilized all of the city with her first night in costume! She’s certainly off to a good start!

#Worm #worm parahumans #parahumans liveblog #liveblog #arc 2 #worm interlude 2 #wildbow #parahumans

30 notes · View notes

xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx · 4 years

Text

Ice Cream Nights - Dallon Weekes x Reader

Request: more Dallon stuff

all of these anons are sending in sweet cutesy little asks and leaving little xx s at the end and I'm just here like iNsOmNiA wiTh dALlOn wEeKeS bC i'M sAd-

Summary: You can’t fall asleep, but luckily Dallon is still up and invites you for some late night ice cream

Word count: 1 013

You tossed and turned in your bed, trying to find a position that might finally make it possible to fall asleep. But instead you only managed to kick your blanket to the ground. For a moment you wondered if maybe this was the solution, no blanket. It had been terribly warm for days, and even though you had tried so desperately to keep your flat cool, it had finally heated up uncomfortably. For a few moments you lay still, almost thinking you might fall asleep, when outside the sirens of an ambulance jumped on.

With a cry of frustration you sat up. There was no way you would find sleep tonight. Taking a look at the clock you sighed. 1:16am. Your head started hurting if you even thought about how late it was. At least it was the weekend, so you had nowhere to be. Grabbing your mobile, you decided to settle down in the living room on the couch. After having scrolled through social media for a while, you noticed you had received a new message in the messenger app. Reading through the message your aunt, who was currently halfway across the world, sent you, you replied quickly, and just when you wanted to go back to your aimless scrolling, a new message popped up.

Still up?

You were not aware of the grin on your face as you clicked on the bubble, and were lead to the chat, but it was definitely there.

So are you.

Of course it was Dallon who was up just as late as you were. Dallon and you had known each other for years, but just recently you had found out that the feelings you had secretly been harbouring for Dallon were not one-sided, and so far you had been on a couple of dates. Both of you had agreed to take things slow, even though you knew each other so well already. But friendship and romance were different, and it was exciting to get to know him in this entirely new way, where he would openly flirt with you, and then get all embarrassed about it.

Can’t sleep. Again.

You nodded to yourself as you typed out your reply.

_Neither can I. _

It took a couple of moments until he answered.

Too warm? Or is it insomnia?

You grinned a little wider, remembering how Dallon always remembered even the tiniest details of your life. You had only talked about your sleeping problems to him once, and still he had remembered it.

Probably both. What about you?

This time it took longer for him to answer, and when he eventually did, he had sent you an address.

Meet me there asap. Whoever comes last pays for the ice cream.

You did not even think about how it was almost 2am, and how it was a little crazy going for ice cream at that time of night, but you did not care. You just jumped up and quickly threw on some presentable clothes, a little voice in the back of your mind complimenting you that you even looked pretty cute.

Much to your surprise you made it to the 24/7 diner before Dallon. You waited for him outside, curious what he had planned. Luckily you did not have to wait for long, and a couple of minutes later he turned up as well, a wide smile on his face as he spotted you leaning against a lamppost in front of the diner.

“I see I have been beaten,” he laughed, and walked over, wrapping you in a hug.

“I have a feeling you let me win,” you teased, but he just shrugged.

“I just like to spoil you,” he winked, and intertwined his fingers with yours, leading you over to the diner, where he ordered ice cream in cones for both of you.

When you stepped outside again, licking the sweet treat, the air had still barely cooled down, and side by side you walked over to the small park that was down the street. Insects hummed in the night. Frogs were quacking in the pond, which laid hidden in the dark. Bats were chasing moths around the street lamps. Dallon found a bench for you to sit down on, and together you sat in silence until you had finished your ice cream. For a long while after that you just sat and listened to the sounds around you, relaxing in the sleeping city. Hardly anyone was awake this time of night, and even fewer people were outside. Once or twice a car passed by the park, temporarily illuminating the comfortable dark. The frogs continued their concert, and in the distance it sounded like two cats had gotten into a fight with each other.

Dallon had his arm wrapped around you, keeping you warm, when eventually the air had cooled down enough to make you feel a little chilly. At some point Dallon started talking, and you shared your thoughts with each other, mostly staying in the present though, making up stories about what happened inside the houses behind your backs, what shops would probably open up first this morning. You talked about how you were reminded of summer camp by the noise the frogs made, and Dallon told you about that time a sparrow flew into his room and he had to catch it.

Slowly the sky began to brighten again, and the night was almost over. It was only half past four, but the sun slowly began creeping towards the horizon, and when the first beams of light winded through the trees, you got up from your bench in the park. Dallon had had the brilliant idea to go for breakfast in the diner where you had grabbed your ice cream earlier that day, or rather night, and after that you planned on heading home to his place, since that was closer. Maybe you would actually be able to get a wink of sleep then, cuddled against Dallon. But right now you were walking arm in arm down the street of a slowly waking city.

Taglist (if you want to be added or taken off, please let me know):

General: @justawriterinprogress @robinruns @jayloverthe3rd @lookalivefrosty @butterflycore @rene-royale @angelevansfalls @starduststyx

#dallon weekes x reader #dallon weekes x reader fluff #dallon weekes x reader fanfiction #dallon weekes x reader fanfic #dallon weekes x ready imagine #dallon weekes x reader imagines #dallon weekes imagine #dallon weekes fanfiction #dallon weekes fluff #dallon weekes imagines #dallon weekes fanfic #fluff #fanfiction #fanfic #insomnia

37 notes · View notes

ao3feed-frerard · 5 years

Text

Powerless

read it on the AO3 at http://bit.ly/2IW5gDM

by moonlit_tears

"You don't have to be like this, you don't have to be bad."

"Can't you understand those people didn't want us. And you clearly don't want us either, it's not fucking evil to want to be loved."

Words: 344, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Twenty One Pilots, My Chemical Romance, Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Josh Dun, Tyler Joseph, Gerard Way, Mikey Way, Ray Toro, Frank Iero, Patrick Stump, Pete Wentz, Andy Hurley, Joe Trohman, Brendon Urie, Dallon Weekes, Ryan Ross

Relationships: Josh Dun/Tyler Joseph, Frank Iero/Gerard Way, Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Established Relationship, Mutual Pining, I honestly just wrote some fluffy relationships for the ships, Heavy Angst, theres lots of character development for the characters not in ships tho, Blood and Violence, Crime Fighting, theres like a decent amount of fighting in here, TOPFL May Challenge, This has bench months in the making and I’m v excited, Character Death

read it on the AO3 at http://bit.ly/2IW5gDM

#frerard #frank iero #gerard way #my chemical romance

1 note · View note

ao3feed-joshler · 5 years

Text

Powerless

read it on the AO3 at http://bit.ly/2IW5gDM

by moonlit_tears

"You don't have to be like this, you don't have to be bad."

"Can't you understand those people didn't want us. And you clearly don't want us either, it's not fucking evil to want to be loved."

Words: 344, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Twenty One Pilots, My Chemical Romance, Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Josh Dun, Tyler Joseph, Gerard Way, Mikey Way, Ray Toro, Frank Iero, Patrick Stump, Pete Wentz, Andy Hurley, Joe Trohman, Brendon Urie, Dallon Weekes, Ryan Ross

Relationships: Josh Dun/Tyler Joseph, Frank Iero/Gerard Way, Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz

read it on the AO3 at http://bit.ly/2IW5gDM

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #joshler

1 note · View note

topimagines · 6 years

Text

Viva Las Vegas

This was requested! (Requests are indeed open, too.)

You had a late start to your morning, your alarm hadn't gone off because of daylight savings time, and your mother had to wake you. It was a Sunday, but you promised your mother that you'd wake up early for piano lessons.

"(Y/n), time to get up! You have lessons in half an hour!" Your mother called, knocking on your door until you woke up. You went to take your blanket off your legs, but wound up rolling off the mattress and hitting the ground with a loud thud.

"I'm up!" You groaned from your place on the ground. You sat up and rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. David Bowie was playing through the door, it was assumable that your mother was playing the music in the kitchen of your small apartment.

After your parents separated, your mom had moved you away from your original home with your brothers and sister, to a small apartment in Las Vegas, Nevada. She'd found a job at a high ranking office building as a data analyst, but you still lived frugal lives due to the debt from the divorce, and all of the bills she had before.

You swiftly changed your clothes, and finally opened the door to reveal your your parental unit with curlers in her hair and a toothbrush sticking out of her mouth, "oh, good, you're up." Her speech was muffled from the brush.

"Yup," you said, popping the 'p', before pushing past her to go to the bathroom. When you looked in the mirror, your hair was a mess and you had black makeup smeared under your eyes that you forgot to remove from the day before.

Although, you didn't have a problem with that. It was good to recycle, after all.

You quickly brushed your hair out, not finding a comfortable place to part it, and splashed water over your face to help you wake up. Your mother entered and spit out the foamy substance in her mouth before getting started on the curlers in her hair.

"Mrs. Urie said to just meet Brendon in the studio, so I was gonna drop you off on my way to work, is that ok?"

"You trust me with Brendon all alone? What about what happened with Amanda?" You asked her. Amanda was your half sister, she had snuck out multiple times before you moved away to see a boy she was dating. When your father found out, he wasn't happy.

"Well, you're not Amanda," she stated, "I trust you."

After both of you were finished in the bathroom, there wasn't much else to be done besides get your shoes. You slid on some beat up boots and a leather jacket your best friend had given you before you left, and you both were out the door. Once you were driving toward the studio, the windows rolled down as to keep the car cool. Your mother began to talk about what that day was going to entail.

"I have a few meetings today with the board, so I won't come get you until around four, is that cool?" Your mother asked. You nodded in response and watched the buildings fly by with a whoosh sound.

"I wonder what piece Brendon wants to teach me today," you thought out loud. Your mother chuckled in response to your day-dreaming state.

"He mentioned something at dinner the other night about making his own piece, maybe he'll let you help,” your mother suggested. You shrugged your shoulders. Brendon did not confide in you, or talk to you like you would your best friend, he was always very busy with his girlfriend.

You did go to the same school, so you knew about this girl. Her name was Jenny, and you didn't like her. There were many reasons to say so, but it was primarily due to the fact that you two were in completely different groups. Her friend group constantly bullied you and your only friend.

However, Brendon seemed happy with her, so you didn't bother him about it.

Your car pulled up to the studio. It was a relatively large square shaped building with vines growing up the sides. It had two levels, but only one large room per level. On the farthest side from the street, a large chimney stood high and proud. There was a staircase leading up to double doors, and there was a small parking lot in front of them. The doors opened to the second floor, where Mrs Urie had many projects for the church they were involved with. You never took the stairs up, because your guys’ (Mr Urie said that he didn't buy the studio just for Brendon and his wife, it was for all family) space was on the bottom floor, you took the side door that led directly into it. You swung the car door open and tentatively stepped out.

“Have a good day, sweetheart!” your mother called before pulling away from the studio. You waved her off before turning toward the building and walking toward the door.

You twisted the doorknob and let yourself in quietly. Immediately, you heard the sound of Brendons beautiful grand piano and his voice filling the air. You carefully walked further into the room and smiled lightly at how amazing he sounded.

“You're incredible,” you stated. You could only see the back of his head, but you could tell he was smiling. You took a seat on the bench next to him and finally got a good look at him. He was freshly shaved, a pair of glasses sliding slowly down his nose as he looked slightly down at the sheet music. His fingers danced across the keys gracefully, even when you sat down.

He seemed entranced by the song and didn't stop you when you placed your hands on the keys and playing along with him. Once the song ended he looked over at you with a goofy smile on his face. You had an odd feeling in your gut when you were around him, your hands never stopped shaking and if he touched you, your stomach would explode in a million butterflies.

But it wasn't a crush. It couldn't be.

You wouldn't let it.

“I have good news and bad news, which do you wanna hear first?” he asked, the smile not leaving his face.

“I guess good news,” you answered.

“My mom told me that I'm not allowed to charge you for lessons because you and your mom are basically family by now,” he said, making extravagant hand gestures as he did.

“And the bad news?” you asked, only slightly concerned.

“We're doing hand independence exercises today,” he groaned for you. He hated them as much as you did. When playing piano, you had to learn how to play independently with little to no thought at all. You never had much of that, so once a week you did exercises to improve upon the independence you already had.

“Do we have to? Can't we just, you know, listen to Fame and get high like last week?” you asked with a little smirk on your lips. The week before, after your lesson had finished, you both had to wait for his mother to come pick you up and take you home. You had three hours, so you played David Bowie, Led Zeppelin, and AC/DC and smoked the rest of Brendon's stash.

“No, we can't, you weirdo,” he chuckled.

Hours later, you finally finished the work and got started on an actual piece. Brendon leaned back and only assisted you when you forgot where the notes were. Suddenly, as you were about to finally finish the piece, the door to the studio swung open to reveal, none other than, Jenny. She sauntered in, and didn't wait for you to stop before flopping herself in his lap and sending you a glare.

“Don't take this the wrong way, babe, but why are you here?” Brendon asked, giving you an apologetic look.

“I saw your mom at the church and she said you wouldn't be attending, so she gave me the address,” she giggled innocently, batting her eyelashes at him. You groaned internally and wanted to gag. That was supposed to be your safe space, a place to get away from people exactly like her.

“Does your mom still have the landline upstairs?” you asked Brendon, playing with the hem of your shirt awkwardly.

“Yeah, why?”

You didn't answer, just getting up and walking up the stairs before he or Jenny could argue. The room was dark, save for the small light coming from the stairs leading down to the ground floor. You quickly walked toward the phone on the far right corner of the dark of the room and dialed the number of the man who could save you from the awkwardness. It rang twice before the familiar voice rang through the receiver, “hello?”

“Dallon?”

Dallon didn't have to be asked twice before he came to get you. He never asked any questions when you called him, he knew better than that. You always ended up telling him what happened anyway, but it was always on your own terms.

“Hey, pretty lady, need a lift?” he asked as soon as you made it up to his car, the window rolled down. He had sunglasses on and an unlit cigarette in his mouth, you guessed he was just about to get his lighter out when he pulled up.

“My knight in shining armour,” you sighed before hopping in, granted unceremoniously, the car through the open window. You ensured the seat belt was buckled and Dallon skid out of the parking lot, “she showed up unannounced, and was all over Brendon like I wasn't even there.”

“You mean he didn't kick her out as soon as she sat down? I thought you were supposed to be getting lessons from him,” Dallon questioned. He was never Brendon’s biggest fan, he always thought he was a bit too big for his britches. You never agreed with him, but he did have a point.

“It's not like I'm paying him for anything. Would you want someone like me with you when you had a rich girl hanging onto your every word?” Dallon rolled his eyes at that, “he deserves everything that he has.”

“If he doesn't buck up and tell that fuckin’ girlfriend of his that they're your lessons, he's gonna get a punch in the face,” Dallon grunted. He finally took the lighter out of his jacket pocket, flicking it a few times before actually getting a flame. He lit the fag (do not comment on this fucking word, it means cigarette) and took a long drag from it. Smoke puffed out of his nose before he blew it out of the window.

He was always protective of you, especially after you told him about your parents. He wanted to be a big brother figure, one that would help you if and when you needed it. You both had similar styles, more punk than you thought you looked. He had hair down past his ear on one side, and a full undercut. If you ever saw him without his leather jacket, you got worried. He never left home without it. He also had a switchblade always tucked into the inside pocket of the jacket, something his mom gave him before she died so he could protect himself. Luckily, he never used it.

“It's fine, I just wanna go home and watch a movie or somethin’,” you sighed, looking out the window at the buildings flying by with the same, calming whoosh. Dallon shook his head, but drove you home. You both pulled up to the apartment complex and you were surprised by Dallon getting out of the car with you.

“If you think I'm leavin’ you alone in that apartment, you're fuckin’ high,” he said, his voice was gravelly, like usual.

“I wish I were high, I sold the last of my stash for groceries,” you sighed, Dallon gave you a once over before sending you an unmistakably mischievous wink, “why am I not surprised?”

The next day, you had school. Dallon had ended up staying the night, on accident, so he offered to drive you to school. Your mother was okay with it, she always was.

Whatever would let her sleep in a little longer.

Thus, you were in Dallon car, on your way to a place you did not want to be. You pulled up to the to the front of the high quality school. It was quite tall, being three stories, and very wide. However, it's size didn't make up for the crowded halls with its almost three-thousand students and staff. Dallon shut the car off and turned to you to bid you goodbye.

“If anyone talks shit, you know what to do right?” he asked, taking your hand from its spot on the seat belt buckle, “kick ‘em where it hurts.” he gave your hand a final reassuring squeeze before dropping it and letting you step out of the car. You leaned over, placing your elbows in the open window.

“I know, dad,” you mocked, “am I taking the bus home?”

Dallon glanced at you one more time before turning the car back on, “not on my watch, pretty lady,” he said, winking at you before taking off. You spun on your heel and walked toward the front doors of the high school.

You had no friends at the school, Dallon graduated when you were a freshman, and you had the Urie family. You never bothered to make any other friends.

You pushed through the crowd, the smell of excessive amounts of hairspray made you want to vomit, but you held your breath as you made your way to the third floor, and into your first class.

“Good morning, (Y/n),” your English teacher greeted you as you sat down.

You had one class with Brendon, anatomy, but you couldn't talk to him. His girlfriend also had the class.

“So, Mr. Urie, tell me what range of motion is happening when I point my toe toward the ground?” your anatomy teacher questioned. Brendon’s eyes widened and he looked from the teachers face to the board multiple times before you decided to help. As much as you loved him, or hated to admit you loved him, he was never good at remembering anything from anatomy.

“Plantarflexion,” you whispered from your seat behind him, hoping he'd hear you.

“Plantarflexion?” he said, although it came out as more of a question than anything. The teacher grunted, begrudgingly, in approval and Brendon let out a sigh of relief. Jenny didn't seem pleased that you were giving answers to her boyfriend. Her eyes bored holes in the side of your head, begging you to look over so she could tell you to stop talking to her partner before she did something she'd regret.

Her words, not yours. You'd heard the speech from her many times.

However, you continued on with your work and didn't get her a glance.

“You left so abruptly on Sunday, I was hoping you would have stayed longer,” Brendon said. He had found you at your locker after Anatomy, “My mom missed you.”

“I thought you wanted to be with your girlfriend,” you deadpanned.

“I wanted to be with you,” he pouted. Damn, that pout would be the death of you.

“Brendon, you know that when she is with you, she is with you,” you emphasized, “I'd rather not be around someone that is all over my piano instructor while I'm trying to learn.” you heard a giggle down the hall and turned to see Jenny, in her big hair and denim jacket wearing glory, approaching you and Brendon. You scoffed, turning back to your locker to put in the combination. Once it was open you retrieved your history textbook, and slammed it shut. When you turned back, Brendon was being dragged away by the girl he said he loved. What a surprise, you thought, not using him, my ass.

It was the next Saturday, and you were thrilled to not have school. All you wanted to do was sleep in and hang out with Dallon at his dad's corner store, but your mother had other plans. She woke you up at eight in the morning, told you to get dressed and to get in the car when you're done. You groaned in protest, refusing to get up. That was, until she took your comforter by the corners and pulled it off of you, leaving you cold and uncomfortable until you complied. You begrudgingly got up from your bed and stumbled out of the room and into the bathroom. Your hair was disheveled when you looked in the mirror, and your sweatpants hung low on your hips, that in partnership with the slightly risen hem of your shirt, showed the waistband of your underwear.

“You have ten minutes, sweetheart!” your mother called when she heard the sink’s water start to run. You groaned loud enough for her to hear, the only reply was a chuckle and, “it's not my fault you didn't wake up at a good hour.”

Five minutes later you emerged from the restroom with slightly fixed hair, minty fresh breath, and a clean face. Your mother had left clothes out for you on your bed, though it was only jeans and a t-shirt. You changed into the clothing and slid your boots on before finally emerging. You found your mother waiting for you by the front door. Once she saw you, she stood a bit straighter and opened the door for both of you to exit.

“So, are you going to tell me why you woke me up at eight on a Saturday?” you finally asked. Unlike most times, the windows of the car were rolled up. You could still slightly hear the sound of other cars rushing by yours. It was quite cold outside, most likely because of the early morning, and like most days in Vegas, there were already people walking on the sidewalks and driving in a rush to get to their jobs.

“Well, the church Grace goes to is doing a potluck and I thought you and Dallon would want to go,” she stated. She pulled into a turning lane that you never noticed and flipped on her blinker to turn left.

“Dallon doesn't like church,” you murmured.

“Well, he's meeting us there, liking church or not, the promise of food persuaded him,” your mother chuckled.

Your mother pulled up to a small building that you had never seen before. She shut the car off and didn't give you a second glance before stepping out of it. You saw Dallon walk up to her to greet her, and she pointed toward the car, probably explaining that you were lagging behind them.

“Hey, pretty girl, hurry up!” he called as he walked toward the car. You finally swung the door open and stepped out onto the gravel of the small building's parking lot.

“I'm comin’, slick,” you called, trying not to slide through the gravel when you slammed the passenger side door. Dallon reached you before you could start walking toward the building, and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, “what’s with you?” That's when you smelled it. You knew the smell of cannabis by that time, and you knew how Dallon acted when he was stoned, “this is a church event, Dal!”

“Yeah, but church boy knows how to party,” Dallon laughed. Church Boy, you thought that’s his nickname for Brendon.

“Where is church boy?” you asked.

“With the girl you hate,” Dallon said, way too loud. Luckily, people were too busy eating and chatting to hear you.

You had sat down at a picnic table that had no one else sitting at it, and Dallon had his head in your lap. You combed your fingers through his hair to keep yourself entertained, and he seemed to like it, falling asleep in your lap. As if out of thin air, Jenny walked up with a drink in her hand and sat down across from you, her two bitchy friends following suit. She gave you a sickly sweet smile. Her friends sat on either side of her and gave you the same look.

“How are lessons going, (Y/n)?” the blonde girl asked.

“They’re going ok,” if you didn't interrupt them, they'd be better, “Brendon’s a good teacher.”

“I know he is,” she said sweetly, but her eyes told a different story. She looked around, her friends doing the same, like they were making sure no one was looking. Then, she took her red, plastic cup and splashed it all over you, and her friends did the same. Dallon shot up, red punch covering his face, and looked around. You were covered in the liquid from the head down and sat in quiet shock before Jenny started to talk again, “don't talk to him, don't look at him, if i catch you with him, you’re in for a lot more than juice in your face.”

You looked at her face, she was so smug and thought you wouldn't fight back. You stood from your spot, Dallon watched you from his spot on the bench. You stepped up to her, she was a similar height to you, only standing a centimetre taller than you.

“Listen, bitch,” you start, “I don't know what I did to you, I don't want to know, but that does not mean you can blatantly threaten me and dump disgusting, obviously spiked, punch all over my best friend. Piss off, cunt.”

Then, your face stung.

You didn't know what happened fully until you saw her red hand go back to her side. Ouch. You didn't know what came over you, but you found yourself taking her by the hair and dragging her toward the parking lot.

“Kick ‘em where it hurts,” you muttered under your breath. She clawed at your hands in her blonde locks, that felt like straw due to the amount of hair spray in them, but you continued to pull her away from the crowd, toward her car. When you reached the gravel, you finally pushed her with so much force toward the ground, she slid a solid foot and a half, “I better not see your fucking face ever again, bitch, because in your own words, ‘you're in for a lot more than juice in your face.’”

Her lip quivered when she looked up at you, but she didn't move.

“You should really go,” you heard a voice behind you say. You slowly turned your head and saw Brendon standing with his arms crossed.

“Thank god, baby, she hit me and pulled my hair!” Jenny cried from her spot in the gravel.

“No, I meant you, Jen,” Brendon stated, “Everyone saw you, I'm not stupid. In fact, I really don't want to see you again, either. We're through.”

“You can't break up with me!” Jenny screeched. She stood up, shakily, and approached Brendon. She tried to pry his arms from their crossed position across his chest, but he didn't budge. When that didn't work, she tried kissing him, but he stood like stone. She had an angry look on her face when she pulled back, “I can ruin your life, Brendon Urie!”

“Then you might wanna leave and get started,” he deadpanned.

Jenny gave him a glare and left the potluck without another word, her two friends following closely behind her.

“Sorry about that,” you apologized. Brendon chuckled and shook his head, taking a step toward you.

“About what?”

“You just broke up with a popular girl because of me,” you murmured.

“That only gives me the chance to do this,” he chuckled.

Then Brendon Urie kissed you.

And you loved it.

A/n: there won't be a sequel because i like the way it ended, so don't ask -ro

#brendon urie imagine #brendon urie fanfiction #brendon urie fluff #brendon urie #brendon urie x reader #panic! at the disco fanfiction #Panic at the Disco

224 notes · View notes