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captainjanegay · 3 years

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someone holds me safe and warm | Stucky | Sickfic, Hurt/Comfort, Canon Divergent, Timelines, 4+1 | 5.4k words | Ao3

Summary:

Four times Steve was sick or hurt and Bucky tried his best to care for him and one time the roles were reversed.

A short trip through Stucky timeline with loads of softness and care on the way.

A/N: It's here! My Secret Santa gift for the loveliest @snarky-drabbles ♥ I was so worried I won't be able to finish it and it turned out much longer than I wanted it to be but I really hope you'll like it :') I was so happy when I've heard you wanted some nice and soft sickfic and I hope I was able to provide you with exactly what you wanted ♥ I wish you the happiest holidays season, love! Despite the stressing, it was such a pleasure to write it for you ♥ Also big thanks for @metalbvcky for hosting this event, it was so much fun :’) And thank you my sweetest Luisa @its-tortle for giving it a read and being your incredible, supportive self :’)

1. December 9th, 1928

The snow has been falling all night. Bucky’s mum had to almost forcefully drag him away from the window, because Bucky couldn’t stop looking at the tiny snowflakes making layers over layers of fluff on the ground. If he could, he would stay up all night, just to make sure the snow won’t disappear before he wakes up. The only argument that eventually makes him go to sleep is the threat his mum makes, saying that he won’t get to go out with Steve tomorrow if he doesn’t make it to bed in the next 20 minutes. He makes it in 15.

When his mom finally lets him go to the Rogers’ house the next day, it’s well past 11 o’clock. Luckily, the snow is still there and Bucky’s pretty sure there’s more of it than he remembered. On one hand he wants to take the longer route so he can spend more time kicking it up in white, fluffy clouds, jumping into snowdrifts or making snowballs. He doesn’t throw them at anyone, his mum raised him better than that, just drops them back onto the ground. The most fun was in creating a perfectly round ball anyway. But on the other hand, he wants to get to Steve’s house as soon as possible, so they can go out and do all of those things together. Eventually, he decides to take the shortest route possible but he kicks the snow around even more to make up for it.

Ten minutes later he runs up the stairs of the old tenement house and knocks on the door. Two slow and three rapid taps, as always. Bucky bounces on the balls of his feet, waiting for Steve to run to the door to let him in, as always.

But this time it’s not Steve who opens the door. It’s Mrs. Rogers, her face pale and with dark circles under her eyes. But as soon as she sees Bucky a big, genuine smile brightens up her face. It’s the exact same smile Bucky has seen on his friend many times.

“Good morning, James,” she says. “It’s nice to see you.”

“Good morning and likewise, Mrs. Rogers,” Bucky grins, taking off his cap. “Is Steve here? It’s been snowing all night and I was hoping we could go play outside!”

Mrs. Rogers sighs, her smile getting a bit sad. Bucky senses that something’s wrong, and his excitement melts like the snowflakes he tried to catch on his tongue.

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” Mrs. Rogers says. “Steve’s sick. He won’t be able to go outside for a while. I guess you’ll have to face all this snow by yourself today.”

Bucky's face falls upon hearing that. He was really excited for today and he spent long minutes before he fell asleep last night thinking about all the fun he and Steve could have. But Steve’s sick and the idea of doing all of them alone doesn’t sound fun at all. So instead of saying goodbye and heading home, Bucky looks at Mrs. Rogers with hopeful eyes and asks, “Would you mind if I came in and stayed with Steve for a while?”

The warm smile is back on Steve mother's face as she ruffles Bucky’s hair in an affectionate gesture and steps to the side, letting him in. “Of course, I don’t mind. Steve will be so happy you’re here.”

Bucky quickly shrugs off his coat and kicks off his shoes. Just as quickly, he apologises for all the snow he’s brought inside and picks up his shoes to put them on the rag by the door. Mrs. Rogers only waves a hand at him. Instead of running straight to Steve’s room, Bucky follows Mrs. Rogers to the kitchen when she asks for some help. Tongue sticking out in concentration, Bucky takes a careful hold of the bowl of hot chicken soup and slowly walks after Mrs. Rogers who is carrying an armful of meds and a glass of water.

As soon as they enter the other room, a small, blond head peeks out from under a mountain of blankets. As soon as it notices Bucky, a smile splits its face.

“Bucky!” Steve says, his voice all raspy and weird.

Bucky only grins in response, sending a quick look Steve’s way before he focuses back on the bowl in his hands. Only when it’s safely set aside on the bedside table, Bucky jumps towards the bed. Mrs. Rogers stops him when he tries to give Steve a hug, saying he might get sick, too, so it’s better if he keeps a bit of distance.

Steve's smile falters. He tries to convince Bucky that he should go so he won’t catch anything from him. In response, Bucky calls him a dimwit and drops onto the floor next to the bed.

Mrs. Rogers checks Steve’s temperature, rubs his back with something with a very strong smell and gives him some medication. Steve looks miserable and a bit embarrassed through all of it. Seeing his friend’s discomfort, Bucky tactfully looks away and starts babbling about the snow, about mean Mr. Flanagan slipping on the icy pavement in front of his house today and falling onto his butt while shouting obscenities. He tells Steve how pretty the park looks with trees and bushes all covered in snow. He asks if Steve would be able to draw them if Bucky describes it to him with all the details he can remember. When he glances up at his friend, Steve’s eyes are finally bright and happy again, and he’s really excited to try.

Mrs. Rogers leaves a few minutes later, dropping a kiss to Steve’s head and ruffling Bucky’s hair before she walks out of the room. Steve adjusts his pillows so he can sit more upright and takes a small sketchbook from the bedside table. Bucky rests his folded arms on Steve’s bed and places his chin on top of them. As soon as he starts talking about the snowy park, Steve starts drawing. It looks just like the real thing. Soon enough, Bucky starts making up details, at first some believable ones but then he comes up with more and more ridiculous things. Giggling, Steve dutifully puts them on paper. It’s really nice, knowing that Bucky managed to make his best friend laugh despite the misery and terrible cough that escapes his mouth every so often.

The snow might be nice but there’s still plenty of winter left, so Bucky’s sure he and Steve will have a chance to play outside soon. Bucky is more than happy to sit by Steve’s side if it means he can save him from boredom this way.

Besides, their version of the snowy park is so much better than the real thing.

2. December 14th, 1936

It’s cold. The old stove is not giving as much heat as it’s supposed to. They’re slowly running out of things to keep the fire running and Bucky should probably check if there are any old wooden crates or something he could take from the docks tomorrow. It’s not freezing yet, but the nights are supposed to get even colder. He has to do something. The coughing fit from the other side of the room makes Bucky take another log from the quickly disappearing pile in the corner, before he goes back to stirring the soup.

He didn’t make it, just heating up a portion of what his mom gave him when he came by for a quick visit earlier today. It’s better than anything he could make, but it’s not as good as Mrs. Rogers’. God, there’s no way anyone could compete with her in terms of cooking or baking. Bucky was pretty sure her chicken soup had some actual healing powers, considering how quickly it was able to get Steve back on his feet.

It’s easier to think about Mrs. Rogers' soups and their magical properties than the fact that each time Steve gets sick, it seems to be worse than the last time. Thinking about that won’t do anyone any good. And Bucky would rather swallow a log than let Steve see how worried he gets sometimes.

So he stirs the soup extra vigorously before pouring it into a bowl when it gets nice and hot. It’s filled to the brim, so Bucky furrows his brows in concentration as he slowly makes his way across the room.

When he’s halfway there, he hears a laugh from the pile of blankets on the bed. It’s a bit wheezy but it’s a laugh nonetheless. When he looks up, Steve is already looking back at him with a soft smile on his face.

“What?” Bucky asks defensively, feeling flustered all of sudden.

“Nothing,” Steve says. He looks tired and pale but his lips stretch in an even bigger smile. “When you’re concentrating on something, you still stick your tongue out. Just like when you were a kid.”

“Oh fuck off, Rogers,” Bucky mumbles, placing the bowl on a stool that serves as a makeshift bedside table. “You’re not getting any of the soup for being an asshole.”

“How am I an asshole?” Steve asks. “I just think it’s cute that you still do that.”

Feeling that his blush is only getting worse, Bucky turns around and pretends to be very busy putting away the food from his mom. After taking a deep breath, he gets a grip on himself and walks back towards Steve.

As he approaches, Steve tries to slowly pull himself up into a sitting position, his arms shaking with effort. When Bucky reaches out to help him, Steve sends him a warning look so fierce that Bucky just raises his hands in surrender and backs away. He sits on the chair by the small table, stacked with books, old newspapers, letters, some of Steve’s sketches and who knows what else. While Steve eats, Bucky tries to tidy it all up, putting it all into nice piles and filling the quiet with mindless chatter. He tells Steve about the new Christmas tree they’ve put up at the docks, and about Becca’s new guy who seems decent enough to get Bucky’s approval of going out with his sister. Every once in a while, he throws Steve a quick glance. He tries not to sigh at the sight of Steve’s shaking hands or at the fact that he needs to take a little break every few sips as if even eating tired him out. Bucky doesn’t offer help, no matter how much he wants to. Steve would probably strangle him with his bare hands if he did, even in his current weakened state.

So Bucky doesn’t say anything about that, just keeps babbling nonsense, getting an occasional hum or a chuckle out of Steve. After a few more minutes, Steve buries himself back under the blankets.

“It’s very tasty but I’m full,” he says. “Give your mom my thanks when you next see her.”

“How do you know I didn’t make it?” Bucky asks in mock offense, putting away the leftover soup. “You were asleep for most of the day so you can’t be sure.”

“You’re a decent cook, Buck. But that’s way out of your league. You’ve reheated it like a champ, though!”

Bucky narrows his eyes at him and shakes his head. “You’re such a punk, Rogers. Now scoot over - for such a small person, you’re taking an awful amount of space. I’m cold and you have all the blankets.”

They both know it’s just a guise. There’s a perfectly good cover on Bucky’s bed on the other side of the room. Steve doesn’t protest though, just move forward a bit, leaving space for Bucky to slide between him and the wall. As soon as Bucky’s settled, Steve’s body goes lax next to him and he presses his back closer to Bucky’s chest. Automatically, Bucky wraps his arms around Steve’s middle. He rests his head on top of Steve’s, the soft fair hair tickles his cheek. Soon enough Steve’s breathing evens out. Bucky closes his eyes, but it takes him a bit longer to drift away, as he anxiously listens to all the hitches and rumbles in Steve’s breathing. At some point, still deep in his sleep, Steve in his sleep wraps his long, delicate fingers around Bucky’s wrist. The touch soothing enough to let Bucky calm down and allow the sleepiness to finally take him.

As long as he holds Steve close to his chest, nothing bad can happen.

3. December 20th, 1938

There are blood stains on Steve’s white shirt. Some around his collar and some on his cuffs, which means that he managed to pack a punch or two before he got beaten up by whomever he started a fight with this time.

Bucky’s lips are set in a thin line as he tries to get a better look on Steve’s face to assess his injuries. Which wasn’t that easy considering that Steve is currently looking anywhere but at him.

“Oh, for God’s sake, can you just—,” Bucky says angrily, gripping Steve’s chin and turning his face up. He might be furious that Steve has gotten into another fight, but his grip is gentle. The last thing he wants is to cause Steve more pain. But God knows how badly he wants to punch that reckless punk himself, sometimes.

Steve jaw is set and at first, he looks like he wants to free himself from Bucky’s grasp. Changing his mind, his eyes gaze right into Bucky’s, a challenging expression on his face. Bucky would laugh if it wasn’t for the state of said face.

The blood is most certainly coming from Steve’s split lip. Or maybe it’s from the deep cut on his left cheekbone, surrounded by a darkening bruise. There’s some dried blood under his nose, too. He doesn’t have a black eye this time, so that’s good. Although by the way Steve flinched when squaring his shoulders to look up Bucky thinks it’s a safe bet he got punched or kicked in the ribs. Bucky prays none of his fragile bones are broken.

The anger he felt dissipates, at least a bit. What’s left is worry — which Bucky tries to hide, knowing that Steve would just get annoyed at that – and affection. He stopped trying to hide the latter ages ago.

“Who was it this time?” Bucky sighs, absentmindedly swiping his thumb across Steve jaw, careful not to put pressure on any of the bruises.

“Some asshole, as always. He was shouting obscenities at a girl who didn’t want to go dancing with him or something and he tried to follow her home,” Steve says with a shrug, followed by a wince.

Bucky can’t stop another sigh that escapes his mouth. He really wishes the world would be a better place. A place where people weren’t harassed for no reason, so Steve didn’t feel obligated to help them. Damn Steve Rogers and all his righteous anger and his heart of gold.

“Sit down. I’ll clean you up, punk.” Bucky puts his hand down and takes a step back. When he sees that Steve opens his mouth — to protest, most likely — Bucky points a finger at him. “Don’t argue with me. I will kick your ass. Don’t think I won’t.”

Steve rolls his eyes but there’s a hint of smile tugging at his lips before he turns around and walks toward the bed. Bucky goes to get something to clean up Steve’s cuts.

“I can do it myself,” Steve says when Bucky’s back, reaching out for the wet cloth Bucky brought.

“Oh, I know you can. Just let me be useful since you’ve stolen all the glory, being a hero who saves ladies in distress and all,” Bucky responds, taking a gentle hold of Steve’s chin again.

“If getting beaten up and kicked like a dog is glorious, then yes, I guess I have. You’d be more of a help than I was, if you were there.” Steve’s smile is full of irony as he tries to look away but Bucky’s hand keeps him in place.

Bucky drops the hand that was gently wiping at the cuts on his face and waits. Eventually, Steve’s eyes land on him, probably wondering why Bucky stopped.

“You are worth dozens of men, Stevie. Dozens of me. You’re half my size but you saved so many people already. You’ve stopped that asshole from doing who knows what to this girl and gave her time to get home safely,” Bucky says, his voice steady and sure and his eyes never leaving Steve’s, no matter how Steve wants them to. “You always know the right thing to do, and I swear your heart is made of pure gold. If that’s not glorious, I don’t know what is. You’re incredible, Stevie and help me God, I’ll beat the shit out of you if you keep putting yourself down like this.”

Steve chuckles at the last part and opens his mouth as if to respond but closes it a second later. The smile he gives Bucky is shy and soft. Bucky’s heart aches to just lean down and close the remaining space between them. Instead, he lets go of Steve’s cheek and goes to wet the cloth again. It’s not necessary, but he needs to take a grip on himself before he does something stupid.

A few moments later all the blood is cleaned from Steve’s face, his nose turns out not to be broken this time and most of his cuts have mostly stopped bleeding. Bucky counts that as a win.

“Take your shirt off,” Bucky says, trying not to blush. “Gotta make sure your ribs are in one piece.”

“Just admit you want to get me naked,” Steve replies without missing a beat. When the words leave his mouth, his eyes widen in shock, as if he wasn’t expecting to say them out loud. “I mean— I didn’t—,” he stammers.

Seeing how the blush colours Steve’s cheeks, still visible despite the bruising, and travels down Steve’s neck and past the collar of his blood-stained shirt, Bucky admits to himself that he is not as strong-willed as he liked to think. Sliding his hand down, Bucky traces Steve’s delicate collarbone with his thumb.

“To be honest, I’d prefer to do that for purposes other than checking if your ribs are intact,” he hopes he sounds nonchalant, but he can feel his cheeks are heating up.

“Oh really?” Steve asks, cocking an eyebrow up. The challenging look is back, and Bucky is going to lose his mind if Steve doesn’t stop looking at him like that. All cocky and sure of himself, like his face is not beet-red at the moment.

Bucky clears his throat and picks up the cloth. “I guess we have to wait until your cuts and bruises are healed and check.”

Steve laughs, gripping a handful of Bucky’s shirt and tugging him lightly. “Can you— Just come here, you jerk. I’d get up but it really hurts, I think you should kiss it better.”

And Bucky does. He kisses Steve’s split lip and then very gently swipes his mouth across Steve’s cheekbone and jaw to go back to his lips a moment later. A giddy laugh escapes his mouth and he thinks that there’s no other thing he’d be doing. He is not naïve enough to believe Steve will stop coming home with bruises of all sorts, but Bucky will always be there to kiss them better.

4. December 1st, 2024

The room is quiet. Or relatively so, considering that Brooklyn rarely gets completely silent, even at night. But it’s quiet enough for Bucky to hear the change in Steve’s breathing, where he lays asleep next to him. He opens his eyes and turns around. Soon enough, Steve starts tossing and turning, his breathing becomes more erratic. All those sleepless nights, spent on anxiously waiting for Steve’s next breath, praying the next one would come are flooding Bucky’s memory. He’s not sure if it’s better now. Steve might not be physically fighting for his life now, but the night terrors that haunt him, certainly make him feel like he does.

Carefully not to startle Steve, Bucky places his flesh hand on his arm. He squeezes lightly and whispers Steve’s name. When it doesn’t help, he tightens his grip for a moment and speaks a bit louder. Steve breathing hitches and he goes still for a moment. But then a strangled cry escapes his lips and he tosses hard enough that it wakes him up. Immediately, he sits upright almost knocking Bucky down in the process and he pants heavily, looking around the room with wide, terrified eyes.

"Steve," Bucky says, trying to keep his voice calm. "It's OK. You're OK. We're in Brooklyn. It's 2024. You're safe, we're safe. Everything's fine, Stevie."

It's like a mantra that Bucky keeps repeating until Steve is able to take full, big breaths again. When he finally turns his head to look at Bucky, he looks scared and lost and it breaks Bucky's heart into pieces. Bringing his hands up, Bucky wants to stroke Steve's cheek in a comforting gesture. But before he has a chance to do that, a grimace crosses Steve's face and he quickly gets out of bed and rushes towards the bathroom. Bucky sighs at the sounds of retching he hears a moment later. He gets out of bed and follows Steve. With a voice no louder than a whisper, he repeats over and over those little affirmations he knows Steve needs to hear and believe anew as he gently rubs his back.

It doesn't take long for Steve to calm down, but Bucky would gladly sit there all night if needed. Soon enough the dry-heaving stops and only a tiny sob comes out of Steve's mouth. Bucky helps him to brush his teeth, since his hands are shaking so much it makes it impossible to get the toothpaste out.

After that, Bucky tangles their fingers together and walks out of the bathroom. Instead of going back to bed back to bed, he leads them to the kitchen. He turns on the small lamp by the couch as they pass it,mostly for comfort, since with their respective shares of the serum, navigating in the darkness is not much of a problem for them. The dim light softens the dark edges of the living room and open kitchen space.

Bucky puts the kettle on, his hand not leaving Steve's for a second. He smiles — a bit sadly — as Steve comes closer, and plasters himself to Bucky's back, wrapping his arms tightly around him.

Steve hides his face in the crook of Bucky's neck, right palm coming up to lay flat on Bucky's chest, right over his heart. Bucky takes slow, deliberate breaths, knowing that his calm will help Steve. So without a word, he lets Steve see and hear and feel that they're both alive and safe. That whatever haunted him in his nightmare is not real. At least not anymore.

Bucky brings Steve's left hand, the one he's still holding, up to his lips and places a kiss after kiss on each of his knuckles. More reassurances are whispered right into Steve's warm skin.

It's hard to tell how long they stay like this. The water starts boiling and the electric kettle turns itself off at some point but none of them as much as flinch at the sound. It could be hours and it could be mere minutes before Steve's muscles relax and his breathing finally steadies. While he doesn't let go of Bucky, he doesn't cling to him like a lifeboat anymore.

Slowly, Bucky turns around in Steve's arms. His hands gently cup his face and he rests his forehead against Steve's.

"You're here," Steve says. The statement is just a shaky whisper and Bucky's not sure what to make of it, but he gives a small nod.

"I am. And I'm not going anywhere,"

"It's—," Steve starts, and then swallows. "You were— I thought—"

Leaning away just the slightest bit so he can look at Steve's face, Bucky shakes his head. "Shhh, Steve. It doesn't matter. It wasn't real. Don't torture yourself, love. We can talk about it in the morning if you want to, yeah?"

After a second, Steve gives a small nod. Even though the unease still hides in his eyes, he tries to muster a smile as he shifts his head and presses a kiss to the inside of Bucky's palm.

"Now, I'm going to make you a cup of tea because as Mrs. Rogers used to say—," Bucky says.

" 'A cup of Earl Grey always does more good than harm'" Steve finishes and closes his eyes but the smile grows a tad bigger.

"Bless her Irish soul," Bucky says with a smile of his own. "So I'm gonna make some and then we'll go back to bed. Or cuddle on the couch, or take a walk or whatever you want to do, OK?"

Steve looks up at him, his hand stroking lightly across Bucky's cheekbone. "I love you, Buck. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"And you'll never have to know. I'm not going anywhere, my love. I'll be right by your side for the end of time because that's where I belong. And we've proven enough times that there's not a damn thing that could change that.”

5. December 5th, 2025

Bucky was never the one to get sick. When he was a kid he had a bad cold maybe once or twice but it was all forgotten within a week or two. Which is pretty surprising, considering that he was hanging with Steve all the time but never managed to catch anything from him. Later, he has gotten the serum so getting sick stopped being a real issue for him.

So why does his throat feel all scratchy, his nose is too stuffy for him to take a single breath and he feels both hot and cold at the same time?

It's because the world hates him, that's why. There's also a teeny tiny chance that it has something to do with his and Steve's last mission.

They were trailing someone who aspired to create a biological weapon, as one does. It wasn't hard to locate this mad scientist's secret lair or to capture him. Overall it was a pretty simple mission and it was going really smooth. At least until they were to extract the highly reactive bio-bomb that — quite literally — blew up in Bucky's face. It was good he was alone in the room when that happened because as the Avengers-issued doctor has later told him, the substances implicit in the bomb would be lethal to regular people in the dose that attacked Bucky. But to someone enhanced the worst case scenario would mean a heavy case of flu that the organism would be able to fight, eventually.

So, of course, the worst case scenario is exactly what is happening now. Every single muscle in Bucky's body is aching, including the ones he wasn’t even aware existed. The sheets are drenched with sweat and he's still shaking under his layers of covers.

"Steve?" he calls miserably. His voice feels like sandpaper in his dry throat.

Not even a second passes before he hears footsteps and Steve enters the room.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks. There's a worried wrinkle between his brows.

Instead of answering Bucky let's out a little whine and pouts, looking up at Steve from where he's buried under the covers so only the upper half of his face is visible.

And what Steve does? The fucker laughs at him.

"Aren't you supposed to be taking a nap?" Steve asks, looking amused.

"I can't sleep," Bucky rasps out. "I'm uncomfortable and everything hurts and can I just die already?"

Steve laughs. Again. Really, Bucky can't fathom where people got the idea that Steve Rogers is all polite, nice and righteous all the time. He's the biggest asshole Bucky ever knew.

"I figured you'd be dramatic when sick, but I didn't expect that," Steve says as he sits on the side of the bed. He reaches out with his hand and places it on Bucky's shoulder. It's pleasantly cool against his skin and Bucky closed his eyes and sighs.

"You're a dick," he mumbles. "Absolutely no compassion for the weak and hurting, I don't know how you can live like this."

As Bucky says that, Steve leans over and peppers his face — or at least the part not covered by the duvet — with little kisses. It's nice but Bucky's point still stands. Steve's a monster.

"You need anything?" Steve asks, gently stroking Bucky's hair.

"Yes." When Steve makes a questioning sound, Bucky continues, "the sweet relief of death, please."

Steve sighs heavily but when Bucky opens his eyes and looks at him, his face is both amused and fond.

“I’m gonna make you some tea and soup, how about that?”

“Huh, so you are going to kill me?” Bucky raises an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t go for poisoning but if that’s—”

Not letting him finish, Steve just gets up and leaves the room. Bucky tries calling after him but he doesn’t get any response and he has a coughing fit after raising his voice, so he gives up.

This time Bucky might have actually fallen asleep. He’s not shaking as much so he figures the fever must’ve gone down a bit but now his head is throbbing so he’s really not sure which option he preferred. When he confusedly looks around the room, his eyes land on Steve. He’s back, sitting on the bed by Bucky’s side.

Did Steve wake him up? Now that Bucky thinks about it, he vaguely remembers someone shaking his arm. His point about Steve being a monster still stands.

“Why d’you wake me up?” Bucky whines. “You said I need sleep and now you won’t even give me fifteen minutes.”

“You’ve slept for over two hours, love,” Steve points out, his hand on Bucky’s cheek. “I’m only waking you up cause you’ve barely eaten today and I’ve made some soup.”

Bucky narrows his eyes at Steve. He looks at the clock on the bedside table, but since he has no idea what hour it was when he last talked to Steve, it’s pretty useless. He’s not really hungry, but he figures it’s a reasonable thing to do. So, with a loud groan, he pulls himself up into a sitting position. The monster beside him chuckles at that but actually helps him arrange the pillows so Bucky can sit comfortably and places the small bed tray in his lap.

Despite what Bucky said earlier, the soup is good. Recipes are probably the only rules Steve knows how to follow so he’s a decent cook and knows his way around the kitchen if needed. Bucky gladly eats the whole bowl, enjoying the way it soothes his sore throat.

When he’s done, he thanks Steve, who takes away the bed tray and gets up, probably to take it to the kitchen. Before he can get up, Bucky grabs his hand.

“Stay with me for a bit?” he asks.

Steve’s face softens. He puts the tray down on the floor and gets in bed, lying on top of the covers next to Bucky. Soon enough Bucky is tucked safely into Steve’s arms and under his chin and he lets out a content sigh.

“You’re feeling any better, sweetheart?” Steve asks.

“I don’t know, I’m so miserable and tired all the time. I hate it so much,” Bucky whines. “Is that what you’ve been going through every time?”

“Mostly. I guess I was too used to this to complain much.”

“And too stubborn. You’ve never let other people see how bad it was,” Bucky points out.

“That, too,” Steve chuckles, pressing a kiss to Bucky’s forehead. “You always were able to make it easier, though.”

Bucky smiles, tucking his face further into Steve’s chest. He feels sleepy again but this time the warmth he feels is not caused by the fever. He mumbles into Steve’s shirt, not sure if the words his brain is trying to communicate are the same ones that his mouth says out loud. But judging by the way Steve’s arms tighten around him and by the “I love you, too” whispered into his hair, Bucky thinks they are.

#stuckygiftexchange2020 #stucky fic #stevebucky fic #stucky fanfiction #stevebucky fanfiction #stucky #stevebucky #my writings #i hope you like it! ♥#it was so fun to write #stressful but fun :')

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procrastinatorimagines · 4 years

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Officer Down

Fandom: One Chicago / Chicago PD

Character/s: Mouse x Reader

Warning/s: death, grief

Word Count: 2,580

Request: Hi! Can I request Mouse (if you write for him if not Jay) with the song Officer Down by Hannah Ellis? Also I love your work!!

Summary: Mouse gets shot in the line of duty - sorry this isn’t great!

“Why am I even here again?” You laughed, leaning over from the back seat of the squad car Jay was driving, Hailey in the passengers seat flipping through a case file on a perp whose house they were sitting on.

“This guy has a whole host of mental health issues,” Jay explained, looking back at you in the mirror, “figured a mental health professional would be the best person to try and help us bring him back in safely.”

You shrugged, “fair enough, I just wish you’d waited to make sure this guy was even home before you made me sit in the back of your car for hours,” you replied, slumping back in your chair in boredom.

“Sorry about that, but Voight didn’t want any surprises,” Hailey apologises, sipping her coffee as she kept an eye on the house a few doors down from where you were positioned, your car unmarked for the stakeout.

You looked idly at your phone, smiling to yourself as you read the messages from your boyfriend, Mouse, from the morning. You’d had to leave early for this case, and you’d decided to leave him sleeping before he had to head to the district. It wasn’t an overly special message, but he’d told he was proud of you for how far you’d come as a consultant with the CPD, and that he’d show you how much he loved you when he saw you at home later.

The radio sparked the life then, causing you to jump as you all listen. “10.1 10.1 shots fired at the 21st district, that’s shots fired at police, we have a man down, repeat man down, need an ambo and all available bodies to our location we are still taking fire!”

There was no hesitation as Jay peeled off down the road, Hailey radioing to say they were on the way. Shots fired in their house was personal, most of the unit was still there, including Mouse.

Red and blue lights cover 75 like a train Miles of cars, full of people with nothing to say The sun's out, you'd think that it's just another November day Oh and I can't help but be mad, knowing I'll leave and you're gonna stay

You looked at your phone again nervously, messaging Mouse to see if he was alright as Jay rushed to get to the district. It doesn’t take long for you to get there, along with half a dozen other vehicles, blocking the roads as 3 armed assailants try to escape on foot. They’re already being apprehended as the three of you rush in, very much aware of the ambulance and paramedics on the scene.

“Trudy!” Jay yells as they get closer, noticing the blood on her uniform as she stands outside, directing officers. She looks shaken as you call reach her.

“It’s not mine,” she says quickly before any of you could ask.

“What the hell happened?” Hailey asked, looking around at the chaos.

“It was so fast, they just walking in and opened fire before any of us could react, we have officers down and civilians and-” Trudy’s voice catches as she looks at you, like she hadn’t really noticed you arrive with Jay and Hailey until now.

“And what?” Jay tries but her eyes are still on you, her eyes full of sorrow and sympathy. You could guess what that meant, but you didn’t want to, it wasn’t possible. “Trudy.”

She’s about to respond when you get a phone call, pulling it out of your pocket quickly and answering it to find Maggie on the other end. “Hey Mags, this isn’t really a good time right now,” you tell her.

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” she says and you know. Between Trudy and her you know.

“No,” you say out loud, shaking your head in disbelief as Maggie continues.

“They just brought him in, I’m so sorry Y/N but you should get here-” You can’t here her after that, or the others, even as Trudy tells them that he’d been shot, Jays face falling in horror as Hailey looks between the two of you. Your heart was too busy shattering.

They called me on the cell phone Telling me there's an officer down And we prayed for a miracle, but you didn't come back around I've kissed you goodbye a thousand times But never like I'm doing right now Oh with twenty-one shots going up for the officer down

“We need to get to Med,” she says, probably the only one of you thinking clearly right now, not nearly as close to him as the two of you.

You all take their car, not being able to get out of the road block without it as she drives, tears blinding your eyes as you try and focus, your eyes ringing, mind filled with thoughts and fears. You should have listened to Maggie, maybe she could have told you more about his condition, but it didn’t matter now, what mattered was getting to Med.

The car door was opening before Hailey had even fully stopped, running into Med and practically falling into Will. “Hey, hey, Y/N, stop,” he grabs your shoulders to steady you as you look around the crowded ED - where was he?

“Where-?” You begin as Jay catches up to you, Hailey close behind.

“Surgery,” Will tells you, “April can take you up but you’ll have to wait.” You take a step back, trying to control your breathing as Will put’s his hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“Do you know anything?” He asks.

“Not much, they brought him in with GSW to the chest,” Will explains, your hand going to your mouth in shock. “He’s lost a lot of blood, but I don’t know the damage, I’m sorry.” He wasn’t just saying sorry for not knowing more, you realised as April came to lead you upstairs.

And so began the longest few hours of your life. You sat on those waiting room chairs as doctors and nurses went by, as well as officers coming and going, paying their respects and checking in on their own. But you and Jay remained where you were, Hailey bringing you guys coffee and updates from the district.

2 dead at the scene apparently, 12 injured, included Mouse and two more in critical condition. but as the hours drew on, those numbers in critical dwindled to just Mouse, the cries of families and collegues haunting you as you waited for news, checking those texts from the morning over and over as you did.

Voight arrived at some point, just as Doctor Marcel was emerging from the operating room. You jumped up then, meeting him half way as he approached.

“He’s stable,” Crockett told you, but he looked solemn as he continued, “but... he lost a lot of blood, and he coded, twice, while we were operating. We have him on a ventilator for now...”

“When is he going to wake up?” Jay asked, practically reading your minds as you wiped your eyes.

Crockett hesistated for a moment, and then said, “I don’t- I don’t know if he will.” You sobbed then, Jay putting his arm around your shoulder as Crockett let you to his room.

Seeing Mouse lying there like that was too much to bare, machines beeping and breathing for him, keeping him alive where he couldn’t on his own. It broke what was still remaining of your heart.

“Y/N-” Voight tried as you sunk into the chair next to his bed, carefully taking his hand, eyes not leaving him for a second. “Y/N-”

“He’s going to wake up, he has to,” you said to no one in particular, or maybe it was to yourself. Why hadn’t you woken him up this morning? Said goodbye? You couldn’t actually remember what you’d said to him the last time you’d seen him in person, what, last night? No, he’d got back late from a case and you’d already been sleeping. You sobbed in frustration, why couldn’t you remember?

Voight kneeled next to you. “He dived in front of a civilian,” he explained and you looked to him, finally tearing your eyes away from Mouse. Jay looked to the ground from where he stood, his eyes closed as he listen to Voight, trying to keep it together. “Saved a pregnant mother,” he told you as you gripped your boyfriend’s hand tighter, cursing him for being so reckless but knowing he never would have done anything else in that situation.

“He’s going to wake up,” you repeated, unable to say anything else. Voight didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t say it out loud, what good would it have done?

Instead he squeezed your shoulder and stood up. “I’ll give you some time,” he said, giving Mouse another look before he left. You could tell he felt guilty, Mouse was his guy, and he was shot in his house, but you knew he couldn’t have done anything about it. Usually you’d be worried about what Voight might do to the men responsible for this kind of this, but right now you didn’t care if buried them.

You knew you probably should, but the man you loved was lying before you, unable to even breath on his own...

Eventually Jay asked for a moment alone to say his goodbyes and you let him, even though you still held onto hope that he’d wake up, but his stats weren’t improving. If anything they were getting worse, but stranger things had happened, there was still a chance, you kept telling yourself, even as Jay walked out, wiping his tears as he kept walking down the hall. He couldn’t stand to be there a second longer, you knew that, and with a nod to Hailey she headed off after him to make sure he was okay. How could he be?

With a deep breath you went back in, knowing you should say something but fearing as soon as you did you’d have to admit that it was over. It wasn’t fair.

You sat with him for a long time after that, remembering all the good memories you had together, trying to prepare yourself for the end. You’d first met him at the district, he’d helped you unlock a missing patient’s phone and asked you out for a drink after that. He’d always been kind, considerate, he made you smile, laugh, everything was better when he was around. What would you do when he was gone?

“Wake up,” you begged, your voice barely a whisper, but it was all you could manage as you pleaded with him, “please, just wake up.” This shouldn’t have been happening, he should have been meeting you at home, you should have been together.

“It’s time,” someone said from the door, had it really been that long? You heard them, knew what they meant, knew, somewhere deep down, that they were right. You’d been in there a long time, and he wasn’t improving.

You knew what he wanted, he’d made an advanced directive a long time ago, back when he was still in the army, and it was one he’d always stood by. Mouse didn’t want to stay alive like this, he’d never liked the idea of wasting away slowly in a bed. He’d want to be remembered how he lived, he’d gone out a hero, not hooked up to a machine.

“No,” you still said, wanting just a little more time, but how much would ever be enough?

“Y/N-” It was Jay this time, he must have come back and sat outside, letting you have your space. He approached you as you stood up from your chair, taking your hand in his own as you reluctantly stepped away from Mouse.

Crockett looked like he’d rather be anywhere else as he stood by the monitor on the otherside of the bed.

After a moment, Jay nodded to Crockett, and as much as you wanted to, you didn’t object. Every part of you hurt, but it’s what he would have wanted, and if you could do one more thing for him you would respect that.

You knew it wouldn’t be right away, he’d still technically be alive for a while after the monitors went off, so you resolved to stay with him as long as you could, at least you could do that for him.

The beeping that followed Crockett unhooking the monitors would haunt you, you knew it would, but the silence that followed him switching them off was deafening. Crockett said his condolences and left again, promising to be back soon when it was over.

Jay squeezed your hand before saying one last goodbye to his old friend, leaving quickly as tears fell from his face.

You didn’t know how long he had so you curled up on the hospital bed with him, head lightly on his shoulder, hoping he’d know that he wasn’t alone. “I love you,” you whispered to him, feeling the tears falling down your face, “I love you.”

I held ya tight when they told me it's time to let go And I know that somehow you knew that you weren't alone

His heart had stopped, you knew that, but you couldn’t tear yourself away from him, knowing that once you let got you’d never get to hold on again.

You were aware of Crockett entering the room and checking for a pulse, aware of him calling a time of death, aware of him trying to speak to you, but it all felt so distant. When were you going to wake up? Lying next to Mouse in bed? When was he going to wake up and tell you that you were having a bad dream?

But he never did.

Someone else entered then, Jay. “Y/N, come on,” he said softly to you.

“No, please, no,” you said as you felt Jay’s hands on your shoulder. Reluctantly, you let him help you off the bed, hand still in Mouse’s as you stood up. Jay kept a hand on your elbow and you were grateful, your legs threatening to give out.

Shakily, you gave him one last soft kiss, tasting the salt from your tears as you did. “Goodbye,” you breathed, unable to take your eyes off of him as you let Jay take you out into the hall, knowing it was the last time, the last goodbye.

You should have had more time, you thought, barely making it out into the hall before you collapsed into tears. Instead of trying to keep you up right, Jay fell down with you, the rest of the unit around you in the waiting room as you broke down into tears. Jay held you tightly, his own tears soaking your shoulder.

It was really over, he was really gone. What were you going to do now?

They called me and told me It's my officer down And I talked to you and begged you, but you didn't come back around I've kissed you goodbye a thousand times But never like I'm doing right now Oh with twenty-one shots going up I wish you had more time with us 'Cause thirty-three years ain't enough for the officer down

#greg gerwitz #mouse #chicago pd #one chicago #chicago pd mouse #greg gerwitz imagine #greg gerwitz imagines #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd imagines #one chicago imagine #one chicago imagines #greg gerwitz one shot #chicago pd one shot #one chicago one shot #one shot

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jasmine2042003 · 4 years

Text

Beware the Spirits of the Vengeful ~ pt 4

Once again, thank you all for the love you’ve shown to this series, in this chapter, I will finally reveal what you, the reader, are. This series is going to follow the story line of the series vaguely, this chapter is based off of episode three, season two.

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And a special tag for @cece-lives-here! Here you go! You finally find out what (y/n) is!!!

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 /

_____________________________________

3rd Person pov

Once again, the cemetery had been overrun with police and shocked onlookers. The (l/n) family mausoleum, that was once rubble on the ground, was now completely rebuilt and even more majestic than before. Yellow police tape surrounded the cemetery and Sheriff Stilinski had his hands full with the most recent discovery of the small body of young (y/n) (l/n).

‘The little girl’s body was perfectly preserved, as if she passed in the last week or so,’ The Sheriff thought, ‘Which of course is impossible, she should be Stiles’ age by now.’ The thought that the same thing could have happened to his son made the Sheriff’s heart ache.

Speaking of whom, Stiles was running towards the crime scene, desperate to see what had been going on. “Stiles!” The Sheriff called, watching as his son swiftly turned around to face him. “No,” The man continued quietly, watching his son deflate and turn around to go home. The Sheriff shook his head and walked over to the forensics team. “What have you got?” He asked, already frightened of the results.

The lead forensic scientist sighed and looked at the Sheriff, “The DNA we found in the rubble confirms that (y/n) was under the rubble when the mausoleum was destroyed.” He told the Sheriff. Once again, the man sighed, it seemed that was all he did these days.

‘Well, that is a case almost closed, but who killed her?’ Sheriff Stilinski thought to himself. Now the case moved from an open abduction to an open murder case. ‘Who just leaves a child in a mausoleum, she must have been dead beforehand, poor thing. Now to tell Melissa...’

Time Skip~

Stiles ran through the McCall house and up the stairs to Scott’s room, almost tripping over himself as he entered. “Scott!” He whisper-shouted, causing his friend to look at him in confusion.

“What? Why are you whispering, we’re the only ones here.” He told Stiles, who was closing the blinds and the door and motioning for Scott to keep quiet. “Okay, I heard new stuff on (y/n) (l/n).” Stiles whispered, his eyes widening, “Is your mom home?” He asked, to which Scott nodded.

“Yeah, you probably ran passed her.” He told his hyperactive friend, the boy continuing to secure the room so he can tell Scott what happened. “Okay, so the mausoleum is completely rebuilt and (y/n)’s body was found in it.” Stiles started, watching Scott’s eyes widen.

“So there is no way the new girl is her, because she’s... well...” Scott didn’t need to finish his sentence, both boys went silent, almost respectfully. Stiles nodded but had a look in his eye. “We can’t rule that out for sure Scott.” He muttered, causing Scott to scoff.

“What do you mean we can’t rule that out?” He asked, but was interrupted by the door being knocked. Scott and Stiles opened the bedroom door gently, just enough that they could hear but weren’t seen. “Evening Melissa,” A voice came from below, Stile’s dad, the Sheriff.

Stiles’ eyes widened and backed away from the door slightly. “Evening Noah, if you’re looking for Stiles-” Melissa McCall began only to be disrupted. “Actually, I am here to talk to you, its about (y/n).” He said, the boy’s could hear Scott’s mom gasp and let him in.

They moved into the kitchen and Stiles could no longer hear what they were saying, relying solely on his Lycan friend.

“We found her- her body Melissa.” The Sheriff told Scott’s mom grimly. Scott could hear her begin to cry, trying to keep calm and breathe. “My poor (y/n),” She wailed, even Stiles could hear her at this point, Scott felt so bad just listening, opening the door and hurtling down the stairs to comfort his mom. Despite Stiles’ disagreements.

“Mom?” He asked, walking into the kitchen, gently grabbing her elbow, feeling her turn and hug him tightly. He acted confused, worried about his mom, but he knew what was going on. Although, he was still very confused.

Why didn’t he remember her?

3rd Person pov

(y/n) and Isaac stood next to each other in gym class, him quietly asking questions about the supernatural world, her quietly responding with a small smile. To anyone else, it would seem like two teenagers were exchanging silent moments or even flirting a little, something that made other students incredibly jealous.

The two supernaturals only looked up from their conversation when they heard Scott hitting the ground. “McCall, I don’t know why, but your pain gives me a special kind of joy.” The coach said, followed by a couple of chuckles from the others. “Alright, next two. Stilinski, Erica, let’s go.” He said.

Immediately worrying (y/n) at the back, causing her to push her way to the front of the crowd, watching Stiles ascend the rope at a quick, agile pace. Erica was slowly dragging herself up, until eventually, she stopped moving, pinning herself to the wall. (y/n) muttered underneath her breath, a small spell just to help her along.

“I’m fine!” She called to the coach, who was wondering if she was dizzy or was having vertigo. “Coach,” (y/n) spoke to him in a gentle but strained voice, “She’s not suffering from vertigo, she has epilepsy.” She told him, watching his eyes change from boredom to slight worry.

“She does? Why the hell doesn’t anyone tell me these things? Erica, you’re good. Push off and we’ll ease you down.” He said, but Erica still wasn’t moving.

(y/n) pov

Closing my eyes, I looked into Erica’s head, “Erica,” I whispered under my breath, knowing she could hear me, “Let go.” I took hold of her body and forced her to release her grip on the wall slowly, lowering her down to the ground once again. Everyone stared at her with pity, a few of the meaner kids snickering at her.

“Oh, shut it!” I growled, glaring at the crowd and smiling a bit at their look of shock and slight fear. Grabbing Erica by the hand, I led her to the back of the gym, sitting with her and stroking her hair gently.

“How did you do that?” Erica asked quietly, still not feeling too great. I smiled gently at her. “I know the feeling of being angry at people, wanting them to feel the same way you felt, let’s just say we have a bit of a connection.” I told her with a pained look on my face.

She smiled back at me and we spent the rest of the period chatting, or mostly me listening to Erica talk almost maliciously about the experiences she’s had with her epilepsy and people making fun of her for it. At the end of the period I turned in to the changing rooms, not noticing when a certain blonde didn’t follow me.

I had nearly finished changing, wearing now a pair of ripped jeans, a tank top and a pair of heeled ankle boots. I was getting ready to put on my hoodie to cover my scars when I felt my eyes glowing cerulean once again. ‘Erica.’ I thought, rushing to the gym to see Erica almost at the top of the wall, her body beginning to convulse.

“Scott!” I called, watching as he was there in seconds, ready to catch her as she fell. I would have been able to catch her in my other form but I would be risking revealing myself to too many people. I felt my heart racing at the thought of Erica getting hurt. I knelt next to her and Scott, “Get her on her side,” I told him, helping him turn her.

Erica clutched onto my hand, squeezing whenever she had a convulsion. I looked at Scott, “Thank you,” I told him, not noticing his shock as he looked at me.

‘Her eyes... were they always that glowing blue?’ He thought.

I wound up accompanying Erica to the emergency room, using a bit of magic manipulation on the teachers and EMTs. A bright light was shining down, Erica was wearing a hospital gown, blinking at none other than my childhood babysitter, Melissa McCall.

I had to stop myself from running to the woman and hugging her, deciding instead to clutch my arms and look down at the floor. “It’s been a while since we saw you, Erica. You were being so good about your medication,” I could tell she hadn’t taken it when I was in her body. It was completely flushed of any meds.

“Are you going to tell my mom?” She asked, slightly scared, the tone of her voice caused the supernatural in me to look up and look at her in concern. Melissa sighed and spoke up, “I swear I don’t want to. But there’s this team of lawyers in the back who would break my legs and I don’t know if you’ve seen my legs, but for a girl my age they’re still pretty hot.”

I smiled, as did Erica, Melissa smoothed back the girl’s unkempt hair, “The doctor will be over in a few, okay?” Erica laid back on the bed, her hand reaching out to grab my own, I smiled and held her hand gently. “I think that this is a weird start to a great friendship,” I told her, listening to her laugh.

Erica closed her eyes and I almost didn’t realise the hand grasping the gurney, the other attaching itself to the small of my back, pushing me along. “Lie still.” A deep gruff voice said to Erica, and she did so, watching as the gurney was pushed through two double doors.

I knew at this point that it was indeed the Alpha, leaning back, I caused my body to go completely intangible. I passed through Derek’s hand, not wanting to see this, but slightly looking forward to her change. I knew he would be looking for more Betas, the more Betas, the more powerful the Alpha. It seemed his next Beta was going to be Erica.

Time Skip~

Erica looked and seemed to feel great! I was so proud of her, as long as I could keep her safe, I had no problem with her taking her vengeance this way. Speaking of vengeance. I was going to start Phase Two: Descent into Madness.

I stood outside the house, my old home. I knew he was still there, I knew he still lived there, I was slightly curious as to whether or not he kept my old room. Once again becoming intangible and casting a quick glamour so nobody would see me, I walked through the front door and up the stairs to what was my dad’s old office.

Nothing had changed in there, I could still see paintings that were there when I was little, but there was also a locked box in one of the drawers. Becoming once again tangible, I reached for the box, more specifically, the lock on the box. I closed my eyes and felt myself changing from my human form.

I could feel my wings rip through, yet another, hoodie, my clothes began to change as tears of blood began to flow freely down my cheeks. A feathered bralette covered my chest, feathers also spread around my pelvis to cover me modestly.

My eyes opened and I knew they were a glowing blue. A small smile flittered onto my face, I felt much more comfortable this way, anyway. I felt the strength coursing through my veins, running towards my fingers, now with long, sharp black talons. The lock that was still in my grasp, began to creak and crack with the sudden force it was being put under, I had hardly flexed my fingers when the lock almost shattered.

I opened the box and looked into it, feeling my eyes tearing up, red covering my vision. I calmed myself down, looking at pictures of my mother and myself, both have been dearly departed. This was all part of my plan.

~~~~~~~~~~

It had been about half an hour, I had made multiple copies of the same image, a picture of my mother and myself, smiling up at my father who was taking the picture, I had placed them everywhere.

Floating outside the window, my wings were enjoying the freedom I rarely gave them and were flapping slowly to keep me in the air. I decided to watch my dear old dad and his reaction to my little message, I felt an evil smirk once again forming on my red painted lips.

3rd Person pov

(f/n) walked up the stairs of his home, his wife and sons were out and he thought he would have some free time before they came home to get some work done. Walking into his office, his face lost all colour, his eyes were devoid of any emotion but shock. His eyes filled with tears as he looked at the smiling faces of his now dead daughter and wife.

He quickly became angry, who knew? He had a feeling someone would eventually find out about what he did, the mausoleum had been destroyed and, even though he had always meant to, he never went back to check that (y/n) had even died.

Growling angrily, the man began to tear away layer upon layer of photos and images, the same image. The image of the perfect family that had been destroyed, that he had destroyed. He finally began to see the wall of his office again, seeing the wedding photo that he had taken with his new wife merely two years after (y/n)’s death.

He saw red appearing on the wall the more he took down the photos, following the red and continuing to frantically tear at the happy mother and daughter coating his walls in a vicious attack. He felt the red substance on the wall, it was sticky.

His eyes widened when he finally revealed the message under the wave of evil nostalgia.

“I know what you did, you will get what you deserve.”

(y/n) smirked from outside the window, watching her murderer rub his eyes in fear and confusion. She snapped her fingers and watched the room. (f/n) opened his eyes again, only for the images, scraps of photographs and the bloody writing on the wall to have disappeared...

Time Skip~

(y/n) sat waiting for the Alpha and his Betas in the underground station, still in her more powerful form, her wings were wrapping around her shoulders, concealing her scars from any watchful eye.

The scars came by accident, when she was reborn, she destroyed the mausoleum from the massive influx of energy, the rubble and debris cut up her young self and the rebirthing process was a bit particular about how it made teenage (y/n).

Any cuts or bruises were identical on the ‘new’ (y/n), so when her young body was cut up, (y/n) maintained the same cuts, using her healing to fix it but was left with a severe amount of scarring. Anyway, the strong scent of the Alpha invaded her senses and she looked up, blood still streaming from her eyes.

Derek could smell her intoxicating sweet smell instantly and, even though he was wary and stood in a fighting stance as he saw her, he couldn’t help but be completely entranced by the odd creature with glowing blue eyes. She was hauntingly beautiful.

“Alpha.” (y/n) acknowledged, him nodding in return, still stood to attention. Isaac stepped around his Alpha, an innocent and curious look across his face, “(y/n)?” He asked, causing the strange but gorgeous creature to smile and nod. “What-” He was cut off by Erica pushing by him to hug her best friend, gently stroking her feathered wings in awe.

“I figured now would be a good time to tell you what I was.” She said to the Alpha and his Betas. Looking at one in particular, she walked over to him gracefully and leaned to shake his hand. “Hi, I’m (y/n),” The boy replied saying his name was Boyd. She smiled and nodded, then walked to the Alpha and hit him upside the head.

“What is wrong with you!? Why would you make them fight for you!? In public nonetheless!” She yelled, Derek felt slightly intimidated. “Uh, (y/n)” She heard a bashful Isaac from behind her and turned to face him with a smile, “You said you would tell us, um... What you are?” He said.

(y/n) smiled a devilish but enticing grin, “I’m what’s called an Arae. A female spirit of curses, more specifically curses of revenge made by the dead and sometimes the living for those who wronged them in the past.” She told them, looking at Erica as realisation washed over her.

“You said we had a connection...” She mumbled. The Arae nodded with a pained smile, “I could feel the anger you felt towards the students who hurt you, I felt the same anger towards my father.” She told them, her voice taking a dark turn.

“Ten years ago, my mother passed away, she was killed by... something, I’m not sure what. My father was human, she was a banshee, he didn’t know anything about the supernatural world and I’m sure that if I grew up, I would have been something similar to my mother.” She started her story to be interrupted.

“What do you mean, if you grew up?” Isaac asked.

(y/n) sighed and continued. “When my mother died, my father could hardly stand to look at me, eventually it became too much, he took me to the family mausoleum and locked the door behind me, leaving me to die.” She finished, a wistful look on her face.

Erica gasped and the boys looked horrified. Derek looked up at the Arae with a look on his face and opened his mouth to ask her. “No.” She immediately said. “I refuse to join any pack, I will happily protect you and your Betas, but I am also going to protect Scott and Stiles.”

Feeling herself begin to grow tired, she released her hold on her Spirit Form, feeling her eyes return to their natural (e/c), her wings fading into her back and her feathered clothes disappearing, leaving her naked as she blacked out.

___________________________

I know it has been a while! I am so sorry! I made this chapter slightly longer to atone and you finally know what you are. An Arae! I do have an image of what was described as an Arae, I think it is supposed to be more artistic but I fell in love with it so let me know if you want to see it!

Once again, I love you guys!!! Xxx

#teen wolf #x reader #teen wolf x reader #derek hale #scott mccall #stiles stilinski #isaac lahey #derek hale x reader #scott mccall x reader #stiles stilinski x reader #isaac lahey x reader #romance #love #cute #series #fanfiction #greek mythology #crossover #supernatural

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art-gelato · 4 years

Text

Twice as Shiny

1. a little worse for wear, practically walking on air

Ratchet bit off a curse halfway. “If that young idiot is hanging his hopes on Starscream, of all mechs, I’ll kill him myself.”

Miko supposed that Ratchet was probably the only one around who could get away with calling Optimus Prime either young or idiot. “What hopes?” she asked. [AO3] [prev]

Miko had been given strict orders to stay out of the med bay ("I mean it, Miko," in that commanding Prime voice), so of course she set about getting in as soon as she was left unsupervised. Her timing was perfect—she approached the door to the converted storage unit just as Ratchet was exiting, and she slipped through the door behind him as he headed towards the other end of the hallway. Inside were a few beeping monitors, and a makeshift stretcher-thing that was too high up for her to see onto properly. She craned her neck, but she could only catch glimpses of a few sharp silver angles and the wings that poked out over the sides.

Undeterred, she clambered up the stretcher, which looked like it used to be some heavy-duty machinery that lifted really big stuff—probably aircraft, if its current use was anything to go by. She reached the platform with little difficulty, and found herself at the occupant's pointy feet. He wasn't moving, and his eyes were closed, and plus his wrists were chained to the rails, so she figured it was safe enough. She half-jogged along the platform until she reached his shoulder, and gave the armor plating there a nudge with the toe of her shoe. When that didn't elicit a response, she kicked him.

There was a low hum of activating machinery, and his eyes slowly opened. The creepy red glow of them was unfocused, though, and his gaze drifted aimlessly around the room before finally settling on her. "You," he croaked, and she wondered what was going on with his voice box to make it sound so crackly. It reminded her of the way Raf sounded after he pulled an all-nighter to finish his extra smart-kid homework.

She didn't like that. It made him seem more like a person.

"Me," she said, hands on her hips. "Got a problem?"

He stretched his jaw back and forth, like he was trying to get used to his own face. "Can't even remember your name," he said eventually. "But I suspect you have a problem with me."

"Duh," Miko replied. "Maybe it has something to do with all the times you've tried to kill me and my friends!"

Starscream sighed, a staticky rush of boredom. "Get in line, sparkling."

"My name is Miko," she said, giving his shoulder another kick. She wished it would leave a dent, and then maybe he'd stop looking at her with that cross between mild annoyance and vague amusement and take her seriously.

"You think I care?" Starscream asked, one side of his mouth twisting up in a mocking smile.

"I think you'd better!" Miko snapped. "Because if you do anything else to hurt my friends, I'm coming for you."

Starscream rolled his eyes. "I'm shaking." He sounded more awake now, and his attention shifted to take in the room properly. "Where's the medic? I'm surprised my new benevolent masters saw fit to allow you in here alone."

Miko crossed her arms. "They know not to underestimate me."

He looked her up and down, which didn't take him long at all. "You snuck in," he said, and his grin was almost genuine. "Nice to see a healthy disregard for authority in the youths, at least."

She burned with rage at the thought of Starscream approving of any of her actions, and she opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind when-

"Miko! What are you doing in here?"

"NothingI'mnothere!" Miko yelped automatically, scrambling for the edge of the stretcher. She tripped on Starscream's wing, but before she could fall, Ratchet's hand was there to catch her. His fingers closed carefully around her, and he carried her out the door and deposited her in the hallway.

"We'll talk later," Ratchet said through gritted teeth, and slammed the door shut.

Miko let out a long groan, then pressed her ear to the door. Ratchet was speaking, sounding way grumpier that usual. She hadn't even known that was possible.

"-a day to make sure the transplant takes. Absolutely no transforming before then, or I'll rip that T-cog right back out of you with my bare servos."

"Charming," Starscream drawled.

"If you want a smooth talker, go back to Knock Out. Optimus will be here soon to get those coordinates from you. No," Ratchet added, apparently cutting off Starscream before the former 'Con could object, "we're not waiting until you're cleared for flight. There's too much at stake. The T-cog will take, I just don't want you to strain it. Ready or not, you're giving us-"

"Miko," said a deep voice far above her.

Miko jerked away from the door and looked up. She hadn't even heard Optimus approaching—he might be twenty tons of solid metal, but the guy was stealthy. He was also very, very good at making her feel guilty when she was doing something she wasn't supposed to. Maybe it was because he didn't actually try to make her feel guilty. He just would be disappointed, but he wouldn't say he was disappointed even though it was written all over his face. Sometimes she wished he would just get mad about stuff, because she knew how to deal with angry people, but he was too nice for that.

"I went in while Ratchet wasn't there," she admitted, so it wouldn't all get drawn out.

Optimus made a contemplative sound, then crouched down so they could talk easier. She liked it when he did that, because she really felt like he was paying attention to her. Not many adults gave her the courtesy. "Starscream shouldn't be disturbed too much right now," he said. "I know you're curious, but he did just have surgery."

"I'm not curious," she said, a little too defensively. "I was making a point."

Optimus gave her a bemused look. "And what point is that?"

Miko punched her palm. "I'll scrap him if he even thinks about double-crossing us."

"I see," Optimus said. "Was he suitably intimidated?"

"No," Miko grumbled, scuffing her shoe on the concrete floor. "But I'll show him."

Optimus reached out and placed a gentle finger on her shoulder. "Starscream is our ally, at least for now," he said. "Perhaps showing him some compassion will be a more effective way to keep him so."

"That creep probably doesn't even know what compassion is," Miko said, crossing her arms.

"All the more reason, in that case," Optimus replied with a small smile that quickly faded. "However, I would prefer it if you stayed away from him."

"Aw, c'mon!" Miko whined. "If he's gonna be here, I'm gonna run into him! What, am I supposed to leave the room if he walks in?"

"Starscream is dangerous, intentionally or otherwise," Optimus said. "He's not used to being around humans, and any of you could get hurt if he isn't careful. And if he is planning to betray us, you children would likely be his first target as the most vulnerable among us."

"If?" Miko echoed back at him, hooking air quotes around the word. "OP, he definitely is. This is Starscream!"

And Optimus… hesitated. He was quiet for a moment, clearly trying to decide how to reply. "Under normal circumstances, I would agree," he said at last. "But as it is, I am certain he no longer feels any loyalty to Megatron. He's on his own side now, and I'm hoping…" Here, he trailed off, his usually steady gaze turning inward.

Miko put her hand on his finger, still resting on her shoulder. "Are you okay, Optimus?"

Optimus closed his eyes and took a deep breath (or vent or whatever it was giant robots did). "My apologies," he said. "I don't want to concern you."

"Hey, no, it's okay!" Miko said, grabbing onto him tighter, with both hands, as he began to pull away. She couldn't actually stop him, but the attempt made him pause nonetheless. "If you wanna talk about something, I'll listen. You have a hard time being vulnerable around the bots, cuz they look up to you and stuff. But you're not my boss, you're my friend. I'll listen." The words fell out of her, quickly, desperately, before she could think about them. He always gave off an aura of distant leadership, even when he was being nice to her. Now, she'd caught a glimpse of something more underneath, something small and sad and almost scared, and she needed to know.

"I- believe that would be unwise," Optimus said, and now he did pull away. Miko's hands felt empty and cold. He must have seen the disappointment on her face, because his own softened. "Miko, the strength of your heart is admirable, but this is not a weight I can lay on it."

Miko clenched her fists. "Gimme- gimme something I can do to help, at least." Because she could see it—he needed help, and the problem wasn't something punchable, or shootable, or even medically fixable. It wasn't something any of the Autobots could help him with, she was sure of it. She wasn't certain she could help either, but she wanted to try.

Inside the med bay, Ratchet and Starscream were arguing, their words muffled but the vitriol coming through loud and clear. Optimus' eyes flicked in the direction of the closed door before returning to Miko. "This is not your war," he murmured. "Perhaps you can see things in another way."

With that, he pushed himself back to his full height, and Miko knew the conversation was over.

She threw her arms out and shouted at him anyway. "What the scrap is that supposed to mean?"

Optimus just gave her a faint smile and opened the door.

"-not a prisoner my aft! Take these chains off me right fragging now, Hatchet!"

"Sit still, you insufferable glitch, I told you-"

"I hate to interrupt," Optimus said, and that shut them both up.

That was one of the many things Miko thought was really cool about Optimus—his ability to just stop people right in their tracks, no matter what they were doing. Often just by showing up. She aspired to have that kind of power someday.

But she knew the start of a boring conversation when she saw one (something something keys, something something coordinates), so she skulked off. Bulkhead would certainly be looking for her by now, anyway. It was almost dinner time, and she had to be home in half an hour or her host family would… worry, or something. Who knew.

Besides, she had some stuff to think about.

The next day was a Saturday, which meant normally Miko would have slept in past eleven. But this Saturday, she woke up with a weird knot of anxiety in her gut around eight and couldn't fall back asleep, so she shot a message into the group chat with Jack and Raf.

u guys up?

Almost immediately, Raf responded. Wow, I'm surprised you're awake.

cant sleep, Miko typed back. i wanna head over to base u in?

Yeah why not, Jack said. My shift isn't until later anyway

Is something going on? Raf asked. I mean, besides the stuff with the Omega Keys.

Miko's thumbs hovered over her phone for a minute before she settled on a reply. idk lets talk on the way

After that, she sent a message to Bulkhead, asking him to pick the three of them up. Then she rolled out of bed and got ready as fast as she could. She pulled her hair into its second ponytail as she crept quietly down the stairs, hoping no one from her host family was around. Luck was on her side as she snagged some breakfast from the kitchen—they tended to sleep in on the weekend as well.

"Oh, hey, hun," said a voice behind her. "You're up early."

Miko's groan was muffled behind a piece of toast. So much for luck being on her side. "Morning, Mrs. Jones," she said, not bothering to swallow her mouthful of bread first. She poured coffee into her travel mug and dumped in a few heaping spoonfuls of sugar. Then she added cream, screwed the cap on the mug, and shook it.

"Big plans for the day?" Mrs. Jones asked.

Miko turned around, looked Mrs. Jones in the eye, and took her time washing down the toast with the coffee. "Yup," she said, popping the 'p'—a neat trick to insert attitude into a simple word that she'd picked up from some of the girls in afterschool detention. "I'll probably be back late."

Mrs. Jones had a tense smile. Miko wasn't sure if it was always like that, or just always like that for Miko. "Hanging out with your friends… James and Roger?"

"Close enough," Miko said, and was saved by the honk of a horn outside. "I gotta go. See you, Mrs. Jones." She brushed past the older woman and hurried out the door.

Sure enough, Bulkhead was waiting by the curb. She was usually last to get picked up if one Autobot was getting all three of them, but when it came to Bulkhead, she had automatic dibs on the passenger seat. When she opened the door, she saw Jack behind the wheel and Raf in the back seat. Both boys gave her a wave.

"Morning, guys!" she said, feeling a sudden surge of energy as she hopped in and deposited her travel mug in the center console. "Okay, so, something super weird happened yesterday."

"Seatbelt," Bulkhead reminded her.

"Weird how?" Jack asked, simultaneously.

Miko huffed and buckled herself in, and Bulkhead began to drive. "So I snuck into the med bay after Screamer got his appendix removed or whatever," she said.

"That's where you were?" Bulkhead exclaimed, then added reproachfully, "I was looking everywhere for you."

"And you didn't look in the one place I was told not to go? C'mon, Bulky, you know me better than that."

"I-" Bulkhead paused. "Yeah, that's on me. Wait, Starscream didn't do anything to you, did he?"

"No, he was just, like, kinda rude," Miko said, flapping a dismissive hand. "The weird thing happened with Optimus, actually. I was listening at the door after Ratchet kicked me out, and Optimus came up and gave me one of his dad lectures about compassion and stuff. That's the boring part. But he seems really convinced that Starscream isn't gonna double-cross us. That's weird, right? Like, double-crossing is what Starscream does."

"Mmph," Bulkhead said. He'd never been particularly good at subtlety. All three kids' full attention was immediately on the steering wheel, Raf even leaning forward through the gap between the front seats.

"Do you know something?" Miko asked.

"N-o," Bulkhead replied, drawing the word out into two uncertain syllables.

Miko drummed her hands on the dashboard. "Yes, you do! What's going on?"

If a Jeep could squirm, that's what Bulkhead would be doing. "I don't know!" he insisted. "Not anything specific!"

"But you know something," Raf said.

"Okay, okay," Bulkhead said, able to weather the worst Decepticon interrogations but caving under the pressure of a few determined juveniles. "I was with Prime when we went to negotiate with Starscream for the keys. Then halfway through, just when Starscream's threatening to go to Megatron out of spite or something, Optimus sends me 'n Smokescreen back to base! I don't know what went down, but after that, Optimus brought Starscream right into the base. Now we can't treat him like a prisoner, but we still have to take turns babysitting him just in case he decides to cause problems despite our deal—which! We don't even know the full terms of! We're getting what we want, but there's no way Starscream only wanted his T-cog replaced. Sure, we're not hunting him for sport either, but there's gotta be more, right? I think he and Prime hashed something out, but for some reason Prime ain't telling!"

The end of his rant was met with a few moments of silence.

"You… really needed to get that off your chest, huh," Jack said eventually.

"Maybe!" Then Bulkhead sighed. "Things have just been weird around base, y'know? It's great- beyond great that we've got this shot at bringing back Cybertron. But having Starscream with us for it feels…" He trailed off, searching for the right word.

"Icky?" Miko suggested.

"Icky," Bulkhead agreed.

Miko took a slow sip of her coffee as she thought. She couldn't bring herself to tell Bulkhead the last thing Optimus had said to her, and she wasn't sure why. Maybe because it had felt like it was just for her. Or—no, that wasn't right. It just wasn't for the other Autobots. That was why he'd said it to her. Because he couldn't say it to anyone else. It had been a moment of… weakness, or something that could be easily perceived as weakness.

But she couldn't figure this out on her own, and Jack and Raf had just as much insight into how Optimus' brain worked as she did.

"Would anyone know what OP is thinking?" she mused aloud.

"Ratchet, maybe," Bulkhead said. "He's known Optimus the longest. Since before the war, before the Primacy, before everything. If anyone's got a clue, it's the doc. He won't talk to us about Optimus, but maybe he'll talk to you."

When they got to base, the Autobots were holding a discussion in the main area. They stood around a stack of crates which the four Omega Keys sat atop, fused into a pyramid shape with a holographic blue orb floating above the point.

"-all the good a map does us," Arcee was saying. "We can plot routes through the wastes as much as we like, but that doesn't change the fact we can't even get there."

Bumblebee chirped something.

"Because using Megatron's spacebridge worked out so well for us last time," Ratchet replied wearily. "We've been over that already."

"They've been at this since before I left to pick you guys up," Bulkhead muttered to the kids. "Talking in circles. I was ready to make up my own excuse to get out of here by the time you texted me."

Smokescreen, separate from the rest of the Autobots, was the first to notice them. He was clearly on Starscream duty, since he and the former 'Con were leaning back against the wall to the right of the entrance. Smokescreen seemed unsure if he was disappointed about being left out of the argument or relieved. Starscream just looked bored.

"Hey!" Smokescreen called out, jerking away from the wall and making half a step towards Bulkhead and the kids before remembering his task. He glanced expectantly over his shoulder at Starscream, who made a big show of rolling his eyes and pushing out of his slouch to follow Smokescreen over to the newcomers. "They're all kinda deep in it," Smokescreen said apologetically.

"It's a wonder you lot ever get anything done," Starscream grumbled. "I've spent the last half-joor reorganizing long-term memories just to break up the monotony."

"If you would like to add your wisdom, Starscream, you are welcome to," Optimus said, his voice cutting easily through everything else. Nearly all the bots in the room jumped in surprise, and Starscream's wings flared upwards.

Then he settled them back to their default position, and slowly turned to face the rest of the Autobots. All of them were glaring at him, with the exception of Optimus. "I doubt my insight would be appreciated," Starscream said.

Arcee scoffed.

"Could you think of a way to access the spacebridge without alerting Megatron?" Optimus asked.

Starscream was quiet for a moment. Miko couldn't see his face, but his hands were clenched behind his back, one wrist caught tightly in his clawed fingers. "No," he said. "And whatever trick you used to sneak around him last time won't work again. He's a fast learner. You'd have to defeat him first to get to the bridge safely—but if you had the means to do that, you'd have done so already. Wouldn't you have?" That last bit felt pointed somehow, but the meaning was lost on Miko.

Optimus, as always, was unfazed. "Any other ideas?"

"Oh, I don't know," Starscream snapped. "I don't suppose you picked up any ancient artifacts that can just magically transform your groundbridge into a spacebridge?"

"The Forge!" Smokescreen blurted. "What about the Forge?"

Now everyone's attention was on Smokescreen, and he grew uncertain when no one said anything. "It could do that… right?"

Starscream tilted his head, turning to look at Smokescreen in an exaggerated motion. "Are you referring to the Forge of Solus Prime?" he asked, incredulity dripping from his tone. "It's real? And you have it?"

Smokescreen opened his mouth, then closed it again.

"Well," Bulkhead said. "I wouldn't say we… have it."

"That would work, though," Arcee said. "Wouldn't it?"

"I don't see why not," Ratchet replied.

Bumblebee let out a string of beeps.

"You just have to get it?" Starscream echoed. "Get it from where?"

The room fell silent.

"Ah," Starscream said, putting the pieces together. He straightened his back, suddenly exuding smooth confidence. "Well, that shouldn't be too hard."

"Oh, yes," Arcee said, cold and acidic. "Stealing a powerful artifact from Megatron will be a walk in the park."

Miko had already begun sidling around to where she could watch the full show, and she could see the shift in Starscream, like he was coming to life. Before, he'd been idling, only physically present because he had nowhere else to be. Miko was intimately familiar with the feeling—it was how she passed most of the time in school.

Now, the thin slash of his smile sharpened with purpose, and a low fire blazed through him, burning away any submissiveness in his posture. Even his eyes seemed to glow a little brighter. "Why not?" he said. "I know the Nemesis inside and out. I know where Megatron hoards his treasures. I know all the past guard shift schedules and I can accurately predict possible future ones. Even after going rogue, I was able to sneak aboard and raid the energon stores without getting caught. And with Hot Shot's favorite toy-" He gestured to Smokescreen. "-I could be in and out like a ghost."

"No way," Arcee said, taking a threatening step towards him. "There's no way we're letting you anywhere near the Nemesis. Especially not with the phase shifter."

"My apologies," Starscream said with false sweetness, mirroring her step forward with one of his own. "I wasn't aware you had another flight frame readily available. The Nemesis, in case you've forgotten, is quite high up."

Smokescreen shuddered. "Extremely high up."

"Arcee is right," Optimus said. "We can't trust you on a mission like this. Not alone."

"Not at all!" Arcee exclaimed with a swift chop of her hand, her glower fixed on Starscream.

Optimus laid a hand on her shoulder. "We have no other way to get aboard. Soundwave would detect the energy spike of a groundbridge. But if Starscream could carry someone-"

"Who?" Arcee said. "Bulkhead? You? I'm the only one small and light enough for him to…" Her eyes widened with realization.

"No!" she and Starscream shouted at the same time. They gave each other appalled looks.

Starscream coughed into his fist, struggling to regain his composure. "I could probably carry the yellow one."

Bumblebee jabbed a finger at Starscream as he chirped something distinctly displeased, his eyes narrowing.

"…carry Bumblebee," Starscream corrected himself through gritted teeth.

"You'll need speed and maneuverability on your side," Optimus said. "The less weight you're carrying, the higher the odds of success."

"Then don't make me carry anyone at all!" Starscream snarled.

Arcee's hands curled into fists. She began to move forward, opening her mouth to retort, only to be stopped when Optimus' grip on her tightened.

"Starscream," Optimus said, his voice somehow both soft and warning. "Compromise." It sounded less like an order and more like a reminder.

Starscream's wings flicked one after the other, as if he were physically trying to shake away his agitation. Then he took a shallow breath and straightened his spine, his hands going behind his back again as his stance became more formal. "Very well," he said, tone and expression carefully neutral. "I understand why I cannot be allowed alone on a high-stakes mission. Logically, Arcee is the best choice for infiltrating the Nemesis with me." His gaze shifted from Optimus to Arcee. "It would be foolish, at this point, to allow personal feelings to stand in the way of the restoration of our home planet."

Arcee's face contorted in fury—Miko felt scorched by her glare just by being in vague proximity to Starscream. Then she closed her eyes, breathing deep. When she reopened her eyes after a couple of moments, the harsh boil of her anger had reduced to a simmer. "Fine," she said, and looked up at Optimus. "Can we talk?"

"Of course," Optimus murmured, and followed her out of the main room.

After the two of them were gone, an uncomfortable silence settled over the room. Bulkhead, Smokescreen, Jack, and Raf were still clustered by the entrance, and the rest of the Autobots were by the Omega Keys. Starscream stood alone between the two groups, looking in the direction Arcee and Optimus had left in with a strange, unreadable expression on his face.

Miko decided to take action. She strode over to Starscream. "Hey, birdbrain," she called out. "You'd better not pull any tricks on Arcee."

Starscream didn't so much as twitch, eyes still fixed on the hallway. "What would you do?" he asked, sounding oddly far away.

This threw Miko for a loop. "Huh?"

He blinked, coming back to himself, and looked down at her. "What would you do?" he repeated irritably. "If it was just you and me. If you had no weapons, no powerful friends at your back. What course of action would you take? How would you, alone, damage me?"

Miko opened her mouth, but her mind was blank. Heat rose to her cheeks.

"Back off, Starscream," Bulkhead said.

Starscream's eyes widened, and he swiveled his head towards Bulkhead. "Are you seriously telling me you've allowed these organics to follow you onto the battlefield multiple times, and never gave them the tools to defend themselves?" he asked, his irritation congealing into outraged disbelief.

"Hey!" Miko said, crossing her arms. "I took out an Insecticon, you know!"

"And just how did you do that?" Starscream said, and Miko knew her answer wouldn't hold up under the weight of his condescension.

"Wheeljack's ship," she mumbled anyway.

"So you can use your surroundings, at least," Starscream said, which wasn't exactly the scathing insult she'd been expecting. "But you won't always be so lucky." Then, to her surprise, he dropped to one knee. At the sudden movement, every Autobot in the room started towards him, and he waved a hand. "Relax, I'm just going to show her something." He crooked a claw at her, beckoning her closer. "The other two should know this as well."

Miko exchanged uncertain glances with Jack and Raf, and then the three of them warily approached. Smokescreen and Bulkhead followed, while the rest hung back and watched.

Starscream traced the tip of a claw down a seam on the outside of his ankle. For a Cybertronian, it was too small to easily access, but Miko figured she could probably stick her arm in there. "Cybertronians vary massively in design, but there are always gaps at the joints, to allow for movement," Starscream explained. "Inside those joints, you will find sensitive wiring, especially in complex areas like this. If you find yourself facing an enemy you can't beat, your goal should be to cause enough of a distraction to facilitate an escape. In that regard, ankle joints should be your prime target. Use a tool, something sharp or hooked, and long enough to get to the circuitry. Just don't actually reach inside, since that would be an excellent way to lose those fleshy little servos of yours."

"You mean hands?" Miko asked.

Starscream ignored her, continuing, "The combination of pain and surprise should be enough to buy you time. If you're lucky, you may even impair your enemy's ability to give chase, albeit mildly. However, when you are so much smaller and weaker than your opponent, every advantage counts, no matter how slight." He rested his forearm on his knee. "After that, run. Not in a straight line—our motion algorithms can easily track you. Keep your movements unpredictable and seek cover. Anything that puts objects between you and your pursuer, preferably something that disguises the direction you're headed in. Find somewhere to hide, and wait for backup."

While Starscream was talking, Raf had ventured even closer to peer through the seam Starscream had indicated, trying to get a better look at circuitry. "Cool," he breathed.

"Was nothing like that ever explained to you?" Starscream asked. The annoyance, which had begun to fade during his lecture, was back full force.

"We've gotten the 'hide and wait for backup' talk a few times," Jack said.

"Unbelievable," Starscream said, aghast. "How did I never manage to kill you?" His tone was weirdly impersonal—a little frustrated, but mostly marveling at what he seemed to view as a massive oversight.

"Well, thank you," Miko said, and realized that she meant it despite his last remark. "For telling us all that."

Starscream gave her a hard look, as if trying to assess her sincerity. When he found her guileless, his eyes flicked away, discomfort crossing his face. "It's about time someone did," he muttered, and pushed himself to his feet.

At that moment, Optimus and Arcee returned, and Starscream stepped away from the kids. Miko turned her attention elsewhere, trying to ignore the fact that she hadn't felt threatened at all while being so close to him. He was a creep and a jerk, and he probably had some sinister reason for giving them potentially life-saving advice. Yeah.

Yet she couldn't help thinking about yesterday. Starscream's voice raspy after waking up. Optimus talking about compassion and war.

Miko shoved her hands in her pockets, stepping over to Jack and bumping shoulders with him. He bumped shoulders back, and she felt a little better.

Arcee still looked furious, but also a lot calmer about it. She clapped, a sharp sound that shot across the room and drew all eyes to her. "Alright, everybody," she said. "Let's plan a heist."

While the bots plotted, Miko totally thrashed the boys at Mario Kart. The three of them were, under normal circumstances, pretty evenly matched at video games. Today, though, Jack kept shooting worried glances at Arcee, and Raf's attention faltered every time Bumblebee spoke. Miko couldn't blame them, because she was anxious, too. She just channeled her anxiety differently. That was, directly into kicking ass at Mario Kart.

Eventually, Jack had to leave. His shift started at 4, and by then the planning was over, so Arcee took him. She looked like she was dying to get out of base anyway. Miko couldn't blame her.

Now, Optimus and Ratchet were looking at something on one of the big screens, and Bulkhead and Bumblebee had joined the remaining kids for TV time. As for the last two mechs in the building…

"You don't have to shadow my every step," Starscream snapped.

"You're pacing," Smokescreen said. "It's making me nervous."

"If you don't leave me be," Starscream said, his wings vibrating with tension, "I'll give you something to be truly nervous about."

"Starscream," Optimus said in reprimand, not even looking away from whatever he was working on.

Starscream let out a low growl, flexing his claws like he was aching to sharpen them on something. "Ratchet," he said, his tone cajoling. "Hasn't it been a day already?"

Miko and Raf watched from over the back of the couch, the monster truck rally on TV forgotten. "What's he mean?" Raf whispered to her.

"Docbot's making him wait a day before he can transform again," Miko whispered back. "Overheard it yesterday."

Ratchet was close enough to the couch to hear the hushed exchange, and he gave Miko a taste of his best glare before he turned it on Starscream. "Not quite," he said.

Starscream responded by taking on a pose that could only be described as 'toadying'—bent slightly at the waist, one hand curled over the other in front of his chest, his wings dipped to a nonthreatening angle. "Surely a couple of, er, hours won't make much of a difference. We need to make sure I'm in top condition for this mission, after all. With such a skilled medic as you, I'm sure I'll be-"

"Alright, alright," Ratchet said, holding up a hand. "Just stop doing- that, and we'll head up top."

Starscream straightened up, a smug smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"I wanna go," Miko said instantly. The only times she'd seen Starscream or any Decepticon transform was either from far away or while she was worried about her immediate safety. Without the threat of danger, there was no way she was gonna pass up the chance to see a giant robot turn into a fighter jet up close.

"I'd like to, as well," Raf said, apparently having the same thought.

"No," Ratchet said.

To her surprise, Starscream backed them up. "Oh, what's the harm, doctor?" he purred. Miko wondered if he was physically capable of not sounding like he was up to something sneaky at all times.

Ratchet squinted, looking between Starscream and the kids. Miko and Raf smiled at Ratchet, giving him their best puppy dog eyes.

"Fine," Ratchet grumbled, and he extended his hand to the kids. "But I'm gonna hold onto you. Ap-bup-bup!" he added when Miko opened her mouth to complain. "I'm not leaving you anywhere you can get accidentally squished."

Miko groaned, but Raf was already clambering into Ratchet's waiting palm, so she followed.

They took a cargo elevator to the top, which creaked ominously at the weight of two Cybertronians. Ratchet didn't seem worried, though, so Miko tried not to worry either. At one point, she thought she saw Starscream watching her from the corner of his eye.

The ceiling above them opened, and the platform grated to a halt once it was level with the flat rock around it.

"Nice view," Starscream remarked, casting a judgmental eye over the desert expanse. "So this is where your precious base is."

"Don't make us regret letting you in," Ratchet said, and held out a small disc to Starscream. "Optimus tell you about this?"

"Oh. The tracking device." Starscream's lip curled slightly, but he took the disc.

"Put it wherever," Ratchet said. "You can take it off, but we'll know if you do."

Starscream fiddled with it. "And if it gets damaged in the field?"

"Comm us and explain."

"Would you believe me?" Starscream asked.

Ratchet let out a harsh sigh. "Optimus will, at least."

Turning it over one last time in his fingers, Starscream said, "I suppose that's the best I'll get," and slipped it under a ledge in his chest. He cricked his neck, stretched his arms, and walked right up to the cliff's edge.

He inhaled deeply, his wings twitching in anticipation. Then he clicked his heels together and did a neat little about-face, giving the kids a smirk just before he tipped backwards off the edge. He transformed as he fell, and Miko found herself holding her breath as he dropped out of sight.

Engines roared, and Miko couldn't help whooping as he shot straight upwards, so fast the gust of wind he created made her and Raf stumble. Starscream must have heard her, because his wings waggled in what felt like acknowledgement. He kept going up, up, nosecone pointed to the clouds, until she had to shade her eyes to keep watching him. Abruptly, his engines cut out, and he seemed to hang suspended for a moment before toppling backwards again. Miko gripped Ratchet's index finger as Starscream spun around and around, plummeting towards the ground in freefall.

"Relax, kiddo," Ratchet said. "He's just showing off."

Miko couldn't tear her eyes away. How could falling like that be showing off? And then, just when she thought Starscream wasn't going to be able to pull up in time, his engines fired and he righted himself with a quick flick of his wings. He turned freefall into a graceful dive that hooked around the tall mesa that disguised the Autobot base, only half of one wing visible like the fin of a shark as he circled them. Then he was up and away again, doing loops and flips and barrel rolls, all because he could. For the sheer joy of it.

She wondered what that would be like, to have the wind as a friend and gravity as a plaything. She wondered if she could get him to tell her honestly.

"Hey, Ratchet," Miko said, still watching Starscream. "Optimus said something to me yesterday."

"Go on."

"It was after you kicked me out of the med bay. He seemed sad about something, so I asked how I could help, and he said that this isn't my war, and maybe I could see things another way. But then he wouldn't tell me what he meant."

Ratchet bit off a curse halfway. "If that young idiot is hanging his hopes on Starscream, of all mechs, I'll kill him myself."

Miko supposed that Ratchet was probably the only one around who could get away with calling Optimus Prime either young or idiot. "What hopes?" she asked.

Ratchet let out a heavy sigh. "He's got this notion of ending the war without winning or losing. Where both sides come back together to rebuild the world better this time. It's-" He made a frustrated grinding noise. "No one else would think it's possible. I sure don't. But he hopes." His free hand clenched, and he sounded so old and tired as he murmured, "Primus save him, he hopes."

Raf crouched to give Ratchet a comforting pat on the palm, but Miko just kept holding onto his finger, still watching Starscream. She didn't really know what any of that had to do with her or her ability to see things another way, and yet… she had a strange feeling she was starting to kind of understand.

Maybe it was something about the way Starscream cut through the sky. Exuberance radiated off him—there was nothing calculating or scheming in the twirl of his wings, the gunning of his engines. He'd been on the ground for so long, and now he was celebrating flight. She couldn't deny anymore that he was just another person, with his own motives and dreams and history. And if Starscream was a person, what about the rest of the Decepticons? She knew plenty of people did plenty of bad things for plenty of reasons, but she was used to applying that mentality to humans. It required another shift of thinking to apply it to alien robots, especially when she'd been taught by most of the Autobots that Decepticons were just plain bad.

And maybe they were bad people, but Miko was starting to think that maybe it wasn't all that simple. If Optimus thought there was a way to reconcile their differences, maybe… maybe…

Miko didn't know. But she was going to find out.

"Alright, pack it in," Ratchet said into his comm. "That's enough fancy flightwork for today. Save some fuel for your mission."

Starscream veered back towards the mesa, transforming again as he landed. "Killjoy," he said, but he was grinning, exhilarated and sincere. Then he caught himself, and the grin shifted into a haughty sneer.

Miko came to a decision. She wasn't sure if it was the right one, but that had never stopped her before. "Woo!" she crowed, throwing up horns with both hands. "Starscream, that was awesome!"

Starscream gave her a startled look, then quickly composed himself. "Of course," he said, lifting his chin. "I'm the best there is."

But some of the sincerity had returned to his smile, and Miko knew she could do this.

#transformers #transformers prime #starscream #starscream tfp #optimus prime #autobots #writing counts as art

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jkbabiey · 4 years

Text

{JJK} Say it ⤇ 2

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Pairing: fuckboy!jungkook x student!reader

Word Count: ~2.1 K

Genre: we’ll keep up with the flirty tension and let’s add a bit of an awkward tension to the mix... just for fun ; college!AU

Warnings: Jungkook seems to be less of a dick and Y/N gets shy, she’s still a sweetheart.

4th of March, 2023

Another typical saturday night.

It was about midnight and you were, as usual, covered in anatomy books and human body scrawled papersheets. As much as you loved anatomy, you had to admit that along with interesting, it was a really exausting subject. You were incredibly sleepy from all the studying you’d been doing from at least 3 PM and all you wanted was to go to sleep, but you refused to give in to your desires, deciding to stay up at least for another hour.

Yes, you were aware that probably - and most-certainly - you were sounding like a nerdy self-sabotaging bitch BUT you had a reason. You had an anatomy exam next week and you were determined to get the highest grade possible, even if it cost you some hours of sleep. And why was the reason behind that? Well... you had been holding a grudge... Yeah... In you previous anatomy exam - in wich you were close to getting the highest grade in class - your asshole professor had insinnuated that you had cheated just because he had seen you turn back to pick your fallen pen and though you were looking at your seatmate’s exam. You were -oh, so ready to get the highest grade of the class in this exam and freacking rub it in that dubass’ face.

You grabbed a handful of the crispy bacon chips you were using as a motivation to keep up the good work, furiously munching on them and preparing yourself to start reading another chapter of your favorite anatomy book, Gray’s Anatomy.

Before you got to read the first word something got your attention. You had never been so happy to receive a text from an unknown number in your life. This had to be a sign telling you to just go to sleep, for sure. You grabbed your phone instantly, dropping the heavy book on top of your sprailed thighs, finally finding an almost proper excuse to get away from your never-ending studies.

[Unknown number, 00:10 AM] - Hey princess

You didn’t take you long to remember the annoying man that approached you at the bar three weeks ago, probably because of the exact same choice of words he used the night he tried to seduce you.

[Unknown number, 0:10 AM] - Remember me?

You would be lying if you said you haven’t thought about him these days. His appearance was too good to just disappear from your mind in three mere weeks. Everything, from the way he looked to the cocky and snarky comebacks he spat after hearing you neglecting him multiple times that night was, unfortunately, attractive to you.

[You, 00:14 AM] - No.

You lied.

It didn't take a lot of time for another message to pop up on your phone's screen.

[Unknown number, 00:15 AM] - Come on, I know you've been thinking about me

Prick...

[You, 00:15 AM] - Tell me your name, and maybe I'll remember who you are.

Deep inside you knew that this wasn't the real reason why you were asking him his name. The truth was that you wanted to know a name, so you could associate his face – which you haven’t been able to stop thinking about for the last 21 days and it was honestly driving you insane – to a name.

[Unknow number, 00:15 AM] - I didn’t tell you my name, it wouldn't help baby

And, unhappily he was able to turn your little game against its own creator.

That cunning little shit...

[Unknow number, 00:16 AM] - But we both know I haven’t left your mind these days

You were, once again, left bewildered staring at his text. He was a cocky, selfish, jackass that was completely full of himself.

You threw your phone on your sofa and tried to calm down. It was impressive how quickly he was able to get you all riled up. He literally just had to say something, anything, and you would already be thinking of ways to kill him. You wouldn’t say it out loud, but after that night you had been waiting for a call or a text. For his call or for his text, and that was the major factor that was holding you from telling him to fuck off right away. But you couldn’t blame yourself for thinking about him. He was annoying, yes he was. But he was also extremely hot, and if you’re being honest, you missed getting laid. You didn’t even remember the last time someone made you feel good in that way and you were definitely craving it. A woman has needs and, unfortunately, he filled all of your physical demands in a man even though you were selective, very selective.

And even after considering how physically needy you were at the moment, you decided to act against yourself once again that night and left him without any answer. The guy had already proven himself to be such a dick and as sexually needy as you coud be, you would never let someone like that get to touch one single inch of your body.

You weren’t that needy, anyways...

7th of March, 2023

It was Tuesday today. You hated Tuesdays. Today you would have to endure two straight hours in the lab. Your microbiology professor wasn't the best, and his monotone way of talking just made it all worse. Usually you would have pretty much use this two hours to discretely close your eyes and try to sleep.

That would have happened if your crush hadn't asked to sit next to you. Right now, sleep was the last thing on your mind. You were fixed on the way Jimin lurked into the microscope's ocular. The way he pursed his plump lips whenever he didn't get the outcome he wanted or the way he looked at you and smiled softly from time to time.

When class ended, Jimin got up from his seat and turned to you.

"Hey, do you want to come get coffee with me?"

Your eyes widened and your lips instantly parted, shocked by his invitation. How come the hottest and sweetest guy in your class was asking you on a date?

"Yes, of course!"

You cringed internally hearing how desperate that answer had probably sounded to him, but the smile on your face never faded. You threw your books and all the other stuff you could recognize as yours into your black leather bag and quickly walked beside him.

You bit your red velvet muffin cautiously, sipping on your black coffee right away. You were trying to look pretty in front of Jimin. He had been your crush since you started med school. He had catched you eye immediately. He wasn’t the type of guy to try to get people’s attention, but he did, naturally. You two had been sitting in that coffee shop for about 15 minutes already and you were completely enchanted by his sweet and delicate ways. He was every girl's dream and you couldn't deny that you were a part of that crowd. He was absolutely dreamy and you were absolutely entranced in his whole appearance.

"So... I noticed you haven't been dating anyone for a really long time now..." he smirked at you and waited patiently for your answer.

The thing is, you couldn't really answer him. You had been caught off guard. You didn't know he would be this direct.

"Right," you murmured, completely flustered by his sudden approach to your love life.

"Don't be so shy, we're friends Y/N!"

Your expression fell immediately after hearing his words. And then came the sudden realization that this was not romantic. This wasn’t a freaking date.

"Maybe, I can introduce some of my friends to you! I'm pretty sure, anyone would love to date you, you’re absolutely gorgeous!"

His words pissed you off, but you didn't say a thing, displaying the smalles and most polite ever instead. How could he say you were gorgeous right after friendzoning you?

After that neither of you say a thing and just kept eating the food he insisted on buying until you noticed him squinting his eyes to see something behind you.

"What are you looking at?" you asked, way more harshly than you had intended to sound, but he didn’t seem to notice, anyway.

"I think that's a friend of mine..." he hummed and squinted his eyes even harder. He had some vision problems, but he refused to wear his glasses - even though they looked great on him, what a surprise...

This was just what was missing in tjis “date”, someone to take his attention from you. Definitely not a date.

"Really?" you asked sharply, looking at him in pure boredom. You knew you didn't have any right to be mad at him, but how are you supposed to react when your crush of 1 whole year says he could ask one of his friends to go on a date with you, just before saying your “absolutely gorgeous”?

"Yeah... I think it's Jungkook," he said, still waiting for his friend to finish paying his coffee and turn around, so he could see if he was or not the person he expected.

You rolled your eyes and looked over your shoulder, curious to see who Jimin was talking about, and just as you did it, your eyes locked with the familiar wide and shiny eyes from three weeks ago. You felt the exact same electricity you had felt that night in the bar and instantly turned your eyes back to Jimin, in hopes 'Jungkook' was someone else, anyone else. But when you turned back to Jimin, he was already standing up and opening his arms, ready to hug whoever his friend was. You still hoped and asked the Gods for his friend to be someone else, but not him.

"Jungkook!"

Jimin was so excited that you could see the glint in his eyes as he almost screamed his friend's name.

All your hopes died when you sensed his presence next to you, engulfing Jimin in a bear hug

"Hey man! Haven't seen you in a while!" he whispered into Jimin's hair loud enough for you to hear. His voice was very different from the one you remembered from the bar. It was much softer now.

"Yeah..." Jimin hummed softly into his friend's chest and when they parted from their tight and long hug, Jimin's eyes landed on you

"This is Y/N, she's a friend from uni. Y/N, this is Jungkook, he's my best friend, " Jimin stated and winked at you, remembering your dialogue from earlier. You could feel the heat in your cheeks and the color on them was probably pretty visible as well.

"Hey Y/N," he greeted as if he hadn’t ever seen you before in his life and trained his eyes on you to watch your reaction.

Well, your reaction was probably up to everything he was waiting. You coughed awkwardly and quickly sipped on your coffee so you could get rid of the annoying dryness that had settled on your throat. You looked over at Jimin, that wriggled his brows at you and winked discreetly. You decided to ignore him and in the meantime Jungkook’s smirk grew wider. You could physically see he was dying to make fun of you.

"Hey..." you answered quietly, after a long time.

Jungkook chuckled and broke his stare from you, looking at Jimin

"I have to go but I'll call you later," he said while giving a large bite to his donut before sipping on his coffee.

"Stay a bit longer! You should meet Y/N, she's pretty cool," Jimin answered quickly, trying to hold his friend back, while your cheeks burdened even harder. Jungkook chuckled quietly again and answered his friend

"Can't, class starts in..." he looked at his clock to check the time he had left and his eyes widened "-fuck, I have 2 minutes" he looked between me and Jimin and muttered a little 'I’ll call you later', before running to get to his class quickly.

Jimin laughed a bit and ran his fingers through his blonde locks.

"I think there was some chemistry" he stated teasingly and you shot him a threatening look, trying to fight the smile that tried to creep up your face.

“Shut up,” you muttered, suddenly feeling a lot more comfortable in Jimin’s presence. The awkwardness from before, now totally gone.

"He's majoring in criminal justice, he’s actually a very smart guy..." he stated excitedly

"I don't care Jimin..." you said after chuckling lightly at his efforts

"Shut up, you liked him!" he screeched and hit you softly on the arm

"No, I didn't" you murmured and sipped on your black coffee.

Well, at least Jungkook had a good taste in coffee.

You weren’t shocked when, at 5 PM, while you were enjoying your ride home in the subway, you received another text from Jungkook. Being the little brat he already showed he was, there was no way he was going to let this opportunitie of making fun of you slide. You had that figured out as soon as he left the coffee shop earlier that day.

[Unknown number, 5:00 PM] - You didn’t seem very brave today.

You sighed, wondering what you were supposed to answer. Well, yeah... How the fuck were you supposed to act brave when, first of all, you were by nature too socially awkward, and second of all, you had been under his stare, which was too intimidating for you to say something longer than ‘hey’.

[You, 5:01 PM] - You also weren’t as dickish as you seem to be.

[Jungkook, 5:01 PM] - I am not dickish!

[You, 5:04 PM] - Of course you’re not.

[Jungkook, 5:05 PM] - Give me one date.

Your eyes-widened and you choked in the chocolate milk you were drinking. The sixty-year-old man seated in front of you sending you a slightly disgusted look, to wich you answered with a nervous smile.

[You, 5:06 PM] - Do you think you can woo me in one date?

[Jungkook, 5:08 PM] - If you want me to take you on more than one date, that’s alright...

You couldn’t help but laugh at his response. How the hell did he find ways to turn every single thing in his favour?! That was seriously a gift from god, and you weren’t even religious.

[You, 5:09 PM] - Oh my god, pls shut up

[Jungkook, 5:11 PM] - One date and i won’t talk to you anymore today

[You, 5:12 PM] - One date and you won’t talk to me the whole week.

[Jungkook, 5:12 PM] - Deal.

#jungkook #writings #writing #jeon jungkook #jungkook scenario #jungkook au #au #scenario #reaction #jungkook recs #angst #smut #fuckboy!jungkook #student!reader #jungkookxreader #medstudent!reader

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astridthevalkyrie · 3 years

Note

Can you do 129 with viggo & astrid?

Sorry this took me so long! Just a few days ago, my arm suddenly started hurting like all hell to the point where I was waking up in the middle of the night from the pain. I’m feeling better now (because i’m on meds lmao) so here we go!

@evilwriter37 please tell me how my viggo is, because you write viggo so well.

129. Well, you’re a prick.

If Astrid is remembering right, The General Guide To Being A Prisoner had something in it about keeping your trap shut so as to not possibly aggravate your captor and get yourself killed. But that was because they had let Hiccup and Fishlegs write that book and they had refused to let her have a crack at it. Hiccup had firmly told her that they were trying to write a rational and logical book and there would be no chapter in which it was advised that the victim show off their advanced rudery.

That was a load of dragon dung, she decides.

So as Viggo helps himself to his fifth cup of water (just how much did he consume per hour sitting at that desk?), Astrid lazily leans against the bars of her cell and says in her most obnoxious voice, “I’m thirsty too.”

He looks up at her, and Astrid smirks triumphantly, glad to have at least caught his attention, which her long exaggerated sighs had not accomplished. At least now he was going to respond, and she’d have a few seconds of insulting him to keep her from going mad with boredom waiting for rescue.

Instead of denying her, Viggo instead stands slowly, refilling the cup to the brink with water. Astrid blinks in surprise - she hadn’t expected him to actually give her what she wanted. Still, her throat was a bit dry, so as much as she wants to gripe at him, she decides she can take the drink and then find another way to get him to give her a verbal response.

But Viggo takes his damn time. He first swirls his finger in the cup and then takes a small yet leisurely sip, letting out a pleased sigh. Astrid rolls her eyes at the theatrics, she wasn’t thirsty enough to beg. She can wait.

He seems to notice that, and a small smirk grows on his face. He takes another sip before finally walking towards her cell. With extremely damnable slow steps. Astrid grips the bars, expecting him to open the cell just enough to hand it to her, with a glare warning her not to try to escape or fight him, and that there are guards outside. Yeah, yeah. She knows that.

Viggo reaches her cell, reels his hand back, and hurls the cup forward, splashing its contents on his prisoner.

Astrid gasps harshly, her face dripping wet and thor and odin above that’s cold! she looks at him incredulously.

Viggo chuckles, risking a hand between the bars to wipe a droplet from her face and lick his fingers. “Will that satisfy you?”

Baring her teeth, she slams against the cell with all her might.

“No, it doesn’t satisfy me, you sick, goblin-looking, foul-breathed, ugly troll shit for brains bastard!”

“I can’t have you thinking you’re an honored guest.” He laughs at her apparent ridiculousness. “Other islands and chieftains may give you the special treatment because you’re fucking the chief’s son, but that doesn’t work on enemy lines, dear.”

She brushes past his condescending tone and his horrible vomit-inducing nickname and addresses the important things first. “I’m not just fucking him, you judgemental asshole.” She ignores the triumphant look in his eyes that even if it is not all she is doing, she is still doing it. “We’re betrothed, we love each other, it’s the good shit.”

“You’re a vulgar woman,” Viggo says, turning away without even giving her a cloth to dry herself with. “I always imagined he’d be interested in someone sweeter.”

“Right, because you know him so well,” Astrid drawls, still furious. She wipes her face with her hands and then proceeds to glare at him.

“I wonder what it is about you,” he murmurs without so much as sparing a glance in her direction. He sits at his desk and muses to himself as though she isn’t standing just a few feet away. “To have both Hiccup and Heather so smitten with you. Or did you not know about her feelings?” He looks at her quickly, and this time, Astrid catches his eyes hungry for a reaction from her. She does not give him what he wants.

“It’s because I’m beautiful and amazing.” She leans with her back against the wall, arms crossed. “How does it feel to have no one love you?”

Viggo actually laughs at this, as though she has just told a witty joke that he’ll repeat to his dragon hunter buddies over tea. “I’ve had much experience in the throes of love, dear.”

She wrinkles her nose. “’Throes of love,’ gods. You’re so old. So old and obsessed with us. It’s creepy.”

“I’m young enough,” he says, with just a hint of something that she sees in the suggestive glance he gives her with a suggestive tone is he really trying to flirt with her right now and Astrid rolls her eyes.

“Well, you’re a prick.” She stands up straight, looking as intimidating as she can. “When I’m sprung from this cell, I’m going to find you and rip you apart till you’re bleeding from every part of your body.”

Viggo smiles pleasantly. “What makes you certain I won’t run a knife through you right before they get here?”

“Because then you won’t have someone to mentally torture?”

“Oh, I don’t intend to kill you. The mind games can continue without your clothes and blood dripping down your skin.”

Astrid snarls. If he thinks he scares her, he’s dead wrong. Does he think this is her first time in captivity? She’s survived his brother who by all means is stronger than him, if less intelligent. This is nothing.

“Then I guess we’ll see,” she says with teeth gritted darkly, “we’ll see who rips open who first.”

Viggo rewards her with an appreciative nod, the twisted form of acknowledgement that she has been searching for. “I look forward to it, dear.”

I had way too much fun writing this oh my goodness.

#httyd #rtte #astrid #viggo #nsfw-ish #if only because astrid has a potty mouth

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slapshot-to-the-heart · 4 years

Text

Flatbush & Atlantic: part x

part i part ii part iii part iv part v part vi part vii part viii part ix

And we’ve finally come to the end of Cass and Mat’s story! I want to thank every person who’s read this over the past few months, especially those of you who have reblogged, commented, and shared this with your friends. Your feedback means the world to me, and please tell me what you think of this final part! I’ve also got some ideas floating around for an epilogue, so don’t be surprised if that pops up in the next few weeks.

part x

May 21 (fri)

For once, it wasn’t Cass’ alarm that woke her up. Her internal clock didn’t let her sleep in past 6, but as she lay in her bed, comforter pulled up to her chin and curls up in a haphazard messy bun, a realization struck her. She didn’t have anything to do, and that was just about as far from normal for her as possible. Normally, she’d be hopping in the shower at this time, getting out and shoveling some cereal down her throat before running to catch the train, or desperately trying to finish some last-minute reading before an early lecture. Her grandparents’ flight didn’t land at JFK until 1, and she wouldn’t need to leave until an hour before that to get Mat and drive to the airport.

Padding out to the kitchen, she just caught Ryanne, who was about to leave for a clinical rotation. “What department are you in this month?” Cass asked.

“OB/GYN,” Ryanne responded. “I got to observe a birth the other day, and it was one of my favorite things I’ve gotten to do so far. Obviously I don’t know for sure yet, but I think I might want to match into it. You get to do a little bit of everything — there’s some surgery, some routine care, some deliveries. And with the Black maternal health crisis, I figure we need all the Black OBs we can get as a country.”

Cass smiled. “That’s wonderful, I’m glad to hear.” She knew that Ryanne had been a little stressed out with the prospect of trying to pick a residency; she hadn’t felt drawn to any of the other rotations she’d gone through quite like this one.

“What about you? What’s your schedule like today?” Ryanne asked as she poured coffee into her travel mug.

Cass flopped down on the couch, looking over at her. “It’s just...I have nothing to do. Nothing needs to get done. No cases to read, no essays to finish, no paperwork to file or anything. Chris gave me this week off for finals anyways, so I couldn’t even go into the office if I wanted to because there’s just nothing for me to do. Do you know how rare that is for me?”

Ryanne laughed. “Cass, I’m in med school. The last time I had a true ‘off day’ was two weeks ago, and even then I spent most of it studying.” She slung her backpack over one shoulder. “See you tonight, have a good day, babe!”

After some toast and a smoothie, Cass was back on the couch, trying desperately to think of something to do. She thrived on being busy, thrived on feeling like she was needed and contributing to something worthwhile. Pushing herself up, she walked back to her room, deciding to change and go out for a run. Cass liked to keep in shape and exercise as often as she could, even though it had been a few years since she had been on an organized sports team. She was usually able to make yoga classes at the school gym twice a week, but typically didn’t have the spare time in the mornings for a run. And by the time she got back it was almost always dark, way too late to even think about going out alone.

Lacing up her tennis shoes and grabbing her AirPods and keys, she set out, down the stairs and past the door. As she jogged down the streets, making familiar turn after familiar turn, Cass realized something remarkably profound. Every place she passed had played a part in the last three years. St. Lucy’s, where she had stumbled in with inconsolable tears after her abuelo’s stroke, lighting a candle and praying with some old Italian woman for his recovery. The bodega on the corner run by Carlos Gonzalez, one of the first people she met when she moved to the city and the only one who knew how to smoosh her sandwiches down how she likes. The Edible Arrangements where she, Stella, and Ryanne had bought Alicia a congratulatory fruit bouquet for finally asking out her coworker Juliette. They had been dating for six months. The high school she passed every morning on her way to the subway station. These were the people and places that had made her life what it was, and she owed them her thanks.

An hour and five miles later, Cass decided to call it quits, walking the last few blocks back to the apartment as a sort of cool-down. She jumped in the shower, throwing her hair up in a towel once she got out and resigning herself to watching whatever was on TV. Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives it was, apparently. Four episodes and one snack break later, it was time to get in the car to head over and pick up Mat. Cass drove down Manhattan Island, tapping her fingers in boredom as she hit yet more traffic. It was noon, why was there even traffic in the first place? She pulled into the visitor’s spot in the underground lot of Mat’s apartment complex, taking out her phone. Just got here! Mat popped out of the elevator a few minutes later, holding a bouquet of tulips. “Sorry I’m late, I was going back and forth between tulips and sunflowers for awhile, but I figured the pink was maybe a better choice? What do you think?” Cass started to laugh, and Mat looked offended. “What?”

“Babe, it’s so sweet that you want to impress my grandma, but have you thought about how the poor flowers will fare?”

His brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Cass adjusted her seatbelt, leaning over. “We’re going to be out for awhile. We’re not going straight back to their hotel. So…” she prompted.

“They’ll wilt.” Mat finished, his face falling.

She covered his hand with her own. “Don’t worry. It’s a sweet gesture and I’m sure she’ll appreciate them. We’re all going out for dinner after the ceremony tomorrow, why don’t you bring them then?”

He perked up. “I’ll run up and put them back in a vase, be back in a few!” Mat gave Cass a quick peck on her cheek, leaving her with just one question. Mat owned vases? He slid back into the passenger’s seat shortly after, clicking his seatbelt in and connecting his phone to the speakers.

Cass rolled her eyes. “I don’t know a single guy your age who’s not obsessed with John Mayer. It’s kind of weird, honestly.”

“You don’t like him?” Mat asked curiously. Cass was usually into more guitar-based, acoustic stuff, so he figured she’d be into at least some of his stuff.

“Some of it,” Cass responded, pulling out of the lot and onto the street. “Go ahead and play it, I don’t mind at all. Not what I’d usually put on if I’m alone, that’s all.”

Mat nodded, looking absentmindedly out the window. “So, what should I know about your grandparents?”

Cass’ face immediately burst into a smile at their mention. It was always so clear how much she loved her family, and that was one of Mat’s favorite things about her. How hard she loved. “Alright, so it’s Dolores and Roberto Cabrera. They’re wonderful people, I genuinely think you’re going to like them a lot. They’re both super fluent in English, so don’t worry about communication. They originally immigrated to Texas when they were in their teens, abuela was a housekeeper at a few hotels in San Antonio and abuelo worked in the fields for awhile before getting a job at a little hardware store in town, where he worked until they retired. My mom’s the middle of four, two older sisters and a younger brother.”Mat listened intently. “My abuelo’s a little more rough around the edges, so don’t be surprised if he gives you a little bit of a hard time, but it’s not out of malice or anything. He’s always been very protective over us, my mom and her siblings, and now us three. He might do the whole ‘nobody’s good enough for my Cassidy” thing, but he’ll get over it. He means well.”

She glanced over at Mat, who was looking decidedly nervous. “Seriously, chou, it’s going to be fine. Abuela’s totally different, they’re like polar opposites. I can almost guarantee that she’ll say something to the effect of ‘if my granddaughter loves you, I love you.’ Very much go with the flow, she’ll probably want to come over to your apartment and cook for you.” Her expression softened. “As long as you’re kind and respectful, they won’t have an issue with you, Mat. They’ll see that you treat me how I deserve to be treated and love me like I deserve to be loved.”

Cass pulled into the garage by the international arrivals terminal, cutting the gas and checking the time. “The flight was supposed to land at one, so they should be getting out of passport control by the time we get inside.” It was a little after one thirty, but if there was anything Cass knew, it was just how long customs could take at an airport as big as JFK. Even in the middle of the afternoon on a weekday, and even though her grandparents were travelling on their American passports and could use the citizen’s line, she had heard that it could take upwards of an hour or two to get through.

The concourse was pretty bare apart from a few kiosks selling “I ❤️ NY” shirts and a surprisingly busy Noah’s Bagels, so Mat and Cass made themselves comfortable on one of the rows of plastic chairs lining the room. The arrivals screen had marked their flight from Mexico City as having landed nearly an hour prior, so it was little surprise when Cass popped up from the chair, straightening her shirt and walking over to a couple that he could only assume were her grandparents. Mat quickly followed, catching up to her just as she threw her arms around her grandma. “Abuela, te extrañé,” she said, the sound muffled by Dolores’ scarf. She pulled back, kissing her grandpa on the cheek before stepping over to Mat, one hand placed reassuringly on his back. “Abuela, abuelo, this is Mat, my boyfriend.”

Mat stuck his hand out, shaking theirs. “Mr. and Mrs. Cabrera, it’s so amazing to finally meet you. Cass speaks so highly of you, and she always talks about her summers in Hermosillo.”

Dolores pulled Mat in, embracing him from the start just as Cass had expected. “Mat, it’s wonderful to finally meet you. Cassidy has told us so much about you, it’s clear she loves you a great deal.”

Mat ducked his head and blushed. “I’m not sure if she can love me more than I love her, but I’m happy to be in such good company.”

He took both of their suitcases as Cass gestured to the sliding doors. “I want to get back to the car before they charge me for another half hour,” she said.

Mat slid the bags in the trunk of the car as Dolores got in the passenger’s seat. With a gulp, Mat realized that meant he had to sit next to Roberto. He had been perfectly nice on the walk over, but as Cass had warned him, it was clear that he was a little guarded. Whether that was just his personality or whether Mat had yet to earn his trust hadn’t been determined.

Her grandparents had been to New York once or twice before, but it had almost always been just to fly in before driving up to visit Cass’ family in Connecticut; they had never really been able to see the city. Cass felt strongly that that had to change, so she had arranged for a mini-tour of Manhattan before they got dropped off at their hotel for the night. “So, Mat,” Dolores said, turning around in her chair, “Cassidy tells us you’re a hockey player? That must be so exciting, how long have you been playing?”

Mat nodded. “Yes ma’am. I play for the Islanders, so we’re right here in Brooklyn, but I live over in Manhattan. I’ve been playing the sport since I was four or so? Really little. But I just finished my fourth season on the Islanders. And it is exciting, I love being with my team and being on the ice, it’s one of the best feelings in the world.”

“That must keep you busy, though?” Roberto asked gruffly.

Mat froze. He couldn’t lie and say that he was home all the time, able to be there for Cass as often as he’d like to, because he wasn’t. But if he let on just how often he was gone, would that make him even more wary? “Oftentimes, yes,” Mat began slowly. “The team’s usually on two or so road trips a month, they’re usually about a week long. But they’re balanced out with plenty of home games, and there’s lots of guys who balance the job with a family and other responsibilities. I’m always excited to be able to be back in New York, I love it here. And to be with Cass.” Roberto nodded, not seemingly totally satisfied but content enough to not push the issue further.

“He’s really good about spending time with me, abuelo, even though we’ve both got busy schedules,” Cass added, catching Roberto’s eye in the rearview mirror. “We meet in the morning before a class to get coffee, or lunch in between studying if I’ve got time. I go to every game I’m able to when he’s playing here in the city, or over in Jersey. We spend plenty of time together, he doesn’t blow me off. You don’t have to worry.” He seemed much more at ease with his granddaughter’s response.

It was a whirlwind three hours around New York, Cass playing chauffeur as they went to the top of the Empire State Building — her pick — in St. Patrick’s Cathedral — her grandpa’s pick — and around Central Park, stopping at one of the many pretzel carts for a snack. They dropped them off at the hotel, Cass’ eyes getting misty as her grandma pulled out the serape stole from her purse. Her fingers danced over the colors, the stripes of red and blue and pink and green, and knowing that it was made by the hands of someone so important to her made it all the more beautiful. The rest of her family was driving in later that night, after Nick got out of school, so everyone wouldn’t be together until the graduation ceremony the next day.

The couple decided to get takeout on the way back to Mat’s apartment, Mat jumping out of the car to run in and pick up the order while Cass circled the block until he was out. As they sat on the couch, cuddled into each other as they broke into the boxes of Chinese food, Cass thought absentmindedly that Mat handled his chopsticks way better than she ever would have given him credit for. Her grandparents had been on her mind. More specifically, her grandparents and Mat had been on her mind. It wasn’t that she thought he had messed up in any way — she was positive he’d absolutely won over her grandma and her grandpa was slowly but surely coming around — but some lingering concerns about what they might think about their relationship. “I’m not sure that they’d actually care, but when you talk to them tomorrow maybe don’t mention how often I sleep over here? They’re wonderful people, but they’re a little old school about this stuff.”

“This stuff?” Mat asked curiously.

“Living together, sex before marriage, that kind of stuff.”

“And how do you feel about it?”

Cass raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you think you could ever get me to do something I didn’t want to do? I’m way too stubborn for that.” Mat threw his head back, laughing. “But seriously. I don’t make the decision lightly, because commitment and intimacy in that way is something really big and important to me. You already knew that I don’t do hookups, it’s just not my thing. But I can see this, us, going places. I want us to go places. And I’ve never been very good at listening to people when I don’t want to. So I’ve made my peace that my choices might not be ones everyone would be thrilled with, but it doesn’t really matter to me as long as I have you.”

Mat nodded, putting down his food to card one hand through her curls. “I get that, I do. Obviously that’s not so much the attitude with a lot of the boys, but your principles are part of what makes you who you are, and I love who you are. Every part of you.” Cass smiled against his neck, leaning down and kissing him on the shoulder. “I want us to go places too, I hope you know that.”

“Glad to hear.”

They ate without speaking for a few more minutes until Mat broke the silence. “Where do you see yourself in five years?”

“With you,” Cass answered honestly. “Here, or we could get a nice brownstone over in Brooklyn.”

“Somewhere with a yard,” Mat mused.

“Yeah, a yard would be nice,” Cass agreed. “I’d like to get a dog, I’ve always grown up with dogs and it would be nice to have someone to keep me company when you’re gone.” Her family’s two dogs, Patches and Scout, were back at the house in Connecticut, and on more than one occasion, Cass had made the two-hour drive up just to see them. She paused, glancing down at her hands. “In five years? You’d better have put a ring on my finger by then, Mat. I’ll be almost thirty. Approaching old maid status”

Mat laughed, an easy, breathy sort of laugh that somehow erased all of the tension in the room. “I think you should double-hyphen.”

Cass looked at him doubtfully. “Cabrera-Shaw-Barzal? Yeah, I’m going to have to pass on that one.”

He shrugged, the corner of his lip pulled up in a half-smile. “Just saying. It’s got a ring to it.”

“Have you given much thought to what you’d want to do with your name when you get married?” Mat asked curiously. It really didn’t matter much to him, since it would ultimately be Cass’ decision, but he didn’t want to assume anything regardless. And it didn’t escape Cass that he said when, as if it was certain, as if it was a given. The surety made her heart flutter.

Cass shook her head. “Not particularly. On one hand, I do like the idea of the whole family having the same name. It seems nice. Unified. But I don’t want to feel like I’m erasing my culture and who I am just because I’m getting married. And all due respect, chou,” Cass poked Mat’s cheek, “but Cabrera Shaw’s the name on my degrees. Cassidy Barzal didn’t go to law school.”

“Very fair,” Mat said with a chuckle.

Cass took a deep breath. If it seemed like they were having the “future talk,” she figured it was best to go all in. “Do you want kids?” she asked, tentatively, hesitantly. It was obvious that Mat was good with kids, she’d seen as much, but being good with kids and wanting children of your own were two very different things. Cass had wanted to be a mom since she knew what a mom was, and even though they probably should have brought up the topic earlier, she wasn’t sure what she’d do if he said no. Thank God, she never had to find out.

“Definitely,” Mat said, nodding. “Not now, obviously, we’re young and haven’t really settled down yet. If you got pregnant we’d make it work, but I don’t think either of us is looking to be parents right away. But in a couple years, once we’re married and have a proper house with space...Yeah, I’d like to have kids.” He looked over at Cass. “What about you?”

“Always wanted kids,” Cass responded fondly. “I loved growing up with siblings, and I know my parents were the same way. Two or three, I think. I’ve thought about adoption too, but obviously that’s way in the future.”

Mat kissed the top of her head. “We’ve got time.”

May 22 (sat)

The graduation ceremony itself wasn’t until noon, so Cass had more than enough time to get ready after waking up at 7. Alicia barrelled into her room at exactly 7:22, throwing a shirt at her and telling her to get dressed. Cass stumbled out of the room ten minutes later, pulling on socks and grabbing her phone from the charger by her door. “What are you guys trying to pull?” she asked, yawning and trying to wipe the sleep out of her eyes.

“Uh, we’re going to the diner, duh,” Stella said with a smile, tossing Cass her purse. “Come on! You know it fills up early on weekends.” Glen’s Diner had become an apartment staple over the past few years, the restaurant having been the first place the four of them had eaten in the city when they moved, not having bought groceries yet and not wanting to pay the premium for delivery. It was cheap, open 24/7, and Cass would swear up and down that their blueberry pancakes were the best she’d ever had.

They were seated just after 8, happily slurping coffee and stealing bites of each other’s breakfast twenty minutes later. It was a nice day and hadn’t gotten too hot yet, so they decided to walk back after finishing the meal. In reality, “going back” meant Alicia stopping to buy a new necklace, listening to a busker for a few minutes, and petting no fewer than five dogs on the one-mile walk. There was still plenty of time before they had to leave for the ceremony, but after Cass did her makeup and tamed her curls, there was just enough time to watch an episode of Parks & Rec before having to actually get her stuff together. Not as flexible as she once had been, Ryanne helped zip up the back of her dress, a white lace bodycon from her sorority days that she had definitely worn to at least two semiformals. Hey, Cass thought as she straightened her hemline, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

She had ironed her robe and put it into a dress bag the night before, and gently folded her school stole and the serape from her abuela into her purse. Mat’s necklace hadn’t left its place since Valentine’s. Her dad’s parents had given her a beautiful pair of pearl studs for her undergraduate graduation, and it felt only right to wear them for her next step. She fastened the ankle straps on her heels, and popped her head out to the living room. “Everyone ready?” She was met with a chorus of “yeses,” and grabbed her keys from their dish by the front door.

“Let’s go get our girl graduated!” Alicia hollered into the street.

The girls had originally objected to Cass driving herself to her own graduation, but relented as soon as Cass reminded them that she was the only one who knew where to find the free parking, and the rest of them only drove sedans. “Cheryl has way more room. Y’all want to be cramped on purpose?”

“Fair point,” Stella had said begrudgingly.

Exactly twenty-six minutes later, Cass pulled into a spot about two blocks away from the arena where she would be graduating in an hour’s time, hugging each of her friends as Ryanne handed her the dress bag. “You’re going to kill it in there,” she said, rubbing her back.

Cass laughed. “Ry, all I’ve got to do is walk across a stage without tripping.”

She shrugged. “It’s a fine art that few have mastered.”

Cass entered through the side, flashing her ID to the security guard standing by the door. Half an hour later, everyone had been ushered into their seats, carefully arranged in alphabetical order. For the most part, Cass was friendly with everyone in her class; if they weren’t outwardly hostile to her, she saw no reason why they deserved anything other than kindness, but was relieved to see Robin sitting next to her. “You excited?” Robin asked, brushing a piece of her auburn hair behind her ear. The lobby doors must have opened, because as she asked, crowds started to mill into the seats, waving at anyone who would catch their eye.

Cass bounced her head. “I am, but it’s kind of surreal, you know? I knew we’d get to this point, obviously. It’s what we’ve been working towards for seven years, really. But the idea that it all essentially comes down to this…”

“An hour, a few handshakes, and a piece of paper,” Robin helpfully supplied.

She nodded. “Yeah. It’s almost anticlimactic in a way? Like sure, we’ve got our JDs after this, but knowing we’ve still got to pass the bar. We’re not over the finish line yet.”

“Columbia has a 97% pass rate, and you’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met, Cass. And I’ve spent three years surrounded by the smartest people I’ve ever met.”

“Fair,” Cass said, “it’s just kind of a weird feeling, you know?” Robin nodded. “And plus, for most of us, we’ve pretty much spent our whole lives in school. Aside from positions as summer associates, or part-time jobs and internships, we don’t really know how to do anything other than school. It’s just a little bit of a daunting thought to suddenly feel like we’re being thrown out to the wolves without really knowing what to expect.” Cass’ phone, which she wasn’t technically supposed to have but had snuck in anyways, chose that moment to buzz with a text notification. It was from Mat.

Met up with the crew! Can’t wait to see you walk across that stage, Cass. I love you and we’re all so proud of you. Mat had attached a photo of everyone she had brought with her — both sets of grandparents, her parents and siblings, and roommates.

“Your boyfriend is nauseatingly cute,” Robin observed, looking over her shoulder at the message.

Cass laughed. “That’s true, but I knew what I was getting myself into.” The music started ten minutes later, and the ceremony began. If Cass was being honest, she didn’t really remember much of anything from the first half of the ceremony, before the conferral of diplomas. She was so excited and nervous and unbelievably ready all at the same time that all she recalled from the dean’s speech and the student speeches were vague comments about their “awesome responsibility” and “duty to pursue truth and justice” and “commitment to fight for what is right over what is easy.”

As soon as she realized it, her row was being ushered into line to receive their diplomas. “Cassidy María Cabrera Shaw.” She heard her name, but really had no clue who had spoken it. The dean? One of her professors? As Cass walked up the steps and across the stage, the only thing she could think was don’t trip don’t trip don’t trip. Then she was handed a diploma, flashed a brilliant smile for the photographer, and shook hand after hand after hand before walking off the other side of the stage. She was pretty sure she could hear Mat and Noah yelling their congratulations from her seat on the floor.

Having a name towards the front of the alphabet meant that Cass was almost always called on quickly in class, or on roll call, or at graduation, as the case was. But that meant that she had to sit, quietly and politely, for the other four hundred names to be called. And it took awhile. After Robin Cahill came Wesley Coleman, then Samuel Cogswell, then Fiona Chan. Cass didn’t mind having to sit through the whole thing, especially when Fiona, Les, Samaira, and her other friends crossed the stage — she cheered as much as anybody — but it was a long time to be sitting in a folding chair and the thousands of people packed into a small space didn’t help her temperature regulation.

There was the benediction and congratulations, and then the recessional of the graduates. Graduates, Cass thought. She was a graduate. She had finished, she was done, she had accomplished the one thing she wanted most to do since she was a little girl watching Legally Blonde for the first time, looking at Elle Woods and thinking I can do that. And she had. Her feet carried her to the back room of their own accord, where she picked up her bag and was engulfed in a flurry of hugs, congratulations, and kisses on the cheek from her friends, the people who she had spent countless late nights in the library with, bar hopping to celebrate the end of finals, and afternoons on each other’s apartment couches, yelling fact patterns at each other and trying to come up with an analysis before the timer went off.

Following the stream of sky blue graduation gowns, Cass walked outside, waving at her family when she spotted Eliana hanging off of a lamppost in the courtyard to get a better view. Her sister nearly tackled her as she made her way to the group. “Cass. I already knew you were brilliant, and I still think you’re the smartest out of any of us,” she gestured between the two of them and Noah, “but now you’ve got the degree to prove it. I’m so proud of you.”

Noah was next. “You worked hard, and I know how badly you wanted this. You’re a really good sister.” He wasn’t usually a big talker, and Cass’ eyes definitely got a little misty as he spoke. He had verbally committed to Minnesota State the week before, and Mat might have been more excited than even Cass when he heard the news. It was an incredible program that had a serious track record of sending players to the NHL, and she was so proud to see her little brother doing what he loved. Her mom and both grandmas were crying, as expected, and Grandpa Joe wrapped her up in a hug as soon as he got the chance.

Mat had been hanging towards the back of the crowd, not wanting to feel like he was intruding on family time, until her dad nudged him forward. “Go say hi to your girl, Mat,” Patrick said.

“Will do,” Mat said, squeezing Cass’ hand and pressing a quick kiss to the top of her head. “Sometimes it blows my mind how incredible you are,” he said. “Everyone’s already said how smart you are, and every bit of that is true. But you’re so much more than that, you know?” His thumb rubbed over her hand. “You’re beautiful, and curious, and you always keep me on my toes. You’re so passionate about your work, and you’ve got the biggest heart out of anyone I know. You’ve never met a person you didn’t want to help. And I promise I’m not biased just because I’m in love with you.”

Cass gave a watery laugh, blinking and thanking God she had the foresight to wear waterproof mascara. “God, I love you, Mat.”

Her dad had always been the picture type, insisting on documenting every waking moment. He was the living embodiment of “pics or it didn’t happen,” for better or worse. He took a few of her with her law school friends, then Alicia snapped one with just her immediate family, then there was one with everyone. Cass also got a picture with Mat, where he was bending down to kiss her, the tassel on her mortarboard just barely brushing his nose. Then she was in one with all of the seniors on the law review, and a friend pulled her away for a few with the Latinx Student Association. By the time they finally managed to tear Patrick away from his camera, it was time to head back to the hotel and get ready for dinner.

Mat got Patrick to send him the photo of him and Cass, and was about to post it on Instagram when he hesitated. “Hey, is it cool if I post this?” Mat said, showing Cass his phone. Most people knew who she was, and he had posted pictures of her before, but they had never been this obvious, this clear, this real.

“Go for it.”

Mat pressed post. So, so proud of my incredible girlfriend @casscshaw for graduating law school. You’re one of the smartest, most empathetic people I know, and you’re going to make an amazing lawyer.

Cass grinned, a big, genuine smile as she was surrounded by her family, the people who meant the most to her — whether they were related or not. She looked up at Mat, who was smiling softly down at her as he reached one hand up to fix her tassel. “What’s next?”

#hockey imagine #hockey smut #nhl imagine #nhl smut #mat barzal #hockey #hockey imagines #hockey writing #nhl #nhl imagines #nhl writing #mat barzal imagine #disney prince mat barzal #New York Islanders

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ragnarachael · 4 years

Text

the valiant arsonist — affection

Pairing: Loki x TVA Agent!Reader

Word Count: 1,613

Summary: Loki comes to you for some (un)professional medical assistance. While you end up rambling, you catch him staring at you.

Author’s Ramblings: it’s one of those weeks. i haven’t slept yet today (it’s currently 11:10 am as i write this actually) and man. i missed TVA. so, i’m breaking my own promise with myself and posting this series kinda out of order since i can’t follow my own timeline. but, you get soft content so who’s complaining! (and yes once i sleep, i’m updating my masterlists it’s been a time and a half here at HQ.)

Warnings: reader is basically tending Loki’s wounds. why does most of my Loki content revolve around that?

LOKI TAGLIST: @sadwaywardkid @myraiswack

MASTERLIST ! FEEDBACK ! AO3 LINK !

Your Friday nights were slowly becoming nights where you practiced your medical skills thanks to Loki. He didn’t trust the nurses at the Med Bay for anything.

He only trusted you.

You really knew you were close with him when he told you about his true parentage. You wished you could say your research prepared you for it, but nothing really could. But you weren’t scared. You were quite intrigued when his pale skin started to fade into a blue shade while his eyes slipped into an evil shade of red while marks grew onto his skin.

You were glad he had someone he could rely on. You didn’t expect it to be you to gain his friendship after he joined the agency to regain his freedom, but you didn’t question it. You let him in your apartment with open arms - as well as an open first aid kit in hand.

Like tonight, for example.

Mills was assigned a tougher mission than usual for his team. It took a lot longer to plan an attack than you had thought. You saw the answer clearly, but it wasn’t your place, considering you’re on Love’s team. Loki was the key.

Well, more like the bait.

It angered you to even admit what he was in the plan you overheard some agents talking about it. Loki shouldn’t be considered bait. He was a person just like anyone else on the damned team.

You didn’t see Loki until late that night. Even though it had been three hours since he was back from the mission, he looked to have showered properly, changed out of the agency clothes and into more comfortable, baggy attire than the tight fitting jeans and clingy fabric of the collared shirts that were required.

He looked... attractive. You shouldn’t be thinking that when he’s holding his side tightly with a pained smile when you answer the door.

“I’m in need of some assistance.”

You smiled wide, easily stepping aside to let him in. “Allow me to assist you.”

Loki let out a pained huff of laughter before he practically limped in and over to your couch where you already had your kit and a glass of water waiting. The water did have ice a mere 30 minutes ago; the fresh condensation was clinging to the glass since you had yet to turn your air down to make it cooler in your apartment.

“Make yourself as comfortable as you can, I’ll turn the air down so you’re not sweating,” you said quickly once you shut and locked the door behind you, carefully stepping around Loki to get to your thermostat.

However, Loki was quick to reach his free hand out to grab your wrist.

“I’ll be fine. Just—” Loki let out what sounded like a sigh mixed with a groan “—please work your magic.”

You felt your face heat up then, both feeling his hand on your skin and at the fact he called your slight medical training magic. You nodded and gestured to the couch.

“I’ll get some of the rags and I’ll get to work. Do what you’ve got to do.”

It was routine at this point. Within a few minutes you had the last bits of what you needed before you found Loki shirtless on your sofa, still holding his side that had what looked like a red piece of cloth.

It took you a moment to process that the cloth most definitely wasn’t originally red after you tried to avoid taking in his shirtless form.

This was... new territory.

“So what happened?” You questioned gently, sitting near his injured side carefully. Loki grimaced as he shifted, waiting for your hands to relive his own from holding the drenched cloth.

“There is a reason as to why I would rather work alone than with a team.”

You didn’t need to push further and decided to get to work rather than question further on Loki’s night.

The gash was long, not too deep, but deep enough to where the bleeding had been close to stopping thanks to the pressure Loki must have applied to it. It even looked like he had already had it patched up. Once again, you didn’t press as to what he had done before this. You didn’t really want to know. All you wanted was to patch him up and offer your ear if he was up to talking.

Momentarily, while you focused on stitching his wound, you found yourself just.. taking in his physique.

He was toned. Far more toned than you had thought to imagine. You always assumed he was lean, and just didn’t have any muscle for show. However, as your eyes took in his relaxed muscles where you could notice the light outline of his abs as he breathed, you realized that wasn’t much the case.

You remembered occasionally admiring Loki from afar—purely because of boredom in the workplace—and noticed that his arms certainly had some bulk to them.

You bit your lip from the memory before going back to focusing on the task at hand.

“How was your day?” Loki questioned lightly after your look over of his body. You barely shrugged as you gently pushed the needle through his skin.

“Okay. Did some research on Doctor Doom again. Realized that I would rather curl into a ball and cry than encounter him.”

Loki couldn’t help the chuckle slipping out from his lips as his head fell back.

“That sounds horrific.”

“It was!” You exclaimed lightly, not letting your eyes move from your task. “He could control my mind. I don’t need that.”

“Mm,” Loki replied quietly.

You stopped stitching when Loki asked to shift around a bit, grabbing the rag you were using to gently dab at the blood that was still dripping down his skin.

“Did... Did you win?” You questioned suddenly. You let your eyes look up into his as he let his left arm stay over his head so you could keep your access to his side.

Loki took a deep breath before exhaling slowly.

“In the end? Yes.”

“That’s... good,” you determined. Loki nodded and continued to reposition before he gave you the go ahead to continue your work.

It was comfortably quiet between the two of you. You tried to work quicker to get the rest of the pain out of the way for him. He probably wasn’t in too much pain as a regular mortal would be, but you still worried.

Thankfully, you finished stitching without having to rethread the needle and found yourself talking about any and everything. You mentioned the dogs you had seen from the window at your meetings for the day. You talked about how your co-worker Jamie had broken up with her galactic boyfriend she wouldn’t shut the hell up about.

You even started to talk about those cute cat sticky notes you found hidden in some drawer of your desk.

“And they were just sitting there next to some old files I didn’t archive! There were a few black cats and some tuxedo cats—” You cut yourself off when you looked up at Loki after gently disinfecting the area for good measure to catch him already looking at you fondly.

He seemed entranced by what you were saying. And you were just talking about cat sticky notes. There was some emotion in his eyes you couldn’t quite read as he slowly sat up, the space between you slowly lessening.

You noticed his eyes flickering down towards your lips the same time yours did.

That’s when you realized oh, this is happening. Like, really happening.

You swallowed heavily as you tried to properly prepare yourself, feeling your heart speed up suddenly as you felt Loki’s hand land just a few inches away from your thigh as he shifted his body to face yours a bit more.

He was practically pining you to the armrest of your sofa, and you certainly didn’t mind it.

“Is.. Is this alright?” He questioned quietly, his lips just barely brushing over your own. You let your eyes peek at Loki’s lips, noticing just how soft they look up close.

God, yes.

You heard Loki let out a soft chuckle, ducking his head down gently so his nose just barely brushed against the tip of your own. You didn’t need to ask that he heard your thoughts loud and clear in that moment.

Thankfully, you didn’t have time to be embarrassed. Loki took that as his cue to lift his head back up and press his lips to your own.

Your eyes did widen out of shock momentarily before fluttering shut and leaning into the kiss, your hand sliding down the expanse of his side that didn’t have the stitches in. You found that your hand easily anchored on his hip right where the elastic of his sweats lay.

His lips against yours felt wonderful. They were as soft as they looked, and you couldn’t get enough of it.

Loki’s hand finally found it’s way up to rest on your waist rather than supporting his weight on the sofa cushion as you felt his teeth nip at your bottom lip.

Before you could grant him access to anything past that, you found yourself pulling away, your chest heaving with deep gasps of air as you kept your eyes closed, completely content with the actions you and Loki had just done.

Loki was breathing just like you were, his thumb rubbing against your side over the fabric of your shirt gently. You didn’t hesitate to let out a giddy laugh as you leaned forwards to press your forehead to his own.

“Could we do that again?”

#loki x reader #loki layfeyson x reader #loki odinson x reader #loki odinson imagine #loki laufeyson imagine #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki imagine #loki drabble #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine #marvel drabble #marvel writer #tva #rachael writes

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ofelvie · 4 years

Text

joe keery. cis male. he/him. ／ elvie croft just pulled up blasting spooky boy by danny gonzalez — that song is so them ! you know, for a twenty - four year old youtuber, i’ve heard they’re really scatterbrained, but that they make up for it by being so loyal. if i had to choose three things to describe them, i’d probably say 80s horror, buckets of halloween candy, and blurry photographs of mysterious figures in the woods. here’s to hoping they don’t cause too much trouble ! ( sam, 23, est, she/her )

hey there demons! *ba dum tss* my name is sam and i’ll be writing elvie, a brilliant harvard law graduate who threw away any shred of credibility he ever had in order to make silly videos on the internet. more info under the cut. feel free to message me if you would like to plot!

i. stats

𝖋𝖚𝖑𝖑 𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖊: elvin tupelo croft

𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖋𝖊𝖗𝖗𝖊𝖉 𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖊𝖘: el, elvie, the ghost guy

𝖍𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖙𝖔𝖜𝖓: salem, massachusetts

𝖉𝖆𝖙𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖇𝖎𝖗𝖙𝖍: october 31, 1995

𝖟𝖔𝖉𝖎𝖆𝖈: scorpio

𝖔𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓: demisexual

𝖔𝖈𝖈𝖚𝖕𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓: lawyer youtuber

𝖕𝖔𝖘. 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖎𝖙𝖘: loyal, open - minded, exuberant.

𝖓𝖊𝖌. 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖎𝖙𝖘: scatterbrained, obstreperous, impulsive.

𝖎𝖓𝖘𝖕𝖎𝖗𝖊𝖉 𝖇𝖞: shawn spencer, psych ; fox mulder, the x files ; stiles stilinski, teen wolf.

ii. history

elvin tupelo “elvie” croft was born in salem, massachusetts ( yes, really ) on halloween day ( yes, really ). an only child, his father is the district attorney for essex county, massachusetts while his mother owns a store in town that sells witchcraft supplies such as crystals, herbs, grimiores, etc. fun fact: she’s the descendant of an accused witch, meaning that elvie is as well.

as it turns out, beneath of the surface of the few tourist attractions that it has to offer, salem has a small town, stuck in the past vibe. it’s the sort of place where everyone knows everyone all their lives because no one ever leaves and no one ever moves in. he grew up in this...eccentric...environment, living in the same house all his life and only ever leaving to visit his grandparents in boston.

he was five years old when he saw his first horror movie ( an apathetic teenage babysitter let him stay up long past his bedtime to watch nightmare on elm street ) and from that moment on he was HOOKED.

when he started school, two things about him became apparent: 1) he was highly intelligent and 2) he struggled greatly with tasks such as sitting still and staying focused. he was tested, and it turns out that he has a through the roof genius level iq and he also has adhd, which he was put on a few different medications for until something finally seemed to work for him.

he could have been one of those child prodigies who finished high school at the age of ten and then college at the age of fourteen, BUT his parents decided that they didn’t want him to miss out on the experience of going through school with people his own age.

as the smartest kid in class with glasses and braces and an insatiable obsession with all things horror and halloween, he…was picked on. mercilessly.

so, he didn’t really have any friends...............................at all.................................but he didn’t mind. he was perfectly content to go right home after school and spend the rest of the day reading comic books or watching horror movies or researching local urban legends and paranormal stories.

he started his youtube channel when he was a teenager and it was…trash honestly. it was basically buzzfeed unsolved if buzzfeed unsolved consisted of one ( 1 ) dorky teenager yelling at the air in the middle of abandoned house at 3am, but it turned out that people found it entertaining. his first few videos were flops, but he would soon start amassing subscribers in the hundreds, then thousands, then hundreds of thousands.

so, when he got to his senior year of high school, he was a shoe - in to be named class valedictorian ( he was ) and he was even getting ivy league offers. at the same time, his youtube channel was starting to gain momentum. his parents mainly his father were really pushing him to attend college and elvie, genius level iq and all…didn’t want to go. he wanted to focus on his youtube channel, but his dad was absolutely not having it.

he attended harvard for both his pre law and law school studies, breezed through classes, graduated with honors at the top of his class and once he passed the bar exam there were countless job offers waiting for him. elvie ignored them all and moved to los angeles so that he could finally focus on his youtube channel.

it’s been almost two years since he moved and he likes it in california!

iii. extras

his name is elvin but basically no one ever calls him that. his own parents don’t even particularly like the name. long story. most people call him elvie and some who are super close to him just call him el.

while he is the “ryan” aka the believer of his youtube series, he’s definitely NOT a scaredy cat like ryan the poor guy. in fact, all his life there’s been this running joke that HE DOESN’T SEEM TO BE SCARED OF ANYTHING, and who knows? maybe he isn’t.

has the most cartoonishly exaggerated boston accent that one could ever hope to hear, except he doesn’t seem to realize it at all.

10/31 blaze it he’s a HUGE stoner.

he’s got jokes. stay vigilant.

he’s OBSESSED with all things horror, halloween, and 80s. he makes a lot of film references that are often so obscure that most people don’t even catch them.

he is legally permitted to practice law in the states of massachusetts and california, so basically: he’s a lawyer! however, this is not at all common knowledge because...

most people don’t know how smart he actually is because he intentionally plays dumb and he’s really good at it. being high all the time and his natural chaotic energy is quite helpful in hiding his intelligence. he just doesn’t like to be seen as smart, so the whole once - brilliant law student thing? not common knowledge whatsoever. he tries not to mention the college he attended by name at all, but if he has to then he lies and says that he went to salem state.

and yes, he has SO MUCH chaotic energy. he’s the kind of person who will stick a fork in his microwave just to see what would happen out of sheer boredom. he has two pet mexican redknee tarantulas that probably aren’t even allowed on campus named freddy and jason who he just…fucking loses track of every other day. his favorite drink is literally black coffee mixed together with a can of monster energy and 5 ( f i v e ) teaspoons of sugar. he is c h a o s. he has absolutely NO IMPULSE CONTROL whatsoever.

he has slight Daddy Issues™. slight. when he was born, his dad was hoping that he would get a star athlete kid who would go on to follow in his footsteps and one day become a successful, respectable lawyer but instead he got…elvie. he’s never outright said that he’s disappointed but he didn’t need to. elvie’s a really difficult person to rattle but every time, without fail, he ends a phone call with his dad and he’s in a bad mood for the rest of the day.

his car is this PIECE OF JUNK giant turquoise van that he painted to look like the mystery machine. her name is laurie strode.

even though he makes constant pop culture references about horror movies and the 80s, but outside of those areas he’s completely clueless about pop culture. like, he can recite the entire scripts of the shining and empire strikes back and ferris bueller’s day off word for word, but if someone tried to talk to him about the new post malone song or the latest marvel movie he would just stare blankly.

he has a HUGE sweet tooth. his favorite food is halloween candy and his favorite candy is black licorice disgusting i know.

he takes adderall for his adhd and he’s usually good about keeping up with it. started keeping them on his person in college because he realized that his meds were getting stolen and it’s a habit he's held onto that doesn’t really keep his shit from getting stolen.

.he’s good at…A LOT of things because he’s a really fast learner. he can play the guitar, he can draw, he did drama in high school. he just has to watch someone do something once and then he can usually immediately do it himself. this skill doesn’t extend to physical activities such as sports, however. he’s terrible at those.

he’s basically a cartoon character

iv. wanted connections

friends

cousin ( their grandparents would probably be from boston but otherwise anything really goes for this )

his weed dealer lmao

smoking buddies

people who don’t like him / find him annoying

has stolen his adderall

maybe someone who knows how smart he really is

exes and flings

( these are just ideas and i’m trash at coming up with these, so please don’t feel limited by what’s listed here. )

#excess:intro #drugs tw #medication tw #that one picture of oscar isaac.jpeg

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elviefm · 4 years

Text

is that [JOE KEERY]? no, that’s just [ELVIE CROFT]. [HE/HIM] is [TWENTY-FIVE] years old and is a [NIGHT JANITOR AT CURTAIN CALL]. rumor has it they’ve been in town for [ONE MONTH]. on a good day, they’re [JOCUND & PERSPICACIOUS]. but watch out! they can also be [SCATTERBRAINED & OBSTREPEROUS]. [SCRAWNY BY WALLOWS] plays in my head whenever i think of them. can’t wait to see them around Springhill! [sam, 23, est, she/her]

hey there demons! *ba dum tss* i’m sam and this is one of my favorite muses ever so without further ado, character info is under the cut and please message me if you would like to plot!

i. stats

ｆｕｌｌｎａｍｅ：elvin tupelo croft

ｐｒｅｆｅｒｒｅｄｎａｍｅｓ：el, elvie, spooky guy

ｈｏｍｅｔｏｗｎ：salem, massachusetts

ｄａｔｅｏｆｂｉｒｔｈ：october 31st, 1994

ａｇｅ： twenty - five

ｚｏｄｉａｃ：scorpio

ｏｒｉｅｎｔａｔｉｏｎ：demisexual

ｏｃｃｕｐａｔｉｏｎ：night janitor at curtain call movie theater

ｐｏｓ．ｔｒａｉｔｓ：jocund, perspicacious, loyal, open - minded.

ｎｅｇ．ｔｒａｉｔｓ：scatterbrained, obstreperous, flippant

ii. history

elvin tupelo “elvie” croft was born in salem, massachusetts ( yes, really ) on halloween day ( yes, really ). he's an only child and his father is the district attorney for essex county, massachusetts while his mother owns a small local business that sells witchcraft supplies such as crystals, herbs, grimoires, and more. interesting fact: she’s the descendant of an accused witch, meaning that elvie is as well.

as it turns out, beneath of the surface of the few tourist attractions that it has to offer, salem has a small town, stuck in the past vibe. it’s the sort of place where everyone knows everyone all their lives because no one ever leaves and no one ever moves in. he grew up in this…eccentric…environment, living in the same house all his life and only ever leaving to visit his grandparents in boston.

when he started school, two things about him became apparent: 1) he was highly intelligent and 2) he struggled greatly with tasks such as sitting still and staying focused. he was tested ( a few times, much to his irritation ) and it turns out that he has a genius level iq and adhd.

HOWEVER, as the smartest kid in class with glasses and braces and an insatiable obsession with all things horror and halloween, he…was picked on. mercilessly. he never had many friends, but he was content to go right home after school and spend the rest of the day reading comic books or watching horror movies or researching local urban legends and paranormal stories.

so, when he got to his senior year of high school, he was a shoe - in to be named class valedictorian ( he was ) and he was even getting ivy league offers. of course, his parents mainly his father were really pushing him to attend college and elvie, genius level iq and all…didn’t want to go. he had a van ( a turquoise monstrosity painted to look like the mystery machine ) and he just wanted to drive. alas, his dad was absolutely NOT having it.

he attended harvard for both his pre law and law school studies, breezed through classes, graduated with honors at the top of his class and once he passed the bar exam there were countless job offers waiting for him. elvie ignored them all and finally embarked on that road trip he had been meaning to take.

he’s been on the road for about a year now and he’s traveled all over the country. he often breezes into a town or a city, lives in his van, and takes up some odd jobs to squeeze a few dollars out of before he inevitably gets fired for messing up or not taking the work seriously or getting high on the job. he arrived in springfield a month ago, continuing his pattern or having fun and exploring somewhere he’s never been before.

iii. extras

BIG RYAN BERGARA ENERGY. a huge believer in the paranormal and urban legends, and one of his favorite things to do when he goes somewhere new is check out the local cemeteries and haunted locales. unlike ryan, the poor guy he’s definitely NOT a scaredy cat in fact, all his life there’s been this running joke that he doesn’t seem to be scared of anything, and who knows? maybe he isn’t.

has the most cartoonishly exaggerated boston accent that one could ever hope to hear, except he doesn’t seem to realize it at all.

10/31 blaze it he’s a HUGE stoner.

he’s got jokes. stay vigilant.

he’s OBSESSED with all things horror, halloween, and 80s. he makes a lot of film references that are often so obscure that most people don’t even catch them.

he’s a lawyer! at least in the state of massachusetts. however, this is not at all common knowledge because…

most people don’t know how smart he actually is as he intentionally plays dumb and he’s really good at it. being high all the time and his natural chaotic energy is quite helpful in hiding his intelligence. he just doesn’t like to be seen as smart, so the whole once - brilliant law student thing? not common knowledge whatsoever. he tries not to mention the college he attended by name at all, but if he has to then he lies and says that he went to salem state.

and yes, he has SO MUCH chaotic energy. he’s the kind of person who will stick a fork in his microwave just to see what would happen out of sheer boredom. he has two pet mexican redknee tarantulas named freddy and jason who he just…fucking loses track of every other day. his favorite drink is literally black coffee mixed together with a can of monster energy and 5 ( f i v e ) teaspoons of sugar. he is c h a o s. he has absolutely NO IMPULSE CONTROL whatsoever.

his car is this PIECE OF JUNK giant turquoise van that he painted to look like the mystery machine. her name is laurie strode.

even though he makes constant pop culture references about horror movies and the 80s, but outside of those areas he’s completely clueless about pop culture. like, he can recite the entire scripts of the shining and empire strikes back and ferris bueller’s day off word for word, but if someone tried to talk to him about the new beyonce song or the latest marvel movie he would just stare blankly.

he has a HUGE sweet tooth. his favorite food is halloween candy and his favorite candy is black licorice disgusting i know.

he takes adderall for his adhd and he’s usually good about keeping up with it. started keeping them on his person in college because he realized that his meds were getting stolen and it’s a habit he’s held onto that doesn’t really keep his shit from getting stolen.

he’s good at…A LOT of things because he’s a really fast learner. he can play the guitar, he can draw, he did drama in high school. he just has to watch someone do something once and then he can usually immediately do it himself. this skill doesn’t extend to physical activities such as sports, however. he’s terrible at those.

he’s basically a cartoon character

iv. wanted connections

best friend from salem who travels with him *will probably submit as a wc

friends

cousin ( their grandparents would probably be from boston but otherwise anything really goes for this )

his weed dealer

smoking buddies

people who don’t like him / find him annoying

i know there are a lot of business owners so : people he worked for who have since fired him for being an all around awful employee.

has stolen his adderall

maybe someone who knows how smart he really is

romantic connections!

( these are just ideas and i’m trash at coming up with these, so please don’t feel limited by what’s listed here. )

#springhillintro #bullying tw #drugs tw #medication tw #tl;dr what if shaggy from scooby doo was a real person

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eliscroft · 4 years

Text

[ joe keery, cis male, he/him ] have you seen ( ELI CROFT ) hanging around? the ( TWENTY-FIVE ) year old often hangs around ( THE WITCH'S HOUSE ) when they’re not being a ( LATE NIGHT RADIO SHOW HOST ). i’ve been told they’re ( LOYAL ) but ( SCATTERBRAINED ) and when i look at them, i see ( 80S HORROR, BUCKETS OF HALLOWEEN CANDY, BLURRY PHOTOGRAPHS OF MYSTERIOUS FIGURES IN THE WOODS ). wellcliff wouldn’t be the same without ‘em! [ sam, 23, she/her, est ]

hey there demons! *ba dum tss* i’m sam and i also write cal ( @calsmorgan ). much like my sweetheart jock, this spooky nerd is one of my favorite muses ever, and i hope you love him as much as i do! please feel free to message me if you would like to plot!

TWS: medication, bullying, drug mention

STATS

FULL NAME: elvin tupelo croft

NICKNAMES: el, eli, et, spooky guy

GENDER + PRONOUNS: cis male + he / him

DOB + AGE: october 31st, 1994 + twenty - five

ZODIAC: scorpio

HOMETOWN: salem, massachusetts

OCCUPATION: host of the graveyard shift, a radio program airing every weeknight in wellcliff from 12am to 5am.

FUN FACTS: fluent in icelandic, has two mexican redknee tarantulas named freddy and jason, and has a HUGE sweet tooth.

HISTORY

elvin tupelo “eli” croft was born in salem, massachusetts ( yes, really ) on halloween day ( yes, really ). he's an only child and his father is the district attorney for essex county, massachusetts while his mother owns a small local business that sells witchcraft supplies such as crystals, herbs, grimoires, and more. interesting fact: she’s the descendant of an accused witch, meaning that eli is as well.

as it turns out, beneath the surface of the few tourist attractions that it has to offer, salem has a small town, stuck in the past vibe. it’s the sort of place where everyone knows everyone all their lives because no one ever leaves and no one ever moves in. he grew up in this atypical environment, living in the same house all his life and only ever leaving to visit his grandparents in boston.

when he started school, two things about him became apparent : 1) he was highly intelligent and 2) he struggled greatly with tasks such as sitting still and staying focused. he was tested ( a few times, much to his irritation ) and it was discovered that he has a genius level iq and adhd.

he could have been one of those child prodigies who finished high school and college by the age of sixteen, BUT his parents decided that they didn’t want him to miss out on the experience of being in school with peers his own age.

HOWEVER, as the smartest kid in class with glasses and braces and an insatiable obsession with all things horror and halloween, he was picked on. mercilessly. he never had many friends, but he was content to go right home after school and spend the rest of the day reading comic books or watching horror movies or researching local urban legends and paranormal stories.

so, when he got to his senior year of high school, he was a shoe - in to be named class valedictorian ( he was ) and he was even getting ivy league offers. of course, his parents mainly his father were really pushing him to attend college and eli, genius level iq and all…didn’t want to go. he had a van ( a turquoise monstrosity painted to look like the mystery machine ) and he just wanted to drive. alas, his dad was absolutely NOT having it.

he attended harvard for both his pre law and law school studies, breezed through classes, graduated with honors at the top of his class and once he passed the bar exam there were countless job offers waiting for him. eli ignored them all and finally embarked on that road trip he had been meaning to take alongside his best friend.

they unexpectedly settled in wellcliff about a year ago after getting their hosting gig at the local radio station. ( basically, they were working as interns for some extra cash and the regular hosts called out of work at the last second, so eli and his best friend were shoved into the booth and told to think fast! ) they were a literal overnight success and so they were offered a regular hosting gig at the station.

the graveyard shift is a radio program that airs every weeknight from 12am - 5am in the wellcliff area and on apps such as iheartradio. eli hosts the show alongside his best friend and they discuss topics such as the paranormal, conspiracy theories, and all things spooky.

PERSONALITY

a HUGE believer in the paranormal and urban legends, and one of his favorite things to do when he goes somewhere new is check out the local cemeteries and haunted locales. however, unlike his real world counterparts zak bagans and ryan bergara he’s definitely NOT a scaredy cat in fact, all his life there’s been this running joke that HE DOESN’T SEEM TO BE SCARED OF ANYTHING, and who knows? maybe he isn’t.

10/31 blaze it he’s a HUGE stoner.

he’s got jokes. stay vigilant.

he’s OBSESSED with all things horror, halloween, and 80s. he makes a lot of film references that are often so obscure that most people don’t even catch them.

he’s a lawyer! at least in the state of massachusetts. however, this is not at all common knowledge because…

btw yes, he has SO MUCH chaotic energy. he’s the kind of person who will stick a fork in his microwave just to see what would happen out of sheer boredom. he has two pet mexican redknee tarantulas named freddy and jason who he just…fucking loses track of every other day. his favorite drink is literally black coffee mixed together with a can of monster energy and 5 ( f i v e ) teaspoons of sugar. he is c h a o s. he has absolutely NO IMPULSE CONTROL whatsoever.

he has a HUGE sweet tooth. his favorite food is halloween candy and his favorite candy is black licorice disgusting i know.

he takes adderall for his adhd and he’s usually good about keeping up with it. started keeping them on his person in college because he realized that his meds were getting stolen and it’s a habit he’s held onto that doesn’t really keep his shit from getting stolen.

he’s basically a cartoon character

WANTED CONNECTIONS

best friend from salem who travels with him * wc on the main

friends

paternal / maternal cousin ( paternal cousin’s grandparents would probably be from boston + maternal cousins grandparents would probably be from salem )

his weed dealer but they gotta have the really good shit

smoking buddies

people who don’t like him / find him annoying

has stolen his adderall

maybe someone who knows how smart he really is

romantic connections!

these are just some base ideas and i’m definitely open to brainstorming!

#wellcliffintro #medication tw #bullying tw #drug mention tw #all brief but stay safe!#he's one of my most developed muses so this is v long and ramble - y

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empressxmachina · 4 years

Photo

“Desperate Times” by Imperial-Radiance

Read its corresponding excerpt, “Syntrophy”, on DeviantArt or Wattpad, as well as below!

Syntrophy: "the phenomenon that one species lives off the products of another species, [wherein] the growth of one partner is improved or depends on the nutrients, growth factors or substrate provided by the other partner", as opposed to Symbiosis: "any type of close and long-term biological interaction, obligatory or optional, between two different biological organisms, be it mutualistic, commensalistic, [amensalistic, competitive, predatory,] or parasitic.

An esper of sorts, seemingly against her will, wanders various worlds and locales, with that instability pushing her to be more-or-less exiled from her home. She eventually finds herself on Earth on occasion where her supernatural outbursts there grab the attention of a certain 'public health service', or so they called themselves, that wants to research her.

Bartering times and areas of freedom in her lonesome for it, she accepts, and life goes on.

Sometime later, in an overly prideful, post-outburst, solo excursion amid a storm, the mystic is stuck weakened, soiled, and in need of sustenance by the acts of nature. Not in condition to survey and scrounge the surrounding land for plausible flora or fauna, the wills leading her lead her back to a familiar spot: a human’s home.

Having frequented the trash since her first pop-up there, she knows the victuals left by the owner, while usually few, are generally more than satisfying. However, her wounds and aches take prominence over her hunger, screaming that she needs medicinal care immediately.

By her own choices, going back to the Service or someone from it finding her before collapsing are both impossible. Her fair awareness of Earthly customs pushes her to assume that gaining sympathy in her state is hard to come by. So, she decides to use her last bits of attainable psychic energy to go out-of-sight, shrinking herself to go through a vent to go inside the house.

She is, in no way, an expert on the floor plan or the dweller of the place, but she knows where rooms are, where pipes and wires lead, and, most importantly, where what she needed probably is. Persevering through pain and the coldness of metal on her soles and palms, she makes it up to the second floor where a particular bathroom was: one that, at some point, had a first aid kit.

Peeking through the grates, able to see in the dark, she's relieved to see she's alone in the expanse though confused by a slight scent of something burning. Squeezing through the lattice-like wet clay, nonetheless, she wedges a hand through the slit in an above cabinet door, opening it enough to scan for the kit or any loose fixers but finding none.

Sad at first, she then remembers the routine, distant sights from the yard of the faceless human in the window. Them always finagling with a kit but never overtly storing it builds the assumption that it’s right atop the counters up high. Having nothing else to go on and little energy to do much else, she is off and up, scurrying past the cabinets and scaling up the corner where the sink counter and the jacuzzi tub met with ease.

The sides only become slick when her friction breaks from distant vibrations. Heavy shakes that last only a few seconds but increase each moment, building to a peak when the wall that is the bathroom door slams open, letting light in.

The ridge the little lady scaled is in direct view of the doorway, and she hangs rigidly on its top edge, staying turned toward the wall to not catch the entering human’s eyes. As panicked as she was, especially after spotting out her eye corners the dirty trail she had been leaving, the figure walking through paid it and her no mind, passing her by. Her internal screams, induced by fear and pain, were soon drowned out by her involuntary host’s having more important needs to care for, signaled by a sudden stream of water behind her and a complementing sigh.

A blush runs to the petite paranormal’s face at the implication but not as quickly as the blood flooding out of her outstretched arms. As her appendages and organs grow numb from overworking and malnourishment, her goals and grievances return to her. Quietness is key, and she is the blacksmith. The kit was too close for her to come this far and not retrieve it. Thus, her trek restarted with a swift swing up and onto her feet.

She lands with a wet plop onto the top of the tub, luckily light enough to not distract the distant dude from his draining. Even luckier, the final slope bracing the countertop hides her completely as she steps across waves of towels to meet the facet and mount it, ultimately, again, encountering another clifftop to overcome. The risk of being seen is now at its peak, understanding that the human can’t spill forever, and she’d be out in the open, but so is her chance of collapsing… to then be found later.

Just a lick of a painkiller could be enough of a catalyst for her to at least teleport to the Service, and she sees enough of a red bag over the horizon to know something rehabilitating was there for her. Anything is good, in her state, and anything goes when she has nothing to lose.

***

A guy of curious background goes day-to-day, juggling life between class at med school and work at a research institution tied to it. Each day has a different difficulty with a different purpose: organize the library, classify the prepared slides, make sure the phantom doesn’t electrocute the network again.

Many of the examined subjects, both living and literary, catch his eye. Some do more frequently than others; one, in particular, he has only caught from a distance and only infrequent seconds at a time. When trying to read up on them during breaks, none of the collected data ever adds up, leaving him intrigued yet unknowledgeable.

The day before an exam, he finds himself pulling an all-nighter for studying. Having his head deeper than normal in work did no favors for keeping in his book-learning. But reteaching himself the last few weeks’ lessons does nothing for his sanity or his boredom.

Chugging energy drinks. Plucking an old pillow. Finishing a puzzle or four. Straightening out his curls for the fun of it. He did whatever he could to not listen to the soothing rain outside and keep his head up.

The drinks keep him awake but not without rushing through him like a river. As morning develops from being just a technicality to more of an absolute, his dam gets closer to bursting. Eventually, holding it becomes too much, and he has to step away from his desk.

Step, of course, meaning run, so an early laundry load won’t need to be started.

The floodgates open, and release joins the party as he reaches the bathroom, allowing all of life’s worries to vanish for that moment. He can go to sleep. He has done enough studying. He won’t get bitten at work again. It was just him, and the world was his oyster.

The last drops exit his system, and he resets himself to return to his room. His hands wangle with his pants and hoodie as he turns around, initiating a series of unrest at a surprising sight.

An uninvited guest has joined him in the bathroom: a small person on the counter. They fight and paw through his first aid kit, disheveled and frustrated. In a search for something, they move forward, looking up ahead and then at his head up above. They gasp; he gasps. They back away, only to fall out of sight off the counter’s edge. A pair of tiny thuds breaks the silence.

He runs to see the fallen visitor, pausing after catching the thin filth trail by the vent. He looks to the towels, hoping it worked as a cushion for their tumble. There, he finds more mess… and a new stripe of scarlet across the rose-lily-shaped dish being used as a weight on them. A minor whimper escapes him at the implication for a major wheeze to replace it, finding the outcome.

The small scavenger lies unconscious in the oceanic tub, redness draining from them and blending much too well with the stains already on their unfortunately familiar person. Redness rushes to the larger onlooker’s face; he can’t feel luckier to be in a bathroom.

#g/t #my art #my writing #syntrophy #desperate times #giant male #sw

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thorne93 · 5 years

Text

Stan Lee University (Part 2)

Prompt: What would the Avengers be like in college, more importantly, what would they be like if Y/N existed around them?

Word Count: 1002

Warnings: drama, language, betrayal

Notes: This is based on a HC from @carryonmyswansong. They helped brainstorm and write part of this series. In this AU, no one will have powers, everyone is a normal human. Beta’d by @carryonmyswansong

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Day two - Tuesday.

This day was going to be easier. Only two classes. You could handle this. One was an elective, the other was another major requirement.

First up -- British Literature.

You were excited about this class, as you always were about every class. It was a chance to learn, to gain knowledge about the ever growing world. Plus, you’d always loved to read and you wished you were more well versed in British Literature. What a better way than to sit with others and discuss works on end?

You sat down in the small, cozy classroom, pulling out your syllabus and looking it over for questions when a guy sat down right beside you. It was odd, seeing as he could’ve chosen from several open seats that were left. You lifted your head to look at your new neighbor.

This was a familiar face, but not one that you knew personally. You’d seen him around campus before, but never had a class with him. He seemed rather… reserved.

He had medium raven dark locks, that was cut just a few inches above the shoulder, his skin pale as snow, and edgy blue eyes. He wore a dark green shirt with black pants, accentuating his form. At first glance, he appeared lanky, but when you actually looked at him, he had defined muscle mass, making him lean.

“You could just take a picture,” the boy suddenly said, reading through a book, not taking his eyes off the page. He had an accent that was alluring.

You blushed and averted your gaze, apologizing. “Sorry. I uh… I just don’t know you and I pretty much know everyone on campus.”

“I know who you are,” he responded, still not looking up.

“Oh?”

“Yes. You’re Y/F/N. President of the Pre-Med club, and you’re extremely plucky,” he said in an almost annoyed tone, finally lifting his eyes to meet yours.

“How do you know all this?”

He redirected his attention back to his book. “My brother is on the football team, he plays with the captain which I believe is a good friend of yours.”

“Oh, Steve. Yeah. Who’s your brother?”

“Thor, do you know him?” he asked, his tone exhibiting boredom.

“Thor… Oh, yeah! I’ve seen him, sure. Long blonde hair?”

“That would be him,” he replied, his eyebrows raised, nodding barely.

“Oh very cool. You two don’t exactly… seem to have a lot in common,” you remarked tentatively.

“You mean because he’s tan, golden, and muscular? And I’m pale, tall, and dark haired?” he asked curiously.

“Because you’re quiet and Thor is literally one of the loudest people I’ve ever met,” you said with a small laugh, remembering the one time you’d met him after a game.

“That’s because you’ve never seen me in a play,” he retorted.

“Play? Are you a theater major?”

“That’s what it says on my transcript,” he replied.

“That’s great! I would love to see--”

“Alright, folks. I’ve got 9:45, let’s get started,” the professor interrupted in a loud voice, quieting everyone down. He glanced to you, put his book down, and gave his attention to the front of the classroom.

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

“So what are you putting on this semester?” you asked when class ended.

“The Crucible,” he answered, seemingly happy that you seemed interested in his passion.

“Oh! That’s one of my favorites. So… you know my name, can I know yours? You know, so I can see it on the playbill?” you asked, hoping you weren’t sounding too forward.

“I’m Loki,” he informed, slightly turning to you, a tiny smile on his face.

“Well nice to finally meet you. I’ve see you around and clearly you know about me so…”

“Yeah… I’m pleasantly surprised by this,” he agreed.

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

The next day, you decided to get to know Stephen some more. He seemed like someone you could get along with. As soon as class ended, you tried to strike up a conversation with him.

“Hey,” you said, jogging to catch up with him as he flung his backpack over his shoulder.

“Oh, hi,” he greeted politely.

“Hey, I was wondering, uh, what’s your major?”

“Technically biochemistry, but I’m just doing that to line up with pre-med. You?”

“Same. Well, not the biochem,” you corrected, getting flustered.

“Oh? So, pre med. Chem major?”

“Nope.”

“Biology?” he asked, peering at you.

“Wrong again,” you said with a coy smile, your blush still coloring your cheeks.

“Physics?” he questioned, incredulous as he frowned.

You laughed. “No, I used to be. I’m psychology now.”

“Ah, okay. A psychiatrist. That’s…” he said, trailing off, as if he didn’t know what to make of the profession you’d chosen.

“You must think it’s stupid,” you said, filling in the blank. Enough people had told you your dream job was stupid, that all that schooling to be a shrink seemed crazy, that you should just get your Ph.D… You’d heard it all before.

“No, no. I didn’t say that… I just… I’ve never met any psych-pre-med majors.”

You let out a small laugh again. “Yeah, kind of like a unicorn.”

“You do know your coursework load would be lighter if you just switched to biology or chemistry, right?”

“I know,” you said. “But then I would have to minor in psychology and something else. I thought I should minor in things that don’t mean as much to me, instead of the other way around.”

“That’s… optimistic,” he tried, unsure if that was the word he should use.

“Thanks!” you said cheerily. “Anyway, I ask, because if you’re pre-med, I happen to be president of the pre-scripts club,” you informed.

“Why does that not surprise me?” he asked, squinting, tilting his head.

“Well, if you want to come, we’re meeting next week. I could bring you a flyer or something on Friday?”

“Uh… yeah, sure,” he answered, seemingly on the fence.

“Great. Cool. I’ll see you around!” With that, you sprinted away, trying to ignore the way your heart was hammering in your chest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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Bucky Barnes

@nedthegay

@lostinspace33

@alwayshave-faith

@elleatrixlestrange

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@lenawiinchester

@its-not-a-tulpa

@esoltis280

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@buckybarnesappreciationsociety

@howling-at-that-moon @sneakygitsune @whiw0lf

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SLU

@eagleandthebutterfly

#stan lee university #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #stephen strange x reader #stephen strange #loki x reader #loki

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reddogf13 · 5 years

Text

Between two Voids ch 3

Pennywise x Beverly

summery: It has been 12 years since Beverly was last in Derry. now 26 years old and returning with her boyfriend she strives for a life of normalcy in the small town. Unaware that a certain stalking creature has awakened much earlier than expected. Looking for a challenge to cure its boredom ,in the now crumbling town, IT aims to uproot her life as much as possible. Yet, is that really such a bad thing given her dark situation hidden from all but the eyes of a world eater?

status: complete

rated: M - fowl language and gore

prev chap: Between two Voids ch 2

next chap: Between two Voids ch 4

_____________________________________

~ch:3 Collapse ~

Beverly was shaking on the floor holding her carved side tightly. Blood seeping out from between her fingers to cover them in a slick red.

"get up!" Erik shouted down at her. She didn't want to, but thinking of the consequences of if she didn't had her standing anyway. Blood oozing out with the moment of the wound spreading open further. She flinched away by another swing of the knife. A reflexive block with her arm preventing a second gash to her chest. Leaving behind a deep gouge over her forearm instead.

The sound of the red liquid hitting the floor in a large amount alarming Beverly. Gut telling her to get away before more blood was forced out of her.

She backed away from him with her uninjured arm reaching to get the bus door open. Erik fiercely approached with knife at the ready. Beverly bashing her side into the door in forcing it open. Falling out backwards when the door flew open under the second slam. Body slamming down, back first, onto the snow. Smearing red across the thin layer of white along the ground.

"you remember this the next time you don't listen!" Erik shouted from the door frame, slamming the metal door shut. Beverly being left alone to bleed on the snowy dirt.

She held her breath to prevent herself from breaking out in hyperventilation. Removing her hand to see the damage to her side. The blood pouring out the moment she raised her hand off the deep wound. Feeling lightheaded at the sight she had to look away. Clamping her hand back on the wound with the other free, but injured, one to help herself up. Looking to where she got up from there were smears of red staining the once white snow. Forming a twisted version of red snow angels.

"shit, I need stitches or gauze." she spoke with a heavy swallow. Wanting to go to a hospital, but aside from being too far she didn't want attention on herself.

"it's late, there won't be too many people around town." she thought. Holding tightly onto her side in the hopes of lasting long enough to make it to town.

By the time she did make it she had been fighting off the blurry vision. Stumbling more over actually walking down the back alleys to avoid being seen. Stopping against the wall of the rite aid to catch her breath. Back leaning against the cold brick wall with her eyes toward the sky. Seeing more stars appear with the final retreat of the sun.

"please be open." Using the wall for some support down to the front of the store. Breathing out a frustrated sigh at seeing the store dark. "of course. Always closes early for some stupid reason." Turning her head toward the back door exit, hell bent on getting in somehow. If there was one good thing about this small town, its not having to worry about alarms.

She supported herself the best she could to bash down the door with a kick. Knocking it loose from the doors lock it swung wide open with a bang against the wall. Her body locking up alongside the wave of sharp pain rushing over her body. Taking a knee to keep from blacking out in pain. Coughing heavily into her free hand with desperate gasps of air. The other smashing down on the seeping wound to keep more blood from leaking out her side.

Wheezing in a few breaths she rose back up to stumble through the broken door. Entering the pitch black building without need to turn on the lights. Going by memory of the place to move around. Unintentionally leaving a trail of blood behind her steps across the tiles. Smearing more blood onto the walls she used for support. Sneaking down the aisles until she found all the medical supplies she needed. Sitting down with the materials to the side in preparation of shutting her wounds.

Cleaning the area with alcohol, stitching everything up, finishing off with thick gauze wrappings. A sigh of relief leaving her at finishing the first aid. Calming down inside the aisle to stop her adrenaline fueled shaking. The shivering lessening for her to feel confident enough to stand again. Walking over to grab a few drinks from the fridge to chug down.

Sitting down against the fridge to relax a little while longer in the calming darkness. The only sound in the environment coming from the fridges. The two coolers blue neon lights shining across the aisle they were in. Beverly sitting to the side of them having the neon light avoiding her. She sat back up from her leaning. Feeling she was getting far too comfortable for her own good.

"I'll be screwed if I fall asleep inside a store I broke into." she mumbled. Feeling sicker when on her feet she sat right back down. Swallowing down the spit building inside her mouth on the verge of vomiting.

"yet, maybe after seeing all the blood around here they'll give me a break." chugging down more cold water from a bottle to settle her stomach. Chugging more after standing again. Slowly heading out the door with great attention on her steps to keep her balance.

Outside the junkyard IT smoothly strolled up the dirt slope from the dried creek. Walking past the rotten fencing to the yards entrance. The strong scent of blood on the wind increasing his pace. Pausing at a blood trail leading to the bus. Inner rage growing when he saw more blood by the bus door. An incredibly large amount that he knew from experience was a serious loss for a human. He stormed toward the bus knowing full well whose blood was upon the ground and who spilt the blood.

He needed to know where she was, now, or if she was even still alive. Aiming for the male in the bus with furious aggression. Ripping the back door off with minimal effort. Scaring Erik off his seat to stand in the middle aisle defensively.

"you! you working with the cops?! Trying to set me up with something else now?!" Erik shouted at him. Pulling the bloodstained knife from his back pocket.

"i only work for me. I need to find someone that you hurt." the clown spoke smoothly with a wavering grin. Eyes burning red at the idiotic human daring to threaten him.

"i aint telling you jack! fuck off!" Erik finishing his sentence just as Pennywise grabbed him, with one hand, by the throat. Raising Erik high until his head hit the buses metal ceiling. IT enjoying the males struggle for air in the choking grasp. The clowns stretched grin dropping as Erik stabbed repeatedly in a wild panic into the arm holding him.

"enough with the knife!" Pennywise growled with rows of sharp teeth bared. Yanking the knife out of his own arm to throw it right through a glass window. The blade giving off a final flickering reflection while flying far out into the darkness.

"where is she?!" he hissed up to the one he was holding.

"i-i w-who?" Erik stuttered out of fear.

"the girl! Where did she go?! Did you kill her?!" IT roared with a shake of the small human.

"no, no! i-i don't know where! Hospital maybe, to get a band aid?!" Erik blurted out.

"hospitals too far, but the pharmacy is not." IT thought. Attention turning off Erik to purely find where Beverly went. With a deep guttural growl, like that of a gator, IT tossed Erik back to land right into the barrel fire. Erik falling down to the floor with the burning contents spilling out around him. Stumbling to get up with a rush to the front sliding doors to escape the growing flames. His jacket only singed with a few holes after the tumbling throw. "shame, he didn't catch on fire." IT turned to the back door. The fire spreading along the bus seats until it engulfed the whole thing in a burning mass of red.

IT made it to the town with notice of a flashing red & blue lights across the main buildings. Passing around the walls through the pitch blackness to spy on the commotion. A police car parked by the pharmacy with officers wandering about in an investigation. Pennywise listening in, unnoticed from the shadows, on the officers conversation.

"think it could have been a drug addict?" one officer shined a flashlight at the buildings doors and through the large front windows. White light going across a reflective pool of blood on the inside. The scent IT caught of the blood across the street aggravating his sense of smell. He hated smelling blood that he couldn't eat.

"no, no real prescription meds missing. lots of blood from someone. First aid medical supplies were used in the aisle with a few drinks taken. No trail leading out anywhere. We'll have to do a patrol for someone walking around while badly hurt. Probably just some drunkard who got in a fight and decided to help himself to some stuff." the other officer spoke.

Pennywise hearing she was not caught went to track down her scent. Shifting down into the form of a large black dog. Moving quickly by, without a thought about his presence from the humans near. Running to the back door in search of a scent. Varying scents of both old and newer blood filling the small alleyway. He ran out to each end of the crossing alleys. Doubling back a few times when finding old scents to nothing at all. Rushing forward at catching a much fresher scent that slowly lead across town.

Elsewhere, Beverly was standing at the edge of a lit street. Facing the pitch black void between her and the junkyard. The way to it was not lit up like every other street. The only other light shining came from a billboard mid walk. She hated being out in the dark enough as it is knowing IT was getting closer each day.

She took her first step from the paved road onto the gravel mixed dirt trail leading off into the black. The night eerily quiet aside from her steps across the gravel. The crunch of small rocks fading with the path turning more to dirt. Hurrying her steps to reach the billboard quicker at the upcoming approach of the advertisement. Slowing back down as she heard a second set of footsteps on the gravel behind her.

She stopped and the other stopped. When she continued so did they.

"don't run." she repeated to herself to stay calm. Hugging herself when her body began to shake. Her being unsure if it was due to fear or the freezing cold. Either way she had to stop her shivering before who ever noticed. Walking past the comforting light available from the billboard to reach the, somewhat, safety of the junkyard. Jumping at a new sound from under her foot.

Without bowing her head she looked down. Seeing her reflection looking back in a broken piece of glass.

"Having broken glass is better than nothing." she thought. Coming low to the ground to sweep up a large shard into her hand. Holding it tightly from building anxiety leaving her hand shaky. An idea of how to catch a glimpse of the follower hiking her anxiety further.

Stepping forward to get far enough that the one walking behind would be in the light. Holding up the large shard of glass slightly to the side to see what was following in the lightened reflection.

Standing there was a large black dog staring toward her.

IT would look like any other stray dog if not for the yellow eyes burning through the dark.

Anger rose into her chest at seeing IT following. Beverly was not in the mood to be messed with. On top of pain, exhaustion, and feeling of being frozen all the time. Last thing she wanted was some monster terrorizing her for fun.

Subconsciously she gripped tighter onto the shard, to the point of blood being drawn, as her anger grew. Turning around to face IT with an unbreakable stare.

"what?!" she shouted toward him. The canine figure holding unnaturally still with an unbreakable stare of its own.

Yelling out had created a lack of air in Beverly's lungs. Needing her to blink rapidly to clear her blurring vision. Made worse from restricting her breathing to purposely avoid her wheezing being heard. Aiming to not look weak, she took in a deep breath to shout again.

"i know what you did! … I didn't find it funny!" pausing mid way for another deep breath. Fighting the increasing need to have a coughing fit on her burning lungs. Her shouting referring to the whole ID with meal earlier. Tension filling the air around her while waiting for any response from IT.

"he's just trying to piss me off." she thought. Watching him stand unresponsive to her angry shouts. Lack of breath having her not care so much about being followed anymore. She wanted to reach the junk yard to fall asleep. Despite whether IT was haunting the area or not.

"it's just a shitty game he's playing." she thought bitterly. Tossing the glass shard far in ITs direction as a way of telling him to piss off without need to shout it. Turning to walk again with an unsteady step that needed her to fight to regain balance.

IT stood watching her throw a glass piece over to him. Waiting until she walked off so he could approach the piece. Scent and sight of red telling him it was her blood covering it. The given object bringing up some confusion at the intentions.

"she sounds upset at how I tried setting her male of fire." he thought, thinking what she spoke about was the recent action he took. he looked over the bloody object in contemplation.

"an object of disfavor?" He knew humans would give gifts of endearment, but that tended to involve something less ... antagonistic. Meaning this was something on the opposite scale that he did not like being given. Taking it instinctively as a rejection from her with his pride being bruised.

"this will have to be fixed tomorrow." he spoke to himself. Running back to the lair to finish off the den he had worked so hard on.

Beverly walking farther in the dark with barely a care. Exhaustion hitting her too hard to feel fear in the moment. When she got closer to the junk yard she saw the red glow of a fire. Yet the glow being abnormally big seeming wrong. Furrowing her brow in confusion she rushed a little faster to the entrance. Stopping when she saw half the bus burning with the other half burnt black. A mass cloud of black smoke lightened by the fire growing off the destruction.

"Erik!" she shouted with a heavy cough at the end. Fearing that what she just said to IT had gotten Erik killed.

"where were you?!" Erik came out shouting from hiding in a rundown car. Relief jumping into her heart for just a moment until seeing Eriks anger.

"i-i was fixing m-myself. You wouldn't want police finding me dead." she stuttered, blurting out the last part to try easing Eriks anger toward her.

"you working under them too?!"

"what?!" she exclaimed. Shocked at how he could have come to that conclusion. Did the clown say something to him?

"the police, that clown that almost got me roasted in that bus! He was really looking for you! Almost choked me to death in an interrogation!" stepping into her personal space with finger poking to her chest.

"no! I don't work for them! H-hes after me! That's why I didint want to come back here!" she shouted back defensively. Rubbing over the sore spot he repeatedly poked.

"like there's a mafia here or something?!"

"yeah ..." she lied. Knowing Erik would get really pissed at her trying to explain the clown was a shape shifting man eater controlling the whole town.

"why do they want you? You're a nobody." his tone filled with disbelief.

" ...i … saw something I shouldn't have." she continued lying. Wanting to get through this so she could just go to bed somewhere.

"you saw a hit?"

"... yeah." she confirmed with exhaustion. Really not caring at this point on what she was saying. As long as it kept Erik off her back for the rest of the night.

"shit! You should have told me this shit!" Raking his hands through his hair to relieve the stress of the night.

"i couldn't! Witness protection and all that!" she lied through her teeth. Erik was so paranoid about cops he barely knew anything about them. She was going to sell this story as far as she could with him.

"shouldn't cops be protecting you then?!"

"it's not like the movies. They just drop you someplace far away." continuing her made up life. Watching Erik go off with a list of curses escaping his mouth. She tiredly rubbed her face, stopping with a hiss at spreading the glass cuts over her hand. Coughing heavily into it as she headed off to sleep in a car far away from Erik.

Curling up in the dark back seat with a shiver. Snow falling down into a heavy layer over everything in the night. The remaining red glow of the bus eventually dying off under the falling snow. Beverly waking up constantly to sweep building snow off her, or even away as it flew through all the holes in the vehicle.

She shut her eyes with the thought of someplace warmer. A nice hot sandy beach with warm clear blue water moving back and forth. The sun spreading its bright warmth over her skin. A slight cold breeze across the open sand sending a prickling chill over her skin. The warmth no longer feeling as joyful.

The nice calming beach turning to a dark stone in a freezing blackness. A burning light with the feeling of being choked forcing her to turn her head. Seeing many blinding lights swirling in her distorting vision. Mind racing on where she was or what was going on. Seeing a mountain of items in some flashes of side vision, wet walls with tunnels leading away in other parts. Moving jaws of many rowed teeth stretching wider grabbing her full attention forward again to the lights.

The glow burning brighter across her face. The increasing heat off the glow being comforting, at first, shifting further into a itchy burn. Touching her face first then spreading into her breath to scratch her throat. Flowing thickly down, equal to that of black smoke, to sear deeply into her lungs.

It was suffocating her deeper into a darkening space away from reality. The searing burn spreading throughout her body as a deadly venom would. Body fighting the burn forced into going limp to a blinding wall of light.

A sense of vision returning a moment later. A mix of darkness meeting a blinding wall of the swirling glow ahead. Futility she tried turning away from the blinding mass ahead making the illness worse. The light burning her eyes threatening to take her vision, as the sun would, when stared at directly. Body suspended away from any kind of ground in a black tar like webbing. Stiffened weakness preventing her from turning her head from the light. She held still after seeing she was not alone in this place.

From the corner of her eye she could see a large moving mass with many legs. Bigger than any building she could think of in new York. Watching it spiral around in a great curve unending into the blinding light. Maybe even out of it, there was no way to tell with no head to be seen.

"IT. The deadlights." Recalling her time here before.

Beverly twitched her body in need of an escape. Burning lungs growing desperate for any amount of air. Unable to scream out in pain no matter how open she made her airway. A growing roar sounding around her.

Thinking at first IT was mocking her. Letting out a laugh in an incomprehensible language.

Tears collecting in her stinging eyes with the recognition of it not being a low roar.

It was the screams of many joining her suffocating space.

She shut her eyes tightly in pain. Wanting the burning light to disappear or all the pain to go numb. Thoughts of the pain being an extension of ITs way of eating coming to mind. All the air space burned more than swimming under the surface of acid. Something, similar to teeth, she could not see raking against her skin. Working in frustration to get a bite past her skin.

A continuing thought that if she was silent from pain now then how much will she be suffering later to be forcefully screaming. The torture of being eaten alive for who knows how long. An eternity of this devouring suffocation would break anyone.

She arched her head back with lungs forcing through the pain for a gasp of air. The burning expanding her lungs to shove any free space out. Ribs sharply expanding with no room to shrink back.

Her eyes shot open with a opening of her mouth to breath. Coming out of her nightmare in a panic at a real inability to breath. Lungs being clogged with something, not by anything in the throat she could try grabbing for when choking. Stumbling out up against the broken car. Hitting her chest with a fist without any other idea of what to do.

Knocking something loose enough to wheeze in a deep gasp of air. Eyes watering with body shaking at finding relief. Holding her head up with the posture helping her breath easier over time.

"goddammit." she wheezed. Collecting herself to look around in answer to how long she had slept.

She groaned at the morning sun gleaming over the white land. finding it hard to appreciate the scenery when her body felt frozen. Cautiously walking around in a slow pace. Bringing up her body heat with the small exercise. Spotting Eriks footprints in the snow already heading out to town.

She coughed with a sharp inhale. Gagging on the large scent of blood off her own clothes. When the coughing stopped she looked down in examination at herself. Seeing her shirt half stained with her own blood. The trail leading down with smears criss crossing over her pants.

"i can't go around like this." she mumbled, heading off down to the river for cleaning. The water was cold enough for ice to form on its surface. However she didn't want old blood sticking around her wounds. Infections weren't so easy to fix without a prescription from a doctor.

"really don't want cops being called on me either. I have enough to deal with." She thought on her way down to Derry's main bridge. Using it as cover while she stripped of her main clothing.

Jumping into the cold river to scrub the cracking old blood off from her skin. Hopping right back out as soon as it all was gone. Redressing into her dry clothes to warm herself back up. Doing her best to dry off by sitting in the sunlight. Frost developing over the clothes growing wetter. Seeing no point in waiting any longer she started scrubbing the clothes while wearing them. Scrubbing until the stains were barely see able with her hands a sore red by the works end.

"cold, but clean." she thought. Wringing out any excess bloody water from her clothes. The cold morning air stabbing at her lungs with each breath. Another coughing fit breaking out despite how hard she tried to hold it. Taking her hand away to drop it at her side.

Bringing it back up when her mind saw something was wrong.

Her palm covered in a mist of blood. Wiping her mouth with her other hand to confirm the bloods origins. Finding that more blood was misted on her lips after coughing. Licking them to taste it for a final confirmation before wiping her mouth with her sleeve. Washing it off before it could be further stained.

She swallowed at her lightheadedness from being made aware she was coughing up blood. Sitting down to gather herself on what to do.

"...lucky me..." Thinking how she was going to fix this without a doctor.

"maybe the pharmacy has a antibiotic prescription among the medicine folders. … after my first break in the police might be watching the place. … just wait until dark to run in and … search... Every... Folder." letting out a sigh over how bad the idea was. Out of all the medication folders only one may have antibiotics. Searching would take up to at least a few good hours just for a quarter of the folders. Going over each bottle to decipher the medications name alone would take a while.

"i cant break in a second time. I need to visit the hospital." she thought, clawing her fingers into her shivering arm to make it stop.

"that's been getting worse too." she mumbled with a unsteady rise to her feet. The uncontrollable shivers increasing in time with shaking worsening to where she couldn't keep still.

"might not even be from illness. Just all the damn stress." Remembering she always did have a small shiver around Erik, no matter the warmth of the day. Holding or tensing her arm used to put a stop to it. Now it took practically clawing into it to force it still.

"to hell with Erik. I want food that's hot and I'll find someplace I can at least get warm in just by myself." turning to walk toward town. Sneaking down the small back alleys just in case Erik was nearby. Going against him was easy, but she didn't want to press her luck on him finding out.

"i hope my clothes are clean enough." she thought, looking down at the blood stains barely remaining. The lack of blood on her letting her natural scent rise freely into the open air.

The new scent revealed grabbing the attention of IT down under the streets. He crawled up to one of the storm drains to see the new scents origins. Seeing Beverly passing behind a few of the large brick building stores.

"scent of violet flowers are heavy on her." IT thought. Liking the scent much more over the bloody one.

"... she's actually in town, during the daylight?" he noted of her strange appearance. Having her barely be seen away from the junkyard as it is. If she was in the town she always had the male with her. Going off by her sneaking through the alleys he was sure she was hiding from the rival male. Which worked just fine for IT on keeping her free for himself.

The den was complete with only needing to be shown off now. Approaching her had to be done delicately. He was very aware that with his past aggressiveness she might not be too keen on him snatching her to be dragged down into a drain for a talk. He'd wait till shes fully alone to approach her, all while keeping that rival male as far away as possible.

"speak of the devil." IT muttered at seeing Erik at his usual phone booth post for pick pocketing. Walking back into the darkened tunnels toward a water drainage grate to crawl out of. Out of sight of the humans main pathway IT slipped the cover back in place. twisting his body down as soon as the cover was dropped. On the black paws of his dog form he sprinted out of the alley out onto the sidewalk. Racing straight for Erik to ram right into both his legs at full sprint. Sweeping Erik clean off his feet for some air time that ended by his body slamming down into the concrete.

"what the-?!" Erik let out a groan, looking up for the source of his falling. Sitting up when he saw a large black German Shepard with bright yellow eyes barking at him insistently.

"get out of here!" Erik shouted with a wave of his arm at the canine. Trying to shoo it away with no intent on wasting energy to chase it away.

IT momentarily stopped its barking to think of its next move. He wanted Erik to get far away from Beverly's location by being chased. Being a nuisance was unfortunately not working as well as expected. Watching Erik slowly stand with a sweep of dirt off his jacket. A look of concern going over him with rapid pats around his pocket. He looked down with IT following his gaze.

A bundle of money was sitting on the concrete where he fell. Erik didn't even get a chance to move before IT snatched up the bundle into his mouth. Dodging the heel of Erik trying to kick his face in for the money. But not backing away fast enough from Erik lunging for him. Grabbing handfuls of black fur at ITs neck. A grin spreading across Erik face at assuming he had the dog under his control.

Expression dropping to confusion as he swore the dog shouted "tally-ho!" just as it leaped forward into a full sprint. Erik was yanked off his feet with the firm grasp on the dog to be dragged down the street like a rag doll.

"weeee!" IT shrieked loudly in excitement at the fun he hadn't felt in years. Happily dragging Erik around corners, through bushes, across the tables outside a diner. Eriks grip finally dropping off when IT was prepared to ram through a thick thorny rose bush.

"credit for holding on so long." IT thought after dragging Erik down a few streets and through the park. Waiting nearby for Erik to get up.

"you furry bastard! … your going to be a new skin rug!" Erik panted heavily. Throwing the handful of yanked out fur to the side. Brushing all sorts of things off his body from diner straws to full on twigs. IT ran off down the street in lead of the chase. Finding the whole thing ironic as he was usually the one chasing.

He turned down a narrow brick alley. running to the very dead end of it with a final skid to a halt. Turning around to face Erik who had a grin stretched across his face.

"cant get away now." Erik mocked as he approached. Towering brick walls surrounding all sides except the one he was approaching from. Barely a foot of space to squeeze by with the only thing between them being a small drainage hole only 4 inches wide in round circle. Eriks victorious laughing dying down as the dog went up to the small drain to shove its face down with some cracking noises.

More sounds of bone breaking down with the dogs body going limp. Twisting down the small drain with a final loud pop of suction. Leaving Erik standing there alone with the most shocked expression. He wasn't sure whether to be angry that the dog got away with his money or concerned at seeing a dog go down a small drain like a melted smoothie.

"boy that was fun!" IT was thrilled at how far he got Erik away. Getting back in a quarter of the time to see what Beverly was now doing. Checking by each drain opening for a glimpse of her. Unable to see her, but catching her scent from a diner. Keeping to his dog skin, he twisted out from the small street drain while no one was looking. Hurrying across the street to slip in through the door as someone went out. Slipping past any staff with ease around the many booths lining the place. Finding Beverly sitting at a booth in the very far back of the diner.

Sitting with her head resting on her arms. Staying far away from any windows just in case Erik walked by. Eyes closed to regain some energy. Warmth of the kitchen near by making it difficult to stay awake. Sitting up with the sound of a cup being set in front of her.

"your hot coffee." the waitress smiled. The smile returned with one back, along with a small thank you. Beverly adding the amount of extras into her drink to perfection. Swallowing the hot liquid with a few gulps. Wanting to drink it hot to help her pained lungs relax. The hot drink doing just that with honey lemon suppressing her coughing fits.

"mm, forgot what coffee tasted." she hummed at the thought. Relaxing into the booth with joy at the current moment. Hot coffee with a bowl of oatmeal coming alongside a plate of bacon omelet.

Still holding the wad of money in ITs mouth he decided to put it to use. Looking for a few things needed to set something up at the front counter. Taking a few napkins from atop the table he was hiding under. Moving down with them to hide near the front counter. Grabbing a pen from a jar with a paw twisting into a hand for writing.

A waiter standing near the front turned at the ring of a bell. Seeing a black dog standing with front paws on the counter, money with a note hanging from its mouth.

"... hey Chris!" the waiter called for his manager at the sight. A man in a suit walking up to the person calling. Looking over to where he was pointing at. Spotting the dog, then the noted money it had. Walking over to cautiously take it from the dog's mouth. Pulling the napkin from the crinkled money.

"put half toward the bill of the redhead in the far back booth. The rest is a tip for staying quiet about this." the note had written across it. Counting the money out had the tip coming to a full $50. with that, the manager wasn't going to ask any questions. Telling Beverly's waiter to put the rest on her bill. Knowing everything was in order IT rushed back out the front door.

"okay, you have $34 on your tab." the waiter happily announced to Beverly. The price almost making Beverly choke on her coffee.

"what?! Everything wasn't that expensive!"

"oh, no, not your bill. Your tab, $50 was added to it, after your meal you still have $34 dollars to spend." he clarified.

" … whered the 50 come from?" curious, but not wanting to look too far into the mouth of a gift horse.

" secret admirer?" the waiter shrugged. Beverly's curiosity growing more, but she shoved it to the side.

"another cup of coffee, please, with a plate of strawberry pancakes, extra bacon, and sausages." she added. Craving something sweet that wasn't purely a dessert. The waiter nodding as he wrote the items on a ticket. Leaving for a moment to return with the coffee pot to pour another drink for her.

"things are going too well now." Beverly thought. Mind turning to how she was going to deal with Erik later. Shed be gone far past sun down, maybe not returning till morning after a nights stay at the hospital. "what if I just don't come back? ..." The hospital was half way between main Derry and its town border. She had money for a bus ticket to get her a few hours away from this town. Erik would have no idea where she went. Ceasing her thoughts at her body shivering again. Clawing into her arm to keep still. Taking deep breaths to relax enough for her body to go still.

"maybe waiting is a bad idea. … I wouldn't get far without food." she swallowed. Walking was turning into a burden for her. Her lungs couldn't gather as much air as they used too. Shivering again when she remembered the bloody coughing.

"finish the food and get out." she thought, picking up the fork as her body went still again. Carefully eating her meal with gulps of hot coffee. Her rush to leave dying down alongside the food getting closer to being finished. Sitting there with only a cup of coffee left to finish.

She looked down into the dark liquid. Putting a stirring stick into it to mess with. Half of her not wanting to leave the lighted warm building for the snowy cold waiting outside. It didn't really matter that most the day was gone. No matter how early she left shed be walking in the night at some point.

"want anything else?" the waiter asked.

"no thanks. I'll finish this off and leave." she raised her coffee cup.

"you still got 15 dollars left on your tab." the waiter informed.

"keep it." she finished off her cup. Walking out to face the slow falling snow. Squinting at the sun being far past its noon position.

"i won't reach the hospital for a couple hours. Longer if this snow starts getting higher than a foot along the highway." kicking a pile of snow out of her way. Wheezing in a stinging cold breath of air. Holding back on a rising coughing fit. She didn't want to end up out of breath before her walk could even begin.

IT saw her walk out of the diner from its waiting spot at the corner. Having had large amounts of fun messing with Erik throughout the day. Stealing any other money he made in the dog skin. Eventually making him so paranoid he grew wide eyed at at any black dogs walking by. The fun unfortunately ending with Erik returning to the junkyard empty handed.

IT held to its canine form to follow her. Considering now to be the best time to approach. She was completely alone with the town falling to sleep under the approaching night. ITs train of thought disrupted when he saw her heading down the long stretch of highway. The only place out on that road was the hospital.

IT kept as close as he could without being seen. Paying attention to any little noise he made in the snow. Wondering why she was heading to a building treating the ill. The answers coming up during the long walk as he observed her. She shivered strongly with lots of coughing. Him catching the small scent of blood on the wind after she stopped each time. The appearance of her body temperature growing dangerously low.

Forcing himself to stay back was becoming hard while watching Beverly struggle with her illness. Should he approach now to take her back to the nest? The space was made to be a lot warmer than the snowy outdoors. It would risk Beverly's health further declining under the stressful meeting. He only knew a few facts on human illness and he could not recognize what she had. For now he would stay back for her journey to the hospital to go undisturbed.

The time she took to stop for air escalating over the hours. Body requiring her to stop at every other tree to catch her breath. Vision blurring with black creeping in at the edges. Shivering becoming a problem for her to walk steady enough in the snow.

IT shifting from its canine form to stand by as the clown. With how badly this walk was going he had to speak with her. Sensing what little body heat was on her she was going to die soon. That, he couldn't allow. Despite her possibly panicking at his forwardness on taking her someplace else.

She wheezed in some air through her sleeve being used to keep her breath warm. Looking down the road with a growing hollowness. Negative thoughts seeping in on her current position.

"can't walk back, but I can't go forward any more. How much farther is the hospital? I haven't seen a sign in a while." she spoke with a shiver. Unaware that something overheard her. Getting up from her leaning spot on a tree to trudge through the snow to reach a lone street lamp not that far. The lone metal lamp by a destroyed call box having been run over long ago.

"heh, cant call a ride." she chuckled darkly at her situation. In the middle of nowhere, on her way to a hospital, with only herself. Her body tiredly slipping down from a standing lean to a crouching one. Forehead resting against the metal pole in a futile attempt at removing the doubling vision. Black filling more and more of her vision with a great layer of numbness taking over her body. She closed her eyes for a moment. Readying to accept the exhaustion she had been fighting for so long.

"Beverly ..."

she shot her eyes open at the voice. Looking into the frosted reflecting poles metal.

the clowns silhouette standing not too far behind her. Bright eyes glowing yellow within its black shape.

Finding some last sliver of strength she unsteadily stood back onto her feet.

Her mind circled around scolding herself for letting this happen. Wanting to stop her bodies shivering to not look so helpless. Wanting to face him without needing something to lean on. Regretting not grabbing any sort of weapon for this scenario.

Regretting that she thought this plan was going to work at all.

Beverly tensed at him stepping closer. The sound of snow crunching leading to her thinking if that was what her bones breaking would sound like.

"i have to face him … even if I can't do anything. … I will not die cowering against this pole." she thought, taking in a wheeze of chilled air. Carefully positioning her hands to slowly stop leaning on the pole. Reaching a point she was fully standing without it. The numbness in her body forcing her still. Black vision swarming in far too fast to react with a fog of sleep.

#It (2017)#pennywise #beverly marsh #beverly still kicks pennywise's ass #between two voids ch 3 #12 years after movie #pennywise x beverly marsh

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