#flying road debris | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

paintyoureyeswithavividmind · 11 months

Text

close to home | chapter five

plot: Daryl and the reader experience a bit of trouble on the road before arriving at the prison, where the reader gets quite a surprise

series masterlist

Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon x f!reader Word Count: 1,881 Warnings: violence, blood A/N: thanks for reading!

It was silent as you and Daryl drove through the old deserted neighborhood. The sun was steadily rising, and it was already warm; the day would be warmer than usual, and you wanted to die at the thought. You’d already moved your hair into a ponytail, and sweat was sticking your shirt under your arms.

You directed him to get onto the northbound extension and were soon flying down the road. The wind whipped around your hair, and every so often, you looked back to check on Tora. You wouldn’t hear her meowing over the wind, but you knew she was. You chuckled as you turned around, lifting your feet on the dash.

“What?” Daryl asked you.

“Nothing, it’s just been a really weird twenty-four hours.” You said, looking up at the clear blue sky. There was no sign of the storm last night.

Five minutes later, though, you believe that thought jinxed you. Half burnt from a lightning strike, a huge pine tree lay across the double-lane highway. Pine needles and debris from the storm covered the asphalt. You sighed loudly and unstrapped. “I don’t think we can move this ourselves,”

Daryl gave you a look that told you he didn’t get your sarcasm again and moved to get out of the car.

“Damn guard rails won’t let us drive on the grass,” He swore, spitting onto the ground.

“We can double back to the past exit,” You said, jumping down and walking towards the tree. “Poor guy,” You looked sadly at it.

“Poor us,” Daryl corrected you.

You rolled your eyes and were about to say something when those familiar groans caused your stomach to drop. You went to grab your machete, but you’d stupidly left it in the car.

“Your four o’clock!” Daryl yelled.

You turned around and saw about half a dozen dead ones roaming out of the forest. “Ah, shit,” You cursed, looking around for any weapon. There was a branch the size of your forearm on the right, and you grabbed it just as one of the dead ones reached you. You quickly dodged it, hitting the back of its knee with the branch and then ramming it into its head. When it dropped dead, you saw Daryl handling three alone and another two headed toward you.

You barely had time to react to the second dead one dropping to the ground, half its brain missing and dead on the ground, when the other one slammed right into you. Your head hit the ground with a smack as you held off the dead one with your forearm.

“(Y/N)!”

The branch had been knocked away, and you reached for it a few times before accepting that it was out of your reach. You groaned loudly and struggled against its strong arms. When it was alive, he must’ve towered over six feet.

“Daryl!” You yelled.

“I got ya,”

The head was pulled back, and a knife went through its skull. Blood dripped down on your face, and you winced, trying desperately to pull yourself out from underneath the heavy, decaying body.

Tora’s high-pitched wail caught your attention, and you looked up to see a walker bending into the car, reaching for the carrier.

“No!’ You screamed loudly, running towards the dead one. You collided with it and went flying down. With its attention on you, you quickly pinned down its arms with your legs and grabbed its head, pulling as hard as you could. With a sickening crunch, its head came clear off and went flying in the opposite direction.

With the body not a threat, you moved toward the car to check the carrier, which was completely undisturbed. You sighed with relief and then noticed the blood coating your hands. When you turned around, Daryl was staring at you.

“That was close,” You said, reaching into one of the bags to grab a water bottle and two of the only towels you have. After quickly washing away your face and hands, you handed the towel to Daryl, but he shook his head.

“Gotta hit the road,”

***

Turning back around added another twenty minutes onto your trip, but you quickly started to recognize where you were. Your stomach tightened in nervousness, and you picked at the dried blood in your fingernails.

Daryl seemed to pick up on your anxiety. “Don’ gotta worry. They’ll be cool with ya, might have to feel ya out first but it’ll be good. We need more people to help. We got a man who got bit the day before last. He might not wake up. We need more.”

You nodded but didn’t say anything. The sun was now high in the sky, beating down on you. Sweat was dripping on the bridge of your nose. The wind helped, but it was like blowing hot air on you.

“I trust you, Daryl,” You finally said, “It’s the others I’m worried about….” He nodded but didn’t say anything. “Next exit. You’ll probably know how to get there from here.”

You were right; once off the exit, Daryl knew how to return. Your stomach twisted in more anxiety, and you felt like you were going to throw up. As the prison tower came into view between the trees, you wanted, more than anything, to turn around and go back to the treehouse. But that was well over twenty miles away, and you and Tora nearly died getting here.

The gates appeared, and Daryl honked the horn a few times. You saw a kid at the gate who hesitated briefly before opening them up. Daryl slowed the car to a stop and glanced at you. “Be aight,”

You said nothing before slowly getting out of the car and looking at the kid. His gun was locked and loaded, but it wasn’t raised.

“Who’s this?”

“Your father back? Glenn and Maggie?” Daryl asked.

The kid hesitated briefly before nodding, “Got back early this morning. They are getting ready to go out looking for you. Who is this?”

“I’ll look the gates up. Go get your dad for me.” Daryl said.

The kid tossed Daryl the keys and eyed you carefully before taking off up the hill and toward the prison. You swallowed thickly and went to check on Tora in the back. She must be getting warm with the hot sun on her in the carrier. “I know, baby. I’m sorry.” You softly cooed to her.

A sudden commotion at the gate caused you to freeze, and you heard a few people yelling. You turned around to see guns raised at you. You took a step forward to block the carrier with your body.

“Aight, aight, everybod’ calm down,” Daryl said, moving to stand in front of you and the man with the gun. “Rick, this is (Y/N). She was in the town when we lit that fire, scavenging for supplies like us. Probably woulda run into her too. I saw her runnin’ out and thought she was you from a distance. We got pushed further and further away, damn walkers were everywhere,”

Rick didn’t say anything as he stared at you, clicking the gun. “Why’d you bring her back, Daryl? You know what we gotta do.”

“Nah, not this time,” Daryl said, “She saved my life. She helped me. She a good person, Rick. She got supplies, medicine, man,l and she got food. She was gonn’ be a doctor before.”

You leaned against the car, watching two other guys with guns. They were following Rick’s lead. You looked back at Rick, who was still staring at you.

“This was her car. Her supplies. She brought me back,” Daryl said, lifting his hand to lower Rick’s weapon. “She’s aight, I wouldn’t bring her back if I didn’ think so.”

“Glenn?”

Everyone’s attention turned back toward the woman walking down the dirt hill. A rifle was squared on her shoulder, but when she saw you, her steps stilled. “(Y/N)?

Your eyes widened as you realized who was standing there. Your mouth opened but no words came out. Hot tears pricked your version and you wanted to take a step forward but there were too many guns on you. “Maggie.”

Maggie dropped her rifle and ran past Glenn and Rick, throwing her body onto yours and hugging you tightly. Her body shook with sobs, and your wall of anxiety fell, and you wrapped yours around hers.

“Can someone please tell me what’s going on here?” Rick said impatiently.

But you and Maggie ignored him, and she pulled away, looking at your tear-soaked face, and grabbed your shoulders. “I tried to call you guys a million times. Atlanta fell so quickly, and I couldn’t… I didn’t know how to… I thought you were…”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” You said, “I did too,” You pulled her in for another hug before your eyes widened, and you looked back. “Beth, Uncle Hershel, Annette…” Your voice trailed off.

“The farm was overrun. Beth and Dad are here. We’re the only ones. What about you? Liam?”

Your eyes dropped, and you shook your head, “He died saving me, Mags,” You cried, “We were cornered. I couldn’t get to him… he got torn apart right in front of me,”

Maggie immediately wrapped her arms around you and tried to shush your sobs. “It’s okay, it’s okay. You’re here now.”

You took a deep breath, and it felt like you were alive again for the first time. Like you weren’t some animatronic that did all of its daily tasks because you were designed to, not because you wanted to.

“Maggie,”

At the sound of her name, Maggie took a step back and looked toward her family. “This is my cousin (Y/N). Her dad is the older brother of mine. She’s family. Lower your weapons.”

There was a bit of hesitation, but they finally did. With the commotion mostly over, Tora made her presence known and meowed loudly, demanding to be let out.

“Oh my God,” Maggie laughed, “Of course you got the cat.”

“Damn near died for it today, too,” Daryl said, the first to intrude on you and your cousin’s conversation. “It’s a good cat. Knows how to hunt.”

Rick approached the car and looked around skeptically, unsure what to think. He poked and prodded through a few things before opening a box with the baby supplies you’d brought. He pulled out a onesie and looked at you.

“Daryl told me you got a baby comin’,” You said, “I can’t imagine it’s easy finding stuff like that. I wanted to make sure I had a piece offering,”

Rick stared at you briefly before turning to Daryl and nodding once. “Let’s get these supplies inside. I’d like to hear more about how you and Daryl met if that’s alright with you,”

“Rick, she’s family,” Maggie said, “We grew up together, I trust her.”

“It’s okay,” You said, glancing between them. “I’ll answer anything you want to know. After I see my cousin and uncle.”

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl x y/n #daryl x reader #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixion x reader #daryl x you #daryl x female reader

442 notes · View notes

theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction · 2 months

Text

Imagine waking up on Sakaar to find Loki trying to help…

The last thing that you remembered was Thor being struck down by the Obedience Disc and the Hulk leaping into the air but you couldn’t quite make out if he made impact… what happened?

Then you remembered feeling a pain from your own disc before blacking out. The sting wasn’t there but you were feeling something else, something warm and light against your chest…like a cloth?

And another flashback of the sharp debris flying in your direction after Hulk missed Thor rocked you awake.

You opened your eyes and saw raven hair and a familiar set of green eyes, brows furrowed with concentration. The face was attached to the hand that was cleaning the wound on your - currently very bare - chest that was only partially covered by a blanket.

You sat up immediately and clutched the thin sheet against your body with one hand. First, you were very clearly not clothed in any aspect. And second, you’ve been separated from the one friend you counted on and locked in a room with your twice-fake-dead-on-and-off-again lover.

Scrambling out of the bed, your other hand was stretched out to keep Loki at bay who had moved closer to try and calm you.

“No, no, no. I can’t be here.” You said quietly.

Loki shook his head and took one step forward. When he saw you move backwards to maintain the distance, he stopped. “You are and you’re injured. If you would just let me-”

“I need to find Thor.” You cut him off and looked around the room for some clothes. Noticing some garments at the foot of the bed, you walked towards it and winced when your ribs started to protest.

Loki’s eyes widened when he realised that you were planning to defy the grandmaster and stage an escape. A dangerous feat in this place.

“You need to stay here and recover.”

Holding the Sakaarian clothes in your hands, you looked to the dark-haired prince. “Turn around.”

Loki couldn’t help but soften his expression of concern and smiled. “It’s nothing that I haven’t seen before.”

You cursed internally as memories flooded back of tender moments with him under the stars where he’d be most at peace. But you quickly pushed those thoughts back knowing that if you dwelled for too long, you were certain to forgive Loki. And if there was one thing that you wanted it to make his road to forgiveness after all the deceit long and hard.

If Thor had heard you, he would laugh in your face knowing that you could never commit to a plan where Loki was involved. Instead of speaking the thoughts aloud, you rolled your eyes and started towards the door, clothes and blanket in hand.

“I’m going to find somewhere else to get dressed. Surely there’s a guard who could let me…”

Loki jumped forward and took hold of your elbow. “Alright, fine! I’ll turn around just please, don’t leave.”

~ More imagines here ~

#theladyofmanyfandoms #theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction #gif is not mine #loki imagine #imagine loki #loki fanfiction #loki x reader #loki laufeyson imagine #loki laufesyon x reader #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #mcu x reader

128 notes · View notes

agoodfictitle-shadowban · 9 months

Text

From Vormir, With Love - Part 1

Summary: As you're being chased you crash on Vormir. So far, so bad. But things take a turn when you come face to face with a marooned Black Widow.

Tags: strangers to lovers, love in space angst on earth, slavery mention, alien abduction, post Endgame, will add as we go on

Word count: 3.4k

A/n: I hate tumblr and its stupid shadowban function, but i love you guys too much so here you go! Hope you like that one

Taglist: tbd

You look up from the helm, where the lights are flashing warnings. Shit, that's bad, you think, the thrusters are about to die.

"Y/n! You need to finish that shit NOW!" You hear the voice coming from behind you, a metallic clang the only indication that your co-captain is trying to keep your spaceship afloat. "The thrusters are gonna crash in two minutes, top!"

Definitely bad, you remarks uselessly in your mind. You almost look back to tell her that you're doing your best but the ship shakes under a new hit from the enemy, and so, you keep your mouth shut for now.

"Alright, alright…" you mutter as you navigate closer to the planet.

It's a barren rock with bodies of liquid across the land, and a sun constantly eclipsed. You'd never been here before, but as you approach, you feel a profound dread knot in your stomach. You ignore the feeling and focus on the descent.

You feel the winds change around the ship as the resistance increases, and you find cover from the next burst of lasers that breaks some rocks clean off. You're far from it already when the rumble of the mutilated landscape reaches your ears. You fly through a narrow pass before the opportunity you were looking for presents itself. You shot two blasts towards the ground where steam escaped from rocky cones. The crusty dirt flies around you and heavy plumes of steam escape from everywhere under the sudden pressure and destruction, offering you cover and scrambling the heat sensors of the enemy ship. You make a brutal turn to face them once you reach the other end of the geysers' field, and as it appears in front of you, you fire, destroying it and flying through the debris it leaves behind.

"Hell yeah! June! Have you seen that?!" You turn around, and your eyes go wide when you notice black ashes appearing in the cockpit. As it happens, the thrusters start to fail.

"We're gonna crash, Y/n, look at the damn road!"

"There are no roads in the sky!"

There is screaming, and you manage to stabilize your ship before it finally crashes. You groan, feeling like every bone in your body is about to break, and you look around you.

"Everyone okay?" You ask, and you're answered by various sounds and confirmations that no one is hurt. "Perfect. Now." You get off your seat and unholster your blaster, pointing it at the head of one of the newly appeared people. "What the fuck just happened?"

The newly appeared people you don't recognize, but you know what they are. Aliens. Slavers. And now the question is: will you have to fight for your life, because those assholes look very well equipped, better than you and June after you spent years in space with little resources. You look in the fully black eyes of the alien with long saber-tooth cats-like fangs.

"You tell us, human," he answers. "We're just the maintenance crew."

"Very well armed for a maintenance crew," you sass and he growls.

"This is just a vacuum." As he says that, he reaches for the weapon strapped to his back. "Look." He pushes a button and the very distinct sound of air being aspirated resonates between the walls of the ship. Your brows knit together, but you put your weapon down.

"Weird place to keep a vacuum but okay…" you mutter as you look at the rest of the crew in overalls. They seem harmless enough, besides from the predator teeth guy. You offer him a hand and he takes it to help himself up. "My name is Y/n."

"I'm Tim," he says in a rumble, and you frown.

"Tim? That's a very human name."

"Don't insult me. It means great warrior in my language. Tim."

"I swear, it's a human name."

"Are you sure your translator isn't broken?" He groans and shows his teeth, his ears falling flat against his cranium, so you decide to drop the subject. No need to antagonize your new guests.

"Anyway, guess you were taking care of the ship when you got dusted."

"Dusted?"

Oh boy. You had to catch those aliens about everything that happened, that was going to be a pain in the ass, so you decide your best course of action. "JUNE!"

There, that should get you out of trouble. Your best friend and crewmate finally emerges from the ship's entrails and looks around. "What the–"

You shrug. Her problem now. You let yourself fall back on your seat while you consult the star map.

LMC-H 13g.

Or at least that's what the translation is giving you. In any case, it clearly isn't Earth. You let out a deep sigh, and it gets the attention of someone in the ship that you barely noticed until then. One of the aliens that reappeared stops listening to June's explanation and approaches. She's less threatening than the others, with a tall body but frail members with three joints, like those of a praying mantis. She also sports the features of an insect on her face, and you suspect she might not be as frail as she appears. You eye her suspiciously, her fully black eyes staring at you with a chilling intensity. You can't help but put your hand on your weapon.

"I don't mean any harm," she reassures you with a raspy, almost tantalizing voice, mandibules clicking around her mouth. "I just want to know where we are."

You still your hand, but don't move it away, simply orient the arm on which the coordinates' screen is suspended to show it to her. You don't even want to attempt to pronounce it.

"Vormir…" she whispers. You feel the fear in her voice, see it in the way her mandibules move nervously.

"Vormir?" You ask back, looking for information. During the last few years, you learned that information held lots of power. Before that, you thought it was a saying that only made sense in books while you lead a peaceful life on Earth.

Her black scleras and irises turn back to you. Her lateral lids close in a microsecond. "It's a bad place, I heard whispers of people disappearing around this system, or weird frequencies coming from here. We should go as soon as we can."

"Wish we could, but the bastard after us fried our thrusters. We're gonna need to get them working again."

"Are people after you?" You wince at her question, but nod. The insect-like alien nervously rubs her eye with her arm as she looks away. Not the most disturbing sight you witnessed before. "Who?"

You point at the insignia on her overall, a circular patch with a blue 'x' with a white star on each bronze section it makes. It's the flag of an alien race living on the edge of known space and civilization, nomads slavers with barely anything to scrap by because they are chased around by most known authorities.

"Those guys." You decide to keep the reason why to yourself, since you know nothing of your stowaways for now. "We bought something under their nose and they didn't like it," you lie. The alien's mandibule seems to nod at the explanation.

"Explains why you threatened us. But we're nothing like them."

You adjust your position and the screen you moved earlier as a sign that you were getting back to work. "We'll see about that."

The conversation is over, she understands, and you look at the star chart. This was supposed to be your last mission before you could get back to Earth, so of course you had to get unlucky. You let out a new sigh and got up to grab your exploration material. The ship already told you outside was safe to breathe, but the gravity was slightly higher than on Earth. Seems like I'm getting my workout in, you think and giggle to yourself before covering it with a cough.

With that, you equip your toolbelt and your protections, in case an enemy survived your attack and subsequent crash.

"I'm gonna check the enemy crash site," you tell June who is recounting to the others what happened the previous five years. The door's pneumatics hiss when you press the button to open it, and soon you have a platform to get outside. When you touch down on the ground, you look around. This place really is just a rock with a few big puddles. That's going to make walking around a lot more annoying.

You set out into the unknown.

Walking around the planet is hard, but you quickly get used to it. You find a good rhythm and settle into it, which allows you to arrive only after twenty minutes to the other crash site. Bits and pieces of the ship litter the ground around you, some on fire, along with some body parts. You approach a charred body and give it a small kick, almost to make sure it's truly dead, before you keep walking around. It's easy to find an opening inside the ship through a hatch. The metal floor resonates under your feet when you land inside, and you look around. The dying lights flash like a gas station neon tube about to surrender, so you get your flashlight on before you set to look around the silent ship. You see a few more bodies around, and after taking anything useful they have on them, you keep walking. You're quick to find the command room, and once there, you approach an operating workstation. It takes a few minutes for you to get it running - after working with that technology for five years you're used to it now - and you navigate the applications, where you find the one giving you the general state of the ship. You save that information so you can bring it back to June, and if you're lucky, it will save you time on repairs.

After a quick round on the ship and no enemy in sight, you go back to your own ship.

"A week," June announces, her eyes on schematics you can't even begin to comprehend.

"We don't have enough resources to survive a week here," you whisper to her. "Not if we have to take care of those guys too." You point your finger to the sleeping aliens in the ship. They had to find whatever spot was available, as there were five of them, and only four beds - two belonging to June and you.

"Why are we even helping them? You've seen their uniforms, they're the enemy," she comments and finally looks at you.

You look at them.

"I mean, they're not really like them, so, they were probably slaves too. And they haven't been hostile."

Your friend sighs, and you shrug. She always says you have a soft heart, and maybe she's right, but right now what else were you supposed to do? Leave them there to their own device? They would die.

"I looked at the other ship's schematics, their rations should have survived the crash. At least their water."

June opens a plan for you to look at, and you lean closer to get a better look. You remember walking by the door she's showing you, but it was locked and you had no way to open it.

"Alright, I'll go back tomorrow to open it." You declare. "Or at least try to," you add, less assurance in your voice while the plan disappears in favor of some ship's part.

But as you discuss repairs with June, you fail to notice the slitted pupils staring at your back.

The feeling of dread never goes away, no matter how long you're staying on the deserted planet, no matter how hard you try to ignore it, it stays at the back of your mind, like an itch you can't scratch.

The good news is that with some of your new friends you manage to salvage enough resources to repair your ship. The bad news is that you keep failing at opening the food compartment, and your rations are dwindling way too fast. After three days, you're starting to see the end of it and the urgency to open that damn door is weighing heavily on your shoulders. You kept working on it the last few nights, and tonight you're going back to it. You're now used to the small trek across the wasteland and can do it without any trouble, but as you do this time, you feel like someone is staring at you. No matter how much you look around, you don't see anyone, so you put it on the account that you're tired and walking at night. You reach the crashed ship, then the door, and to your surprise you find it open. Immediately you reach for your weapon. The now familiar weight in hand, you take a step inside the room.

Packages of dehydrated food litter the room, with some jugs of water. They probably fell from the shelves during the crash, but they still seem intact. You look around, your heart beating against your ear and your breath heavy with adrenaline despite your attempt at not making any noise. You reach a corner at the end of a line of shelves, putting your back against the left one before you surge in the corner, weapon pointed in front of you to look both right then left. No one is there, and you let out a sigh of relief.

"Guess whoever was there already left," you tell yourself in an attempt to regain your composure, letting your weapon lay low. You briefly wonder who else could be there. Was the planet inhab–

You swallow hard when you feel the cold metal at the back of your head.

"You guessed wrong," the cold, feminine voice rings in your ears. Fuck. You should have been more careful, now you're fucked. But not dead, you think as the firearm recedes. "Put your weapon on the ground, your hands up, then turn around, slowly."

You do as you're told, slowly reaching to the ground where you put your weapon, before you stand up and put your hands in the air. With fear in your guts, you turn around. The stranger is in the shadows, and you can't see her beside her silhouette.

You finally gather the courage to speak. "Who are you?"

Despite your best efforts, your voice shakes slightly when you talk. The woman steps forward, out of the shadow, and for a second you forget all your fears. Not only are you surprised to see she's human, but she's also gorgeous. Her red hair is tied in a braid, the strands degrading to blond towards the end. She has the bluest eyes you've ever seen before, and her face is perfect, with a pretty nose and full lips - too bad she is frowning and pointing a gun at you currently. You can't help but feel like you've seen her somewhere before.

"I'm the one asking the questions," she says, and you're not in a position to negotiate, so you nod. "What are you doing on Vormir?"

"I was on a retrieval mission, but I got tailed and now I'm grounded here," you answer, leaving out the small detail that you aren't alone. "I'm just here to get some supplies."

You know you have to look as little of a threat as possible if you want to get out of here alive. You see the cogs turn in her head before she speaks again. "What happened to the ones who were after you?"

Your eyes wander away from the woman. "They're a bit everywhere around us," you answer with a grimace. So much for looking harmless. She squints her eyes at you.

"Does that mean you have a ship with you?" You can see where she's getting at, and you frown. You answer with a simple nod right before something moves at the corner of your eye.

Suddenly, a massive form tackles the woman in front of you and pushes her against a shelf in a roar, her gun being thrown away in the impact.

Tim. Did he follow you here? Shit. You don't have the time to say or do anything, the woman is throwing Tim away with barely any difficulty. One of the shelf topples and you have to jump away so you don't get crushed. You look around and see she's reaching for her weapon. By reflex, you jump on it and grab it before she can reach it, pointing it at her. She kicks it out of your hands in the air and her hand reaches up, but before she can catch it Tim is back up and charges at her. She has to put one hand on his shoulder before she jumps above him and falls back on her feet gracefully, almost like a dancer.

You flap your hand once or twice, to shake off the pain, looking at Tim and the mysterious woman having it out. She clearly has the advantage, but if Tim manages to actually hit her even once he would probably do a lot of damages. You have to find a way to stop them, because you were pretty sure the woman just needed a ride, and Tim intervened only when he saw she was a threat - but was she, really?

You grab your own weapon while no one is paying you any mind, and fire a round to the ceiling. It bounces back, almost grazing you. You manage to keep your face calm and barely avoid a yelp, but still you clear your throat.

"Okay, that's enough you two!" They pause, Tim his claws up in the air, ready to strike, the woman in a low, close to the ground fighting pose. You point at Tim. "First, what are you doing here?"

"I followed you. You were acting suspicious," he explains, and you sigh.

"I was looking for food, trying not to have people panic."

"You did so good…" he mumbles sarcasticly and the redhead snickers. You send him a glare.

"You, do you need a ride? Cause if so, no need to threaten me. Sheesh." You roll your eyes, and she arches an eyebrow.

"I had to make sure you wouldn't try to kill me."

That makes you groan and you pass your hand on your face, bringing your loose strand of hair back only for them to fall around your face again.

"I think I can try to contain myself," you say with a hint of sarcasm while you holster your weapon. "Tim?"

He groans and crosses his arms, ears still halfway flattened on his head. "I won't attack you again." There is a growl coming from the back of his throat, but it seems to be more out of annoyance than a threat.

"Perfect. Everyone grabs as much food and water, and we're going back to the ship."

You turn your back to the both of them and start throwing everything you can in your backpack and pockets. The other two follow suit while they avoid each other. As you're stuffing your pockets, you feel a presence next to you and then hear the woman playing with a crackling packet.

"What's your name?" She finally asks, and you scoff.

"An apology first would be nice," you mumble, then sigh. "Y/n Y/ln. What about you?"

"Natasha," she answers simply, and that's when it clicks.

She's Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow. Shit. Fuck. You decide to play it cool and not reveal right now that you know who she is.

"What are you doing on this rock?" You decide to ask, even though you feel she won't give you an honest answer. "It's not exactly a great holiday destination."

"Tell me about it." Something flashes in her eyes and you barely catch it before it's gone. "I was trying to find something here."

"What were you trying to find?" You find yourself pushing.

"Solace." Her eyes navigate the darkness in front of her, but you feel like she's contemplating a very different one, something inside of herself. That makes you tilt your head, and you decide not to push much more. You close your now full backpack.

"We should head back now. Tim, you got everything you could?" You ask when you find him between two rows of shelves. He linked a few jugs of water together and is now carrying them around with his muscular arms.

"Water for weeks." He eyes the redhead. "What about you, humans? Found anything?"

You nod. "Let's get back to the ship." You start to walk towards the door. "June really won't like what I'm going to tell her," you mumble to yourself as you exit the ship.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha imagine #idk how to tag #FVWL

180 notes · View notes

fortheloveofwonderland · 8 months

Text

Midnight | Chapter 11 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Summary - a phone call from Luke causes things to reach fever pitch with Spencer.

Pairing - unsub! Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - dark angst | smut | very eventual happy ending

Warnings - manic driving, murder, blood, swearing, arguing, strangulation, threatening behaviour, forceful Spencer, jealous Spencer, mentions of Maeve, penetrative sex, semi public sex, unprotected sex, slight cock warming, talk of feelings.

WC - 4.7k

Chapter 11 - I’d Rather Drown

When you opened your eyes, all you could see was miles of rolling desert. The long, winding road bent and caved to desert land, almost so it didn’t disturb the landscape with its presence. The sun was rising in the rearview mirror, casting away the shadows of the baron stretch of road and glistening against the golden sand.

The little old car vibrated your seat as it sped along the twisting asphalt, the engine revving somewhat aggressively as its driver pushed it to its limits. The tires screeched with every turn, sending dust and debris flying around outside the window. It jerked and pulled you to and fro in your seat while you tried to work out exactly where you were.

You blinked a couple of times to adjust to the onslaught of light pooling in through the windows as you attempted to establish your surroundings and how you’d ended up here. The smell of blood from your clothes wafted up your nose and you suddenly remembered the events that took place the night before. The euphoria you felt when you ran that blade across Green’s throat came flooding back and you smiled a little dreamily to yourself.

But with it also came the churning of your stomach which had nothing to do with the way in which the vehicle was being flung at speed at around every bend. You’d killed a man. You’d taken a knife and sliced his throat and now you were covered in his blood. You were a murderer. You would always be a murderer.

In your time with the BAU you’d been to more crime scenes than you could count. Duck under the tape. Watch where you walk. Don’t touch a thing. Cleaning up a crime scene had been a very different experience. Thankfully it did help to know where those tiny scraps of evidence could hide away, the blood in the nooks and crannies of the floorboards, invisible footprints, accidental DNA transfer. You hadn’t been in your right mind to think of any of this, but Spencer had. Luckily, he knew exactly what he was doing.

You’d scrubbed the blood out of the floor while Spencer got the body in the back of the Nissan which he had moved to the driveway. You cleaned off any surfaces you might have touched, and Spencer recleaned everything afterwards, because you couldn’t be too careful. You left the place like you found it, even used Green’s keys to lock the door on your way out.

Spencer had handed you a hoodie to put on to hide the bloody t-shirt you wore. He helped clean your hands with a bottle of water and a rag and cleaned the little spots of blood off your face and out of your hair before you got in the car. You didn’t know where Spencer was driving to, where he planned to get rid of Green’s body but you didn’t ask.

You figured you would go back to the Route 66 Inn for the night, Spencer had already paid for your stay. But it seemed you must have been driving all night and Santa Rosa was probably hundreds of miles away by now.

You kept playing it over and over in your head, seeing his eyes as he begged you not to take his life, the realisation that hit him when he worked out who you were. The blood that had spilled from his neck and the way his skin felt as you sliced it with the blade.

He was dead. Duncan Green, your biggest demon, was no more. You felt light and heavy all at once. It wasn’t going to bring your sister back, but would it at least provide some closure? It was finally over, all those years of pain knowing he was out there somewhere was over, you should be over the moon. But honestly, you didn’t know how to feel.

However when you leant your head against the car window as you’d driven away from his home, it hadn’t taken long for you to fall asleep, the events of the day taking its toll on you. You didn’t dream, you simply slept.

Your body jerked in your seat again as Spencer took a precariously tight turn at breakneck speed. You rubbed your eyes before glancing over at him. His brow was furrowed heavily, back rigid in his seat and hands gripping the wheel harder than ever.

“Where’s the cell phone, Y/N?” Spencer suddenly grunted in frustration.

“Huh?” You croaked sleepily.

“Only one of the burners was in my satchel. Where’s the other one?” He spat, his patience wearing thin.

“I wanted to call Luke.” You felt for the phone in your jeans pocket.

“Did you?”

“No.” You pulled it out and played with it in your hands. “He’ll be worried about me, Spencer. I have to call him soon.”

You hit the power button, hoping Spencer wouldn’t notice as he focused on the sprawling road ahead.

“I’m sick of hearing about Luke Alvez. I text him on your behalf and told him you wanted him to leave you the hell alone.” He snarled, foot steadily getting heavier on the accelerator.

“You did what?” You spat, staring at him like he’d lost your mind. “You had no right!”

“I’m fucking bored or hearing about him. Luke this and Luke that, I need to call Luke and check it. No, not anymore.” Spencer growled.

“Spencer, he's my friend! You don’t get to just…” you trailed off when the device in your hand started to ring.

You glanced across at Spencer who’s face seemed to be turning red, the vein in his forehead pulsing.

“Don’t you dare answer that.” His knuckles started turning white against the wheel.

“He’ll keep calling.”

“I don’t give a shit, you are not answering that cell phone!” He raised his voice.

“You don’t own me!” You yelled back. “I’m a grown woman and I can make my own decisions!”

The phone rang off and you felt your stomach drop.

“Sweetheart,” he softened, his lip twitching into a smirk. “You belong to me, which means I do own you.”

“Fuck you, you do not!” The phone started to ring again. “He won’t give up.”

“If you answer that fucking phone I will swerve this car off of the road and kill us both.” As if to prove his point, he forced the car to go faster, the engine that had already sounded like it had reached capacity, revved even harder.

“Good! I’d rather die than spend another fucking second with you! This whole trip has been a waking nightmare. I hate you! I hate what you’ve done to me!” You screamed at him.

“Fuck you!” He screamed back, slamming one hand against the wheel. “I made you! I found Green for you, if it wasn’t for me, he’d still be alive and you’d never have gotten closure.”

Once again the phone stopped ringing and the pit in your stomach grew deeper.

“I hate you.” You smacked him hard across the bicep. “I hate you! Put me out of my fucking misery and kill me! I would literally rather be dead than let you have this hold over me!”

An involuntary yelp left your lips when he suddenly slammed on the brakes, causing the car to swerve on the asphalt, skidding on its tires until it came to a screeching halt.

Spencer looked over at you, his face bright red with rage and his eyes almost bulging out of his head.

“Get out.” He spat harder than you’d ever heard him.

“What?” You frowned at him.

“I said get out. I’m fucking sick of this, I’d rather do this on my own. At least there would be no one to talk back. Get out of the fucking car.” He growled.

“No.” You shook your head.

The phone started ringing once more and Spencer was quickly grabbing it out of your hand. You watched as he rolled down the window and was soon tossing the phone as far as he could out into the desert.

“Asshole!” You shoved his arm before quickly scrabbling out of the car and in the direction of where he’d thrown the phone.

You heard the engine revving loudly behind you and you expected to then hear him peeling away in a cloud of dust but you were too focused on finding the phone to care at that moment.

Once you located it and picked it up, you looked up and made sure to make eye contact with Spencer through the windscreen of the car as you answered it and put it on speaker as Spencer shut off the engine.

“Luke, jeez man, what's with all the calls?” You grumbled a little.

“Y/N! Oh my gosh I’ve been trying to get hold of you all day!” He sounded relieved.

Spencer exited the car and walked over to you, anger pouring from his eyes.

“I told you I’ll call you when I can. I’ve been super busy.” You kept your eyes on Spencer.

“With your mom?”

“Yeah.” You shrugged.

“In Edwardsville, Illinois.” Luke’s tone suddenly changed.

You glanced up at Spencer, eyes wide in fear. His expression was much the same. He mouthed the words, what the fuck at you, shaking his head and you knew you’d be in for it.

“Uh…I’m sorry what?” You croaked.

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N. Garcia found the location of the pay phone you called me from. I’m next to it right now.”

Spencer looked about ready to blow his lid, smoke practically coming out of his ears. The vein in his forehead pulsed so aggressively it looked like it might pop.

“You’re…you’re in Illinois?” You swallowed thickly.

“Yes. Where are you, Y/N? Come and meet me and we can talk. Whatever trouble you’re in, I can help you.” His voice softened again, his concern for you evident.

Spencer however was shooting daggers your way, trying to subconsciously tell you that you better be careful about what you say. You swallowed and tried to focus.

“I’m not in Illinois anymore.” You knew that wouldn’t be good enough for Luke.

“Then where are you?”

“Luke, just drop this, please?” You begged him, keeping your eyes on Spencer.

“No! You’re my friend, let me help you!”

“Luke, I don't need your help. Ok, so I lied when I said my mom was sick but that’s because I didn’t want to tell you guys the truth.” Spencer was glaring at you wildly now, clearly worried about what you would say next. You took a deep breath and continued. “The truth is, I was done with the BAU. Since we joined the team, you’ve been flourishing, finding your feet just like I knew you would. But I’ve never felt like I belonged there. I don’t necessarily want to go back to the FTF, but I couldn’t stay at the BAU. I was embarrassed to admit that I was struggling. I don’t know what I’m going to do now Luke, so I just took off. I guess you could say I’m soul searching. But I’m fine, I swear, I just need some time alone.”

There was a long stretch of silence in which Spencer seemed to calm down but once again it was very short lived.

“Are you with Spencer?” Luke asked out of nowhere, causing your eyes to bulge.

You and Spencer exchanged a confused look at the seemingly out of the blue question. His face told you that you better be careful how you answered that question.

“What? Why would I be with Spencer?” You tried to laugh it off.

“It just seems a little odd that you decided to leave right after him. And I went to some Podunk little bar out here and showed the tender his photo and he thought he might recognize him.”

Spencer was clenching his fists at his sides, his eyes conveying that you needed to find a way out of this.

“He doesn’t exactly stand out in a crowd.” You shrugged. “He thought he recognised a tall, skinny white dude? Luke, he could have seen anyone. You’re making connections where there aren’t any.”

Another stretch of silence followed and you had to pray that Luke believed you. You heard him exhale loudly through the phone.

“You swear you’re ok?”

“I swear. You worry too much, viejo.” You smiled.

“It’s because I love you, conejito.”

Spencer rolled his eyes and made a motion with his hand for you to hurry up.

“I’ve gotta go, ok? But I’ll call you soon.” You quickly spoke.

“Stay safe.” Luke whispered.

“Always.” And with that you hung up.

Spencer was quick to advance on you, grabbing the cell phone from your hand and throwing it aside before wrapping his hand around your throat. He used his grip to shove you until you were bent backwards over the hood of the car, pinned down by your neck.

“What are you doing? I got him off of our ass.” You gasped.

“It was your fault he was on our ass in the first place.” Spencer spat. With his free hand he pulled out the SIG and pressed the barrel of it to your temple. “If you hadn't called him from that payphone we wouldn’t have been in this mess!”

“Luke will always worry about me. It’s what he does. Regardless of if I’d called him or not, he still would have found a way to figure out where I was.” You choked a little but tried not to let Spencer know he was hurting you.

“Because he’s in love with you!” Spencer spat.

“So?” You didn’t flinch, you wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction.

“You know?” He frowned down at you.

“Yeah, I am a profiler.” You rolled your eyes. “Just because he’s in love with me, doesn’t mean the feeling is mutual.”

“So you make a habit of leading men on? Getting them in the most compromised position possible, stripping down their walls until there’s nothing left?” He screamed in your face, tightening his hold on your neck.

You knew he wasn’t talking about Luke anymore and suddenly things started seeming so much clearer. The way Spencer had acted after you slept together, the reason he could never go through with his threats of killing you and why he was so jealous of Luke’s feelings towards you.

You’d penetrated the walls to Spencer Reid’s carefully constructed fortress. You’d slipped in through cracks he wasn’t even aware were there. None of this was really about Luke. Spencer wasn’t angry that Luke was in love with you, Spencer was mad because he was too.

Of course you knew he would never admit it, that would involve him being vulnerable. But you didn’t need him to say it, you could see it manifesting itself in his rage, he was incensed at himself for letting this happen, and at you for somehow getting beneath his skin.

He was bitter because he couldn’t stop it from happening, couldn’t catch himself before it was too late and he dove over the edge. And for some reason he seemed resentful because he thought you were the kind of woman who deliberately made men fall for you with no intentions of catching them. Did he really think this was some kind of game to you, racking up men like chess pieces? Did it not even occur to him that you could feel the same before he’d jumped to the conclusion that you were some kind of heartless maneater?

“Spencer, I think you’ve got the wrong impression of me.” You wheezed a little against his hand on your windpipe.

“No, I haven’t.” He thrust the gun against your temple. “Do you know you said his name in your sleep?”

“I…I did?” You frowned.

“Well, you moaned his name in your sleep. More than once. While you were laying in my arms.” He spat as his fingers wrapped even more firmly around your throat, more violently than he’d ever done before.

Your face started to redden with the lack of oxygen and you desperately fought for breath. Was he really going to kill you this time?

“I don’t…don’t remember what I was dreaming about.” You panted.

“I can have a pretty accurate guess.” He snarled.

“Spencer,” You managed to smirk, feeling a little lightheaded as you lost more and more oxygen. “Are you jealous?”

“Absolutely not.” He scoffed, tightening his hold on you even more so. “For me to be jealous would infer I have feelings for you, princess. I don’t have feelings.”

“Oh please.” You swallowed, still fighting for air. “Everyone has feelings, Spencer. Even you. You were h-hurt in the past, you built up these walls, hell you built a whole damn fortress to stop anyone getting close to you. You’re…you’re scared of getting hurt again, it's understandable after what you’ve been through. I mean what happened to Maeve was…”

“What did you say?” He cut you off, his grip on your neck faltering and it enabled you to gasp and refill your lungs with some much needed air.

“Maeve? She was the love of your life according to Cat Adams.” You’d heard the interrogation when Spencer confronted her after leaving prison, you all had.

“Don’t you dare bring her up. She is none of your business.” His fingers flexed before securing around you once more, the muzzle knocking against the side of your head as his hand shook in anger.

“And my relationship with Luke is none of your business.” You retaliated.

“You belong to me. Not him. And I’ll prove that to you. Turn around and drop your pants.” He suddenly let go of you but kept the gun pointed at you.

“What?” You frowned at the shift in dynamic. “No.”

“Excuse me?” He growled in a low, rumbly tone.

“I said no.” You stood your ground.

“You want to disobey me again?” He proffered the gun toward you. “I said turn around and drop your pants.”

With his free hand he started on working on the button of his jeans and with a quick glance downward you could tell instantly that he was hard. You would be lying if you said it didn’t abruptly turn you on, but still you weren’t going to let him control you in this way all the time.

“And I said no.” You growled, bearing your teeth at him like a wild animal, causing Spencer to thrust the gun towards you again.

“I am not gonna ask you again.” He demanded, eyes so dark they had passed black a long time ago.

“I will not turn around.” You replied, refusing to let him intimidate you. “If you want to fuck me, you’re gonna have to look me in the eyes this time.”

You saw Spencer falter a little, clearly not expecting this demand from you and expecting you to put up more of a fight. Soon a wry smile was forming on his lips and the firearm fell from his hand to the dirt as he focused solely on undoing his pants.

“I’m sure that can be arranged, princess.” He freed himself from his slacks, moving them down his thighs just enough so that his erection sprung free.

He moved you back against the bonnet with a shove and then he was working on your buttons too. He tugged your jeans and panties down to your ankles and hoisted you so you were sitting on the edge of the car. You kicked off one shoe and shucked your trousers and underwear off of one foot, letting them dangle from the other.

One of Spencer’s hands he placed flush on the bonnet to hold him upright and the other quickly found purchase between your legs. He hissed when he felt how wet you already were. His eyes bore into you as he edged closer, your legs intrinsically wrapping around his waist.

“Can I…do you need…?” He panted, unsure how to phrase his question but you knew what he meant.

“Just fuck me, Spencer.”

That was all the impetus he needed and he removed his hand from between your legs before roughly thrusting up into you. You gasped loudly, the sound ebbing off into the desert and beyond.

The way Spencer filled you up was like nothing else in the whole world, his thick, heavy length able to make you body bend to his every will.

He immediately started pounding into you with vigour, his other hand joining his first on the bonnet to steady himself as he slammed into you again and again. The sounds of your moans and heavy breaths disappeared out into baron sands. He kept his eyes locked on yours but he didn’t kiss you, didn’t even touch you.

“Tell me,” he panted as his hips snapped back and forth rapidly. “Tell me how you felt when you cut his throat.”

You moaned, throwing your head back to your shoulders but Spencer was quick to push it back up so you were looking at him. His hand then came to the zipper of your hoodie and tugged it down just enough to expose your blood soaked shirt.

“Fuck,” he quickened his pace, slamming inside you so violently you felt like you were being torn in two. “Fuck you look hot covered in blood. Tell me how it felt.”

“Kiss me.” You replied, your legs encompassing his waist and holding him close. “Kiss me and I’ll tell you.”

Spencer hissed with a particularly vicious thrust and then grabbed the back of your neck in his large hand. He yanked you closer and crashed his lips against yours, his tongue hungrily plunging inside of your mouth.

His fingers gripped your neck firmly as he kissed you messily, teeth clashing together in a hungry passion.

“Tell me.” He growled against your lips.

“It was fucking euphoric. The way I watched the light leave his eyes, the way his blood felt against my skin as it burst from his artery…there is no better feeling in the world.” You mumbled and he tore his lips away from yours to look at you.

“No better feeling, huh?” He pounded harder. “Not even this?”

“It’s a close second.” You teased him.

As expected it encouraged him to go somehow harder and it burnt but it was such an amazing feeling.

“You like being the Bonnie to my Clyde?” His lip twisted into a slightly evil smile.

“I don’t think Clyde ever fucked Bonnie quite like this.”

Spencer chuckled deeply, burying himself so deeply inside of you that you felt his cock in your stomach. Your eyes widened and you moaned louder than ever as he stilled his movements.

His mouth fell open as he stared down at you and the darkness in his eyes faded and was replaced by something much softer. He took hold of your left hand and inspected his grandmother's gold band on your finger.

“I can’t fall in love with you.” He confessed, his voice cracking as he spoke. “We’re in this together, bound to each other. But I cannot fall in love with you.”

“You say that like you haven’t already.” You clenched around him and his eyes briefly closed at the sensation.

The rumble of tires sounded in the distance and moments later an old Cadaliac flew past, sending particles of sand and dirt flying around you. The car didn’t slow down, hopefully you hadn’t just given them an eye full. He bucked his hips once before stilling again.

“It’s not love sweetheart,” he dropped your hand again. “It’s intoxication. I am drunk on this sweet, tight pussy.”

You moaned at his words, clamping your walls around him again.

“You keep telling yourself that.” You smirked. “But I’m a better profilier than you give me credit for.”

“Princess, for me to be in love with you would imply I have a heart. Trust me when I say, that particular organ is long gone. But I have another organ that is quite infatuated with your body.” He suddenly jerked his hips roughly and soon started fucking you again, somehow harder than before.

He continued his barrage until your mouth fell open and your body started trembling around him and you screamed out into the wide open nothingness as you came around his cock.

As soon as you’d let loose he allowed himself to succumb to his own orgasm and buried deep inside of you once more while he spilled his seed. His body collapsed on top of you, pinning you to the hood of the car while he panted against your neck.

For a few moments you stayed like this, awash with the post-coital haze in the middle of the desert. When he pulled out, he turned his back on you while he tucked himself away and zipped up his pants. You continued to sit there in a daze.

He collected up the gun and cell phone and didn’t look at you as he moved towards the driver's side door.

“Get dressed. We need to go.” He spat as he threw the door open.

His hands were shaking as he grasped the steering wheel and the weight of his feelings seemingly came crashing down around him. He was in love with you, it was painfully true, but he couldn’t be in love with you. He wouldn’t allow it.

It was time to start from the ground up, rebuild his fortification brick by brick and be careful to make it airtight. He would not make this mistake again, he would not fall victim to another pretty faced siren. You would be his permanent reminder of why he’d built those walls in the first place so as to never make the error as to let someone in again.

But no matter how solid he built those walls, it was too late. You had already breached his castle, and were sitting atop the throne of his heart. Your hold on him felt much like he had been tossed out to sea with no life preserver and he’d forgotten how to swim.

But if the choice was between allowing himself to be vulnerable with you or drowning, he knew what he would rather.

Thanks for treating me like every boy you meet,

So please come in and take a seat.

Here's the part where I learn, and you will teach,

On how to treat people like a piece of meat.

I want a genuine, not a replica,

Lethal medicine, a pin to the cornea.

A sight for sore eyes,

While other guys consume the lie, I'll run and hide.

No doors exist on my fortress,

The only entrance is the one I bear.

You're nothing more than a temptress,

I fell victim to a heartless snare.

Burn the bitch down,

I never will cross that bridge again.

I cannot trust you easily,

Or think that I'm the only one.

I never let people in,

And I have you to remind me why.

So, baby, burn the bitch down,

I never will cross that bridge again.

I'd rather drown,

I'm the master of construction,

Because I'm building walls like it's my occupation.

If you portray a liar,

I'll shut you out without hesitation.

It's an art form of consummate skill,

Oh, how she plays them like the pawn.

Making boys drool at her will,

Like Pavlov to the dogs.

No doors exist on my fortress,

The only entrance is the one I bear.

You're nothing more than a temptress,

I fell victim to a heartless snare.

Burn the bitch down,

I never will cross that bridge again.

I cannot trust you easily,

Or think that I'm the only one.

I never let people in,

And I have you to remind me why.

So, baby, burn the bitch down,

I never will cross that bridge again.

I'd rather, I'd rather, I'd rather,

Drown me, slit my throat so lightly,

Pick me up and drop me right into my grave.

And now I wonder, sit alone and ponder,

Should I even bother, when I see your face?

The itch I couldn't scratch,

Thought I'd come crawling back, but no.

I'd much rather, rather, rather, rather, rather (sing it, boys),

I'd rather burn the bitch down,

I never will cross that bridge again.

I cannot trust you easily,

Or think that I'm the only one.

I never let people in,

And I have you to remind me why.

So, baby, burn the bitch down,

I never will cross that bridge again.

Go ahead and burn the bridge right down,

It's what you wanted.

Burn the bridge right down,

I'm not the only one, the only one.

So, baby, burn the bitch down,

I never will cross that bridge again.

I'd rather drown.

@andiebeaword @muffin-cup @measure-in-pain @dreatine @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @justreadingficsdontmindme @spencer-reid-wonderland @thebloomingeagle @bubblebuttwade @jay-2s-world @daddy-dotcom

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #unsub! spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x fem! reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

114 notes · View notes

zepskies · 4 months

Text

And So It Goes - Part 17

Pairing: Billy Butcher x OFC (Latina!OC)

Summary: As Madelyn Stillwell’s personal assistant, Helena Flores finds herself caught between protecting her job — and more importantly her life — or helping Billy Butcher bring down the supe who killed her best friend, Becca.

AN: I have the entire week off work, so I'm catching up with my WIPs. 😜

Word Count: 5,800 Tags/Warnings: Angst, violence, more of Soldier Boy’s bad flirting, hurt/comfort, PTSD, explosions…

ASIG Series Masterlist

17: Emotionally Deficient Men

Helena used an old bobby pin in the pocket of her jeans to break free of her restraints. It took her a while, but eventually the metal handcuff clicked open and she hastened to her car.

Butcher, Hughie, and Soldier Boy had maybe half an hour on her, but she could make up some of the time if she didn’t stop, only for gas halfway through the six-hour drive.

Vermont was lovely this time of year. The only sights she could afford to take in was the luxurious mansion owned by the infamous T&T Twins, who were hosting an even more infamous…party.

Oh fuck, not Herogasm, Helena thought, as she pulled up to the side of the road and parked her car. She zipped up her leather jacket against the windchill as she got out and surveyed the huge lot.

She’d heard about Herogasm, but she’d never had the misfortune to go to one of these events; she wasn’t a supe. And she was never more grateful for that as she took in the scene.

The mansion was already on fire. It was a clusterfuck of half-naked supes and working professionals fleeing, screaming, crying as they filtered out across the manicured lawn and back to their cars.

Helena’s eyes widened as she took in the half-demolished house, which looked like it had been blasted right through the front. Soldier Boy.

They must’ve already gotten here before her.

She was cautious in approaching the house, coming in from the back gate by the pool that was swinging open. She made it through the debris in the house with careful steps. It was quieter inside, eerie in a way. She avoided looking down at the bodies and held her breath at the smell of charred flesh.

She turned a corner of the house and stopped short. Her breathing shallowed with a gasp when she came face to face with the one man she’d hoped to never see again.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” asked Homelander. He looked almost as surprised to see her as she was to see him, and her eyes widened.

In her mind, his blue eyes flashed like a memory: of a hand around her throat, pinning her to the wall. A lazy, crazed look in his eye as he debated whether he was going to let her breathe again.

“I was…invited,” she lied on the fly. “I’m just a bit late to the party.”

Homelander’s smile was subtle, but telling. He didn’t believe her. He tilted his head and took a booted step forward into her orbit. Helena stepped back out of reflex, but when she turned her head, she realized she had unintentionally stepped into a battlefield.

Soldier Boy stood mere feet away, suited up with his shield in hand. He regarded her with a half-smile in greeting, though his gaze was focused on Homelander.

“Out of the way, sweetheart,” he said.

She wanted to be annoyed by the nickname, but she tried to oblige him. The last thing she wanted was to be caught between the past and present of dickhead supes.

But a gloved hand grabbed the back of her neck. She gasped, instinctively cringing and glancing back at Homelander. His eyes flicked down to hers.

“Oh, Helena,” he drawled. “Don’t tell me you know this guy.”

“I think we all saw him on the news,” she said, hating the tremor in her voice. “I’m surprised it took you this long to catch him.”

“What fucking rock did you crawl out of, I wonder,” he mused out loud. His hand tightened a fraction, making her wince and suck in a breath as she fought to remain still. “But I don’t think it’s a coincidence, do you?”

Panic welled in her lungs, squeezing around her heart like a vice. Her gaze darted to Soldier Boy. It was pure instinct, the plea in her eyes. He saw it, though he said nothing until his attention turned back to Homelander.

“Homelander, I take it.” Soldier Boy eyed the other supe with a quirk of his lips. He gestured to the long red and white cape hanging from Homelander’s shoulders. “Nice candy stripes.”

Homelander tensed, though Helena wasn’t sure if it was because of the other man’s taunt, or because Butcher stepped into the hallway beside Soldier Boy. Butcher’s eyes widened when he saw her, and he hardened when he realized her predicament.

He sharpened on Homelander, who was perceptive enough to catch the brief exchange. His gaze narrowed.

“William Butcher and Soldier Boy,” he remarked. “Of course, you’re behind this. This whole thing… It really is all about me.”

Bile rose up in Helena’s throat. Just the sound of his voice made her sick, but the sheer size of his ego was even worse.

“William, we made a deal,” he continued. “To fight to the death. You, and me.”

Helena’s eyes widened. What kind of fucked deal was this, and when was that bargain struck?

Again, Butcher glanced at her, but he focused on Homelander.

“This is cheating,” said Homelander. His brows pinched with a glare. “Deal’s off.”

He lasered at Butcher with his eyes. Helena screamed as the man went down hard on his stomach. She tried to go to him, but Homelander’s hand tightened on the back of her neck and yanked her back.

She gasped and was forced to look at him through tearful, wide eyes.

“What, are you on their side now? Are you helping them?” His hand moved into her hair and started to squeeze even tighter, making her unconsciously whimper and twist against him. Her nails bit fruitlessly into his hand.

The mania behind his eyes was familiar. It had been featuring in her nightmares. “Be honest, Helena.”

“Figures that you’d hide behind a woman,” Soldier Boy remarked.

It earned Homelander’s attention.

“Excuse me?” he asked. He took a step forward, dragging Helena along with him. Her boots scrambled for purchase over fallen debris.

Homelander had to chuckle a little. “You know, you were my hero growing up. I watched all your movies, hundreds of times. You were the only one that was nearly as strong as me.”

Helena bit the inside of her lip. She could tell, just by the look on the other man’s face, that that was the wrong way to endear himself. Soldier Boy’s ego was more than a match for Homelander’s.

“Buddy, you think you look strong?” Soldier Boy said dryly. “You’re wearing a cape.”

Homelander took in an irritated breath.

“You’re just a cheap fucking knock-off,” Soldier Boy added.

It made Homelander seethe. “Oh no, no, no… I’m the upgrade.”

He pushed Helena away from him and launched full speed at Soldier Boy, tackling him into the next room. And she was shoved against the wall hard enough to knock her clean out.

Helena woke to a pounding in her head and a sharper agony in her ribs.

She uttered a pained groan, soon realizing that she was laying on a dingy bed with a ceiling fan turning slowly overhead. She tried to sit up, but that proved to be too much. She fell back with a gasp.

“Hey, hey, don’t get up,” said Hughie. He came into the bedroom with a glass of water and some pills in his hand. He helped her sit up enough against the pillows to take the meds and drink a bit of water. She thanked him, and moved her frizzy hair away from her face to meet his concerned gaze.

“Where the hell are we?” she asked.

“A motel just a couple hours south of Vermont,” he replied.

She nodded. She was still wearing her now dusty gray shirt, jeans, and boots, but her jacket had been draped on the far corner of the bed.

She looked past Hughie to find Butcher standing in the doorway. Hughie noticed as well, and he laid a comforting hand on her arm before he got up.

“Let me know if you need anything else,” he said. She nodded, though she could hardly think at the moment.

Butcher shared a brief, but meaningful gaze with the younger man as he left. Then he stepped into the room and sat down on the edge of her bed. He let out a sigh and reached for the side of her head, and she winced as his fingers brushed a tender knot there.

“Got your bell rung, didn’t ya?” he said.

It was her turn to sigh.

His eyes took her in; the pain in her face, the way she shifted to try and fail to get comfortable.

“You all right?” he asked.

All Helena could manage was a jerky nod of her head, even as tears glistened in her eyes. Her hand reached up and shakily touched his chest.

“What about you?”

Butcher quirked a smile. “Had me a little supe cocktail, didn’t I?”

Helena let out a breath of relief. V24 was still untested poison, but it had saved his dumbass. And he’d saved her dumbass in turn…

“Does Homelander know I was the mole at Vought?” she asked.

Butcher’s expression dimmed.

Hours ago…

Butcher got up, shaking off the feeling of a point-blank laser blast with a shrug of his shoulders thanks to the Temp V coursing through his veins. He rubbed the sting out of his chest and shook off the stun of hitting the ground so hard.

Butcher pushed off the ground, and the sounds of the nearby fight between Homelander and Soldier Boy reached him. But he also saw Helena just a few yards away, lying prone on the ground, twisted onto her back.

His eyes widened, and he went to her. He dropped to his knees at her side and brushed her dark hair away from her face with slightly shaking hands. Her eyes were closed, her body unmoving. He cupped her cheek and felt for her pulse at her neck.

The tension in his shoulders eased when he felt her heartbeat thrumming under the pads of his fingers. Fucking hell.

How the fuck had she broken free of those cuffs? And more importantly, why did she insist on putting herself in the line of fucking fire?

Butcher knew the answer, deep down, but he stowed that all away to ease her more comfortably on her back, untwisting her hips and legs. He hated to leave her like this, but he had no choice. He saw that Soldier Boy was having a hard time with Homelander on his own.

So Butcher jumped into the fray, lasering Homelander from behind. The supe’s face betrayed his confusion, and even his anger in that tick in his brow.

“What have you done?” he asked.

“Scorched earth,” Butcher taunted.

But Homelander glanced passed him, at Helena still lying unconscious in the hall. It made Butcher tense and shift his stance, subtly putting himself in between.

Homelander smirked. “Wait, wait…you and Helena Flores? You have a thing, don’t you?”

His steps forward were somehow both lazy and measured. Butcher’s movements were even more calculated, stepping closer, but still blocking Helena.

“How long has this been going on?” Homelander asked. “Couldn’t have been very long. I mean, how did you even meet? She worked for us…”

Something seemed to don on the supe, and a sinking feeling churned in Butcher’s chest.

“Fuck me,” Homelander chuckled as a realization brightened his eyes. “You had an inside woman at Vought, didn’t you? Feeding information to you and your little rats.”

His grin deepened at the way Butcher’s smugness faded, and his expression became sharp and threatening.

Homelander wasn’t intimidated. Only pleased.

“Now everything makes sense,” he said. “Tell me, how long has she been servicing you?”

Butcher glowered, his eyes flickering with golden light. Homelander’s smirk raised higher.

“I’ll have to ask her about her hourly rate—”

That was the last quip the supe got out, before Butcher lasered him directly in the face. Homelander flew forward and met Butcher blow for blow, until Soldier Boy yanked Homelander down by his cape.

The fight began in earnest, with even Hughie joining in.

Unfortunately, Homelander slipped away at the last minute, leaving Butcher with the bitter aftertaste of an opportunity lost. And even worse, he knew, was the target now firmly painted on Helena’s back.

Now, in the relative safety of a crusty motel, Helena tried to wipe the tears from her face as she took in a breath meant to steady herself. It didn’t work.

Homelander knew the truth, and she was deep in this shit now.

For his part, Butcher buried a hand in her hair and sighed deeply.

“For fuck’s sake. This’s why I bloody told you not to come,” he said.

“You didn’t tell me, you restrained me,” she snapped.

“For all the fucking good it did me,” he said, just as angrily.

She stared into his eyes and saw the depths of his concern behind the anger. She knew how to read through the cracks of his rough exterior, and despite the fact that she was still so unbelievably mad at him, for several reasons, part of her felt mollified. She knew he still cared about her.

She was feeling petulant, however.

“You don’t have the right to lecture me,” she said. “Anyway, what the hell happened? When I got there, everything was already on fire.”

Butcher crossed his arms. “Yeah, Soldier Boy fucking snapped.”

Helena frowned. “What do you mean?”

“On account o’ his PTSD.” Butcher rubbed at his mouth and beard. “I think he blacked out. Same as Midtown.”

For a moment, Helena was in shock. “Shit. And this is the guy you want to make a deal with?”

“The deal’s been made, love,” said Butcher. He regarded her with more guarded eyes. “Only thing to do is keep moving forward.”

“Right,” she snapped. “Until you get killed.”

Helena shook her head and tried to sit up straighter. It caused a shift in her ribs that felt like white hot pain, a knife stabbing into her. She gasped and grabbed at her right side.

Frowning deeper, Butcher stayed her hand and lifted up her shirt enough to take a look. What he found was a large, yellowish bruise covering nearly half of her ribcage. It wasn’t dark enough to be internal bleeding, but he knew her tan skin would darken soon enough.

“Jesus,” he muttered.

“Is it bad?” she asked in worry.

“Is the pain dull or sharp?” he asked.

“Sharp,” she replied.

“Likely you’ve got a couple of broken ribs,” he said. “You can still breathe though. Nothing feels like it’s pokin’ ya, is it?”

She shook her head, relieving him further.

“You’ll probably be fine,” he said. You should get checked out at the hospital, though I doubt you’ll fucking take my advice. “They’ll heal up eventually.”

She frowned at him.

Maybe he should’ve made the hospital suggestion, because she shoved his hands off her and withdrew from him. He realized then how’d she’d taken his attempt to reassure her—like a lack of concern.

“Thanks, Dr. House,” she griped. “Your bedside manner is impeccable. Just leave me the fuck alone.”

Butcher held in a sigh. “Look, I didn’t mean it like—”

“I don’t care,” she said. Her tongue was sharp, but her eyes said that she was exhausted, in pain, and done with him.

So he reluctantly left her room and shut the door behind him. He eyed Soldier Boy, who sat on the couch, still in his supe suit while channel surfing on the TV. Hughie was trying to figure out on his phone where the closest fast food was.

Already Soldier Boy had given Butcher a list of possible safe houses to find Mindstorm: the second to last cast member of Payback. They were close enough to one of the addresses that it justified stopping for the night, but it also meant leaving Helena injured and alone with this radioactive boomer fuck, complete with PTSD and a taste for anything in a skirt.

Butcher grabbed Hughie’s arm and led him just outside the motel.

“I’m gonna cross off the first safe house on the list,” he said. He jabbed a pointed finger in Hughie’s chest. “Don’t leave her alone with him, whatever you fucking do. And make sure he don’t fucking leave.”

Hughie was wide-eyed, but he nodded. “Yeah. Sure.”

Butcher raised his brows. I mean it, the gesture said. Hughie nodded, a silent agreement struck between them.

He soon went back into the motel while Butcher took off in his car.

Hughie found the supe exactly where he’d left him: on the couch, watching reruns of Cheers. Soldier Boy didn’t look all that entertained, but his gaze slid over to Hughie when he came in.

“What’re you doing about food?” Soldier Boy asked.

Hughie blinked, and once again checked his phone. They were so deep in the middle of nowhere, no regular restaurant was going to deliver within an hour. There wasn’t even an Uber Eats or Doordash that delivered out here.

“That ain’t gonna cut it,” said Soldier Boy. His gaze was firm. “30 minutes or less. That’s what I’m’ giving you, before I go look for something myself.”

Fuck, Hughie thought. He couldn’t leave Helena alone, but he couldn’t have Soldier Boy taking off on him either.

“You can go, Hugh,” Helena said. He turned to find her standing in the doorway of her bedroom, looking worse for wear, but standing on her feet. She was leaning against the wall, and he immediately went to help her.

She directed him on where she wanted to sit: at the small, two-seater dining table.

She didn’t care what she ate, as long as it was hot, she told him. Though Hughie promised to bring her a soup of some kind, while Soldier Boy wanted “red meat.”

A burger it is, Hughie thought, internally rolling his eyes. He was still reluctant to leave, but Helena gave him an, I’ll be fine smile, weak though it was.

Hughie shook his head. Butcher was going to kill him, but he really didn’t have much of a choice. He left soon after, aiming to walk to the closest Wendy’s about half a mile down the road.

Meanwhile, Helena let out a breath. Already she knew this shitty plastic seat at the dining wasn’t going to do it for her. She needed support for her back and ribs, but she also didn’t want to lay down in bed anymore.

It made her head swim and her stomach churn, but she slowly got up and moved to sit on the far end of the couch, where Soldier Boy sat. At least she’d be able to watch some TV and try to take her mind off her pain as she waited for the meds to kick in. However, it did mean trying her luck with the supe.

She glanced at him, giving a thin smile. Soldier Boy turned to her with a gaze that slowly took her in.

“This isn’t an invitation,” she said warily. “Keep your hands to yourself.”

His smile was lazy, with the confidence of a man who’d no doubt fucked his way through starlets, cabana girls, and certainly any willing supe.

“Hey, now,” he said with charm. “What kind of man do you fucking take me for?”

A murdering one, Helena thought. But she didn’t sense a predatory attitude from him. At least, not in that sense. It didn’t mean she would let down her guard, but she did breathe a little easier.

“Besides. We both know that at some point,” he said. His voice lowered, like he was sharing a secret. His voice was deep and smooth, “You’re gonna get off your little high horse. When that time comes, I'll be more than happy to fuck you well and good, baby doll.”

Again, this man’s audacity knew no bounds. Helena’s brows raised high in shock. It took her a moment, but she eventually cleared her throat.

“Unlikely,” she deadpanned, despite her blush. “And who hits on someone with broken ribs?”

“They won’t be broken forever. And I can be…gentle,” he said. His eyes once again slid over her form, lingering on the hint of cleavage of her V-neck shirt. “Gentle enough, anyway.”

She couldn’t help but laugh a bit. This guy was too much.

“For the love of God. Enough, please,” she said. She shook her head, despite her incredulous smile. “I thought you said I needed a leash.”

She’d heard that little tidbit from the bug she planted in Butcher’s car.

Soldier Boy smirked. “Maybe. You are a bit fucking mouthy for my taste.”

That dimmed her amusement, into annoyance. There was that old-fashioned machismo that she couldn’t stand.

“Welcome to the 21st fucking century,” Helena snipped. “There’s a lot more where I come from.”

Soldier Boy shot her a look, annoyed yet contemplative. “So what, you and Butcher had a thing?”

“Good use of the past tense,” she grumpily acknowledged. She took the remote that lied between them and started looking through the TV guide for something to watch.

The supe eyed her with a certain smile.

“What’s the fucking deal with him and Homelander?” he asked. “I mean, the guy’s a prick. But why does Butcher hate him so much?”

Helena paused in her channel search. For now, she landed on an old episode of The Mesmerizer.

She let out a deep breath, holding a hand to her side when that pained her ribs. She wasn’t sure that this was her story to tell, but maybe if Soldier Boy knew the truth about Homelander, he’d be even more motivated to kill the bastard, besides ego and jealousy.

“Becca. Butcher’s wife,” she began. “Homelander…”

Helena paused. Even now, it was hard for her to say it out loud. She took in another steadying breath, and she met Soldier Boy’s green-eyed gaze.

“He violated her,” said Helena. “He ruined her damn life…and she died, because of him.”

That fell between them with a stiff, somewhat awkward silence.

“And how do you fit into all this?” Soldier Boy asked, gesturing at her.

Helena inclined her head. “Becca was my best friend.”

She told her part of the story, after Becca disappeared. How she’d worked at Vought, and Butcher had come knocking on her door demanding her help. But once she was on board, she became committed to avenging her friend. Helena did omit any mention of Ryan, for his protection.

She gave Soldier Boy just enough of the story that it still made sense, down to her finally leaving Vought and giving the CIA as much intel as she could, while trying to keep her involvement with Butcher and his team a secret from her ex-employer (and Homelander, most of all).

“So you hooked up with your best friend’s husband?” Soldier Boy mused with a smirk.

Fucking figures. That was what he took from this conversation?

Helena gave him a shrewd frown.

“You’re taking the moral high ground here?” she volleyed back. “We didn’t get together until this year, if you must know.”

The supe shrugged. It led her to look at him with a little more contemplation. She asked a question she probably had no business asking, if she wanted to have some self-preservation. But her pain meds were kicking in, and it was giving her a high dose of fuck it.

“How long were you with Crimson Countess? You know…before,” she asked.

Soldier Boy’s expression dimmed, with a bitter edge.

“Too fucking long,” was all he said, crossing his arms. “She was always a raging bitch.”

Helena wanted to roll her eyes, but she supposed his vitriol was understandable, given that the woman had helped gift wrap him for the Russians, along with the rest of his team. She truly must have hated him.

“Did she participate in Herogasm too?” Helena asked. Or was its founder the only one allowed to fuck other people?

Soldier Boy quirked a brow at her, but she held her ground. She’d heard about that particular tidbit when she still worked at Vought.

“She knew better,” he replied. It made Helena chuckle.

“Right. I just wonder if maybe Countess was a little bitter,” she mused. “I mean, her man is over here having frivolous orgies while she’s expected to be the Virgin Mary.”

Soldier Boy frowned in earnest now, with irritation and a hint of warning behind his eyes. Helena was too buzzed on her meds to heed that warning. Fuck, what the hell did Hughie give me?

“I was dedicated to our relationship,” Soldier Boy argued.

“In the viewing public, sure,” Helena retorted. “Vought’s poster boy committing serial adultery would’ve probably been frowned upon.”

She worked with supes for ten years. She knew how their marketing worked, especially with their “relationships,” fabricated for PR or otherwise.

Now, however, Soldier Boy turned to her with a sharper warning.

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” he raised his voice.

Helena paused with a small flinch. But she hid her apprehension.

“There’s no need to get loud,” she said.

“There’s no need to be a smart-mouth bitch,” he shot back.

Her eyes narrowed at him. “I take that as a compliment, comrade.”

Soldier Boy didn’t know whether he was more irritated or amused by her audacity.

“You must really wanna end up over my knee, sweetheart,” he said snidely.

His arrogant face was insufferable, Helena thought. But he’d made no move to “put her in her place.” Maybe because she was injured. If she was a supe, or even a man, she didn’t think he’d be so lenient.

She smirked. “Or maybe….maybe I’m just high. Jesus, how many milligrams did Hughie give me?”

She tried to shift into a more comfortable sitting position on the couch, but it only disrupted her ribs, with a sharp flare of pain that made her wince. Her head ached as well, cutting through some of her brain fog.

She needed a shower, food, and sleep. The shower would have to wait, but Hughie had better hurry the fuck up with the food.

She was so preoccupied with her discomfort that she didn’t notice, at first, how Soldier Boy was looking at her. He still seemed irritated as he took the remote from her.

“You should probably shut the fuck up then. Get some sleep. Maybe then I’ll get some peace and quiet,” he said.

Helena raised her brows. “Wow, you are a delight.”

Soldier Boy rolled his eyes.

He was an asshole. In fact, he’d just caused a hell of a scene, had apparently blacked out, and as a result, had even killed a handful of people in the process of getting revenge on the T&T Twins.

And yet…

Get some sleep, he’d said.

He seemed to have a tiny sliver of decency. Helena only detected it because she was fluent in the language of emotionally deficient men.

She considered getting up to take his “advice,” of getting some rest, but he managed to find Lethal Weapon playing on one of the movie channels.

“Oh, that’s a classic,” she told him. “From the late ‘80s…you probably just missed it.”

Soldier Boy frowned at her, but he didn’t turn the channel. They watched the movie from then on in a strangely companionable silence.

But of course, the peace couldn’t last for long.

There was a shootout on the screen; predictable for an action movie. Helena had seen this scene half a dozen times, but she heard a hitch of breath. She turned to her right and saw that her companion’s gaze was glazed over, unfocused.

Soldier Boy sat stiffly, blinking, with a subtle shake of his head, like he was trying to get rid of a ringing in his ears.

“Soldier Boy?” she tried. He didn’t seem to hear her.

Oh fuck. She paused, realizing what was happening.

Though it pained her battered ribs and head, she pulled herself up straighter and scooted closer to him on the couch. When she touched his shoulder, his gaze snapped up to hers. She tried not to flinch.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“…I don’t know,” he gritted out.

Her breath shallowed along with his. Even if she tried to run, she doubted she’d get very far if he freaked out and blasted this motel off the map.

“Okay, it’s okay. Soldier…what’s your name?” she asked.

For just a moment, her question managed to split him out of his disassociation.

“What?”

“What’s your name?” Helena repeated.

He blinked like he had something in his eye, though she knew he was trying to concentrate on her. At the same time, she seemed to be irritating him.

“Soldier Boy,” he said.

“No, not that bullshit. Your real name,” Helena insisted, and she squeezed his shoulder. It was unnaturally warm.

She couldn’t know that her words kicked the man back into his memories—before Russia. Before even Payback.

Behind his mind’s eye, he saw the tall, stoic, imposing figure of his father. The floral print of his mother’s Sunday dress when he was a kid. Her smile when she touched his cheek.

“Ben,” he gritted out. His chest was started to burn and glow from the inside. He was fighting it tooth and nail as his gaze flit over the woman next to him. Run, you fucking idiot.

“Ben,” Helena repeated. Her concern was in her eyes as she chanced lowering her hand, from his shoulder to his arm. “Stay with me, Ben. Can you breathe through it?”

“Shut the fuck up,” he snapped, shutting his eyes.

He wanted to tell her to stop touching him like he was some weak piece of shit. But the pressure was building beyond his control.

“Ben?” she prodded weakly. Even through his super suit, his arm became too hot for her to touch. She gasped and was forced to release him. She saw the glow of his chest through his suit and tried to back away, but her shaking body was frozen in fear.

Her wide eyes met his.

Ben had just enough presence of mind to push her away from him, just before a burst of nuclear power escaped him. With a rough yell, he tried to angle it upwards. The beam tore through half of the motel room and escaped through the ceiling.

Afterwards, he was breathing hard and staring into a midnight sky through the large hole his power had created. The distant sounds of screaming and car horns blaring was familiar, though he grimaced.

Fuck, he thought. He looked at the carnage wrecked through the rest of the motel room, though he didn’t remember creating it.

Belatedly, he remembered Helena.

She had been tossed to the floor, onto her back. Ben hesitated, but he slid off the couch and went to her, taking a knee on the ground beside her prone form. He brushed some plaster dust off her face and checked her pulse at her neck.

He nodded at the feel of her pulse thrumming under the pads of his fingers. Then, he surprised himself by sliding and arm under her back and propping her up against him. He tapped her cheek.

“Hey, wake up,” he prodded.

She didn’t oblige him just yet, making his brows furrow. Ben had a moment to take in her dark lashes that matched her long, dark hair of loose curls. (He could imagine wrapping them around his hand.)

Though her face was pale at the moment, her skin was tan and smooth, with full lips he couldn’t help being tempted by. Through the sweat and dust, he could even detect an earthy, floral scent. Maybe it was her shampoo.

“Helena?” Butcher’s voice made Ben raise his head. He frowned, mostly because he hadn’t heard the man coming. His ears were still ringing a bit, though he wouldn’t acknowledge it.

Butcher got down on her other side and took Helena from Ben’s arms, quickly, but still with care. Butcher touched her clammy cheek, then glared at the supe.

“Get your Wonder Girl powers in check before you blast us all to hell!” he snapped.

“Watch your fucking mouth,” Ben barked back, as he stood. “Without me, you’ve got fuck all.”

Butcher seethed; both because he was furious, and because he knew Soldier Boy was right. They still needed one another to accomplish their respective agendas, and that was the bitch of it.

Butcher got back onto his feet with Helena in his arms. He ignored the supe for now, and brought her to the bedroom, which had mostly remained unscathed.

He laid her down on the bed and surveyed the damage, even lifting her shirt to make sure she wasn’t visibly bleeding. She really should’ve been checked out at a hospital…

Just as he almost resolved to do just that, she started to wake, with a moan of pain. Butcher softened. He rested a careful, and surprisingly tender hand against her cheek. He held his breath, waiting for the moment that she blinked awake, revealing those honey brown eyes.

Helena bit her lip when she saw him, leaning her cheek against his hand. She was still full of painkillers and brain fog, and all she really wanted right now was some comfort. The thought made her eyes sting with tears. She held his hand against her face.

“You gotta stop doing this to me, love,” Butcher muttered. His thumb caressed her cheek.

She smiled, because this was the man she knew. She missed him so damn much.

“I thought you hated being bored,” she rasped.

Butcher let out a long breath while his thoughts darkened. Might just kill that prick after Homelander.

Her gaze narrowed a bit.

“I know that look. Believe it or not, this was him saving me,” she said, with a sigh, briefly closing her eyes. “The Russians pulled a fucking number on him.”

“Yeah. He’s got a few fucking screws loose, don’t he?” Butcher replied.

Helena tugged him down to her by his collar and touched his cheek.

“Come with me, Billy,” she all but pleaded. “You can still let this go…”

She leaned up enough to nearly press her lips to his, but Butcher held off. His eyes roamed over her face, concentrating on her lips. They both knew he wanted this…

But he wouldn’t let himself. Her tears dripped down the corners of her eyes when he gently pulled her hand away. He leaned back and sat up on the edge of the bed.

“We’re gonna have to move,” he said. “Just rest there a tick, ‘til we get all squared away, figure out where we’re going. And where the fuck is Hughie?”

The latter he asked to himself, but Helena couldn’t be bothered to answer him. She wiped at her face and tried to bury her hurt and dismay, deep under a layer of anger. She forced her body to sit up with a whimper.

“Ey,” Butcher protested. She ignored him.

“I know where we can go,” she said, meeting his gaze. “It’s safe, and neither Vought or Homelander know where it is.”

He was confused at first, but he was too smart not to know where her mind was headed. Her house was close to the city, but still far enough to give them cover. And only Helena, Butcher, and Grace knew its location.

Butcher frowned.

“No,” he started to say. Before he could get going in earnest, Hughie stepped into what was left of the motel. They saw him through the gaping chasm—of what used to be a wall between the bedroom and the front door. He nearly dropped the Wendy’s bags.

“What the shit?!” Hughie exclaimed. “Where’s the roof?”

AN: 😬 Okay, so a lot of Soldier Boy being an ass in this chapter lol. (As usual.) And now these four are headed to Helena's house. What could possibly go wrong? 😂

Next Time:

Maybe I really do have a death wish, Helena thought, as she let the most wanted supe alive into her home.

Butcher and Hughie joined him, with the latter taking in her two-story house for the first time.

“Nice,” Hughie said with a nod. “This place is beautiful.”

Helena gave him a small smile. “Thank you.”

Though she gave Ben a pointed look. “Try not to break it, please.”

He shot her a raised brow, but didn’t comment. Instead, he watched her turn and show them one of the guest bedrooms on the first floor. Meanwhile, his gaze lingered on the curve of her ass in those jeans.

Butcher caught the supe’s lazy perusal with a sharp eye. Ben felt his stare and had the gall to shoot him a wink with his smile. His steps had a certain swagger as he followed Helena down the hall.

Keep Reading: Part 18

The Boys Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Tag List:

@lauraaan182 @homielander @calizmor @haibara-ai-tsii @brujaporfavor @sleepyqueerenergy @adoringanakin @skyesthebomb @lunaticgurly @deans-spinster-witch @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007

@wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum @waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady @leigh70 @clinicallydepresso

@xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy @kmc1989 @emily-winchester @xxlaynaxx @kaleldobrev @jad3djay

#Emotionally Deficient Men #And So It Goes #Part 17 #the boys #billy butcher #soldier boy/Ben #soldier boy #billy butcher x oc #butcher x oc #billy butcher x ofc #poc!oc #billy butcher x reader #Butcher x Latina!OC #karl Urban #poc oc #latina!oc #hughie campbell #zepskies writes

61 notes · View notes

callmerainman · 7 months

Text

𝐍𝐨𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮 | 𝐑𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐞𝐧 𝐀𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

fandom. Mob Psycho 100 by ONE

spoilers!. unspecific spoilers about season’s 3 finale in the beginning, otherwise spoiler free

plot. Reigen Arataka is not only your boss at your part-time job, but your former high school best friend and unrequited love. After a kiss happens between you two, you worry that maybe Reigen is drifting away from you another time. You are devastated, and decide to discuss it while sharing a cigarette at your place.

word count. 4,836k

prompts. fem!Reader, reader is a model, childhood friends, not actually unrequited love, love confessions, fluff, light angst, smoking, late night conversations, kissing, teen crush, childhood memories, hurt and comfort, getting together, making out, emotional sex, naked cuddling, love making, getting together

tw. mild sexual content, sex is here but not graphic or either specifically described

notes. this fanfiction can be considered as a sequel to my other work “Still Into You”. It’s not mandatory to read, but it gives some more insight into reader’s work as a photo model and when Reigen realizes he’s in love with her. Enjoy :)

“I care for you still and I will forever”

There was a kiss.

With Reigen's hands plunged in your hair. Your eyes squeezed shut until they hurt. The sound of his breathing going out of his nostrils. Your hands holding his face.

It happened when Mob lost control of his powers, spreading chaos throughout Seasoning City. You could go with Reigen only for a brief part of your road towards the perturbation, as Serizawa protected the three of you with his umbrella. Reigen insisted on trying to meet Mob halfway, despite your protests.

"It's just Mob, I'll be okay and I'll be back"

He said all of this before taking off his shoes and running in the middle of all the debris that was flying around in the sky. Your legs couldn't move anymore than that, and you just put a hand on your mouth, trying to suppress the urge to scream at him to stop. As Reigen tried to reach Mob, you waited for him while leaning on Serizawa's shoulder, his umbrella protecting you two. Then, the storm stopped. And Reigen emerged under the sunsetting sky, his shirt ripped, blood pouring down his temple. As soon as you saw him, you stood up on your feet, beginning to run towards his direction as he did the same.

"Reigen!"

In a matter of just a few seconds you find yourselves in the arms of one another. It wasn't clear who started it first, but you began kissing. And why? For the care. For the passion. For the happiness of being alive. For love? You felt Reigen's lips moving on yours with resolution, while he ran his hands in your hair. He tasted like smoke, and vaguely of blood. It was a warm kiss just like you imagined it happening between you two. Your heart was beating so hard that you were sure that he was feeling it from your chest to his, from your heart to his. It wasn't the first kiss with Reigen that you expected, but it was the one you wished for. You were so lost in yourselves, that at some point Dimple had to call you two out.

"Geez, get a room"

Only then you regained the necessary awareness to separate. A nervous laugh escaped your lips, and slowly the hands that held you two close started to drift away from your skin. The moment you realized that not only Dimple was still alive, but that Mob was also okay, you ran up to both to hug them tight, even if it was difficult to do so with the green spirit. About the kiss, you didn't exactly know how to feel.

You don't even know it now that things between you and Reigen became weird. It has been two weeks since the kiss and neither one of you talked about an "us". Even after a kiss like that it was still just Reigen and (Y/N). But childhood friends don't kiss like that, and neither do co-workers or people who don't really love each other. That day, maybe for the first time, you had no doubt about his intentions. Reigen really did want to kiss you. It was written in his hands in your hair, in him pressing his body against yours, in the trembling breaths he took at any given occasion. But now you are tormented by doubts. The tone of your conversations was the same for the two weeks following the kiss. Always with the desire to talk about it on the tip of your tongues, but never with the courage to do it. You blame yourself too, it's the responsibility of both you and Reigen to consider your actions, what you two do to each other. But every time you see each other in the office there's that silent agreement: today the kiss will not be discussed.

This afternoon in the office is no different. Reigen has his appointments, Serizawa prepares some tea before heading out for an exorcism, while you on your desk do some paperwork. The looks you and Reigen exchange from time to time, full of unsaid things that are pushing to get outside the heart. In the beginning you could take it. The majority of time spent in the office was with Serizawa or Mob, and it wasn't the case to talk about the kiss in front of them. But after two weeks the excuses were running out. Even today. Not when Serizawa has been out for hours to get an exorcism done and neither you or Reigen decide to talk. Your eyes are slowly starting to sting, as you are scribbling down some practices. You think about how you and Reigen were best friends in middle school and high school. You told each other everything, even the things you were afraid to say to yourselves. You fell in love with him as you grew together, and hopelessly. You gazed at him from a distance at any given occasion, when you couldn't be close to him. Then you distanced yourself when you understood that your feelings couldn't be reciprocated. He just didn't love you that way. Your parents gave you the opportunity to move from Seasoning City and you took it. You and Reigen had promised each other to stay in touch but, over time, your paths were divided. You both started university, found a job and made a new life. Texts and calls became colder, more rare. This until you didn't even wish happy birthday to each other anymore. Then, after ten years apart, you came back and reunited with him after accidentally bumping into each other in the same office you are working now. You just walked in because you thought that your backache was orchestrated by an evil spirit. You didn't read the sign outside and when you came face to face with Reigen, your world changed again. Even if ten years went by, Reigen still reached out to you to help you find a part-time job while you tried to pursue your career as a photo model when you talked to him about your problems. And like that, you were together again.But now, because of a kiss and again because of your feelings, you feel Reigen slip away from your hands. Your eyes start to water at the idea, your writing on paper becomes more sloppy.

Why can't you hold Reigen close to you? A single hiccup escapes from you, and you immediately try to shut it by smashing your hand on your mouth. Finally, after an entire evening with his eyes on his laptop, Reigen flashes his head upwards. He looks at you, and he understands immediately that something's wrong. His lips part, his eyebrows curve upwards.

"(Y/N), are you okay?"

Your eyes bolt up, watered, and your cheeks start to get hot.

"I'm sorry"

You get up and quickly get out of the room, your hand still on your mouth. While you're in the bathroom shedding your tears and your frustration alone, Reigen has his hands planted on his face and his fingers pulling his hair. He lets out a low and muffled groan against his palms, and he curses himself. Seeing you cry makes him crumble completely. And it's not the first time he sees you like this. In high school you were not afraid to cry in front of him, because you knew that you could afford to do that with him. Reigen always listened to you religiously, he always knew what to say to make you feel better and understood. But there were times when you were impossible to comfort.

One of those times, you showed up in front of Reigen's front door without any notice. You were still dressed in your high school uniforms, and it was a spring night. When he opened the door, he immediately asked what happened to you. You planted your hands on his shoulders. Then you got close to his face, your lips parted. And at last, you burst out crying, pressing your forehead against his shoulder. You began crying so hard that Reigen, fearing for your privacy being invaded by neighbours, pulled you inside and shut the door quickly. You two were alone, just you and Reigen in that empty and liminal space as you cried against his shoulder.

"(Y/N), don't cry, please" Reigen said, concern in his voice.

You didn't say anything, too overwhelmed. So Reigen decided to take you upstairs, in his room where you spent so many afternoons. He made you sit down on his futon, then he rested his hands on your shoulders, caressing them.

"What happened?" he asked, gently.

You shook your head.

"(Y/N), please, talk to me"

Breaking your sighs, you finally managed to say "Taka, I just can't tell you"

Reigen, although confused, understood you. With all the respect for your feelings, he accepted that he just couldn't know what was making you cry like that. So he took you in his arms and laid both of you down on the floor. You were so close in that embrace, your legs intertwined, your face in his neck, his hand on the back of your head and his breath on your trembling lips. Two teens in their last year of high school inside a little bedroom on a spring night. One of them cried until her eyes shut from fatigue, and the other fell asleep after making sure that the crying stopped.They fell asleep in their school clothes, all over each other, until the sun came to wake them up. And Reigen never knew why it happened that night that, although so sad, he would always remember with romantic nostalgia.

Today in the office you feel like you are living that night again. But this time he can't cheer you up and he knows exactly why you're crying. Inside the restroom, as you shed tears, you watch your reflection in the mirror. Your shoulders are hunched forward, your hands pressing on the sink. You look in the mirror as you say to yourself "you and Reigen won't ever be the friends you were before". It hurts you more than the idea of him not loving you. When you come back from the restroom, Serizawa is in the office again. He says hello to you with a smile, and you reciprocate, he doesn't notice your red and swollen eyes, but it's not his fault. He's the first to leave the office, closing the door behind him. You silently start to help Reigen close the office for the night. It's dark outside and way past the lunch hour, which you both skipped in order to wait for Serizawa to come back. You feel Reigen looking at you from time to time and your cheeks are hot from embarrassment and frustration.

"Okay, everything's closed" Reigen says, walking towards the door "you ready?"

"Yeah" you say, with half your voice.

Before you can reach for the door knob, Reigen blocks your way with his body. You look at him, confused.

"Today I came with my car, I can give you a ride home" he says "if you want to of course”

You feel your stomach tightening. With an unsure sigh you say "It's really dark outside, are you sure?"

Reigen's driving experience was really limited, but he nods convincingly "I'm sure"

You take a deep breath and nod "Okay then, lead the way"

You walk out the office, making small talk as you go down the stairs. It's more comfortable than your silences. Years ago your silences were relaxing and intimate, beautiful. You can't afford that luxury now. You chat about your day in the dark and empty parking lot behind the office. Reigen was used to escort you to your car when you finished work late, just to make sure that you were safe. You arrive in front of his grey car, the one that you had to drive when he got too drunk at a wedding party. That same wedding where you pretended to be a couple to avoid people's prejudices. You slow danced and smiled together. Maybe you haven't had such an intimate moment with him since high school. The chatting ends inside the car, replaced with commercial music on the radio. Reigen keeps the volume low to not get distracted as he drives through the city night lights. Your elbow is pressing against the inside of the car door, your gaze fixed outside the window as you rest your chin on your hand. At red lights, Reigen takes some seconds to look at you.

He would kiss you right now if he could.

After ten minutes of driving in the night streets, the car slows down. Reigen's foot hits the brake, stopping it completely. You don't move from your position, and he looks at you with apprehension.

"Wanna smoke a cigarette?" he asks.

Finally you turn around and look at him, and you give him a melancholic smile.

"Yes, why not?"

Reigen nods and opens the door. He takes a few steps outside and then he lays on the car hood as he waits for you. You stay in the car, looking at him. Your heart steadily beats against your chest. Then, you get out and walk close to Reigen at a determined pace.

"Do you wanna go inside?"

Reigen, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, widens his eyes a bit in surprise.

"If that's okay for you" he replies.

"Of course it's okay"

You smile. It costs you some effort but not because you don't mean it. Reigen reciprocates. It's maybe the first sincere smile you exchanged since you kissed. Reigen starts to follow you up the stairs of your condo. You guide him, and from another perspective that walk up the stairs looks like a chase. It's not that far from reality. In front of your door you shove your hand inside your purse, frantically looking for the keys. You take them out with a chiming sound and then you turn them around in the keyhole. Reigen thinks that your apartment smells just like you. Like the perfume you always put on, vaguely like your lips of which the taste is carved in his mind forever. And it had that same pleasant air of your former house during summer afternoons when you were teens, when you used to sit on the floor in a star position. The fan always on, ice cream sticks thrown away in a corner, sweat running down your temples and your hair sticking onto your skin.

"We can smoke on the balcony" you say, gesturing him to follow you.

"It's your own apartment but it smells like your old bedroom" Reigen adds.

"And the mess is still here"

As you walk towards the balcony, you shove some clothes behind a sofa with your foot.

You slide the big door-window open. You both get out, and a cold breeze hits you unexpectedly, making his grey jacket and the hem of your skirt flow. Then, you close the door behind you and go towards the balcony railing. You lay against it on your back, it's cold and rough. You start searching for a pack of cigarettes. It's new and fresh, the smell of tobacco mixture faintly tastes like chocolate. You take one cig and put it between your lips. You gesture towards Reigen's lighter with your finger, since yours died.

"Wait" he says, and he makes you come closer.

You obey, and he makes the tips of your cigarettes touch, his is already lit up. Inhaling deep from the filter, even yours lights up with a magmatic color. You look at Reigen and your faces are really close as you exchange a cigarette kiss. Then you separate and you both blow the smoke out in sync.

"It's funny" you say, exhaling smoke "the first time I saw you smoking after we met again I was surprised because I thought you dropped the habit"

"Yeah, but since Mob started working for me I smoke way less" Reigen takes the cigarette between his lips, but then his eyes widen and he looks at you "wait, what do you mean by habit?”

You chuckle "You thought I was that stupid in high school?"

"I dunno what you're talking about"

You smile with nostalgia "I knew that your bathroom breaks during class were just excuses to go behind the school and smoke"

Reigen presses the filter between his lips and inhales. Meanwhile, he puts his hands up to resign, and he exhales a puff of smoke.

"You got me" he says, an amused grin "I didn't want you to think badly of me"

Now Reigen's elbows are pressing against the railing, his clasped hands hanging down. Your apartment is not in the heart of Seasoning City, and during the night the balcony is plunged into nothing but darkness and starry skies. Both you and Reigen puff some clouds of smoke that start to dissipate between stars. You don't see them because you are laying on the back, opposite to Reigen who is hunched forward. Your head slightly swings back and cold hair hits your naked neck.

"You've always been like this, Arataka" you whisper.

"Like what?" he asks.

"Ahead of me"

Reigen frowns his eyebrows and takes another hit. He seems concerned. You copy him and you let the smoke roll on your tongue.

"During middle school, high school..." you continue and blow smoke out "you were always so ahead of me. Everytime I looked at you, I couldn't help but feel like you were always a hundred steps ahead of me. Not in a bad way, but not in a good one either. It was just like that"

Reigen puts the cigarette out, throwing it out the balcony. He looks at the last cloud of white smoke disappear in the starry sky, dissipating forever. With a nervous chuckle he says.

"That's not true"

You look at him. Reigen's eyes are somewhere else, very distant, maybe in another reality. He talks again.

"I mean, you were the prettiest girl in both middle school and high school. Perfect grades, in a lot of clubs and groups, with students asking you out almost on a daily basis. Maybe if I didn't hang out with you I would have been bullied or something like that"

You shake your head.

"That doesn't mean anything, Arataka"

For some reason, the soft and tender tone of voice you used made Reigen want more. He gets close to you, who just stepped on the butt of the cigarette with the tip of your shoe. Almost without noticing, Reigen's arms encage you between his body and the railing, his fingers wrapping tightly around it. He looks at you deeply as you look at him through your lashes.

"The truth is that I couldn't even reach your ankles. I was nowhere near you," you say, slowly "because I loved you but you didn't love me.

Reigen's eyes widen and his fingers squeeze the iron railing more. His heart skipped way more than just a beat. You don't move beneath him, because you're so tired of not talking and running away. Your eyes are fixed on one another, pupils dilated.

"The beautiful and intelligent girl you talk about actually spent the night crying between your arms ten years ago because she couldn't be yours. I never told you, but that night I cried for you and not just that. I even cried because I thought that if I couldn't get you then I couldn't get anything. I moved from Seasoning City because of this. I felt small at that time and I feel small now, because I don't know my future in the modeling career and I'm still here chasing you. Because I still love you, Reigen. Maybe I never stopped in ten years. And I know that you don't feel the same but I wanted to tell you anyway"

"But I do love you" Reigen says "I really do"

It's a really quiet night. It's made of stars, cold air, smoke and words that are finally said. Made of (Y/N) and Reigen, his eyes in yours, his arms that create a space that is all between you two, his hands that are shaking around the railing. And it's made of your (e/c) eyes that fill up with intent, and your irregular breathing, and your mouth opening.

"And I'm not saying it just because you became this super hot model who poses for famous perfume brands. I say it because I loved you everytime we smoked a cigarette together, or when you wished me good morning in the office with a smile. And I love the way you never judge me even if I always do so with myself. I feel small in the world too, and with this anguished feeling that I've never accomplished anything in this life"

Reigen takes a deep breath, just a few inches from your face, and his voice breaks slightly.

"But I rather feel small in the world with you than being alone"

Reigen gets close to you and kisses you. Your mouth smothers the shaking in his voice. You reciprocate the kiss immediately, closing your eyes. It's happening again. You missed his mouth as if you had kissed it a thousand times already. Without notice, his body pins you against the railing, and when he does it you relax. You feel the airy noise of his breathing blowing out of his nostrils, and his heart beating against his chest. When you were in high school you spent a lot of time thinking about how kissing Reigen would be and feel like. Maybe it would happen in class when it was you two's turn to clean it, or at your home when he visited you to read manga together on the floor, or maybe in the back of your car after you took your driving license. Now this kiss feels right as it is, just like the first. When you separate you look at each other with astonishment, the eyes before and the lips after.

"Stay here tonight" you say, in a whisper.

"Yes" Reigen says.

This time you kiss with more urgency, your hands in the bristly base of his honey hair, his arms around your waist. Reigen moves you from the balcony railing and you begin to walk inside. Sometimes you stumble on your feet or bump your teeth against each other. Both of you chuckle and whisper some sorry's. Once inside, you close the glass door and take his hand, guiding him towards the bedroom. You take a second to switch up the lampshade and then you begin to take your clothes off. Your skirt first, then your shirt, and even your underwear, until Reigen sees you completely naked under the dim and orange light of the lamp. He gets close to you, removing his jacket, and he looks at you up and down.

"You're so beautiful (Y/N), you've always been" he says, calmly.

You, on the other hand, cup his face in your hands and kiss him again, and you feel him pushing you lightly towards your bed. You fall down on the mattress, a cloud of pristine blankets moving under your body like waves, your hair contrasting with them and scattered all across the bed as if you were underwater. You look at Reigen with hypnotized eyes as he gets on top of you and takes his shirt off, then you help him unbutton his pants. Only his boxers are on now.

"Can I?" he asks, he's sweet and his hands encapsulate your knees.

"Yes, please" you blurt out in a hurry.

Reigen opens your naked legs and slides his boxers down his thighs. He kicks them off with his feet and positions himself between your legs. You stroke his cheeks and his bangs with the tip of your fingers.

"I find you as beautiful as I thought you were in high school"

You smile to each other slowly, drowning in your gazes. Then, Reigen enters you and you both emit low groans.

Reigen starts making love to you with infinite delicacy, always looking at you in the face. Your lips relax.

"I waited so long..." you whisper.

Reigen arches his eyebrows upwards as he speeds up his thrusts. He feels your legs intertwine around his waist so you can feel him deeper. Your bedroom, in which you always slept without company, is now full of the sound of skin against skin, of the sweet nothings you whispered to tell each other that you were doing good. A lot of praises too. Sometimes you stop to kiss, with Reigen caressing you everywhere, and you squeezing around him even more because you want to be closer. Two bodies under a soft light and with the night out the window. After a while, the rhythm of Reigen's thrust gets more erratic like the creaking of the bed, you know he's close and you are too. You come first, then Reigen follows you. Your mouths are wide open to catch air. Then, Reigen collapses on top of you, plunging his face in your neck. In your skin, he whispers

"Maybe I didn't love you then, but I love you now I swear"

You close your eyes and hold Reigen close as you feel him slide outside of you. You brush your face on his shoulder.

"I know you mean it, you never lie to me"

Reigen rolls on his back, his diaphragm moving up and down irregularly. He looks up at the ceiling as he takes you in his arms and makes you rest on his naked chest.

"I wish I loved you ten years ago, so I would have never lost you"

You shake your head and look up in his eyes.

"Arataka, it was all my fault. You didn't owe me your feelings, not ten years ago and not now, I was just selfish in moving from Seasoning City because I couldn't handle the heartache. We were best friends before lovers, and it wasn't right to just run away without telling you why"

"I could have done more to hold you close, maybe writing you more, calling you, insist to know what was going on"

Reigen shields his sweaty forehead with his hand, covering his eyes in frustration.

"C'mon, stop. We are here now, and we are together"

You pull Reigen's hand away from his face and he rests it on your back, tracing circles on your naked skin with the tip of his fingers. Then, he cups your cheek with his free hand and closes the distance between you and him, kissing you deeply. He moves you on top of his body. Then, you reach for the lampshade switch and turn it off.

"We were good today, we did good to each other" Reigen says, holding you close.

You nod, your hair tickling his chest.

"And tomorrow morning I'll make you breakfast in bed, have sex again if you want and then I'll take you out to eat ramen"

In the darkness it's possible to distinguish only the outline of your bodies, which looked like an individual identity. The motion of your laugh and Reigen stroking your hair can be seen.

"You are every girl's dream. Well, mine in particular. Thank god that after ten years it's still me and you"

You both fall asleep all over each other.

In the morning you wake up to the sunlight shining through the open windows. It floods the room with a warm natural light that makes the white sheets of the bed shine, and even your naked skin. You open your eyes, fluttering them a couple of times. You start to slowly roll on your side, sheets sliding down your body. During the night, Reigen inadvertently scooted away from you and laid on his stomach. He's still sleeping, it's dictated by the slow movement of his back going up and down. The scar he got from his first fight against The Claw is clearly visible, a deep cut running from the top to the bottom of his back. His face is directed towards the window, you can't see the expression he has on his face. But you are more than happy to just settle with looking at his honey colored hair that play with sunlight. You smile full of the awareness that you love Reigen, and Reigen loves you.

I'm sure we're taller in another dimension, you say we’re small and not worth the mention

#mob psycho 100 #reigen arataka #mp100 reigen #mob psycho shigeo #reigen arataka x reader #x reader #reader insert #fem reader #female reader #ao3 writer #anime #reigen x reader #tumblr sexyman #writers on tumblr #fanfic #fanfiction #oneshot #mp100 #Spotify

81 notes · View notes

verai-marcel · 7 months

Text

Your Hearth Is My Home (BG3 Fanfic, Astarion x Female Reader, Part 1 of 27)

Summary: Not every adventurer wields a weapon. You, a hearth witch living near the banks of River Chionthar, are witness to a craft falling from the sky, and wondering if anyone needed assistance, ran down to find survivors. That was your first mistake. Going along with the survivors on their crazy adventure? That was your second mistake. Will you survive your next mistake of letting a hungry vampire bite you?

Author’s Notes: Full disclosure: at this point, I’ve only played through act 2 without romancing Astarion. So why the fuck am I writing some wholesome Astarion x F!Reader? Because I’m dumb and got spoiled on Youtube, and now I can’t stop thinking about the poor guy. Also this is heavily influenced by a couple of wholesome manga (“Life in Another World as a Housekeeping Mage” and “The Forsaken Saintess and her Foodie Roadtrip in Another World”), but I won’t be writing an isekai. You (reader) are from Faerun like everyone else. I’m just here to have some wholesome feels and hurt/comfort. Let’s go go go.

Tags: wholesome, cozy camp time, Astarion x F!Reader, slow burn, good alignment, BG3 Spoilers

Chapter Word Count: 1,843

Ao3 Link here, Darling.

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

Act I, Chapter 1 - The Beginning

You are a hearth witch, living on the banks of the River Chionthar, making potions and herbal remedies for the small villages nearby. For the past three years, you’d been happier than you’d ever been in your life. You loved helping people, but you made sure not to reveal your real name, nor why you always wore long sleeves and gloves, even in the middle of summer.

But the nearby villages had been emptying as of late. News of the goblin camp that recently appeared nearby had first scared off the traveling merchants, and then the locals. You realized that you too should leave, otherwise you’d either have no more customers or goblins on your doorstep. You only had a dagger and a few spells that did little in ways of actual damage, so defending yourself against a horde of enemies was out of the question. So you began to pack up, figuring out what you could bring with you, and what needed to be repurchased once you reached your new home, wherever that might be.

On a warm sunny day, you decided that this would be your last day here. Your pack was filled, your cottage cleaned out. Tomorrow morning, you would take off to the east, following the river to the next closest town. For now, you decided to grab a few more ingredients for the road, and so, you were out by the river bank, gathering fresh herbs and mushrooms.

A booming sound followed a strong gust of wind that whipped around you, twigs and grass flying everywhere. Then you saw a ship crash nearby, the land and water being torn asunder, debris flung in all directions. After the chaos died down a bit, you went to go check for survivors. You couldn’t, in good conscience, walk away if someone might need help.

That was a poor decision on your part.

The first survivor you found was a young, dark-haired woman, passed out on the shore. She seemed standoffish, but after helping her up and giving her a drink from your waterskin, you convinced her that the best thing to do was to get out of the area and rest at your cottage while she regained her bearings.

A little while later, the two of you came upon the strange sight of a single arm, sticking out of a glowing purple rune. You and the young woman, Shadowheart, pulled the poor man out. He introduced himself as Gale, and also joined your party.

As the three of you continued back to your cottage, you came across another stranger. Skin as pale as marble and hair to match. Had some scars on his neck. Perhaps he got them on the ship? He seemed harmless enough. Another escapee of the craft that fell from the sky.

That is, until he tricked you into looking for something in the bushes.

If only he hadn’t touched your exposed neck with his bare hand. Then you wouldn’t have felt the fear, underlined by a desperation you knew all too well.

The leash is cut.

It made you empathize. And that was one rule that had been burned into your mind at a young age.

Do not empathize with the enemy.

Fortunately, Gale and Shadowheart talked him down from stabbing you. The man even apologized to you, though it seemed more for show than for sincerity.

Astarion was his name. He introduced himself with aplomb and decorum, and your hackles raised at the sight. A noble.

After a bit more conversation, they agreed that their shared affliction was enough of a reason to travel together and find a cure.

Swallowing down your general prejudice against nobles, you ignored him and made small talk with the others as you led them back to your cottage.

***

Your cottage had only one room, enough space for your bed, some storage for herbs and tools, and a work table for your alchemy. Most of your things were packed, but you pulled out enough to take care of your guests.

The yard to the side of the building was set up as a small campground for travelers to rest. You had figured out a couple years ago that for a small fee, traveling merchants would gladly rest on your land where it was safe, while you made them fresh, nourishing meals and cast spells on their bedrolls to make them feel warm and comfortable. You even managed to get a small tub built in the back to provide a warm bath for an extra fee.

It had been a lucrative idea, one that made you enough money to be quite comfortable out here in the sticks.

You may only know a few cantrips, but you had manipulated them beyond what most people did. Your mending cantrip could fix whole swaths of cloth, your prestidigitation cantrip could keep bedrolls warm all night, or baths hot for hours. It was why you had several repeat customers, traveling merchants who would alter their routes to come to your place to rest.

You told them of the surrounding area and cooked a meal for them, a simple stew with seasonal vegetables and herbs.

The noble said he wasn’t hungry. You supposed your poor peasant food wasn’t to his taste.

He can suit himself.

While the others were eating, you set up the campground. While you were quietly casting the comfort cantrip on each bedroll, you sensed someone watching you.

“Yes?” you asked, biting the inside of your mouth to keep from being snippy.

Astarion stepped closer to you. He remained standing, looking down on your kneeling form. “What an interesting way to use prestidigitation.”

You shrugged. You had nothing to say to a noble. You finished your spell and started to shuffle over to the next bedroll, but he remained standing in your way.

“Do you mind?”

“Not at all, darling.” He didn’t budge.

You let out a short huff and crawled around him. One bedroll left. Ignoring the man, you began the cantrip.

By the time you finished, you looked up to see all three of them watching you.

“What?” you asked, a little disturbed by the attention.

“I hadn’t thought to use that cantrip like this before,” Gale said as he knelt down to touch the bedroll. “How long does it last?”

“All night,” you responded, feeling a little proud of yourself.

Shadowheart was already crawling into the bedroll. “This feels amazing.” She buried herself into the cloth. “It feels like I’m sleeping on a warm cloud.”

Gale shrugged and followed suit. “Gods, you’re right.” He sat up and looked at you. “I don’t know how you manipulated that spell, but it’s absolutely brilliant.”

You felt a zing of joy. Your little custom cantrip impressed a wizard!

The noble watched you for a few more moments before he too, crawled into a bedroll. His eyes widened slightly. “Oh. My, this is rather comfortable.”

You jutted out your chin, but refrained from being too catty about it. Instead, you switched to being polite.

“Sweet dreams,” you said to everyone, and went about cleaning up around camp. By the time you were done, the three of them were fast asleep.

***

The motley crew thanked you and took off in the morning to explore the area, seemingly never to return.

You looked around at your unpacked things, and decided that it wouldn’t hurt to start off tomorrow morning instead.

Your plans were sidetracked once more, however, when the group returned that evening with a fourth member, grouchy and prickly as a threatened porcupine. After a couple of bowls of your herbal soup, she became a little bit less prickly. Lae'zel was her name, and she punctuated her Common speech with her Githyanki tongue. You found it a bit endearing, the way one finds a stray animal that always hisses at you endearing.

You cast a warming spell on their bed rolls once more, burned incense to keep the insects away, and made sure they were all comfortable in your little camp area outside of your cottage before going to bed.

The next morning, you got up early to make breakfast for them before they left to explore the ruins that they had found the day before. As you checked your rabbit traps, you noticed one of them was tripped, but the rabbit within was a mere husk, as if it had been dehydrated.

Curious.

You reset your trap and returned to camp.

“What’s that?” Shadowheart asked when she saw the husk of a corpse in your hand.

“A dried up rabbit.”

“That doesn’t sound appetizing,” Lae’zel remarked.

You shrugged. “I can at least sell the pelt later. Sorry, you’ll have to make do with another vegetable stew tonight.” You furrowed your eyebrows. “That is, if you’re coming back here.”

The four adventurers looked at each other.

“I think we’ve taken advantage of your hospitality long enough,” Gale said. We’ll start heading west from here.”

***

The group had finally left, and you had finished packing. You had been delayed by their arrival, but no longer. They truly seemed gone now, with the sun setting and no sign of their return. Tomorrow for sure. Tomorrow, early in the morning, you would set off—

You heard your name being called. Off in the distance, you could see Gale, waving sheepishly at you, followed by the others.

You sighed. Biting back your annoyance, you smiled and waved back. A customer was a customer. At least this group was entertaining, and quite generous with their gold. And this time, they brought you back some boar meat.

There was one new face, a man with a stone eye. He introduced himself as the Blade of the Frontiers, Wyll. He seemed nice, charismatic even. Someone who had the manners of a noble but the heart of a commoner.

They set up camp once more in your yard, and you unpacked just enough of your supplies to make them a meal.

"You look like you're ready to go on a journey," Gale commented as you all sat around the campfire, eating a boar roast with herbed potatoes.

"I'm moving. Many people have moved away because of the increase in goblins in the area, and a lot of my business has dried up. And having goblins this close doesn't make me feel all too safe."

“Any plans on where?”

You shrugged. “Not really. I was just going to travel until I found a place to settle.”

"Well, why don't you come with us?"

Everyone looked at Gale in shock, but then they all looked at you.

"You do make camp much more comfortable," Shadowheart finally said.

“And one of us would be standing guard at camp as well, so you would be safe,” Wyll added.

You saw no reason to decline. You liked most of them, save for one snotty noble. A constant flow of income would be nice, for once. You negotiated a decent wage and agreed to head out with them at first light.

That, dear hearth witch, was your second poor decision.

--------

Chapter End Notes:

Yeah, I basically made up a “hearth witch” class as a combo of druid, wizard, and cleric, but hey, welcome to Dungeons & Dragons, where homebrew classes happen all the time. Hope you enjoyed the fic! I'm actively working on the next chapter!

Update 4/4/24: All chapters are here!

#bg3 #bg3 fanfic #astarion #astarion x F!Reader #slow burn #female reader #baldur's gate 3 #your hearth is my home

94 notes · View notes

scarlettriot · 1 year

Text

★ Hello, all you wonderful people. I know it's been a pretty long time since I've posted any kind of story or fic update. The inspiration well has been suffering a terrible drought, and then this idea hit me pretty hard, and I decided just to see where it would take me. Story will get smutty so, no minors or ageless blogs. ★ The world is entirely my own as it is part of another piece of fiction I am writing, however, @twisteddaydreams1135 & @meggsngrits have been helping so much with ideas and plot, it's not even funny. Thank you guys for your continual help. I know I wouldn't even have started this if it wasn't for you two. I also pulled some inspo from the incredible fantasy audio series by Yuzuya. ★ Below I give you a little taste of what is to come. The story will heavily follow the BakuSquad as well as some other beloved characters from the series. I really hope you all enjoy ♡

When you woke up this morning, this wasn't quite how you imagined your day would play out. It started normal, a bit exciting even. You had the opportunity to aid two travelers in locating information regarding some dragon clans, which just so happened to be your area of expertise.

But, you thought when they walked down the library's grand marble staircase and out into the crowded evening streets, it would be the end of the day's excitement. Truth be told, even if you were a senior librarian, nothing too thrilling ever really occurred within the city limits.

All of that changed just a few hours later.

Never in your life had your heart raced quite this fast. Then again, you'd never been running for your life before. Hand in hand with the very loud, and grouchy blonde you'd helped earlier in the day. Footfalls pounding against the cobblestone road in sync with each other, propelling yourselves forward, keeping just ahead of the six hunters that had cornered you not minutes before.

He pulled you through the city you'd always called home, the one you'd never left, making sharp turns down alleyways and cutting across roads without so much as a second thought. Anything he could think of to get them off your trail, he was trying, and yet nothing deterred them.

You were nearing the city limits. And it was only a limit because it was a cliffside. A massive one at that. Standing high above the sea with its unforgiving waves hundreds of feet below.

“When we get to the ledge, don't slow down. Just keep running and jump.”

Just when you thought it would burst, your heart sped up even more. He was insane. He had to be.

“Are you mad? That's a cliff, you know! We'll die!”

“Don't argue! Just do it!”

Before you could blink or hold him back, his free hand flung out behind you both, and magic exploded outward from his palm in a brilliant display of light and sparks that had citizens screaming and debris scattering in every direction. But, it afforded you time. Just precious seconds to create enough space between you and the hunters.

The ledge was a few meters away, there was no going back now. “JUST JUMP!” He screamed, and another blast went off powerful enough to launch the two of you right over the edge, and then you were free-falling through the open air.

Your stomach lurched, and your heart lodged itself in your throat as the wind tore through your hair and stung your skin like a thousand tiny needles. You had a death grip on the blonde's hand and just waited for the icy waters below to swallow you whole, but no chill came.

One moment you were falling, and the next, you were flying. Your body connected with something hard as the man held you in place. “Get up here. Can't have ya fallin' off.” You opened your eyes to see two massive ebony wings, dragon wings, carrying you away from the only home you'd ever known...

#mha #bnha #kirishima #bakugou #mha fantasy au #dragon kirishima #barbarian prince bakugou #dragons and magic galor #bakugou x reader #kirishima x reader #please please please let me know if you want more #I've been having so much fun developing this story

270 notes · View notes

unseededtoast · 15 days

Text

Turtle Doves | Joel Miller

Part Thirteen

Chapter Directory

Series Summary: In which two broken souls connect so deeply, that if one should perish, the other would surely die of a broken heart. (slow burn, timeline changes. After TLOU1, before TLOU2, assumed knowledge of infected, uses elements from both show and game)

Series Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, death, and sexual content.

Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted!

Through watery eyes I see Joel's jaw set tight and I quickly come to terms that I might die here too.

The truck grumbles down the road filled with abandoned cars and debris, and I'm honestly surprised it's lasted us this long. The engine's roar is enough to fill the truck's silence, so that I'm not suffocating from it. Joel and I haven't exchanged a single word after last night, and that's fine with me.

My eyes are glued to the green exit sign that I know we'll be taking and my stomach churns with nerves. Tate said the Fireflies are in shambles, which is nice to hear, but I hope that Trevor is still there and he's willing to answer. I know that I'll have to feign amicability with the Fireflies, but if it means I'm closer to unraveling this mystery then I'm about to be the nicest visitor they've ever met.

Joel stops the truck a few miles away from where the Fireflies should be and sighs heavily. Maybe while I'm gone he'll just drive away and leave me be. Sure, I'd be alone and more vulnerable but I also wouldn't have to put up with his secrecy that hangs over my mind like a dark cloud. Gathering my bag in my hands, I think through the questions I want to ask and what information I really need out of these people. The truck's door squeaks as I hop out, and Joel stays put.

Without checking to see what he's doing, I start heading towards the building the Fireflies claimed. They're easy to find, they practically guide me there with their graffiti spraypainted on the side of every building. Admittedly, the streets are suspiciously empty but that might be due to their declining numbers.

Behind me I hear the slam of the truck's door and heavy footsteps come up behind me. My pace doesn't falter as he catches up to me.

"The hell is your problem?" He asks and I stop in my tracks. My body turns fully towards him, eyes wide. He sure has some nerve.

"What's my problem? What's yours Joel? You're the one who's keeping some sort of secret and you're the one who didn't want to let that kid go last night." The words that fly out of my mouth are probably a bit too loud, but I can't seem to care in the moment. He can't seriously think that our issues are my fault. His cheeks flare with blood, his eyebrows crease harder than they usually are.

"He could've come back to kill us." Joel's voice is low and serious, and I fight back the strong urge to roll my eyes.

"You know he wouldn't have. He was running towards a city that's fallen with nothing but the clothes on his back. He was harmless, it was plain as day." My hands begin moving as I talk, my temper getting the best of me. He huffs in response and goes to keep walking, stepping a few feet in front of me towards the base. Angrily, I turn on my heel and stride towards him.

"Thought you hated the Fireflies, why are you even coming?" My voice is bitter and I think I would have rather had him stay in the truck or better yet, drive off without me.

His broad shoulders tense up as he keeps on the path to the Fireflies, opting to ignore my question. It feels like the blood in my veins is boiling but I push my anger away as I see the main doors of the base. This argument will have to be settled later.

I pick up my pace to reach the base before Joel, not wanting him to be their first impression. His irritability and rough demeanor is not how I want this to start off. The man outside the base points a gun at us and I raise my hands instinctually to show them I'm not a threat.

"Who are you and what business do you have here?" The guard barks out and I speak before Joel can get a word in.

"We need to speak to Trevor." I call back to him and he keeps his gun aimed at us as we continue approaching the doors.

"What business do you have with Trevor?" He questions again, and I plaster a fake smile on my face but I hope it comes off as genuine.

"We have information regarding an operation he's conducting." I keep my answer vague enough so that it's believable, but I leave out the part where I'm going to interrogate Trevor for his possible involvement in the slaughter of children. After a few minutes of silent debate, the guard puts his gun down and beckons us to follow him into the base.

The base is dilapidated and it's obvious that things around here have been rough. There's an overflow of trash piled up in some corners, discarded cans and bags lay all over the place. A ripped Firefly flag hangs from a doorway, acting as a makeshift curtain. The guard leads us through the first floor and up the stairs to the second level. The old wooden stairs creak with every step we take, and I'm half convinced I'm going to fall through them at any given second.

As we make our way through the second level, there are some Fireflies that watch us with curiosity, others look at us with skepticism. Everyone is quiet as we pass through, all of their conversations coming to an abrupt halt. Joel's presence can be felt behind me, he's practically right on my heels as we walk through the place.

Finally, the guard leads us to a closed door at the end of the hall. My heart pumps heavily as I wait for it to open. Footsteps sound on the other side of the door and it swings open, revealing an older man with a receding hairline. He doesn't look very friendly, his face is morphed into a scowl and he gripes at the guard, asking him why he's knocking at the door and not down keeping watch. The guard tells him about our exchange and the man's beady eyes land on me and then on Joel.

"Come in." He opens the door wider and I enter the room with a small thanks.

The room is chaotic. There are maps hung over the walls, all marked up with different circles, lines, and shapes. On the old desk there are dozens of papers scattered and torn. Shredded curtains cover the windows, or try to at least, but there's a steady ray of sunshine that beams into the room, making it hot and stuffy. As Joel steps in, the man closes the door behind him.

"Who are you?" The man wastes no time in getting to the bottom of things.

I smile once more and channel the hospitality in me. I extend my hand and introduce myself. He's kind enough to take my hand and shake it, and he ignores Joel who stands leaning against the far wall with his hands crossed across his chest. I'm thankful he's staying out of this.

"Nice to meet you-?" I prompt the man for his name, hoping and praying he's who I'm hoping.

"I'm Trevor." He walks behind the messy desk and leans forward on it, his weight being pressed down into his palms as he keeps his eyes trained on me.

"Trevor, it's a pleasure. Now I'm not going to waste your time here, I'm hoping there's a way we can help each other out." I push a stray piece of hair out of my face and maintain eye contact with him, noticing how his eyes travel all over my face and down my sweaty chest.

"How so?" His eyes snap back up to mine, narrowing every so slightly.

"I've been travelling for a while now and came across this group of raiders or something. They weren't like normal raiders though. No, these people all had the letter T carved into their skin." I fabricate my story in a way where it seems I'm oblivious to every shred of evidence in my bag. I want to see what he gives up about these people first before I start playing my cards.

"Okay?" He asks, not understanding what I'm getting at.

"Well, I found some Firefly tags in their camp. Seems like they were almost targeting you all." I lie to him again and notice his jaw twitch, but he recovers smoothly with a nod of his head.

"Interesting. Yeah, we've known there are some raiders about and some of our people have left. But, they haven't tried to attack us yet. Thanks for letting us know." He's not going to give anything up it seems. Either he doesn't know about the operation, or he's covering it up. In a desperate attempt for information, I ask one more question.

"Yeah of course. But there's nothing you know about them? Where they might be located? I'd really like to avoid crossing them again." I rub a hand up and down my arm like I'm scared of seeing them again. Trevor scratches the back of his neck,

"Well, no not really. Sorry." His answer is short and he glances down at the papers in front of him as he speaks. I notice a bead of sweat running down the side of his forehead and he makes no move to wipe it. Nodding my head, I quickly start forming a plan of my next line of questioning, pacing back and forth a few steps as my brain scrambles to come up with anything. I think I'm going to have to be bolder if I want the information I came here for.

"That's okay. Tell me Trevor, why would they have a note signed by the Fireflies in their possession?" My pacing ceases and Trevor's shoulders tense up. His gaze meets mine and I see a darkness in his eye. Now I might be onto something. He tries to recover his composure,

"What kind of note?" He asks me, slowly walking around to the other side of his desk. I take two small steps back and shrug,

"I don't know, most of it was burnt up. But I could read a little bit of it. The word immune was on it and QZs were mentioned. Didn't really get to make out a whole lot." I feign ignorance, trying to see what gets him talking. Trevor sits on the edge of the paper-covered desk, a hand on his chin.

As he thinks, my eyes glance up to look at one of the maps taped to the wall. I recognize it immediately as an exact copy of the one that's in my bag. My jaw sets tightly and I try to keep my look of indifference on my face. Trevor definitely knows, there's no way he doesn't. He shakes his head and his voice breaks the momentary silence,

"I really don't know about that one." He's shutting me down again, and I know I'm down to my last resort. The façade of kindness falls from my face and I know that sitting across from me is a man who knows all about the killing of innocent children. My fingers itch to grab the knife from my holster, but I refrain for now. I clear my throat and step towards Trevor this time, knowing I need to get under his skin. A photograph on his desk shows me how I might get him bothered.

"Well, maybe Marlene knows. I worked with her a little a few years ago but I heard she's out here now, she's pretty high up there in rank, she might have a clue." I lie again, knowing full well that she's dead. A photo of her lays amongst the documents on the desk, it looks like she's smiling in it. Trevor's eyes have turned almost black as he looks back up to me.

"Marlene is dead." My lips curve down into a frown,

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Do you know how she died?" I try to get into his head this way, make him mad about my questions and his dead associate. Trevor's knuckles turn white as he balls a hand into a fist and I see Joel shift out of the corner of my eye.

"She was murdered. She was out in Salt Lake City at the hospital and a maniac shot her." I fight to keep from looking to Joel. He's told me that he was with her when she died, but maybe he was withholding some other information about what happened.

"What was she doing out there at a hospital?" My voice almost cracks as I ask. I know my questions are getting off track, but there may be some sort of value knowing this information as well. Trevor shakes his head with a bitter laugh. We're locked in a staring match and I know he's onto me. He knows that I'm aware of more than I'm letting on and he's done playing the game. Which is fine, because I've grown tired of the game myself.

Within the blink of an eye, I grab the gun that's holstered on my thigh and point it towards him, flicking the safety off. Joel moves again out of the corner of my eye, but I keep my focus on the man in front of me. The only thing that's on my mind is getting as much as I can out of him. I repeat my question again, my tone becoming low and the man in front of me sighs.

"She was out there trying to make a cure. We were back in Boston together about a year ago and she found some girl that was bitten but never turned. Unfortunately for Marlene, she was injured and couldn't take the girl herself, so she hired someone else to get the girl from Boston to the Fireflies out west. I left as she was setting up the deal. My men who were there tell me that the man she hired gunned down everyone in that hospital to get that girl back from the surgeon. Then he shot Marlene and took off with the girl." My blood runs cold in my veins but I can't afford to lose my composure now, there's still stuff I need from him. My mind is working a hundred miles a minute, there's too much information to process at once. Too many things are coming to light and I can't focus on unpacking it all right now.

"So why do the Fireflies want the children in the QZs dead? And what do these other people have to do with it?" My finger twitches on the trigger, throwing all sense of secrecy out of the window. A twisted grin spreads across Trevor's face,

"Someone's gotta pay for Marlene, someone's gotta pay for jeopardizing our shot at a cure. I'm going to make sure they pay the same price she did. It's only fair, after all." I shake my head, not understanding what he means.

"Those children have nothing to do with what happened to Marlene." I say, my voice becoming louder and rougher. I step forward and press the gun to the man's head. He glares up at me and grits his teeth as he speaks,

"One of them does, and they'll kill all the children they can just to find her."

Before I can get another word in, there's a loud bang that resounds through the room and the man's blood is splattered all over my front. As if time were moving in slow motion, I look down to see the man collapsed on the floor, his blood draining out rapidly, pieces of his brains scattered on my shirt. I'm frozen to my spot and feel someone's arms wrap around me and push me back behind the desk.

Seconds later, the door swings open and gunfire sounds everywhere, echoing off the walls. I shake my head and come back to reality and realize that the Fireflies left in this building are all coming down on us. Something in my mind switches and it's like I'm back on patrol in the QZs, my movements are on autopilot.

I peek over the desk and quickly aim at a woman rushing in. My trigger finger twitches and I send a bullet through her neck. She gurgles and falls to the floor, but another Firefly is quick to take her place. They shoot at me, but I make my shots count. The way I'm positioned behind the desk gives me the upper hand, and I'm able to shoot the Fireflies as they enter the room before they can see me.

I lose count of how many bodies I shoot down without a second thought. The building is now eerily silent, there are no more footsteps coming up the stairs or down the hall. Carefully, I stand and peek outside the door with my gun drawn, confirming that there are no more.

Once I'm satisfied with the lack of Fireflies, I turn back and see the carnage. There are at least twenty people all piled on the floor, lifeless. My eyes drag from their bodies to the map on the wall, now splattered with blood.

With a reeling mind I leave the room and head back down the stairs. Trevor's words replay in my head over and over and over again and my palms get clammy, my stomach starts turning as more pieces of the puzzle begin hastily putting themselves together.

My hands push open the base's front doors and I breathe in the fresh air and stumble away from the building. There's a sturdy tree just off to the left and my feet drag over the pavement to reach it, chest heaving as I begin hyperventilating. I haven't killed a man in over three years and now I've just slaughtered a dozen. And if that's not bad enough, I think Joel might be a madman.

Quick and ragged breaths enter my body and I'm unable to get control of myself. What does this all mean? My thoughts are cut short as the base door opens again and Joel strolls out, rifle in hand. He meets my wide eyes and tilts his head to the side with an unreadable expression on his face.

Scrambling to move, I push myself off the tree and urge my feet to start running. I don't know where I'm going, but I need to get away from Joel. I sprint the fastest I can, but it's no match for his speed. His boots thud on the pavement as he comes after me, and he wraps a strong hand around my wrist to halt my running.

It feels like my shoulder is pulled out of the socket as I'm jolted to a stop. I turn around in his grasp and try to wrestle myself away, but I can't. He's too strong for me. Through watery eyes I see Joel's jaw set tight and I quickly come to terms that I might die here too.

#joel miller #joel miller hbo #joel miller tlou #joel miller the last of us #tlou #the last of us #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller series #joel tlou #joel the last of us #pedro pascal #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfic #the last of us series #tlou fic #tlou fanfic #tlou series

18 notes · View notes

elisysd · 9 months

Text

Timeless - Taylor Swift

Masterlist- Previously - Next Chapter

I'm gonna love you when our hair is turning gray We'll have a cardboard box of photos of the life we made And you'll say "Oh my" We really were timeless

Being pregnant and not being able to tell anyone was actually painful to Lyanna. She couldn’t say anything to her family because she had read somewhere that it was better to wait until the end of the first semester, and she had not said it to Charles yet. It was not something to be told through the phone and since she would not see him before Abu Dhabi, it made everything harder. She did not expect how stressful it would be to go to her first echography on her own. Especially when her doctor told her that given her medical background, her pregnancy could become risky if it was not monitored carefully. That day, she came back home crying and feeling guilty. Her baby was not even born yet that she was already putting them in danger.

She looked at the ultrasound that her doctor gave her when Lyanna asked if it was possible to have one, as a memory, and let a tear fall on her cheek. At the moment, she considered calling Charles and tell him but she had to be strong. She knew how she wanted to tell him and her in her PJs, crying was definitely not it. She took a deep breath to calm her down and tried to think about positive things.

Finally, Las Vegas Grand Prix arrived. It was late at night and Lyanna had a hard time keeping he eyes open. She wanted to sleep so badly but she promised herself that she would watch every single races, for Charles. But being up at 3am was definitely tough. She deserved a medal. It was commitment at its finest. She just hoped the race would not be boring. Charles was starting P2, right behind Max. It was not the first time but still, Lyanna could not help but feel tense since she knew that every time those two were battling hard to keep their positions or overtake. They always pushed to the limits and sometimes were a bit too careless for her liking. A chamomile tea in her hands, a blanket around her frame and she was ready.

Everything started as expected, Max keeping the pole position despite Charles best attempt to overtake him at the first corner. But both drivers had an excellent start, making things harder to battle right at the beginning. It was a city track, something Charles loved but Lyanna knew that it was even harder to overtake on them and if Charles wanted to win, he had to take risks. Lyanna only hoped it would not be too much risks.

Everything went well for the first part of the race, Charles and Max still fighting with Charles only one second away from Max. Behind them, there were Pierre and Lewis, fighting together and unknowingly making things easier for Charles as he didn’t have to control what was happening behind him and could fully focus on the Red Bull. And then, mid-race was already there. On the radio, Lyanna could hear Xavi telling Charles to push and give his all, that it was now or never. And he did. Too much. His front wing collided with Max as Charles was attacking and Max was trying to defend. Both of them didn’t want to give up the fight. And what was supposed to happen, ended up happening. Both cars spun out of the track and ended up full force in the wall. Smoke could be seen coming from the cars and the Ferrari was nose first in the wall. Carbon debris were flying out and on the track could be seen the marks of the tyres going off the road. It was a big crash and Lyanna couldn’t help but scream as she watched the images playing in front of her. It looked horribly like Austin, a year ago. The broadcast flipped the image to the garage as the red flag was appearing. Lyanna felt like she was suffocating. It couldn’t happen. Not again. Not now. Not when when she was an ocean away with no possibility to intervene. Minutes passed and felt like hours when finally she saw a glimpse of a red racing suit coming out of the car, looking disgusted and angry. Lyanna let a small laugh of relief escaped her. He was okay. He was coming back home to her.

A few minutes later, she received a call from Charles.

“Charles! Thank God, I was so worried.”

“I’m okay but Max won’t be, I’m gonna break his bones after the shit that he pulled! Have you seen that? I pushed him and he pushed me back! That was unfair!”

“Calm down, Charles. It was just an incident on the race. I was freaking scared though.”

“I know. But I’m okay, I promise. I have to go, the race will restart soon. You can go to sleep if you want, I know you haven’t slept well recently.”

“Yeah… I didn’t feel good but I went to the doctor and he gave me vitamins. I’m better now.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I know I haven’t been home much lately but it’s just a few weeks more and then I’m all yours and yours only.”

Lyanna smiled at the thought that he was not just hers anymore. She was dying to tell him but she stayed strong. She told him she missed him and that she loved him and they hung up. despite Charles telling her to go back to bed, she stayed in front of the TV to watch the last part of the race, happy when the cameras were showing Charles but even happier when she was Pierre winning the Grand Prix in the most unexpected way. A few laps ago, a puncture made Lewis drop a few positions and made him unable to come back on top, letting Pierre and Alpine take the win. Lyanna was so happy for the Frenchman and texted quickly Kika that was there to tell her to say congrats to Pierre for her. She also knew that seeing his best friend winning would appease Charles ‘ anger and he would actually be happy for him.

The following days were no fun for Lyanna, just like her doctor had told her she was started to experience her first morning sicknesses and she was absolutely hating every moment. She could not even go out for a walk in the morning without wanting to throw up every time she was passing by a bakery and could smell the fresh scent of the pastries. And it was even harder to hide her pregnancy to Pascale that visited her one day, to make sure she was okay. Lyanna suspected Charles to have sent in his mom on a mission.

“I brought you groceries with every thing that is good for someone who has a tendency to have anaemia. And I bought you sweets as well because everyone need sweets.”

“You didn’t need to, Pascale, but thanks. How worried is he about me? Because I’m sure that if you are here it’s because of him.”

“You can’t blame him Lyanna. And I’m worried too, you’re like a daughter to me. You would tell him if it was serious?”

“Of course I would, but I assure you it’s not. I’m fine. Just need to rest, that’s all the doctor said. And that’s what I do.”

“Charles would understand if you couldn’t attend Abu Dhabi…”

“It’s out of the question. It’s equally important for me to be there that for him to win the championship.”

“You’re more important to him than a trophy Lyanna.”

“I know, but believe me Pascale I can’t miss this race. I really can’t.”

Finally, it was time for Abu Dhabi. Lyanna arrived on Wednesday in late afternoon and headed for the hotel. On her way out of the airport, she didn’t expect to come across some fans that noticed her immediately and rushed to her. They were a dozen and must have seen the Instagram stories she had posted at the Nice airport and checked the flight she was in to get her at the arrival. Everyone wanted pictures with her and give her gifts for Charles. The noise and the exhaustion made her head spun. She closed her eyes a brief moment to try to get back her composure but it was too overwhelming. Fortunately, someone ask the crowd to make way for her and a firm hand took her by the arms, as she felt her suitcase being lifted up. When she opened her eyes, they encountered Joris’.

“I’ve never been this happy to see you!” she sighed as soon as they were away and in the taxi.

“Charles asked me to come. The atmosphere is really weird around him, everyone wants to talk to him, have a picture, an autograph, anything really. It’s worse than the usual, I mean. And it happens to the people around him as well. You don’t imagine how many girls numbers I got since we’ve arrived this morning.”

“How is Charles?”

“Stressed out. An ass with the people around him. I’m glad you’re here, he’ll be a little bit easier to handle.”

As soon as she got to their share room with Charles she went straight to the shower. The hot water relaxed her body a little and she felt a lot more comfortable. Charles was not back yet, he had a meeting with his team as Joris had told her. She laid on the bed and enjoyed the last peaceful moments she could get before the Grand Prix. She woke up an hour or so later as she heard the door closing and Charles whistling. She got up as fast as a lightning bolt and rushed to his side before jumping in his arms. Charles only had time to prepare himself and intercepted her just in time. He laughed a little as she buried her head in his neck.

“Oh God, I missed you” she said.

“My name is Charles, not God.” he joked as she slapped his chest.

“Haha, smartass.”

“I missed you too. So, so much.” He planted a kiss on her forehead before bending to capture her lips.

The following days, Lyanna experienced firsthand what Joris told her. Everywhere they were going, people were following them, screaming their names. It was overwhelming, both for her and Charles. Fortunately, the paddock was a little bit quieter, a thought that Lyanna had never imagined to have.

Charles had press duties for the rest of the day, so she was free to do whatever pleased her, as long as she was staying inside the Ferrari hospitality or didn’t leave it alone. Joris was appointed to her, something that Charles made nonnegotiable.

“Sometimes, I feel like you are my babysitter.” She grumbled.

“Sometimes, I do feel like your babysitter.” He told her, nodding his head as he was giving her a cup of tea.

“This year went by so fast. I can’t believe that it’s almost over, that it’s the final race.”

“That, after all he has been going through, he finally made it. He will be world champion. With Ferrari.”

“How much do you think his life will change?”

“Well, for starter is going to have a street named after him in Maranello. And he will be a legend Lyanna. It’s one thing to win a world championship in F1, it’s already making you special. But winning with Ferrari, it’s a whole other level. You don’t remember every single drivers that won a championship, but for some reasons, you remember forever the ones that won with Ferrari. And after all this time, after all the shit Ferrari has been through, it makes it even more special. Il predestinato.”

“He will always be my Charles for me, no matter what.”

Sunday came very quickly without Lyanna seeing much of Charles. And it was probably better this way, every time she was alone with him she was worried of revealing her pregnancy accidentally. They arrived early in the paddock that day, before the crowd began to get big. Charles was focused in a way he rarely was. In his bubble, like he already had his eyes on the prize. Nothing Lyanna could say seemed to make him react. It was two hours before the start that she finally got some alone time with him, in the privacy of his driver’s room. He was changing into his racing suit as Lyanna was watching him intently.

“It’s going to be okay.” he repeated to himself.

“Do you need help with something?” asked Lyanna as he was fidgeting with his bracelets.

“Can you, maybe help me with them?” he shyly told her shaking his wrist.

Lyanna got up and took his hand in hers and proceeded to remove the bracelets carefully, taking her time to let her fingers wanders on his wrist and making Charles shivers. He was shaking. It was not noticeable from afar but being up close she could feel him. She put all of them in a plastic bag but the horse one that she put on her own wrist. Charles deeply looked at it, his hand still in Lyanna’s.

“I’m so grateful that you’re here. I needed you. I didn’t want to admit it, I thought I would be okay with the thought of not having you but I was wrong. I really, really need you.”

She put her other hand on his cheek, forcing him to look at her in the eyes.

“I’l always be here for you, no matter what. Even if I’m halfway across the world, my heart is with you. Wherever you go, I go. Whenever you fall, I fall. Whenever you rise, I rise. It’s us and the rest of the world.”

Charles smiled, oblivious to the fact that the ‘us’ had a deeper meaning than simply Lyanna and him. He put his arms around her and pulled her against him, his chin of the top of her head and closed his eyes.This was it. It was time for him to shine. One last kiss to her and he headed for the garage, his fingers linked to Lyanna’s.

He started on pole and Lyanna knew that there was nothing on this day that would stop him from crossing the finish line first. It was as if all the grid knew it too. There were no battles in front, Max let Charles took the lead and then it was it. No one in front of him, Max almost 12 seconds behind. The race flew fast and soon there were only five laps remaining. As Lyanna was watching the screen, her legs bouncing from the stress and anticipation, someone from the pitwall came to her.

“Fred is asking for you. He wants you to be the first person Charles will hear on the radio after his win.”

Lya’s vision was blurry from emotion and she nodded following on shaking legs the man. Fred smiled at her and she could swear that he also was about to cry. He gave her his headset as Charles was starting his final lap. Under the screams of the crowd and the joy in the garage he finally crossed the line as the checkered flag was being waved. Lyanna could not believe it. Fred as well. He looked at Lyanna and mouthed a ‘ready’ before pressing Charles’ radio button.

“Fred, we did it. We fucking did it.” She could hear his emotion. He was not crying but she knew that we was trying to control himself.

“Charles Leclerc, you’re a World Champion. Congratulations. I’m so, so proud of you. We are all so proud.”

She was trying to not say too much, knowing that the conversation was witnessed by million of people around the world.

“Lyanna?” and it was enough for him to break down. She could hear him cry over the radio and it was the final blow as the tears escaped her eyes without her being able to stop them.

As soon as he stepped out of his car he rushed to his team. he wanted to be with them but his eyes were frantically searching for Lyanna and Fred. When he finally found them, together, he ran and the full force of his body colliding into them, almost made Lyanna stumble but his firm hand on her back prevented it. One arm around her, the other around Fred he let all the pressure of the last few months wash off.

“Your dad and Jules are so proud, Charles. They are watching you and they are so proud.” told him Fred.

“It’s for them. All of that is for them.”

Finally back at the hotel, many hours after the end of the race and the celebrations with the team , they were both exhausted.

“Finally alone.” whispered Charles as he was putting a sweater and Lyanna was removing her shoes.

“Charles?”

He looked at her with a sleepy smile.

“I need to give you something. It’s a gift.”

She went to her suitcase and pulled out a box wrapped in red.

“My love, you didn’t need too.”

She shrugged and sat on the bed, taking his hand and inviting him to do the same. He unwrapped the gift and open the box. Inside, there was a baby onesie that Lyanna had been made by a stylist she trusted and knew well. It was a red one with the Ferrari logo. In the middle on capital letters, we could read ‘my daddy is a world champion’ and in the back a huge horse was embroided. Charles took it in his hands and put it in front of him, trying to process what Lyanna was telling him. When he finally looked at her, tears in his eyes, mirroring her own and whispered.

“You’re pregnant?”

She nodded, unable to form a coherent sentence.

“I’m going to be a dad. For real? Like, is it really? Are you sure?”

“I learned it a few weeks ago. Here, this is the ultrasound.” She took it as it was stuck between two wrapping papers.

Charles eyes were glued to the picture trying to memorise it. Finally, he looked back at Lyanna and without thinking took both of her hands and knelt down in front of her.

“Marry me.”

“What? What do you mean, marry you? Are you seriously proposing?”

“I’m deadly serious. I know I don’t have a ring and we are in a fucking hotel room in the middle of the night but I don’t care. Lyanna Michel, I fell in love with you a long time ago, you’re the best part of me and I can win all the world championship in the world, they don’t matter if you are not beside me. I want to good, the bad and the ugly with you. I want to wake up every morning happy to be calling you my wife. I want our big house and the big garden for the kids. I want to see you shine and win an Oscar and say that I’m your husband. I want it all. I want you. And i promise you that I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to you that you made the right choice with trusting me with your heart. Say yes. Choose us.”

“I was never going to say no in the first place. I choose you Charles Leclerc. It’s you, me and our baby. Forever and Always.”

========

author’s note: Well…. I’m not gonna lie, I don’t really know how to write the A/N. I’m really emotional knowing that it’s the last real chapter of Lyanna and Charles story. We still have the epilogue to tell them a proper goodbye. 💛 As usual, let me know your thoughts through the comments or ask box if your too shy. And don't forget to leave a like or reblog the story. It helps. And it lets me know that you like the story. taglist: @zendayabelova @purplephantomwolf @ru-kru @dakotali @blueflorals @aundercover @ruleroftheuniverse @fangirlika @writerscurse @elijahmikaelsonbitch @leclerc13 @karmabyfernando @stargaryenx @pitlanebabe @boiohboii @reengard @shikshinkwon

#writing #charles leclerc #fiction #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x female reader #cl16 x reader #charles leclerc imagines #cl16 #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x you #f1 x oc #f1 story #f1 fic #f1 x reader

109 notes · View notes

tearwolfe · 6 months

Text

my first ever real fanfiction!! not sure on the process of posting writing to tumblr so i hope this is fine :)

please be nice. i almost never write for fun <3

this is sort of a beginning to my supercyber prsk AU. this is how tsukasa and emu first meet! i want to keep the meeting order similar to canon, so tsukasa meets emu before he ever gets to know rui or nene.

to anyone new- supercyber is my self-indulgent vampire tsukasa AU. it's supernatural x cyberpunk (genres) and set in a dystopian city.

apologies if tsukasa is sort of OOC! he seems a little brooding in this fic.. sorry! he isn't Always like that in this AU.

FANDOM: Project Sekai: Colorful Stage

CHARACTERS: Emu Otori, Tsukasa Tenma

WORD COUNT: 2,294

The darkest parts of the city were always active. Dim lights and dripping pipes attracted the most grim monsters, prowling for unsuspecting victims. The cost to put in a few more lights didn’t seem like it’d be too much to Tsukasa, but what did he know? The pockets of the rich in charge only got fuller as everyone at the bottom suffered. Sending out “protectors” to deal with the beasts was a measly bandaid to a much larger, systematic problem.

Protectors did nothing but symbolize the power that the government had. It was hard to turn a corner without running into that shiny protector badge in the city center, but it was rare to come across one where Tsukasa spent his time, in the grim backstreets.

The vampire’s thoughts were interrupted by a loud bang, followed by a cloud of smoke emerging from behind a building. Quickly, he was back on his feet, dashing toward the scene of the disturbance.

Tsukasa had decided it would be his duty to protect the backstreets for as long as the people in power did nothing for their less fortunate citizens. Night after night he prowled, hunting down the shadow beasts, known colloquially as “rogues,” that feasted on humans. For a while, Tsukasa had despised humans for terrorizing his kind into hiding for so long. Years ago, the thought of saving a human would have made the vampire sick. Hate only breeds more hate, however, and as it turns out, no one hates humans more than other humans. It was disgusting to him how little regard the corporate leaders in charge of running the city had for their own people, especially the people that needed kindness the most. He learned to redistribute that hate up the ladder, and to protect the people who had nobody else.

Guilt bubbled up inside him. The air smelled of wet pavement, rot, and smoke; it was difficult to detect the scent of rogue, but it was faint. He should have noticed it before anything had happened! As he raced down the alley, turning a corner, he fully expected to find the lifeless body of a civilian hanging from the jaws of a beast. A dark maroon painted the road, pieces of black fur scattered about. Bright pink caught his eye, reflecting off the shiny badge he loathed.

Before him stood a short girl, hands wrapped around a hammer the size of her torso. The pink lights emitting from the hammer lit up the scene. She had a cheerful grin across her face, despite the growling beast circling her, trailing blood and limping.

Tsukasa pulled up his collar instinctively, hiding his fangs from the girl. She seemed to barely notice him, though, more preoccupied with the opponent in front of her. A few moments passed before the protector lunged once more, landing a final blow on the injured rogue. The impact of the hammer was certainly loud and sent a blast of debris flying. This must be what caused that smoke earlier, Tsukasa thought, observing the fight from around the corner. The body of the defeated rogue began to evaporate, leaving behind only a pool of blood.

Satisfied, the girl hummed. “Wow! These guys sure are everywhere around here!” she exclaimed, seemingly to nobody. Tsukasa continued to watch her as she wiped a speck of blood from her face with her sleeve. “I wonder why we’re never sent out here…?” she pondered, tapping her chin with her finger. “Oh well!” she shrugged, ending the conversation she was having with herself.

How odd… maybe protectors were beginning to become self-aware. That aside, Tsukasa couldn’t just leave her to walk off like everything is fine. That’s not part of his status quo.

Swiftly, the vampire dashed forward, running across the stretch of blood-stained pavement and toward the protector. Once the gap between the two dissolved, he unsheathed his claws and struck toward the back of her head. Despite facing the other way, she clearly heard his approach and ducked just in time, causing Tsukasa to stumble forward. That’s right, protectors aren’t as stupid as rogues. The pink-haired girl pulled back, taking a look at him.

“Hello!” she shouted in greeting. Her eyes widened when she took in her attacker; he wore a flashy cropped jacket with long, blue sleeves, and a collar that covered half of his face. His hair was long, blond-to-pink fade reaching his waist. And of course, his slitted eyes were a deep red.

“Oh! I know you!” she pointed, jumping back up to her feet in excitement. “You’re Pegasus!”

Something deep in Tsukasa’s ego stirred. Just a little. As it turns out, stealth is not his strong suit. He’s earned a name for himself, he would call himself “famous,” though “infamous” is a better way to describe it. As a late-night vigilante, his name, or rather, his pseudonym, has been passed around. If he’s going to save civilians, might as well tell them “the star that will keep the city safe ☆” is called Pegasus. He had no plans on making his identity as Tsukasa Tenma public.

He straightened up, theatrically moving his hand to his chest. “You are correct!” he beamed, “I am Pegasus!” The protector looked way too excited for his act. They were on different sides, weren’t they?

Tsukasa raised his arm and quickly pointed at the girl. “I was just doing my nightly rounds, fighting rogues and protecting civilians,” he declared rather loudly, beginning his monologue. He wasn’t able to get very far, however, before the protector tightened her grip on her hammer. She was just pretending to be excited-

Behind him, he heard a roar. He whipped around, catching the flash of pink in the corner of his vision. Another rogue had crawled its way into the alley, sleek body in the form of an oversized lizard. The hammer crashed into the beast, creating another loud BOOM that made Tsukasa cover his ears. Despite her size, the protector was surprisingly strong, especially to be wielding a weapon that big. The rogue let out a pained cry, thrashing wildly after the strike it received. He knew that this protector could easily take this one out, after watching her so easily defeat the previous one, but he was not going to let her take all the glory. Not when his monologue had been interrupted so abruptly.

He took action, running directly at the beast. He felt pink eyes on him as he leapt forward and raked his claws across the face of the injured rogue. It hissed and stumbled, impaired vision causing it to lose its footing. This one is slow, Tsukasa thought to himself, striking the lizard-shaped rogue once again with claws. He pierced its throat, its blood staining his hands. As the monster choked, a large hammer flew into his eyesight and smashed into the head of the beast. Startled, the impact sent him staggering backwards, and he found himself in a crouched position, eyes remaining on the unmoving beast. After just a few moments, like the one before, it dissipated into the air, leaving only its blood behind.

Tsukasa let out a sigh. The adrenaline of the attack was still coursing through his veins. To the right of himself, he heard a shrill cheer.

“YAY!” He looked over. The short protector girl was doing a victory dance of sorts, waving her hands in the air. “We did it!” she yelled once more, turning toward Tsukasa. “We made the monster go WOOSH!”

Quickly, he wiped the look of disbelief off his face. Normally, protectors would be after him now, but she made no move to attack him. Even though he had charged her before…

“Yeah! Of course-” he started, picking himself off the ground. “WAIT, no, that was supposed to be my kill!” Tsukasa shouted, pointing at her.

“That doesn’t matter!” the girl smiled. She stepped over and took her hammer in her hands once more. “It’s gone now, nobody will be hurt!”

Right. Because protectors were so concerned about civilians and not just their own image. Even so, it was unusual to find a protector in this area. It was odd, and now that Tsukasa had time to think about it, she seemed different than all the others he had encountered.

“Anyway! Mister Pegasus! You really are a vampire!” The smile remained on her face as she spoke. Tsukasa braced himself to lunge at her, but she quickly put her hands in front of herself, as if that were going to stop him. And it did. “Wait, that’s not bad!”

He paused, flexing his claws. “Am I not your enemy?” he asked, intrigued by the morals this pink-haired girl carried. He was right, she was definitely different. She shook her head violently.

“Of course not! I’ve seen what you do. You have the same goals that I have,” the girl exclaimed, excitedly pointing to the shiny badge on her collar. “I want to protect people, just like you.”

That’s what protectors always claimed. To join the ranks of protectors was to pledge yourself to the government and follow whatever orders they gave. That’s what Tsukasa hated so much about them. The government would never send a protector to this part of the city though, so whatever she is doing here is by her own accord. And for that, Tsukasa decided she was not a bad person.

He retracted his claws, however still stayed alert. “I believe you.” Naive maybe, but she was skilled and had a good heart. “What are you doing all the way out here?” he decided to ask.

“I just felt like coming here! My dad tells me to stay closer to the capitol, but there’s so many rogues over here. I don’t know why we’re never stationed here,” she responded easily. She seemed like an open book, having no reason to hide anything. “Oh! Do you want me to still call you Pegasus? Or is that too formal? I’m Otori Emu, but you can call me Emu, now that we are friends!”

Friends?! That was quick, but Tsukasa simply didn’t have the heart to tell her otherwise. This girl, Emu, was a force to be reckoned with, in a good way, he supposed. “Ah- well you can call me Tsukasa!” He was not keen on giving out his surname, lest harm will fall on Saki, but Tsukasa sounded safe.

Wait. “HUH?!” he shouted, eyes widening. “OTORI? AS IN, OTORI ENTERPRISES?” She only beamed back at him.

The city was run by a group of powerful corporations- one of them being Otori Enterprises. This girl was a part of an influential family, one he certainly had no business messing with quite yet. Shit. He already gave her his name.

At this point, Tsukasa was starting to visibly panic. “Hey! I’m not going to tell them about this,” Emu tried to convince him, taking a few steps toward the vampire. The sudden movement caused him to growl, sending her a piercing glare.

“I should have never let my guard down,” he spat. If he were to concuss her, would she forget that he was ever here? He took a glance at his surroundings, surveying near objects, before returning his gaze to Emu. She looked concerned, and a little sad. No, he couldn’t do that. She was a protector, but she also showed him kindness. It would be against everything in him to hurt her seriously.

“I’m not even supposed to be out here,” Emu spoke again, “if I told my family who I met, I would be in big trouble!” She sounded reassuring, but Tsukasa refused to drop his guard again. “So, it’s okay! We can be friends!”

Friends… maybe it was a good idea to get to know somebody on the inside. He wasn’t intent on manipulating her, but he had a feeling he wouldn’t need to. This Otori Emu had a genuinity about her that Tsukasa was sure he liked. He wouldn’t lend his trust so easily to a protector. However, he may as well see where this would lead.

“Hey, not so close,” he growled. She pouted a little bit, then quickly recovered.

The vampire took a deep breath. “Okay, fine, I believe you.” He hoped his words were true. “Just- don’t tell anyone my name. Okay? I’m Pegasus.”

The girl nodded her head excitedly, smiling wide. “WONDERHOY! YAY!” she shouted, jumping up and down a few times. Emu then paused, grinning at Tsukasa. “Wow! I’ve never been up so close to a vampire before-” she took a few steps forward before he put his hands out in front of himself, stopping her abruptly.

“That’s okay!” she smiled, circling back to her previous spot. “Well, Pegasus, it’s getting late!” Emu glanced up at the dark sky. “Er- early?” She turned her head to the side, before letting her pondering get too far. “I’d better be off! Take down any of the rogues I may have missed for me!” she had already begun to dash away, shouting and waving her hand back at him.

In an instant, the pink-haired girl disappeared behind a corner. Tsukasa stared at the empty spot where she once stood and brought his arms to himself. He wasn’t able to get a final word in with her before she left. Would he ever see Emu again?

She clearly did not have any problems disobeying government orders, traveling farther than her issued post. Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad thing to see her again. The two had worked so well as a team, not knowing each other at all. Perhaps Emu could be what the world needed to make a change.

Tsukasa found himself missing her presence. He had been living a much more lonely life than expected.

#prsk #project sekai #prsk au #fanfic #fanfiction #tsukasa tenma #emu otori #emu ootori #supercyber au

46 notes · View notes

in-death-we-fall · 10 months

Text

Parallel Lives

Kerrang 923, September 28 2002

In Slipknot, Joey Jordison gets to rage. In the Murderdolls, he gets to rock. In both bands, he shits in public…

Words: Ian Winwood Photos: Roxy Erickson

Never let it be said that the Murderdolls lack the capacity to surprise. It’s Thursday night, the penultimate date of their sold-out tour of British clubs, and the band were due onstage 10 minutes ago. Getting a band like this to do anything on time is like turning an oil tanker around, so they’re running late. Which means that the 500 people packed inside Bristol’s Fleece club are just going to have to wait.

Joey Jordison, on the other hand, cannot wait. Opting to change from ugly-men-without-make-up to ugly-men-with-make-up not in the venue’s intimate and inaccessible dressing room, but in their tour bus, the Murderdolls have, for the past 45 minutes, been saying “Excuse me” and “Could you pass the hairspray/lipstick” and getting dressed into stage clothes that have seen less washing powder than the Turin Shroud. It’s like playing Twister with Max Factor.

And it could be worse. Joey Jordison – five feet not very many inches tall, even in ridiculous stage boots – needs to ‘go to the toilet’, and he needs to do this in the ‘I’d leave that for 10 minutes if I were you’ sense of the term. Which is unfortunate, considering that ‘No solids shall be deposited in the tour bus toilet’ is appropriately Rule Number Two in the rock ‘n’ roll code of the road, second only to ‘Do not blow the bus driver’s brains out with a .45 Magnum as he’s hurtling down the motorway at 120 miles per hour’. For Jordison, looking quietly concerned, this is a problem. Think, think, think: what to do?

Joey Jordison decides to resolve his predicament by performing a bowel movement on the pavement, in the street.

You did read that correctly.

“Man, I just took a shit in the street,” he says, almost skipping with joy and pride.

Perhaps to celebrate such a commendable achievement, one of the Murderdolls – and, let’s be honest, aside from Joey Jordison, they all look the same – decides to smash a pint glass. The jar arcs through the air, hitting the cobbled floor with a smash that is, strangely, as satisfying as it is entirely redundant. Then another glass takes flight. Then another, then another. There isn’t much whooping and there isn’t much hollering, but there is plenty of debris.

We’re standing outside a pub, next door to the Fleece. The landlady leans out of the doorway.

“Could you stop that please?” she asks.

“Go back inside lady,” says vocalist Wednesday 13, winner of this week’s stupid name competition. “Go back inside and no-one will get hurt.”

Five minutes ago Wednesday was giving serious consideration to urinating on a Puddle Of Mudd fly poster. He decided not to because the band, as people, are “cool”.

The Murderdolls are now walking toward the stage door.

“Hey, you know about American football right?” asks Eric Griffin, the bass player. Eric has missed a part of the tour after his father died, but now he’s back. “Well in American football this is called a drop-kick.”

Eric throws a pint glass from his hand and tries to kick it. The glass spins from his boot and smashes six inches away.

He adds: “Although it’s not a very good drop-kick.”

Inside the venue, the crowd have heard the intro tape and are starting to cheer. Outside, the band are going inside.

Please welcome, from the United States of Stupidity, The Murderdolls.

The Murderdolls have a song called ‘I Like (sic) To Say Fuck’, which is just as well, because they say fuck all the time; they also have a song called ‘Let’s Fuck’ which is not just as well, if you’re the one in line, because they’re all as ugly as fuck.

Onstage at the Fleece, the band say the word so many times that if they were to keep a swearbox they could, at the end of the tour, purchase a country. So it’s, “Here’s a fucking song for you, Bristol,” and “Are you tired of hearing all the fucking shit on the radio, Bristol?”.

In case, heaven forbid, you get bored of the word “fuck”, The Murderdolls do spice it up and throw it around with the odd “motherfucker” as well. They’re inventive like that.

They’re also, on a night like this, at the very core of their element. When the album, ‘Beyond The Valley Of The Murderdolls’, is boiled down and fried up in a hateful hall before 500 loving people, you’re seeing this band as they were intended to be seen. It’s here that you can view the parts of the Murderdolls that are A Good Thing, such as the schlock-punk shtick that recalls bands such as the Misfits and the Necros. This is also the place to see the parts of the Murderdolls that are A Bad Thing, such as them revisiting the era of hairspray and shiny guitars that epitomised the glam-metal years.

The Murderdolls will try to guess a woman’s cup size by feeling her breasts. It’s worth asking: what is the point of the Murderdolls?

“Just to have some fun,” says Joey Jordison. The guitarist – for this group at least – sits in the upstairs lounge of his band’s tour bus. Adjacent to him is Wednesday. Before the tape recorder is switched on, a request is made that the whole band are questioned, but Joey, quietly, won’t allow it. Make of this what you will.

“I get all my angry shit out with Slipknot, so this is something else that I can do. And I have fun doing it. We may not be the most serious band in the world, but that doesn’t really matter. That doesn’t mean that this can’t mean something to me just the same.”

For a band that aren’t serious, by the way, Joey Jordison chose to meet this question in serious tones, and with some immediacy – ready with an answer, almost leaping in with his response.

Would you like your audience to be serious about liking you?

“Yeah, I suppose I would.”

Joey Jordison didn’t actually make an appearance today until 8pm, fearing that he’d contracted a fever after standing in the cole – straight after his band’s set – in Manchester for three hours signing CDs and body parts for his fans. Later in Bristol it would seem that this is no more than a chill, but his earlier absence means that his bandmates have to endure the mind-shrivelling tedium that is the afternoon before a show without him.

Wednesday and guitarist Acey Slade are upstairs in the Fleece’s dressing room, talking small and killing time. Wednesday is attempting to fit brown plastic holsters to his trousers, in which he can hold the blue plastic pistols that will spurt water into the crowd later tonight. Slade – the funniest and most impressive member of the band – is looking through photographs taken in Germany. He says the word “cool” a lot. Wednesday has a bastardised image of Colonel Sanders on the back of his jacket. Kentucky Fried Chicken is his favourite food, he says, with the humorous delivery of a serious sentiment. Although if he lived in England he would open a chain of fast food franchises called Kentucky Fried Fish And Chips.

Wednesday is from Louisiana (sic). Acey is from Pennsylvania.

But you’re based in Los Angeles, right?

“Fuck no,” says Wednesday.

I thought that’s where you all lived.

“We don’t really have a base,” says Slade.

Is that because you’re not a proper band?

“Fuck you,” says Wednesday.

The Murderdolls take this well. The Murderdolls, fittingly, know how to smile.

This is Joey Jordison’s band. He laughs and jokes along throughout the evening – and his humour and tolerance of a piss-taking journalist is more impressive than many – but, in subtle moments, his demeanour betrays a seriousness and focus that is hardly disguised. He is acutely aware of how he wishes to be portrayed although, strangely, he appears more concerned with visuals than words. He applies his make-up on three separate occasions for the photographs that partner this piece. The last time he has to do this, at 1am, he doesn’t appear overly thrilled. He has a quiet word with Roxy Erickson about what she can and can’t shoot (admirably, she opts not to fall in with the conspiracy).

In conversation, conversely, Jordison is almost slanderously unguarded. He wants to make it clear than our own Josh Sindell, in his review of the Murderdolls’ set at the Whisky A Go-Go, was wrong to say that Kerry King left early out of disdain, but rather had to leave for LAX airport. Then he says that while the other eight members of Slipknot were furious with K! Dep Ed Jason Arnopp for the things he wrote in his Slipknot book, this was only because they knew that what he wrote was “true”. He’ll also tell you about how he fucked-up his voice by mixing two different batches of cocaine together earlier in the tour. And how, on the road with Slipknot in America, he walked in to the Clown’s dressing room and emptied his bowels right into the rubbish bin. Right there in the room.

Why on Earth did you do that?

“Because he was fucking with me.”

Is there tension in Slipknot?

“No.”

But then he’ll say this. And he’ll say it with some joy and no disguise.

“We had more people at our gig (in Los Angeles) than Stone Sour did.”

Yeah, but Stone Sour are selling more records in America than you are.

Joey Jordison nods his head and curls his mouth into the thinnest, and cruellest, of smiles. Quietly he says, “At the moment”.

Are you sure there’s no tension in Slipknot?

“Yes.”

In the pub next door to the Fleece, there is something approaching mutiny. It’s 11:50pm, and the Murderdolls left the stage a quarter of an hour ago. Four men in their 40s are arguing about the merits – or otherwise – of the band. They all went to the show, but only half of them enjoyed it. You’ve got to move with the times, say the defenders. They weren’t even playing their instruments, say the detractors.

Listening to this is the landlord. He manages to be friendly despite glowing incandescent with fury. It was his glasses that were smashed by the band, and it was his wife who Wednesday instructed to go back inside so that “nobody would get hurt”.

The landlord also thinks the Murderdolls are the worst band ever to have performed next door. So furious he was with the incident, he confronted the Murderdolls’ tour manager and, threatening to summon the law, elicited an apology and £50 in compensation without hesitation or complaint.

Rock ‘n’ roll.

Just round the corner, the Murderdolls are milling in the street, signing autographs for the 200 people who have braved the chill and missed the last bus to talk to them. They will stay there for two hours. Then they will board the bus and, knowing nothing of the furore left behind them, sleep in their bunks and wake in another town. And there the Murderdolls will emerge to laugh and bullshit their way through another day.

#problems. all of them.#murderdolls #joey jordison #wednesday 13 #eric griffin #acey slade #ben graves #ben is only in a photo #interview #kerrang 923 sep 28 02 #if you want anything else scanned lemme know #the staples in this one were not aligned so just pay the edges of the two page photo no mind please thanks

100 notes · View notes