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carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 3 months

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Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 86

Part 1 Part 85

Eddie’s going to come out of this whole thing with a bald patch. He can’t stop pulling at the ends of his hair, feeling the sharp tug on his roots, the snap of the few hairs that can’t withstand the onslaught.

They’re all just sitting here, resting on their laurels like Steve isn’t slipping further away with every wasted second.

There’s enough frenetic energy running through Eddie to make him want to get out of the van, pace the length of the Byers driveway like a tiger in a cage. But Steve’s bound and blindfolded in the van, and the thought of taking his eyes off what little he can see of Steve’s face makes bile rise in his throat.

There’s not much else for his stomach to dredge up. He can’t remember the last time any of them ate.

So, he sits on his heels. And he waits, feet going numb beneath the weight of his thighs.

This is all becoming horribly familiar. They’re even at the Byers house again, Eddie losing his mind by inches, Steve gone.

It’s not fair. Even through all of this, no one’s priority is ever Steve, first. Steve, only. Even when it should be. No one except Eddie.

Will’s still curled into his side, looking up at Steve with that same desperate need, though. So maybe it’s not just him. They’re an island of three, always.

Eddie can live with that, will gladly subsist only to give these two his devout devotions. If Steve will just come back to them.

Eddie’s ready to scoop up Baby Byers in one arm, Steve in the other, and flee state lines if it means he gets to keep them.

Mama Byers likes him too much to let the kidnapping charges stick.

But Steve’s still gone, even as he sits placidly in front of them. So, he waits like a good boy.

For Carol fucking Perkins of all people. It’s like the Upside-Down is determined to scoop up all his sworn enemies and drag them into the clusterfuck right alongside him. First Nancy, now Carol. What’s next? Billy fucking Hargrove? Where does it all end?

Eddie yanks his hair again, feels a few more hairs snap. He drops them on the floor of the van, mind spinning off into DNA, and fingerprints, and all the things the shady government spooks could pin on him with those few loose hairs.

He pulls out a few more.

Barb’s usually an annoyingly safe and slow driver, but she must have hauled ass because her tires are skidding into the driveway well before he would have expected her to be. She stops abruptly enough that gravel kicks up around her car, tires digging grooves into the dirt beneath it.

The kids tumble out of the backseat, dirty but intact. Eddie can’t help the way his eyes stray from Mike, to Lucas, to Max, to Dustin, cataloging each of the rips and smudges along their bodies, looking for scrapes and injuries underneath.

The knee of Mike’s jeans is suspiciously ripped and bloody, like he’d taken a tumble on cement, but everyone else looks fine.

When Carol slides out, she looks decidedly less fine. Her preppy outfit’s streaked with dirt and grim, her usual blow-out hair-do caked with something suspiciously dark and viscus. Most damningly, she’s got a baseball bat clutched in her manicured hand, ready to take a swing, and are those nails? Is that blood on them?

Whatever it is, it’s not human. It’s so dark, it’s almost black, even in the overcast light of the afternoon.

Barb’s less disheveled, but there’s a smudge of the black liquid on her glasses, like it’d splattered across her face, and she’d only partially cleaned it up.

It’s seeing it there, that makes it click. It’s the same color as the Demogorgon’s blood had been when it had been painted across Steve’s face that time they’d thought it was a good idea to trap one.

Will jumps out, running up to Mike, and Dustin, and Lucus. It’s another reenactment of last year, the reunion just as fierce and life-affirming. Even if this time it’s only been a couple days since they last saw each other. Near death experiences will do that to a kid. Even Max gets pulled into the mess, arms around backs, heads tucked into shoulders.

Eddie barely sees it, too focused on Barb’s glasses, brain making connections between black blood, and Demogorgon’s and Demo-dogs, and the way the soldiers had screamed beneath the earth as they’d left them to die.

Eddie follows Will out of the van. He’s pulled into his own hug, Barb’s arms warm and shaking as they wrap around him. His hands hang down awkwardly, trapped by his sides by her hold. She drops him but stays huddled close.

“I’m never going to get used to this,” she sighs, eyes trained on the kids all surrounded together, all talking at the same time, clearly trying to fill in Will whose bemusement only grows on his face.

Eddie laughs, sharp and unhinged before he clamps his lips together to cut it off. “You don’t know the half of it,” he says. He can feel Steve in the van, still, wants to turn back and get him in his sights again.

Perkins steps in his path before he can. “Monsters, Munson?” she demands. Up close, Eddie can see the way her fingers are white around the baseball bat, the way the blood’s congealing around the rusted nails. Even at five foot nothing, she paints an imposing figure with that clutched in her hand. “You were all hiding fucking monsters?”

Eddie grimaces. “You told her?” he murmurs out of the corner of his mouth to Barb.

Perkins rolls her eyes, clearly having heard him. “She kind of had to when those fucking things cornered us!”

He’s getting really tired of so many of the things in his life having to be classified as ‘things.’ Still, he can picture their gaping maws, the way they’d open up like flowers in bloom just from the horror peeking out behind the indignation in Perkins face. This is going to upset Steve when he gets back.

“Why the hell were you even there?” Eddie demands, pointing a finger in her face. He drops it when the hand holding the bat shakes, bringing it closer to his hand.

“Blame that one!” she snarls, pointing at Dustin like he’s gum on the bottom of her shoe. “I could’ve gone my whole life without seeing one of those fucking whatever-dogs!”

“Same,” Barb murmurs, shriveling up with disgust.

Perkins doesn’t even look her way, but she still stands shoulder to shoulder, somehow made into a united front within a day. Eddie shouldn’t be surprised: the Upside-Down makes for surprising bedfellows.

He’d done the same thing, trapped in a hell dimension with Steve Harrington of all people. Steve Harrington who’d made him laugh, and shared his bed, and saved his life. Steve Harrington who’s bleeding out of himself to make room for something else.

“Where is Steve anyway?” Perkins asks, like she could hear his train of thought. “He’s got a lot of explaining to do.”

Eddie can’t help the way his gaze darts toward Steve. It’s like asking someone not to look at a shooting star darting across the sky, or a lighthouse in a storm, or a compass pointing your way home. He can’t help it, and maybe Perkins can’t help the way she storms over to the van, either.

“What the fuck?” she says, less a question than an exclamation of shock as she takes in Steve’s state.

Eddie knows what she’s seeing – her friend’s washed-out face, obscured by Wayne’s flannel, and Will’s headphones, tied tightly by every seatbelt Wayne could reach without moving Steve. He knows what conclusions she’s drawing in her twisted little head as she rushes into the van and knee walks over to her reported best friend.

Eddie’s “wait, no!” is drowned out by similar sentiments from Will and Wayne and Mama Byers. None of it makes a difference. It’s too late.

“Steve?” Perkins says, and there’s the sound of her bat thunking into the ground, and then an ominous rustling. Eddie doesn’t wait to see what happens next. He bolts to the van, Wayne right behind him. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

She sounds desperate enough that Eddie can’t even blame her for what she’s done. But that doesn’t change the fact that Steve’s dull eyes are uncovered, and he’s looking past all of them, through the open door and out onto the street. The flannel and headphones are both discarded on the floor as Perkins clutches on Steve’s shoulders, shaking him like that will get him to meet her eyes.

Steve’s been here dozens of times, sitting passenger side in Eddie’s van and drumming his fingers on the dashboard

“Code fucking red!” Eddie calls, head shaking at the force of his yell. “They know where we are!”

Wayne sighs, long and heavy the way he does when he’s sinking into his armchair after a long shift. All the kids are shouting over each other, demanding answers to questions Eddie can’t even hear. Perkins is staring at him like he’s insane, but Barb’s drooping where she stands. She’s been in this long enough to know what a code red means, even if she’s lacking all the necessary context.

Wayne straightens, back cracking as he claps once to get everyone to shut up. “Kids in the house!” he calls, talking louder when the inevitable protests come from that corner of the driveway. “Now!”

Wayne doesn’t yell, ever. Hearing his voice raise, angry and loud, makes Eddie flinch back, shoulder hitting Perkins where she’s kneeling. It does the job, though. The kids scurry into the house while Wayne surveys the remaining group of four, eyes skipping over Steve’s blinking eyes.

“You any good with that bat?” Wayne asks.

Perkins eyebrow is furrowed, but she opens her mouth to answer. Barb beats her to it. “I’m better.”

Wayne picks it up from the ground and hands it over to her. They all know by now that she knows better than to mislead them at a time like this. Barb clutches it between her hands, straight-backed and feet planted, like she’s ready to swing.

“Joyce, go stay with the kids.”

Mama Byers shuffles her feet, looking back at her house, but doesn’t leave. “Shouldn’t we stay together?”

“We can’t untie Harrington here,” Wayne replies. “And there’s no time to go somewhere else.”

As if to punctuate his point, there’s a familiar hungry growl, pettering off into a howl. The howl echoes off the walls of the sky, cutting in and out. Static. Reverb. The Upside-Down is calling and Eddie doesn’t want to pick up the phone.

Mama Byers runs, full tilt toward the house. Eddie hopes she makes it, can’t see her past the lip of the open door of the van. He hopes she’s got a gun in there, hopes she hands out butcher knives to too-small fingers and they all stand back-to-back-to-back. He hopes None of those things make it past Barb’s bat.

Wayne rushes to the glove compartment, limping on his bad hip with his haste as he digs around. He comes out with a gun, polished and sleek, and clearly one of the dead soldiers. Eddie hopes it’s loaded.

He stands behind Barb, blocking the open door with his body, gun raised and pointing toward the staticky sound of dogs growling.

“Close the door, Ed.” He doesn’t turn away from the threat, even as he says, “Love you.”

Eddie hiccups, something wretched and sharp boiling out of him. He wants to stand at his Uncle’s side, but his hands are fleshy and empty. Perkins is hyperventilating behind him and Steve’s not saying anything at all.

He closes the door.

He crouches in front of them both, blocking the closed door, ready to play a fleshy, second door should the first one fail.

There’s the sound of a gunshot, the wet thwack of a nail-covered bat meeting malleable flesh, then glass shattering all around him.

He raises his hand and closes his eyes reflexively as it rains down onto his face, into his hair. Something cold and meaty lands on his lap.

He opens his eyes.

It’s just like he imagined: paws and tail and hairless body. A petaled mouth that droops open, razor-sharp teeth glinting threateningly even in death.

He pushes it off, scrambling back and away from the dead thing that still somehow looks like it wants to kill him, heedless of the broken glass making mincemeat of his palms.

Eddie backs into Perkins, tries to keep crawling away until she grabs his shoulder, squeezes hard as she peers over his shoulder into the silence of the day.

He can see Wayne, still standing, Barb at his side, gorey bat raised. Had they won? A bat and a gun, and they’d won?

But, then there’s a new face, peering up through the broken window. Her eyes are solemn, but she smiles when she meets his eyes, short curls atop her head bobbing as she waves at him.

“Supergirl?”

Part 87

Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar @mightbeasleep @neonfruitbowl @beth--b @silenzioperso @best-selling-show @v3lv3tf0x @bookworm0690 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @wonderland-girl143-blog @nerdsconquerall @sharingisntkaren @canmargesimpson @bananahoneycomb

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie upsidedown au #will byers #my fic

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anisespice · 1 year

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“ headshot ” || tokyo rev.

synopsis: how the bonten execs. would react to a gun being pointed at you/your head.

pairing: bonten x fem!reader

warnings: mature language, gun violence, reader cries in some, mentions of bodily harm (only on the antags), and i think that’s it

notes: thought of this while on a car ride, staring at trees…not sure what that says about me, but here she is lol i’m a little iffy on mikey’s since i think his was the shortest, but i liked keeping some of these open-ended. hope you enjoy!

manjiro ッ

Wouldn’t react much on the outside, but on the inside that man could probably melt a building with his rage alone. It occurred during a small gathering amongst investors, corrupt and all. You had been by his side throughout the whole night until you left to go to the bathroom…that was several minutes ago. He’s already a paranoid man, so the moment the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, he gave Sanzu a pointed look—Find her.

However, that wouldn’t be necessary.

Before the cotton candy-haired gangster even had time to get excited about the potential hunt, some bootlicker came barreling through the crowd with you in a headlock, and a gun pressed into your temple. Both of you looked disheveled, no doubt your doing from putting up a good fight, he proudly noted. The fucker probably ambushed you in the bathroom, taking his opportunity when you left Mikey’s side—Pussy-ass bitch. He didn’t know if the guy was bold or just plain stupid standing smack-dab in the lion’s den, threatening the only life Mikey found precious.

“Nobody moves! Or I’ll blow her goddamn brains out!”

Didn’t matter, though. He’d surely pay with his.

sanzu ッ

Over a game of poker, some guy whose luck just wasn’t on his side decided he deserved retribution—And you were unfortunately the one to pay it forward. You were perched on Sanzu’s lap, sitting prettily as you laughed at the silly men crying after taking a heavy loss from your man. For him, it was like nails on a chalkboard hearing you mock the table alongside that crackhead, his inferiority complex spewing venomous thoughts in his head that you needed to be taken down a couple notches.

A death wish. That dumbass had a death wish.

He abruptly stood, knocked the table over and aimed his sorry excuse of a gun right at you, rendering everyone else speechless. Sanzu barely reacted but felt you startle, cooing softly in your ear as he lovingly tapped you on the thigh in reassurance. You relaxed instantly, eyeing down the barrel of the gun with mirth as the guy began to shake. Blame it on the alcohol, blame it on the heat of the moment, or even the bottomless debt he just put himself in, but one thing was for certain—He fucked up big time, no rush.

You couldn’t see it, but Sanzu had murderous intent hidden behind his calm exterior. And everyone at that table knew it as they scattered from the scene. Probably wasn't the smartest choice to bet his luck against yours, though. For someone who was already absolute dogshit at poker, Sanzu figured he’d be doing this guy a favor anyways.

“How ballsy of you. Guess I’d better cut ‘em off.”

ran ッ

Not gonna lie, whoever decided to test his gangsta like that would surely need to evaporate IMMEDIATELY after because there’s absolutely no SHOT of them, they mama, they second cousin, or even that one neighbor who used to live by them, surviving this man’s wrath.

Especially if they tried it in his own home.

The poor guy didn’t even get to make his demands, Ran was on him so quick he damn near broke the laws of physics. You’d never seen a grown man beg for mercy to the point of literally pissing himself before, but it definitely lightened your mood. You even pointed and laughed, despite the tears still falling down your face from the unpleasant experience. Ran merely grinned adoringly at you as he twisted the assailant’s arm in three different ways.

“There’s my favorite smile ♡. I’ll make sure this fucker suffers for almost taking it away from me, angel.”

rindou ッ

It’s always the younger siblings that are the more unhinged. He already don’t play that bullshit when it comes to you, your safety becoming one of his main priorities the moment you agreed to be with him. Anyone who dared to compromise that would fuck around and find out.

And eventually, someone did.

To be fair, the guy who pulled the gun on you didn’t know any better. As far as he was concerned, he was doing his job in making sure unauthorized civilians in the building were to be eradicated immediately. Especially those who claim to know anyone from Bonten without some sort of proof.

Because your relationship was hush-hush to most, if not all staff, it was no wonder homie didn’t believe you. But, it didn’t matter. As soon as Rindou found out the commotion going on in the lobby had to do with you, and some dumbass subordinate holding a gun to your head???

That walking mullet made that guy’s trigger finger into a necklace and forced him to wear it as a reminder.

kakucho ッ

A wild card, truly. He can’t afford to be anything but mr. calm and collected, especially in hostile situations. On one hand, he knows that getting worked up will do neither of you any good. And on the other hand…

When he got the video of you being held for ransom by some backstreet lowlife, gun pressed to your temple as you’re forced to read out their petty demands, Kakucho wanted to set the whole city on fire. His entire being vibrated, teeth clenched so hard you’d need a crowbar to unhinge it. Even Mikey eyed him sideways for a moment before reassuring him that you would be found, and that those amateurs would be handled. Kakucho growled lowly, dual-colored eyes piercing through the souls of every subordinate in the room.

“If she doesn’t make it out of this alive, none of you will.”

#🍁wasabi #tokyorev #tokyorev scenarios #tokyorev headcanons #tokyo revengers #tokyo rev x reader #mikey #mikey x reader #bonten #bonten x reader #sanzu #ran and rindou #kakucho

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mooshywrites · 1 month

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Bloodied Stars - Part 3 - Red and Gold Stitching

Fem!Reader x Ascended Astarion

Masterlist

Art commissions

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Comment here to be tagged in chapter updates

Word count - 5.5k

Warnings - (Series contains - Angst, “enemies” to lovers, pregnancy, disagreements, slow character growth, smut, typical asshole ascended astarion behavior, cliffhangers, murder, death - This takes place after the events in BG3, the ‘reader’ (you) is not Tav. Just a Baldur’s Gate resident)

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“We could be a family”

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Chapter list

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You awoke with a start, grimacing when your muscles protested sorely. You rubbed your eyes, trying to regain your bearings.

You were in your bed.

Familiar sights and smell filtered in, the skeins of thread littering your table, the comfortable fabric of your quilt over you, the sunlight filtering through your bedside window.

You squinted at the light, memories of the night before appearing as snippets.

Your cheeks flushed red as what you had done hit you all at once. You couldn’t find it in yourself to be ashamed, remembering the feeling of the vampire’s hands all over you.

You reached up, fingertips tracing over the twin pinpricks on your neck.

Not a dream, then.

You took in a deep breath, looking out the window. With a shake, you tried to ignore thinking about how exactly you’d been returned to your bed, or what it meant for an ascended vampire of all people to know where you lived. You tried to keep the sadness from tugging at your chest, shaking off the sleepiness from the morning.

As you stood up and stretched, you tried to fill yourself with determination. You were home. You were alive. More importantly, you had orders to fill.

It was best to put your near death experience and incredibly alluring one night stand as far out of your mind as possible. After all, you would never be seeing the pale elf again.

Would you?

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The next few days had dragged on painfully slow. The orders you usually snagged as a seamstress seemed to have all but dried up completely. Business was usually a little slow around this time of year, but the extra time on your hands did nothing to help your constant habit of thinking about your night with the Vampire.

In the evenings, you even found yourself focusing outside of your window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man. But there was never a single sign from him. You hadn’t been back to the bar where you met Amastacia since that night, but you were sure she wouldn’t have shown her face there either.

As the days turned into weeks, doubts began to creep in your mind. Had it all been some sort of dream?

Your mood wasn’t helped by the ill timed cold you caught. Earlier in the week, you found yourself growing nauseated constantly. The only thing you could force and keep down was a meat broth, a dish you’d had every day for almost entire week by now.

When the sunlight started streaming through your window this particular morning, your nausea was a little more kind to you than usual. Happy to be finally getting over the sickness, you stretched with a yawn. Making your way to the window, you soaked in the cool morning air washing over you like a soothing balm. As you gazed out at the waking city below, your stomach growled loudly.

At least with the nausea gone, you finally had an appetite.

You padded your way into the small kitchen, rummaging through your stores for ingredients. The kitchen was always a disheveled mess, neglected in favor of your sewing. That meant finding anything in here was a nightmare. With a sigh, you settled on a vegetable medley and cured sausage for breakfast. Now that you would be able to keep food down, it would probably be important to get as many nutrients as possible.

But as you began chopping the colorful vegetables, a sudden wave of unease washed over you. The vibrant hues and crisp textures that usually had you drooling now seemed to turn your stomach. The sight and smell of the sausage made your nose wrinkle and body recoil in a way you couldn’t comprehend.

Frowning, you tried to push away these strange feelings, attributing them to the lingering effects of your recent illness. But as you continued to cook, an undeniable craving gnawed at the back of your mind, growing louder with each passing moment.

And then it hit you. As you watched the crimson juices from the beets stain the cutting board, a primal desire surfaced.

A desire for that juice to be blood.

Disgust filled you immediately, conflicting emotions warring within you. You dropped the knife with a clatter, feeling as though you were teetering on the edge of sanity. Your thoughts immediately flicked to the night you shared with your very own bloodsucker.

Had you been turned into a spawn?

No, surely that was impossible. Embarrassing as it was to admit, you’d read up quite a bit about vampires in the past weeks, your curiosity getting the best of you. From what you had read, spawns were only created if they had died after being bitten by a vampire.

Though you didn’t have much memory of after you fell asleep in the pale elf’s arms, you were very sure you hadn’t died.

It had to be from something else. As you stared at the red stained cutting board before you, you wondered if you should see a healer about this.

“Just don’t tell them you slept with a vampire,” you chided yourself with a hollow laugh.

Shaking off your unease, you resolved to go ahead and seek an expert. One who could shed some light on your peculiar situation.

You took a few minutes to throw on something other than your sleep shirt, slipping into your shoes to ready yourself for the day. The sky was starting to grow downcast and you cursed under your breath, hoping you wouldn’t show up to the healer looking like a rain drowned rat.

Leaving your beloved shop behind, you ventured out into the bustling streets. Despite the weather, the city was a cacophony of sights and sounds. Merchants hawking their wares, children playing in the cobblestone alleys, and plenty of shady characters lurking in the shadowed parts of the road. As you made your way through the crowded city, you couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at the edges of your mind. The events of the past few weeks weighed heavily on your soul, and the mystery of your newfound condition haunted you like a ghost.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the cobblestone as you finally arrived at the healer’s shop. The building was a quaint little establishment, nestled amongst winding ivy and foliage, its wooden sign creaking in the gentle breeze.

Pushing open the door, you were greeted by the scent of herbs and dried flowers, mingling with the smoky aroma of incense. The healer, a wise old half-elf with kind eyes, looked up from his book with a smile.

“Welcome to Bandages, Books, and Bobs, dearie,” he croaked. “What ails ya’.”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to broach the subject with the elderly man. His wrinkled face held centuries of wisdom, yet you couldn’t shake the doubt he’d be unable to help.

Taking a deep breath, you finally found the courage to speak, your voice hushed with nervousness. “I.. I don’t know exactly. It’s like… like a cold but I’m having some odd food distaste as well. Along with fatigue of course.”

The healer’s gaze turned sharp and focus,ed his eyes peeking over his glasses as he studied you. After a moment of silence, he let out an approving grunt, hobbling over to a low set table.

“Fatigue, you say? Let’s see if we can’t find the cause. Sit down over here, dearie, and let old Birch have a closer look,” he smiled.

You settled onto the worn wooden table as Birch meandered around the shop, grabbing a few different apparatuses in his arms.

The elder laid out his instruments meticulously, rambling under his breath about organization. He first reached for a delicate silver chain with a shimmering crystal at its end, swinging it gently in front of your eyes. As the crystal danced in the light, you felt a wave of calm wash over you, soothing any nerves you had.

Birch then brought a small vial filled with a vibrant blue liquid that seemed to glow from within. He uncorked the vial and carefully placed a drop onto his gnarled finger, which he then touched to your forehead. The liquid seeped into your skin, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake.

“These must be old methods,” you wondered aloud as the old man observed your reaction.

“Older than the city in which we sit,“ Birch assured happily.

Finally, he moved on to a bundle of dried herbs tied together with a satin ribbon. He crushed the herbs between his weathered palms, releasing a fragrant aroma that filled the room.

“Take a deep breath, dearie,” he instructed.

As you inhaled the earthy scent, your stomach upturned immediately. You gagged on the smell, willing yourself not to throw up on the elder in front of you. The healer’s hands dropped as he looked at you with newfound understanding, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smile.

“No need to worry, my sweet,” he said gently. “You and your special someone are about to be a trio.”

You felt a lump form in your throat as you met his gaze, your thoughts trying to piece together what the old man was saying.

“You’re with child,” he offered knowingly.

A rush of emotions flooded through you as the healer’s words settled in.

A child?

How could this be possible? Realization hit you like a ton of bricks as your mind raced back to the night you’d been taken. The memory that you’d desperately tried to move past. In a daze, you grabbed the edges of the table, trying to steady yourself. The healer’s voice seemed to fade in the background as you grappled with the situation you found yourself in.

Questions tumbled through your mind, a tempest of uncertainty and fear threatening to consume you whole. What kind of creature were you even carrying in your womb? None of the books you had read said anything about vampires conceiving children.

Could you even take care of a child?

You were by no means destitute, but your shop and home were small. Your income was only enough to manage scraping by, definitely not enough for what it took to raise someone.

Amidst the chaos of your thoughts, a flicker of another feeling stirred within you - a cool and collected determination. It seemed so out of place in the whirlwind of panic consuming the rest of you.

You were going to have to find the pale elf again.

The strange sense of purpose settled deep within you as you mulled over the thought. Whatever you were carrying was going to be at least half vampire. You vaguely remembered the man saying something about being ‘ascended’ as well. Nothing you had read about explained anything about ascension, so you had no idea how that would factor into your already lacking knowledge surrounding the pregnancy.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed aside the doubts and fears that threatened to overwhelm you. You knew one thing for certain - you needed answers. And the only one who could provide them was the mysterious pale elf who had set this chain of events in motion. You needed to talk to him if you had any hopes of surviving this pregnancy.

If you could find him, that was.

“Thank you for the help, I’m glad it’s not anything more serious,” you smiled at the man, trying to keep your voice even and assured.

He gave you a bright smile, ushering you to the front to take your payment. His wise eyes never left you, seeming to understand the turmoil of emotions swirling within you. Thankfully, he didn’t pry too much into your sour mood. With a final thank you, you turned to leave.

“Good luck with the little one, dearie! You’ll be just fine,” he called out.

Oh how hard it was to keep the tears from flowing with that encouragement.

Leaving the healer’s abode, your mind was consumed by the puzzle that lay before you. There was three things you knew you needed to find out. What did it mean to be ascended? How would that factor in to your baby?

Most importantly, how do you find someone when you don’t know where they live or even know their name?

The determination that had taken root in your chest blossomed into a steely resolve as you navigated the winding streets of the city. The only place you could think to start looking was the tavern where it all began.

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Waiting for the pub to open that evening was hellish, your body thrumming with the need to do something with all the nervous energy you were producing.

You shifted uncomfortably on the hard wooden bench outside the tavern, your thoughts drifting back to the healer’s words. The finally setting sun painted the sky in hues of pink and orange, casting a warm glow over the cobblestone streets. As you sat there, your hand absentmindedly rubbing your arm, you couldn’t help but wonder about the child growing inside of you. Were they the reason you were craving raw meat? You couldn’t help but giggle as you paired the thoughts together.

“I hope you don’t want blood often,” you mused to yourself. “Otherwise, you and I are going to have a long nine months.”

Did vampires even have nine month pregnancies? You hadn’t even thought of how the race would affect you, you were so caught up in what it meant for your child to be half vampire.

Lost in your thoughts, you almost didn’t notice the sound of the tavern door creaking open. It didn’t take long for people to begin spilling in, the sound of laughter and clinking spilling into the streets.

Stepping inside, the warm light and comforting smell of ale washed over you like a familiar embrace. In minutes, the tavern was crowded with patrons, their voices blending together. You made your way to a corner table, watching and waiting.

Hours passed as you nursed a mug of honey tea, your gaze darting around the room, searching for any sign of recognition. Sleep had already started to pull at your eyes, the fire crackling making you even drowsier.

Then, just as you were beginning to lose hope, a figure caught your eye. A well dressed man sitting at the bar, laughing loudly at the woman next to him. There was something about his stark white hair that sparked the memory within you. His were the same shade of hair and eyes as your pale elf.

Without hesitation, you rose from your seat and approached him, heart pounding in your chest. As he turned to face you with a confused glance, you cleared your throat loudly. The woman next to him gave you a look as well, her eyes giving you a critical once over.

“Can I help you?” the man prodded.

“You should leave while you can,” you told the woman, ignoring the pale spawn. “Unless you want to be this guy’s dinner. And not in the fun way.”

The spawn’s eyes sparked with anger, the wooden pitcher of ale in his hand shaking slightly. The woman’s gaze flickered between you and the white haired man, uncertainty clouding her features. She seemed torn between heeding your warning and dismissing it as mere lunacy.

“Why should I believe you?” the woman challenged, her voice tinged with discomfort.

You took a step closer, lowering your voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Because I know who he works for and what they’re capable of. Let’s just say it’s not something you want to stick around for.”

The white haired man’s grip on the pitcher tightened even further, his expression darkening with every passing second. With a glance, you could see the inner struggle raging within him, torn between obeying his anger and maintaining a facade of civility.

After looking to the spawn, the woman gave a quick nod, pushing herself away from the bar. She shot one last wary glance at the man before making a hasty exit. As soon as she was out of sight, the tension in your shoulders eased slightly. You looked back to the furious man, almost taken aback by the complete lack of fear you had. For gods sake, this was a vampire spawn. He could rip you limb from limb if he wanted, and yet, the only thing you felt was determination.

“What the hell was that,” the man gritted out.

“Careful, draw too much attention to yourself, spawn, and people will start asking questions,” you smiled.

“What?” he demanded in a hushed voice, his expression growing incredulous. “How would you know I was a spawn.”

“You all need to be introduced to the wide world of hair dye if you think you’re being discreet,” you dead-panned.

The pale man’s confusion was palpable, his brows furrowed together and his lips pressed in a thin line. He glanced around nervously, seemingly worried about anyone eavesdropping on the conversation.

“Now look,” you leaned in closer, your voice low and commanding. “I didn’t come here just to ruin your dinner. Take me to your boss.”

His eyes widened in astonishment, disbelief etched across his features. It was clear that he didn’t expect this brazen demand from someone so unassuming, but there was something in your unwavering gaze that made him hesitate.

He looked over you, determining whether you were a threat. After a moment of tense silence, the spawn straightened up, his demeanor shifting from anger to caution. Without a word, he gestured for you to follow him and began weaving through the crowded pub toward the back exit. You observed his face silently, seeing how easily his charm was turned off. How hollow his eyes looked now that he wasn’t playing a character.

The air grew colder as you stepped out into the alleyway, following the pale man into the darkness beyond. The path was thin and claustrophobic, winding and twisting as you walked. The spawn moved swiftly, his footsteps echoing against the stone as he led you deeper into the city.

After what felt like an eternity, you arrived at a watchtower, an inconspicuous ladder leading up. You vaguely remembered the place from when you had been drugged, but the memory was hazy. You were slightly taken aback by how normal the building looked. You climbed the ladder easily, following the spawn as he led you to the front doors.

The doors creaked open as the man pushed them, and you were met with a sight that stole your breath away. The interior of the bricked building was nothing like the plain outer walls. It was a grand entrance, with high ceilings adorned with intricate tapestries. The room was bathed in a soft ethereal light that seemed to emanate from nowhere, casting long shadows that danced along the walls.

You followed the spawn through the hall, your footsteps muffled by the plush carpets that lined the floor. The air was filled with the scent of sandalwood and brandy, a heady mix that made you feel light headed and on edge. As you passed by large portraits and shelves filled with expensive knicknacks, you couldn’t help but wonder how you didn’t know about the people behind these walls.

Finally, you reached a set of ornate double doors at the end of the hall. The spawn turned to you, his expression unreadable in the dim light.

“You asked for this,” he said cryptically, his voice barely above a whisper. “Whatever happens from this point is your own fault.”

With a sense of trepidation mixed with curiosity, you nodded for him to open the doors. The doors were silent as they opened, revealing a room that raised the hairs on the back of your neck.

It was just as richly detailed as the hallway, tall ceilings and crystal chandeliers with flickering candles. Through the shadow, your eyes landed on a figure at the end of the room, lounging on a plush chair. As your eyes focused in on the darkness, your breath stilled.

There was your pale elf.

He shifted lazily on the throne, his gaze fixed on something far beyond your reach. His white hair curled ever so delicately above his eyes, starkly contrasting his crimson gaze. Your eyes trailed over his features, the memory of the night you shared making your cheeks flush.

Not the time for such things, you thought.

“Have you brought me dinner?” The pale elf asked, the spawn next to you going still.

You stepped further into the room, trying to ignore the sharp scent of metal present in the air. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of annoyance as you realized the vampire wasn’t paying attention to your arrival, the feeling mixing with your crippling nervousness.

His eyes were glazed over as though he existed in a realm all his own, detached from the world around him. Despite his apparent disinterest, you felt the familiar pull towards the pale elf.

Like a moth to a flame.

“Sorry to disappoint,” you cleared your throat, trying to keep your voice calm. “But I’m not dinner.”

A flicker of recognition sparked in the vampire’s ruby eyes as he slowly shifted his gaze, focusing on you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. The memory of your clandestine encounter lingered between you, unspoken yet palpable in the charged air of the room. His surprise at seeing you seemed to mingle with a simmering anger, evident in the way his jaw tensed imperceptibly.

For a moment, silence hung heavy in the room, broken only by the faint rustle of fabric as you took a cautious step closer. The delicate dance of candlelit shadows played across the floor, casting an otherworldly glow upon your features. You steeled yourself, focusing on keeping your breath even and your shoulders back.

You wouldn’t let him see you afraid.

“You have quite the audacity to seek me out,” he remarked, his voice low and as smooth as the velvet flooring. A predatory gleam surfaced in his gaze, doing nothing to help the memories you were trying to ignore. “Or perhaps you simply enjoy tempting fate.”

Despite the tension that crackled between you, a sense of defiance bloomed within your chest. You refused to cower under his piercing stare, mustering all the courage you could gather.

“I came here with a purpose,” you asserted, your tone unwavering. “There’s something you need to know.”

A sardonic smile tugged at the corners of his lips, revealing a hint of pointed fangs that glistened in the dim light.

“Is that so?” he drawled, amusement coloring his words. “And what makes you think I would be inclined let you live long enough to speak?”

The challenge in his voice spurred something primal within you, fueling your annoyance into a flaming blaze of anger. The arrogant smile across his lips had lit the wrong fuse within you.

“Because I’m carrying your child,” you replied simply.

The vampire’s eyes widened in shock, his confident demeanor fading entirely as he processed your words. The air was thick with tension, your confession lingering like a hanging shroud.

“Leave,” he demanded, his eyes flicking to the spawn beside you. Those words were all it took for the smaller man to make a hasty exit. For you to be alone with the pale elf again.

Something told you that this time would be a lot less pleasurable than the last.

“You’re carrying my child?” His voice wavered, betraying a hint of something deeper beneath his usual arrogance.

You held his gaze steadily, willing him to see the truth in your eyes. “Yes,” you affirmed, your voice soft but still sure. “I didn’t come here seeking a fight. I came here because I know nothing of how your kind works. I don’t want this pregnancy to kill me just because I was unlucky enough to conceive with a vampire.”

His gaze softened entirely at the vulnerability in your words, a split second where he even looked on you with compassion. Only a moment after, his demeanor hardened again.

“If that is indeed the case, you’re not leaving,” he declared firmly, his voice carrying a tone of finality that allowed no argument. The shadows seemed to gather around him like a cloak, emphasizing the sharp angles of his features and the intensity in his eyes. You shivered involuntarily, feeling the weight of his command pressing down on you.

Not leaving?

As if in response to his words, the room felt as if it was shrinking around you, the walls closing in at the thought of being stuck in a place like this.

“Why not?” you whispered, suddenly desperately wanting to be back in your comfortable home. All of the confidence you felt drained from your body, pinned under the vampire’s stare.

“You carrying my heir is not a situation I had anticipated,” he sighed, looking off as he planned aloud. “But now that it is here, we must consider our next steps carefully.”

Your skin began to crawl, feeling uncomfortable with how quickly his words started to sound like a strategy. As if he was thinking about how to work in a new pawn to his game.

“Having an heir could mean a powerful ally in my world,” he continued.

You weighed the words carefully, biting your tongue in an attempt to rationalize the aggressiveness that rose in your chest.

“You see this baby as a calculated move to further your power?” you accused, the words like venom on your tongue.

His gaze grew pointed, warning flashing in his eyes. “You underestimate the significance of the child you carry,” his voice was soft but laced with underlying threat. “With an heir born of an ascended bloodline, I could solidify my position.”

“This child I carry is not a pawn for you to manipulate,” you spat, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and anger. The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for his response.

His jaw clenched, the muscles working beneath his skin as he struggled to maintain his composure. But you saw the flicker of doubt in his eyes, a vulnerability that almost made him seem human.

“You think I wanted things to turn out this way?” he gritted. “That night was a mistake. But now I must adapt with the hand I’ve been dealt.”

You flinched at his words, trying not to let the way he said ‘mistake’ carve a wound into your heart.

Was that night a mistake?

“A child can’t bear the weight of your world,” you pleaded.

“My heir can,” he seethed, baring his teeth as he spoke.

You shoulders sagged, exhaustion suddenly breaking you. You knew this was a fight you couldn’t win. You were completely and utterly trapped. You had no way of protecting the life growing inside of you.

Tears slipped down your cheeks as the life you would lead began to play out in your mind. Your heart ached at the thought of your baby being destined for a life devoid of innocence and joy. Images of a dark and twisted future flashed, a future where your child would never know the warmth of the sun or the laughter of other children. You knew you would be cast aside after giving birth, thrown away when you had served your purpose. But thinking of having the baby, looking at its little face and crystal clear eyes opening for the first time and it being to a world so violent…

That hurt worse.

“Not my baby,” you whispered helplessly, despair clouding your mind.

The vampire’s expression softened as he saw the tears on your cheeks, the depths of your emotion in your words. His cold facade cracked for a moment, a wave of sadness in his eyes.

“This does not have to be so grim,” he began, his voice much more gentle. “Your life isn’t over. Neither is the baby’s. I wouldn’t take that from them before they even take their first breath.”

Confusion etched across your features as you dared to hope, a spark of uncertainty mingling with the fear in your heart. Slowly, the vampire stood and took a few steps towards you, his gaze meeting yours with an unexpected tenderness.

“We could even be a family,” he said softly, the words lingering in the air like a fragile promise. “A real family, one that doesn’t impose the weight of responsibility on an heir until they’re old enough to bear it. Power can be safety. Especially in the world the baby will grow up in.”

As you gazed into the vampire’s eyes, a glimmer of longing began to take root in your chest. The idea of a family, of a future not tainted with this pale elf’s blood soaked world, seemed almost within reach. His words carried a sliver of hope that you desperately clung to in the midst of your despair.

But as you continued to study his face, looking for any signs of hesitance, you noticed the hollow look that lingered in his eyes. It was a subtle shift, barely perceptible, but it sent a chill down your spine. All at once, the realization struck you like a hideous bolt of lightning-

He was lying.

Anger surged within you, fierce and unrelenting. How dare he play with your emotions, offer you everything you had dreamed of? And for what? So he could gain an inch more of power by raising someone to be as monstrous as him?

Your tears grew hot, rage fueling every thought you had. With a steel edge to your voice, you glared up at the vampire.

“You can’t help it can you?” you seethed. “Too weak to get anything in life without manipulation. I won’t sacrifice my life for you.”

The vampire’s lips curled into a challenging sneer, the air growing heavy as he stepped closer. Each step was deliberate, each movement menacing

“How dare you speak to me like that,” he hissed, mere inches from your face. “You are nothing but a mere mortal, insignificant. You know nothing of sacrifice.”

You stood your ground, refusing to cower before him. The vampire’s gaze darkened, anger brewing behind his eyes as he regarded you.

“Faelar!” He barked, his eyes switching to the door in which you entered.

Before you could react, the door opened quickly. A taller man with the same stark white hair entered, his head bowed respectfully. The vampire took a step back from you, giving the spawn his attention.

“Take her,” he commanded, his tone icy. “Lock her in the spare room until she learns her place.”

The spawn obeyed without question, his expression blank as he approached you. He picked you up deftly, tucking you against his chest.

“No!” you cried out, trying to struggle against his arms.

Despite your thrashing and attempts to break free, his grip was unyielding and firm. His strength was unnatural, his muscles like steel beneath his pale skin. As he started to carry you down the hall, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread settle in the pit of your stomach.

Eventually you stopped fighting, devolving into a puddle of tears in the spawn’s arms. The spawn held you close through the dimly lit corridors of the ancient mansion, his steps clicking softly. Your sobs had morphed into silent tears, leaving only the hollow ache of helplessness.

As he pushed open a pair of heavy wooden door, a waft of musty air greeted you, mingled with a faint scent of dried roses. You peeked around in the dark room, taking in your new prison. The room was sparse, furnished with a bed draped in faded linens and a solitary bookcase covered in dust.

The spawn laid you down on the bed with surprising gentleness, his touch feather-light against your skin. His hollow eyes had softened as he regarded you with an unspoken empathy. Your eyes flitted to the door, gauging whether you could outrun a vampire spawn in an escape. As if reading your mind, the man shook his head apologetically.

“Don’t try. You’ll only make him angrier,” he chided. His voice was airy, an accent you couldn’t place rounding out his vowels.

“It seems he’s always angry. Angry and drunk on power” You bit out, regretting the venom in your tone when the spawn flinched.

“You may be right,” he sighed, smoothing out the bedding next to you. “But some who thirst for power are only afraid of what will happen if they don’t have it. Anger is a powerful mask for fear.”

You looked away, mulling over his words silently. You didn’t want to humanize your captor. Didn’t want to think of him as anything other than the monster in your fairytale.

“Someone will visit you with food. Perhaps I can convince the Master to make the room more comfortable as well,” the spawn assured you, moving toward’s the door.

You thumbed the fabric on the bed idly, trying to ignore the growing exhaustion you felt. The cover was just as soft as it looked, the red velvet still bright under the layer of dust. Your fingertips ran over the gold detailing as you thought, resolving yourself to leaving an escape plan for the next day.

“I’ll take my leave, unless you need anything else,” the spawn offered gently, as if he was worried he’d shatter the sliver of composure you had left.

“What’s his name?” you asked, the words tumbling out of your mouth before you could even register them as thoughts.

“Astarion,” the pale man whispered, his voice more tense than before. He slipped past the door and shut it before you could ask anything else, leaving you in the dark dusty room. The door clicked as soon as the it shut, locking you within.

You fell back against the bed, too tired to cry any more than you already had. You stared at the gold and red stitching on the duvet below you, trying your best to ignore the shade’s dead match to the Vampire’s eyes.

Astarion, you thought, rolling the name around in your head.

Sleep pulled you close faster than you could realize, the chaos of the day already fading. Images of Astarion danced in your mind, his sharp features softening the same way they did when you caught his mask slipping. The way his eyes held a stormy complexity that both intrigued and terrified you.

Before your eyes fluttered shut for the day, your naive heart couldn’t help but remember his all too pretty lie.

“We could be a family.”

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Next chapter

Comment here if you would like to be tagged in chapter updates

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Tagged ~ @dinoace2 , @tiedyedghoulette , @bloodlust-1 , @n3cros1sbunny , @bookishpenguino

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bonny-kookoo · 1 year

Text

Kaleidoscope: Intro 🔞

In which the closely bonded mates Yoongi, Jungkook, and Jimin find a human who does more than just help them in their time of need.

Tags/Warnings: Alien! Jungkook, Alien!Jimin, Alien!Yoongi, Human!Reader, strangers to lovers, poly!AU, tentacles (lord forgive me for I will sin), long tongues and sharp teeth and horns and tails and who's even surprised anymore?

Additional Chapter Warnings: mentions of laboratories isolation and testing, humans are seen as lesser, near-death experience, gun oops, other than little angst nothing just fluff

Other content: Bonding

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You hold tightly onto the doctor's jacket, terrified of accidentally getting lost.

You don't really like her much, but she's pretty much your life insurance. There's no way you could survive in the midst of this bustling city by yourself - not when you don't even understand half of what you see and hear around you. Doctor Sue looks down to you before she notes something down on her phone, continuing her little stroll around town with you. She's keeping track of your stress response, or at least that's what you've been told - sometimes you can't help but think they just like to watch you in general.

You've gotten used to it.

"Wait here." She suddenly says. "I have to get something here." She tells you, before walking into a store where there's a 'no human' sign on the door taped. You're curious as to why so many Yorian people don't like humans- but then again, you've not met regular Yorians in general. All that you knew were medical professionals or behavioral students and teachers.

You sit down where Sue had told you to stay, when you see him.

He's tall, silver ring on his bottom lip, two tiny horns barely peeking out from his long hair. He's on his phone, distracted, before he looks at something on the displays set up out on a store, probably news, you guess. It's not long before his gaze finds yours, and surprisingly, he smiles; gently waving a little down to you, making you blink a little confused, earning a chuckle from him before he looks back at the screens.

He seems to be waiting for someone, or something.

What he definitely wasn't waiting for was the person coming up behind him, a disheveled young man with his hand in his pocket, who's just checking the tall man out for a moment. You tilt your head a bit in interest, simply spectating the weird scene, before a gun-like object is pulled out by the roughed up looking guy.

The man with the piercing doesn't notice, but you do.

You call out, just a sound, not even a word as you run towards him and grabbing the gun-wielding hand, distracting the aggressor and making him shoot the concrete close to your foot, causing you to squeak in shock, and flinch back, holding your hands over your ears. "What do YOU want, huh?!" The guy angrily barks now, aiming the gun at your now trembling body, before he shoots.

The bullet only grazes your hip, mainly because the Yorian man had pushed the criminal's hand down in an attempt to help you. A signal is heard, a screeching whistle sound by a patrolling police officer who runs after the gun wielding stranger, quickly tackling him down while the Yorian now kneels in front of you, inspecting the blood seeping through the fabric of your white dress. "Why did you do that?" He asks confused, worry all over his features as he struggles to really think of something to do.

"Zero-six?" Someone calls, a voice you remember as Sue, before she calls again. "What the lord!" She gasps, running towards you, as she assesses your injuries. "What happened? I told you to stay put!"

"It was -" the young man chimes in, pointing towards the currently laying down aggressor waiting for more police to arrive. "This person made an attempt on my life. She saw it happen and intervened. I believe she just.. saved my life." He explains, visibly surprised and equally distressed by your red blood staining his hand. "Is this injury fatal?" He asks quietly, as Sue lifts your dress.

"No. Just a surface wound, but we will bring you to the Healthcare department as soon as we're back at the facility." She almost scoldingky tells you, and you look down in trained shame.

You don't really know what you did wrong, but you've learned not to ask and not to question if anyone's actions towards you are ever justified.

"Jungkook!" Someone calls out, two Yorians jogging towards the young man you assume is named Jungkook. "Are you okay? What happened?" The oldest one asks, his voice deep and serious.

Jungkook explains in short what had happened, making the other man look at you before nodding. "On behalf of both of them, Thank You. Will she be okay?" He asks Sue, who nods.

"We will take care of it, don't worry." She smiles. "Even if she was to die, she did it on her own accord, so there's no legal consequences." She waves off, making Jungkook cringe.

"Is there.. a way for us to stay in contact?" He asks. "I'd like to know if she's alright or not."

"I'm sorry, but since she's due to be moved to a regular housing facility soon, I can't give any information out. It's protocol, I'm afraid." She shrugs before helping you stand.

And as you walk back to the vehicle you came here in, you swear you can feel eyes on you.

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The new housing is.. odd.

You're not used to being left to yourself for this long, but you can't say it's a bad thing. The staff are kind, they regularly clean your wound, and make sure you eat well. It's a little crowded, but by now, you've gotten almost used to it. They always said you adapted well to new situations, after all.

You're just watching the rain outside the glass wall next to you before you spot something familiar in the reflection, causing you to turn around. The pierced Yorian you remember as Jungkook suddenly lights up, it seems, posture straightening up before he jogs towards where you sit, a smile on his lips. "Finally!" He calls out before quitting down, looking at you happily. "How are you? I've been looking around housings for weeks, and I'm so relieved to find you!" He explains, making you tilt your head a little in question.

"She doesn't really speak." A worker says, the young Yorian a kind personality you've come to like. "She communicates with noises sometimes, but she mostly stays quiet and tries to articular via gestures." The young worker explains.

"Is She mute?" The oldest looking guy wonders, Cat like eyes watching you out of their corner every now and then.

"Hm, we're all unsure why she won't speak, really." The young social worker says. "She's from the West Zerian Medical Sciense Center, and they kept her records locked like it's the gods secret." He shrugs. "It might be mental, might be physical, maybe both? Poor thing can't even tie her shoes."

"It's really unethical, isn't it?" A more feminine looking Yorian says, now lowering himself next to Jungkook. "Hello. I'm Jimin- we met some time ago, remember?" He asks, and you nod before imitating a gun with your hand. "Yes, exactly. You saved my mate's life." He smiles, eyes closing.

"He's been bothering me about finding out if she's alright for weeks now." The oldest says. "Does she need anything?"

"She's healing well, don't worry." The young worker says. "And she's very sweet. I doubt she will be here long, although her background might intimidate some." He worries.

Jungkook turns around- and almost immediately, the oldest shakes his head sternly. "Absolutely not Jungkook. A human is a huge responsibility, we can't just take her home like that." He presses.

"But Yoongi, you hear him!" Jungkook argues. "She deserves a good place after having lived in that place!"

"And I never said it's out of the question, but we need to think this through first before making a rushed decision." Yoongi argues back. "I know you feel inclined to help her due to the circumstances. But this isn't just some rodent you're attempting to bring home here, that's a person." He says. "A human at that. Do you even know what they can and can't eat?" He challenges, and Jungkook deflates visibly, a defeated look on his face.

It hurts you a bit to see him like that, but you understand the reasoning of the Yorian named Yoongi. He seems like a very well-educated man.

He looks at you for a moment, a silent conversation happening, before he tells everyone to go home for now. "We will visit again." Jimin reassures with a gentle tone. "Until then." He smiles, leaving you behind as all three walk out the room.

Huh.

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You're almost sure you will get lost in this house.

"Dont overwhelm her Jungkook. Let's just have her explore on her own later." Yoongi gently scolds the youngest, who bashfully nods before the oldest turns to you. "Please don't mind him. He can get a bit overwhelming at times."

You wave it off, before politely bowing in a thankful way.

"No need. It's the least we can do." He nods. You shake your head, pointing at him before at yourself, crossing your hands in a denying motion. "I know, and we don't just do this because of that. We've been thinking of letting a human into our home for a while now. The right one just never appeared, I guess."

"But!" Jimin happily exclaims behind you. "Now you're here. And I have a feeling you will fit very well into our life." He nods, watching as you bow again. "Ah, I guess I'll just accept this." He chuckles.

"Give her some time. It must be overwhelming, after all, to go from solitary confinement to public housing to a private home in just half a year." Yoongi says.

You yawn, trying to hide it, but it breaks free after all, stunning all three Yorians for a second, before Jungkook, groans out.

"Hyung, I love her already!" He exclaims, hugging you close. "She's so cute!" He calls out, and both Jimin and Yoongi laugh at that.

Well- he's not wrong. You really are cute- and they can't wait to see how you will settle in.

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#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #bts jungkook #jimin imagine #yoongi imagine #alien!jungkook #alien jungkook

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wenwenbittercake · 1 year

Text

Cherry of my Eyes🍒

Chapter 1: Worst Mistake 🍒🍒

(So in this fanfic, I can’t find who’s the Norman’s daughter is so we will just call her Evelyn. TW: death and kidnapping. Other than that, I hope you enjoy it.)

It was a horrible Idea. Your life flips upside down the moment you decide to make a silly decision that isn’t even worth the price you have to pay. It was a chilly night in January. Cindy, your best friend since high school, came up with a plan to hook you up with a date. Her idea of getting a date is going to a frat party, getting booze up and make up. You’ve never had experience with dating, let alone booze and frat parties so you rethink the decision. But again you trust Cindy, she has always been there for you even though your live styles were oil and water. She is a rich girl from the suburbs where you are raised by a middle class family. Still, Cindy had never discriminated against you for your differences. This led you to amuse the idea of going to that very frat party.

Cindy’s plan was a disaster. Every guy she hooked you up with has 0 interest in what you are saying and obviously not looking for a relationship. You may have no experience in dating but you do know when a guy only sees you as something to fuck with. So, you decided to wait near the pool for Cindy to be done with her partying. A few minutes later, Cindy came out angry. She stormed towards you, wobbling in her way as she’s obviously drunk.

“We are leaving.” She said as she grabbed my arms and pulled me out of the party.

Her so-called boyfriend looked disheveled with lipstick marks all over his face, clearly not Cindy’s color.

“That bitch of a guy, I can’t believe he would cheat on me, let alone with a BLONDE.” She steps on her gas hard.

She steps on her gas hard. Causing a roaring engine noise. Now you are scared. She doesn’t look to be in the right mind to drive. She’s drunk and angry, not a good choice to drive.

“Cindy, don’t you think we should just call the cab? I mean your drunk and-“

“Can you just shut up (Y/N)! I got this!”

She recklessly sped through the street. Your heart is stuck on your throat with your hand gripping on the seat for dear life. Cindy continues to rant about her boyfriend but that is the last thing you are worried about. The speed she’s going with is fast enough to run over a deer without stopping. Just as the thought goes through your mind, Cindy swerves to the right, running into a tree on the sidewalk. Your body didn’t inflict much damage thanks to the seatbelt but the glass shards had cut your forehead, leaving a hot sensation. Did she hit something?

Your got out of the car in a hurry. You walk slowly in front of the car not ready for the sight you were about to witness. A girl in a yellow dress lay on the sidewalk, her head bloody and her leg seems to be broken. You ran to the girl, flipping her on her back and you were hit with a realization. Cindy hit Evelyn.

Evelyn is a girl you know in your crocheting class. You decided to join the class just to put your mind off your home life. She is a friendly girl, she’s shy but bubbly if you know her. However, she’s not so bright in the craft as you needed to help her outside of classes. That’s how you guys bonded. You guys are quite similar to each other. You both share similar interests in a lot of things. You even consider her to be your best friend. However, you guys stopped contacting me after you went to college. But this is not how you want to reunite with Evelyn again.

“Evelyn? EVELYN! Cindy calls the ambulance!”

“Call the ambulance? Are you insane?! We are going to go to jail.”

“But she’s going to bleed to death, hurry!”

You grip her head, the area where blood was dripping to stop the bleeding.

“Ok OK wait.” Cindy ran back into the car to call the ambulance.

You hold Evelyn in your arms, your hands are shaking like crazy and your breath rapid. You hold her in your arms to give some comfort in the pain. Then you hear the barks of a dog. You look around and see an old man standing with his dog. He runs towards Evelyn and checks her injuries.

“Oh, my baby. What have you done?!” You were shaken by his hoarse voice.

He took Evelyn in his arms and cried. Uttering Nos and pleads for her to stay. You can help but feel guilty even though it wasn’t you who was driving recklessly.

“W-we called the ambulance; she might make it.” You manage to say something through your sobs.

“Did you do this?” He said in a low and threatening tone. Your heart caught your throat.

“IS THIS YOUR DOING?” He yells this time, looking straight into you.

You can’t see his face due to the dimly lit street lights but you can imagine the anger by his voice. Cindy snapped me out of my fear, she dragged me away from the scene,

“We need to go, Now.”

“TELL ME DID YOU DO THIS?”

“I’m sorry, I-I am really sorry.” You utter whispers of sorrys as Cindy drags you back into her car.

We drive off fast leaving the scene, Your body soaks in the blood of Evelyn. You are sure no matter how hard you try to wash them off, the blood will still stain your hands.

It’s been weeks since Evelyn’s death. There was a trail for her murder and Cindy was found not guilty. Not only that, Cindy’s parents paid a large sum of money to your parents to cover up Evelyn’s murder. You both haven’t talked since that night. You never want to talk to her again knowing the truth. You felt sorry for the old man, Evelyn’s father. You know the type of bond they both share over the months of being friends with Evelyn. And now you felt guilty for partly taking that bond away. You spent your days in your room, the media was all around your house, asking for answers only you and Cindy know. Finally when the media dies down about the case, you finally have the courage to step out of your house again.

You decided to go back to college catching up with your studies, but school didn’t feel like it used to be anymore. Cindy was nowhere to be found but all the student’s eyes and whispers followed you through the day.

You walk back home feeling broken down, you walk don’t the street wrap in your own thoughts not realizing the footsteps behind you. When you finally realized it, it was too late. A cloth covers your face, the smell of chloroform hits your nose, your vision blur and you fall into a deep sleep.

Please tell me if u enjoy it I am planning to write more but I am unsure if I should or not. Sorry if there's grammar mistakes. Hope u enjoyed reading it. 🍒✨🍒✨🍒✨🍒✨🍒✨🍒✨🍒✨🍒✨🍒✨🍒

#norman nordstrom x reader #don't breathe #oldermen #daddy issues

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esta-elavaris · 1 month

Text

Part Eighteen [4,250 words] ~ James Norrington/OC

An AU of my completed, 400k+ word fanfic Catch the Wind [AO3], in which Elizabeth, not James, is the one to discover Theodora Byrne after she crash-lands into the world of Pirates of the Caribbean.

Page breaks by cafekitsune.

Also now on AO3 and FF.net.

Masterpost - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine - Part Ten - Part Eleven - Part Twelve - Part Thirteen - Part Fourteen - Part Fifteen - Part Sixteen - Part Seventeen - *Part Eighteen*

Tag list [let me know if you want to be added!]: @teawithshakespeare @missfronkensteen @dancerinthestorm

When morning came near, Hattie - who’d greeted her with wide, disbelieving eyes upon finding her, dishevelled and barely dressed, on James’ sofa - was sent up to the mansion to inform the staff of what had happened, and have a carriage sent down to pick her up. Any insistence that she could walk had been flat-out ignored by the maid and the good captain both…and her legs did greet her with a distinct sort of shakiness when it came time to walk to the carriage.

Anyway, hoping for secrecy was daft.

While she would’ve been happy to never again discuss what had taken place that night – at least as far as the part that happened in the water was concerned – she’d been forced to concede James’ point when he deemed it a necessity. If any had spotted them on that cliff, or her slipping into his house barely-dressed and unchaperoned afterwards, it would be a reputation ruiner for everybody involved. Theo didn’t care about that, not as far as she herself was concerned, but she did know it would reflect badly on Elizabeth, Governor Swann, and James. Because that was what he’d asked her to call him now. James. It would take a bit of getting used to.

As dawn crept in, greeting them as they slipped into the carriage, Theo couldn’t help but wonder if a change of heart wouldn’t come with it. Decisions made, and confessions offered, in the dead of night after a life-or-death experience were bound to look different when cast in daylight. So, aided by her increasing numbness and exhaustion, she remained quiet throughout the journey – like one wrong word could have him awkwardly clearing his throat and finally requesting that she disregard anything he said in the heat of the moment, mere hours earlier.

It was irrational, sure, and it was probably even unfair. Norrington was careful, and did little without considering it first. He was far from the sort to kiss her and take it lightly. But was it any wonder that she was tired, confused, and doubtful after the run they’d had so far? Knowing that, in the movies at least, a good portion of his character revolved around a deep, meaningful love for one of her very close friends? A deficit of self-esteem was never a problem she’d really had, but it seemed…unreal that she could prompt such a change.

Even discarding what she’d seen of that fictional version of events, they had made a pretty big habit of taking one step forward followed by ten backwards, had they not? She’d never forgive herself if this was more of the same, and she failed to see it coming.

But he didn’t retract anything. In fact, whenever she snuck a look at him, she found him always watching her in return, making far less of an effort than she did to do so covertly, and…was that worry on his face? Rather than fidget, or avoid looking at her, or appear as though he was doing his best to work up to a very awkward admission, he simply watched her, his brow furrowed in concern. That same concern shone through to his eyes, too, and she wondered if he’d caught wind of her thoughts…or if he thought she harboured regrets.

“Do you-”

“I-” she began at the same time.

It was a relief that he’d intended to speak too, though, because she had begun her sentence with no idea of how it was actually going to proceed. He’d saved her from a whole lot of awkward mumbling.

“Go on,” she waved when he fell silent.

“I only meant to say that I should like to call on you today,” he said, “after you’ve had time to rest, of course. That is…if you are amenable?”

The blush that rose to her face must’ve been blatantly obvious, even in the dim pale light of dawn, thanks to how pale her features still were. And she knew he caught it, the bastard, because of how he stifled a smile.

“I’d like that,” she cleared her throat. “But you need to promise me you’ll rest, too.”

“You have my word,” he said with a solemness that was broken only by that very dangerous fondness in his eyes.

The Governor and Elizabeth were both on the front grounds of the mansion, both dishevelled, the Governor’s clothing askew as though he dressed in a hurry, and Elizabeth in a thick dressing gown to cover her nightdress – apparently having decided it would take far too long to dress properly so that she could greet them.

James disembarked the carriage first in order to gently help her out, a misshapen bundle of blankets and Doc Martens, toting a cloth sack that contained her still-wet clothing. The Governor looked carefully away, probably thanks to propriety, but it didn’t matter much because Elizabeth was upon her in an instant, pulling her towards the mansion as James stepped aside to speak to her father. Theo allowed her to do so with little more than a murmur.

Elizabeth’s horror, upon learning of the events that took place the previous night, lasted only as long as it took Theo to fill her in on what came afterwards. By which point she seemed pretty tempted to prematurely pioneer history’s first shark-empowering activism group. Theo tried not to take it personally.

“I knew it!” Elizabeth declared as Theo ducked behind a screen in the corner to change into proper nightwear.

“You knew I’d almost been eaten by a shark and that he saved my life just in time to confess that he thinks I’m not actually terrible?”

“No, of course not,” she scoffed in return. “But I knew something had happened. Oh Theo, the care with which he helped you out of that carriage. I’m surprised he didn’t sweep you off your feet and carry you to bed himself.”

“That’d be jumping the gun a bit.”

“Joke all you like, that may not be too far off. He clearly means to court you! He can’t even wait a full day to begin nudging the matter forward. Oh, I could kiss that shark, I really could.”

When she emerged from behind the screen – mostly hoping Elizabeth wouldn’t take note of the men’s nightshirt now draped over the top of it – the damn tremor was back in her limbs. And while she didn’t notice the discarded clothing, she did notice that. Immediately she frowned, dark eyes serious rather than gleeful.

“I didn’t mean to make light of it,” she said, an apology in her voice. “Are you-”

“I’m fine,” Theo replied quickly. “Just…a long night. A complicated one.”

One that left her with many dilemmas.

A few hours of sleep was followed by a visit from the local doctor – for the sake of her nerves rather than her physical wellbeing – and by midday, Theo was fully dressed and in the drawing room, albeit with her feet propped up on a footstool, and a blanket draped across her. As if they weren’t in the Caribbean. She might’ve been more of a smartarse about it if her hands and feet hadn’t still been absolutely freezing, a sign that her body was still in high-alert mode, even if the doctor had plied her with some concoction that eased her mind up a little.

Were it not for James’ promised visit, she suspected she’d have been banned from rising and dressing at all. But since he had promised to visit, and Elizabeth’s priorities were impossible to reshuffle, she found herself laced into a gown of cool blue, her hair in a low, curling bun at the nape of her neck so as not to tempt the headache that kept trying to break through ever since she’d awoken.

It appeared that, even during the few hours she slept, word had spread through the town regarding her ordeal, for the sitting room was utterly jam-packed with flowers. Most of them came with cards insisting that she should let the senders know the moment she was up to receiving visitors, so that they could check in on her in person. A thinly veiled request to hear the full story directly from her, really, but she did hope her ordeal might buy her five minutes of rest from the machinations of Amelia Simmonds and her gang of idiots…right up until they found out about the thawing between she and Port Royal’s most eligible bachelor. Then they’d despise her more than ever.

When James did turn up, though, once again properly dressed with his wig and hat atop his head, Theo thought that the hatred would well be worth it. Especially considering that now, rather than watching her with distrust as he had in the beginning, or even just guardedness as he had thereafter, there was instead that heart-rendingly soft expression that would seem utterly impossible according to those who’d only seen him in his professional mode.

“I am going to check up on our tea and luncheon,” Elizabeth announced before they’d even had a chance to take a breath after greetings were offered.

It wasn’t improper – not in a house with this many servants. A footman still lingered in the corner of the very room, waiting to fulfil any request they might have. Of course, he could have very easily been sent to check up on how their tea and sandwiches were coming along, but that wouldn’t achieve Elizabeth’s ends, so Theo kept quiet on it. Mostly because she felt mortifyingly shy enough as it was, and while she could take a joke as well as the next person, she didn’t want to sit through an hour of Elizabeth’s help where this was concerned.

“How are you feeling?” he came to perch on the sofa beside her, leaving one cushion’s worth of space between them.

“Restless,” she admitted. “How are you?”

“I’ve faced worse,” he said, with a sort of mild boastfulness that had her smiling.

“Just any other night for you then, was it?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” that softness was back again, his eyes flickering briefly towards her lips, and Theo blushed.

“The, er, prescribed method of recovery around here isn’t my usual go-to,” she explained.

“What is your preferred method?”

“Swimming,” she had to stop and laugh at the look he gave her when she said that. “Don’t worry, I’m not about to go bolting down to the beach when nobody’s looking. It’ll be a while before I get back in the water.”

“What happened was a stroke of incredibly bad luck,” he said, after thinking for a moment. “You should not allow it to keep you from what you enjoy.”

Theo smiled, unable to help it, because that was…that was sweet, actually. Not just the sentiment, but the fact that he was making the effort to offer that reassurance – because it was clear that doing so was not yet entirely within the realms of his comfort zone. But they did need to get used to this…this new dynamic between them. It followed so quickly on from a bad argument, and forgiveness and trust that still felt fragile on both sides. She didn’t think it was entirely unreasonable to worry that one wrong joke, one spell of teasing that went too far, would shatter it all.

Getting on well for a longer span of time wasn’t something they’d yet mastered, was it? And there was more worry still on her side – because she wasn’t stupid enough to think he’d forgotten that there were explanations as to her past that she had not yet offered. And now he knew that Elizabeth knew. While that could help, while it would hopefully reassure him that it was nothing too sinister – for she hadn’t been turned out of the mansion – she also suspected it would only deepen his curiosity further.

And, if they really did manage to make it a week or two without arguing again, curiosity could swiftly turn to hurt that she would tell Elizabeth, but not him. All right, she hadn’t told Elizabeth of her own volition, but he didn’t know that.

“Hiking was always another go-to,” she sighed. “’Til my legs felt fit to drop off. Again, though, I don’t think that’s very feasible here. Not today, at least.”

“Would a turn about the gardens do as a substitute?”

“God, yes.”

If she had to stay cooped up indoors all day, she’d go mad.

The day outside was gloriously sunny, but with a cool and soothing breeze that broke up the stifling heat and allowed her to really enjoy the brilliant blue cloudless sky, rather than wilting under the heat.

“Sorry, I’m a bit fuzzy,” she wrinkled her nose as they walked. “The doctor insisted on giving me something for my nerves, and in hindsight I’m pretty sure it was an opiate.”

Opioid use was one particular ride she thought to save for later in life, when things got really stale, but it had been foisted on her in her twenties, and she just felt a bit floaty and nauseous for her troubles.

“Did it work?”

“A little bit. But it’s not the sort of thing I want to rely on. It’s not like it won’t all still be waiting for me when this stuff wears off – so it needs to be tackled head-on, instead. For efficiency’s sake, if nothing else.”

The smile he gave at that was strangely approving. She’d have to get used to his approval, then.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“I…look, I don’t know how this courting thing works.”

She didn’t even know if it was some sort of glaring taboo to address it so directly here and now, but she hoped he’d at least appreciate her frankness. And, thank god, he didn’t suddenly go pale or seem all that horrified at all. Mostly just surprised.

“You don’t?” his eyebrows raised a little.

“Why the shock? Did you have me pegged as someone with a string of suitors littering the ground behind her?”

“Boasting all manner of mortal wounds, at that,” he replied drily.

Theo grinned, and then she laughed, but she knew he was waiting for some sort of elaboration.

“Back home is…it’s a different world. And that’s an understatement. Nothing works the same way here as it does there. And even if it did, this sort of thing just…wasn’t a priority. I never paid it much mind.”

“So you’ve never been courted? None have made…overtures?”

“Not by English standards. Oh, don’t look so shocked.”

It wasn’t even much of a lie. In the sense that he knew the word, she hadn’t been. Nobody around here was inviting anybody for a McDonald’s and a cheeky kiss at three in the morning after a night out. Unless that was the next step here, she really was ignorant as all hell as to how things would proceed.

“Of course I’m shocked,” he huffed a laugh – but not a mean-spirited one. “You are…you are beautiful. And intelligent. Witty, too.”

The compliments were delivered after a brief moment of awkward hesitation, but once he began he seemed to find it easier – which was exactly when Theo started finding it difficult, blushing and looking away. He wasn’t happy to let that go uncommented on, either.

“…Even if you’ve a strange way of finding it easier to accept jokes about a hypothetical murderous past than compliments on your countenance.”

Now she did look at him, arching an eyebrow and fighting a smile.

“Don’t get too cocky. You’re criminally handsome, your voice is unreal, and – stop me if this is going too far – you’re an excellent swimmer in the face of shark infested waters.”

When she’d made the joke warning him to stop her, a brief glimmer of alarm had played across his face, like he was expecting her to say something really out of pocket. So, instead, when she ended how she did, he rolled his eyes – fondly, though – before her earlier compliments seemed to register and he flushed just as she had.

“See? Now we’re both blushing,” she pointed out smugly.

He cleared his throat, but appeared content to let the matter lie there. Theo resisted the urge to draw up a scoreboard.

“You said not by English standards. Are Irish standards so different?” he asked.

“That difference can’t be overstated,” she muttered. “I’m just wondering…you’re…I mean, the expectation isn’t that…”

“Please, speak freely,” he reassured – despite his own, very visible, discomfort.

“This isn’t the sort of thing where there’s a wedding planned for two weeks from now, is it?”

Things were different in this time. Back home, even acknowledging, factually speaking, that marriage was a thing that existed this early on would be a bad idea. But here, marriage, more often than not, was a business arrangement rather than a relationship in the sense of the word that she was familiar with. A few weeks to come to the conclusion that they could, in fact, spend more than an hour together without wanting to commit murder, and then it was off to popping out babies.

“I’ve no intention of rushing you,” he answered, clearing his throat and suddenly finding his shoes very interesting. “Nor…nor this. The last few weeks have been regrettable. I think we both need time in which to find our footing before we worry about blazing ahead.”

Theo nodded, relieved.

“And…” he paused, then pushed through his hesitation. “I did rather doubt that you’d wish to be married without your father present to witness it, or offer his permission. Given what I have heard of the bond you share with him. I expect he should need to be located first. And I assure you, if he does not surface in due course, I shall be happy to use whatever resources are at my disposal to seek him out-”

Maybe it was the medicine – and if it wasn’t, she was still going to blame it anyway – but Theo found her vision very quickly blurring with tears, and his eye was far too keen to miss it.

“Making you weep was the very last thing I desired to do,” he sighed softly.

“No, it’s…” she paused, sniffed, and then shook her head as she wrapped her arms around herself. “They’re not the worst kind of tears. It’s just…that was sweet. Of you to say. Of you to think of.”

“I cannot be the first to have done so, surely?”

“Elizabeth understands. How couldn’t she? She and her father…”

“The ever-present aide-memoire must be challenging,” he allowed.

“Sometimes. It’s nice that she understands, though. I had friends back home who hated their parents. Never understood that me n’ my dad were…well, we were friends.”

“I see no reason for you to speak of such matters in the past tense,” he said gently.

Didn’t he? That was the problem, wasn’t it. If anything, it was almost easier when she thought he hated her – or at least that he didn’t return her feelings. This whole situation was a glaring example of how folk should be careful what they wished for, because she’d damn well gotten it and now she was left with a dilemma that was far more tricky than heartache.

Or maybe she could just think that because she no longer had to deal with that heartache. Not in the same way, at least.

Because what did this all mean? As far as returning home went? Whether he knew it or not, even by just walking with her about these gardens, James had changed the course of his life significantly. The one it was meant to take. Even if that course led somewhere that she now knew damn well she could never allow. Had she been able to take feelings out of the matter and look at the bare facts, it wouldn’t be right to see him take such a leap of faith and then still plot to leave – then, adding feelings into the mix, it only made her more inclined to stay.

But staying meant…well, not going back. And that thought was a lot to contend with in general, never mind after the night she’d just had.

“To properly answer your question, courting is typically a matter of earning the approval of the family of the lady in question, as well as that of the lady herself. Which…makes our set of circumstances unique. For the time being. Although I cannot pretend that I’m not relieved that I have time to win back your regard before I have to do so with your father. I suspect the former would strongly impact the latter.”

“You talk like you haven’t already managed it.”

In response to that, he watched her carefully.

“One good deed cannot undo all of the ill I have wrought thus far,” he pointed out.

Theo pushed down her discomfort at how close those words came to the ones he was destined to say to Elizabeth on the Dutchman, shortly before his demise.

“You fumbled the ball a bit,” she said. “You didn’t try to murder me. I’m not going to exact a pound of flesh.”

Although it was far easier to be all magnanimous about it now that they were through it. Judging by the rueful look he fixed her with, he was very aware of that.

“My dad’s always been the sort where as long as I’m happy, he’s happy, so you…you shouldn’t worry. About that. I do hope, though, that all of this doesn’t make life awkward for you.”

“If you’re referring to the opinions of Miss Simmonds and her pack of wolves, I care little for what they have to say on this matter – nor on any other, for that matter.”

“Oh, not them. Sod them,” she snorted. “But…the Swanns…Governor Swann, I mean – Elizabeth’s practically been doing cartwheels all morning, but her father…I know how well the two of you get on. This won’t make things awkward, will it? He wanted you and Elizabeth to- well, I don’t want to be the evil lodger who came in and spoiled it all.”

“I imagine he’d be more upset were Miss Swann at all upset by what has come to pass. And while I respect her greatly still, even the mightiest saint would not nudge one they hoped to marry towards another. Had she been devastated by these recent changes, the Governor would take a less favourable view on it, but given that it makes her just as happy as we now are, all will be well.”

She didn’t quite manage to keep the surprise from her face, and he caught it – offering a small, amused smile in turn.

“It’s remarkable,” he commented softly, “what one can see upon no longer hoping to see something different.”

“And what are you hoping to see now, then?” she asked.

“More of you,” he answered – apparently without thinking, for then he realised how it sounded and balked, a flush immediately rising to his face. “That is, er, I wish to visit with you more frequently, and see if…er…well- I mean, of course, I did not mean that-”

“You’ll have to ask very, very nicely,” she interrupted.

The joke was a gamble; not only because of the time period, but because of how tentative everything was between them. Usually Theo was all for gambles just like that, but in this instance she found herself watching his expression nervously…and breathing a heavy sigh of relief when, upon registering them properly, he faltered, and then he laughed. All right, it wasn’t a stomach-grabbing, doubled over with tears in the eyes sort of laugh, but it broke the tension.

“We’ll…get better at this,” he said finally, shaking his head. “We’ll find our footing, as we proceed. If, indeed, you wish to proceed. I’ve no wish to hold you to anything to said…or did…last night, in your shaken state.”

His determination to make sure only to secure her agreement to this under the best circumstances possible only made her feel all the more guilty for all she kept from him. With images of home whirling throughout her mind, and visions of his opinion of her once again doing a complete u-turn if he knew where home really was for her, the most answer she could offer was a nod, and that nod was enough to have him smiling.

“I don’t think we’re doing too badly,” she pointed out quietly.

“I suppose not, if we count today as a clean slate.”

“Last night had its moments.”

This time he didn’t blush or fluster, only smiled a little as he bowed his head. “It did.”

For a while, they were content to walk quietly, stealing glances here and there and then blushing when they caught the other doing the same thing. It was so disgustingly cute that Theo was tempted to hate herself for it.

#ctw #catch the wind #ftt #fallen through time esta-elavaris #james/theodora #james x theodora #pirates of the caribbean fanfiction #pirates of the caribbean fanfic #potcfic #james norrington fanfiction #james norrington fanfic #james norrington x oc #james norrington/oc

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streets-in-paradise · 1 year

Note

Can I have some fluffy Paris x reader where he kisses her scars she got from a near death experience?

Hi!!

Absolutely :)

Warnings: A bit of dramatic angst in the beggining.

A Thousand Times - Paris x (Fem) Reader

The battle unleashed with the death of King Menelaus left as result an encouraging victory for the trojans. Greeks were hit hard with the loss of two of their main heroes, their core motivations affected after losing the excuse that brought them to foreign shores. The outcome was good for the locals, but they did get some scares regarding the possibilities of losing some of their most remarkable warlords. Hector faced lethal danger fighting Ajax, the best opponent he had encountered in the battlefield in the absence of Achilles. Witnessing that with horror made you rush into his defense, but the luck of the fight was against you. To that greek you were only an obstacle in his way to glory, what he would have obtained by killing Hector. The interruption angered him and his brute strength was hard to contain, your brother in law got you out barely alive.

Behind the city walls nobody was rushing to tell your husband what happened. Paris had his own wound needing attention and Helen was stitching his leg while trying to comfort him about the shame that fleeing away from battle in front of everybody caused him. He was scared of facing you, right hand of Hector in the army, as the coward he turned out to be. If he would have let you fight against the spartan king, the war would be over. Paris wanted to do it for you, to assume all guilt for bringing Helen to Troy so you wouldn’t have to be the one fighting. He wanted you to watch him fight and feel proud of his courage for challenging a great warrior. The pathetic spectacle he gave was the opposite of all his intentions, he gave the enemies more motives for mockery. Whenever a greek would make fun of you for being married to him, they would be in the right.

All of that stopped mattering to him as soon as Andromache told him of the critical state in which you arrived back to the city. He limpied his way to the halls of the royal healers with unthinkable desperation. With his disheveled hair and tearful eyes, Paris didn’t look any different from the many grieving trojan women

“ The one who did this will be burning in the pyre tonight.” Hector informed him. “ I took care of that, brother. She took the risk to save my life and I repaid her.”

Paris glanced at him for a brief instant, showing to have barely heard a calming statement that wasn’t calming him at all.

“ Forgive me, dear.” He told his sister in law, then hugged her. “ … for making you live fearing what fate is making me face now.”

She didn’t speak, but remained receptive for the instant the contact lasted.

“ Why did you save me so I would watch the love of my life die??! “ He reproached in between sobbing. “ She is dying, Hector! It should have been me, if you would have let me die the war would be over.”

“ The battle would have started anyways. “ His brother corrected. “ Agammenon doesn’t care about the suffering woman that we are sheltering thanks to both of you. He wants to destroy us because we are the last obstacle for his empire in development.”

He gently grabbed his face in order to force eye contact, an emphasizing act for what he was about to say.

“ Paris, your death would have changed nothing. It would have only brought me more sorrow. Stop thinking of that, I don’t regret what I did. How can I ever regret saving you? You are my brother and I love you. If Menelaus didn’t see it coming, that’s perhaps because his brother wouldn’t have crossed the line of personal convenience or risked his honor for him.”

“ Live for her.” Andromache added just as her husband was releasing the weeping man. “ There is still hope, she is strong. I followed the combat from the wall, she endured it with dignity and i sincerely doubt her strengths had run out there.”

Hector allowed Paris to collapse against him, shredding his tears while he held him.

“ The best healers in the kingdom are working on her, she can still see another day.”

Paris was too worried to care for any logic.

“ I don’t know if I will without her.”

Time proved his family right and seeing you survive was like watching the sun shine again. From the very first moment he saw your eyes open Paris took Andromache’s advice a little too far. He was living for you, filling you with attentions that were making you feel even luckier to be alive. It also made you feel a bit guilty because he was neglecting his own wound to take care of you just because you got it worse, but there was another issue you were more reluctant to admit regarding the situation.

Your preference would have been finishing the recovery on the houses of healing so you could be back with him once restored. Your wounds also affected your appearance and you were ashamed of returning to your husband in such state.

“ I’m sorry that you have to see me like this.” You admitted to him at some point when you couldn’t avoid the topic anymore. You were feeling better and the vanity of princess was temporarily outshining your pride of warrior. “ I trusted on speed beating strength, but things got wrong. It happens sometimes, fighting is about skill but also luck. That wasn’t my time, the gods wanted Hector to have the glory and I got the bruises. “

It was expected that your opponent would try to leave ugly scars as soon as he realized you were a woman. Attacking your beauty was assumed a good chance to generate a distraction and the greek you fought was so strong that some of the worse bruises he left on you were made with his bare hands.

“ Your time to shine will come, my love.” Paris comforted you immediately. “ All i care now is that you are safe.”

“ At least when it comes I will no longer be the pretty girl of the battlefield. “ You joked lightly. “ The greeks will start respecting me now that these new scars have strippen the last hints of femininity from my looks. “

Right as you finished delivering that sentence, your glance got fixated in the wonderful perfection of his face. He smiled for you and you couldn’t resist it.

“ Look at you, fighting hasn’t changed you at all. “ You sweetly complimented him. “ It’s as if you were coming back from dancing and you were resting a tired leg. Your flawless skin barely got caressed by the bronze, my dearest. You are still as beautiful as you always have been. “

In another moment he would have simply agreed to your comment, but not that time. With the presence of Helen and the way people talked about her, it was only natural that you would be more worried than usual about your looks. Even after what you went through, once your mind would begin to run cold away from the imminent danger, minor worries like that one could be coming to you.

“ The traces of bronze will never disturb your beauty.” He praised you, carefully getting closer to you. “ You are as stunning as the first time I saw you. The wounds will heal and you will feel it in yourself again soon.”

“ Scars will remain.” You immediately recalled. “ The punches will go, sure, but what about the rest? Your wife, your princess, now looks like a rebellious slave girl that got the punishment of her life. “

“ More like the hero that almost dies trying to save my brother.” He corrected you once more. “ I’m proud of you, it’s me who failed you. Let me make it right.”

He helped you lay down in bed and began to inspect your bruises with unique care. The most prominent was on your neck, the hands of your attacker were engraved on your delicate skin. Paris was never a spiteful person, but he was very glad that the one marking you like that died by the blade of Hector if it couldn’t be by yours. The attempt of strangulation must have been brutal to leave those traces. Your husband tentatively approached the injured area, barely breathing close to see if the action would cause you pain.

Once he noticed it didn't, he pressed one first and very gentle kiss.

“ Is this good? “ He purred against your skin, right before kissing you again. “ My princess, I would worship your body a thousand times before letting you fall into those harmful misconceptions.”

The comment was followed by a trail of kisses he softly led through that sensitive corner of your body, replacing the traces of pain left by the greek with a path of love created by him.

“ I love you.” You purred back in delight. “ A thousand times, one for each greek ship on our shores.”

He chuckled against you and briefly raised his head to stare deeply into your eyes.

“ Then I may need to fill you with a thousand kisses. You will not find enough space in this glorious skin of yours for all this love I have for you. “

#troy 2004 #paris of troy #orlando bloom #paris x reader #orlando bloom x reader #troy #troy fanfiction

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gingersnappe-9 · 11 months

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In a Crowd of Thousands: Beskar vs. the Dark Saber (16)

Din Djarin/Mando X Fem!OC || Star Wars/The Mandalorian Universe

Series List || #star wars anastasia || PREVIOUS || NEXT

5.4 K words

Warning: canon violence (lethal weapons use), near death experience(s)

A/N: chapter banner art by @followwhereshegoes & myself

The plan was to announce her reunion to Leia and reaffirm their family’s legacy of fighting for the greater good of the galaxy.

Ava tried convincing herself that it was for the best. No, that it was her rightful place to be by her sister’s side fighting the good fight with the Rebellion and serving as a diplomatic attache to underprivileged reaches of the galaxy. It’s what they talked about at least, but the more Ava experienced it, the stuffier she rediscovered it all was. She recalled how much she disliked wearing dresses that she could potentially trip over and fall on her face in front of some important foreign dignitary – she actually remembered doing that once when she was younger – She had forgotten how most of the individuals in law and diplomacy were decades older than her and never quite appreciated her humor. Ava accidently scandalized a maid when she dropped a book on her toe while practicing her walk – like he did back on the Crest – and swore like a spice runner.

Try as she might, Ava was just having a far more difficult time fitting in to her birthright. She’d watch the maids flit around and coo about the fine jewelry and dresses she and Leia would be wearing to the event. She had to agree though, the gowns and finery were stunning. The material felt like starlight across Ava’s fingertips. The bright colored gemstones of her necklace were as red as sand stone. A pair of crowns, however, remained in their storage boxes. Leia suggested they hold off on donning their headdresses until they arrived at the venue.

“They’re gorgeous but I’ve knocked mine off my head getting out of a cruiser or two.” The sisters shared a good laugh. Ava wasn’t sure what being a “someone” should feel like but only deep down in her subconscious did she consider that she really only needed simple things… perhaps a simple person.

Sooner, rather than later, everyone was dressed and being ushered into sleek, black cruisers. Leia and her secretary or personal assistant immediately began chatting about her schedule and future events. They didn’t seem to need her attention so Ava allowed herself to gaze out the tinted windows and onto the passing by cityscape. The light had already begun to bleed from the sky as dusk settled over Canto Bight. The lights streaked by not unlike the stars at lightspeed, though they paled in comparison.

They arrived at the Starfield Legacy Center far earlier than even the ravenous reporters who were always far more interested in capturing the glitzy regalia or a moment of weakness between a supposedly madly in love couple. Ava and Leia calmly walked through a side entrance with grand capes covering their ensembles with ushers following closely on foot with the crowns, locked away in protective boxes. One of the event coordinators brought them up to a secluded room where they could freshen up and wait in privacy before the speeches and press rounds. Ava sat down quietly on a plush chair tucket into the corner. She fiddled with her opera length gloves to keep herself from messing up her hair or makeup or her dress. She watched as Leia moved through the motions with ease. How her sister handled unexpected questions with ease and firm command. Leia was a natural born leader and Ava adored watching her in her element. If Ava had been left to her own devices, she would’ve shown up with a smear of grease on her cheek, a pair of work coveralls all rumpled and disheveled only to say, “Hi, I’m her. So, yeah that’s it”.

Lost in thought, Ava didn’t even notice that Leia had approached her with one of the large lock boxes balanced in her arms. She had already placed her silver crown neatly on her head. It resembled a solid halo that sat across the center of her head with five slender peaks jutting out. Alderaanian jewelry was rather simple, but in its simplicity they were always striking. The necklace – small squares of Alderaanian silver linked by delicate jump rings – was a piece that their mother wore often. The necklace must’ve been stored off-world at an embassy for it to have been saved from the destruction of Alderaan.

“I believe it is time.”

Ava stood up slowly as Leia rested the box on the nearby side table. When the cover was lifted, the light in the room seemed to shift to a golden hour. The halo-shaped crown was fitted to her scalp with a tapered point resting just below the center of her hairline. Teardrop shaped pearls rested across her forehead. The thin bands that reached out were like rays of the sun with even more pearls inlaid in between. Ava let herself adjust to the weight of it, glad that Leia suggested she hold off wearing it until necessary. There was music beginning to play from the hall, though muffled it signaled the evening was beginning.

The two of them walked over to a large full-length mirror on the other side of the room. They looked very much like the sun and moon – Ava in her striking gold crown, cream colored dress with a deep green sash; and Leia in her midnight purple gown, silver jewelry, and similar sash made of a maroon satin – Their father used to call them his sun and moon. Leia placed a hand on each of Ava’s shoulders and allowed her cheek to rest on her sister. They stood there taking in the sight of one another. Taking in the other’s presence and the reality that against all odds they were together again. Family.

Leia squeezed Ava’s shoulders and took a step back. “You look so much like her.”

“Who?” Ava responded quietly.

Leia only smiled. “Mama. You have her presence.”

The younger of the two sisters smiled right back. “You remind me of Papa. You’re always so sure, and just as fair.”

“You’ve done well, you know,” Leia spoke calmly, “I know none of this has been easy. But you’ve done really well with handling everything that’s come your way.”

“The journey was interesting to say the least.” Ava quipped.

The two of them stood silently together for a moment more. But only a moment before Leia took Ava’s hands and helped her slip her gloves on. For some reason, when she focused on the gloves, she thought of Mando and how his gloves slipped on and off his hands.

Leia half smiled. “But I can't help but wonder if it’s what you really want.”

Ava pulled her hands back while Leia regally collapsed hers together. “What does that mean?”

“I just mean… You were born into this world. It was your destiny from birth to wear that crown and carry on the legacy of house Organa as much as it is mine to carry on the Organa and Skywalker legacy,” Her voice never waivered, never accusatory or disappointed, just very truthful, “But I can’t help but feel that it might not be meant for you after all.”

The pair of them stood in the room alone in silence for a moment after Leia finished. Ava had similar thoughts float into her mind but she’d always dismissed them as trivial since everything the Mandalorians had told her was a lie to get her sister’s money. “Whatever happened, happened. I can’t change it and I will not go back to it.”

Leia gave her a look only older sisters could make. “He must have been special then for you to be digging your heels like a ton-ton.”

After she had to throw back a lighthearted grimace at being called a ton-ton, Ava didn’t know what to feel. No, she knew exactly how she should feel. It was a lie for money. A cash grab. Nothing more, nothing less. Ava knew Leia could sense her feelings so there was no point delaying the obvious.

“They did what bounty hunters do. They delivered their quarry and now they’re probably halfway to a new sector by now.” She said with more sorrow than intended. It hurt to put power into her fears. Out of the corner of Ava’s eye, she caught her sister with a somewhat hesitant look. “What?” Leia’s face shifted rather quickly to one with a soft, knowing smile.

“Aurie, he didn’t take the money. And I can’t imagine their withholding information makes you feel better, but for what it’s worth, they brought you back to me. But this is the life that I have chosen for myself. I supposed, now, it’s your turn to choose.”

Leia let go of Ava’s hands and began to walk towards the door and didn’t turn back to see if her sister was following until she opened the door. When Leia turned back, she truly looked like their mother. Though Ava knew the two weren’t blood related, it was in the way Leia carried herself. Her poise, the way she tilted her head and said, “Ava, Aurelia, it makes no difference to me. You are mine and Luke’s sister. We will always love you.” And then she calmly walked out into the world Ava was uncertain of reentering.

It felt as if the world had spun off its axis and was floating farther and farther away from its sun. So Ava decided to go outside and take in some fresh air.

The gardens were large and expansive – but most importantly empty – on a large earthen terrace that overlooked Canto Bight. From its vantage point, Ava could see the city cresting out towards the bay. The calm waters glittered in the early moonlight. Distant sounds of life were carried in on the wind. Below, each and every person walked their own path. Difficult ones. Easy ones. Some that were hard one day then a breeze the next. What path will I take now? She’d found her family. More than she was expecting, two whole siblings who expressed their unconditional love for her. What was next?

What indeed?

A foreign voice echoed in her mind and all of a sudden Ava’s body stiffened. She turned around quickly and found the path empty. But something or someone was out there. A new energy swirled in the air. Ava felt like her nerves were on fire as her blood began to pound behind her temples. The energy, the presence, she’d felt it before crawling in the back of her mind. It was cold and filled with a quiet and dangerous rage.

“I know you.” Her voice wavered as she spoke out into whatever darkness was drawing closer.

A man appeared. The same stern face and severe eyes. His hands were placed behind his back as he walked with precise steps. In a word, elegant, or more accurately, predatory. His dark eyes stared her down, hungrier than his demeanor gave off.

“Yes. We’ve met before. In a manner of speaking.” He continued to stalk forward.

She put her hand out – as if the gesture would protect her – “Who are you?”

“My name is Moff Gideon, your Highness.” He gave a short nod after her title.

A chill ran through her spine. “You have me confused with someone else.” No sooner did Ava try to turn around, a powerful feeling wrapped around her mind giving her a splitting headache. It nearly made her drop to her knees.

“Oh, I’m not confused at all. You are the lost daughter of Senator and Queen Organa,” His voice was cold and seemed to strike with a blunt edge with each word, “Though my plans need a little adjusting you’ll do just fine.”

She turned around to face the man and slowly backed away with each step he took; but even so, she felt like she was being backed into a corner. “Stop.”

He kept advancing with a ceaseless gaze.

“Stop.”

Her head hurt.

“Stop.”

Everything seemed wrong and her hands twitched.

“STOP!”

Ava thrust both of her palms out towards him and felt a surge of energy release. It was like a pulse, her pulse, magnified outward. It was not unlike what she experienced at the opera with Mando.

She opened her eyes, not even realizing she’d squeezed them shut. Ava saw Gideon down on one knee, huffing to try and bring air back into his lungs. Ava channeled whatever courage she could muster, and tried to remember Luke’s lessons. But it felt like her memory was failing. A few stints in force sensitivity training did not a Jedi make.

In her mind she asked for help from the cosmic forces of the universe, the Maker, Luke… Mando… anyone.

A terrible sound came from his throat. It was strained laughter, or at least some form of it. “Excellent. Most excellent.” Gideon pushed himself up with visible struggle but quickly regained his footing. He moved his cloak to the side and revealed a hilt clipped to his belt, took it in hand, “You do indeed have what I want, Princess” and ignited the blade.

It was unlike anything Ava had ever seen. It mimicked the way Luke’s lightsaber emitted light, but it was dark. The blade was black with white edges. The energy surrounding the weapon was just as dark. Ava sensed how it wrapped around Moff Gideon’s mind and body, twisting and warping what was already malevolent to begin with. It was consuming him. Alarm bells screamed out in Ava’s mind. Run.

She took off in an instant without direction or awareness. Ava gathered as much of the dress into her arms as she could, but the weight of the fabric still seemed to slow her down. It didn’t help that she’d lost sight of the building between the impossibly tall greenery. Ava figured her best bet would be to hide where he wouldn’t expect to look or would be least likely to find her. So Ava ducked into a nearby cluster of trees.

The more she pushed her way through, however, the sleeves and hem of her dress caught and snagged on branches and twigs. It ripped the delicate overlay of her dress and muddied her heels. Finding they only got stuck in the dirt and undergrowth, Ava kicked them off and daringly threw them away in hopes it would possibly fool Gideon into going a different direction.

It felt like her heart was going to burst from her chest. The more time she spent in suspense, the harder her blood pounded. The greater the ringing in her ears became as the sky grew darker and the shadows became more and more menacing. Her mind felt cloudy. She couldn’t hear anything or anyone. They must’ve been deeper into the garden than she’d realized. Despite her mental haze, Ava gently tried closing her eyes and reaching out to feel for presence. She’d barely touched the surface when something came screaming into her mind. It felt like claws digging into her nerves. Her skin became so cold so quickly it felt as if it were burning. And despite her best efforts, she couldn’t help but scream out in agony.

I found you.

Before she even knew it, a deep reverb echoed in her mind alerting her not a moment too soon before a blade struck out just millimeters above her head.

Ava scrambled to her feet and ran back out onto the path. Her body still cried out in pain, and her breach into energy opened like a flood gate. Gideon was still gaining on her. She reached out and felt the finely laid stone beneath her feet; she focused on the craggy surface and motioned with her hand as if she were clawing it out from the ground and flung it back with all her strength. A large chunk flew up and back at her pursuer. Ava heard rock crumbling, and when she looked back, saw the slab sliced in two.

Impossible.

“No, not impossible, my dear.”

Somehow the lunatic was in her head. He was the clawing in her mind, like a poison slowly creeping into her bloodstream.

“Why are you doing this?” Her voice felt hoarse and her body was only growing weaker.

“Why does anyone do anything? Power. Power is the way of the world. It always has been. It brings the greatest change and is the strength of the longest lasting empires. And with the dark saber and you, my goals for the galaxy are well within reach.”

“You’re forgetting that most power-hungry madmen are spineless cowards who use others to get what they want.” Her voice was horse and growing strained.

Gideon chuckled with a false humor. It was cruel and mocking. Ava could feel it pulsing behind her eyes and the pain brought her down to her knees as he skulked closer.

“You’ve just never seen true power before. This,” He brandished the blade up towards her face. So close, Ava could feel the cold energy pulsing off it. “This is what power really is.”

She’d never seen energy like it before. The blade both emitted light and yet somehow seemed void of it. As such close proximity, she felt it draining her energy even more. Only one sort of thing in the known universe drew in energy like that – a black hole. The dark saber was some sort of contained black hole. It had to have been. It appeared to be the antithesis of a lightsaber which projected the wielder’s energy. The dark saber fed off it. It pulled in the life force of its wielder, even those around it.

“That thing is killing you.” Something flashed quickly across Gideon’s face. He wasn’t expecting her to say something like that, and Ava caught it. “But you didn’t know that, did you? How could you, you don’t know anything real about power you-”

He quickly slashed the blade through the air and swiped Ava’s cheek. It burned. It was cold and yet burned hotter than anything she’d ever felt in her life. The pain rendered her speechless as she was knocked to the floor grasping her cheek.

“I know more about this power than anyone else in the galaxy,” The tip of the blade hovered precariously close to her face, “Pity. You could’ve been something great. But you’re just like all the rest of those feckless fools in the Resistance. You’re just standing in my way.”

Ava’s world suddenly came to a screeching halt. She’d heard those words before spoken in that very same voice. Out of nowhere she recalled crouching behind a hallway corner, then a hand falling to the floor. It had been her father’s hand. Ava could hear her mothers scream before her body hit the floor with a sickening, and lifeless thud. “It was you…” Her voice caught in her throat, “You killed them.”

When Ava looked up at Moff Gideon his face was twisted into a mad grin. He relished in her horrifying realization.

His eyes were wide and wild, “I’ll take what I need. But don’t worry, you’ll be with them soon enough.” Gideon raised the darksaber to dish out what could only be a mortally wounding blow.

Please…

A blaster shot rang out, as if from thin air, struck the flat side of the saber blade, ricocheting off into the ground.

A feeling swept over Ava, it was good and young. Grogu. And where the tiny green creature found himself, another was never far behind.

Ava turned her head in the direction of the shot and saw a familiar silhouette slip into the shadows. She sensed how he stalked through the dark and cover of the greenery ever closer. His watchful gaze never left hers. Ava could feel in her own muscles the way his pulled and strained against his bones. The strength in his hands as he gripped his blaster artfully. Teeming with energy and an overwhelming urge to seek and destroy.

Without realizing, Gideon slashed down again.

Ava’s body reacted before she could even think. Her palm extended outward just as the saber came down. The scene around her became perfectly clear in her mind. The stone surface of the pathway through the soft and tearing material of her dress; she became one with the plant cells slowly blooming while others had fallen to the ground and went through the final stages of decomposition. The air molecules surrounding the blade snapped and popped as it moved through the air. And just before the saber made contact with her flesh, it stopped.

It stopped the same way two magnets of the same polarization repelled one another. The blade held against nothing in midair. The two of them stared at each other with a look of awe but even during that moment, Ava could feel her control slipping.

Another blaster shot, this one straight to Gideon’s hands, knocking the saber from his grip. The next thing Ava saw was the bulk of Mandalorian armor hurdling out from nowhere and tackling Gideon to the ground. The two men grappled on the ground for the upperhand. They seemed to match each other blow for blow. Though Mando was strong, Ava could sense something in Gideon had been altered by the blade. He fought back like an animal possessed, clawing and punching and the soft points between Mando’s armor. Gideon somehow managed to rip off one of Mando’s thigh plates and used it to completely slap Mando clean across his helm.

The sound of pure beskar striking beskar was loud for Ava, so it must’ve been somewhat deafening for Mando. The Mandalorian stumbled back and Gideon managed to reach for a blaster hidden on the opposite side of his hip. Ava cried out just as Gideon pulled the trigger, striking Mando in the shoulder, just below his pauldron. She barely registered the distressed sounds coming from Grogu’s pram just a few meters away. He tried to come forward, but Ava intentionally held his little craft back.

In the moments afterwards, it felt like the shot kept ringing in her ears.

“There is a reason his kind is all but extinct,” Gideon’s voice was wicked and chilled, “Too noble for their own good.” He took aim again, this time, where the hollow of Mando’s throat would be. She could feel his pain rippling throughout his arm, she felt his racing pulse slow. Mando fought to maintain his composure as his thoughts grew fuzzy till they all disappeared into unconsciousness.

Ava’s hands twitched again. They needed to hold on to something. They needed to defend. Her mind reached out, and no sooner could Gideon place his finger on the trigger did the dark saber skitter across the ground and fly into Ava’s hand. She surged forward with a speed she didn’t know she had. The blade sliced up through the barrel of the blaster as if it were nothing. The force of her attack was strong enough to knock Gideon back a few paces.

Something took Ava over. She felt a thrum of electricity coursing through her. She felt like a star about to explode, just teeming with potential power and energy. So she took off.

Gideon barely had enough time to react. The saber came down hard against the plate. It was beskar versus the dark saber. Blow after blow, Ava continued to swing with every ounce of her strength that she could muster, and the blade responded in kind. She let her anger roll through her like the undercurrent of a torrent river. It was a rage she’d never felt before, or had only become aware of the moment she realized Gideon was the man who slaughtered her parents. Ava slashed and punched and kicked and all he could do was use his small shield against her. The ground beneath them quickly bore the marks of their opposing efforts. Scorches here, slashes there, the concrete and stonework ripped from the ground. Sweat crept down Gideon’s brow, the weapon he once envisioned himself conquering the galaxy with had been turned against him. It drew on his fear.

He was responsible for her suffering. He was the one who’s greed had led to the deaths of so many innocent lives. He’d nearly killed Mando. He had tried to kidnap and do Maker know what sort of horrible things to little Grogu, and possibly even her. Ava’s hands grew hot from the fury surging through her body. It felt as though her eyes glowed in anger. The dark saber responded, it hummed and sang in her mind to the very same tune of revenge. It craved it as much as she did. Moff Gideon needed to pay for his crimes, and they decided he would.

With a swift punch backed by the force, Ava swiftly knocked the air clean out of Gideon’s lungs. He lay on his back atop the wreckage they’d both created. Ava hadn’t even realized how far they’d traveled till she caught a glimpse of herself in some sculpture. The polished metal reflected back an image of herself that Ava didn’t recognize. Her dress was torn and mottled with dirt and debris. Her crown was long gone and her hair was coming undone. What startled her most was her eyes. They weren’t brown anymore, they seemed brighter with flashes of red on the outer edge of her iris. She was changing before her eyes. The blade sang out in protest of her stalling.

Ava paused and looked for a moment at the strange sword. She listened to it with a more careful ear, and what she heard was different from her initial judgment.

The blade wasn’t inherently evil. It wasn’t anything much at all. Energy was constantly flowing through the crystal within. Raw potential. It called for revenge because she had wished for it in her mind. Standing there and witnessing how quickly hate had made her change frightened Ava. The potential had always been there, but it took the blade to make herself realize how much of her emotions she had been ignoring. It stung. The hilt grew heavy with doubt, and it was in that split second Gideon acted.

He lunged up from the ground like some feline creature with his teeth bared ready to sink into the soft flesh of its prey.

His hands wound around her own on the hilt of the dark saber. The two of them grappled with strained muscles. Ava nearly bit into her lip with the amount of effort it took to keep the blade away from Gideon’s effort to drive it into her throat. The man’s eyes were as wild and feral as her own, but Ava felt her anger slipping away. It pained her to look him in the face – the man responsible for her mother and father’s deaths – but a new sensation began to whisper in the back of her mind…

We will always love you.

We are with you.

It was Leia. Luke. Her parents. Everyone who cared for her, near and far, alive and gone. Their essences melding together like a balm that soothed her soul. Their love and spirits were with her. They would remain in and all around her. No matter how angry she was, how hurt and betrayed by fate she felt, Ava realized that would never die. It would sustain her, it had thus far. She’d traveled clear across the galaxy for a feeling she did not have a name for… but it was the love for her family, found or otherwise.

In her hands, she could sense the saber mirroring her conflicting emotions. How it cried out in confusion from her influence as well as Gideon’s. It was the oldest song in the galaxy: one of struggle, light and dark. Only Ava seemed to be listening to it.

“Why don’t you seem to understand?” He hissed, close enough Ava could feel the heat of his breath against her face, “The only way to exist is to take and maintain order.”

Ava was close. Even with her limited knowledge of sabers, she felt for the housing unit within the hilt. She could feel the power circuits and the wiring leading to a central unit. All the while, Gideon’s grip had become so fierce he pushed her palm so hard into the hilt they’d begun to bleed against the detailing. His fingernails bore into her skin leaving red crescents dribbling.

There.

The image of it came clear in her mind. It was no bigger than her thumb, deep like onyx and vast as a moonless night.

“For take, there should be give. After death, life should grow,” She planted her feet and dung down deep, “The galaxy will continue forward long after any of us leave this world. Any attempts to out last it are foolish.”

She bore down on the housing unit. Felt it break and warp under her pressure. Release. Gideon sensed it too. He began to yell and scream in vain. Ava had already cracked in, uncontained energy had begun to spill out.

“The way of existence is balance.”

It broke and like a supernova, energy poured outward. The saber sparked and burst, sending out white hot particles. Ava and Gideon were knocked back with scorch marks across their exposed skin.

Ava landed hard on her back, the wind knocked clean out of her. In her attempts to pull air back into her lungs, she struggled to look around. Gideon lay in a smoldering pool of his black cloak. Unmoving. The crystal lay amongst the debris of the destroyed hilt, calm. She pulled it into the palm of her hand with little effort. It was indeed as black as the void of space, so much so, it seemed her hand had developed a blackhole. Vengeance no longer silently plagued her mind. That part was done and over. It was time for growth.

Ava whipped her head back to see if Grogu had avoided the flair. The doors of his pram opened with a soft hydraulic hiss and sweet eyes gazed down at her as he floated in her direction.

“Where’s your dad?” She wheezed.

Grogu hovered off in a direction and Ava stumbled behind as if she were a babe just learning to walk. When Mando came into view the adrenaline had begun to wear off. From the distance, Ava couldn’t even tell if he was still breathing.

All of her strength gave out leaving her no choice but to crawl the last few feet to Mando. His beskar was scorched and scored from the saber. Bits of his flight suit were singed and the place beneath his right pauldron was soaked in red. Panic seized her heart and muscles. Her once steady hands shook uncontrollably as she lifted the pauldron up and off. The site was black and oozing. Knowing she didn’t have enough strength to see if the shot had gone clean through his shoulder, Ava had to lean her entire upper body weight to apply pressure. His breathing was shallow, his heartbeat slow. The bleeding had been prolonged without any intervention and his body was showing the toll. Her entire body shook. She was beaten and aching. Shrapnel had certainly lodged itself in various points of her body, but none of that mattered. Ava reached for whatever energy she had left.

She felt the dimming hum of Mando’s life. It was slipping away.

“No,” Tears fell across the motionless helmet, “Not you too.” Her voice was barely there. Desperation and despair thick enough that she practically choked on it. “Please… I need you… I… love… you.”

Grogu appeared beside her. His small hand reached for the site. Ava wanted to pull his untainted fingers back, no child should have to witness and partake in such misery. But something washed over her. Energy pooled in a different direction the closer Grogu came.

She rested her hand atop Grogu’s significantly smaller one. Ava allowed herself to follow the gentle current. Beneath her trembling fingers, Ava could feel Mando’s skin shifting. Torn cells joined again. Layers of epidermis repaired itself slowly as the current flowed from hers and Grogu’s hands. Mando’s heartbeat rose. But Ava’s dipped. She was giving so he could take.

Slowly but surely, with their conjoined effort, the wound was mended. The viscous remnants remained, but the bleeding had stopped. He took a deep breath which meant Ava could finally take one herself.

By then, there was shouting and disturbance from the crowds above. Ava sent off a brief moment to her sister and to Luke. Whether or not they sensed it, Ava didn’t care. Her eyes were heavy and her body had already slumped across Mando’s chest. The coolness of the beskar soothed the heat from the mark across her cheek. Grogu had already succumbed to his much needed rest. Whoever would find them would be in for a surprise.

A princess, a bounty hunter, a small child all together.

Series List || #star wars anastasia || PREVIOUS || NEXT

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#anastasia au #the mandalorian #star wars au #fanfiction #mando #star wars anastasia #gingersnappe writes

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raptorsaurusmelain · 7 months

Text

Let me show you... Youtube - chapter 15

I am watching food videos instead of eating, what a great idea. Let go to the kitchen.

Warning : no proof reading, English is not my mother tongue.

If you are interested in reading this fic, the tag "#twst lmsyy" will give you all the chapters.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

The day was uneventful to say the least. Everything was in order -for once- and all she had to do was to sweep the main street of NRC. Despite that, she was restless. She knew today for the day of the first overblot, and she feared it like hell. Again, what do you say to a teenager who will face a near death experience ?

When it was lunch, she hugged the Child saying that it was for good luck for this afternoon. But the Child asked innocently “Why don’t you hug Ace instead ?”

The only answer was Victoria and Ace looking at each other in disgust. Ace spoke first “No thank you…”

The afternoon went on and Victoria was borderline having a panic attack. She tried to occupy her mind by making her first Giktok, showing multiple places of Ramshackle to do the ‘before-after’. She was going to profit from the place like she could. Her, being a capitalist ? Not at all. She was just… Far-sighted.

When the TV was delivered, she tried to set it up. From the anxiety, she couldn’t set it up on the first try -damn smartTVs- and she threw the user manual across the room multiple times.

Once she was a little more calm, the TV was set up correctly and she put it on a channel showing a F1 race. She always liked those, even if it was considered a ‘boy sport’. Liking cars doesn’t have a gender.

A few hours passed when the door opened. Victoria rushed to the door, finding Yuu completely disheveled and bruised. Victoria was shocked. Yuu was still smiling. “Hey Victoria, I’m sorry, I am a mess…”

Victoria grabbed the Child’s hand and got them inside the lobby on the couch.

She asked “What happened Baby ?”

Yuu opened their mouth but tears came out first. “I… Uh… Ace and I.. I’m sorry, the tears…”

Victoria sat next to them and hugged them. “No worries, cry all you want.”

Grim was the one who began their epic tale fighting against Riddle. The more Grim spoke, the more she was furious. Furious against Riddle was handled his emotions like sh*t. Furious against Riddle’s mom who couldn’t do a proper job at being a mom. Furious at Crowley for just doing a weird job. Furious against this twisted world. Where the hell was the ‘wonderland’ ?

Yuu spoke after. “I was so scared. *sniffle* Everything went south so fast, I couldn’t even process everything… *hic* I was *hiccup*.”

Victoria brushed their hair. “It was your fight or flight reflex, you chose to fight and that was very brave of you Honey. You did both a great job today. I am proud of you both.”

The Child wept for hours. They had changed position so now, Victoria was lying down on the couch, Yuu on top of her and Grim on top of them. Quite the sandwich.

The ghosts appeared and Victoria shushed them. “Time and place guys…”

But contrary to what she thought, they weren’t here to cause disturbance, they just floated to bring a duvet over them so they weren’t going to catch a cold.

Victoria patted both Grim and Yuu’s head, gently to not wake them up.She just stayed awake with her anger and hatred for the world. Thanks to the Great Seven she wasn’t a mage, she could have overblot.

The morning after, Yuu wasn’t feeling so well. It was normal after all they had been through. Victoria gently smiled, telling them to go shower before going back to bed.

They still waved Victoria good bye before she went to work. To which Victoria nearly smooched them loud on the cheek to thank them.

When everyone was in class, Victoria bolted into the headmaster office. “YOU !”

Crowley jumped. He didn’t know what was coming and yet he already hated every moment of it. “Yes ? I take it Yuu told you what happened with Roseheart.”

Victoria pointed a finger to his chest “How do you even DARE to be here like nothing when children could have DIED ! They are CHILDREN FOR GOD’S SAKE !!”

She punched him repeatedly in the chest -it didn’t hurt though-. “How could you let them do diversion when YOU are the ADULT ! They aren’t made to fight !”

Crowley gently grabbed Victoria’s hands. “I told them to go inside the mirror hall, they chose to stay and fight.”

Victoria tried to release herself. “They are YOUNG ! They are RECKLESS ! You should have FORCED THEM to go back ! THEY ARE TEENAGERS FOR F*CK’S SAKE!”

Crowley didn’t know what to say to that. He could have indeed, yet his duties were to put the most in a safe place before going back. He should have come back sooner. He should have helped.

And yet, here he was, with a hysterical woman yelling to him his four truths. That he was egoistical, that he was reckless, that he was just a coward who needed teenagers to get the job done, that he wasn’t cut to be called a headmaster…

Then he saw it. Ugly tears rolling on her cheeks. “I ! I ! I was so SCARED when they got back home ! HOW COULD LET THAT HAPPEN ??? YOU ARE THE HEADMASTER FOR F*CK’S SAKE! ACT LIKE IT !”

He hugged the woman. “I know… I should have handled the situation better. I’m sorry, Victoria.”

Victoria was too preoccupied ugly crying on his waist coat to notice that he used her first name.

After what seemed to be hours, Victoria had cried all the tears she had in stock. The raven took pity on her and gave her a tall glass of water.

Crowley asked. “Feeling better ?”

Victoria sniffed. “Yeah, thank you for letting me rant.”

Crowley arched an eyebrow. “It was more than a rant.”

The woman looked at him dead pan. He added. “Ok, I deserved it. I should have been more careful.”

Victoria drank a bit and finished the discussion by a “By the way, Yuu is not going to school for a few days to digest the shock. No is not an option.”

Tag : @boba-tea-fish @hipsterteller

#disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #twst lmsyy #twst fanfic #twst yuu #twst grim #twst victoria #twst crowley

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callsign-marlie · 2 years

Text

Perfect.

Platonic Natasha 'Phoenix' trace x Robert 'Bob' FloydRating: E Summary: After their accident, Bob and Phoenix try to figure out what went wrong and work through their complicated feelings. warnings: a little baby tinge of angst, but that's it. words: 1.6k a/n: a short and sweet little one. i always felt like these two were nearly telepathic the instant they met. they clicked really well for never having flown before and I'd like to think they became the fastest of friends and stay in contact after TG:M is completed. Also note, I made Bob married. Because no way that man is single. Impossible. x marnie

Natasha ‘Phoenix’ Trace was never nervous. She was always cool, calm and collected; completely in control at all times. She always was the most sensible and logical of her crew even while employed under the Black Aces, but tonight, the pilot just couldn’t count sheep for the life of her. She had stared at the ceiling for almost 3 hours before grabbing a jacket and padding out of her bunk, doing her best to not wake her bunkmate, Hangman, from his beauty sleep.

Natasha couldn’t stop the pounding in her chest or the ring in her ears. Every second since she was released form the med ward, she had been replaying her bird strike accident over and over again. What could she have done to prevent it? Did she do everything she could have at the time? What would have happened if something had gone differently? What would have happened if she died? If Bob died?

The web of chaos in her head was overwhelming enough to leave static where dreams should be. She needed to let out the storm in her brain, but in a mission like this, there was no support. If you’re unsure or too weak to handle an accident, you definitely wouldn’t be fit to fly this important mission. It was 11pm, she had a 0500 wake up scheduled and couldn’t sleep a wink. She did the most logical thing she could do.

She went to Bob.

Phoenix’s fist rapped only once on the door when it opened. The sight of her WSO alive and well relaxed her shoulders. She gave a thin lipped smile. Bob looked like shit. His hair was disheveled, there was a small bruise resting underneath the side of his jaw, but the eye bags under his glasses were designer, probably Gucci level at that rate.

He sent her a small smile, a tiny breath leaving his mouth. “You must have ESP, I was just about to find you.”

“Hey, that happens when you go through a near death experience with someone,” she whispered, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “But uh, I can’t sleep. Can we talk? About today?”

“Yeah, yeah, come in,” he mumbled, opening the door wider for his friend. Bob, being a solo from the Screaming Eagles, was the last to arrive at base in the Dagger squad because of his long distance post. Being the odd man out, he was lucky enough to have his dorm to himself.

Bob’s bunk was neat and tidy. His bed was military made without a wrinkle to be seen, never even laid in. His desk, however, was messy and illuminated by a rickety lamp. A weapon’s service manual with too-old sticky notes and different colored highlighted portions was open to the anatomy of a Super Hornet’s F414 engine. He ushered her to sit in the empty desk chair opposite of his own.

“Good thing you came, because I wanted to talk too. I was going to text you to see if you were still awake,” the WSO uttered, his hands flat on his desk and staring hard at his textbook. “The whole situation just doesn’t make sense to me. Either that, or I just blocked it out and can’t remember.”

“Bird strike,” Natasha let out matter-of-factly. She fiddled with the cuticles on her thumbs as if they more interesting than her partner. “Dumb goose got sucked into the engine and blew us out.”

“No, no, I get that,” Bob replied. “It’s just… how did the other engine go out too? The way we were flying,” he trailed off, lost in his own head for a moment on how to word it. Pilots weren't as well versed in the science behind flying. They just needed to do it. If Phoenix was anything like his other front seater, their aerodynamic pressure force section of their physics course probably went through one ear and out the other.

A thin finger went pointing back a graph to his book, his eyebrows scrunched beneath his glasses. “Our knots and g's weren’t pulling fast enough to force the engine out, plus we emergency switched our generator on which would have jumped the system when we attempted a restart. The engine physically couldn’t have extinguished itself completely based off of that alone on the right side. It should have been alive long enough to at least get us back to base. When Techie and I went over systems checks on the ground, it was all completely green at 100% capacity. There couldn’t have been that many failures we missed.”

“But you did.” Natasha’s voice was steady. At Bob's immediate crestfallen expression from her blame, she quickly backpedaled. “No, take that face off, that's not what I mean. Bob, you guys didn’t fail. You did everything by the book. The plane did. It just happened, Bobby.”

“And that’s what’s eating me, Nat.” He collapsed back into his chair, pushing his glasses up to rub his eyes. “If system checks didn’t catch the safeguards, who else’s planes could have problems too? Who else could end up like us? Or worse?”

They were both quiet for a moment. The stare they shared was still and harrowing. It could have been Payback and Fanboy. It could have been Coyote, Rooster, or even Hangman the self proclaimed god himself. Any one of their friends could have been in their shoes, could have made different decisions and ended up in only three endpoints: alive, maimed, or dead.

Phoenix had to think of herself and her WSO. Bob was her responsibility and she would do everything in her power to bring her backseater home, no matter who they were. Bob, bless his heart, thought only mostly of their friends. He trusted Natasha explicitly and knew he never needed to worry about her decision making skills. It was everyone else, whom he couldn’t evaluate crisis situation control with, that was making his skin crawl. The 'what ifs'.

“That’s not something we can think about,” Phoenix drawled, drifting her eyes closed. “This mission is life or death, just like what we dealt with today. We have to work through it. It was a freak accident that we went down and a freak accident that we lived.”

“I disagree with that last part,” Bob replied, staring at his partner incredulously. She looked like a shadow of herself, shockingly resigned in herself. Her usually pulled back hair was down loose around her shoulders and pinned above her ears. She looked younger, and probably the most scared Bob had ever seen her. “There was no accident in our living. It’s because you took control and did everything perfectly.”

“Perfect,” she sneered, her head back in her hands. “If it was perfect, we wouldn’t have ended up in the hospital. We would have landed safe on base with everyone else.”

Bob slid towards her and knelt before his pilot. His blue eyes were stern. “We ended up in the hospital. Yeah, so what? A few scratches and bruises is pretty ok with me when we could have ended up as minced meat at the bottom of the desert, Natasha. That’s perfect for me.”

Bob wriggled his fingers at her. “Look. Ten fingers. Ten toes. All moving, barely any pain and really only a bruised face from my landing which you couldn’t control: that was all me. And look at you!” He motioned at her to look at herself. “You have barely a scratch on you. Not even a bruise from what I see. Phoenix. You were perfect.”

She was quiet for a second, tears pricking at her eyes. She was perfect, yet he was not. “You’re my responsibility, Bobby,” she whispered at the popcorn ceiling, suddenly more interesting than her partner. “All I thought about was what Maverick said: 'what would you tell their families? Would your excuse be good enough for them?'”

The silence in the room weighed heavy as they both pondered the question. Natasha leaned back into Bob with her elbows on her knees, her fingers looping through his. “If you died, Bob, my excuse would have never been good enough. Not to your wife, your sisters, your mom. You died because of a bird? I would have never been able to face them knowing that my inability to control the plane in an emergency was the reason you didn’t come home. I’d be–”. She trailed.

“A failure,” Bob finished for her. Her throat was tight, a stray tear leaving a glistening streak down her cheek.

"Yeah. That."

His brushed the tear away with the inside of his sleeve and let his hand moved to the back of her hair, forcing her forehead to his. She stiffened for a moment, but relaxed into his grip realizing he had no intention of pulling her further. They closed their eyes at the same time. He took a deep breath and she took one as well, matching his pace. Their fingers tightened on each other, feeling the ridges of their fingerprints, the peaks and valleys of each other’s knuckles. They were whole. They were here. They were still together.

Phoenix broke peace first to look up at Bob, his glasses reflecting her tired eyes. “We’re ok?”

Bob separated their heads, both of his hands on top of hers. He gave them a shake with a reassuring smile. “Yeah. Yeah, we’re ok.”

“I’ll protect you always, Bob. I swear that.”

“And I swear I’ll protect you too. It’ll get better, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah it will.”

Phoenix moved to stand from the chair, but Bob cleared his throat and stood a little too quickly with her. “You know Nat, we’re both bushed. It’s a long walk back to your dorm and it's late. You should just… stay? You’ll sleep easier without Hangman’s snoring.”

Phoenix raised her eyebrow to the bare bed across from Bob’s, her arms crossed. “Mixing genders in the dorm is usually frowned upon, Lieutenant Floyd. And besides, it's down the hall. What are you talking about?”

A flush ran across his face. “Alright, look, I’d sleep better knowing you were– here. So we can help each other if we need it, you know?” He went radio quiet, rubbing the top of his flannel sheet nervously. “I’m honestly afraid that if I try to go down, I’ll just panic.”

Natasha knew how hard that was for Bob to admit. Bob, sweet and kind nd strong in his own right, was not used to trauma. He never had a situation occur with himself that he needed to work through as hard as this. Phoenix traipsed over to Bob’s bunk, pulling out his storage container for an extra fitted sheet and quilt. She made the bed less than efficiently before scrambling up the ladder to lay down.

“I just gotta leave by sunup so Hangman doesn’t start making up rumors. You know he loves stirring the pot.”

Bob’s toothy grin was infectious as he tossed one of his pillows in her direction. She caught it with a puff of clean soap and lavender filling her nose. He turned off his desk lamp and clambered up into his own bunk. “Thanks Pheenie.”

“No problem Bobby boy. Get some rest.”

#natasha trace #phoenix top gun #robert floyd #bob top gun #phoenix x bob #top gun maverick #top gun maverick ff #top gun maverick fanfiction #phoenix top gun fanfiction #bob top gun fanfiction #phoenix top gun ff #bob top gun ff

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sparklesphobia · 10 months

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LETTTSSSS FUCKING GOOOOO!!

Alright so lets get into the details! These are my two Spidersonas Ace Dillon (Earth 126) and Jude Jackson (Earth 8315) Fun fact, Jude is a rebranding/redesign of this villain oc I made last year :3

If you want to more about them, check under the barrier.

!!TW: SHORT MENTIONING OF DEATH, ABUSE, SEXUAL ASSAULT, AND DRUG USE!!

Ace Dillon (Spiderling):

Ace grew up in a poor neighborhood with their mom and abusive father who beat and assaulted their mom for over ten years until he died due to a heart attack. But their mom struggled for years to take care of them and raise them, turning to drugs a few times over the years and nearly overdosing once. Her near death experience scared her into a better mindset as she couldn't believe how hurt and scared Ace was for her. Even saying that she was acting just like her ex. So she worked on herself, but struggled financially over the years, asking her brother Harrison Thompson for financial assistance. She didn't like asking as she knew how much Harrison judged her and found her incredibly weak. And when she had fallen behind on their bills he refused to help her and cut off ties with her and Ace forever. They lose their apartment and were both homeless for a short time until Ace's mom scrounged up enough money to get them both a new apartment in the shadier part of town. But they didn't care. They both had a home and they promised to help their mom as much as they can, despite her refusal. She just wanted them to graduate college and get a scholarship so they can be guaranteed a bright and safe future.

And so Ace promised to do just that, just in their own way. They planned to go to an engineering degree due their interest in robotics and creating interesting things from whatever scraps of metal they could gather. They made friends with other punk kids and started a band with them, their best friend, Kev, being the Bass player.

As they went through middle and high school they took on odd jobs to get a couple bucks for their mom to help with the bills. But their mom never wanted this and makes them promise to stop doing this so they can focus on their school. They promise to stop after they finished with their latest Volunteer job they applied to. When they went to lab for volunteer job to test out some medication, but while they were there a genetically enhanced spider crawled onto them and bit them. They didn't really freak out about it since they'de been bit by plenty of spiders over their lifetime, so, they pay it no mind and went home with cash in hand, but much like Peter Parker when they got home they felt unwell and went to sleep, waking up to find they had gained Spider powers!!

Also much like Peter, they abused their powers for their own entertainment and to gain some more money by pulling off tricks. In the meantime Kev had gotten exposed to a highly addictive drug at one of their concerts. He kept borrowing money for other band members and Ace to feed into this addiction until Ace found out what was going on, calling him out out of anger and repressed trauma. But they quickly calmed down and stated they weren't going to give him more money and took him to a local AAA office and help getting him a membership. Kev begged them to keep this a secret, especially from his parents, but they couldn't. Telling him that his parents need to know so they can help him, they love him and no doubt will help him. But that wasn't true. When they had told his parents they privately cut Kev off and told him he had to pay for his own treatment like a "real man".

Kev stopped coming to school, to practice, and just stopped talking to Ace or any of his friends. Ace tried not to think about it, deeming not their place to fix his problems and if he wanted help he'd reach out. But one night Ace went out to hang with their friends, Kev had ran into them looking horribly disheveled. He begged Ace to help him, to just give him a couple of bucks, that's all. Just a couple of bucks. But Ace knew what was going on and didn't like being hassled, yelling at Kev to get off of them and go home. Kev broke down and screamed at Ace, saying that he didn't have a home because of them, that they had done nothing but ruin his life! And now, at the very least they could do to help was to give him a couple of bucks to make his night not so insufferable. But Ace scoffed and told him to fuck off, they're not doing that and turned away, the last thing they heard from Kev being, "You're going to regret this you bitch."

While they were out with their friends, Kev proceeded to break into their home with a gun, accidentally shooting and killing Ace's mom who tried to calm him down as he tried to steal from her and Ace. When Ace came home to see cops surrounding their home, their heart dropped and ran, getting stopped by cops as they screamed for their mom, hoping, praying she was okay.

Hours later in the Police Station they were told everything. That one of the neighbors had heard their mom scream and a loud scuffle before a gunshot. Sadly when the police had arrived Ace's mom had passed away and the perpetrator was gone with all of their money in hand. Jude couldn't believe it. They knew it was Kev and they knew hat if they had done something, something to stop him.. Their mom would be alive.

After being taken in by their Uncle Harrison, Aunt Rose, and cousin Flash, they vowed for vengeance and put on the mask, creating all sorts of mechanical tools, weapons, and droids to take down Kev. But, by the time they had found Kev, he'd been dragged into Tombstones gang as a lackey. Kev begged them to help, to save him, put him out of his misery. Ace realized what happened. Kev had gotten desperate and had stolen from Tombstone unknowingly, but when he got caught he had had his life threatened that if he didn't get Tombstones money back, he and his family would die. Kev never meant to kill Ace's mom, he panicked and pulled the trigger and hasn't been able to get the image of her dying out of his mind. As much as Ace wanted to be mad at Kev, they knew too well how awful and terrible these kinds of situations can be. They try to save Kev but fail, nearly getting beaten to death by Tombstone. So now they plan carefully to take down Tombstone and his buddies for good. All the while living with their shitty emotionally abusive uncle who refuses to use their pronouns and their obnoxious cousin Flash, who both hates them but is kind of jealous of.

Powers: Super Strength, Spidey-sense, Super Agility, and can stick to any surface.

Jude Jackson (Spider-man/Spider-flame):

Jude was in the Foster system since he was 7 because his parents were mysteriously murdered. But eventually they were taken in by Mike and Linda Wells, adopting him for good a few months later when his was 16 years old. He usually refers to them as Aunt and Uncle as he's not fully ready to replace his parents which Mike and Linda understand and don't try to press the issue.

He eventually came out as Trans at 18 in which Mike and Linda were fully supportive. Now, Jude was always a really smart kid and gained an interest bio-tech and nanites, especially with how much they can help people. He was found by Dr Brian Connors at a science expo where he offered them a rare spot on his team at as an assistant on his team as well as fund his Scholarship. During his time in the lab he started to notice odd things, especially with Dr.Connors boss, Norma Osborn.

He managed to break into some confidential info where they find out that Norma and Connors are making a highly volatile drug made out of something not from this world and their committing illegal human experiments with this drug. After managing to find the location where they're getting the unknown substance.

When he got there to gather evidence, they were surprised to find a horrific Cult Site with a Giant Spider chained to a wall with hundreds of vials gathered around it. It hissed at him until he came closer and recognized him and calls him "The Blessed Child", explaining that his Dad summoned them to save Jude in which they did with their Venom (the mysterious liquid). But Norma found out about this and demanded he do it again, but he refused and fled his lab by setting it on fire, Norma assuming he had died in the fire. He then had his wife and kid flee their home and move several states away under a different name. But sadly they were found by Osborn and killed, Jude being the sole survivor due to his dad hiding him.

The Spider, known as The Bride knew they would meet Jude again and explains that Osborn forcefully summoned them for selfish reasons, hoping the Venom would make her a walking, breathing God! But she didn't heed their warnings as she drained them of their venom, paying the price after consuming it. Since then they've been stuck here as a prisoner, Osborn's lackeys taking more and more venom to create an antidote, but have failed so far. Jude agrees to free The Bride. And despite getting caught and noticing a room filled with large containers of the venom, he manages to escape tot he safety of his home. He wants to do something to stop Osborn, but can't! He'd just get himself killed if he'd tried. But their hear The Bride in his mind, offering to help him, but at a price. They will give Jude powers and strength to take down Osborn and protect his City. But misery and grief will follow him forever more. Jude agrees and is soon visited by a strange looking spider and gets bit. Feeling woozy he passes out and when he wakes he finds himself inside a web cocoon that he has to break out of, looking at their mirror to see how much he changed.

Since then he has a somewhat close connection to The Bride for advice/tips. But it isn't something he can rely on that much.

Powers: Super Strength, Spidey-sense, Organic Webs, Dark Vision, Extra limbs/can eject spider legs from arms, ends of limbs are tough and gritty and can heat up to extreme temperatures, almost as hot as molten metal (uses them as weapon/defense) Super Agility, Can stick to any surface, Spider Venom (narcotic & Fire. Finds biting difficult in battle so instead bottles his Venom in bottles he can fling or shoot at enemies), Organic claws, Camouflage (Can change his skin tone and can retract his spider limbs & eyes)

#spidersona #spiderman persona #spiderman oc #original characters #digital art #artist of tumblr #sparkles art

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anthony-sharma · 10 months

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Six of Crows Reread - Ch. 13

Now we see Kaz’s thoughts after Inej almost dies during the ambush.

Chapter 13: Kaz

“The pain in Kaz’s leg was terrible, the worst it had been since he’d first broken it falling off the roof of a bank near the Geldstraat. It was possible he’d fractured the bone again. Inej’s weight wasn’t helping, but when Jesper stepped into his path to offer help, Kaz shoved past him.

“Where’s Nina?” Kaz snarled.

“Seeing to the wounded below. She already took care of me.” Dimly Kaz registered the dried blood on Jesper ’s thigh. “Wylan got dinged during the fight. Let me help you—”

“Get out of my way,” Kaz said, and plunged past him down the ramp that led belowdecks.”

First off, he’s carrying Inej on a “possibly” broken leg and still refuses to let her go, even when Jesper offers. I know it’s such a small thing here but really, his commitment to her is unmatched!

Also, you guys, I’ve been reading this fic that’s a blend of SoC / Hunger Games and it is so well written. I seriously recomment you guys to go take a look. it’s included in my “Fic Rec List #5″ under the fics written by @endoftheworldhere. The name’s “One for Sorrow” and I seriously recommend it. It then expands into the HG experiences of the rest of the Crows (Jesper, Wylan, Inej), so you should definitely check them out!

“The cramped cabin was lit by several bright lanterns and a stash of clean bandages had been laid out on a shelf beside a bottle of camphor. Gently, Kaz placed Inej on the table that had been bolted to the deck.

[...]

He was alive because of Inej. They all were. They’d managed to fight their way out of a corner, but only because she’d prevented them from being surrounded. Kaz knew death. He could feel its presence on the ship now, looming over them, ready to take his Wraith. He was covered in her blood.

“Unless you can be useful, go away,” Nina said without looking up at him. “You’re making me nervous.” He hesitated, then stomped back the way he’d come, stopping to purloin a clean shirt from another cabin. He shouldn’t be this shaken up by a dock brawl, even a shoot-out, but he was.

Something inside him felt frayed and raw. It was the same feeling he’d had as a boy, in those first desperate days after Jordie’s death.”

He really is at his gentlest with her. Of course, when Inej is awake he can be crass / rude and harsh, but now, with her at death’s door, none of that really matters. Again, it is not justifiable, but understable how angry he gets with Jesper later on, for all they went through because he talked when he shouldn’t have.

On another note, the fact that this feeling of unsettling helplessness he had when Jordie die comes back when Inej’s about to die just goes to show how much he loves her and values her, and how lost and alone he’d be without her.

“What the hell just happened?” Jesper asked. He was leaning against the railing, his rifle beside him. hair dishevelled, pupils dilated. He seemed almost drunk, or like he’d just rolled out of someone’s bed. He always had that look after a fight. Helvar was bent over the railing, vomiting. Not a sailor, apparently. At some point they’d need to shackle his legs again.”

We never got to see Jesper on the show with a rifle, so it’d be really cool to see him with one on the spin off.

In addition, didn’t Matthias already travel by ship by this point (in flashbacks, when she met Nina)? Do people get motion sickness everytime they board a boat or is that sometimes that passes over time? Should it still be happening? It just seems very funny to me how this tall, big, intimidating Fjerdan soldier cannot seem to hold it in and vomits over the railing.

“Stand him up.”

With one huge hand, Helvar hauled Oomen to his feet.”

It’s a bit funny to me how even though Matthias doesn’t feel like a Crow yet (and pretty much hates Kaz at this point), he still follows his orders.

“Kaz heard Wylan retching. He tossed the eyeball overboard and jammed his spit-soaked handkerchief into the socket where Oomen’s eye had been. Then he grabbed Oomen’s jaw, his gloves leaving red smears on the enforcer ’s chin. His actions were smooth, precise, as if he were dealing cards at the Crow Club or picking an easy lock, but his rage felt hot and mad and unfamiliar.

Something within him had torn loose.”

First of all, it’s petty but oh-so-Kaz to stash the spit-soaked handkerchief in his eyeball. Kind of like “you made this bed, now go lie in it”.

Second of all, DAAAAMN! He’s doing all this horrific things with such calmness and precision, as if it were no big deal even though he just gouged out an eye? As he says, something within him had torn loose. Inej’s almost death is provoking all this unsettling, unexpected, raw feelings. When he was a boy he couldn’t do anything about it (he was still Kaz Rietveld) but now, with a reputation behind him and skills he didn’t have then...he’s gonna be gouging out some eyes if people so much as look at his girl wrong!

“I need a medik. Can you take me to a medik now?”

“Of course,” said Kaz. “Right this way.” He took Oomen by the lapels and hoisted him off his feet, bracing his body against the railing.

“I told you what you wanted!” Oomen screamed, struggling. “I did what you asked!”

Despite Oomen’s knobby build, he was deceptively strong – farm strong like Jesper. He’d probably grown up in the fields.”

Kaz might not be the tallest in the group but he’s certainly strong, alright. Lifting a person described as “farm strong like Jesper” with just his arms and no one else to help him? Maybe I’m too weak, but I wouldn’t be able to do it.

“Wylan took a deep breath as if sucking in courage and sputtered, “You won’t throw me overboard. You need me.”

Why do people keep saying that? “Maybe,” said Kaz. “But I’m not in a very rational mood.”

Well, he’s right, definitely. Something came loose (like a screw) the moment he saw Inej almost dying in his arms.

“Since when am I your valet?”

“Man with a knife, remember?” he said over his shoulder.

“Man with a gun!” Jesper called after him.

Kaz replied with a time-saving gesture that relied heavily on his middle finger and disappeared belowdecks. He wanted a hot bath and a bottle of brandy, but he’d settle for being alone and free of the stink of blood for a while.”

I cannot wait to see this exchange in the spin off. I can almost hear Freddy and Kit saying this already!

That’s it for chapter 13. Next up, we witness Nina’s efforts to save Inej!

Also, they really are just teenagers settling their differences by flipping fingers.

Lastly, why does Kaz have to be the one to ask Jesper for stuff? I mean, he's the mastermind of the Crows, mostly, but does that entitle him to boss everyone around? 🤔

#six of crows reread #six of crows

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curseplay · 11 months

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@reducts sent: just tell me what's going on. [ ACCEPTING. ]

there's no use in acting like she hasn't been caught . . . but she does so anyway, plastering on an offbeat smile and throwing her hands behind her back. the pad of paris' pointer finger traces the familiar ridges of a prescription pill bottle. their heart hasn't stopped overreacting to what may or may not have been another near death experience. they can never tell anymore what's the curse and what isn't. ❝ dude, i'm serious ! nothing's wrong ! ❞ the xanax sitting under their tongue makes it hard to speak. half dissolved powder comes together with overdue - to - swallow spit, creating a taste so unpleasant it makes her nose scrunch up. still, the charade continues, and paris leans sideways against the doorframe. her duffel bag sits . . . half - open and disheveled inches from her feet. ❝ unless you count a headache. i got a pretty gnarly headache from practicing, but that's nothing life threatening, right ? ❞

#reducts #why r they acting like theyre a good liar.....#: 　/‏‏‎　♯　answer.　…　something you still seek.　'#ask to tag /#addiction /

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tinyyoungblood · 3 years

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Did you see my Peter Parker request bestie of you coming through peters window and him helping you patch your wounds like you have done for him in the past. He was the only place you could think of with as much pain you were in on little to no time you almost faint when you get through his window. And he might kiss some of your wounds because he’s not really sure what else he can do to make you feel better ? 🥺👉🏻👈🏻🥰🥺🥺🥺🥺

ring pop | peter parker

pairing: peter parker x avenger!reader

warning: angst, mention of blood, fluff

a/n: writing headcanons for so long has literally butchered my ability to string proper sentences together so this is rough lol, but i loved this request! listen to “ring pop” by jax if you want the full fluff experience. enjoy x

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Before you say anything—” You held up your palms as Peter’s eyes widened in the dark, taking in your battered form from where he lied on his bed. A chill creeped through the opened window, making you shiver and grit your teeth. “I just want to let you know that if I don’t make it tonight, you have full permission to use my eulogy as a posthumous lecture.”

“A posthumous—” Peter cast his notebook to the side and got to his feet. “Y/N, you’re bleeding. What happened?”

“Is May home?” You asked quickly, ignoring his question.

“May?” Peter repeated, staring at you like he had never heard of that woman.

“Your aunt?” Your vision started to get patchy.

“My—” He shook his head. “May isn’t home, it’s just us. But you know that, it’s Wednesday, she always works late on Wednesdays.”

Peter was rambling now, talking to you like you weren’t dripping blood on the pillow on his floor. Or maybe he wasn’t, you couldn’t tell. All you knew was the stabbing pain on your left shoulder, piercing into your arm like lightning.

At once, Peter stopped talking. “You’re not okay,” he pointed out, though he had said it to no one in particular.

“What gave it away?” You retorted half-heartedly. Narrowing his eyes at you, he stepped forward. Before you could protest, Peter was already in front of you, lifting your arms carefully as he raked your body.

You winced as his hand bumped into your waist and he immediately let go, flashing you an apologetic look. His voice was laced with concern. “What happened to you?”

Your neck ached a little from a muscular knot you’d hardly noticed before. It throbbed now with discomfort and strain. You offered him a crooked smile. “I slipped.”

“You did not slip,” Peter scoffed, ever the realist, and took your hand, lacing it with yours while guiding you to sit down on his bed. “You’re one sneeze away from death, Y/N. Tell me what happened.”

Peter kneeled on the carpet floor and retrieved the first aid kit from under his bed. It was covered in glow-in-the-dark cars stickers, which you recognised from a fair that you had once went to together. It was the only thing you had won that night and Peter had smiled so brightly when you gave them to him, but somehow, you still found yourself surprised to see them in his possession.

“I fell off a roof,” you said, tracing the lining of his blanket as Peter popped the lid open. His eyes flicked to yours before he went back to taking out some cotton balls. He stepped into the space framed by your knees and peeled off the remnants of your suit, rolling it to rest at your waist. A deep punctured wound glared at him.

“Did you fall into a thorn bush?” Peter asked drily. “Or was there a spear on the sidewalk that impaled you?”

You winced as he tapped the soaked cotton balls on your skin, the alcohol burning in a way that you weren’t used to. He was gentle and froze whenever you flinched before continuing, but you knew by his flat gaze that he wanted the real answer or nothing. You cleared your throat and fixed your eyes on his dishevelled curls. “Fine,” you murmured. “Someone pushed me off the roof.”

Peter glanced at you. Without saying a word, he pressed the bottle of rubbing alcohol into your hands. You watched as he picked up some gauze and signalled for you to lift your left arm. Cautiously, he draped the clean piece of cloth around your forearm. His knuckles brushed against your skin. You took a breath. “There were four guys trying to break into the flower shop across Delmar’s. One of them got ahold of my sheath and things got ugly. But I swear I’m fine,” you added as Peter worked on your other arm.

He tied the ends into a knot and nodded to the bandage that he had just secured on your left arm. “You’re already bleeding through your bandages. I wouldn’t call that fine.”

You glanced down. A faint red blossom of blood had spread on the bandage. You tugged awkwardly at the strip of gauze. “Subjectively fine,” you amended before looking up, turning your narrowed gaze to his. “This isn’t fair. I don’t see why you’re making a big deal out of this when you slip into my room nearly every night while bleeding to death.”

Peter looked affronted at that. “It’s not the same.”

“How is that not the same?” You asked incredulously.

“Because it’s me,” Peter snapped. “I’m the one bleeding. Not you. That’s what makes this not fine.”

“Oh, please.” Scorn dripped off your lips. “Don’t pull that white knight bullshit on me. I’m perfectly capable of doing this myself.”

You snatched the gauze out of his hands and fiddled with it. The next bandage had to be wrapped under your arm and around your shoulder. You knew how to take care of wounds—the task had become a vital skill in not only your life—but this was more challenging than you would ever admit. You simply couldn’t reach that way. Your limbs were still aching and you felt the beginning of an awful headache coming. Having Peter watch you intensely didn’t help your case either, especially when annoyance and pity flashed in those brown eyes that you normally sought out for comfort. There was no comfort in this.

But you weren’t going to be the one to ask for help, and Peter knew that. He loosened a breath and held out his open palm to you, waiting patiently for you to relent. You stared at his hand for a moment and dropped the gauze roll into it. Silently, Peter worked on your arm, leaning in to loop the bandage behind you. You were both aware of how close he was. His warm breath fanned over the shell of your ear.

Peter wrapped the strip around your arm twice and tied it near the joint. You expected him to step back, facing you with an expression that was most likely regret or spite or both. But he didn’t budge. Both of you had gone utterly still.

Your pulse picked up. You knew that Peter could hear it, probably see it too. You wondered if it matched his own beat. But before you even knew what his intentions were, Peter lowered his head.

His lips hovered just above the warm juncture between your shoulder and the column of your neck—a spot that Peter always seemed to gravitate to. You drew in a sharp breath. The barest movement and his lips brushed your skin. Desire and a sense of familiarity coursed through you.

“I don’t want to fight,” he mumbled. “I just…I don’t know what else to do.” He left a trail of warm, soft kisses down your slender neck. You exhaled slowly and let Peter say what he needed to say without uttering a single word. He pressed a kiss to the end of your jawline and moved smoothly up to your ear. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Then he stepped back and looked you in the eyes. “It’s fine,” you said, the beginning of a smile forming on your lips. “Just don’t give me a hard time when it’s uncalled for. You patched up my wounds. That is enough.”

Peter didn’t look convinced. He lifted an eyebrow as you pulled him forward, pushing him into the mattress so you were lying side by side. Comfortable silence fell. Your eyelids felt heavier with each second, memories of vivid city lights blurred inside your head as you slipped in and out of consciousness. You knew you had to change out of your suit, but the softness of his duvet was too alluring. Too peaceful.

You felt warm breath fanning over your arm, followed by the soft press of familiar lips.

“What are you doing?” You asked, opening your eyes and pushing Peter’s face gently away. His curls fell carelessly onto your cheek as he looked up at you with raised brows. You caught a whiff of his shampoo. You loved that smell.

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m kissing your boo-boos better.” He made to lower his head again, and you laughed.

“Don’t call them boo-boos. I was literally stabbed with a knife.”

He growled against your collarbone. “Don’t remind me.” Again, those lips on your skin.

If you had thought that peace was the cosiness of Peter’s bed, then you stood corrected. You found peace in the careful and tender kisses Peter left on your skin. You found it in the way his thumb rubbed mindless circles into your waist—careful not to touch any bruises. Even the citrus smell of his shampoo, surrounding you like a daydream felt like peace to you.

Everything about Peter Parker brought you peace and comfort.

“I have something for you,” Peter said, grinning excitedly.

“Oh?”

You watched as Peter rose to his feet, almost tripping over the notebook he had tossed to the ground after you had climbed through his window. He stumbled to the desk and shuffled through his papers until he found what he was looking for and let out a pleased hum. He lied back down beside you, propping himself on his elbow before presenting you a small object.

“A ring pop?” You asked, amused. Peace, peace, peace.

Peter shrugged, eyes cast downward. “Yeah, is that okay?” He said. “I know it’s not enough but—”

“It’s perfect,” you cut in, the corners of your mouth began to hurt from how broadly you smiled.

“I…” Peter blinked at you. “You’re sure?”

You nodded and your mouth quirked to the side. “As long as this is not my engagement ring, it’s more than enough.”

Chuckling, Peter slipped the ring pop on your finger and gave the back of your hand a kiss. He then twisted and grabbed the water bottle standing on his night stand. He unscrewed the cap and took off the plastic ring that sat at the neck of the bottle, offering it to you.

“It’s just a promise,” he explained before shooting you a toothy grin. “So we can both be each other’s annoying white knights.”

“I like that,” you responded, mirroring his grin. You slipped the plastic ring on his finger and frowned. It was hardly big enough and sat awkwardly at his knuckle.

“It doesn’t fit,” you said uselessly, and Peter waved you off.

“Don’t worry. We’ll get me a ring pop when your organs work again.” He shot you a wink. “Everyone deserves an edible promise ring, don’t you think?”

You laughed.

Peace, peace, peace.

* * *

stay hydrated pals

#peter parker #peter parker x avenger!reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker angst #peter parker fluff #peter parker one shot #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fic #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #peter parker fandom #avenger!reader #spider man #mcu spiderman #peter parker oneshot

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