#second image shows a tiny bit of gore | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

eliemo · 3 years

Text

Little Talks

Summary: As Logan starts spending more time with the Duke in an effort to keep him under control, Remus has to come to terms with the fact that the way he treated Logan may have caused lasting damage after all.

TWs: RSD, violent thoughts, strong language, blood mention (it's Remus, what did you expect)

Pairings: Developing friendship. Can be seen as platonic or romantic Intrulogical

Notes: Thank you to @cheshirevalentine for helping me create and edit this. They're amazing and I love them dearly. Their AO3 is here!

Having Logan in his room was… weird.

Remus had known it was going to be happening. Logan had made the offer to stop by Remus’s room and let the Duke bounce his ideas off of someone. He’d let Remus ramble, listen to the flood of intrusive thoughts and gory, outrageous ideas, all so that Thomas wouldn’t have to.

Remus had cheerfully referred to Logic as his “test subject” the first time he’d come in, laughing outright at the way Logan’s face had screwed up in indignation.

He didn’t really plan on actually doing anything to Logan, despite the incredibly dangerous position the light side had put himself into. He mostly just talked, reciting each and every thought that came to his head in detail, watching to see if he could get an entertaining reaction out of the ever-stoic Logan Sanders.

It didn’t really work. Logan was stupidly boring with his stuffy clothes and perfect schedule and condescending eyebrow raises. He didn’t say much the first few times he stopped by, their “talks” only lasting ten-to-fifteen minutes at most, but after a week he seemed to warm up to the idea of talking to Remus a little.

He’d ask questions- ask where Remus had gotten an idea, or ask him to expand on a particularly disturbing thought- and while Remus didn’t always have an answer, it was nice to not be completely shoved aside and ignored for once. Besides, Remus always thought of the best answers to those sorts of things on the spot. He liked the challenge of having to think on his feet.

It was still weird, though. But Logan kept showing up, day after day, and Remus could almost pretend he wasn’t the only one enjoying their talks.

He knew that Logan didn’t want to be here, of course. Their meetings were on his calendar, so it was obviously an obligation. He was doing it so Thomas could get some sleep, and Remus could be a little less of a burden. Of course.

Remus had only only expected it to last a few days, if he was honest. A week at most. He knew he was a lot to deal with, especially alone, and he knew it would only be a matter of time until Logan decided it was all too much and forgot all about their little “arrangement”.

But Logan came back the next week, and the week after that, and soon fifteen minutes turned into twenty, then thirty, and some days he even stayed almost a whole hour.

Remus found he actually felt a little less agitated after Logan left, his head just a tiny bit more quiet. Tormenting Thomas was the closest thing he’d ever had to talking things out, and it was a little discouraging when the reactions were either horrified screams, insults, or pretending he didn’t exist.

Logan actually listened. He listened and engaged.

Remus loved Janus. And Deceit did what he could, but he didn’t have the same tolerance as Logan did for some of the gross things Remus came up with.

Maybe Logic would be open to dissecting something with him sometime…?

He should have known it wouldn’t last. Nobody stuck around Remus very long. He always did something to fuck it up.

He really should have known the way he’d treated Logan when he’d first made his appearance would be a problem. Logic separated himself from the Imagination, the side grounded deeply in reality, but a lack of lasting damage didn’t mean it hadn’t happened.

Remus had still hurt Logan to prove a point. And then had promptly moved on and forgotten about it until the next time it was brought up. Sometimes object permanence- or lack thereof- was a pain in the ass.

Remus had been ranting as usual, pacing around his room while Logan watched from the chair. He honestly couldn’t even remember what he was talking about, his mouth moving without much thought as it tended to do.

Whatever it was, he’d gotten worked up and excited, pacing the room, waving and flapping his arms as he talked, smile bright and mischievous and he whirled back to face Logan and-

And Logan flinched back, squeezing his eyes shut as his hands clutched the arm of his chair, shoulders hunched protectively.

It only lasted a second, Logan quickly pulling himself together and compulsively smoothing his tie once again. He seemed to do that when he was trying to pretend he was collected, Remus had noticed. His shoulders uncurled as he leaned forward again, but he wouldn’t quite look Remus in the eyes.

“Continue,” Logan said, when he realized Remus had stopped talking. “You were rambling about...something objectively disgusting.”

“I’m not stupid, you know.” Remus said, crossing his arms and ignoring the stupid, pointless hurt that blossomed in his chest when Logan couldn’t even recall what Remus had been saying. “I saw that.”

Logan blinked, staring at the Duke blankly. “Saw what?”

“You flinched.”

Logan scoffed, adjusting his glasses to avoid meeting Remus’s eyes. Again. “I did no such thing.”

“No, you did. I saw it.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Logan said, jumping right back into that emotionless facade he was so obsessed with. “Are you going to continue?”

Remus couldn’t even remember what he’d been talking about, his head flooded with images of Logan flinching away, eyes wide in terror, scrambling to get away.

Logan with a throwing star embedded in his forehead, with his mouth full of blood, crimson dripping down his forehead and chin, seeping into his pristine clothes and staining his tie. The thoughts seemed to dip into that spiral they always went down, swirling down the metaphorical drain pipe into his metaphorical pit-of-sewage excuse for a brain.

“No,” Remus said, shaking the thoughts away for the moment. Like stirring the cesspool a little so all the muck settled to the bottom. Metaphorically. “I’m good.”

Logan sighed, and Remus stepped away as the logical side stood up from his chair. “Then we’re done for the day.”

“Bye then.”

If there was one thing Remus was good at, it was pretending not to be bothered by the little things, by the way everyone perceived him. He was a terror and a burden, and he enjoyed it. It was funny! He didn’t care if he was liked, intrusive thoughts were never liked.

Remus flopped down on his bed, watching Logan’s back as he left. He was moving quickly, almost panicked, slipping out the door and closing it shut behind him.

Remus didn’t care if the stupid light sides liked him. He never had. But Logan… Logan was scared. Of him.

Scaring people was never the goal. Making Logan flinch like Remus was going to hurt him was never the goal.

Logan would deny it to his grave, of course. He was stupidly stubborn like that, somehow more stubborn than even Remus at times.

He’d insist that Logic had never felt a revolting feeling like fear in his life. He had no feelings on the matter, and Remus couldn’t frighten him because Logan had no feelings at all. Not enjoyment, not dislike, and not fear. Remus was another obligation on his schedule. Something to attend to. Nothing more.

And while Remus knew all of that was true… he also knew Logan was full of shit. He had feelings. His feelings might even be stronger than Patton’s or Roman’s. (Though it was doubtful. Weepy bitches they were- far too emotional for Remus’s tastes.)

And he was afraid of Remus. He’d made that perfectly clear today.

He… didn’t know how to fix that. His job wasn’t to fix problems. He made the problems. It’s better to start now than to never start at all, he supposed.

Well, obviously he had to start by finding a new coping mechanism. Logan was helpful, and possibly the healthiest outlet Remus had ever had, but he wouldn’t force someone who was terrified of him to come sit in his room and listen to him talk about guts and gore for an hour. He would have to find something to do in place of their talks.

A part of him doubted Logan would even come back again. Remus had caught him flinching, and with Remus’s reputation he wouldn’t be surprised if Logan assumed he would use the fear to his advantage.

And yeah, maybe under different circumstances he would have. Scaring people was fun but… not like this.

But that was fine, he could readjust to being alone. He’d done it before. He could lock himself in the Imagination, annoy Janus until he finally snapped and drove him away, maybe even pay Thomas another visit if he really got desperate.

He wasn’t disappointed. He’d gone his whole life without Logan’s company, he had no reason to miss it. It wasn’t fair to miss something he had barely begun to get used to. Logan was annoying and boring and stuck up, and Remus didn’t know why he enjoyed his company in the first place.

Not that he enjoyed it. He didn’t. He didn’t care.

He spent all night feeding himself those repeating lies, preparing to entertain himself all on his own tomorrow, so he was almost more annoyed than surprised when Logan walked right into his room the next day, same time as always.

Remus sat up in bed, watching in disbelief as Logan made his way to the chair and set his notebook on the table, settling in like nothing had changed.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Logan looked up at him, hands folded neatly in his lap. “I said I would make an effort to see you everyday. I put it in my schedule. If I’m not going to be able to make it, I will inform you the day before.”

“Oh,” Remus said, not bothering to move from the bed. “Well, that’s boring and predictable.”

“I prefer to have a schedule rather than do things on a whim. And I’m here now.”

“Yes,” Remus said, shifting to stare blankly at the wall beside Logan’s head. He bet he could spit that far if he really tried. “You are.”

There was a beat of silence that didn’t often exist in Remus’s room. Usually he would start talking right away about whatever late night thoughts he’d been plagued with, chatting on excitedly until Logan cut in to add something dumb and nerdy.

Remus didn’t plan on breaking the silence this time, choosing to sit and quietly dwell on his thoughts on his own, smirking at the utterly baffled look on Logan’s face.

Logan cleared his throat, frowning slightly. “What’s on your mind?”

“Lot’s of things!”

“Are you going to talk about them?” Logan asked. “That is why I’m here.”

“Nah.” He hated this, hated the way Logan was pretending to care, like he didn’t want to get up right now and run as far away from Remus as possible. Just like everyone else. “Intrusive thoughts aren’t always words, Nerdy Wolverine.”

He saw Logan shift uncomfortably, eyes darting briefly to the door, and Remus realized that might not have been the best way to phrase things.

“Ah,” Logan said, sitting back like he wasn’t terrified. “You can always show me instead. That is what I’m here for.”

“I’m good,” Remus said, doing his best to sound uncaring. “It’s gross.”

“Yes, I’m aware it probably is.” Another beat of silence and Logan sighed, standing from his chair. “Remus. The point of me being here is to keep Thomas’s intrusive thoughts under control. We’ve discussed this.”

And Remus knew Logan didn’t actually enjoy Remus’s company, he’d known that from the beginning, but it still hurt to hear. It hurt something fierce, a deep, sharp slash in his chest that he would swear he could feel, that he was just something to “keep under control”.

He pushed the feeling down, flashing Logan a toothy grin that he knew looked ridiculously fake. “Okay.”

Logan sighed again, pushing up his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. Remus wondered if he could frustrate Logic into storming out. “I’m here to help you.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“You do,” Logan argued, like he had any idea. “Surely talking to someone is better than being alone with your thoughts,”

Remus scowled, shoving himself off the bed and stalking past Logan, moving towards one of the various piles of rubble and bones scattered around his room. He bet Logan hated how cluttered it was in here.

“At least my thoughts don’t pretend to care about me.”

Remus kicked idly at something that looked a bit like a spine, staring blankly at the floor as he let his words settle.

“What?” Logan sounded genuinely confused for the first time. “What does that mean?”

“Hm?” Remus glanced over his shoulder, grinning. “What did I say?”

Logan stepped forward, shoes clicking against the floor, echoing against the now silent room. “I do not understand why you’re suddenly being difficult.”

“Suddenly?”

“Yes, suddenly,” Logan said, and Remus turned away again with an eye roll. “We had an arrangement.”

“Did we?”

“Yes.” Logan touched his arm, and Remus yanked away so fast he thought he might have pulled something. “This is beneficial for everyone.”

“Right,” Remus scoffed. “For everyone.”

Logan actually had the audacity to look taken aback, brow drawing in further confusion. “Yes? You have an outlet, and Thomas gets a break.”

“I don’t need it. I can bash skulls in the Imagination.”

“Which is significantly more unhealthy.”

Remus shrugged, kicking another bone until it slammed into the wall. “It’s easy and fun.”

“We were doing fine,” Logan said, trying to move around him so Remus would meet his gaze. “I thought coming in to talk to you was helping.”

“You don’t care,” Remus snapped. “And you don’t want to listen.”

“I want to,” Logan said. “That is why I’m here.”

“Right.”

“I am incredibly busy, Remus,” Logan said, and Remus felt like he was being lectured. “I would not be here if I didn’t want to be.”

“Then get gone!” Remus spun around gesturing to the door. “Just fucking leave already!”

“I think I’d prefer to stay.”

“You said you’re busy,” Remus snarled. “If you’re so busy you don’t need to carve out time for me.”

“I chose to.”

“Thomas can live with intrusive thoughts,” Remus said. “He’ll be fine. Patton and Virgil will ease up eventually. You should be focused on them.”

“I have been.” Logan was still staring at him, and at this point Remus was considering storming out of his own room. “I have time for you.”

“I thought you were busy,” Remus argued, back to being difficult on purpose. “Which is it? Are you busy or do you have time?”

Logan sighed, and now Remus felt like a child throwing a tantrum. “I’ve made time. I’m making time for you.”

“Right.”

“I don’t understand what changed,” Logan said. “I thought you were getting some enjoyment out of our talks.”

“Yeah, I was,” Remus admitted because despite everything, that was the truth. “But you aren’t.”

It took a moment for Logan to respond, no less confused than before. “I am perfectly content.”

“Yeah?” Remus finally turned around to face him, looking the logical side right in the eyes. “Then why did you flinch?”

Logan blinked, shoulders tense, a mix of panic and understanding flickering in his eyes. “I...did not flinch.”

“Yes, you did. Don’t lie.”

It was Logan’s turn to scoff, like Remus was being ridiculous and dramatic. And he often was, but he was serious this time. “I don’t see how one involuntary movement has become such a big deal.”

Remus didn’t look away, even as Logan’s eyes began to wander. “You’re afraid of me.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Logan said. “I do not feel fear.”

“Yes you do.” Remus stepped closer, taking in the way Logan’s jaw clenched. “You have feelings.”

“No I don’t.”

“You do.”

“You’re figuratively jumping to conclusions,” Logan said, quickly changing the subject. “I am perfectly content spending time with you.”

“I’m not jumping to anything,” Remus said. “You’re scared.”

Logan rolled his eyes, hands lifting to brush over his tie before crossing his arms across his chest. Compulsory comfort action.

“You think you saw me flinch once and now you believe that I’m afraid of you, when there is no logical reason to be. You cannot cause any lasting damage to me, so I—”

Remus lifted a hand without warning, fast and sudden like he was going to strike Logan, keeping it frozen in the air as he took in the reaction before him.

Logan flinched back as soon as Remus moved, his own hands moving to protect his face, eyes glued to Remus’s raised arm, widening in genuine fear and shock.

Remus sighed, slowly lowering his hand as he watched Logan struggle to compose himself. “You’re afraid of me.”

“No,” Logan still had the audacity to argue. “I am not.”

“You flinched.”

Logan fixed his tie again. Remus knew it was some kind of nervous tic. “You startled me.”

“I lifted my hand.”

“Yes,” Logan agreed. “Unexpectedly.”

Remus sighed and stepped back out of Logan’s space, too tired to keep arguing.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” He winced at his own words, images flashing in his mind of Logan stumbling backwards with wide eyes, of Logan covered in blood, of Patton screaming. “Not again, anyway.”

“Well,” Logan said, carefully clearing his throat. “You can understand that I wasn’t exactly…sure. That does not mean I dislike you. Or that I’m frightened of you.”

Remus found himself looking at his shoes, trying and failing to get images of Logan hurt, Logan dying, out of his stupid cesspool sewage pipe head.

He wondered if this was what guilt felt like. If it was, maybe he should start being nicer to Patton. This sucked dick and balls.

“I won’t.”

“And I appreciate that,” Logan said. “But you could not cause any lasting damage to me anyway.”

“So? It still, like… hurt you. I’m not gonna do it again.”

“Well then, I have no reason to be afraid.” Logan straightened, smiling at Remus like that had just solved everything. “Which I wasn’t in the first place.”

Remus’s eyes narrowed. “You flinched.”

“Yes I did,” Logan admitted. “I apologize for that. I can assure you it won’t happen again.”

Remus didn’t move, staring at Logan in disbelief, at a loss for words for the first time in his life. He hoped the exhaustion on his face resembled a glare at least a little bit.

“I don’t… understand,” Logan said, and Remus couldn't even stay mad at him. “Was an apology not what you wanted?”

“No, Logan. I don’t want anything.”

Logan tilted his head slightly, brow furrowed, and Remus could practically see the gears turning as he looked Remus over. “You’re still upset.”

“Why’re you still here?” Remus finally demanded, throwing his arms out in exasperation. “If you’re afraid of me why don’t you just leave?”

Logan blinked, seemingly unfazed. “Because I enjoy talking to you.”

Logic may as well have just punched him right in the chest, the air leaving his lungs in a rush as he took a step back, choking out a shocked laugh. “That can’t be it.”

Logan frowned. “Why not?”

“Nobody enjoys talking to me.”

“Well,” Logan said slowly, and it was like Remus could see some of his walls coming down. “If it helps, no one particularly enjoys talking to me, either.”

Remus wasn’t entirely convinced that was true, but he figured he wasn’t the right one to give Logan a talk on self esteem.

“I like talking to you,” he said instead. “I just think you’re kinda stuffy.”

“I enjoy talking to you as well,” Logan said, and it really did sound like he meant it. “I would just prefer if your more violent thoughts were not physically manifested.”

“Oh.” Remus swallowed, absolutely refusing to show Logic how much this meant to him. He wasn’t going to cry. “Yeah, I can...do that. Sure.”

“Then I’m glad we could come to an understanding,” Logan said, right back to the stiff, professional persona Remus was learning to see right through. “I’m not afraid of you.”

Remus nodded, and realized he was actually starting to believe him this time. “Yeah. Ok. That’s good.”

Logan stepped back out of Remus’s space and Remus quickly did the same, the two of them standing on opposite sides of the Duke’s now painfully silent bedroom.

“I can leave,” Logan said after a moment. “If you’d still like me to.”

Remus hesitated, fighting to keep acting like he didn’t care. “Do you want to leave?”

“Not particularly,” Logan said, and Remus hadn’t expected to feel so relieved. “But it’s your room. I don’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not.” Remus moved back to his bed, dropping himself unceremoniously onto his back. “Don’t leave if you don’t want to. I don’t care.”

“Then I’ll stay.”

Logan pulled up his usual chair, leaning back comfortably as he picked his notebook back up and began flipping idly through it. He looked content and relaxed when Remus risked a glance in his direction, and he smiled to himself.

“You can talk if you like,” Logan said, glancing up from the pages. “I’m listening.”

Remus did eventually start talking, dumping his latest ideas on Logan like he usually did, diving into last night’s fantasy of setting an office building on fire in the middle of the week.

Logan had added on, and Remus had listened intently as he’d recited statistics and calculations, the likelihood of survival, and the two of them eventually decided it would be a waste of time, the fire likely to be put out before even causing any real damage to the building.

That was a talent Logan had. He could get Remus to let go of a thought that typically wouldn’t have left him alone for weeks.

It wasn’t until Logan had stood up to leave for dinner, promising he’d be back at the same time tomorrow, that Remus realized Logan had stayed twice as long as he usually did.

Huh.

Weird.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #remus sanders #logan sanders #platonic intrulogical #intrulogical #hurt/comfort #ts remus #ts logan #blood mention tw #violence mention tw #fanfiction #writing

245 notes · View notes

miniwolfsbane · 3 years

Text

Sweet Tooth S1 thoughts (BIG SPOILERS)

First off, I am disappointed we were shown a PURRING PUPPY BABY in the trailer and had 0 follow up with it? Did he/she escape to Istanbul with it’s parents? Get captured? Live a nomadic life? Live in the forest? I WANT ANSWERS!! :( Also, puppies don’t purr, so I want answers to that too. Unless they were trying to go for a whimper or an animal noise and just went with that instead.

BIG SPOILERS under the cut

Anyway, the only two things, aside from the bits of gore and violence (Reviews are all like “IT’S A FAMILY SHOW!” And I counter back with “I would not let any child under 13 watch this and I have never seen a family show with three seconds of guts being removed and two scenes of implied, live vivisecting on sentient beings without anesthetic.”), the only things I didn’t like about this were using 2 overused cliche’s. One being the hero hanging off a bridge for what seems like 12 years above peril, and the other I can’t remember. It was Jeppard nearly missing the train. The only thing that saved it was the flashback.

The other thing was that, while dark, there’s a bit of predictably and not much depth to the story. I realized last night that the comic source material my have the depth I’m craving out of the story. Just because it has child actors doesn’t mean the story can’t be dug into deeper and have more meaning. I applaud them for what they did and how they handled it, mixing in human-ish vivisecting with neighbors burning down their friends houses and being murderous hypocrites into a story about children, but it wasn’t enough for me. I wanted more. Edit: Not more violence, obviously, just more to the story. dig into the universe, hard. Like gardening, just shove both metaphorical hands into that story soil and root around in it. Find all the gems that are the interesting parts of this universe and answer our questions.

Sadly, I see someone on tumblr called it...something. Like, were we even watching the same show?? A multi-racial cast that gives all it’s characters dignity isn’t...that.

Bobby isn’t creepy to most and not shown that much. If you really think Bobby is that creepy, you need to go see original Bobby and get back to me. https://www.bing.com/images/search?view=detailV2&ccid=mv4YBZHa&id=071BD6BDAA183CA5965247E7F8F68E873375399B&thid=OIP.mv4YBZHau8dTzxGoK0L0ggHaHD&mediaurl=https%3A%2F%2Fvignette.wikia.nocookie.net%2Fmarvel_dc%2Fimages%2Ff%2Ffc%2FBobby_Sweet_Tooth_001.jpg%2Frevision%2Flatest%3Fcb%3D20150813115735&cdnurl=https%3A%2F%2Fth.bing.com%2Fth%2Fid%2FR9afe180591dabbc753cf11a82b42f482%3Frik%3Dmzl1M4eO9vjnRw&pid=ImgRaw&exph=616&expw=647&q=sweet+tooth+comics+bobby&simid=608026455638091252&ck=7A4DBACCF6BFE43E3B1E799F7F88C55A&selectedindex=0&adlt=demote&shtp=GetUrl&shid=3fb5000d-4d63-494a-986d-006fedeb28d5&shtk=Qm9iYnkgKFN3ZWV0IFRvb3RoKSB8IERDIERhdGFiYXNlIHwgRmFuZG9t&shdk=Rm91bmQgb24gQmluZyBmcm9tIGRjLmZhbmRvbS5jb20%3D&shhk=NjRWN4Jv1KDrxu8T30I3UN0IQ71oVtCAEnsLIeSmFl4%3D&form=EX0023&shth=OSH.nyb0RMh%252Bnm%252B%252B%252FIH1cnkhHw

Okay, kid does sorta look like a gremlin mixed with a Furby in the show, like one post said, but I’ve seen worse. https://www.bing.com/images/search?view=detailV2&ccid=F9mlBjUo&id=49C0257935E4A941563E579C7E9DCF48B72BEC01&thid=OIF.eyTVbAuEqt0R%2bKFmrIK4gA&mediaurl=https%3a%2f%2fepipoca.com.br%2fwp-content%2fuploads%2f2021%2f06%2fE3NUK2kVoAE5Ct_.jpg&cdnurl=https%3a%2f%2fth.bing.com%2fth%2fid%2fR17d9a5063528805f1ade0ea77464df86%3frik%3d%26pid%3dImgRaw&exph=675&expw=1482&q=sweet+tooth++Bobby&simid=297111136187&ck=7B24D56C0B84AADD11F8A166AC82B880&selectedIndex=49&FORM=IRPRST&ajaxhist=0&ajaxserp=0

Sometimes stuff goes over my head. I had no idea that the babies were being born and not made in a lab. When they showed them in the maternity ward, I genuinely thought they had been experimented on and didn’t come out of the womb like that. Apparently I missed that it was a maternity ward in a hospital. That’s my other problem with this show I forgot to mention: It defies logic and you really have to turn off your brain to accept the hybrid concept. I’m guessing the virus or other means (possibly according to the comics, I tried to avoid big spoilers), mutated them in utero. That still doesn’t satisfy me. Thankfully, Gus was somehow lab created, so that helps. (More information and context would be appreciated. Was it, like, they were experimenting with in-vitro or what?) Edit: This article https://screenrant.com/sweet-tooth-theory-purple-flowers-cure-sick-virus/ explains that putting the virus in a chicken egg produced Gus. Which makes even less sense. Edit: This MAY or MAY NOT be right. Someone on YT pointed out they never said this in the show.

IRL, Virus + chicken embryo=would never randomly produce a human/deer hybrid baby. It’s so freaking random it sounds like nonsense or the delusions of a madman, not a rational comic book author with a presumably sane mind. Just...I’ve said it before...things have to make sense, even in fiction. 5 step process of anything cannot equal random result. It goes against all science, right? And made up worlds have to have rules, even silly worlds. Like I said, you have to turn your brain off, but this stretches even my disbelief. Hybrids, I get, fine, but that? I’m sorry, what? *headdesk* I don’t know, maybe the comics had something I’m missing since I never read them.

I’m eager to learn the connection to the kids and the virus as we go. And if we don’t get a season 2, I’ll be getting the comics to satisfy my thirst for this show.

Gus is my baby and I don’t understand how a kid could be that cute. Jeppard is the GOAT (lol) Bear could use better line delivery at times, but her acting will improve I’m sure. Nice to see Diana Ramierez acting again, her character is likeable. Wendy is cute, but kinda just there for me. Needs more traits or character development to get on my favorite characters list. Bear also needs more than just backstory and a tough girl persona. She’s not bland, she just needs more spark to her as a character. More personality, if that makes sense.

Lastly, I wanted a tiny bit more from the make-up department. Wendy and rabbit kids (yes, I took note of this detail and I love bunnies) make-up is on point, but the rest look like kids dressed up in dollar store feathers and fur for a school play. Get more creative if you’re gonna show these hybrids, even if it’s just for a few seconds. You have the budget!! (But I think most of that went to Bobby’s puppetry/CGI and Jeppard’s baby, to be honest.)

I wanted a cat girl or boy, because the lulz for the anime community (Also, because I have 2 cats and stuff), but at least we got bird kids, even if they weren’t cockatiels like mine. I’m ready for Season 2, hurry Netflix!!

I can see why people wouldn’t like this show or wouldn’t recommend watching it, but I see many have embraced it. It’s either you’re thing or it’s not, but you should give it a chance and see. Just don’t shoot it down if you hate it, there’s enough wet blankets out there and we all have different tastes.

Edit: One last thing. I do have a problem with hybrids being half-human. Like, you would think that being half-human, they’d still have all the problems humans have with causing wars and all. I know it’s a dark story with a good outcome, but there’s something too saccharine about hybrids having “The best parts of us.” What exactly are those best parts? Last I checked, humans are selfish and vain at their core. Even the most altruistic, giving person can be greedy about something or want more. It’s like Genie said in the new Aladdin, “You can have all the money and power in the world and it still won’t be enough”. Wouldn’t bird people and pig people and deer people all want to side with each other instead of living in some grand utopia? Fighting over land and resources? Portraying hybrids as taking over the earth after people are gone from extinction and everything going peachy doesn’t quite work for me. Not that I’d want it to still be dark, but, eh, they’d have to have SOME problems, wouldn’t they?

#Sweet Tooth Netflix #Gus #Jeppard #hybrids #Sweet Tooth spoilers

37 notes · View notes

theravenclawlover · 3 years

Text

I Know What You Did Last Summer

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader; Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: +18, heavy smut, cheating, angst, fluff, descriptions of violence, guns, strong language, and gore (?).

Word Count: 10,564.

Summary: Reader and Steve have been dating for some time. One day Steve leaves for a mission. A moment between Bucky and the reader might disturb the order of things, and not for the best.

Chapter Number: 3 (last part).

Chapter Title: How It Ended.

A/N: The last part is up! This is longer than the other two chapters but this one has a lot of crap and that smut part is sinful as hell. I literally put the original version to shame with this. I did take out the booty stuff but oh well. Y'all really liked the first part with Steve, I think this one might break some of y'all. I need Jesus after this. Also, this is a sad story lmao.

The sun was bright even with the blinds that covered the window. You softly groaned to yourself as the light made it to your face, your closed eyes now seeing through the red-looking flesh of your eyelids. You felt incredibly warm, but it wasn’t bad, it was nice. It reminded you of Steve’s warm body. With that thought in mind, you moved closer to your heat source. Your arms were wrapped around a broad torso, legs tangled with long legs, and suddenly you were aware of the faint coldness that your right hand felt. Begrudgingly, you opened one of your tired eyes to see what that cold thing was, and you were met with the sight of a metal arm. Your eyes went wide when you noticed who you’d been cuddling.

Bucky was snoring softly, mouth a little open as he dreamt. He had his flesh arm holding your head which you hadn’t noticed, his legs were encasing yours, and his chest rose softly as your face met with it. You looked up to see his sleeping face and that was a mistake. He looked so vulnerable, he rarely slept this peaceful as you’ve been witness to the scowl he always had. He looked beautiful, hair ruffled which covered half his face, the light hit his pale cheeks, and his lips had never looked so rosy as they did then. You didn’t want to move, you just wanted to bask in the peaceful bubble you had found yourself in, but you needed to pee really bad.

You cursed yourself as you tried to shift from him without waking Bucky in the process. You moved your legs slowly, your eyes shifting from them to Bucky’s face every other second to make sure he was still sleeping. Your right leg was the first one to untangle from his legs, but as you moved it so did your hips. This made you shift a little higher and had been the reason why now you could feel last night’s warning. You stifled some giggles as you tried not to think much about the fact that you could feel Bucky’s dick clear as day. He had clearly gone commando under his sweats. You bit your lip a little when you softly graced his crotch with your inner thigh. Apparently Bucky felt it in his sleep as a small whimper escaped his partially gaping mouth. You rolled your eyes as the sound made your heart flutter and it raised goosebumps on your heated skin. You glanced up to see him stirring awake, and without any other glace at him, you removed yourself from him and walked toward the bathroom as if you hadn’t noticed the fact that he was hard and had whimpered at the feeling of you gracing his dick through his sweats which had made you gush a ridiculous amount of slick onto your underwear.

You took half an hour in the bathroom as you got ready for breakfast which had caused you to miss the knock on the door to your room. You stepped out of the bathroom to see Bucky shutting the door behind him. You couldn’t help yourself from quickly glancing down to see that his boner had gone. You didn’t dare think how he’d managed to make it go away.

“Morning,” said Bucky as he sleepily smiled at you. You blushed a little at how cute he looked.

“Morning, Buck.” You walked toward the closet, “who was that?”

“Oh, it just was the help. We are having breakfast brought to us as they are getting things ready for tonight,” he said as he grabbed his towel.

“Tonight?” you asked as you put your change of clothes on the bed. A knee-length blue dress seemed like the best idea.

“They’re having the first ball tonight. The help will come around five to get us ready,” said Bucky as he went into the bathroom.

“Already?” you asked with a hint of surprise in your voice. Bucky laughed before closing the door behind him. You groaned and threw yourself on the messy bed as you thought about the ball.

(…)

The rest of the day had been boring as you were stuck in your room with Bucky. You couldn’t call Steve as the man was probably sleeping. You slept throughout most of the morning and early afternoon, only waking up to eat or go to the bathroom. You had told yourself that sleeping like that would at least keep you up through the ball making sure you were alert of anything going on. Bucky had the same idea as you which only led to the both of you taking naps around the same time.

Right at five o’clock, a knock on your door woke you and Bucky from your deep slumber. He rose from the bed before you could and opened the door to reveal a team of people that were there for you both.

“Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. O’Connell. We are here to get you both ready for the ball,” a tall black woman with a thick accent which was similar to Prince T’Challa’s said as she showed the people that stood behind her with all it was needed.

“Come on in,” said Bucky as he let them in the room. You stood from the bed and smiled as they gave curt nods to you.

They immediately started to set up things around the room. From the makeup station to a dress rag and a changing area that gave you privacy and allowed them to help you with it. You and Bucky looked at each other at the number of things that now filled the room, it had you both anxious. You both knew it was mostly things that you would need, but even Bucky had to admit that he felt overwhelmed at the idea of having that many people prep you. It almost reminded him of himself and the times he would have to get prepped before a mission. Of course, the people around them were lively and had smiles on their faces, they even had set up some music that helped relax them both. Even if it was overwhelming him, he didn’t mind having this image replace his old ones.

Once they were done with everything, you were seated in front of the set-up vanity so they could start with your hair while they got your nails done. As you got groomed like never before, Bucky was also getting his hair done which had made him wear a scary glare, but everyone was unfaced by it which made you stifled your laugh. They were even getting rid of his ever-growing beard which he had protested for ten minutes before he gave in after receiving glares from the team. He couldn’t win, but neither could you. You both had to undergo a major change as you two were undercover and it seemed the boss, the tall lady, knew about that, unlike her team. After a while, you were unable to even move due to them doing your hair and makeup. Bucky was ready by six-thirty while you were still on the damn chair waiting for them to finish with your makeup. Now it was just you in that room. The dress fitting had definitely been the worse part of the whole ordeal and the heels were already hurting you and you hadn’t even walked on them yet. Just like Bucky, you had to take out the weapons you were going to be hiding on you, but only the boss lady helped you with that inside the big closet where they were hidden. Finally, by eight you were completely done. Dress, shoes, jewelry, and guns. You did stare at yourself for what felt like ages in the mirror. You had never looked so elegant, sexy, and classy. Your hair was loose in soft waves after having it cut, it now had highlights that made you look and feel like a different person. Your dress was a navy-blue gala dress that had a slit that allowed your left leg to be somewhat exposed. It was a low cut but the beautiful necklace they had chosen for you added a touch of classiness that you could never pull on your own. Your heels were a soft light skin color that looked elegant on your feet. You grinned to yourself as you could only imagine Bucky’s reaction to you.

You walked with caution as you made your way toward the stairs that would lead you into the main room where the ball was being held. You couldn’t afford to miss a step and promptly die from a broken neck or worse not die from it and just die from the shame after falling down the stairs. You grabbed the railing of the stairs as you walked with your head held high as you looked for Bucky amongst the large crowd. Everything looked beautiful, almost as if from a movie. You had almost forgotten you were there on a mission, you felt like a princess like in one of those books Natasha had bought you for your birthday after you had admitted that you were a sucker for them.

You were halfway through your way down when you saw Bucky waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs. Fuck, the way your stomach fluttered at the sight of him. He stood there looking attractive in that all-black suit they had given him. He even had his metal hand covered by a glove. You noticed how his face was clean-shaven which made him look ten times younger than he looked and the man bun they had given him had made your legs shake a bit. He looked utterly ethereal, this was James Barnes living in the twenty-first century. You hadn’t noticed the way he had been looking at you as you finally arrived at the bottom of the stairs.

"Wow, Sarge, you look good,” you said with a teasing grin, but you couldn’t help the sigh that escaped your lips as you finished your sentence.

"Well, why thank you, doll.” He closed his gaping mouth as he smiled at you. His eyes took you in once more before offering his flesh arm. “You look gorgeous, Tiny. I think my new mission is to protect you from other men. Steve would appreciate it."

"What a friend. I'll be sure to tell Steve of your kind service." You tried not to blush as Bucky’s gaze wouldn’t leave your body as you two made way around the hall in search of the royal family.

The night had gone without a hitch. It seemed today being the first night, HYDRA had opted to miss the ball. No one acted suspiciously which made both of you very suspicious. After having found the royal family near the entrance, you and Bucky were never more than ten feet away from them, eyes on them. You two weren’t alone on that task, the Dora Milaje was also there to protect the King and his family. During his welcome speech, things had gotten a bit tense as a drunk guest had given you and Bucky a scare. But after the ball became more lively, you and Bucky were able to enjoy the nice atmosphere as you drank, danced, and laughed throughout the night. You couldn’t help but miss Steve and how this would have been a nice mission to share with him, but you couldn’t deny the fact that it felt nice to have Bucky with you. You had to admit that you two looked the part of the married couple, and the wedding band that the two of you carried felt heavy the more the night progressed. It was all fake but for some reason, it felt natural to be intimate with him in front of everyone. His touch was convincing, the kisses he would plant on your cheek whenever someone looked at you in a scandalous way had you blushing and muttering his name as a warning which only made him smirk and defend himself by blaming the inability of other men to look away from you. By the end of the night, you and Bucky reported anything suspicious to the King alongside the Dora Milaje’s report. He was glad to hear that everything had gone well, and most importantly, he was glad that you and Bucky had fun while doing your job. He made you blush when he, surprisingly, teased you both with how convincing you two had looked.

And so, every two nights Wakanda was awake at night as it received foreigners to celebrate the land and its people. And every single ball had been the same; no signs of HYDRA, nothing strange, no scares, no threats. It was unnerving as the nights seemed longer every ball. You and Bucky had almost forgotten that you two were undercover as you both now conversed with those interested to hear about how you two were friends of the royal family of Wakanda. You and Bucky deserved an Oscar with the performance you two were giving the poor suckers. You had met royalty you weren’t even aware existed, making mental notes about them to have them in the system once you were back in the States. You enjoyed the balls, yes, but you couldn’t deny the fact that the days of rest were the ones you looked for the most as you and Bucky were being shown Wakanda by Prince T’Challa and Princess Shuri—who insisted on being called Shuri.

But there was something in you that told you every day that everything was going too well for comfort either that being about the lack of issues with HYDRA or the fact that your relationship with Bucky had changed. It wasn’t love, it wasn’t anything romantic, but you couldn’t deny that your attraction to him had only grown and you knew his attraction to you had also evolved. God, the other day you two had unconsciously grinded into each other before he jumped off the bed and hid in the bathroom for an hour. Steve was clueless to all of that as he was only being told how much fun the balls were and how beautiful Wakanda was. He’d said that he was jealous that Bucky got to experience all that with you, and you both knew he’d meant it not in a bad way, but you couldn’t help but feel guilty as the days kept on passing by.

The last night had finally arrived and you were ready to go back home. You needed Steve, you needed him for a good week to yourself because you needed to be reminded who you loved, who you couldn’t lose.

The night had been just like every other night. Filled with music, chatter, laughter, and couples dancing through the night. That included you and Bucky, but your intimate bubble had been disrupted when both of you noticed two men talking heatedly. You wouldn’t have given them a second thought, but they hadn’t been at any other of the balls before this one. They were new faces, and they were already making you doubt they were even on the attendee list.

"There are two men that haven't been seen at the other parties. They are moving toward a back door," T'Challa’s voice confirmed your thoughts. The earpiece you had given him finally was being used. Which now seemed like something you shouldn’t hope for.

"We’ll go check it out," said Bucky as he stepped back from you and started to walk toward where the men had been standing, but you stopped him before he could take another step.

"I'll follow, you stay with the family," you said as you gave him a reassuring smile. He seemed to not want to stay behind, he knew the Dora Milaje could handle the family, but he didn’t want to fight you on it either. He sighed and nodded as he glanced where the King stood talking with some people.

"Be careful,” he said to you as he disappeared amongst the clueless crowd. You made your way toward the other end of the room and noticed the only back door that had been hidden by the decorations. You opened the door, making sure no one was following you or looking at you. You quickly close the door behind you, and you were met with a long hallway. There was barely any light which made it seem a tad creepy for your liking. You grabbed the gun that hid under your dress, made sure the heels of your shoes barely graced the floor as to quiet your steps.

"T'Challa, where is this hall leading me?" you said in a low voice as to not alert anyone in there.

"It should take you down to the palace’s basement. Nothing but fuses. It should be guarded,” he responded. He was very alert that if anyone dared to mess down there, the ballroom would be the first thing affected.

"Well, now that I know what is down here, they can shut down the power if they know how to access it. I’m guessing they don’t know the technology around here but if they do, I’ll need Shuri. I can only guess what they intend to do.” You were praying that whoever was down there hadn’t thought of blowing up the place. You were nearing the end of the hall when you noticed two men laying on the floor. They both had two bullet wounds on their forehead, and blood pooled around them. You guessed these were the people in charge of guarding the place.

“We have two men down,” you said but before you could continue, two voices made you stop on your tracks.

"Beeil dich! wir müssen es aktivieren, bevor jemand hier ist!" One of the men said in a hurried hush. He wanted to get the job done and you were now worried that whatever he wanted activated was a bomb.

"In Ordnung! fertig sind, lassen Sie uns gehen!" Another voice responded just as fast as a beeping sound now filled the room. You cussed to yourself.

"You two are not going anywhere until you tell me what you’ve done,” you said as you stepped into the room, gun pointed at one of the men. They seemed unbothered by your presence as the one with the gun pointed to his head grinned at you.

"Too late, fräulein, you only have five minutes to get everyone out of this place before it's all in flames," the man said as he pointed at the scary-looking bomb. As you looked at it, you missed the way they both launched at you making you fall backward, gun dropping out of reach. You elbowed one of them and you wrapped your legs around the other one as you turned both of you around. You straddled him and was going to punch him in the face but the guy you elbowed grabbed you from behind and tried to push you but as he picked you up, you threw your head back with force possibly giving him a bloody nose. He let go of you as he grabbed his face and cussed you out. But again, the man you had been straddling took the opportunity to punch you square on the face as you stood. You spit the blood that had made it to your mouth from your now bloody nose and gave him two punches on his face. One gave him a black eye while the other one knocked him to the floor making his mouth bleed. This time you were ready for the other asshole and with a quick turn you sent him back to the floor with a kick on the gut which you knew had hurt as your heels definitely bruised something aside from his ego. But as you didn’t want him to get up again, you knee him on the face as he tried to sit up which gave time to the other guy to grab his gun and shoot you on the shoulder as you turned toward him.

You heard Bucky’s shout of your name through your earpiece but ignored it as the guy shoot his gun two more times and only one of them missed you as the other one landed next to the other bullet wound. You groaned as you ran to tackle him to the floor which apparently had been too rough as his skull broke when it hit the floor. It killed him on impact.

"Y/N!" Bucky’s voice was more frantic as he called your name again. You winced at the pain in your shoulder as you glanced at both men, one dead and the other one will be too after the interrogation was done.

"I'm fine. The bastard shot me in the arm though,” you said making your way to the bomb on top of what looked like an oven that you knew was made out of vibranium You knew the bomb would have trouble penetrating the vibranium, but it would only cause a bigger reaction and due to that, the palace would collapse, starting with the ballroom. “You need to get everyone out of here, Buck. The bomb won’t affect the fuses but will make the place collapse from it.”

"I’ll be there in a minute, wait there!" responded Bucky.

"No! Get the family out of here! We have less than two minutes before it goes off," you said as you tried to ignore the amount of blood coming out of your shoulder and nose. You looked at the wires of the bomb which you could tell wasn’t the normal type of bomb HYDRA used.

"My family is safe, and we are still evacuating the place. As far as the guests know, we are having the rest of the party outside,” said T’Challa. Even though he sounded collected, there was a hint of worry in his voice.

"Make sure it is as far away as possible. I don’t know how much this thing will affect if it goes off.”

“Then get the hell out of there, Y/N!” Bucky stood outside the palace as the Dora Milaje made sure there was no one left inside. They wouldn’t let him through even as he glared at them. They also had been listening to everything. They couldn’t afford anyone to get hurt, especially the royal family.

"I’m not leaving the bomb to go off!” you said as you noticed you were down to sixty seconds. You were internally panicking as you noticed that the wires were not the ones you usually trained with. “Who the fuck puts six wires for a bomb!”

“Are there three red ones, two blue ones, and one green?”

“What?” you took your knife from the same place your gun had been at, “yes.”

"The red ones are important, don’t touch the blue ones. Cut the second and third red wires from left to right from the side that meets the blue and cut the green one too after you cut the red ones.”

You followed his instruction without hesitation as you were now twenty seconds away from doom.

"Hope I don’t die," you muttered more to myself than for the others to hear.

"Concentrate.”

Ten seconds left and you were just finishing cutting the thick red wires. “Fuck.”

Five…maybe you had lost too much blood…four…the damn thing was thick…three…almost there…two…you can’t die like this…one…

“Y/N?” Bucky’s breathing hitched as he heard a faint beep. He noticed how he wasn’t the only one looking back at the palace. Everyone aware of what was really happening looked at each other as if expecting the worse.

“Tiny, hey, you there?”

He felt sick to his stomach as you failed to respond once again, but before he could run back inside, your voice stopped him.

“Those damn wires were unnecessarily thick,” you whined into the earpiece as you dropped your knife. Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle in relief.

“Hey, Buck?”

“Yeah, Tiny?”

“I think I’m about to pass out.”

(…)

You woke up to the faint sound of beeping. You tried to move but groaned at the soreness of your body.

“Welcome back, Agent.” You looked to your left to see Shuri smiling down at you. You glanced around and saw that you were in your room at the palace. “You’ve been out for about two days. The blood loss had been too great, and the broken nose hadn’t help. You went into a comma from the lack of oxygen entering your brain, but Mr. Barnes was able to get you fast enough to bring you to my lab.”

You were about to ask what had happened afterward, but the sound of the door opening interrupted you.

“Jeez, Tiny, you’re finally up.” Bucky looked like shit compared to how teasing his voice was.

“My brother took care of the man you took care of that night, both of them are in possession of SHIELD now. My family wouldn’t let you out of our sight, we are thankful for your service Agent.” You thought Shuri had read your mind as she answered your unasked question.

“It was my mission to keep your family safe, it was no trouble,” you said as you tried to sit up. In a second Bucky was at your side as Shuri helped you.

“I’m glad you’re well, Miss Y/L/N. Like my daughter said, we are very thankful. You risked your life to stop that bomb knowing that you could die trying.” The King had entered the room along with his wife and T’Challa. You were now blushing at their gazes.

“It was no problem, really.”

After some time of small chatter informing you that you and Bucky would be taken back home the next day, the family left you both to rest and prepare your stuff. You were on the clear as Shuri reassured you that you were perfectly fine and that you’ll be sore for a couple of hours max before you felt completely okay. It was nighttime by the time you were done packing everything you had brought and everything that had been given to you by the family.

"I'm done packing. Need any help, Sergeant?" you asked as you glanced at Bucky.

"I’m good, Tiny. I just finished myself, ” he said as he wiped fake sweat from his forehead while giving you one of those charming smiles. But then it dropped as fast you looked at your shoulder.

"How’s your arm?" he asked as he pointed at it.

"Shuri was right, it doesn't hurt that much anymore. I guess if I make pressure it might though," you said as you sat on the bed.

"What you did was incredibly stupid."

You looked at him as he sounded mad at you. He walked toward you and stood in front of you as his eyes bored into yours, “you could’ve died.”

“I didn’t, Buck. I’m fine.” You stood from your spot and looked at him with a serious expression, yet your eyes were soft.

“That’s not the point, Y/N. I’m supposed to protect you. You’re my best friend’s girl, what was I supposed to tell Steve if you’d died? I haven’t even told him that you were in a comma. I asked T’Challa not to say anything about your status to anyone.”

“Hey, I can protect myself,” you put your hand on his cheek, “thank you for being there for me, but you don’t have to worry. I know the risks of this job, if I have to die in order to protect I will, but I will exhaust every option possible before I become a martyr. I’m not Steve.”

“You two will send me to an early grave,” he chuckled as he thought how similar you and Steve could be at times.

“Not that early, Sarge, you’re a fossil already,” you said. Bucky let out a gasp as if you had smack his mother as he tackled you onto the bed. You were laughing as he tickled you until you asked for forgiveness. You didn’t give in until you were red on the face from the lack of air. Bucky chuckled as you gasped for air in between giggles.

Your eyes were closed making you miss the way he was looking at you. His eyes roamed your face, taking you in. His flesh hand fixed a strand of hair and put in behind your ear. You were afraid to open your eyes, you didn’t want to see him looking at you. His gaze was so intense that now your breathing was labored not because of the prior tickling session but because you could feel the tension in the air.

Bucky leaned down, his lips less than an inch away from yours. His hot breath was tantalizing as it hit your face. But he didn’t move, he didn’t dare to take that last step that would crumble the walls you two had tried to build. So, you did it. You grabbed his face and pulled him down and just like that your lips connected with his soft lips. It started as a soft kiss, which had you both relaxing into each other. His body was on top of yours and you had wrapped your legs around his waist as your lips moved in sync. His lips had you lost, mind mushy with just thoughts of him. His tongue and yours were seeking each other as the kiss became more heated like you two were trying to understand if this was really happening. You were now moaning into the kiss as Bucky’s hands roamed your body underneath your shirt, while your hands tangled themselves in his long hair which had the man grinding into you when you pulled a little too hard. Your hips now also sought that delicious friction you knew his clothed dick would offer. And just like that the two of you were humping each other as your lips objected to leaving his. His metal hand left a trail of goosebumps as it made its way toward your breasts. He groaned when his hand reached your naked flesh, and you arched your back at the contrast of hot and cold. His flesh hand joined his other hand underneath your shirt, and this time he roughly grinded into you at the feel of the hot flesh of your breast. You were now moaning into his mouth a lot more as you arched your back at his touch. But he needed more, he wanted to taste your flesh, so he pulled back and quickly pulled your shirt off. You hadn’t even registered his lips had left you until his lips were wrapped around one of your hard nipples.

“Fuck, Buck.”

Your hips were now seeking his crotch a lot more wantonly as his lips and tongue made you gush more slick onto your underwear. You knew they were now ruined, you blushed at how horny he was making you. His teeth were now softly biting the flesh of your breast, you knew that would leave small bruises if he continued his ministrations like that. You cursed softly and it wasn’t because it felt good.

“Bucky, you can’t leave bite marks.”

As if your words had burnt him, he let go of you and flinched when he realized why he couldn’t mark you. You weren’t his.

"Dammit. Sorry, I—" He wasn’t sure what he wanted to say. He looked down at you which only made him let out a growl as he saw that there were some red marks on your breasts.

“I’m sorry too,” you said but you didn’t miss how half sorry you actually felt. "We shouldn’t be doing this. We can’t do this to Steve.”

Bucky nodded his head, but still, he didn’t move nor did you tried to move.

"Yeah," he said as he looked at you.

"Yeah," you mirrored him as you looked at him.

In a matter of seconds, you and Bucky had stripped each other naked as your lips connected again, this time teeth added to the mixture of the carnal desire. Bucky was still on top of you, his body making you feel so small underneath him. This time his mouth was more aggressive on your lips, but once his lips attached to your neck they only left a trail of soft kisses as he made his way down between your parted legs. You were dripping down the bed, you were so wet that now even your thighs that your slick from previously rubbing them as you sought friction.

Bucky kissed down to your hip bone before his lips started to kiss and lick your inner thighs, which made him groan as he tasted your drying slick. Your hands went to his hair pulling on it trying to get him where you needed him. He only chuckled at your efforts but winced when you pulled hard on his hair out of frustration. In retaliation, he gave your wet cunt a slap that made you yelp.

“Patience is key, Y/N.” He kissed the mound before he landed a soft kiss right on your exposed clit. You threw your head back as you moaned at the feeling that small kiss had given you. With one last look at your face, Bucky dived between your legs, and his mouth found your clit. He sucked on it harshly and you couldn’t help but grind your hips at the feeling of his lips around your nub. His metal hand pushed your hips down not letting you move at all, and your fingers pulled his hair as his tongue now found itself between your slick folds. He was groaning into your cunt as he ate you out like a starved man. Who would’ve thought the man could use his tongue for more than sarcastic comments. He was savoring everything you were giving him, eating you up like candy. You were incredibly turned on and you knew you were dripping onto the bed more than before, his chin probably wet from how much you were gushing.

“I’m gonna cum, please make me cum,” you gasped as a tight feeling in your gut announced that you were close to your first orgasm. Bucky pulled away from your cunt and you practically whined in protest.

“Shh,” he gave one harsh suck to your clit, “you want to come around my fingers, doll?”

“Yes, please, I want your fingers inside of me,” you moaned at the idea of his fingers stretching you as he prepared you for his cock.

“Let’s see how many you can take,” he said as he removed his metal hand from your hips, his flesh hand replacing it. He positioned himself better to make sure your legs were spread wide exposing your soaked sex to him. He sucked two of one of his metal fingers before the tip of it touched the entrance of your cunt. You shivered at the cold touch of it, and he was thankful that you were gushing so much slick as his finger slowly entered your tight pussy.

“Fuck,” you whined at the stretch his finger offered your needy cunt. He smirked as he looked at you, so lost in pleasure that you were clawing at your breasts as you moaned in delight. He pulled back his finger and then pushed it back in and his cock was throbbing at the sounds you were making. He swore you were purring his name. He thrusted his finger a couple of times before a second one joined inside of you and this time you couldn’t stop your legs from shaking. He was loving the sight of you all spread and taking his fingers up to his metal knuckles. Your clit was hard, and he could see it as you tried to spread your legs wider. He inserted a third finger and with that, you came around his metal fingers without warning. You made no sound as you arched your back and squeezed your breasts as you came, clamping down on his thick metal fingers.

“Fuck, baby, you look so hot right now.” Bucky thrusted his fingers in and out of you as he helped your ride out your orgasm. He didn’t stop there, his fingers kept their slow pace until you had regained your breathing. You moaned again as his fingers felt amazing inside of you, your legs were still a little shaky, but you tried not to close them. Bucky seeing that you were now okay, sped up his pace to a deeper and faster rhythm that made you squeal his name.

“I want you to cum around my fingers again, sweetheart, and then you can have my cock, you like the sound of that?” Bucky knew you did, but he still/ wanted to hear you say it.

“Please, yes, make me cum again,” you groaned as you opened your eyes to look at his fierce eyes. His fingers were now fucking you open, and you couldn’t help but moan louder, “but I want to suck your cock before you fuck me, Buck.”

It seemed that had been perfect motivation to make you cum as soon as possible as fingers now rammed into you and his mouth was now on your clit sucking it.

“Buck,” you squealed his name as your hands went to his hair again. The sounds your cunt was making were making you dizzy at how pornographic they sounded. Bucky growled as the squelching of your cunt made him seek some friction against the bed.

“I’m gon—” You didn’t get to finished your sentence as you swallowed the scream that wanted out of your throat as you came for a second time around Bucky’s fingers. He didn’t stop thrusting his fingers, making your juices splash around, wetting the bed, even more, wetting his chest, and not to mention his chin was wet as hell.

Bucky gave one last hard suck to your clit before removing himself and his fingers from you. You whimpered at the loss, but couldn’t help but grin at the throbbing sensation it had left.

"Mhm, you taste good, Tiny,” he sucked his ring finger and moaned, “wanna taste yourself? Open your mouth.”

You did, and in seconds two of his un-sucked metal fingers entered your mouth. You wrapped your lips around them as you gazed at him. Your tongue lapped at his fingers and you couldn’t help but moan at the bitter taste of you. He pulled his fingers from you when he was satisfied with your sucking. He climbed over you to kiss your lips again, and he tasted just like his fingers had. He tasted like you. Your right hand sneakily grabbed his hard cock and stroke it with a tight-ish grip. He hissed at the feeling of your small hand on his thick cock.

"Can I suck your cock now, Buck? Please, I want to taste you," you said with the best sultry yet innocent voice you could muster. He groaned at your words and he didn’t say a word as you fasten your rhythm while you stroke him. He fell back on the bed and you took that as you sign to situate yourself between his legs. You knelt in front of his hard cock which was red and leaking pre-cum. You bit your bottom lip as you looked at it. He was thicker than Steve, but Steve was longer. You shook your head and grabbed the base of his cock and applied some pressure.

“Y/N.” Bucky growl in frustration. You gave him a grin before leaning down and bestowing a soft kiss to the tip of his needy cock. Your tongue lapped at the head and soon your tongue flattens as you licked from the base to the tip before putting his cock in your mouth. You bobbed your head up and down his thick cock, your small hand stroking what you couldn’t fit in. Bucky was moaning and groaning mess underneath you which made your chest swell with pride because this man was crumbling under you because you were making him feel good.

"Shit, just like that,” he threw his head back, “suck that cock, baby."

Bucky’s flesh hand grabbed your messy hair holding your head in place and just like that he started to fuck your mouth. You relaxed your throat and focused on breathing through your nose as his balls hit your chin with every thrust of his hips. He was grunting as he fucked your throat, his cock making you gag every so often, and every time he hit the back of your throat it sent waves of pleasure to your soaked pussy. You moved your hand down to your needy sex, and your slim fingers started to rub your sensitive nub as Bucky fucked your throat. His hips started to stutter and the next thing you knew he was whimpering your name as he pushed you down his cock. You tried to swallow every shot of his cum without choking on it which was almost impossible with how far down his cock he held you.

"Come here," he said in a soft commanding voice as he pulled you up from his cock. He kissed you and at the same time, he was tasting himself. You moaned when his tongue licked his cum that had ended up around your mouth. He was sinful, and it didn’t help when you pulled back to see him licking his lips to make sure his lips were clean.

"I need you inside of me, please I want you to fuck me," you whimpered into his mouth as his hands massaged your ass. Before another word could come out of your lips, he grabbed your hips and flipped you both on the bed, your back against the messed-up sheets. He leaned down to suck on your earlobe.

"I'll fuck you hard, alright,” you moaned and shivered at his words, “I’ll have you begging for me to cum because your cunt can’t take it anymore. You’ll be cumming around my cock until I say so, my cock so deep inside your cunt that you’ll feel it up to your guts."

“Please,” you moaned again your hips seeking out such dirty promise. You weren’t sure why you were saying please so much but when Bucky grabbed his cock and aligned it to your entrance, you kept on whispering the word against his parted lips. He gave a kiss to your throat as he pushed the rest of his cock inside of you and it was like your begging had been answered almost like a prayer. His cock stretched you wider than his three fingers, making your cunt spasm around his cock tightly.

"Shit, Tiny, you're so tight," he groaned as he slowly thrusted in and out, making sure to open your pussy wide as he prepped you for the fucking he planned. He gave you a minute or so to adjust to his size before he knelt in front of you and pushed your legs back giving him more room to insert every inch of his thick cock. You groaned at the feeling but then you were moaning when he started to slam into you making you grab your breasts as they bounced with every ruthless thrust.

“Ah fuck,” you gasped as his cock hit that sweet spot that had you trashing on the bed in seconds as you moaned and groaned. He was grunting as he fucked you into the mattress. He was sweating which made his torso glisten at the exertion of energy as he fucked your pussy open. He had the most beautiful view as your legs were spread and he could see how his cock buried deep into your pussy which only made him go faster. It was addicting listening to you moan and whimper his name as you threw your head back, clawed your breast, and arched your back. He could feel the walls of your pussy tightening the more he fucked you which meant you were close.

“You’re gonna cum on my cock, doll? Your pussy is so damn tight,” he grunted as one of his hands started to rub quick circles on your clit. You shouted his name at the feeling of his cock hitting your sweet spot as his fingers pressed hard on your clit. You came once more with your legs trying to leave his grip, but he wouldn’t let you. You were seeing stars and his thrusts were not stopping nor slowing down. But when you had calmed down he put one of your legs over his shoulder as the other stayed on the bed. This position had you almost on your side and as he grabbed your raised leg for leverage, he started to pound your cunt again, his grunting a lot louder just as the sound of skin smacking filled the room.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking wet,” he bit your ankle softly, “can you hear how wet your cunt is? How my cock is fucking you good?”

“So fuckin’ good,” you all but gasped as the build-up for another orgasm was coming close.

“Are you gonna cum again, babygirl? Wanna cum around my cock again?” He bent down a bit closer to your face, his cock impaling your cunt, “be a good fuckin’ girl and cum around my cock.”

And you fucking did. You shouted his name again as another orgasm had you seeing black dots everywhere. You were sure that if he didn’t cum within the next orgasm you would pass out, so like had promised you, you begged for him to cum.

"Cum inside me, Buck—“ you gasped at one particular harsh thrust, “—I want your cum inside me, I want you to fill me up, please.”

“Fuck, doll.” Bucky grabbed both your legs and placed them together making your cunt all the tighter around his cock. “You’re gonna be so full of my cum, but first I want you to cum one more time for me, doll. Can you do that?”

“Mhm.” You could barely speak as your walls trapped his cock inside of you. Your legs were together on his right shoulder, and this time his legs spread as he pounded your cunt with purpose. You could barely make a sound anymore, your voice failing you after so much screaming, whining, grunting, and moaning.

You were too sensitive that your cunt this time was ready to cum on command if Bucky said the word, but as his grunting turned into groans, then to moans, and lastly to whimpers you knew he was close. His hips were stuttering yet his thrusts were unforgiving to your spent cunt. His cock made acquaintance with your guts once again, and you couldn’t help but claw your thighs as his cock rammed into you. Your pussy fluttered as another orgasm was right there, waiting to be allowed to cum even if it didn’t need to be, but it had been such a turn-on when he’d call you a good girl.

“Cum, baby, cum around my cock,” he whimpered loudly as he felt his balls tighten and when your cunt enclosed like a vine around his cock, he let out a whimper before thrusting deep into you as he came.

The stupid grin that overcame your lips as you felt his cum paint your walls was something Bucky missed as his eyes were shut, enjoying how tight your pussy was, milking his cock.

He let go of your legs and fell on top of you, his cock still inside of you. The room was quiet, only the sound of labor breathing could be heard. But then he removed himself from you and went into the bathroom. You heard the water running and then it stopped, and Bucky came out of the bathroom wearing briefs. You wondered when the hell he picked them up.

He moved between your legs and for a second you thought he was going to bent down and clean you up with his mouth, but then the wet cloth was cleaning you up.

“Thank you,” you whispered as he went to the bathroom to wash the cloth. He didn’t want anyone guessing why there was white stuff dried on it. He came back and handed you a pair of his clean briefs and one of his shirts.

"Come on, we gotta sleep. We have an early morning tomorrow,” he said. You helped him remove the soiled sheet, which you knew wouldn’t be able to be hidden from whoever was supposed to clean the room after you two left. You both then climbed into bed, covered yourself with the blanket, and cuddled. It was quiet for a minute, and you couldn’t help but break it with what you knew was going to burst the peaceful bubble.

"What do we tell Steve?" It was as if he knew you were going to ask because he let out a sigh.

"We don't.” You removed yourself from his arms and looked down at him, his eyes were on you.

"I can't lie to him with this Buck,” you sat against the headboard and hugged your knees, “I just slept with his best friend.”

"Hey, don’t put the blame just on you,” Bucky mimicked your position, except he didn’t hug his knees, “It takes two to tango, Tiny. And we can't tell Steve, at least not yet. He hasn’t seen you in two weeks and he is going to freak out when he finds out you almost died. We’ll find the right moment.”

“The right moment.”

(…)

That was exactly a year ago and you both had yet to find the right moment. Last summer still hunted you as the days grew warmer once again. That next morning when you arrived at the tower, Steve was there to receive you both. He chew you both out for not calling him for two days, but then he was hugging you and kissing you. You had tried not to break down crying and confess all your sins to him right there. But you kept it to yourself, and even though Bucky had been the one to suggest to tell him another time, it was obvious that the lie was eating him alive.

You were too self-aware of every single thing you did around Steve as if protecting yourself from giving it away. And for that whole year that went by, things had gone that way. You knew that you were trying your hardest to make it up to Steve, even though he didn't know why you had made it your mission to do that. There was no day that you talked to Bucky about how you two were going to tell him and the conversation always ended with a 'soon'. But that ‘soon’ never came up. But as the anniversary of your sin came around you didn’t know how you knew that Steve was now aware of the deadly sin.

(STEVE'S POV)

Since the day Y/N and Bucky came back from Wakanda, Steve knew something was different with them, but he couldn’t put his finger on it then. He didn’t let that bother him as he was focused on his best girl. Two weeks without her had been worse than the week he had gone on his mission. So, it was no surprise he had bed her that night as he whispered every single thing he had missed of her, how much he had yearned for her. Steve gave everything he had to offer that night, and she gave back all she had as well. But Steve had to admit that it was different from the other times they had shared a bed together. Again, he let the bad feeling go away as he told himself that he had probably missed her so much that he’d forgotten how sex felt.

But then he started to notice that she was trying to always make him happy. And he noticed that little thing when she stopped having little fights with him. Whenever a fight would start, she would stop after realizing what she was doing. Even if Steve knew she should have won the fight, she would let him have it, she would say that he was right or that it didn’t matter anymore. That was the first red flag that his brain denied to truly grasp because she never gave up that easily.

Then one day after a couple of months after her mission with Bucky, she had forgotten her phone on the nightstand after being called in for a last-minute meeting. Steve noticed that it was unlocked, and the battery low from being on for over an hour. But before he could put it to charge, his attention was drawn to a text message from Bucky. She had been texting Bucky before she had left for the meeting. It read the words 'we really need to tell Steve'. He scrolled down reading the messages before that. She had texted Bucky back when he had asked if she had told him about ‘it’. But they never mentioned what the 'it' was. He’d wondered what the hell would require such secrecy, but his mind came up with nothing grave. It never did. Until another couple of months had passed.

Steve now knew that something was killing her and Bucky inside. The way she acted whenever he found her and Bucky whispering to each other. Steve acted like he never noticed, but now he knew they were hiding something far from innocent, but his brain refused to go there. Then he noticed something he hadn’t seen before; they were closer than they had been before the mission. Yeah, he knew she and Bucky were close friends. But now there was no personal space between them anymore. Before Wakanda, they had always been close but not that close. Steve started to notice the way that Bucky touched her arm or when he grabbed her hand or her checks. It seemed too natural for them, but he knew it wasn’t the same way he did those things, no, but he knew then that they had broken a barrier that they shouldn’t have. Steve knew that they had done something that would destroy him if it would ever be confirmed, and if he was being honest, he didn’t want to know. But the dammed day he noticed that he couldn’t help himself but go back to those ten months that had passed by and analyze every single thing that had changed with his girl and his best friend. Should he even call them that?

Every little thing he had tried to ignore before was now falling into pieces of a puzzle he hadn’t asked for. Their weird actions toward him, like her not wanting to fight him or Bucky being uncharacteristically okay with every rash decision from him; it was all because they were trying to make it up to him. But even though, Steve knew they had fucked up in some way, it was really his fear of the truth that had him racking his brain trying to think what they could possibly have done to make them act like that. But he knew he should stop lying to himself and let it sink in. And dammit, he almost broke a table when he admitted it to himself. They had slept together.

For a week he spied on them. This time with the mission to see if there was more going on. He waited for them to see if they would fess up, but it had been two months of nothing, and he was tired. Steve was sure she had noticed his change of attitude by the year mark, and he was getting tired of their constant tip-toeing around him. He couldn’t sleep knowing the woman he loved, shared a bed with, and his best friend who he would have done anything to protect were lying to him while they lied to themselves with the promise that one day they would tell him the truth.

(…)

Steve, Bucky, and Y/N were training like every other morning, but this time everyone could feel the awkward and tense air. For some reason, she sensed a feeling of disappointment from Steve and his eyes were only confirming that feeling. And that had been her breaking point, she couldn’t take it anymore. She stopped what she was doing, and walked towards Steve with determination in her eyes. Bucky saw her face and knew exactly what she was about to do. He thought of stopping, pull her aside and tell her that it wasn’t the right time, but he knew better than to keep that lie up. He had to face his demons.

"Steve, we need to talk. It’s really important," she said with a slight shake in her voice. Steve put the weights down and looked at her with such hard eyes that she almost regretted saying anything.

"What?" She knew that Steve knew when he let venom escape him with that simple word. She swallowed hard before looking at him straight in the eyes.

"I know now that you know, Steve. I see it in your eyes,” her voice trembled with the promise of tears if she dared speak any further.

Steve glared at her and he let out a scoff as his face darken with disgust.

"Really? So now you want to tell me—” he turned his whole body toward hers, “—it only took you, what, a whole year? It took you a year to finally get the decency to tell me that you and Bucky slept together while you two were in that mission."

She couldn’t help but flinch at his righteous accusations. Bucky wasn’t far behind Y/N’s trembling body.

"Steve, we’re sor—” Bucky didn’t get to finish the apology because now there was no stopping Steve’s anger from coming out like bile.

"You better not try to apologize, James—” the man flinched at the usage of his first name, “—you don’t get to tell me that you are sorry for sleeping with her. Neither of you get to throw that word at my face after all this time. Because I don’t care, I don’t trust you. You both destroyed my trust."

Bucky looked horrified at the realization that he had broken the most fragile thing in the world, and it was because Y/N and him had really done that.

"Steve, it didn’t mean anything. It was just a mistake, we know it was. We don't like each other that way nor love each other. We are just friends that one day realized that there was sexual tension, and took that as an excuse to fuck once. We never meant to hurt you," her eyes were now full of tears, her voice barely a whisper because she didn’t think it could go any higher even if she tried.

"She’s right, Steve.” Bucky stepped closer as he spoke, “the week that you left prior to our mission we were training, and somehow then we realized there was sexual tension. We avoided each other that week and the week after that, and then Fury called us for that mission, and everything went to crap. But we only slept together once, Steve, no more than that. Not even kissing before or after that day. Like she said, we know we fucked up."

Steve was shaking, and it was clear anger had consumed him. The usual sweet man was gone, and it was replaced with the man they had created due to their sins.

"Do you think I care that you both slept together just once? You both had sex, you fucked each other, and waited a whole fucking year to tell me. I don’t give a rat’s ass if it didn’t mean shit to either one of you!” Steve turned his harsh gaze to the woman he once loved, “you cheated on me. And God! To think that I almost asked you to marry me four months ago. I was thinking of making you my best man for God's sake, James! Because, guess what? You were my best friend. I can't let that go. I can't forgive you for this. Neither of you. The damage is done. And, you know what? I'm not angry, at least not anymore. I just…feel betrayed by the people who I thought loved me as much as I loved them. I don’t think I'll ever forgive either of you for this. So, if you'll excuse me, I have to move out of your room."

"No, Steve wait, please don’t. I can’t…I can’t lose you. I'm sorry, we really are.” She knew it was now useless to plead, but she needed to try, their story couldn’t end like this. She couldn’t breathe as she saw him grabbing his things ready to walk out of their lives. But before he turned to leave, he gave one last glance at her and Bucky.

"You lost me the minute you didn’t stop yourself from sleeping with him."

And as the door closed behind him, Y/N let herself fall to the ground, her knees hit the ground and just as she did, she felt Bucky grab her from behind. Just like her, he was crying trying to hold in the sobs that tried to escape him, but that was something she couldn’t do.

Bucky had lost his best friends because of a mistake, and she had lost the love of her life because of the same mistake.

That night she came back to her room to find it bare of Steve’s things. She hadn’t noticed how his things had been the reason why her room looked full, why it had always felt homey. That night she passed out after hours of crying into her pillow.

Within a week after the truth was out, the whole team found out what had happened with the once-thought unbreakable trio. Steve had moved not just out of her room, but he had gotten himself an apartment. Steve still showed up for missions, even those where he had to work with Bucky or Y/N. Neither of them tried to talk to him, granting him the space he needed, but after a couple of months, they tried to see how Steve was doing. But their attempts were in vain as he didn’t answer the door, never answer their texts if they were not related to work and phone calls were never answered, or voicemails were probably never heard. Steve talked to the rest of the team, and no one could deny the man had changed. He would come over and train but would walk out as soon Bucky or Y/N tried to make a move on him.

She had lost the love of her life; she had lost her everything. And all because she couldn’t control herself. She didn’t start dating Bucky, neither of them ever entertained that idea. They didn’t lie to him when they told him that it had been just sexual tension that had led to one night of regrets. But it was too late to get him back. She would never have him back, and she doubted Steve would ever forgive Bucky.

God, I still can’t believe all that happened last summer.

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@cnco-ravenclaw-46

@musiclover812

@teapartydreams

STORY TAGLIST:

@angstysebfan

#I Know What You Did Last Summer #Bucky Barnes #Steve Rogers #Reader Insert #Bucky Barnes x Reader #Steve Rogers x Reader #smut #18+#fanfiction #marvel #mcu #angst #sad ending #cheating #the ravenclaw lover

48 notes · View notes

thisisgonnafuxkinkillme · 3 years

Text

Teaching You to Drive

Yagi Toshinori/ Small Might/ All Might x gn!reader

Aizawa Shouta/Eraserhead x gn!reader

Warnings: None, maybe a little tiny bit of fluff

Aizawa Shouta

You had been putting this off for quite a few years now, and at this point you were much too embarrassed to do anything about it. You were reserved to bus stations and Uber rides, succumbing to the fact that you probably would never learn to drive.

Aizawa hadn’t noticed this fact about you, though. For the first date or two, at least. Once you slipped up, mentioning you were waiting for a ride to come get you, he immediately went into teacher mode.

“Wait wait wait... y/n, do you know how to drive?” He asked sharply. You inhaled as you realized you’ve been caught red handed.

“N-, well, um, I have my permit, but-“

“Absolutely not. Y/n! No,” He scolded over the phone. You cringed, but was grateful he couldn’t see your ashamed facial expression.

“Don’t plan on anything this weekend. I’m picking you up and you’re learning how to drive.”

He hung up, refusing to hear any excuses or objections you may have had.

—-time skip—-

At 9am on the dot, Aizawa was outside of your house. You were still sleeping peacefully when you heard him honking his horn. You sigh, pulling the pillow over your face.

About two seconds later, Aizawa was sitting on your windowsill, aggressively knocking at your window.

You opened it.

“Get ready. Now. I’m waiting.”

Just like that, he was gone again. You closed the window, sighing. You did not want to do this right now. Ugh.

You picked out something casual,

And just hurried up and met him out there. You knew the longer you waited the more you’d probably have to pay later.

He was sat in the passenger seat, his seatbelt on and arms crossed over his chest. He raised an eyebrow as you approached the car. On the wrong side.

You seriously weren’t ready for this.

“Are you ready for this?” He asked as if readying your mind. You couldn’t help but shake your head and laugh.

“Lose that attitude. Now. You’re ready, whether you know it or not.”

“Alright, now, what do you do first?” He asked, semi rhetorically. You put your hands on the wheel nervously.

“Wrong. Put on your seatbelt.”

This was gonna be a... trip. To say the least.

He gently yet firmly guided you though your mistakes and nervousness all while making sure you both were safe.

Everything was going fine until you saw a squirrel run in front of the car, stomping on the break a lot harder than you meant to. You both flew forward, your head nearly shattering the windowshield. Thank God for that seat belt.

“Come on, now. You can do better than that. Listen, it’s okay to want to not kill something, but be more careful before you accidentally kill yourself, too,” said Aizawa in his monotone voice. You nodded.

After a long day filled with vigorous practicing, Aizawa finally got back in the driver’s seat.

“Alright, baby, now let’s go do something fun. You’ve done really well today, and are making great progress. Keep it up and I’ll buy you something nice, alright?” He offered, his smirk barely visible. You smiled, accepting that challenge.

Toshinori Yagi/All Might/Small Might

Toshi knew you liked to be babied, so he never really questioned why you’d always ask for him to pick you up for dates or doctor’s appointments. He just thought you wanted to spend more time with him (which you did).

That was until one day, you had to buy spray paint and they had to check your id. You pulled out your wallet, showing your drivers permit. Toshi didn’t say anything, as to not embarrass you, but he made a mental note to ask you about it later.

“Hey, darling, I want to ask you a question,” he mentioned a few days later over a phone call.

“What is it?”

“Well, I noticed you have your driver’s permit, but... um... do you have- do you, um, well, can you drive?” he eventually stammered out. He didn’t want to hurt your feelings or make you feel small or stupid. (Which you did)

You sighed deeply. That alone was all the answer he needed. Before you could say no, he asked, “Do you have any plans for today at all?”

“No, but...” you started shyly.

“Don’t worry, I’m not working today. And no, you’re not wasting my time, sweetheart. I’m on my way. Get ready for me, okay, honey?”

You were silent for a few seconds. You clutched your heart.

“I love you, Toshi.”

“I love you more, baby. I’ll be there in 5 minutes. See you soon.”

The phone clicked, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Then, the fear set in. Shitttt...

You were already waiting outside of your front door when he pulled up. He playfully tossed the keys at you, and as nervous as you were, you missed them, and they fell to the ground. You swiftly retrieved them as you slouch into the driver’s seat. He watched you intently yet casually, not letting you know how nervous he was too. Sure, he taught the kids at UA, but that was hero stuff, stuff that is just second nature to him. It’s something that you can’t really get wrong, either. As long as no one dies and you win, you’re winning. But with driving, there’s so many laws, social rules, and even if you follow all the rules, someone else could always cause you to get in an accident.

Plus, you’re you. There’s a big difference between teaching students and teaching someone you love. You’re scared of hurting their feelings, or frustrating them, or confusing them.

So far, all you knew what to do was to put your seatbelt on. You looked at him, eyes pleading for step by step instructions.

“Alright, just put the key into the ignition, and we’ll get started.”

You nodded, fumbling for a moment. You turned it, the engine purring. Now the nerves really kicked in. This is real.

God I’m gonna kill us, fuck I can’t see him dead, it’s gonna be my fault, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die

Your brain rushed through horrific images of car accidents, blood, guts, and gore. And it’d all be your fault.

“Honey, is everything okay?” A hand met your shoulder. You looked at him silently.

“I can’t do this. I can’t...” you started sobbing. Toshi turned the key and removed it, the engine stopping. He rubbed your back gently, his fingers brushing along your spine.

“Shhh, shh... it’s okay. Tell me what you’re thinking, baby. It’s going to be okay...” he cooed in your ear.

“I just don’t want to kill us... I don’t want to die.. I don’t- don’t want you to die...”

“Oh, honey... I’m gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay. I promise.”

“It’s okay to be scared. But I promise you, you can and will do this. I believe in you.”

You took a deep breath, wiping the tears from your face. Your boyfriend kissed you on the cheek, dropping the keys into your hand.

“Are you ready to try again?”

You nodded. The engine started back up once again, and Toshi took a moment to show you where to position your hands on the wheel. Then, you placed your foot on the accelerator.

Way too hard.

You both flew forward. Startled, you stomped on the brake.

Toshi tried his best not to agree that maybe you *would* actually kill him today. Instead, he gently instructed you on how little pressure is really needed to make the car move at a normal speed.

You began again, this time doing much better.

“Good job, baby. Keep going, you’re doing so great for me,” he praised quietly. You blushed, the little compliments hatching into butterflies in your tummy.

You of course made mistakes, I mean, this is your first time ever operating a car. Ever. So that’s to be expected.

Overall, you were making quite a good bit of progress, especially after driving for just a few hours. Finally, after a good couple of hours, Toshi offered to take you home.

“Only if you promise to come cuddle!” You jokingly tease.

“Oh, absolutely. Count on it.”

And you did. When you got home, you dramatically flopped onto the bed, arms open and eyes needy. He pulled the blanket aside and pulling you close.

“I’m so proud of you, honey. You really did a great job.”

You thanked him with a kiss. And another. And another.

#toshinori yagi #yagi mha #aizawa shouta #all might hc #mha yagi #small might #toshinori x reader #yagi toshinori #yagi toshinori x reader #aizawa fluff #aizawa headcanon #aizawa shota #shouta aizawa #aizawa x reader #aizawa sensei #all might x reader #small might x reader #mr aizawa #mr Aizawa x reader

70 notes · View notes

diabolik-sai · 4 years

Text

A/N: So someone requested a Shu scenario about his s/o comforting him after a nightmare, and this started out as a short drabble that just got longer and longer until it turned into this, so. . . Here we go! I really do love this boy~ Warnings: some descriptions of gore, panic attacks, PTSD

Shu groaned as his eyes slowly drifted open, the blurry but familiar image of the manor’s ceiling coming into his view. As he groggily moved to rub the sleep out of his eyes, he realized that he had fallen asleep in his school uniform on the couch. Four years ago this wouldn’t have been an especially strange scenario for the vampire, but now he couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t fallen asleep in bed with his arms wrapped around you.

He chuckled a bit to himself. Who would have thought he would come to be so attached to a mere human? His past self would have mocked him, but it was true. Somehow you had managed to take a step into his world when no one else would, or rather, when he wouldn’t let anyone else do so.

If there was one thing Shu Sakamaki knew himself to be good at it was keeping people at a distance. Over the centuries it just came naturally to him. It wasn’t as if he had no people skills, he simply preferred not to use them. No one was worth the time or energy, and at first he wrote you off into that same category.

Oh, how you proved him wrong.

Somehow, you were just as stubborn as you were compassionate- Impossibly patient, and with a level of empathy he could never achieve or understand. You could have run away at any time, it wasn’t like he was trying to stop you back then. But you didn’t. You stayed; for some unfathomable reason you chose to be by his side.

Eventually it was more than just your blood that he craved. It was your laughter, your presence, your smile- the very essence of your being. It felt like you were a drug that allowed him to feel for the first time in a long while.

Shu resisted the urge to roll his eyes at his own thoughts. Since when had he gotten so damn sentimental? You must be rubbing off on him. . .

He was snapped out of his thoughts as a familiar scent wafted through the air. He turned to face who he knew was the source and sure enough, there you were, standing in the doorway with a fresh cup of tea and that unwavering smile on your face.

“Ah, he lives,” you grinned, shifting your weight from the doorframe as you stepped into the living room.

“Been a while since you’ve slept on the couch,” you said, arching a brow, “Did I get mad at you for something? I can’t remember.”

“Hilarious,” Shu deadpanned, although you caught the telltale trace of a smirk on his lips, “If I did, I certainly wouldn’t remind you.”

He propped himself up, moving into a sitting position on the couch. As he turned back to you he noticed you staring at him.

“What?” He asked.

“This is good,” you said, almost to yourself.

“What are you on about?” He chuckled, shaking his head at your antics.

“This,” you said, gesturing around you with your hands. When the level of confusion on Shu’s face remained the same you stifled a laugh.

“Us,” you elaborated, smiling down at him.

For a while Shu didn’t know how to respond to that. The love between you two was mostly unspoken but not unfelt. It simply wasn’t the way either of you typically showed your affection. Such a bold statement from you about your relationship caught him off guard, even after all these years.

You stalled for a moment, staring absentmindedly at the living room wall, your back facing your lover.

“But I have to wonder,” you pondered aloud, “Will it always be like this?”

The clank of porcelain rang out in the room as you placed your tea cup onto the mantle.

“What do you mean?” Shu asked, his tone still light but with a slight edge of caution.

You turned over your shoulder and smiled at him reassuringly, crossing the room in a few confident strides.

“You’ve always been there for me, Shu,” you said, a hand coming up to caress his cheek, “Even if you didn’t know it, you’ve always been there.”

Shu stiffened a bit under your touch. Somehow it felt foreign. You were abnormally cold. . .

Suddenly, your hands jot out, grabbing his wrists on either side of his body in a vice grip. His eyes widened as he struggled against your grasp, impossibly steadfast as that reassuring smile turned sinister on your features.

“But what if you weren’t?” You asked innocently, cocking your head to the side as your grip tightened painfully, your nails digging into the flesh of his wrists leaving weeping, red crescents in their wake.

“What if this manor were to burst into flames?” You wondered aloud. As if your words were coming alive the smell of smoke began to fill the room, and it suddenly occurred to him that you had lit the fireplace behind you.

Every instinct in Shu’s mind told him to move, to run, but it was as if he wasn’t in control of his own limbs. It felt as though every nerve in his body was screaming as a flicker of vermillion spilled out onto the carpet.

“You want to run, don’t you?” You grinned, your tone of voice sickeningly sweet and unfit for the words leaving your lips, “So what if you did? Don’t you want to know what would happen?”

Shu grit his teeth so hard he thought they would shatter as the flames wove through the carpet towards you. You smiled at him, not letting up on your grasp for a second as you leaned down to speak into his ear.

“You’d only make it to the edge of the courtyard before your guilt caught up with you,” you whispered. Chills racked Shu’s spine as you continued. “Then you’d go into shock- frozen, like a useless little rag doll, and you’d be forced to watch me burn. You’d be safe, though. Far enough to not be hurt yourself, but close enough to watch my skin bubble like the water in a squealing tea kettle. To see my hair turn to white hot ash and my eyes liquify and ooze out of their sockets.”

His eyes widened in horror as the flames reached the edge of your nightgown, creeping up your legs until they reached your torso. You only smiled down at him, the flames traveling down the sleeves of your dress towards him. Shu’s hands went numb from your grip as he watched, unable to do anything. He felt like he was suffocating, and any words he tried to choke out died in his throat.

The next time he blinked, you were suddenly off of him, standing in the middle of the living room that was now entirely engulfed in flames, and just like that, your chilling, unfazed expression shifted to fear and panic.

”Shu?” Your eyes widened as you looked down at your flame covered dress, “What is this? What’s happening?!”

Your hands shook as you tired and failed to put the fire out, looking for something, anything to help you until your eyes landed on Shu, and for the first time in centuries he felt pure, unadulterated terror.

He opened his mouth to scream but no sound came out. As he looked down he found a pitch black hand covering his mouth. It was burnt to a crisp, some of the dying embers still ignited in its charcoal fingers. Another pair of burned hands reached out and grabbed hold of his feet, keeping him in place.

“Shu, please!” You pleaded, tears streaming down your face as the fire singed your skin, “It hurts, make it stop, please!”

He desperately struggled against the hands but every movement he made only caused more to appear, grabbing onto his limbs, his clothes, his hair- hundreds of tiny, burning hands holding him back against the couch, forcing him to watch you suffer.

You collapsed on the floor with a choked sob. Your voice was raw from screaming as your face became contorted in pain. In a last feeble attempt to call for help you reached out to him, your skin practically melting off your body.

Shu managed to break one of his arms free from the grasp of the charred hands that covered the rest of his body, trying desperately to reach you. The smell of burning flesh assaulted his senses and he fought the urge to retch as he watched his own outstretched hand turn to cinders in front of him.

“Shu!”

He flinched as another one of your anguished screams ripped through the air.

No, no, no, no, no, no-

“Stop,” he choked out, his voice breaking as he pleaded with whatever force of Hell was causing this.

“Shu!”

“Stop, STOP!”

“Shu!”

The vampire jolted straight out of bed with a strangled cry, gasping for breath. His eyes were blown wide with mania as they darted around the room, first to the unlit fireplace and then immediately to you.

“Shu?” You asked groggily, moving to turn the lights on, “What is it?”

You hadn’t seen him like this in a long time. His nightmares used to be relentless, an every night occurrence. But in the past few years you’d been with him they’d become less and less frequent until he slept peacefully through the night. But this seemed much worse than what you’d seen before.

It pained you to see him like this. You knew how vivid his nightmares could be- they were no ordinary dreams.

“Shu-“

You gasped as he suddenly gripped your wrist, staring intensely into your eyes as if he was searching for something but didn’t know what. You ignored the pain as his hold on you tightened.

You knew what his dream must have been about.

You steadied your free hand as much as you could, moving your body so you were facing your lover. You carefully wove your hand into his soft blonde locks, pulling him into a hug. You could feel the rapid beating of his heart; how each breath caught in his throat just before he held it, trying to get it under control before gasping in another intake of air.

“I’m here,” you said softly, your heart clenching as Shu let out a shudder of a breath.

You stayed that way until you felt his breathing even out and you pulled away to look into his azure eyes.

“I’m always going to be right here, Shu,” you said, meaning every word.

“No, you won’t,” he said, his voice coarse.

Your eyes widened slightly in the dimly lit room, taken aback.

“Yes, I will-“

“Then you shouldn’t,” he said coldly.

The look on his face startled you. For just a moment you caught a glimpse of the steely, indifferent exterior you’d broken down over the years, and it scared you that it was still there- still a part of him, albeit a learned one.

“Have you forgotten you’re just a human?” He scoffed, “the only thing humans can be relied upon to do is die- It’s the only certain thing.”

His words were harsh, but his touch changed from the desperate, steel grip he’d used on you only moments ago. He held you as if you were made of glass, like if he held you too tightly you would break but if he let go you’d disappear into smoke.

He was so terrified of losing you. For so long he was told that he was cursed. That he destroyed everything and anyone close to him, and he believed it. The proof was in his past, what reason would he have to believe you would be safe from him?

Your gaze softened as you brought your hands up to cup his face, breaking his mental spiral of negative thought.

“Then don’t let me die,” you said, to his surprise, “turn me.”

Your words seemed to echo in Shu’s mind while he tried to process them.

“Turn me into a vampire,” you repeated, not a trace of doubt in your voice.

“You don’t know what that means, not really,” Shu said quietly, “To live forever. . . To watch everything and everyone you know fester and rot around you while you stay the same. . . Don’t you understand? You’re throwing away any hope for a normal human life.”

“I think I did that the second I walked into this manor,” you grinned.

“I’m serious,” Shu said, his voice raising, “this isn’t a joke, (Y/n). Why would you honestly throw your normal life away? Why wouldn’t you run? Why. . .”

As he trailed off you knew what he was really asking.

Why the hell would you stay with him?

“I wasn’t joking, Shu,” you said, “I threw away any chance for a normal life a long time ago. The second I stepped foot in this house I knew that. The first time you fed from me I knew that. The first time we made love I knew that. Nothing’s changed, Shu. At least, the way I feel about you hasn’t. . . I love you.”

Conflict swirled in Shu’s mind. Part of him wanted you to leave, to just forget everything about him and this manor and be safe somewhere; you could live out a boring, normal life like humans were meant to- far away from him. You would go to university, meet some business major with a stable job and get married on the beach. Have kids who grow up and make you proud and give you grandchildren who you love and protect until you eventually pass in your sleep from old age. If it meant you would be safe. . .

He looked up at you, sighing deeply as he saw the unwavering expression on your face. No. . . That kind of life, that wasn’t who you were. . .

He pressed his forehead to yours, an unspoken response to your earlier declaration of love.

“Are you sure?” Shu stared into your eyes, looking for any trace of uncertainty, but found none.

“Yes,” you said, so soft a whisper Shu thought he might have imagined it.

“Give yourself to me, Shu Sakamaki,” you said, kissing him gently before bringing your wrist up to his fangs,

“Give yourself to me as I’ve given myself to you, for eternity.”

669 notes · View notes

acquariusgb · 3 years

Text

The Clinton Tapes extracts of Bill as a father

Since tomorrow is Father’s Day in the US, here are some cute extracts from the book the Clinton Tapes by Taylor Branch about Bill being a wonderful father to Chelsea.

- Chelsea stopped by, neat as a pin, talking about an exam on Spanish verbs. She said good night and a preliminary goodbye for his long trip. When she was gone, Clinton said former president Bush had been encouraging him to spend more time at Camp David. Bush was hearing of low morale in its vast, attentive support staff, which remained isolated and idle because the Clintons almost never visited. The president said that while he appreciated such concerns, he saw few opportunities to change soon. Chelsea was fourteen years old. The last thing she wished for was a weekend at Camp David, which to her was the middle of nowhere. She stayed home, and her parents wanted to be apart from her as little as possible. So Camp David must wait. May 1994

- When Chelsea stopped by, the president tried to set a time to play cards, or just to talk. He said he had not seen her for a while, but she excused herself to get up early. Clinton looked a bit forlorn, telling me she had a summer job at the National Institutes of Health. July 1994

- Chelsea came in fretting about homework. In an exercise to hone succinct composition, she was writing an essay of no more than one page on the best and worst qualities in the legendary character Dr. Frankenstein, with illustrative passages from the Mary Shelley novel. Chelsea said her draft spilled stubbornly onto a second page, which was unacceptable, and she expressed doubt about her choice of quotations. The president paused to give counsel, and I left the recorders on as he read most of her essay out loud. He liked its cited images of Frankenstein’s passion for learning, enthralled in his lab, cheeks sallow with intense discovery, but he thought Chelsea was slightly ambiguous about whether his best quality was curiosity or ambition. On the negative side, where she wisely pinpointed an overbearing pride as the chief fault, he said she might find shorter, more precise quotes. We both complimented her language about the progressive blindness of Frankenstein’s zeal. Instead of creating life, Chelsea concluded, the mad doctor faced a “monster who had become his bane.” She went off to make revisions, and Clinton promised to consult her again before saying good night. May 1995

- A festering wound could damage sensitive U.S.-Japanese relations for years, Gore warned. Clinton must visit Japan quickly to make amends. Just today, the president told me, he and Gore had tramped back and forth over a crowded calendar. December was out because of nightly Christmas parties, and so on, until Clinton circled dates next April. Horrified, Gore said that would be months too late, especially since the White House was announcing a peace trip to Europe for next week. Why not substitute Japan for Northern Ireland? Alternatively, Gore zeroed in on three lightly committed January days, but the president pronounced them vital to Chelsea’s schoolwork. Gore blinked. So what? He stared through Clinton’s halting explanation why this would be a bad time—because Hillary must join him in Japan, and junior-year midterms are the most pressure-packed events in all of high school. Mutual exasperation spiked. “Al,” Clinton told him, “I am not going to Japan and leave Chelsea by herself to take these exams.” Gore erupted. He thought Clinton had lost his bearings. They had a big fight, said the president, and were still wrangling about dates for Japan. November 1995

- During this preview of the campaign, Chelsea popped in the doorway to say she was sorry she may have disturbed us. She had been singing to herself in the hall, and did not realize we were here. Before he could reply, she vanished, and while I was rewinding the tapes shortly afterward, the president rummaged around the big Ulysses Grant desk. A decade ago, when she was about six, he said Chelsea had skipped into a ceremony at the governor’s office with a briefcase, which he was obliged to open in front of everyone. He showed me a photograph of little Chelsea doubled over in laughter as Clinton squeamishly displayed a boa constrictor inside. His daughter was cheerful and courteous, he said, but she was mischievous, too. May 1996

- His voice surprised me again on Sunday, July 7. He had just finished testifying by videotape for one of the Whitewater criminal trials, in which Ken Starr’s deputy prosecutors were trying to tar him with far-fetched charges against Arkansas bankers. The president was tired, and really needed to spend time with Chelsea. So we must cancel our session tonight. He vowed to catch up soon. Of course, I replied. His staff always handled such logistics, but for some reason he delivered this notice himself. July 1996

- Clinton told stories about Chelsea on our way down the hall. He and Hillary had just returned from her ballet recital. “She’s not an ideal body for a ballerina,” he reflected. “Far from it.” Chelsea was bigger than most of the other girls, who were flat-chested and tiny. She had big bones. Her feet had bled after practice ever since she was a little girl. Nevertheless, she pursued ballet above other arts or sports for which she was more naturally suited. “I’ve always admired that,” he said. “I’ve wondered whether I could ever stick with something for its own sake.” He was inclined to obsess about competitive standing and talent, he said, whereas Chelsea, though smartly aware of her limits, loved everything about ballet including the hard work. August 1996

- Then he lingered on Chelsea’s seventeenth birthday. Because Hillary had been late to dinner at Washington’s Bombay Club, Clinton found himself the delighted sole host to a dozen high school girls in raucous discussions of love and the world. [...] The president glided into stories wholly off my list. Chelsea’s Sidwell Friends School had welcomed seniors to make two-minute spontaneous remarks at a gathering of fathers. On a theme of candid revelation, one girl told the assembly why she and her dad communicated by letter in the same house. Chelsea almost knocked Clinton over, he said, with raw eloquence cutting through the inhibitions of youth and the public eye. She confessed setting her heart all year on tryouts for a part in The Nutcracker, which she did not get. Life’s first major disappointment, as she called it, left her depressed and sleepless, consumed by failure. She could think of nothing but wasted sacrifice. Both parents talked with her late many nights, but she was inconsolable until she woke up fitfully to a letter only an hour old, headed “3am” on her father’s White House stationery. It said he could not sleep, either, being upset because she was upset. He loved her, was proud of her, and believed one day she would find new value in her years of ballet. Somehow these words dispelled a cloud of absorption, she told Sidwell. She still read the note every day. As for his work, she admired what he did in the face of so much invective, but it had not always been so. In preschool, she had cringed as the other children stood proudly to declare their parents’ jobs—doctor, fireman, teacher. Not even she had a clue about governor, and so Chelsea in turn said her mom was a lawyer and her dad cooked the French fries at McDonald’s. She became an instant hit, with by far the coolest dad, but of course the grownups made her promise not to tell lies. Apologizing later to the class, she thought her father just talked on the phone and made speeches, which got the kids briefly excited again because they thought she said he made peaches. February 1997

#the clintons #bill clinton #chelsea clinton #father and daughter

23 notes · View notes

maruzzewrites · 3 years

Text

Commission - Risotto/Falena

This was a commission I did a long time ago, almost a year ago now. I wanted to post it but I forgot, and recently I remembered it so here we go!

cw for death, violence, gore.

The car jumped a little, along the long road that stretched in the countryside. The potholes, the gravel, the old dampers contributed to the slow drive towards the Nero family’s farm. Falena sat, quietly, in the back of the car, watching the landscape shift and change as if running along with them, Risotto just watching his own hands at her side, in complete silence.

The classic playing at the radio filled the air, along with the gentle humming of Risotto’s father. A kind man, not pushing neither to speak to him or among each other when he understood their need for privacy. Despite the lack of words, Falena was eagerly waiting for the playdate, never having been to a farm before.

She asked Risotto’s father, earlier, if she could pick some oranges when she would get to the farm, and he laughed sweetly before assuring her she’d get some, the best ones he could find. Risotto then, as if a surge of bravery came over him at his own father’s words, affirmed he would show her his favorite animals. With the promises in her mind and Risotto’s averted gaze after her enthusiastic grin, Falena settled on her seat and waited with anticipation growing in her heart.

In the few minutes that separated them from their destination, Risotto pointed to her the roof of his house, emerging from the line separating the ground and the sky. She smiled, grabbed the seat belt to slip it over her head and allow her neck to be free. Risotto protested her action, while his father chuckled at the amazed look on her face as she leaned closer to the front seat to see the building.

It wasn’t as large as she imagined, but the romantic idea of a cozy house she built in her head did come true: behind a wall made of stones, a quaint house on two floors, with wooden shutters and flowers cascading over the walls, ivy reaching along the edges of the patio. On the side, deeper into the large space in front of the house proper, was the barn. Falena only assumed that the fields would be somewhere behind it.

The car turning and entering the large, open gate to stop under the canopy wasn’t quick enough for her eagerness, and Falena tried to jump out of the car even before unhooking the belt. As soon as she was free from her restraints, she opened the door and stepped outside. She circled the car to find herself in front of an open space of tiny, white rocks, grass growing all around.

Risotto’s dad came to nudge her a bit to the side, closing the gate. In the meanwhile, Risotto climbed out of the car too, and walked to her side as he kept his eyes on his dad. The man turned to them and grinned, shooing them away with a playful tone before reminding both of them that lunch would be ready soon enough. Risotto didn’t waste any time to grab Falena’s hand and drag her into the farm, passing the house and heading to the barn.

Once there, he pushed the door open. The smell wasn’t part of the picturesque image in Falena’s mind, but the loud noises of animals reacting to the new visitors was something she expected. The donkeys were ruminating in their corner, placid as always, but the chickens were walking around as they poured outside from the separated room where their nests were. Risotto, when the rooster approached, stomped his foot in front of it, his chest out in an imitation of what would be an intimidating man. Falena giggled, and Risotto turned, a bit embarrassed.

To avoid showing off his red cheeks, he walked to the back of the barn. There, against the wall, were some cages with fluffy rabbits. Risotto went over each cage, telling their names to a focused Falena, who traced the wires in front of their faces in awe. Their snouts would move in sync with their eating, their bright eyes fixed in front of them. Risotto, then, gently pushed her towards the only two cows. They were bigger than Falena imagined, tall and calm, their fur soft as Risotto guided her tinier hand on their sides. Their tails moved, cutting through the air, and Falena thought it was like when dogs were happy.

As they were enjoying this moment, Risotto’s dad came into the barn to call them to the table. Falena didn’t want to leave the animals behind, but despite her desire, her traitorous stomach rumbled loud enough to make the man laugh. So she accepted her fate and followed Risotto’s dad inside the house, her friend right at her side.

The lunch was tasty, she met Risotto’s mother and grandparents, who asked about her family and herself with kindness. At some point, the focus shifted from the guest to more adult conversations, leaving Falena and Risotto on their own, with privacy among the adults. Taking advantage of his relatives’ distraction, Risotto pressed his finger on his lips, signaling her to keep quiet, and grabbed a handful of bread from the table. He quickly shoved the loaf in his pocket, leaving his hand there so the food wouldn’t fall down onto the floor.

Falena couldn’t understand, but kept her mouth shut. Lunch passed by quickly, and the adults didn’t have too many worries at leaving the two of them running away as they stood up to clean behind them. Risotto grabbed Falena’s wrist, leading her towards the side of the bard, where she could see a fence around an opening in the wall. As they got closer, she noticed the pigs roaming around the closed space, huge and pink.

Risotto threw a look behind, to see if anyone was around, and then fished the bread he brought. He handed a bit to her, throwing it over the fence to the pigs, who ran to eat it in no time. Risotto grinned, a full smile on his face for the first time since they were there, despite inviting her was his own idea. He turned to her, encouraging her to throw her piece too. As she did and while the animals would run to the food, Falena observed the smile on her friend’s face, bright, shining as the sun.

She asked if this was his favorite animal. Risotto nodded, and told her she wanted to show her how fast they were at eating. How his dad told him to be careful because they were ravenous, and how he would pick him up and pretend to throw him over to them. To underline the last point, he approached her and went to pick her up, her feet barely leaving the ground before she started to trash around and yell. Risotto let her fall down again, laughing.

Falena pouted, raising her hands and pushing him away. That did little to stop him from snickering, until she poked his cheeks right where his dimples were. Risotto’s laugh stopped with a choking sound, his face flushing suddenly, and his hands went to cover his cheeks. Falena simply giggled, but reassured him his dimples were cute. It took a while for Risotto to recompose himself enough, a bit more for him to start running around with her to explore the farm.

They spent the afternoon between Risotto’s favorite activities, homeworks under the watchful eye of his grandparents, and occasionally sneaking food out of the kitchen to feed the pigs. Before the sun could set, Falena had to return, and Risotto insisted on going with her to say his goodbyes. Unluckily, they both fell asleep on the road, and when Risotto’s father woke her up so that she could hop off the car, her friend was still deep asleep on the seat. The next day, Risotto apologized for rudely sleeping without saying goodnight and he promised next time it wouldn’t happen.

From that day, most of their weeks were planned around the possibility of visiting his farm. Or him staying at Falena’s house. With months passing, they had sleepovers and consecutive days to spend together. When they grew up to be older, in middle school, and their parents didn’t have the possibility to drive them, Falena would take her bike and be on the road to meet Risotto halfway. They’d just discard their rides at the edge of the road, hiding them as well as they could before running off into the nearest open field, or shop, or anything else that caught their attention that day.

It was routine, always the same and always filled with sparks of excitement when Falena picked up the phone in her house’s hallway to call or answer. Even that day, after lunch and rushed homeworks, she attempted to call Risotto to hang out. Yet, she was met with silence, the interminable ringing of a phone that wouldn’t be picked up. Even the next day, she didn’t see him in front of the school, at recess or at the end of the last class. She asked his classmates, but learnt that he wasn’t present that day.

The same happened the day after, and so on until the weekend came. Falena didn’t hear from him at all, no matter how many times she called or waited with her eyes glued to the phone, her parents increasingly worried. Only on monday, she saw him at recess, as his classmates offered their condolences to a stoic Risotto. She approached him, tugging at his sleeve when he wouldn’t give her any attention. He looked at her for a split second, where a thunder of pain flashed in his eyes, and then turned away to ignore her again.

From that day, when Risotto Nero was fourteen and Falena was merely thirteen, at the height of their friendship, they stopped being inseparable. Risotto had any excuse and justification to reject her invitations at first, then he started to simply reject any proposal to hang out. In the end, after weeks and months of attempts, he didn’t even dignify her with words. Along the way, Falena learnt about the tragedy of that fateful day, when Risotto’s cousin lost their life, hit-and-run. The driver was stopped barely a few kilometers away, locked away in no time. But the torment for Falena’s old friend didn’t stop, and he still refused to open up any type of communication with her.

Eventually, they were nothing more than strangers with a past. Risotto grew to be gloomy, silent, even more than he had been before. In the summer separating their next school year, when Falena entered the same high school as him, now in the same building with the older kids, Risotto stood taller and looked meaner. Despite his eyes always being black, only then they really scared her as they were framed by a perpetual frown and surrounded by an unknown aura, as if anything of that lovely friend Falena knew once was long gone.

There was a point in time when she would feel his eyes on her, and the snap of his neck as he turned away would give her the impression she wasn’t just imagining things. Yet, Falena struggled to imagine he was interested in her anymore, the kid she knew was way too loyal and affectionate to turn his back to someone he still wanted at his side. So the months separated soon turned into years, and Falena attempted to fill them with memories with other people around her. She found herself lacking, Risotto was the first peer she could relate to with her personality and interest, and the only ones having genuine interest in each other.

She bit her tongue, though. He didn’t want her as a friend, so she wasn’t his friend anymore. At seventeen years now, Falena could declare everything a simple memory colored by nostalgia. Risotto didn’t reach out, didn’t do anything besides watching her when he assumed she couldn’t notice, and that could continue. Only when he suddenly disappeared for a week straight in the months before his graduation, she spared enough attention to his situation to listen to the rumors around the town. There were talks about a murder, how that kid was no good and they knew, they always knew.

For the first time in years, Falena took her bike and rode to Nero family’s farm. She found Risotto’s parents older, one of his grandfathers gone, and them comforting each other as they welcomed her back after four years. She was informed of everything: how Risotto murdered his cousin’s killer in cold blood, how he left a letter of confession to his family, the trail of his clothes leading to the pigpen. How pigs eat anything you give them. And then the sirens, the police, the questioning, the sky looking gray despite spring being near and the animals rejoicing at the new season. Everything drained, and dulled, no matter how far away Falena would run, uncaring about the dangers of a teenager on a bike in the hectic streets of her town.

It didn’t matter that evening, nothing did. Not her safety, not dinner or homework, not the stressful school year or next year’s final exam. Nothing was important that evening besides the memories, the homesickness of Risotto’s friendship. That evening, and that night, deep into the silence of early morning, Falena let herself mourn a boy she didn’t know anymore.

Finding her way into the underworld was difficult, especially as a woman. Especially without much to count on in terms of brute force or size. Falena, eventually, fell into Passione’s hands, and she obtained a Stand strong enough to be deemed useful in various teams. The problem with Passione and with Polpo, she discovered after the initiation: you could enter a team, officially, only if the leader wanted you to join officially. This spell disaster for Falena, as she wasn’t imposing, or scary, or intimidating. No matter how useful her ability, she would have to sustain herself with the scarce missions given to her when her assistance was requested.

She was about to give up her hope for a stable situation into any group within Passione, when Polpo called her into his lair - she refused to see the space he had for himself as anything but - and informed her she was a prospect for the hitman team. One of the most infamous gangs under Passione’s control. Falena would be content with it, if it wasn’t for the fact she didn’t work a single job with any of the members, never saw them or interacted with them. For all she knew, they were too vile for Passione’s standards.

She couldn’t really refuse, though. Not without getting to know the leader, see what they had to offer to her. Polpo seemed pleased with her agreeable nature, and reported that the boss of the team himself asked to see her. He marveled how the ill-famed Risotto Nero could ask for someone he hadn't personally met before, and Falena felt her heart sink.

Finding herself unable to articulate her surprise, she left the meeting with Polpo without much else to add, only with an address to reach once she was contacted by the team. The call wasn’t too late, she waited in confused suspension for the entire afternoon, then the evening. Only at night, she heard the phone ring and she answered. Eight years were enough to blur the memories, especially when the last ones were filled with regret instead of happiness, so she couldn’t really place the voice. It was deep, but felt like another timbre. At least, she didn’t feel like any cord was struck as she listened to the man on the other end inviting her to the designated place the following night, around the same hour of the call.

Once the phone tuned out and her hand let it drop where it belonged, Falena felt all the tiredness, the headache spreading after the tension. Could she sleep? She hoped so, because the thought of remembering anything of that kid she played with so long ago was annoying, verging on suffocating. It messed with her head for years, the knowledge of the dark thoughts festering inside his head as she simply accepted his distance, the deep solitude he must have suffered in that personal hell, yet he decided to crawl back into her life by his own accord. When she assumed he was dead for years, devoured even.

She didn’t know which emotion she would settle on, if anger, resentment or misery. Eventually, her body picked to cling to the exhaustion to give her a break, and she collapsed into her bed. Luckily, her sleep was mostly empty, and weirdly restful. She woke up barely before midday, enough to eat lunch, and then she traveled to check the place she would have to visit later that night. Just to be sure it wasn’t a setup of any sort, if someone was using her old memories to attract her into a trap.

The day was too fast, but too slow at the same time. Every minute a drag, but if Falena let her eyes drop from the clock on the wall, chunks of hours would fly away without her even feeling it. The sky’s colors shifted, the lively streets under her window started to become empty, the buzz of life far away, into the main avenues. Like a little mouse, Falena slipped away from her own house, locking it behind herself for prevention. Not that it would be useful against anyone with a Stand, but it was an added tick she got from her youth, when she was without protection.

She arrived at the designated place a few minutes before the chosen time, but she could see a group of men already occupying the abandoned building. She resisted the urge to summon her Stand, as a preventive measure, and let those inside know she arrived by knocking on the decrepit window. A few heads shot up, in her direction, but only the blonde one whipped it to invite her inside.

There were, in total, three men. All looked relatively scrawny to be professional assassins, but Falena knew better than to judge Passione’s members by their looks alone. After all, it would be hypocritical of her, being rather fragile looking in spite of the power she could conjure. A quick scan around the room alerted her Risotto wasn’t anywhere, not where she could see him. Her eyes narrowed, and she glared at the three men casually standing in front of her, quite a few feet into the room.

“You’re the new recruit?” Falena recognized the voice of the blonde man as the one she spoke to on the phone, deep and cold, carrying pride. She nodded, but refused to take another step towards them. If she could prevent any Stand attack that was dictated by distance, she wanted to be ready. The man clicked his tongue, talked to the darkness, “You’re the only one who can confirm this, come out.”

Before Falena could even think about the strange behavior, something shifted at the perimeter of her vision. A form, towering, walked out of the shadows, but without being engulfed in them. She turned her head with deliberate slowness so that she wouldn’t look suspicious to those men. She felt her throat tighten.

At last, tall and broad, the gloom dripping from his expression. Terrible in a way she didn’t remember, her mind coming back to a child, forgetting the stranger he became over the years. Yet, she could recognize Risotto and his piercing eyes anywhere, looking at her with familiarity he didn’t intend. He spared her a glance, then addressed the other men, “It’s her.”

There was no initiation, no questioning, nothing that she would expect from any self-respecting and highly selective gang. She was just directed to a car and squeezed between the blonde guy and the one with a shaved head. Risotto, because of his size, was allowed the front seat in complete comfort. The one with the glasses was driving, and he was the only one who didn’t utter a single word the entire night.

Once they arrived, Falena discovered the destination was what she supposed was their hideout. She turned up your nose when she noticed how exposed and, at the same time, crumbling the place was. She entered anyway, following the three men up the silent stairs and into the only used apartment in the entire building. And that was all, as Risotto retired with no objection from his men.

Falena was left baffled, unsure how to proceed. She turned to look at the blonde man, the only one who seemed to have any sort of authority besides Risotto. He raised an eyebrow when he noticed her staring, but didn’t say anything until she spoke up about the strange behavior. Wouldn’t they test her in any way, shape or form to see if she was worthy of both trust and praise? Their line of work was pretty difficult to enter in, after all.

“He said we could trust you.” That was all he said, before giving a brief nod to his teammates and disappearing down the hall attached to the main room. The man with glasses followed him, not saying anything, his face as sour as when Falena first saw him. The only one left behind was the redhead, and she would feel uncomfortable with his presence if it wasn’t for the fact she knew she could hold her own.

“So, do you know the boss?” The man asked, pointing at the hallway when Falena glared at him, perplexed. He was inquiring about Risotto, it seemed, and she didn’t know how to answer without revealing too much or something her former friend didn’t want to disclose. The assassin, however, refused to take the hint at her silence, “We know he doesn’t trust easily and no one untrustworthy is accepted into this team. He was pretty vague when I asked.”

Falena weighed the question in her mind, letting it travel all around, elaborating anything that could be useful to give this man something that wouldn’t trouble Risotto. She grimaced a bit at the thought, at how she apparently still cared about his opinion, but quickly rationalized it with the excuse of work, and his new role as her boss - and his infamy as a dangerous hitman. She didn’t turn to the man, but answered anyway, “We met once, a long time ago.”

“For real?” He sounded rather surprised, and whipped his head in the direction of what Falena assumed was the bedrooms’ location. He was thinking, it was clear on his face, eyes raised to the roof as if he was trying to remember. Evidently, he came back with nothing and just decided to further question her, “How long ago? I don’t recall him telling us about any mission with someone outside the gang.”

“It wasn’t a mission,” Falena answered right away, not bothering with overthinking this time. She was tired already, with the tension of the day and the weirdness of the encounter. She could see, out of the corner of her eye, the sleazy grin spreading over the man’s face. It was a promise of nothing good, so she prevented any type of joke or quip, “Do I have a room or am I supposed to take the couch?”

He looked surprised, once again. He took a moment before declaring he wasn’t told anything about a room, so Falena took the opportunity to urge him out of the main room, where she would spend the night as she didn’t intend on knocking on every door to see where she would sleep. He gave some basis for a complaint, but she ignored him long enough that he sighed, exasperated, and walked away. Deep in the house, where the other went.

Falena was left alone in an unknown location, in the dark and with strange men a few steps away. She should feel insecure, in danger, on the verge of a problem. Yet, she felt strangely comfortable in that room, with the implicit declaration of trust by someone she thought started to dislike her. Even then, sleep came late, awake on one of the sofas until exhaustion took over and she dived into a soundless sleep.

When she woke up, she heard chatter and noise coming from the door that connected the main room to the kitchen. She sat up, but didn’t walk there as she waited for the team to come over so she could be initiated properly into the gang. It was a few minutes until someone peeked into the room, looked at her curiously and went back to warn his boss that the new recruit was awake. Risotto came in shortly after, six other men following close behind.

The introduction was quick, painless. Those were Falena’s new teammates, they were specialized in assassination and each of them had their modus operandi. Knowing their Stands was out of the question, not until they would work together, but she knew this already as she avoided manifesting her own Stand before any mission with any team. In the end, nothing more was done than stating names and a brief explanation of the way this specific gang operated. At the end of his speech, Risotto requested to be left alone with Falena as his subordinates walked out of the room, into their own.

She stayed still, still sitting down, but with Risotto across the little table on an armchair. He didn’t speak as soon as they were alone, but let the silence drag a bit longer. Falena didn’t know what he was hoping to gain from this as she gave up understanding his train of thoughts long ago, when it started to deviate from his usual patterns. She simply waited for him to let her know what else was to understand about her new job.

“You have a room assigned,” he pointed out, eyes fixed on her. She straightened up, her face taking a more solemn and serious hue, which made Risotto’s face shift lightly in something that looked like strain. She claimed she didn’t know that, and Risotto hummed with his deep voice, in acknowledgment, before speaking, “I suggest a bit more caution. It can be dangerous to be in such a vulnerable position out in the open.”

Falena was taken aback, unsure how to interpret his words. She searched his face for any sign of a threat, but Risotto simply cocked his head to the side in the direction of the hallway. Where the rest of the team was. Falena frowned, “Control your men, then.”

Risotto’s eyes narrowed and he leaned in, just as Falena’s stance relaxed into the backrest of the sofa. He checked for every movement and every minute change on her face, “I didn’t mean it…”

He cut himself off, averted his eyes, and for a second Falena saw the same kid she enjoyed spending her afternoons with. When his gaze returned, though, it was frigid and stern. As if everything that could link them together was long gone, the only true part of that man in front of her was truly dead as she assumed all those years. If Risotto was aware of any of her thoughts, he didn’t show it, “They’re just on edge. We had very recent casualties in our team.”

Falena kept silent at that, looking away. She didn’t know how close this team was as they seemed to keep their distance not only from her, but from each other as well. Sure, it was early to judge their dynamics fully, but she felt an odd sense of coldness from all of them. On the other hand, they were professional assassins, and she was sure attachment was hard to come by in their line of work.

“We have a plan,” Risotto’s voice came from the stillness, and Falena didn’t know if he watched her the entire time as they kept quiet. She turned to face him once again, didn’t know what to answer to his declaration and didn’t know how to react to the odd light in his eyes. Risotto, however, pressed on, “The boss wanted their deaths. We don’t intend to keep our heads low.”

There was a clear intent in those words, a threat, the beginning of a war. Falena considered the options presented in front of her: Risotto, in the flesh, confessing to thoughts of rebellion against of the most powerful men in Italy while being a notorious name in the world they inhabited himself; the boss, distant and unknown, more akin to a myth than an actual person, as if an entity that overlooked their actions. Falena was practical, in these matters, and fighting against a concrete adversary felt scarier than what she came to know as the boss, a mere concept in her head.

“Alright,” she said plainly and with as little inclinations as she possibly could. Neutrality seemed impossible to maintain in that situation, but she could attempt to stay professional about the entire ordeal. After all, when she accepted to meet Risotto after Polpo’s notice, she swore her loyalty to that same man. Risotto didn’t look surprised, but there was an odd sense of relief washing over him; it was quickly thrown away as soon as Falena spoke, “I don’t intend to be an obstacle. God knows it won’t be a good idea, with you.”

A few tense seconds ticked away, punctuated by the echoing sound of the clock somewhere in the room. Risotto was still, almost lifeless, but glared at her intensely. Somehow, the edges of his face steeled even more, looked sharper than the second before. Falena didn’t even have the time to ask what was wrong that he stood up, storming off the room with enough weight in his steps to warn about something, but with enough apathy to feel like it was an illusion dictated by her bias.

They didn’t speak, alone, the following days. Risotto didn’t address her at all, as busy as he was with picking up the pieces of his team. Falena could see how the tragedy that hit them was deeply felt, as if a physical injury over their skin. The men were suspicious, jumpy, and didn’t take well the intromission of a new member into their private space. After all, they were fighting among themselves already, tension too high, so the newcomer would hardly feel at ease in this group dynamic.

Falena, however, tried her best to fit into the team. At first it was a matter of practical need, as she would have to share her life with these people for as long as they kept her with them; soon enough, she was simply tired of seeing them fight and bicker. Summon their own Stands against each other, arguing about pairs for missions, insulting each other with the most hurtful insecurities they could dig up. It was heartbreaking, and annoying, so she would quickly step in to quiet the spirits.

At first, she could see they hated it. That they wanted to remove her from the premises and force her to stay away from their own problems. Eventually, they came to accept the occurrences and simply roll their eyes. Enough months passed, and they dragged her themselves into their quarrels to resolve them or give her opinion. Falena could even start to see what she assumed were the hints of their old relationships coming to light after the dark moment.

She wasn’t a full piece of the puzzle yet, but she was getting shaped to fit the rest with time. The only bump in the road seemed to be her relationship with Risotto, ever tense and icy. She could notice the attempts he made, after the initial diffidence, in talking and slipping into conversations she was in. Yet, Falena couldn’t help to shift in professional formality when her new boss talked to her, which evidently set Risotto on edge. She could feel the disappointment, in the way his eyes and his voice darkened.

It made her chest hurt, for different reasons all mixing together. In a way, she still cared for him and his presence just made the affection grow, but at the same time she was wounded by how well she could read him, still. While their teammates were obviously uncomfortable during their interactions, sinking into silence, but they couldn’t place the exact reason for their strained interactions.

Falena had no idea how to react to his frustration. It was as if he was begging, without words, for her to talk to him without baggage, without history behind them. She would do that if it didn’t shake her core when she thought about the abandonment, all those years ago. She was convinced her friend disappeared the day she accepted he didn’t care about her anymore, so it was hard to wrap her head around the concept he may want to rekindle their relationship.

Despite everything, she remained loyal, she was ready to serve her boss as the subordinate she swore to be. And Risotto would provide her with the attention of a leader who appreciated his team, sewing her injuries shut with Metallica or offering his support during missions as she was still learning the way the others worked. It didn’t matter, though, if other combinations of Stands would sync with her own, the chemistry with Risotto held strong and deep. He was ever quiet, but it was like his body language never changed since they were children. Every twitch was like a word, a simple look was a complete talk.

It made their pair perfect, and Falena allowed that old complicity to move her body and her mind as missions would get completed, then their side jobs as they attempted to gain information on the don were carried behind closed doors. Somehow, that sharing of a secret would let her relax, as if nothing changed, and in a moment all the worry about keeping Risotto far away from herself was discarded to allow both of them the peace of forgetting.

Her former friend, on his end, seemed to pick up her relaxed attitude, and often attempted to sneak beyond her defences to converse, talk about topics that didn’t matter, mundane and boring. Falena would entertain it until her mind would recuperate and return to her vigilant state, distant and professional, setting Risotto on edge. And with each passing day, he seemed closer to snap. It was inevitable that everything would have to come to an end, sooner or later.

“Falena,” his voice was as deep, as intimidating as ever. It felt like a threat, her mere name, but she acknowledged his call because she knew she couldn’t let anyone see weaknesses in their line of work. Risotto didn’t let the silence hang over their heads for long, “I need to know why you’re so standoffish with me.”

Falena felt the need to roll her eyes at the statement, not even posed as a question. Always so ready to declare, never ready to back down on anything. Unluckily for him, she could be as blunt as him, “You know why. This is a professional relationship.”

“I know you picked up that we are more than teammates here,” Risotto was quick in retorting, pointing out the obvious. Their team was close-knit, oddly enough; you would never expect a group of assassins to form bonds that strong. Yet, Falena refused to speak up, while Risotto was surprisingly eager to talk, “We require close relationships, even.”

Her fingers twitched, and she was close to raising her hand to pitch the bridge of her nose after weeks, months of frustrating attempts at keeping him away from her. Her chest felt heavy with the strain of not yelling, “Boss, you know better than me what prevents me from trusting you with…”

Falena bit her lower lip, the words struggling to come out, and Risotto followed the movement without uttering a single word. His jaw was clenched, and he looked like he stopped breathing with anticipation and dread. His eyes, however, held all the steel, the impervious flame he usually carried. She felt compelled to complete her thought, “With a personal relationship.”

Risotto was still, for a moment, before back down onto his usual armchair. He slumped on the soft pillow below, but didn’t allow himself to release the tension in his muscles. He raised his eyes to Falena, and when she didn’t seem to move an inch, invited her to sit down. She did so, if only to resolve the conflict as soon as she could, and waited patiently as Risotto collected his thoughts. She knew that face, and she was sure he was just trying to weigh his words.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” his voice finally came, lacking the dangerous edge he usually showed. She could feel he was focusing on sounding less imposing, more inviting, but that made her stiffen even more. She didn’t know how to confront the thought of his point of view, a perspective she gave up on learning so long ago. But Risotto didn’t care about those feelings, he didn’t know them, he just explained away, “I cared about you, even after everything.”

“Listen, Risotto,” she attempted to appeal to his softer side, whatever was still there of a far away child that could still sympathize with her and respect her choice. She sighed when Risotto raised his averted eyes, but continued anyway, “You don’t have to justify yourself, I don’t care. That’s water under the bridge and I want to respect your wish to distance yourself.”

She was cut off by his head shaking, slowly, his eyes piercing. He frowned with each word coming out her mouth, another wrinkle marking his forehead and the skin around his eyes. Falena stopped to look at him, take in what he was showing, and waited what felt like hours before he decided to speak up, “I didn’t want that. I just had these thoughts and I was afraid…”

He averted his eyes again, and kept silent for a while. She felt like he was torturing himself over something, as if he wanted to get something out, a weight over his stomach. Falena was about to spur him on when he took the initiative himself, “Even you confirmed it, you are afraid of me hurting you. I wanted that man dead like nothing else before, but I was afraid I would direct all that rage in the wrong direction.”

And then everything came down as a stream of consciousness. About how he had those violent urges towards his cousin’s assassin, how the bitter hatred brewed and ate away at his restraints, how seeing her would soothe him until he started to fear hurting her, his family, his peers. All culminated to the murder, and the decision to leave everything behind until he found someone like-minded, someone who could defeat themself if he lost control. Falena, along the way, attempted to snap him out of his rant, but he only succeeded in calming him down once everything came out.

She was speechless. Risotto Nero, the feared hitman, just let himself open up to a woman who was a near stranger to him, after years of nothing between them. She wanted to consider him a fool, but her chest fluttered at the display of trust. She approached, sat down on one of the armrests, and let herself drape over his shoulders in an awkward, yet heartfelt embrace.

“Did you plan on torturing yourself for eternity if we didn’t meet again?” she teased, once he felt stable enough with the reading of his microexpressions. Risotto sighed, didn’t answer, but buried himself into the backrest of the armchair, looking smaller than he really was. Vulnerable, as if he was exhausted. Falena simply asked if he wanted to be alone, and he shook his head.

That evening, with the help of solitude, they shared their lives. Years lost and time thrown away, they talked for hours until the moon was shining up in the sky and the clock on the wall reached single digits. It was comforting, but odd, talking to someone she felt she didn’t know anymore. And Risotto was struggling to fish around for his old self, after years of his perception wrapped up by the harshness of criminal life.

Like old scars that reopened, it all felt raw and real, glowing pink like the meat under their skin. The attempts to ignore her own attachment failed miserably, as she felt all the memories crawl to settle in the front of her mind. When the confessions, and the stories they didn’t know stopped, it was the moment to dust the old times when they could still laugh, smile and run around the farm, or the fields, or the street. When their parents would drive them and they would look for each other during recess, when they joined school projects together to be paired and decided to slack off like the children they were.

It was as if time stopped, rewinded even, and Falena could almost feel herself float into the emptiness of early morning. Even the ever buzzing Naples fell into a murmur, then a silence, and Risotto was her companion in those hours. As if reality wasn’t ready to start, suspended, their words became sparse and rare, eventually stopping. Finding out that she didn’t mind the silence was relieving because it made her realize all that anxiety, those doubts all those years ago evaporated with the help of minimal effort. Everything with Risotto has always been nothing difficult, when they decided to collaborate towards a similar goal.

Once the night dissolved and they chose to end their talk to catch the few hours of sleep they could, the day went on as usual. Risotto was the usual leader, cold and detached, ready to give orders to take out any man or woman he was assigned. Falena kept her distance, talked to her teammates, bonded and continued her missions as if nothing had happened. Then, at night, they would find themselves talking, converse, as old friends. Each night was filled with idle chatter and intervals made of silence, never heavy like before.

It became a routine, the sweetest moment of the day. When they couldn’t meet at night because of a job or other matters, the following night was filled with even more words, for longer hours. They never stayed up too long, as hitmen they had to be lucid and awake at every moment. Criminal life didn’t allow any down time, even when you were in a hideout, at home or away from the site of your business.

And talking about business, Risotto was agile in managing their research despite their continued work under the boss. He picked the lead that scared him so much, the one left behind by his former associates, and gave each member something to research. The personal guards of the boss himself, the closest men to him, even his Consigliere. It was tense most of the time, the knowledge of toeing the line into betrayal, so close to the role of traitors. Falena was aware her Stand was useful for missions where disabling a target was needed, but searching for information wasn’t her speciality and she was nervous to participate in those missions too much.

This wasn’t a simple project though, she didn’t work in an office or in a shop, she wasn’t a simple teacher or a nurse. She was a criminal, a mobster at that, one of the most hated categories in all Italy by those who point to them as the ruin of a nation. Her colleagues weren’t prone to accept her excuses, she was one of them now, and she needed to accept her newfound loyalty to the team. She didn’t know Sorbet or Gelato - she came to know the names and the lives of the fallen members - and yet she found herself into the revenge plan of seven deadly assassins on a suicidal mission to take down one of the most dangerous bosses in Italy.

As one would expect from men who were recently wronged, they didn’t want to leave this type of matters to chance. Falena was often accompanied by one of them when assigned to one of those missions, between jobs and when she was free. Coincidentally, her companion was often Risotto himself because they were so often paired in a hit that they were available at the same time. This opened the way to new ways to know him, on passion projects if one could call them that.

Risotto was focused, sharp like a hawk, when out in the field. But when he was out for blood, based on his own feelings and emotions, it was carnage. He didn’t care about the mess, if someone was to stand between him and his goal they would meet a gorey demise - and it was a relief for them, because who would want to deal with the possibility to be alive after what Risotto could do. Falena would have been scared if she wasn’t used to the blood and the violence of that life.

It was almost fascinating seeing Risotto like that, so down into the role of a grim reaper out to take the lives of those on his list. Yet, she could see the surprise each time he remembered she was there at his side, the uneasiness and the odd embarrassment of the moment. Falena couldn’t understand, and she wanted to know what was the reason for him to hide before her sight.

On one of those investigations to gather any type of information, months after her first initiation, she had the nerve to question his actions. Risotto kept his mouth shut tight, and he rushed her to finish what she was doing. Nothing of value was found that day, but Falena suspected the location they searched wasn’t as useful as they first thought when they arrived. That didn’t matter as much as the disappointment in seeing Risotto closing off in front of her, refusing the talk.

Even that night, when they were at the hideout and met when everyone else was asleep, he was hesitant to answer her questions. Why would he feel the need to hide himself? Did he remember anything she told him, how she was accustomed to the way of assassins and gangsters? Risotto kept silent, let her go on and on about how she wanted his honesty and she wouldn’t judge him just like she didn’t when she was first introduced into the team.

Risotto left the meeting without opening up, without a word said, and Falena was left with an icy feeling rolling off her skin. The next evening, despite their tradition, she didn’t get out of her room to meet him. Risotto looked her over in the morning, something shining in his eyes, but she avoided his gaze because she didn’t feel the need to explain her absence. Their routine of the previous months was broken, and Falena didn’t come out to talk to Risotto for the following nights. And she was aware he was waiting for her, considering she would come out to go to the bathroom, see him there with his eyes fixed on her with something akin to hope, which shriveled as soon as she returned to her own room.

Risotto was growing tense again, she could tell. He would steal glances now and again, sit close to her but wouldn’t approach her to talk. Each evening, he would wait, and she would feel a bit more guilty with the way he frowned at her avoidance. Falena didn’t have any problem speaking to him during the day, but she assumed he didn’t want to talk about what she asked and the questions would eat away at any attempt to start another conversation. So she opted to continue their relationship during the day, but Risotto was rigid and stiff when his men were around.

Eventually, it got so much that Falena couldn’t bear the weight of the newfound silence. She stood up from her bed, one night, and opened the door to the narrow hallway into the main room. There, Risotto was slowly dozing off from the attempt to wait for her; eyelids heaving, the dark lines of his bags, the deep breaths, all brought Falena to approach the man on the sofa as he was nearing the line of sleep. She kneeled down, looked him in the eyes, but he was far gone enough that he didn’t react to her sudden presence - maybe in the shadows of his eyelashes, she appeared as a faceless figure and not like herself.

She called for him, and it seemed that Risotto was about to wake up, but it was a fleeting second. His eyes narrowed again as soon as they slightly widened, he let out a heavy breath and waited in the stillness of the room. Falena asked him if he could hear her, just as his eyes were sluggishly closing, but he let out an affirmative grunt. She asked if he knew who he was speaking to, and he just let out another sound that could only mean he didn’t really care at that moment.

Then she asked why he was so reserved around her, around his childhood friend, found again after years. Risotto fell silent, and so still she couldn’t even see his chest rise and fall with his breath. She assumed nothing would come out of it, so she simply settled to sit down on the floor and idly talk to him, before she heard him speak with drowsy words. His voice rasped with sleepiness, but she could make out the general idea: he was afraid of her hating him, of tainting that good memory of him when he was an innocent kid.

When he was a child, he was nervous and shy as well, always the outcast. And then he dragged his own reputation down with moodiness, dark thoughts and viciousness. It was like poison, but the kind that won’t kill you because you build an immunity, even if you can’t help spreading it to the rest of your surroundings. Risotto wanted a part of his life being immaculate, in someone’s mind, and he wanted the person he cared about to treasure that long gone sparkle of innocence.

Falena was taken aback, but leaned in to tell him she didn’t care about his occupation or his past. Yet, Risotto frowned - maybe at the effort to understand what she was saying while he was falling asleep - and he continued to say he didn’t want that, he wanted her to love him for what he could have been so that she wouldn’t have to settle for whatever he had become. Falena felt her heart shatter when his voice cracked, so she raised her hand to caress the side of his face with the tip of her fingers.

Risotto’s eyes opened up, and she could see the confusion at the sudden gesture. Slowly, focus returned to his gaze and he was getting visibly more awake, taking in her form and then her hand so close to his face, and the room filled with darkness and the noisy clock punctuating each single second passing. They stayed frozen for a moment, then Risotto pushed himself up and sat on the sofa, with Falena still on the floor in front of him.

Few awkward, tense seconds passed. Then they stretched into minutes, until Falena planted her feet on the ground and stood up just to carefully sit down at Risotto’s side. He followed each minute movement, his eyes darting at the smallest of sounds, until he was looking down at her from his height. Falena kept her head up, didn’t let his size intimidate her, and she let her words out without too much thought or care.

She was aware it was a problem, this was her boss and she knew just what he was able to do. But his words, everything leading to this little moment, was enough to build up her courage and allow her to fall back into old patterns. That way, she was able to admit how much she missed the Risotto Nero who would give her half-true facts about his animals before his father would step in to correct him; the Risotto Nero who wouldn’t allow her to jump puddles and complain when she would splash him as she disregarded his words; or the Risotto Nero who waited crouching down as she got out of school because he knew she was talking to someone before returning home.

Risotto didn’t shrink physically at her recollections, but she could observe the tension in his muscles at each word coming out of her mouth. It wasn’t strain caused by anger or hatred, nothing similar to what he was carrying day after day to survive the life he chose, but it was the stress of anxiety. It pained her, that weight over his shoulders, but the calm on his face as if he was getting ready to digest something he wanted to get over it, quick, not painless yet needed.

Falena sighed, and the sound dragged a little even after she was done, but she needed to complete her train of thoughts, if only to ease him up and allow themselves to rest. So she spoke up again, about how that kid and the little girl right at his side were long gone, they grew up and they returned to each other as new people. That if she was the same person she had been all those years ago, it would be impossible to stand besides him like she was doing in that moment. Destiny was funny like that, as if it was aware they wanted nothing more than to get that closure and that new beginning, that could be given only with their new lives.

Risotto kept silent, his eyes low after her words, still tense as steel in the silence that followed. Falena wondered if she should say more, explain more about her thoughts, and she was about to do so before he simply affirmed that it wasn’t right. He didn’t want to believe she would give up something as sweet as that childish innocence for the grime and darkness of the underworld, of the eternal torment of criminal life. Falena wasn’t sure if he was speaking about her or himself, at that point, but she wanted to understand more, and more she asked.

Did he hate her? Did he rethink everything in those nights he was alone, and now she was just an irremediable criminal? At first, Risotto didn’t even raise his head, but she could see his eyes narrow after each passing second, until it was like a revelation of her words hit him and he glared at her with surprise and fury mixing dangerously. Falena didn’t want to back down in that moment, in those circumstances, as she wanted clarity once and for all. She needed it after years in the dark, she wanted to cultivate something with the right tools and Risotto would have to collaborate if he wanted a part in it.

And after a few quiet minutes, where he attempted to gauge something from her or communicate without speaking, he groaned at the stillness between them. There it was, the answer, he didn’t hate her and never did. He harbored nothing, but affection for her since they were children and that wouldn’t change that easily. So Falena affirmed that she cared about him, she liked that child that she knew so long ago, but she came to love the man who trusted her after years, who opened up to something that she would lock away with her until her last breath.

Risotto froze, at those words. The weight of those different sentiments, of liking his past and loving his present, giving him pause. He looked like he was pondering those words, but then he turned his head to the other side, hiding his gaze from her own. She didn’t see the flashes of hope, or the hints of disappointment, or the undertones made of confusion, but she felt the ease in his muscles when she rested her hand on his shoulder. His skin was warm, he was covered from head to toe as always, but the avoidance made him look more vulnerable than if she was staring right at his face.

The angle didn’t allow for much, but Falena reached out after swinging a leg under her body and kneeling on the sofa. She let a hand touch his neck, pressed his lips to the side of his jaw that was still exposed to her, and felt the silent hitch of his breath under her fingertips. There was a minute movement of his head, turned just enough to look at her from the corner of his eye, and she looked back at him before leaving another soft kiss on his skin. Her hand travels from his neck to the cheek that’s hidden from her, her other arm sneaking behind his neck to rest on his other shoulder, as support.

Falena applied just a bit of pressure on his face, as encouragement to meet her eyes fully, and her lips leaving his jaw as an incentive. Risotto, after a moment, turned around to stare down at her, his stony face returned to normal as a mask to hide. Falena wasn’t deterred, but she questioned his interest in her actions for him to act that cold towards her. As a token of her trust and respect, she put a distance between them and blinked when he seemed to follow her motion.

She backed down more, until she felt her back against the backrest of the sofa, and Risotto was at the same exact distance as before, looming over her. He frowned when she stopped, mostly because of the obstacle behind her, but he didn’t move to deepen that connection. It was, once again, in her hands, and she wasn’t about to throw away an opportunity in order to teach him a lesson. He asked if she was misunderstanding him or if he caught what she meant, and that was enough to let Risotto snap into action.

From the sheer force he used to kiss her, Falena feared that the couch would flip over and they would be sent flying on the floor, ruining the moment. Luckily, nothing happened but a deep kiss, with Risotto’s hands gripping her sides, her arms, her shoulders with so much fervor and passion she thought she was burning. She took a few seconds to recollect herself, really take in what was happening, that found her arms slipping around his neck to drag him down further.

Their limbs, their entire bodies, tangled tightly for the entire evening, deep into the night, until morning came. When she raised from his bed, at first confused, before he dragged her back to wrestle her into a shirt as she was about to head out of the door. To the bathroom, she assured, but he was already tying the too large piece of clothing around her waist. He let her go only when she rolled her eyes in defeat, jumping out of the bed with the sleeves of the shirt slipping down her arms.

Risotto’s room was bare save for the bed and the desk he used, with piles of papers and clothes variously discarded on the nearby chair. But the window was reflective enough, in the shadows of the neighbor building, that Falena could look at herself in her state. SHe would have to tame that hair, she should find some pants, and return the shirt as soon as possible. Risotto didn’t hint at any intention to stand up, but he was staring at her from the bed, a sour look painted over his face.

Falena decided to fall back down, to sit at the edge of the mattress, turning around to look back at him. Risotto’s eyes trailed up into hers, he kept silent, and she raised an eyebrow. He sighed, catching her nudge for his thoughts, and started to list off the things that bothered him in that moment. He checked the clock, it was late enough that the others would be around the hideout. She would have to wait there until he was out, so she could slip out silently and without raising suspicions. She grinned when his seemingly orders lowered into mumbles, about how she could keep the shirt on, if she wanted. Maybe they wouldn’t notice anyway.

She snaked deeper into the bed, and draped herself across his chest with that same satisfied grin. He didn’t seem to appreciate it until she asked if being sincere wasn’t better, to which he frowned a bit more, before his face bloomed into a little smile, his dimples showing. Falena was simply happy to be able to lay down the foundations of something new.

#JJBA #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #Risotto Nero #risotto x oc #commission

11 notes · View notes

manlyquail · 3 years

Text

Nerdy Lucid Dreaming

So I figured for no reason whatsoever that I’d share the small story about how I started to learn how to lucid dream as a kid without even realizing what I was doing.

For some brief context, I’m (and always have been) a big gamer. My dad had me playing video games ever since I was young (looking at you Blizzard games), and needless to say I became a bit of an addict. So anyway, with video games ingrained in my brain, there was a day where I suddenly just learned a new skill in my dreams, and it was sort’ve the first step of learning to lucid dream.

See, what would happen is I was a kid that got nightmares quite a bit. Waking up from the cold sweat all scared of whatever happened to be going on (I also grew up on movies like Alien, Friday the 13th, etc. I even saw the opening scene to Fullmetal Alchemist when I was a kid, the scene where they try to ressurect their mom? Yeah, lots of nightmare fuel for my tiny little brain to process). Anyways, it really gave my brain a lot to process, and I don’t really remember any of the dreams because I was so young, except one.

I remember this particular dream because it was the first time I’d ever been aware of my dreaming state, and I was so scared I basically took control almost in a state of panic. In the dream, I was in a really thick hedge maze, above me was all black so no stars or anything, kind’ve like there was just a thick black ceiling above me that was so dark it didn’t even seem like there was anything there. In this maze I was being chased by monsters, in particular I remember Predator being there, a xenomorph from Alien too, and a few other baddies all teamed up chasing me through this maze. As hedge mazes do of course, I eventually found a dead end in the chase and got cornered. So, for dream me it was basically the end, but then the weirdest thing happened. I was so desperate to get out of the dream, to get away from this moment, that a “PAUSE” menu appeared.

Think any game with a pause menu. The screen sorta darkens around the edges, a bright menu in the middle with a list of options and “PAUSE” at the top. It showed up just before things were at their worst, and I was so desperate to wake up from the nightmare that a cursor started to move its way across the image of my dream. It made its way to the pause menu, scrolled down to an EXIT button, and when it clicked it BAM, I woke up. It was so weird to me, and internally I realized how absolutely dorky it was that a video-game style pause menu is what I somehow used to get out of my dream.

After that happened I guess I internalized that ability because I was so thankful to be able to wake up from dreams that it ended up becoming a sort’ve default setting to nightmares at that point. I gained some foresight into when a dream was going to be a nightmare and could simply just ‘exit’ the dream, wake myself up, and then just try another dream.

Since then I’ve learned more to be able to lucid dream, but in my own way I suppose. I haven’t looked too much into what its like for others with the ability, but for me I’m almost just actively ‘watching’ a show at this point. I’m well aware I could change things around, intervene at any time to wake myself up or change the course of the dream, but I’ve become essentially my own checkpoint system. My curiosity to see how a dream plays out before me makes me eager to simply let dreams play out, but if something bad happens to me in the dream, or something happens that would prevent the dream from continuing or finishing in a way I’m satisfied with, I briefly rewind in a sense and let it play out once more but with the knowledge of what went wrong to avoid it.

I have a few other unique quirks about the way I dream, but some of them are honestly a little horrifying to describe, so I’ll put like a TW and a cut right now for descriptions of extreme gore, and like, loss of limb stuff below really quick just in case before I continue on, mostly because I’m enjoying sharing this and figure why not put all my dream stuff in one place?

So something else kind’ve messed up about the way I dream is how vivid everything is. Because of the self awareness I have that everything is a dream, I no longer panic or freak out when something horrible goes wrong. I’ve been eaten by cannibals, had my limbs ripped off, been cut in half, and so on in my dreams before, but because I realize that they’re dreams I don’t get super freaked out by the events. Usually I just roll with the punches, and in most cases, quite literally try to put myself back together.

I remember one dream in particular, I was in a Halo Warthog in the dream and I don’t quite recall where we were going (group of just sorta faceless people I suppose, and it was a four seater without the turret), but there was a crash and an accident and I ended up getting cut in half right at the waist. Horrifying yes, I remember the feeling of that dismemberment followed by desperately crawling across the ground to a set of legs I thought were mind. Through dream logic I just sort’ve planted my torso on the set of legs and after a couple second was able to use them. Joke was on me because I found out they weren’t actually my legs but someone else’s from the accident, but they were already attached so what was I to do?

The freakiest part of it all though wasn’t the dream, but when I woke up I still felt ‘separated’. I’ve described it to some people in the past as almost like a reverse-phantom limb situation, where I have the body parts but it doesn’t feel like they’re actually attached to me. I was so scared that if I lifted myself up in bed my torso would just pop off from my legs.

It’s not the first time a situation like this has happened, though most of the time it involves my hand. Somehow I frequently get my hand lopped off in various ways, usually not at the wrist but somewhere along the palm or even a few fingers. I always ‘reattach’ it in my dream (usually with something silly, like glue, tape, etc.), and the logic in the dream is as long as I don’t move it around too much it’ll naturally just ‘heal’ itself back connected. I think I get that logic from the idea of sewing limbs back on in emergency situations to save the limb, my brain just equates that to “Well if I just find a way to keep the two pieces lined up long enough it’ll all work out!” Then, when I wake up, than translates to me being utterly terrified to so much as flex my hand or move my fingers around too much lest it just fall apart.

It’s the same sensation as the cut in half one as well. Despite the fact I can see my hand, I can move it and wiggle it around, there’s a lengthy period of time where it feels like a cold fog is there instead. Like, I can feel the warmth of my body up to the part where the limb was lost, but then its like this cold sensation where its as if it isn’t really there even though I know it is. It’s a spooky sensation, almost like a part of my soul was just cut off or something. Eventually the sensation goes away with time, but my imagination and memory are vivid enough that if I think really hard about the scenarios I can recall that feeling pretty distinctly. Spooky stuff.

Anyways, that’s about the end of my weird dream rant. I love sharing nonsense like this but it mostly feels like me rambling some of the time, so thank you for indulging me if you’ve read this far at all and I hope it was the least bit interesting!

#dreams #lucid dreaming #graphic #story #story telling #dream story #video games #nerdy #psychology #thoughts

3 notes · View notes

travllingbunny · 4 years

Text

Clarke Griffin’s memories and images in her mindspace

In this post I will list all the drawings from Clarke's mindspace seen in season 6 of The 100 (in episodes 6x06, 6x07 and 6x10) that we have been able to spot - most of which (over 90 of them! Yes, this is gonna be a long post) we've been able to identify, with image comparisons to scenes from the show.

First, credit where credit is due: this idea first came from @ofnailbatsandaxefives who identified many of the drawings and made a bunch of side to side comparisons last year after 6x07 aired in this post.

I later tried to identify the rest of the drawings, with the help of a few people here and on Twitter (rewatching the show also helped), but this resulted in an endless number of reblogs. Episode 6x10 Matryoshka also had more drawings that weren't in 6x07 Nevermind, some images were misindentified, and I decided to redo all the images with better resolution screencaps.

Big thanks to everyone who helped in identifying some of the trickier images (many of them are on Twitter and I don’t know if they have Tumblr profiles), especially (Twitter handles) SheiGarche (who identified several of these and corrected some of my mistakes), Lovestory813, BellarkeMood, taunadora, becki_travels, fabiana_vec, indreamswake, KindZouzou and my Tumblr mutual @jeanie205 (I’m sorry if I forgot anyone).

See also my earlier post about Sets, props and costumes in 6x07 Nevermind.

As a BONUS in addition to the images on Clarke’s memory wall, I’ll also go over audio flashbacks heard at the end of 6x06, in 6x07 and 6x10 - as a mix of voices representing Clarke’s jumbled memories. Many of them can be heard and identified in the episodes, but special thanks to (Twitter user) klarksbell for removing the background sounds from the scenes so some of the background voices could be heard clearer.

(In a follow-up post. I’ll go over Clarke's drawings from her Shallow Valley home in season 5, which we also saw in the mindspace version of her Shallow Valley home in her happy place; and those we saw in season 5, many of which overlap as the set was re-used for 6x07. I’ve also noticed that the art department used many of these drawings for the drawings representing Clarke’s memories on her mindspace wall.)

Before I start listing the moments from Clarke’s memory wall - her mindspace version of the actual cell in Skybox she used to be locked in on the Ark - let’s compare the two different versions of this wall. The first one was seen in the very last scene of 6x06 Memento Mori - where we first learned Clarke was still alive (yeah, yeah, of course no one really bought it that she was dead ;) but it was still such a Hell yeah moment) and in 6x07 Nevermind.

But when we saw Clarke in her mindspace again in 6x10 Matryoshka, the walls were different: there were at least 3 new images that weren’t seen in 6x07, and many other images were moved around and placed in different ways. Which does make sense, as Clarke’s mindspace was reacting to her states of mind, so we should probably assume it was always changing, with different memories being more or less prominent at any given time.

And finally here are the identified images with side-by-side comparisons. Some were obvious and taken straight from the scenes (I've been told there's a software for that), others are a bit less straightforward (and several of them were also seen as Clarke's drawings in season 5).

I'm going to do them chronologically, not by episode but by when those things happened in Clarke's life.

Starting with the image of Clarke and Wells as children on the Ark (confirmed by Jason Rothenberg on Twitter). The closest thing in the show is the video of them Jaha watched in 1x12.

The next one was tricky as it's not a scene from the show either. It was first misidentified as Clarke watching what ALIE showed her in 3x16, nuclear plants melting on Earth, but that scene is shown in another drawing. It shows a young girl watching the Earth from the Ark. We've decided that this is young Clarke on the Ark. I used the Octavia flashback scene from 1x06 for comparison to show this is a window on the Ark and a view from there (not because it's the same scene - which it can't be,as this wouldn’t be Clarke’s memory). But the girl looks younger and is touching the window as if yearning for Earth.

Flashbacks in 1x03, a year before the Pilot: Abby and Jake during the happy times; Jake when Clarke overheard him tell Abby that Ark was dying and he'd go public with it; Wells when Clarke told him about it.

1x01 - there are more images from the Pilot than from any other episode.

The first scene of the show - the image on the floor in the mindspace version of Clarke's cell in Skybox is the same image she drew on the floor of her actual cell.

This portrait of Abby seems to represent the next scene where Abby told Clarke she was being sent to Earth. When the camera zoomed on it in 6x06, we heard the dialogue from that scene over it ("Clarke, I love you so much!" - "Mom?")

When the camera zoomed on this pic of Wells on the dropship in 6x07, we heard Wells' voice saying "Welcome back" as he did in that scene.

I've been told that the inscription from the Ark we see below is a Chinese proverb that means, more or less, "A friend in need is a friend indeed".

"We're back bitches!" twice - the second is from Clarke's POV. The first one was one of the drawings Josephine touched and we (and Josephine) heard an audio flashback of it and this, uh, memorable line.

Mount Weather - the first time Clarke saw it, after landing.

I spot the same image among Clarke's drawings we saw in her Shallow Valley home in season 5, though it was really tiny in the background.

More scenes from the Pilot:

1x03

It's a pity that the plan to have Eli Goree guest star in 6x07 didn't work out, but at least we had many Wells images and even in the voice memories - I clearly heard Clarke telling him "How can you forgive me?"/"I blamed you because my father's dead and it's my mother's fault."

1x04 Finn with one of the pencils from the shelter he found, trying to impress Clarke.

1x05 Brief time of Clarke being happy and infatuated, right before Raven arrived and her heart got broken for the first time.

There was a bit of disagreement about this Bellamy image (or images). It shows up as a part of the drawing of him torturing Lincoln in the scene from 1x07 on one of the walls, but it also appears on its own on the ceiling:

@SheiGarche believes that, since this appears as a part of the Lincoln torture scene, the Bellamy image must be from that episode. However, while the rest of the scene 100% matches the 1x07 scene, Bellamy's image doesn't match - in posture or expression - anything from that episode. On the other hand, especially when you look at the Bellamy image on its own, as it is on the ceiling, it looks most like a drawing based on the scene from 1x02 - "I heard you have a gun''...

I think that the ceiling drawing represents season 1 Bellamy in general, and was drawn based on the 1x02 scene. OTOH, the art department made the 1x07 image from the 1x07 scene but couldn't get a good Bellamy angle so they edited in that same Bellamy image in. You decide.

https://youtu.be/Cj37TWjBwvE?t=59

A Raven portrait, which is probably not about any particular scene (some images just represent certain characters), but it most closely matches this love-triangle moment from 1x08.

The same portrait was seen as one of Clarke's drawings in season 5.

1x09 - negotiations with Anya and the Grounders on the bridge. Also the first time Clarke has ever seen horses in real life.

1x13

Probably some of the Grounder warriors who got burned in the Ring of Fire, but this scene clearly indicated that Clarke was thinking about closing the door on Finn and Bellamy and that they may have been burned.

2x01

This image gave us so much trouble, until it turned out it was just a random woman from Mount Weather who yelled "CONTAINMENT BREACH!" when Clarke entered the mess hall dragging Maya and saw all the people sitting there.

Another one of character portraits that are probably not important for any particular scene or moment. But going by Miller's hair and facial hair, it can only be season 2 Miller at the time he and Clarke were both in MW (this is from 2x02).

Ending of 2x02:

2x03 - Escape from Mount Weather

2x04 Anya after Clarke beat the crap out of her and managed to win their fight. "You fought well".

Now a few more character portraits. This image of Raven with a brace doesn't 100% fit a scene from the show, but it looks a lot like this promo pic of her - except for her red jacket, which she wore in 2x05 when Clarke first saw her with a leg brace.

Since Jaha has a beard and hair, it can only be from season 2 or 3, which limits it to 2x07 or 3x16, the only times he and Clarke were in the same place. I used 2x07 image of non-chipped Jaha, when he came to Camp him and argued for Arkers leaving, pitting him against Clarke,as this would’ve meant abandoning her friends to their fate in MW.

Portrait of Indra - also probably not about any particular scene, but it looks like their first meeting in 2x07. It was also among Clarke's drawings in season 5.

2x08 This image is one of the few that were not seen on the memory wall in 6x07, but appeared in 6x10. Maybe it's because the ALIE projection said in 6x07 her most painful memories were not on the wall - and the scene of Clarke killing Finn was only seen represented in her dark place by the pole and knife. Maybe she was able to process some of those memories better by 6x10?

2x09 Raven holding Finn’s dead body

This profile of Lexa is probably not from any particular scene, but a general image of the warrior leader/ally Lexa from S2. I used the scene of her making a speech in 2x15, but there were scenes in 2x09 (like when she told Clarke that Love is weakness) that looked similar.

2x10 Well, an attack by giant mutant gorilla would be pretty memorable to anyone.

2x11 I previously thought this image of people in radiation suits (also seen among Clarke's drawings in S5) was from 4x12/13, but looking more closely, now I think these are Mount Weather Ground unit guards - specifically, are Emerson and the other Mountain Man who tried to assassinate Clarke in 2x11. The outfits, helmets, guns are the closest match.

2x12 Clarke's guilt over letting the MW missile drop on the people in Tondc was referenced not just in 6x07 when her projection of Octavia called her out on writing her off there, but also in 6x10:

Josephine: I wasn't always like this.

Clarke: I know the feeling. I mean, look around you.

*Josephine looks at this big image on the wall*

2x15 - breaching the Mount Weather door

I'm about 95% sure that this picture of Lexa is her betrayal in 2x15.

2x16:

"Together" - "Together"

3x01 The most important character in the show! LOL

...seriously though, this little bunny (? who looks more like a squirrel in the drawing?) that Clarke used as a bait to catch a panther, stands for the 3 months Clarke spent in wilderness.

The only image of Niylah on the wall. It's the scene when she lied to protect Clarke when Roan and a bounty hunter came looking for her.

Another character portrait not related to a specific scene, and another one that was seen as one of Clarke's drawings hanging in her Shallow Valley home in S5. Going by the hair and beard, it's seasons 3-4 Kane, so I used the scene of his and Abby's meeting with Clarke in 3x03.

3x04

3x07 - there are 3 images of Lexa from this episode

Lexa smiling during the talk in which she asked Clarke to stay - this is the most prominent of the images of Lexa (one of the images that appear multiple times on the wall + had a flashback). Seems these softer moments are larger in Clarke's mind than warrior/leader Lexa.

The second most prominent image of Lexa (one of the pictures the camera zoomed in on in 6x06, when we also heard the dialogue among the audio memories - "Can we talk about something else?" - "We don't have to talk at all").

and Lexa right after she was shot by Titus.

3x11 What turned out to be the most important of all Clarke's memories, as it contained info on the neural mesh and how Raven was freed from ALIE and that Clarke has to remove from the wall and hide from Josephine.

3x13 Luna, refusing the Flame

3x15 When Clarke didn't break and give ALIE the password and it almost cost her her mother's life. This drawing was previously misidentified as Murphy being hanged in S1 - some thought there were two hanging scenes, but there's just one and it's clearly indoors.

3x16 - there are several scenes from the City of Light. Including the image of the COL itself. You can see even see the tiny figures of Lexa and the people she's fighting.

What ALIE showed Clarke: the Earth, full of nuclear plants melting, telling her about the upcoming Praimfaya.

Clarke pulling the kill switch and destroying COL

One of the first things Clarke saw after returning from the City of Light was Murphy is one of his most heroic moments - pumping Ontari's heart so Clarke could take the Flame.

4x01

This one seems a bit random: it's a moment when Indra came and hugged Kane while Octavia, Clarke, Bellamy and Abby were already there in the Grounder shrine - but I think it's important as the scene when they all discussed what to do in the situation and Clarke told them all about Praimfaya.

Roan, after agreeing to an alliance because of Praimfaya, giving a public speech in Polis to say that 'an attack against the 13th clan is an attack on all of us'.

The drawing of Arkadia is another one that was hanging in Clarke's Shallow Valley home in season 5 - and was also seen in the mindspace version of that home in 6x07. I used a scene from 4x03.

4x04 There are 3 scenes from this episode, and all of them have to do with Jasper. The first two are two of Jasper's pranks: "floating" Jaha, and the prank Jasper pulled on Clarke. But the mood of the latter got ruined because he had already found the List before Clarke came in. (Josephine touched this drawing briefly in 6x07 and we heard the audio flashback: (Monty: "Clarke, wait..." - Clarke: "Really?" )

And what happened right after, in the same scene, when Jasper started telling everyone present about the List. (Jasper's angry comments can also be heard clearly among the mix of voices at the beginning of 6x07 - more about that later)

The portrait of Emori is probably from 4x07, when they had their first major interaction. It was also one of Clarke's drawings that could be glimpsed in the background in S5.

Skip the next one if you don't want to see an image of a person dying a gruesome and painful death in a radiation chamber.

4x08 The unfortunate Grounder thief from the Rock Line clan whose name we never learned, at the moment of his death.

4x10 Octavia in the Conclave - more of a symbolic representation (with the sigils around her). This was a very prominent drawing in Clarke's sketchbook that we saw a couple of times in season 5.

4x11 Another one of the 3 images that weren't seen in 6x07 but were in the second version of the memory wall, in 6x10 - Clarke pointing a gun at Bellamy to stop him from opening the bunker door, before she broke down and cried. The drawing even shows Clarke’s hand with a gun.

4x12 the rocket in Becca's lab

4x13 Clarke being left behind in Praimfaya and watching her friends leave while she was aligning the satellite dish so they could get to the Ring and survive.

This was also another prominent drawing from Clarke's sketchbook we saw in season 5.

There's another scene from 4x13, but that one happens 6 years later, so I'll come back to it later...

5x01 Post-Praimfaya

Polis was Clarke's destination after she left Becca's lab - trying and failing to open the door of the bunker after the temple had collapsed on it. Then realizing she'll be alone for at least 5 years.

Then she went to Arkadia, where she only found "ghosts" - the chest with Maya's music player, Jasper's goggles and his letter to Monty (as we saw in the flashback in Clarke's "dark place", where the chest played an important role).

The bird that kind of tried to eat Clarke (?), showed Clarke where Eden was, and then got thanked, shot and eaten by Clarke.

Shallow Valley

This image is both a memory of 6 year old Madi (not the moment they met, but when Clarke was drawing her while she was fishing), of Clarke drawing her and of the drawing she made and gave Madi to make friends with her.

Madi and Clarke, but some 6 years later. This image was prominent of at the beginning of 6x07 when we saw a flashback of it when Clarke touched it ("I'm sorry they left without you" - "If I was with them, I never would've met you").

4x13 - 2199 days after Praimfaya: Gagarin transport ship, the moment when Clarke saw it clearly and realized it wasn't the ship she was hoping for ("Never mind, I see you"), but one to be afraid of.

5x03 - Makes snse that images of Diyoza, Shaw and McCreary are all from the episode where they captured and tortured Clarke.

5x04

Bellamy reuniting with Clarke.

Coming out of the bunker.

5x06 - Madi watching Octavia practice.

5x09 - There were quite a few changes between the memory wall in 6x07 and 6x10, and the most obvious one was seen right after Clarke woke up in her mindspace - the big image of Bellamy when Octavia arrested him and right before Clarke left him at her mercy in Polis.

5x12 - This is one of the rare drawings that doesn’t fully represent a memory correctly as Clarke saw it. But it makes sense to me that Clarke remembers it this way - seeing Madi in pain when she zapped the shock collar to stop her from leaving and going to war. But in fact, the screenshot shows Madi shocked that Clarke put a shock collar on her. Clarke closed her eyes and had her back turned to Madi, because she couldn’t watch it when she actually zapped the shock collar, and only heard her scream.

This was another drawing Josephine touched and had a flashback of (we heard Madi screaming and Clarke saying “I won’t let you die in this war”), commenting "Child abuse dressed up as protection!"

5x13 - Clarke pulling the lever to close the door of the Gagarin ship, after waiting until the last moment for Bellamy to come in, closing the door after Bellamy, Monty, Emori and Murphy were inside and the missiles were already hitting the Earth.

One last image. It's clearly Madi, and with the horizontal placement of the drawing, I thought it was Clarke putting Madi in cryo. But it turns out the same image - only vertical - was one of her drawings she had in Shallow Valley in season 5... so, I don't know.

There are other images that we couldn't link to anything specific or weren't sure. Mostly locations, objects and nature images. 1) A forest? 2) Waterfall/rocky shore? 3) Rubble?)

If anyone identifies any of them or notice other images or anything else, I’ll be editing and reblogging this post.

BONUS - audio memories

ending scene of 6x06

vimeo

Lines I can hear:

over the image of Abby: Abby and Clarke in 1x01: "Clarke, I love you so much!" - "Mom?"

"I'm scared"? - this line can be heard clearly but I don’t know who it is. It sounds like a child, but I don’t thin Madi or Charlotte ever said it.

Finn in 1x01 when they see the deer: "No animals, eh?"

Madi in 5x11: "I love you, Clarke" (the entire line was “...but we’re on the wrong side of this war”

Clarke to Wells in 1x03, after learning the truth: "How can you forgive me?"

Madi to Clarke in 5x01, during the scene by the fire: "I'm sorry they left without you."

Bellamy trying to convince Clarke not to leave in 2x16 “You don’t have to do this alone”.

Clarke to Madi in 5x12, as she puts a shock collar on her: "I will not let you die in this war!"

over the image of Lexa in bed with Clarke - Lexa and Clarke in 3x07: "Can we talk about something else?” - We don't have to talk at all."

over the image of Bellamy: Bellamy to Lincoln in 1x07: "You're gonna give us the antidote or you're gonna wish you had". Other lines whispered in the background:

Bellamy in 2x16: "(If you want forgiveness) I'll give that to you"

Bellamy during his reunion with Clarke in 5x04: "Clarke, you saved us all."

"This is how we get to peace" (sounds like Bellamy but Clarke was the one who actually said it in 5x08)

Bellamy in 1x07: "Who we are and who we have to be to survive are two different things."

opening scene of 6x07

vimeo

Clarke to Wells in 1x03: “I blamed you because my father’s dead and it’s my mother’s fault” (heard while Clarke is looking at the wall with the image of her parents, among others)

(over the image of Wells) Bellamy: “Who else knows about this?” (in 1x04, when Clarke realized one of the Delinquents had killed Wells)

(also over the image of Wells) Wells: “Welcome back!” (1x01)

(over the image of Roan & Lexa fighting in 3x04: “It’s always something with you!” – Roan to Clarke in 4x01

we also hear Lexa’s and Roan’s grunts during their fight

(over the two images of Madi) Madi (5x11): “I love you, Clarke”

Madi screaming when Clarke zaps the shock collar in 5x12

Two angry lines by Jasper are overlapping as the camera slides from Lexa to Bellamy:

as we see Lexa in focus: “Truth hurts” - Jasper in 3x11, after ALIE!Raven blamed her for the deaths of Jake, Wells, Finn & Lexa

as we see Bellamy in focus: “I found your list. I guess we know who really matters to you” (Jasper in 4x04)

Madi in 5x12: “I’m not a child anymore, Clarke. I’m the Commander, and my people are dying”

(ETA) Jasper yelling “We are Apogee!” and Clarke, Octavia, Monty and Finn yelling happily with him, just before he gets speared in the Pilot

Clarke in 3x11: “I let her get to me.”

the flashback to Madi and Clarke by the fire in 5x01 “I’m sorry they left without you” - “If I was with them, I never would have met you”

more of Jasper’s ranting in 3x11: “I was going to save everyone!” (talking about his plans in 2x16 to kill Cage)

flashback to the Pilot, as we see the drawing on the floor: “Prisoner 319, face the wall!” Some of the lower volume lines in the background, which can only be identified after the background noise was removed:

Bellamy to Clarke in 3x11, after ALIE!Raven had made her lost it: “I’ll let her beat me up for a while.”

ALIE-controlled Raven yelling “Let me go!” in 3x11, when she’s trying to find out the location and help ALIE, and everyone grabs her and subdues her

Octavia in 2x16: “I know where my loyalties lie!”

Bellamy in 5x09, when he brought Madi to see Clarke in her cell: “Clarke, this isn’t goodbye”.

I also hear someone yelling "Octavia!", and mentions of Jasper’s and Jaha’s names.

Josephine and Clarke in 6x07

vimeo

Josephine touching images and we hear flashbacks of scenes from 1x01 (”We’re back, bitches!), 5x12 (Madi screaming when Clarke puts a shock collar and Clarke saying “I won’t let you die in this war”) and 4x04 (”Clarke, wait...” - “Really?” when Clarke got covered in foam as Jasper pranked her). There are many other whispered lines I don't recognize.

In 6x10, however, everything was mixed up - Clarke's and Josephine's memories were all mashed up, because the boundaries between their minds were disappearing - so it’s pretty much impossible to make out anything. But Clarke’s memories are probably the same mix as in 6x07, because I can still hear Wells saying "Welcome back".

vimeo

If anyone notices something I did not, please tell - I will edit this post with any new info!

#the 100 #clarke's mind space #clarke's memories #clarke griffin #the 100 6x07 #nevermind #the 100 season 6 #the 100 6x10 #matryoshka

74 notes · View notes

wheelersdealer · 5 years

Text

All of You

Summary: You and Steve went from being the troublesome Queen and King of Hawkins High to the mother and father of the party. With a similar fate of working at poorly uniformed stores in Starcourt, and even poorer relationships with Jonathan and Nancy, you escape the Russians early and make an awkward meet up with the group at Hop’s cabin….where the mind flayer grabs onto your leg instead of El’s.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader, Jonathan Byers x Reader Warnings: STRANGER THINGS SEASON 3 SPOILERS, Profanity, Gore. A/n: This is a "Little Devil” prequel requested by @ponyboy-sunsets. I’m digging the Jonathan elements and contemplating more of this love-triangle. Let me know if you’d be interested!

Starcourt decided that with the mall being the new revolutionary, it was only right to pay homage to the revolutionary hot-spot within its own property.

And you work there in the mock 50s diner with enough space to fit ten to twenty smelly, cramped families. You hate it.

You’ve avoided having to haul around a beehive or mod wig and took up a ponytail alternative. Big hair or high hair has always been a requirement, even if by crappy wig or extensions.

The top half of your dress was crisp white with a red chiffon neck scarf. You’ve been sputtering and spitting the thing out of your mouth every time the wind has blown it right in there all night. And the bottom half was a deep red with a black felt poodle.

Kicking open Jim Hopper’s cabin with your bare foot and coming face to face with your children in the care of your ex, everyone can see that everything is red.

All of you.

You drive an intoxicated Steve and Robin, and an eager Dustin and Erica the hell away from Starcourt as soon as those elevator doors open. Well, more like as soon as you spot the front doors of the mall after having to take a detour on account of the guard waiting near the elevator.

Both hands on the wheel yet you’re barely stable, your limbs aching and shaking and burning with how hard you clench your muscles in an attempt to steady your movements.

You adjust Steve’s mirror and look back where Dustin’s squished between the two dummies who are giggling wildly and flailing, unable to get comfortable like a couple of tired toddlers. Your only choice is to endure the kicking at your back seat, Steve’s strange cooing at all the pretty street lights you pass by, and put all your weight on the gas.

Erica senses the oncoming doom with the two before you do, and she lets out a strained “Uhhhhhh,” for longer than you like before finally spitting out “Y/n?”

You try your hardest not to snap at her. You can’t not snap at her so you keep your lips shut tight and give her a glance.

“They’re quiet back there.”

You look at them through the mirror. Indeed, they’re quiet, Steve’s face halfway out the window, his hand around the ceil, and Robin slumped over Dustin as she tries to get a taste of what Steve’s seeing.

Your breath hitches and you almost scream, “Dustin, turn Robin’s head away!”

He scrunches up his nose, ready to ask why. And that’s when Steve begins to hurl. It’s out the window but you can hear it and you close your eyes for just a second as your body shivers. Dustin’s jaw drops and he goes “OooHH—“ just barely getting the gist and pushing on Robin’s shoulder so she can direct her projectile outside of the car.

You wince at it, seeing she perhaps got some slobber on his shoulder and lap.

But with what they’ve started, you might as well finish it. You hit the gas and Steve and Robin both whimper. The speed certainly does nothing to help their tummy in comfort but you’d like to believe it helps them get all of that gunk out faster. Dustin winces too and pulls his knees up and his hands to his head, preparing for the increased mass of projectile if either Robin or Steve chose to turn their heads to him.

Erica looks away, doing a few double takes but mostly pretending like all that…isn’t what she’s seeing.

“Where are we goING?!” Dustin yells.

You scrunch your nose, back pressed deep into your seat. And then you fling yourself (and poor, poor, tiny little Erica…and Robin and Dustin and Steve but whatever) forward with the harshest stop you think you’ve ever made in your history of driving….The Byer’s household is lightless, empty. You groan and slap the wheel gently. But for the sake of the possibilities, you hand Erica the keys (hey, you never know when you’ll need another child to drive) and hop out of the car.

You’re an absolute mess, first of all. And walking in this breeze is the first time you’ve really felt it. The skirt portion of your dress is still quite thick and poofy, but let’s say thicker with how much blood its soaked up from a mix of Russians, yourself, and Steve.

You knock violently but within seconds deem that useless. And with two hands on the knob you push, prepared to meet a barricade. But there is none. You almost trip inside and as much of a bummer as it is to not be met with the faces of Dustin’s friends and yours (debatable), you’re comforted thinking they might not have come across trouble themselves yet…

So you skip back to the car and halfway down the Byer’s dirt and dead-grass lawn, you stop to pull your stupid work heels from your feet and chuck them off.

You get back in the car and get driving.

The only other place available is the lab and Hopper’s cabin, but looking back to the last two years of having to deal with this shit you put your bets on the idea that if the others have found themselves in as much trouble as you’ve been in, that they’re going to be secluded.

“Uck…what the fu—“ You press the gas again and the newly clear-headed Steve grunts as he’s thrown forward into the back of your seat.

“Oh great, glad to have you two back! Did you enjoy your trip?” You mock.

Steve’s curled up in his seat and gripping his head. “Are you mad at me? Or-or something?”

That ‘mocking voice’ is the one you put on for your diner gig, all cutesy and girly and 50s-esk (according to your boss and his pestering). You always use it to taunt customers you’ve found yourself particularly annoyed with throughout the day.

He groans is reminded of the pain, realizes that he really did go through a trip, and decides to put it to rest.

“Where are we going?”

“Are…?” Robin squints, “Are we driving?” She tries leaning over Dustin to look at the windshield but gravity flings her back against her seat with your speed.

“Yup!” You say through strained teeth. You take a sharp right and drive yourselves straight into the woods.

They all hold onto the sides of the car (as for Dustin, he curls up and tries his best to hold onto Robin and Steve) when your car goes ‘out of control’ and you do a few donuts. But you’re determined, as Erica can see amidst her screaming. You don’t flinch for a second.

After it’s all over and done with, the car rumbling to a stop on dirt and gravel, a mere strand of hair has been flung out of place and lands itself on your forehead. You blow it away, finally get the will to unclench your hands from the steering wheel, then kick your door open.

You slam it shut and look up the hill and past some trees. There it is — Hopper’s cabin, faint lights seen through the window.

Never-mind all the sticks and rocks digging into your bare (or perhaps nylon-covered) feet. You stomp forth and Dustin shouts “Y/n, wait!”

You don’t wait. You keep straight ahead with your teeth dug into your lip. You’d say it hurts and that you’re sad that it’s bleeding after everything, but frankly the way the red tints your lips fixes up your absolutely battered lipstick and you feel more presentable.

You run your hand down your dress, grip the doorknob, and give the others a lot.

To give you some leverage in case this door is barricaded, you put your foot against the door and push, turning the knob and slamming the door into the drywall it lands against.

There’s a collective “AH!” and a cacophony of furniture squeaking and scuffing, but it’s just you.

It’s you facing whaddya know — Jonathan, Nancy, Mike, Lucas, Will, Max, and Eleven. Your eyes jump from one person to the next, and each of their faces is as terrified as the next.

“Y—“ Jonathan carefully gets up. “Y/N?” He stands with Nancy who holds onto his shoulder. “What the hell happened?”

Back to your uniform…

The top half of your dress was crisp white with a red chiffon neck scarf, and the bottom half was a deep red — no, more like scarlet — with a black felt poodle stitched somewhere near the bottom rim. But now, everything is red. Even though the amount of blood wasn’t all that substantial when you really think about it, the sheer amount of sweat collected from this little ‘experience’ has the colors spread. The top half has dried a deep, dark red in some parts, with swirls of white and pink in others. Almost looks like tie-dye, but the clear crunchy texture shows them otherwise. The red of your lips is wholly unnatural, the absolute mess your hair is is just plain out of character…and you don’t have any shoes?

When the wind tries to will the front door shut again, you put your palm against the wood and slam it open.

You spit, “Russians.”

And in that moment Steve, Robin, Erica, and Dustin pop up behind you. You sway a bit when Steve puts his weight on your back, taking a moment to rest from all of that running.

And then the boys yell “DUSTIN!”

And the pained look on your face, the one that embodies absolute badassery…it fades as you crack a smile. You let yourself be bumped against the door a bit as Dustin and Erica push past you, Robin, and Steve to reunite with his friends and her brother.

“I’m sorry did you just…?” Nancy crosses her arms and steps forward. “Say Russians?” She chuckles a little.

You and Steve become a little more lighthearted, saying “Yeah,” simultaneously.

Dustin jumps and breaks up the group-hug with his party. “Where?” He asks, neck popping up like a groundhog.

Even Robin and Erica look around, nerve-wracked.

You squint at the image of Eleven approaching Dustin, wetness and discoloration under her eyes. She taps him gently and when he whips back around and he damn-near tackles her to the ground. You step forward, the care-free look on your face on account of this reunion clearly gone to Nancy and Jonathan.

You raise your chin and speak to Jonathan specifically without looking.

“What’s going on?” Mike and Will come over and hug you, Will laughing and Mike being more calm about it. With him, it’s more of a side hug. You ruffle his and Will’s a bit before Steve steps in and looks at them incredulously. He beckons, wondering where’s his hug and they bother to give him a weak one.

Jonathan’s jaw drops and he looks to El then Nancy for answers as he runs his sweaty hands down his jeans. When he’s silent for too long your look at him. Poor, poor…adorable boy jumps a bit.

He sputters, “We uh-El…Eleven she—“

“It’s the Mind Flayer.” Nancy says over his shoulder. You nod at Steve and Robin, and they both come around to join the conversation. Nancy purses her lips at Robin. You beat her to her question—

“This is Robin, works at Scoop’s Ahoy with Steve. She was also trapped by the Russians.” You point over your shoulder, and she waves faintly. “Go on.” You cross your arms and with your poise, Nancy suddenly feels that intimidation she’s way too familiar with. She deflates, reminded of you and you in high-school…never mean to her, never bothered, but there was this air of sophistication her and peers learned to be fearful of as compared to all the other jocks and cheerleaders (not to say you were one, but the majority of the ‘popular kids’ were. You got clumped in the genre).

Still, Jonathan and Nancy are quiet.

She squeezes Jonathan’s shoulder a little tighter. And for the love of wanting to keep the world existing, you roll your eyes and make your way over the kids where Mike and Will have caught up.

“Hey! Hate to ruin this cute little reunion and your fun time but we need to swap information, now.” You soften up for El. “What’s this I hear about the Mind Flayer?”

She sniffles a bit. “It’s back.”

You nod with a strange smile conjured from your attempt to not spit out ‘no shit’. You run your hand over your jaw and just mutter, “Alright, alright…What do you have on it?” You look at Mike. “Do you know where it’s at?”

Mike sucks his lip in. He sighs before stepping forward to explain. “El said it said that it was building something.”

You lean back. “It spoke?”

Max pipes up, “Through Billy.”

You click your jaw. “Huh.” Strangely, you don’t need all that much convincing.

Mike continues again. “Since it doesn’t have Will, it went to Billy for a vessel.”

“So Billy’s possessed?” Steve asks. You scoff and push against his head, guiding him toward the couch. Dustin helps with that, grabbing Steve’s arm and (much to Steve’s confusion and sputtering) pulling him to a cushion. Robin leans on you a bit, and to Jonathan and Nancy’s surprise, you don’t do anything about it.

“He went all cuckoo!” Lucas rolls his finger in a circle near his temple. You’re taken back by that phrasing but okay.

Mike gets back to expository mode. “The Mind Flayer possessed Billy, and Eleven just went into his memories to find the source—”

“Source of what?” Steve slurs.

“Jesus!” You throw your head back, arms still crossed. “Can you let the boy talk for one second, he’ll explain the answers to all of your questions if you just let him!” Steve slinks back into the couch. Dustin’s jaw is dropped, and he pokes at Steve with a sly smile before Steve slaps his hand away and holds his hand to his throbbing cheek. “Continue, please.”

Mike blinks, surprised. “O…kay.” He shakes his hair out, and just when he thinks to stop you wave on for him to continue as you head into the kitchen and come back out to stand behind Steve and press a bag of frozen peas to his cheek. He puts his hand over yours but you still don’t move. The kids all go quiet at this strange, strange display of affection.

You urge, “Go on!”

“Uh, right! Sorry!” Mike sits down on the coffee table and looks up at you. “The Mind Flayer has been collecting an army. We call them the Flayed. We think Billy’s its main guy, and basically the big guns is the Mind Flayer made up of the melted flayed.” You and Steve wince together. Mike winces. He doesn’t think it’s cute…but it kinda is — anyways. “El just said how Billy and the Flayed are going to come here. They’re trying to stop her.”

Lucas chimes in. “Cause El closed the gate on him last year and royally pissed him off.”

And so does Will, who sits on the arm rest. “So it’s not to spread. It’s just for her.”

Mike nods. “Exactly.”

You hum. “Okay…okay…Well uh, boy so we got news for you.” You chuckle nervously. You catch Jonathan’s eyes and you both look away on cue. For once tonight you sputter, caught up in your own nerves. But you shake them off and look at Mike. “There are Russians in Hawkins, and they have a lab under the mall…” you look to each person in the room. “They’re opening the gate.”

Will scoffs. He’s much more offended than doubtful. “What?”

“They’re opening…the gate. We saw it. It’s this weird machine that’s shooting a laser at this wall — it’s exactly where the gate was and it looks like it did back then. They’ve just been working and working cause I figure if the energy stops for a second,” you snap, “it starts to shut again but clearly it’s large enough for the Mind Flayer to have gotten through.”

“We think the Mind Flayer might have been here all along.” You look up and Jonathan’s stepping forward. He has an arm around his waist and his other hand picking at his lips. You smile softly at his cracking voice…but you smile even wider (begrudgingly) at Steve.

“Oh great.” He presses the peas deeper into his face. “Is this ever gonna end?”

You shrug. “Space race dude. Doesn’t matter if they destroy the entire world while they’re at it. Gotta show off.” You two chuckle together.

When you look up, the whole group is wide-eyes at you.

You deflate. “What?”

Nancy chuckles, smirking. “Well, what is this?”

You and Steve look at each other. You speak in unison, “What is what?” Everybody goes a little crazy. Laughing, covering their mouths, letting their jaws drop. Jonathan’s enthusiasm is much less…but he’s still soft about it, smiling at you two in a proud way.

Nancy tilts her head. “The King and Queen are actually getting along? I wouldn’t have bet you two like each other in 50 years even if high school me saw this for herself…what happened to you?��

Robin shrugs. “Eh, having the shared trauma or horrible customers and horrible costumes.” You nod. “And like, the mediocre experience of being captured and tortured by Russians underground I’d figure does that to you.”

You nod again, smiling at her.

The laughing stops when there’s a faint screeching in the distance…it’s not high-pitched or squeaky. It’s low and followed by rumbling.

Everybody else seems to let it go somewhat, but you, Jonathan, Steve, and Nancy snap your heads toward the window.

The trees are rustling.

You instinctively look at Jonathan, and in that moment you take your hand from Steve. You and Jonathan stand together behind Nancy.

“Do you guys hear that?” She whispers.

You hum but Jonathan tries to convince himself that “It’s just the fireworks.” You look at him closely, and frown at the red bruise and subsequent cut on the left side of his forehead. You pad at it gently, and he jumps but accepts it, furrowing his brows at your similar cuts And then like that you look back to the window when another rustle is seen and heard.

Nancy turns to the kids. “Billy.” She nods at El. “When he told you this, it was here, in this room?” El nods. Nancy looks at Jonathan and you, even Steve when he jumps from the couch and looks around for that distant thudding.

Will (with a shaky hand) reaches for his neck. He chokes on his own breath. “He knows we’re here.”

You ‘adults’ look at each other again, and rush to the door. Jonathan opens it first and when you think to go ahead of him he holds you back. And when you think to go ahead of Steve, he grabs your hand and keeps you near him.

It’s nothing.

Really.

You stand together on the dirt road. Just a short distance back is Steve’s car. But just a short distance for the Mind Flayer in its new form is what’s between it and you, it’s spider-like features and its length, width is enough to make the thin trees around it snap and tumble. Despite not needing to, it purposely pushes itself side to side to knock down the thicker trees.

Steve puts a hand to the small of your back, and likewise, Jonathan puts his hand on Nancy’s shoulders. Both boys usher you two inside with Jonathan staying back to hurry up the kids he’s spent most of his time with, and with Steve staying back to hurry up the kids (and Robin) he’s spent most of his time with.

Before you get inside completely, you quickly reach for the side of the stairs where you find an axe. You force it out of the stump it’s in and as soon as you get it free, Steve tugs you inside.

But despite the effort, you shove the axe (the handle) into Jonathan’s chest. He grunts with the weight, you shout a “Sorry!” and continue on while the others begin their routine — barricading.

Your palms are against the table as you try to think when you hear the back door open and see Nancy walking out. You hold a hand to Steve’s chest so he won’t come after you, saying “Stay!” As well as twirling your finger around to gesture the great need of the current room.

You jog outside and watch her take a shotgun off a wall in Hopper’s shed.

“Hey!” You raise a hand when you’re not too far, and without thinking, she tosses you one. You fumble to catch it and manage (barely), but when she sees you looking at the tool completely bewildered, she hands you hers, already set up with bullets and everything.

“You know how to use that thing?”

“Uh,” you sputter, “N-no?”

She cracks a smile and walks past you, quipping “Aim and pull the trigger.”

You wince and suddenly hold it with one hand, aiming it away from you. After a moment when you realize the stakes, you say ‘screw it’ to yourself and hold it closer, hold it proper.

You kick the door shut behind you. Everything’s barricaded.

You stand by her, Jonathan, Robin (with a bat she found in the closet) and Steve, your backs shielding the kiddos stood in the middle of you. You mimic her, holding up your gun like she does and squinting to try and get an idea of aim. She nods, mutters “Good,” and admittedly boosts your ego a bit.

You roll your shoulders, fwip your hanging pony over your shoulder with a flick of your neck…and wait.

It’s silent.

An eerie, uncomfortable silence.

Jonathan is letting the axe hop in his hands, switching their exact position to avoid his sweaty hands letting the wood become all slippery.

Then the lamps begin to shiver, and the electricity in the room begins to crackle.

Steve’s done his best and found himself a frying pan as well as the other children with makeshift weapons.

“It’s close,” Will says in the silence.

And then dust falls on you from the roof.

You squint at it, hearing branches snap, seeing the trees rustle, feeling even the small mass of the falling teacups send waves of rumbling through the floor.

Max looks over her shoulder. “Where’d it go?”

She’s right…too silent.

Nancy inhales sharp, and you do too.

In that moment one of the creature’s freakish arms tears through the cabin’s corner, and despite the little shield you guys made for the others, the group disperses as it shoots forward and straight toward Eleven. You did your best to be close to her, Max, and Will, shielding them against the wall but still the creature gets in her face and your arm throw out past her stomach isn’t stopping it from doing anything.

But Jonathan grunts and swings down his axe, splitting the creature’s top surface and splattering himself with the flayer’s mucus-like goo. He raises it up again and chops it. The flayer reels back, shrieking and trying to go for Eleven again, only to be hit and with another shriek it enacts vengeance, whipping itself against Jonathan and sending him crashing into the wall and the ground. He drops his axe and just as he starts to get up again, the creature still goes for him. Jonathan tries getting up but can only back into the wall. And your heart hurts like a son of a bitch at the picture.

Hurray for Nancy who steps in and shoots the thing, blood splattering on the carpet as it rounds to attack her.

She’s out of bullets.

“Shit!” She shouts, still trying to pull the trigger.

You feel like you’re just standing there, useless and hopping between your feet. With an annoyed grunt, you shout “Nancy!” And dare to throw her your gun. She catches it just as the creature is feet from getting right in her face. She shoots it in the mouth and it actually reels back this time and for a long time. You look frantically between it, Jonathan, and Nancy.

The axe.

You run and slide (much to the pain of splinters and rug-burn in your bare feet), ducking under the creature and grabbing Jonathan’s axe. He’s still dealing with the incredible pain in his back, and he can only watch you bring the axe down on it some more. It’s so, so close to just about snapping in half and you can see the last bits of its tearing, gooey membrane.

But when your arms are in the air it snaps its neck to look, and rushes for you.

Jonathan feels just as you did moments ago. But with such close proximity, he wills himself to get on his feet just well enough to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you onto the floor in the corner with him. He holds you tight, arms finding their way to your chest as you slide down together. Your eyes are wide at the creature.

Another shot is heard.

Nancy’s shot it. And when it does that same thing (whipping to look at her with his mouth of horrid teeth), Steve steps in pulls her from her corner just as the creature smashes itself into the wall. But when it gets back its energy and reels away from the two ready to attack again, Nancy’s gun again won’t shoot.

You clap your hand over Jonathan’s wrist, and he can feel you squeeze.

Nancy and Steve flinch. They’re ready.

They pop their eyes open, carnage evidently not taking place yet despite the creature’s intent and it’s screeching. You slap Jonathan’s arm, and together you gasp with joy seeing Eleven standing in the middle of the room, her arm stretched out and fingers tensing as she wills the creature away from Nancy. Her calm expression vanishes as she twists her wrist and pulls her elbow into herself, the creature snapping right where its ‘head’ would begin and El screaming when she gets the job done. Part of it flops onto the floor in a puddle of its own blood and mucus-like texture, and the other half shrieks before haphazardly pulling itself out of the cabin through the hole it came in.

Max yelps as it flies out right beside her.

You close your eyes and breath a sigh, Jonathan hugging you a little softer now and putting his forehead to your shoulder as you relish in the relief.

But, reminded of the situations at hand, you both get up, helping one another. You go and grab Max, dragging her away from the window and you’re met by Steve, who in turn shields both of you and guides you away. Jonathan tries going for the others but that bit of energy he spent on you is gone now and he can’t ignore his fatigue or pain. He grips onto the wall but falls to his knees.

Through the wall where Steve was just about to guide you two, in comes another one of the Mind Flayer’s arm-creatures. You all yell and flinch, Steve pulling you two back and making sure to keep his head down when he’s reminded of the giant hole in the wall where the creature just came through that last time.

You make your way to Jonathan, sprinting while knelt.

You grab his hand and try to help him up, Steve coming to the other side of him.

Thanks to El, they’re stopped mid air, both of her arms occupied with keeping hold of the creatures. With heavy breathes and panting, and with a triumphant yell, she pulls her arms to her stomach and again splits them in half.

While everything is silent and steady for a second, your stomach is still aching and you get up.

Steve and Jonathan reach for you (Max too), with Jonathan better suited for your waist and Steve better suited for your shoulder. But you break from their grasp. They can’t shout their disapproval on account of how selfish that would seem with El being in the middle of the room doing all of the fighting. They can only huff to themselves and give a similar look of worry, though one also filled with contempt and jealousy for the other.

Jonathan has no romantic feelings. Not anymore at least. Steve wouldn’t admit he does, but he does. Still, their conflict at your varying degrees of closeness is what catches up to them. With you finding Jonathan and his outcast persona so fascinating from a young age, and being able to bond with Steve over the high school hierarchy and sharing a pack of kids.

You start off knelt but come to stand fully, grabbing El by the shoulders and pushing her out of the way.

They don’t know why…by you looked up at the ceiling and saw more specks of dust. This creature is smart and wouldn’t make the same mistake of going through the walls or windows four times.

You try to guide her forward, go with her.

But you scream = as the ceiling breaks open and the Mind Flayer wraps around your ankle. Your poor, bare ankle. Its flesh burns against yours and while being caught you slam your chin slams against the hardwood floor.

It roars and shrieks and so does everybody else, Jonathan keeping himself stable on a hopping foot and Mike and El jumping forward together to grab your arms and try desperately to pull you.

Mike’s completely out of his head about now, wanting to help you but (like you) wanting to get El out of the monster’s reach. He closes his eyes while mustering all his strength, and you can’t help but look up (in a disorienting manner) at the thing trying to eat you.

Jonathan and Steve jump in next — Steve sharing an arm with El, Jonathan staring an arm with Mike. And then comes Max and Will — Max with Steve and El, Will with Jonathan and Mike.

Mike and Will both open their eyes at the same time and look straight at the creature. Mike whimpers and forces his eyes shut again, muttering himself a mantra so he can get his damn strength and not have to watch his pseudo-older sister get eaten by this fucking monster.

His grip weakens for just a moment to readjust, and he yells “PULL!” the group collectively putting together strength they didn’t even know they could muster.

Nancy loads up her gun again, Jonathan shouting “NANCY! SHOOT IT!”

She manages and it snarls in pain.

“COME ON LUCAS!” Max yells for him.

He doesn’t know where to go or what to do. Robin points him toward the axe, and she runs and picks it up for him while she does. She hands it over and grabs the other gun, struggling to load it but managing well enough. Her aim isn’t the best but she lowers the gun with a wide, goofy smile on her face when she swears she hears it groan in response to her. Then she goes at it again.

Lucas hops up onto the ottoman and screams as he hacks at the limb. Dustin, with not much more room available to hold onto your arm, keeps watch of Erica while running around the room screaming trying to find something to chuck into the creature’s jaws. He manages to chuck a few things he’s sure Hopper won’t miss (an ashtray, notably) but it doesn’t do all that much.

You’re still struggling and flailing, your breath after a point being so lost you can only breathe and ‘scream’ via deep exhales.

Lucas starts to get frustrated, seeing progress but not as much as he would like. He hypes himself up, hopping between his feet on the ottoman, and gives the final blow his best shot.

He raises the axe behind his head, stumbles a bit before gaining his balance, then hacks the creature straight in half.

It screams and flails, the mouth inhaling part of itself before the sight of it through the ceiling flees and you fall forward.

Steve catches you in his arms as everybody’s feet are pulled under themselves and they fall to the floor. Steve rolls on his side, holding you close and trying to coo you to comfort while wiping the sweat, mucus, and blood from your forehead. You would be so lovey-dovey, hugging him tight and chuckling madly in relief but still, the best you can do is laugh silently and even smiling is a chore.

You collapse into his chest, your hand limp on his cheek and eyes bobbing to the back of your head before coming back around with every rumble of the house as the Mind Flayer does what it does.

The kids are all kneeling around you and Jonathan gently pushes Will and Mike apart so he can too. He puts his hands on the floor by your stomach. The slightest snap of a twig has him looking over his shoulder, and the slight ruffle of Lucas’ jeans on the carpet has him looking at him.

You can feel Steve press quick pecks to your face. He really doesn’t put much thought into them, but when he realizes, he can only be thankful he has the opportunity.

Mike’s eyes go to your leg, where the other half of the creature is still stuck tight, nearly embedded.

He hypes himself up, bouncing on his feet before hopping up and running over. He gets a strong grip around it (as best as he can considering its slippery skin), and though Jonathan and Steve both spit out slurred “Wait Don’t!”s, Mike pulls it off and your let spurts blood.

You will yourself up off the floor just a tiny bit as you scream, neck craning back and eyes sticking shut with the pain.

Mike winces at the sound, and after chucking the creature behind him (where it slithers out of the cabin) he hurries to your side, hovering his hands over your stomach and hoping for you to see his face so you can see just how sorry he is but how necessary that was.

Then the Mind Flayer, and Eleven hurriedly gestures Mike, Jonathan, and Steve to drag you off. Will stays behind Jonathan and Max and Lucas stay behind Mike, with Nancy, Dustin, Robin, and Erica assisting in hyping up El as she stands strong below the creature that burst through with the intent to kill her.

She raises her chin this time, not shying away, and she plants her feet.

Jonathan holds onto Mike’s shoulder and pulls him back, the both of them looking between you and El with worry.

The creature roars, its saliva splattering against all of you.

But even with this (Jonathan now shielding Mike, you, and Will while Steve cradles your head in his lap), she doesn’t flinch. She raises both arms close together and screams at the top of her lungs, her powers already proving themselves faster than they ever have before as the creature’s head starts to close in on itself.

The display is enough to jolt you awake and you’re trying to scoot even further from it. Steve holds you tighter and coos.

You can imagine her now and you smile all loopy at the thought of her with all her strength and blood pouring out of both nostrils.

You’re satisfied seeing the creature already begin to let free a pink liquid.

And you cackle despite being breathless when El rips it in two at the end with a blood-curdling scream.

She falls back into Max, and by now with Steve and Nancy helping you to your feet, you can reach just enough to hug El somewhat tight before you’re pulled apart and everybody starts to rush out of the cabin.

“Go go go!” Nancy yells. She takes your arm from around her shoulder and gives Robin the job. Jonathan holds the door open, doing copious double takes to make sure everybody is out of the cabin.

Most of the group run to the Jeep.

But already knowing trying to get everybody to fit will be a hell of a hassle, Steve shouts for Robin, Dustin, and Erica to follow him “This way!” Back to his car.

Jonathan stomps his foot against the dirt and screams “WHERE ARE YOU GOING?!”

Dustin yells back while hurrying backwards, “WE CAN’T FIT! WE’LL MEET YOU THERE!”

Jonathan looks so pained. He sees Steve pick you up while Robin grabs Erica’s hand. “WHERE?!”

“STARCOURT!” Dustin screams. Then runs.

“JONATHAN, COME ON!” Nancy’s poking her head out the driver’s seat of the car.

Jonathan mutters to himself. Even to him, it’s incoherent. He walks backward to the car, and only when he sees the Mind Flayer descend upon the cabin and tear it to pieces does he hurry into the car, Nancy hitting the gas before he even gets the chance to buckle.

(Message me if you would like to be tagged whenever I post a Steve imagine!)

@stevieharrrr @songforhema @broadwayandnetflix @billyhargrovescigarette @bckysloki @christinawxxx @timeladygallifrey

#Steve Harrington x Reader #Steve Harrington imagine #Steve Harrington imagines #Stranger Things imagine #Stranger Things imagines #angst #jonathan #s3 #steve #imagine

910 notes · View notes

mauserfrau · 4 years

Text

Spiraling To Meet Me - Bordertober

Tonight: Tyreen v. other people. Framed as her dealing with massive spoilers from Satellite. Contains: blood, gore, death, referenced suicide, medical stuff and... [see tags]

The first person she ever met, she killed.

He was dying. There wasn’t anything she could do to save him. He went into her as a flash of syrup and heat. She’s never been sure how she recognized him as a he in the brief moment she knew him through her mother’s skin.

He left her dizzy with delight as she sprawled there in Leda’s sandy glass remains and the air coral rattled against the rift of sky in the temple roof.

Troy, too stunned and hurt to cry, rattled too.

She told Dad: “I didn’t mean to!”

It was kind of true. She didn’t mean all of it. Mama was dying, same as a manta gored in a trap.

That part, she meant.

The little fish just hadn’t realized Leda was dead. Tyreen got him with the rest.

She hadn’t had any idea before he evaporated in her leech.

Nobody else realized. There was no crystal clump of sand that gave away what Tyreen had done. Or if there was, no one noticed while they carried Mama out of temple in buckets and bottles. She never saw it, anyway. She just climbed up the toppled stones along the path that one more time, remembering not to eat the very small larvae and worms because they could still become big things, and then there could be more.

She also still licked her lips when she thought about him. Maybe she couldn’t have touched him, but she could have heard him, seen him, smelled him when he was just born and still wet.

Instead she ate him and he was gone except for this vague sense memory that crawled around on her tongue and the bottom of her own belly.

She didn’t stay away from the grave like Dad. Mama wasn’t there.

She didn’t go to the grave after midnight like Troy. Troy said Mama wasn’t there.

Sometimes when the storms roiled over the valley, she listened the air coral shuddering in the wind. Her mouth watered and she balled her marked hand into a fist.

Having another baby wouldn’t have been the worst thing in the world. No, that was clearly her trying to prove as much to herself reading books out of the medical suite that made her blush and cringe.

She was supposed to be stronger than blushing and cringing.

She realized though that she might have been biased when it came to what was and was not awful about pregnancy. She had never not eaten for two.

She wouldn’t say she met anybody from her family. They were always just there, until Mama wasn’t. Dad tasted rich, Mama stale as recycled air. Troy held no flavor or sensation outside of his bone-leaf skin and skittering pulse.

Oh, she tried to eat him too. Just once with any seriousness. What if all of her brothers tasted that delicious?

Tyreen wrapped her arms and her leech around him, pouring herself against his body and begging him to slosh back, fill her instead of the other way around.

Instead, she drained into him, slow and crystal damp, even though she hardly had enough to share.

“It’s OK,” he told her, gently scratching at her fingers. “We can go outside again soon. You won’t have to be hungry.”

Back on the couch, Dad laughed at something on his old video screen.

Troy had put on one of the old, airy tracks that Mama had liked to play after dark in the summer. He was trying to sing with it and maybe Tyreen had tried a little bit too. At least, she was whistling along under her breath when—

“Boy, you shut that off!” And a crash so sharp and musical Tyreen thought at first it must have come from the speakers.

She peered into the front room to find Troy rattling against the wall. One of the good drinking glasses oozed down the wall.

Tyreen cleaned it up without complaining and Troy vanished, same as the liquor vapors.

She put her marked hand down beside Dad’s head.

He startled awake, stared up at her, tried to smile.

“Throw anything at Troy again I’ll do to you what I did to Mama.”

She doesn’t remember what he said to her, besides calling her Starlight. That might have been all it was in the end.

Tyreen stalked off. Her heart slammed in her chest and her joints felt all slippery.

It had taken her days to decide to say anything. It wasn’t on impulse like hunting or dodging or staying up way too late watching video clips of little fish fetuses kick.

She guessed she just didn’t care about Troy in that particular impulsive way what would have let her subsume him. It wasn’t like he was any good at hunting, after all.

When she got to Mama’s grave, she spit up and coughed. She didn’t cry. Crying was dumb.

Nobody followed her to ask if she’d shed anymore teeth or eaten anymore brothers.

And they wouldn’t know any of those things unless she told them.

Years passed before the one time she almost did. Troy was in a bad way, feverish and unsteady on his feet. She half-carried him to the bathhouse and heated the water up as high as it would go while she stripped him since he couldn’t seem to get his clothes off himself. They climbed into the water together and talked about Keats for a while. He said she looked different. Tyreen laughed at him for taking so long to notice. Then she untied his hair and pressed him against her chest, both of their hearts cranking in the swell of warmth from the water. She rested her hand on his empty shoulder as his breath tickled her skin.

“You ever get lonely?” she asked. It seemed like it might be kind of an OK leadup.

“Yeah,” he answered. “I don’t even know what I’d do with another person ‘round here. How about you?”

“Me? What? No. No of course not.”

The next part should have been I’m stuck with you, aren’t I?

But Tyreen said nothing.

The second person she met, she killed.

And the third.

And the fourth.

And all the rest. There were nine Maliwan researches altogether and Troy only got one, the one that grabbed him. The guy looked like he was feeling Troy up to Tyreen. Mostly, he pissed her off.

She wouldn’t have liked to have eaten him . Instead, she sang through the rest, sucking them down. The living bruise underneath her skin had them in gushes of fear and the kissed-out brightness of their wonder. Some were savory, others liquid tart. When they were all gone, she twisted on the toes of her boots and went down.

The rain stirred over her and the mud. She thrilled with what she’d gotten from them, flavors and memories of screams and not wanting so hard her mouth water. Actually, it was hardly damp, at least before Troy came around and tried to get her to stop laughing by tickling her feet— what a dumb thing to try, but it worked.

They knelt together in the rain, surrounded by strangeness and dead bodies made of sand.

It took hours to stash and secure their booty. They could only carry so much at one time, so they took the silliest, prettiest things like rings and name tags and somebody’s pocket knife that wouldn’t have been useful for trimming even tiny pieces of air algae, but it was new.

They hiked back over storm-slippery stones, hardly five sentences between them on the way.

It was when the lucernae on Mama’s grave came into view that the slippery twinge surfaced in her joints. Tyreen paused, scenting the air out of instinct. There was only home and water. Her hand went to her neck and she sighed.

No, something else fought to surface. Probably just her hunger returning.

She wondered, if only for a moment: what if she hadn’t eaten the intruders? What would she be doing now?

Talking or waiting or something. She wouldn’t have a new pocketknife.

Tyreen set the imaging equipment to warm up. Troy had taken a sharp blow to the belly and they needed to make sure nothing in him had popped.

The control console had broken a long time ago, and they’d patched the general computer in with some old optical cable. That meant that anything they tried to read out of the databanks and not existed would show.

Tyreen realized she’d been the last person in the medical suit and she’d left a rather gruesome birth video cued up.

Troy, leaning sideways on the table said though, “Oh. My bad. I was just thinking about...” He yawns. “Stuff.”

“Yeah? I mean, whatever. It’s a thing that happens, right, killer?” And she laughs, trying to stifle the crash in her heart.

The third or fourth person she meets on Pandora is a barkeeper who asks her name and how she takes her whiskey. Tyreen sits at the side of the bar, dazed and trying not to smile. She’s pretty sure the whiskey she gets isn’t whiskey at all. Anyway, it doesn’t smell like Dad’s, but it is in a real glass lowball and it makes her lips sting.

She thinks she should wait for Troy to get out of the can, but if she takes a sip herself he can’t ask her to toast.

She drums her fingers on the fine chips along the bottom and remembers.

“Yes?” says the bartender.

“Huh? Yes, what?”

“You look like you’re a million miles away.”

Tyreen cranes her head to the side. That’s a Troy question. Not a... random person question.

Right?

Right.

Besides, then she has to go and add, “Haven’t named the little guy yet.” She jerks her thumb to the calico bundle in an old apple crate. “Was gonna wait till he turns three months. Never know around here. But hey, now I never have to be lonely again.” She laughs.

Tyreen presses her fists to her knees. She will not blush. She will not cry. She won’t say yes of course that’s what it is, because it is a flickering tender place.

Part of her wants to eat this woman and her son.

But it takes more of her self-control than she’d like just to keep her face steady, just to think. “Oh, I get it.”

Fuck.

Tyreen smiles.

“Does he like music? I could go for some tunes.”

“Sure. What kind?”

“After dark in the summer.”

Apparently, that’s a fine enough answer. Troy comes back to the bar to find her gone in her glass and a softly thudding baseline.

#so tyreen ate her younger brother in Satellite #there I said it #bordertober #border-tober #borderlands 3 #Calypso Twins #Troy Calypso #Tyreen Calypso #Tyreen Calypso PoV #blood #gore #violence #suicide #medical content #fanfic #fanfiction #angst #and some drinking

7 notes · View notes

brideofcthulhu10 · 4 years

Note

YASSSSSSS! Romeo and Juliet is my all-time favorite!

Okay this took all day, so all you guys better love this! This is actually the first part, I will submit the other half in about an hour or two. It really was so massive it needed to be broken into more than one segment. So, after FIVE HOURS of writing, I present for your viewing pleasure

THE TRAGEDY OF MARKO [1/2]

Marko×Fem!Reader

Content Warning! Violence, Gore, Sexual Themes, Offensive Language! Reader's Discretion is Advised!

The idea of being with a human never really sat well with Marko. He wasn't exactly popular with the ladies when he was alive, and now they all just seemed intrigued by his night time allure. Fake the lot of it. Half of them were just going to be a snack anyways, there was no point in getting attached.

At least until Star made a friend.

Cruising around on the boardwalk was second nature, to the point that he knew the place like the back of his hand. With his hands stuffed in his pockets he trotted behind his friend Paul who was determined to get a good spot. These Santa Carla concerts were okay, but finally the big guns rolled in. For one night only the baddest bastards in Hollywood were coming down to tear it up with the citizens of this manky beach town- Mötley motherfuckin' Crüe! Anyone in their way quickly moved, he was not about to miss it.

Honestly the notion was pretty cool, Marko understood Paul's over exuberant glee. Of course it started off with the greatest bang he's ever seen. Fireworks, pyrotechnics, his buddy was just geeking out to the extreme. Halfway through Girls, Girls, Girls he spotted a mass of h/c just swinging through the crowd. Every step was so nonchalantly elegant, which was a rare description when it came to a rock concert. But his eyes just zeroed in on them. No, her. She was giggling with Star of all people, he hadn't even realized the little half-er was there with them. He bit at his thumb, pushing away the tumbles of blonde that fell into his face. A solid THUMP to his shoulder alerted him to reality as Paul cheered as loud as he could.

"THANK YOU SANTA CARLA! AND GOOD NIGHT!"

Had it already been two hours? Marko rapidly shook his head, still floating with each step when Star approached them. Both girls were giggling, panting messes. Y/N. That's what you introduced yourself as.

Paul was praising you for your most excellent head banging skills. When you turned to him he thought his heart might kick up again.

"Awesome to meet you, gorgeous," he teased with a curling grin.

Now it was your turn to be flustered. If this was what all California boys were like you could definitely get used to this. Looking for any excuse to talk to him further you blurted out a suggestion to grab something to eat. Star passed, all that heavy grease was too much for her but she wouldn't mind just following along. Marko on the other hand chimed in that it wasn't too much for them.

Paul watched you two banter back and forth the whole way across the beach and up the steps onto the boardwalk itself. With a casual grin he slumped his arm over Star's shoulder, whispering something low in her ear.

"Ah, shit you know what? I totally forget we promised Laddie we'd take him on the ferris wheel," he exclaimed, Marko cocking an eyebrow. Since when? Paul wasn't for all those slow rides. He knew his best friend. The guy was an adrenaline junkie, usually that boring stuff was Dwayne or Star's liking.

"Oh, um we could come with if you want," you suggested, only to have Star wave you off.

"No, no don't worry about it, Y/N. You two have fun. We'll catch up later."

Before you could get another word in they bolted, leaving you alone with Marko.

"Still hungry," he asked, raising a brow. "Or do you gotta go too?"

"Oh! No, I could still eat." Boy, sheepish wasn't a word you'd use to describe yourself. But something about the way he watched you, it make you feel so nervous. "So uh, Marko right? Have you always lived in Santa Carla?"

"Well, I've been here a while," he casually responded. Talking about his past before turningwas usually a touchy subject. That stuff was best left behind. He wasn't Mark anymore, that guy died long ago. "I guess you could say I've been all over. I used to live in England for a while before I came to America."

"No way, you're so lucky!" You looked down to see you had grabbed his jacket in your excitement, quickly letting go. Whew. Was it getting hot out here or what? "S-sorry, I didn't mean to, um, ya know..."

His snicker was so cute, lightly bumping your arm with his own. "Don't even trip. We all get excited, yeah?" Neon lights made his hair shift colors as you walked through the crowds, stopping at a snack shop that stood out like a sore thumb. It was impossible to miss the big, flashing red sign reading:

"CHARLIE'S BOARDWALK EMPORIUM"

Photos decorated the base of the blue walls with images of cotton candy, caramel apples, nachos and snow cones over an explosion of popcorn. So many options. On your tip toes you waited in line with him reading each of the prices. Deep fried cola? Chocolate dipped bacon sticks? You scrunched up your nose, settling for a basket of chili cheese curly fries and a soda.

"Hey put your money away, babes," Marko interjected. "Charlie doesn't charge for cute ones, right bud?"

He must've been referring to the heavyset Armenian man in a 'kiss the cook' apron, who by the way had no hair net covering the mop top smushed beneath a red baseball cap. All he did was slowly nod, stiffly scooting your order onto the counter. You only ordered a medium, this was massive. "Yes, of course. It's on the house lil' lady," he insisted in a thick accent. It must've been hot in there, he sounded bizarrely out of it.

"You sure have a way with people," you commented, now wedged on the boardwalk steps leading off onto the sand, splitting the gooey mess with your newfound friend.

"Nah, you heard him. Cute girls don't pay," he teased. That rosy tiny hadn't left your cheeks since he'd been with you. Hours passed, sharing stories and finding you two had so many common interests. Marko hadn't genuinely laughed like this in a while, and when it became late in the night he offered you a second chance to hang out. Since then you came visiting every night.

The moment you showed up he felt a breath of air. It didn't take Marko long to introduce you to the boys. The big one with a lack of shirt was Dwayne, you still remembered Paul and Star from that night on the beach. Then there was David. You weren't so sure he liked you. The most he gave you was a disinterested wave, but Marko insisted he was always like that. Eventually he'd have to leave around 10 pm, apologizing profusely.

"Wish I could stay baby, but we got some ridin' to do. Same time tomorrow," he asked, holding your hands in his.

"Y-yeah of course. Oh! Wait wait hold on," you insisted, quickly digging through your pockets. Where was it? Ah! "Here, I got you this."

Nestled in the palm of your hand was a silver scorpion etched on a black coin dangling off a chain. "I remember you said you wanted to get a new earring a few days ago"

"Babe thats awesome!" His gloved fingers plucked the piece, swapping his little skull out for it before modeling it in front of you. "Think you can hold onto mine for a while? I bet it'd look cute on you."

It wasn't hard to sense David growing impatient with you delaying their leave. Maybe because he told you two to hurry up. Right. "Gotta ride, baby." Before he left Marko stole a fast kiss from your cheek, riding away in a flash leaving you frozen. Slowly you opened your palm. The little black carved skull rolled over, looking right at you. Steeling your resolve you took it right by the silver hook and pushed it against your earlobe. The skin resisted, a sharp burn pressing harder until it popped into place. A little blood was fine, you'd be healed by morning. But now there was a whole lot of nothin' to do. Star was at their little hideout, you'd only really seen it once before and didn't have the stones to go there without the boys' permission. Tonight you saw that brown haired guy with them again. Some new guy who just came to Santa Carla named… Oh god what was it? Mitchell? Manny? Milo? Something "Mi"... mmm...mmm-M-Michael! Yes, that's who it was! He was so much more intense and jumpy that the others, but you always got the impression he was a bit... er, lost. He always either had this confused or angry look on his face.

With nothing better to do, you spent the night aimlessly wandering through the coastal shorelines, your feet sweeping over cold, damp sand as you followed hills. You couldn't stop thinking about the jumpy newbie who seemed particularly aggressive. He always gave David dirty looks, but Marko wouldn't tell her who he was.

"Just a guy Star met, babes. Don't worry too much about him, he's just gotta mellow out before he joins us."

You'd walked so far you hadn't even realized there were people up ahead blasting Aerosmith on their boombox, jumping around a crude bonfire like a pack of wild men.

Ugh, Surf Nazis. Pain in the ass California boneheads who practically dominated the waves and the boardwalk. You were ready to turn the other way when a stream of light flew by, one after the other. Five each. Hey, you knew those motorcycles! Ducking down by the dunes you watched Marko swing his leg over the seat, dashing up to a looming tree overlooking the bonfire mosh pit with Paul, Dwayne and David. Michael was there too? You wiggled lower, cautiously staying out of sight just close enough to hear them over the music.

"Initiations over, Michael," David hissed with glee. "Time to join the club!"

Club? Like a biker club or something? Squinting at the tree you nearly feel backward when the image cleared beneath the harsh orange glow. Their ey-e-eyes! They-they were blood red- white even! The way they snickered and laughed sent a blood curdling chill down your back. Marko… that sweet, alluring smile was now twisted into a hideous smirk boasting sharp, pointed teeth mocking the brunette beneath him who shared a similar look of horror. In a flash they fle- THEY FLEW!

Rapidly you ducked down, clutching at your heart. It was beating so fast you thought your ribs were going to break. And then the screams.. those awful, sickening screams! You had to cover your mouth not to cry out in horror as David lodged his teeth into a man's skull. Dwayne howled with delight, tearing another guy in half. They were painted red. Every where, every thing, red.

You almost missed Marko as he snapped their neck, peeling back scalp with ease to devour the wrinkled flesh beneath their skull. Then you couldn't see anymore, it was all tears. They showed no regret, no mercy. Instead they reveled in their kills, throwing the last of the limbs into a flaming inferno like some sort of hellish bonfire.

Bile flooded your esophagus, tearing your hand away to empty your stomach onto the sands beneath you. You nearly cried out, startled when David spoke again to Michael.

"Now you know what we are… and now you know what you are."

What they were?

"You'll never grow old. And you'll never die. But you must feed."

David's voice cut the air like a knife. Your whole body was frigid. For a moment it almost felt like he was speaking to you. Then you remembered the earring still wedged in place, your fingers clawing it out in a frenzy. Dammit! It ripped again a thin stream of blood dripping onto your neck as you threw it on the sand.

Meanwhile Marko watched that coward Michael bolt off screaming. What a wuss. So a few people had to die, not a bad price for eternal youth, dude. He could only laugh at this point, smearing the blood off his mouth. That was a good meal…

"Hey did we miss one," he asked, sniffing the air. There was always a distinct taste and scent between fresh, and old blood. By now whatever was left was either staining them, the ground, or being burnt. He gnawed on a finger bone, looking Paul's way. Might as well hang for a while, they had to make sure the pieces were nice and burnt to a crisp.

"Nah man, they're all barbecue. I getcha though." Yeah he smelled it too. Those assholes were dead shit, fresh blood shouldn't still be in the air. It was undeniable, and soon all of them could smell it

"Its still nearby."

Oh god, they smelled you! Stumbling over sand, you tripped over your own feet and spiraled down to the base of the dunes. Marko was the first to step out. He almost missed the bloody scent, most of it was moving away. The sands still shuddered to adjust to the missing weight, a few foot prints pushed away by sand and wind. But then a tiny… something tapped his boot. Kneeling down, still caked with a familiar scent of fresh blood...it was his earring? Now he could smell it more clearly. Your scent was all over these sands. His heart dropped, realizing why this was on the ground. "Ah shit," he groaned, clasping it tightly in his hand.

×××××

The front door of your home swung as you tore it open. Locks fumbled shut and you immediately made a mad dash for your room. Your mom and dad had gone to the next town over, so it was just you and your dog D/N tonight. Absolutely the worst possible scenario to be in when you discover your boyfriend of the past few months was a murderous psychopath who ate people!

Your heart beat echoed throughout the whole room, you thought you might even faint. Pacing back and forth you tried wiping your hands on your skirt like a madman. It just wouldn't come off! All you could see was red. Just red everywhere. Bloody splattered stained your eyes in shades of crimson. On your hands, your clothes, on the walls, in the air, on… Marko...

Covering your mouth did little to stifle the whimpering, sharp sobs that made your lungs spasm. Marko. Oh Marko.

You'd never seen such cruel delight plastered over his sweet face. Beautiful blonde locks were caked in fresh blood, he was even laughing the whole time. He enjoyed it. Revelled even, in the carnage.

Stumbling over discarded clothes you shut off your lamp, rapidly kicking them away. Naked, trembling you ran into your bathroom. You had to wash it off! It felt like an hour had gone by in the blink of an eye. All you could do was sob under the streams of hot water. Knees to your chest, clutching them close. Maybe if you just stayed there you wouldn't have to face the reality of what you saw.

You were afraid to blink. Every time you did, there his eyes were. Those cold, unyielding white eyes that glowed perfectly in the dark. You stayed planted until the water finally ran frigid. Once your fingers started trembling and your lips went blue you had no other choice but to get out.

Without another word you threw on the nearest clean shirt, a pair of pajama shorts and collapsed onto your bed. Everything you thought he was, was now up in the air. Now you questioned every motive, every kind gesture. That kiss tonight.. He could have been luring you. Maybe he was planning on killing you too. It was enough to bring all the tears back, sobbing into your pillow in the dark until sleep cradled your miserable form.

The next time you opened your eyes, D/N was in a frenzy. Barking over and over. Still groggy you lazily snatched your alarm clock. 2:15 am?? Seriously, D/N? Ugh, bad dog. Probably saw a squirrel or something.

"Y/N!"

Immediately you were snapped wide awake. The fog of slumber was blown away in an instant. For a solid minute you remained utterly still. You didn't even dare to breathe.

It was clear, firm, just outside. Every tick on your clock echoed softly, you almost thought you misheard.

"Y/N please, I can hear your heart. I know you're up there!"

Oh god. Holy hell he found you. Running to your window you felt your heart in your ears. It was so loud, you slowly inched your fingers towards the closed curtains. This was almost out of body. You could feel every step you made. Marko's presence grew stronger as you near the window. Clenching the dusty fabric, you tempted yourself to peek every so slightly. Then you screamed bloody murder. Face to face, a pair of bright blue eyes cut through the night looking right at you.

HE. WAS ON. THE ROOF!

Immediately you shut the curtains! Wait! The lock! Pushing them open you immediately twisted it shut just before he could pry it up.

"Babe please, I can explain!"

"Explain nothing, I am not listening to anything you have to say," you screamed. When he began to move you ran to the other window and locked it as well. He banged his forehead against the glass, still trying to wrench it up. Damn these old houses! The frame had a silver lining! Immediately he tore his fingers away, pressing against the glass. "Y/N, baby girl, come on please let me in!"

It was so hard to look away. "No! I'm not even gonna look at you," you insisted, shutting the blinds. Cute girls eat free? Ha! He probably hypnotized the cashier! Oh god. When he spoke this time you plugged your ears. "I'm not listening! MARY HAD A LITTLE LAMB, LITTLE LAMB!"

A sharp huff of air pushed out of Marko's nostrils. This was ridiculous! "You are being such a brat! Just let me in, dammit!"

Nope. More stupid singing. Fine. If you were gonna be stubborn, so was he.

Flying downward he searched for any easy way in. The front door was locked, the upstairs bathroom, the master bedroom, the back yard do- not this one. Slowly the golden knob twisted, rattled, then squeaked open.

Oh boy, now there was a dog!

"Fuck me," Marko groaned, hands in the air with utter exasperation. Of course you had a dog! Why not! Got any holy water too? The big ball of fluff continued to snarl at him. Rolling his eyes, Marko flared his fangs which promptly silenced the snarling muty. "I don't have time for you!"

THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD.

Rapid steps dashed down the stairs where Y/N then skidded to a halt.

You had heard D/N wildly barking, your only plan was to drag him upstairs with you where it was safe. However, once you stepped in the room you could see him standing there in the dark, a silhouette circled by a thin layer of moonlight. His eyes were glowing bright red.

You felt like a deer in headlights. You couldn't budge an inch. A complete Mexican standoff. Both of you were staring at each other.

Marko watched you for any movement, any at all. Then you flinched. "Y/N," he said as he slowly reached out- and you ran. "Wait!"

You scrambled back up the stairs towards your room, almost looking back. Shit he was fast! You screamed the whole way while he begged, nay, pleaded with you to just hear him out.

"You killed them! I saw you," you shouted, lunging for your door. It was just a second too slow as you spun between the frame and into your room. A solid hit from the other side nearly knocked you back as Marko crashed into it, trying to force it open. You were barely keeping in place- except you were. Every time he rammed the door your feet were being pushed back.

"I know! I didn't mean for you to find out this way! Babygirl, you gotta believe me I would never hurt you," he insisted. With one firm push he swung the door wide open, sending to flying onto the floor. Already you were jumping over your bed to reach the bathroom, trying to get behind the door where you could lock him out. "Stop!"

With everything he had he bolted forward and finally got a grip on your waist just before you could get through the threshold. He completely lifted you off the floor! You flailing and kicking did nothing except frustrate him, his grip tightening to where you were struggling to breath. "Let me go! Stop it, Marko, you put me down right now! Put me down, put me down!"

"Enough!" Slamming you down on your bed, Marko quickly grabbed you by your wrists and held them above your head, a knee over your legs to keep you from thrashing any further. "Y/N stop it! I'm not gonna hurt you, you know this! You know me!"

"I know you lied to me," you cried, still trying to look away, writhing and twisting beneath him. You weren't gonna be so easily tricked this time. "How can I trust you?! Everything you told me-"

"I never said I was human," he insisted. "Baby look at me. Look at me!" When you wouldn't he kept your wrists tightly gripped beneath his hand and forced you head to turn his way. "Y/n… please, just look."

This time he wasn't angry. Just hurt. The way he tenderly whispered your name made you want to cry, and just ever slightly you peeked open your eyes. His eyes were… watery. You looked into them, the tints of red faded back into the shimmering sky you treasured just hours prior. "Did… did even like me? W-was I just another me-meal to you," you choked out between hiccups.

"No. No, no, baby," he spoke softly, calloused fingertips pushing away your years. "Babygirl. Please, listen to me. I.. would never, ever, hurt you."

This time it stuck, you could see the sincerity in his eyes. There was a slow diffuse, and now Marko just sat atop you until he was absolutely sure you wouldn't run.

Slowly you sat up, looking at him. It got awkward by this point. But you had to know.

"Marko… what are you," you asked softly. It sounded harsh, but it was impossible to avoid.

"I guess the easiest thing to call it would be vampire," he sighed, looking down at his hands.

"So, I guess you're not 17?"

"Well I mean, not anymore. I was, but I haven't been for… a while."

Your brow furrowed, looking over at him. He wasn't upset anymore. Just calm. "How long is a while?"

Marko seemed physically uncomfortable discussing this. Whatever he had left behind when he turned was something he wanted gone. Slowly you reached over, taking his hand into your own.

"Y/N, listen. I-"

"You swear you aren't going to hurt me," you asked, looking at him. Marko only gave you a soft smile and leaned forward. You didn't have time to react. Only feeling the tender press of his lips on yours.

"I'd rather die."

You cupped his cheek, searching his expression for any signs of lying. Not a word. Not a single piece was a lie. You tasted him again. Salt, iron, soft. There were still little traces of blood that tainted his lips. Kisses deepened into dizzying passion. Your shirt was pulled away.

His jacket fell to the floor with a solid thump. You could feel his fingers prying away the shorts wrapped on your waist. He really was dead. You expected him to be warm, but instead it was cold; almost icy. It sent chills over your flesh.

"You don't have to..," Marko whispered. This was a vulnerable moment. He'd revealed something completely new and frightening.

"I want to," you whimpered. It certainly hurt. All those movies made it look so simple. It pushed in, your whole body tightening until your toes curled. Marko was so tender. To him you were made of glass, he couldn't lose control even for a moment. Wrapping you in his arms he took you away, passing hours away with the most luscious touches he could spare.

Laying amongst disheveled sheets and bedding he held you tightly to him, glancing over at the clock. 4:57am.

Sunrise was in an hour. There's no way he could stay. A closet wasn't exactly light-proof, and the boys might come looking for him. "I have to go.."

The words sunk in your heart. "I know.."

Gently he tilted up your chin, stealing away one last kiss. "Come to the hotel this afternoon. I promise as soon as I wake up I'll tell you everything, okay?"

It was a hard bargain. There was not much else you could do. With one last deep kiss you watched him dive out your window, vanishing into the night. You looked down at your dresser, the earring you discarded now cleanly placed atop it. You'd be sure to wear it this afternoon

32 notes · View notes

random-imagines-blog · 4 years

Text

Rip Out The Wings of a Butterfly {Wesley Gibson x Reader Oneshot}

Requested by: @cryingforwill Wordcount: 2598 Summary: You, the odd inventor, mechanic and tech geek of the Fraternity, get to meet the newest assassin. Notes: Implied animal violence.

You were the youngest member of the Fraternity, at only nineteen years old. It was a huge accomplishment since it took time for them to learn to trust you, and for you to trust them. You weren’t one of the assassin’s - Heaven’s no, you could barely shoot a plastic gun at the duck in the arcade game - but you had a lot of talent in many other areas. Besides, you didn’t want anything to do with all of the blood and gore. You’d leave that to Fox. You were more focused on the technological part of the operation. Not the name-giving loom, since even you thought that was a bit ridiculous, but the weapons, the communications devices, the traps. All in the name of progress - and in doing the right thing, so you believed.

You were surprised when a new member was brought into the faction. That wasn’t a common occurrence, and from the way that his nerves were acting up, you weren’t sure that he would be staying, either. When he was introduced to you in your workshop, you were a little confused - he didn’t look like the usual type. He didn’t have the crazy chiseled jawbone or the killer look in his eyes that you had come to respect from the assassins you usually came into contact with. He was ... almost handsome in a average joe sort of way, except for those eyes. There was something special about that shade of blue, something that would haunt your dreams.

“I’m y/n,” You said, getting up from your workbench to give him a handshake, looking into those lovely eyes. “All the equipment that you’ll be getting, well, it comes from me, so you better be careful with it.”

“Oh, right,” He said, looking around at all of the things that you were tinkering with. “The most high-tech thing I’ve used is a ergonomic keyboard.” He looked as sheepish as he sounded, and your jaw dropped. You looked behind him to Sloane who gave you a patient look, and then to Fox who shrugged.

“I’ll have to ask Sloane to let me borrow you for a couple of days, consider it to be a quick course in Tech 101,” You smiled, weakly. “You don’t need to know how to make this stuff but you have to know how to use it.”

“Yes, there will be time for that,” Sloane nodded his approval. “And what are you working on right now?”

“Right now, I have two projects,” You said, going back around to your workstation to show off what was probably messy to the three, but perfectly organized chaos to yourself. “The first are these sunglasses. They look normal, no?” You held up a pair of ray-bans that you had picked up a month ago. “Expensive, yes, but nothing too out of the ordinary. But here - you try them on, new kid.” You handed the pair of glasses over to Wesley who was surprised by how they were heavier than regular sunglasses. He looked at Fox who gave a little nod, and then hesitantly put them on his face. His mouth gaped open as he took a look around, focusing on you first.

“Is this, umm, infrared?” Wesley asked, taking them off and set them back down on the workstation.

“Thermal imaging, for when the bad guys are hiding from you.” You smiled, picking up the glasses and setting them back where they were. “Anything that I can do to make your jobs easier.”

“What’s the second thing you’ve been working on. A weapon, perhaps?” Sloane asked, raising a grey eyebrow. You flushed slightly, knowing that it’s what you should be working on, but it really wasn’t.

“Uhh - it’s the custodian’s Dirt-Devil.” You held up the little red portable vacuum that you had stolen from the custodian after they had gone home. “Okay, I know, I know, I should be working on weapons, but the sound of this thing in the hallway drives me insane! I’m just trying to see if I can make it quieter at all.”

Wesley was the only one in the room to find this entertaining. His naturally cherry-red lips opened up to reveal a smile, and then a quick laugh. You flushed even more under the cold stare of Fox. “I need a new scope on my sniper, you can work on that.”

“Ma’am, yes ma’am.” You saluted, sitting back on your stool. The tour continued on, with the two superiors and the newbie leaving the room to go meet the less friendly people of the Fraternity. You felt a little bad for Wesley, for he had a lot to get used to in here.

You were working late into the night. In a jar, complete with a couple of holes, you had three captured butterflies flitting around. There was one, poor little thing, pinned lightly to your work station. Although tech was more your thing, you dabbled in medicines as well. Tonight, you were working on a gel that you had formulated all by yourself, and you were testing it on the most delicate creature known to you. Hence, the butterflies.

You absolutely hated this part of the job. The part where you had to hurt another living thing in the name of progress, but the last time that you had experimented a healing gel on a human being, well, turns out even the Repairman can feel pain. He had found that out the hard way, and he still avoided coming anywhere near you. But Fox had taken you out for ladies night after that, amused by the way that you had made the blonde man scream.

You were about to do the worst part of the procedure, and that was to cut a rip in the butterfly’s wing. God, this absolutely sucked, but at least if the gel didn’t work, it would be very easy to but the insect out of it’s misery. You picked up the scalpel and was just about to put it to wing when you heard footsteps in the hallway. It was after two AM, most people were usually either in a mission or sleeping right now.

“Try putting on a documentary about something you really don’t care about, that’s how I get to sleep.” You called out from where you were sitting, waiting for the person to make an appearance. To your surprise, it was Wesley who stepped into the door frame, smiling sheepishly at disturbing you. Taking any chance you could get to not be doing what you should be doing, you put the knife down and motioned him in. “How are you adjusting?”

“It’s a lot to get used to,” He said, laughing as he usually did when he grew nervous. It was something that you were picking up on, though you had only seen him a couple of times.

“It gets easier, though I say that without having undergone all the ... repairing.” You winced, thinking about all of the times that you had seen the Repairman’s trainees in the wax baths. That was one of the main reasons why you were trying to make this gel. Easy to carry around in it’s tiny bottle, easy to apply - just a little bit and the skin will fuse together as if it was fabric and fabric glue.

“How did you end up here. You look very...” Wesley’s face turned red as he tried to look for the appropriate word.

“Young? Innocent? Completely out of place next to everyone else here?” You filled in his blanks. You took off the safety goggles that you were wearing, and placed them next to your work. “Yeah, I’m only nineteen, I can barely shoot a gun but I can build one from pretty much nothing, and the closest I came to killing anyone was I told a dirty joke in front of Sloan while he was having a cup of coffee and he nearly choked.”

“Wow,” Wesley blinked.

“If we’re going to be friends, I might as well tell you the story. It’s not much, though. I was a prodigy,” You did air quotes at the p word that you hated so much. “So I was in high school by the age of ten, which of course lead to some bullying. When I was close to graduating, one of the worst bullies that I had died suddenly. Was killed. They officially said it was gang violence, but that didn’t sit right with me because he picked on people lower than him, but was scared by anyone who was higher, you know? He really wouldn’t mess with gangs, or go anywhere near them. So after a bit of digging, too much digging, I managed to find out about the Fraternity. They were alerted right away, stormed my house, saw the potential in me and recruited me. I joined up as soon as I graduated high school so I’ve been here about six years now. And you?”

“Wow, that’s impressive,” Wesley said. “I used to have panic attacks, or what I thought were panic attacks and worked at a useless desk job and had a cheating girlfriend,” he started, but you put your hand up to stop him.

“That’s a lot of negativity,” You said. “Sorry Wes, this is a negative free space. How did Fox find you?”

“Oh, uh, I was picking up my prescription. My anti-anxiety medication. The man who killed my father hunted me down and tried to kill us. Then she introduced me to all of this.”

“Welcome to the wildest ride of your life, Wesley Gibson. You’re going to find out a lot about other people, and even more about yourself here.”

Over the next couple of months, you worked with Wesley closely. You couldn’t teach him how to shoot of course, or how to handle pain and other weapons, but you could show him how to use the gadgets that you made. You were extremely proud of the little EMF ipod that you put together which turned off all of the electronic devices in a two-block radius for up to half an hour at a time. Very handy for tricky alarm systems when he had to get into a building. Wesley was a fan of the bungee belt that you put together, for it gave him a rush to jump off the buildings, still have mobility, and know that he was safe while doing it.

“What are you working on?” He asked, walking into your workshop with a paperbag. You could smell your favorite takeaway inside of it and your mouth started watering immediately.

“Nothing fancy. Sloan is going abroad for a little bit and I’m trying to fix up this camera to take some 3D pictures.” You said, tongue sticking out of your mouth as you attached a lens to the camera. You picked it up, pointed it at Wesley and grinned. “Say cheese!”

Wesley grimaced as the flash went off in his face. You brought the camera down and looked at the image on the display. It hadn’t worked, but you saved the photo anyway. You’d keep it for yourself, because embarrassing photos of ones friends is something that should always be hoarded. “Maybe I’ll make this my laptop background,” You chuckled.

“Oh, don’t,” Wesley groaned. He came up to your work station, crossed his arms and rested them on the wooden table. “I was wondering if you wanted to get out of here.”

“Why? You already brought me food,” You said, putting the camera off to the side and opened the bag. “No reason to go out now.”

“When was the last time that you actually had fresh air?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Are you calling the city air fresh? Because I can tell you that it’s not. Studies show-”

“Enough about studies, I left that word behind in high school. I just thought maybe you’d want to act like a normal nineteen year old for once.”

“And what do normal nineteen year olds do?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. You really were curious about what Wesley was going to say. It would probably be something cringe-worthy that you can tease him about later.

“Go to parties, go on dates, go to the mall...” Wesley shrugged.

“Is what what you did when you were nineteen?” You asked, poking his chest. It astounded you how hard it was, this was the first time that you had actually went as far as to poke him. Damn - they really were working him hard. “I don’t think being around drunk people is fun, a lot of people are intimidated by my intellect and ... the mall, really?” You laughed at the thought of mingling around with the people inside a shopping center. It was far from something you were interested in doing. But then an idea sprung to mind. “Actually - can you take me for a little drive?”

After eating the food that Wesley brought you, the two of you sat inside a rather nondescript car, driving out of the city towards the more rural area. Resting on your lap was a large jar with four large butterflies fluttering inside. One of them had a little bit of a scar on it’s wing, but it was flapping strong anyway. You leaned your head against the glass of the window and looked out as the big buildings turned into suburban neighborhoods, and then pretty much nothing but long roads going many directions. It was only when you saw a little flower patch that you told Wesley to pull over.

You stepped out of the car and took in your first breath of non-city air that you’ve had in a long time. You walked over to the flower patch and smelled the colorful plants. Wesley opened up his door but stood behind it, arms folded over the top of the car.

“Fly my darlings, fly!” You said, unscrewing the top of the jar. The butterflies took their time on leaving, but eventually settled on the flowers. The one with the scar, the only one who ended up under your knife, went to the largest flower in the bunch and spread it’s wings to show off it’s beauty. You got down on your knees and watched as they took in their new surroundings, then slowly started to fly away, towards a small patch of woods close by. It wasn’t as dramatic as you thought it would, but it was only four butterflies after all.

“That’s all you wanted to do?” Wesley asked as you walked towards the car, screwing the lid back on the jar. You nodded with a big grin.

“If you’re gonna bug me to get out of the house, I might as well provide freedom for my friends,” You said, opening the door and getting back inside. Wesley did as well, starting the car back up, but he didn’t go back on the road right away.

“You’re a bit fucking weird,” He said, smiling at you endearingly. You nodded, laughed and agreed with him on that one. He leaned in towards you and pecked your cheek before turning the car around to take the both of you back home.

#Wesley Gibson #Wesley Gibson x reader #Wesley Gibson oneshots #Wanted #Wanted Oneshots #oneshot #oneshots #request #wesleyg

103 notes · View notes

cerezsis · 4 years

Text

Chipped

Chapter Five: Hello

Summary: Steven tries to get through to Gray by showing her the truth about her past.

WARNING: This chapter contains descriptions of blood and gore. Tread cautiously.

Gray’s body trembled with a mixture of fury and confusion. She had no idea how this hybrid got in her head, but she was not about to let him stay there! The world around her faded to static as she fully manifested in the mind space.

“How dare you!” she shouted in her head, “What makes you think you have the right to invade my mind!? When I get my hands on you –”

Steven froze. “You can see me?”

“Of course I –” Gray froze too, her own realization dawning on her. “You can hear me?”

Steven nodded.

The two of them stood, staring at each other in bewilderment. Touching the gash in her throat, Gray stood upright and her muscles relaxed a bit.

“… Hello,” was all she could think to say.

“Um, hi.” Steven floated closer to her. “How are you able to see me? Whenever I’ve been in the mind space before, no one’s been –”

His words were cut off by something appearing in his peripheral. After a better look, he saw what appeared to be a butterfly, only… not. Its shape was on point, but its coloring was completely gray, and it was surrounded by a smokey aura that trailed behind it as it fluttered.

“My powers are based on illusion,” Gray explained, the smokey insect landing gracefully in her stretched out palm, “I can project images such as this, and make others see things that aren’t there. I suppose the opposite is true too, and I can see things others can’t.”

The butterfly disappeared in a puff of smoke. Steven nodded, satisfied enough with that answer.

“I just wanna talk to you, Gray. Why are you doing this? Why are you attacking your own mother?”

Gray scoffed. “Are you serious? Why? Did she tell you what she did to the cessineans? What she did to me?”

“What she did to the cessineans was wrong, but we can make it right without fighting. Things have changed. White has changed. We can –”

“What about me? Did she tell you what she did to me? Her own child! She can’t be trusted, Steven! What kind of monster does that to her own baby?”

“What happened to you was the cessineans doing. White never –”

“Oh, so the cessineans made her abandon me?” Gray once again interrupted, her tone mocking and increasing with anger. “The cessineans made her reject me at birth? They made her and Black toss me away like trash?”

Steven stared at her, blankly. “What… did the cessineans tell you?”

“What did White tell you? Look at me! You’ve met her! You know how she treats things that are flawed, how she treats beings that she deems “beneath” her!”

“That’s… That’s not…” He tried to think of how to explain it to her. “White loved you, Gray. She and Black both loved you! White’s been mourning you for centuries! She never –”

Rage seething through her core, Gray grabbed Steven, holding him tightly in her fist.

“You don’t know anything!” Gray screamed. “They loved me? Liar! Mocking me isn’t going to save you! When I get to Homeworld, I will shatter you first!”

“Wait!” Steven pleaded as Gray prepared to throw him out of the mind space. He couldn’t leave yet. He needed to show her the truth, but how? This wasn’t like when he tried to reach out to Blue and Yellow. How was he supposed to –

“It must be a trick!” Yellow’s voice suddenly echoed, “Show yourself, foe!”

Steven’s eyes popped open, and Gray froze in her tracks. They were surrounded by the projection of Yellow, Blue, and Steven from that fateful day two years ago. Gray let go of Steven in her astonishment, and the projection faded away.

“What… was that?” Gray asked.

Wondering the same thing, Steven looked to Gray. Curious, he reached out for her still outstretched hand. The memory projected around them again, the way it surrounded them reminding Steven of the observation device Lapis showed him on the moon base.

“I’m not your foe!” Steven of the past pleaded, “Please just listen to me!”

Coming to her senses, Gray drew her hand back.

“What was that?” she demanded once again.

Steven turned to look her in the eye. “I… think when my mind powers mix with your illusion powers, we’re able to see each other’s memories.”

Gray raised an eyebrow. “You say that as if it’s a common occurrence.”

“This kind of stuff happens to me a lot,” Steven shrugged.

Gray’s face contorted in even more confusion. Grinning, Steven offered her his hand. She hesitated, but curiosity won out. With reservation, she touched his much smaller hand.

Suddenly, they were surrounded by a shiny, metallic room. On one side, giant sheets of paper were scattered across the floor. On the other, a variety of carefully crafted paper flowers sat piled on the floor. A much younger Gray Diamond sat in front of a large screen that was mounted on the wall. Her long, white curls flowed freely over her shoulders, and her dress reminded Steven of something out of the Edwardian era. Her scars and gashes were as present as they were today, but her face was rounder and more child-like.

The younger Gray continued to fold the piece of paper in her hands as an old cessinean comedy program played on the screen in front of her. Something had happed that made her giggle, but no sound came out. Her body just trembled as one would do when laughing.

“Is this what you did all day?” Steven asked.

“Not necessarily. Sometimes I’d preform maintenance on the base. With the cessineans in cryo-sleep, it was my job to keep everyone safe.”

Steven continued to stare at the younger version of Gray. He watched her fold the paper with great precision, her face stoic but a glimmer in her good eye showed joy in what she was doing. Within seconds, what was once a blank piece of paper was now a beautiful, though alien looking lily.

A thought suddenly occurring to him, Steven pulled his hand away from Gray.

“I have an idea,” Steven said, “You don’t believe me when I say that Black and White didn’t abandon you, but if you can see it for yourself, you’ll have to believe it. We can project your memories of them, and you’ll see that I’m telling the truth.”

Gray rolled her eyes. “And what if you’re wrong? What if I’m the one who’s right?”

“Then you’ll prove to me that you’re telling the truth.”

Gray was silent for a moment. “Regardless of who’s right, how is this supposed to work? How are we supposed to project things I don’t even remember?”

Steven’s expression dropped. He hadn’t thought of that. He quickly searched his mind for an answer.

“I saw something on TV once that we can try. I don’t know if it’ll actually work, but… Just hear me out. Close your eyes.”

Gray tilted her head, unsure of where this was going. Despite her uncertainty, she decided the truth was worth the leap of faith. Doing as he instructed, she closed her eyes.

“Now picture a door. Behind that door lies the memories you’ve forgotten, memories of your mothers and your life before the cessineans took you in. Picture that door and focus on it.” He reached out and touched her hand. “Now open it.”

At first, nothing happened, but after a moment of silence, a happy, high pitched squeal echoed in their ears. Gray’s eyes snapped open. The image of toys and shiny things dangling down from two overlapping arches projected around them. Two tiny, chubby gray hands reached up and grabbed what looked like a mirror. In its reflection, there was a bright-eyed, smiling baby, no cracks or gashes to be seen. The infant’s tiny, wispy curls bounced as she flailed her limbs and let out another squeal.

Gray’s eyes were locked on the infant as she raised a trembling hand to touch the gash in her throat. Thousands of questions raced through her head, but she found herself unable to voice any of them.

“Is she supposed to be this active at this hour?” a familiar voice asked.

The infant Gray turned her head, now looking towards the two large gems standing next to the sensory gym.

“Aren’t infants supposed to sleep at night?” White continued.

The gem standing next to her was equal to her in height, her black dress tight from the waist up, but loose in the skirt, the front of which opened to show her thigh-high boots. Her black hair reached her shoulders, and a square-shaped topknot sat on the top of her head. Like Gray, her chin was rounded, and her gem was on her navel, though its point faced upwards, much like Pink Diamond’s.

“She’ll eventually grow out of needing to sleep,” Black Diamond rationalized, though her tone didn’t sound so confident, “I doubt it matters much when she sleeps.”

Gray tore her hand away from Steven’s, causing the projection to fade away.

“Is this a trick?” she demanded, “Are you manipulating my memories?”

Steven shook his head. “You’re the one with illusion powers, Gray.”

Gray was frozen in place. Steven gave her a reassuring smile and reached his hand back out for her. Hesitantly, she reached back for him, her hand shaking the entire time.

When they touched this time, a sharp cry pierced the air. A tiny, fussy Gray Diamond clung onto a flustered White, the baby’s face flushed from crying so long. Black Diamond entered the frame, looking to console both her lover and child.

“She won’t sleep, she won’t eat,” White listed off, “It’s been over an hour. She won’t settle down.”

“Hand her over, darling,” Black offered, her arms outstretched.

All too eager to hand over her screaming child, White gave Gray to her other mother. The darker diamond stroked the infant’s hair as she cradled her in her arms.

“You’re causing quite a ruckus, little one.”

Suddenly, images of calming, slow moving clouds began to manifest in front of the infant’s eyes. It was like slowly floating through a dreamland, though she knew she was still in her mother’s arms. Captivated, she watched the clouds go by, her cries finally starting to slow.

Present day Gray also watched the clouds go by. She knew she inherited her powers from her sire, but she never thought she’d whiteness them firsthand. She watched as her younger self’s eyes began to flutter shut, her cries transitioning into hiccups as both her mothers began to quietly hum to her.

As baby Gray’s eyes closed completely, present day Gray let her arm drop to her side, her eyes still locked ahead as the vision faded away.

“Are you ok?” Steven asked.

Gray turned to look at him.

“What did White say happened to me?”

“You and Black were waiting for her at a secret diamond base, and it was bombed by the cessineans. No one survived except you, apparently.”

“How did I survive?”

“I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

Gray stared at him for a moment, completely silent. Her hand trembling more than ever, she reached back out for him.

“I have to know.”

Steven nodded, and touched her hand.

The sound of Gray’s cried once again filled the air. This time, though, it was accompanied by the frantic voice of Black Diamond.

“What about the warp pads?” she pleaded to a gem neither Gray nor Steven recognized, “If we can’t evacuate with the ships, we can –”

“The warps have been deactivated as well,” the unknown gem informed her, “There’s no escaping, my diamond. The bomb will hit at any moment.”

Black turned away from her, a mix of panic, despair, and desperation flooding over her. There was truly nothing she could do. The realization of their fates fully sinking in, she lifted the still crying Gray out of her cradle and held her close.

“What about your forcefield, my diamond?” her pearl asked, “Perhaps –”

“The larger my forcefields are, the weaker they are,” Black cut her off, “One that big wouldn’t stand a chance against an attack like this.”

Looking down at the infant in her arms, a small spark of hope suddenly glimmered in her eyes.

“But perhaps…”

With a heavy heart, Black summoned her forcefield, surrounding Gray in its protective glow. Knowing she could do nothing more than rely on this small slither of hope, she fell to her knees and held her daughter as close as the forcefield would allow.

“I love you, Gray.”

In the blink of an eye, everything was engulfed in a bright light, followed by a loud BOOM! Even the memory of the sound was enough to make Steven and present-day Gray’s ears ring.

The bright light faded to black, and within seconds, a metallic room began manifesting around them. Baby Gray had survived and reformed, but she far from unscathed. Her gem had been chipped, leaving her naked body covered in cracks and gashes. She was crying in terror, but no sound escaped her lips. Her right eye glowed white, and her face showed no emotion, aside from the fear in her good eye.

Just a few feet away, twelve cessineans stood, the very same twelve that were on the ship with Gray right now. None of them paid any mind to the terrified, injured infant.

“I’m telling you, keeping her alive is the best thing we can do,” one of them explained to the others, “Look at her. We might’ve made the mistake of making Black and White too autonomous, but that won’t be a problem with her. She’s just a drone now, a mindless robot. She has no choice but to obey our commands.”

Without thinking, Gray quickly let go of Steven, falling to her knees in anguish. She covered her face with her hands and shrieked loud enough that Steven had to cover his ears. Gasping between sobs, she ran her hands through her tied-back hair. Her anguish was so strong she could feel tears manifest on her physical form, outside of the mind space.

Cautiously, Steven approached her and put a hand on her large shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Gray,” he said, “I didn’t know it would be… Now that you know the truth, you can stop all of this. Without you, the cessineans can’t hurt anyone. You have the power to –”

Before he could finish, he found himself trapped in Gray Diamond’s fist. Hate and anger burned in her eyes as she threw her arm back, and violently tossed him out of the mind space.

Steven gasped as he awoke in a cold sweat. Taking in his surroundings, he saw that he was still on the floor of the nursery, the diamonds and Spinel still surrounding him.

“Did you talk to Gray?” White Diamond pleaded, “What did she say?”

Steven didn’t know how to answer. He clutched his chest as he struggled to catch his breath.

Suddenly, a loud BOOM shook the palace walls, causing even the diamonds to lose their balance, and few artifacts to come falling to the ground. Panicked, all five of them ran out of the room.

Sprinting through the halls, they all stopped in their tracks once the nearest balcony came into view. Gray Diamond stood in between the open curtains; the flaming remains of the cessineans ship plummeting down behind her. Her face was stained with tears, and, much to Steven’s horror, her hands and dress were stained with blood.

White Diamond’s hands trembled as she stared at the damaged face of her daughter. Slowly, Gray began to raise her hand, pointing at White as crimson blood dripped from her fingers. Trying to suppress her shakiness, White approached her.

For a moment, all they did was stare at each other, their eyes locked. Lifting her hands, Gray summoned a smokey, silhouetted image. In it was the likeness of Black and White, the two of them standing close to each other, and lovingly embracing an infant Gray.

The image faded away and White looked up, once again locking eyes with Gray. Slowly, as if afraid she too would disappear in a puff of smoke, White raised a trembling hand and touched Gray’s cracked cheek. Wiping a tear trail away with her thumb, White smiled at her.

“Hello Gray.”

#su #steven universe #my writing #white diamond #yellow diamond #blue diamond #pink diamond #steven quartz universe #spinel #gemlings #gem egg hell #black diamond #gray diamond #chipped au

19 notes · View notes